#remember when i named a character graves and everyone had to politely inform me that graves was already a character in fantastic beasts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maybege · 3 years ago

Text

... Stays In Quantico - FBI Part 2

Summary: Back in Quantico, you are reminded just how difficult your situation is. (Part 2 of the FBI Series)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.1k | Rating: T

Warnings: descriptions of an anxiety attack

Here we are! I am so excited to finally start sharing this story with you. Having binged through all 15 seasons, I just want to say now that (1) this story will be canon-divergent and (2) it will be a slow burn. It is my first longer story about Hotch and I hope I will do his character justice. As always, you can find the posting schedule linked in my masterlist.

Have fun reading and let me know what you think.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“I don’t know what to think.”

“This is not the kind of job where you don’t know what to think.”

“I know.”

“Hard to believe from someone who just told me she doesn’t know what to think.”

You shifted in your seat. The office you were in was colder than the bullpen of the BAU and you wished you had remembered to bring your cardigan with you. Now all you were wearing was your short-sleeved dress and heels.

To be fair, you had presumed this would just be a standard meeting with the in-house therapist. After the incident in Kansas City, it seemed like standard procedure and you were glad to have been offered this opportunity.

Now though, sitting in the way too soft armchair with the brunette older woman looking at you over her glasses, this felt more like an evaluation than anything else. And you absolutely hated it.

You looked at the still-life of a fruit bowl on the right wall, right next to a bookshelf full of framed certificates. A woman who was proud of her accomplishments.

The first and last time you had had an evaluation was when you had first started working at the FBI and back then you had been sure that you had failed it. You had been sure you had failed all of it.

Your grandmother always used to say that if you looked for flaws long enough you would find them.

Dr Johnson looked like she spent her life looking for flaws.

“Tell me again why you chose to work for the FBI – and the BAU specifically.”

You would not make it anyway. Fuck it.

“There is so much hurt in the world,” you started, watching her eyebrows rise over the frames of her glasses, “I would feel better knowing I am trying to do something against it. And as for the BAU,” you shrugged, “Chief Sector Strauss approached me about it and I thought I would be stupid not to take the opportunity.”

She hummed, looking down at her file. “You don’t have any official FBI training.”

“No.”

“Any formal police training?”

“No.”

“Gun training?”

You hid your smile at the thought of the recent debacle for the gun qualification.

“I took down an UnSub in Kansas City last week,” you reminded her, “That is why I am here.”

She did not react to it. “In fact,” she leafed through the papers in her hand, “You only recently finished college. How did that go for you?”

“Good,” you nodded, trying to keep your knee from bouncing, “It was good.”

“What did you major in?”

“English,” you replied and when you saw her raised eyebrow, tried to elaborate, “Um, English literature to be exact and I have a minor in law as well.”

“Why only a minor?”

“Pardon me?”

“Why did you only minor in law? Were you not good enough?”

To cover the unease from her question, you crossed your legs. “I had no interest in law,” you answered truthfully, “My passion was and is with literature.”

The full truth was, you simply did not like law students. That and the pressure they were under was, you were convinced, what brought many lawyers to an early grave. But she did not need to know that about you.

Ironic that you had ended up in the BAU after all this.

Totally not stressful.

She said your name, then, slowly, and leant forward. You tensed, knowing that look too well. Was this the moment she would tell you that you had failed the valuation? The moment Hotch would come into the office and hand you your resignation with that disappointed look in his eyes.

Maybe the way Kansas City had ended was just a way to disguise the true going-ons of your work here in Quantico?

“You have been here, what, seven months now, Agent?”

“Yes, eight months, coming February,” you replied, meeting her gaze and swallowing the dryness of your throat.

“Would you say you have adjusted to your life here in Virginia?”

You frowned, “What do you mean?”

Dr Johnson made a vague gesture as if encompassing everything and anything, “Do you have friends here? Family? How do you get on with your colleagues?”

Well, you certainly had not been expecting this kind of question.

“I live together with a friend,” you answered slowly, “My family lives in Idaho.”

“Idaho,” Johnson smiled, “A long way from home, no?”

“Yes.”

“Look, Agent, I am not going to lie,” she sighed, putting her pen down on the notepad, “I am not sure if you are the right fit for the FBI.”

You’re not the only one, you thought with a grimace.

“I am sure you are a good person, that your motivations for working here are true,” she elaborated, “But your lack of training? Your lack of … experience,” she gave you a pitiful look, “I am simply not convinced you are cut out for the work we need here.”

You had always thought it but hearing someone else say it to your face hit deeper than you ever could have thought. Your fingers started to tremble and you clasped your hands together, squeezing them to somehow force yourself to remain with as much dignity as you could.

“Okay,” you nodded, taking a deep breath in the hopes that it would keep your tears at bay, “What – what does that mean?”

“As there are no reasons for a suspension based on your mental health, the next step would be that I get in contact with your supervisor,” she threw a look on her paper, “SSA Aaron Hotchner, is that correct?” you nodded and she continued, “A written evaluation of your role at the BAU will be requested and then we will go from there. Best case scenario is you won’t leave at all, worst case scenario …”, she trailed off.

Of course, she did not need to finish the sentence for you to know what she was saying.

Worst case scenario: You would leave the FBI.

Realization washed over you and you smiled tightly at her. “Thank you, Dr Johnson,” you stood up, reaching a polite hand out to her which she took, “If you will excuse me, I should get back to my desk while I still can.”

Dr Johnson smiled kindly at you which only made it worse. She was pitying you. She felt sorry for you. Sorry for your incompetence, sorry for you not belonging in this place.

You felt like you would throw up any minute.

“Of course, Agent,” she said softly, “I will inform your supervisor of my recommendation. You will receive a copy of the protocol within the next week.”

You nodded, not meeting her eyes as you hurried out of her office.

The staff washroom on the third floor was always empty.

You knew that from the fact that you had often used it as a refuge after nearly dissolving into tears in the bullpen. That and the fact that the third floor was far away enough for anyone of the BAU to search for you here made it the perfect place to come after your talk with Dr Johnson.

You threw a look on your watch.

Six minutes. You would give yourself six minutes and then you would go to your desk and work on those reports and show Dr Johnson that you loved your job and that you were capable of doing it. You would show her that you were not the anxious, incompetent student she saw in you but someone who could be an asset to the team.

I am not sure if you are the right fit for the FBI.

Tears shot into your eyes and you locked the little cabin behind you, sitting on the edge of the toilet as you rushed to grab a few pieces of toilet paper.

The first sob echoed in the tiled room and you pressed the tissues to your mouth, hoping it would muffle the sounds somewhat. Your skin felt too hot and too tight and you could already see how your makeup would be ruined by the tears no matter how hard you tried.

And you had left your backup mascara in your bag at your desk.

Great. Just great.

Anxiety filled you at the thought of having to prove yourself even more than before. After Kansas City and Hotch’s encouraging words, you had somehow hoped that the hard part was over now. That you could focus on delivering good work instead of questioning if everyone doubted your belonging in the unit.

But maybe they were and they were just too polite to mention it? Maybe Dr Johnson was finally saying what they all wanted to spare you from?

Tears were rolling freely over your cheeks now, dropping onto your dress and you cursed, trying to wipe it away and somehow keep your face dry. There were still quite a few hours left in the workday and although you hoped there would not be a case coming in today, you were working along with a team of profilers.

You were like an open book to them even if there was the agreement to not profile each other.

A look on your watch told you it was nearly time to go and you took a moment to listen if anybody was there before stepping out of the little cubicle. It was completely abandoned.

Much like you had expected, you looked an absolute mess and just seeing yourself in the mirror brought fresh tears into your eyes.

“Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity,” you echoed the motto, gripping the edge of the counter and taking deep breaths, “Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity.”

“Hey, kid, how did it go?”

You entered the chaotic bullpen, just barely avoiding crashing into Anderson before making your way to your desk. Reid was seated across from you which meant that no matter how much of a mess you left at the end of a day, it still looked comparably neat.

Now though, it was nearly empty.

“Hi Derek,” you smiled tightly, your eyes still irritated from your impromptu cry session as you sat down at your desk.

You had splashed cold water on your face in hopes of somehow feeling and looking better. Still, you immediately went for your bag, scrambling to find your emergency mascara and lipstick to sneak back into the washroom before anyone noticed.

Especially –

“Agent,” Hotch’s voice boomed through the office and you winced, feeling the heat of tears collecting in your eyes again. You stayed ducked over your bag, hoping that maybe he did not mean you. Maybe he wanted to talk to Derek or Emily or Reid or –

Cleanly polished shoes appeared in your field of vision and you swallowed.

“In my office. Now.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mumbled, hastily wiping your cheek of a stray tear before straightening and following him up the stairs. You ignored Derek’s worried look, instead choosing to straighten your shoulders and stoically look ahead.

This was but an extension of the interview with Dr Johnson. You could do this even if the man terrified and intrigued you more than he should.

You had barely stepped foot in his office when he sat down. “Close the door. Sit down.”

You did, feeling much smaller than you had in Dr Johnson’s office. His lips were tight and he looked incredibly displeased, even for Hotch’s standards. You must have majorly messed up.

His hands were clasped in front of him and your eyes fell to his fingers. You swallowed heavily, hands wringing in your lap as you waited for him to start talking.

“Dr Johnson just informed me that a written evaluation of your performance on this team is being requested.”

“Sir, I can explain, I –“

He raised a hand, effectively silencing you and your mouth snapped shut.

“You do not need to explain anything,” he said calmly, “Dr Johnson is only doing her job and after what happened last week, it might not be such a bad idea.”

You nodded, trying to not seem as nervous as you were.

“Do not worry yourself over it. I meant what I said in Kansas,” he stated, facial expression unreadable, “You are a valuable addition to this team and I look forward to seeing your contributions in the future.”

“Yes, Sir,” you looked down on your hands, trying to hide your nervousness, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Call me Hotch.”

“Yes, Si- Hotch,” you corrected yourself with a sheepish smile. He was sitting at his desk, hands folded on top of it as he looked at you. And fuck, it should be forbidden to look this good. You froze, licking your lips and hoping you would be able to blame it on the dryness of your lips instead of you imagining what it would be like to feel his mouth on yours.

Not the time, a rational part of your brain reminded you, So not the fucking time.

Shuffling through the crowded metro you pressed your phone to your ear.

“I promise, it is all right, mom,” you assured her, letting yourself fall into one of the free seats, keeping your bag pressed against your chest. An elderly woman threw you an offended look and shuffled away from you as if you had any interest in stealing her dog off her hands.

“I am just worried, honey,” your mom said on the other side of the phone, “We are all worried. It is a hard job, isn’t it? And why do they keep putting you up for evaluations? You haven’t even been there for a full year!”

“Mom –“

“Are you okay?” she interrupted you in that voice that only your mom had, “Truly okay?

Your head fell against the window of the wagon, the heaviness of the day washing over you. You took a shuddering breath, “No, Mom, I – I don’t think I am.”

There was a sigh on the other side of the line. She was disappointed and worried, you could hear it already and it did not help to calm the anxiety raging in your stomach. You could almost see her in front of you, the pity in her eyes and the little furrow between her brows.

“You can always come home, hon, you know that, right?” she asked carefully and you cringed at how quiet she was being, “We can still find somewhere else for you to work. A nice option. You can come back home and dad and I will help you. I know it can take some time to find a good position. But you had so much fun doing literature, why not go back to it? You don’t have to stick there if it doesn’t make you happy.”

“But it does make me happy, mom,” you protested, wincing at how desperate you sounded, before adding quietly, “Saving people is what I want to do. And I can do it.”

“I am not saying you can’t, sweetie,” she assured you, “But maybe it is not what you should do with your life, hm?”

You could see that the light was on in the living room when you entered the small hallway. The sounds of the TV washed over your ears and you smiled.

“I’m home!”

A non-committal grunt answered you and you grinned, knowing that he was probably too entranced in whatever crime show he was currently watching. You let your keys fall onto the little side table and made sure to lock the deadbolt before making your way to Josh.

Your heels made clicking sounds on the floor and you took care to be as quiet as possible. “Hi,” you grinned, waving at him.

Josh was tall and lanky. And despite being offended if you ever told him that – looked exactly like one would imagine a law student to look. He was always well dressed and took great care when it came to all things cultural. He drank the best wine, read all the important books, watched all the niche movies to impress people.

Sometimes you joked that of the two of you, he was the one who could be expected to work for a government institution.

“It’s late,” he commented, nodding to the screen, “You’re usually here by the second episode.”

“I wanted to get some reports done,” you explained, shrugging out of your coat, “Had a chat with my boss today again. I thought it might be better to not give any more opportunities to criticize me. How was your day?”

“Boring,” he replied, “Attended that one event about intellectual property and want to lunch with a few friends from uni. You should come with us sometime, you will like them.”

You nodded, already thinking ahead of a day when you would have enough free time to join him and his friends. Dr Jones’ words about having a strong social life to fall back to echoed in your mind and you decided to make more of an effort to make friends.

It would be all right.

There was some Chinese takeout in Josh’s lap and you spotted a few grocery bags in the small hallway to your room and the kitchen.

“Did you get me the bananas like I asked?” you asked, slipping out of your heels.

Josh kept munching on his noddle, making a vague gesture that led you into the kitchen. And there, on the tiny dining table were two green bananas.

“They are not even ripe yet,” you called into the living room, “And I asked for four bananas, not two.”

“What do you need them for anyway?”

“I wanted to bake banana bread,” you said, turning to get out some flour and chocolate chips, “It’s an easy breakfast to have in the metro.”

Josh sighed, walking into the kitchen and throwing himself onto the black dining chair. “You barely eat at home anyway, that’ll just go to waste.”

“Which is exactly why it is nice to have something ready to eat on the go,” you explained, wondering if he had overheard your words.

Cracking two eggs into a bowl, you hummed. “I could bring it into the office,” you mused, starting to mush up the bananas, “I think JJ mentioned she liked it once.”

“To the colleagues that despise you?”

You frowned, “They don’t despise me. They are very nice to me, Josh.”

Josh took the last bite of his noodles, setting down the little container “By the way, Greg is coming over tonight.

“But it’s almost midnight,” you stated, throwing a confused look towards the clock, just to make sure, “Didn’t you say you will leave for that Seattle trip tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if it gets too late he will just stay on the couch,” Josh replied, shrugging. You nodded, not saying anything but knowing deep down that George would occupy the bathroom that morning so you would have to get up even earlier than normal.

That would be a stressful day.

#maybege writes #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader

176 notes · View notes

sweetjekyll · 3 years ago

Text

Damaged ─ Chapter 3

pairing: Oh Sehun x OC Reader (Nora) // implied Johnny Suh (NCT) x OC Reader (Nora)

genre: Exo Planet AU, Lucky One AU, Power AU, Alien AU, Futuristic / sci-fi AU, Romance, Angst, Action, Science, Military-ish rating: 18+ chapter warnings: implied consensual smut, mentions & descriptions of death, parental loss, grieving, C-PTSD (complex post-traumatic stress disorder), depression, anxiety, alcohol consumption, toxic parenting, physical violence, cursing, kidnapping, human trafficking, political corruption (Please read carefully the warning tags in the masterlist and those at the beginning of each new chapter to avoid any unpleasant misunderstandings.)

word count: 8.1k

↳ Main Masterlist ↳ Damaged Masterlist Chapter 2 | next

A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the trigger warnings before reading this chapter as it is heavily surrounded by coping with loss, grief, and other heavy themes that the characters talk about for plot purposes. With that being out of the way, thank you to everyone who reached out to give feedback about naming the Reader, I hope you like “Nora” as the name that I picked for her.

⟶ To my dear readers: feedback is highly encouraged and important! as it gives me motivation to write with more passion, knowing that you like what you are reading. Please LIKE and REBLOG so more people can find this and read it. ❤ My askbox is always open for questions or to chat ❤

Enjoy! ❤

Location: Exo Planet, Elyxion City

Your feet felt heavy as you made your way outside of the Dome, one or two steps behind Taeyong and Jaehyun. You were lost deep in thought and tuned out their hushed conversation, unsure of what emotion your body was feeling after absorbing so little information, yet of grave concern. Your feet carried you across the spacecraft landing field until you halted suddenly; your nostrils smelled something in the air, fresh and earthy… clean and pure. It didn’t feel dry and burning your nostrils like when you landed on the ground.

Your pupils were drawn to look up at the sky, grey clouds were progressively shielding the ground from the sun's scorching presence. You closed your eyes and inhaled a deep breath, your lungs expanded and you felt goosebumps all over your body, all troubling thoughts and burdensome emotions were forgotten. The sound of your name from your friends made you reopen your eyes and look at them, unaware of the small smile gracing your features. “Can you smell that?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jaehyun tilted his head to the side as he and Taeyong approached you once again. The leader sniffed the air too and just shrugged, not knowing what to say to the odd question. You were acting a little weird, to be honest.

“It’s about to rain. I haven’t smelled the rain like this in... such a long time.” You quickly explained, unable to contain the tiny excitement in your tone. You used to love the scent of oncoming summer rain when you were a child, the amount of times you were caught up in a rainstorm while out playing in the park with you parents were very few. You were too little to remember if the two of them had been happy back then, but for just a moment you wanted to believe they were. The flashback and excitement lasted for a short time, as a soft rumble in the sky reminded you that you needed to depart from your home planet. The nostalgic feel which initially comforted you, now carried a painful reminder of everything that you had been experiencing for the past few days.

“I don’t like piloting during rainstorms,” Jaehyun said when he noticed your smile fade away, then playfully hit the back of his hand on your upper arm, intentionally drawing a glare from you. “Wanna take my place?”

Taeyong's eyes widened briefly and he pointed a finger at you with a warning. “I know there are no speed limits in space, but if you make me feel sick again like last time—”

You just chuckled, shook your head and put your arms around both of your friends' shoulders, guiding them back to the spacecraft. “Don’t worry, guys, I won’t do crazy maneuvers... too much.”

It didn’t take long for the Neo spacecraft to alert the EXO base of their departure; many eyes were fixed on a hologram screen as they watched the visitors leave the base from a security camera. Junmyeon let out a barely audible sigh when he redirected his attention to the members currently present in his office.

“Are you sure it was her?” Minseok asked doubtful, eyeing the redhead with a crease on his forehead.

“Didn’t you see the resemblance?” Chanyeol scoffed, his back was slouched back on a chair by the desk. “She’s a spitting image of Eran.”

“That, and this,” Junmyeon picked up a tablet from the desk and tapped the screen a few times, “the DNA matches Eran’s. Nora Skyler.” The footage of the security cam was replaced by the results of the blood test they ran as soon as the three Neo Tech's arrived at the Dome. “Her blood also matches the one in our database from when she was a child.”

Sehun stood silent in the back with Jongin next to him, his eyes were transfixed on the girl's picture from one of the cameras. Now that he looked at her image more carefully, he noticed a light bruise right under her data, two other cam pictures had been associated with the blood results of the girl's colleagues, including their names. “What did you tell her?” Sehun had already asked before thinking it over, hesitation and anxiety flooded his chest, his heart picked up pace.

“Only what she needed to know, nothing else.” Junmyeon tapped the screen of the tablet again as he continued to speak with a note of sadness and sympathy. "I gave her the box with the necklace and the key... She didn’t take it well and blamed us for not saving her father."

Jongin couldn’t help but step forward, protesting in disbelief. “But it wasn’t our fault! You should have told her the truth.”

“Jongin, we've been over it, you can’t let yourself get worked up like this. Besides, it was her father. She’s allowed to grief and feel pain.” Minseok tried to be a voice of reason and placate his team member before Jongin's emotions got to his head. “Even if it means blaming us for his death.” The blue haired man clenched his jaw after hearing those words, then stepped back with a single nod of agreement. He could get carried away sometimes, more often than he would’ve liked to admit, yet he had his members to remind him when to think more rationally.

Suho resumed his briefing after glancing at each person present in the office. “I sent Baekhyun to pick up Chen, D.O. and Lay, they should be back soon. Yet, before that, I need to inform you that those NCT guys asked about Ronan.” The picture he had hidden earlier reappeared on the screen with a swipe of his index finger. “I forgot to turn the screen off, so when they came into my office they saw him. The leader, Taeyong, asked if we had any information on his whereabouts.”

Sehun felt the blood in his body freeze, the already present anxiety caused his body to begin shaking lightly after he saw the image on the screen. The goosebumps raising the hairs on his skin felt like flying debris piercing through his body, he could smell and taste the blood; the vivid memory of the pain he went through made his head spin fast as if he were experiencing it all over again. Sehun felt bile rising in his throat, the room felt too small and he needed to get out. He forced himself to tear his pupils away from the image of the Collector and burst through the door of Junmyeon’s office, leaving behind voices calling out his name as his feet carried him to the closest restroom available on the floor, then he stepped inside and shut the door clicking the lock in place.

“Sehun? Come on, open the door,” he couldn’t tell whose voice was talking to him, his mind was spinning too fast as he frantically paced back and forth the bright room. His breathing was shallow and his chest felt like it was closing in on itself, meanwhile his stomach burned with sickness until he couldn’t take it anymore. Sehun’s right shoulder collided with one of the bathroom stall’s doors and he doubled over the toilet, retching and vomiting. “There, there... it’s alright now. You’re safe.” A comforting hand stroked up and down Sehun’s back as he struggled to regain his breathing. With blurry eyes, he reached out to grab some toilet paper, wrapped it around his fingers and then cleaned his mouth. Sehun couldn’t help but scrunch his nose at the sour aftertaste in his mouth and the burning in his throat, he looked over his left shoulder to see Junmyeon standing there with worry written all over his face. He thought that, as ridiculous as that bright red hair looked on the leader, it made him relieved to see him. Junmyeon had never witnessed Sehun in such distress before, or any of the other members; the color had drained completely from the younger man’s face, he knew that what happened that day on the field messed him up pretty bad. “You should go see Doctor San.”

Sehun straightened back to his full height, he flushed the toilet and walked past Junmyeon to the sinks. “Oh yeah? Do you think Doc’s got some magic pill to make me forget what happened last week?” He cautiously eyed the door and saw that the lock had been forced open, but quickly looked away as he placed his hands under the faucet; a sensor picked up his presence and water began flowing immediately. Sehun splashed his face a couple of times and rubbed his eyes with the feeling of cold water, trying to get rid of the images haunting his mind. He rinsed his mouth and spit it out in the sink, then took a deep breath afterwards while leaning his hands on the grey marble of the counter.

Junmyeon had worry written all over his features, his pupils were fixed on Sehun’s back. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, he couldn’t bear to see him suffering like that anymore. “I’m serious. I’m taking you to him myself, right now.” He stated with a stern voice, leaving no room for discussion when Sehun looked back at him through the mirror, a mix of doubt and disbelief on his features. “You asked for time alone to heal and we gave that to you because we care about you. I care about you, Sehun… And now I see that I made a mistake thinking you were going to be alright on your own.”

“It’s not your fault…” Sehun sniffled and broke the intense eye contact. “All I really need is more time—“

“Not alone,” Junmyeon retorted firmer and stepped closer to Sehun, he placed one of his hands on his shoulders and prompted him to face each other. “We are one, a team. We cannot function if one of us is unwell. It puts everyone at risk when you start hiding your inner turmoil from us.”

