vocal synth character designs have become Too Complicated in the past. uh. 15 years for my little watercoloury brain to handle so i will always have to simplify them forever but i was thinking yknow i can just make them fun new outfits too. module type deal. alternate outfits!!! so i was trying to make genbu one but it does just look like something youd see in the stageplay adaptation of a historical-setting otome game LOL

27 ASKS!! AAA THANK YOU!! :DDD

Good question! :0 The Glamrocks would be quite creeped out. And actually, so would the sister location gang!

What I had in mind for my circus gang was that their face plates are not meant to move around to make them look more life like. They have the face plates for easy repair, replacement, cosmetic changes, and easy access to the endoskeleton if needed. When the animatronic is active, the faceplates are locked up tight and are not meant to open while the animatronic is active. Again, its just for easy repair and replacements.

So since the animatronics are not meant to move their plates, if one of them looked in a mirror and their face plates moved or opened.? They'd freak out! That's not meant to open! I must be broken! And they'd run to an employee for help <XD

NOOOO NOT THE BEAM ATTACK--

Maybe! :0 I haven't thought that part of the story through but I wouldn't be against that idea!

Funny how you say that when recently Browns headlights went out. Yeah he really does need glasses XDD

(He's fixed now btw don't worry👍)

She wasn't intended to have much of a role in the AU, considering Mario and Luigi are the only humans in the mushroom kingdoms dimension..

Maybe she could have been a childhood friend that they knew? Maybe she was their next door neighbor? Or perhaps a customer of theirs? What ever role she had in their lives back on Earth, it wasn't meant to be significant enough to remember/miss her..

@thebranflakescereal

The sister location gang? Prooobaly Circus Baby, with Funtime Freddy as a close second.

The Glamrock gang? Probably the daycare attendant XDD

@neo-metalscottic (Post in question)

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD I'm so glad you liked my designs! And I'm also glad that my more mellow "go with the flow" vibe for Freddy was seen! That's what I was aiming for! :DD

As for the map bot question, yes! The beloved map bot is alive and well <XDD He's not a threat to Gregory currently and he thankfully doesn't bother the main cast much. He just hangs around until he sees someone in need of a map! XD

@ghfhgkfngjvfnvmfkf

Hmm,, good question. I think if Funtime Freddy was decommissioned but they kept the Bon's around?.. They wouldn't put the bons with Circus Baby or Ballora becuase they'd be out of place. Ballora and the reenas are humanoid. They're pretty, delicate, and are ballerinas. Circus Baby, Ennard and the Bidybabs are all humanoid as well and clown themed. With specific color palettes and a clown performance.

What they'd probably do is put them with Funtime Foxy and just expand his act to accommodate for the extra people. They'd make Foxy a magician/ringmaster and somehow incorporate the Bons into his act. Since him, Chica and the Bons are all animals it would fit better.

You can just put it in a paint program and white out all the characters like I did. :0

I did keep some of Jevil's powers from the game yeah. :0 But I've altered almost all of them in some way-

In the Grillby fight he's seen "teleporting" to avoid Grillby's attacks. I believe I saw a gif of Jevil teleporting and there looked to be a motion blur effect..? So I interpreted that as he doesn't necessarily disappear and reappear...? More he just moves incredibly fast.

He miiight be able to turn into the scythe.? But I've mostly just interpreted that as he is able to summon a scythe to his hands when ever he may need it. I haven't made use of the cloning ability because, well, I didn't know he could do that- <XDD I'll definitely have to add that though!

For Goner kid I'm not too sure.. my version has her as Monster kids little sister. And I've seen a lot of interpretations of MK having fire breathing powers. Maybe she has fire related powers too..? Either way, it'll take a long time for her to remember the powers she has, and even longer to learn how to control them. So as it stands right now she's pretty defenseless..

Spamton is supposed to have most/all of the powers that original Spamton does in the game. But his attacks are kind'a.. broken. Spamton's physical injuries leaked down into his very soul and cracked it. So all of his attacks are messed up. I'd have to do some research on what his attacks actually are, and then make them broken if he ever tries to use them.

Like for example, 2/3 projectiles he summons will fly off in the wrong direction. Any weapons that he summons will have bent handles and break easy.. stuff like that :(

I've heard about that power, but as far as I know Mario and Luigi just kind'a.. have that power naturally.? While in my AU, all the bros power come exclusively from powerups. If there was a Firebrand mushroom and a thunderhand flower? Sure! But if its something they can just do without any powerup assistance, then it wont fit into my AU.. :/

(Video in question)

XDD I can see that happening to Shellington and Kwazii

With DJ, Sun and Moon? Its very possible XDD

I think they'd get a long great! My version of Funtime Freddy is toned down a bit compared to canon Funtime <XD No crazy, "HEY BAWN BAWN!!"

(Post in question)

Yes! Even though he has nothing to do with sister location (as far as I can remember--) I've still thought about adding him in some kind of cryptic way.. 👀

@clockworkthenightbard

Thank you so much!! :DD

@khoiazo

AKASNSWNDEO TRAUMATIZED XDDD

Nope! They're all very colorful and sparkly, but they are not intended to be Glamrocks. :}

@minnesotamedic186

Yoooo that's a good idea! I'll have to at least do something with the Electrobab XD

@milk-powrit (Post in question)

Thank you!! :DD I cant fully retrace my thought process- But I believe I wanted to make the Minireenas not scary. So I gave them cute faces and dresses. But I thought that having all these tiny little doll girls running around might feel a bit creepy to little kids..

So I thought hey! What if I slap some wings on them and make them fly around like fairies?? And to make them even less scary, I can make them look like familiar bugs that kids like! Lady bug, butterfly, bumble bee, dragon fly... and then I thiiiink I designed Ballora after.? Or maybe Ballora being based on a butterfly was what first inspired me.?

Either way- Ballora is based on a Blue Morpho butterfly! Very pretty :}}

@bunny-coffee

Sorry, I don't take requests! But that's not a bad idea.. 🤔 Maybe someday XD

@astrokea

Awe, thank you!! :DD I'm glad you like what I make!! :}}

@beryl-shade

Jevil and Seam do not reveal their injuries to anyone unless they absolutely have to. And when they do, yeah its only to each other..

Like for example; if Seams eye socket started to hurt and it needed to be looked at/tended to. Seam would only feel comfortable having it tended to by Jevil. But the whole time he'd still be incredibly uncomfortable and would cover it back up as soon as he could..

I'm not sure if I've answered this ask before and forgot to delete it, or if its an old ask that got buried and I never answered it at all-- either way!--

Yeah, Jevil would be pretty spooked by his original counterpart. Because original Jevil is clearly insane.. But he'd also feel kind'a bad for his original.. he's still trapped in a cell..

Seam is definitely envious of his original. He thinks his original got off easy. He doesn't even have shackles. And his stitched mouth doesn't seem to bother him..

My Goner kid arguably has it better than the original. Considering the original is still lost in the void somewhere..

And I intended for Grillby to encounter another version of him. Maybe not the original, but at least another version. He saw his other self with his daughter.. it was really hard for him..

@luna-purple454 @elegysonnet (Post in question)

Sorry for the late reply you three! I was intending to draw a comic for this but I never got around to it.. haha,, <:D ..anyways-

What ends up happening is Papyrus offers to help. Seam is scared out of his mind but he ends up taking Papyrus' offer.

Papyrus picks up Jevil and helps Seam stand up. They make their way out of the dying forest, stepping over fallen trees and branches. All the while Papyrus is talking to Seam. "What's your name? Where are you from?" Seam tells him their names but that's about all he can manage to say through his trembling..

All the while they're walking something just.. feels really off. Why are all the trees and grass dead? Why is it so warm around here? Seam is sure he's seen this place before in other AUs. Isn't there supposed to be snow on the ground?

Eventually they make their way into snowdin. Seam was so stressed that he didn't really take the time to scan his surroundings. Although he did notice that they were walking through snow now. They get to Papyrus' house and walk inside.

The house is lit by candles, and all the lights are off. Seam and Jevil are put on the couch, Papyrus goes into the kitchen to make some soup for them to eat.

This when things takes a horrifying turn. While anxiously waiting for Jevil to wake up, Seam looks out the window..

The snow outside isn't like a blanket of snow. Rather its gathered in big piles. The big lumps of wispy snow cover the ground in front of the houses, but don't go into the forest and it isn't on any of the trees..

And then he notices.. there's children's shoes and coats buried in the.. "snow"..

Seam is a darkener, so he does not turn to dust when he dies. But he knows that AU's that have a snowdin town in it.. the monster's there turn to dust when they die.

There are mountains of bodies outside. What happened here? Who killed all those people? Thats why there's no power to the house isn't it? That's why its so warm, that's why all the trees are dead. The people who man the core are all dead. Everyone in this AU is dead, everything is dead. But who killed them? What happened?

..Did Papyrus....?

Horror washes over Seam. It was Papyrus wasn't it. He killed all those people. And now Seam is in Papyrus' house. He doesn't have the strength to get up, he cant run- he cant escape-

Its in that moment of pure dread.. that Jevil started to stir, and Papyrus walked back in..

Hi!

There’s a fic I have unfinished in a fandom I’m not really part of anymore, but I’m proud of it and would love to finish it one day, but I’ve found the best way for me to write is to be able to vibe with other people in the fandom or just talk about it. Now im not longer invested in the fandom its very difficult and the fandom itself isn’t quite as popular as it used to be. (Still very big)

I tried finding discord servers to do with the fandom but I couldn’t find any that were suitable. I was wondering if anyone else has had this problem where they want to finish a fic they love but aren’t in the fandom for anymore and if anyone has any suggestions on what I can do to try and invest myself in the fandom again or meet people who are passionate about it.

Sorry if this is a stupid question or has been asked before!

There are no stupid questions, and every question that's been answered before will still find a new audience with each response (see also: that explanation about no beta we die like X)

Question for you anon: what is it about "vibing with other people in the fandom" that helps you get your write on? Do you need to be able to bounce ideas off of people who are already familiar with the characters? Do you enjoy discussing canon moments and using that as a way to inspire fix it scenes or missing moments? Do you need people you can ask a quick question to in order to check on your characterization or canon compliance?

Or is it a case of needing an enthusiastic group of people who are interested in what you're writing? Do you need folks who are cheering you on as you write and maybe willing to give you a beta read here or there? Do you need to do a kind of "parallel play" where you're writing while someone else is creating a gifset and a third person is curating a playlist? Do you need someone you can do writing sprints with?

From those two sets of questions, you can probably see what I'm aiming at. The first set requires you to find folks from that specific fandom. The second set just requires people who are interested and friendly and fannish-in-general.

If you need the first group of people, you can try posting in the tumblr tag seeking cheer readers or betas. If you need the second group, you can find any kind of fandom writing server or even a local writer's group that's not associated with fanfic.

I'll stop here and let the blog folks add in their own ideas, but if you can figure out what it is that you need in order to hit that vibe, that'll get you on the path to finding it.

baby bestie because i read chp 14 so late im feeling like its my birthday, that i get chp 15 so early!! can i just quickly take the moment to scream about the dream scene??? all those little tells that maybe this isnt right (inception vibes). this was so brilliant

also obi's downward spiral about if anakin loves him or married himbeacuse he is an alpha IM CRYING WITH HIM OH GOD WHAT IF OBI NEVER CLAIMED HE WAS AN ALPHA AND STILL RULED OBIKIN WOULD NEVER HAVE MET PLS

Obi-Wan has had a hard time keeping his head on straight, this last week. A harder time than usual, anyway.

A side effect of all the stress, perhaps. babygirl change your suppresants pls theyre stressing you out i still dont trust komari she is maham anga's character for a reason

Anakin's hand has settled on his thigh; it grips him tight, bold and claiming, under the table.

Obi-Wan wonders if it will leave bruises.

The fingers creep closer— not further up but further in, ghosting the edge of the scent gland there— and Obi-Wan has to swallow back his arousal, trying to focus on Luminara. oh he's so jealous thisis such a good thing to read in fics but somehow such a red flag irl uk ill read any fic if it says possesive anakin

He feels like he’s back in his wedding finery, wondering why his fiancé won’t look at him.

His husband won’t look at him. i cried then for obi-wan and im crying for now poor baby had all his childhood dreams broken like sugar glass and now he knows anakin may never have married him????? i love it when u put obi-wan thru the horrors

im just gonna very casually read thru the rst of the fic again cause i simply love the writing style in this and i have creative writing hostel championship coming up so. uk. i would really like to write as well as you

(Referring to ch 15 of Their fragrance came from you)

Baby!! I had so much fun with the dream scenes honestly!! I felt so evil writing it but it was so so satisfying (summary of this whole chapter honestly). My aim with those slightly wrong things was that you wouldn't quite be able to tell if it was just Obi-Wan's unreliable narration at work (especially because he often has moments where he's caught up in something and "doesn't quite remember"/"didn't realize" something happened), or if there was actually something wrong! I also thought about having the whole dream sequence in italics, but I wanted the reader to take Obi-Wan's introspection about not being an alpha seriously.

And the repetition of things which happened in the dream, but slightly different… idk what drove me to do that, but I'm soooo happy I did. I think it adds so much flavor in showing how Obi-Wan perceives the world (or how he fears it to be) vs. how it actually is!

Ahhh the concept of Obi-Wan openly being the first omega ruler from the beginning! He would have come out sooo much less depressed 🥺🥺 (But maybe, in some ways, more stern? He has to show that he's not soft just because he's an omega, after all!) I love to think that in an AU like this, Stewjon and Tatooine still needed that mutual help so they went to make an alliance. But since there's no immediate candidate that's obvious for marriage, Tatooine doesn't write anything about marriage in their terms, hoping it will pass under the radar (it does). They settle instead on a sort of cultural exchange where Anakin will come spend some time in Jedha and then later Obi-Wan will go and visit Mos Espa. And hey, two omegas in positions of power… working closely together…. Obi-Wan gets to be Anakin's friend without jumping through all the hoops. Anakin gets to learn all about Obi-Wan's secret dreams of marriage. And then Obi-Wan's heat rolls around, and Anakin offers to help, and-- Well, the rest is history!

"babygirl change your suppresants pls theyre stressing you out i still dont trust komari she is maham anga's character for a reason" ALFKJSDLKFJSKJ THE WAY I CACKLED. She IS maham anga's character for a reason, but not this reason!!

The grade of suppressants Obi-Wan is taking are only meant to be used in the short term (a few years, with medically scheduled heats once or twice a year) in cases where it's not safe for an omega to be having heats. Otherwise, he should be taking regular-strength suppressants (with that same caveat of medically scheduled heats once or twice a year, along with a full detox every five or so years).

But uh. He's been taking them for twenty years. One medical heat a year, to mimic an alpha's biorhythm. No detoxes. It's a wonder his suppressants hadn't failed up until this point already. On top of all that is the new stimulation that he's getting from Anakin, which has his body trying to react like an omega (like Anakin's mate!!) and so it's also actively fighting through the suppressants rn. They're definitely failing, but they're failing slowly enough that he hasn't noticed. ((Also the idea that they'd fail is so inconceivable to him…. he's definitely not a doctor, lol))

I get you on the jealousy honestly I would HATE if someone did that irl but I'm such a fucking sucker for it in fiction. Anakin will cool down about it once he feels more secure, but I feel like it's necessary for his character to go through that development rather than being chill about Luminara from the get-go.

"poor baby had all his childhood dreams broken like sugar glass" LITERALLY 😭😭 I wrote a post a while back about how Obi-Wan didn't want to tell Anakin about his designation yet because he was too afraid of losing him. But now (he thinks) he's lost Anakin already!!

Luckily, Anakin will convince him that he wants to stay. So yes I'm putting Obi-Wan through the horrors, but. Ultimately it's so that he can heal and move on

And I'm so happy you like my writing style, I think it's really grown into itself (and grown on me, too) over the course of the fic! Good luck on your writing competition -- I'm sure you'll do well 💖💖

Long Nights - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: World gone mad

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: inverted heist calls for inverted training

warnings: 18+, explicit language, gun mention, crackheadery, and possible whiplash

author’s note: Hi, yes, I know, took me ages, but hey, I hope it's worth the wait! 5.2k words, how even--

Anyway.

The song for this part is Bastille - World Gone Mad

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

The fact that you knew how to handle guns wasn’t equal to you being very good at it. Or enjoying it, for that matter. Sure, you could more or less hit the target, especially with some useful tips you got from Neil regarding a trigger finger discipline, but still - you’d rather avoid reaching for a pistol altogether.

You put back the weapon you’d been training with and Neil handed you another one. You couldn’t really tell the difference, at least until you checked the magazine. The lack of ammo meant you finally got to the fun bit that Neil teased in The Protagonist’s office and you smiled, looking back at your companion. He grinned at you, the gaze sparkling behind yellow-tinted safety glasses as he pointed at the wall next to the targets you used for practice.

“Just aim and pull the trigger. ” Seeing your nod, he added, “Okay now, be careful, it might feel--”

The bullet whizzed back into the chamber of your pistol and your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me sideways,” you hissed under your breath.

“-- a bit weird, yeah.” Neil chuckled at the shock painted on your face. “All right?”

“Yeah, just processing.” Trying to blink the consternation away, you asked, “How do you make these? You put it into that...turnstile and voilà?”

Neil shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple. We receive a stash every now and then, we don’t know how to manufacture those,” - he smirked - “at least not yet. I do have a few theories I’m working on in my spare time, but...” hesitating for a moment, he raked a hand through his hair and sent you a nervous smile. “Wouldn’t want to bore you to death, though.”

“Dude, come on, with that smooth and soothing voice of yours? You could read the yellow pages to me and I’d still listen like that--” you mocked a dreamy heart-eyes expression, watching with satisfaction as that remark pushed Neil further into a flustered state.

Apparently, when explicit teasing got a little-to-no reaction now, you could still make him blush with a more wholesome compliment. As you started laughing, he rolled his eyes and scrunched the nose slightly, joining you with a stifled giggle. Grinning, you continued a little softer, “I’m not gonna lie - I probably wouldn’t understand a majority of the physics jargon, but I’d still want to hear all about that.”

A thankful look you got in return made your chest clench painfully, and your mind wandered off to those breaks near the river, and Neil’s animated rants. You knew one thing. Anyone who had ever ridiculed him for his passion for even the nerdiest things could rot in hell, and you’d gladly see to it personally.

A disgruntled huff coming from behind made you both snap out of the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds, I’d appreciate it if you could leave all that to after I prep you for the mission.”

Bottling down your annoyance, you batted your lashes at the commander, who’d just come back with keys to one of the conference rooms near the range.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, you have my full attention now.”

Ives nodded, waving at you to follow him. Meanwhile, Neil’s small smirk let you know that he noticed that faint undertone in your voice, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for the events to unfold.

Another person was waiting for you at the door. You recognized the woman who’d driven you to that abandoned factory on your very first day - you’d never gotten properly introduced, but you remember asking Neil about her once and he called her Wheeler. To be honest, with these guys you never knew if they used their real names, nicknames, codenames, or whatever. Not that you cared, quite used to it in your own line of business. You exchanged a court nod with her and went into the room.

As you sat down at the big table and Ives booted a projector, your eyes bore into the man. Definitely one of those types who enjoyed his beret and the paramilitary structure of the field branch of the organization. Probably a bit too much. You bit back a smug grin.

Those were particularly fun to mess with.

Ives caught your piercing stare and stopped the brief of the location.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, propping the chin on your palm, a polite smile on your lips. “It’s fascinating.”

He furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What is?”

“How your commanding presence literally adds you inches,” you said, using all your willpower to keep a serious face. “I wonder if it works only for your height or--”

Neil’d futile attempts at masking an amused snort with a cough didn’t go unnoticed. Ives shot him daggers and then glared at you. “For fuck’s sake, would you focus?”

Your eyes flared up at the threat in his voice and you pouted, taunting him further.

“Or what, you’re gonna spank me?”

“No, I’m gonna shoot you,” he deadpanned.

You raised a brow.

“Kinky.”

Ives groaned, turning to Neil.

“How you survived this long without choking her is beyond me.”

Neil puffed his cheeks and gestured vaguely, but as he opened the mouth to answer, you chimed in, with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, he very much did so, all right.”

The awkward silence that followed was pretty satisfying.

