#there's only two stories that were prewritten in full this month

[sxrrandomfanfics]

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hi Dear Jalebi, I demand your analysis :)   What are your thoughts on IPKKND might have some typical track if the audience, TRP, actors departure didn't influence it otherwise? Let me explain, IPKKND was supposed to have a longer office track (that wasn't common though, I would've loved it) but the TRP was low, so Shantivan track was introduced. Then, I read that, Sana Maqbul (Lavanya) wanted to quit IPKKND, that's why the quick breakup???

Is that why they didn't give us the COMMON AF *jealousy and hero's ex GF turns villain* track? Then again, Anjali was jealous and sad about Khushi after the first reveal of Shyam, and it looked like track about Didi Ki Saut was beginning. But again ratings dropped and the fandom didn't react well (kinda protested), Anjali quickly stopped showing jealousy and Dadi was introduced to give ArShi a common saas-bahu vibe.

Hello Dear Analysis Anon!

I am going to over answer this with a lot of detail because I have a lot of thoughts, as always! Time to get into my thinking cape/coat:

This analysis is going to cover:

(1) every example you just mentioned,

(2) my thoughts on external things affecting plot of the story,

(3) things/plots/ tracks that could've been if not for external factors

Examples

1) IPKKND was supposed to have a longer office track (that wasn't common though, I would've loved it) but the TRP was low, so Shantivan track was introduced

As far as I can remember from one of the writers' interviews, the office track was cut short because this was a show on Star Plus - which, as a channel, caters to 'family audience' therefore needs to have sanskaar and stuff at its core. Hence the rude shortening of the office track and weird 'makeover' and 'desi-dying' Lavanya. And hence we had a very weird four months of an eighteen-twenty years old Khushi teaching someone about sanskaars and suddenly knowing everything about a household when Bua-ji or even Payal would've been a more apt choice for this 'tutoring'.

If this was a Star One show, they might've not shifted out of the office for the longest time!

2) Sana Maqbul (Lavanya) wanted to quit IPKKND, that's why the quick breakup??? Is that why they didn't give us the COMMON AF *jealousy and hero's ex GF turns villain* track?

I did not know that's why the quick end happened. Honestly that happened perfectly. I think Lavanya had an inkling about their relationship heading south right when Arnav told everyone he's getting engaged to her. But she chooses to not see it until one day she couldn't. Maybe we could've gotten more from La but if you see carefully, La clearly knows that this relationship is now just for face. Bless her heart for trying though, trying with a smile!

Also, again I think the writers never thought of making Lavanya a vamp. They had enough material with Arnav-Khushi's own differences, Shyam and Buaji playing enough roles to mess up Arnav-Khushi's love story. I probably think they always had planned Lavanya as a beautiful person who was unintentionally caught in all of this. I feel they planned La and Khushi's friendship - they clearly enjoyed writing two completely different people becoming closest of friends.

The writers/creators deserve full credit for this.

3) Then again, Anjali was jealous and sad about Khushi after the first reveal of Shyam, and it looked like track about Didi Ki Saut was beginning. But again ratings dropped and the fandom didn't react well (kinda protested), Anjali quickly stopped showing jealousy and Dadi was introduced to give ArShi a common saas-bahu vibe.

This is all true.

My Thoughts on External Things Affecting Plot

It's not necessarily bad that external things affect plot. Feedback, from channel or fans, can help the show to pivot and understand what is working and what's not. The problem is when feedback is implemented regardless whether or not it matches the theme of the plot.

I loved:

1) The channel moving out of the office because the power dynamic was too great and the contract terms were very unhealthy and Arnav Singh Raizada deserved to get sued at least 10 times by the end of this contract so yes, the shorter the office track the better. Literally the saving grace is they didn't "fall in love" there.

2) The fans protesting against Didi Ki Saut track. Not because I hated the track - I think it was executed in the worst manner! From identical visual languages to show Arnav-Anjali and Arnav-Khushi scenes (which didn't work to show Arnav being equally torn between the two most important women in his life, but just made the audience get creeped by Arnav-Anjali's relationship) and writing scenes of Anjali getting offended by Arnav-Khushi's intimacy/Arnav spending time with his wife, on her birthday, in his bedroom... did she expect Khushi would just *disappear* in a her and Arnav's bedroom? Like that was the worst way to show a compelling plot line and giving people some weird thoughts about Anjali-Arnav (which I hate because I LOVE Anjali-Arnav).

3) Barun walking out when the plot was literally done. Yes, thank you!

4) Barun going to do a movie led to the kidnapping track, which I liked a lot. No, not the nonsense of Manorama Bond fishing out Delhi's security camera footages in vintage recording system - but the fact that given the chasm and angst between Arnav & Khushi, only something bigger than their misunderstanding could force Arnav to give weight to his feelings and for Khushi to be able to forgive him. And his life was at stake. It was a sharp reminder to both of them that they lost so much by not communicating that it doesn't matter what they had to say - they loved each other, they just needed to get back and fight off everything together.

And then again, there are things I HATED that happened because of external factors:

1) The channel for the whole La becomes Desi. And the overdose of sanskaar and tradition that followed for a few months *uggggh* Clearly the channel demanded this from the plot because family, traditions and all are important to Star Plus (wtf are they thinking for Ghum Hai Kisi Ke? though or YRKKH?) And even the Aarav track and Mrs. India - two tracks with terrible execution - were very Star Plus recommended content. Just now Saath Nibhana Saathiya 2 had a Mrs. Surat/Gujarat track and Yeh Hai Chaahatein had a miracle child popping up...

2) The fans demanding Arnav & Khushi's proximity. The whole hut scene was *noooooo*. Lack of consent, body doubles, GLARING logical loopholes and them just trying to do it when one of them is really not in the mood and they were both so out of character. @phati-sari explains this really well in her post (just search for the hut to get all relevant posts on her blog)

3) Barun? Not exactly - he's never in control of the plot so really it's the writers that kinda know what to do with his presence and absence. Even if they get a short time, it's upto the creators who know if they use the last 2-3 weeks for stretching a random track as much as they can and give a rushed ending or quickly wrap up a crap track and give a satisfactory ending. A good example of this is Lavanya's exit - although rushed was dealt with grace, important conversations and memorable hugs. Bad one is the end of the show - I know Barun gave his papers but I wish they went the La way with the end of the show - important convos, teary hugs and a sweet moment (they tried their best tho...)

It's an ITV trend though to not plan for the end of a show... they stretch a crappy track as much as they can and have like a 2 min epilogue. Kasautii 2.0 was the funniest cause they had all misconceptions cleared, Komolika and Mr. Bajaj die and then have a weird 2 min pillow fight to show 'happy family'... guess in that way I'm glad we had whatever we did with IPKKND!

Possible Tracks Then

So if external factors didn't influence the show, we might have had the following:

1) A longer office track. It would end the way it did in canon though. I think it was prewritten that at one point Khushi would tear up the contract and hold him accountable for everything Arnav did. Just instead of 3-4 days it would've been 10-15 days after the contract.

2) Didi Ki Saut track. Honestly that was compelling if executed right. Sometimes you can have an antagonist without becoming a villain, Anjali the perfect character for that.

3) A separation track. I'm pretty sure Arnav-Khushi could have separated at some point in their six months marriage - this is just my inkling and not something I heard in an interview unlike the above two. If given full reign to writing, we probably would've gotten an angst heavy stuff at some point post marriage/6 months.

4) A remarriage track sans Dadi. We know why Dadi was introduced (honestly I didn't mind her, it was a track done well and kinda to redeem Arnav in front of the public eyes. It's a perfect track cause Arnav is 'nice' for standing up for her and kinda heals the wounds he caused in the first few months of the marriage by retorting someone who tells Khushi everything he told her...) But anyway I do think a remarriage was in the works, not because of TRPs but the way their whole 'marriage' was framed and how Khushi was broken because of the lack of everything in it. And they deserved one w/o the devastation that night brought.

5) The 'marriage' would've been a live in. Arnav and Khushi's elopement was supposed to be darker in nature*. Their 'marriage' would've had no religious nor legal validity, therefore a stark contradiction to everything Khushi stood for... but you can't have that in ITV. *By dark I don't mean sexual violence - never.*

6) The whole IPKKND was meant to be darker. I am glad for the romantic comedy though! I think their balance of angst and comedy pre marriage was perfect! Not sure post marriage because it felt like a loop of going back to square one with no progress. But I think things were meant to be less subtle, more tragic and dramatized. So I think we could've gotten extremely angsty periods post marriage with a slow, gentle lull to the romance/comedy. While I am extremely glad for the lightheartedness, I wish I could've read what the whole original concept for Arnav/Khushi was!

7) Arnav revealing the truth to Khushi would've been different. We know the distasteful suicide track quickly came as a way to push Arnav's buttons and have him confess the truth of his elopement to Khushi. And that came from Barun going away - hence the quick kidnapping track and everything. So if Barun didn't go away, I honestly don't know how the revelation would happen. Would Arnav start piecing things together from information and things about Shyam in Laxminagar? Would Arnav end up helping and hospitalizing Shashi who would tell him the truth? Would Arnav come across any hidden wedding card Buaji could've had printed for Shyam-Khushi or even Shyam's fake kundili? Given the Gupta house wasn't the place where Shyam covered his tracks... was this where Arnav would start seeing things? Or guilt ridden, would Garima/Khushi/Madhumati tell Arnav the truth? Something was meant to happen for this revelation, whether it's Arnav believing Khushi or just getting further evidence against her - I... don't know! I wish I knew what the writers had in store.

We highly appreciate for not showing a typical Nanand against Bhaabi trope, also for not making La villain, but would it result differently if things didn't have a hand? Imma cry thinking Anjali jealous and La villain! meh!  What a feast for the eyes it was to see ONLY ONE VILLAIN and less negativity in a tellywood show. Baas bohut hua my casual verbiage. By demand I mean no pressure, please take your valuable time and reply whenever you feel like it.Take Loads of Care and Chocolates your way <3

I hope the above answered all your queries :) Thank you for all the chocolates and care!!!

Phew this was rather long! A big hug to anyone who went through it! See ya later!

- Jalebi

[trekkiehood]

Never Again - SPN Fanfic

@febuwhump : Day 6/ Alt 2 - Trapped Under a Collapsed Building

Title: Never Again

Fandom: Supernatural

Words: 3.1k

Setting: Stanford Era, Brotherhood AU, 9/11/2001

Whumpee: Dean

Caretaker: Sid (OC/RP)

Other Characters: Caleb

Ship: None

Ao3 Link

Summary: Dean is working a job with Caleb in NYC trying to distract himself from Sam's departure for college, when the Twin Towers are hit in a terrorist attack.

Trigger Warnings: 9/11, fire, death, explosions, building collapse, injury or death do to disability

Authors Note:

Dean is 22 Sam is 18 Caleb is 30

Disclaimer:

I'm sorry if info dump I spent four days majorly hyperfixating on this, watching 6+ hours of live news and even longer reading news articles on everything from the event to the elevator system in the towers. Also I was not born until a few months after 9/11 so if I mess up or have gathered wrong information I apologize. Also while the story of Stairwell B is true Dean was obviously not there. I know very little about the actual Sid except that he was a firefighter that day so I apologize if he is portrayed accurately. If you want the true events surrounding stairwell B you can read about them here: . /news/19572389.9-11-attack-josephine-harris-miracle-stairwell-b/

Jensen recently said that most scared he's ever been was on 9/11 and tho Jensen and Dean are in very different circumstances, I tried to capture some of that fear.

I know this one is really late (it's not quite midnight here tho so still on time) and it's because I wrote it today lol. Everything else has been prewritten. With that in mind, this was written very fast and I haven't even had time to re-read the whole things so I apologize for any mistakes.

However! I really love this one guys!

I've always wanted to write a 9/11 piece, especially when I realized it would have happened right after Sam left for college. This is nothing like what my original plan was when I first decided to write one a year ago, but I like it still. It moves really fast I know but it was the only way I could make it work.

I'll say more in the end note and let you guys get to reading lol.

Enjoy!

~TH~

There were very few things that scared Dean more than heights. Very few. One of those things had already happened but he was trying very hard to keep his head in New York and away from Stanford. But regardless, Dean hated heights. And he was very high. Yes people paid over ten bucks for a view he was getting for free. He did not care. It was grossly unfair that Caleb had made him come up here to attend this meeting when the older man just as easily could have come himself.

Dean's phone rang and he looked down at the number. Speak of the devil.

He stepped into the hallway and answered. "I hope you're happy."

"Where are you?" Caleb sounded oddly stressed for this early in the morning.

Dean rolled his eyes, "You know where I am."

"I'm serious. I want to know the exact place you are."

"About to go into the meeting with the guy from McLennan. And no I'm not late. The appointment isn't for a few more minutes."

"You need to leave."

"As much as I'd love to, we actually do need to talk to this dude."

"No. Get out of there. Now."

"Dude I just took two elevators ninety-three stories into the air just so you could make me come back down? If I leave I'm not coming back up here. You're on your own."

"Deuce, listen to me. You have to get out of there. Now. Something bad is going to happen."

That caught Dean's attention. "Did you have a vision?"

"More- more of a nightmare but listen to me you have to get out of there. I don't know what's about to happen but it's bad and you need to be as far away from the Trade Center as possible."

"Are you sure you're not just, I don't know, getting everything mixed up? I mean it was a dream not a vision. Maybe you're just feeling protective and remembering 93'-"

"Dean." The use of the Wincther boy's full name stopped him in his tracks. "It's not. I'm telling you something is going to happen. Not has happened. Is going to."

"Fine, fine. It's not that I don't trust you it's just that those elevators are-"

"Take the stairs."

"You're kidding. It's ninety-three floors, Damian."

"You didn't- Listen I can't explain it. I didn't get the whole picture. I just know that if you don't get out of there right now you will die."

"And the elevator?"

"Please."

"Fine but only to seventy-eight." He didn't understand why the civilians got a straight ride to the top while workers had to take to elevators to get to their floor. But he'd play along until he could get to the express elevators.

"Just get moving."

"Fine, I'll call you back when-"

"No! Just- just stay on the line, alright?"

"Dude how bad was it?" He said, opening the door to the B stairwell and beginning his descent.

"Bad dude. I'm really not even sure what happened but it was bad."

"Do we need to call someone?"

"I wouldn't know what to say. It's more of… just a bad feeling mixed with images I can't place. I don't know man, I just want you out of there."

"Yeah, yeah, and you want me to walk down over ninety flights of stairs to do it. Let me use the elevators and I'll be out in five minutes."

Caleb let out a breath of a laugh at that. "Get down to the express elevator and we'll talk about it. The one's near the top aren't near as fast."

"And here I thought you didn't like the business side of New York."

"Architecture, Deuce. It's the tallest building in the U.S. It'd be a sin not to study it."

Dean let out an involuntary shiver, "Don't remind me."

"What floor are you on now?"

Dean glanced up at the marker as he continued the seemingly endless descent. "Eighty-eight."

"Keep going."

"I am. You gonna call the office and cancel my meeting? They don't seem like the type of people to appreciate a no show. Especially before nine. 8:45 Damian. Who sets a meeting that early?"

"They can deal with it." He said with a smile in his voice. Dean was glad to have relieved at least some of the tension. "I'll call them as soon as you're out."

"Yeah yeah, which will be over an hour at this rate."

"Stop complaining, dude. Just think of it as one of Johnny's training exercises."

"The difference being, Dad never sent us an unholy amount in the air! Mountains? Yeah? Skyscrapers? Never again."

"One day you'll thank me for breaking your fear of heights."

"Breaking them? You mean exploiting them?"

"Hey whatever wor-"

A loud explosion shut out any other sound. The building shook and Dean was sure that the stairs were about to fall out from under him. His phone slipped from his hand and fell over the railing as he desperately grabbed for the shaking rail. Chunks of debris began to fall above him. Something hit his head and his knees started to give out. He was going to die. The building was about to collapse and he was going to die. The shaking stopped. Dean kept his hands firmly on the railing, pulling himself up and taking a few deep breaths.

He was okay. He was fine. Whatever had happened up there didn't involve him.

And he'd done a pretty good job at convincing himself of that before the stairwell began to fill with smoke.