As right as those words were, they stung so hard and hurt to hear to the point Sehun felt the physical need to distance himself from the leader. He pushed away Junmyeon’s hand and took a few steps backwards. “It was my fault and you know it.” He hissed through gritted teeth, anger overtaking his expression meanwhile his eyes welled up with more tears. “I made the wrong call and people paid for my mistake! How could you have trusted me to lead a team on a mission?!”

The sight of the youngest being in such a distressed emotional state was heartbreaking. The way his voice trembled when he spoke and faded out brought tears to Suho’s eyes too. His arms untangled and he shook his head slowly as his chin lowered. “We didn’t know it was a trap,” he tried to sound as steady as he could, but ultimately failed. “You did everything you could.”

Sehun furiously shook his head in disagreement. “No, not enough…” The room got quiet afterwards, except for Sehun’s soft sniffling. “I’ll go meet with Doctor San.” He beckoned towards the door as both of them rubbed their cheeks, trying to get rid of the evidence proving they had been crying in a public bathroom. Junmyeon nodded a few times and carefully stepped closer to Sehun, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s body. Sehun stood still for a moment until he felt Junmyeon’s warmth from the embrace, then his arms raised instinctively to return the gesture and he tightened his grip. “Thank you…”

Location: Neo Zone, Neo City

The landing docks were void of personnel when your ship landed, the heavy rain had picked up once again while you were gone from the planet. “People in the slums must be drowning from so much rain.” You commented, after making sure you switched everything off in the cockpit with your co-pilot.

“Remember when the sewers overflowed?” Taeyong added with a scrunch of his nose.

Jaehyun groaned with a shake on his head in disgust. “Yeah, don’t remind me… The smell reached Paradise City all the way from Pandora’s district and stayed like that for weeks, until they could fix it.” The sole thought of it happening again made his stomach churn in disgust. Neo City was truly the dirtiest of New Zone’s jewels when you’ve experienced it from all points of view.

The memory brought you a flashback of your mother since that is the district she lives in, farther away from the center of Neo City. You remember her calling you years back and begging you to find her a new living accommodation because she couldn’t – and still can’t – afford a new place. You couldn’t afford it with the little pay at the beginning of your career back then, so you tried to reason with her that you couldn’t let her stay with you either because your employers would never allow it. She didn’t know, of course, what she knows now.

“Whatever, it was nasty,” you blurted out all of a sudden and checked your holopad for work notifications. “Don’t we have to get back to a mission? Someone needs to take Doyoung out of that lab for a couple of hours or he’ll go mad.” You headed for the exit, ramp already lowered to the ground but you were hesitant to get out under the pouring rain.

“I’ll take care of it, but first…” Taeyong patted you on the back and nodded his head towards the entrance to the tower, a silent challenge among the three of you. Without even thinking twice about it, you bolted down the ramp and across the rooftop, soaking in the rain and running towards the heavy metal doors. Jaehyun was right behind you and soon was Taeyong too; you heard their laughter and couldn’t help but smile yourself as you swiped your holopad on a panel by the doors, thus opening them and hurrying inside, sheltered from the rain and the cold wind.

Taeyong ran his hands wildly through his blonde locks to get rid of the water droplets. “You can both retire for the night, go have some dinner with the others if they’re still in the common room. I’ll handle the paperwork.”

“Are you sure?” Jaehyun asked with arched brows, one hand in his hair doing the same as his leader, to which the other guy just nodded in affirmation.

“Hey…” You spoke softly before parting your ways, downcast eyes as you struggled to find the word to express your gratitude towards them for being by your side through such a difficult time. “Thank you… For today.”

Both of them nodded with comforting smiles. Neither of you had to say anything more, you knew each other well enough to understand the silent words being shared among you. “Come on, let’s go grab some food.” Jaehyun patted you on the back and snaked his right arm around your shoulder.

The rest of the evening was wrapped up in a blur, you ended up in bed and, before you knew it, were engulfed in a heavy slumber and slept through the entirety of the night. To your surprise, you woke up early in the morning feeling well rested. The trip to your home planet must’ve drained you to the point where it shut off all your usual overthinking whenever you laid down in bed. You quickly rubbed your fingers over your eyelids and then peeked from under the covers a tired glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. About thirty minutes before your alarm would go off. There was no point trying to catch a little bit more sleep, because you would either spend the time obsessively thinking about what you could’ve done differently in your life to stay by your father’s side, or you could pretend you were okay and focus on the things you had to work on today as part of you job.

Yet you felt incredibly empty and lonely the moment your thoughts went back to your father, then followed the anger you directed towards your mother and memories of when you blamed her for the loss. Grief can hit people differently, you are well aware of it, yet despite that there was no way to refrain yourself from having all these terrible thoughts. Were you right to blame her? It wasn’t your mother’s fault that your father passed away… She wasn’t to fully blame, at least.

Ronan.

And just like that, your anger was redirected to an old target. He must’ve been involved with your father’s death somehow, you just needed to find out how. “Exo…” You whispered the word, brows furrowing as your mind replayed images of yesterday’s meeting. NCT might have lost their window of opportunity to catch the criminal, but Exo may have information on his whereabouts or other of his illicit activities. You were slowly connecting the dots…

“Are you serious?” Johnny gasped softly and tilted his head to the side, eyes scanning around the common room as he chewed on his breakfast. For a moment his expression turned incredulous and then scowled as if the food tasted bitter, when in fact it was caused by your theory.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, I’m just trying to make sense of all of this.” You fixed your pupils on his from across the dining table, then relaxed your features as you checked Jaehyun’s reaction too. He seemed to be more inclined to believe in your theory. “Look, it’s very simple, Ronan is wanted by many galactic authorities, NCT and Exo being just a few to mention. My father died on the job during a mission– which Exo would not disclose the details of–”

“Because it was a military operation, just like we have ours and we can’t just tell others what we do for a living.” Johnny interjected, making you bite the inside of your cheek in annoyance. He was usually an understandable person, but he wasn’t agreeing on your points for this specific argument.

“But what if they came close to him– too close, and Ronan fought back? Just like we did a few nights ago.” You were so adamant to make him understand what you were trying to say, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Nora, listen to yourself.” Johnny rubbed his fingers on his eyelids to ease the headache you gave him. “How do you even plan on confirming this theory? What happened to you in that alleyway and what happened to your father are two completely different things, okay? We’re talking about thugs attacking you versus a missile blowing up a spacecraft. It’s not the same.” It was your turn to look at him in disbelief, too stunned to retort.

Jaehyun felt the air stiffen around the table and shifted forward in his seat, elbows leaning against the flat surface and intertwined his fingers. “I was there with you and I know what I saw on the screen, but…” The glare you sent him made him pause and tread carefully with his next words. “We don’t know what exactly happened to him, even if they told us he was killed by a missile. It could have been anybody else and we might have just entered Suho’s office while Ronan was on display, completely unrelated.”

You lowered you head knowing they made valid points, yet you still felt it in your guts that you were somehow right. You were barely hungry before, but now lost all appetite after hearing what your friends said. You heard them call out your name while your eyes were set on an unimportant spot on the table, then a soft touch on top of your hand which made you immediately retract it and stand up abruptly. Curious eyes of other NCT members scattered around the common room turned to your little group, not knowing what was happening.

“I have work to do.” With that as your excuse, you turned on your heels not wanting to hear any more of their arguments and left the common room.

You headed straight for one of the offices on the lower floors, knowing you would be able to spend some time alone and work out your thoughts in peace. What Johnny and Jaehyun said struck a nerve within you. You knew that they were right as much as you could have been… Although, for some reason, you truly thought that by saying your thoughts out loud to your friends, it would make you feel better, that it may relieve the pain and the stress you were going through. It didn’t, it made you feel worse.

“How do you even plan on confirming this theory?” Johnny’s question rang in your mind as you were sat in an empty office, eyes glued to a holographic screen displaying an image of Ronan on a blank wall. Your right hand made it’s way in the pocket of your pants and fished out the little container that your father left you. The metal felt cool against your fingertips as you opened it. You let the Exolite crystal and the cylinder key fall in the palm of your left hand, eyes glued on them and pondering again “how do I plan of confirming my own theory?”. The answer was, in fact, in the palm of your hand. You needed to go back to Exo Planet to find more answers to your questions, but the Council would never let you leave the planet for your own private revenge agenda. They were civil enough to allow you a visit on your home planet for a couple of hours, nothing more.

A swoosh of the sliding door to the office startled you out of your thoughts, eyes looking up in alarm at whoever intruded your silence, but then quickly calmed down after seeing Taeyong. He glanced at the hologram with a picture of Ronan as he approached the table you were sat at, then he sat down too in an opposite chair of yours. “Backtracking on our leads?”

You made quick work of clasping the cylinder key to the necklace carrying the crystal and put it around your neck, tucking it inside your sweatshirt. “Every time we miss to get him, more people disappear into thin air never to be seen again.” Your voice came out low, the subject of this conversation was too painful to talk about, even months after finding out why Ronan was such a dangerous man.

Human trafficking, both men and women. The victims had little to no background, untraceable, no family or relatives to look for them, no personal belongings to tell their story. The pattern was always the same, but Neo City was definitely too big and had several hundreds of millions of people living throughout all of its districts. That is a massive concentration of Neo Planet’s collective world population.

Taeyong sighed tiredly while leaning back in his seat, eyes closed as he run one of his hands though his blond hair. A glance at his expression was enough to tell he barely slept after your failed mission at capturing Ronan. Deep down inside, you still blamed yourself for that. “He’s been so elusive, always a step ahead. There has to be a connection we failed to make with all the kidnappings that have happened this month alone.”

“It’s a stretch, Taeyong. We don’t even know if hundreds of people on this list were even taken by him.” Your chin motioned to the holo-screen as you spoke, while possible missing person’s cases scrolled slowly by Ronan’s picture. There was a pattern that NCT started keeping track of, majority of the missing people were fairly young, between their late teens and their thirties, few just above it. Everyone seemed to be relatively healthy, in shape too…

Neo City’s laws were extremely strict despite the vastness of its residing citizens. Everyone needed to be registered in the planet’s database for them to be able to live and work in the city and its districts. Numbers are easier to keep track of, or so say bureaucrats. Almost everyone on the planet has a residence authorization. As far as you knew and were aware of thanks to your line of work, getting in and out of the planet was impossible without being profile first by planetary authorities. When people go missing, the digital system knows, that’s how NCT comes to know it too and keep record of each case.

“We know that it’s an inside job,” Taeyong added as he let his hands touch the desk you both were sitting at. A smaller user interface appeared, allowing him to go through the files on the holographic screen displayed on the wall, then appeared the details of the men you fought a couple of nights ago. “Mercenaries, we’ve dealt with them before in the past. Never meet the clients in daylight, only in the streets and no more than a few minutes. Easy and fast to disperse.”

You gasped, lips slightly parted as you leaned forward in the chair and looked between the screen and Taeyong. “Ronan, what if he’s a courier rather than a client then?”

“Could be. I’ve already had an extensive conversation about this with Doyoung over dinner last night.” You both couldn’t help but snort at the way he phrased it, his eyes rolling in annoyance when you raised your eyebrows curious about it. “He’s got his whole theory that there is more to this than it meets the eye.”

“Well, yeah, obviously,” you jokingly added and threw your arms up in the air dramatically, stretching the knots in your back. “I’m dying to hear this theory.”

“It’s about the toxins which killed the mercs, and the tech involved too,” he proceeded to explain, clearing the screen of what it was displaying to open a blank canvas to write on, all from the comfort of his seat at the table. Taeyong wrote some words, names, drew lines and intertwined them with circles and arrows. “Doyoung says that whoever controls the mercs, they must have impossible-to-access information, unless they have a certain amount of power and influence among the… high ranks.” He lowered his voice when he said the last part, although you already knew he mean corrupt politicians and other high ranking government officials. “Names, workplace schedules, bank accounts, medical records… Anything you can think of, these people have access to it. They have access to unlimited funds, control black market affairs, buy and sell anything they want.”

“They would have enough funds to pay for their own customized kill switch,” you alluded to the toxins which killed the mercenaries you fought, feeling a headache rapidly building in your head. “If any of this were true, do you realize the amount of effort and time it would take to bring down all of the people involved in this?” Of course he knew, that is why he thought Doyoung sounded ridiculous to him at first, but after finding out that the thugs were aware of NCT’s involvement in their business, they needed to tread carefully. For all they knew, someone on the Council might have been behind the leak of information.

“This goes beyond Neo Planet, Nora…” The exhaustion in his voice was clear and he needed to rest so bad, but there was a subtle worry in the quiver of his voice. “Whoever Ronan is working for, they take people from Neo City because it’s easier to get swept under the rug. I’m starting to think that stopping Ronan wouldn’t actually stop the trafficking. And beyond that, who knows who else is involved and from which planet.”

“It’s a start, an effort we have to make.” You encouraged, or at least tried to. As absurd as Doyoung’s theory sounded, it may have as well related to your father’s death… “I spoke with Johnny and Jaehyun about… something.” Taeyong averted his eyes and scratched the tip of his nose. So they must have spoken to him after you loft in a hurry, you figured. “Look, I know how it may sound, but if we’re in way too over our heads, maybe so happened to Exo as well and my father paid the price with his life.”

There was a long moment of silence between you, after which he began nodding slowly. “It could be connected, but they wouldn’t tell us, so… I wouldn’t exclude it, yet I wouldn’t jump to conclusions either, for your sake.”

A week passed without any progress on the research the 127 unit was heavily focused on. The team split in smaller units, those who went out scouting Mad City for more mercenaries who may be in contact with Ronan, and those who stayed at the headquarters going from case to case, going over and gathering details they might have missed. You were among the second team, mostly working alongside Mark, and thankful to be successfully avoiding the one person who upset you the previous week. Each passing day you were growing more restless and desperate for information, for the truth which you would not find among dead ends behind a computer screen.

“Dude…” Mark closed his eyes as he spun around his office chair and rested his head on the back of the seat. “If I don’t get off this computer for a moment, I’ll go blind. Or worse, crazy.”

You eyed him from beside him, your body slumped over your own desk in your seat, although you had given up looking at the files way long before he did. “Shouldn’t you be like, I don’t know… getting ready to celebrate your birthday tonight?” With your hand under your chin supporting your head on top of the desk, you extended one of your legs and gave his office chair a gentle push, without much resistance the tiny wheels beneath the chair legs carried him further away from his computer.

He whined and groaned before he scooted back close to the desk and started saving whatever little progress he made on the research. “Are you coming?” You debated whether to stay silent or straight up decline the invitation, as you weren’t feeling it, but he didn’t give you much choice either as he playfully send a virtual invitation card to your computer, making you snort. “You have to, I need someone to save me from Haechan if he takes too many shots before midnight.”

A party didn’t sound so bad, but you were mentally and physically exhausted, moreover, you were scared to drink anything and let yourself feel all the emotions you’ve been repressing for the past week. “Yeah, sure. I can’t miss the sight of you kids making fools out of yourselves.”

The night at the club was bearable, you knew you could control yourself as long as you didn’t drink any alcohol. There was no need to dress fancy, a pair of high waisted black pants and a snug crop top were enough for a casual club downtown. Mark was dancing somewhere in the distance with Haechan and Jungwoo, others had yet to arrive at the scene. Nights like these were rare, unless you were working under cover and tailing someone. NCT’s line of work allowed little to no room for nights out, yet sometimes you were granted time off for special occasions and fewer requests.

By 2 a.m. you grew incredibly tired of being sat alone at the bar sipping on your second cocktail, the blue-ish liquid slowly made you feel lightheaded, in spite of the fact that you promised to yourself you wouldn’t drink tonight. You tried to let yourself loose, but it just wasn’t the right moment for you, yet you didn’t want to let down your friend either. Someone touched your right shoulder and, driven by impulse, you were ready to turn around on the barstool to fight off the hundredth creep who approached you, but then you calmed down as soon as your eyes met Johnny’s.

He sat down and ordered himself a shot of whiskey and then a beer. Neither of you spoke, just exchanged brief glances. After the way you left things off, he knew you needed some time to work on what you were feeling. Of course he hated that, he was the kind of person who would always voice out the things that bothered him and looked for a mutual way to resolve things. But you? You were one hell of a stubborn girl. Maybe that was also what attracted him about you. You always had a complicated relationship with him, trying to stay friends although you crossed that line multiple times and almost paid for it. There was no room for romance in your field of work, you both almost lost your job, yet they needed you more than they could afford to let you go, your skillset was too valuable.

A second beer for him and a third cocktail for you as you let your foggy brain wander with a stream of thoughts one after the other, until neither made any sense. Halfway through your glass, you set it down and pulled on Johnny’s sleeve to get his attention, then he turned his ear towards you so he could hear what you had to say. “You know what? You were right,” you slurred slightly above the sound of the music.

He looked back at you and then averted his gaze, shaking his head slowly. “It’s the alcohol talking.” He said back to you, jaw tensing under the intensity of your gaze.

“Possibly, but it’s the truth.” You insisted, then dropped the conversation. It wasn’t an outright apology from either side, yet it was something.

Johnny had a deep frown on his face, his eyes were staring at you in such an attentive way, he could have almost fooled you that the alcohol didn’t have any effect on his mind after the whiskey and the beers. “Hey, look at me,” he called for your attention as he leaned in your direction from the barstool. Your intoxicated brain barely had a moment to register the scent of liquor from his breath once you found his plump lips so close to your face in that moment; you found yourself gasping for air and felt a chill run through your body. “Just tonight?” He pleaded, his pupils dilated as he only focused on your expression and the little reactions you were doing unknowingly.

“Johnny,” you mumbled his name while slightly shaking your head and his eyes immediately looked at your lips. He couldn’t hear you, not with the music playing so loud and the bass thumping in both your eardrums. “You know we can’t.” You told him, hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear and avoided his gaze immediately. You let your fingers close around the glass of your drink and bit your bottom lip in frustration.

The man let out a long sigh through his nostrils as he leaned back in his seat, yet he kept his gaze fixed on you. It took a moment but he nodded slowly, then Johnny took a long swing of the remaining liquor in his glass and placed it down on the counter. He opened his mouth as if to say something while he stood up next to you, yet no words were said, all he did was lower to your height and he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek, followed by the sound of your name. “Good night, Nora.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you cursed internally and, before you knew it, you were holding him into place with your hand clutching onto his leather jacket. You turned around on the stool and tugged him down to have his right ear right in front of your lips. “Just tonight.”

You were overcome with guilt and regret as you watched Johnny sleep so peacefully in his bed. You cared about him a lot and didn’t want to hurt him or use him the way you did tonight, you’ve been thinking about leaving for days now and an opportunity presented itself. You needed to leave the planet and this was the best way to do it, although you didn’t think it’d be through him. As careful and as quiet as you could manage, you slipped from under the covers and got dressed in your clothes, then sat down on the mattress once more. You quickly slipped off the smart watch from your left wrist and very gently clasped it around Johnny’s wrist, right above his own smart watch. You made sure that it synced up with his vitals and then left your holopad on his nightstand. The reason why you did that was because the NCT headquarters would’ve been immediately alerted of your position if you made your way out of the building and consequentially, out of Neo City and off the planet. You didn’t want them to chase you and obstruct your plan to return on Exo Planet.

Johnny took in a deep breath and stirred in his sleep, making your heart leap in your chest. It was close to 4 a.m. and you couldn’t waste any more time, you couldn’t risk him waking up and catching you getting rid of your tracking devices. “I’m sorry,” you whispered softly as you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. It was never meant to work out between the two of you, no matter how much you repeated to yourself that you cared about him. You got up and left his bedroom in darkness. The living room was dimly lit from a floor lamp in a corner, so when you saw the front door to the apartment slide open and a drunk Haechan staggered inside making a bit of noise, you panicked and cursed yourself for taking too long to leave.

“Nora?” He croaked out your name in confusion, but immediately after he grinned while pointing a finger towards you and the door to Johnny’s bedroom. “You– is he–?”

“Sleeping! Shhh!” You hissed in a panicked whisper and hurried over to Haechan to put a finger up to his lips. He must’ve been drunk off his ass to not even be able to utter a complete sentence. “Come on, let’s get you to bed…” You could only imagine what Mark must’ve been like after celebrating his birthday last night well into the early hours of the morning. You snaked your right arm behind his back and around his waist, throwing one of his arms on your shoulders for support, then directed him towards his bedroom, hushing him along the way while he kept giggling.

“Naughty…” Haechan mused when you helped him lay on his bed. He kicked off his shoes before you had any chance to help him and just watching him wordlessly as he grasped the bedsheets and rolled away from you, wrapping himself up like a burrito. He mumbled something resembling a good night followed by light snores. And he too was out for the night, now was your cue to leave.

You headed up to your room and packed a small bag with as little necessities you thought you may need in a duffle bag, anything that wouldn’t be too inconvenient to carry. You changed into some black clothes and pulled the hoodie over your head. In less than fifteen minutes you were out of the building and into the streets. You planned it during the past week, already knew where to head for transportation and had some currency to pay for the clandestine transport off the planet. You just needed to get there fast before they realized you were gone.

You barely managed to catch the metro headed towards Mad City. Once sat down, you couldn’t help but lean against the window and look out, all the bright and colored lights of the place you called “home” for many years of your life made you feel nostalgic, as if you were already gone. There was something about the way you felt toward the city, something that made your insides clench hard and ache painfully. Your stomach made you nauseous from the alcohol you had consumed that night and your rib cage felt constricted; an involuntary sob made it past your trembling lips before you squeezed them into a thin line to stop yourself from crying, yet the burning sensation behind your eyes betrayed you. The internal conflict you were going through was tearing you apart, yet you knew that your heart was winning over your mind. Emotions over logic. You straightened yourself as your fingers closed tighter around the duffle bag straps you were carrying, until your knuckles turned white, then you threw your head back on the backrest of your seat, eyes still looking out as the train made its way in the sky and through the buildings.

Your last wish before leaving was that your friends, people you grew to call family, wouldn’t hate you for leaving them.

Location: Exo Planet, Elyxion City

Doctor San gazed at Sehun awaiting to hear about his mental health, the redness in his eyes was evident just like the dark circles around them; they’ve been at it for the past week and the younger man simply wasn’t allowing himself to talk about his night terrors, or the demons that had been chasing him in his sleep. Was he sleeping though? Yes, but it wasn’t pleasant… Rather, the use of sleeping pills that the doctor prescribed to him made his nightmares more vivid and terrifying, to the point where he would wake up with difficulty, drenched in sweat with his heart racing in his chest.

Sehun was sat in the doctor’s office in the medical bay of the Dome. A pretty neat room, void of any colors, except for monochrome greys and blacks with a desk opposite the main entrance door, a few chairs and an exam table off to the left side. He let his eyes wander to the right, where another work station was filled with vials, label he couldn’t understand and papers filled with some sort of research and documentation. “The pills made it worse,” he admitted after a while of silence to the other man. He was extremely jaded of fighting his inner turmoil by himself, knowing he was losing epically, but it was even harder to let somebody in to help.

Doctor Moo San, a man in his late forties and with a long career in the medical and scientific fields, sighed with perplexity. “Sehun, you have to understand that a wound of the mind cannot be healed through the sole use of medications, it’s a long process where you have to open up and talk about your experiences. You went through a very traumatic event, near death too. It scarred you even more than anything else the Guardians have been through before in your life.”