“Can we keep her?” asked Wheeler casually, leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a bullpen.

Ives gaped at you all, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, sliding a hand through his features. He was so done you could almost hear The Sound of Silence playing in the distance, but apparently, his sense of duty was stronger than the urge to leave you without finishing the briefing, so he just drew a deep breath and continued.

“...anyway…”

You caught Neil’s glance and you couldn’t help but poke the tip of your tongue out at him. The mischievous sparks in his eyes reflected your own as he shook his head, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. Wheeler’s curious gaze flitted between you two, and as you didn’t feel like drawing too much unnecessary attention to yourself anymore, you focused on the plan that Ives was persistently going through.

Time frames. Blueprints. Entry points. Exit routes (you spotted at least one additional way he left out, but you weren’t sure if you could drag Neil through there, judging by that alley performance, so you didn’t bother to mention it out loud). Everything seemed clear enough. You still had no idea how being inverted would affect the lockpicking, but when you voiced that, Ives promised you some time to figure it out before the mission.

The mission. Huh. It wasn’t that much different from your usual assignments - at least if you forgot about that tiny insignificant detail like moving backwards in time - but something in this paramilitary and/or espionage vibe made your heart beat faster with excitement.

It had been quite a long time since you had company at the job. Working alone had its perks, but you wouldn’t mind a trusted partner in crime having your six for a change.

Another thing that you certainly wouldn’t mind - seeing Neil in tactical gear. Not that either of you would need one, but the image got planted in your head and suddenly you wished you’d had a bottle of water.

You realized that everyone was looking at you expectantly. Shit, was there a question or…?

“I’m good,” you said, shooting in the dark, hoping that would be enough to cover your distracted ass.

Ives squinted, but fortunately, that was an acceptable answer.

“Well, as you two can proceed straight from here - Wheeler, they’re all yours.’

“Okay,” - she smiled and stood up - “we don’t have any turnstiles on-site, but there’s one in the base outside the city, I’ll talk you through the basics on the way.”

So that little daydream cost you a chance to come back home to prepare? Grand. The problem was - you needed your heavy-duty tools, but you’d rather eat rocks than back away in front of Ives. Luckily, he called on Neil to wait for a moment, so that was your chance.

“Umm, Wheeler?” you asked quietly, following her outside.

She glanced at you curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I know I said I’m good, but could we stop by my apartment for a second, please?” An awkward grimace ran through your face. “I gotta pick up my tools. You know, just in case.”

She wasn’t surprised by your request. Moreover, she sent you a knowing smile.

“Sure thing,” she said and winked, and then it was your turn to present a slightly flushed face. “I’ve got you.”

----

You didn’t know what to expect from the whole inversion process.

The first time your brain stuttered was when Wheeler pointed at something she called the proving window, just in time for you to see the three of you coming out on the other side. You caught inverted-you glancing back at your present self; the schooled expression, but with the gaze shining with anticipation.

The second time was when it was you on the other side, looking at your wide-eyed past self. Feeling the incoming headache, you took a deep breath and followed Wheeler and Neil to the stand with oxygen masks.

“How are you feeling?” asked Neil, handing you the equipment.

“Weirdly normal.” You shrugged. “Or maybe not more backwards than usual, if that makes any sense.”

He smiled lightly.

“It’s the airlock. When you see the outside, you’ll get a whole new perspective.”

Wheeler nodded. “What he said. And to recap: you’re inverted, the world is not - all forces will be pushing back on you. Besides gravity.” She double-checked the oxygen bottle secured to your belt. “Just mind things that might be rising instead of falling.”

You furrowed the brows.

“Wait, didn’t Ives mention the rain?”

Neil smirked from behind the mask.

“Afraid of getting wet?”

“Never.” You grinned, meeting the sparkling blue eyes. “Should know that by now.”

Wheeler snorted and shook her head, walking to the panel near the exit.

“You’ll have plenty of time to finish the job before you move far enough to catch up on that. Although, if you ever find yourself in the inverted rain, here’s a tip: pop your collar.”

“Why would you--” Oh. The sole thought of the water going up from the ground to the sky made you nauseous. You swallowed with effort, leveling your breath in the mask. “...right.”

Wheeler opened the door and you almost gasped at the view. The golden rays of sunset (...or was it technically a sunrise now?) flickered on the training grounds’ equipment as the sky painted the scarce pools of muddy water with greyish violets and reddening oranges. Leaves shuffled in the wind, their dance almost satirical with that inverted spin.

Wheeler’s voice stopped your mind from wandering further into the landscape.

“Okay, ready? Ives asked me to remind you not to try any cowboy shit, you need to be in one piece at the end of the training.”

“Yes ma’am,” you mocked a salute and stepped outside, stretching your limbs, readjusting to the reality being slightly off. Neil stood right beside you watching you warming up, ready to take you to the obstacles section.

But as soon as the airlock’s doors closed behind you, you spun around, tapping his shoulder - “Tag, you’re it!” - and without waiting for his reaction, you leaped towards the assault course.

Surely that turned out overly optimistic. You counted on the element of surprise and a head start, but Neil had an experience with running while being inverted, while you… well. You tried.

“B+ for effort,” laughed Neil, catching up on you even before you reached the first obstacle and tapping you back. “But you can do better than that.”

“Just you wait!” you retorted and vaulted over a low hurdle, the mild confusion caused by the dumbfounded senses slowly eased up as you tuned out the brain and let the muscle memory guide your movements. Because hey, in the end? Yes, the natural forces were acting up against you. Yes, Neil had years of inverted training behind him. But you’d been challenging different obstacles your whole life, and courses like this one were your favourite playgrounds.

You caught on him by the next wall, playing dirty and tugging at his leg, pulling him down before he could jump to the other side. The exasperated huff he gave you in protest got lost in the squelch of mud under your feet, the sound more like a suction instead of the much-expected splash. Shuddering with disgust at such abomination, you rushed to the set of monkey bars, hearing Neil following up closely. You gritted your teeth, swinging your body to help yourself get through the part, and that’s when you felt a light tap on your foot.

You glared to your left, where Neil was gaining an advantage over you.

“Damn you and your infinite legs, man! It doesn’t count!”

“Losing looks good on you,” he said, landing and then instantly ducking under your reached out hand.

“Too bad it’s not gonna stick,” you scoffed as you ran after him to jump on one of the parallel logs. Balancing was easy enough, even with inversion; it gave you the perfect opportunity to plan ahead, while Neil had to maintain full focus. “Must say - all that sass definitely makes you like... ten percent hotter.”

But you’d taught him well, apparently, and instead of losing his pace, he only shot you a quick glance accompanied by an arched brow.

“Only ten?”

“Dunno, come over here and let me take a closer look,” you teased, getting a short chuckle in response. “No?” - you sighed - “Alrighty then.” And you leaped to the side straight into Neil, pushing him off the log. He yelped and grabbed you by the shirt, the momentum sending you both straight into the mud. You landed on top of Neil, collapsing into his arms for a moment to catch a breath and to stop laughing.

You leaned back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, maaaybe fifteen,” you panted, booping his mask as you would do to his nose.

Neil snickered and nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

When your gazes met, his features softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear gently. You smiled behind the mask and sat up, straddling his waist. Neil was studying you closely, his hands grazed your sides and rested on your hips. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you leaned over him again and slowly reached out, and--

“Simba…” you choked out with reverence, brushing a muddy thumb across his forehead.

Tears from the held-back laughter threatened to spill any second as you observed Neil blanking out in utter confusion. The five stages of grief ran through his expression and then he closed his eyes and sighed theatrically.

“The fate of the world is in the hands of a complete madwoman.”

...the what now?

You tilted your head, grinning.

“Aren’t you a little dramatic?”

Then, without a warning, Neil shifted under you, rolling you off him and pinning you down.

“Birds of a feather and all that,” he said, clearly enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed as the mud got under your shirt. “You think you got a hang of the inverted movement already?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. Neil realized your intentions a second too late. A handful of mud splashed on his face and you chuckled with satisfaction. “Yeah, now I think I’m ready to go.”

You turned up at the airlock soon after, looking like something that cat dragged in, but beaming widely. Dreaming of a hot shower and a clean set of clothes, you put down the mask and the oxygen container and headed to the turnstile.

Wheeler was waiting for you near the machine, and seeing the state you were in, she just gaped at you both, trying to come up with an adequate question.

As you noticed her quizzical look, you gave her a thumbs up and smiled.

“If you ain't dirty, you ain't here to party! Wooo!” you whooped, throwing your hands up and trotting past her straight into the turnstile.

Right before reverting yourself back to your original state, you heard Wheeler’s hushed question.

“You two all right?”

And then Neil’s answer.

“Don’t worry, we’re good.”

--------

The truck’s engine hummed steadily, which could only mean you were on some sort of highway. At least the container stopped wobbling, so you could practice in peace.

No wobbles meant no excuses, though. You sighed, readjusting your grip on the tools.

Neil had fallen asleep some time ago, after making sure you figured out the locks and hearing your solemn promise that you would follow him soon.

One day after that eventful night, then inverting and going straight back without proper sleep. You knew he was right and you needed at least a nap. But you couldn’t. Not before you were absolutely sure you got it. The usual locks weren’t that bad. The inverted ones were a whole other story.

It’d taken you long enough to crack them in the safety of your own apartment, without the weird physics, ever-present even within the air-locked container. Without the pressure.

The fate of the world.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t even know what was that thing you were supposed to retrieve soon. It was okay, you didn’t need to. It was a quite common situation in your work history. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous, after all.

The pin clicked and you sighed again, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the burning sensation even for a moment.

Besides, you were doing it for Neil. The memory of that panicked look on his face when he’d seen the documents was enough to keep you going.

But did he have to say that?

You had to do it. Not only because you felt responsible for him, in a way. What you’d told the boss was true and you weren’t the only one at fault for Neil not being fully ready for that assignment. He was your friend, wasn’t he? And there was no way you’d leave a friend in need.

You pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to breathe.

Probably a stupid joke, nothing more.

But what if he was being serious? What if that thing out there was really that important? And you were about to fuck everything up because you couldn’t get your shit together fast enough to figure out the bloody inverted mechanism again. And with every minute wasted and not spent on resting there was a higher chance of messing up at the actual location.

Hell of a locksmith you were, huh?

The feedback from the tools came with a final warning like a sobering slap. If you were to continue, they would snap any second now.

You let out a shaky breath and retraced from the lock, hiding your face in the palms.

A gentle touch on your shoulder almost made you flinch. Of course, he had to wake up in the middle of your breakdown.

“Go back to sleep, we still have a few hours left,” you muttered into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“Not before you talk to me,” said Neil as his fingers slid down your arm. He was crouching right beside you, the blue eyes boring into you with concern. “What is it?”

You sighed and shifted in your seat to face him.

“Wanna make sure I got it, that’s all.”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“But I saw you open that lock once, why--”

“Once! And that’s exactly the problem!” you fumed and glared at the table. “I can’t crack it again, I--” your voice wavered and you gritted the teeth in frustration. “What if it was a stroke of dumb luck? Should I start praying for another one to happen there?”

Another delicate touch, this time on your knees, was enough to make you look back at Neil. A shade of smile tainted his lips as he searched your gaze.

“Someone used to tell me all the time that if you did it once, you can do it again.”

You hung your head and huffed, “Maybe that someone was full of shit.’

“I know for a fact that she wasn’t,” he chuckled, taking the tools out of your clenched fists and putting them back at the table. “She was utterly brilliant,” he continued, reaching for your cramping, trembling hands and taking them in his, ”and always reminded me to take a break instead of agonizing over a stubborn lock.”

That you did, all right. Your laugh sounded awfully close to a sob. God, if you weren’t exhausted.

Mustering enough strength to look him in the eyes, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey all the gratitude in the gesture. And hide that bit of embarrassment, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said and his thumbs brushed over your knuckles. “Scoot over.”

You moved back on the provisional bench, making enough space for him to sit next to you. And so he did, not letting go of your hands even for a second. He started rubbing small circles into them and you grunted softly. Neil gave you a knowing smile and soon enough, his fingers glided between your forearms and fingertips, applying pressure to the tensest places, careful strokes and precise moves bringing a much-needed release. You couldn’t help small groans escaping your mouth, every one of them adding to the self-satisfied grin hiding in the corner of Neil’s mouth. But then, instead of teasing you, his features softened and you caught his glance, warm and sheepish.

“I don’t think I properly thanked you for offering to help me with this mission.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” you laughed and winced as Neil’s thumbs worked on your wrists. “Don’t thank me yet, we still need to pull it off first.”

“Well, maybe we already have, from the typical point of view,” - he pondered, lighting up - “seeing that we are moving back--”

“Neil, please, I’m all for discussing it later, but right now it’s about to give me a pounding headache.”

When you met his eyes, you noted with relief that he didn’t mind you cutting him off like that. He knew that you were tired, nothing more.

“Right, sorry.” Then he looked at you with determination, suddenly serious. “Whatever happens… thank you. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said quietly as your heart ached with unexpected fondness.

Neil smiled, shaking off the sentimental moment. His hands cupped yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“Now would you please get some rest?”

“Will you tuck me in?” you grinned and batted your lashes at him, earning an amused snort in return.

“I can even sing you a lullaby if that means you’ll fall asleep faster,” he said, standing up and tugging at your hand.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m gonna crash too fast to properly appreciate it,” you giggled as he kited you all the way to the resting area at the front of the container. “But I’m definitely taking a rain check on that.”

“Sure.” One final brush of his thumb over your fingers and he let go of your hand, smirking. “Now sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

-------

Neil proved to be an excellent companion.

You disabled the alarms simultaneously, paying attention to all the possible silent traps. Forcing the main locks went smoothly, almost surprisingly so. For having something of such importance hidden there, the owners of the place seemed strangely old-fashioned; it shone through the antique decor of the lofty apartment as well as the security choices. Too easy. Tuning out an intrusive thought rattling in the back of your head, you scouted the dark rooms, careful not to leave any traces of your presence.

There.

The office you saw in the photos.

...but they’d redecorated.

“That’s one fancy safe they got there,” you said nonchalantly, eyeing the ornament piece of metal lit by your flashlight, “Too bad it somehow got left out at the briefing.”

Neil’s face dropped when he followed you inside the room.

“Christ, and what now?”

Good question. You’d worked with safes before, hell, you’d cracked a fair share of them using simply manipulation. But never going bloody backwards in time. How would that even work? Was it normal or inverted?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“I’ve got this.” And that’s how you felt, despite the initial panic. There was a method to it, and you had most of the things you needed with you. Perks of overpreparing. The only issue was-- ... “It might take a while, though.”

Neil nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Keep an eye on the time for me, I gotta focus,” you said, reaching into your backpack and accidentally pulling on the thin tube. Right. “...and maybe on the oxygen levels as well?”

“Will do.”

Your brain switched into the challenge mode, and your fingers tingled to give it a try. Armed with a sound amplifier and a little notepad, you sat down next to the safe and got to work.

Figuring out your way in was meant to be a hit and miss, doubly so with the goddamn inversion. But minute after minute, click by click, you determined the first contact points, and the years of experience took you from there. You scribbled numbers and variations in the notepad, fully focused on the task. Almost there.

Another combination. Inhale. Exhale. Pull.

Gotcha.

“Neil?” you called out in the hushed voice as the beam from the flashlight landed on a small metal box of a peculiar shape.

He was next to you in no time.

“That’s it,” he said, kneeling down. He reached inside and took out the box, then carefully placed it inside his backpack. The blue eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Good job!”

“Thanks,” you smiled and closed the safe. “Now let’s get out of here.”

You gathered and packed all your stuff, double-checking for any leftover signs of your entry.

Then you heard it. A faint, slightly off patter against the huge windows. You froze in place as your mind tried to grasp the view of trickles of rain coming up the glass.

Neil glanced outside, not mindful of the absolutely bonkers scene that wiped any coherent thought from your head. Although judging from how quickly his face lost all the colours, the view he got was even more disturbing.

“Christ…” he uttered, shooting you a panicked look. “We’ve got company.”

You dashed to the window to see for yourself. A group of people was crossing the empty street, moving pretty much normally, and that only meant...

Fuck.

“The owners?”

Neil shook his head. “Impossible. The third party, probably.” With his hand already on the holster, he hesitated, considering the options.

But there were only two: fight or flight. The problem was - the numbers didn’t look good for you to try pushing through the crew downstairs. And as for the second one, your initial exit routes seemed to be cut off already.

Although, there was still one path left. You almost smiled to yourself. He was not going to like it.

“Let’s go through the roofs.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, scanning your face for any sign of doubt.

There was none.

“Yes, but we have to leave right now.”

He swallowed with effort and nodded.

As soon as you bolted out of the apartment and rushed up the stairs, the footsteps coming from the lower levels quickened. Time was running out.

You were about to barge outside when Neil grabbed your hand as if he sensed what was going to happen next. The doors opened and you lost the momentum, startled by the view. Heavy showers replaced the drizzle you saw through the window, intensifying the nauseating effect.

The last strands of sanity threatened to leave you, but Neil’s touch was like an anchor, grounding you and keeping you from spiraling further.

“Which way?” he shouted through the hammering, almost deafening rain.

You blinked rapidly and looked around to match the data from the brief to the actual location.

“Over there!”

Wishing you’d had a goddamn collar to pop, you leaped to the side, guiding Neil through your only escape route. You let go of his hand to vault over the vents, and just as your feet touched the surface again, you heard distant yells behind you. Shit.

The high density of the area was working in your favor, but only for so long. There was meant to be a gap between the buildings sooner or later, and one of them was coming right up. The jump was doable, even for Neil - all you needed was speed and a decent launch.

But when your companion noticed the edge of the roof, he slowed down and stopped by a low parapet wall, cursing.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, Neil, come on! We don’t have time!” you urged him as the voices behind you grew louder.

He swallowed with effort, too transfixed on the gap. You bit back an impatient groan and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you.

“Neil, listen to me. You can do this. All you need is a run-up.”

He didn’t seem convinced. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your own rising panic in check.

“Do you trust me? Yes or no?”

He met your eyes and his features hardened. There.

“I do.”

And when you opened the mouth again, the first bullet whizzed past you. You flinched, but maintained the eye contact, afraid to lose Neil’s newfound confidence. “Then go first, I’m right behind you.”

Neil nodded and backed away quickly. Watching him jump, your heart skipped a beat, but he landed on the other side without too much trouble. Good. Your turn.

You dashed towards the rim and another bullet missed your legs by a hair’s breadth, hitting the parapet wall right ahead of you. A little close to the top, as you noted, jumping on it to leap across the gap.

But the realization came a moment too late. The wall crumbled under your feet.

Enough for you to not make it to the other side.

Someone screamed.

Was it you?

It didn’t matter.

The world dissolved in a flash of agonizing pain.

And darkness.

----

Static beeping. The smell of disinfectants. And your every particle throbbing in dull pain.

Somebody was having a quiet conversation nearby. The Protagonist… and Neil?

A wave of relief flooded over you. He’d made it.

Grunting, you opened your eyes and squinted, waiting for your sight to readjust to the poor light. Weird. Why would they keep you in such a pitch-black room?

“Gents?” you called out, carefully shifting upwards, wincing. “Would you mind getting the lights?”

The conversation stopped and you heard a gasp.

“Lights? But it’s the middle of the day?” said The Protagonist, but Neil cut him off.

“You’re awake!” Footsteps and a sudden touch on your hand. Neil’s voice trembled slightly, as well as his fingers. “Are you okay?”

You bored into darkness, hoping to see the familiar face.

To see anything.

To see.

(next chapter ->)

the second time around | jaehyun

title: the second time around pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff, some angst request: “Hi! Here’s a suggestion for a story or add-on to another story you wrote. I really liked moonlight w/ jaehyun! Could you do a follow up with him not seeing her for awhile and him (and her secretly) being pissed about it but wants to reconnect with her but outside of being a customer. Ty and keep up the good work with your writing.” word count: 2.9k warnings: a couple mentions of sex a/n: hmm...the sequel to moonlight...sequels are scary to write but here we are lol. this could’ve been posted last sunday really but i’ve been stalling oof

Despite getting Jaehyun’s number after that night at the strip club, you’ve seen and heard a lot less of him than you’d like. On his end, Jaehyun isn’t so pleased about losing touch either, but you wouldn’t know that with the lack of communication.