Dean didn't know what was going on but he knew that Caleb was right. He needed to get out of there. Now.

His phone was lost to him. Whether it was broken somewhere or had fallen down the flights, he didn't have time to go looking. Caleb would have to deal until he could get out of there or find someone else with a cellphone. He felt like he was being actively chased by the fire. The smoke was coming down the stairwell faster than he could outrun it.

The eighty-second floor had smoke coming from the doorway. Had the fire spread that fast? Dean still had no idea what was happening. It had to have been some sort of bomb. But how had they gotten it up all the way up? The tower wasn't even open to visitors yet. Last time it had been the parking garage and they'd upped the security since then. How-?

It didn't matter. What mattered was that the smoke had caught up with him. It had caught up with him and he couldn't breathe. It didn't matter. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Stop. People needed help. But that wasn't hig job. His job was to get out. But he could hear them. The door was stuck. He should- should he?

Flashes of baby Sammy being pressed into his arms made the decision for him. He turned and ran back up the stairs until he found the door that had stuck in his mind. Someone was pounding on it from the other side.

Dean glanced up, noticing the fire still spreading. They needed to act fast. Some of the debris was blocking the door if he could just-

The debris moved, the door swung open. People started pouring out. Dean was trapped between the flow of people and the wall. He waited, unsure of what else to do. Saving people had always been his job. The fact that there was no supernatural activity involved that he knew of didn't change that fact.

When the last person had rushed past him down the stairs, he went in finding a man in a wheelchair trying to stand up.

Dean gave him a once over. He was smaller. Dean should be able to lift him with relative ease.

"Legs or back?"

The man blinked up at him, falling back in his chair. "What?"

"I need to know how to carry you."

"Back."

Dean couldn't stop the curse. Fireman's carry was out of the question. "Okay, okay, do you think you could hang on if I tried to get you on my back?"

"I think so." The man nodded.

Dean squatted in front of the chair. "Wrap your arms over my shoulders and then lean into me."

The man did as he was told and Dean crossed his arms over his chest, grabbing the man's wrists.

"Do what you can with your legs. I'll get you out of here but I need all the hlp I can get."

The man nodded into his shoulder and Dean stood up. The smoke was really pouring in now. It was nearly impossible to see.

"Grab onto my left arm." He instructed. "I need my right one to feel my way down."

When his arm was free he felt along the wall. It was slower than he would have like but faster than the man would have been able to get down himself. If the man could have at all. Dean thought about asking his name but at this point just breathing was enough effort without the added idea of speaking.

It was around floor seventy when Dean had to take a break. "Sorry, sorry," He muttered slowing down and finally coming to a stop.

"It's okay. Put me on the steps."

Dean didn't have the energy to decline. He knew he needed to keep moving but was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. His head was pounding and there were far too many memories flooding his mind of smoke and burning and death.

Okay. Okay. He could do this. Don't think about the fact that he was close to a thousand feet in the air in a burning building in the near pitch black. Or that his life was not the only one he was responsible for right now. He felt around until he found the door handle and pulled. It opened and the smoke went into the room. Dean quickly grabbed the other man under the arms and pulled him into the room, moving back away from the fire.

"Just, just give me a minute to catch my breath."

The man nodded. "I'm Samuel by the way." Dean's head jerked up. Of course he was.

"Dean."

Winchester shook his head, clearing the rest of the cobwebs. The floor was beginning to fill with smoke anyway. "Okay. Get on." He instructed.

Dean happened to glance out of the window when he saw it. A plane. And it flew right right into the South Tower.

Debris from the tower was coming towards them and Dean took off a run towards the smoke-filled stairwell.

A plane. It was a plane.

"Did you see that?" Samuel whispered, clutching tighter to Dean's arm.

Dean didn't answer. He hurried down the stairs as quickly as he could.

He wasn't sure of the floor numbers anymore. Just breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step.

Time seemed to drag on in a never ending world of darkness and smoke. His eyes stung and he wondered if there was even any reason to keep his eyes open. Then his eyes weren't open. Then he was on his knees with someone calling his name. He wasn't sure exactly how long he had been there. Had he lost consciousness or was his head just fuzzy from the smoke?

He felt foolish. He'd been trained to continue to fight in terrible conditions and yet here he was, choking on smoke in a friggin' skyscraper of all things. He really, really hated heights.

"Sir?"

When Dean looked up there was a blur of movement.

"What floor are we on?" he heard Samuel ask.

"thirty-four." An unknown and slightly muffled voice answered.

"He's been carrying me since eighty-three. Collapsed a couple minutes ago."

Dean blinked as hands tilted his face up and something was pressed over his face. "Take a couple of breaths kid." Then to someone above him. "Get him out of here. I'll stay with the kid."

His initial reaction to fight was overridden by the blessing of cool oxygen filling his lungs. "Sam?" Dean muttered, handing the mask back over to who he now realized was a firefighter.

"Someone's got him. Worry about yourself for a minute. I'm Sal."

"Dean," He answered as Sal helped him to his feet. He was barely standing when an earth shattering roar sounded. The building swayed and Dean clutched onto the firefighter, all thoughts of embarrassment long gone. He was going to die. He was going to die in a metal deathtrap higher in the air then he had ever even wanted to be.

The firefighter's radio went off. "South Tower has collapsed. Get out of there now. Over."

"No." the man whispered, an air of disbelief in his voice. Then into his radio, "Coming down."

"What does he mean it collapsed?" Dean asked as Sal started pulling him down the stairs at a much quicker speed than he had been moving before. "How is that even possible?!"

Not that he hadn't thought the building was going to collapse when the initial explosion had happened. But Caleb had always gone on about the structural brilliance of this place. Surely the building couldn't just… fall.

The fireman didn't answer and Dean didn't press. He stumbled down the stairs, the high power flashlight finally allowing him to be able to see where he was going.

The two continued until there was a group of firemen in front of them. One of them was carrying a woman. "What's going on?" Sal shouted.

"We're looking for a chair! It will make it easier to carry her down the rest of the way!" Someone shouted back.

"You good to stand here while I help him look?" Dean nodded, leaning against the wall. He was unsure if he'd ever been this tired in his life.

They weren't sure how long they'd been on the platform, but it couldn't have been too long, when the rumble began. Dean had seen and heard some loud and downright horrific things. But nothing had ever been louder than this moment. A gust of wind stronger than anything Dean had ever felt picked him up and threw him. It was like being attacked by a ghost but with no one to fight back against.

Dean hit the ground. Then there was silence. For a moment Dean thought he was dead. There was no sound. No light. He couldn't breathe. He could taste dust and his eyes burned along with his other senses. For a moment he wondered if he was in Hell.

"Sound off!" Came a shout from somewhere. Names began being called out. He heard Sal call out his name and felt relieved that the other man had survived.

Dean called out after it seemed that no one else was alive to speak. There were fifteen of them. Twelve firefighters, a police officer, the women that they were helping down, and him. A radio went off somewhere. People calling in their locations and asking for help. Dean knew he should get up, try to help. But the idea of just letting the darkness claim him was far more appealing. There was so much smoke. Was there even a hope of them getting out of this alive? Probably not. He was so tired.

"Kid, is that you? You with us?"

An arm shook him slightly and Dean grunted. "Wh-what happened?"

"Not sure. The stairwell is blocked below us. A Lt. Warchola radioed in. Said he's on the twelfth floor. We were heading up to check on him. How are you? Anything broken? Bleeding?"

Dean hummed lightly, finally taking stock of his aching body. His shoulder ached but wasn't broken. There was a cut on his leg but it wasn't life threatening. His head was pounding but it had been since the initial explosion. He might have hit it again but supposed at the moment it didn't really matter.

"I'm fine." Dean finally answered. "Help me up." Some debris had caught him, keeping him from being able to get up himself. The railing had twisted in such a way that squeezing out from it would have been near impossible without the fireman's help.

He followed Sal up the stairs, limping slightly. They went up as high as they could, meeting several other firemen, but there was no use. Everything had caved in. It was nothing but twisted metal above and below them. They were trapped.

The smoke was too much to see. After the failed rescue attempt, the fifteen survivors made their way as far down as they could go and sat together on the debris covered floor. Those who had oxygen, would periodically hand it off to one of the others. Dean was unsure of how long they sat there. Time held no real meaning. His head ached and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stay awake.

"Hey," Sal nudged him slightly, handing off the mask.

Dean blinked a couple times before taking it.

"Hang in there kid, we're getting out of here."

A grunt was the answer. Dean had always had a complicated relationship with talking. He had no problem chattering on if necessary, but also found no reason to force out words when what he really wanted was to remain silent. So he just leaned his head back against the wall and breathed.

After a time, the smoke cleared enough for them to be able to catch glimpses of light. The firemen broke away to look around. Dean stayed with the woman, Josephine Harris. They didn't talk. She cried. Dean stared blankly into the darkness.

A commotion above him had him jerking up from a not quite sleep.

"Sunlight!" Someone called, "I think there's a hole big enough to get through!"

Sal appeared a few moments later with a fireman Dean vaguely remembered being named Butler. "You hear that? We're getting out of here. Told you we would."

Dean was pulled to his feet while Butler lifted the quietly sobbing women. They made their way up to the fourth floor.

It wasn't a constant stream, but every once in a while the smoke would clear enough to see sunlight. Dean followed Sal through the hole. The sun was bright. Too bright. But then Dean got a good look around him.

There was nothing.

He supposed nothing was a bad word for it. There was never ending rubble and flames and smoke. But what there wasn't was towers. The twin towers were gone. Dean glanced towards where they had come from and looked up. The tower was gone. The tower had literally collapsed around them.

"Come on kid, let's find someone to get you looked at."

Dean allowed himself to be led forward, ignoring the shouts of rescue personnel, ignoring the hands on him. He felt disjointed. Unreal. He couldn't stop glancing back at where the World Trade Center had once stood. The sky, so full of smoke and debris and who knew what else looked so… empty.

"But it-it's gone."

The guiding hand around him tightened. "I know kid, I know."

(To be continued in Day 16)

~TH~

9/11/01 was an extremely tragic day in America and it had worldwide effects. I hope I dealt with it respectfully. As I mentioned in a pervious note, I was not even born when 9/11 took place, but I EXTENSIVLEY researched the event (I had over 30 tabs open and the floor plan for the building. Not to mention watching hours of survivor footage) and did my best to make them reasonably accurate. Of course I have taken creative liberties. Sid was a real person. I know little to nothing about him except he was part of Station 6 and was assisting a disabled women named Josephine Harris in Stairwell B when the building collapsed and survived.

We'll be seeing Caleb's side of this story on day 16. It has not yet been written so feel free to throw out ideas lol.

I live and breathe comments so let me know what you think!

God bless,

Jamie

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Hotsy Totsy Pt. 3 (T.C.)

ahhh the last bit of prewritten work!! thank GOD. reworking my own writing from a few years ago was killing me slowly (who tf let me write). next update will be all fresh 😎 hope you enjoyyyyy. things heating up quickly!

(sexual references)

“Man, this is… crazy,” Nick said, shaking his head. He held his tongue for a moment, his brow furrowed. He knew Timothée was already grasping desperately for something that appeared to be just out of his reach, so he needed to phrase his words carefully. “Look, Tim… she’s a married woman-”

“You think I don’t know that?” he retorted, a wild, grief-stricken look in his eyes. He fell into the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he shouldn’t be frustrated with his friend; it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know the full story.

Nick looked at him expectantly, sitting down on the edge of his bed; he sensed this was going to be a late night.

“We met at an audition for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the college.” Timothée stared at his hands and fidgeted a bit. “She was auditioning for Hermia and I for Lysander, as fate would have it. The connection was instant. Every moment after only confirmed what I’d known the moment I’d met her.” A sad smile graced his lips, melancholic memories of hushed conversations had backstage and through rehearsals. You glowed with life and vigor and enthusiasm; he was snared from day one. “Things quickly grew serious, and I planned to ask her to marry me. But then the draft order came.” His eyes were dark and his hands trembled a bit as he remembered the atrocities of war and the nightmares that still plagued him. He carried on, telling Nick about the day he saw your marriage announcement in the paper and how he, to this day, still believed he was in your heart, that if he could become affluent like her family he would be able to steal you away again. By the time he’d finished his sorry, he had slid to the floor, his back slumped against the door jam. “Before I left, she had promised me she was going to wait for me to return. We’d had our life together planned and names picked out for our future children; I had no reason not to believe her. A couple months at camp turned into two years, and I never heard a word from her. I think I knew then, but I refused to believe it. I kept her on my mind until it became a habit, a coping mechanism, still writing to her every moment I could.”

Nick listened intently to every word, learning every piece of his best friend’s life that had somehow been going on behind the scenes that he hadn’t caught on to; it sickened him a bit. How had he not seen the pain Timothée had been suffering this whole time?

Despite the tragic backstory, he wasn’t sure he could go along with his plan. Married is married. He’d been raised in a home with strong religious values and, though times were changing, he felt he shouldn’t act as an accessory to the two lovers finding their way back to each other.

Seeing his apprehension, Timothée spoke up again. “She doesn’t love him,” he stated earnestly. “She did what she had to so she could get the life she wanted, but she doesn’t love him.”

“How can you be sure?” Nick pressed.

Timothée paused, his eyes closing as if in prayer. “I just… know. I can feel it in my bones.”

Nick looked down at the floor, mulling it over in his mind for a few moments. He couldn’t find it in him to tell him no. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

***

Jordan sat on the vanity as you got dressed for the evening. You wore a rosy-pink, silk shift dress that came down to about mid-thigh with fringe along the hem. Your garters were nearly completely exposed, holding up your black fishnet stockings. You sat down in the chair in front of her, slipping on you Mary Janes and fiddling with the buckles.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she noticed, pulling the cigarette from between her lips and exhaling swirls of smoke as she spoke.

“Just thinkin’” you replied with a shrug, getting up to pick out some jewelry from the many ornate boxes perched on a shelf inside the armoire. Truth was you’d been off ever since your conversation with Nick the night before.

“That’s dangerous,” Jordan chuckled, slipping off of the desk and striding over to peer over your shoulder. She was in a much more revealing outfit for her performance that evening; a gold, glittering, bedazzled leotard with triangle cutouts right at her waist, thigh high stockings, and a black velvet choker resting against her throat that completed her ensemble.

“You figure he’s gonna be here tonight?”

You huffed, wanting to ignore her as you tried to pick out a set of pearls. “I dunno.”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “What's going on in that pretty head of yours, doll? And don’t say it’s nothing because you know I’m gonna keep buggin’ until you give it up, so you might as well just start,” she chided.

“I just-” you began, clearly flustered. “I’m going through some personal things, okay?”

Jordan went a bit wide-eyed at your snappy reply. “Fine, fine,” she submitted.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you adjusted the layered pearls that laid against your chest. Would he be there tonight? Noticeable circles were under your eyes, and you looked less than yourself. You patted on a bit more powder, adding some body glitter here and there.

“I’m sorry, J,” you sighed, shaking your head a bit. You turned to see her as she headed toward the door. “I’m just a little tense is all tonight. I’ll be fine soon.”

“I know you will, doll,” she smiled reassuringly, slipping out of your dressing room.

As she stepped out, the door to the manager's office at the end of the long, narrow hall cracked open. Lola, a new fan dancer from Chicago, came slinking out looking blatantly disheveled, red lips smeared and mascara lines down her cheeks. Jordan’s brow drew together as she tried to get a better look. She stepped behind a stage prop, her back to it and her neck craned to watch as the girl scurried away. Before the door closed completely, Jordan caught a glimpse of James sitting on his desk shirtless and his trousers hanging loose.

She quickly stood, ready to storm in there and demand an explanation, but that’s when she saw you standing in front of your dressing room looking shell-shocked. Your entire body was tense and your face white as a sheet. She hurried over to you, pulling you back into the dressing room and closing the door to avoid making a big scene. She had no idea what to say, her mouth open as she grasped for words.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, your eyes wide and quickly welling up with tears. The fear coiled in your stomach tightened around your guts, your subconscious hissing cruel “I told you so”s. You shook your head almost violently, expelling them. Short gasps left your parted lips as your chest refused to let your lungs expand.