“Even more than already losing three other Guardians?” He retorted with a provocative question. He didn’t mean to act so impulsively and let his tongue run loose. Continuous lack of sleep, improper rest and an unhealthy diet threw him so much off balance that he barely recognized himself as a functioning person.

Doc’s slightly agape lips pursed after a brief moment of shock, his pupils wouldn’t budge from Sehun’s features. “C-PTSD, I fear. Complex post-traumatic stress disorder,” he repeated and proceeded to explain it when he watched Sehun’s expression deepen into a scowl. “You have repeatedly suffered traumatic events throughout your life, a life you were thrust into and grew up in since your childhood. I watched closely all of you, you’re the youngest along with Jongin, although you’re the one who suffered the most. The head and the heart are connected, when they take too much in and don’t process it in a healthy way, they… stop working.”

Sehun sniffled softly and brough up one of his hands to rub his face over his mouth, then closed his eyes to rub his eyelids, as if that would alleviate any of the stress and headache he had. “Well, what am I supposed to do?” He looked back at the doctor sat across from him, behind his desk, hoping to hear a new solution to his problems, yet he was met with further disappointment when Doctor San shook his head slowly.

“I’ve already spoken with Junmyeon about this, and we both agree that it’s best if we remove you from active duty for professional therapy.” A loud scoff of disbelief left Sehun’s throat, eyes wide. Had he not been sitting down in a chair, he would’ve staggered back until he hit or knocked off something around the office by accident. Actually, he would’ve ran out the room altogether to go speak with Junmeyon. But as he was sat in that chair, which suddenly became too uncomfortable to sit in, he began adjusting his posture, until he stood up anxiously. “Sehun, let’s not rush to arms but talk this through, it’s for your own good.”

“By removing me from my own duty as a Guardian?” He unintentionally raised his tone as he voiced his protest. “You can’t do that!”

“Your impulsive behavior and lack of self-awareness will only further damage the team while out on another mission. We can’t allow your self-destructive actions to affect the rest of the members.” The words were harsh and brutal, but they were truthful, which hurt even more.

“So I’m damaged and need to be put to the side?! Like an object?” He exclaimed out of frustration, unable to say anything else.

“That’s not what I said–” Doctor San retorted as he stood up from his seat, trying to placate Sehun, although it was in vain.

“But it is what you implied. I can’t do my work anymore because I’m unstable.” He paced back and forth until he heard the door to the office slide open, the swoosh produced by the motion was enough to distract Sehun from the argument he was having with the doctor… At least until he redirected his anger towards his newly arrived leader.

Junmyeon’s red hair was back to black, more natural rather than the contrast of the red he was forced to dye it to after losing a bet against Chanyeol. His scrutinizing eyes quickly moved from Doctor San to Sehun a couple of times, after which he deduced that his younger friend didn’t take well to the news about being temporarily removed from duty. “What’s going on?” He tried an indirect approach, although Sehun didn’t take the bait.

“You went against my back and took me off duty?” The words stung in Junmyeon’s chest, he could hear the pain in his voice as Sehun felt betrayed.

Junmyeon crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet on the floor, trying to ground his resolution to help Sehun on his way to heal from his trauma. “We already spoke about this, you didn’t make it easy on me. You wanted time to heal? Now you have it. All of us will be here to help you, but after the last week of observing you on the training grounds, we all see that you’re spiraling and need to be helped now.”

They were right, Sehun knew that and admitted it to himself, the hardest part was facing it from someone else’s perspective without getting defensive about it. He tried his best to do it on his own – he really did – but he needed to realize it could harm his brothers in the process. He could continue to blame himself for what happened on the day that Eran died, but he couldn’t bring himself to irrationally hurt the other Guardians mindlessly. His shoulders slumped as he allowed himself to calm down from his outburst. He nodded in understanding. “What do I have to do then to heal?” He sounded so broken and exhausted.

Both Junmyeon and Doctor San smiled comfortingly after hearing that question. “Of course, it cannot be done overnight, but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. It requires commitment to regular visits with a trauma therapist– don’t worry about it, I will arrange with Miss Cho to come work with us again.” The name rang familiar to Sehun, until he remembered that some of the other Guardians worked with her in the past too, particularly when they were younger. Him too at some point, but it was too long ago to remember the details. “You will only be able to get back to work once you’ve made progress and if Doctor Cho and I give you a thumbs up, understood?”

“Yessir,” the young man nodded and looked back at Junmyeon, feeling a sense of security from him. This was going to be a good step forward.

-> Damaged Masterlist

– Chapter 4

41 notes · View notes

yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

Text

Tales of The Ghost Writer

“You met Xingqiu at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you.”

Pairings -> Xingqiu x Author!Reader

Word Count -> 3518

Theme -> Long Fic, Fluff

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Xingqiu's name might be mispelled at times, also he rambles a lot

Entry Log # 645:

I’ve once again delivered the new batch of books to Wanwen Bookhouse today at 4PM, 30 new books in collection to be sold. That would add up to a total of 420 published books for Legend of the Lone Sword. Despite its old circulation, collectors and avid bookworms still seek out the volumes. In a spur of the moment thought, the 4th volume was finally rereleased for more readers to get a chance to read them. While on my rounds, I’ve met a particularly peculiar fan.

“4th volume?” You nod as you set down the stack of books on the counter where Jifang stood behind with a welcoming smile. “Thank you, everyone has been asking about it for a while now. I don’t understand how people keep missing out on the last volume like so.” There was an exchange of giggles between you continued your idle chatter, busying yourself with recounting the stack to make sure the order placed was exact. Yep, 30.

You picked one up from the top pile as Jifang enters the bookhouse to gather the payment. It wasn't that much of a feat to carry a pile of 30 books when it's only this thick, you thought as you opened the book in the middle and... buried your nose in it, literally. Archons, the scent of freshly printed books had always been such a stress reliever of a kind. The imprints were still fresh as you run your thumb over the pristine white page of page 75, the gravings of the letter bumping it in such an intricate and endearing manner. You suppose it should be prime time you get a copy of your own-

"Ah, the glorious scent fresh books offer are quite irresistible to everyone," your head whipped to the side in a hurry at the embarrassing display. Yet your new company only offered a light-hearted laugh, floaty and flowing swiftly past his lips. You find it enjoyable to listen to. "Fret not, I don't judge such honest guilty pleasure."

His smile was soft and respectful as you return it, watching his hand (wrists largely ruffled) pick up the next book on the pile, his interest shining the more he recognizes the the piece of literature. Such expensive clothing and poise, you thought as you continued to inspect. "I knew Wanwen had a schedule of new releases today, but I was not informed it would be the 4th volume of the Legend of the Lone Sword!"

"A fan?" You mused as you placed back the copy you took, leaning against the counter as you watched him quickly scan the lines of the book. He was intensely staring at every word with such a calculating gaze, that sometimes break when he reads how the character would sometimes reach an impasse, or when a new discovery reaches its peak. His ardent gaze was enough of an answer. When he took a break from reading to pass you his attention, you hadn't realize how red your cheeks had been out of embarrassment. "I've always wanted to get my hands on my own copy of the 4th, yet everytime all bookhouses in Liyue keep running out of stock. Is delivery normally this scarce?" He'd gestured at the not so looming pile.

You nod in response with a forgoing giggle. "Publishing could be running into some... shortness of funds?" Subtle, yet he hums in disappointment at the thought. His little pout, adorable, as he buries his face in the book again. I would gladly fund such glorious writing, you thought you heard past the leather back before the ornate doors past the counter finally opened again.

"Ah sorry it took so long, I couldn't find the exact pouch for the- hey! You again, you've read and been scolded dozens of times already," the woman angrily gestures to the notice board by the table, "Pay first, read later!"

You snorted, thankfully masked by the sudden cry of the caught culprit as he was smacked (hopefully gently) on the head by the owner, forcing him to put back the book to the pile. "Hnghh, but Lady Jifang! You didn't scold her, she was indulging herself with the book just the same," you breathed a fake gasp of astounded betrayal, before you three had laughed in chorus.

The oldest of your trio scoffed in amusement as she placed the bag of Mora unto your waiting hand. "What, her? Why would I scold her, she probably knows every word like the back of her ha-" her rambling was then cut off by a loud smack on her bottom, a book expertly finding its way back to your hand with a perfectly cut smile. Her yelp was not unnoticed by the male as he laughs at the display.

"Let him be, he's really been patiently waiting for the release!" Jifang scoffs at the word patiently as you came to the defense of blunette. You were never really aware of the norm in Wanwen, as you usually come by at a time where you would have been alone. This was a first.

"Quite so! Just the start of the volume had me hooked, setting for the peak of the story climax! The synopsis itself already hinted of another inclusion of a new element into the story I had not expected from this style of a book, surely such a writer would not tread such parallel territory without being an expert teller-" Jifang watched in amusement as her gaze lands on you at the start of the bookworm's rambling, watching the redness touch the tip of your ear with an abashed smile shyly gracing your lips. Behind it she can see the mirth and amusement, something she outwardly shows with her own expression.

"Wow," was the Liyuean woman's only response once the speaker has finished his lengthy speech. His dorkiness stands with pride at his examination.

You cleared your throat before you could mutter your initial words, finally realizing the time. "That was... quite marvelous of an analysis. A-Anywaysss, thank you for your partnership, I hope the books are all sold by tomorrow!"

And with that you swiftly made your exit, wanting to find a place to scream the embarrassment out. Or maybe squeal, just to be subtle.

Entry Log # 15:

As a distant relative to the Guhua clan, the (L/N) clan was not exactly known to be tied closely to the prestigious clan known for their expert martial. However, despite the impure connection, they carry with them still the honor of learning the arts to a meticulous detail.

Your family was one of the living practitioners of the Guhua Arts, twice removed, yet your spotlight was not that obvious as the name would carry. Your father wish to carry a new kind of prestige without relying on the powerful namesake and he had been adamant since birth to grind every teaching and form of the art into his immediate family.

"Misogyny nor feminism will not save you from battle, only your own strength." Something along those lines, was what he said.

Your eldest brother was his main point of reference when scolding you on not taking your lessons properly. A slacker he is, now he lacks not only a means of security but also financial stability, that's what you end up to if you don't treasure the arts of our family. You have no idea how martial arts brings you monetary security, but you can't really state to your own father that his logic was a bit skewed.

Daily during morning and the first touch of evening, you had resigned yourself into training under your father's supervision. As the eldest daughter of the house, you carry with you still a responsibility to be strong. No fraility was accepted, and your mother always argues about your father's ever so masculine lifestyle being imposed on you, a lady that should be taught other customs for means of living.

Yet after every session, at the end of the day under the caress of the lamp by your study table, your hands move with precision and calmness he would have scoffed at in the dojo. The beauty of words and their power to create new worlds effortlessly had drawn you in too easily, ever since you were young you had a knack for the books your mother reads to herself or to you.

Entry Log # 651:

The next time you'd met the Wanwen Bookworm (nickname you gave) was a rare moment when he'd finally looked at you more than the book in his hand. It seemed your little interaction from the bookhouse was attention-grabbing enough to make him seek out your person with a bunch of questions and wonder.

You gulped, patting down your blue skirt before accompanying him. The way he rambles was too dangerous, it was drawing something within you to also do the same, and you feared you may let out something you shouldn't. But a fellow 'reader' is good company, and with the little interactions you had with the same age group with the same interest makes this moment something you can't pass.

"Carrier to the Yae Publishing House?" You nodded calculatedly, after confirming you've said just the right information. "Quite intriguing, especially with such young age to be working in line with the greatest press house in Teyvat." Ohhh, he's surely smart despite the first impression of goofiness.

You giggled as politely as you can remember you should upon the scarce teachings of your mother. "I've always liked literature so I couldn't uhm let the opportunity pass, even if it's insignificant like that." Good, good, piling up the lies. You're grateful you haven't made some contract of friendship and happen upon the wrath of your nation's God. Or Qixing.

"Surely, you must have been in the presence of some of the wordsmiths during your rendezvous! So tell me," there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and you knew exactly what he's gonna ask, "Have you met the legendary Bob Ong?"

Oh goodness, you felt him caress and pat your back as you tried your best to breathe after the sudden choking on nothing, he was so spot on that you were horrified even if you had an inkling of what he was gonna inquire. "I uhm I don't really know what I'm allowed to say." In the inside you were goddamn screaming.

"You don't have to tell me anything about him, really! It's his mystery that makes his character just the most intriguing." You gulped down hard, this time without choking out of nothing. "I don't really know much about who he is since he's, you know, unknown? No clues whatsoever, he could be anywhere right now, maybe you've talked to him already or no. Yeah?"

He held a convincing hum before taking in the cryptic answer, content, for now you assume. "Not many avid readers of the book can place a name to the unnamed author, but how blind they were to see the cryptic signature at the back of the cover. Truly a wonderous act." Xingqiu, you finally learned his name, had took you out to lunch for the trouble and enjoyment. It wasn't really necessary, but you figured it was probably to keep you with him longer to converse about the books more.

A lot of his... analysis actually coincide with the messages that you lodged between the lines. He understands your way of narration more than you do at times, and you were left wondering just how much he had read of the fourth volume despite only having it for a few days then. When evening once again struck, you had bid each other farewell in the promise of another time to hang.

"It's a literature of love and freedom- disguised as a martial arts novel." Was his parting analysis, and you were left to wonder, was that really what you had projected into your works?

Entry Log # 32:

In your young and hopeful mind, you'd sent your first ever manuscript to Yae Publishing House. It wasn't your first work but it was the one you worked hard on the most, with weeks of furbishing and reworks. Your mother, although not directly informed of your whole plan, had provided you with great feedback and generous suggestions. And soon you created the first manuscript of 'String of Pearls'.

With a generous note and what you hoped is enough mora to at least publish a book, your package was sent to Inazuma.

You waited for days, of which turned to weeks, and then to months. You thought by the end of it all, you had been swindled but as young as you still hoped for the best of its outcome.

And then one day, as you were sweeping the outside of your gates in preparation for your father's return from some business in the harbor, a lone man of Inazuman style found its way to your humble abode. He calls himself Mr. Nine, and in his arms cradled two similar looking books, with a familiar envelope.

That was when you had been given the opportunity to write for the greatest Publishing House under the guise of a pseudonym. The great Nine was astounded by your ripeness paired with your prowess in writing. You hid behind Bob Ong, a protection from being belittled as a young child and a woman, to prevent being traced by your father if ever.

Yet you remained as subtle still. Even if your name was not written on the covers themselves, within your heart you were still the writers of those books. You've placed anagrams and mysterious puzzles revealing your name but it was part of the intrigue of the story that they had not thought much about it.

One day, you lost your book when you had gone out to eat. It was the second copy, as you carried the first one in your room, yet it still held a special place in your heart.

Xingqiu was a master novelist too, as you'd expect from someone so enthusiastic on the art of literature too. You'd long since become friends and found out soon enough his true identity. The heir to the Feiyun Commerce Guild, master practitioner of the Guhua Clan Arts, soon to be novelist. He was in every aspect the better half between you two.

One day in his daily reading breaks where he would happen upon you, he had found his eyes wafting over your notebook that you always carry. It was designed to look like a hard bound book specially tailored to your tastes, but it was nothing but mere keepers of your notes and musings.

Your newest page had in it a brand new draft for a brand new story you wanted to flesh out before the success of Legend of the Lone Sword diminishes. Mr. Nine still praised you for the success of your first major publishing and had assured you that there's no need to immediately compensate with another work so early, but your mind was already so eager to work. Your friend had never seen you so- flamed and passionate as the paper caves to the intense pressure your pencil places on it.

So he leans on your shoulder slightly (glad you were still distracted) as he quietly reads the words that articulates on the paper. The more Xingqiu reads, the more he craves, just the same vigor he felt everytime he had read his favorite works when each chapter invigorates him to continue to the end.

"Such a great outline," the blunette breathes out as he leans his cheek at the crown of your head. You let out a cute squeak when you'd finally come to, and turned your head to face him- "I didn't know you were into romance, my liege. Tell me, just where do you get such inspirations?" Your nose softly collided against the smoothness of his cheek, your lips ghosting over the line that is his jaw.

You scrambled backwards to direction opposite of his, yet with his body weight leaning on you, his center of balance quickly shifted on your weight like a net being pulled against the sides of a boat. You both toppled over.

"My, my, I didn't expect such abrupt resistance from you," Xingqiu's arms caged you as it holds him up against the grassland on either side of you. There was a certain mischievous glint in the ocean that is his eyes, which only meant one thing. "No need to be shy," you closed your eyes shut as his face leans in closer to yours, fanning over the frame of your face as he lets out a warm yet teasing exhale, "I'm sure we've gone past our personal bubbles in this relationship." You felt his chest against yours and braced for the inevitable-

as he finally licked your nose(?).

What.

"X-XINGQIUUUUU!" And then a cry of pain after a particularly harmful blow.

Entry Log # 659:

Xingqiu had always been a man of great words despite his chicken scratch of a penmanship. Vivid tales of his manuscript that I'm sure the Publishing House would take great value for, his years of memorizing numerous works in his arsenal. He told me that if I were to one day publish the manuscript, he wants to get the first copy and the first to get it signed. However Xingqiu has one glaring weakness when it comes to the art of words. When I asked him what would be a good title for the manuscript I made, he simply said, "Tales of the Writer!" And he sent a goofy smile. I thought he was joking, and I asked again, this time of what his work would be named. He replied:

"Why, Legend of Sword, of course!" He really sucks at titles.

Entry Log # 660:

Upon returning home with my new work ready to be shipped off for mass publishing, I've finally confronted my father. I had with me the final volume of my first work and offered it to him as first a gift of reconciliation, and my father took it with a mirthful glint in his eyes. He said he has been looking for the last volume of the series he'd been wanting to complete. I... I didn't know father was a fan.

The climax of my entire double-life ended so peacefully and tragically meh. I was expecting a martial arts fight of honor that will go down in history, but instead I ended up signing my own book as my father gushed about how nicely I illustrated the martial arts teaching we had during our sessions. I did not sleep well that night.

October 9th was a day celebrated by others more than the young master Xingqiu. The pavilion was mixed in with people from different walks of life and of faces he doesn't necessarily recognize. He lingers by the open window that shows the grandeur balcony, beckoning him outside. Today was a scheduled new release for Wanwen Bookhouse, and he had heard several chatters from the citizens that a new series would be published hailing from Yae Publishing House once again.

And the virtuoso of literature cannot attend such important matter himself because of his own birthday. How irking, you weren't even there to help appease his grumbling, you should have been here by now upon his invitation.

Suddenly the master of invitations bellowed out a familiar name, as his job to announce the entrance of the invited guests to the banquet. When he looks up, you were already walking down the grand staircase in your creme and blue Hanfu garb, accompanied by a tall man of a different wear—

"(Y/N), M-Mr. Nine-!" He bowed politely to the man as you curtsied at his presence. You looked absolutely dashing yet the man towered your form easily. "It's my honor to finally meet you, sire."

"Happy birthday, Xingqiu, I've heard many great things about you," the blunette opened his hands to receive the book gifted by the man. It had a familiar cover and title to it, Legend of Sword, "Great things, in fact, that there would too be great things to discuss later on." The Inazuman graced him a smile and he almost teared up at the implications, if not for when the author suddenly nudged you forward from your demure state.

Tales of the Ghost Writer

"X-Xingqiu, happy birthday! This is uhm, I've always wanted to- I wanted to give you this myself, I know you'd miss the first batch of releases," an unfamiliar book sits on his palm now. A plume and sword adorning its cover but no title, he shifts his hand to open it to the first page, "You said you wanted its first copy be signed, and I thought it appropriate to be given now at such a special occasion."

There in fresh print and ink he'd finally been revealed the mysteries he had long been searching for.

Against the translucent paper it was written and signed,

Tales of The Ghost Writer

Bob Ong, (Y/N)

@creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @boxofteenageideas @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xingqiu #xingqui x reader #xingqiu x reader #Bonafide specials #exile.flower #accidentally posted again but okay #female reader

464 notes · View notes

translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 35

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 35

The bungalow was surrounded by aged trees, blocking the sunlight year-round. A chill ran through his body as he walked into the building. The faint musty smell and moisture in the air reminded him of a basement filled with children's toys. Lin Yan followed the Zhongshan man into an office with an old-fashioned wooden table. On the table, there was a large stainless steel thermos. The desktop computer occasionally made some buzzing noises. The office was close to the toilet. It didn't take long for the smell of amonia to rush into his nose.

"Sit down, Lin. I'll grab the contact information of the recent archaeologists that were there. It's still locked in the cabinet." The Zhongshan suit man said as he poured Lin Yan a glass of water in a disposable paper cup. "The files on the table are more than 20 years old. They were just transferred out of the archive room. Feel free to look through them."

"Thank you for your help." Lin Yan said politely.

"No, it's no trouble at all. It's great to see young people so active nowadays. We all heard about what happened with the porcelain appraisal. That was really something. Professor Chen wouldn't stop bragging about it when he got back." The Zhongshan suit man chuckled. He placed a bowl of melon in front of Lin Yan then grabbed his key and left.

Lin Yan sat at the table and waited. The office decoration was old but good quality. The real leather swivel chair was comfortable to sit on. The shade of leaves outside the window blocked the sunlight. A sparrow leaped lightly among the branches. It flapped its wings and flew away.

There were a lot of files about the Ming tomb on the table, sorted into vellum envelopes. Lin Yan flipped through them. They included a large amount of background information on the time period, project approval forms, equipment rental statements, reimbursement vouchers, and so on. An envelope labelled 'Staff Information' caught his attention. Lin Yan brushed off the dust and opened the envelope. There were several smaller envelopes inside with labels written in faded ink. The top one was labelled "1987 Shanxi Archaeological Team Payroll", followed by several others, such as rosters, contact information, etc. The bottom one was marked with the word 'important,' written in red, and the label read: List of work-related casualties and compensation details.

Casualties? Lin Yan picked up the envelope. It was very thin. It was almost like there was nothing inside. The glue on the seal had expired and could be opened just by a light tear. The brownish-yellow paper had become hard and brittle after not being handled for a long time. Lin Yan carefully slipped his hand in. The envelope was empty. Only after fumbling inside the envelope for a while did he find a small thin piece of paper. The hand-drawn table lines were smudged at the top. At first glance, he knew that whoever wrote it had drawn it in a rush. The ink hadn't dried before they dragged the ruler across the page.

A series of footsteps echoing in the hallway approached. Lin Yan jumped, instinctively shoving the paper back into the envelope. it took him a second to remember that he had been given permission to go through the documents. The old information always gave him an anxious feeling, like he was intruding. He felt like a thief, fleetingly travelling back in time from modern times.

The footsteps moved further away. Lin Yan carefully examined the paper in his hand. Everything had also been written in pen. The names, reasons for compensation, amount of money compensated and other items were divided into columns. Lin Yan skimmed over the columns, heart bursting with fear

"Li Erzhuang, hand fracture, compensation of 30 yuan for medical expenses, collected and signed for."

"Sun Dapeng, psychosis, compensation for medical expenses of 150 yuan, collected and signed for."

