#okay I know post two dead characters in a row doesn’t sound good but I swear I’m doing fine

[klaxonic]

Rip Kara

Inspire by the lovely gif set by @stiwfssr . Go check it out!

time lapse

[shurisneakers]

shut in [3]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, ptsd, fighting over beds

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: every part i introduce more anonymous characters smh. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Don’t make me shoot you, Wilson.”

“It doesn’t have to end this way, agent.”

“How’s it looking out there?”

“There’s been some talk. Apparently Serpentine isn’t very happy that their intel is dead. They’ve got people looking out for you everywhere.”

A frown adorned your face. Sam was leaning forward on his arms, head turned down as he listened to Ransone.

“How dangerous is it?”

“I would say that everyone’s a little wound up. Best not to go anywhere even a little populated.”

“Noted.” It would blow over in a while. The media coverage of Pierce’s assassination would die down with the changing news cycle soon.

“I can have someone pick you up wherever you are. Just tell me where.” 

“Don’t bother. We won’t be here for too long,” you responded, Sam nodding in agreement. Once it quietened down you could leave, go back to Ransone without blowing your cover.

“Whatever makes you happy. Just let me know when you’re out.”

The click of the call ending took with it the only noise in the room.

Sam picked up the phone to remove the battery, discarding it to maintain your security. Burner phones were useful, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

“Wait,” you cut in, holding your hand out for it, “I need to make another call.”

The both of you were seated at the dining table. A piece of paper lay in front of you, playing the dangerous role of being the mediator. 

You were trying to ration out your supplies and create a schedule as a way of finding middle ground. Things were more or less calm for the last two days, but the fight over the bedroom was wading into territory that could only be solved by a good old middle school fistfight.

Currently you were figuring out a meal plan so that you could establish some kind of routine. With bread as the only uniting factor, the other three components were going on a rotation. You had reached all the way till Saturday before running out of possible combinations.

“I’m just saying-”

“Don’t.”

“We’ve exhausted all edible options, it’s the only combination left-”

“I will not hesitate to fatally wound you.” You were only half kidding. The ridiculousness of the ideas he was proposing was entertaining, and you knew he wasn’t being serious. It was hard to catch a moment where he was. 

“Fine. But in case we get to the point where peanut butter and jelly is the only thing that’s left, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“I would rather die than shovel spoonfuls of plain jelly and peanut butter into my mouth.”

“Your survival game is weak,” he chided, tsk-tsking at you.

You only rolled your eyes at him, moving on to the next subject.

Bed.

“Easy, we just alternate days. You got the last two days, so I get the next two and then we just switch everyday.” Sam eased back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head leisurely.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” you asked, writing down the plan he had just presented. The bed wasn’t queen sized with memory foam or any kind of privilege like that, but it definitely beat the couch with its odd lumps and depressions.

“A week tops. Anything more is just excessive.”

“Hello,” you said, voice low, even though you were well out of earshot of Sam. He was eying you from the living room window. If he was as good as he claimed he was, he’d know how to read lips and you couldn’t afford to have him do that.

“Code?”

You turned your back to the window, facing the large trees that loomed before you. “1993. It’s me.”

“Y/N?” He sounded suspicious, a little shocked, and you understood why he would be.

“Living and breathing.” You toed at a rock that lay ahead of you.

“Word on the street is that you’re dead,” he pointed out dryly.

“Not me; Pierce. I escaped. It was a trap.” When the rock you were playing around with escaped after a particularly hard kick, you started pacing up and down instead, “Ransone put a hit out on him because he thought he was leaking information.”

“How on earth did he come to that conclusion?”

“Don’t know. He was dead before we got there.”

“Who is ‘we’? You got someone there with you?” You didn’t realise it had slipped out during your conversation. 

“Another one of our guys. Apparently I was a backup in case he didn’t show up, but he did, so now we’re stuck together.” You averted your gaze to Sam who was still observing you from the window brazenly, intently. 

“Where are you?”

“We’re safe.” 

“Alright.” He sounded like he understood, albeit not entirely convinced. “Stay low.”

“Will do.”

With that you hung up the call, dropped the phone to the ground and crushed it under your boot heel. When you were convinced that it was sufficiently useless, you turned on your heel, making your way back.

You walked back into the house, beelining to the kitchen to make up for your missed lunch, only to be greeted with Sam sitting on the couch looking at you inquisitively.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody,” you answered straightforwardly, opening the cabinet to get two slices of bread.

“If it has somethin’ to do with this situation we’re in then I need to know who you’re talking to.”

“Just drop it. It has nothing to do with you.” You found the jar of peanut butter he had already opened, using a butter knife to spread it along the bread.

“Somehow I’m finding that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you must. I’m going to take a nap,” you answered evasively, chewing absentmindedly on the sandwich you had just made. You didn’t bother to look at him as you headed towards the bedroom.

“Hey now, hold on a minute. Who said you had bedroom privileges? You’ve been using it for two days.” You stopped in your tracks, face scrunching in annoyance. “If you’re keeping vital information about my life from me, then I think I deserve to not have a fuckin’ backache when I wake up in the morning.”

You quickly weighed the pros and cons in your head, imagining how the next few minutes would pan out if you just said ‘no’ and left. But in every imaginary argument you proposed, the bottom line ended with him prodding at you until he either got the information that he wanted or the bed.

Frankly, the bed was something you were willing to sacrifice to get him to stop meddling in your business. It seemed like the only reasonable way to get him off your ass.

“Fine.” You spun around to face him. “We’re making an arrangement.”

“Whoever has the bed has to forfeit TV privileges for that day.”

“Sounds reasonable. None of those three movies can be played more than twice in a row.”

That was more to preserve your sanity than anything. You had already seen each of them once, bordering on thrice for Die Hard. Sam’s fault, not yours.

“We should have a codeword. In case there's danger or something. Or maybe if you just want to be left alone,” Sam suggested, finger pointing to the blank space left at the end of the paper. “But it’ll be like solitary confinement since it’s so fuckin’ quiet here.”

Almost on instinct your mind flashed to images of dark cells. Quiet sobs. Blood stains on the wall, originating from clawing at it. Sunlight through one small window at the top. Utter loneliness except for yourself.

You could remember the soreness in your legs from curling up into a ball for hours, rocking back and forth. The smell of drain water collecting in the basement where the cell was.

Isolation.

“You got any suggestions?”

“Huh?” You forced yourself back to the present. Your knuckles had a dull ache in them from holding the pencil too hard.

“Do you have any ideas for a codeword?” Sam repeated, looking at you intently.

“No, nothing off the top of my head.” You shook your head, trying to regain focus. You loosened your grip on the pencil, letting it fall to the table.

“We’ll just leave it at ‘Brooklyn’ for the time being.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed to whatever he was saying. It was just a precaution in case something major happened. It was rather unlikely that you were going to use it anyway. 

Codewords weren’t uncommon in your business, but it was mostly used for missions or other professional standings. Regardless of being less adventurous than what you tended to work on, this was work at the end of the day. 

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done.” His chair scraped loudly against the ground as he got up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out for a while. Need to shake off the possible osteoporosis.”

You didn’t bother asking where he was going, ears following his footsteps as he walked down the hall to the bedroom, probably to get his jacket that he hung up in the drawer.

You left the paper on top of the mini fridge, alongside the car keys and a few dollars you had nabbed in the hurry from Pierce’s house.

Staring around you at the silent room, you realised that there really wasn’t much to do. It wasn’t like you to have so much time on your hands. You could always go for a run or test out some of the weapons hidden here. 

You had the rest of the house to explore, plans to draw up, a post mortem to assess what went wrong on the mission, even though the last option wasn’t possible without Sam’s cooperation.

Fuck it, you decided. Couch it is.

Kicking your feet up, you grabbed the TV remote to flip to the news station. The town rarely had anything to report on but it would be worthwhile to know what exactly was available around. Possibly assimilate in the crowd in case you wanted to be hidden.

It took you a few minutes of mindless surfing through static channels till you found it. It seemed like a scene right out of a Hallmark movie; the reporter was holding a microphone to a child who looked like he understood nothing of what was going on.

You were barely paying attention as it flipped from segment to segment, other things taking precedence in your mind even though you willed yourself to relax. There really wasn’t much to make a note of other than a few good samaritans and how utterly boring the lack of content was. A few occasional glimpses of stores and other resources available in the background were the only interesting part.

You were starting to drift off by the time it reached the breaking news of the evening. Sam had already come back when the sky slipped into twilight. He barely acknowledged your form lazing on the couch, only offering you a greeting and a goodbye as he made himself his dinner to take to the room.

Your eyes were just about closing when the breaking news of that evening came in. It was all politics. People you knew from old missions waving and smiling their way to lead their country as if the dubious acts they committed behind the scenes to get there was erased.

Until you suddenly jolted awake, eyes wide open.

“Wilson. Wilson!” You hit the cushion furiously to get his attention when he didn’t respond the first time around.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What?” he yelled in response, mild irritation in his voice. You knew it sounded like you were shouting bloody murder even though no one was around other than you two, but you didn’t care.

“Look at this!” You couldn’t stop gawking at the screen. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“What? What do you wa-” He stalked into the room, ready to tell you to stop yelling but stopped mid sentence when he finally saw what you were so concerned about.

“Reports claim that the victim was attacked early in the afternoon at his villa. Officers say they found multiple signs of a forced entry, following which he was shot dead. So far no arrests have been made but the police have since released photos of two suspects of whom, they claim, have reason to believe orchestrated the attack.”

On the right side of the screen flashed yours and Sam’s picture side by side. Old mugshots from a petty offence you committed years ago for which Ransone bailed you out.

“The pair are said to be on the run after escaping before law enforcement arrived. If you have any tips on the whereabouts of-”

You turned to look at Sam. His stare didn’t budge from the TV as they once again reminded the public what you both looked like.

Years of anonymity, working in the shadows and creeping around to avoid being recognised only to have the entire country know what you looked like.

“Well, shit,” he finally exhaled. “Somehow I think our stay here just got extended.”

Part 4

[giggles-and-freckles]

my fic masterlist

decided to do this for my own sake more than anyone else’s because sometimes I have to make sure the idea I get at 3am isn’t one I’ve already written hehe. anyway, a lot of these are on my ao3, but I’m also going to try and track down some of my TuMbLr-eXcLuSiVe fics, too. I’ll update this as often as I remember (so, uhhh–)

In-Progress: Not On A Consistent Updating Schedule Bc Abi is a Mess ™

midst of the mind – Anakin has always had a pretty good understanding of his feelings, even if he's not particularly disciplined in acting on them. But things surrounding the Chancellor seem to be off and Anakin's determined to get to the bottom of it. With a little help from his friends.(or: fix-it ROTS fic where Ani, Obi, and Padmé take down the Chancellor one fake smile and late-night tea party at a time)

evermore – "dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found" within the lives of our favourite space fam. (or: TAYLOR SWIFT LITERALLY OWNS MY SOUL, OKAY?) (unrelated one-shots based on taylor swift songs ha)

filling the gaps – after the horror of Naboo, Obi-Wan has flipped from Padawan to having a Padawan in a matter of hours and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend like he's okay. thankfully, this one spunky youngling who keeps popping up in the corners of his life seems to know what to do. (or: baby!Soka unknowingly helps new Knight!Kenobi figure things out and braids his hair along the way)

Obi-Wan & Ahsoka: Best Father-Daughter Duo In The Galaxy According To Me (because let’s be honest...that’s why I’m here) (tagged: #obi & soka)

filling the gaps – *in-progress multi-chapter* after the horror of Naboo, Obi-Wan has flipped from Padawan to having a Padawan in a matter of hours and he's not sure how much longer he can pretend like he's okay. thankfully, this one spunky youngling who keeps popping up in the corners of his life seems to know what to do. (or: baby!Soka unknowingly helps new Knight!Kenobi figure things out and braids his hair along the way)

playing catch – Ahsoka finds an old friend on Tatooine and has lots of questions. they cry a lot. obi-wan tells some white lies. they get the hugs they need. (Obi-Wan & Ahsoka reunite on Tatooine)

all too young – during a bout of insomnia while on Onderon, Ahsoka gets some advice and insight about her Master. (or Obi-Wan hears Ahsoka laugh for the first time and they get to have a snuggle and he absolutely spends the entire next day training the rebels trying not to cry thinking about it every dang time he sees her.)

hologram heart-to-hearts – we see Obi-Wan and Ahsoka have a conversation via hologram in the final season of tcw, but what if there had been...more?(three-parter) (basically Obi and Soka keep in touch after she leaves the Order and there’s...a lot of emotions involved)

little love – a sort of follow-up to hologram heart-to hearts; Ahsoka sticks her nose into the wrong Alliance meeting and discovers a certain Jedi is alive and on Tatooine of all places, so she places a long-distance call.

bad days – Ahsoka tries to squeeze out of her Grand Master exactly what happened on Mortis. and, as always, Obi-Wan is powerless to deny her anything, no matter how painful that truth may be.

sleeping with monsters – Ahsoka is having a hard time sleeping after her time on Felucia, so Obi-Wan offers a solution.

chance meeting – Obi-Wan is up late researching for his Master in the archives when a certain sneeze–and pair of big blue eyes–catch his attention.

‘drooping eyelids’ prompt fill – Ahsoka and Obi-Wan have a conversation about attachment while Anakin’s missing. they (plus Anakin) get some platonic cuddles.

‘dancing’ prompt fill – they attend a senatorial gala without Anakin because he’s feeling grumpy grump after deception arc fall-out. Obi realises that there are still things to be thankful for. 

sorrow – Ahsoka feels the full weight of loss as she clutches her Grand Master’s dead body. (deception arc FEELS!!!!)

‘I do not pretend to set people right, but I do see they are often wrong’ prompt fill – *trigger warning: death of children; Obi comforts Ahsoka after they witness an atrocity of the highest order.

the silence between — Ahsoka gets assigned to the 212th as her Master recovers. Unwanted quality time with her Grand Master doesn’t go as planned.

untitled ‘Obi & Ani role reversal au’ ficlet — Padawan Obi-Wan pays a visit to his best pal Ahsoka in the crèche.

‘falling asleep on each other’s shoulder’ prompt fill – the summary says it all. fluff!

'I don’t wanna die’ – Obi-Wan comforts Ahsoka in her pain. *tw: implied major character death

‘I made tea’ – Anakin is off-world so it’s up to Obi-Wan to take care of his sick grand-padawan.

sorry for the soup – post-deception arc. Ahsoka stops by Obi-Wan’s quarters to check-in.

Obi-Wan & Anakin: The Early Years (tagged: #obi & ani)

figuring it out – Anakin learns waking Obi-Wan up can sometimes be a good thing and Obi-Wan learns that maybe everything's going to be okay. (padawan!ani & new dad knight!kenobi)

if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more – Anakin overhears a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear and lashes out in response. lots of hurt is uncovered and Obi-Wan hears some hard truths from his Padawan. angst, angst, angst...but with a hug.

reading lessons – the team takes a trip to the archives to find some reading material. Anakin is adorably insecure.

cold – Obi-Wan and Anakin have their first solo mission, but in typical Kenobi & Skywalker fashion, it does not go as planned. Exasperated Obi-Wan and Won't-Shut-Up Anakin are put to the test by deep space and a completely out-of-fuel ship. (or some more fluff where padawan!ani and new knight!kenobi get to try and figure out how the heck this master-padawan thing WORKS. hint: it's not easy!)

playing hooky – angel baby Anakin breaks Obi-Wan's heart and it's not for the last time...womp wooooomp.

like you – sweet, angel baby Ani gives himself a haircut and Obi-Wan deals with the aftermath. (I’m copying and pasting most of these summaries directly from ao3 and cracking up because I called Anakin a sweet angel baby in two in a ROW hahah)

fun? – the Jedi Council gives Obi-Wan his newest orders as a young Jedi Knight and he struggles to understand them. he was instructed to take his new Padawan and...have...fun?

go away/please stay – Obi-Wan has been disappearing for solo missions more and more often and Anakin's starting to wonder if it's more than just on request of the Council. (or: can you say TEEN ANGST!)

‘forehead kisses’ prompt fill – Anakin stumbles upon his Master having quite the nightmare, so he handles it the way his mom always handled his own nightmares. with patience and affection.

unnamed NAP TIME fic – Obi-Wan gets home from a solo mission early to find his bed occupied.

‘sweets’ prompt fill – Anakin gets a little ambitious with his choco-ball indulgence.

‘fuzzy socks’ prompt fill – years after arriving at the Temple, Anakin still hasn’t quite adjusted to the cold. Obi-Wan gets him a gift to help. (really just an excuse for some obi ani banter)

‘snowball fight’ prompt fill – Anakin takes his boredom to the next level, much to his Master’s chagrin.

untitled Anakin sickfic bc I’m not feeling very creative right now – the team goes on a mission but Anakin gets sick. Obi-Wan is ultimate mother hen and Anakin makes an observation.

got germs – sickficlet where both of our best boys are sick.

you’re okay – just some classic protective parent!Obi-Wan and teenaged son!Anakin post disaster.

‘you lied to me’ – angstpril day 13. Anakin really wants to go to Ilum and make his lightsaber...but is met with disappointment.

random sickfic – because we all know Anakin is the most annoying sick person in the world.

don’t struggle – the ship is crashing, as usual. but this time, Anakin’s seatbelt is stuck. *tw: implied major character deaths

relic – sith!Obi au. *tw: major character death

aspectabund – Anakin’s eyes betray him and his Master.

Obi-Wan & Anakin: Brotp But Also Idiots Who Don’t Know How To Communicate (still tagged #obi & ani)

define ‘attachment’ – while the dads esteemed Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker wait for Ahsoka to wake up, they talk about attachment, worry, and that time Ani caused an accidental security breech at the Temple.

favourites – Obi-Wan has been tasked with telling Anakin of his special assignment to keep an eye on the Chancellor, but he gets sappy and sentimental in the process because these conversations are hard.

after all these years – Obi-Wan tries to talk to Anakin, but it doesn't go well. does this sound familiar OR WHAT? (post-decpetion arc angst)

brilliant – Anakin is having a difficult time adjusting to his new mechno-arm for one very specific reason. (the boys communicate properly in this one and even get a hug as a treat!)

sober words said aloud – Anakin's meeting with the Council is interrupted by his highly intoxicated–and wildly affectionate–Master. (crack fic turned fluff)

‘you’ve been crying, I can tell’ prompt fill – Anakin makes the mistake of checking in on his Master after a particularly grueling mission. it doesn’t go well. (or: Obi-Wan loses his sh!t)

going somewhere? – Obi-Wan catches Anakin on his way out for a midnight rendezvous with a certain Senator. Anakin makes a quick decision and chooses Obi-Wan. sweet words are exchanged on a sentimental walk.

shaking hands – in the immediate wake of Ahsoka’s departure form the order, Anakin...isn’t okay. Obi-Wan tries to do something about it. (post S5 angst)

untitled platonic tired cuddles/back scratching fic – Anakin resorts to an old tactic to make his Master rest.

sun shine on – Obi-Wan and Anakin take a little trip to Tatooine to visit Shmi’s grave. (post-ROTS fix-it au of sorts)

pushing it too far — Obi-Wan calls Anakin for some help when he takes ‘intel’ too seriously and ends up drunk on a street in lower-level Coruscant.

whump prompt fill – Obi-Wan looks after Anakin after a near-miss. They talk.

‘was it another premonition?’ – Obi-Wan dreams of Luke. He wakes up to Anakin.

post-mortis angst – Anakin remembers. *tw: implied suicidal thoughts

angstpril: ‘you have to let me go’ – Anakin and Obi-Wan are stuck in a pit. only one of them can make it out alive. *tw: implied major character death

role model – post-deception angst. Obi and Ani talk. it doesn’t go well.

here either way – conversations about mental health. *tw: panic attack

hiraeth – Obi-Wan walks alone. *post ROTS

Anakin & Ahsoka: Dream Team Sharing One Single Brain Cell (tagged: #snips & skyguy or (for the really angsty) #its crying about snips & skyguy hours)

that one person – (my first fic!) Anakin gets assigned to lecture a class of younglings, but he's not the only one who doesn't want to be there.or Ahsoka Tano is done with Jedi sh!t and tries to leave, but this time it's just a classroom and not the entire Order and there's a lot less tears and pain.

define ‘attachment’ – while the dads esteemed Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker wait for Ahsoka to wake up, they talk about attachment, worry, and that time Ani caused an accidental security breech at the Temple.

here and now – the Force has tried to swallow Ahsoka Tano three times. it's hard to be the last one standing. (or Ahsoka feels the death of three important men in her life and is tired of being left behind) *tw: major character deaths (canon compliant and not depicted, only mentioned)

whumptober: crying – Anakin comforts a distraught Ahsoka after her disaster mission over Ryloth.

reaching out – Anakin is always there...until he’s not. Ahsoka reflects on how different it is fighting and living without Anakin at her side. (angst)

help would come  – Anakin and Ahsoka get stuck on an ice planet and things get dire. I chalked this full of parallels to the final conversation between Ani and Luke bc I love pain, I guess?

whump: ‘i’ve got you’ –  Anakin pulls Ahsoka from a nightmare.

zen!Anakin ficlet — Ahsoka visits Anakin in his new job as Galaxy’s #1 Dad (well Plo Koon still exists so maybe #1.5?).

right as rain – Ahsoka insists she is fine when she is distinctly not.

snoozeville – Anakin and a few boys of the 501st find their Commander catching some extra z’s.

stitching up – Ahsoka performs some in-the-moment surgery for Anakin and he tries not to scream. *tw: field surgery

‘platonic spooning’ prompt fill – do I need a summary after that?

sad hours: dancing – Anakin and Ahsoka dance in the aftermath of tragedy.

rainy ending given to a perfect day – Anakin and Ahsoka take a trip into downtown Coruscant. 

Anakin and Padmé: Abi Tries and fails To Write Romance (tagged: #anidala)

not enough – Anakin has a hard time with the Mortis fall-out. Padmé doesn’t know how to help someone who doesn’t want it. some painful connections between Ahsoka and Shmi are made. (angst, no happy ending, trouble in paradise)

I will not have this baby in a jail cell – some fluff, some crack, some Anakin-being-so-proud-of-his-badass-wife.

marcid – domestic fluff in which Padmé almost shoots him. ha. oops!

rubatosis – angsty anidala hours. Anakin can’t go to sleep. 