“Y/N, you need to breathe, love. Come on, in and out,” Jordan quaked, gripping your hands tightly in her own.

You watched her with your eyes that burned from unshed tears, shakily following her breathing she modeled for you. Your chest heaved, and your mind fought hard to clear itself from all the horrible conclusions the other part of you wanted to jump to.

Eventually, she managed to calm you down, but your hands continued to tremble. Jordan looked over you worriedly, feeling like she didn’t know what to do for the first time in awhile.

“I’m- I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” you shuddered, pulling away to clean yourself up in the mirror.

Jordan sat looking a bit dumbfounded. “What?” she asked, unsure she’d heard you correctly.

“I’m sure it wasn’t what it looked like.” Even you could hear the slightly hysterical edge to your voice.

“Y/N-“

“No,” you interrupted in a clipped tone. “This will never leave this room.”

While a woman confronting her husband wasn’t something that happened then, Jordan had never had any of it. She also never had believed you to be a woman to be pushed around, and normally you weren’t. Your lifestyle wasn’t one of a typical domestic wife, and, being an educated woman, you’d taken your fair share of guff from conservative men. Yet, you’d never been one for confrontation, especially in your current emotional state.

Jordan shook her head in disbelief. “Y/N, he has no excuse for-”

“If you are my friend,” you choked, “you will pretend nothing happened.” Your voice was broken, but unyielding.

Her face softened slightly, and she stepped back, her hand on the doorknob as she shook her head. “You are upset and don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll see you after the show,” she replied, leaving and closing the door gently behind her.

Nausea washed over you and you bolted for the bin, the contents of your stomach evacuating unceremoniously. Your whole body heaved as you were sick repeatedly, the brief glimpse of your disarranged husband playing over and over in your mind. Denial was a hell of a drug, but your body was beginning to reject it. A quick knock at your door informed you that you were expected on stage in ten. You quickly began to clean yourself up, knowing that once you left that room, you were Daisy: the beautiful, the talented, the flawless. Hotsy Totsy would never know you as anything different if you had any say.

***

“I need a drink,” Nick grunted, hoisting himself from the desk chair he’d been sitting for the past hour, writing intensively.

Timothée hung his coat up on the hook and dropped his briefcase carelessly, just glad to be home. “I’ll pull something down,” he replied, heading over to the liquor cabinet.

“No, no, Tim. Don’t be a bluenose. I want to go out. I could go put in word with Cousin...” He raised his brows, knowing how to convince Timothée into doing what he wanted tonight.

He turned to him disdainfully. “Nick, I’m pretty tired. I don’t think I can handle that all tonight..”

“We are going. Go get dressed,” he insisted, grabbing Timothée by the shoulders and turning him to go upstairs to change.

He huffed but complied anyways. Subconsciously, he was eager to see you again, no matter how many nerves and feelings it stirred up inside of him. He changed into more casual wear: slacks, a white button up cuffed up to his elbows, and his favorite suspenders.He peered into the mirror, mussing his hair a bit before hurrying downstairs.

Nick was in similar attire, but with a striped shirt and a bowtie. “You ready, man?” he asked, slapping a newsboy cap on his head.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go before I change my mind,” he chuckled.

***

The high-end club was busy and bustling as always that Friday night. Cigarette smoke plumes hung heavy in the hot air, and every person had the Devil’s brew gripped tightly in their fists. A swing group played on the stage while a small group danced the Charleston below them. Timothée couldn’t help but smile as they came in: it really was soothing to his soul to be in such a carefree setting filled with so much life.

As the band’s song came to a close, an announcer came bouncing out and up to the mic. “Ladies and gents, please put your hands together for the lovely and exotic Ladies of Godiva!”

A flock of feathers came shuffling out onto the stage, three pairs of feminine legs peeking from below the large fans. The band began to play a soft and slow ballad beat. One by one, the women began to reveal themselves from behind their ivory plumes, but only in teasing glimpses that fell in time with the music. Eventually, three, jaw-dropping, dark haired women stood on the stage. Their fans were discarded to the floor to reveal bejewelled, scanty bodysuits and long, stocking-covered legs. They all huddled around the microphone and hummed sweet harmonies along with the saxophones and trumpets. Both Timothée and Nick, and every other man in the joint, were held captive. However, it was Nick who was truly in awe. In fact, he was particularly enamored as he took in the sight of the daring girl he’d met a few days before looking absolutely sinful on stage.

Timothée caught him gaping and planted his elbow between his ribs with a smirk. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, dude,” he snickered, leading him over to the bar.

Meanwhile, you stood backstage listening to Jordan and her girls, feeling guilty for snapping at her earlier. James brushed by you, catching your hand and giving you a wink on his way by, on his way to do god knows what with god knows who. He didn’t even notice when your hand quickly pulled out of his as though it were a hot flame. You wanted everything to be okay, but it was still too fresh in your brain. Before you knew it, Jordan was brushing past you with the other girls, giving you a soft smile. You smiled back, feeling a bit of relief that she wasn’t too upset with you for your outburst.

“Next up, our Lady of the Night: Miss Daisy!”

You quickly slipped into your role, a pout on your lips as you strutted on stage. The feeling of hungry eyes didn’t even phase you anymore. However, your heartbeat quickened slightly as you imagined one certain pair of eyes. You pushed that to the back of your mind and focused on the feelings bubbling in your chest. A thought came to you suddenly, and you turned on your heel to bend down to whisper into the drummer’s ear. He then, in turn, murmured down to the rest of the band while you returned to the mic. “Good evening, how is everyone doing so far? Everyone have a drink?” Your voice was low and sexy, the crowd curled into the palm of your hand as they cheered and whistled for you. “Well, I have a little something special I think you all are gonna like tonight alright?” You looked to the drummer, and he gave you a nod of confirmation that you returned.

Timothée leaned against a wall in a more secluded part of the club, eating up the swagger that poured off of you. His imaginings of what you’d become after all those years had far from given you justice. You were not at all shy; you never had been, but seeing you right where you had told him you wanted to be made him bubble with contagious pride. His eyes widened when you growled out the first note over the nearly silent club. Once everyone recognized the tune, cheers and hollars joined your voice, many girls hopping up and pulling their dates over to dance. All he could see was you.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog snoopin’ round the door..” Your body rocked to the percussive beat, your face scrunched up in emotion. “You told me you was high class, but I can see through that..”

You dug up the rage bubbling in you and growled it into the microphone, feeding off of the audience’s shouts and howls. Your hips snapped to the beat as you danced and sang your heart out.

Timothée watched you with a nearly predatory gaze. Hunger bubbled up in him; he was greedy and desperately wanted to pull you away from all the lustful men in the audience to be his and his alone. He wanted to feel you up against him again like the many escapades you two had had in college.

Your last note rang out over the crowd of cheers and catcalls, your chest heaving from not only the exertion of your performance, but also the emotions rushing around your mind. You stayed in character despite it all, but found your eyes searching the audience.

Suddenly, there he was, his eyes already on yours.

Timothée was deafened by his heartbeat in his ears as his eyes met yours. Somehow, he managed a small smile.

You quickly came to, realizing you were staring on stage. Your eyes flitted away, but you were clearly distracted as you waved and slipped off stage. You easily let Jordan pull you out and down the stairs and into the alley outside to get a little break. Everything felt like a blur.

Nick, who had been mingling around the club, watched as you two bolted outside; he knew this was his opportunity. He looked around for Timothée but couldn’t seem to spot him. He figured he was probably drinking somewhere and headed the direction you had left, weaving between the dancing bodies. He was met with a big man in a bowler hat blocking his path.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going punk?” he questioned, his thick New York accent making him almost unintelligible.

“My name is Nick Carraway. I’m a cousin of Y/N’s, Miss Daisy,” he explained, trying not to cringe at the brute’s horrid smell.

After a moment of contemplation, he stepped aside. “You best keep your hands off the ladies or I’ll bash your little head in, ya hear me?”

Nick nodded quickly, hurrying past him and out into the alley. Girls in skimpy feathers, jewels, velvet, and silk stood about in little groups, gossiping and sucking on cigarettes or cocktails. It was a lot of the young bachelor to have to take in, but eventually he spotted you. Girls shot him dirty looks and muttered things from “whatcha you lookin’ for? your ma?” and “who is this little peeping Tom!’ to “Hey, sugar. Wanna ride?” and many other crude things that made him blush hotly.

“Cousin Nicky? What are you doing back here?” you said, spotting the tall boy weaving through all the girls and looking incredibly uncomfortable. You heard Jordan laugh softly behind you, clearly amused by how flustered he was.

“Y/N! You were fantastic as always!” he smiled, giving you a small side hug. “You and Jordan were both uh, stunning! Yes, you were stunning.” He flushed, shaking his head as he stumbled over his words helplessly.

Both you and Jordan just laughed and thanked him. However, you could tell there was more to what he had to say.

“Anyways, Y/N. I wanted to ask you something, um, privately,” he stammered.

You gave Jordan a little look and she politely excused herself, brushing by Nick and making him blush again.

“Go ahead,” you ushered, curious as to what was so important.

“Well, I was hoping you’d join me for tea and luncheon tomorrow,” he said.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing a bit. Did he know? “And you needed to ask me this in confidentiality because..?”

“Oh well, I um, have a… male house guest currently. I wouldn’t want to start any sort of rumours or anything.” It was a lame cover up and you both knew it.

“Will this ‘house guest’ be joining us?” you asked, trying not to be too conspicuous.

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to just wait and see,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“Alright, Nicky. What time?”

[bellphiie-main]

Carefree [1]

Zeref x F!Reader

I’m posting this from my Wattpad drafts. I only have 3 prewritten parts, so let me know if you want me to continue! Also: This was written over a year ago. I never posted it. So I apologize for any mistakes.

I’m so scared to post this

Genre: Fluff Warnings:  Spoilers? I think. It doesn’t directly follow the story but its pretty close Summary: Y/N goes looking for Fairy Tails first masters’ grave. Someone spots her and ends up in a predicament.. Words: ~1180

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"Tenrou island?" A sailor asked a small girl.

"Yes! Please, sir, if you can, take me there!" She clasps her hands together, begging the only person with a boat around for miles.

"Are you sure you want to go there? Isn't that Fairy Tail's special island?" The sailor questions.

"Yeah, but I'm close friends with their master. He gave me permission, and even gave me this guild mark! It's not Fairy Tails, but it's to symbolize our friendship!" Y/N lifts her foot to show a F/C mark on her ankle. 

"See?" She smiles happily. "Please take me there! I need to find the first masters grave."

"Alright..." The sailor says with an unsure voice.

"Yes! Thank you so much." Y/N hops into the boat, her outfit blowing in the wind as she holds on to the sail, waiting for the sailor to climb in.

"We're taking off. You should take a seat, it'll get bumpy." The sailor warns as he pushes off from the dock.

"I'll be fine! The ocean looks beautiful." Y/N comments, eyes sparkling at the open water surrounding her. She closes her eyes as white light radiates off of her. Dolphins jump out of the water, doing tricks along the boat. The sailor stares in awe at the magic the girl holds.

"That's some neat magic. What kind is it?" He asks.

"I don't exactly have a name for it. It's just bright, and brings life to things. I can't always control it though, so sometimes it starts working and I don't even realize it. Like what happened a moment ago." She smiles.

-----

"Here we are." The sailor says, bringing the boat to shore.

"Thank you so much! How much do you want?" Y/N digs into her bag, finding some money.

"Oh, that won't be necessary. You're a lovely young lady, and your company was much appreciated. I haven't laughed that much in months. Thank you, and I hope you find what you're looking for." The man tips his hat as the boat gets farther away from the shore, Y/N waving until he is completely out of sight.

"Wow." She breathes, looking around the beautiful island. Her gaze falls on an area in the forest, seemingly devoid of any life. She skips over, placing her hand onto the fallen tree as a white light glows. Soon, the tree is standing tall again, and the others around it do the same. The area is full of life.

A dark figure watches from afar, eyes wide at the sight. He takes in the area that was just dead, and now is thriving with life. Flowers bloomed, birds already perched on trees, even deer were making their way to the girl. He's never seen anything like it.

The girl remains oblivious, continuing to skip around, trying to find the thing she came here for in the first place. Zeref tilts his head, thinking to himself how can someone be so carefree? It's like she's never experienced sadness in her life, ever. She seems almost too happy for her to even be real.

"Is my mind playing tricks on me? Am I that desperate for human interaction?" He whispers to himself. Once the girl skips away, he walks to the area she brought back to life, touching the tree. It is, in fact, actually there. His mind isn't playing tricks on him.

There's another human on this island, one who doesn't know of his existence. That thought alone scares him. What if he doesn't see her, and his magic starts working again? What if he kills her without even realizing it? He shakes his head and turns to walk the other direction.

He swears he will do whatever he can to stay away from that girl.

----

His vow didn't last very long. Maybe two hours at most. He finds himself watching over her, which is strange. He's never felt the need to watch over someone. He can't understand it, but he thinks it's just the fact that she's a human walking on this island. The island that a murderer resides on.

The girl skips around with a wide smile on her face, interacting with any animal she sees. He notices that at some points, light radiates around her, and she doesn't seem to notice it. He doesn't think much of it, maybe it's like his magic.

"Hello!" A sudden cheery voice breaks the silence. Zeref's eyes widen as he looks at the girl, only to fight back a sigh of relief once he realizes she's talking to an animal.

'Strange, can she communicate with animals too?'

"Wow! Your fur is so pretty. Can I pet it?" She asks the rabbit. The rabbit makes a noise, Zeref unable to understand. The girl smiles and reaches out, stroking the rabbits fur. "So soft! What's your name?" She asks.

"Chiera" The rabbit says to Y/N.

"Chiera. I like it. Can I give you a nickname?" Y/N asks, sitting in the grass next to the rabbit.

"Okay!" The rabbit says, seemingly excited.

"I'll call you... Chichi!" Y/N closed her eyes, leaning back on a tree with her hands behind her head.

"May Chichi ask strangers name?" The rabbit asked.

"Oh, I'm Y/N! It's lovely to meet you." Y/N opens one eye, and catches some sort of movement a few yards away. "Huh? Is someone else there?" She calls.

Zeref stands with his back pressed against a tree, holding his breath. He hears Y/N sigh and start talking to the rabbit once more. Zeref can feel his magic building up, he grabs his head and runs away as fast as he can without being seen. He feels the dark magic slowly seeping out of him, the darkness slowly takes over the small area. Once the fog clears, all signs of life are gone.

"Maybe she can fix it..." Zeref mumbles sadly. He glances around and spots a squirrel. The squirrel runs beside the decaying tree and looks up. The tree tilts, leaning towards the squirrel. Zeref's eyes widen as he rushes to get the squirrel out of the way. The squirrel hears the rapid footsteps and rushes for cover. Zeref doesn't stop in time, however.

The tree comes crashing down, Zeref tries to jump out of the way, but it falls on top of his ankle. His chest hits the ground and he groans in pain, looking down at his foot. He concludes that it's not broken, as he can move his toes. But he cant get the tree off. He's stuck.

Back with the girl, she heard the crash. It was so loud that it scared her new friend away. "Chichi! Wait!" Y/N calls, but it's too late. She looks in the direction of the sound and decides to check it out. 

Zeref can hear footsteps slowly approaching, and he starts to panic. He frantically pulls at his foot, trying to get it out from under the tree. A nearby bush rustles as Y/N pops out, her eyes widening at the scene.

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[1] , (more coming soon) Anime Masterlist Fairy Tail Masterlist

[crystaljins]

By its cover | 01

Characters: Hoseok x Reader

Word count: 4.6k

Synopsis: Your annoying little brother Jimin accepts a dare and summons a demon into your living room. There are multiple problems with this. 1) Demons are the most hated species on earth. 2) That demon happens to be Jung Hoseok, the most popular guy on campus 3) The fact that Jung Hoseok is a demon is his biggest secret and 4) Jung Hoseok hates your guts. You’re in for a wild ride. Demon!Hoseok, magic-university!au and enemies-to-lovers!au

Notes: I wrote this because I couldn’t shake how funny it was to me the idea of Hoseok being a demon. Like he’s just so happy and sunshine-y... how could he be a demon? And thus, this fic was born. It’s entirely prewritten and will update once a week :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Part 1: Summoning

The whole ordeal begins because your stupid little brother Jimin accepts a dare from his friend Jungkook. The bratty werewolf Jungkook wouldn’t have known the meaning of the word consequences if it slapped him in the face. And your younger brother, childish and eager to prove himself, does not know how to back down from a dare. The dare is to summon a demon.