"Wang Aiguo, psychosis, compensation for medical expenses of 150 yuan, collected and signed for."

". . ."

All the remaining reasons for compensation written in after the names were for psychosis, but the diagnosis details are all blank. The signature on the back was pretty crooked, too. Some of the ink was written so lightly that it was barely visible. Back then, villagers weren't very educated and many could only write their names. He glanced at the page filled with awkward handwriting. When he reached the last two lines, the signature column was blank. After a double-take, the column for the reason for compensation was listed as 'dead'.

"Jun Xiangdong, Jiang Ying . . . did these two die?" Lin Yan gulped. He carefully flattened the paper and muttered: "Compensation of one thousand yuan . . . Hey, that's weird, for these two people. How come it's written that their compensation hasn't been claimed? A thousand yuan was considered a huge sum of money in a village at that time . . ."

Lin Yan confusedly opened the envelope containing the staff list. He pulled out a stack of yellowed paper, flipping through each of them. Besides the detailed information of the students sent by the university who participated in the excavation of the Ming Tomb, the rest were locals. Most of the villagers were uneducated. They only filled in their name, age, gender and village name. Lin Yan counted them. There were 13 people in total. The oldest was only 24 years old, and the youngest was only 16 and 17. Eighteen-year-old children make up the majority. Lin Yan recalled what the professor said and let out a sigh. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for those children to be haunted by illusions and see their friends die in front of them in such a strange way.

It was too much to think about. Lin Yan glanced back at Xiao Yu. The ghost was standing leisurely by the window with his arms crossed, looking at the scenery, as if this had nothing to do with him.

When turning back to Jun Xiangdong and Jiang Ying's forms, Lin Yan was surprised to find that the information left by these two people was almost blank. Compared to the information awkwardly filled in by the other villagers, only their villages and names were listed. Written next to them in black pen were the words "wage uncollected".

Lin Yan stared at the list of villages and frowned. He mumbled: "They're all foreigners? No wonder no one got any money after they died . . ." As he turned over the page of information on the two, there was only one last name at the bottom. The name on this page was Wang Zhong. Similar to Jun Xiangdong and Jiang Ying, there was almost no information is almost blank. He also wasn't a local. Written in big black letters in the upper right-hand corner was: "Wage uncollected".

"Wang Zhong, Wang Zhong . . . This person isn't on the compensation list." Lin Yan glanced through several forms and muttered: "Was he so afraid that he ran away without even getting paid?"

Lin Yan was immersed in a few old documents when, suddenly, the office door squeaked open. Zhongshan suit guy rummaged through the file in his hand as he walked in, muttering to himself: "What's going on . . . "

Hearing his voice, Lin Yan hurriedly put down the files and stood up. Zhongshan suit guy stepped in and waved his hands: "Sit down and sit down. My memory's not what it used to be. Obviously, I put it all away before I went on a business trip. Why can't I find it? "

"What can't you find?"

"Professor Chen said you are looking for the staff roster from the Ming Tomb archaeological expedition in Shanxi. I purposely found it and put it together. The cabinet was opened just now and everything else was there. The fortune-teller's information is the only one that's gone." Zhongshan suit guy shoved everything back into the folder and said to Lin Yan: "Look, everything is numbered. Everyone has one. I filled it out when I joined the team. I kept a copy of it for payroll statistics."

Lin Yan flipped through several forms, each of which was detailed with the staff’s name, ID number, telephone number, address, working hours and position, etc. Indeed, like Zhongshan suit guy said, the number between No. 34 and No. 36 was missing. But the information from the 30th onwards was very brief, some even only listing names and phone numbers. Those people are temporary workers. No. 34 was hired to drive a tractor. No. 36 and 37 were temporary cooks. The form ended on No. 37.

No. 35 should be the mysterious fortune teller.

"This man wasn't part of the team. He came to watch over things with a feng shui compass. He stayed to explain his plan for the excavation then left. He negotiated the price with me and said that he would wait to get paid until his method was proven useful. We had the money ready to go but he never came to get it, otherwise, the financial account would have been recorded."

Everything was done so neatly. Lin Yan stared at the extra space between No. 34 and No. 36 and furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't even want the money? What was he after?

"Please think it over again. Did you take it out before and put it somewhere else?" Lin Yan was a little impatient. "Or did another colleague take it away?"

Zhongshan suit guy rubbed his hands and stroked the key in his hand in confusion: "Impossible. I'm the only one with a key to the cabinet. I had organized everything and locked it in the cabinet before I left on the trip. It was gone as soon as I got back."

Lin Yan's heart skipped a beat. This seemed too coincidental. He glanced back at Xiao Yu. The ghost was staring at the door with furrowed brows and didn't respond to him.

Seeing that Lin Yan's screwed-up expression, Zhongshan suit guy picked up the paper cup on the table and filled it at the water dispenser. He put it back in front of him and comforted him: "It's okay. You sit and drink some water and eat some melon. I'll keep looking for it. I remember when that man first came and spoke in a mysterious way, no one believed him. He left a phone number and address, saying we would definitely have to call him again. And he was right."

"Where did I put it . . ." Zhongshan suit guy talked to himself while fiddling around in the office. Lin Yan wanted to help but was pushed back into the chair. He was forced to stare at the desktop screen saver. A bright, shimmering mass of lines shifted on a black background. Green, red, and blue lines slowly changing, becoming larger and smaller, rolling into a big mess. He couldn't make sense of it.

"Today isn't a good time. If you come at another time, you could ask someone else. Actually, today is our day off so the whole building is empty. I'm the only one who came here for a reason."

Lin Yan smiled embarrassedly: "That's too much trouble for you." Then a thought struck him and he casually mentioned: "There are still people here. I just heard footsteps in the hallway. They just passed by but didn't come in."

Zhongshan suit guy was washing his hands in the washbasin by the door but abruptly stopped when he heard this and looked up: "Impossible. There's no one in the building but flies. There are only three offices, I just checked them and no one's there."

Lin Yan took a sharp breath. He looked towards the dark corridor in the doorway and suddenly felt an ominous feeling.

Maybe it was just him passing by to check the information, Lin Yan reassured himself. When the sun changed its angle, a few loose beams of light penetrated into the room through the gaps in the leaves. The soft yellow light peaked in. The dust dancing in the light fell onto the dark brown tabletop. Beams jutting to the side illuminated a cactus that had been watered too much, its petals hanging down limply.

"Hey, I remember, wait a second." A hint of excitement flashed through Zhongshan suit guy's voice. In the lower part of the glass cabinet, he pulled out an old jacket and searched through the pockets. He fished out a crumpled note from a small pocket in the lining. He fumbled with the crumbled note, studied it over, muttering: "Right, right, this is it."

Zhongshan suit guy slapped the note down in front of Lin Yan's eyes: "The address and phone number."

Lin Yan's expression relaxed.

By noon, the weather was getting hot. Zhongshan suit guy turned on the fan. The buzzing of the fan blades and the rustling of the papers being blown rang out incessantly. Lin Yan put the phone up to his ear and held a pen in his other hand, scribbling on a notepad, the tip of the pen trembling slightly because of the anticipation.

"Beep . . . beep . . ."

". . . The number you have called is temporarily unavailable."

The voice of the phone message came four times in a row. Lin Yan and Zhongshan suit guy exchanged a glance. He dropped the receiver and languidly stretched. Looking at the lower part of the note, the address handwritten in pencil looks familiar. Where had he seen it? Lin Yan tugged at his collar. He wanted to unbutton it to get some air, but he suddenly remembered the string of hickeys on his neck and he hurriedly buttoned it back to the top.

There was a splash of water from the water dispenser, followed by a series of gurgling noises. A thought flashed through his mind. Lin Yan froze in place with his cup in his hand, like the solution had smacked into his brain like a hammer strike.

"Mr. Chen, what does the fortune teller you mentioned look like?"

Zhongshan suit guy thought for a moment and recalled: "It's been a long time so I don't remember clearly. He looked like he was in his 40s or 50s. He's about the same height as me, and his hair is very short."

Lin Yan gulped and entered the address into his phone's GPS. The green route map was displayed, extending all the way to the northwest.

That's it. Lin Yan stared at the red dot indicating the destination in the upper left corner and quietly thought to himself: I found you, temple master.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #danmei novel #danmei #chinese bl #bl novel #english translation #yaoi novel #yaoi

12 notes · View notes

poetic-emptiness-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Two Sisters (Echoes of the Past 14: In Another Life)

Characters: Salma Kuura, Hande Kuura, Helena Kuura, Sardar Gul, Julian Devorak, Sargon Hakimi (mentioned), Asra Alnazar (mentioned), Count Lucio (mentioned) & Nadia Satrinava (mentioned)

No content warnings

Words: ~2 240

@arcana-echoes

It's very hot in here, but I like it – I've always enjoyed summer, even the hotter days. And it isn't even that bad inside, since we have a ventilation machine nowadays. Who would've thought we'll buy something Sargon has invented? Gorilla would find it hilarious, at least I think so... I wish I could still speak to her, or at least that she'd had a grave so I could visit her... Well, doesn't help to ruminate such things. Perhaps I should look on my suit designs, if they need some improving.

Knock on the door. We aren't expecting any guests, so I'm a little confused – usually people won't pay visits at this hour during this time of year. I become very curious and want to be the first to see our guest. ”I'll get it!” I shout to äiti and baba and run downstairs. When I open the door, there's a man I've never seen before. He's tall, gangly, has very pale skin and auburn hair, and his other eye is covered with an eyepatch. Actually, he looks like a pirate, although his clothes clearly aren't for pirating. I get a little nervous – I'm not afraid of people anymore, but I still feel a little unsure when I'm meeting new people.

We keep looking at each other for a moment – he looks a little surprised after seeing me. How curious, we haven't met each other before... I would remember. ”Good afternoon. May I help you?” I ask politely. The man seems to snap out of some kind of trance and answers, ”Erm, yes, good afternoon! Is this the house of Sardar Gul and Helena Kuura?” Now it's my turn to look surprised – I hope this isn't anything bad. Though, to be fair, I don't see any ill intent. ”Yes, this is. Excuse me, who are you?” I answer a little reserved. The man smiles at me and bows a little – hah, this is a dramatic one, and quite handsome, may I add. ”I'm Julian Devorak. I come from Vesuvia. And who you might be?”

Julian Devorak... Why does that name feel so familiar? I'm sure I've heard it somewhere... I don't have time to think about that, but I answer to the guest, ”My name is Salma Kuura. I'm the daughter of Sardar and Helena.” Mr. Devorak mumbles something to himself, and I can't make any of it – he sounds a little nervous. Was he planning something and now I proved to be something he didn't expect? Finally he speaks to me again, ”Well... Erm... I'm sorry. Are your parents home?” I nod and ask why is he asking about that. Mr. Devorak moves his feet a little and then he says, ”It's about Hande Kuura.” I feel dumbfounded. It hurts me to speak, but I have no choice, ”Oh... I'm sorry, didn't you know? She died, four years ago.” Mr. Devorak starts to fiddle his gloved fingers – why on Earth is he wearing gloves in this weather? I need to fight back my tears, it's still hard to say that my sister is dead.

Finally Mr. Devorak speaks, ”Yes, I knew it. But, erm, about that...” he sighs, not sure how to continue, ”Well, maybe it's best if I just show you... I just need to warn you, she doesn't remember you. Darling, you can come now.” What is he talking about? I don't undertstand at all... Who doesn't remember me? My brain freezes when another person steps out. Just barely taller than me, blond hair, blue eyes, resting bitch face... Oh no... It can't be... ”... Hande?” She's really standing there, in front of me. My big sister, died from the Red Plague while trying to save everyone else, without a chance to say goodbye... She's alive? She's alive! ”HANDE! Oh my goodness, you're alive! Äiti! Baba! Come here!” I shout and then jump to hug her. Hande tenses at my touch. I let her go to see her better. ”Hande? Don't you know me? It's me, Salma, the Monkey... Your sister.” Hande just watches me curiously. Oh, Mr. Devorak said she doesn't remember me. But why?

Finally äiti and baba come to the door. Baba exclaims surprised and his legs almost give out. Äiti just stares at the sight. Then they both run to Hande and take her into their arms. Hande tenses again, but watches me intensely. She looks like she tries to recognise or remember something. She also looks confused which feels so strange. How could she forget her own family? Why is she here when we were told she's dead? Mr. Devorak tries to calm down our parents and places his and on Hande's shoulder protectively. I meet Hande's gaze and I smile her a little. My heart jumps when she answers the smile.

***

The quintet is sitting on the pillows in the living room, teacups in front of them. Julian sits next to Hande and holds her hand while she tells her family how she's now standing there and what has happened before they came to Karnassos. Salma has always found it fascinating that her sister is a magician, but she would have never imagined, that being a magician could lead someone to mysterious rituals or fighting the Devil. And Hande has been even a detective, although she ended up together with the murder suspect who is a doctor – THAT is hilarious. Well, to be honest, Salma is a little disappointed that Count Lucio is still alive somewhere – or ex-Count.

”So... It was Asra who brought you back to life?” Salma asks cautiously. Hande nods, ”Yes. Do you know him?” Salma looks at their parents who nod – Salma can tell this bit. ”Yes, we all know him. You were 17, when were visiting amme Afsoun in Vesuvia and well, baba had worked at the Palace previously. So... Count Lucio invited him to the Masquerade, and we all went too. Asra sold our masks, he had made them himself. Then, we didn't want to, but Count Lucio came talking with us and introduced us to his fiancée, Princess Nadia of Prakra. But then, that idiot asked you to dance with him, and you didn't dare to refuse. And by the look of your face he tried to hit on you...” ”Salma!” Helena shouts scoldingly. Hande grimaces and Julian also looks a little disgusted. Despite her mother's interruption, Salma continues, ”Well, maybe he didn't realise you were underage... But oh well, then he tried to ask you for another dance, but behold! A knight in a shining armor came to your rescue – Asra.”

Hande feels stupefied because of all that information. ”But... How did Sar-- baba end up working to Lucio? Karnassos is quite far from Vesuvia, and he had his own architectures, as far as I know.” Now Helena starts to talk, ”Well, he was here, he stopped to Karnassos with his army 11 years ago. It was quite chaotic and there were way too many close calls.” Salma stands up and says she's going to fetch something from upstairs. Quite soon she returns with a ball of yarn in her hands. It's purple and looks quite old. ”It started with this,” Salma says and hands the ball to her sister. Hande takes it, but she doesn't have time to inspect it further, because a strange feeling takes control of her body and she sees just white...

”Sal, come on, I can cast a spell to get it back...”

”Don't worry, Hande, I'll get it!”

Salma runs to the street after a ball of yarn. The ball is almost in the middle of the street already, but Salma is fast and and is approaching it surely. Finally her hand whisks the ground and the yarn is in her possession. Hah, she really is as swift as a monkey. Salma raises her hand triumphantly; the ball of yarn seems to be shining in sunlight. I smile at her, but then I hear something... Like a carriage, and someone shouting. ”GET OUT OF THE WAY! I CAN'T CONTROL THEM!” someone shouts. Then I see the carriage coming way too fast towards us. I drop my basket and run to Salma. ”SALMA, LOOK OUT!” I manage to shriek before I push her out of the way, but then I feel a sudden pain and my mind goes blank.

I wake up. I'm laying on the street and the carriage is still there, horses extremely bolted. I turn to search for Salma, who is sitting not far away from me. ”Sal, are you alright?” I ask worried. Salma is holding her head, but answers, ”Yeah... I just got some bruises and I may have a concussion, but otherwise I'm fine... Hande, look out!” Salma bolts to me and tries to drag me when horses rise to their hind legs. I cry out in pain and see my leg: it's in a position it's not supposed to be. I startle and begin to feel sick, but I swallow and try not to cry out again. ”My leg is broken...” I hiss between my teeth. Salma hugs me and tries to calm me, but I think I'm in shock – I only feel the pain, nothing else. Then suddenly Salma startles and shouts, ”Don't you dare touch my sister!” I turn to look to whom Salma is shouting: someone had surged in front of us to restrain the horses without me noticing. Now he has turned to us and tries to approach. Oh no... The golden arm... It's the Count of Vesuvia!

Hande returns back to reality. Julian is holding her in his arms and her sister and parents are looking at her worried expressions on their faces. ”My darling, are you alright? What was that?” Julian asks while he's checking Hande for any injuries. ”Yes, I'm fine... I just saw a memory... You almost died...” she says, turning her gaze to Salma. ”You saw it?” Salma asks, both dumbfounded and impressed. Hande nods and tells how much she saw. ”Yeah... Well, he had killed our mayor previously, so everyone avoided him. But he insisted helping you and I wasn't able to carry you, so... He carried you to the hospital. But later we found out it was his soldier who had frightened the horses and you just limped to their camp with your crutches and gave him the piece of your mind,” Salma chuckles at the memory – the Count was pretty pissed when a 16-year-old dared to speak to him like that.

Suddenly Salma realises something, ”Wait a minute... Julian Devorak... Hey! Were you the doctor teaching Hande when she began her apprenticeship in Vesuvia?” Julian affirms, surprised that Salma can remember his name – he didn't remember Hande has a sister as well, only her parents. Salma barks a laughter and turns to Hande, ”Ha! How funny – you always just were friends with someone and then they, or you, or both fell in love! First Sargon, then Asra...” Hande freezes, ”Wait... Asra?” Now Salma remembers that Hande really doesn't have any memories from her past and she slipped pretty badly. Their parents watch her a little scoldingly, as if to say, that a 25-year-old should know when to speak and when to stay quiet. Oh well, now the cat was out of the bag, so it didn't help to brush it off anymore.

”I'm sorry, Hande... I didn't mean to confuse you...” Hande smiles to her sister woefully, but starts to fiddle her fingers, ”I didn't know... Do you mean... Me and Asra were a couple? He hasn't said anything...” Well, to Salma it seems Asra only keeps secrets, at least nowadays – he didn't even bother to inform them that Hande is alive, and just let them mourn her for all these years. After a pause, Salma answers, ”Yes... You first became very good friends, while you were with Sargon – he's the former mayor's nephew. Later he got jealous of how good friends you were with Asra, although it really was just a friendship. Well, you didn't tolerate that and dumped him. But then, a year after that, you went together with Asra... You were together for two years, until that argument... Has he told you about the time you decided to stay in Vesuvia despite of the plague situation?” Hande nods, Asra had told her about the argument, but not the fact they were a couple and that argument also ended their relationship. It all feels so overwhelming to her.

Julian laughs nervously and then tries to break the ice, ”Well, look at that. Two of his exes ended up together!” Hande wasn't expecting that comment, and can't help but burst into laughter. Salma is laughing as well, while Helena and Sardar chuckle a little. Then Salma rises from her pillow and goes to Hande, taking her into her arms, ”I can only imagine, how hard it is for you to take this all in. But we all really missed you so much, so I'm just very happy, that you really are here, flesh and blood, breathing. Even if I want to give a piece of my mind to Asra, I'm still grateful. He brought you back and it is the best gift I could ever get.” Hande hugs Salma back and then their parents and Julian also join the hug. Everything feels so strange, but all of them have a feeling, that everything's going to be okay.

My AO3

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #Hande the Apprentice #Julian Devorak #fanfic #Hanian #my writing #my work #arcana eotp

4 notes · View notes

niqhtlord01 · 6 years ago

Text

Humans are weird: We can play the game, and play it well. (A Earl von Morgan story)