Both of you are ultimately busy with your own lives, and it’s not like he can just drop in whenever he wants to visit you. Not just because he’s busy, but also because of where you work. The men keep their visits to the club on a once-a-month basis for a reason—to avoid tipping off any stalkers who’d find out and leak their whereabouts.

You’ve texted each other a few times since your first meeting, and you enjoyed the conversations you got to have within that timespan, but the time between responses kept getting longer—on both of your ends—until things eventually dropped off.

You were unhappy about this, though you tried not to be so obvious about it to the other girls. Getting attached to customers was not a good look. Even if they were handsome and nice and had good dick.

However, Anya was the first to notice your slightly sour mood despite your best efforts to project an unphased demeanor. And, being her usual nosy self, she managed to pry it out of you before you could even think about denying it.

“Don’t stress about it,” she’d told you on the night you finally spilled the beans. She’d wrapped her arms around your shoulders and tipped your chin up, making you hold your head up higher and look at yourself in the mirror reflection facing you. “There will be many more men where he came from. And if you don’t wanna deal with any more men right now, that’s fine too. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, anyway.”

“I’m not stressing over it,” you’d argued, sighing. “We don’t stress over men who aren’t boyfriends, remember?”

Anya grinned then, though you could tell it was the kind of smile you give when a friend is doing something they shouldn’t be—or indulging in something they think is good for them when it’s not. “Duh. But you might wanna start following your own advice if you’re gonna be dishing it out!” And then she’d gone off to do her own thing, probably to finish getting ready for her set later that night or to go bother one of her favorite bartenders.

You’d looked at yourself in the mirror more closely, frowning at the truthfulness of her statement and wishing you had not been quite so easy to read. You’d had a show right after that, which allowed you to take your mind off the mess for at least a few hours. But in the small moments when you weren’t thinking about work or school or anything else you had to do, Jaehyun crept back into your mind like a specter, wanting you to acknowledge him even though you weren’t getting the same.

When you head out to the parking lot after a particularly long night, you slow your steps when you see a man leaning against his car, his cap pulled over his eyes and his head low. In any other scenario, you probably would’ve alerted one of the bouncers, thinking he was some creep waiting until after your stage to try to corner you in a shady area. However, you hold off on calling anybody because you can clearly recognize him even if he thinks he’s being inconspicuous—it’s Jaehyun.

He lifts his head when he hears your shoes on the ground, and his lips turn up into something of a smile.

“If you wanted another dance, you’re a bit late. We just closed,” you say jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him. Jaehyun shakes his head.

“Tempting idea, but that’s not what I came here for.” He turns to face you fully now, observing you in your casual, after-work clothes. In the back of your mind, you realize this is the first time he’s seen you outside the context of performing. Then he sighs. “It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I know.” Your familiar irritation rises again. Sure, maybe him coming to see you or you going to see him more often isn’t feasible. A text or a call, though...would be decidedly less effort, and not difficult to do. You’re not sure whether to be more irritated with him or yourself about not trying to reach out again, though you decide to aim your annoyance at him just because you can.

Jaehyun nods to your agreement. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” you say. “Work is...work. It has its ups and downs. How are you? Busy with the idol life?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Yeah...it just gets…stressful sometimes.” He bites his lip and shakes his head, seeming bothered about whatever’s going on with his job but not wanting to say much more about it.

“I’m sure,” you respond, and you don’t really know what to say afterwards. It’s been a while since either of you talked, and it’s strangely hard to try to pick up where you left off as if nothing happened. Jaehyun realizes this, too, and appears distressed at not knowing how to keep the conversation going with you—and possibly wasting your time.

You nod to yourself and shift on your feet. “Well, the Uber will probably be here soon, so—”

“I don’t know what things will look like between us, but I don’t want us to fall out of contact again,” Jaehyun blurts out, then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just...don’t want either of us to leave before we...sort this out, I guess.”

You think to yourself, wondering if this is really worth trying to pursue. You’ve yet to deal with a man with the level of fame that Jaehyun has, yet with such a strict image to keep, which makes things exponentially more complicated. But despite your apprehension, you still want to know where this could lead. After a moment, you say, “Well, if you’re willing...I’d like the same.”

Jaehyun nods and stands up a little straighter, like that response just gave him the energy he needed. “Do you wanna….go somewhere? Just to like, hang out.” His proposition is abrupt, and you didn’t expect it. 

“Now?” You check your phone, and it’s 18 minutes past 2 a.m. There aren’t too many places that will still be open at this hour, other than establishments similar to your line of work, but you aren’t in the mood for any more of that tonight. Your driver, too, is only a few minutes away, but you already find yourself with your finger hovering over the Cancel button. “We could.”

Jaehyun goes around to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. You get into his car, noting its sleek interior. Once he gets in, he asks you what you want to hear, and you notice he’s looking through his Spotify. You shrug.

“I don’t know. Show me something you like,” you say. You cringe at sounding so disinterested, which makes you realize you might just be a little more upset about being ghosted than you thought you were. You almost want to curse at how this dude is taking you off your usual game. “I mean, I like hearing new music anyway, so…”

Jaehyun starts the car and grins slightly. “Alright, then let me show you the best of the best…” You both end up listening and vibing to a playlist he’s made, which is good. Not that you didn’t expect it to be, but you end up liking most of the songs he shows you, which usually doesn’t happen with other people’s playlists.

Jaehyun ends up taking you to an ice cream place that’s still open this late, to your surprise. The sitting area inside the store is closed, though they’ve kept the drive-thru open for late-night travelers like yourselves who want a quick treat. You don’t question it, though; you definitely won’t pass up a chance for some ice cream.

You end up eating the ice cream while sitting in his car and listening to the rest of his playlist. Neither of you say much other than commenting on the songs or talking about your favorite ice cream flavors or making other non-committal small talk. You kind of prefer it this way, at least for the moment—just listening to the music and watching the headlights and taillights of cars that pass by.

You and Jaehyun ride around the city for a while longer after finishing the ice cream, not intending to go anywhere in particular but just coasting on the highways. It might be an excuse to keep listening to this new playlist he’s put on, or maybe more reason to pretend that awkward period between you never happened. Acknowledging it in a way, but not speaking any life into it. 

Eventually, though, it has to arise back to the surface. Jaehyun taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light, like he’s impatient to get somewhere, and you wonder what he’s feeling until he comes out and says,

“I think it was...ultimately my fault for not contacting you more. Or not trying to stay in contact.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. “Well, I won’t argue with that,” you finally respond.

“It’s just hard to get close to anyone and be an idol at the same time. Sometimes I sabotage myself when I shouldn’t, and…” He trails off, though you don’t know whether he’s searching for the words or has decided to leave his sentence at that.

“You’d rather not be embarrassed by dating a stripper, or something along those lines?” Your tone is nonchalant, though you’re a little bothered by saying it. He wouldn’t be the first or the last person to feel some type of way about your job, though you’ve mostly gotten used to the judgment at this point.

Jaehyun seems a bit startled by the statement. “If you like doing it, then I don’t care what you do. You should live your life however you want to.”

“I see,” you say slowly. “Most men I meet outside of the club are not receptive to it, so you ain’t gotta lie if you feel some other way about it, seriously...”

“I’m serious,” he insists. ���You told me that day that you liked it, and I believed you. I just think...we should all be able to do things we enjoy without worrying about what others think of it.”

Jaehyun turns to look at you for a moment, and his features are lit up by the street light as it turns green. His face, which is simultaneously painted with shadows and glowing with light, appears to be just as genuine as he sounds. Or maybe this late-night atmosphere just has you feeling more receptive and sentimental than usual. Then he broaches the next subject carefully, steering you back to where the conversation began. “You didn’t text me anymore, either.”

“I figured you’d moved on or something, maybe started talking to someone else…” you reply. “And, you know, if that was the case...so be it. There wouldn’t be a point to chasing someone who wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I am interested.” Jaehyun rushes the words out, like he’s eager to dispel the uncertainty before you get the wrong idea; not that that hasn’t already happened, but still. It isn’t too late to change your mind. “I want to like, know you as a person...not just while being a customer at the club, or something like that.”

You nod, looking at your hands and considering his words. “We can do that...yeah, we can.” Then you hold your hand out to him, a grin playing on your lips. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Y/N.”

He smiles too, and takes your hand in one of his. “I’m Jaehyun.”

The conversation after that seems to reach a turning point, like somehow you’ve broken the ice and can finally talk to each other on a deeper level without worrying about the issue that’s been lingering over your heads all night. You think you could talk to him like this for hours if you wanted to, if there was enough time in the world for it. 

Unfortunately, though, you don’t have as much time as you’d like, and once it starts edging on 4 AM, you both decide it’s probably best to call it a night. Jaehyun takes you back to your apartment after you tell him where it is.

He parks in front of the apartment complex, and you’re prepared to thank him for the night and get out, but he insists on walking you up to your apartment—something about it being too dangerous for women to walk alone at night.

“It’s not that far.” You laugh, but you aren’t going to argue about it if it means getting a few more moments with him.

Jaehyun follows you up the steps after you both get out of the car. You walk a little slower to prolong the moment, but eventually you have to get up to your apartment door. You also take your time with taking your keys out of your bag and putting them in the lock. And maybe you’re not as slick as you thought, because Jaehyun notices. He laughs quietly behind you, but the sound isn’t low enough to escape your hearing.

You turn around to look at him, your hand on the doorknob. “Well, I guess that’s it. Thanks for the ride...and for the ice cream, you know.”

He nods, and one of his dimples pokes out. “You didn’t have to entertain me tonight, but I’m glad you did...so, thanks.”

Both of you linger in your doorway for a few more moments. Jaehyun wants to come in, and you know it, but you also know he probably won’t say it because he technically shouldn’t. His members are expecting him back at the dorm. He doesn’t want to impose, and he didn’t even bring any extra clothes. But you know he wants to come in, and you want it, too.

You tilt your head to the side. “Would it be bad if I asked you to stay?” you say tentatively.

A slow smile spreads on his face. “No, it wouldn’t.”

You open the door wider so he can step inside and take his shoes off at the entrance. You lead him to your living room by the hand. “What do you wanna do?” you ask, looking at him imploringly. You want to be sure you’re both on the same page concerning your intentions.

“Whatever you wanna do,” he echoes, holding your hand a bit tighter. You expect to see lust or some similar desire in his expression and had already figured you might end up having sex again tonight, but his eyes expect nothing from you. He only smiles in the dim light of your apartment and waits for you to make the next move.

You laugh, and it comes out as an airy chuckle. “Well, then...I want to lay down. It’s been a long day.” From your tone, Jaehyun understands that you really just want to lie down and not think about much of anything else right now. He follows you when you lead him into your bedroom and sits patiently on your bed while you go to the bathroom to change into your night clothes. You’re thankful you already took a shower at the club, because you’re not sure you’d have the energy to do all that now.

He’s taken his jeans off when you come back into the room, though he still keeps his shirt on. You get onto the bed and lean over him, hooking your finger into the collar of his shirt, and he looks up at you. “You can take this off if you want, I don’t care.”

“Is this you saying you want to see me shirtless?” He grins, though he readily takes the invitation and pulls his shirt off, placing it to the side along with his pants.

You shake your head good-naturedly, a smile on your face. “I promise it’s innocent…but the view never hurts.”

You peel the sheets back and you both climb underneath them, lying across from each other and looking at each other like you want to say something more but aren’t sure what. There isn’t much light in the room except for the street lights coming from your bedroom window, muted slightly by the blinds.

Jaehyun laughs suddenly, breaking the silence, and you do the same. You’re not sure why either of you are laughing, but you do so anyway, simply enjoying the moment for what it is. After your laughter dies down, he takes your hand from where it’s resting on the pillow and slips his pinky around yours. “I’ll try not to lose you this time.”

You lean a little closer to his face so you can plant a kiss on his lips—just a short and soft touch. He tastes like ice cream, and somehow you know there will be many more kisses like this in the future. “You better not.”

The Balan Wonderworld demo came out yesterday. If you haven’t been keeping up with this, it’s a game by Yuji Naka and Naoto Ohshima, two of the original creators of Sonic the Hedgehog. A lot of that original team has gone on to do solo work outside of Sega, but this is the first time two former members of Sonic Team have gotten back together to make a new game.

If the demo is anything to go by, Balan Wonderworld (which I keep trying to type as “Balan Wonderland,” because it has a much nicer rhythm to it) is a game that lives deep in the shadow of NiGHTS into Dreams and Sonic the Hedgehog. It is very clearly trying to be an “Old School Sonic Team” experience, which it... sort of succeeds at, for better and worse.

This feels like a game they ripped straight out of 1995, warts and all, and remastered it with modern-ish graphics. I say “modern-ish” because in broad strokes, I think Balan looks pretty good. The character designs are charming, the level themes are interesting, but if you really stop and look at the game, it’s honestly pretty ugly, with simple lighting, limited detail and blurry textures.

One gets the impression maybe that’s because Balan is on everything -- Playstation, Xbox, PC, and even Switch. The gross texture work could be to squeeze the game down for Nintendo’s handheld, but apparently it runs extremely poorly there. On the PS4 Pro, it sticks pretty closely to 60fps, though there are occasionally hiccups here and there. Nothing worth fretting over, honestly.

But how does it play?

This is where the shadow of Sonic the Hedgehog looms large. Balan is designed to be simplistic to a fault: You get one button to control your character. Or, more specifically, every button on your controller will do the same thing (for the most part). This is right out of the Sonic handbook, as that game was also designed to be operable with only one button, as well.

Now, what your one button does can change. Scattered around levels are different costumes for your character to put on, and each costume has its own unique ability. The full version of Balan promises 80 different costumes, and there’s probably half a dozen in the demo. Each one serves a unique purpose, and some of them don’t even have the ability to jump. Which is fine, mostly, because you can carry a stock of three costumes with you that you can swap between sort of like the team mechanics in Sonic Heroes. Once you finish a level, those costumes get added to your dressing room, allowing you to customize a loadout of costumes at any checkpoint.

On paper, that much sounds fine. But this is where things start getting weird.

Costumes are not freely available to pick up. The jewels that hold costumes are locked with a key. This creates an obvious gameplay loop: find key, unlock costume, use costume to solve puzzle, right? Right.

Except that, at least in the demo, most keys are only a few feet away from any given costume jewel. On top of that, keys respawn. Crack open a costume jewel, grab the costume, but hang out for a little while and eventually the key will reappear. In doing this, you can stock up on keys early on in a level, smoothing out the process of acquiring new costumes as you go. I’m not sure why Balan does this. The time between key respawns is a few seconds too many -- just enough that it starts to feel tedious. But, as far as I can tell, there is no penalty for farming up a bunch of keys from the first key spawn point, either. It’s the worst of both worlds. If it was trying to be convenient, keys would spawn more quickly, but if it was trying to plan puzzles around acquiring keys, you can completely side step that by just waiting it out and hoarding keys early on.

You’ll not only want to hoard keys, but hoard costumes, as well. If you’re unlucky enough to take damage or even die while wearing a costume, it’s gone. You can build up stocks of costumes so you’ll always have spares to pull out of the dressing room, but that requires you to specifically go out of your way to get duplicates and bank them. If you don’t, you might find yourself at a puzzle that requires a specific costume that you simply don’t have anymore. When that happens, your only recourse is to backtrack in the hopes of finding a crystal that contains the costume you need, and characters in Balan aren’t exactly fast moving.

The chances of you losing a costume seem pretty low, admittedly. Balan Wonderworld doesn’t really seem like it’s aiming for anything resembling difficulty. Enemies exist, but only in very small numbers, and they’re easily dispatched. Most of the game is more about exploring the dream-like environments and playing around with the various costume abilities in order to solve basic puzzles.

You aren’t working against a clock, there isn’t a scoring system, and you usually aren’t being graded on your performance. Talking it over with some others, the vibe is that this could be a good game for young children. It requires little in terms of controller dexterity and is generous in every sense of the word.

The primary complaint against that, I guess, is that Balan Wonderworld is a weird game. Like, “Elsa and Spider-man Finger Family Youtube Video” weird. Every level is packed full of gently dancing ghosts that phase out of existence once you get too close to them. They’re all the creatures your costumes are based on, but they don’t exist as NPCs in the world for you to touch and interact with. Like I said, they’re ghosts, and they disappear the moment you get within a few feet. Those same ghosts will suddenly materialize when you touch certain checkpoints, throwing you something of parade. They interrupt the level music and everything just to play their own special celebration song. Move more than a few feet and they will fade back out of existence again, taking their special parade song with them, never to be seen for the rest of the stage.

It lends a strangely “uncanny” feeling to the game. I think the dancing characters are meant to add a sense of carefree fun, but they look like people wearing mascot suits, doing the same basic scripted routine over, and over, and over, for eternity. They don’t look like they’re having fun, they don’t appear to be choreographed to the stage’s music, and yet there they are, eternally dancing the days away. It’s kind of eerie. They were performing before you got here, and they'll keep performing after you leave.

The demo pits you against a single boss, which is notable for being someone who has the same powers you do, but combined and amped up. Seeing the same costume motifs come up in the boss as they draw from the same abilities that you have is actually a really fun idea, and the game rewards you for getting creative and swapping between costumes when you deal damage.

Balan Wonderland is a very odd game, and I’m not sure what to make of it. It took me a while to start wrapping my head around its aesthetic and vibes. It contains shades of something like Super Mario Odyssey to be sure, but it feels like it’s trying to elevate itself above that. Again, it’s a game living deep in the shadow of NiGHTS and Sonic, and in particular, it feels like it borrows NiGHTS’ penchant for putting artistic expression at the top ladder rung. Balan often feels like a very inscrutable sort of game, but in a way that seems to be reaching for some kind of greater meaning beyond simply gameplay. Everything in Balan feels like it might be conveying a message of some sort, even if it’s not immediately apparent. Its ideas do not come from a vacuum.

But here’s the deal: even though a lot of people couldn’t grok NiGHTS into Dreams, I did. I love that game to death. But with Balan Wonderworld, even I’m often left scratching my head. Despite its dead-simple gameplay, it may be just a little too high concept for its own good.

But at the end of the day, it’s not a game I hate. It’s strange, and charming, and even if it feels sort of impenetrably "artistic," at least that makes it interesting. The simple gameplay works its magic, making it an easy game to drop in to even if you don’t necessarily understand what you’re looking at.

Like, what’s the deal with the “Isle o’ Tims” between levels? It kind of has the vibe of a chao garden from Sonic Adventure, but the individual “tims” creatures don’t seem to have statistics or anything like that. You feed them so they crank a wheel, which builds a tower that helps them crank the wheel better. It turns in to a bizarre sort of perpetual motion machine. To what end? I don’t know. And what exactly is Balan himself, anyway? Some of his visual cues call to mind character designs for NiGHTS, but he appears to be a different sort of creature altogether. There’s a rather lengthy intro FMV, as you can no doubt see from the Youtube embed, but it’s more about swirling colors and hyperactive animation than conveying what’s going on or who Balan is. How much of this is even really happening, and how much of it is purely metaphysical? It’s very unclear.

I’ll be interested in seeing how the full version of Balan Wonderworld fares. I get the distinct impression that this will be another NiGHTS -- a game beloved by a core audience of hardcore fans, but shunned for being “too weird” by the populace at large.

I’m not quite sure which group I belong to yet.

Candy is Dandy but Liquor is Quicker

[Dead by Baelight’s Kinktober // Day 8 and 18 : Outfit/Skin, Cornered]

🖤  🖤   🖤 “Don’t come any closer,” you warned shakily, backing up against the boarded-up door as he stalked forward, every step radiating confidence. “Or you’ll what?” He asked, leaning in. “Arrest me?” Playfully rattling the costume handcuffs on your belt, he set his gun against the door. You stared up at him, eyes wide as saucers, and he just snorted, curling a finger in your hair. “Darlin’…” Tilting his head, his fingers traveled lower, slowly ghosting over your neck, your collarbone…. You inhaled sharply in frightened anticipation, goosebumps rising, only for him to skim over your chest entirely, plucking one of the mini bottles from your bandolier. “I would love…” Long, bony, but strangely elegant fingers unscrewed the cap, flicking it off where it clattered across the floor somewhere. “To see you try.” 🖤  🖤   🖤 Pairing: Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn) x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit

CW: non-con/dub-con, bondage, drinking, smut, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4,927

Something… odd had been happening lately.