Obi-Wan and Satine: Abi Tries and fails some more To Write Romance (tagged #obitine)

don’t go – Obi-Wan makes a choice. *year on the run timeline

that’s mine – some happiness AU obitine. waking up next to each other. laughing. all the sappy stuff.

accidental keldabe kiss – all the ridiculous tropes I love with our favourite pining idiots. it’s the ‘kiss me so they don’t see us!’ trope!!!! *year on the run timeline

you’re shaking – Satine knows Obi-Wan more than he’d like. *year on the run

Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex, Padmé: Space Found Family In Whatever Form It Comes

here and now – the Force has tried to swallow Ahsoka Tano three times. it's hard to be the last one standing. (or Ahsoka feels the death of three important men in her life and is tired of being left behind) *tw: major character deaths (canon compliant and not depicted, only mentioned)

i want your midnights – the gang attends a New Year's banquet (read: party) and Padmé surprises them all with her midnight kiss.

evermore – "dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found" within the lives of our favourite space fam. (or: TAYLOR SWIFT LITERALLY OWNS MY SOUL, OKAY?) (unrelated one-shots based on taylor swift songs ha)

flair for dramatics – when the gang gets their ship stranded on a desert planet, Anakin and Ahsoka get creative as they try to keep spirits up and minds off the sweltering heat. Obi-Wan questions his sanity. (crack fic turned fluff)

nothing a cup of tea can’t fix – when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former Padawan and Grand Padawan are. (or: Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit.) (sickfic)

in the sandstorm – when Tatooine's weather takes a turn for the worst, Ben Kenobi finds a young boy in need of shelter and some lessons on how wonderful his dad had been. (luke and obi-wan hurt/comfort)

remembering hurts – Rex and Ahsoka strive to survive on the snowy moon in the days after Order 66. tensions are high and emotions are volatile.

balter – disaster trio dances at a senatorial ball.

reunion – au where Anakin doesn’t completely turn to the dark side but everything up to and including Mustafar (except for the last like...five minutes) happens. Padmé has the twins, Obi-Wan is overwhelmed, Anakin is a mess. they’re happy...or at least, they will be soon.

‘cookies’ prompt fill – disaster trio makes cookies for the crechelings for Life Day. (just fluff and banter)

first ever codywan! – Cody does some bedside vigil for a hurt Obi-Wan. :’)

transponster – disaster trio is tired and delusional. Rex and Cody want Jedi to have some kriffing self-preservation.

one final salute — Obi-Wan and Cody get trapped. Obi-Wan’s luck is running out. (angst? angst.)

codywan whump – Cody saves Obi-Wan’s life. again. (more fluff than whump)

girls’ night – Ahsoka hangs out with her mom pal Padmé.

driving lessons – Obi-Wan and Anakin teach Ahsoka to drive. ha.

affectionate obi – the kids get Obi-Wan a puppy. fluff!

sorry I don’t speak idiot – Rex and Fives deal with a drunk Echo :’)

post deception disaster trio sadness – Ahsoka tries to keep Obi-Wan company in the aftermath of Rako Hardeen...but Anakin isn’t playing nice.

verklempt – Ahsoka and Yoda talk about being chosen. and Ahsoka finds out maybe she hasn’t been left behind afterall. *pre-TCW

apricity – disaster trio have a picnic at the temple! just pure fluff.

pyrrhic – codywan but make it angsty. some battles are won at too great a cost.

disaster trio sickfic – two Jedi dads and their (sick) daughter :’)

‘you’ve been here this whole time?’ – newlyweds anidala (but shh, Obi-Wan doesn’t know that! yes he does, everyone does.) are there when Obi-Wan wakes up and he ownders just what he did to get so lucky.

Febuwhump 2021: A Foray into Hurting the Characters I Love the Most 

mind control – Anakin’s narrative as he fights Ahsoka on Mortis. sad boy hours. a lot of insecurity happening here.

‘I can’t take this anymore’ – during the Obitine (plus third-wheel Qui-Gon) year on the run, Satine gets tired of Obi-Wan trying to die for her. a bit hurt/comfort, a lot sappy.

imprisonment – on their first mission together, Obi & Ani get captured. Anakin learns how Obi-Wan feels about tight spaces.

coma – post deception arc. Obi-Wan goes into a coma after a particularly intense conversation with Anakin. Anakin tells Obi’s unconscious body how he’s feeling. angst, angst, angst. there’s your warning.

‘take me instead’ – Anakin escorts Padmé on a diplomatic mission but things get dicey and quick decisions must be made. Anakin isn’t the only one in this relationship willing to be an idiot for the sake of *love.* (or: another attempt to write Anidala in a convincing way because they give me a tough! time! so this time make it...dangerous)

insomnia – Anakin overhears a late night holo-call and learns that his Master has a...friend that is a girl???? and is pretty???? but also that his Master may need some fixing and he thinks he may just be the nine-year-old for the job.

poisoning – Ahsoka gets drugged and Anakin gets...er...angry. (read: dark)

‘hey, hey, this is no time to sleep’ – as Ahsoka and Anakin wait for help, Anakin tells a story. an ancient monster in the heart of Tatooine...waiting for it's day of reckoning. (or: Ahsoka gets dehydrated and Anakin can't deny his hurting sister/padawan anything so he talks a little bit about home.)

buried alive – Anakin reflects on some things as his Padawan tries to rescue him from the rubble. angst!!!!!!!!!

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know’ – the Council loses a planet and Obi & Ani get tasked with finding it, but after nine hyperspace jumps and a painful discovery, Obi-Wan teaches his former Padawan one more lesson. (or: the boys talk about failure and feelings when Obi-Wan finds out Anakin's mechno-arm has been causing pain for a couple years)

hallucinations – Ahsoka tries to fix things. it doesn’t work. (post-order 66) angst 

‘who are you?’ – Anakin and Ahsoka rescue Obi-Wan, but things aren’t okay and Obi-Wan doesn’t recognise Anakin. (or: Obi is tortured for information about the fall of the Republic before it happens and goes a bit mad bc of it)

‘I didn’t mean it’ – Obi-Wan learns how cold and unfeeling his young Padawan thinks he is and has a rough day. angst

burned – Anakin mourns the loss of his Padawan in a tactile way. Obi-Wan watches. (or: Anakin throws Ahsoka’s Padawan beads into a fire)

‘I wish I have never given you a chance’ – Obi-Wan is reminded of his own incompetence through a vision form his old master.

you have to let me go – Ahsoka has one heirloom: a hologram of her old master as a padawan. but it’s time to let the past go and step into the future, with help from an old friend.

[tansypoisoning]

Tansy’s Spooky Challenge

Because the World is terrifying :D

To celebrate this milestone (1k followers :O) I’m starting a challenge which hopefully will give back to this community in terms of exposure of less known authors (or just authors that aren’t known by my followers) and in creating more stories. I’m so thankful for all the attention I’ve been given, and I hope to give you guys my attention as well.

I love writing challenges because they give authors motivation to write (sometimes even things out of their comfort zone), because they’re a great way for writer’s to promote themselves, and because it’s a great way for the person hosting it to find more stories and authors they could end up being big fans of :D I especially encourage people with less followers, or whose works I haven’t read to participate.

The main objective of this challenge is to write something that has an element of horror in it. It can range from a situation that seemed scary but is okay, to something that is a little eerie, to pure unadulterated terror. As for rules:

You DON’T have to be following me to participate.

You have to enter with a reader insert/OC fic. There doesn’t have to be any smut or shipping, and if there is, the relationship DOESN’T HAVE to be about dark!character or dark!reader.

I’ll read works for any fandom, but the ones I’m most familiar with are Marvel, Overwatch, Snowpiercer, Knives Out, Naruto, Avatar:The Legend of Aang

You can submit drabbles, one-shots, or an entry of a serialized story.

A single prompt CAN be used by more than a single person.

The fanfics can be of any length, but if they’re on the longer side, please try putting a ‘Read More’ in there somewhere to avoid making things difficult for people reading on phones.

Things that are not allowed in terms of content: underage sex, bestiality, graphic child abuse (allusions are ok) I don’t think anyone would submit an entry that I would have reservations reblogging, but if in doubt you can ask me for help. Give warnings for any sensitive topic you bring up.

Tag your fic with “TansySpookyChallenge2020”

Send me an ask or dm telling me you posted it, preferably a dm. Asks can get eaten by the inbox, and tagging doesn’t always work.

Deadline is November 24th. You can DM for extensions

PROMPTS BELOW

Choose one item from each list and work them into a story. I allow and encourage trying to game the system with multiple interpretations of a term, less literal readings, or wordplay.

List 1

Happiness

Jealousy

Nostalgia

Desperation

Fury

Triumph

Sadness

Acceptance

Fervor

Disgust

Awe

Confusion

Hope

Craving

Foreboding

Denial

Loss

Ennui

Adoration

Sympathy

Pain

Betrayal

Commiseration

Anxiety

Rancor

Determination

List 2

Sink or swim

Chokecherry

Crossroads

“Let me see what you have.” “A knife!”

French vanilla

Something forgotten long ago

The shore

The eye of the storm

Bathtub

Corn hell

Down by the river

Baby’s breath

A little fire

An old saloon

Unearthed bones

On the move

Before dawn

Dead men walking

By candlelight

Frankenstein

Prima Donna

A hill about a mile outta town

First dance

Ritual

Underground

A small request

These text prompts can be used however you want: whether you want to have them in your story in their entirety, use bits, write something around them, something inspired by them, or just something you think has a similar feel. Just let me know which you picked.

There is a Corvette parked in front of the building, just by the front door. You approach the vehicle as if compelled by an invisible force and look in through the closed window. There’s none inside, but you see, in the driver's seat, illuminated by the neon lights of the bar, a white cowboy hat with a golden band. This isn’t the first time you see this hat.

The hole is no more than eight feet long and three feet wide. You peer in deeper, but you can’t see the bottom. There’s a soft but grating sound coming from somewhere within, like sharp nails raking against a metal plate. You can’t see the bottom, but you think you can see movement inside.

You abandon the warmth of the laundromat for the biting cold of the outside world. To your right, the road extends for miles and miles into the night, as it does to your left. There’s no place for you to go, but you can’t go back inside.

The light of the neon sign proudly displaying “Rising Sun Motel” shines through your door. You had closed and locked it before taking your shower – you know you had, because you do it in every room you rent. You take a cursory glance of your surroundings. Nothing is out of place or missing. Must be a faulty lock. The night is windy and could have pushed the cheap door open. You go to lock it again, and when you turn around you see that the closet door is slightly ajar.

The land is flat as far as the eye can see and identical houses with identically manicured lawns sprout from it as far as the eye can see. You run up and then down the street (or is it down and then up?) but you can’t seem to find anything else. The people look so friendly when they smile and wave as they pass you by, but you don’t ask them for directions. You look at your phone. You have signal, but all you can get your internet to show you are advertising for washing machines and sites with recipes for awful things preserved in aspic. The date and hour on your home screen keep changing. You’re positive you’ve been in this place for hours, but the sun won’t set.

“B-but… I don’t understand...” “We have checked the security footage three times and found nothing. There are also no signs of forced entries. No fingerprints.” “-My phone! I took pictures, I know I took-!” “We found nothing on your phone, in the SD card, or in the Cloud. There’s nothing.” “That’s impossible!” “We searched as much as we could. I’m sorry, but… are you sure-” “I know what I saw! I know it! Look again!” You aren’t imagining things. It couldn't have been your mind. It couldn't, it couldn’t, it couldn't

What kind of convenience store has taxidermy heads for decoration? You ask yourself as you roam the aisles of the near empty shop. You peek from behind a row of shelves to one side and spot the clerk. He’s old and severe looking, and although his pupils are pointed in your direction, you get the distinct feeling he’s looking right through you. You move your head to the other side of the shelves and spot another one of those fucking deer heads. This one’s large, wet eyes are turned to a fixture in the ceiling, but you would swear it’s watching you.

Rain pelts you as you stand at the dock, waiting. You hope your boat will arrive soon. You look over your shoulder into the mist and see nothing that should give you pause, but your leg still won’t stop shaking. You touch your arm by reflex and wince when you brush your cut. You think your makeshift tourniquet is working, but it looks fragile, like it could get dismantled at any second. In this weather, you’re sure is just a matter of time. You look over your shoulder again. Still nothing, but you fear it won’t last. You hope your boat will arrive soon.

The living room is dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. You are still too close. You move to the kitchen, and there you feel safe enough to reach for the switch. The illuminated room, much larger than it needed to be, is a ghastly land of contrasts. The many counters and their many marble tops are covered in trash. The tile floors, formerly clean enough to eat out of, are now muddied, not a single spot spared. The eyes of the two stoves are covered by pans and pots boiling foul mixtures. Through the window you can see the sprawling lawn and walls of hedges. They will hide you, but for how long? There is something waiting for you in the hallway, something terrible. You have to address it before sunrise, but for now you’ll wait here. The kitchen isn’t half as bad as the rest of the house.

‘The Bystander Effect’ is the term used to describe the phenomenon in which people don’t intervene in emergency situations when in a group, and, the larger the group, the less likely they are to intervene. You know this to be true, even without doing any research, as you hobble your way through the maze of alleyways. Your cries for help had gone unanswered, bouncing off the concrete walls into a multitude of uncaring ears. It’s just how it is in the big city – every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. So much for safety in numbers. The truth is, in this city, surrounded by all these people, you’re more alone than you’d ever been.

You take the first step with care, mindful of all the ice. The second is a little clumsier. On the third you almost slip. You skip the fourth and fall on the fifth, rolling down the stairs and landing face first in the snow. You scramble to get back to your feet and run to your car. You have to get home. You lock yourself in and don’t bother with the safety belt. You shove the key in the ignition and turn and turn but nothing happens. Did you leave it in the cold too long, or- There’s no time to think about it. You step out of the car and start running, into the freezing night. You have to get home, you have to get home now.

Cleanup time is always a hassle. You wish you didn’t have to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the mess all to your partner. You two near the open trunk of the car and load the heavy cargo into it. Your companion seems the most affected by the weight, and you offer an apologetic smile. Fair is fair though; it was your turn to carry the feet end.

Skinny dipping had seemed like a good idea when your friend suggested it earlier, under the sweltering sun. Now, standing in front of the pool in your bathing suit, all by your lonesome, you start to regret having agreed to her scheme. Wasn’t she supposed to have arrived forty minutes ago? She said she’d bring people too, because skinny dipping alone isn’t fun. Well, now you are all alone in the cold, and you suspect that is even less fun. Just as you make up your mind to leave, you see a car through the chain link fence. It pulls up just before the gate and the engine turns off. That must be them.

[stressedkitkatttt]

My Little Quarantine

So quaratine got us all fucked up. I'm losing my mind a little so in honor of this, here's a story involving our favorite Ecuadorian and his dick.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk

DISCLAIMER: Do NOT  think it is okay to take my stories and post them somewhere else without my EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Do NOT  think it is okay to take anyone else's stories and post them somewhere else without their EXPLICIT PERMISSION. Giving credit does NOT count as permission. You may reblog my stories, you may NOT repost my stories without MY PERMISSION.

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Christopher have been in lockdown for two months. You both were experiencing some cabin fever, and Chris was beginning to get on your nerves. You love him and all, but seeing him every day with no breaks, save for going shopping and when he was on video calls with the guys, it was obvious you were beginning to reach your limit. Even with your little breaks, when you came back from the store or he finishes the video call, he's right beside you again, cuddling with you, teasing you, pulling small pranks for Tik Tok... You name it, he's probably done it to you. And since he couldn't go see his friends and cause mischief in person, he turned to you.

Finally, you manage to settle him down from his antics by offering to play Mario Kart. He agrees and you both sit on the edge of the bed, getting comfortable. You choose your characters and choose random on the race selection menu. You had fully expected him to kick your butt but when you began to win just about every race, you got a little cocky. As your character crosses the finish line for the sixth time in a row, you throw your hands up in triumph, looking at Chris with the biggest grin.

Chris sighs and rests his face in his hand. You nudge him with your shoulder, "Doesn't feel too good when you're constantly losing, does it?" He fixes a hard stare on you, but it has a lightness to it, so you know he's not actually upset that's he's been losing for the past 10 minutes. When his face lights up suddenly, that signature Christopher Vélez smirk on his plump lips has you raising a brow.

"How about we up the stakes a little bit?" He says. "If I win, I get to fuck you every which way I want and you don't have any control. If you win, you can have the control and fuck me however it pleases you. All within reason, of course."

"What's the catch?" you ask after thinking over the idea he was proposing.

"There is none. All you have to do is beat me. Best of three races. The only rule is that we randomly select the races so we can't rig our chances of winning."

You mull over the idea. On one hand, you know that you're pushing your luck. If you continue to race against him, your luck will run out eventually and he'll beat you sooner or later. If that happens, he'll win the upper hand and you'll have to give up control for the night. But on the other, there's the sweet idea of being able to tie Chris up, tease him mercilessly like he's done to you many times in the past. You look at him. "So if I win... You'll let me take full control?" Your breath hitches a little when he nods his head.

Would it be worth the risk? You feel so conflicted before you decide to take your chances. It's not often you get to have total control in the bedroom. After all, Chris is a dominant man when it comes to the bedroom. You give Chris a smile and accept his offer. He smiles back and he gets up and uses the restroom. You move from the bed and stretch your legs, feeling a little giddy at the prospect of having Chris at your mercy, begging for you to let him cum. You're quickly brought back to reality as he exits the bathroom, returning to his spot on the edge of the bed. You join him and prepare yourself.

Chris selects the random button on the race menu and it chooses an easy course; Toad's Turnpike. You breathe a small sigh of relief. A pro to this is that it's an easy track. The con is that because it is easy, Chris has a higher chance of beating you. He does play this game more than you and knows some of the courses like the back of his hand. You were decent at the game, but some of the tracks give you a hard time while Chris seems to fly through them with ease. You take a deep breath and take a glance at Chris. He has his game face on, eyes glued to the screen with every intent on winning.

Lakitu comes down and counts down from three. When the lights turn green, you and Chris both gain speed through the starting boost. Because he started in seventh place, and you in eighth(total bullshit in your opinion), he easily slid past the NPCs and into first. You were close behind him for the first two laps until you got close enough to him on the final lap, close to the finish line, where you knocked him into a car. Chris practically growls as you pass him and cross the finish line. He turns his head and glares at you. You return his sharp look with a shrug, "You said the only rule was that we needed to use the random select when choosing the tracks."

"Still a dick move..." He grumbles under his breath, turning his attention back to the menu. He selects the random button again, this time it lands on Yoshi's Circuit. Oh great. You didn't particularly like this track due to its tight turns, and you've seen the way Chris handles those turns. This isn't one of his favorite tracks but he's kind of good at it. And just as you suspected, he beat you. You cursed those the pin-hair turns like a sailor and rolled your eyes when Chris rubbed the victory in your face. Whatever. You beat him seven times before this. You'll let him have his fun and get it out of his system.

But suddenly you feel a little nervous. This meant you each had won one race and now this final track would be the tie-breaker. You silently pray that the game is on your side and picks an easy track for you. But, as fate would have it, it chooses one of your worst nightmares. Rainbow Road. You groan mentally. Great. You were decent at the game, but even the pros can have a hard time on this track. It requires one's full attention and no distractions. You were gonna be royally screwed. And possibly in the literal sense. You clear your head and zone in on the screen. You weren't going to let him win. Not this time.

Chris starts in first and you in second. You both hit the starting boost and take the first few corners just fine. With the first lap gone, and Chris still in a steady lead, you grab an item box and to your luck, it's a red shell. You're far enough behind him that you won't catch up to him but you can still see him in your sight. You make sure to time your red shell launch just right, hitting Chris as he's taking the second turn, ruining his drift and sending him over the edge, leaving you to take first place. You hear his angry huff beside you but you don't spare him a glance, too fixated on winning.

You manage to keep first place, despite the seemingly infinite amount of red shells Chris seems to throw at you, and soon you're both on the last lap. You've got an impressive lead on Chris, who was steadily closing the gap. You're so engrossed in the lap that you don't notice Chris shifting closer to you. You jump suddenly at the sound of his voice right by your ear. "I bet you're already wet for me, aren't you nena? Or maybe you're wet because you can't wait to have me begging for you to let me cum." You bite your lip and try to ignore him, but his words sink in and you can feel yourself react to his words alone. He doesn't even have to touch you to get you going.

But you were caught off-guard and your hand moved slightly in your haste to move away from his voice against your ear. This caused your thumb, which was on the thumbstick, to move slightly and cause your Kart to spin out and into space. Since Chris was already gaining on you, this gave him the perfect opportunity to throw a final red shell as you were brought back up from your fall. The red shell hit you as Chris zoomed past, along with two NPCs, leaving you to finish in fourth place. Chris crosses the finish line with the smuggest smirk on his face.

You sit there, jaw slightly agape as the reality set in on what was going to go down. You whip your head and glare at him. His response was to look at you and raise his arms, stretching and leaning back a little. Like what he did wasn't a big deal. To say you were mad was an understatement. You were fuming. "Christopher! You asshole!" you practically scream. He justs grins and looks at you, thinking about how cute you were when you mad.

"How so, amor?" He practically purred as he suddenly pushed you down into the mattress, placing both arms on either side of your head and straddling your hips. Your glare intensifies.

"Don't play dumb! You know exactly what you did!" You growl out and he leans down, his light stubble tickling your neck.

"The only rule we had was that we use the random select. Nothing was agreed upon how we could win. And you pulled the same move on me in the first race, so now we're even." If looks could kill, Christopher would be dead where he stands. But, he did have a point; you both agreed that using random select was the only rule. And you know that. It's just your competitive side gets the better of you sometimes and with the offer, he had made with you, how could you not be mad? No wonder he had looked so enlightened when he brought up the idea. He had this planned from the start, the cheeky motherfucker.