(For the initial story that introduced several of these characters please follow this link: https://niqhtlord01.tumblr.com/post/186229837551/humans-are-weird-threatening-a-human-does-not-end ) The summer breeze warmed the air outside the Sanssouci Palace as nearby tourists walked on their way, stopping every now and then to take a picture of the majestic German estate. A monument to the mixture of beauty and symmetry that had made one sentient machine envoy break down in joy at finding another species in the universe that could understand the beauty balance. Inside however, in a small out of the way office, a group of officials were having a heated discussion with such language being thrown between them that if one were to have heard them would have mistaken the people inside to be brothel goers rather than government officials. The gilded room wore golden embroidery trim, the table and chairs carved from wood some several hundred years that had been painfully maintained with great expense, and the windows polished so cleanly that all manner of creatures ran head long into them on an hourly basis. One such bird struck the window with such force it woke Morgan from his light slumber. He rubbed his eyes as if he was in deep thought and took a look around the room. His aides were still as lively as they were before he nodded off and some looked as if they were about to lunge over the table and grapple with those they were arguing with. He straightened himself out and smiled at such youthful vigor and that was partly why he had picked them for his staff. They saw things in a different light and were not constrained by standards or protocols the such that Morgan was bound to follow. He chuckled at the idea when he remembered how he had pulled a gun on several representatives several months ago when they threatened him with war unless he complied. Thankfully none of them had spoken to their governments or issued a censor to him so he felt like had flown under the radar safely. Suddenly realizing something he took out his pocket watch and looked at the time. “That’s enough now.” Morgan said as he tapped his cane against the table three times to get his staff’s attention, their arguments dying down as one by one they returned to their seats. “Unlike the British I am not fond of going round in circles which this conversation has inadvertently turned into.” Several of them chuckled as they straightened themselves and their papers out. A knock on the door stole everyone’s attention but Morgan simply nodded to one of his aides to go and let their guest in. The door slowly was drawn open and in stepped the Insectoid hive’s representative, Tilith. She still wore her peoples beaded strands to hide her face but she now donned a modified Japanese kimono. Her spider legs clicking as they touched the ground and caused the fabric to flutter. Morgan rose from his seat to greet her as did the rest of his staff. “Hive Lord Tilith, your presence is as always a ray of sunlight in this bland political landscape.” he said as he bent down to kiss her outstretched hand. Tilith cocked her head to the side and chuckled, “And your formality is as ever respectful though unnecessary. Come, let us speak as friends.” Morgan stood up and motioned for his aides to bring in a specialized chair for the hive lord to sit upon. “Tilith, I have already told my staff about the coming meeting but I think it would also be best for them to hear it from you as well.” Tilith nodded and stared at the surrounding faces. “In the next three days the daughter of the Hive queen will be visiting Earth and staying at our embassy. Should you wish to improve your standing with the Hive, you must first win her over.” A low murmur spread across the table as the staff took it in. “Pardon me Hive lord.” A young female staff member spoke. “Forgive my ignorance but you are a representative, surely your words would be of higher regard to your government rather than the words of a princess.” Morgan eye Tilith as she shifted in her chair, her beaded cover rattling. “I can forgive you but I recommend you never say such things again. Some of the more traditional of my species would take grave offense to your words.” The young woman who spoke shrunk back into her chair and remained quiet as Tilith continued. “What you must understand is that the government of our people is centered around the queen and her royal princesses to a far greater sense than any of your previous kings or queens. It is difficult for me to explain as you have never been part of the Hive and are all individuals, so it would be as if explaining color to the blind.” Morgan rested his hand on his chin and stroked it. “So we need to win this princesses favor then, yes?” Tilith nodded. “Indeed, for the queen cares deeply for her daughters and has great value in their words. They are young, but they are not foolish. I am only here because I see great value in humanity and wish to further our friendship, but I will not assist you. You must be the ones to win her favor for this friendship to have any meaning.” “Well said!” Morgan clapped his hands together. “For our partnership to grow we will show this princess the worth of humanity.” The surrounding staff applauded and nodded as well at Morgan’s declaration before he waved them to silence. “And of course we would never ask you to betray your people Tilith, though could we trouble you for some small details?” “Such as?” Morgan returned to his seat. “For instance, can you tell us the princesses name and where she will be staying?” “The princesses name is Roxana, and she will be staying at the embassy.” “Does she have any places she wishes to visit during her stay?” Tilith reclined into her chair and crossed her taloned fingers. “She will not be leaving the embassy during her visit.” Morgan stared at her for a moment as if comprehending her statement and scratched his head. “Is there a specific reason as to why?” Morgan ventured, unsure how much information Tilith was willing to divulge. “Some of her retinue are the more traditionalists I spoke of and are afraid of what exposure to humanity might do to the princess. They see your individuality as a cause for concern and wish to limit any influence you might part on to the princess. Therefore they have decided to keep her within the confines of the embassy, claiming to the princess that humanity is dull and uninspiring and not worth her time.” Some of the staff scoffed at the notion. “Then why even have her come at all then?” “Her arrival has nothing to do with humanity and more to do with me. All members of the royal family make regular trips to the Hive’s embassies to get familiar with the ambassadors to ensure they are acting in the Hive’s best wishes. In truth I doubt you would be able to arrange an audience with her with how heavily they are screening her.” “I see. Very clever of them.” Morgan leaned back in his chair while rocking and looked at the ceiling. He stared at it for about a minute before leaning forward and staring at Tilith, a clever grim creeping across his face. “We can not meet the princess, but I think I have a way for her to meet us.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Three days later the princess arrived at the Hive’s embassy and had remained there ever since. Shortly after Morgan arrived in his governmental vehicle and approached the gate of the Hive embassy, one hand holding his trusty cane while the other carried a diplomatic package. Though the wall surrounding the embassy was human in nature, the embassy itself was a massive upside down bee hive like structure that pushed out of the ground and towered into the air. The wall was more or less to stop ignorant tourists from trying to get up close and take a picture of the structure as the insectoids were highly territorial and would take their actions as a threat to their domain and would most likely rip the tourists limb from limb. As he neared the gate two armored insectoids stepped out from the gatehouse and moved to intercept Morgan. They were easily twice his or Tilith’s height and their armored exoskeleton was strong enough to deflect point blank small arms fire and in some cases even tank fire as well. They carried no weapons as their talons were strong enough to slash through solid steel like it was paper. Morgan tilted his head upwards and looked up at the warriors and nodded a greeting. “Good morning my fine giant friends. I am representative Earl von Morgan and I have an appointment today.” The warriors looked at each other and then back at Morgan. “No....visitors....today...for...princess....” the taller one stated. His voice was thick with clicking and he struggled with the words but Morgan was able to still make them out. Morgan smiled. “I would imagine so, but I am here to see Hive Lord Tilith, not the princess.” The warriors again stared at each other and then back at Morgan. They were far from simpletons but the way their brains were wired they needed more time to process their thoughts and memories. They were probably combing their memories to see if they had been told to block any entry to the embassy or just those wishing to meet the princess. The other one raised a talon and pointed at the box Morgan was carrying. “What.....is....in....the box?” Morgan hefted it so the warrior could better see it. “This is a package Hive Lord Tilith requested me to get for her the next time I was traveling.” “Must....be....scanned....” They held out a hand for the box and Morgan handed it to them. They then returned to the gatehouse and closed the door leaving Morgan and the other warrior standing awkwardly in silence. A few moments later they returned and handed the package to Morgan. “You.....may.enter..” The guards stepped aside and motioned for Morgan to continue in. He nodded to both of them and entered the embassy. As he gazed up at the towering structure Morgan reflected that he had never been inside of the structure before and wondered what it looked like. He had seen the inside of bee hives on Earth but he doubted it would be exactly the same. Standing in front of the entrance to the hive was Tilith who waved to him as he approached. “Good afternoon Mein Fräulein.” She motioned for him to join him at a small table. They both sat down and Morgan placed his package on the table. “It is a pleasure to see you again, though I am unsure how meeting me is going to help you meet the princess.” Tilith remarked as she rested her head on a hand. Morgan simply chuckled and tapped the package. “That is what this is for.” She regarded the covered package questioningly. “Please tell me you did not sneak another weapon in?” Morgan laughed louder and slapped his hand against the table. “No, no. Nothing so dastardly this time. Why don’t you open it up and see?” Tilith reached out and gently opened the coverings to reveal another box inside. With a nod from Morgan she removed the lid. Before the cover was even fully removed a sudden rush overcame Tilith. A tingling sensation that ran along all of her legs and caused her fingers to twitch and she dropped the lid back down on to the box. She let out several gasps before looking at Morgan. “What is this?!?!” she demanded of Morgan. “This my dear,” he said as he reached over and pulled off the lid in one go, “is chocolate.” The sudden sensation returned and it was even stronger than before. “We have them as treats. This is from a local bakery I know of here in town.” “What do you mean by “treats”?” Tilith asked as she focused all of her eyes on the chocolates. There were a variety of different sizes, shapes, and colors; no two were alike. “We eat them. Try one and see for yourself.” Tilith cautiously reached out with a hand and selected one and slid it under her strand covers and took a bite out of it. Morgan watched in silence as she did so and was somewhat confused that after the first bite she stopped moving. Though he had done extensive research and selected chocolates that would sit well for her people, he couldn’t help but become concerned that he had missed something. That feeling didn’t last long however as Tilith quickly devoured the rest of the chocolate with such vigor that her silver strands covering her face flew away revealing her face below. She munched on it for several seconds before swallowing and letting out a long gasp. “These are beyond anything I have every tasted in my life!” She remarked as her arms and legs outstretched, as if the very excitement now inside her could barely be contained. Morgan himself let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “They really are aren’t they? Why don’t you try another?” Without needing more prodding Tilith happily devoured another one. “I remember you once told me how heightened your peoples senses are and how you crave sweet flavors. So I figured I would introduce you to some of our best desserts.” She nodded enthusiastically as she finished the second one. “We do indeed. I can see now why you’d bring these to win over Roxana, but how will you get them to her when her retinue won’t let you get close?” Morgan leaned back and clasped his hands. “I won’t have to judging by your reaction. Being here in front of the main entrance to the hive with a soft breeze carrying blowing inside, coupled with your heightened smell, I imagine that the aroma of these treats is now finding it’s way through the Hive. So when the princess smel-” A loud scuttling sound from behind made Morgan stop and turn around to see a massive insectoid come storming out the Hive entrance and come straight at him. This form would have easily towered over the guards Morgan had met at the entrance and was roughly the size of a bus in length with a maw on the front large enough to swallow Morgan whole in one bite. It scuttled on a dozen rows of feet and moved rapidly across the ground like a centipede. It came charging at Morgan and Tilith and for a moment he thought he was about to be trampled to death when the new figure dug its feet into the ground to stop its forward motion and halt directly in front of them. The dust cloud it generated from stopping made Morgan cough and attempt to wave away the dust. He looked over at Tilith to make sure she was okay when he saw her bent down bowing her head to the dirt at the newly arrived figure. Sudden realization hit him and he wondered if this large figure was in fact princess Roxana. He quickly straightened himself and bowed to the large insectoid. “It is an honor to meet you Princess Roxana. I am humanities representative Earl von Morgan.” “What is that delicious smell coming from?” came the reply in a soft childlike voice that confused Morgan. He looked up again to see a new figure suddenly appear on top of the massive form that looked similar to Tilith in shape but much smaller. They wore elaborate carvings of gold the sculpted to their legs like a glove and along with a vibrant gown. Unlike Tilith they wore no face cover and her insecotid face was on full display. Morgan pointed to the table with the box of chocolates still open. “They are delicacies of my world your grace called chocolates.” He motioned to Tilith who was still bowing on the ground. “Representative Tilith had heard tales of them and wanted me to bring her some samplings to be given as a gift to you during your stay.” Roxana moved lower along the massive insectoids side to be closer and inspect the box, but her legs never touched the ground nor left the massive insectoids body. Roxana frowned and glared at Morgan. “If they were meant to be a gift for me why are two missing?” She turned her gaze to Tilith who trembled slightly. Morgan took a step forward but the massive insectoid let out a low growl that made him stop dead in his tracks. He wagered this was some form of specialized bodyguard cast meant to protect the royal family. “That would be because I ate them your grace. Tilith wanted to be sure that they weren’t poisoned so she randomly selected two and made me eat them, observing me to see how I would react. She is very protective of you.” Roxana’s glare softened for a moment before it returned to a frown which she then directed at Morgan. Speaking to an insectoid without a face cover was an interesting experience to say the least, let alone one of royalty. “The scanners would have detected any poison when they were examined at the gate.” Morgan shrugged and smiled. “Like I said, she is very protective of you and wanted to be sure.” He took hold of the box and held it out to the princess. “Would you like one?” Roxana’s face lit up as the box was held in front of her. “Yes!” She reached out with a hand to grab one but stopped suddenly as if torn between wanting and not wanting before withdrawing her hand. “Is something wrong your grace?” Roxana pouted and crossed her arms. “My retinue said I’m not supposed to touch anything human.” Morgan looked at the box and then at Roxana. “I see. Then how about I chuck one into your mouth?” Roxana glared at him intensely and the massive form growled again as if sensing her ward was being insulted. “You dare treat me as if I’m a child?!” “Heaven’s no my grace.” he said as he wave his hand to the side as if to dispel the idea. “I was merely thinking of a way to get what you want without breaking your word to your retinue.” She perked up at that and placed a hand on the bodyguard who then promptly calmed down. “I’m listening.” With his free hand he picked up the chocolate she had been originally reaching for. “If I throw it to you and you catch it in your mouth, then you did not touch anything. In fact, you would be tasting it, which is different from touching.” Her face began to light up again as she eyed the chocolate in his hand. “That way, you still keep your word to your retinue while at the same time getting what you want. Am I wrong?” “I like your thinking!” she loudly announced and moved closer to him. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, which to his somewhat horror was now large enough to fit the head of a small child inside of. He tossed the chocolate at her with his best aim and she quickly caught it and began devouring it. Roxana had the same reaction Tilith had had before and was twitching around excitedly to a point she almost lost her grip and fell to the ground before righting herself. “Another!” She demanded as she finished. “Of course, which would you like?” Morgan pointed between the remaining ones until Roxana nodded rapidly over one with a white rose on it. He picked it up and was just about to throw it again when a loud voice interrupted him. “HOW DARE YOU!!!!” Morgan turned to see a group of robed insectoids pouring out of the hive and surround him. Morgan nodded to the one who had originally shouted to him. “Good afternoon. My name is-” The robed insecotid strode forward and slapped him across the face causing him to tumble to the ground, the chocolates now strewn across the ground. “How dare you treat our princess as if she is one of your live stock!” the same robed isnectoid declared. “Have you now shame?!!?” A chorus of acknowledgement came from the other robed insectoids as they began issuing their own insults. Morgan was rubbing his face and reached for his cane to help him rise. Seeing this the cane was quickly snatched from him and held out of reach leaving him no choice but to rise to his feet unsteadily. “I feel there has been a grave misunderstanding.” Morgan began, his words slightly slurring as he realized his cheek was beginning to puff out from the slap which had more force than he originally thought. “I was only-” Another slap sent him once more to the ground, harder than before. “You will stay silent if you wish to live human.” “But you don’t understand.” Morgan began again just as the robed insectoid raised their foot to stamp on him. Suddenly, all of the insectoids grabbed hold of their heads and began curling up into balls on the ground. Morgan looked over through blurry eyes and saw Tilith doing the same as if she were in pain. Morgan turned his gaze upwards and saw the princess with her mouth wide open once more but not a sound coming out. Maybe something humans can’t hear?, Morgan wondered as he lay on the ground. This went on for a minute before the princess closed her mouth again. The bodyguard outstretched a massive leg and scooped up Morgan as if he was made of paper and stood him up straight, One by one the robed retinue rose to their feet and bowed to the princess. “Princess Roxana-” the robed figure that had slapped Morgan began before being cut off by the bodyguards foot crashing into them. It slammed them to the ground hard and kept them there by pressing down on their chest. “You are the one with no shame.” Roxanne began as she slowly moved down the bodyguards leg. “You attacked a representative of a friendly nation, and one who had brought me a gift at that which is now ruined by your actions.” She stood just above the struggling robed figure as the bodyguard’s leg began to apply more pressure on their chest as if to crush them. She looked over at Morgan. “You are the offended party here. What should I do with them?” He looked down at the insectoid that had struck him now looking at him with desperation in their eyes. Morgan brushed some dirt off his coat and coughed. “No need to be so harsh my grace. This was all brought about by a misunderstanding.” Roxana looked at him surprisingly, then tapped the bodyguard who moved their leg off the robed figure who began gasping for breath. “That still leaves the matter of my ruined gift though.” Roxana looked down at the figure as they began inching away expecting the bodyguard to crush them. Morgan calmly stepped between the two of them and smiled at the princess. “Think nothing of it. I can get you another box and have it to you by tomorrow.” “But I want it now!” Roxana pouted and the bodyguard growled at their wards displeasure. Morgan calmly placed his hand on his chin and paced back and forth. Finally stopping and snapping his fingers he turned and looked at Roxana. “Very well. How about I go and contact the chocolate maker and have him make you a fresh batch today at his bakery? He would be honored to have you taste them fresh.” Roxana rocked her head back and forth considering the option. “Why can’t you make them bring the chocolates here?” “I could, but I would have thought you would like to try them fresh when they are even more delicious then the one you had just now.” Roxana’s mouth begin to open and close at the idea of the chocolates being even better. “They taste better fresh you say?” Morgan nodded. “Of course. The ones I was presenting to you I got yesterday when he was open. Today he closes his shop but I am sure he would open it for me if I asked.” Roxana began clapping her hands in excitement. “How very thoughtful of you. You do me a great kindness after my retinue treated you so poorly.” He smiled and shrugged. “All water under the bridge your grace. I shall take my leave and contact the baker. I shall return within the hour and then we can proceed to their bakery.” Roxana nodded and then tapped her bodyguard who turned around and began returning to the hive, her retinue following quickly behind. The one that had slapped him glared at him before following after the others. Once the princess had gone Tilith rose from her knees and reached out to Morgan who was now swaying on his feet slightly. “Are you alright?” She helped him sit down as he rubbed his cheek. “Nothing a few shots of spirits can’t fix.” She sat down across from him and looked him over. “You did me a kindness by covering for me before. Your cleverness knows no bounds it seems, using the chocolates to draw the princess to you.” Morgan chuckled but stopped as it hurt his cheek to laugh. “That reminds me.” He said as he looked at her with his smile back on his face. “When we go to the bakery I need to get you a box of chocolates as well.” Tilith slammed he hands down on the table and looked at him in the eyes. “You better not be joking.” He waved his hand to the side and grinned. “I’ll make it two to prove that I’m not.”

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

300 notes · View notes

kaylewiswrites · 6 years ago

Text

My Works in Progress

I have too many, but this is just a quick update on my various works so you can see what you might be interested in, and I can remember all of them. Let me know if you want to join any of the tag lists!

Walk

My main WIP and what you’ll see most often, Walk is an action/adventure trilogy in a near dystopian future transformed by the accidental release of a ‘virus’ that grants superhuman abilities to certain members of the population. While hundreds are captured and contained, some manage to escape into the forest, where a chance encounter shows that the hate and mistreatment of the infected aren’t based in fear, but greed. A band of unlikely heroes must overcome their different backgrounds, world views, and senses of morality to work together and stop the mistreatment of those like them.

Check it out if you’re into... Found family! Super powers! Dismantling systematic oppression! Strong female characters that have personalities! Morally gray characters!

WIP Page | Excerpt | Tag List: @aruzeus @madammuffins

Cold Bones Dance

Started as a Nano Project, now my favorite distraction. A magical realism novel where unsatisfied skeletons rise from the dead to complete their unfulfilled purpose-if the moth memory keepers can help them figure out what it is. Being a skeleton is never easy in the best of times, but when this one rises, the moths can’t even figure out his name, let alone his story. Pared with the prickliest moth of them all, the Skeleton must find a way to convince a grieving witch to use her powers to help him. Making his journey harder? A Holly Tree (Whose Name Is Death) won’t stop trying to tempt him back underground, and a stray dog who really, really wants to chew on his leg.

Check it out if you’re into... Hopeful takes on grief! Slightly dark comedy! Slice of Life world building! Subtle magic! The calm use of passive voice! Small bay-side towns!

I....have yet to make a WIP Page for this. But here’s the Tag, where there are some summaries and excerpts for it | Tag list: @ren-c-leyn

Knifepoint

I’m really not good at naming my action/adventures, am I? In this created world, three countries are constantly on the brink of war. While in a time of peace, everyone knows its only a matter of time before one country attacks. When three unintentional representatives from these countries collide (quite literally) and discover a plot to sow conflict and restart the centuries old war, the spy, the healer, and the blacksmith have to overcome their differences, prejudices, and language barriers to do what they know is right.

Check it out if you’re into...Created countries that don’t count as fantasy because there’s no magic! Political intrigue! Linguistics! Enemies to found family to lovers! Romantic tension between two women sword fighting!

WIP Page | Excerpt

The Forgotten Grave Society

In a small town in a small state, on the first day of summer vacation, three girls find themselves in a graveyard. After discovering they all share the same pull towards the quite, peaceful place, they agree to meet there every day, to remember the long forgotten graves and learn about one another. But it turns out the graveyard holds a secret. Spend too much time with the dead, and you might just start to see them. An artist, an athlete, and a scientist must use their skills to save the ghosts-and themselves.

Check it out if you’re into...Young girls with a variety of skills working together! Various theories of the afterlife! Lighthearted conversations about dead people! Some pleasantly creepy moments! Talks about the difficulty of navigating middle school! Ghosts!

WIP Page | Excerpt | If you had asked to be tagged in this in the past, I’m sorry! I lost that tag list with my last notebook, let me know if you want back on.

The House with Too Many Doors

Magic can only be found when someone makes such an impossible series of mistakes that it’s discovery become inevitable. Such is the luck of Avi, who gets lost in a forest and stumbles on a strange house: A tall skinny barn with 3 doors on each side. Avi soon learns from it’s inhabitant that each door opens up a completely different house, and one of them could release a danger that has been locked away for years.

Check it out if you like...Middle grade magic! Creative use of architecture! Emotional health strategies! Gender neutral characters! Monster fighting!

This one also lacks a WIP page. We’re getting there. In the meantime, have the tag. | Let me know if you want to join the tag list!

God on a Blank Page

Welcome to the distant future, where all information is taught through recorded lectures on headphones, writing is dead, and cathedrals were emptied to make room for the gods of the dominant polytheistic religion. When the sullen daydreamer is forced to go to temple with her family, she spends her time in the abandoned alcove of the blank-faced god, the god of nothing anyone can figure out. She assumes she’s safe there, to pursue her ‘what-ifs’ in peace, but when the god starts talking with her, she finds she has work to do.

Check it out if you like...Southern Gothic Futurism! The rediscovery of creativity! Learning to think from other people’s points of view! Unreliable narrators! Cryptic whisper gods!

What’s that? Another missing WIP page? I’ll get right on it, here’s the tag. | Be the first on the tag list, when a special prize! (the prize is a huge thank you in all caps)

I’m always open to questions, comments, or criticism, so stop by my ask page if you’d like. If you also want to check out the characters of (some) of these WIPs, my character page is here.

#my writing #my wips #writing #writeblr #writing community #walk #knifepoint #tgwnf #tfgs #doors #cold bones dance #I really need to update my WIP pages I didn't realize I was missing so many

17 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 7 years ago

Text

Irked

Title: Irked

Author lokilover9

Chapter 13

Original Imagine: Imagine due to having highly effective telekinesis, Tony Stark seeks you out and hires you. Loki’s been forced to live there by Odin and help on missions when needed, making penance to Midgardians. Prior to moving into the Tower, you learn of his superior and arrogant attitude and upon being introduced, immediately dislike him. Particularly because he looks at you like your his next meal. Rating: Teen

Spending the afternoon inventing traits for their characters was entertaining to say the least. Especially the ones Loki teasingly wrote about Shandis. As it turned out however, that wasn’t the only important topic they needed to discuss.

“Adding some of your own personal traits, could make things easier to remember.” He teased. “Let’s see. Cheeky, unruly, obstinate, short tempered…”

She was eating pistachios and tossed one at him, not noticing it landed in his crotch. Loki considered asking her to retrieve it, but declined, thinking he may end up with the television over his head.

“Oh really?” She retorted. “How about some of yours? Mysterious, sarcastic, oozes brattiness from every pore.”

He waited a minute. “That’s the worst you could come up with? Perhaps I’m growing on you then.”

Shandi quickly changed the subject. “You need a Midgardian age. I suggest 32.”

“Accepted. I could see how close to a millennium might appear suspicious.”

“Oh, before I forget, I’ve researched reasons for hair loss and found one you should remember.”

“Whatever for?” He asked.

“It’s hard getting my wig to look just right and I’m thinking it may become noticeable. Should anyone ask…”

“You don’t have to wear it. I could obliterate the entire application process with magic.”

“No thank you, it’s fine.” She politely replied. “As I was saying…”

“Shandi, I keep asking you to trust me. Do you not at all?”

She went quiet for a moment and leaned back into the couch. “Okay, I’m going to be completely honest with you.”

Realizing she was serious, Loki put aside his pen and paper. “Please do.”

“It bothered me earlier that you expected me to portray Elizabeth a certain way without warning, or a better explanation as to why. It put me on the spot and I only complied because Alice could’ve left at any moment.”

“My apologize Shandi, I hadn’t intended to. A theory came to mind and based on what we know of Alice’s personality, I thought to test it.”

She locked eyes with him then. “Which you did at my expense Loki. There’s bound to be moments of unpredictability during this mission, that will require sporadic actions from my character. If I don’t know all her issues or why they exist, who knows how I could jeopardize things. Understand that I won’t consent to anything like that again without knowing much more and your actions have left me concerned.”

“Of?” He asked.

“I’m questioning what else you may attempt without my knowledge, beyond things at my expense.”

Here was this woman whose pulse he could increase, merely with his nearness, her eyes now boring into him with an intensity he’d yet to see, her demeanor confident and assured.

“You’re right.” He respectfully replied. “My actions were inappropriate and again, I apologize.”

Shandi wasn’t expecting such reactions at all. He’d constantly projected an air of pompousness and superiority, yet now appeared humbled.

“Remember you recently asked if I’d planned on attempting to jeopardize this mission?”

Her gaze lowered in a nod. “I do.”

“Shandi, look at me please?”

Obeying, her insides softly quivered.

“I meant it.” Loki continued. “And know without a doubt, that at no point, will I jeopardize your safety either.”

For some reason, she’d strongly sensed he wouldn’t, yet was grateful they were openly discussing things. “Thank you.” She replied. “From now on, let’s review everything at the end of each day, so we’re always on the same page?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” When her shoulders fell and expression softened, he regretted causing her such worry.

Shandi sipped her wine and refocused. “So, what ‘was’ your theory about Alice?”