It’s a stupid dare because its incredibly rude to just pull a demon from whatever they are doing through a summoning circle just for one’s own amusement. But it’s also stupid because demons are the most despised species in the world. People hate them because there were one too many demons in the past with too much power and a propensity for misusing it. It is only natural to fear beings with such chaotic power, but it also means they are horribly mistreated in society. Of course, Jimin doesn’t have the maturity or understanding to realise why it’s so wrong to attempt to summon a demon into his own living room, and if you or your father had picked up on his intentions earlier, you would have gladly explained it to him. But neither of you do.

Your father is busy preparing for a month-long business trip- a great opportunity for his thriving glamour potion business and your hands are full with your studies, and that’s how Jimin is able to execute his mischievous plan without detection. Why would anyone notice him secretly gathering supplies, or pouring through magic texts when you are all so busy with your own lives? It is far too late when you finally detect something amiss- when you return home from dropping your father at the airport.

You walk in at probably the most opportune and inopportune moment. Opportune because had Jimin attempted a summoning spell without you present he surely would have died. This is because summoning circles are like vacuums you can’t turn off. They suck any available magic in the immediate vicinity out of the air until they have enough to achieve their purpose. Jimin, at a mere 14 years of age and a with a meagre magic supply to match, would have been completely drained and no doubt died of magic exhaustion. Inopportune because summoning circles are magic vacuums. So when you walk in at the exact moment Jimin finishes the magic incantation, the summoning circle instantly latches onto and begins draining your much larger magic supply rather than his.

“Jimin!” You screech, taking in the summoning circle in your living room, the various magical supplies he no doubt stole from your father’s shop and the eerie glow that is filling the room as soon as the circle leeches from your magic supply. “You’re summoning a demon? Dad’s gonna kill you!”

“Jungkook dared me!” Is all Jimin can shout in his defence while you attempt to shoo him out of the room to safely. But the magic circle drains a little too much of your magic for you to handle and you promptly pass out. 

When you regain consciousness, the room is filled with smoke and Jimin is also passed out. Immediately concerned, you crawl over him, braving through the wave of nausea that washes over you at the action of sitting up. You breathe a sigh of relief when you feel the comforting thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips, and you roll him onto his back. He is pale but seems to be just sleeping. You doubt the magic circle required Jimin’s magic as well, given the ample supply you had as an adult witch. It is more likely the pressure and sheer amount of magic in the air that knocked him out. But with your brother’s safety confirmed, you turn to face and apologise to the bigger problem in the room- whatever poor demon your brother summoned, the one who is currently screaming his head off in terror.

But when the smoke clears and you glance to the figure now standing in the middle of your living room, you find yourself wishing you were still unconscious. For the figure staring in complete shock and horror at you is none other than your campus’ beloved Jung Hoseok.

Hoseok’s gaze flickers down to where his dress shirt is half-buttoned and hangs open. He must have been in the middle of getting dressed when Jimin summoned him. His eyes widen and he goes to fix it but it is far too late. Already you have seen and registered the brand that sits just below his clavicle, the brand that all of his kind and their descendants are forced to wear, to mark them as different and alien and dangerous. Your father says the brand is a reminder of how hateful and awful society can be towards an entire species. If the fact that Hoseok is here because of a summoning ceremony weren’t enough proof of Hoseok’s true identity, then the brand your gaze is now anchored onto certainly is.

It is the mark of a demon- which means Hoseok is a demon, probably the most hated species on earth. The scream dies on his throat.

++

If it weren’t embarrassing enough that because of Jimin you would have to apologise and help whatever poor demon Jimin had jerked out of their daily routine, the fact that it is Jung Hoseok of all people makes it a million times worse for two reasons.

The first is that Hoseok hates your guts. You never did learn the reason why and most people you disclose this little tidbit of information didn’t believe you. No one really thinks Hoseok capable of hating someone, but he does and it’s you. It’s not an overly obvious, antagonistic hatred which is why it’s so difficult to convince others that he does. No, Hoseok is subtle- ignoring you, turning away from you when you’re in the room, sometimes glaring at you for no reason and most importantly avoiding you at all costs. You might have been able to write this behaviour off as shyness were you not aware of who Hoseok is as a person. The joke around your campus where Hoseok is concerned is actually that Hoseok is sunshine on legs. Though his species wasn’t known to anyone, the general consensus has always been that Hoseok, with his bright and sunny personality and subtle good looks, was probably something like a sun sprite or a water nymph. Something gentle and beloved, with powers that could only heal and protect and a kind and loving nature to boot. No one would have ever guessed he is one of the most reviled and hated (and underprivileged according to your kindhearted father) species in the world. So while it turns out the speculation about his species is wrong, it doesn’t change the fact that if kind, extroverted, happy Hoseok treats you like you have some sort of disease, then he must really truly hate you for some reason.

Which brings you to the second reason, the only reason you could provide for Hoseok’s odd disdain for you. And that was that you and Hoseok had history. If it could even be called that. The story starts in highschool. Even back then, Hoseok’s bright personality and kind demeanour had sucked people in, left them vulnerable to his charms and you were no exception. The strength of your crush is humiliating for you now to remember. So when your friend has insisted she had convinced Hoseok to go on a date with you, you had been ecstatic! A date, with the guy of your dreams? You would have been a fool to refuse.

Only when you had showed up at the movie cinema at the assigned time, it hadn’t just been Hoseok going to see the movie with you. Rather than just tell you she had been dating Hoseok, your supposed friend had felt the need to very publicly stake her claim. And so you had endured the most humiliating movie of your life while she and Hoseok engaged enthusiastically in public displays of affection, wondering why she hadn’t just told you she was dating him. It hadn’t ended there, and when she showed up to the restaurant where you had you first ever part-time job as a waitress, you hadn’t hesitated in not-so-accidentally dumping her pasta all over her lap. She had always envied you and you suppose that the way you had been so vocal and open about your crush who happened to be her secret boyfriend had driven her to extreme measures.

The fact that the pasta incident hadn’t fully been an accident was a fact your ex-friend made known to nearly the whole school. Rumours of your intense jealousy and desire to bully her had spread quickly, easily slaughtering your social life. You had long since recovered from what you felt was a huge injustice, but lingering feelings of humiliation and misery still lingered whenever you looked at Hoseok and remembered what has transpired.

That particular incident is probably why Hoseok hates you, but to hold a grudge for so long over something so petty doesn’t seem consistent with his character. Yes, you dumped pasta on his highschool girlfriend’s lap in a petty rage, but apart from him having been your crush at the time, it hadn’t really had much to do with him and had been more to do with the betrayal you had felt at her actions and inability to properly communicate. Maybe his demon origins explain this unnecessary grudge-holding, but your dad had always stressed to you the fact that it is not the species that determines a person’s character. And you love and respect your dad above all else and if he insists that demons don’t deserve the discrimination they receive, then that’s what you will insist as well. So that means something doesn’t add up with Hoseok’s unexplained dislike of you, you just don’t know what.

Still, those two reasons combined are the reasons you generally try and avoid Hoseok. Yes, you went to highschool together and are among the few students from your school who had chosen to attend the local magic university, but you had been determined for that to be the end of your connection. With your farewell to highschool and avoidance of Hoseok, you had thought you had successfully distanced yourself from that turbulent era of your life.

Yet here you are, your brother still unconscious, magical components scattered around your living room, the remnants of a summoning circle permanently burned into the living room carpet and Hoseok half-dressed. He looks like he’s trapped in his worst nightmare. So you blurt the only reasonable thing that comes to mind.

“Jimin did it!” You accuse, pointing to your brother who is slowly starting to rouse. It takes a few goes but Hoseok finally recovers his voice.

“(Y/N)? You summoned me?” He cries out in horror as the reality of his situation dawns on him.

“No!” You protest. “It really wasn’t me! It was him.” 

Jimin, who had been subtly trying to make an escape while your attention was fixed on Hoseok, freezes mid-crawl. He sits back on his heels.

“In my defence I didn’t know it would actually work!” He complains, glaring at you with only the audacity a fourteen year old who has done the wrong thing can manage. 

“What did you think would happen? Why wouldn’t a demon summoning work?” You argue back, and then your eyes go wide as once more you are struck with a realisation. “You...” you say, turning slowly back to Hoseok. “You’re a demon?” 

Hoseok winces at your realisation, and flails around wildly before wilting in resignation- his secret is out and there’s no putting the toothpaste back in the tube.

“Obviously!” He exclaims and the open flaps of his shirt shift when he waves his arms in emphasis, once more exposing the demon brand. “What did you think you were summoning? A horse?”

You open your mouth to protest.

“Again, it was Jimin- Jimin you brat if you leave this room I’m setting your video game console on fire.” You hiss, and Jimin freezes with his hand on the doorknob and says a word that would definitely get him grounded if your father wasn’t currently on a plane to the other side of the world. You grab him by the back of the shirt, pinning him in place while you turn your attention to Hoseok. “Anyway, I’m sorry my brother is like this. Don’t feel like you’re stuck here or anything, he was just acting on a dare.” You tell Hoseok in a cautiously polite voice. He just looks around, antsy and stressed, before sighing in resignation.

“I wasn’t planning on staying.” Hoseok tells you as the shock of the situation settles in. He finishes buttoning his shirt and glances at his watch in distress. “But it would be great if you could tell me where you live?”

When you inform him his current location, his eyes bug comically out of his head.

“That’s on the other side of town from where I need to be! Public transport won’t get me there in time!” He almost wails. You blink, confused at his devastated reactions.

“D-do you have plans?” You inquire hesitantly. Falling to his knees, Hoseok nods. 

“A date.” He admits quietly. “A really, really important date. Of course something like this would happen today- and with you of all people, of course! Of course it has to be you.”

Were you younger and less jaded by your past, you may have been disappointed to hear that your first ever crush currently had an important date, and a little offended at his implication that you are the cause of all the trouble in his life but you are proudly past that stage of your life. Instead you now have the capacity to be the bigger person. 

“I... can give you a lift? It’s the least I can do after Jimin summoned you here- which I will be telling Dad about just so you know.” You hiss at your brother. Hoseok pays no mind to the death glares you and your brother direct at each other, and instead contemplates your offer. He looks like he would rather do literally anything else, but a quick glance at the antique clock your father keeps over your fireplace confirms he doesn’t really have a choice.

With a promise to Jimin that you will be doling out consequences when you get back, you and Hoseok hop into your car and set off for the location of his date. It’s near your campus, on the other side of the city, and it’s most definitely going to drain the power crystal supplying your magic to your car. You almost go to complain at Hoseok- magic crystals aren’t cheap, but one look at the frazzled look on his face has you shutting up. 

The car ride to the restaurant is awkward and silent. It is Hoseok who finally breaks the silence.

“Will you tell anyone?” He asks softly. You frown.

“That you’re a demon?” You ask. “I wasn’t planning to... does anyone know?”

“No. No they do not and I would love to keep it that way.” He says softly, almost timidly.

“Then I won’t tell anyone.” You answer sincerely. Hoseok doesn’t respond but you think you may hear the slightest relieved exhale from him.

The rest of the trip is silent apart from Hoseok’s occasional instruction of what lane to be in and whether to turn left or right. When you finally pull over, you don’t bid him goodbye as he scrambles out of your car, legging it for the restaurant entrance. He doesn’t even bother to shut the car door behind him. With a sigh, you prepare to leave, leaning across the console to shut the door he rudely left open. You are fully intending on never acknowledging Hoseok ever again and pretending this whole incident never happened, when something strange happens.

Hoseok makes it maybe 20 meters from you when you feel the sharpest pulling sensation on your whole being. It’s not just physical- it’s like your whole soul is being yanked on and you are jerked forcefully across the console in Hoseok’s general direction. Alarmed, you look up to find Hoseok flat on the ground like he’s tripped. Slightly concerned, you try to get out of the car, only to find yourself unable to move in that direction. But you are free to move forward, and so you clamber over the console and out of the car on the passenger’s side. 

“Hoseok!” You shout, running over to him. He sits up, looking slightly dazed like he’s just crash into a brick walls. “Are you ok?”

He glances at you, disorientated, but gradually horror dawns on his expression.

“I’m fine, I just…” He says slowly, as he tries to comprehend what just happened. “Hey… (Y/N)… What kind of summoning circle did your brother make?”

You blink, contemplating the circle that was still burned into the carpet of your living room.

“Well, off the top of my head...” you say sarcastically, before frowning. “I would say demon summoning circles aren’t exactly my area of expertise.”

Hoseok looks pained, and he glances skyward as if he’s praying for patience which is ironic given his demon origins.

“I need you to stand here, (Y/N).” He instructs you, getting slowly to his feet. “I just need to test something.”

And just like that, he is walking away from you. For a second, you think you’ve been rudely rejected, and just stare after him in disbelief. But then he comes to a halt about 20 metres away from you. His fist comes up and starts waving in the air like he is knocking on a door rather than air. Then he is hurtling towards you at full speed.

You flinch as he skids to a stop in front of you, eyes wide and panicked. He plants both hands on your shoulder. 

“Walk that way!” He pleads. “Please.”

You are confused, and for a second you want to refuse. You have no duty to this rude demon, especially when he’s been nothing but unfriendly to you for almost as long as you’ve known him. Also, he’s been deceiving you as long as you’ve known him! (Admittedly with good reasons - demons weren’t exactly accepted with society but you’re being petty now is the point)

But then you look at his desperate, pleading expression. The clock is ticking- his date could arrive any minute and something strange is going on. With a sigh, you turn around and begin to walk away from him. 

You make it about twenty metres, much like Hoseok did, before you find yourself stopped. By some sort of invisible barrier. 

Suddenly panicking, you bang your arm against it and it’s solid as a brick wall and smooth as glass. Are you… trapped? It seems to be a moving barrier, and it seems to affect Hoseok as well… what on earth did that summoning circle do? Horrified, you whirl back to where Hoseok is standing 20 metres away only to find him talking to a girl you recognise as always being around him when you happen to see him around campus. He catches your eyes over her shoulder and even at this distance you know his gaze is just as desperate and pleading. Slowly, he turns, as if to walk away, and just pauses, waiting for your answer to his silent request. You glance down at your attire, before glancing at the restaurant. You’re wearing jeans and a tshirt, not exactly appropriate for the fancy restaurant.

Hoseok is beginning to panic, and you sigh as you realise there’s really only one way out of this, for now. 

Looks like you’re sitting in on Hoseok’s date.

++

“He was supposed to be here an hour ago.” You say forlornly, staring at the two dishes set in front of you. Yours is half eaten but the other is untouched and has long gone cold. “He said it was really important.”

The waitress and waiter standing beside you let our devastated sounds of sympathy.

“You poor thing! Have you tried calling him?” The waiter asks. You nod your head sadly and you’re so into your lie that your eyes began to tear up. 

“I did- it went straight to voicemail! I even thought about casting a location spell but I couldn’t betray his trust like that.” You nearly sob. The waitress is near crying on your behalf.

You aren’t sure how your lie got elaborate enough that you ended up ordering a second dish to keep up the ruse. It started because you were too confused and embarrassed to admit the truth- that you’re stuck here like a fool until Hoseok’s date finishes and you didn’t want people thinking you were a loser who came to fancy restaurants by yourself in a tshirt and jeans. You aren’t sure why it is such an important date but Hoseok sure seems nervous. So far he’s spilled a glass of wine on his lap, stabbed himself with a fork and his date is slowly getting more and more agitated. You shoot a glance at him to see he’s holding a napkin to his hand, trying to stop the bleeding. You wonder if you should wonder over and offer to heal him but his girlfriend may recognise you from around campus and ask questions.

Not that you seem to have a problem at lying when asked too many questions! The waiter, so sympathetic to your lie, has summoned a dessert from the kitchen and levitated it onto your table.

“It’s on the house- the chef here got left at the alter and is super sensitive to when people get stood up.” He tells you seriously. “Do you want me to pack this for you?” 