You just groan in annoyance and throw your head back. A shiver runs down your spine as he begins to place kisses along your neck, hips slowly grinding into yours. He finds your sweet spot on your neck and sucks harshly, leaving a dark mark. He makes his way to your ear and his voice tickles your ear once more, "I'm hungry, cariño." He leans in and tugs on your lobe with his teeth. You moan and bring a hand up to his soft hair, gently tugging.

"Oh yeah? What're you gonna do then?" You reply, bucking your hips. His response is a low groan as he slowly makes his way down your body and stopping at the top of your shorts. Your breathing gets heavier as you feel your shirt slide up a little and his long fingers hooking into the hem of your shorts and pulling them down.

His hot breath fans over your clothed heat where he notices a wet spot forming. He looks up at you between your thighs, smirking. "How wet are you right now, cariño?" He asks, running a finger lightly over your panties. You already know he knows how wet you are. He just wants you to stroke his ego. You decide to keep your mouth shut for the time being. You were still a little upset at how he won the bet, even if it was technically within his right. When you remain silent, he raises a brow.

"Nena," he hardens his tone, "I asked you a question." You only huff and turn your head to the side, not looking at him. You don't notice his hard glare as he suddenly lands a slap on your ass. You yelp at the sudden sting and look down at him. "Good, now that I have your attention, I'm going to lay down some rules. You are not allowed to touch me. You are not allowed to cum without my permission. And when I ask you something, I expect an answer. Got it?"

You remain silent. He narrows his eyes as he lands another slap, this time you felt the sting for a few seconds more than the last one. "What are my rules?"

You reply with a sarcastic tone, "I can't touch you, I can't cum without permission, and to answer you when you ask me something. There, happy? Now hurry up." He raises a brow at your behavior. He wasn't expecting you to be such a brat. Guess he'll just have to teach you some manners. He is quick to rip your panties, to which you make a small noise of protest because those were one of your favorites. He ignores you and begins to assault your aching core with his tongue. He is also quick to use his fingers, making sure to brush your sweet spot.

He's done this so many times with you, he knows all the spots to hit. It isn't long before your on the edge. You suddenly grab his hair. You're so close to your orgasm, all you need is for him to -

"Did you think I'd let you cum so easily?" He pulls away from your core. He had a mocking tone to his voice. You look down at him, panting and eyes narrowed.

"What the fuck, Chris!?" You hiss.

"You've already broken two of my rules, nena. You'll be lucky if you cum at all tonight." You huff and throw your head back. "If you break one more rule, I'll take of myself tonight and I will leave you here throbbing and begging. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes sir..."

"Good girl." He lowers his face back to your core and begins to tease you. When he finally pulls away, you were dripping and your face was flushed. He had brought you to the edge at least twice before pulling away and letting you calm down. It only made the throbbing in your core worst. If he kept up this pace, you would cum with or without his permission. "Do you want to cum, nena?" He rubs his hands on your thighs. You nod and look at him with wide eyes.

"Please, papi, I need to cum so bad..."

"I know you do. But do you deserve to?"

You whine and reply, "No."

You weren't expecting him to suddenly thrust his fingers into your soaked core again and start a fast pace, his fingers rubbing against your sweet spot. You moan and warn him that you were gonna cum. "Dale." He grunts. That's all it takes before your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. He doesn't stop the movement of his fingers as he works you through your orgasm. He buries his fingers inside you, moving his middle finger and rubbing your sweet spot, building a second orgasm that takes the rest of your energy.

You sink into the mattress as he removes his fingers and sucks them clean. You think you have a small break to collect yourself but when you feel Chris moving up and aligning his hard cock with your entrance, you whimper. "Chris..." He knows what you're about to do and he quickly silences you with a fiery kiss as he slides in. He knows you well enough that you didn't need a break.

Not giving you time to adjust, he begins thrusting, hitting spots that were deep inside you. You forget his rule about no touching and your hands find his forearms. He stops suddenly and pins your hands above your head. "What did I say about touching me?"

"I-I'm sorry papi, I forgo-" He stops you.

"You're very lucky that I'm already buried inside you. Otherwise, I would go take of myself." He growls against your ear, picking up his pace again. From your previous two orgasms, your third one came over you so fast, you barely had any time to react. Chris grunts above you at the sudden tightness but keeps up his pace. When he suddenly pulls out, you think that's it but when he tells you to turn over onto your stomach, you open your mouth to protest. He raises a brow and you shut your mouth, turning onto your hands and knees.

He wastes no time and pushes into you again, hitting deeper at this angle. His hands are on your hips and he drags you back with every thrust. But Chris isn't satisfied with this position. He pulls out and instead lies down next to you, pulling you on top of him. He swipes his tip against your sensitive core and you shudder. He slowly sinks you down on him, taking deep breaths as he bottoms out.

You're tired but Chris barks at you to move your hips and ride him. You brace yourself against him and gather what's left of your energy and begin to move your hips. It's a slow pace but Chris doesn't seem to be in a rush anymore. He grabs your breasts and pulls on your nipples, making sure to give both equal amounts of attention. You were already close, and so was Chris. You collapse forward as Chris begins to buck his hips, meeting you with every move of your hips.