Loki explained that the previous night, he’d re read their information about Alice and made some assumptions regarding her personality. Upon meeting her, he learned they were correct. Not only was she friendly, but intelligent, very warm, kind, compassionate and seemingly affectionate with friends, as she’d put her arm around Beth a few times. “Remember during Tony’s meeting, he asked us to invent a valid reason for your aversion to being touched?” “Yes.” She replied. “We must work on that.”

“Actually, I’d thought of one before approaching Alice. It was the reason behind testing my theory.”

Shandi listened and when he finished, her mouth hung ajar. “Loki, that’s very tragic.”

“I know, but it could aid in attaining Alice’s friendship faster, while embedding into her mind, the seriousness of your aversion. Then hopefully as Nat put it, she’ll avoid becoming ‘touchy-feely,’ with you completely, as will anyone close to her.”

Shandi knew the grave importance of no one discovering her fake pregnancy. “I’m not refuting any of this, but still don’t quite understand.”

“Mother of seven, who loves babies. A pillar of and activist for her community whose curious of newcomers. She volunteers in schools, the local community center and nursing home. Initiates her own fundraisers and donates the money to those less fortunate. Her life revolves around caring for people. Introduce that level of kindness to a pregnant newcomer who hasn’t any friends here yet, fears being apart from her spouse too long, appears overly nervous amidst crowds and fiercely protects herself from anyone who even attempts touching her? You could easily play on her sympathies Shandi.”

A heavy sigh escaped her. “Even if I agreed to doing so, that tragedy isn’t something you reveal out of the blue. It would be awkward to, period.”

“I’d handle the telling if you wished. In the meantime, we’d build up to it by piquing her curiosity.”

“What if we don’t see her again until the fair?”

“By shopping constantly for our nursery and spending the towns lunch hours everyday at the park? I’m quite certain we would.”

“How do we pique her curiosity at the park?” She asked.

“With some simple exercises to help alleviate your ‘nervousness.’

She took a few moments to contemplate everything, then asked. “What’s with the fear of being apart from you?”

“Another curiosity peeker, or optional excuse to avoid invalid situations.”

“Should I portray Elizabeth this way, you do realize we’d be stuck to each other like glue most of this mission?”

Damn, did Loki bite his tongue. “Well darling, you did sign up for Cactus sitting. Would it be so bad portraying one with such issues?” His eyes suddenly crossed. “After all, you’ve me to protect you.”

“Oh, pfft. That’s reassuring.”

A chuckle escaped him. “It’s up to you.”

Shandi hadn’t banked on playing a ‘nervous nelly’ beyond the maternity shop incident, but it ‘could’ work. “Okay..I’m in. As long as I get details about those exercises.”

“Of course. Would you still like help with your wig?”

“I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“The process is quick and painless, really.”

“That’s not very reassuring either, Loki.”

He laughed, then explained and she was startled to learn it was that simple. “Magic is a wondrous thing darling.”

Shandi opted to close her eyes and Loki stood, tossed a green mist towards her and quietly left. A subtle tingling sensation then spread over her entire scalp, lasting for only seconds before she darted to the main floor washroom. Stemming from every root, her long, dark waves had been altered to loose red curls, that perfectly matched her wig. “Holy shit, this is amazing!”

Loki was in the kitchen, pouring some whiskey when she found him. “I gather you approve?”

“I’m awed.” She replied. “Not only is my wig a time consuming pain in the ass, but feels like I’m wearing a heating pad on my head. A break from it sometimes would be amazing Loki and if there’s a kindness I could do for you in return, please name it.”

He was dumbfounded. Had she just offered him gratitude for a kindness so simple for him to accomplish? The last person to have done so, was Frigga and he never thought anyone would again. “I expect nothing in return. I offered because I wanted to, Shandi.”

“Nothing?” She asked.

“Nothing.”

“Would you..do it tomorrow then?”

“I’ll do it every day if you wish.”

The sparkle in her eye and how she smiled in that moment, affected him so profoundly, he was determined to be responsible for it more often. Especially when she stepped forward suddenly and planted an unexpected kiss on his cheek. Realizing her actions, she slowly backed away and Loki struggled not to return the kiss, intimately.

“Despite being honest about no expectations, I can’t say that wasn’t appreciated.”

Scarlet faced, Shandi gestured towards the corridor. “Okay, well uhh..character stuff. We should get back to that, so I’ll just be down the hall.” She left, heart thumping in her chest. ‘What were you thinking woman? Do not do that again, it’s dangerous. Damn he smells good.’

Loki poured another shot and adjusted his twitching cock. ‘Not just yet my friend, not just yet.’

When done refining their characters, they contacted Nat and Clint. Not only were they pleased to learn about Alice too, but Nat approved of Loki’s idea.

“The seed was basically planted when we met at Beth’s shop Beautiful and I’d guess she told Alice of the incident.”

“Maybe.” Shandi replied. “I’m not familiar with playing on people’s sympathies though.”

“No worries. Clint will volunteer some lessons, won’t you Baby Cakes?”

Loki cackled at the name.

“Me?” Asked Clint.

Nat continued. “Remember the night we caught him watching porn?”

Shandi chuckled. “Yes.”

“He spent days, playing on mine after that.”

“Oh come on, I apologized!”

“True.” Said Nat. “But you’re addicted and should seek therapy.”

Everyone laughed and as the conversation continued, the four devised plan. Nat and Clint would watch Beth’s shop daily for signs of Alice, while Loki and Shandi hung around town, waiting on word of her presence. This would guarantee seeing her again before the fair. Then Nat thought of another idea involving a second interaction between her and Shandi and once Nat payed the shop a visit, all would be set.

After the call ended, Loki shook his head. “You watched porn with Baby Cakes and Ella without your husband present? Perhaps you’d like to explain this wife?”

“Pfft. Perhaps not husband and Ella and I are innocent.”

“Is that so?” His eyes playfully narrowed. “I fail to believe you two are innocent of much, now talk.”

“I’m afraid what occurs between female besties is highly classified.” She cooly replied. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Loki’s arms crossed. “I see. Tell me something Lizzy. Did you just confess to adultery?”

Shandi pondered her next words, then smirked. “I’ll leave you with that thought Clifford, I’ve some laundry to do.” Seconds later, she snorted, hearing his reply.

“Queen of unruliness!”