Panicking, you deliberate for a second. You can’t leave once it’s packed! You’re stuck here until Hoseok finishes his important date. A glance at his table confirms that it’s getting steadily more disastrous- he’s accidentally sent a piece of steak flying right into the eye of the cyclops who is serving their table. Gritting your teeth with second hand embarrassment, you summon your highschool drama skills from deep within.

“I’d love if you could pack it... but do you think I could wait a little longer? He might still show up! I thought... I really thought tonight was the night, you know?” You stay, and the tears of humiliation are real this time- but just because you’re so embarrassed that you’ve taken the lie this far, rather than having thought your imaginary boyfriend has been about to propose.

The fairy waitress shakes her head.

“No way, girl, I’m making an executive decision.” She says, planting her hands on her hips and fluttering her wings indignantly. “You’re going home! What’s the use in waiting around for a useless guy who doesn’t have the decency to call?” 

She waves her hand, and the bill appears- you panic, swiping your magic signature across it. In the next moment, she’s pushing you out of the restaurant, your takeaway dish levitating behind the two of you. 

“W-wait!” You protest, coming up against the barrier that stops you from going home at the entrance to the restaurant. “Y-you’re right! I... I just have to call my lift home. I’m just gonna wait here.” The waitress pauses, giving you a soft, concerned expression, before acquiescing and leaving you to stand pathetically at the entrance.

It is because you are waiting outside by yourself hoping Hoseok’s date will end soon that you bear witness to the scene that follows. You’ve probably been milling outside, grateful for the warm evening, for a half hour when Hoseok’s gorgeous elf girlfriend comes racing out of the restaurant looking like she’s on the verge of vomiting. 

Hoseok comes skidding our behind her, his eyes pleading and desperate. The top button of his shirt is undone, exposing the dreaded brand on his skin.

“Wait!” He cries, grasping at her hands and tugging her towards him. She flinches, looking horrified.

“Let go!” She screeches. There’s no one on the street but you, but you’re kind of huddled in the shelter of a stone pillar, so she doesn’t seem to have noticed you. “Don’t touch me!”

“I thought you loved me!” Hoseok cries, still gripping her hand. “Were you lying? Does my species change how you feel about me?”

“I don’t know!” She exclaims. “I didn’t know you were one of those when I said that!”

Hoseok drops her hand like she’s burned him, his eyes going wide with hurt. 

“Y-you don’t mean that.” He says softly, though his eyes fill with tears. You wonder if you should leave to give them some privacy but you’d be lying if you said that the drama scene unfolding on the street in front of you wasn’t entertaining, as awful as a person as that makes you. “I... I love you.”

She scoffs, and her next words suddenly make the scene less entertaining. 

“Can demons even feel love?” She asks scathingly. “You don’t have to worry about your secret- I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone knowing I was dating one of your kind. Goodbye, Hoseok.”

Your heart actually breaks a little for him as he just gapes after her, frozen in his hurt and pain. Finally, he turns slowly and sees you standing stupidly in the street. He glares.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks coldly. You shake your head. 

“Hoseok...” you say slowly, though you haven’t the foggiest idea how you could comfort him. His demeanour softens just the slightest bit.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude… I just… today was our one-year anniversary.” He admits softly. “I thought I could tell her what I was and that she loved me enough to accept me... but I... but I...”

His voice cracks and hesitantly you raised a hand to comfortingly rub along his shoulders. He clears his throat and sighs heavily.

“We’re stuck together, by the way. That’s what that barrier is.” He informs you. “Your brother performed a binding circle and so we are stuck like this until we figure out how to undo it. Its called ‘soul-binding’ and no, I do not know how to undo it. And thank you for sitting in on dinner. That was… nice. Not a lot of people would have put up with what you have tonight.”

He just stares forlornly in the direction his date left in after that, and you only pluck up the courage to speak to him when the silence becomes too much to bare for you.

“Hey… Why don’t we go home and we can sort out this whole mess in the morning?” You suggest, ushering the heartbroken demon into your car. “We’ll stop off at yours and you can grab some stuff. We have a spare bedroom. You can sleep off whatever just happened and we’ll deal with everything then, ok?”

The car ride back to your house is silent. When you arrive at his place he doesn’t say a word- he lives out of home in an apartment by himself and so there’s no one for him to answer to or speak to or inform about his unusual predicament. He just gets out of the car and returns with a duffle bag and some sunglasses. You almost ask what the sunglasses are for, especially when he puts them on. It is, after all, the middle of the night. But then you spot the tears that trickle down Hoseok’s cheeks the whole way and you realise why he’s wearing them.

You choose not to say anything.

[shadowdianne]

Prompt: SQ - Ruby POV - observing E&R having breakfast the morning after their first date. 😁

I had two ideas forthis, but I finally decided on this one. I have the draft for the otherhowever, in case you want to read a second take on it? Still, thank you so muchfor the prompt W, hope you like it 😉

She wouldbe lying if she said she didn’t smirk when she saw them entering into thedinner, quiet shy smiles being exchanged as Emma opened the door with one hand,facing Regina with half of her body as she finished whatever conversation theyhad been having before walking in. With her free hand lingering far too closeto Regina’s side, Emma seemed a moment away from grasping it before she caughtherself, quickly retreating fingers and stiff posture the frame of a pictureRuby didn’t have a problem on discerning. She would also be lying if she saidshe didn’t tilt her head until her nose picked up the shared scent they bothexuded, a hint of a blush appearing on Emma’s pale skin when she slowly peeledoff her eyes from Regina, catching hers with a dopey smile still curving herlips.

Ruby didn’tknow much about magic; not the gritty details that is, but she could feelsomething different on the two women; Regina’s calm yet utterly blissfuldemeanor something already quite easy to see as well as the way Emma seemedunable to be away from the older woman’s orbit for far too long. Which was, ifanyone wanted her opinion, adorable and just as expected.

Chucklingto herself and pretending not to be seeing granny’s withering look while doingit, the lanky brunette walked towards them as they both sat at their usualbooth, a hand still far too close from the other, a thumb quickly caressing skinin a circular motion before Emma realized she was close enough for them to see. She didn’t stay for too long; far moreamused to the idea of watching from afar as Regina pretended that nothing hadchanged while positively glowing as she failed at fooling her.

Takingtheir usual with a cheery smile, Ruby hummed and left, stealing glances as Emma’sshoulders slumped, her green eyes zeroing on Regina again as she bit her bottomlip, the same shade of pink than before coloring the skin just below her eyesas she twiddled with her fingers, her hands far too close from Regina’ssteadier ones. She looked a second away from touching them, playing andcaressing just as she was doing with her own and Ruby needed to look away froma moment; unable to contain herself while still trying not to simply hug them,happy that they had finally done what she had considered many times that would neverbe.

But sheunderstood them, understood the fears and the years and prewritten stories thatweighed everyone within the town premises that didn’t ascribe to the storiesthat were supposed to be theirs. She understood the nerves and the carefulness,the crippling yet bright need of destroying the chains inks and quills hadcreated. She understood Emma’s furtive glances and Regina’s far too obvious enamoredsmile; the kind of one that felt too full and too raw and one Ruby had quicklylearnt to recognize after the one full of lust and naked need had disappearedafter the first few months of Emma’s stay, replaced by a tenderness she hadonly considered to be possible linked to a much more younger version of thewoman who had once been once upon a time.

And shewould also be lying, she thought as she prepared the coffee and the chocolateshe would soon enough be bringing to them, if she said that she hadn’t knownbeforehand with the simple aid of a picture from a teen that wasn’t so younganymore and a cheeky emoji attached to it, the simple added word “finally”quickly typed a few seconds later.

She broughtthe drinks and feigned blindness at the way Emma’s hand quickly moved away fromRegina’s; the formica table showing the lines of where her fingers had pressed,the residual heat of a caress that had never truly been born obvious to herwolf eyes. There would be time, she thought with lips curving into a soft smileand face as blank as possible as Regina eyed her wearily, with that hint of royalupbringing Ruby doubted she would ever erase. There would be time for teasing,for taking the money of those who had dared to bet against her, for jokes andlaughs and pictures. There would be time for these two to tell the others whowere still unaware.

For now,however, the werewolf nodded once more and turned, walking towards the counterand nodding at granny before starting the next round of coffee for the dwarves.

Yes, shethought as she heard Regina’s laughter, the kind of one that only Emma and Henrywere able to bring out of her, there would be time.

[lizzexx]

Coming Back

I know a few of you have seen my surprise post of one of Evy’s episode covers. I honestly didn’t know how to post that I am coming back online. I didn’t know what the response would be, if it would be negative or angry, which I would fully deserve given how I left you all. So I wanted to test the waters and the response I got just from that was overwhelming and gave me the courage to swallow my shame at how I went so silent and write to you all about why it happened.

This is going to be a long note, be prepared: 

A lot’s happened since the last time I posted and I’m sorry it’s been so long. I really cannot apologize enough for pretty much dropping off the face of the earth :( I am deeply sorry if I scared anyone or worried you all. A lot of little things had sort of mashed together all at once and it got too overwhelming to keep updating and posting. I was having a lot of trouble finding balance in my life outside of fanfiction and I needed time to really reevaluate and reassess some choices and things I was doing to get to a better place.

It’s no excuse for not at least giving you fair warning, I know. I honestly felt I had to stay away from tumblr and the internet in general for a long time because I knew that if I went on and saw even one person’s concern or hopes that I’d come back soon, I’d end up coming back and trying to post before I was ready. I knew that I’d force myself to keep going and it would just burn me out faster and make it that much harder to get back in after. I was afraid I’d start to feel like I was only doing fanfiction for other people and not because it was a story I loved and wanted to get out there, that it was a passion I had. I didn’t want that to fizzle out or get crushed under a possible resentment. Because I love fanfiction and I love my readers and I would never want that to happen. I always feel like I’m disappointing people if I can’t continue the way I was, even if I realistically and logically know that things happen and come up beyond our control and most would rather me be healthy and well and posting sporadically instead of pushing myself to update every single day. I knew that I’d push myself to get right back on the way I was going even though I was aware it wasn’t working and was starting to really affect my real life :(

I’m not 100% ready to get back to posting fanfiction, to be honest, right now things are almost twice as stressful as when I stopped coming on tumblr/fanfiction.net. 

When I went silent, my job was just entering summer and I was not at all prepared for how busy and exhausting that would be, on top of that also being me working towards my Master’s. 

It didn’t get better or calmer. Managers, instead of returning us to normal, sane hours, began to put almost everyone on longer shifts and more days a week than we signed up for to compensate for a few of my coworkers leaving. 

By the time more people were hired, it was the holiday season and I was praying for a swift death (not literally, but working retail during those months is a nightmare that sucks your soul out of you). 

I got to a point where I really thought things were calming down. The holidays passed, I’d gotten my Masters, I was looking for a calmer, more structured job...and our Manager quit. 

I got promoted, which was nice. I get benefits now, I make $.75 more an hour which is something. But that meant full time hours. Where I work, we have a manager and then three leads, sort of like assistant managers. 

Our manager quit, so it fell to me and two others to basically manage everything ourselves. Then one of the other leads transferred to another store. Now it is just me and one other person responsible for EVERYTHING. On top of that, neither of us were formally trained, because our manager quit before we were promoted to leads. We basically have no idea what we’re doing and we’ve been without a manager for 5 months now (when other stores got one within a week of their manager leaving).

I got a second job. I’m now a professor! (Proffy would be so proud!) I only teach two classes as an adjunct, but it means a lot more stress and less time than I had just being a lead, which I still am. 

My brother got married and a lot of the stress I felt was in the engagement period, because they were just miserable together, nearly called it off 3 different times, and just made the entire family tired and sick to our stomachs for months on end. He didn’t even make it 5 months before filing for a divorce. HE was a MAJOR cause of a lot of my stress the last year. He and his “wife” causing drama around each turn and it’s exhausting after a while.

My brother, when he’s miserable, is mean and loud and just upsetting to be around and, because I’m the quiet one, I’m the one he would usually lash out against. I’m in therapy now because of how he acts towards me and our family, in therapy for dealing with social anxiety which got worse over the last year, and with trying to work on things that cause me fear and are out of my control, as well as trying to work on self-esteem issues and sorting through how my family, in how they act/talk/treat me, has likely messed me up a little more than I thought. It was a very overwhelming year.

And, of course, right around the time my brother and his now-ex-wife “separated,” it was summer again at my work and even more stressful and busy and exhausting :(

I’m not posting this to excuse going silent on all of you. It was not a good thing to do and I should have posted at least a note about it. 

I honestly didn’t think it would last this long. I kept thinking “It’s ok, I’ll feel better and more driven tomorrow” and before I knew it, a week had gone by, then a month, and now here we are :( I really am so sorry it’s taken me this long.

Another big part of it was that, to me, I write and edit and post fanfiction when I’m not feeling happy. I do it to make myself happy, to have that one thing that makes me smile and gives me something to look forward to.

At the beginning of my job, once my social anxiety simmered down and I got to know my coworkers and engage with them more, I loved being there. I was happy. I liked going to work and that became my thing that I looked forward to. My need to be on fanfiction constantly started to go down a little. I still had a lot of my stories prewritten, but the drive to actually edit as much as I want to and to really keep going started to dwindle. 

The stress is back. Without a manager and so much of that sort of duty falling onto just me and one person, I am beyond stressed. I’m not very happy at work right now. It seems like every week another person is leaving, which makes us understaffed and more stressed. Anyone we hire new can’t be fully or effectively trained without a manager and with only 2 leads who struggle to make sure the actual seasoned employees aren’t messing up now that there’s no one there to enforce consequences. Now I’m looking to fanfiction again to help get my mind off things and really make it that thing that calms me down and distracts me. It’s probably not a good thing that I have to feel stressed and upset and anxious and a mess of other negative emotions to really feel that kick to write, but that just seems to be how it works with me :/

Again, I’m not posting this as an excuse, there is no excuse for going silent like that. I just wanted to catch everyone up on what’s been going on with me and why it took me a while to get back to it all.

GOING FORWARD

It may still be a while, whether that’s a few weeks or even a month or two, before you’ll see the actual stories being updated again. 

As I mentioned before, I’m teaching two classes on top of another full-time job and one of those classes is an intensive 7-week course that starts in about a week. So, at the very least, don’t expect fanfiction to resume till that point is over. I have a feeling that class will kill me before then lol.

It’s going to take me a little while to get into a pattern and routine, to work out how much time grading papers will take and how to balance it with my fulltime job. It’s going to take me some time to refresh my stories and make sure I’m not getting one plot or character confused with another. And it will take time for me to understand how much I can handle doing in a certain day or week and couple that with writing and editing again.

I’m going to start small. 

First I’m going to focus on tumblr and sorting through my inbox. I want to try and answer at least a few messages a day until my inbox is empty again. So that may take...quite a while now that I look at the box lol. 

Then I’m going to really look at my stories, how much I have left of the ones currently in progress, how much time it would take to complete which ones, and try to work out some sort of updating schedule and let you all know what’s coming.

I’ll be more present on tumblr now, but it may still be a while before the stories on fanfiction.net are updated. 

The more unhappy I am, the more ideas I have for stories (seriously, just this morning I had an idea for a Flash story, and I haven’t really followed it much) and I’m really trying to not get too ahead of myself.

I didn’t want to come back before I was sure I could deliver. So I’m not going to make promises I’m not sure I can keep.

I know that I WILL be updating stories again, but I can’t promise a specific date. I know that I WILL be on tumblr more and answering questions (oldest to newest), that I can promise.

It may be slow going, but I’ll get there. I just have to work on managing my time and building myself up again. I don’t want to use all my spare time writing fanfiction, end up editing stories at 3 in the morning, and getting 3 hours of sleep before two jobs. I did that in the past, it’s not good for me. I need to find a way to pull a Tim Gunn and make it all work ;)

I wanted to take a second to thank you all for being so patient and understanding. I know I went silent and it was not cool at all, and I’ve only just glimpsed my inbox and seen the overwhelming number of asks throughout the year, even up to a few days ago, asking if I was ok and hoping things were ok on my end. You have no idea what that means to me. To have been gone so long and still have people checking in over a year later, guys, I almost started to cry. 