"Cum for papi. One more time, nena. I know you can cum one more time." He whispers and you feel his hand drift down and rub your clit. Your fourth orgasm washes over you and you moan weakly into Chris' as he buries himself inside you. You both collapse and you roll off of his chest. "Fuck nena," he breaths out. He turns to face you. "Are you okay?" He gently rubs your shoulder. You nod and close your eyes, tired as hell. He pulls you close to his chest and follows you into dreamland.

~~~~~~~

Taglist: @cracraforfandoms @kmsmedine @papichriscnco

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: Left Behind Chapter 15 - Exorcism 

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Angst, Death.

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Kate and Morgan try to exorcise the demon Saleos out of John’s body, while trying to fight off Merihem in the process. 

Guest OCs: Joel Winchester [in The Other Side]

Guest characters: Read and you’ll see!!!! [Supernatural] 

Note+UPDATE: Chapter 1 of The Mother will be posted later today!. There will be 19 chapters for this (Left Behind) series. 

************************************************

“You motherfucker!!!’ Kate yells, slamming the thermal of holy water on a table.

Saleos laughs at her, “Little Johnny got his heartbroken by his girlfr-. Sorry ex-girlfriend”.

“I will torture the fuck out of you, and then I will send your ass back to Hell where you belong” Kate threatens him.

He chuckles, “Good, John will feel it as well. Since you know he loves pain”.

“Shut up!” Morgan yells, and throws holy water in his face.

“Fuck you, stupid human!!” he growls, eyes blackened.

“So what are we gonna do?!” Morgan asks Kate.

She shrugs, “We torture the fuck out of him until he leaves John’s body”.

“You know she doesn’t even like you” Saleos says to Morgan.

“What?!” she questions him.

“Kate doesn’t even like you. I don’t know why you two are even friends”.

Kate scoffs, “Morgan and I have been friends since we were 7 years old. Our mom’s were best friends. We went on hunts together, we travelled together”.

“I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to get us to turn on each other” Morgan says to him.

“Then Kate, why didn’t you call Morgan to help you? Instead of calling your cousin?!” he asks.

Morgan turns to Kate. She stammers over her words, “Because I was in a panic because you were trying to kill me!, I wasn’t in the right mindset. All alarms were going off in my head”.

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah sure. Keep telling yourself that sweetheart.”

Kate grabs a book of a bookshelf.

“What are you doing?!” Morgan asks.

“Looking for a spell” she answers.

“For?” she asks again.

“To get this asshole to shut his mouth because I’ll stab him in the fucking face if he keeps his shit up”.

Flipping through the pages of the spell book. After a few minutes she couldn’t find anything that’ll be useful.

She sighs, “I didn’t find anything”.

“Oh boo fucking hoo” Saleos teases her. Fake crying and everything.

Morgan punches him in the face with iron brass knuckles.

“Bitch!!” he growls angrily.

“Okay. Fuck it. We’re exorcising the fucker out of him. Sending his demon ass back to Hell” Kate says, dropping the book onto the table.

Morgan nods in approval, “Alright sounds good”.

“John if you can hear me, I know you’re in there somewhere. Just know this is what I do for a living, and hopefully you’ll understand everything” she says to him, trying to ignore the demon possessing him.

“Sorry sweetheart. He’s not listening to you” Saleos says to her, “He hates you now”.

She takes a deep breath, and starts to incite the same exorcism from a few hours earlier. Both of them saying it in unison.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis 

adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” 

The lights in the house start to flicker violently. 

“Does John know you’re Lilith’s true vessel?!?!” the demon asks in a deep growling voice.

“Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare.”

The windows, and doors in the house start to open, and close violently, slamming shut.

Haley starts to bark aggressively at everything. Keeping their concentration on the verses. 

“Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu”

Saleos starts to aggressively shake in the chair, trying to break the Devil’s trap on the ceiling. 

Realizing the ritual is halfways done, and no sign of the demon attempting to leave John’s body.

Kate goes to grab the holy water, and throws it in his face. 

“Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine. quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine.”

The black mist is slowly starting to come out of his mouth, Morgan is about to finish off the verse when the front door bursts open.

It’s Merihem, and he’s possessing Lonny, John’s subordinate. 

“I thought you warded off the house?!?” Kate asks yelling over the rumble of the house.

“I did!!!. I put up everything. All the warding sigils” she yells back.

Saleos bursts out laughing, “I broke your stupid little sigils, so Merihem can find you!!!”.

Kate throws holy water in his face, it burns him but does very little damage. 

Pissing off the demon. 

He hits her, throwing her back and hitting a wall. Glasses, and plates from the cupboard above dropping on her, landing on her head.

Haley attacks him, biting his arm, hanging from it. He hits her, forcing her off his arm, slightly injuring her. 

Morgan grabs an iron crowbar from the table, and swings at him. Missing him. She makes a few connections, and the damage is very minor to him.

With the wave of his hand, he throws her to a wall, her head bouncing off it, hitting the ground hard. Knocking her out cold. 

Merihem breaks the Devil’s trap on the ceiling. Freeing Saleos from his restraints. 

Kate recovers from her nasty hit, grabs her demon blade from her bag, and stabs Merihem in the back of his neck.

Reddish orange light glowing inside him. Lighting up his eyes, mouth and chest.

Killing him, and also Lonny in the process. 

Now faced with her “boyfriend”. 

“Johnny says he loves you. But I say you’re not gonna come out of this alive” Saleos says to her, smirking, “So he’s gonna have to witness me killing you, but don’t worry. He’ll have a front row seat to it”.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you” she mutters angrily. Blood dripping out of her mouth.

She swipes the demon blade at him, misses. She swipes again slicing his arm.

Without her knowledge, Saleos switches over to John, but he is under the demon’s control.

He grabs her by the throat, lifting her up against a wall. Making her drop her knife. 

Choking the life out of her. Strangling her. 

“John!!” she says, voice strained due to airway blockage.

“Kate!! Katie I’m sorry I can’t stop him” he says, his voice apologetic. 

She hits him a few times to free herself, but it was useless. 

Unable to speak, tears began to form in her eyes. She feels herself losing air, struggling to break herself free. That mild headache you get when you lack oxygen in your brain.

The corners of her eyes start to turn black. 

Her vision turning fuzzy. Voice gurgling, blood being spit out.  

“Katie, Katie. Stay with me. Please. Don’t go. I can’t stop him” John says, his voice trembling. Tears in his eyes, “Don’t leave me please”.

“You can… stop him” she mutters, blood coming out of her mouth, “Morgan. Castout… demon”. 

Tears streaming down her face, blood coming out of her mouth, and both nostrils. 

She continues fighting to free herself. Hitting him with the very little strength she has to free herself.

“I’m sorry” he says, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Kate's hits grow weaker. Her face goes blue, and her body goes stiff. 

Her breathing stops, her hands that were once holding John’s shoulders fall to her sides. 

“Kate?!” he asks, tears running down his cheeks, “Katie?!!!”.

Morgan regains consciousness, see’s John holding Kate by her throat up against the wall, and immediately recites the exorcism. 

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis 

adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” 

He lets go of Kate, dropping her to the floor, and turns to Morgan. His eyes blackened. Saleos back in control of the meat suit.

“Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare.”

The lights start to flicker, John’s body starts to violently shake, as she speaks the verses.

“Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu. Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt... Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”

Morgan finishes the exorcism, and the black smoke flies out of John’s mouth. 

Forcing the demon out, the smoke flies out of an open window, and forcefully goes back to Hell. 

John falls back onto the floor, and wakes a few moments later gasping for air.

Confused, and dazed to what just happened. Not being able to comprehend anything. Breathing and panting heavily. 

He looks over, and sees Kate laying on the floor not breathing. He snaps out of his delusional state, and rushes over to her. 

“No, no, no” he panics, his voice hoarse. 

He holds her in his lap.

Morgan sees all of this, and rushes to them “Oh shit!!”.

“Kate?, Katie?!!!” John mutters, slapping her cheeks slightly, “Hey! Come on, please wake up”.

Tears in his eyes, and in Morgan’s has well.

“Lay her down” she tells him, they lay her down on the floor, “Do CPR on her”.

John performs CPR on her, hoping to bring her back. 

He pushes down on her chest a few times, and blows into her mouth, airway. 

He does this a few more times. When she doesn’t show signs of life, or give any response, he gives up, and accepts that she’s gone.

The one person that understood him. The one person he was supposed to be with forever.  Gone, because of him.

“She’s gone. She’s gone because of me” he says, crying into his hands.

“It wasn’t your fault” Morgan reassures him, “It was Saleos. He did all of this. He forced you to do this. It wasn't your fault”.

John cradles Kate’s lifeless body, holding her close to him. Crying into her neck.

Morgan holds him, crying. Her best friend of 13+ years is dead. 

She’d never thought, or even guess that this was how Kate Winchester would go out. 

A member of the famous Winchester family. 

Morgan, John and the dog Haley mourn the death of their best friend, partner, and owner.

********************************

The other side

Kate walks along a white pathway, almost similar to the one from the final Harry Potter movie.

Everything is white. Foggy. Quiet but also loud, it’s hard to explain. But she thinks it’s Heaven, or at least your final stop before going into the cloud city.

“Hello?!?!” she calls out, her voice echoing throughout the trance.

She sees a figure off in the distance, then one figure turns into two figures.

“Hello?!? Who’s there?!?’ she calls out again. 

She can’t tell if they’re walking towards her, or away from her.

“Hello!?!? Where am I?!?” she asks, before getting closer to one of the two figures.

She stops dead in her tracks when she sees a very familiar beige trench coat.

Her eyes widened, gasps softly, “Castiel?”.

“Hello Kate” he says, in his classic, trademark raspy voice.

“Where am I?!” she asks, looking around.

“Heaven” he answers. 

“Heaven?!?” she asks, confused.

“Yes” he responds, “Well almost Heaven”.

“So I’m dead?!” she asks, her voice cracking. Still somewhat confused.

“Yes, for now” he says.

“For now?!?” she questions him, eyebrows raised. 

He places his hand on her shoulder as a sign to walk forward.

“You weren’t supposed to die” he says, “Saleos, he’s a somewhat powerful demon, Merihem about the same. They were a few of Crowley’s loyal demons even after his death”.

“So if I wasn’t supposed to die, then why am I here?!” she asks.

“It’s a plane of existence. This is where the temporary dead souls go when they are to come back from a sudden death, and sometimes souls that were supposed to die are often sent here to give the temporary soul some guidance”. 

“So this isn't Heaven?!” she asks, “Is it more like Purgatory?”.

“No, most call it The Other Side. Almost like a final stop before reaching Heaven” he says. 

“I saw another figure standing near you. Who else is here?!?’ she asks.

“You’ll see them pretty soon” he says.

They continue to walk forward, and she sees the other figure standing still. Can’t tell if they’re looking at her, or away from her.

When they get closer, they have their back to them from what Kate can see. A man with his back to them.

Castiel stops walking, and says “I’ll let you take it from here, and I’ll come back for you to take you back to Earth”.

He flies away, leaving Kate alone with this mystery man.

“Hello?!” she says, slowly walking towards him.

He turns around, and she feels her heart drop.

“D-Dad?” she stutters, voice trembling.

“Hello Katella” he says, with a smile. 

Speechless, unbelievable. No words can describe the powerful emotion she is feeling at this very moment. 

This all had to be a dream. This was her first time actually seeing her father, obviously!!!. 

“Wha- I don’t. What is happening?!” she asks, tears in eyes.

“You met an untimely death that wasn’t supposed to happen, that's why you’re here” he says,

“Saleos killed you. Castiel brought you here, and he also brought me here. For you too see your father before going back to Earth”.

Her mind racing, so many questions at once.

“What happened that night?!” she asks, referring to his death.

“Azazel. He killed your cousin's mother several years earlier in 83, and he killed me the exact same way he killed her” he explains to her.

“Oh shit” she says under her breath.

“That’s how most of us Winchester’s go out. Your boyfriend was an easy target for Saleos. Your friends were also an easy target” he continues. 

“I never got to know you” her voice trembling, tears streaming down her face.

“I know you didn’t. That’s why you’re here, it was a chance for you to finally meet me” he says.

Kate knows Paige would be jealous, furious if she were to tell her about this.

“How’s your mother and Paige?” he asks.

Unable to speak, like there’s a pressure around her throat.

“Mom lost custody of Paige and I years ago” she says, “Paige, I haven’t really spoken to her”.

Joel looks down at the ground, he suddenly becomes transparent. Like he was about to fade away.

He looks at his hands, then up at her, and says “It’s time”.

“What?” she asks, confused.

“It’s time to go” he says, becoming more transparent by the second.

“No! Wait!. Dad!. I still have questions!!” she yells as he starts to fade away.

“They will have to wait until we meet again Katella” he says as he fades away, “I’m always watching over you”. 

“No wait! Dad!!!”.

She drops to her knees, crying. Her cries balled up in her throat, making it hard for her to breath.

Wings flutter behind her, and a slight breeze.

“It’s time to go Kate” Castiel says, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She stands up,and they teleport away. Taking her back to Earth. 

She sees Morgan, John and her dog sitting on the floor. John cradling her dead body, Morgan sitting against a wall, her face buried into her hands.

Before she goes back into her body, she turns to the Angel, and asks. 

“Where were you when I prayed to you?!? I needed your help!!!”.

He sighs, looks down and says “I heard your cries for help, but I was told not to get involved”.

“Why?!” she asks.

“It’s complicated,'' he says, and before she could ask anything else, he puts her back into her body.

****************************

Back on Earth

John cradles Kate’s lifeless body in his arms, gently stroking her hair. 

Morgan sits a few feet away from him, her hands covering her face with Haley laying her head on her lap, crying over her owner's death.

John softly talks to her, stroking her hair. 

“I never got to tell you how much you meant to me” he kisses her forehead.

“You meant so much to me, and I didn’t get to tell you” tears falling from his cheeks.

He moves her shirt a little, and sees her sin Lust tattooed on her chest.

Tracing the carved bloody letters.

“I didn’t want this for you. I just wanted to love you. You understood me, and I love you for it”

He holds her closer, her face buried into his neck.

“You meant the world to me. Joseph was right. I love you” he continues, moving her hair away from her face. 

The whole house silent, the sun is close to setting. Night time falls close.

A cold, chilling breeze passes through an open window, and Kate wakes up gasping loudly in John’s arms, screaming, coughing up blood and wheezing. 

Blood coming out of her mouth as she coughs. Gasping for air, wheezing loudly. 

“Kate!! Katie!!” John shouts in relief, holding her close to him as she catches her breath.

Her gasps for air turned aggressive. Blood pouring out of her mouth.

“Kate, Kate. Hey, hey, hey. Breath, breath” Morgan tells her, holding her head. 

Trying to slow down her rapid breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay” John comforts her, holding her tightly in his arms. His head pressed against her shoulder. 

[fandomn00blr]

I tagged a bunch of folks in on my last WIP post, and I don’t want to harass anyone two days in a row, but seriously, and I know I say it every time, because I really do mean it...WHOEVER WANTS TO THROW SOMETHING TO THE VOID TODAY (or any day...) SHOULD DO SO AND TAG ME AND I WILL LAUGH AND/OR CRY AND/OR BLUSH IN EMBARRASSMENT WITH YOU!

Seeing all this excellent fenders content showing up on my dash recently (IDK what I did to make this happen, but well done, tumblrverse) put me in a MOOD to go back and find some glowey smut from the discard pile...which then apparently turned into fluffy angst (or angsty fluff?) and hand-holding (if you squint...it’s there at the end, I swear).

This one doesn’t really fit into any of my current WIP world states (I mean, I definitely straight up stole some of this from my earlier self for later fenhanders relationship dynamics), and it’s from back when I was clearly still getting to know these characters (still am, tbh), so we’ll go ahead and yeet it into the Void this week, where it belongs:

(Under a cut, cuz it’s 1900+ words long, a whole ficlet, I guess, and there are mentions of the amazing sex these two apparently just had...before Anders had to go and make it awkward...)

“You -- Fenris…” Anders gasps, when Fenris finally pulls away from the kiss long enough to give him a chance to breathe. “I haven’t had sex like that since…”

Fenris’ eyebrows furrow together and he abruptly lets go of him. The last thing he wants is to be compared to any of his past lovers.

“Well, since Hawke and Isabela paid for that night for me at the Blooming Rose for my birthday a few years ago!”

Judging by his frown, this is definitely not the kind of thing Fenris was looking to hear from him.

Anders remembers now, through the idiotic haze of his post-coital bliss, that Fenris had been extra broody then, apparently perturbed that he, or, more specifically, Justice, would want to go through with what the two women had arranged for him, and also probably a little bit annoyed that he wouldn’t shut up about it afterwards. Granted, this was back before he would have ever admitted he had any feelings for the mage. And there is a distinct possibility that Anders had been trying to make him jealous, to provoke him, something Justice seems to want to remind him of now...

“I...remind you of a prostitute?” Fenris doesn’t sound angry or offended. He just sounds sad, a bit disappointed.

“No!” Anders shakes his head, trying to catch his breath and take it back. Not that that should be a bad thing, he wants to say. Fenris knows about his past work in Denerim. Knows how he feels about sex work in general. But he also understands why this association might be a problem for Fenris, sees the hurt there, and has no idea why he decided to bring it up now. “Not at all!��

How does he always manage to mess everything up with him so quickly? He used to be quite good at making charming conversation after sex, priding himself on making sure that everyone had said their piece, that needs and expectations had all been met. And his bedside manner as a healer is highly-regarded by everyone here in Kirkwall. 

But Fenris isn’t exactly a client or his patient at the moment. And he supposes he hasn’t had much practice at this sort of thing for a very long time.

“Because it’s you. And no one is being paid…and shit!” He feels Justice trying to take control to save him from his clumsy rambling, but what does the spirit know about pillow talk?

Fenris has somehow already gotten dressed and now he’s reaching for his sword, propped up carefully by the moth-eaten curtain Anders deemed adequate for granting them privacy in the little cubbyhole he calls his “bedroom” carved into the back of his clinic.

“And Justice approves!” Anders declares, growing desperate in his attempts to try and salvage this. “Of this. Of us. Of you!”

Fenris turns back and shoots him the darkest look he’s given him yet through this exchange. “Do not use the spirit’s feelings to try and spare mine.”

Anders is trying. He truly is. But this isn’t fair, because Fenris has just fucked him senseless, and all he really wants is to curl up next to him and fall asleep. It would be good sleep, too. The kind he hasn’t had in...he can’t really remember, doesn’t really want to. And anyway, it’s looking less and less like that’s going to happen now.

“What does that even mean?” he asks, waving his arms frantically in the air.

“Ask him.”

“You know I can’t! Unless you want me to let him take over?” Anders offers, half-seriously at first, but then he gets a curious look in his eyes. “Is that what you want? Because I totally can...” His eyes begin to glow a little, and light begins to shine through cracks in his skin. 

Without even acknowledging this, Fenris ducks under the curtain, and begins making his way through the clinic toward the exit.

“Wait!” Anders calls after him, banishing Justice back to his subconscience for now.

But Fenris marches on, with Anders trailing behind him all the way through Darktown. It’s a wonder that he just can’t seem to catch up. He’s nearly a foot taller than the elf, after all, though Anders is perpetually out of shape due to his own self-neglect, and Fenris is...decidedly not that. But as far as he can tell, Fenris isn’t using any of his lyrium-enhanced abilities to completely lose him, though he certainly could if he really wanted to. Which is actually a little bit encouraging.

As they enter Lowtown, he slows down just enough that Anders is able to reach out to him. There was a time when he would’ve feared the consequences of grabbing the standoffish elf’s arm to try and get his attention. Part of him still does, he supposes, but not enough to risk losing him like this again tonight without at least trying to make things right.

As soon as he touches him, Fenris whips his head around and glares at him. “I am going home.”

“Fine. You can do that. I just…” He wheezes, leaning forward, trying to catch his breath. He truly is out of shape. “Can I apologize?”

“For what?”

“For being an idiot?” he huffs.

“You have never apologized for that before.”

Anders is so relieved to see the little smirk on his face that he could kiss him. But he doesn’t. Because he’s already pressing his luck with him further than he’s ever dared to before and he’s determined not to fuck it all the way up if he can help it.

“For...for...all the wrong things I said in my...compromised state back there.”

“Compromised?”

“Fenris, please just work with me here?”

His eyes narrow on him, but he is silent for what feels like an eternity to Anders. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and mutters, “You have nothing to apologize for.” He looks down into the empty space between them. “I should not have assumed this was anything more than sex.”

Anders shakes his head. “No. You’re wrong. It is! And you know that.”

“But you…”

“You do know that, right?”

“I...”

“For three years I’d like to think that we’ve been building something more than just...well, whatever that was the first time this almost happened.”

He is pacing now, and Fenris is watching his hands as they move wildly back and forth with him, mesmerizing physical manifestations of the mage’s fretting over him and his feelings. His body language says more to Fenris than whatever words he is muttering as he frantically stumbles through another unnecessary apology.

“Fenris!” he snaps, drawing his attention sharply away from his hands. “Do you even remember that? You knew I wanted you back then. But not if you were going to regret it. If it was just about the sex…”

“I suppose you have proven yourself to be more than just a depraved abomination,” he drawls, with more than just a hint of that irresistible smirk. Justice seems even more pleased than Anders to see it this time. “But I am still going home tonight. To a real bed.”

Anders grabs his arm again as he turns to leave, and Fenris’ markings flare up bright and blinding this time, the sudden burst of activated lyrium burnishing itself into all six of Anders’ senses.

He knows he’s pushed him too far. But if Anders is going to die tonight, after what has just happened between them, well...he supposes it’s better than if he had died yesterday. And Justice seems to agree, because he doesn’t even try to take control in order to save him.

Instead of ripping his heart out through his chest as Anders braces himself for the inevitable, Fenris reaches up, gathering the mage’s collar in his hands, and yanks him down into a kiss.

Maybe Anders is dead. He certainly can’t breathe, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him at the moment. Between the lyrium and the kiss and his body still humming from all the dopamine he’s been inundated with in the past couple of hours...

Fenris releases him with a quiet sigh and just stares at him as his markings recede. He’s expecting something. Words, perhaps? But Anders hasn’t been doing very well with those tonight.

He swallows hard, and tries anyway, because he can feel Justice growing impatient with his inaction. “You were…” he hesitates.

“Going home.” Fenris nods.

“To the mansion?”

“Yes.”

“Fine…” Anders rocks back onto his heels trying not to look completely dejected. “Yeah, fine…okay.”

Fenris rolls his eyes and inhales sharply through his nose. “Would you like to join me?” he offers on the exhale.

Anders looks stunned for a moment as he simply stares back at him. Then slowly, a dopey grin begins to spread across his face. “Are you sure?” Anders beams down at him. He honestly can’t help but show every emotion clear as day across his entire countenance and to Fenris, it’s one of the most embarrassing and endearing things about him.

“Hmmm…” Fenris starts to turn away from him again before his own smile can reveal itself. He certainly wouldn’t want to encourage this behavior.

“Okay!” Anders cries out, tightening the hand he’s forgotten is still wrapped around Fenris’ arm. When Fenris doesn’t even flinch, he thinks for sure he’s either dead or dreaming. “Okay...yes! Yes I would very much like to join you.”

Fenris shrugs him off without another word, and is already marching toward Hightown before the mage can say anything else to make him reconsider the invitation.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust him. Anders is terrible at hiding his intentions, his feelings, anything from him, really, and he supposes, after what he’s said to him tonight, that this is no accident. He trusts Fenris, as well, foolish as it seems for either of them.

But Fenris knows that once this happens, once Anders embeds himself into his home -- which, up to this point, hasn’t felt much like a home at all, and that has been on purpose, too -- more than all the tension between them the past three years, more than the half-drunken moments stolen from each other in dark corners of the Hanged Man, or in the alley behind it, or in the back of the clinic, where he could still tell himself it was just a phase or meaningless beyond the relief of pent-up frustration it afforded both of them, there can be no turning back. No more pretending he isn’t completely smitten with the ridiculous mage once he’s taken him into his own bed and let down his guard enough to actually just...sleep with him.

At some point, he reaches behind him with a small huff, a puff of gently glowing white in the unseasonal coolness of the night betraying his feelings. He grabs Anders’ hand, pulling him along with him, and Anders feels like he’s practically floating on that little cloud the rest of the way to Hightown.

[blacksurvivalnostalgichanges]

Black Survival characters as RTgame quotes