Not the cankerous growths and sickly orange flowers that were always so abundant this time of year - or whatever passed for a year in this everlasting hell. By no means was that unprecedented.

Ask anyone who’d been there long enough to know and they’d tell you; there was a certain… cyclicity to things. Recurring phenomenon - the red envelopes, the flowers, the mysterious gifts wrapped up like Christmas presents. Always sequential, always in order, like some crude imitation of seasons. (And for what? No one ever aged a day.)

No, this was something new.

And new, in the Entity’s realm, was never a good thing. But… You had to admit, this seemed mostly harmless.

Look - It’s not like you were ever really in control of what you wore here, anyway. Most of the time, you were just stuck with whatever clothes you were wearing when you rolled into the fog. Sometimes She (that omnipotent thing in the sky) threw you in something else. Nobody ever really paid it much mind. The Entity worked in mysterious ways. And people, frankly, had more important shit to worry about.

But then when the flowers started blooming this year, things got a little weird.

She -…

She started putting people in costumes.

Cheap polyester numbers, mostly - the kind you’d buy from a big-box store, straight from one of those awful clear vinyl bags.

…It was starting to look a lot like Halloween. Jack-o’-lanterns even began appearing, scattered around the campfire and adorning the generators.

And nobody knew what the fuck was going on. Hell, not everyone even knew what Halloween was. You had quite the diverse cast; some people weren’t even from the same world as you.

The general vibe around the campfire was just… mild amusement if anything. You had a chuckle, then moved on. That was just the way of things. Everyone had these… survivor blinders on. You guess it was hard to get phased by something so minor when you all got murdered on the daily, but…

But you weren’t content with that.

You always had trouble just accepting things at face value. You wanted to know why.

Like - was the Entity stroking out? Things always did get a little strange around this time. Almost as if She were sick.

It was rare, but there were these little… Well, Feng called them glitches, and it was apt a term as any. Just little things, here and there, like She couldn’t quite enforce the rules of her own game.

Almost everything in this world seemed to be harvested from people’s memories. So… Maybe she was starting to pull things at random. Spiraling.

Was this the synaptic failure of a dying god?

Probably not, but there was nothing to do besides let your mind wander, and it was the only theory you had.

And then….

Then She whisked you away to Frontierland in the gaudiest slutty sheriff costume known to man and pit you against the goddamn cowboy.

Yeah, no - that was about a step too far to have been a happy accident.

Maybe you were thinking too hard. Maybe She just had a fucked up sense of humor.

When the fog cleared, you found yourself in the saloon with the others. You half-heartedly laughed it off (“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Very funny.”) and then moved on. Business as usual.

But not before rolling your eyes and discreetly downing one of the liquor minis from the shitty novelty booze bandolier sewn to your costume behind everyone’s backs.

At least She had the decency to stock it.

You were finishing up cleansing a totem when you heard the telltale crack of a gunshot split the air from all the way across the map. Not anywhere close enough to be dangerous, but a dead giveaway as to who you were up against.

…And cold hard proof that your little outfit was far from coincidence. The literal and proverbial smoking gun.

The moment you heard it you deflated, head falling back.

Seriously? What the fuck was She playing at?

Why you?

It wasn’t much of a conscious decision; you found yourself plucking another bottle from your bandolier and knocking it back without a whole lot of thought. You were obviously going to need it. Staring blankly ahead, you incredulously shook your head as you thumbed the moisture from your lip.

Okay. Alright. That was it, for now, you decided.

The Entity gave you a fully loaded bandolier - seriously, you were armed to the teeth with the little mini bottles, to the point it was actually kind of heavy. But you already felt a little weak in the knees after just two shots. It had been a while, so your tolerance was understandably nil. You didn’t want to be useless to your team. More importantly, it now felt critical you get out of there without running into the killer.

The Deathslinger was one of those ones. Not overly talkative, like a couple of the killers were, but he definitely got a kick out of the whole thing. There was a stark difference between the two camps, so to speak - the ones who only seemed like they killed because they had to, and the ones who were completely in their element. And he was obviously one of the latter.

It was that goddamn laugh. Low and sultry. Chuckling whenever he hooked someone or when a survivor did something exceptionally dumb. Even when you weren’t the target of it, you’d come to associate it with pure humiliation.

And you just knew that he’d take one look at you, in your stupid sheriff costume, and… Oh. You were steaming mad only thinking about it.

So you made it your personal mission to avoid him this trial. And to do that, you had to actually get out. Which meant no more drinks for you!

You should have known She had other plans.

You did your best to keep a low profile, tried to make sure you were on the opposite side of the map from him at all times, while still being useful. A difficult balancing act.

But you couldn’t just leave your friends hanging.

When you saw Meg’s aura flare out in distress as she was lowered onto the hook, you began making your way over, quick and quiet and praying to every god you knew that he would be long gone by the time you got there.

And, lucky you, there was no sight of him. So you crept towards the hook, privately taking solace that at least you weren’t alone in the goof factor; Meg was all dressed up like Wendy - the fast-food icon. The Entity really outdid herself, the braids were right on the nose, and you were almost loosey-goosey enough to make some stupid quip. Almost. Maybe when she wasn’t dangling from a meat hook.

You pulled her off the hook with care, but just as her feet touched the ground, another gunshot rang out, this time much louder. A spear whizzed by so close that you could hear it shear through the air just before it embedded itself in the post, inches away from you both. No sooner had you whipped your head around to find the source than the sound of shoes pounding against the ground filled your ringing ears.

You looked back and Meg was gone. Peeled off like a bandaid.

You decided you better get the hell out of Dodge too.

First things first, you needed to get out of the open; that was just asking to get shot. So you made a mad dash for the saloon. You figured you had a good head start since it should have taken him a hot minute to retrieve the harpoon, dislodge it from the hook, shove it back in the gun… Sounded like a whole ass process.

Except, when you looked back behind you he was hot on your tail. Trail. Hot on your trail.

You made a snap judgment, deciding you’d try and lose him by running up to the second story. Was it cheap? Absolutely. He obviously had some kind of bum leg, unless that brace was some kind of bold fashion statement. Not that it had ever slowed him down, any. But you were desperate. And all’s fair in love and war, right?

Swiftly turning the corner, you galloped up the stairs and dove into the first room you saw, hopping through the window.

By the time your eyes adjusted to the indoors and you realized it was a dead-end, it was too late. The only other exit was boarded up, and you could hear his boots unhurriedly thumping up the creaky steps like he was in no rush at all. Step. Step. You rushed to the boarded-up door and gave it a good open-palmed slam to test its strength - you’d seen killers smash through these like they were cardboard, but it just wouldn’t budge. Shit.

He was getting closer. You could hear his spurs. Hissing, you banged your fist against the boards in frustration. What, impending injury wasn’t bad enough? She had to add insult, too?

The footsteps stopped, and so did everything else, it felt like. Holding your breath, you slowly began to turn around. There he was in the window, backlit and silhouette, dusty sunlight filtering through his ghostly white hair. You had to admit, he cut a striking figure, something cinematic. There was just the trouble of the gun. Aimed right at you.

Didn’t have to climb over the window if he just reeled you to him. Smart man.

Before you could think to dive for cover or something smart like that, he began lowering the gun. It was hard to tell what expression he was wearing, backlit as he was, but you could feel those spectral eyes looking you up and down. From your cheap western style boot covers, all the way up your legs to your fluffy petticoat and layered skirts, the ill-fitted booze bandolier slung around your shoulder… and finally, the gold, plastic 5 point sheriff star nestled between your tits.

Oh God. Here it comes…

He didn’t even have to say a word, hot embarrassment already surging to the surface before he even opened his mouth.

“Well. Pardon me.” You could make out the glint of dirty teeth in the dark as his grin spread. “Didn’t know you were an elected official.”

Why the hell was he exempt from this bullshit, anyway? You’d seen Ghostface in a devil costume, and Myers in a cat ear headband, so you knew they weren’t immune. Maybe the Entity thought he looked stupid and campy enough as is. But… she couldn’t have dressed him up as Woody from Toy Story or something? He probably wouldn’t have gotten it, but you would have found it funny. Maybe then you wouldn’t have felt so small and humiliated.

You hated this. You didn’t even know what to say until he started climbing over the window. Then you had a pretty clear idea.

“Don’t come any closer,” you warned shakily, backing up against the boarded-up door as he stalked forward, every step radiating confidence.

“Or you’ll what?” He asked, leaning in. “Arrest me?” Playfully rattling the costume handcuffs on your belt, he set his gun against the door. You stared up at him, eyes wide as saucers, and he just snorted, curling a finger in your hair.

“Darlin’…” Tilting his head, his fingers traveled lower, slowly ghosting over your neck, your collarbone…. You inhaled sharply in frightened anticipation, goosebumps rising, only for him to skim over your chest entirely, plucking one of the mini bottles from your bandolier. “I would love…” Long, bony, but strangely elegant fingers unscrewed the cap, flicking it off where it clattered across the floor somewhere. “To see you try.”

And on that note, he finally tipped it back - you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed it down. Shaking the empty bottle at you, he slipped it back into its holster on your belt. “Bit frivolous, you know.” He commented, curling his finger in and snapping it back. “A flask does just fine. No need to reinvent the wheel.”

“Right, well,” you huffed, and moved to squeeze past him - he was clearly in good humor, at least, so maybe he’d let you off easy. Wasn’t a little whiskey and a laugh good enough?

Apparently not.

You were immediately met with an arm shooting out, hand landing right beside your head, caging you in.

“Woah there, where d’ya think you’re going, sweetheart?” He smirked down at you, a crooked thing that flashed his teeth, scarred lip snagged over a canine. You’d never noticed before, but one of his incisors had a gold crown. Now that you’d noticed, you couldn’t stop looking at it, the alcohol still floating around in your bloodstream turning you into some sort of easily distracted magpie. He was missing one of his bottom teeth, too. It was… kind of a mess in there, huh? Smelled like whiskey and tobacco.

“You got me all the way up here, I’m not too keen on leaving already.” Sliding his hand from the door, he guided you away by the small of your waist, and you… you just kind of let him, stiltedly trying to follow his direction.

“So how about you…” You reached the bed and he grabbed you by your shoulders, turning you round to face him. “Just sit your pretty ass down.” Just a slight push and you were bouncing on the bedsprings, palms catching your fall.

In the back of your mind you were already fearing the worst, but much to your surprise he just sat down next to you on the edge of the mattress, looking almost comically large and out of place on the twin-size bed. All you could do was blink at him dumbly, unsure what was happening.

He took a long breath through his nose. It felt like forever before he finally released it and said, “Have a drink with me.”

“I…” You drew out the word dubiously, clearly meaning to decline. You were already too tipsy for comfort considering present company was a killer.

“Didn’t ask,” He said gruffly, pulling two bottles from your bandolier and offering you one. “Indulge an old man. Or we’ll do it the hard way.”

Hard to argue with that! You didn’t know what the hard way was, but you didn’t want to find out. So you took the bottle, lips pulling together in a tight, awkward half-smile when he clinked his against yours.

This was weird. Awkward, and in a whole different way than you’d been preparing yourself for.

You actually found yourself glad for the burn that flooded your body as you downed the shot, heat loosening your tense limbs and taking the edge off this… incredibly odd situation, if only slightly.

Besides the obvious threat, it felt like maybe, despite everything��� he was really just a lonely old man. In want of someone to drink with. A slice of normality. Isn’t that what you all wanted? You guessed it couldn’t hurt. It was keeping him away from the generators, anyway. Buying you all some extra time.

And… maybe this was what the Entity wanted. The reason she brought you here like this.

“Now, miss,” He spoke, and you turned your gaze up to him, blinking owlishly, your head swimming. There was a lot to take in at this distance. All these different textures. Scars and stubble and pockmarks. You found it all fascinating. “I’ve got to be frank with you.”

You know, you hadn’t really heard him speak at length before, but you were starting to realize that his whole aesthetic, he didn’t really sound straight out of a spaghetti western like you might expect. There was a trace of that, especially in his vocabulary, but his accent was much more reminiscent of… Canada, somehow. With a slightly Irish lilt.

It was ludicrously unexpected, and something about it just made a dopey smile float onto your face. You didn’t even realize you were doing it, until his eyes drifted down, and he huffed with almost fond incredulity.

“Think that’s funny, huh?”

You’re almost positive you missed something he said. You heard it, you just didn’t… process it right. This time when he spoke, you tried to pay attention.

“I don’t usually go taking what ain’t mine, but damn if you don’t look like a present addressed just to me.”

It was your turn to huff, bobbing with amusement. “Okay, cowboy, I know what it looks like, but…” It wasn’t like you chose this outfit.

“Honey,” he interrupted, “I think you’ve mistaken me for the wrong kinda wrangler. It’s not cows I’m after.” He paused, tipping his head as if reconsidering, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But if a heifer’s in need of a good driving…”

It took you a solid minute for your brain to catch up. He was content to watch the cogs turn until it did.

He just called you a cow!

A cow in need of a good dicking!

Your mouth hung open in shock and he - he just laughed.

“Little slow on the uptake, aren’t cha? Had a few already? How bout one more?” His hand began trailing up your leg, dirty fingers slowly dipping beneath your pure white petticoat.

Suddenly, one thing was very clear.

You had to get out of here.

Shaking your head, you tried to stand, but you were swiftly reeled back as soon as your feet hit the ground, pulled into a hard lap, all bones and brace and knobby knees and God knows what else.

“We’re gonna have one more,” his voice materialized right beside your ear, tone final as he pulled another mini from your belt. You shook your head, whimpering some protest between tightly closed lips as he pressed the bottle to your mouth. Behind you, you heard him sigh through his nose like a beleaguered bull. Then his other hand came round your face, pinching your nose shut.

You didn’t wait around for your lungs to give out. There wasn’t any point in that. You knew he wasn’t going to give in. But you did. Almost immediately. Your lips parted for air and got tequila instead, swallowing sloppily as you tried not to choke, rivulets of amber dripping down your chin while he murmured, “There you go… Nice and easy…”

His hand lowered to your throat to tip your head back, your world spinning as a wet sensation dragged across your chin, the man licking up the tequila in one broad and obscene lick. That rotten chuckle inundated your senses. “Awful cute when ya can’t even keep your eyes straight.” He tapped his fingers along the column of your throat, adding in afterthought. “Awful cute anyway, but I’m not really in the mood to fight just for a little company tonight. You gonna be good for me now, darling?”

“…Uh-huh.” You nearly sobbed out the sound, voice meek and pathetic. But you’d be lying if you weren’t starting to feel… sweaty under your skirts, inner thighs getting embarrassingly slick. That always happened when you were drunk, but never this bad.

And despite all the awfulness churning in your stomach, you still felt heat pool in your gut as he cooed, “Good girl. Not at dumb as you look, are you?”

You didn’t even realize he was actually expecting an answer until he probed again, “Are you?”

You quickly shook your head.

Humming, he seemed to accept that, because he was soon re-adjusting you on his lap and catching your lips with his in a messy kiss. He tasted strong and dry, your tongue prickling like your taste buds were trying to retract at the mere slide of his against yours; like salt on a slug. When his hand crept up your skirt this time, you didn’t try to stop him, even as his middle finger began tracing your sopping panties, dipping into the wet seam. You could scarcely think, devolved into a gooey pile of nerves and feelings that he was amusedly plucking at.

Peeling your panties aside, his fingers parted your folds, a pleased rumble emanating in his throat and vibrating in your mouth when his thumb brushed against your clit and your hips twitched in response.

You were gasping for breath by the time he finally pulled his mouth away, but he gave you no time to recover, already pressing two fingers past your resistance. In some attempt to ground yourself, you grasped at his arm as they began curling and pumping inside you, but your weak, drunk grip made it about as easy as catching clouds.

At some point, your barely-there vision drifted towards the window and you dimly realized you were facing it, completely exposed. That if anyone came up the stairs, they’d be able to see everything.

You’d just have to hope his heartbeat would be enough to keep them far away from the saloon. Eyes fluttering to the ceiling, you pushed the thought from your mind. It wasn’t hard. Not when the feeling in your stomach was reaching a fever pitch, nearing the point of no return.

In some ways, he was a lot gentler than you were expecting. Which was good, because you felt hopelessly vulnerable right now, helpless and disorientated in his lap, his looming over you making your mixed up brain feel protected even though some part of you knew that wasn’t right.

Everything felt numb except where he touched you; the heat of his breath on your neck, the kisses he pressed to your skin, the scrape of his beard, the brush of his long hair against your shoulder. All your wires were crossed, every little sensation going straight to your core.

Gasping out as your climax crashed over you, your hips lurched, thighs trying to snap closed around his hand. Unbothered, he just kept stroking you through it until your hips finally began to sink back down and your cunt stopped desperately trying to milk his fingers. Withdrawing slowly, he pressed them into your open mouth, the tang of your own juices spreading across your tongue. You didn’t know what it said about you that your blind instinct was to obediently suck, but that’s what you did, and he breathed out in a low, steady hiss.

“Careful, now. Fool me too good and I might have to keep you.”

Pulling away, he encouraged you to lay on the bed, settling between your legs. You watched the ceiling drift then snap back to place every time you blinked while he fiddled with something - you weren’t sure what until he was fixing your arms above your head and the apparently not-so-novelty handcuffs from your costume were being snapped around your wrists.

Then his hands were skating over you appreciatively, over your ribcage, the curvature of your waist almost reverently. “Guess the good Lord finally answered my prayers.” He murmured, flicking the plastic sheriff star between your bosom. “Not really how I woulda done it, but beggars can’t be choosers, eh? After all…” The man sighed, fingers curling into the top of your blouse and slowly dragging the gingham fabric down over your breasts until they were revealed to his eerie, quietly covetous eyes. “We don’t exactly have all the time in the world, do we?”

What was that even supposed to mean? It seemed to you as if you had nothing but time. Maybe not in this particular trial - and as if to punctuate that thought, you felt a generator kick to life, the familiar thrum of hope in your bones.

Did he know something you didn’t? Or were you just too foxed to follow?

Exhaling, he rolled his hands over your breasts, admiring the feel of them for just a moment. It seemed like he wanted to take his time with you, but the reminder that you were on a timer was the spur in his side that eventually pushed him to move on.

You heard him audibly fiddling with his belts and wondered if you were getting out of this alive. It was cold comfort, but at least you’d probably managed to save everyone else. Not very heroic when it wasn’t even really your decision. But it was something. Maybe. Something to cling to as you felt the heat of him slide across the mess he’d made of you.

Whimpering, you curled inwards from your core as he entered you, bound hands lifting up and both grasping at his chest at the feeling of being run through. By no means was it violent. It didn’t hurt, exactly. But it had been a long time, and he was unforgivingly long and solid and foreign. An intrusion on your body.

“That’s it. There you go, gorgeous. Hang onto me.”

You did, your hands abandoning his chest to loop over his neck, accidentally knocking the hat off his head in your bound fumbling. He didn’t seem to care, swooping down to take your lips again while you struggled to get used to the feeling of him moving inside you.

With how wet you already were, it didn’t take all that long before pleasure started to win out, every little bump and grind against your sweet spot pulling you closer to the edge again, his mouth muffling the pathetic stream of sounds trying to escape yours.

This time, the fall from the top was a slow one, liquid heat spilling out across your core - though you weren’t quite aware how literally until you felt it physically starting to pool beneath you, a wave of embarrassment flaring when you’d realized what just happened. Okay - you didn’t - that had never happened before, drunk or not.

Your hopes that he didn’t notice were dashed as he pulled away to chuckle heatedly in your ear. He wasn’t far behind though, laughter broken by a groan as his hips snapped against yours, burying himself deep as he could go. You felt the alien jerk of his cock inside you, radiating warmth.

Panting, he nuzzled at your neck as he came down, whiskers scratching at your skin. You felt… suspended in place, not sure what came next. But you guessed it wasn’t up to you. Hesitantly, you let your fingers slip into his sweaty white tresses, the texture thick and rough like the mane of a horse, dusty and… probably unwashed for God knows how long.

There was that awkward feeling again. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit no matter how you turned them, but you weren’t allowed to leave.