When I started writing, I never thought that anyone would like it. I would have been content if just one person thought a story was ok. To look at it now and see that my work has had such an impact as to elicit concern like that after over a year of silence? I have never been more touched and humbled. 

I love all of you so much and I really am so sorry for not being around more. I’m working my way back up and, little by little, I know I’ll get back to posting the stories again. 

You’ve stuck with me this long, just hold out a little longer and I’ll do my best to deliver some good twists, new perspectives, and (hopefully) awesome OCs :’)

To end on another positive note...another reason I’ve been offline is...

I’m working on converting one of my OCs (a Doctor Who one) and their story into an original novel/series and it’s taken a lot of my concentration the last few months. So, who knows, maybe we’ll see something of that one day too.

Thank you all again for being so patient with me and so concerned. I’m back on tumblr for now and I’m hoping to get back on fanfiction soon too :’)

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.66

“Past and Present Tense”

A/N: This chapter cover the events of episode 7, "Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad." Also, revised a paragraph in chapter 61 – Ctrl-F "mutilated" for the new edition. I had already written that bit months ago, but it accidentally got punted into the prewritten section of this chapter and I just found it again. Just a little echo of a ghost from the past... (You may have already read the revised paragraph depending.)

Also, the fortune that is drawn in this chapter was 100% a random, "pick one and use it" draw that just happened to be unbelievably and unforgivably apropos to the theme. I was so shocked I forgot the sentence I was in the middle of writing when I opened it. Apparently, fate wants me to write this fanfic just as much as it wants Lorca to stay in command of his ship.

Finally, this is a long chapter. I considered splitting it, but there didn't seem a point where it made sense to. I give you an (overly) extended look into the antics of non-Michael Burnham characters during the episode.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << Part 65 - The Stars, Broken Part 67 - Einstein on the Beach >>

O'Malley came to the bridge, which was unusual, and Lorca spoke to him in the ready room again. The colonel was as high-strung and judgmental as ever. He crossed his arms as he stood across from Lorca and declined a fortune cookie.

"Am I to understand Admiral Cornwell's been taken by Klingons and we're not going to rescue her?"

"Those are not our orders," said Lorca smoothly.

"So, Cornwell ordered us to rescue you, and we did, and then our orders were not to rescue Sarek, but we did that anyway, and now our orders are not to rescue Cornwell and we're suddenly doing what Starfleet Command wants?"

Lorca crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. This was much the same as Saru's objection, but Saru was not so fearless as to pose these objections in the form of an argument to Lorca directly. "We're here to win a war, not rescue every lost soul."

"Well you damn well could've fooled me as that's largely what we've been doing these past six months. You personally, might I add."

"I thought you didn't like Cornwell," pointed out Lorca.

"I don't, but that doesn't mean I want her tortured by Klingons."

"I was tortured by Klingons. It wasn't so bad."

O'Malley's mouth fell open and his arms uncrossed. "Gabriel!" For a moment, O'Malley sounded like Lorca's mother might have, had she been prone to chastising Lorca in the tone of a sixty-year-old British woman.

"Look," said Lorca, dropping the levity. "This is what Cornwell would have wanted. Following the rules and waiting for orders. She's spent most of the past six months telling me to do just that."

"You've picked an awfully convenient time to start doing what Cornwell wants."

Lorca stared. "Are we going to have a problem here, colonel?"

O'Malley exhaled and shook his head softly. "I'm just very disappointed in you, is all." He stood in silent consideration for a moment. "You know, I've mostly agreed with everything you've done up till now. Usually you do to the right thing, just in the wrong way, and for the first time I find you doing the wrong thing in the right way and I honestly don't know what to make of it. I don't like what it says about you as a person that you'd let one of your oldest friends suffer like this simply for the purposes of keeping your ship."

"She was my friend," said Lorca. "Past tense. And out of respect for that, we are following Starfleet's orders." Each of the last few words was said with pointed emphasis indicating Lorca had no interest in being further argued with on this subject.

"If you're going to be like this, then perhaps you'd better count me in the past tense as well."

They stared at each other, neither backing down. Then something occurred to Lorca and he scowled in disgust and looked away.

O'Malley squinted at him. "What's that look for?"

"What look?"

"That look on your face right now."

"I don't know, Mac, why don't you tell me what it looks like."

"If I knew that would I be asking?" They were going in circles.

Lorca broke the pattern. He clenched his jaw in anger directed mostly at himself. "I suppose now you're gonna take up Cornwell's cause." Worse, he had given O'Malley enough ammunition to do just that. His intent in the telling had been to make O'Malley see his side, take his side, and it had worked, but now Lorca was uncertain where O'Malley's loyalties lay: with his principles, or with Lorca himself.

O'Malley looked insulted. "What? I'm disappointed in you, I'm not going to betray you. I know how hard it was for you to tell me any of what you did. I'm certainly not going to use it against you. It'd destroy my reputation, for starters." O'Malley sighed. "Just give me some time, will you? I need to process this."

O'Malley left the ready room. Lorca took a fortune cookie and crushed it in his hand, eating the pieces and dropping the paper unread into the trash. He quietly put a hold on any and all outbound communications from O'Malley and Allan, just in case. In doing so, Lorca noticed Allan had not sent or received a single transmission in all his time on Discovery. Unusual.

As Culber was not permitted into Lab 26, he had to wait outside with Allan for Mischkelovitz to emerge. When she did, she looked at Culber with obvious suspicion as to what he was doing on her doorstep.

Culber managed to be as friendly, cheerful, and charming as anyone could be, especially given the adversarial stance Mischkelovitz had taken. "Dr. Mischkelovitz, I was wondering if you could help me with something?"

All that charm and she still looked at him like he had three heads and two of them were shooting fire at her. "Pel'tra kas-kotiin kelmatro sai-on," she said darkly.

Culber had no idea how to respond to that.

Standing behind her, Allan apparently did. "Melly," he said, "je kranna kos'bri-kaa. Se patro kii'kay'an?"

Mischkelovitz turned to him. "Je mohs ke'barato, se patriik maroten."

Allan replied, "Kesse na iil me trohs baraal. Pelta!" Then he smiled at Mischkelovitz.

With a scowl, Mischkelovitz said, "Fine, Lan! But only because you asked." She turned back to Culber. "What do you want?"

Her eyes lit up when she saw the design of the implant. "Ah!" she went. "This is terrible!"

They were standing in sickbay at Culber's workstation. As Stamets was now the computational interface of the spore drive, Culber was hoping to ease the difficulty of his husband's connection to the drive with an implant so that the dangerous, painful system they had recovered from the Glenn could be rendered obsolete, but the technology was slightly beyond Culber's expertise. "I was hoping you could help me refine it," said Culber. "Tweak the design a little?"

When Mischkelovitz looked at Culber this time, her eyes were alight with enthusiasm and there was absolutely no trace of anything negative in her expression or demeanor. "Absolutely! Let's do it." For all that she was standoffish and surly around people she had not accepted into her inner circle, once presented with something she liked, she was entirely won over, like a reluctant child bribed with a new toy.

Culber's initial design for the implant was entirely too big to be practical. They began by refining it in virtual form to reduce its size and complexity. There were several factors to consider. First, the needs of the spore drive itself, which Mischkelovitz seemed unusually familiar with. Second, the features Culber wanted the implant to have, for safety and in the event of a medical emergency. Third, the limits of the technology they could produce aboard Discovery on such short notice.

Mischkelovitz was quite happy and friendly when she had a task to focus on. She also seemed only halfway aware of Culber's presence, even though he was standing right next to her and working on the same project. She chattered away to herself, saying things like, "We have to beroute the riomatter relay through the transventral section in order to ensure uninterrupted frow legulation..."

"Sorry, what?" asked Culber, but Mischkelovitz seemed not to hear him and continued her rambling obliviously. Apparently her use of "we" did not refer to Culber.

"If we switch the configuration of the nanotubes, then we can responsively adjust the row flate to compensate for the constriction mechanically rather than computationally..."

At other times, she seemed overly aware of Culber.

"You're married to him, right?" she suddenly asked. Even though she did not specify Stamets, it was obvious who the implant was for and there was no one else she might be referring to.

"That's right," said Culber.

"Mm," went Mischkelovitz and lapsed into silence, her gaze darkening.

Culber studied her carefully. She was staring intently at a fixed point in space. She had to be thinking about her own deceased husband, which was probably not the healthiest or most productive thing for her to be thinking about in the moment. He decided to try to switch her mind to something that had been bothering him since their previous encounter, risky as it was. "I've noticed you and Captain Lorca seem to get along."

"He likes monsters," supplied Mischkelovitz.

Culber blinked. "You're not a monster."

"Tch," she went. "Of course I am. That's the moral of the story, isn't it? The real monster was Victor von Frankenstein?"

Culber considered Mischkelovitz. That was a truly sad way for her to describe herself, even if she had done things that might warrant usage of the word. "I can't begin to understand what you went through," he said sympathetically, "so I won't judge you for it." He had judged her already, but he was willing to put it aside for the sake of being kind. "I just want to make sure you don't get hurt. Captain Lorca is a... strong personality."

"I like that about him. Very much so."

"It's easy to get swept away by someone like that."

"Don't worry about me. I only go where I'm wanted. If the captain wants me, so be it."

Culber paused. The word choice seemed a little off. "You haven't... with the captain?" It would explain her comfort level with being manhandled by Lorca, her rush to defend him, and even the captain's kindness.

"What?"

"Forget I asked," said Culber, quickly shaking his head. "It's no business of mine who anyone sleeps with, so long as they do it safely." That might apply to Lorca more than most. The captain had something of a reputation in that regard.

"Do you mean have sex?" said Mischkelovitz, looking confused. "I would never compromise my work by wasting my time like that! Ever!"

She seemed genuinely repulsed by the idea. Culber was taken aback. "That isn't..."

Mischkelovitz suddenly brightened. "We can halve the size of the mower podules if we use the outflow return for the subsystems!" She began to make modifications in a flurry of excitement. Suddenly the implant design seemed neither inelegant nor oppressively bulky. It was perfect.

"Thank you," Culber told her. "I really appreciate your help with this."

"That was fun!" she exclaimed, then turned and ran out of sickbay.

It took a few minutes for the computer to finish the fabrication, but when it was done, Culber summoned Stamets to sickbay and presented him with the completed device. "What do you think?"

"What is it?" asked Stamets.

"This is what every astromycologist is going to wish they were wearing at your next conference," grinned Culber, and explained the implant's functions and features. Stamets was entirely impressed, both by the design and that Culber had done this for him.

The surgery was quick and easy. Mischkelovitz's design modifications took into account Stamets' anatomy perfectly, so even though it looked like a giant, painful thing inserted into Stamets' arm, it actually folded around the various blood vessels, muscles, and tendons perfectly. Stamets flexed his hand and smiled at it.

"You're the best," said Stamets.

Culber smiled. "I had a little help." And maybe, just maybe, he had gotten himself into Mischkelovitz's good graces in the process. Though, if the captain wasn't sleeping with Mischkelovitz, what exactly was he using her for?

The ship fell into a sort of quiet routine the next few days. Everything was going smoothly, if uneventfully, because to everyone's collective surprise, Lorca was presently adhering to the letter of Starfleet Command's desires. Routine spore drive jump tests at scheduled times. No presence at the front. Trying to find a way to duplicate spore drive control without violating augmentation laws.

It began to feel like O'Malley had been given more than enough time to process. Lorca called him to his ready room.

O'Malley refused. "Wanna try that again, colonel?" said Lorca, clearly implying their personal disagreement did not give O'Malley the right to deny a request from Discovery's captain.

"I literally can't. I gave Allan and Larsson leave to go to some disco party. There's no one else on the door."

Lorca started chuckling. Of course O'Malley would do something that pathetic. The party had been a concession to the fact they were presently doing nothing important. May as well let the crew kick back and relax a bit.

"So happy I can amuse," said O'Malley miserably. "Larsson fancies himself some sort of a dancer, and Allan... don't ask me, he's supposed to be asleep right now and apparently he'd rather do that, so I also get to cover part of his shift alone."

"You do not understand how to command," said Lorca, shaking his head.

"Well now, hang on a minute, I—"

The bridge cut in. "Captain, we are detecting an unidentified signal," said Saru.

"Yellow alert. This conversation isn't over, colonel."

"It hasn't even started," managed O'Malley before the ready room door opened and the comm channel cut off.

It turned out to be a gormagander—a space whale. Burnham was apparently some expert in the species, rattling off details of their biology and attributing their decreasing numbers in the galaxy not as a result of hunting but because they focused on feeding so single-mindedly they failed to find the time to mate. "That's as depressing a trait as I've ever heard," quipped Lorca before calling to the helmsman to plot a new course.

"Captain!" interrupted Burnham. "The gormagander is on the endangered species list. Protocol requires us to transfer it to a xenologic facility."

Great. Now not only were they not going to be participating in any battles, they were going to have to play chaperone to a space whale. Burnham seemed enthused for the task, at least. "Then have at it," Lorca told her, and she hurried off to the shuttle bay to oversee the creature's transport onto the ship.

Not five minutes later, it was aboard, and a frantic comm came from the shuttle bay:

"Intruder alert, shots fired," said Burnham breathlessly. "Need immediate assistance."

Tyler was at the security station. He put the security feeds on the main viewscreen. "Intruder's on deck six, sir!"

"I want him locked down!" ordered Lorca, watching as the helmeted assailant strode through Discovery's halls.

"We have him trapped, sir!" reported Tyler after a moment.

Lorca rose from the captain's chair and strode towards the viewscreen. "Whoever you are, drop your weapons. This ends now."

The helmet came off with a round of hearty laughter, revealing a familiar bearded, grinning face. "Did you miss me as much as I missed you?"

"Mudd," said Lorca, almost spitting the name.

"Did you really think that you could leave me to rot in a Klingon prison and not suffer any repercussions!" said Mudd, voice rising as he spoke, hand shaking in anger towards the security monitor. "As soon as I find what's so special about your ship, I'm gonna sell it to the Klingons. Do you hear me, captain?"

"I don't see this ending with you taking my ship," said Lorca, entirely unimpressed.

"Not this time, but I have all the data I need for the next, so, I will see you later. Or, rather, earlier."

Mudd triggered a device in his hand. The corridor flashed with light and Lorca had to close his eyes a moment. When he opened them, the viewscreen was static. "Mr. Saru!"

"Sensors read an amicium and yurium compound explosion," said Saru.

"Hull breach on deck six," said Ash. "Five, four, now three—we can't contain it, captain!"

Lorca felt his heart drop as Discovery was torn apart around him. The last thing he saw was bright yellow-white flames coming towards him.

Reset.

It was a space whale. Burnham was pleased for it, Lorca was completely annoyed at the prospect of playing chaperone, and he sent Burnham off to handle the situation.

From the belly of the beast itself, Harry Mudd waited and looked over the files from Discovery he had stolen before the reset. He had stripped out all the important stuff—access codes, schematics, crew assignments and the project directory—and he had a lot of data to go through. Luckily, he also had all the time in the world. As the transporter light shimmered around him, he decided to start this little adventure off with a bold gesture. "Computer," he said as the shimmer faded and the gormagander appeared in the shuttle bay with Mudd still inside it, giving Mudd access to the ship's command overrides from his hiding place. "Site to site transport. One to the captain's ready room."

The shimmer of the transporter began again, this time plucking Mudd from the gormagander's digestive tract with the precision of the finest surgeon and depositing him in the ready room.

The lights were dim. A concession to Lorca's damaged eyesight, of course. Mudd snorted at the conceited weakness of the self-imposed impairment. He also frowned at the sight of the standing desk. He had been hoping for a chance to put his feet up while he reviewed Discovery's files, but instead the room was as aggravating as the captain himself.

There was a wooden bowl on the desk filled with fortune cookies. Mudd took one. It read, There is a prospect of a thrilling time ahead of you. Mudd's face lit up. "Well now, isn't that just what the captain ordered."