Later, while observing her sleep later, Loki recalled her gratitude and how she’d agreed to everything, despite expressing such concern for his earlier actions. Then he reflected upon his immature behavior since they’d met. All the agitating, teasing and tricks, those were the actions of a boy, not an intelligent God. And what the hell had compelled him to use an attraction spell on her? He’d refrained from such things since mid adolescence, when his heightened sense of smell suddenly developed. Unaware then, it was a Frost Giants trait, he still remained oblivious to its true purpose, but did enjoy one advantage. Amongst the many women he’d desired throughout life, very few hadn’t felt the same. Those who did and attempted denial, were revealed by the scent of their arousal. Nothing some extra charm, prowess and persistence never solved. This had even worked on his first love Iris, who like Shandi, denied her mutual attraction in the beginning. Yet he hadn’t acted as ridiculous towards her, nor had her scent affected him the same. Shaking Iris’s painful memory from his head, he further pondered Shandis scent. More appeasingly potent than any he’d ever detected, it lured him to her, heightened all of his senses and ignited unusual urges to mark and possess her. He’d thought of marking her before, but believing it barbaric, had refrained. Yet now, like some primitive instinct, rising from the pit of his soul, it was steadily getting stronger and his desire becoming feral. “I want you in a way I’ve yet to understand.” He quietly whispered. “You make me think and feel things I never have and…” He hesitated a moment. “It’s driving me fucking crazy! Norns, what am I saying?” She stirred and he waited, then caressed her cheek, smirking at the soft sigh she expelled. “Forgive me for my mischievous ways, but you ‘will’ become mine Shandi. I can’t have it any other way.” With that, a soft kiss to her temple made another dream begin.

~~~~~~

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #irked #chapter 13 #lokilover9 #tony stark #hire #odin #mission #penance #power #superior #arrogant #introduce #dislike

330 notes · View notes

nyaacatboy · 6 years ago

Text

Fate’s Door, Chapter 6: Life’s A B*ach

Masterpost/Chaper 5/Chapter 7

Roman Theularus was the sort of person who, reasonably, thought they should be happy with their lot in life, but through some cruel twist of fate, was not. Perhaps it was the enormous stresses of being the kingdom’s next king, implemented since birth, or maybe it was the persistent gender dysphoria that begged them to do things that irritated his father and the whole court. Nonetheless, Roman was not happy, they were in fact sad, restless, and moody to boot.

Today had started no better than any other, with being roused at the crack of dawn by the leader of the military and forced to run three miles in the sweltering heat. Supposedly, this was going to build their stamina and resilience for kingship, but Roman was of the opinion that it was a way to break down their resistance so that they’d have no willpower to disobey anyone. Following was Roman’s daily hiding from the castle hairstylist, who had been ordered to cut their unruly locks no matter what methods she had to use. While Roman was slipping her any gold he could find to keep her from searching much harder for them, it was best to keep up the charade of hiding so that she didn’t lose her job.

Next up was attending classes with their governor and speeding through the work while acting as if they actually cared about taxes and territories and budgets...they were already spiritually asleep. Lunch soon followed, and Roman thought about the temptation of adventure through twelve debates the King’s Cabinet had, which eventually softened into a drone of figures and facts. They defeated several dragons, and rescued many princes, princesses, and fellow nonbinary royalty after daring deeds and with passionate kisses. Roman got lost in their thoughts, spicing up their stories with plot twists, betrayals, and red herrings.

“Roman, did you catch that?” his stepmother asked, her painted face tilted towards them in an expression begging the prince to follow court decorum and actually pay attention for once.

Roman lived to disappoint. “Nope. What’s the big news?”

Every face of their father’s cabinet looked at them gravely, as if they hadn’t fully understood the seriousness of the situation. The king spoke. “I’ve decided to abdicate the throne early, leaving you to rule the country with me in an advising position. We’ll coronate you on the solstice. I think you’re ready for this responsibility.”

No. Nononononono. Roman was not going to rule the kingdom. For one, they didn’t even qualify as a king, and with his knowledge of the current political state, the king was planning to let his past mistakes fall on his child’s shoulders. Roman had watched deal after deal being signed by the king bearing the names of the richest in the land, and despite the community-focused speeches the king gave afterwards, they knew that only bad things would come of them. It was quite the impressive inheritance, but Roman wanted no part in it. They’d declare all of them defunct if there was a way, but there was no way Roman could actually get them put into practice with the current cabinet. Not to mention that there was no way they’d get full kingship. Roman’s father did not like giving away power, and Roman didn’t want to be the figurehead for his tyrannical plans.

The idea of seeking an adventure sounded less like a fantasy and more like a valid escape plan now. Roman played the part of a diplomat and weathered everyone’s questions, answering affirmative to the kingship because they knew there was no other choice. The conversation swung around to something else, and one of the higher-ranked servants made the mistake of bringing up sorcery. As per usual, everyone pretended the servant hadn’t said anything, but they did not resume their previous topic as usual. Several dukes and duchesses looked at one another worriedly, and two cabinet members even began a heated whispered conversation. Roman scanned the faces at the table, looking for a clue as to what they were all concerned about, but the grim expressions yielded nothing.

Now was the time for them to leave. Roman made a quick excuse, then dashed up to their quarters. They looked in the bathroom mirror, studying the reflection. Roman knew one thing for certain: there was no way in all of the world that they would become king of Straith under these conditions. Their escape from kingship had to be the adventure they’d always wanted. It was now or never, as much of a cliche that was.

Their clothes were much too opulent to blend in, so Roman rummaged through their drawers to find the simplest outfit he owned. Awkwardly, as Roman was not used to dressing without servants, they put it on. They sighed at their reflection. The intricate embroidery on the shirt and pants gave it away. Roman probably needed to grab clothes from the servant’s laundry in order to blend into a crowd of common people. Throwing a fairly nondescript cloak over their more simple outfit, they gathered up some money, water, and a compact tent. Who knows where the path of adventure will lead? Stuffing everything into a sack, Roman made their way to the laundry without being spotted. They grabbed one set of the outfit there was the most of, then changed in a broom closet. Roman put the cloak on as well, although they knew that the red trim might give them away.

Roman made one more foray into their room to gather some medical supplies, and the scarf their mother made for them while she was pregnant. They couldn’t stand to part with it, the bright red yarn always reminded them of the stories told about their brave, adventurous, dead mom. She’d died so that they could live, and Roman kept that sacrifice with them always. They threw a penknife and some layers into the sack, and climbed out their bedroom window and down the castle’s ancient bricks. Roman was going to find their adventure before they were forced into an unwanted crown, and starting as soon as possible was essential.

Weaving through the crowd of errand boys and half-day commuters, Roman kept an eye out for anyone who looked like they were doing something adventurous. The mysterious characters who kick start a story, or the ordinary events that kick off a journey, those were the ones they watched for. Technically, their life wasn’t a fantasy novel, but that didn’t mean Roman couldn’t live it like one.

After helping out several overburdened pedestrians, who did not turn out to be the Fairy Godmother, and so would have rewarded them immensely for their kindness, Roman felt their harebrained adolescent plans coming to absolutely nothing. They’d wanted to meet her too, the Fairy Godmother’s fashions were absotively legendary. Roman wandered around a little longer, trying and failing not to feel the pressure of ruling Straith in a few weeks on their shoulders.

Most people in front of the castle were walking or moving in some form if they weren’t buying something, which made anyone stationary stand out. Roman’s roaming gaze landed on a lone figure in a deep black cloak standing at the side of the road, facing the castle. Their feet moving before they consciously made the decision to, Roman walked towards the person.

She had dyed blond hair falling past her shoulders, paired with a dark blue shirt, slightly stained black pants, and leather boots that had moved past well-worn into in need of a replacement. Her focus was entirely on the castle, eyes moving and taking in information. Virgil had made up her mind about what she was going to do.

“What are you looking at? It’s not really the most impressive architecture,” Roman said, trying to pry information out of this stranger.

“I’m looking for the dungeons,” she said, “and, what, no ‘hello’”

“Hello,” they said, “I apologize for my lack of manners, you were so intriguing I appear to have pushed them aside out of curiosity.” Roman gave a slight bow, trying to remember every way they’d ever learned to convey respect.

“Well, I’m Virgil, and unless you know where the dungeons where and how to get to them, I suggest you leave me alone.” She swept her cloak so that her face was obscured from Roman again.

“I do know where the dungeons are,” Roman said, turning themself more towards her, “but I have to know why you need to know. Your average layperson doesn’t typically go seeking out the dungeons. I’m Roman, like the prince.”

Virgil turned to face them full-on. “Can you keep a secret?”

“I’ve kept one from everyone for three years, so yeah.”

“There’s a doomsday prophecy that will kill us all on the solstice and the only way to stop it is releasing a top-security prisoner from the castle dungeons.” She watched them carefully, eyeing Roman’s reaction.

“Ok. How high security of a prisoner are we talking? I can show you the way to the dungeons right now, unless there’s something you need to do first.” Despite their calm expression, Roman was having a mini freakout party in their head. A doomsday prophecy? A mysterious prisoner? They’d found their adventure.

Virgil looked shocked, but went with it anyways. “Highest of the high-security, and maybe wait a while before leading me to the dungeons, since I don’t have a plan to break the prisoner out.”

“What do you need to break them out?” Roman asked, rearranging his cloak so that it concealed them from the crowd better.

“It’s better if I explain this to you somewhere else,” Virgil said, glancing at the people in the crowd behind Roman.

“I...I know a place.”

“Well, let’s go then. No time like the present.” Roman led Virgil through the most secretive entrance to the castle, using ancient passages they were sure no one else knew of until the two arrived at the door to their room.

“So, I’ve got a bit of a confession to make,” Roman began.

“We met five minutes ago. I’d be more surprised if there wasn’t one.”

“So when I said I was ‘Roman, like the prince,’ I neglected to mention that I am actually the prince.” Roman closed their eyes, bracing for some inevitable fangirling or anger from Virgil.

Virgil looked at her surroundings, as if truly taking them in for the first time. She considered the situation, then looked back at Roman again, whose eyes were comically squinted at her. “You’ll make a very useful ally,” she said.

Roman tentatively opened their eyes to find a determined Virgil looking at them like they were going to be very, very important for the plan she had in mind.

TAGS: @fanficptsd

#starredwrites #roman sanders #princey sanders #ts roman #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #ts virgil #chapter 6 #fate's door #sanders sides

2 notes · View notes

translations-by-aiimee · 4 years ago

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 13

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 13 - Doubt

In the archaeological internship Lin Yan participated in, the Ming Tomb was undoubtedly a very peculiar place. The excavation work lasted three months. Before the excavation started, Lin Yan didn't even get any relevant background information. He asked his professor several times but never got a response. When he was told that would be staying at the tomb for only a week, he thought he was coming to be the team's water boy. Instead, he was unexpectedly sent to the site as soon as the plane touched down and was given one of the most important jobs of cleaning the body found in the main room of the tomb.

It was a medium-sized underground mysterious tomb. Bluestone blocks were built into arches. The apse in the room was about forty meters long. A large black lacquered coffin left slightly ajar rested peacefully on the stone platform. Lin Yan and the rest of the crew held their breath together. When the golden nanmu wood coffin lid was slowly lifted, and the gold, silver, jade and rosy brocade around the corpse were exposed, a soft cheer erupted from the tomb. Everyone couldn't help but celebrate that they found such an magnificent mausoleum that had been left completely untouched by tomb robbers. After a long while, all nonessential personnel evacuated one by one. Lin Yan remembered that the professor was the last one to leave the scene. When he left, he rested his hand heavily on his shoulders, as if he wanted to say something but never ended up getting anything out. In the empty and dark main room of the tomb, only Lin Yan and a few lights, both bright and dim, were left. Sometimes, the miner's lamp was often extinguished inexplicably. He later recalled that the owner of the tomb might have been watching him ever since then.

The corpse in the coffin had rotted into a skeleton, but the hair that remained was soft and shiny. However, when Lin Yan sat alone by the coffin and skimmed through some history books, doubts arose. The identity of the owner of the tomb was like the bronze of this mysterious palace, unrecognizable under the green rust. There was no record, no genealogy, nothing even mentioned in town and county chronologies. The tomb's eternal light placed in front of the coffin had long been dried up, and a two-foot-long black name card behind it was coated with thick old blood. The place where the name should be written was empty, and it turned out to be a non-character memorial tablet.

When the last artifact in the coffin was successfully taken out, Lin Yan was told he could return. It only took them seven days and no one had ever told him about the origin of the tomb that whole time.

The sun was shining on Friday morning, and the roses in the flower bed were rushing to bloom. There was a soft fragrance of something oily like burning opium in the air. Lin Yan parked his car at the school gate and hurried through the small square in front of the building to get to the professor's office. He was in such a rush that he went through the ground fountain in the square. After he took a few steps, bells and drums started playing and spurts of water shot from the jets, the surrounding area immediately turning into a forest of water columns shooting up.

"Shit. . ." He couldn't dodge them and got completely soaked. Lin Yan internally cursed as he rushed forward, wringing out the hem of his shirt. A few school girls had just come out of the main entrance of the building and giggled at the embarrassing scene.

Lin Yan blushed a little.

Shiny drops of water splashed off his hair and a droplet fell into his eye. When he raised his hand to wipe it away, his wrist was caught by someone. The cold fingertips wiped the drop off one of his eyelashes. Lin Yan blinked and stood there silently.

When he walked up the steps, he saw a new large poster on the left side of the automatic door. A gentle-looking middle-aged man with glasses was holding a pen, and his demeanour resembled an unopened folder in a stationery store. There was a large line next to him: Chen XX, a well-known Chinese history professor, is coming to our school to give a lecture. All students are welcome to participate. This will be a great chance to interact with the professor.

The tune played was one typically used by the Propaganda Department, the following rows of small letters are written with the specific time and content of the event. Lin Yan struggled to twist the hem of the wet T-shirt and walked towards the hall, muttering that this was probably the reason that the fountain suddenly turned on. Turning back, he frowned and stood in front of the poster for a minute. He always felt that the man on the poster was a bit familiar, but he couldn't remember who it was. After thinking about it for a while, Lin Yan shook his head and stepped through the hall.

The professor's office was on the fourth floor.

"Professor, are you kidding me? From the preliminary preparations to the end of the tomb excavation, so many people participated in it. How could it be possible that nothing about the tomb owner's origins could be found until now?"

"That tomb was already considered to be average to wealthy for the time period. Even if the owner of the tomb was not of official origin, there is always a record in historical records for wealthy businessmen."

University institutions were never busy on Fridays. Everyone was waiting for the weekend. Lin Yan’s professor was no exception. He was sitting in the office with his legs crossed when the drenched student burst into his office. Behind the table, he held a heavy purple sand teacup in his hand. Because he often went to the West in his early years, his skin was wrinkled by the wind and frost. His midsection was blessed by some middle-aged fat, and the bags under the eyes were hanging loosely behind the glasses.

The professor grew impatient with Lin Yan's aggressive tone, and patted a stack of books on the table: "Isn't that so? You see, I'm more worried about writing a report on the excavation. I've been busy for more than a month and I haven't made any progress."

Lin Yan leaned forward impatiently with his hands on the glass plate of the tabletop: "The mausoleum was left untouched. The body and burial items were intact. Isn't it possible to determine the identity of the tomb owner?"

This student had always been known for his politeness and patience. It was rare for him to be this anxious.

"That's the problem. Comparing the data compiled based on the unearthed cultural relics with the records at the time, I can only say that he's completely unknown." The professor put down the cup and tapped his finger on the cover of the book a few times: "Ming Dynasty history is not my specialty. Tell me, why don't you do some research yourself? The students in our school must be able to research independently. You should make good use of the school library resources."

Lin Yan shook his head disappointedly. Just like the professor said, there was a lot of historical data to go through. He wouldn't make any progress in the next three months. Even three years might not be enough time to go through all the information. By then, he would have run out of ten lives. What's more, he has searched through the relevant history books of the library for the past week and even asked Yin Zhou to search through the database in less legal ways, but the strange thing is that no matter what keywords they use - the age, name, location - he couldn't find any information. It was common sense that, in ancient times, even a talented person would be written about somewhere in the county annals, but this Xiao Yu was like a person from another world. The records passed over him like he had never existed.

The faint scent of book pages and wood was floating in the air, and the light blue shutters broke up the rays of sun leaking in. Lin Yan subconsciously glanced back, as if there should be a companion waiting to respond to his doubts. But Xiao Yu does exist, he thought.

Trying his best to stay calm, Lin Yan lowered his head and lowered his voice: "Teacher, this is really important to me, can you help. . ." While speaking, his gaze was fixed on the table. Under the glass plate were many old photos of the professor when he was young. There was a row of people wearing work clothes and hard hats in the black-and-white pictures. Compared to the middle-aged man with swollen eyes in front of him, there was a strange sense of contradiction in the gray-headed but happy-looking man in the pictures.

Time really did wonders.

The instructor tapped two fingers on the table. He didn't look at Lin Yan when he spoke. His eyes were a little dodged: "Why do you need to know the owner of the tomb? Do you need to write a paper?"

Lin Yan took a deep breath. He had always had a keen insight into people's emotions. When he had been sorting through clues last night, the situation that occurred in the tomb flashed in his mind. He had already had his doubts at the time, but he was so nervous and excited that he didn't think too much of it. For example, ever since he joined the team, everyone had been keeping secrets, and the professor also looked at him with that dodgy look when the excavators all left the tomb. The whole thing seemed to have been arranged long ago, so Lin Yan hadn't cared about interrupting the teacher's off-time and grabbed the phone to set up a meeting time.

"Professor, you should know why; this is a matter of life and death." After hesitating for a moment, Lin Yan frowned and said this sentence with emphasis. He pressed his hands on the table hard and turned away.

When I walked to the door of the office. He paused, one, two. . . Lin Yan counted silently in his heart.

Three.

"Wait." The professor's voice sounded from behind.

"Lin Yan, this project isn't under my control. I just heard that a lot of strange things happened when the tomb was opened. Someone came to me and asked you to go. I didn't agree with it. . . If you really want to know more, you can go ask the coordinator of the excavation yourself." The finger tapped twice on the desk. "His name is Chen, he'll be at our school next Monday for a lecture. There are posters downstairs." After speaking, he took a few volumes from the neatly arranged books and put them back on the table, gesturing that he could leave. "You can get more out of him than me"

"Last question." Lin Yan held the door frame and poked his face in: "Teacher, do you know Xiao Yu?"

"No, I don't." The answer was quick this time: "Who's that?"

Lin Yan sighed and held the railing as he quickly walked downstairs.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #chinese novel #chinese bl #english translation #yaoi novel #yaoi

11 notes · View notes

thewingcutangel-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Lost in Shadows

Summary: After the Dark War and break out of the Cold Peace amongst the Nephilim and the Faeries, a call for help from the Institute of Seoul, South Korea leads four Shadowhunters to rush to their aid. But soon they realise that the situation is not a common demonic invasion they have dealt with for all their lives, and neither are the inhabitants of the institute similar to any other Shadowhunters that they have met before.

{A Shadowhunters and BTS members au}

A/N: This is my first tumblr fanfiction. i was really into both BTS and The Mortal Instruments, so I thought getting both of my favourites into one place would not be a bad idea for my first time. So, go ahead with it! Also, if you like the Shadowhunter Chronicles but do not know BTS, reading this fanfic shouldn’t be a problem. Just imagine seven men according to your creativity!

WARNING: This is not a reader pairing. The characters paired with the members are made by me. Please do not mind.

Genre: thrill, romance, adventure, emotional

Word count: 2,697

Part: 1

Even while walking through the portal, never had the four of them felt so doubtful of what was coming forth. But duty calls like a prank call sometimes. The restlessness among the Shadowhunter race for the last one month had been plenty of trouble already, now there was a new set of things to deal with. “Why did we take up this case in the first place, can someone explain please?” Sarah asked, rather demanded to know. “It’s not our choice, and definitely our consent does not hold important for that matter.” Amelia said calmly, but it was clear from her voice that she too, was irritated. “Let’s go then.” Lisa said, walking toward the portal. “I don’t like this. At all.” Victoria commented. As if it mattered any longer. The four of them advanced to walk through the portal.

Slowly, the other side was visible to their eyes as they arrived. And as they appeared, there were six pairs of eyes gazing at them. Sarah, Amelia, Lisa and Victoria looked around at the six men standing, possibly to welcome them.All of them were tall, with toned muscles. They were standing in a semi circle formation, the kind which wolves made, just before they would kill their prey. All were dressed in black, bathed in the shapes of runes well known to the eyes of the four girls. Everything about them seemed normal, until one’s eyes fell on their faces. Their expression wasn’t a pleasing one. They looked as if they were not expecting them..bit more like they had been waiting for them and as if they had been extremely late.

One of the males walked up to them, introducing himself with a polite but strong aura. “My name is Kim Seokjin. I’m the head of this Institute. I’ll be your host along with Namjoon here.” He said, pointing to a tall, well built man standing to the extreme left of the circle. Seokjin was a noticeably handsome man. His pitched voice, combining with his tall figure and broad shoulders made him seem very attractive to the eyes. But it was very astonishing, since Seokjin was definitely too young to be their eldest, let alone the Head of the Institute. As the guy who was apparently known as Namjoon sidled up beside the four, he only asked one question. “Listen, I’m not judging anyone, but are you experienced enough to handle this?” This came off guard. None of them had been expecting that, especially from a person they’d just been introduced to. “Sir, we may look young and inexperienced, but I believe anyone who has ever fought the Dark War is experienced enough to handle demons. And we can help, but only if you trust us.” Victoria said, taking lead as usual. The grey colored strands in her hair flared up as she introduced herself. “I’m Victoria Whitescar.”

“A Whitescar?! You guys are fierce I hear. And please, you will have to restrain from calling me ‘sir’” Namjoon said, with an amusing smile curling up his lips. A shorter guy from the group intervened as he announced his introduction. “I am Park Jimin.” he said, stretching his hand out to Amelia. She took his hand. “I’m Amelia Fairfox. I am here to help in any way I can.” Jimin smiled, and turned her hand slowly to look closely at her Parabatai rune. “You have a parabatai ?” he asked. “Yes…Lisa is my parabatai.” She explained, pointing to the shorter girl next to her. Although her frame was smaller than the others, she looked extremely intelligent and calm, her brown eyes and dark her and her golden brown skin displaying her potential clearly. “Hello. I’m Lisa Penrose.” Sarah looked at the man who walked past the others in the room and went up to her to introduce himself. He had hair too bright a green, Sarah noticed: the color of spring grass. And his eyes were a flaring indigo, like the blue portion of a candle flame. And also, he had skin which was inhumanely pale, like milk. These features were familiar. Warlock.

“I am Min Yoongi, the High Warlock of Seoul city. I have the deepest connections with this Institute, I bear no harmful intentions. I will try to make your stay as comfortable as possible, if I myself can resist falling asleep.” he said, with some unknown charm floating in the air. His voice was not suggestive of vey old age, but eyes could fool easily when it came to warlocks. “I am Sarah Dragonway. It’s nice to meet all of you.”

As she said her family name, all the heads with the three other girls as exception, turned to face her. Another grave voice from the group came floating through the atmosphere, with an amazing male characteristic to it. Sarah noticed that its owner was also a very good looking man, with chiseled jawline, dark brown eyes and light brown hair. His skin was tanned perfectly, and when he held his hand out, it was not hard to observe that his fingers too, were very long and slim. His features were more of a model than a Nephilim, which, along with his height and masculine voice, seemed to be a pleasing view to any feminine eye. “I am Kim Taehyung. And welcome to the Seoul Institute.” Sarah shook his hand politely. “It is a pleasure to meet the last Dragonway.” he mentioned. Sarah could not understand the meaning of this sentence. Although she was the last of her family line, she had no intention of continuing it; despite being the last of her family, there was truly no reason why anyone would still have any pleasure in meeting her. “Why, can you tell me?” she asked. The question could seem rude at first, but the way in which it was asked was rather calm, and more mature. Taehyung explained, “And why not?! Your family’s heroic deeds are very famous all over the shadowhunter community! I still remember the story of Aurelia and Hector Dragonway and how they slayed a thousand demons with the help of three dragons! It still amazes me, to be honest.”

In the small time in which they had known Taehyung, the girls figured out that he was completely opposite of what he had appeared as. Victoria was a very focused and serious person when it came to missions, but even she was moved a bit by the childish character of this new individual. All of them were smiling when he described a mythological story with the interest and wonders of a three year old child. Seokjin suddenly intervened, “Oh, did I mention? Taehyung is also my little brother.” The eyes wandered from Seokjin to Taehyung as he mentioned it. Lisa and Amelia exchanged a confused look, which said He also has a brother? And it was surprising that a man as young as Seokjin had so much responsibility to manage. Everyone looked at them as the elder brother playfully messed the hair of the younger one.

Jimin looked at Amelia and Lisa again, saying “Taehyung is also my parabatai.” He shed his black leather jacket to put his connection rune on display. Scars, common on the bodies of this warrior race, had not left any frame untouched. Not even the figure of Park Jimin. His bicep was decorated by the parabatai rune.

Another person, from behind the group surrounding the girls, emerged to provide his introduction. Quietly, Sarah thought there are so many of them. “I am Jung Hoseok.” He said, with a sweet smile on his face. This time, Lisa held her hand out. “It is nice to meet you.” She said in her soft, musical voice. “A Penrose and a Fairfox, a truly amusing combination is it not?” Hoseok commented. Everyone knew why.

Penrose was a family of wise and intellect. Their blood possessed the skill of writing, and the love for it. They generally were not skilled warriors, and were faced with great disapproval from the Clave. But in recent years, their family had been given the responsibility of the management of the library at Idris. The Fairfox family on the other side, was a family marked with the skill of manipulation, agility and evasive techniques. Some of them were so skilled at manipulating the minds of a human that they could easily gain a fortune by cheating. The contrast was very marked and sharp between the two families, the major reason for the rivalry between them.

After all of the introductions, the girls started to converse with the boys. Amelia and Lisa were discussing something with Jimin, Namjoon and Seokjin. From the corner of her eye, Sarah could see that Taehyung and Victoria had engaged in a conversation which apparently was amusing her friend very much, as her giggles were proving. She talked to Yoongi about the mission.

“What is the actual reason why you called?” she asked. At this point, it was hard to contain any curiosity, since the New York Institute had not supplied them with any information about the case. “Well,” Yoongi began, “last week, we tracked a concentration of major demonic activity in the middle of the city. We tracked the activity for quite some time before we followed it to the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, at 2 AM. There, we were faced with a band of Kuri demons.” Kuri demons were huge spider demons, with pincer tipped arms. “The problem is, these demons can only be summoned with the help of some kind of sacrifice.” Sarah grasped the gravity of the situation. “So you mean, there must be someone in the city who has been killing mundanes?”

“There is a possibility of it, but as per my records, it was not a Downworlder. I have no reports of any vampires or werewolves going rogue, and they anyway would not concern themselves with anything of demonic origin.” The situation was clear. It has to be a mundane, or a Nephilim. Namjoon intervened. “You all must be tired. I will show you to your rooms, and will call you to dinner when it is served.”

The girls followed him and the other boys as they led the way upstairs, while Victoria’s eyes were unusually fixed at Taehyung. “You like him,” Sarah said, sounding casual, “don’t you?”

Victoria dug her elbow into her ribs, but didn’t answer. Amelia and Lisa smiled, and followed them upstairs to their rooms.

…………………………………

She was back there again. The manor looked old and ancient, the way it always had. There was a small music box in her room, a present from her aunt on her sixteenth birthday. “Sarah!” her brother called from downstairs. “Breakfast is ready, and I’m eating your pancakes!” he shouted. “Try to touch them Andreas, and I’ll slice your hands off!” she threatened, and ran down from her room to the stairs as she did.

Her parents and her brother were sitting at the table in the dining room. The manor was on the outskirts of Alicante, close to the destroyed Morgenstern manor. Her mother was smiling at her as she brought the pancakes from the kitchen. As her brother proceeded to jump on her plate as well, she warned in an alarming voice, “Don’t you dare.”

“You are making a fine warrior Sarah.” Her dad complimented. “Yes, but you’re still too short for a Dragonway!” Andreas teased. Outraged, Sarah ran around the table chewing her pancakes chasing her elder sibling as her father laughed and her mother rested her face on her hands, looking at them with amusement.

Suddenly, she was alone, amidst a flame. Screams of horror, destruction and pain filled the atmosphere as Sarah ran about in the fire, confused and helpless. “Papa! Mom! Andreas!” she kept screaming for her family. Then she recognized her family, laying amidst the fire, unconscious. All her methods of wakinf=g them up were in vain. They just wouldn’t open their eyes.

Then she woke up.

She was panting, crying and sweating furiously. The room which was given to her was one of the four rooms given to the girls. The rooms lay side by side. Sarah slowly wiped her face and looked at her blade. The Dragonway emblem was carved on the sword by her father, and it had been hers since she could hold a blade. She slowly stroked the sharp blade, careful not to get cut. Then, she heard a voice.

She was cautious and raised her blade as soon as she heard it, but the nature of the voice proved that it did not mean to harm. And it was also a voice she did not recognize at all. Although she was new here, she could not identify it as the voice of any of the six boys, and the voice was not speaking either. The soft sound was of music. Someone was singing.

Sarah followed the sound; the cold marble of the institute lowered the temperature of her feet as she did not care to put on a pair of slippers. Wandering through the unknown place barefoot, she realized that it was coming from the western side of the building. Tip toeing to the direction of the source of sound, she walked to discover an open door. Avoiding any creaking noises to interrupt the beautiful notes, she opened the door enough to peek into the room.

Unsurprisingly, the voice belonged to a boy. He had strawberry blonde hair and a coconut hair cut as Sarah could see. His face was hidden from the view, and his back was completely on display, since he stood shirtless. But the major reason behind that was that he was injured. A bandage covered his right shoulder and his back was painted with a newly drawn iratze. But inspite of his muscular shaoe and frame, Sarah was attracted the most by his voice. The flow of his voice was breathy, but the notes were perfect. He was singing like a well trained singer. Sarah tried to enjoy it as an anonymous listener, but blame her clumsiness, the door fell open as she stumbled on it.

The boy swiftly turned around and the music came to a stop as he did, and looked at the unknown girl standing at the foot of the door of his room, and stared at her with a baffled expression, speechless. Both of them shared a moment of speechlessness, both too stunned to say a word. They stared at each other’s unfamiliar faces as their expressions changed from shock, to anger, to completely expressionless. “What are you doing here?” the boy demanded to know. “I am sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s just that I heard you singing and..” but before letting her finish, the boy interrupted her without a warning. “And without thinking that it might be invasion of someone’s privacy, you decided to investigate, being the great Dragonway you are.” Sarah stood there stunned, wondering how an unknown boy knew her family identity. “How do you know who I am?” she asked, although this question was completely irrelevant to the situation at present. “It hardly seems to be a question to ask right now, isn’t it?” he said in a loud, intimidating voice. Refusing to be intimidated by a stranger any longer, Sarah said “Well, it also hardly seems to be fair that you are aware of my identity while I am completely oblivious of yours!” the boy looked amused by this comment, although he looked at her as if she was an object of his loathing.

“Well then. I am Jeon Jungkook. And I do not trust you at all.” Sarah looked at him, wondering what the reason for such a comment might be, when the boy, again without a warning, said “And you are not welcome here.” And with a swift movement of his arms, shut the door with a bang on her face. Too shocked by the recent events, Sarah stood there, facing the closed door, thinking how grave a crime it had been of her to commit when she followed the most beautiful voice she had ever heard in her lifetime.

A/n: That’s the first chapter people! Hope you liked it! I’ll try to post as soon as I can!