Eventually, he took a deep, centering breath and withdrew from you, guiding your hands back to the bed and clicking open the safety release of the handcuffs, setting you free and letting them fall wherever on the floor.

Rubbing your wrists, you groaned in discomfort as he dragged his fingers through the mess, pushing his cum back inside you. No. You just wanted to be done.

But then he pulled your panties back into place. Pulled your shirt back up. Smoothed your skirts down.

His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he heaved a big sigh and finally dismounted.

Pulling you up by your arm so that you were sitting up, he grabbed his hat from the bed, and you felt him plop it onto your head and adjust it.

“Suits ya.” He said softly, and it was the first thing he’d said in a while. Part of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop, not sure if he wanted a thank you, or…

He eyed you for another long moment, like there was something more he wanted to say, but… Instead, his gaze flicked down to the bandolier round your chest.

You swallowed hard as he plucked the last two bottles from your belt, the thought of taking another shot making your stomach churn and your gag reflex curl.

Patting your thigh, he bonelessly plopped himself in the nearby chair, rolling his eyes as you just stared at him. “Go on, get.” He snorted, uncapping one of the little bottles. “Don’t fall down the stairs on your way out.”

He was letting you go? Just like that?

You hesitated, something about this seemed… unfinished. You weren’t sure if you wanted to go.

But you didn’t want to wait around until he changed his mind, either.

So you uncertainly began heading towards the window, pausing when you remembered - “Your hat…” You reached for it, intending to give it back, but…

“Keep it, I don’t care.” That sounded unexpectedly crabby, and when you looked back, he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at the wall, avoiding your gaze as he tipped back a shot. “Wear it if you want to see me again. Don’t if ya don’t. I can take a hint.”

You blinked, unable to believe he was sulking. Now. After everything.

Your fingers hovered over the brim of the hat. You needed to quash this now, while you still had the chance. Your conscience was screaming at you, leave it, don’t encourage him, don’t even give him hope.

Don’t bring it to the campfire. Don’t anything. Just… leave it on the windowsill, you told yourself. It shouldn’t have even required thought. Nothing about this was okay.

You didn’t even know his goddamn name.

And yet… You found your hand slowly lowering, falling back down to your side. You gave him one last, long look before grabbing the windowsill.

You could always decide later.

🖤  🖤 🖤

Thank you for reading!!!

🖤  🖤 🖤  

Notes:

Thank you Pugge for beta'ing most of this!

I do not know WHY this took me so long to write but I’m fairly happy with it. Sorta wasn’t the direction I originally had planned for this, but what can I say, I’m cursed. I got the Midas touch, except instead of gold, everything I touch turns to non-con.

This piece was written for Day 8 and 18 of the 🔞 Dead by Baelight 🔞 Discord server’s Kinktober. Anyone over 18 is welcome to join here.

Boba is Overrated, Anyway

The past year sure has seen its share of weird shortages.  First there was that time where everyone was panic buying toilet paper.  Then, everyone started baking, so we ran out of flour.  Then, as the constant flow of people ordering takeout continued, we ran out of ketchup packets. Did anyone see boba getting added to the list?

Turns out, the majority of the boba consumed in the U.S. is made overseas, and between increased ecommerce from people just sitting around making impulse purchases and labor shortages at the docks, the ports just can’t keep up.  

But you know what?  We don’t need boba, anyway.

[It’s probably worth mentioning now, before I really get into this rant, that as I was researching this, I found out that boba tea has become something of a cultural icon for younger generations of Asian Americans.  I may be part-Japanese, but I’m so white-passing that I often end up being completely oblivious to these kinds of facets of the Asian American experience.  When I say “we” don’t need boba, I’m mostly aiming this towards gentrifying white people posting pics of boba on Instagram for clout.]

Don’t get me wrong, I get the appeal.  I love a drink with texture in it.  When Denny’s released an apple pie milkshake- with actual chunks of pie in it- I was all over it.  My favorite Starbucks drink, the smores frappuccino, is full of graham cracker crumbs that, objectively, give it a kinda sandy texture.  And I love it for that. And I enjoyed boba the first time I tried it.  It’s an extremely dense chew that is so unique that I can’t think of anything else that it could be compared to.  My problem isn’t with the boba themselves, it’s just that most places give you way too many of them.  And don’t get me wrong, I’m sure there are plenty of people who would complain that they aren’t getting their money’s worth if they got less.  But for me, at least, by the time you’re halfway through, chewing them all has become something of a chore.  Maybe that’s just me, my jaw’s kinda messed up (“Getting braces did more harm than good” is a hill I’m willing to die on, MOM.). And by the time you get to that point, you’re also almost out of tea, and you either have to chew on the pearls by themselves or throw them out.  Sure, you could argue that I’m not “pacing” it right, but do you really expect me to strategize my beverages? You’re gonna tell me a drink synonymous with West Coast chill vibes is supposed to be a thinking man’s drink? 

But most importantly, they don’t even really add any flavor.  Most boba shops have plenty of other offerings- seemling not affected by this shortage as they are not as ubiquitous- from popping fruit bubbles to jellies to adzuki beans that will still give you a textural contrast while also actually tasting like something.  And even plain milk tea has plenty of appeal!  My usual go-to is just a regular old taro milk tea, whose starchy texture more than makes up for the fact that I usually don’t bother with add-ins.

So please, do continue to patronize your favorite boba shop.  Hell, there’s probably a good chance their owner has quite a bit of boba stockpiled if you aren’t quite yet ready to wean yourself off the chewy orbs just yet.  But when the day they run out finally comes, don’t be afraid to broaden your tea horizons. 

it’s been a while since i posted about aa but i just finished soj in its entirety tonight. here’s my new list so far

i still have to give thoughts on cases 4 5 and dlc so that’ll be under a cut. spoilers!

6-4: this was such a filler case, almost shamefully so. i don’t know why they thought they could manage to do this in the 4th case when every game with 5 cases has been pretty consistent about making the 4th case plot relevant, sometimes literally just a preamble to case 5. so yeah i think this one was kinda ass

the two things it had going for it: one, athena. in 6-2 i actually got confused about why i ever liked her, because in that case she felt like she was just acting the part of the Peppy Teen Girl With a Rowdy Streak that makes up almost every assistant character. But then as SOON as she started bantering with Simon in 6-4 i was like “oh, THAT’S why i liked her!” was nice to take control of her again.

two, uendo toneido. while i don’t think you can say the DID was portrayed with quite the necessary respect or kindness, it was handled better than i’ve seen other media handle it-- at least it’s not completely demonized. other people have written more on that in better detail so i’m not really the judge, but the basic point is that this witness was mad fun to read, and even the dumb jokes like the changing number of floor cushions were entertaining. thus why this case is in the “hard carried by one side character” tier.

especially since there was like nothing else going on. no connection to the main plot, only two other characters besides uendo, and for some reason the clown tits girl was here instead of the magic show case (and to be honest, she wasn’t enjoyable for me even BEFORE she did the standard aa female villain thing and changed her speech pattern as soon as she fell under suspicion). just a weird, nothing case stuck right around the point aa games usually enter endgame. And especially weird because...

6-5 part 1: inexplicably there are two separate cases in the final chapter and each gets one day of investigation and trial. such a weird setup, and it really shouldn’t work... but i think it kinda barely does. barely. it would still have been better to split it into case 4 and case 5 though.

i have a hard time articulating much on the first case bc it sort of blends together for me. the main thing is that the concept of it being a civil case where apollo and phoenix face off is really good. it was a good change of pace, even though you knew it was gonna be a murder somehow anyway. sarge was reasonably nice, i guess, paul atishon had some good animations and quirks (my favorite being when he tries to just walk away from the stand to avoid answering a question), and the logic of the actual murder was good enough.

but i especially got those strong “oh this is a FINAL case!” vibes during the segment in the cave, and that added so much to it even if not much of it was relevant in the first half of the case. the adventure feel reminded me of some of the (out of context bc i still havent played it) scenes i know from 3-5, which is a good association to invoke imo. and it did a lot to give apollo and dhurke time to bond.

speaking of which, dhurke, holy shit. what a KING. i don’t think i’ve ever liked a dad character in ace attorney this much. he’s so genuine and like down to earth that it’s impossible not to start liking him and believe how much he cares for his sons. the bit where he rescued apollo from the cave flood... i felt it in my heart

6-5 part 2: let me just get this out of the way: ga’ran sucks. her design after she goes full evil is so bad, she’s so malicious that it’s immediately obvious she’s going to be the culprit, her breakdown is ridiculous and just embarrassing to watch, and inga had already established way more charisma as a villain when he did the “those were orders of execution actually” bit in 6-3. with that said,

i actually liked it for the most part. the spirit channeling stuff was excellent imo-- they probably use it to similar or greater effect in 3-5 but as someone who again has not played that, i was surprised and almost impressed by how well it was applied. maya was relevant for something! it feels like it’s been ages!

rayfa was a little underutilized, i think-- her moment of determination where she stops letting ga’ran have control over her was alright but it fell flat bc it didn’t have any weight during the moment. i kept hoping she would like, wordlessly take of her shawl and do the little verbal preamble to the divination seance while ga’ran kept yelling at her to stop, but no, the script can’t be good like that, i guess. and since she didn’t get to be the investigation assistant for long, none of her charm in that role carried through.

but DHURKE!! oh my god! in a game almost devoid of emotional impact, his involvement in this case really hit. the way they painstakingly animated his death, the scene where he makes a promise with maya, and then the weight of knowing in hindsight that everything he did in the first part of the case was after he’d already died and just wanted to see his son again before passing on for real....... it hurt. i felt something during that section. this case would also be hard carried by him if not for the fact that i really liked the murder bits.

amara was good too--liked how they made her suspiciously serene and accentuated it with the lightning strikes to make her look like a hidden murderer character about to reveal herself, only to walk it back and confirm she was being forced to act that way. i thought it worked. nahyuta was boring though, i’m sorry-- i get the motivation with having to be a bastard bc his sister and mom were basically held hostage, but the only time i found him compelling in that mess was the bit where he removed his one fingerless glove and revealed he still has the dragon tattoo. that was it. athena was also completely unused the whole case (not even a single mood matrix? really?) and trucy one again went without any role of importance.

the ending also... yknow, a friend said they had to end it this way bc they never figured out what they were going to do with apollo (since following up on what they started in aa4 clearly wasn’t an option???) and just threw him on a bus to get rid of him. i agree with that-- he really feels thrown to the side, and with that i think trucy’s officially stranded with no hope of any character advancement. and the way they ended the game with phoenix and lamiroir deciding “yeah, maybe NOW we should finally tell those two they’re related” honestly felt insulting lol

but maybe the dlc case will let things go out on a high note...?!

6-6: it was okay.

it would’ve worked pretty well as a filler case in an older aa-- honestly i think it’d be one of the better filler cases, certainly worth replacing the shitty ones like 2-3 or 3-3 or, hey, 6-4. but whether i’d say it was worth paying for... eh.

the time travel conceit was done well enough, i think. the way they tied it back to sorin and pierce’s backstories was nice, and the twist about having two receptions was good, although they needed to treat that as a real twist with much more gravity. when the truth comes out it just feels like “oh of course that’s what happened” rather than a big surprise worthy of the Confessing the Truth theme. it’s sort of important because the case becomes a lot less interesting when you take out the time travel element.

far as characters are concerned, i think they needed more side characters to sell the whole thing-- another sprocket family member or another servant of the household. it felt a little limited-- sorin and pierce are pretty good witnesses and i like their quirks and their secrets, but the only alive woman (ellen) has very few traits and no connection to the deeper story of the case, so she falls really flat. the old aa characters didn’t add much- maya and edgeworth were just there for fanservice, ema didn’t get to do much other than acknowledge for the first time in years that she’s a big edgeworth fan, and larry is annoying as hell like he always is.

and oh my god i actually forgot while i was writing that, how they put in athena and trucy but only used them for brief slapstick where trucy would try to set athena on fire and shit. again-- no mood matrix? couldn’t even try once to fit those two characters into something?

i did like pierce’s transformation into his surgeon form though-- that was really cool. loved him doing surgery on a robot, taking xrays of the lawyers, and his breakdown was fantastic-- he would make a really good culprit if they didn’t whiff the last bit of pathos at the end. i don’t think he should’ve been aiming for revenge on sorin; it would have hurt much more if he was still loyal to the guy and never intended for him to be in danger, but the final “why’d you do it?” talk in the trial just felt flat and one-note, much like the one in 6-4.

... so that’s spirit of justice! not a super positive experience but i’m happy to say it’s done. as much as i want to go and replay dgs, i think when i do go back to ace attorney i’ll be replaying the trilogy for the first time since high school

Life in Film: Michael Tyburski.

The Sound of Silence director Michael Tyburski shares some insights into the making of his debut feature, and answers our new “life in film” questionnaire.

In The Sound of Silence, Peter Sarsgaard is Peter Lucian, a house tuner in New York City who believes that the notes emitted from a household’s appliances must harmonize in order to bring peace to its residents. However, his state of mind collapses when he struggles to apply his methods for a new client, Ellen (Rashida Jones).

Directed by Michael Tyburski and based on a short film he made with co-writer Ben Nabors in 2013, The Sound of Silence debuted at the Sundance Film Festival and stood out for its “remarkably silly” unique premise and strong performance from Sarsgaard. Fans of ASMR, get your headphones out; the film’s sound design will trigger those sensations.

The Sound of Silence started life as your short film Palimpsest. Is the ‘house tuner’ occupation at all based in reality? Michael Tyburski: The short answer is no, it’s a fictional profession. The character idea is something that my co-writer Ben Nabors brought to me. Right away, I loved the idea of a practise where someone shows up at your door and offers you a solution to the emotional problems that you’re having.

A lot of alternative therapies exist in New York City so it didn’t seem so far from reality that people would take someone intellectual, dressed well in a tweed blazer, with professional-looking tools, seriously. I really liked that as a conceit. We tried to base it in real science and looked at sound engineers and acousticians for what tools they would use. We tried to make it exist in a very real New York City; that’s why we have touchstones like the character being profiled in The New Yorker.

How has your research into music theory affected your own domestic space? Actually, I moved, for the first time in ten years—after living on a pretty noisy commercial street—during the course of developing and making this movie. Somehow, during the edit, I made my first apartment move within New York City, to a much quieter street. I also took a cue from the main character, Peter Lucian, because I moved my office below my apartment, in a subterranean space. At least I can control the sound a little bit more now that I’m cut off from the surface level, similar to the way Peter does it in his “fallout shelter”.

Michael Tyburski and Peter Sarsgaard on the set of The Sound of Silence. / Photo: James Chororos

The character Peter Lucian feels like a perfect fit for Peter Sarsgaard. When did you have him in mind? He was my first pick. I knew I wanted him from the beginning when I first started thinking about who would be the perfect house tuner. I feel so lucky to have him and fortunately the script resonated with him right away. He’s someone who’s very musically inclined and he plays a number of musical instruments. I was so gratified that he connected to the part so closely.

He’s such a chameleon of an actor. He can play a lot of dark roles, but also he has a very scientist-like intellect. I also think he has one of the best voices, it’s very unique and I enjoy hearing him. So for a movie about sound, it kind of seemed fitting that someone with those types of qualities would work for the role.

What was important to you about keeping Peter’s house-tuning technology analog instead of digital? I think he’s just someone who has the philosophy of “if it’s not broke, don’t fix it”. Even though his tools are a little more dated, they’re still as effective. They might not be as efficient as digital technology so he’s a little slower, but they still work. There is at least one sound engineer in New York City who we found in our research who measures the sound in rooms, and there’s one thing called a spectrum analyzer that we use in the film that we completely got from this guy’s tool bag.

Director Michael Tyburski.

The film is carefully crafted and you have Peter obsessing over every inch of New York City. What degree of obsession did you have in the making of the film? I’m pretty obsessive as an individual in general. I like to be very organized and have everything mapped out. We had been developing the screenplay for so many years that I got tired of reading it, so before we made the movie, the first thing I did after Peter came on board was sit down and record the entire script in audio format. I kind of had this radio edit of the movie. That transitioned into a rough animatic of the film that I put into the timeline and I was able to add in location references, tonal reference photos, dialogue in different room tones, and then music.

Logistics-wise, we only had 21 days to shoot the movie which is very conservative especially because we had a lot of ground to cover, but I just needed to be as efficient as possible, so it was helpful to have that thorough, animatic tool.

With all the technical departments it was a very close collaboration and I like to be very involved in all details. For the sound design, I wanted to re-record all of the tuning forks, which were kind of an aural motif through the film. When you’re shooting in the elements, you don’t always have the control over the environment, so I hand-recorded each one of the tuning forks myself. We were aiming for that level of precision.

We’d like to ask a few questions about your life in film. What was the film that made you want to become a filmmaker? My choice is probably not that unique but when I was 13, maybe a little too young, I got a VHS copy of Pulp Fiction. That stunned me and took me from A to B. It shook up how I thought contemporary American stories could be told.

Which film do you think is the best love letter to New York? Annie Hall, closely tied with Midnight Cowboy. I suppose I love that era of New York.

Which film has the greatest sound design work of all time? There’s a lot, but one of my favorites is Play Time.

Nice choice. Greatest production design of all-time too. Yeah, not bad. I used a few frames for my look book.

Jacques Tati’s ‘PlayTime’ (1967).

Which is the most overlooked performance from Peter Sarsgaard? I loved him in Experimenter, which I think is an underrated film. More recently too, Errol Morris’s Wormwood. I don’t know how many people went down that rabbit hole because it was long, but I think he was so good in it.

What films did you watch to prepare you for The Sound of Silence? There were three that we were looking at, for a lot of different reasons. We watched Jonathan Glazer’s Birth for the mood and that fairytale vibe it has in a mysterious, alternate New York City.

Being John Malkovich for its bizarro version of science, and I love the naturalistic quality to that film. And obviously The Conversation for its production design and how it follows a man obsessed with sound.

This is a nicely-timed, autumnal, gentle film. What films give you those peaceful autumn vibes? My favorite is Hannah and Her Sisters.

What mindfuck movie changed you for life? I’ll have a couple Kubrick on this list, but for this probably A Clockwork Orange.

It’s Halloween next month. What movie do you watch every Halloween? The Shining! There’s my next Kubrick.

As a teenager, what film character felt like a total mirror to what you were feeling at the time? One of my favorite coming-of-age films is Harold and Maude. I definitely identified with Harold.

What’s your go-to comfort movie? And how many times do you think you’ve seen it? My favorite film of all time, which I promise will be my last Kubrick, is Barry Lyndon. I think it’s just a perfect movie and I’ve certainly seen it dozens of times. I think it does everything I want in a movie. I don’t even know what genre to call it because it’s funny, it’s dramatic, it’s an epic. I love the idea of doing a perfect epic movie that covers a lot of ground.

Stanley Kubrick’s ‘Barry Lyndon’ (1975).

What film do you have fond memories of watching with your parents? We were a big Chevy Chase household and National Lampoon’s Vacation holds up as a fine movie.

What’s a classic you could just not get into? Maybe Brazil. Admittedly I think I need to rewatch it because I first saw it when I was 14 or 15 and I just didn’t quite get it at the time.

What classic are you embarrassed to say you haven’t seen? Two Kurosawa films; Rashomon and Seven Samurai. They’re always on my list to brush up and they seem to come up in conversation more and more.

Which movie scene makes you cry the most? Definitely the holiday classic It’s A Wonderful Life.

What film was your entry point into non-English language cinema? That was a good one, I like that question. I remember when I was in my freshman year of high school I was given two VHS copies from someone who knew I was getting into film. One of those films was Persona, but then the other one, which I knew I watched first, was a film called Woman in the Dunes.

What filmmaker—living or dead—do you envy the most? If Kubrick, go for living… If it’s Kubrick go for living? Oh my gosh.

I feel like you’re going to say Kubrick. Yeah. Envy is a funny word. Kubrick has an admirable career for the depth of his filmography. You know, like a lot of film nerds I’m a huge Paul Thomas Anderson fan.

Christopher Nolan’s ‘The Prestige’ (2006).

What’s a film that you wish you made? I would love to make a movie about magic but ever since I saw The Prestige I think it would be hard to compete with that. That period, that Victorian era of illusion, I don’t know if you can top that.