i have a new way to fill a day when i don’t know what headcanon i could use:special posts

~

Adela: (Check) There’s a check. Keep popping them in check. (Check) (Check) (Check) 

Adriana: Radical has taken the burgle land really to heart and he’s just setting fire to the forest.

Alex: Hey bro you want some tequila? (yeets tequila bottle at a guy)

Arda:(writes down “Mom i’m sorry”) Good start.

Aya: You cant escape the law! I have the ability to teleport! Don’t make me finger gun you!

Barbara: Well, that was a fast midlife crisis. Happy birthday! Midlife Crisis time!

Bernice: (holds a guy’s face) Ned, I... never said this, but sometimes when I look into your eyes- NO, DON’T, COME BACK HERE-

Bianca: These are all, just, like, weird planet names. Like, Zoton, Cropin, Cragos. Draarendy...? Perotex, m- (laughs) wait, WAIT WAIT- Wait that was just the poor man’s Mars, come on. That last one was just Mares. Could you name all the planets in the solar system? Oh we got earth, venus, saturn, Mares- (written in 10/7 so we’ll see how this ages once bianca gets released, maybe she won’t be the same gimmick as jackie)

Camilo: “It’s just, all those years ago... It was so hard-” Oh no. “I didn’t know how to raise Sarah alone.” Hey ned, let’s do some more dancing! (dances) Doooo doo doo do doo dododo! Haa haa haaa!

Cathy: ‘S a little bit pricy, but fuck it! I don’t know how to play Monopoly, let’s go!

Chiara: “This is the man in question, Edward Romsey. A teacher once, would you believe?” But then he forgot to buy Dosney related products.

Daniel: “Barbara just discovered how to make a Grim Reaper Snowman”... (looks at snowman with a black cape and a scythe) Oh Gooood.

Echion: (fuckboy voice) They call it... The Fortnite, the new violent shooter from Epic Games Studios that kids are dropping out of school to play.

Eleven: I made the smoothie! I made the smoothie! (car crashes)

Eva: Heart’s desires... (reading out options, starts laughing) “to be tall”!

Emma: (petting the side of someone’s head) Stroke him gently.

Fiora: Now remember your training, guys, big circle-shape swings, okay, you wanna try to get a figure A motion, okay? If you remember that, nothing will go wrong in an actual fight. And remember to have fun, it’s an important part of the experiment. (whacks everyone in a row in a few seconds) Who’s next?

Hart: (playing guitar) I call this little ditty Wonderwall. You may not have heard it before.

Hyejin: You’re supposed to click evacuate BEFORE the disaster happens!

Hyunwoo: What could a dog have possibly done to go to jail?!

Isol: Can I take your handgun? This loaded? ....Pal, do you have any ammo? I’m trying to fire this handgun in your store. I’m gonna take this with me, thank you.

Jackie: Oh no, not this again. We did this two years ago, I’m not doing it again! -It’s happening again. I thought I was finished playing Groundhog Day!

Jan: This man unironically says epic, I don’t know if we can trust him.

Jenny: Are there any controls I might have? (the plane starts going down) Oh, B just stalls the engine.

JP: Thanks to VR, I can now be more gay than normal.

Lenox: I’m trying to do big brain plays here, but I’m not a smart woman!

Leon: We have seven thousand viewers for Wii Sports, and we’re top ten on Twitch- wh- why are people here-

Li Dailin: You know how in like, the third Harry Potter, the night’s bus takes Harry to Hogwarts? Like, the leaky cauldron, and... you’re not really sure how he’s dodging all these cars?

Luke: I’ll be, like, sleeping tonight, i’ll be waking up in a cold sweat, and be like “Good air!” His soul has been trapped in Wii Sports since 2009, he hasn’t been able to leave this game. ‘I wonder if the voice actor talks like this in real life as well’. Could you just imagine if he has a wife and kids, and the trainer’s like... (enthusiastically) ‘Good morning!’ ‘Darling, it’s-it’s been like nine years since Wii Sports Resort voiceover.’ ‘I know, right?’ ‘Like, you have to talk like a normal human being again! You can’t just keep putting the family through this!’ ‘Nice air!’ ‘WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS! WE’RE NOT IN THE AIR!’

Magnus: (somehow breaks glass by grabbing it) My hands are bleeding terribly.

Mai: “Alice, I want to speak to your manager.” Dude, it’s just coffee. It’s just coffee. ....He’s a karen, isn’t he? (points at him) You’re a karen.

Nadine: (shoots at the bullseye) I’m already a pro. Look at that. Watch me get it again. (shoots at the bullseye again)

Nathapon: (writes down ‘hi my name is Oole’) Always important to put your name on your notebook. You know, just in case you lose it.

Nicky: (swinging wii remote wildly towards mii) Why won’t... you die?! (game starts) Oh that was practice-

Rio: Do you wanna be that guy who reads everything on Wikipedia? Play this game.

Rosalio: Oh jesus- oh, I didn’t expect for there to be consequences-

Rozzi: (jumping off a plane with a parashoot, people start locking hands with the avatar) Lose ‘em, lose ‘em! (shakes wildly to get them away) Get ‘em off me! Get ‘em off me!

Shoichi: ‘Ey Daithi, how much would it cost for me to buy that off ya?’ ‘Uh, one thousand, one hundred and forty- (amount of money changes) Oh sorry, just changed! One thousand, one hundred and twenty nine.’ ‘You’re gonna leave me with a dollar.’ ‘Yep.’

Silvia: (Picks up a gun) Is it loaded? (points it at herself and pulls the trigger repeatedly) Doesn’t appear to be.

Sissela: “Pulmonary oedema”... I can’t even pronounce it, that sounds really bad.

Sua: Oh my god, bless his heart. Ross Bob just came back from the dead to feed the cat. He’s actually the sweetest man alive. 

William: They all keep saying “I’d love to stick around but I gotta go”. They don’t- they don’t have a say in this

Xiukai: Why did the donut cause me to hallucinate so badly??

Yuki: “Fix everything and leave”. I need that button IRL. Fix everything and leave.

Zahir: (accidentally drops glass) I appear to be struggling. (looks around and grabs a tiny drink umbrella) Would you like an umbrella?

[ghosty-schnibibit]

multiple days early taz grad liveblog! ^u^

ngl this took me completely by surprise and i didn't end up listening to it until around ten o'clock, it’s a bit before one in the morning as i’m posting this lol. managed to avoid any spoilers tho!

how's everybody doing in quarantine? i've mainly been playing minecraft and doing relistens of various podcasts, and just generally staying home :P

anyways, on to the episode!

i was not expecting that intro holy shit, this is so meta

as much as i loved the sillier intro i missed the pretty music the last couple episodes, i’m glad trav’s found a way for us to have both 

"the offending skeletons" pfff

oh man this sounds so pretty, wow

griffin w h y

well that's terrifying

"your creepy panopticon continues to function" gary serves the eye

yeah who fucking died to make their room available 

awww, is fitzroy scared of ghosts?

does firbolg have ghost hunting abilities???

... that's probably just from the spectral cats tho right

"they're steps of the mind" travis what does that even mean

:o!!! fitzroy the cussing boy

um??? fitzroy wtf are you talking about

yay! crepes for my boy! :D

better than i could do lmao

oh great, more creepy buckminster time :|

... dang, that's an interesting choice. i'm trying to think in-character of what would lead fitz to not telling them, and i've come to four main possibilities: a) fitzroy doesn't trust anyone at the school, even his friends, b) fitzroy hasn't found a way to tell them w/o being in the presence of a gary, c) fitzroy is worried that if he tells anyone they might get disappeared like leon, or d) a combination of all of the above.

kumquat? oh it's those little orangey guys, okay, continuing argo's citrus fixation then lol

"my new hero" can't wait to see all the maplekeene fic that comes out of that line lmao

well fuck that's sad :(

aww firbolg my sweet baby

ilu firbolg :')

OH FUCK, did leon send the broach as a message?

i have never gone from laughing to worried so fast holy shit

... so he's not just mind-wiped, he's being actively controlled

good idea fitz, this is very smart

another moment reminding me of how much i love the firbolg's character and how the other boys interact with him 

yay! my favorite girl is back :D

my sweet boys, these are such bad puns, absolute morons the lot of you

argo my dipshit son ilu

she is a necromancer lol

oh fun! dad lich!

... i need art of rainer as a blupjeans baby stat

"he's not not dead!" i love this description

i cannot tell if that's a euphemism or if he's insinuating rainer is some kind of frankenstein

oh dang :O

fiztroy you absolute ding dong ilu

oh fun, new npc :D

go firbolg, nice

so leon actually managed to get through to the guild before higglemas did whatever he did to him, and hieronymus and higglemas appear to be on the same page vis-a-vis wanting to keep the guild out of the school... fuck

althea, good to know, i'm so bad at spelling, i was hearing it as alfia

yay! i missed the money zone :D

aww, thank you trav

wait is that the end? does taz just not have ad reads anymore???

hey what the fuck, i am worried for my boys trav you can't just drop that on me apropos of nothing

how trippy for the rest of the staff do you think it was that all of a sudden jackyl's creepy voice suddenly turned into a lilting brogue

argo my sweet boy

IT'S AN ANTI GARY ZONE

... is he going to- yep, he's telling him about the hot mint

argo my sweet boy you are a valued member of the group

"hot mint is nothing new" oh my darling

ilu jackyl

what do you mean not from a person? do they think fitzroy is somehow linked to the demons in the forest?

thank you for that trav i am bad at remembering scenery details

i get what jackyl's saying here but like... there are ways for argo to ask fitz about his magic without being suspicious. they're pretty okay friends at this point, i don't think it's too much of a stretch to bring up magic in conversation like “hey, i have magic from my parents, do you think your magic could have come from yours?”

argo that's kind of a hollow threat, i don't think you can leave, they'd probably kill you :/

ilu argo my sweet boy

yikes, goddamn, the bad roles are back for argo

what was the end of that line clint

NICE, good rolls are back :)

clint you absolute dipshit

it's not boring! i'm very proud of clint getting so many good rolls in a row!

i love this so much lol

ooooh, this is some pretty music

fitz is on supplemental levels of paranoia

i can get that rationale, he can't solve anything if he can't trust his own perceptions

so he's taking a crack at artificing, fun times

this is an extremely good interaction, i am loving this

what does your little high pitched HMMM mean fitzroy? what are you doing my dipshit son???

oh fun, drawf then i'm guessing

green and gold were my university colors trav don't do this to me

fitzroy sounds like me every time i fall down the rabbit hole of metalworking videos on youtube and think “i wanna make a sword!”

... huh. i have to go back and listen to ep. 7, but is crabtree part of the unbroken chain? i'd be more inclined to trust her if so, i don't know if fitz would be safe crafting a mind protecting charm with her if there's even the slightest possibility that she's in on whatever higglemas is doing

fitzroy my dipshit son, you are an absolute dummy, you are the worst

griffin you planned an entire campaign around magical items

i don't like the sound of that "oh!"

oh this has gone just about as bad as it could have gone

that is absolutely not going to happen

nice thinking griffin, holy cow

not a fan of the foreshadowing implications of that

precision is certainly something fitzroy doesn't have

yes thank you for not doing that griffin

this is probably a bad idea and i am worried for firbolg

"let the wiki show, your honor" i want to check the wiki now to see if anyone’s added that lol

jesus that's a creepy feeling

griffin you have no right to make me cry like this

justin you've murdered me

welp, this is extremely bad :|

what are you doing fitzroy, what is the end game here fitzroy

okay, okay that's a good idea but this music is very terrifying

maybe also talk about what's going on with buckminster please, i am so worried about leon

i am at odds with myself because i adore the friendship development that's going on here, but i'm also so worried for literally all of them and poor argo is being left out

oh nice, very excited to see how that goes next ep

thank you for lifting the mood some griffin lol

clint you've killed me

oh i am so looking forward to this conversation

so a lot went down this episode, huh? compared to how lighthearted and silly the last two episodes were we got a ton of plot development, and in retrospect i’m glad we had an emotional buffer before things got too hairy. i am very worried for my boys, i personally think travis is nailing the build-up of suspense and mistrust between characters while keeping the danger factor mysterious enough that there’s no obvious solution as to who’s right not to trust who. i can’t wait to head into the tag and see the kinds of theories people are coming up with because dang if i don’t have some thoughts.

see you guys whenever the next ep comes out i guess!

[belphegor1982]

How about the first chapter Tommy appears?

[Pick any passage from any fanfic I’ve written, and stick that selection in my ask/fan mail/submission box. I will then give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet!]

Thanks a lot!! (Also I answered this kind of ask about a passage from chapter 2, if you want to take a look - it’s all spoiler-free!)

Here’s Thomas Sean Ferguson’s grand introduction, then :D Oh god, it’s kind of awkward, because like with Blake there’s a certain amount of early installment weirdness. Also I go on and oooooooon (sorry about that). But let’s go!

_________

Quite lost in his thoughts this time, [Jonathan] barely registered that he was walking past the Museum (where Evy is, right now, negotiating the Cairo Museum “lending” the Diamond of Ahm Shere to the British government - which kickstarts the plot) before somebody knocked into him, hard enough for both of them to crumple, breathless, on the ground. It took Jonathan thirty seconds to get his lungs in working order again and, instinctively, check his pockets for anything missing.

A lot of this commentary risks being “this used to be [thing] before I tweaked it in the rewrites”, and a lot of it is because I’ve gained some insight in the past twelve years. Jonathan’s first thought being checking his pockets (which - and I made it explicit in the second or third paragraph of the story :D - comes from his being a skilled pickpocket himself and knowing how it works), however, was there from the very beginning.

“So sorry I bumped into you, mate, didn’t mean to,” came the voice of the attacker. Jonathan’s eyes widened at the sound of this voice and he squinted up at its owner.

And cue Tom Ferguson :D He wasn’t my first OC, far from it (that dubious honour would probably belong to the buttload of OCs I created for my Marauder era story which died when Order of the Phoenix came out), but he was the first I got to really explore and develop, and he ended up one of my favourites ever. Em, I answered an ask of yours way back in 2015, “introduce us to two of your OCs” :o) The first was him, the second was Marguerite LeBeau.

“Tommy? Is that you? Tommy Ferguson?”

The diamond is the reason the O’Connell-Carnahan gang goes to Egypt, but without Tommy, there’d be no plot. Hamilton would probably still find a way to “retrieve” the diamond from the museum, only without Evy and her family getting personally involved and then having to go back to the UK saying she failed her mission. and then cue the end of the world about a week and a half from there, but shhh - spoilers!

The fellow shook his head, still looking a bit dazed; then his own eyes, round and brown, (so he’s the opposite of Jon in almost every way, physically speaking. Like I said in the aforementioned OC ask, I designed him as a foil for Jon, fundamentally different in some ways but very similar in others. Physically speaking he’s basically Sean Astin (with some James Corden thrown in) with brown eyes, blond hair, and a Liverpool accent.) went even rounder as he stared at Jonathan. “Jon! What the hell are you doing ‘ere?”

For the longest time Tommy used to call Jonathan by his last name here (and Jon’s earlier line used to be “Ferguson? Is that you? Tommy Ferguson?”). I changed it quite recently. I think I wanted to convey the idea that school friends at the time often called each other by their last names; but since he calls Jonathan “Jon” 100% of the time - and is the only one to do so, which I have Feelings about - I went back to correct it.

“Glad to see you too, old chap,” laughed Jonathan, standing up and dusting himself off before offering a hand at the man on the ground, who accepted it gladly.

Heh. Look, one of the staples of Mummy fanfiction was and still is the old school friend of Evy’s who follows either the siblings (TM time) or the whole family (TMR/post-TMR time) to Egypt and falls in love with Ardeth Bay. I’m not throwing stones here; I’ve read a couple I really liked. There’s the odd Jonathan/OFC romance, too. What I set out to do as a baby writer (I was 21 at the time!) and unsuspecting ace was to write something completely devoid of romance (except the odd Evy/Rick snuggle and, of course, all-encompassing love for each other). And then, as I reread the story for rewrites a decade and a half later, I became more and more convinced that Jonathan and Tommy used to be more than friends, and then when Elizabeth came along the three of them got together as a thruple and very happy for a while. (For some reason I couldn’t work this explicitly into FTaH, though - it felt too much like hinting at this huge story I was never going to write and might have made FTaH much too crowded. So it’s up to the reader to decide, really. Personally, I like both options.) So here’s 37 year old me shipping Jon with a female OC and a male OC, and quite enthusiastically, at that. *chuckles* Wonder what my 21 y-o self would think of it…

He hadn’t seen Thomas Ferguson since some time after the end of the war, what felt like ages ago. They’d made quite a pair at Oxford, the two of them – the scrawny, foppish Southerner with the quiet grin and the sticky fingers, and the broad-shouldered, round-faced Scouser with the laughing eyes and the deceptively innocent face. They’d rowed for the Dark Blues for a bit, got properly pickled on Boat Race Nights, and helped each other out of many a tight spot. Oh, for the halcyon days of youth.

One of the reasons I picked up FTaH again is because the second half of 2019 was very, very British for me. I saw (and read) Good Omens for the first time in early June and my feelings exploded; July was very much about discovering the delights of P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Wooster (TV show and books). Halfway through that month I remembered my everlasting fondness for the characters of The Mummy and realised the protagonists and Bertie were the same generation, more or less, and I started imagining a crossover. By the time August rolled in I was fully into TM/TMR again, reading fic and my fingers itching to at least correct some iffy parts of FTaH. This last sentence, about Jon’s and Tom’s Oxford days, would never have come out that way if I hadn’t read Wodehouse.

As soon as Tommy was on his feet he was wringing Jonathan’s hand with all the energy he’d been famous for as a boy. “Sorry, Jon, mate, I was a bit stunned –” After all these years, he still retained some of that accent, too! “– En’t everyday you bump into a pal from Oxford in the middle of Cairo! How’d you get here, for starters?”

…Tommy’s accent. *sighs* I’m not a fan of writing accents phonetically in the first place. When I write Newkirk (Hogan’s Heroes) and his Cockney accent, there isn’t much except the odd “me” for “my” or things like “d’you”. I did have to make it obvious Tommy had an accent, though, if only because later Jonathan is surprised when he tones it down to speak with the curator. (This is something his 18 year old self found incredibly difficult, btw.) @thisstableground oversaw the first chapter and gave me very valuable tips, including “en’t” (// “ain’t), which was super helpful in giving Tommy’s accent its own specificity and meant that I didn’t need him to drop “h”s and “g”s all over the place. (which he does do, but hopefully not in a way that takes you away from the story.)

As for why he’s from Liverpool as opposed to, say, Manchester or the East End of London, the answer is very simple. I’d discovered the Beatles a year or two prior and they remain one of my favourite bands in the whole world ♥

“Well, I followed my sister,” Jonathan replied, grinning. In fifteen years or so, he had not realised how much he had actually missed this accent. “She’s giving a hand to the curator of the Museum of Antiquities – she’s something of an authority now, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh aye? That’s fantastic. I en’t forgotten how you’d talk about her, y’know. On and on and on. I’m curious to see what she looks like.”

Somethingthat didn’t change after rewrites is the idea that Jon was verysecretive about his Oxford years. Tom and Evy never met before this,and Evy hadn’t even heard about Tom before.

Jonathan stole a glance at the entrance steps of the Museum, and turned to Tommy with a smirk. “Really? Well, if you really want to, I suppose I could…”

His sister had just appeared on the stairs, accompanied by the curator, an elderly man with greying hair and whiskers. The curator, Dr Fahad Hakim, has a somewhat larger role later on, but this is just a cameo to let you know he exists :o) There’s another mention earlier, too. Tommy followed Jonathan’s gaze and looked at them, goggling at Evy in particular.

“Jon – are my eyes mistaken, or is this gorgeous woman Doctor Evelyn O’Connell? I’ve read about her, she’s famous in my line of work… According to what I’ve read, she was one of the first people to make it out of the City of the Dead alive –”

He doesn’t say what his “line of work” is, but we (and Jonathan) can infer it has something to do with archaeology or Egyptology. And, incidentally, I’m setting up the first alarm bells here because, as Evy points out in the following chapter, at the time her name was “Carnahan”, so how come Tommy didn’t seem to make the connection between Jon’s bookish sister and this English librarian with the same name? The answer is: because he’s nervous (because he’s in Cairo on secret Chamber of Horus business) and as delighted as he is to see Jon again after so many years his brain went “YOU KNOW NOTHING” then backpedalled and went “…OKAY, YOU KNOW SOME THINGS.”

Jonathan’s grin widened as he nodded. “Yes, that’d be her.”

Tommy rambled on as they walked closer to the stairs, “That’s bloody amazing! I thought she’d look, you know, like in the pictures in the paper, the bookish type with glasses – your typical Southern spinster,” he added with a wink. They waited for the curator to bid her goodbye, and Jonathan, greatly enjoying the situation, crept up on his sister to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hey there, old mum – how’s your day been?”

Evy started, then her expression shifted from slightly irked to a smile at her brother’s laugh. She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Jonathan, the things that amuse you…”

SIBS!!! I love writing siblings, and those two in particular. One of the things that I find amusing/endearing is how comfortable they are with each other, physically (and emotionally) speaking. It’s all gentle touch here, light slap there, running hand in hand, lots of things you wouldn’t expect from two Very English siblings from the first half of the 20th century.

“You’re just miffed that I startled you. C’mon, I’d like you to meet someone – an admirer,” he added with a grin to Tommy, who stood there, his eyes wide. “Thomas Ferguson, an old school friend of mine. Tommy – Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell, my famous baby sister.”

There’s a couple of instances where someone introduces Tom as “Thomas”, or Tom introducing himself as such. Most of the time, though, he’s “Tommy” - until chapter 9, where we spend some time in his head for the first time and see he thinks of himself as “Tom”, and when we go back to Jon’s PoV in chapter 11 Jonathan made the mental switch to “Tom”, as well, to separate the boy from his youth from the man he’s become. I actually spell it out in chapter 17: “A lot had happened since that late afternoon in Giza when his friend had pointed a gun at him and stopped being ‘Tommy’. ‘Tommy’ was a warm memory of loud laughter, daring escapes, bright eyes over pints clinking in the comfortable darkness of a well-loved pub. Tom, on the other hand, was a fairly decent man chucked into a complex situation, who had a wife he loved dearly but lied to about his job, who had not wanted to bring harm to an old friend but had done so anyway.”

Evy held out her hand, which Tommy grabbed and shook heartily. “So you’re the old scoundrel’s sister? No wonder he talked about you – though you don’t quite fit the description now…”

“What exactly did you tell your ‘school friends’ about me?” asked Evy, warning in her voice, though the twinkle in her eye did not quite disappear. Nevertheless, Jonathan preferred to ignore her question, earning a hard nudge in the ribs.

He bragged, actually. A lot. Since he thought Tommy and Lizzie would never meet Evy, Jonathan considered himself free to speak quite enthusiastically of his baby sister’s achievements and how bright she was. Of course, he also complained a good deal, because even at 12 Evy had a penchant for being bossy that came out even in letters.

“So, what did you say your ‘line of work’ was?” he asked Tommy.

“Well – don’t laugh. I work at the British Consulate in Cairo, specialising in antique stuff. Oh, I’m sorry, Dr O’Connell,” he stammered with a glance at Evy who had an eyebrow raised, “I mean I’m one of the chief agents in the British Antique Research Department.”

No he’s not! He’s actually a secret agent, kinda :D And not remotely close to a “chief agent”, at that. Tom Ferguson is deeply in love with his wife and nothing will ever change that state of affairs, but he might have a little intellectual crush on Evy, which leads him to… wanting to impress her a little bit.

“I’ve heard of you!” exclaimed Evy. “At least of that Research Department. They’re gradually cutting off public funds – encouraging individual financing – but that won’t do any good for scientific research! Such a stupid decision is only going to –”

“So you lot are the ones she kept fuming about for half a year!” Jonathan snorted. The infamous Ferguson rotten luck struck again.

I still regret I didn’t find more opportunities to showcase how ridiculously unlucky Tommy could get sometimes. Ah well.

Tommy looked dejected. Evy must have seen this, because she bit her lip and said, in softer tones, “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. But as my brother said, I’ve been… rather upset over this. There’s been some pressure on the British Museum lately by private patrons who threatened to pull out their funding on some… sensitive collections. Without the Crown to back us up, we might have to cave in to their ridiculous demands.”

Before the rewrites, Evy’s speech used to be a lot more “private funding is bad” without much nuance or justification. I changed it to something that hopefully makes sense and justifies her previous outburst. 

“I’ll – I’ll tell my superiors about it,” said Tommy, still looking unsure. “See what I can do. I’m sure it won’t be much, but… Well. I’ll have tried.”

“That’s nice,” Evy said cheerfully, taking Jonathan’s arm and starting to walk. See what I mean about physicality? She doesn’t even ask him with a look, just takes his arm and that’s that. And he lets her, because he’d do the same thing. “Look, the two of you – I’ve had something of a rough day, so I’ll go home, if you don’t mind. You can –”

“Brilliant idea!” said Jonathan, flashing a grin at his sister. “I thought of going to the Sultan’s Casbah, but you might find it a tad – let’s say – dingy, my good friend.”

The Sultan’s Casbah, in the novelisation of the film and my personal headcanon, was the bar Jonathan patronised the night before the first time we see Evy and where he stole a valuable-looking puzzle box from an unsuspecting drunk American. 