Perfectly aware Lorca was just on the other side of the door attending to matters on the bridge, Mudd decided to stay for a while and munch on cookies as he went over Discovery's project list and schematics. He noted with great interest a laboratory completely shielded from transport. That had to contain a pretty good secret. He also took a glance over the many luminaries that called Discovery their home. Quite an assemblage of minds Lorca had gotten himself. Some genuine surprises in there, too. Emellia Mischkelovitz, for example. Dr. Frankenstein in the flesh. Mudd whistled in appreciation. If nothing else, he had to respect the captain's cojones. Almost as big as his own.

Four meters away, Lorca finished relaying the details of Discovery's newest "assignment" to Starfleet Command and decided to pick up the conversation with O'Malley. "Mr. Saru," he said as he rose from the captain's chair and headed to the ready room, the intonation of Saru's name sufficient to convey the transfer of command over to the first officer.

The ready room doors opened and Lorca found himself staring at Harry Mudd standing next to a bowl's worth of fortunes and cookie crumbs scattered across the desk.

"Why, hello, captain!" said Mudd blithely, raising his disruptor.

"Mudd," scowled Lorca. "What the hell are you doing on my ship!"

"Your ready room is awful! No chairs? Really?" Mudd shot Lorca. He watched with immense satisfaction as the captain disintegrated into a flurry of dust, leaving a singed smell on the air. Tyler appeared in the doorway, phaser drawn, but too late.

Reset.

This time, Mudd beamed from the gormagander's stomach to the corridor outside Lab 26. A pale, freckled man was guarding the door and raised his rifle in Mudd's direction as the transporter finished with the beam-in. "Identify yourself!"

"Harcourt Fenton Mudd," said Mudd. "I've been sent to review this experiment." He said it with the sort of glib confidence that usually made people think twice and accept a statement as potentially truthful.

"Absolutely not," said the freckled man. "Hands up. Computer, alert the bridge. We have an intruder."

Once again, Mudd found himself face to face with Lorca. "Mudd! What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"A better question is, what the hell are you doing on your ship?" asked Mudd gleefully. "Computer, transport Captain Lorca to preset coordinates."

He beamed Lorca into space. The door guard clocked him on the back of the head with his rifle, knocking Mudd out, but it mattered not.

Reset.

Mudd beamed from the gormagander's stomach to the next section of corridor over from Lab 26 and fired his disruptor the moment the freckled man was in view, vaporizing him.

The door did not open. "Computer," said Mudd, "command override."

"This door can only be overridden by Colonel O'Malley's command module," the computer intoned flatly. This made no sense. Mudd had gotten himself the highest command authority, above even the captain, but the captain could not open this door?

"Who the hell is Colonel O'Malley?" asked Mudd aloud, checking the crew files. A freckled face stared back at him. "Well, damn it," said Mudd. He spent a few minutes on a halfhearted attempt to blast open the door to no avail.

"Hey! What are you doing!?" came a deep, booming voice. A pair of officers coming down the hallway had discovered him. They were a mismatched set, one a giant hulking blonde and the other a thinner, dark-haired man. They both had leis around their necks and were holding drinks. Neither was armed.

"What does it look like?" asked Mudd, firing at them. Then he made his way to the bridge. May as well have a little fun if no other progress was going to be made this time around.

"Mudd," scowled Lorca. "What are you doing on my ship!"

"Whatever I want!" exclaimed Mudd gleefully, shooting Lorca on a non-vaporizing kill setting and watching the captain stagger to the floor and collapse, dead.

Reset.

Mudd set his disruptor to kill without vaporizing and tried again. The freckled Colonel O'Malley fell to the ground in a heap and Mudd began to search him, locating the door control module. He clicked it.

Nothing happened. He clicked it again and again. No reaction. "Computer!" he shouted, really getting annoyed now. "Why won't the door open!"

"The outer door was automatically sealed when biosign termination occurred at..."

"Oh, come on!" screamed Mudd, and kicked the lifeless corpse of O'Malley until a mismatched pair of officers with leis around their necks happened upon him.

He came face to face with Lorca again. "Mudd!" scowled Lorca. "What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"This," said Mudd, and activated the ship's self-destruct sequence on a ten-second timer. He laughed as he watched Lorca scramble to override it without success and listened as the captain screamed in useless fury as a yellow-white explosion engulfed them.

Reset.

It was a space whale. Burnham was pleased for it, Lorca was completely annoyed at the prospect of playing chaperone, and he sent Burnham off to handle the situation.

Not ten minutes later, the gormagander was aboard, and soon after a message beeped on the command console at Lorca's arm. He glanced down. It was from Lab 26. He tapped it.

It read simply "TINRUEDR" with no signature attached, but Lorca didn't need an ident to recognize Lalana's typing, because she had a habit of hitting three to four letters at once with her epithelial filaments, jumbling them all together. TINRUEDR? His eyes widened. "Red alert!" he barked, launching himself from the captain's chair to a very confused bridge. "Tyler, with me!"

The ship's site to site transport did not respond to them. They were locked out of the ship's commands. The turbolift was also not responding. "Down the turbolift shaft," ordered Lorca. Thankfully, down was a much quicker trip than up. Lorca slid down the access ladder at an almost breakneck pace and he and Tyler burst out onto level nine with phasers at the ready.

He found O'Malley laying in a pool of blood in the corridor and checked for a pulse. It was weak, but still there. He grabbed O'Malley. "Computer, emer—" The words died on his lips. No emergency transport. They were locked out.

O'Malley groaned slightly, eyes half-opening. "Gabe," he managed, only the first syllable.

Lorca stared at O'Malley. He was so pale even his freckles seemed to be disappearing. "Tyler! Get someone from medical down here." The only other option was try to carry O'Malley up the turbolift shaft, but with the loss of blood, he needed to be stabilized first. Tyler rushed off to fetch a doctor.

O'Malley's hand weakly reached up and grabbed Lorca's collar. "Listen," whispered O'Malley. "He locked the outer door, but there's a secret way in. Bottom left panel." This was a gross violation of the lab's security procedures, but Lorca could lecture O'Malley about it later.

Lorca carefully lowered O'Malley back down and went to the indicated panel, prying it off with his fingernails. There was a passage behind it too narrow for Lorca. "How am I supposed to," Lorca began, turning to look back at O'Malley only to find O'Malley was crawling over. Lorca darted back to O'Malley's side. "Stop moving!"

O'Malley clutched his hand to his wound. The main attack had been a knife wound directed just below the body armor and up towards the gut to ensure a slow, lingering death. "I'm fine. Look, this is just dinner at my house. Help me in there. I'll open the door from the inside."

There was enough blood on the floor to bathe in, but every minute out here was a minute Mudd was in there with Lalana and Mischkelovitz unsupervised. Lorca dragged O'Malley over to the passageway, helped him squirm inside it, and watched as he disappeared into the darkness. Then he did the thing he hated most: he waited.

The outer door opened after a minute. O'Malley was slumped against the wall, a dark red smear of blood behind him. Lorca stepped into the outer chamber and crouched down to check his pulse.

"Tell Melly... just as much."

"Tell her yourself," said Lorca. O'Malley's pulse was so weak Lorca could not find it.

O'Malley smiled faintly. "Guess... your secret's safe... with me." He closed his eyes and slumped forward. A message popped up on the internal door controls: BIOLOCK PROTOCOL ACTIVE. The outer door slid shut. The display updated: EXTERNAL ACCESS PROHIBITED.

Lorca straightened and readied his phaser. Thankfully, he was already inside. He hit the command to open the internal door.

The intruder in the lab heard the door and reacted by grabbing Mischkelovitz and pulling her in front of him. "Captain! How good of you to join us," said a familiarly taunting voice.

"Mudd," sneered Lorca, face contorting with rage. "What the hell are you doing on my ship!"

Mudd was standing with one hand tightly around Mischkelovitz's neck. Lalana was just off to the side, hands knocking rapidly together in alarm. Mischkelovitz was much smaller than Mudd and made a poor human shield, but between her and Lalana, Mudd had made the better choice in terms of coverage. Mischkelovitz looked at Lorca with terror in her eyes. "Gabe!" she squealed. Her usage of the short form was not something she had ever done directly before. Lorca knew from watching her on the security feeds it was how she referred to him when she was alone.

Mudd grinned, disruptor hovering at Mischkelovitz's ear. "First-name basis! Well then, Gabe, looks like I've found a few of your secrets this time! Never thought I'd get to see your lului. It's much better than the one in that Markalian zoo."

The distance wasn't tremendous, and the lights burned his eyes, but Lorca felt he could make the shot. He aimed his phaser.

In response, Mudd pulled Mischkelovitz more tightly against him and turned his disruptor towards the captain.

Both shots went off at the same time, but neither hit their mark. A blue shape appeared in the air between them, propelled from the side, intercepting both blasts and absorbing the shot that might have taken Mudd's life and would certainly have taken Lorca's. Lorca had one fleeting glimpse of green eyes looking at him and then she was gone, disintegrated into wisps of dust that burned away into nothing and left a singed smell on the air.

The shock lasted but a moment as both men realized their kill shots had failed to eliminate their opponent and took action.

Mudd fired again, but his shot went too high as Lorca ducked into a charge, screaming with a fury that told Mudd he had made an enormous mistake. With absolutely no concern for Mischkelovitz, Lorca barreled into Mudd and his hostage, slamming them both to the ground, the brunt of the impact cracking a number of Mischkelovitz's ribs. Straddling both Mudd and Mischkelovitz, Lorca pinned Mudd's weapon with one hand and pummeled the butt of his phaser against Mudd's face with such force it shattered Mudd's nose. He brought it down again, rage filling his ears, totally oblivious to Mudd's pained yell and Mischkelovitz's terrified, raspy scream as she struggled to breathe beneath his weight. There was a faint crunch as Mudd's orbital bone fractured.

Lorca dropped his phaser but did not cease his onslaught, continuing to batter Mudd with his bare fist. The fracture deepened, the face pulped, and still he continued, the cracking sounds coming as much from his own fist as Mudd's skull bones.

He finally heard Mischkelovitz crying and stopped, rolling off of her and Mudd. His breath heaved in his chest. Mischkelovitz squirmed weakly and whimpered in pain. Lorca's right hand was a uselessly twisted mess, but he managed to get his arms under Mischkelovitz and lift her up.

He stepped over O'Malley's body in the outer chamber. He was careful to keep Mischkelovitz's face against his chest so she would not see what had happened. As if losing a husband and sibling already weren't enough, she had now lost the one person who probably loved her more than anyone else in the universe.

Lorca hushed her softly. "Shh, I got you." He understood what it felt like to lose everyone and everything. Now he understood it twice over. He could still see that last flash of Lalana's bright green eyes in his mind. He triggered the external door with the internal system override.

Tyler, Culber, Larsson, and Allan were in the corridor. Culber gasped and quickly went into action, scanning with his tricorder for injuries. He scanned O'Malley, too, but the life sign was already long gone. Allan and Larsson looked ridiculous in their leis, drinks in hand. Allan also looked absolutely distraught. "This isn't happening!" Allan exclaimed. "How is this happening? This isn't supposed to happen!" He looked to Larsson as if he expected the Swede to somehow know.

Tyler noticed the bloody tangle of Lorca's hand limply dangling alongside Mischkelovitz's arm. "Let me take her, sir," he offered.

"She's my responsibility," said Lorca. He owed O'Malley that, at least.

The timer on Mudd's device maxed out. They were enveloped by a yellow-white explosion.

Reset.

Lab 26 was full of secrets, but not the one Mudd was after. At least Mischkelovitz had turned out to be a useful source of information in the minutes before Lorca's arrival. "It's not us!" she had squealed at him. "We're trying bloak creaks! Bloak creaks—bloak—cloak breaks! You want the mushrooms!" Finally, Mudd understood where he needed to go.

Engineering test bay alpha. On paper, mushroom spore propulsion sounded like a bad joke, but apparently it was a viable technology. Armed with this information, Mudd began his assault on engineering. He had full control of the computer and made short work of the staff in there. Unfortunately, he was unable to ascertain exactly how the drive functioned.

Something was missing, he realized. If he was going to sell this ship to the Klingons, he had to figure out what.

This time, he beamed onto the bridge, took out the crew there first, and then came last for Lorca in his ready room. Perfect timing, really. But then, it always was.

Reset.

Stamets was having a very weird day.

One moment, he was in quarters dismissing Culber's ongoing concerns about his personality changes as being silly, because he felt good, relaxed, better than ever. The next, they were enveloped by a yellow-white explosion and then he was walking down the corridor with Culber away from sickbay again.

"Hang on a sec," he said. "Weren't we just here a minute ago?"

Culber looked at him like he might be crazy, which was a look he was getting used to these days.

Stamets dismissed it the first time. Some sort of bad déjà vu.

Then it happened again. And again.

Stamets tried to alert Burnham and Tyler. "It all starts with a gormagander!" he managed.

It was a space whale. "Oh, for crying out loud," said Lorca. "Cancel yellow alert."

"Sir, scans show the gormagander's bio readings to be highly unstable," reported Saru, and informed Lorca that they were required under the Endangered Species Act to transport it somewhere.

Both Burnham and Tyler suddenly objected. Burnham looked like she had seen a ghost. Lorca stared at the two of them, wondering what was going on. "Let's beam this thing into the shuttle bay and drop it off at the nearest sanctuary soon as we can," said Lorca.

"Captain, I would like to run point on this, sir," said Burnham.

"I don't give a damn," Lorca said, shaking his head at her. "I just want it done." The sooner they got this little detour over and done with, the sooner they could get back to doing something, anything of actual use in the war. Even if that something was just scheduled spore drive tests.

"I request security oversight of the operation," said Tyler.

"I still don't give a damn," said Lorca, and sent them on their way.

A few minutes later, the computer suddenly initiated a black alert. Lorca had not issued any such command. "Computer, show me engineering!"

"Denied," said the computer.

He ordered Tyler to engineering and began to elicit solutions from the bridge crew. "There is nothing we can do, captain. We are locked out of our systems," reported Saru. "We only have nonessential systems."

"Screw the systems, get all security personnel to the lab any way possible," said Lorca. "Through the Jeffreys tubes. Airiam, get me any useful systems control you can manage. I'll take environmental, lights, anything."

"Warning, critical systems overload in 20 seconds," said the computer.

Twenty seconds was not enough time to do anything. Lorca felt a chill at the utter familiarity of this whole situation. It was the Buran all over again.

"Warning, drive overload," said the computer.

"Somebody give me something!" he screamed at the bridge, not wanting this to be the way it ended, not after everything. He looked helplessly at his crew. He had failed them entirely.

Explosion and reset.

It just kept happening over and over. Stamets was trapped in a time loop and no one on the ship but him knew it. It was some quirk of the quantum nature of the mycelial network he was now genetically connected to.

He figured a little bit more out each time. There was an intruder on the ship who arrived hiding in the belly of a gormagander. The intruder had control of the ship's computer. Every single time, people died. Different people different times.

He tried to explain it to Lorca on the fourth reset. The first attempt went about as well as could be expected.

"Captain, we're caught in a temporal loop!" he declared as he entered the bridge.

Lorca pressed the controls on the arm of his chair. "Dr. Culber. Lieutenant Stamets seems to have gotten loose on my bridge. See if you can't come up here and corral him?"

"No, listen to me!" exclaimed Stamets, but Lorca did not.

The fifth reset, the intruder did something different, and Lorca was not even on the bridge when Stamets got there. The sixth reset, things were back to normal and Stamets spoke Lorca's words as Lorca said them: "Lieutenant Stamets seems to have gotten loose on my bridge—" at this point Lorca stopped talking and just stared, so Stamets finished the sentence for him "—see if you can't come up here and corral him."

They were locked out of the main computer functions, but Lorca managed to open a shipwide comm and Mudd was all too happy to answer and stare Lorca directly in the face.

"We meet again, captain," said Mudd. "And again, and again..." He chuckled in amusement.

"Mudd! What the hell are you doing on my ship," scowled Lorca.

"Really, captain, this time you've managed to surprise me! How did you find out I was here?"

Stamets suddenly got the sinking feeling that enlisting Lorca's aid was too obvious and would tip Mudd off as to his awareness of the time loop.

In the end, Lorca antagonized Mudd, Mudd activated the ship's self-destruct in retaliation, and they all blew up again.