It’s time for best-of-decade lists. What’s the greatest film of the 2010s? If we went back even further it would be easier. For the last 10 years, I think Phantom Thread is pretty great.

‘The Sound of Silence’ was released on September 13 by IFC Films and is in select cinemas now.

Nice try (but it won’t work twice)

It’s Whitetail Mountain time, and also time for Jess and Jacob to say hello.

Rating: T Word Count: 5.7K

Link to AO3!

___

As it turns out, earning Jacob’s attention doesn’t take much effort at all. A fact that the Deputy wishes weren’t the case.

______________

The F.A.N.G. Center had been home to all sorts of creatures.

Not necessarily the fanged kind – cue Sharky’s audible disappointment – but it hadn’t been out of bounds to expect to see wolves, wolverines, and even bears resting and healing up within its walls. One bear in particular had been the singular draw, and Cheeseburger was as adorable as a full-sized grizzly bear with maximum mauling capacity could get.

With the cult in charge, its focus had been redirected.  Repurposed for something much, much worse, if what she’d heard about the Judges was true. Wolves were dangerous enough on their own. Adding bliss to the mix was a possibility that she didn’t even want to entertain.

So, when Dutch had called in, saying that one of the caretakers of the place had been holding out, looking for help, Hana made a little detour. It hadn’t been hard to convince either Sharky or Hurk – the latter of which was just itching to dig into any kind of mayhem in general – and she pulled up on the outskirts of the center so the three could find a way in.

Just because said way involved rockets didn’t mean it was entirely a bad one, but it was far from quiet, and soon enough, the entire place was on fire, literally and figuratively.

When she wasn’t choking on smoke, or stomping out the flames threatening to climb up the leg of Sharky’s pants, she was trading fire with the handful of Peggies stationed there, none of which actually had Judges to back them up. That had been a small blessing in and of itself, and she gave the universe a mental high-five before digging for a spare stick of dynamite.  

The rest fell into place after that, leaving the F.A.N.G. Center singed, but standing.

She asked Dutch to put out a call to see if they could get some people to the center to lock it down, and with that resolved, the three had settled in to wait for them.

There was one outstanding problem, however. Cheeseburger wasn’t on the grounds, and hadn’t been seen since he was released.

Cheeseburger’s caretaker, Wade, pointed them all in the direction of where Cheeseburger had run off to, not even fazed by the fact that an actual bear was on the loose. The cult had been interested in seeing what could be done with the animal, possibly by dosing it with bliss as well, and he’d let it go shortly before the center had been taken.

With that as the alternative, she found herself agreeing with him. She hadn’t seen any of the converted wolves yet, but a blissed out megabear did not need to be added to the mix.  

Sharky and Hurk had opted to bear hunt, while she decided to hold down the fort. She made the two swear up and down that they would yell for her if things went south before leaving, and hoped like hell they would actually take her up on the offer instead of winging it.  

The souvenir shop she hadn’t had a chance to visit while it was all intact and operating before, and looked better suited now to a spot from an apocalypse film. The work they had done to clear the place out hadn’t helped, but the wind was technically blowing the fires in the opposite direction of this building, so…at least it wasn’t going to add to the look.

Hana pushed the door open, listening to it creak as it swung inward. It was a small building, and most of the items on display had been scattered across the shelves and the floor.

There were the usual items, like t-shirts and postcards, but the stuffed cheeseburgers and teddy bears drew a smile from her as she walked past them. She came to a dead stop when she saw it, however.

The bobblehead stared back at her from its place on the shelf. The bear itself had a giant smile, one bordering well on goofy, and when she picked it up to get a closer look, nearly dropped it when it started to speak.

“You smell just like a cheeseburger! Yum!”

The voice laughed, and she shuddered. “Hello, nightmare fuel.”

That sound likely haunted many a small child’s dreams, and wasn’t just limited to the toys. The speakers outside kept on playing other recorded phrases on repeat, all of which followed a similar theme. For people aiming to bank on selling merch, they could not have done a more severe disservice to a beloved mascot.

She set the bobblehead down with the same care she’d use for fine china, and slowly backed away before moving on.

Nearby two wanted posters were hanging up on the wall. One for an Eli Palmer, and the other was torn, only leaving the bottom edge with the name remaining. That one was for Jess Black.

Figures Jess would be a total mystery. Dutch hadn’t described his niece’s appearance, and she hadn’t asked, so Hana was going to have to hope that if she did run into Jess without warning, she’d be able to introduce herself before the bullets started flying. Dutch had said she was up near the lumber mill which they had cut around to grab Hurk. Swinging back to check for her made sense while they were well within reach. The statue had been her driving goal for the last few days, but it could wait.

Eli, on the other hand, she could get a good look at. Or as good of a look as the image presented showed. The long hair and beard definitely gave off the great outdoorsman vibe, and she found it difficult to tell his age because of it.

So, this was him, eh? At least she had a face to the name, even if it wasn’t looking likely she was going to meet him any time soon, if at all.  

Dutch had mentioned he was the head of the group giving Jacob the most push-back up here, the Whitetail Militia. Though, he hadn’t sugarcoated any of his words when it came to how well they were doing. Pressure from Jacob had come non-stop, and the long-standing endurance fight was one that had been wearing them down for a while now.

It was only a matter of time before the Resistance could kiss the Whitetails goodbye, so even if she couldn’t link up with them officially, she could at least take some of the attention off of them. That, she was getting to be quite good at.

“Still,” she mused, crossing her arms as she thought over the events of the day, “maybe you might wanna dial this back a little, eh? Guy’s not going to want to talk if you’re busy setting fires on his doorstep.”

“Deputy, do you copy?”

The radio at her side cracked as Dutch’s voice came through, and she picked it up. “Yeah, Dutch. I’m here. Everything okay?” If she had to ask, the answer was no, but she wanted him to confirm it first.

“Where are you right now?”

“In a room full of cheeseburgers, if that’s any clue.” She took a look around the souvenir shop again, her radio in hand, and crept over to one of the windows. “I’m at the F.A.N.G. Center right now. Why?”

“There’s been some talk on a few of the other channels about an explosion near there. Multiple.”

She winced. “You don’t say?”

“Bet I can shoot right between that gap in the bars, tagging both of those Peggies while threading the needle like a maestro.”

The gap in question she checked out with her binoculars, looking like a tight fit. “With a rocket?”

“With my one and only,” Hurk said proudly.

Sharky only served to back him up, standing right by his side as the three huddled close. “Cuz’ll get it. He’s a pro at this kind of shit.”

She thought it over for a grand total of ten seconds before saying, “Do it.”

“Uh, there might have been some noise. Maybe more than intended, but nothing was hit that didn’t deserve it. Should be quiet from now on.” She paused, considering both herself and the company she was currently keeping. “Quieter, at least.”

“Not quiet enough.”

That was not Dutch.

“Looks like someone is playing at being a soldier.”

This was not a friendly. Not when speaking with an edge like that, and that narrowed down the potential list of people calling her to one.

“So, that doesn’t get me a sparkling seal of approval from the man himself, huh?”

“No,” Jacob replied, the response flat. “You’re a problem. One that I’ve been told needs solving.”

When John had contacted her like this down at the Woodsons', he hadn’t dismissed her outright. Had even traded a few comments with her as she tried sniping at him right up until he mentioned sending people to get her.

Jacob was not John, however, and trying that same method with him was quickly looking to be a huge mistake.

“There’s work to be done, and what you are doing is counter to our progress. What threatens the Project, threatens us, and I don’t have time for games. There’s no use in running. You won’t get far.”

Only static filled the air after that. She stared at the radio for a few seconds, her finger hovering over the call button, and eventually cracked when no one else spoke up. “Dutch?”

“…ey! Kid, respond! Are you still there?”

“Yes.” The word sounded smaller than intended, and she cleared her throat before speaking again. “ETA on the guys headed here?”

“Last I heard, they’re about fifteen to twenty out. A group of Peggies tried to cut them off, but they’re still coming.”

Along with whatever Jacob was planning, and here she was, practically alone - short of having Wade nearby - swearing to herself next to a pile of teddy bears and burgers.

“Oh, this is bad. This is bad,” she muttered, giving the empty store a quick scan before holding the radio up again. She needed to call the guys back. Now. “I’ll figure it out. Just tell them that-“

A small, piercing sting to the back of her neck cut her off mid-word.

She slapped at the spot, hoping to swat the damn bug that had bit her. Instead her fingers closed around a small object. One that stung when she plucked it from her neck, and brought it in front of her face to examine.

A dart. A red dart.

“Are you fucking serious…?” she said, her words slurring.

She fell to the side, her sunglasses clattering on the tile below, and a set of hands grabbed her roughly before she could hit the floor. There were two figures in the shop with her, both with their faces covered, but their eyes exposed.

A disappointed sigh was the last thing that left her, as her eyes slid shut.

---

“Hey.”

Hana’s eyelids fluttered, then closed.

“Hey!”

She felt a flick to her shin, and she tensed, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “Ow!”

When she opened her eyes, the woman crouching down beside her backed up, one hand tucked close to the pockets of her green overshirt, and the other curled around a small knife.

Her hood was pulled up over her head, tangled dirty-blonde strands spilling out of it, and her eyes remained set on Hana as she watched her closely.

Hana slowly rubbed her hands over her aching leg, not wanting to drop eye contact just in case that would be the thing to set her off. Her legs were stiff, however. Unable to be moved apart.

When she glanced down to see what was locking them in place, she noticed the ropes, wound tightly around her ankles. The two were in an isolated spot, somewhere in the forest proper, surrounded by trees, and no other voices could be heard within range off them.

Slowly Hana raised her hands in surrender as the seconds ticked on, and tried not to let too much of her nervousness show.

“Don’t,” the woman said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Says the woman with the knife.”

“I was in the process of cutting you loose. I saw you moving and thought it’d be better to let you know now instead of during, so you don’t fucking kick me.”

She noticed the large compound bow slung over her back, along with the words painted onto her clothes. All of them were a stark white against the green fabric, all of them roughly written, and as Hana took another look at her, she tried not to focus on how deep some of the scars on the woman’s face were.

“Thanks,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I think I owe you one, then. Sorry for being….well, me.”

“And who are you?”

“Oh, uh. Shit. I’m Hana. Or if you want to be formal, Deputy Vao, the asshole running around stirring up trouble.”

The woman gave her a curious look. “Deputy.”

“Yeah, Deputy.”

“Yeah, I did hear about some asshole of a deputy running around. Just not up here until now.” She leaned down and grabbed for the ropes, her knife glinting as they sawed through them. “Chatter’s scattered, but there.”

“Gotta love it when your reputation precedes you. And you are?”

“Jess. Jess Black.”

“Holy shit.  Dutch was…he told me to keep an eye out for you here.”

“Did he?” She helped Hana unwind the cut ropes from her legs, and tossed them aside. “And here I was wondering if I’d ever get to meet you. He’d only been talking you up ever since this shit started. How the cult’s having a fucking crisis over just how much damage you’ve done, and that’s just the something we need more of around here.”

“Well, I aim to please, and anything that makes their lives that much worse, I’ll gladly do in spades. So, if you have any suggestions, name it. I meant it when I said I owed you.”

Jess thought it over for a few seconds, studying her face this time. Eventually she gave her a small nod. “I’ve been tracking patrols. Looking for any of Jacob’s pet Chosen that would report back to the Cook. I was following a new route, but saw the men dragging you back to the VA Center, and no one that goes in there comes back out. And if they do, not right. Not after hitting the Chair.”

“And here I was thinking I had shit luck.”

“Still was if they got you. He’ll try again.”

That was not something she was looking forward to, but for now she’d take it. “Of course he is. The Seeds really have a problem taking no for an answer, no matter who I’m talking to. …Who’s the Cook?”

Jess’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “He’s a twisted fuck. One that should’ve been put down a long time ago. Instead he’s here, playing into Jacob’s ‘cull the weak’ bullshit, and using it as an excuse to do things that-“ She took in a shaky breath, her hands shaking slightly, but on the exhale they stilled. “To do things to people that no fucking person would ever think they’re capable of.”

Hana shifted, watching as Jess’s gaze which had been locked on her not even five minutes ago, shifted to the bushes surrounding them instead. “All of those things are solid reasons,” she replied, crossing her legs under her. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just get me close enough to kill him. That’s all that matters.”

“Done.”

Jess looked over at her and snorted. “You don’t need much convincing, do you?”

“You saved my life, and the world could always use one fewer motherfucker in it, so…” That got her the briefest of smiles, and Hana couldn’t help her grin in return.  “Yeah, I’m in.”

Hopping to her feet, she patted herself down, wondering what had been left on her, only to notice her bag resting nearby. The relief that hit upon seeing it was immense, and Jess sighed when Hana hugged the gear to her chest.

“They didn’t bother to remove it before dragging you along, so you got lucky.”

“Hell yeah, I did.” Kissing it would’ve been overboard, but as she went through it, she was tempted to. Especially when she found her radio, banged up as it was, but still intact. “So damn lucky.”

“Come on.” Jess tilted her head to gesture out towards the woods. “Daylight’s burning, and we need to head past the lumber mill before dark.”

“Hey, uh, Jess? You didn’t happen to see two guys wandering around close to the F.A.N.G. Center, by any chance? One in green, loves fire, but hopefully isn’t on fire, and the other leaning really hard into the whole ‘America, fuck yeah!’ theme?”

The next look Jess gave her stopped Hana in her tracks. “You were with them? No wonder Jacob was able to find and pick you up in record time. They’re like a herd of fucking elephants.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know they don’t set off every alarm.”

“Just most of them. You too, if I’ve heard right.”

Hana’s face flushed as she recalled just how big one of the explosions had been back at the F.A.N.G. Center, taking out the incoming trucks as she’d reached over to high-five Hurk. Jacob’s call had come not even five minutes before she’d been tranq-ed, and she’d been handling souvenirs for God’s sake.

They’d played right into Jacob’s hands, and lucky for all of them, she’d been the only one taken. If Jess hadn’t found her… God, where would she be right now? Would anyone have known?

Each thought that followed was worse than the last, and when Hana did finally reply to Jess, it was after letting out a long breath through her teeth.   “Touche.”

“You want to radio them, go ahead, but if you want to do this, I need you quiet. I will not lose him again.”

“If I’m going to be honest with you, I’m kinda crap at the whole stealth thing too, but…I’ll try. I owe you that.”

“Good. Follow me.”

---

They had a lot of ground to cover. While the mill hadn’t been too far from the center by car, going by foot was a different story. Jess made it look effortless, cutting through any paths in the brush without interference, and didn’t let anything slow her down.

She, on the other hand, was a city kid. This was not her schtick, though Hana did genuinely think at times that she was adapting pretty well. Just not when she was forcing herself through bushes, and snagging herself on branches, while stepping on every brittle leaf known to man.

Jess told her to stay close, but distance did end up creeping between them. She would check back, throwing one hell of a dirty look at her when it seemed like she was going to get left behind, but there was no waving Jess on ahead.

The other woman refused outright, and Hana couldn’t argue with that either after the second time Jess doubled-back to find her. After being drugged and taken three times now – and counting -   she couldn’t afford to be alone out here, no one could, and eventually Jacob was going to want to know where she went.

And she still hadn’t been able to get ahold of Sharky or Hurk. She’d tried radioing the two along the way, the signal unclear as she gave it a few solid smacks. It’d taken a beating, but hadn’t completely crapped out yet. At least, she hoped it hadn’t.

Shit, what if their radio was out? “Hello?” She let go of the button, then spoke again when no one answered. “Shurky? Hark? Whatever team name mash-up you two decided on, copy? It’s the Deputy. You guys still out here?”

Static came through, but she could hear voices as they faded in and out. This was bad. She’d try again later, but hopefully this wasn’t going to stick.

Jess stopped, holding up her hand.

She raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t budge. A sound rose in the air, a howl, growing louder by the second until tailing off.  

“Judges,” Jess drew her bow, and crouched down low in the grass.

Reaching for her rifle, Hana watched as Jess all but disappeared, blending into the woods surrounding them. A lump was growing in her throat, and she worked to swallow.

“-copy, roger-“

She slapped at the radio at her side, switching it off. Every hair stood on end as she turned in place, and when she heard the charge, heard the crashing through the brush it was almost too late.

Something quick flew past her, and she darted to the side, jumping clear of the spot where the large wolf would’ve pounced. With white fur, this wolf was larger than the others, its snarling jaws wide as it whirled to stare her down.

The handgun by her side was the quickest choice, and she fired, watching as the Judge shot forward, going for her. It was on her, it would reach her like this, and she tumbled back, screaming as she kept on firing.

Two arrows buried themselves in its side, and it cut away, leaving Hana scrambling back away from it. She didn’t wait this time. She saw the flash of white, saw the red streaked across its forehead and down its nose, and ran.

Distance. She needed something between her and it, other than air.

Her handgun tumbled to the ground, her fumbling making her miss her holster, and she grabbed for her rifle. Tucked it close, as she heard the animal bearing down on her with heavy breaths.

Turning now would be a mistake. Turning now with no clear shot would be a serious mistake.

A quick look over her shoulder told her what she knew. The Judge was there, white stained red, but it branched off from her, darting back into the bushes.

She skidded to a stop and fired, sending a full burst of shots into the woods. The howling stopped, cutting off sharply, but she heard movement still. Not just her own nervous pacing as she ducked behind a tree, her attention jumping to anything and everything.

She sucked in a breath, her heart hammering, and looked for Jess.

“Jess?”

No answer came. In fact, the only sound she could hear now was her shaky inhale.

“…Jess?”

She broke into a run, getting up from her position only to scream in pain as something sharp drove into her left thigh. It sent her down to the ground, her mind yelling at her to move even as her body rebelled against her.

She twisted on the ground, trying to push herself up as she took in the arrow jutting out of her right thigh. An actual arrow, stuck deep.

The shock of it took a few seconds to sink in, but when it did, panic welled up fast.

Oh. Oh, fuck. So this is what happens when the tranqs fail.

Each stab of the metal lodged in her leg was agony as she moved, but after a few seconds, it was no longer as sharp. As present. She set her head down on the ground, her breaths slowing as she rested there, drifting.

She shouldn’t have. Knew she should keep moving, but just couldn’t bring herself to.

---

Her eyes were open. They were open, but there was nothing to see in front of her. Not at first. Only blurred shapes as she felt hands lift, and set her down.

Her head rolled as she leaned back in the seat she was placed in, her eyes trying to adjust to the dark. A light flashed, the image bright against the back of the room. It was almost too much to look at, but Hana let herself focus in on it, seeing the image for what it was.

Someone took her wrists in their hands, placing them one by one on the arms of the chair. The light behind them made it difficult to see who it was at first, and she held her eyes shut for a few seconds, before opening them again.

The realization of just who was standing in front of her hit hard enough to leave her gaping up at him, struggling to say something. Anything. “…Stace? Oh, God,” she whispered.

The bags under Pratt’s eyes were dark, his face drawn and thin. He was unable to focus on any one spot for more than a second at a time, and she winced when he strapped her wrists down tight.

This wasn’t the guy that had dropped a huge stack of papers on her desk in the middle of the day, telling her that the documentation was wrong and needed to be hand-corrected one by one. This wasn’t the guy that had called her Probie whenever she’d trip up on something basic and make a small mistake in front of Whitehorse. This wasn’t the guy that complained when she’d bought them all coffee one day only to remind her he’d asked for a damn latte instead.

This was another man. One that curled into himself to seem smaller, his hands trembling as he stared deep into her eyes, unblinking, as he withdrew.  “You shouldn’t have come for me. You shouldn’t have.”

A voice was speaking, the words coming to her clearer now as she shook off the last of the drowsy feeling, but she didn’t turn her head towards it. Hana looked at Pratt instead, mouthing, I’m here for you, before trying her bonds. He’d locked them down securely.

The look he gave her in return he held for a few seconds before dropping his eyes to the ground. He backed away, clear out of view.

The whirring of the projector’s motor hit her ears then. As did two words. Weak. Soft. Neither of these things the voice spared his distaste for.

She took in the room they were in, the click of the projector drawing her attention as the image in front of her changed. She wasn’t alone. Others were seated as well, all of them restrained as they watched.

“…our heroes used to be gods. They did not give in to doubt. To let go of their ideals, when convenient. They did not lose what it meant to survive."