“Worse than the Turf?” Seeing Evy’s puzzled look, Tommy explained, “Sorry, private joke. I mean the Turf Tavern, that’s where I saw him for the first time. Me family didn’t ‘ave much money, so I used to work there to pay for my studies. Very nice pub, didn’t deserve the reputation.”

The Best Beloved and I took a trip to Oxford in the spring of 2003 (by bus - 20 hours to get there, same to come back home) and while we were so broke we had to settle for a soup and some rice in a lovely Thai restaurant we did go for a drink at the Turf. I remember a dimly-lit room with dark wood, and I think either they changed a lot of it or my memory isn’t that good because it doesn’t really look like that on the Google Maps pics. Still, I liked it, and when I needed an Oxford pub for the story it’s the one I worked in. Incidentally, there was a lot of illegal gambling going on in there in the 19th century, hence Tommy’s mention of the pub’s bad reputation.

“I’m sure you did indeed see a lot of my brother there,” Evy slipped in slyly. Jonathan threw a mock glare at her.

“To think you are almost my only family. What a shame.” Then, as Tommy looked uncertain, he added, “Carry on, Tom.”

“All right. So I was one of the only students who needed a job, and there were some others who thought that it was – how’d they put it? – a ‘disgrace’ to our university.”

“Preposterous,” said Evy sternly. “As if money could take you further than talent.”

Jonathan bit back on the cynical comment that crossed his mind. Sometimes Evy’s naïveté baffled him.

“Right,” said Tommy uncertainly, glancing at Jonathan. “So, one day, a little bunch of lads come in, and Jon here was sometimes hanging with ‘em at the time –”

Because Jonathan likes to gamble with people with deep pockets :P

Evy glared at Jonathan in advance, and he threw his hands in the air. “Don’t look at me like that! I haven’t done anything!” Evy’s gaze softened, and Jonathan finished, “…Yet.”

That earned him a playful slap on the arm, and a laugh from Tommy, who went on, “Anyway, one of the blokes orders somethin’ or other, and starts to poke fun at me. Well, I was used to it, so I let them be. Then they continued, and I finally noticed that skinny lad in the corner who was makin’ fun of them for making fun of me. Didn’t quite understand what the hell was going on – oh, sorry, Dr O’Connell – what was happening.”

While John Hannah is not “skinny” by any stretch, he is rather svelte, and one of my unimpeachable headcanons for Jonathan is that he was skinny as a rake in his youth - until he went through basic training (then WW1) and his shoulders filled out a little. It’s more or less what happened to the Best Beloved, so I feel quite secure in this headcanon’s plausibility. Plus, picturing 18 year old Jonathan as a mix of awkward gangliness and skinny limbs and aristocratic poise is just funny. (and I find the comparison with Tommy - who at that point was soft and a little chubby but already had broad shoulders - rather endearing.)

Evy smiled. “You’ll have to watch your mouth in front of my son, but otherwise it’s fine. And please, call me Evelyn.”

Tommy beamed. “Right, uh, Evelyn. So, uh –”

“What he didn’t know at that point,” interrupted Jonathan, “was that I had my eye on that fellow – what’s his name – Farbow. He owed me quite a bit of money, but wouldn’t repay me. So I was looking for a way to get him back for it.”

“And get the rest of his wallet in the process, of course.”

“Evy, he owed me seventeen pounds. (Which used to be £70 until I did some research and saw that £17 was A Bloody Fortune a the time.) And he was not what I’d call a ‘decent bloke’ – nasty, disdainful piece of work he was, and his little friends with him. Always a dirty word about the Scouser who worked at the Turf Tavern, just because he didn’t belong to his snobby little world. I did the community a favour, really.”

What he doesn’t say is that Edwin Farbow also had a lot to say about “half-Egyptian mongrels” who thought they belonged in those ancient walls. Too bad I couldn’t find a way to work it in this particular fic. If I ever manage to finish at least Tommy’s part of One-Step, Two-Step, Waltz, the first chapter of Pirouette features the whole scene.

“Don’t push it, Jonathan,” warned Evy.

Tommy carried on. “Well, I was glad there was at least one person who didn’t think like Edwin Farbow – nice change. Then Farbow said something – I don’t remember what it was about, I just remember it made me really angry, really. An’ it’s not a pretty sight when I’m really angry at someone.”

It’s always the quiet, genial ones, isn’t it.

Jonathan remembered, but thought it wise to keep his mouth shut.

Both because what Farbow said was pretty damn offensive to Tommy’s character, background, and lineage, and also because Farbow’s rant included “It’s bad enough they let inpeople like Carnahan, who only exists because a glorifiedgrave-robber shagged some darkey and didn’t even have the decencyto pretend otherwise –” and he really doesn’t want to bring this up in front of Evy, who’s had to deal with her own share of this kind of racist bullshit and doesn’t need a reminder.

“An’ – an’ I just lost it, y’know? I dropped his tea over his ‘ead –”

“I say, that one was pretty funny,” Jonathan said, smiling widely at the memory. The strangled yelp that had followed had definitely been one of the best parts.

“So they all leaped for me, obviously – began to punch me, the five or six of them – hey, I still managed to get back at them!” Tommy added quickly, as if defending his honour. Evy hid a smile, and it occurred to Jonathan that that last sentence had something very Rick-like about it. “But I en’t a fool. I know a losing fight when I’m in one.”

“Don’t tell me. Jonathan bravely threw himself into the fight to take on as many attackers as possible.” There was mischievous laughter in Evy’s voice, and her eyes were twinkling. If anyone other than her had quipped that way about him, Jonathan would probably have taken offence, or at least pretended to. But they knew each other enough not to cross the line.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Well, that wasn’t quite Jon’s style – I don’ know, might’ve changed since then. But yeah, he did. One moment I was squashed under five or six, the next I found out we were two on the floor.”

This was perhaps the biggest suspension of disbelief I’m asking the reader to make - which, in a story where governments have secret agencies to keep an eye on magical ancient artefacts and a diamond has magic powers, is saying something. Jonathan throwing himself into a fight because someone he loves (ie. four people in the whole world that we know of) is in danger? Yep, that checks out, that’s what he does both in TM and TMR. But an (almost) complete stranger? I needed one hell of a justification. Which ended up… 60% Farbow’s money and 40% Farbow being a giant arsehole who had no business making decent bartenders look like that.

Evy began to laugh. “Why, Jonathan? My Jonathan, in a fight, for someone he barely knew?”

At that Jonathan cleared his throat, a mite embarrassed. “I told you, I was looking for Farbow’s wallet. That was the perfect diversion – you should’ve seen that twit looking in every corner for his lost wallet afterwards. It was three months before he gave up.” And it’s lucky you didn’t see me then. I was a bloody mess. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.” Evy smiled. “You never told me that.”

To be fair, there’s a LOT of things he never told you, old girl ;o)

“Should I have?”

“I don’t know, it’s – it was nice of you to do that, even for the wrong reasons. I’m proud of you.”

Jonathan felt an unexpected lump rise in his throat. Not a very big one, but enough to keep him from talking for a few seconds. It was always like this whenever she said something really nice to him. It caught him off guard each and every time.

Look, it took me years to realise it, but I’m a sucker for validation. Sometimes it bleeds out on characters I write.

After a little while, Evy stopped in front of a door and announced, “Well, we’re home.”

“Nice house,” commented Tommy, taking in the sand-coloured neat front and the curtains at the windows.

“Our ‘old haunt’ since the family moved to Egypt,” Jonathan said, opening the door and stepping aside to let his sister in. “Evy wasn’t even walking then.”

In the first film, Evy, Rick, Jonathan and the remainder of the American party go straight to Fort Brydon, and the next thing we see is Evy emptying her suitcase while Rick tries to fill it. Since both Carnahan siblings actually live in Cairo, I thought they would live in an actual house, and from there I extrapolated that the family had one house in England (the manor we see in TMR) and a smaller pied-à-terre in Cairo.

“I do believe I was,” Evy protested.

Jonathan snorted. “Oh, you weren’t. You crawled.”

si b l i n gssss ♥♥ And like, you can always count on a big sib to remind you that you could be ridiculous as a kid. I should know, I’m the big sister :D

Evy seemed to resist the urge to slap her brother and walked into the living room, her nose in the air. She was greeted by two simultaneous voices:

“Mum!”

“Hey, hon.”

Rick’s first words in this story, and it’s greeting his wife ^^ I didn’t do it on purpose, but it’s. Y’know. There.

Jonathan waited a few seconds, then walked into the room in turn, and grinned at the sight of his nephew looking genuinely eager to see him. He was not fooled, however – as soon as Evy wasn’t looking, Alex mouthed the words “Got one?” and frowned as his uncle shook his head. No, he still had no present for Mum’s birthday.

Evy’s birthday mainly originated as a device to get characters (especially Jonathan) moving. It’s the reason he’s roaming the streets of Cairo just before he bumps into Tommy, and why he and Alex go to the bazaar in chapter 5. It also pops up further on in the story, but I’m not saying anything because spoilers.

“Uncle Jon? Who’s that?”

“Who, him?” Jonathan pointed at Tommy behind him, looking uncomfortable at the family reunion, and Alex rolled his eyes. “Tom Ferguson, he was in class with me at Oxford. I ran into him by chance today.”

Tommy stepped past Jonathan and held out his hand to Alex, nearest to him. “Hi – glad to meet you. Jon’s nephew, eh?”

“Yeah,” said Alex, eyeing him with all the suspicion of a ten-year-old who’d seen what he had seen. Behind him, Rick’s eyes spoke loads about his own distrust. But mistrust towards Jonathan and everything related was par for the course on his part, and, admittedly, reasonable.

Alex has Seen Things. This may sound tongue-in-cheek, but it’s true. After what happened in TMR, he’s 100% entitled to being suspicious of strangers. As for Rick, I took my cue from one of his first lines to Jon in TMR being “What did you do this time?” implying that the weird shit happening right now, with the men in red and the sexy lady waving snakes around isn’t exactly unheard of. Hence the “and, admittedly, reasonable”, which I added in the rewrites.

“Thomas Ferguson, British Antique Research Department,” said Tommy, holding out a hand towards Rick, who shook it slowly, still reluctant.

“Rick O’Connell.”

“So you’re Dr O’Connell’s husband? Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m impressed, you’ve no idea.”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “Impressed?”

“It seems I’m rather famous in the Research Department,” said Evy, laughing.

“Make that infamous,” quipped Jonathan.

“The Department owes your wife a great deal. She was the one who uncovered a huge amount of our information about some obscure periods of Egyptian history, as well as the major part of serious knowledge we’ve got on Hamunaptra,” Tommy pointed out, and Evy blushed. “She’s a legend – one of the original three who managed to go to Hamunaptra and live to tell the tale! But… I assume you’re another one?”

Oh, Tommy. MATE. You’re saying you know three people made it out of Hamunaptra alive, one of whom a woman with the exact same first and last name as your best friend’s sister who had a passion for ancient history, but you had no idea he was one of them as well? 

Incidentally, the early installment weirdness I mentioned earlier mostly consists in Tommy being a lot more energetic and innocent-looking than he later proves to be (which is a little more grounded and pragmatic than Jon). In fact, he and Jonathan’s first couple of scenes together give the impression that he’s the red and Jon’s the blue in the “Bue oni, red oni” trope, when later chapters show Jon as a little bit more of a disaster while Tom struggles to make better choices and be more sensible. Which in the end would make them shades of purple, really.

“Yeah,” said Rick, looking a bit nonplussed. Jonathan definitely didn’t regret bringing Tommy in. Seeing Rick O’Connell confused was a very rare occurrence, too rare to be missed.

“I never knew – who was the third one?”

Jonathan was now struggling to keep a straight face. Rick blinked, and pointed at his brother-in-law. “That was him.”

“You!?” God, the look on his face was priceless. “You were at Hamunaptra?”

“Yes,” risked Jonathan, laughter rising in his voice. “And believe me, it wasn’t exactly a picnic. Oh, by the way, there were four of us, not three.”

Meaning Ardeth, of course. My take is that Tommy - and by extension the Chamber of Horus - know about as much about the Medjai as Evy knew about the Book of Amun-Ra prior to the events of TM: a non-negligible amount of information, but all of it second-hand and some of it a bit dicey.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Rick roll his eyes and grinned, undaunted. This was proving to be a fun evening.

Make the most of it, people, because it’s all going to go downhill fast…

Thank you ♥♥♥

[momentofmemory]

fictober - day eight

Prompt #8: “Can you stay?”

Fandom: Netflix Marvel: Daredevil, Jessica Jones

Warnings: Language, Discussion of Suicidal Ideation

Rating: T

Characters: Jessica Jones & Matt Murdock

Words: 1353

Author’s Note: takes place immediately post JJ s3 and some vague time post DD s3, but surprisingly enough there are no specific spoilers for either. i’m pretty pleased with how this turned out, and hope you will be too. :) 

>>Drinking with the Devil

Jessica’s put off even thinking about getting a new apartment for three nights in a row, and as she nurses a bottle of bourbon in the corner of a crowded bar, she fully intends on going for four. She takes another swig, legs propped up on the table, and lets the white noise of the room drown out any other thoughts.

Josie’s is the kind of hole in the wall, dumpster fire of a bar that only locals can love, and what it lacks in charm it makes up in near unending health code violations. The only reason it hasn’t been shut down seven times over is because it’s a favorite spot for both broke-but-passionate lawyers and over exuberant beat cops, which also happens to be the reason Jessica almost never frequents it. She’s here tonight, though, because Josie’s is on the other side of the borough and most of the people she knows don’t frequent it, either.

Jessica’s luck is trash, however, because most of them is apparently not all of them.

She’s in the middle of betting over which of the mouthy twenty-somethings at the bar gets punched first (she loses, she takes a shot, she wins, she takes two) when she hears the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of a cane approaching.

She glances up and one of those aforementioned, passionate-but-broke lawyers fills her vision.

“Scarf boy,” she says, because she’s an asshole. “Heard you were back.”

“Heard you weren’t.” He gestures with his own bottle—some kind of over-priced beer—to the empty seat opposite of her. “May I?”

"Free country.”

He smiles, which Jessica thinks is new, and folds his cane before sliding into the booth with an obnoxious grace.

The redhead in the backwards hat gets punched in the face and Josie starts yelling for them to take it outside, house rules. Jessica smirks and takes two shots, then turns her attention back to her new drinking partner.

He looks… good. Not in like, a hot kinda way (though yeah, Jessica’s got eyes), but good in a ‘I’ve made peace with my demons’ kinda way. Jessica doesn’t see that in too many people in her line of work. Considering the last time they saw each other, she definitely didn’t expect to see it in the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“So you’re like… alive, or whatever?” Jessica waves her bottle vaguely in his direction. She’s never claimed to be good at this.

Murdock doesn’t seem to take offense. “Tried the whole dead thing. Didn’t stick.”

Jessica nods, more for her own sake than his. She’s like, eighty percent sure Mr. ‘I can hear Neon’ can tell, though. “Disappointed?”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, which has been split somewhat recently. “Are you?”

“If you’re fishing for compliments, Murdock, you’d have better luck in the Hudson.”

He chuckles, and begrudgingly, the corner of Jessica’s mouth quirks up, too. She takes pity and offers him her bottle, even going so far as to knock it against his hand so he knows it’s there.

She’s not a total asshole.

Murdock accepts, and to her surprise, takes not one, but two swallows before handing it back. Score one for the choirboy.

She takes the bottle and matches with two swigs of her own. “So is this a social call or did you have something you wanted to say?”

“A guy can’t check in on his friends?”

Jessica’s smile vanishes. She throws back another shot of bourbon, because screw spleens. “Not sure I have those.”

Murdock doesn’t try to negate her statement, and Jessica’s not sure if she’s more relieved or disappointed. His fingers play with the rim of his glass.

“Friends are a lot harder to get rid of than you think,” he says at last.

Jessica thinks about Trish’s face as she’d been escorted into the helicopter. “Yeah. Don’t think that applies here.”

“Maybe not.” Murdock shrugs. “But… You did a lot of good for this city, Jessica. There’s people that would be glad to know you’re still in it.”

“Oh, please.” Jessica rolls her eyes and kicks her feet off the table. “When you’d go and get all psychiatrist on me.”

She picks her bourbon back up and is about to stand when Murdock takes his glasses off. Something about the action feels weirdly intimate, and Jessica finds herself easing back into the booth despite herself.

“I was pretty out of it, for awhile. After the explosion. When I woke up…” Murdock pauses, and a shadow of the demons Jessica remembered flickers across his face. “I was pretty angry at a lot of things. God, mostly. Myself.”

Jessica knows a lot about that last one.

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

She drops the bottle onto the table, then leans back against the wall and pulls a knee to her chest, the other leg splayed out on the bench. “Is this the part where you tell me about the ‘come to Jesus’ moment made you change your mind?”

Murdock works at his jaw, fingers fiddling with his glasses’ frames. Guilt slips through Jessica’s ribcage as she remembers he’s had more than his fair share of trauma, and she wonders if she should change the subject.

Before she can, he bites the scab forming over his split lip and says, “I’d been waiting my whole life to die, I think.”

Jessica’s abdomen turns to ice, even though she’s not the one spilling her guts.

“Lost my mom, my dad. Eyes.” He waves a hand in front of his face. “Hit rock bottom enough times I’d figure I’d stop trying to climb back out.”

Murdock seems to notice her stiffness, and a small smile ghosts across his face. “I was lucky enough to have people that didn’t agree.”

“And what, that was it?” Jessica scoffs. “Godot came and now you’re just moving on?”

“No,” Murdock says. “But I got tired of waiting for something that’d already failed.” He folds his glasses and slides them into his jacket pocket. “Thought it was time to try my hand at something else.”

Jessica shifts, unable to handle his vacant stare, and watches the rain falling out the window. “Let me guess. One of those things included friends.”

She sees him shrug out of the corner of her eye. “Turns out there’s more to living than not dying.”

Well. That was a sentiment she’d heard before. 

Jessica rakes her hair out of her face and tries to ignore the way her eyes are burning.

Murdock tilts his head. He can probably smell the salt or some other freaky ninja shit. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just—” She shakes her head. “Can’t believe I’ve had two people come back from the dead just to tell me to give a shit.”

Murdock smirks. “Weirdly enough, I can relate.”

“I’m not helping you starting a club.”

“We’d probably have a surprising number of members.”

“Don’t make this worse.”

A comfortable silence falls, the only sounds coming from the muted chatter of the bar and the clinking of Jessica’s nails against the bourbon bottle. Murdock takes a long drink from his beer. Jessica looks at the time on her phone—she still hasn’t checked into a hotel for the night.

She wonders if Malcom is still up.

“Some of those friends I mentioned were planning to meet me here in a few minutes,” Murdock says. “There’s room for one more if you’d like. Can you stay?”

Jessica gives the bottle one last tap, then pockets her cell. “Thanks, but no thanks.” 11:30 isn’t that late. “I think I’ve got somewhere to be.”

She shoves against the table as she stands up, pulling out a couple bills for Josie. “Keep the bourbon, though. My nonexistent spleen will thank you.”

He laughs and slides his glasses back on. “I’ll see you around?”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles as she starts walking away. “Whatever, Murdock.”

“My friends call me Matt!” he calls. 

“Whatever, Murdock!” She doesn’t turn around, but does hold up a middle finger. She’s pretty sure he’ll know. Seventy percent. Maybe eighty.

She hears Matt laugh, and she smiles.

Stupid ninja shit it is.

[queenmorgawse]

transmigration for dummies

mdzs scum villain au, chapter two. read chapter one on tumblr. fic on ao3. as always, credits for the og idea to @lee-luca.

Here’s a life lesson from yours truly : if you don’t give yourself time to think about it, you won’t worry about it.

Getting into Gusu Lan’s white robes is so much of a hassle that, as he struggles with the unholy number of layers and conventions, Jingyi has no time at all to mull over the OOC function or how to get rid of it as soon as possible. To think he used to complain when his mother wanted him to wear a dress shirt and a tie to family events — if she could see him now, she’d probably tear a muscle laughing.

Fortunately, Sizhui seems to take it all into stride. Or, more accurately, he thinks Jingyi’s still too out of it to properly function, and therefore sees nothing wrong with having to walk him through the process of putting his own clothes on step by step like he’s a toddler learning about shoelaces for the first time. He imagines the original would feel humiliated, but Jingyi himself is all too glad for a plausible excuse to ask for help to care. The System grants him this one favor, and stays mercifully silent as Sizhui secures his hair into a high ponytail and shows him the proper way to tie his forehead ribbon (I really can’t do it for you, he says, and Jingyi understands. There’s no helping the virginity ribbon.)

Speaking of hair, he’s got to figure out what to do with his. He hasn’t had a chance to look into a mirror yet, but he knows that this body’s hair reaches his waist. From the looks of it, it’s lustrous and well-cared for, but it’s still a huge change from Jingyi’s style, trimmed whenever it threatened to grow past a finger’s length. His head feels heavy.

Right as Sizhui pats a speck of dust off his shoulder and declares him ready to go, the chime of a bell echoes through the Cloud Recesses, which Jingyi guesses means breakfast is served. Oh, well. His hairstyle’s a problem for tomorrow-Jingyi.

Their dorm’s disciples make their way to the common hall in orderly fashion. In Jingyi’s opinion, they look like a row of ducklings toddling after Sizhui, to whom the younger boys cling to like he’s their father, mother and brother all wrapped into the same person. Truly worthy of being the protagonists’ son! Perhaps in someone else, he’d dislike the model student, can-do-no-wrong attitude. In Lan Sizhui, though, it’s endearing — admirable, even.

They reach the dining hall before Jingyi can elaborate on that train of thought. On the doorstep, he has to take a moment. The donghua’s version was gorgeous, but even it pales before the real thing. The hall is all dark wood, draped in blue and white and delicate silver, the cloud patterns of Gusu Lan running across the banners. There’s something engraved on top of the doors, which Jingyi assumes is the sect’s motto, Be righteous.

One of his fellow disciples squints at him and he realizes, belatedly, that the original has probably seen this place a million times before and wouldn’t bat an eye at the scenery, no matter how enchanting. He immediately puts on the most dazed look he can manage, letting his eyes go blank, until the other boy turns away with a shrug.

Damn right, I’m a weirdo! Leave me alone!

The most anyone here seems to open their mouths for is to exchange quiet greetings, and Jingyi’s not quite comfortable enough with his surroundings to attempt it. What if he accidentally offends someone important? That’ll be the end of him for sure. Instead, he busies himself with trying to identify characters among the gathered disciples.

As it turns out, the task isn’t much of a challenge at all. The main branch of the Lan clan sits at the same table, though it does not particularly stand out among the others save for the cloud-patterned banners hanging directly above it. The guy in the middle must be Lan Xichen, Jingyi guesses, if only because of the respect others address him with, obvious even though he can’t hear their voices from where he stands.

From what he can tell, the unsmiling man sitting to Lan Xichen’s right is Lan Wangji, the main love interest. The intuition is further confirmed when Sizhui excuses himself from their group and flits to his side. Father and son barely exchange a few words, their dark heads bent together, but Jingyi could swear he sees Lan Wangji’s eyes soften a little.

He really does look sad. It’s not like Jingyi didn’t know, having read an entire novel about it, but seeing it for himself still makes his heart tighten in his chest a little. Worry not, Hanguang-Jun! he wants to say. Your future husband is coming back real soon! But of course, the System would probably nuke him instantly if he tried to, so Lan Wangji will have to be miserable for a little while longer.

“Come sit with me,” Sizhui’s voice says, and for the second time in less than two hours, Jingyi snaps himself back into reality to come face to face with the other junior’s kindly face.

It’s pretty wild how much effort Sizhui puts into being nice to him. Is it because he was there when Lan Jingyi was hurt? Does he feel responsible for him now? It’s not like the original was exceptionally pleasant to be around. He really does have to do something about it ⎯ or at least, he’ll take care of it when the System’s no longer on his ass about remaining in-character.

When Sizhui doesn’t seem to come to his senses and retract the offer, he hesitantly settles into the seat on the other’s left. Hopefully, everyone will just chalk up the delay in each of his movements to typical post-traumatic event confusion. What even happened on that night-hunt?

The silence that reigns in the dining hall is eerie, only disturbed by the clink of chopsticks against ceramic bowls and the occasional whispered thanks when a dish is passed down the table. It reminds Jingyi of an exam session, which does nothing to help his nerves.

He’s in the middle of his second bowl when the alert chimes in his head.【OOC behavior detected : -10 points. Current balance : 90 points. 】

What the hell? I didn’t do anything!

【The original Lan Jingyi never manages to stay silent during meals, effectively breaking Gusu Lan Sect’s two hundred and fifty-third rule. Points were deducted accordingly. 】

Was this even mentioned? Now you’re just pulling canon out of your ass! When the System doesn’t answer, Jingyi adds, plus, he’s sick, he doesn’t feel up to talking. It’s weird to refer to someone who’s technically himself in third person, but he can’t help it. He and the other guy probably wouldn’t be friends if they met, nevermind body roommates!

【... 】For the first time since Jingyi arrived, the System sounds somewhat irritated.【Objection considered : +5 points. Current balance : 95 points.】