#shadowhunter fanfic #bts fanfic #bts v #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bts suga #bts rap monster #bts jhope #bts jin #bangtan scenarios #lost in shadows #shadowhunters #shadowhunter fanfictions

13 notes · View notes

jaelyn96 · 7 years ago

Link

“Fallen” is probably the weakest episode of Chicago P.D.’s fifth season while “Care Under Fire” is certainly the strongest. The show’s new approach to dealing with real world issues falls somewhat flat in “Fallen”, as the full extent of what is really happening is only revealed in the last ten minutes. Also, the character-centric aspect is almost an afterthought, as the episode barely reveals any new information about Upton. “Care Under Fire” is essentially the complete opposite, with the series diving further into Halstead and his past trauma. Prior to this episode, we knew very little about his time overseas, but Jesse Lee Stoffer gives another outstanding performance. It feels slightly weird to review these two episodes together, just due to the difference in storytelling, acting, and writing. It’s almost as if these are two different shows rather than consecutive episodes. So let’s dive in and get started. The case of the week is pretty basic stuff in “Fallen.” Quinton Kane is suspected of killing a family of three, but Intelligence can’t definitively connect Kane to the crime. Then when Sergeant Sean McGrady, who was assisting Intelligence with the triple homicide, also ends up dead, Kane is once again a key suspect. Despite Kane appearing to having a credible alibi, his blood was found on McGrady’s gun. Fast forward through some good old fashioned police work and an intense standoff, and the bad guy is finally arrested. Case closed. Let’s go get drinks at Molly’s, right? Not quite. While the Chicago Police Department was having a hard time making an case stick against Kane, he was arrested a few months prior for an alleged DUI, so his blood was in evidence, yet one of the vials is conveniently missing. As we previously learned, McGrady was a constant gambler and even stole money from a charity. As Alderman Ray Price posits McGrady knew he was about to be exposed, so he frames Kane for his own suicide, allowing McGrady to go out a hero and his family to collect his pension. And Kane’s alibi? Well, the surveillance video has magically disappeared. So what exactly is the lesson here? It looks like Chicago P.D. tries to address the concept of whether the ends ultimately justify the means. In this case, it is ethical to frame a known murderer for a crime he didn’t commit. While the series poses a good question, it fails in its execution as the big reveal of McGrady committing suicide and framing Kane is only discovered in the final minutes. The audience doesn’t really have time to dissect the issue as they’re too busy recovering from the whiplash. It’s a shame because this would have been a strong problem to tackle if done correctly, but the end result is just a mess. I was really looking forward to this episode and learning more about Upton, but all that was really revealed was an ambiguous past with McGrady. We learned pretty early in the episode Upton previously worked with McGrady, but there was some sort of underlying tension between the two of them that was never really clarified. There duo apparently had some undisclosed differences in the past, with Upton telling Halstead McGrady was always looking for some sort of angle. After some initial awkwardness along with Halstead being a third wheel, Upton and McGrady were supposed to meet up later to talk about the case. However, things take a sharp right turn when McGrady ends up dead, allegedly having been killed by Kane, with Upton getting chewed out by Voight and others for not being with McGrady when he was shot. It’s not until the truth about McGrady’s suicide comes to light, or rather Voight’s attention, that he apologizes to Upton, explaining the two of them need to get on the same page: they either disclose it or take it to the grave. Upton, understandably, is having a hard time burying this as everyone will remember McGrady as a hero when he reportedly gambled away his savings, cheated on his wife, and tried to sabotage her career. Now would be the time to raise your hand if you’re as confused as I was. Where did those last two allegations come from? There had been no mention of McGrady’s infidelity or sabotaging Upton’s career until that point. Was there some scene that was cut or a reference I didn’t get alluding to those actions? The only thing that seems to make sense, and I may be way off, is that Upton was the one having an affair with McGrady, and it ended badly, thus explaining why she was constantly passed over for promotions. Of course, if this is the case, then there was barely enough information given to viewers to allow them to infer this. We barely know Upton any better or how she got her detective shield. All we know is she had a difficult relationship, either personal or professional, with McGrady, and that’s about it. If this episode was supposed to make me care for Upton, then it failed miserably as my feelings for her haven’t really changed. And then we get to Voight and Price, who after the events of “Reform” appeared to have reached an understanding. The pair even seemed somewhat friendly in their initial interactions in “Fallen.” However, things hit the fan when Voight finds out Price has been communicating with Kane. Price had reached out to some of Kane’s associates, trying to get Kane to surrender peacefully. Voight, being his usual cheery explosive self, doesn’t react well to this, reminding Price this is a police operation and Kane will be taken down their way. Yet Price has to remind Voight that Kane, who claims he’s innocent, won’t come in “their way,” as Kane could end up dead just from blinking the wrong way. From what I’ve seen I’m really enjoying the character of Price. Not only is Wendell Pierce perfectly cast, but Price is already a highly-developed character after only appearing in two episodes. He generally does care for the residents in his ward, but he also has a political agenda. As we see by the end of the episode, Price correctly theorizes that Kane was framed but agrees to keep silent. Granted, the prospect of another “banger” taking Kane’s place who will understand the wisdom of “investing” in Price’s ward is a plus, but the fact that Voight now owes him takes the cake. The dynamic between Price and Voight has been fun to watch because they it’s a game of give and take. While they have separate agendas, both see the benefit of helping, or not standing in the other’s way, from time to time. Neither one of them can be considered truly moral characters, but they do have good intentions. I’ve enjoyed this dynamic much more than the constant back and forth between Voight and Woods, which always ends with them at each other’s throats. Voight and Price are sometimes on the same side and other times on different ones; it’s never the same or predictable, which makes it interesting to watch. Speaking of Woods, we had the “big” reveal with him and Ruzek reveal at the end. I use quotations because it just felt expected and out of nowhere, if that makes any sense. After the red herring of Antonio potentially working with Woods, I assumed the show would try to get someone from Intelligence to turn on Voight, but it just felt like lazy writing with the Ruzek reveal. We saw that Ruzek was dodging phone calls from an alleged one night stand named Mia, but then all of a sudden it’s revealed that Ruzek has been dodging Woods’ calls. It turns out that Ruzek’s sister got arrested for an alleged DUI with his nephew in the backseat, and Ruzek tried to cover it up, except the audience never saw Ruzek try to make his sister’s arrest go away or even knew he had a sister to begin with. However, apparently Woods somehow found out and is now blackmailing Ruzek to spy on Voight and Intelligence. It doesn’t surprise me that Woods would force Ruzek to give him intel or that Ruzek covered it up. What really bothers me is that this came out of nowhere. There was no build up or payoff; it just felt like it was added in after the writers realized they needed someone to be a mole for Woods. I understand that Ruzek is in a tough spot, and he doesn’t want to betray Voight or Intelligence but feels like there is no other choice. It’s just that his sister and nephew and this coverup conjured out of the blue. It would have made more sense for Woods to somehow have gotten the video recording of Ruzek from the season premiere and threatened to hold that over his head. The video may not have had serious consequences, but if it was released to the public, I imagine it could be another public relations nightmare. Woods could have threatened to make an example out of Ruzek and fire or suspend him to appease the public. That may have been a slight stretch, but it would have made more sense than this nonsense. I’m assuming we’re supposed to suspend our disbelief, but I’m having a hard time as it just seems like poor writing. I mean was it ever mentioned Ruzek even had a sister to begin with? And this awfully executed storyline continues in “Care Under Fire.” The episode opens with Ruzek’s very real sister and nephew, but we barely spend any time with them, making it hard to connect with these characters. Sure, Ruzek is stuck between a rock and a hard place, having to decide whether to spy on Intelligence or risk ending his career, but he can’t play both sides forever. He claims he didn’t have an opportunity to plant the bug but copied a video of Halstead punching a civilian. Ruzek thinks this will be enough to satisfy Woods, and then he’ll be free and clear. He can go back to work like nothing ever happened and play dumb when Voight takes some heat for Halstead’s actions. If only it were that simple. Woods isn’t going to let Ruzek off the hook for a single video file; he’s going to keep Ruzek there until he has more than enough evidence to bury Voight. Ruzek should have assumed this wouldn’t be over that easily. He should have gone to Voight in the first place and explained the situation. While Voight can be a loose cannon, we’ve seen him have his team’s back time and time again. He and Ruzek could have worked together to come up with a solution, but now it’s too late. And now we get to the good stuff, and by good stuff I mean Halstead. From the start of the episode, it’s clear something is going on with him. From sleeping at the police station, having some sort of nightmare and listening to the scanner to find some sort of high-risk situation, the alarm has been sounded; Jay Halstead is in trouble. Responding to the scene, Halstead finds himself in the middle of a possible homicide, which eventually turns out to be a botched kidnapping. A three-man crew kidnapped a boy, but his nanny got caught in crossfire and ended up dead. Thanks to one of Dawson’s confidential informants, Intelligence is able to identify one of the men as Luis Vega, but the team can’t bring Vega in on what they have and the odds of him talking aren’t great. So Halstead pitches he go undercover, and after little resistance from the team, Voight agrees to give Halstead’s idea a shot. Can someone explain to me why team thinks this is a good idea? Yes, Halstead has had success going undercover before, but something’s been off ever since “Reform,” when he inadvertently shot the little girl. The guilt over that is obviously weighing on him, but no one beside Upton seems to notice anything is wrong. While she doesn’t stop him from going undercover, she at least asks if everything’s all right, despite Halstead’s lie. Everyone seems to take Halstead at his word that he’s all right, but he really should have had to sit down with a therapist. I’m not sure if this is actual procedure, but other police dramas usually have an officer get mandatory counseling following a shooting. We’ve seen Voight in therapy this season, so why not have Halstead give it a try? Halstead, or his alter ego “Ryan,” tries to ingratiate himself into both Luis and Camila’s, by default, lives. Despite a slow start at the bar, “Ryan” eventually wins Luis over by coming to Luis’ rescue in a staged bar fight. Of course, things don’t go according to plan as “Ryan” ends up punching a civilian, yet another example of why Halstead should take some time off. The two end up bonding over their shared military experiences, and “Ryan” tries to finagle an in with Luis’ employer, claiming his job sucks. Despite Luis’ initial reluctance, he eventually comes around after he and “Ryan” spend some quality drinking and talking about death. “Ryan” ends up telling Luis about the eight-year-old girl who he unintentionally killed. Despite “Ryan” claiming this happened while he served overseas, the details surrounding the incident (i.e. the bullet hitting a combatant, then traveling through a door and going into the girl) are a clear reference to the events of “Reform.” “Ryan” talks about how he still has nightmares about it, leading viewers to wonder if that’s what Halstead’s bad dream was about at the beginning of the episode? Whether it’s Luis and “Ryan” commiserating over their time in the military or the free drugs “Ryan” gives Luis (let’s be real, it’s most likely the free opioids), Luis caves and agrees to set “Ryan” up his private security boss, allowing Intelligence to identify the two other members of the kidnapping ring. That would have been good enough for most officers, but Halstead wants to stay undercover, trying to get Luis to use him for their current job. If Halstead were in his right mind and wanted to follow through, I wouldn’t begrudge him, but he’s not exactly stable at the moment, and this is a big risk. It’s like he’s looking for dangerous situations to put himself in, like he can’t help himself. It’s very disconcerting because I’m afraid he’s only going to fall further down the rabbit hole. While the leader of the kidnapping ring doesn’t want to use “Ryan” at first, he realizes he doesn’t exactly have another option but still isn’t thrilled with the idea. “Ryan” has to twist Luis’ arm a bit but when he “finds” out the job is actually a kidnapping, “Ryan” is ready to back out. Despite Luis’ assurances that this is simple, “Ryan” pleads with Luis, trying to convince him this is anything but. “Ryan” tells Luis that they have to stop it, that he can’t carry another kid. This is especially telling just how heavily the little girl’s death from “Reform” weighs on him. We knew Halstead felt guilty, but that one line shows he holds himself entirely responsible for what happened. Even though there were circumstances out of his control and other factors involved, in his mind, he is the reason the girl died. It’s as if he just shot her point blank, and he can’t go through that again. At first, we’re not sure if “Ryan” got through to Luis, but in the end, Luis tries to do the right thing, even though he still winds up dead. Watching Halstead try to perform CPR on Luis just about broke my heart because even though Halstead was undercover, he really did connect with that guy. They had been through similar circumstances and difficulties, both having a hard time adjusting when they got back from overseas. If things had gone differently for Halstead, he may have ended up in a situation like Luis. Do I think Halstead would kidnap a child and hold him or her for ransom? No, but I do think under different circumstances, Halstead may have ended up in a bad place, getting high and performing less than admirable jobs for money. I think Halstead saw some of himself in Luis, which may explain his determination in trying to prevent Luis from going through with the kidnapping and ransom. Ever since Lindsay has been gone, Halstead has been struggling and looking for someone to connect to. He inadvertently found that with Luis and, by extension, Camila. I’m not exactly sure what to make of Camila. I thought she would just be a one-off character, but it seems like she may be sticking around, and I have mixed feelings. From the start, there was sparks between “Ryan” and Camila, although it wasn’t exactly clear if Halstead was acting or not. As we saw in this episode, he’s a smooth talker, getting out of snooping through her mail and showing up to Luis’ under the guise of meeting Camila. “Ryan” could have just played coy the entire time, flirting and being his charming self, yet he let Camila in. He told her that when he came back he spent seven months drinking, smoking, screwing, and fighting. He said that a person never really comes back all the way after being in a warzone, they just sort of fill up what’s missing with something else, like Lindsay. We’ve seen how hard Halstead has taken their breakup, but it never really occurred to me until now, just how much he relied on that relationship. Yes, he loved Lindsay, but he also needed her to fill that void. His plan to propose makes a lot more sense, as he was desperate to get her back in his life. Again, I’m not disputing that Halstead loved Lindsay, but I just never really noticed how codependent he was. And now it seems Halstead has transferred that dependency onto Camila. He bared his soul to a person he just met, revealing pieces of himself that even prompted Upton to ask if any of it was true. This is made all the more evident when “Ryan” stops by Camila’s after Luis dies and he doesn’t tell her his real name or he’s a cop or he was there when Luis dies; he just keeps on pretending to be “Ryan.” Why? Well, being “Ryan” is probably easier than being Halstead right now, but he also doesn’t want to lose his only human connection he thinks he has. I doubt Camila would be flirting or kissing him if she knew “Ryan” was an undercover police officer who was tasked with brining her brother to justice and put his life in danger. No, Halstead is in a dark place, and pretending to be “Ryan” won’t end well for him. So hit the comments below to let me know what you thought of the episodes. Are you more invested in Upton as a character? How long before Intelligence finds out what Ruzek has been up to? Just how far will Halstead fall? Comment: have we really seen the how lindsay leaving affected Halstead? Credit: spoilertv

#Jesse Lee soffer #linstead #Chicago pd #fu jason beghe

11 notes · View notes

sending-the-message · 7 years ago

Text

Search History (Part 1) by FearAndFiction

Your search history is a dangerous log of information. Over 3.5 billion searches are conducted every day, ranging from the mundane, to the darkest and most disturbing thoughts society can conjure up. In the hands of the wrong people, your search history is invaluable. It's no surprise why governments are fighting vehemently for the right to access it.

Think back to the last ten searches you have made. What do they say about you? Maybe you're lucky and the extent of your search history is variations of the term "cat pics", but I can guarantee, at some point in your history, will exist a search that is deeply personal.

My name is Alex and I am a system administrator. Small companies purchase contracts with us, and in return we provide them with all the I.T. support that they require. I won't glamorize the job, 90% of the work consists of asking users to "turn it off, then on again" or advising them to check the power cable. The other 10%, however, can be very interesting.

Each week, our customers are entitled to an "on-site" day where we send a technician to provide instant support. This is mainly a marketing tactic so our customers receive a more personal touch, but it also lets us deal with any physical problems we can't solve over the phone.

On Fridays, I visit our client "Concept Marketing". We have provided support for these guys for a number of years and I have grown close to many of the staff. What has always baffled me about this company was the age range of their employees. A business that is so heavily focused on computers and digital media usually consists of a very young work force. Not Concept Marketing though. The average employee age must be about 150 from what I would guess. Despite this, the staff are the friendliest bunch of people I have had the pleasure of working with. And trust me, in this line of work, friendly people are few and far between. I have spent numerous hours at my job being berated and abused by others on the phone, so when a call from Concept comes in, I am more than happy to answer it.

Last Friday I pulled up to their offices, as usual, and was greeted with resounding cheers as I entered. I made my way to my desk for the day and I am informed, yet again, of the cakes Gladys has baked in the kitchen, should I want one. I politely pass, as I do every week, and begin working.

My Friday routine consists mostly of assisting the old folks with basic tasks whilst I monitor their internet traffic, servers and firewalls, fueled by a constant stream of coffee.

"No sign of John today?" I questioned.

Concept, like most companies, have that one vacancy they can never seem to fill with the right person. At least once a month they will hire a new, "fresh-out-of-college" kid to come and join them, presumably to inject some youth into the work force. Unfortunately they can never seem to make the position stick. They usually last about a week before being surrounded by the "living dead" gets too much for them and they pack it in. I can't blame them. Young people want to work around other young people. We spend most our lives at work, so it's important to have people you can relate to.

"No! Seems he couldn't keep up with us old farts!" Brian comically replied.

Despite the workforce being full of great people, Brian stands out as special. A giant teddy-bear of a man with a heart of gold. Despite his apparent age, he is inexplicably fit and is constantly participating in charity marathons or assisting at the local children's hospice. I remember being absolutely blown away the first time it was mentioned, and astounded that people this self-less exist in the world. We would do well to learn from men like Brian.

I checked with HR that the new kid was no longer working for the company and was informed that he, like the ones before him, had just stopped showing up for work. Nothing unusual by this point. I began creating a back-up of his work and emails before deleting his user account from the servers. This is standard practice for most companies to be able to investigate any signs of industrial espionage the person may have committed. I logged onto the firewall to check for any notable search queries he had made during his time here.

Before I could filter the results, one search caught my eye.

"How do people decompose bodies".

I checked the user account attached to it...

Brian...

I let out a huge belly laugh. Tears began streaming down my face as I struggled to catch my breath. Everyone abruptly stopped their conversations and turned to see what all the commotion was about.

"Jesus Christ, Brian. Might want to be a bit more selective with the things you're searching at work"

Despite what you might think, searches like this are extremely common. I'm sure most of you reading have searched something on google that returned unexpected results, and went on to realise your error once you've read back the search term. If you haven't, I can guarantee you've searched something similar out of morbid curiosity before.

Brian's face lit up like a christmas tree. I actually began to feel bad for embarrassing him, he definitely did not deserve it. I calmed myself down and waited for his reply. Except there wasn't one. For the first time in my career, I had seen Brian speechless. Looking around the room, the faces of the other staff replicated Brian's.

I realized the situation I had got myself into. I had found something that tickled my funny bone, but no one else found remotely humorous. I sheepishly ducked behind my monitor and continued as if nothing happened. As the conversations began to ramp up again, I looked over at Brian who was staring at his hands, twiddling his thumbs and looked to be holding back tears.

The rest of the day was a bit awkward, understandably. As 5 o'clock rolled round I packed my things away and began to walk towards the door. I glanced into the kitchen, the plate of cakes sat full again, like every week. I looked round to the rest of the room and waved goodbye, wishing them a good weekend. I got a few replies, but Brian just stared straight ahead at his machine. I had definitely upset him.

I stewed over my actions the whole ride home. It's out of character for me to be outwardly rude to someone, despite what I want to say to them in my head. That'll be the good ol' english blood. I wasn't going to sabotage my whole weekend, so when I got home I planned to write him an email, apologising.

As soon as I was in the door I opened up my laptop and began typing. A couple hundred words later and the apology still sounded completely forced. I had a "brilliant" idea. I would check the filter and pull off some of the other search queries from the companies we catered to, with the hope he would see it wasn't all that uncommon to be researching questionable things at work.

I loaded up the firewalls expecting to find the usual mid-day porn searches from our shady logistic customers, or the endless googling of embarrassing symptoms that our travel agency clients were so fond of. Yet, as I scrolled, all I could find was masses and masses of worrying searches by Brian.

18/08/2017 08:32: "How to remove DNA"

18/08/2017 09:03: "How to remove fingerprints from objects"

18/08/2017 09:37: "How to remove teeth"

18/08/2017 09:45: "How deep are graves"

It was about this time that I had mentioned my findings to Brian earlier that day.

There were many more, all variations of the above terms. I sat, shocked. Surely this was all a big misunderstanding? Surely this gentle giant wasn't involved in something of this magnitude? I deleted my apology email immediately. I left the firewall open and filtered the results to show only Brian's searches. I would be keeping a close eye on his "research" in the coming week.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

1 note · View note

fireandgloryrpg · 7 years ago

Photo

Congratulations Nate and welcome! We’re so happy to accept your application to play Murdoch “Murdo” Fitzgerald with the faceclaim of Joe Anderson (younger resources) in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!

!! tw: drug use, addiction mention, needles !!

Out of Character Information:

Name: Nate

Pronouns: He\Him

Age: June 27th, 1991 - which makes me 26 now. Ugh.

Timezone: -3GMT

Activity: Working 10 hours a day, weekdays may be too busy for me to post sometimes, but I’ll try to keep up with the dash anyway. Saturdays and tuesdays tend to be quieter. I’ll be mostly on during my days off - sunday and monday, and though I may be a little slow, my activity tends to be steady.

Original Character Application:

Name: Murdoch “Murdo” Naoise Fitzgerald

Age and Birthday: 25 years old - december 13th.

Faceclaim: Joe Anderson. Second option: Domhnall Gleeson.

Heritage: Son of Liber, god of Freedom, Civil Disobedience, Fertility, Inebriation and Wine. Legacy of Venus (4th generation) and legacy of Luna (5th generation), a heritage of the Fitzgerald family.

ABILITIES:

[Charmspeak]: Liber is commonly associated to freedom of speech, and it was during festivities in his name, such as the Liberalia, that common folk had the opportunity of speak up - frequently against the government and Rome’s strict hierarchy and class system. Being both a son of Liber and a legacy of Venus, Murdoch has a natural ability to convince listeners of his ideas when he speaks, and move crowds with unnatural charisma - specially when it encourages rebellion and civil disobedience. His voice can provoke a dangerous state of unrest in his listeners and heighten up their aggression levels.

[Water to Wine]: Being a son of the ancient god of inebriation and wine, Murdoch has the convenient ability of turning water into wine. It usually works as a great party trick. His connection to Liber, however, also makes him particularly susceptible to substance abuse and addiction of all kinds.

[Fertility Boost]: Being celebrated as the god of male fertility, as well as the god of sexual freedom, Liber has granted his children the uncommon ability of heightening fertility levels around them - it affects both crops and people, and it may cause those around him to feel heightened desire and attraction. It also causes a strange bump in natality whenever he’s near.

Affiliation: Murdoch spent two years in the First Cohort before dropping out, much to his family’s embarrassment. But that was before the fires, before prison - before he left as a wanted man. Now he’s back, a persona non grata in New Rome, and he doesn’t really belong anywhere but behind bars, according to those that still remember.

Headcanons:

[The Irish Jesus]: During his time in the outside world, Murdoch has become popular among the hobos, prostitutes and criminals. Delivering inflamed monologues at parks and streets, he soon gained a steady following. Maybe it was the party trick that finally did it - turning all that water into wine may not have been his brightest idea, but when word got around, people were soon calling him the Irish Jesus. Murdoch would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the attention (“well, I AM son of a god, maybe not THAT god, so it’s not exactly a lie–”), but there was only so much he could do for those new age lepers, besides inspiring them to rise up and fight for themselves.

[The Monsters Within]: Though Murdoch has faced and escaped many monsters during the ten long years he spent in the outside world, some of the toughest ones weren’t mythological beasts. There were monsters, he learned, that lived inside a needle, and there were monsters that lived inside a bottle. Addiction was a harder beast to slay than most monsters. There is a dark side to Liber and his celebration of debauchery, and now Murdoch is very careful in indulging freely in some of life’s pleasures. Freedom, he’s learned, can be both intoxicating and dangerous.

Biography:

!! tw: drug use, addiction mention, needles !!

Every family has a black sheep. That one relative mothers use as a cautionary tale - do you want to end up like your cousin? That one person no one talks about until one drunk uncle lets the name slip after too many drinks in a family’s gathering, and then there’s an uncomfortable silence, followed by quiet sneer. Everyone knows that one guy that has been burned off the family tree, the unfortunate son among well behaved siblings, the stain in an otherwise pure heritage of proud romans.

To the Fitzgeralds, that’s Murdoch.

They always knew he was wild - restless like a caged bird, bearing his father’s free spirit like a family heirloom. Murdoch could never sit straight, could never just be quiet. He was the boy that talked too much, the boy that wouldn’t listen. Years later, they’d ask themselves if they could have known, as people often do when faced with tragedy. Did something in the mischievous smile of that little boy in the family portraits give away what he’d one day become? Some blamed nature - born into a strong military family, Liber’s love of freedom and lack of discipline was frowned upon, and no severe training could bend Murdoch to their ways. Some, however, blamed nurture - at the peak of her military career and well into the path to become the new Praetor, Oleana Fitzgerald had no time for children. The same day her son was born, she was back in her cohort, spear and shield in hand. Murdoch was left to be raised by his grandparents - and that sting of rejection was the first spark to what would one day become a fire.

Oleana wasn’t around much as Murdoch grew up - first, she was too busy with her military career. Then, she was undone by an accident during War Games. Confined to a wheelchair, she left New Rome for Ireland and upon her return, once again pregnant, they had already become strangers to each other. At six years old, Murdoch was wild; a hurricane shaped like a child, prone to wandering too far and getting himself - and his pack of friends - in big trouble. The birth of a sibling did nothing to calm his temper, as rejection stung deeper - Oleana clung to the new baby like a lifeline, and her first son, unruly and loud, could never quite fit her idea of a warrior.

But time is relentless and the years turned Murdoch into a fine young man, divided between the free spirit inherited from his father, and the wish for his mother’s affection. Following her footsteps, he joined the first cohort, but her eyes were always on Murdoch’s brother, intent in making the perfect soldier out of him. Murdoch grew angry - and that teenage anger was the perfect fuel for the rebellion that was his godly inheritance by birthright. More interested in politics and parties than swords and the battlefield, he soon became a dissident voice against New Rome’s outdated system - and the corruption brewing underneath it by the hands of the Cult. Nothing but a mild embarrassment, the Fitzgeralds thought; every family has that one kid - it was just a phase.

That was, until the fires started.

At first they were small and contained - an experiment for what was to come. Then, they got bigger - more than casual vandalism, they were a message. There were four confirmed criminal fires in key government buildings, after work hours, before Murdoch was finally arrested, at age sixteen. None had casualties, but for the course of six months, New Rome was turned upside down by the son of Liber.

Awaiting his trial, Murdoch suffered in prison - the true fear of a son of Freedom. A couple of days before he was to face the jury, however, someone unlocked his cell, and anxious to be free, Murdoch ran. It was only when the prison alarms were blaring and the tower of fire was burning in the distance that he knew he’d made a grave mistake. Years to come, people would say that there hadn’t been a fire like that since the likes of Nero roamed Italy. The body count had been of twelve - five of them demigods. Realizing he had been caught in the setup, Murdoch ran to an old friend for help, and managed to flee the city. It was with a heavy heart, hiding in the shadow of New Rome’s gates that he realized he could never come back - that whoever was responsible for that fire counted on him taking the fall.

But never is a long time.

Suddenly, with the entire world at his feet, he wished for the safety of Rome instead of freedom. But it was too late for that - Murdoch left with nothing but his smoked clothes, and learned to say goodbye to everything he knew that night: his grandparents, who deserved better; his little brother, who still had so much to learn; his cousins, his friends; and his mother, who would finally see him, but not in the way he wanted.

A life in the outside world, however, is not easy on a lonely demigod.

For nearly ten years, Murdoch survived on his own - sleeping in park benches or under cardboard boxes, stealing this or that, and making himself familiar with needles. Sometimes, he’d almost believe New Rome had been nothing but a dream - a drunk man’s delirium, some madness boiling inside his veins. But then, the monsters would come, and Murdoch would remember that it had to be real: hallucinations don’t draw real blood. Over the years, as his smell got stronger, the monsters would become relentless, following him wherever he went, so he never stayed anywhere for long. Friends with whores and addicts, gamblers and criminals, he found a captive audience - and that’s when the son of Liber felt more liberated, standing on a soapbox at the park, delivering his monologues to an eager crowd, hungry for change.

Some of them, eager to believe, started following him around the country. But there was only so much Murdoch could do for them. And when the monsters came, no one was safe. Finally, tired of running in a life that got increasingly dangerous every year, the prodigal son decided to return to New Rome, and face whatever sentence was waiting for him. He’d seen too much, lost too much, and his weary heart was calling him back home.

There were too many monsters outside, but Murdoch found the worst of them wore human skin.

Para Sample:

[Feel free to post the para sample too, if y'all want!]

There was something intoxicating about fire.

To watch the dark smoke spiral up the air and the flames grow, licking the doric columns of the Senate hungrily, filled him with pleasure. It was something as old as time itself, as if millennia of insatisfaction roared in his chest - the echoes of plebeians rising against patricians in the first Republic of Rome, the cheer and anger spreading across the crowd in ancient festivities of wine and sex. But beyond that, beyond the murmurs of time running in his blood, like an old, familiar song, there was the burning feeling or power.

You hardly ever hear it, but when a fire this big roars, lighting up the night, it sounds like a deafening round of applause.

Murdoch took a moment to appreciate his masterpiece - took a lungful of air, coughing a little, as if to save that taste, etch it deeply in his mind to revisit in the months to come. Before he was even done, he already knew it would be just the first of many - the prologue in his statement on the comings and goings of Roman politics and its shortcomings. There was something rotten in the long line of perfectly aligned soldiers, their feet rumbling in unison in the battlefield like thunder. That order in which the Republic was built was but a lie. Under the military-oriented culture of their people, there was brewing chaos running in their veins: the ichor of gods, their malice and their greatness. That night, alight with euphoria, Murdoch could see it all: all they could be, all they were meant to have. They were godly children, not sheep - and they could do so much better than the old politics upon which New Rome had been built. It was an anachronic, crippled monstrosity, stuck in time like a silly pantomime of real power: Mr. Punch and Judy, wearing paper crowns, calling themselves good.

No; they were meant to be better.

“What are you smiling like that for?”, one of his cousins asked the next day, as they shared a smoke by the fountain. “Just life, Patsy,” Murdoch replied, with a mischievous smile his cousin had long learned to fear: “Life’s funny.” Patsy shook his head, taking a long drag of his cigarette before passing it along. “Sometimes I think you find this fire business amusing, Murdo. Don’t let ‘em catch you with that grin on your face. Not when they’re still mad at you over the Cohort thing - I mean, did you have to leave like that?” Patsy asked him vaguely, red head too full of girls and glory to notice the way Murdoch looked at the ashes the wind had brought, catching them in his hand like black snowflakes. “I guess,” the son of Liber replied. “I just know I’m meant for something else, Patsy. Something different. I’ll leave the fighting to you big men and your swords, trying to compensate for something–”

Their laughter bounced off the stone and marble, unrestrained and high, still stumbling over their first footsteps into manhood.

Four months later, one last fire took Patsy’s life.

Over the next ten years, people would still ask themselves why Murdoch did it, as if Rome hadn’t been built upon fratricide and murder: an empire of betrayal. Sleeping on a bench under the starry night, wondering about centuries of tragedies, Murdo never got to mourn his cousin.

They were meant to be so much better - and still, they made the same old mistakes.

#accepted #needle tw #tw needle #drug use tw #tw drug use #addiction tw #tw addiction

4 notes · View notes