The owner of the voice took his place in front of them, still speaking, still facing away. He was wearing a camo jacket, marking him as either military or a guy set on copping the style as he paced forward, the bones of the animal on-screen now scattered across his back.

“These heroes, the ones we would follow now, are no gods. They are weak, feeble, diseased.”

But she did know this voice. Had heard it before, had seen a flash of this person before, and it wasn’t going to take her three guesses, let alone five to tell her just who this was.

When Jacob Seed turned towards them, he didn’t wait for them to answer, or to respond. Only continued as the images in front of them grew more violent.

“They use this power to guide us forward with no direction, the many, leading the few, but they forget what history has taught us. That sacrifices must be made.”

The wolf on screen was tearing at a fallen deer, its flesh coming away from the bone.

“That we must cull the herd so it stays strong.”

Hana counted the clicks, watched the slides change, and watched as Jacob turned towards her. He still spoke to the room as a whole, but it was different now. He knew where she was, and there was no hiding here.

“Over and over, the lives of the many have outweighed the lives of the few. This is how we’ve survived.”

The lights and images were distorted as he came closer. Every step, highlighting or hiding him until he was right in front of her, staring down. He was a tall man to start, but from her current position she felt so much smaller, her eyes wide as he zeroed in on her.

Her hands clenched into hard fists, her nails digging into the palms of her gloves.

“This, we’ve forgotten, but now the bill has come due.”

She’d hardly prepared herself when Jacob leaned down, and she felt the legs of the chair drag across the floor towards him. The burns were easier to see up close, the skin on parts of his face rougher and heavily scarred.

And as he intended, his eyes held her.  

“With the Collapse, there can be no doubt. This time the lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many, and when they realize what they’ve lost, that this time there’ll be no one to save them from madness, hunger, or desperation, we’ll be ready.”

He let go, standing at his full height again. Her jaw unclenched as distance was re-established between them, but when he reached for a small box on a nearby table, she didn’t know what to do next.

“We will cull the herd.” He started winding a small lever on its side, attention still set on her. “We will do what needs to be done.”

It opened, and her whole body tensed.

Music played, the words to an old love song coming to mind.

She gasped at the sudden pounding in her head, at her response, and saw red.

Only red.

Only you.

She squeezed her eyes shut, only to feel the sensation recede as her senses went into overdrive. Opening her eyes, everything narrowed into focus. It was the same room, the same chair she had been strapped to, but they were alone now.

Her bonds were gone, removed from her wrists.

The wolf flickered on the screen in front of her, snarling around the viscera in its jaws. Seconds ticked by in her ears, the sound echoing in the small room as she stood up from her seat, rooted to the very spot.

What, what am I…?

A gun rested on the desk in front of her, and her heartbeat quickened, her attention on the two men still strapped to their chairs up front. They pulled at their bonds, and they came loose.

She stared down at her hands, watched as they trembled, and felt a pull. An urge.

Arm yourself.

They stood, whirling on her, guns raised, and the buzzing in her ears reached a fever pitch. Her fist shot out, punching one squarely in the throat. He went down as the other fired, and she tried to sidestep around him. The shot grazed her upper arm.

Again.

She gasped, pain shooting through her system, through her thigh as she placed her weight on it, and fought him for the gun, turning it on him. It went off, the flash blinding her briefly, but soon her vision came back, the edges of it tinged red. Only red.

Keep moving.

The room opened up, the doorway ahead leading to a hall.

She ran down the corridor, reaching for the weapon presented to her, her nerves on fire. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t relax. Three men had the upper hand above her, perched high, all of them training their weapons on her. Only her.

Do it. Cull the herd.

Cull the- Pain lanced through her again, making her clutch her head. Bullets hit the barrier in front of her, and she pushed ahead once it cleared, climbing up towards those hiding there. They would get her. Find her. Hunt her down. Kill her.

She fired, again, and again, and again, listening for the voice. Waiting for it to let her continue.

Again.

The room changed, resetting her position in space. She took the offered knife, and continued through the maze.

She fell, clawing through the dirt as the person above fired.

Pushing up, she ran towards them and sank her knife into their chest. She repeated the motion over and over until they crumpled at her feet.

She stared down at her hands. At red, so red.

Good.

This was-what was she doing?

Her body quaked, sickness running through her.

Move.

It settled deep into her stomach, and she gagged.

Keep moving.

Sucking in a breath, she squashed the feeling down, spitting bile out onto the floor.

Up ahead she had to climb. To rise. A man slammed into her as she was standing up, forcing her to bring her knee up to kick him back. Her muscles screamed, but she couldn’t have them fail. Not now. Not while the clock was ticking.  

She grabbed her holstered gun and dove in close, pistol-whipping him hard enough across the face for blood to fly. That didn’t stop when he hit the ground, and she let it go. Any measure, any degree of restraint.

It bled out through her limbs, through her body onto the floor. That wouldn’t help her. That wouldn’t save her.

Excellent.

Her hands were slick, a dark, deep red as she stood up and walked through the doorway, down the same hall she had traveled before.

This time she didn’t look down at them. She didn’t waver.

Ahead she needed to climb. She gripped the steps, pulled herself up as the clock kept on moving, kept on ticking.

Before her, was the end. Before her was the only path left, leading down a long chute.

She jumped, and didn’t feel a thing as she hit the bottom.

---

Hands grabbed at her chair. Righted her, pushing her up to sit.

Red flashed in her vision. The only thing that she could connect to before. To the room. To the chair. To the music.

She could hear people speaking. One, two, three. Maybe more.

A projector flashed in her mind, showing Staci, then Jacob. He held a box. A small brown box.

Why can’t she-

Her cough came out as a harsh rasp.

“Holy shit!”

She was dropped, the chair clattering to the ground, and her breaths came fast as her chest grew tight.

“-we’ve got a live one! Quick get her out-“

Why can’t she remember it? Any of it?

“She’s looking bad, hurry-“

She doesn’t know.

She doesn’t.

Another horror film... Fender Bender

I decide what to watch films from listicles and stupid articles posted from facebook. I decide to do reviews/re-action blogs/liveblog posts, not because of the film but just if I have time/effort to put in. The Wikipedia entry for this film make it sound like a modern day slasher film/tribute. I like those films, Halloween, Nightmare On Elm Street, Scream etc, so let's hope this is a worthy successor. Ominous repeated music, not quite the Halloween piano but building tension Woman pours a tiny glass of wine, pauses, and then fills up the glass. Nice. Why is she wearing her housecoat from the bedroom to the bathroom? You live alone there's no need to be shy...or was that just for the censors? Closing the door when getting into the bath. Even when we know we are alone (or at least we think we are) then we still need to close the bathroom door for privacy. Wonder why? Too many bubbles in this bath so for those looking for a quick peek you'll be disappointed She drys one hand to pick up her phone but uses both to type her text, surely this will still get her phone wet? Also her fingers look too wrinkled for her to have just sat down in the bath, but that's just continuity and was probably the 20th take or something The texts are from her "Fender bender friend", woo movie title is mentioned! Her keyboard makes typing sounds. Does anyone still have that? Do we not all just mute it and have our phones on constant silence? He told her to enjoy the bath. Definitely freaking out now. I guess this is gonna be more of a stalker than a whodunnit The bathroom door just creaked open. I get its to add to the tension but hes not on the direct other side of the door so that was what, wind? She goes downstairs (in her housecoat) and one of the windows is wide open. Now surely if you're a psycho killer sneaking into someones house, you'd shut the window after you to avoid detection. Or at least I would...or I will now... Now she's given up on her bath and pulled the plug. Poured half her wineglass down the sink but didn't rinse it so thats a waste of a good glass AND gonna leave a stain She got into bed and the dude was literally lying in her bed like how did she not realise someone was there before she got in? And what kind of plan is that, to lie in their bed? Now she's out and halfway down the stairs before he's even got out of the covers! Also, what kinda gimp mask is he wearing? She tries to get out of the window she closed earlier and gets caught halfway. No fight. No resistance. Just screaming. Poor show. Three stabs from his weird knife thing but not a lot of blood spray or gore. Guy just put his change slowly on the counter at the petrol station. Customers like that are dicks. Give it to him in his hands! Girl's facetiming her friend, crying in the car as her bf and random cheerleader slut are on a date. Fuck him! Dry your eyes girl, you can do better! Andy (cheating bf prick) sees Hilary (crying gf) in the car and runs over saying the cheerleader doesn't mean anything. Hope she heard that and they both leave you, asshole She stops and The Driver (as the credits called him) hits her and causes the accident. He's lucky that shes not been paying attention or she'd realise he's been following her all the way. A more observant victim and you'd be in trouble mister, not a good serial killer plan really He calls her a virgin cause its her first accident, like if I didn't know you were a killer I'd still think you're a creepy dude It's her mum's car and it has a DNCEMOM personalised licence plate, maybe the car deserved to be scratched! She got in the car to get her information and I wonder what would have happened if she'd just drove away then and there? I also wonder if he gives over the real information to his victims. I guess there's no reason why he should, but I bet he's so full of himself that it probably is his right name. Now she's driving away and facetiming with her obviously-gay-best-friend... now I'm sure if I was just in an accident I'd be driving extra carefully and not keep looking at the phone screen every two minutes! Back home and her mum says she almost called the police because she was missing. Bit of an over-reaction; when your licenced daughter and your car are both gone it's not rocket science. Hilary has dance trophies - ok so the licence plate is justified, that still doesnt make it right Her dad says shes not to leave the house for any reason over the next day while they go on a trip, guess she's limited with hiding places when the driver comes for her later. Ok so you're not going on the trip with them Hil's but still - YOU HAVE AN EMPTY! Get over your boyfriend with a tub of ben and jerrys and wine... maybe keep a knife handy too, k? The car insurance woman is called Davidson. That's not a name, that's a surname! Oh ok apparently she's friends with the car insurance people and it's Mrs Davidson. Why would you answer the phone with your last name tho, that's just confusing? And who's on chatty minor-life-details-sharing basis with their insurance providor? She notices the drivers car going round her house-nows the time to get a big knife and carry it with you everywhere you go! I wonder if the phone number she gave the providor actually works? And who would answer? Hilary take your shoes off before you lie on the bed! You're just getting the place dirty! Her bear is called Harry Manilow...I'm sure barry is very proud Hilary's bedroom still has glow in the dark stars on the walls. I like it. She gets a txt saying sorry about today and she thinks its her ex. Surely you'd have his number saved? And there'd be a message history? He's calling himself a "fender bender friend" again, like this is not how you meet people. Especially when you're at least 12 years older. You don't need to be creepy with people before you kill them mate Her phone makes the noise when she's typing too, omg why? He's mentioned her parents leaving in another car, like obvious warning sign, do you like your victims to be scared first before you attack? At least he can't hide in her bed cause Hilary's not left hers yet Also once he's killed them I hope he deletes their message history because itd be pretty easy to track him down if not. There's a package left on top of her mums car that she was driving. Nope. Fuck that. You can get it in the morning. Leave it alone Hilary! The package was a cake that said sorry - could be from him or the ex, not sure I'm guessing he sneaked in while she was getting the package but seriously if he's in her bed I'm gonna start calling him the bedspread killer and not fender bender. Nope he's not, thank god. Well, not yet at least. Nice slow artistic panning camera shot...of Harry Manilow. Now she's going for a shower. No free nudity shots though you pervs Back in her bedroom she sees her phones been moved, and the last photos on if were her in the shower...nows time for that big knife Hils Instead, she's went back to the bathroom just to see, as if she doesn't know what her own bathroom looks like in pictures There's muddy footprints outside the bathroom but not anywhere else in their clean whitetiled house Ok so not a knife but shes got dressed and now has a baseball bat - its a start :) She's shouting out who's there though, like he's gonna actually answer her... Ok now it's her obviously-gay-friend and unnamed-blonde-lesbian-vibe friends from earlier. They have pizza :) That doesnt answer for who took the shower pictures though... Obviously-gay-friend says he took a picture of himself on the toilet "for shits and giggles" yeah cause thats a normal thing to do... Obviously-gay-friend is confirmed as gay, ha! He wants dessert but they havent actually eaten anything. Like no time lapse or anything. Full slices of pizza sitting right there untouched. Not impressed dude Obviously-gay-friend trying to defend creepy older man txting Hilary saying maybe there's some decent people left in this world. Sorry to disappoint you but nope, he's genuinely creepy Unnamed-blonde-lesbian-vibe confirms they didn't take pictures of Hilary in the shower Andy's at the door, drunk and being a prick. But he has muddy boots so maybe it was him taking the shower pictures? Hilary stays firm, smashes a vase and threatens him - you go girl! Aim for the head next time! The driver catches Andy at his car and kills him with the knifey thing. Three blows, one obviously in the head but again a distinct lack of blood splatter :( Ah well he deserved it. And also was he gonna drive away drunk? Did he drive drunk getting there? Driver might've actually saved more lives by killing him Obviously-gay-friend says although he's a stalker and creepy its a shame to let the apology go to waste - yeah fuck him eat the cake! She gets a phonecall from Mrs Davidson at the insurance place - like its obviously really late at night now - what you doing? Go home! Ok so the information The Driver gave Hilary was from the woman he killed at the start, just changed the first name. And that person reported as dead yesterday so this is the very next day. He moves fast. There's a powercut and suddenly he's in the middle of their living room just standing there chilling with his bloody knife. He smashes Hilary's phone before chasing them - takes care of the pictures and creepy txts I suppose, but still there's a trail with the insurance company and with her service providor if the police were to look Both gay friends who ate the cake feel ill - obviously drugged. Hilary takes obviously-gay-friend down some stairs and the rest of their house looks like its still being built because reasons. unnamed-blonde-lesbian-vibe's hiding under Hilary's bed, the driver walks around the bed then lies down beside her until she notices like why does he like lying beside people? He couldve pulled her out by her feet and saved himself the hassle! Rachel. Blonde-lesbian-vibe is now named! He trips up and she almost hits him over the head. He's not an invincible killer-if she wasnt drugged he'd have been in trouble He stabs her and she goes through a window-increasing likelihood of a neighbour hearing that or hearing her scream in the driveway. Not a good plan. All you serial killers, keep your victims in the house if possible to avoid detection Now he has to go outside to finish her off - lot of avoidable hassle He drives the car over her-messy. And I don't get why she didn't roll out of the way. Obviously-gay-friend's real name is Erik, but I'll stick to obviously-gay-friend He seems to be taking his time to search through an empty room of plastic sheets and only two other doors. I don't know if hes trying to build the tension and freak them out or if he just cant see because of that mask He leaves via the other door somehow and Hilary starts talking and moving, like no - stay hidden until he actually leaves ffs! Theyre heading for the same exit The Driver took, seriously? The Driver stabs obviously-gay-friend and finally there's a whole lot of blood. Took them long enough! Blood from his neck has somehow got on the back of his hand and dried into the shirt - continuity people! Hilary goes outside and finds Andy hung from a railing/fence - not subtle at all! The Drivers now back in his car and chasing Hilary around slowly - because reasons Rachel's also been hung on a fence in a different area for reasons which will be unexplained. It's like he wants to get caught. Hilary looks like she's now decided to fight - you go girl; you'll probably win, he's easy Finally grabs the big knife I've been telling her about She stabs him and he drops his bladed thing - TOLD YOU IT'D BE EASY!! She pours petrol over him though, and tries to light a match, when shed be easier just to keep stabbing him Hits him with a crowbar AND KEEPS HITTING HIM WITH THE CROWBAR - YES! GO FOR IT! She hits him again while they're walking outside - maybe the whole creepy txts and drugged cakes are to scare the victim to make up for his own inadequacies as a killer Looks like he managed to cut her arm but there's no blood or show of pain so maybe he missed? She sits in his car and notices on the roof inside is licences of all the other girls he's killed. But how has he managed to get away with it for so long? He's sloppy, and messy, and not that good a fighter. She throws the cigarette lighter at him and sets him on fire - but really she was doing so much better with the crowbar tbh. Takes him a good while to remember to stop drop and roll - if he did that first she'd have been fucked - stupid plan, but stupider killer She's going to get a phone from his pocket when what she should really be doing is hitting him with that crowbar first to make sure he's dead Also - I thought he smashed her phone earlier... Hilary's went inside to her bedroom like what the hell girl, phone the police! Oh yeah, house phone died earlier with Mrs Davidson. But yeah mobiles not really working either She looks out and he's not lying outside where he should be. Told you - shouldve kept at it with the crowbar He's watching her and she just backs away saying no - where'd your fight go? You can take him! Nah shes just a scared mess now, shame. He cuts her knees and we have blood! More blood from her legs than from the first victim... He says her life's meaningless but her death will be legendary. Not really getting a motive here are we? He's getting changed in Hilary's bedroom - leaving a whole lot of trace DNA and evidence everywhere And now he's using her shower - I tell you how this guy gets away with anything is beyond me, All the dead kids are in their own cars in the driveway, while he drives off - now with the DNCEMOM licence plates on his car. They're still not acceptable. Ahh so the money he uses for petrol is what he's stolen from his victims. Still doesn't explain why he didn't just hand it to the guy, dick

Guardians of the Galaxy: Part 9 (Peter Quill x Reader)

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

A/N: Are y’all upset that I didn’t have them kiss in the last part??? Me too lmao.

Warnings: swearing, mild violence, angst, fluff

-

Gamora leads you and Peter outside the crowded bar and onto the street. Chaos has broken out, and, of course, your associates are in the middle of it. Drax is entailed in Groot's branches that appear to be suffocating him. He breaks them, causing sticks to fly everywhere. Drax then gets ready to pounce on Rocket and take him down. Noticing this, you restrain his arm with your hand, struggling to hold him back.

"Stop it!" you shriek angrily.

All of them ignore you and your arm feels as if it is ready to snap trying to hold Drax back from getting entangled in the fight once more. Rocket, a gun already in hand, prepares himself to attack Drax right back. He aims his gun right at him. Peter notices you struggling and decides to help by getting in the middle of them.

"Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?" He exclaims.

"This vermin speaks of affairs he knows nothing about!" Drax yelps.

"That is true!" Rocket hollers back.

"He has no respect!" he adds on.

"That is also true!"

Peter shakes his head, trying to comprehend what is going on in between all of the yelling. "Hold on! Hold on!" He calls, placing each hand in front of Drax and Rocket, allowing you to step back.

Rocket starts throwing his gun around carelessly. "Keep calling me vermin, tough guy! You just wanna laugh at me like everyone else!"

Peter takes a deep breath. "Rocket, you're drunk, all right? No one's laughin' at you," he states calmly. You think to yourself that Peter would make a great leader of the group. He seems to know how to calm everyone down.

"He thinks I'm some stupid thing! He does! Well, I didn't ask to get made! I didn't ask to be torn apart and put back together, over and over, and turned into some...some little monster," Rocket slurs. He puts down his gun and you realize that he's hurting. He's always been hurting and your heart breaks for him.

"Rocket," you speak softly, taking a small step forward. "No one thinks you're a monster."

"Oh, really?" He points his finger at Drax. "He called me vermin!" He moves his pointed finger to Gamora. "She called me rodent!" Rocket lowers his finger and brings his gun back up to aim it at them. "Let's see if you can laugh after five or six good shots to your frickin' face!"

Peter positions himself so he is directly in front of the gun. "No, no, no, no! Four billion units! Rocket! Come on, man," He exclaims. "Hey! Suck it up for one more lousy night and you're rich."

"Fine," he grunts, lowering his gun. "But I can't promise when this is all over I'm not gonna kill every last one of you jerks!"

"See?" Peter scowls. "That's exactly why none of you have any friends!" he looks amongst the group. "Five seconds after you meet somebody, you're already trying to kill em!"

You gasp, knowing damn well you've been nothing but nice to everyone. "Hey!" you scold.

He rubs his face with his hand then gestures to you with it. "Okay, maybe with the exception of Y/N, you're all kind of assholes to each other."

You're about to thank him for understanding that you aren't here to kill everyone like the rest of the group, but Drax interposes. "We have traveled, halfway across the quadrant, and Ronan is no closer to being dead!" He hustles forward slightly, but Gamora's hand catches him and pushes him back. He goes around her and tramples off in a huff.

"Drax!" Peter wails.

"Let him go," Gamora laments. "We don't need him."