A wide smile worms his way onto his face. So he can negotiate, huh? Jingyi’s always been pretty good at debate ⎯ he verbally wiped the floor with Huan Hua High’s team last competition, okay? He can definitely duke it out with an omniscient AI!

...Put like that, it sounds a little more daunting than before. But if he doesn’t want to end up booted off into a potentially dead body, he doesn’t exactly have a choice either.

Out of sheer spite, Jingyi finishes the third and last bowl of his breakfast in stubborn silence.

-

He shouldn’t have underestimated the soporific effect of a never-ending lecture. God, and he thought two-hour classes were bad. It's been three, and his soul feels like it's going to throw itself out of the reincarnation cycle.

Jingyi steals a mournful glance towards the window. The sun is shining outside, dammit! This is no time to keep children indoors! Yet Lan Qiren drones on, pacing back and forth in front of them and reading from one of too many foot-long scrolls, seemingly oblivious to his students’ boredom.

Why does he even have to be here? He was born a Lan, he’s supposed to know these things already! Jingyi conveniently ignores the fair point his brain raises (how the original must have known, but Jingyi himself could only recite a handful if he tried) in favor of complaining that, if pointless, is at least relaxing.

One of the Jiang guest disciples is dozing, head strategically propped up and brush in hand to give the illusion of attention. Lan Qiren hasn’t noticed yet. God, I wish that were me.

As if to offer convenient narrative contrast, Lan Sizhui and perhaps a couple others are making a valiant effort to stay focused on Jingyi’s other side, dutifully taking notes. Even Sizhui’s eyes have started to glaze over, though, and when their gazes meet (the umpteenth time Jingyi lets his sweep over the room in an attempt to spot something of interest before he bores himself to death), the other boy actually slumps a little before sitting up ramrod-straight again, just in time to look pristine when Lan Qiren’s eyes sweep over him.

It’s kind of reassuring, to see that even the Lan clan’s resident golden boy is a little imperfect.

Just as Jingyi glances down at the dregs of his notes, wondering if it’s worth it to pick them up again, chaos erupts on his right. Random-Jiang-Extra’s steadfast elbow pose has finally failed him, sending him crashing onto the table. Ink spills everywhere, drenching his notes, the lapels of his robes and even the hem of his neighbours’. Jingyi saves his in extremis by scrambling back, almost knocking over his own desk in the process.

The guest disciple blinks, like he doesn’t realize yet the magnitude of Lan Qiren’s wrath about to descend upon him. There’s a rather large smudge of ink on his chin. From a distance, it could pass for Lan Qiren’s goatee.

Jingyi snorts before he can think that decision through.

Beginner’s mistake. Lan Qiren turns towards him, eyes narrowing, and his laughter dies in his throat. “Do not laugh at others’ plight,” their teacher fumes. “Three thousand and fourth rule, Lan Jingyi! I postponed the punishments for your previous offenses on the grounds that you needed time to recover, but since you’re obviously well enough to embarrass our sect again, you won’t need that delay after all!”

I don’t even know what the other guy did! Jingyi almost protests, but since that objection just sounds like it’ll get him hit with another rule about not telling lies or whatnot, he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he bows his head and says, “Sorry, Teacher. I’ll try my best not to do it again.” Screw his pride! Anything to escape copying rules! Especially not while doing handstands!

Not to the original’s credit, Lan Qiren looks, for a moment, genuinely surprised. Not for the first time, Jingyi feels a small stab of resentment towards Lan Jingyi. He’s been trying not to, given that he has no idea what happened to the guy’s soul and he may be in a worse situation than Jingyi is right now, but why couldn’t he have been a good, well-behaved student like Lan Sizhui?

...In retrospect, maybe it’s just as good that he wasn’t. Jingyi would have gotten way too many points deducted just because he couldn’t sit still in class.

【OOC behavior detected : -10 points. Current balance : 85 points. 】

Ouch. Must be for the apology. Well, if it saves him from the dreaded handstand copying, he can make up for the loss later.

Against all odds, it works. Lan Qiren rubs the bridge of his nose, stifling what Jingyi is fairly sure is meant to be a long-suffering sigh. “One copy of our sect rules, to be done in the Library Pavilion. Lan Sizhui will supervise you...after his guqin lesson, is that right?”

“Yes, Teacher.” If Sizhui’s annoyed to have to take time out of an assumedly free evening to watch him butcher calligraphy, he doesn’t show it. From the look in his eyes, though, it may not be the first time.

Jingyi tunes out of Lan Qiren’s next tirade, directed at the hapless Jiang boy, who’s still staring at his ruined notes as his martial brothers make sympathetic noises. Can’t say this day started out all that well, but it’s not that bad for a beginning. It definitely could have been worse.

Then Lan Sizhui gives him a tiny smile that carves a dimple into his right cheek, and maybe today really is going to be a pretty good day after all.

strolls in with starbucks almost a month later,,, hello, i haven’t abandoned this fic, mini exam period just punched me harder than expected. i hope this chapter wasn’t boring - i’m trying to set things up before the actual mdzs plot kicks in, but we’re in for some zhuiyi fluffTM. also, i made a twitter! feel free to follow me over there for random au ideas (but mostly crying). still taking questions + prompts, both here and there. and finally, would you guys read a more serious / plotty / angsty fic with ljy x jl as the main ship (though romance would probably take a backseat to the plot)? i wrote a small premise over here, but i crave feedback and validation.

[dikanamai]

—Rosa Rivera, in the Land of the Dead <3

I'm not very fond of AUs, but there's a kind of fic in the Coco fandom that I really like a lot: retellings of the movie with a little divergence or some sort of role reversal/role switch.

Some of the fics I've read and enjoyed the most over these months are like this. Like Elegy, my very favorite, in which Imelda is the one who gets cursed in 1942, after Ernesto's death, and visit the Land of the Dead to find out the truth (Elegy isn't a retelling of the movie, but follows a similar plot). Or Shaken by How Long it Took, an actual retelling of Coco, but with an important canon-divergence: Miguel found the wedding photo of Héctor and Imelda years ago (with Ernesto as padrino) and he knows since the beginning Héctor is his great-great-grandpa. This fic is sooo sweet and heartwarming, because both Héctor and Miguel develop a beautiful relationship. Fluff and family bonding.

Other examples are The search for the Female Mariachi, with a role switch between Héctor and Imelda (so she was the one who left and the one who guides Miguel in the Land of the Dead). Or Miguel, a fic with a complex multi role swaps (still on-going). And I'm sure there are more that I've missed.

The last one I've read is Rosa's Journey, a fic that FINALLY follows a plot I was eager to find: Rosa's the one who goes to the Land of the Dead, instead of Miguel. I've been thinking about it a lot. How would've Coco been if the main character was Rosa? I got very excited with Rosa's Journey, though the role switch isn't just between Miguel and Rosa, but between Héctor and Imelda as well (she's the one who left, again). There's a completely new villain, too: Ernesto doesn't exists and Imelda's colleague is a woman named Earlina de Paula. I've loved this fic and, to be honest, it's been a pleasure to read a Coco retelling with female characters in all the main roles (except for Héctor, obviously).

But this last fic let me thinking… what about a Coco retelling in which the only difference is who goes to the Land of the Dead? I mean, what about a Coco retelling in which Rosa goes to the Land of the Dead, but there's no actual role switch? Miguel is the one who wanna be a musician, he's the one who runs away, he's the one who's about to steal de la Cruz's guitar… but then, Rosa follows him, catches him in the cemetery and almost by mistake gets cursed by picking the guitar for Miguel. How many things would've changed then?

The idea got stronger and stronger, because it's a kind of story I would love to read. Rosa loves music too, but she loves and admires her family. She despises her great-great-grandpa for being a jerk. She doesn't idolize de la Cruz. She's sassy, funny, smart, sharp. So what kind of relationship would she develop with Héctor, who's salty, sarcastic, has no more fucks to give and also despises de la Cruz? I mean… wouldn't they be the perfect duo?! I've realized the relationship between Héctor and Miguel in the movie is kind of tense most of the time, because the kid adores Ernesto and Héctor doesn't want to disappoint him but knows the true face of that fucker. But if the kid had been a bit warier about Ernesto, their bond could've been very different. And, let’s be honest: taking care of Rosa would remind Héctor of Coco ALL THE TIME.

So I couldn't help but start writing my own retelling, because I couldn't stop thinking about it. In this story, Rosa lives the adventure that was meant for her cousin. The motivations and relationships between characters are very different. She meets a family she loves, she finds herself forced to look for a great-great-grandpa she despises and joins a trickster who has a lot in common with her. And it's being a joy. I'm writing it in a row (7 chapters by now, I'm in the battle of the bands) and I'd love to post it when I finish. But I wanted to share a little bit, because I'm enjoying it very much. So, if you're interest, here's a sneak peek of chapter 4, when Rosa and Héctor meet each other :D

Before reading: please, remember English is not my mother tongue and this is actually the first time in my life I write fiction directly in English (instead of translating something previously written in Spanish). Though I've been a writer for 20 years now, I'm not good at English. This is the first draft and it hasn't been revised. I have no beta readers, either. So any kind of tip, feedback or whatever would be very appreciate. Enjoy! :)

(...)

She thought she had lost him in the crowd, but spotted him again very quickly. It wouldn’t be possible to get too far with that limp, though he strode across the gallery with firm determination. He was crumpling the officer's warning and throwing it aside.

"Hey! Hey!" Rosa sprinted to him. "You, err… ¡señor! Do you really know de la Cruz?"

The man huffed loudly and began to turn. "Yeah, who wants to—" Then he saw her and shrieked so stridently it seemed to echo around the whole hall. "Y-YOU'RE ALIVE!"

Forget the curse: she was going to die tonight by a heart attack. Blind by the panic rush, she grabbed the man by the suspenders and pulled him rudely into a near phone booth to get out of sight. He pressed himself against the farthest corner, still as scared as if he'd just found himself trapped there with a chupacabras instead of a girl. He seemed about to start screaming again and she was going to throw up, seriously, she was going to.

"Stop yelling, por Dios!" she demanded frantically. "Sí, I'm alive! And just in case you haven't notice, I shouldn't be here right now! I'm in a big trouble and need de la Cruz's blessing to go back home in the Land of the Living!"

"You need— You just— Wait, what?" He was babbling, but then frowned. "Wait there, that's weirdly specific…"

Rosa grunted in frustration, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. Okay, this needed a direct approach. "He's my… great-great-grandfather."

"He's your WHAT?!"

"STOP YELLING!" She shook him, so on edge she didn't even notice she was shouting herself. "I need his blessing now, okay? A family blessing! I just wanna know if you can help me or not!"

"Okay, okay, okay, wait." He waved a hand to shush her and looked aside, a deeper frown shadowing his face as he focused on his thoughts. Some very complex thoughts, it seemed. "Wait, wait, waitwaitwait…" He started tapping on his chin, as if trying to figure something out, and Rosa started tapping her foot impatiently.

"Look, I don't have much time."

"It can't… but what if…"

"Could you just answer my question, ple—?"

"Yes. Yes!" He brightened up and flashed a wide smile at her. "Yes, you're going back to the Land of the Living!"

"No, I'm not, if we spent the whole night here!" Rosa put her hands on her hips, but then noticed his wild expression and grimaced. This guy's mind seemed to be racing even faster than her own, no brakes. Perhaps he had already lost it in full. "Aaand now it's when I start regretting all of this…"

"Nononono, listen up, niña!" He bent down a little, snapping his fingers under her nose. "I can help you, but you can help me too! I can help you, you can help me, we can help each other, but most importantly, you can help me!"

"Whoa…" Rosa couldn't but stare at him, raising an eyebrow. "And I thought I was desperate…"

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, his shoulders drooping. "Oh, you've noticed? How sharp!" Okay, that sounded far too salty. "Desperate is my second name, chamaca, nice to meet you."

"That's not very comforting…"

"Hey, hey, hey, look at the bright side! Since I'm desperate to cross over, I'm also desperate to get you to go home! Take it as a guarantee of my honesty, I'll help you!"

She narrowed her eyes, too. The guy was really something, but he didn't seem dangerous, despite his ragged appearance. Rosa was used to identify and avoid creepy men; they all had some kind of energy around them that gave her bad vibes just by being close. But this one just looked like… Miguel. A taller, older Miguel, as harmless as her cousin. She knew she couldn't trust a stranger and she would keep her eyes open, but maybe this could actually work. She glanced at Dante, checking for approval, and the dog was so calm she relaxed a bit.

"Okay then, don Despair." She shot him a smug gaze. "And what's your first one?"

"Héctor." He smiled and offered her his hand.

"I'm Rosa." She shook it and kept the grip to pull him out the booth. "And we're going right now, because I'm chased."

"That's new." She could hear his frown even without looking at him. "Chased by whom?"

But there was no time for explanations. Rosa had just put her feet in the hall, when a well-known female voice called out her name from the distance. She finally spotted her family far away, rushing down the staircase of the upper platform. And the punch of stress and dread hit her hard again, making her heart jump and her stomach twist.

"¡Ay, Dios! Come on, come on, COME ON!!"

She pushed Héctor to the exit, ignoring his complaints, and the three of them bolted to the street. They zipped through the revolving doors so fast that several skeletons broke apart as they slammed against the glass. But she couldn't stop now. Rosa leaped down the steps of the stairway in pairs, with the clack, clack, clack of Héctor's footsteps tripping at her side. Dante passed them by and threw himself into the crowd that filled the place, disappearing between legs and skirts. Too many people, too many. Rosa collided with some passersby who yelled at her, and she babbled apologies and turned around again and again, increasingly disoriented and scared, surrounded by unknown skeletal faces and too bright colors. She was already panting frantically.

"Dante!" she cried out in distress.

"Don't get lost, chamaca!" And suddenly Héctor was at her side, one hand keeping his hat on his head and the other one gripping her wrist to drag her across the plaza. "Over there!"

Rosa had only two seconds to peek over her shoulder one last time, to the Station. She couldn't see her family anywhere. If something went wrong, how…?

Dios, what I am doing?

They rushed together down more stairs and loped off through a few side streets, in that never-ending getaway. At last, they reached an empty, arched alley, far darker and quieter. He finally let go of her hand there, puffing.

"Whoa, that felt like a breakout. You're chased by the authorities, by any chance?" He gave her a questioning look. "Not that I mind, you know, and I know better than to ask unpleasant questions, but this is—" He trailed off when he saw her face and his little smile faded. "Oye, oye, ¿chamaca?"

Rosa wasn't listening. With her back against the alley's wall, she fought to catch her breath, shaking. This was madness. What a mess. Her heart seemed to be fiercely beating in her throat, and she could still see Mamá Imelda's eyes on her with that furious frown. Oh, Dios, she had just run away from Mamá Imelda! From Mamá Imelda! Had she lost her mind? She gaped in horror and cupped her own face, panic bubbling inside her chest once more.

"Hey, chamaca!" Héctor was snapping his fingers again to wake her up. "You okay?"

Her last bit of self-control cracked. "Do I look like I'm okay?!" Rosa shouted in a high-pitched voice, hyperventilating now. "I'm frigging cursed and I'm in the frigging Land of the Dead and I have to find a frigging celebrity before sunrise or I'll be frigging dead and— Oh, Dios, I can see my finger bones already, I CAN SEE MY FRIGGING FINGER BONES!!"

"Rosa!" Héctor grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly. "Calm down! No yelling, remember? Stop the 'frigging' thing. It's okay, you're gonna be okay. You looked so clear-headed a moment ago it was almost a bit scary, you know. I'm sure you can handle this. You have a plan, right? Just focus."

He talked as if she wasn't right before him in a full panic and he knew her since forever, both things untrue. But his voice was soothing and sounded very reasonable. It reminded her of Tía Victoria and the way she had calmed her down in the cemetery an… hour ago? Two? It seemed like a lifetime. You're a very sensible little woman with a lot of common sense inside that head… Would Tía Vico still think that way? She didn't think so. Rosa groaned and buried her face in her fists. Breathe in, breathe out. Dante pressed himself against her leg and nuzzled her thigh, whining. His warm was comforting, and her pulse began to steady. Yeah, panic wouldn't help her to go back home. She had to focus. She had made a decision and she had to think how many things were at stake. She had to keep cold-head and make this work, whatever it costed.

She had to get de la Cruz's blessing.

"Sí," she whispered finally, and then she straightened up and looked Héctor in the eye. "Sí, I have a plan."

"Great!" He smiled reassuringly. "We'll make it, chamaca. Don't worry, sí?"

Rosa nodded and swallowed. "Gracias. Sorry, I just…" She tried to elaborate, but gave up with a grunt. "That… pinche Miguel!"

"Miguel?"

"Mi primo." Rosa took off her glasses and pressed a palm over her eyes for a moment, praying for her headache to give her a break. "He was about to do a very stupid thing and I tried to stop him. Then I did a very stupid thing and got myself stuck in here. Everything's been a roller coaster since then, I feel as if running for hours. But enough of that. How do we get to de la Cruz?"

"Hey, hey, slow down!" Héctor looked suspiciously hesitant. "First of all, we should do something about all that… that…" He waved towards her, from head to toe. "All that flesh of you. We won't get far if you don't blend in, you need a disguise. Got any makeup or face paint? Something we can use?"

Rosa rushed to unzip her pockets and sighted in relief when she found her little brothers' face paint still there. She only had white and black, and the old red lipstick of Tía Gloria, but that was enough. Héctor gave her a nod of approval and led her up the alley, till they found some crates and took a seat. Dante sat by their side and watched them closely, so incredibly happy again. The dog had relaxed after fleeing the Station and seemed very at ease around the stranger. Rosa took it as a good sign. Even if Héctor was a trickster, he had made a point before: his priority was crossing over the bridge, that much was obvious, so it was unlikely he could mean any harm. There was no point in hurting the only person who could help you.

"Hold still, hold still," Héctor murmured, so focused on her makeup that Rosa straightened up and held her pose. The quietness was very welcome after all the stress, she didn't mind the pause at all. But it was also pretty surreal to be sitting there, with a skeleton painting her face just as Tía Gloria would've done if she hadn't ended in that crazy place.

Perhaps she had just knocked herself out by falling from de la Cruz's sepulcro and was hallucinating the entire thing.

She really hoped so.

A few minutes later, Héctor finally looked satisfied. "Ta-da! The perfect calaverita!" He took a small mirror out of his pocket and held it in front of her. Rosa put on her glasses again and whistled in disbelief, actually impressed. It was a regular calavera makeup, but he'd got creative with the lipstick and had drawn beautiful patterns in her cheeks and around her brows. "Wait, no hood?" he added, peeking over her shoulder to the jacket's back.

"Err… no."

Héctor sighed dramatically. "Ay, okay, your hair. Let it down, we must hide those ears."

Rosa obeyed and he quickly parted her hair in two halves for a twin braids hairdo. He worked so fast, so I-know-perfectly-what-I'm-doing, that she couldn't help whistling again. "You know, you look pretty skilled at braiding," she scoffed.

Héctor chuckled, though his smile seemed a little bittersweet. "I used to make a lot of braids, a long, long time ago. Got any other—?" Rosa held up a second rubber band before he asked for it. "Girls, always ready."

"I must, with this hair."

"This hair's gonna save your day, chamaca." He arranged the braids to cover her ears and put back her diadem as if crowning her. "Okay, ya está. That diadema will keep them in place. Collar up! Perfect, I think we're done. Just…" He looked thoughtfully at her legs. "We should get a skirt. Long to the ankles."

"Oye, how old are you?" Rosa complained, and put her hands on her hips again in annoyance. "Now you talk like my abuela!"

"If Ernesto is actually you're great-great-grandpa, I assure you I'm old enough to be your great-great-grandpa too." Héctor pouted and crossed his arms. "But the point is we can't paint your fleshy legs. Can you unfold that hem?"

Grumbling under her breath, Rosa tried to pull the cuffed hem of her capri jeans as down as she could. It was disturbing to see the curse creeping up her legs, her feet fully skeletal by then like ominous ankle socks.

"Okay, now listen to me, Rosa: this world is not much different from your own, so here are the golden rules." Héctor lifted three fingers. "Stay close, don't get lost and never follow any weird guy to any weird place."

She shot him a dry glare. "You serious?" she blurted out. "I'm in a really weird place with a really weird guy right now!"

"This doesn't count!" He waved a hand dismissively. "We have a deal! And I would never harm a fly, far less a little girl or any other human being."

"Right the kind of thing a weird guy would say." Rosa rolled her eyes. "Look, I can take care of myself, don't worry about that."

"Oh? And how you—?"

He couldn't finish. As fast as light, she took off one of her flats and swatted him hard in the cheekbone. So hard that his skull spun around. Héctor shirked and grabbed his head to stop it, looking at her with wide, dumbfounded eyes.

"You'll never see me coming." Rosa gave him a smug smile and a sassy shrug, before putting her flat on.

"That…" He was speechless. "That felt familiar…"

"Did it?" She raised an eyebrow. "How many women have hit you with their shoes?"

"Just one, but she hit hard enough to be unforgettable." For a tiny moment, he seemed about to smile fondly, but covered it with a cough. "Okay, okay, I trust you, so back to business! There's something important you must understand, Rosa. This place runs on memories. If you're well remembered, people put up your photo and you get to cross the bridge and visit the living on Día de Muertos." He put a hand on his chest with a tense smile. "As you've probably notice by now, that's not my case."

"You've never crossed over?" She frowned, getting serious.

"No one's ever put up my picture. But you can change that!" He took an old photo out from his inner pocket and handed it to her. It was black and white, with a young living Héctor who looked a very little older than her own big brother. His eyes were big and bright, and his smile seemed to cross his whole sharp-angled face. She scanned it intently, feeling that something was off but not getting what. Dios, how old actually was that guy? How old was he when he died?

"So… this is you."

"Muy guapo, eh?" he joked, waving his brows.

Rosa snorted. "So you want me to put up your photo on my family's ofrenda when I get home… in exchange of getting me to my great-great-grandpa."

"Well, yeah, about that…" Oh, no, that suspicious hesitation again. "Actually, de la Cruz is a tough guy to get to, and I need to cross that bridge soon. Like tonight. So, you got any other family here? You know, someone a bit more… ehh, accessible?"

Rosa stared at him, poker-faced. She couldn't think about her family without fretting again, but she couldn't afford another panic attack either. Héctor was really desperate; if he found out she'd just run away from her relatives, they would never make their way to de la Cruz. He could even try to take her back to the Station right away. So she hardened her look and narrowed her eyes, in what she hoped to look like an 'are-you-frigging-kidding-me' expression.

"What part of  'I need de la Cruz's blessing' you didn't get?" she hissed, trying her best to look offended. "Did you really think I'd be here if I had another option? It's de la Cruz's or nothing!" Rolling her eyes with a lot of drama, she huffed and pushed the photo against Héctor's chest. "I should've guessed you only wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible. Well then, don Despair! I won't bother you anymore, good luck with your bridge. Let's go, Dante!"

She stood up and strode away.

"Wha— Waitwaitwait!" Rosa was already half way to the alley's entry. "Argh! Okay, okay, niña, fine! Fine! I'll get you to your great-great-grandpa!"

Rosa stopped and waited while Héctor trotted towards her, limping. When he reached her, she flashed him a bright smile.

"Lead the way, guapo," she teased.

Héctor pouted again. "You're pretty terrible, you know that?"

And this time, she felt extremely proud.

[pagansheep]

Markiplier Ego Master Post

Welcome to the master ego post where I’ve tracked mostly all the appearances of Markiplier’s egos!

King Of The Squirrels

King Of The Squirrels, King Of The Squirrels Returns, Markiplier TV

Googleplier

Google in REAL LIFE Ft. Markiplier 1 2, 360 Video, Markiplier TV, Google Gets An Upgrade Ft Bingiplier

Silver Shepherd

Super Infidelity, Markiplier TV

Dr. Edward Iplier

Worst News Doctor, Markiplier TV, SANTA SPILLS THE TEA

The Host

Danger in Fiction [feat. Markiplier] 1 2, Markiplier TV

Ed Edgar

Ed Edgar Adoptallott's Baby Bulk Buy, Markiplier TV

Bim Trimmer

Hire My A** [feat. Markiplier, Danny Sexbang & Matthias], Markiplier TV

Jim

Markiplier TV, CORPSE ABDUCTION?, SUSPECT WITH A SHOOTY?!, DEMONS JIM, DEMONS!!, DUMMY JIM REENACTS GRISLY SCENE!

Yaniplier

MAKING LOVE FOR SENPAI | Yandere Simulator #12

Chef Iplier

Now We’re Cooking

Wilford Warfstache (William Jackson Barnum)

The Fall of Slender Man, The Warfstache Affair, Warfstache Plays: Slender, The Ned Affair [feat. MARKIPLIER], Five Nights at Freddy's: The Interview, Warfstache Interviews Markiplier, Markiplier TV, Wilford 'MOTHERLOVING' Warfstache,  A Heist With Markiplier

Darkiplier

Don’t Blink, Don’t Move, Mr.Kitty Saves The World, Raspy Hill, Are Jumpscares Scary?, Relax, Don’t Play This Game, Markiplier TV, The Voice of Darkiplier, Darkiplier Vs Antisepticeye, Don’t Remember, go back to sleep...,  3 SCARY GAMES #20, DAMIEN,  A Heist With Markiplier

Eric Derekson

SANTA SPILLS THE TEA

Derek Derekson

SANTA SPILLS THE TEA

Randal Vorehees

SANTA SPILLS THE TEA

Sanataplier

SANTA SPILLS THE TEA

Yancy

A Heist With Markiplier

Illinois

A Heist With Markiplier

Captain Magnum

A Heist With Markiplier

Harold B. Darrensworth

A Date With Markiplier

Dark’s Route: Beginning, PAY, Horror, Freedom!, Left

Wilford’s Route: Beginning, Don’t Pay, Don’t Attack, Pick Lock, Stay Together, More?

Markiplier TV

Who Killed Markiplier 1, 2, 3, 4

Unknown:

Big MOOD?, THE ANIMATRONIC IN THE SHADOWS | POPGOES - Part 6 (ENDING), 3 SCARY GAMES #9, Can You BLOW UP a BLACK HOLE, WHAT HAVE I CREATED...?

Description Evidence:

A TOTALLY NORMAL GAME... NOTHING SUSPICIOUS AT ALL... | Doki Doki Literature Club - Part 1, SO MANY BEAUTIFUL WOMEN | Doki Doki Literature Club - Part 2, EVERYTHING IS SO... NORMAL | Doki Doki Literature Club - Part 3, THE PERFECT DATE w/ ThE ̸̗͍̮̼͙P̏͂̈́ͦ͂̂E͆̈́ͧͮͣ̍̄Ŕ̓͋F̿̒ͦĒͫ̑ͧCT̓ ͏̪̜̗͔̻̘giRL | Doki Doki - Part 4, WARNING... THINGS GO VERY VERY WRONG... | Doki Doki Literature Club - Part 5, BE WITH ME FOREVER | Doki Doki Literature Club - Part 6 (ENDING)

Aheistwithmarkiplier.com 

password:Lh3EeEeR9z59YWcUB2b7ViHJ8ALQ637

Routes

Ending one: Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, I Don’t Trust Strangers (Clever Girl)

Ending two:  Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, An Adventure Sounds Lovely, Don’t Give The Statue (Monkey See, Monkey Kill)

Ending three:  Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, An Adventure Sounds Lovely, Give The Statue (A Heavenly Adventure)

Ending four: Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, Walk To Base, Tell The Truth (Friends 4 Unlife)

Ending five: Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, Walk To Base, I’m Fine!, The Scientist, ABSOLUTELY NOT (The Coward’s Way Out)

Ending six: Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, Walk To Base, I’m Fine!, The Scientist, For The Greater Good (The End)

Ending seven: Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, Walk To Base, I’m Fine! The Soldier, I’m Hiding Something (What Did You Expect?)

Ending eight: Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, Walk To Base, I’m Fine! The Soldier, Ed’s Hiding Something, Tuna (The Cure)

Ending: nine: Gun Blazing, Car, Try To Fix, Walk To Base, I’m Fine! The Soldier, Ed’s Hiding Something, PB&J (Friends Of The Dead)

Ending ten: Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Rally The Prisoners, Prison Life For Me (Life Sentences)

Ending eleven: Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Rally The Prisoners, I Want To Be Free, Thanks But No Thanks (Dance To The Death)

Ending twelve: Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Rally The Prisoners, I Want To Be Free, Thanks But Also Yes Please (I Want To Be Free)

Ending thirteen:  Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Charm The Guards, Dig Dig Dig, What’s In The Box?  (Shut Up!)

Ending fourteen: Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Charm The Guards, What’s That?, Oh Hell No!, What’s In The Box? (Be Quiet!)

Ending fifteen:  Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Charm The Guards, Dig Dig Dig, Stick To The Plan, Open The Box (Time On Our Side)

Ending sixteen: Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Charm The Guards, What’s That?, Oh Hell No!, Stick To The Plan, Open The Box (The Interview: Special)

Ending seventeen:  Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Charm The Guards, Dig Dig Dig, Stick To The Plan, Shoot Bob (It Was ME The Whole Time)

Ending Eighteen:  Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Charm The Guards, What’s That?, Oh Hell No!, Stick To The Plan, Shoot Wade (It Was MY Joke)

Ending nineteen: Gun Blazing, Helicopter, Charm The Guards, What’s That?, This Seems Safe (The Enigma Of Happy Trails Penitentiary)

Ending twenty:  All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Wait For Rescue, I Know Everything (I believe I can Fly)

Ending twenty-one:  All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Wait For Rescue, I Know Nothing, Golden Treasure (In The SoulStone)

Ending twenty-two: All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Wait For Rescue, I Know Nothing, Treasured Gold (A Pirate’s Life For Me)

Ending twenty-three:  All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Row Home, Build A Sign (Not Again…)

Ending twenty-four: All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Row Home, Find Shelter, Enter The Cave, You First (Imma Firin’ Mah Lazarrr!)

Ending twenty-five:  All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Row Home, Find Shelter, Enter The Cave, Me First (Don’t Judge A Book By Its Human-Skin Cover)

Ending twenty-six:  All Sneaky Like, Light Tunnel, Row Home, Find Shelter, Run Away (Fresh Meat)

Ending twenty-seven: All Sneaky Like, Dark Tunnel, Split Up (When Will You Learn?)

Ending twenty-eight:  All Sneaky Like, Dark Tunnel, Don’t Split Up, Split Up (Are You Serious?)

Ending twenty-nine: All Sneaky Like, Dark Tunnel, Don’t Split Up, Don’t Split Up, Don’t Split Up, Split Up (One Last Split Up)

Ending thirty:  All Sneaky Like, Dark Tunnel, Don’t Split Up, Don’t Split Up, Don’t Split Up, Don’t Split Up (One More, With Feeling)

Ending thirty-one: All Sneaky Like, Dark Tunnel, Don’t Split Up, Don’t Split Up,  Split Up (Ignorance Is Bliss: Dark)

WHAT HAVE I CREATED…?: 19:04-19:34

Markiplier: (From ADWM until current time)

Tumblr

Twitter

Instagram

uh oh… February 8th, 2017

The perfect backdrop for a successful businessman such as myself! February 9th, 2017

… February 12th, 2017

Getting closer… February 13th, 2017

What a rush this past week has been! Thank you all so much for the love you have shown in response! February 14th, 2017

Darkiplier Rises April 7th, 2017

Welcome back… May 5th, 2017

praise the SUH ☀️May 20th, 2017

when u don't trust dat fingy July 28th, 2017

5 October 5th, 2017

4 October 6th, 2017

3 October 7th, 2017

2 October 8th, 2017

1 October 9th, 2017

You’re Invited! October 10th, 2017

Just a friendly game of poker! I can’t overstate how grateful I am to be able to bring this project to life with my friends! And I’m even more excited at the incredible response you guys showed us with your endless theories and endless JIMs! Seriously, thank you all so much! October 13th, 2017

Look at this dapper bastard! What a fun character, almost made ripping that mustache on and off to swap for the mayor worth it! October 14th, 2017

Headed to the Infinity War premiere! April 23rd, 2018

You Better Run… July 31st, 2018

It just doesn’t add up… August 1st, 2018

Won’t be played for a fool… not again… August 1st, 2018

You’re going to pay for what you did… August 2nd, 2018

baCk oFf FiNgY i gOt A BaNG bANg sHOOty KaBoOmY August 4th, 2018

I am posting the video about Wilford MOTHERLOVING Warfstache tomorrow, which is FRIENDSHIP DAY, at 12pm PST. The video will be about FRIENDSHIP and NOTHING ELSE. August 5th, 2018 #Why would I lie?

WILFORD WARFSTACHE RETURNS. TOMORROW. FRIENDSHIP DAY. 12pm PST. PREPARE THY BUTTS. August 5th, 2018

Happy FRIENDSHIP DAY everyone! Let's raise our glasses to old friends and celebrate in style! Special video coming out at 12pm PST! August 5th, 2018

IT’S ALMOST TIME FOR FRIENDSHIP DAY!! Just about 30 minutes til the 🎊 party 🎊 Did you remember your dancing shoes? August 5th, 2018

Haha what a fun mask! August 15th, 2018

My only objective this month is to make you cry October 2nd, 2018

with wholesome heartwarming content October 2nd, 2018

My secondary objective is to destroy mankind October 2nd, 2018

Nice mask! October 29th, 2018 

I see and I want him to be okay December 1st, 2018

Dr. Iplier December 1st, 2018

**SPOILERS AHEAD** October 30th, 2019

Thank you, Amy. You were my rock through this whole project… October 30th, 2019

And of course, no production goes ANYWHERE without an amazing crew backing it up every step of the way! October 30th, 2019

Shoutout to the REAL star October 30th, 2019

Sup October 31st, 2019

Hey beautiful October 31st, 2019

[spongebobsins]

Everything Wrong With The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie

(Full disclosure: I actually did this before on DA a few years ago, so this is a spruced up version of that post. It’s been updated with my current standards and some new jokes but isn’t totally different. Still, hope you enjoy)

1.Viacom

2.There’s a whole opening scene with pirates, yet Patchy is nowhere to be seen

3.This guy thought it wouldn’t be a good idea to step out of the way of the door before the guy came out.

4.Because this is a SpongeBob movie, I can ignore a lot of stuff here, but there are like 50 pirates here, and only like 6 tickets.

5.These pirates are making a huge rowdy mess…and yet if I was there, it wold still be one my better theater expereinces.

6.Wait, the movie within the movie just starts with no title? There’s s no title in the credits, which is part of the movie within the movie, so what kind of movie has no title in it at all?

7.Also, the screening just starts with no trailers?

8.Why wasn’t the manager here to begin with, if the place was open.

9.They seriously called the cops about the cheese? Can’t someone else just…put cheese on it

9.“Weird sound in dream turns out be normal sound waking them up” cliché.

10.It being a dream forgives a few sins…but it’s still a dream cliche so..

11. Let’s talk about the Krusty Krab 2. How could have a hugely popular restaurant, function for this only with only ONE in existence?

12 Also, at no point do we see them hire extra employees for the other  KK, there’s just a new manager, but there’s like 2 employees in this place besides Mr Krabs. …How did a place like this ever function with only two employees, anyway?

13.Spongebob has underwear in this shot, but when his pants…open up, he’s nude.

14.Also, Butt joke.

15.SpongeBob’s teeth should not be in good shape if he only brushes his eyes.

16.Even for SpongeBob, barging in Squid’s shower is…creepy.

17.There’s nothing under this rock so where did Patrick’s pants come from? 18.All this excitement over a place that has never been mentioned before now.

19.Wait, KK 2 is next to the first one? That’s really stupid.

20.”Lord knows I’ve tried” Which lord though? Is relgion a thing under the sea?

21/know Plankton doesn’t always have common sense, but he seriously has never heard of the letter Z?! Or at least he hasn’t seen that file clearly there.

22. Plan Z seems to be Plan Porn, ew.

23.The Chum Bucket isn’t directly across the street like it should be.

24.How he does not hear his screams?

25.Also, the plankton smear vanishes in the next shot.

26.“I paid 9 dollars for this?” ‘I paid ten”. That’s racist.

27.I know SpongeBob is” immature” but Squidward is literately the worst worker ever, so why was he picked? At least SB is a good worker.

28.If you listen really closely, you near hear Mr  Krabs whispering jackass. That’s sinful because he said swearing is bad back in Sailor Mouth and got trouble with his Mom over it.

29.Another butt joke. 30.Wait, he doesn’t like people touching the crown yet he hired someone to clean it?

31.Even if this is meant to a different character than the God Neptune, why are we only just now knowing there’s a King of the sea, especially since he’s so close to a place the leads apparently go to a lot?

32.How the hell did no one notice Plankton taking the crown? Mindy is looking in the general direction of it, and while plankton is tiny, they should at least hear it moving or something.

33.There’s no guards outside to possible see the crown flying away.

34/Goofy Goober has a lollipop in this shot, but when that hand thing comes out, it’s gone

35.  There’s only one row of chairs in the nut bar here, but when SpongeBob starts to leave, there’s another corner where more chairs are over there. 36.And they’re drunk, in a family film.

37/They didn’t kick them out for getting drunk in front of kids?

38.Wait, if they’re at the KK 2, who is taking care of the first one right now?

39.”You left one DAMNING piece of evidence-” Whoa, Language!

40.We did not see Plankton bring paper with him at all so I must question this.

41.Also, Mr. Krabs could try to find some stuff he wrote to show this isn’t his handwriting. 42.There’s never a phone here but it’s now there for this joke.

43.How can Plankton hear over anything over the phone if Mr Krabs hung up?

44.Mr Krabs’ clothes magically grow back

45.Discount My Leg!

46.Everyone in the Krusty Krab magically appears before that part, and disappears right after. Hell, you can see two fish eating in the background like nothing’s happening!

47.Patrick, out of nowhere!

48.Patrick being horny for Mindy goes nowhere and is a bit creepy.

49.The wheels are made of pickles in this shot, but when they leave, they are real wheels.

50.There’s seriously no one at the Krusty Krab or even outside to see this?

51.Stereotypical hillbillies are Stereotypical, and a bit annoying.

52.”No Patrick they’re laughing next to us” Hey, only I get to be pedantic around here!

53.How did no one see that guy coming?

54.How did she get that footage?

55.I like that the airhorn from the previous scene is sitll here but it was nowhere to be seen before than so..

56.The thug doesn’t recognize Patrick from earlier.

57 No one in the bar is seen with any tools normally used for bubble blowing, and since they somehow don’t know it came from the bathroom, no one in that room should be suspected.

58.They were standing in place the whole time and everything was far away when they beat up the double dude, so how did Patrick get the key?

59.Villain asks who can stop them now and it cuts to the heroes cliché.

60.A monster having an part that looks like a talking old lady makes no sense  and you know it, so let’s move on.

61.How did the bubble soap get outside?

62.The stairs to the trench randomly appear and reappear throughout this scene.

63.Patrick has only worn those underpants once in the whole show…and it was in an episode after this movie!

64.Even with that carriage, how did Mindy get here so fast? She has no mermaid magic.

65.“Did you see my underwear?” “No Patrick ‘ “Did you want to?” …Ew.

66. The plankton statue in complete in this shot, but in the next shot it’s under construction.

67.I know Plankton wanted Neptune to fry Mr Krabs, but since he controls everyone, couldn’t he storm the castle and use the bucket on Neptune to get the job done quicker?

68.Hate to get critical, but sometimes these cuts to Dennis ruin the flow of scenes.

69.How does that seaweed stay on?

70.“Why did we jump over the edge instead of taking the stairs?” Spongebob would be great at SpongeBobSins.

71.This song is awesome until you realized they lazily reused some title card music from the show.

…But it’s still awesome, so..

71. ”Even the hideous disgusting monsters!” That’s racist.

72.“That way you’ll never found out that he stole the crown” Dennis is an idiot.

73.Man, what is with this movie and characters appearing without being heard?

74.You know, randomly walking around underwater in a desolate area with barely any fish isn’t really that efficient, given what he’s using them for as we find out in a minute.(Although it clearly worked before so this sin is debatable)

75.Why does he wear his diver’s outfit while on land?

76.“Alexander Clam Bell!” Booooo

77.Okay, so how did Plankton get the crown all the way here anyway?

78.How the heck did they not see that huge crown this whole time?

The entire scene is insanely emotional, especially for SpongeBob. I’m not made of stone so…yeah.

78.The pirates ruins it a tad though.

79.Discount Potty, which makes the lack of Patchy worse. He’s even voiced by Stephen!

80.“Tears bring someone back to life” cliché.

81.Also, these detectors do not work that way.

82..Because a bit of water will bring dead fish back to life, right? It makes sense for the duo but not the ones that have been dead for ages.

83.Poop joke.

84.The Hasselhoff cameo is funny but how many kids even know him, even I 2004?

85,I’m not even gonna ask how Dennis got here with the boot. Still sinning it, of course.

86.Hoff barely feels this epic battle going on, on his back.

87.You’ve got a time limit but sure, 10 seconds to liftoff.

88.They made a big deal out of that lock but now it’s just gone.

89.Karen isn’t there before SB and Pat show up, but now she’s here.

90. Why didn’t he put the bucket on Neptune beforehand? Would have made this a lot easier, makes my previous sin more of an issue.

91.Now the talking cheese is gonna preach to us!

92.This is amazing, one of the best things ever…but it’s also the biggest Deus Ex Machina ever.

93.”No freakin’ way!” The soundtrack version changes this because freakin’ is just too intense for kids I guess.

Eh screw it, sin removed!

93. From the looks of it, the town literally fixed itself in a matter of hours.

94.“I was just tell you that  that your fly is down!” …He doesn’t wear pants. 95,Freeze frame ending.

96.The credits feel the need to inform us that Karen is a computer wife.

97. Way too many minutes of credits for the sake of padding the soundtrack. 98.Post credits scene. SpongeBob is my favorite Marvel movie.

MOVIE SIN TALLY: 98

SENTENCE: Beaten senseless (by every able boded patron in the bar)

And after a slight delay, this is finally done. Even though I had to refurbish something I already did, this sitll took some more, to see what new sins to add and what to keep I tried my best to make sure the sins are good here and hopefully only a few are weird/filler.

This is certainly a few easy movie to sin, but is still highly enjoyable. Might do a win post for it someday, we’ll see. But for now, here are the sins of a good representation of the series.

With that out of the way come back in about mid February or a bit later as dive into Season 4 and see how sinful it ends up being. I’m judging all SpongeBob on the same level, so we’ll see how the sins are.

See ya then.

(Dedicated to Stephen Hilenburg)

[taenamseok]

The Case of Her Heart

Masterlist

A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to the beginning of The Case of Her Heart. A quick summary. This is a Sherlock based au, but not everything is the same as Sherlock. Whenever I do an au based on something I will change things to make it my own. Now many of you may think that the roles in this should be Namjoon as Sherlock and Y/N as the Watson character, but I don’t feel that way. I feel it would be more interesting with Namjoon as Watson and Y/N as Sherlock. These will be long chapters, the first chapter being the shortest. Due to the long chapters I’ll only be posting once a week to make sure I provide the best content possible while writing other stuff too. Well, enough of my rambling. Enjoy!

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Summary: A damaged man that just wants to feel alive again. A detective who doesn't understand people's emotions. Can they work together to bring down a criminal mastermind?

Next

Chapter One

"How are you doing, Mr. Kim? Has anything changed since our last meeting?" Dr. Brighton asked, her eyes flicking up from her notepad. The man sat cross-legged in the chair, his fingers anxiously dancing across the arm of the chair. The far away look in his eyes, as he's had for years. "Um," he licks his lips, "no, not really." He replies. "Have you been out of the house at all?" The doctor asks, scribbling on the notepad. "Not much, I don't like being around too many people, you know?" The man says. "And the nightmares?" She asks, looking up at him. "Um, still, still there. I don't sleep much." He sighs, yawning at the thought. The doctor nods, writing down the information.

"Doc, we've been over the same things over and over again for months. I'm not going to improve." The man sighs, rubbing his temples. "That's because you don't listen to my advice, Mr. Kim. You're too stubborn, and its tearing you apart. Now, I'll tell you again. I want you to get out of the house, meet people. You hole yourself up in your flat because you're afraid of people, or what might happen to them. I want you to go outside, to the park or a cafe or something. Also, write down what happens to you. Keep a journal. It'll give you something to confide in, your true feelings."

Mumbles and camera flashes flood the room, all eyes focused on the panel of law enforcement members. "Are you ready, sir?" Sargent Jones asked quickly. The man nodded, closing his eyes as he prepped for the bombardment of questions he was about to endure. "May I have everyone's attention please!" Jones spoke into the microphone, the crowd growing silent. "Detective Inspector Park will now answer questions pertaining to the recent disappearances of James Willington, Marcus Baker, and Lilly Cunningham." She said, taking the seat next to Decective Inspector Park. A wave of hands shot through the air, all waving and wishing to have theirs picked. "Um, you there, row 3 seat 7." Inspector Park said. The man rose from his seat, notepad in hand.

"Detective Inspector, is it true that these disappearances might be linked somehow?" The man asked. "Its a possibility, but it's not very likely since they were all very different people, with different lifestyles, ages, and in different areas and cities. We are investigating it a bit but our main focus right now is finding the persons in question." Inspector Park spoke coolly, have done this too many times to be proud of. As Inspector Park finishes his sentence, a chime of every cell phone in the room sounds, including his own. He sighs, pulling the device put of his pocket and reading the text on the screen.

"Um, Inspector, this says they're connected." The same man says. Everyone looks at each other quizzically, and Inspector Park's jaw tightens. "Everyone, please ignore the message, it's not known for sure that the disappearances are connected. Why don't we get back to the questions?" Jones says quickly. "Yes, please." Inspector Park sighs. "You there, row 1, seat 3." The woman stands up.

"Inspector, do you think any of us are in danger?" The woman asks. "No, I can assure you that we have our on high alert throughout the city. This case should be solved soon, we have our best detectives working very hard." Inspector Park assures the nervous woman. Another wave of ringtones echoes through the room, everyone taking their phones out to check. "It just says 'Wrong' Detective Inspector." The woman gasps. Inspector Park groans, rubbing his temples.

"Tell her to stop, she's ruining this." Jones spits in his ear. "Don't you think if I knew I'd have done it already?" He sighs. His phone pings again, a message popping up on the screen. "You know where to find me. I'll be waiting." "That's it. This is over. If we continue she will too." Inspector Park sighs, standing up and walking out of the room, leaving Sargent Jones to deal with the angry reporters.

The warm air felt nice, the leaves in the trees rustling. He walked slowly on the path, finally taking Dr. Brighton's advice and getting out of his dusty flat and getting fresh air. He had his earbuds in, still preferring his music over the sound of others in the park. He pauses as he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns quickly, putting his hands up defensively, ready to take on his assailant. He sees a somewhat familiar face, pulling his earbuds out and hanging them around his neck to greet the man.

"Woah, Namjoon. It's been a while, I hope you still recognize me." The man chuckles. "Of course, Jackson, how good I forget?" Namjoon smiles, meeting the man's hand in a handshake. The two men sit down on a bench nearby, an awkward silence falling between them. "So, how've you been? It's been a few years." Jackson breaks the silence. "Um, alright, I guess." Namjoon nods, fiddling his thumbs in his lap.

"Namjoon, you know, it wasn't your fault. You know that, right?" Jackson asks, placing a comforting hand on Namjoon's shoulder. He nods quickly, sniffling at the memory. "I still could've helped more, you know?" He croaks. "You can't beat yourself over this, man. It's not your fault." Jackson says softly. Namjoon straightens up, falling back into his stoic demeanor.

"So, how's Kyungmin?" Jackson asks, leaning back against the bench. "Um, I'm not sure, exactly, I haven't talked to her in a while." Namjoon laughs nervously. "Ah, well she has always been a handful, I have no doubt its difficult to keep tabs on her." Jackson chuckles. "Yeah." Namjoon replies, falling back into an uncomfortable silence.

"How's your living situation if you don't mind me asking. You in a good place?" Jackson asks. "Um, it's alright. Not great, but alright. It's enough for me. I don't have people over so it doesn't matter that it's small. Why?" Namjoon answers, looking at Jackson questioningly. Jackson smiles. "I have someone I want you to meet. I think you two would get along quite well. Come on."

"Hoseok! What happened to that body?" The young woman asks, tucking her hair behind her ear as her eyes lowered to look into the microscope again. "Well, you definitely beat the hell out of him, I'll give you that, but no bruises." Hoseok said from across the table. The woman sighs through grit teeth. "Okay." She replies simply. "That was quite an interesting sight though, seeing you beat a dead body with a riding crop. I pray that you're not into BDSM, your partner would probably end up on my table." Hoseok chuckled. The woman looked up at him, her eyebrow cocked. "Uh, nevermind, forgot for a minute you don't know anything about sexual stuff." He sighs. "That's because I have no use for it right now. There's much more to do than be pleasured." She shakes her head. "Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." Hoseok smirks, winking at her. "Didn't you say the same thing to the receptionist this morning?" She asks coolly, causing his eyes to widen. He ducks out of the room in embarrassment, running into two men in the hallway.

Namjoon and Jackson enter the room, the woman not looking up. The moment Namjoon laid eyes on her, he was captivated by her beauty. The way way her hair was tucked neatly behind her ear, her nimble fingers adjusting the knobs on the microscope, her teeth clamped onto her bottom lip in concentration. "Ah, Jackson, what a surprise." She said, looking up at the men. Her eyes gleamed in the florescent lighting as she looked between them. "Namjoon, this is Min Y/N. Y/N, this is Namjoon, and old friend of mine." Jackson says, pointing between the two of you. "Um, it's a pleasure to uh, meet you." Namjoon stuttered, bowing slightly.

"Hello. So, what time will you be prepared?" She asks nonchalantly. Namjoon stands there, looking over at Jackson, whose eyes are on him. He realizes Y/N's eyes are on him too, and he raises an eyebrow. "Me?" He asks. "Yes, you. What time will you be ready to look at the flat?" She asks, completely confusing him. "Um, I'm sorry, flat? What flat?" He stutters. "Well, I told Jackson this morning that no one would ever want to live with me, then he shows up hours later with ex-military with severe PTSD." She says, looking back into the microscope. Namjoon is taken aback, looking between Jackson and Y/N, a smirk painted onto Jackson's face.

"You told her about me, didn't you?" Namjoon asks. Jackson shakes his head. "Then how does she know all of that?" "Well, the ex-military part is because you both are very young and Jackson doesn't have too many friends, and he's never mentioned a Namjoon. So, you must have known each other for a while, but not been in the same unit. You met in bootcamp, right?" Y/N asks. Namjoon nods slowly. "So what were you? Your hands are fairly nimble. Doctor, right?" She asks, looking up at him. "Um, yeah, that's right." Namjoon replies.

"You keep to yourself. Theres no outline of a phone in your pocket so either you don't have one or you keep it at home, having no need to use one while you're out. Also, you still seem fairly comfortable without it. If you were just forgetful you'd be twitchy without it, which means you don't actually use it. The PTSD part, you jump at the slightest sudden sound. You've jumped three times since being here and all I've done is set down petri dishes." "She's good, isn't she? Be careful though, she can be a real bitch sometimes." Jackson chuckles. Y/N doesn't reply to the comment.

"That's, amazing. How do you know all of that when you've just met me?" Namjoon asks, putting his hands in his pockets. Y/N sets another dish down, and Namjoon involuntarily jumped slightly. Y/N raised her head, looking at him as if to make a point. "Alright, I get it. That's really amazing." Namjoon smiles, surprised that such a beautiful woman is so intelligent. Y/N raises her eyebrows quickly. "Well I've always been smarter than average, my whole family actually." She says, passing Namjoon to grab her coat. "So, meet me at 221B Baker Street, 3 o'clock. Please, don't be late, I hate waiting on people." She says quickly. "See you around, Jackson." She waves while exiting the room, her heels clicking on the tile. Namjoon stands there, completely baffled. "Um, what just happened?" He asks, chuckling in disbelief. "You, my friend, are about to have one hell of an adventure." Jackson smirks.