Stamets tried Tyler. Tyler was trusted by the captain and could advise discretion, but the problem was, Tyler did not trust Stamets. Fair enough. As much time as Stamets spent trying to get to know him in the time loop, for Tyler, it was always the first time they had ever really spoken. Tilly was also a bust; she was at the party and a little too drunk to take him seriously.

Stamets turned his attention to Burnham. He managed to convince her after a few tries, but they were almost out of time in the currently ongoing loop. "Tell me a secret," he prompted her. "Something that will immediately prove to you we've had this conversation. Something you've never admitted to anyone. I promise it'll be safe with me."

She believed him, so she told him her secret.

Explosion and reset.

Lorca sat in the captain's chair. "Is the fish safely on board yet?" he asked.

"Technically, it's not a fish," said Saru, "it's..."

Lorca shot Saru a look. Saru obligingly shut up. Then Culber requested Lorca in sickbay urgently to discuss Lieutenant Stamets. Lorca stepped into the turbolift with a gnawing feeling of worry in his stomach. "Sickbay, direct."

The turbolift started, then stopped. "Destination canceled," the computer informed him. The doors at the rear of the turbolift opened and Lorca turned to see one of his officers crumple to the ground with a knife in his back.

"Heavy," said a familiar, bearded man holding a disruptor.

"Mudd!" exclaimed Lorca and ordered a red alert. The computer did not respond to him. "What the hell are you doing on my ship?"

"You ask me that question every single time," said Mudd. "You know that, don't you? Of course you don't." Mudd fired a shot past Lorca's arm in a demonstration of his seriousness and ordered Lorca to move. "I really can't take it from the top all over for you again, Lorca. The message from the doctor was not real, I just wanted some alone time with you. There's an area of the ship I can't access and I'm hoping you're hiding your secrets to the spore drive—"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mudd," said Lorca, immediately thinking of Lab 26, "but if you think I'm gonna help you in any way at all, you're crazier than I remember."

"There really are so many ways to blow up this ship, it's almost a design flaw," said Mudd. "Computer! Access self-destruct program."

A chill rushed across Lorca. This was entirely familiar to him. It felt like he was on the Buran all over again. "Stop," he said. "We'll go wherever you want."

"Then get a move on," said Mudd, giving his disruptor a little shake to indicate Lorca should get a move on.

Lorca realized they were not heading towards Lab 26. On the one hand, he was relieved because that meant everything there was safe. On the other, he would really have liked the support of O'Malley's rifle and independent security protocols right now.

Instead, Mudd dropped every hapless crewman unfortunate enough to cross paths with them. At least there were fewer people in the halls than usual. A significant portion of the crew were attending that party.

"You know, I've had a lot of fun so far on Discovery. Found out so many of your secrets. Even had a go at your lului!"

Lorca realized Mudd had already accessed Lab 26. "Mudd," he growled, jaw clenching and teeth hissing.

"Don't worry, captain, that was ages ago! Haven't bothered with them at all this time around. She and that darling little Dr. Frankenstein are snug as bugs right now. I can change that, of course, if you don't cooperate, Gabe."

They arrived outside of Lorca's study. Mudd needed Lorca to provide the personal passcode for entry. Once inside, Mudd found not the secrets of the spore drive he was so desperately searching for, but a lovely collection of weapons from across the cosmos instead. He began to rummage through the guns on offer, looking for one to try.

"Do you know how many times I've had the pleasure of taking your life, Lorca?" sneered Mudd. "Fifty-three! But who's counting. And it never gets old." Mudd checked his wrist. "Oh, drat, we're almost out of time. I'll figure out how that little drive of yours works sooner or later. I've got all the time in the world." And he shot Lorca and watched him vaporize into little flecks of burning particles.

Reset.

"Has that fish beamed aboard safely yet?"

"Well, technically it's not a fish—"

Lorca gave Saru a look. Saru obligingly shut up. "Where the hell are Burnham and Tyler?" asked Lorca. He had called them to the bridge five minutes ago.

Then music began to play. Sweeping, orchestral, triumphant. Wagner.

"Mr. Saru!"

"I don't understand, sir, I'm locked out of the ship's controls."

Lorca hit the panel on his chair. "Computer." Nothing. "Computer, respond!"

The turbolift doors opened. "Let me see what I can do!" announced a familiar, taunting voice. "Computer, reduce volume so we can have a normal, adult conversation."

"Yes, Captain Mudd," said the computer.

Lorca rose from his chair. "Captain Mudd!" he exclaimed, incredulous.

Mudd shrugged at him. "I never thought I would say this, but I'm actually tired of gloating. In any case, this is very much my ship. Your ship? Very much not at all."

Lorca started towards Mudd, because no one—not Mudd, not Cornwell, not anyone—was allowed to take Discovery from him. "All right, show's over, Mudd. Back to whatever little hole you crawled out of—"

"To the brig!" said Mudd, and Lorca vanished in the glimmer of the transporter.

Burnham, Tyler, and Stamets arrived on the bridge. Armed with Burnham's secret, Stamets had managed to enlist both her and Tyler, because while Tyler did not trust Stamets, he trusted Burnham.

Mudd vaporized Tyler in a burst of weaponized antimatter as reward for their efforts. Burnham watched in horror as Tyler vanished before her eyes.

Mudd was hitting the limits of his patience. He was at the point where destroying Discovery was seeming just as palatable an option as selling it to the Klingons. "How do I start that engine, hm? I will disintegrate every single one of you in a screaming fit of agony one at a time. Starting with you!" Mudd started towards Saru.

"Stop!" shouted Stamets. "I can't watch you kill any more people." He pulled up the sleeve of his uniform tunic, revealing the implant that allowed him to interface with the spore drive. "It needs me to work."

Mudd laughed with glee. He finally had everything he needed. "Delicious. Shall we to the engine room?"

There was no one in the brig. No one had been recently locked up, so no one was needed there on duty. Lorca tried to override the controls from inside with no luck. The computer remained unresponsive. He pounded his fists on the forcefield, knowing it would have no effect, but needing some physical outlet to his anger.

He turned his attention to the small console in the wall. It was entirely rudimentary, locked out of most ship systems, but it was his only option. It had the capacity to order food, bring out the cot from the wall, provide a moment's privacy for using the toilet, and not much else. At least, it wasn't supposed to have anything else.

Lorca blinked at the words "BRIG CHESS" in the list of available commands and touched it.

"ENTER NAME" prompted the display, offering him an old-school keyboard and four spaces to fill. Lorca was five letters, so he entered LORC. It then prompted him to set a password, this time a 4-digit numerical code. He entered 1031, Discovery's registry number.

The screen split into two halves. The left half was a leaderboard with names on it. ROVE, M.B., NATE, MISH, LLNA, SARU, AIRM, PAUL, SILY, and more. Each name had a score attached.

The right side showed who was online and listed only one player at present, MISH. Lorca had a good guess who that was. He touched the name. It then prompted him to select from a variety of chess formats including Vulcan. He selected Classic. "REQUEST SENT" appeared and then a chat room popped up.

MISH: Captain? LORC: in brig LORC: ship taken LORC: send mac MISH: Okay he's on his way by the way Lalana says there is a halo of stars everywhere.

Lorca stared at that.

LORC: what MISH: I think she is describing some sort of particle field aberration. I'm not certain what. I'm working to figure it out.

Probably it was related to however Mudd had gotten control of the ship.

O'Malley arrived and tried to lower the forcefield to no avail. "Sorry, captain, I'm totally locked out."

"Try shooting it," growled Lorca.

"That only works in movies!"

"Well if you have a better idea!" Lorca exclaimed.

"I might. Let's call John. If anyone can get control of the systems, it's him."

"Groves?" Lorca found that assertion faintly ridiculous. Groves could get control of a ship that its own captain had been locked out of?

"As he's very fond of pointing out, he could have walked out of that brig any time he wanted to. He simply chose not to. He's probably the best systems hacker you'll ever meet."

A long time ago, Mischkelovitz had said John Groves could be useful in unexpected ways. It seemed the time had finally come for Groves to fulfill that mandate and serve a purpose.

While Lorca languished in the brig and Stamets stalled Mudd in the engineering lab, Burnham continued working to figure out how Mudd was engineering the time loop. Understanding that could bring an end to all of this.

Mudd was not the only thing that had been hiding in the gormagander. An entire ship, linked to the device on Mudd's arm, served as the basis of the time loop power.

Burnham had a plan. There was one secret of Lorca's that Mudd had yet to unravel: her. She was something the Klingons would pay a lot to get, perhaps even more than Discovery itself. She approached Mudd in the ready room, revealed herself, and tantalized Mudd with the prospect of selling her for even more riches.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Mudd. "What's in it for you?"

"Lieutenant Tyler," said Burnham.

"Lieutenant Tyler is dead," said Mudd.

"Not for long," said Burnham, and used one of the weaponized antimatter modules to disintegrate herself before Mudd's eyes.

The Klingons were hailing. "Damn it!" exclaimed Mudd. He wanted everything. Especially now that he knew exactly how much everything on this ship was worth.

In the brig, Groves released Lorca and opened his mouth to gloat about the sudden reversal of their fortunes, but his triumph was short-lived.

Reset.

Stamets, Burnham, and Tyler approached Lorca. After so many loops, there was no time. They had to get everything right. It was unlikely they would get another chance.

When Mudd arrived on the bridge, Lorca did not even turn to look at the turbolift doors as he said, "Captain Mudd."

"What's this?" asked Mudd, finding all of them ready and waiting.

Lorca stood up. "Your chair," he offered, stepping aside.

They told Mudd he had won. That after so many loops, Stamets had concluded Mudd was unbeatable, and now Mudd had everything he wanted.

"So, Harcourt Fenton Mudd, the USS Discovery is yours." Even knowing it was a falsehood, it still galled Lorca to say the words.

"As am I," said Burnham.

Mudd laughed. "Don't try to con a con man!"

"I'm not," said Lorca. "I'm negotiating with a businessman. My offer is simple. The lives of my crew in exchange for... Burnham, the ship, and Stamets."

"Why would a Federation captain do that?" asked Mudd.

"I will not have a repeat of the Buran." This, at least, was not a falsehood. He extended Mudd his hand. "Your word, Mudd."

Mudd took his time, considered the hand being offered, and finally smiled. "Well, I've never been one to look a gift captain in the mouth!" He shook Lorca's hand with enthusiasm. Lorca looked and felt crushed by the exchange. He hated this. He hated this so much.

Now that Mudd had everything he wanted, he let the temporal loop expire. The time crystal on his arm disintegrated. From here on out, everything was going to be permanent. No more do-overs.

"Captain Mudd, we are being hailed by the Klingons," reported the computer.

Lorca looked at Burnham. If any of them died now, it would be for good, forever. He did not want any of them to die.

Mudd took Burnham and Stamets down to the transporter room to meet the Klingons. "Not you, old man," Mudd said to Lorca. "Lorca, I'm gonna really miss killing you. Adieu, mon capitan!"

Lorca stood on the bridge as the door closed. "Mr. Saru," he said, and returned to the captain's chair. "Bring up the security feeds. Mr. Tyler, let's get you in position." Lorca did not smile, because there was still a risk and Burnham and Stamets were both down there with Mudd and a disruptor, but he was beginning to feel more himself now that the situation was coming back under his control.

Tyler beamed to an adjacent corridor to ambush Mudd. Lorca watched as Stamets and Burnham distracted Mudd and disarmed him. And then, the kicker: when Mudd had thought he was signaling the Klingons, he instead had signaled other parties interested in obtaining not Discovery but Mudd himself.

"Turns out, you can con a con man," said Burnham, and as he watched and listened from the bridge, Lorca smiled. Attagirl, Michael.

"The stars are gone now," Lalana said to Mischkelovitz. "Whatever was happening has ended."

Mischkelovitz stared at the readouts in the lab. Despite her best efforts and her suspicions, she had been unable to figure out exactly what Lalana was seeing, she only knew that Lalana was seeing something.

"Can you tell me all the other times you've seen these stars?" asked Mischkelovitz.

"Of course. The first time was when I met Captain Lorca on the Triton. They were lingering around him like a halo. The second time was when I came aboard Discovery. They were outside the lab, just in front of it. The third time was when we were in null time. They were diffuse that time, different, dimmer."

"And you think they lead you to where you're supposed to be?" This had been Lalana's assertion when the stars had shown up again thirty minutes earlier.

"I can think of no other explanation, except this time, they were everywhere, so bright and sparkling, and now suddenly they are gone."

Mischkelovitz chewed her lip. She did not think the "star halo" was what Lalana thought it was. Mischkelovitz did not believe in fate. "I need something," said Mischkelovitz. "And I need you to answer me honestly. That's not the thing I need, but I need you do this, too."

"I will answer what I am able," said Lalana, which was no promise at all.

Mischkelovitz knew better than to speak the words where the security monitors would overhear. She twitched her finger at Lalana and they moved into Lalana's quarters. Mischkelovitz locked the door behind them, turned towards Lalana, and said with sudden strength and clarity, "You're a part of Section 31, aren't you?"

Lalana tilted her head to the side. "I do not even know what that is. Why would you say such a thing?"

"We were working for them, and they have Rischka's mesearch, and I need that research and the quantum accelerator and scanner we developed. Can you get those things for me?"

Lalana straightened, her tail against the floor for balance. "I will steal it if I have to. How did you know I was with Section 31?"

"Because," grinned Mischkelovitz, her eyes crazily wide and somehow more uneven than usual, "you always lie." In Mischkelovitz's experience, that was the one thing you could always count on Section 31 to do. They had lied when they promised things to her and Milosz about their research. They had lied when they took the research away after he died.

Lalana clicked her tongue in happy mirth. "You are only the second human to have noticed that!"

O'Malley and Lorca finally resumed their discussion in Lorca's ready room.

"Look, Gabriel, it's all well and good, you locking me out of the communications systems, but I would really like to call my wife, and frankly, if it comes out that I didn't report anything because you prevented me, that's going to reflect rather badly. So knock it off."

Lorca frowned. "I can't let you send that report, Mac."

"Don't you want to know what it says?" O'Malley tossed his padd onto Lorca's desk.

It was the worst report Lorca had ever read. It mentioned an incident had occurred involving a weapon in the captain's quarters, but that the witness was unable to provide an official statement, investigation was presently stalled and inconclusive, and factors were at play that might have compromised both parties regarding the incident. There was no mention of what these factors were, what the accusation was, or even the fact the unnamed witness was an admiral who had been captured by Klingons. At the bottom the report said Preliminary investigation inconclusive.

"So now our asses are covered," said O'Malley. "My ass, anyway. If Cornwell ever turns up, I was unable to proceed owing to her absence, and if you get your wish, the poor woman will end up murdered and this will never go any further."

Lorca chewed his lip. He could hear it in O'Malley's tone, but just in case, he looked up at O'Malley's face. It was grim and very displeased. "Don't even think about thanking me," said O'Malley. "I officially owe you no favors. And for the record, Cornwell's right. You do need help. It just so happens we still need you. I feel sick for my part in this, do you understand that? I'm absolutely gutted. I don't know how you can live with yourself."

Lorca's mouth tugged into a frown. He could live with it because he still had Discovery and everyone on it, but he could tell this was eating O'Malley up. "Listen," he began.

"No, you listen! You're better than this. Every time you do some awful thing to someone, you always manage to make up for it somehow, so you have to do that now. You have to make this count. I don't care what it is, just give me something that matters. Just—something!" O'Malley's lip trembled and his nose scrunched up. He clasped his hand to his face. His voice cracked as he said, "God, I hate you! You have to do better, Gabriel, please."

Lorca considered O'Malley. For all that O'Malley was pathetic, he had also gone out of his way to protect Lorca despite the personal toll it was taking. "All right, Mac," said Lorca. "I'll find a way to make this count." He would single-handedly kill every last Klingon if that's what it took.

O'Malley's hand fell away, revealing a pain as deep as any Lorca had ever seen. "It's not that easy." O'Malley sighed, shook his head, and looked away. Then he said in a small voice, "Computer. Site to site transport. Personal quarters."

Lorca had a fairly good idea O'Malley had done that so no one would see him cry. He stared at the empty air where O'Malley had been standing. The ship seemed suddenly a little lonelier.

Part 67