You stare at the floor with hopelessness. What happened to the clever prisoners who fought off hundreds of guards and escaped the Kyln? You are supposed to be having fun and collecting a ton of units. Instead, you are all arguing constantly and trying to kill each other. You are supposed to be falling for Peter. Instead, you're rejecting him. Today has been a disaster and you want nothing more than to be back on your own ship, going to bed with no worries about an orb or Ronan or Peter Quill. But your ship no longer exists and you are bound to these people for guidance on how to take down one of the most powerful men in the galaxy.

The sliding doors outside the buyer's building open with a roaring whoosh. A pink woman steps out, reminding you of Bereet. "M'lady Gamora," she announces. "I'm here to fetch you for my master."

Following Gamora's lead, the five of you stumble into the building. The place is dark and gloomy, giving you very bad vibes. Surrounding you are gigantic tubes, each filled with something different. Some of them have floating body parts and others have live animals. One of the tubes even contains a woman chained up that replicates the pink woman that came outside to retrieve all of you. A shiver flows down your spine, causing you to shudder in horror.

"Okay," Rocket says. "This isn't creepy at all."

"You can say that again," you mumble, grazing your fingertips along the cold railing as you walk up the steps. At the top, there appear to be hundreds of different items all in containment. Who the hell is this buyer of yours?

"We house the galaxy's largest collection of fauna, relics, and species of all manners," the pink girl says, keeping her hands tightly clasped together. You pass a dog in an astronaut suit that is kept in a small, glass cage. It growls at Rocket who growls right back. Eventually, the lady stops, a man standing behind her. "I present to you Taneleer Tivan, the Collector." She moves out of the way and refers to him with her hands. The tubes and cases make a lot of sense now that you know he's known as the Collector. He stares at your group and you take him in. He wears ridiculous glasses and white furs to match his white hair. You don't think he is very trustworthy, but he definitely seems like he is able to fork over four billion units.

The Collector meanders over to Gamora, removing his glasses, revealing some fancy makeup. "Oh, my dear Gamora," he renders in a slow raspy voice. "How wonderful to meet in the flesh." He takes her hand and kisses it.

"Let's bypass the formalities, Tivan," she replies. "We have what we discussed."

Ignoring her, his eyes fall on Groot. "What is that thing there?"

"I am Groot," Groot tells him.

"I never thought I'd meet a Groot," Tivan mutters as he strolls over to Groot. "Sir, you must allow me to pay you now so that I may own your carcass." You and Peter give each other a look, both of you knowing this man is suspicious. "At the moment of your death, of course."

"I am Groot," he agrees.

"Why? So he can turn you into a fricken' chair?" Rocket angrily questions.

The Collector points to him. "That's your pet?" He asks Groot.

"His what?" Rocket reacts, reaching for his gun.

"Rocket, relax," you spit, taking a step in front of him. He huffs agitatedly and crosses his arms. Tivan suddenly becomes aware of you standing before him and raises an eyebrow and ganders up and down your figure. It makes you visibly uncomfortable, yet he refuses to remove his gaze.

"And what do we have here? A Terran?" he questions, his eyes still lurking. "A female Terran?"

Peter notices the look in Tivan's eyes and shifts where he stands. His hands ball into fists and his heart rate picks up. What the hell does the collector want with you?

"Yes," you respond. "I'm from Terra but I've been living out here in space since a young age. My name is Y/N." You try and act polite, not really sure of what this man is capable of. He takes your hand and kisses it, greeting you as he did Gamora.

"It is certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Y/N." He meets your eyes and does not refuse to look away. "I find it quite humorous that you happen to come in on the day I am searching for a Terran to add to my collection."

"What?" you mumble, your face going pale.

"Hey!" Peter calls angrily. "I'm from Terra, too. You can add me to your silly collection, can't you? What the hell do you need her for?"

Tivan pulls his attention from you and strolls over to Peter. "Male Terrans are weak," he replies coldly. "I already have three in my collection and the others I have tried to collect did not last very long here. Y/N, on the other hand, would make a perfect, new addition."

Peter stomps forward toward Tivan, which only seems to amuse him. "You don't lay a hand on her you son of a-"

Gamora interrupts immediately. "Tivan, we have been halfway around the galaxy retrieving this orb."

You shuffle over to stand next to Peter. "Thanks," you whisper, placing a hand on his arm. This instantly calms him down as he exhales a loud breath.

"Of course, Y/N." He tells you. "I don't like the looks of this guy and I wanna make sure you make it outta here safely."

You meet his green eyes and smile. "I know, but try and be nice for now," you inform him. "We have no idea what Tivan could do to us." Peter nods in understanding.

"Very well then. Let us see what you brought," Tivan speaks. Peter holds the orb out to him, but fumbles with it. It drops to the floor, but he picks it back up quickly and shows it to the Collector. You giggle quietly to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand.

Tivan takes it in his hands, running his fingers over its surface. He places it in a device that rests upon a large, cluttered desk. "Oh my new friends, before creation itself, there were six singularities," he claims, pressing a lever on the desk, causing the orb to open gradually. "Then the universe exploded into existence, and the remnants of these systems were forged into concentrated ingots: Infinity Stones." The orb displays several purple circles that show images as he explains its history. "These Stones, it seems, can only be brandished by beings of extraordinary strength. Observe," he illustrates as the images change to a huge, robotic figure wielding the stone. "These carriers can use the Stone to mow down entire civilizations like wheat in a field."

Beside you, Peter gulps. "There's a little pee comin' outta me right now." You smack him jokingly on the arm, but in all seriousness, you're just as scared as he is.

The images now decipher a group of people all joined together by the purple light of the stone. "Once, for a moment, a group was able to share the energy amongst themselves, but even they were quickly destroyed by it," Tivan clarifies, as the people in the image now suddenly seem to fade away into purple ash. The orb opens completely now, revealing a purple stone that glistens in the light. Tivan shakes with passion. "Beautiful," he verbalizes. "Beyond compare."

"Blah, blah, blah," Rocket mocks him. "We're all very fascinated, whitey, but we'd like to get paid."

"How would you like to get paid?"

"What do you think, fancy man? Units!" He shouts, obviously annoyed with the Collector's delay.

He nods, opening a drawer. "Very well, then." His assistant, the girl who led you all in here, approaches the stone. "Carina, stand back," he commands her.

"I will no longer be your slave!" Carina yells, thrusting her fist around the stone.

"No!" Tivan cries in anguish. Purple fireballs emerge from the stone, firing at everything in the building. Whatever the fireballs hit explode on contact. Rocket tries to duck but Groot picks him up and they crash through a window and onto the street for safety. Gamora jumps to the floor below the high ground. Peter sees this and scoops you up in his arms, taking you to the same place. He hovers above you on the ground, his muscular body on top of yours for protection. You wrap your arms around his torso as the purple flames consume everything, creating loud explosions. At the sense of your arms around him, he pulls you much closer. You can hear the pitch in Carina's screams get higher until they stop completely with one last, loud blow. Everything stops the flames, the purple light, and the explosions.

Assuming you are now safe, Peter peels himself off of you. "What the fuck..." he disputes as a few final flames sizzle out of sight. Gamora leaves the place of protection and lunges over to the stone, enclosing it in the orb. The three of you hurry out of there, coughing through the smoke. You find Groot and Rocket right outside the entrance.

"How could I think Tivan could contain whatever was within the orb?" Gamora pesters herself.

Rocket places his hands on his cheeks in distress. "What do you still have it for?" he bemoans.

"What are we gonna do, leave it in there?" Peter remarks.

"Yes," you mumble, brushing yourself off after all of the explosions. You shudder at the ruins behind you that were once a building. Peter furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion. "What are you looking at me like that for? We could've just died!"

"I can't believe you had that in your purse!"

Peter crosses his eyebrows at Rocket, insulted. "It's not a purse, it's a knapsack!"

"It doesn't matter guys," you scold them. "Since we apparently decided to take the orb, we definitely have to bring it to the Nova Corp,"

"Y/N is right, they may be able to contain it," Gamora justifies.

"Are you kidding me?" Rocket objects. "We're wanted by the Nova Corp. Just give it to Ronan!"

"So he can destroy the galaxy?" Peter huffs.

"What are you, some saint all of a sudden? What has the galaxy ever done for you?" Rocket clamors. "Why would you wanna save it?"

"Because I'm one of the idiots who lives in it!" Peter fires back.

You place your hand on his shoulder, gaining his eyes on you the second he feels your touch. "Peter, listen to me. We have to go back to the Milano and deliver this to the Nova Corp."

Gamora shakes her head down at the orb. "We cannot allow the stone to fall into Ronan's hands."

Peter's warm hand wraps around the wrist on his shoulder. He looks deep into your eyes and you think he understands that he has to listen to you. "Right, right, okay. I think you're right," He states, gandering between the two of you. "Or we could give it to somebody who's not going to arrest us, who's really nice for a whole lotta money." He turns to face Rocket. "I think it's a really good balance between both of your points of view."

You remove your hand from his shoulder, stepping back. "Peter, you have got to be kidding me!"

"You're despicable, dishonorable, faithless!" Gamora yammers. In the distance, hundreds of identical spaceships descend into the atmosphere of the planet.

"Oh no," you murmur. Everyone looks to the ships, eyes widening in horror.

Drax stands before them in the street, swords flailing in the hair. "At last!" he cheers. "I shall meet my foe and destroy him!"

"You called Ronan?" Peter bellows out to Drax, not receiving a reply. You didn't need an answer from him, the terrifying amount of ships already explain that Ronan is here and that it's time to face your doom.

"Quill!" You hear a voice call Peter's name in the distance. Everyone turns to find a blue man followed by a bunch of Ravagers. He is the same man Peter received a call from when you were on his ship: Yondu. "Don't you move, boy!" Peter hustles all of you into a nearby shelter, looking legitimately frightened for his life. "Don't you move!" Yondu calls out again, following Peter and shoving several people in the process. "Get outta my way!"

Looking for a way to escape, you turn around to see that you've entered a pod station. Each of you gets into a tiny pod. Knowing Groot can't fit, Rocket faces him. "I told you, you can't fit." He hoists himself up into the pod. "Now, wait here, I'll be back."

You all zoom away as fast as possible, heading for the Milano. The bag on your lap rumbles with the orb inside. As you steer, you begin to feel guilty about Drax and Groot being left behind when Ronan can easily kill them. You pray nothing happens to them, but you know Drax is an easy target because he is basically volunteering himself to Ronan. You try and shove the thought down, and continue to fly alongside Peter, Gamora, and Rocket.

You peek behind you, seeing a couple of Ronan's ships, led by Nebula. They are following you and they definitely know you have the orb. You wince as you move forward at a greater speed. Gamora, Peter, and Rocket do their best to defend you, communicating and finding ways to take down as many ships as possible.

Peter rips the side of a ship off, containing his own pod in it. This way he can fire at the other ships. "Let me borrow your ride," he says, tossing out one of Ronan's men from inside. You're glad you have your friends to protect you.

Just when you think you're in the clear, however, you're suddenly surrounded by way more ships than you can take. They block your path to the Milano and you know you have to leave the atmosphere. "Peter, I'm trapped and can't make it to the Milano," you stammer. "I'm heading out."

"Wait," he says to you as you head up towards the sky. "These things aren't meant to go out there!"

You can tell he is worried about you, but you continue on. As you near the edge of Knowhere, you hear Nebula's voice. "You're a disappointment, Y/N. Out of all our siblings, before you became a coward and left us, I hated you the least."

Your heart sinks. Even though you are not Thanos's daughter, Nebula and Gamora are like your sisters. Leaving caused them great pain, and Gamora forgave you, but you know Nebula never will. "Nebula, please..." you whimper, voice wavering. "I'm so sorry for leaving you. You're my sister and I care about you. But if Ronan gets this stone, he's going to kill all of us."

"Not all," she manifests. "You will already be dead." With those final words, she aims one last shot at your pod. Upon impact, the whole thing explodes. It goes by so fast you don't even realize you're floating in space until it progressively gets harder to breathe. The cold air freezes your fingertips, then your hands, then your toes, then your feet. Slowly, you are dying, freezing to death as you struggle to find oxygen. You let out a few strong gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as you watch Nebula retrieve the orb from the debris. Then, you're silent. As your eyes roll back, you think of Peter, and every last living part of your body wishes you had kissed him on that balcony.

You're breathing again, slowly but surely. A heavy warmth covers your face and you open your eyes, looking out through the red, glowing eyes of a mask. It's the mask of a man who calls himself Star-Lord when he wears it. You feel big hands around you, one on your waist and one on the small of your back. Turning upward slightly, you see Peter. He has come to rescue you, yet again. You aren't able to speak but you want to tell him to go back to the pod, save himself. But, there are no words, and you stare into each other's eyes as you watch his face freeze over, just as yours did only moments ago. Your breathing falters, and you know neither of you will last out here long, even in the mask. But if you two die together, in each other's arms, you both think that would be okay.

Everything goes black again until you feel hard flooring below you, and a heavy figure above you. You deactivate the mask from the earpiece and breathe heavily, coughing a couple of times until you find a proper breathing pattern. On top of you, Peter does the same. You tug on his jacket and lift a knee up as he lays between your legs. "Peter?" you whisper. At the sound of your voice, Peter makes instant eye contact with you, bringing a hand to the side of your face as he struggles to breathe. "Peter...what happened?"

He finally catches a steady breath and his magnificent, green eyes bore into yours. "I saw you out there," he says quietly. "I don't know what came over me, but I couldn't let you die. I found something inside myself. Something incredibly heroic." You roll your eyes at him with a smile. He is so arrogant. "I mean, not to brag, but..." he rambles. You take this as the perfect opportunity to show your gratitude for him saving you so many times.

You lean forward and press your lips on his. He's taken aback, but he quickly brings all of his power into the kiss, tightening his hand on the side of your face to pull you deeper into him. His hand slowly travels down your neck, his rough hands grazing your soft skin as the kiss grows more passionate and intense. Having Peter's lips on yours feels even better than you thought it would. You pull away, and he looks down at you with a bright, happy expression. It finally happened.

You smirk, loosening your grasp on his jacket. "That was to say thanks, for saving me...again."

Peter brushes his fingers through your hair. "Well, I'm really glad-"

"Welcome home, Peter." He gets cut off. Hearts racing, the two of you turn to see a group of Ravagers, guns pointed and ready to shoot.

Now, where the hell are you?

Part Ten: Here

LOT/CC fic: Captain Cold and Me (chapter 1 of 6)

Sara Lance, unbeknownst to her high school classmates, has connections to some of Star City's most popular super-powered heroes--but no powers of her own. Then the mysterious Captain Cold saves her from an attack…and does his best to convince her that he’s not the bad guy everyone seems to think he is. And maybe not all of the "good guys" should be trusted...

Author's note: This story is a weird amalgamation of things. It started when I saw a book titled "The Supervillain and Me" (check it out!) on the YA shelves at Barnes & Noble. That, of course, gave me CaptainCanary vibes. After I bought and read it, they were even stronger. I posted about that on Tumblr, and people encouraged me to write the CC high school AU I was considering.

So I did! It takes the skeleton of the book (which is very much its own thing-again, read it!)-at least at first-adds some (very adapted) Arrowverse characters and plots, and stirs it up with my own weird imagination. I own nothing of this but my own words, and I make no money off it.

This will be six chapters (all but one already complete), posted one a day until Tuesday. Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta, and to @sylvanheather for her thoughts! And happy birthday to @dragonydreams!

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

“Sara! Sara, did you hear?”

Sara Lance closed her eyes in resignation as she heard the footsteps of Felicity Smoak, her best friend, hurrying up behind her in the halls of Star City’s Kanigher-Broome High School. She loved Felicity, she really did, but she knew what was coming here, or suspected at any rate, and she really didn’t want to talk about it.

Felicity, however, was going to tell her anyway.

“Principal Hunter got a special guest for the assembly today,” she said breathlessly, adjusting the strap of her backpack where it was slung over her shoulder, swiping her dark hair with its blond roots out of her face. “Do you know who it is?”

Sara could guess.

“Nope,” she said, however, continuing to stroll toward physics class. “No idea. Fliss, did you finish your lab report yet? I want to ask Dr. Stein…”

“Sa-ra!” Felicity actually stomped her foot. “This is important! Don’t you think it’s probably a super? Should I go fix my hair? Redo my makeup before the assembly? We need to get there early so we can get a seat!”

Felicity had a real thing for supers—and the top team in Star City right now was the Black Canary and the Green Arrow. Sara’s friend had a massive crush on the Arrow (maybe on the Canary too), but she didn’t know what Sara did: That the Black Canary was Sara’s annoying big sister, Laurel, and the Arrow was Laurel’s rich-boy boyfriend, Oliver Queen. 

Sara had known Laurel and all her quirks since birth, and she’d known Ollie for nearly as long as she could remember. It was tough to be awe-inspired by the girl who continually left sopping-wet towels on the bathroom floor or the boy who’d once been so helpless without servants that he’d kept buying new underwear rather than admit he didn’t know how to use the washing machine.

They’d both acquired their powers (for Laurel, a sonic scream, flight and a degree of invulnerability, and for Ollie, perfect aim, a literal inability to miss his mark, in addition to greater strength and agility) at about the same time, a handful of years ago, around their 16th birthdays, just like most supers. While Sara’s parents had made sure Laurel had a chance to learn and become accustomed to her powers, they’d balked at letting her take on the role of a public superhero despite her wishes.

Oliver hadn’t even entertained the notion, as far as Sara knew. He’d happily used his aim to win drinks in darts tournaments at Star City’s (not so) finest bars, and his strength to impress girls who weren’t Laurel.

Until the day everything changed.

It’d been an assassination attempt, everyone said, one that targeted both Commissioner Quentin Lance and Ollie’s mother, Moira Queen, who’d been mayor at the time. A massive earthquake centered on the old City Hall, undeniably unnatural, as it hadn’t affected anything outside a relatively small radius. At first, everyone had suspected a super gone rogue, before investigation had revealed the device detonated by a disgruntled former police officer.

Quentin and Moira had survived. Dinah, Sara and Laurel’s mother, who’d been on her way into the building to meet her husband for lunch, had not. Neither had Tommy Merlyn, Ollie’s best and oldest friend and the son of Moira’s deputy mayor. He’d been sitting on the front steps, waiting for his perpetually late friend to show up.

They didn’t have costumes or names yet, and they wouldn’t go patrolling for a few months. But in many ways, that was the day the Black Canary and the Green Arrow were born.

And then there was Sara, just a few years younger. Sara didn’t have powers. She had a second-degree black belt—about to test for third--but no powers.

It wasn’t good enough. It would never be good enough. Sara sighed. Felicity, unaware of her thoughts, elbowed her.

“Come on!” she said. “Earth to Sara Lance! What do you think?”

“I think I want to skip it,” Sara muttered, shifting her own backpack.

“Skip English class?” Felicity blinked at her. “That’s not like you.”

Apparently, Sara had completely missed the thread of this conversation. She sighed again. “No. Never mind.” She gave her friend a onceover. “You look fine. And we get there early if you want. Just don’t expect me to squeal and wave and go all fangirl with you.”

Felicity grinned and gave her a one-armed hug. “Sara, I just don’t get you at times, but you’re the best.”

“You know it.”

Felicity (and Sara) had guessed right. The Green Arrow in his hood and green leather and Black Canary in her black leather and domino mask had strolled out onto the stage at the assembly, exhorting the students not to bully each other and to stay in school, etc., etc. Sara had rolled her eyes so hard they hurt, while Felicity did indeed squeal and wave and go all fangirl. She was still gushing when the assembly let out, and they headed for what Principal Hunter called the senior Creators Club—and Sara privately called Kanigher-Broome’s catchall hangout for Star City’s young, social and slightly geeky.

Sara’s father didn’t really like her being home on her own any more, not since…since her mother died. He was still concerned that the would-be killer (who had died in prison last year) hadn’t acted alone, and that the whole family could be a target. Quentin not only went armed as part of his commissioner duties, he often had an entourage with him at all times—and Laurel was the Black Canary. Sara was…just Sara. So, to keep her dad happy, she stayed at school a little longer, working on whatever homework or projects came her way, chatting with Felicity and other classmates, pretending things were…normal.

“Did you see? The Green Arrow winked at me, Sara!” Felicity did a little dance step in the corridor on their way toward the senior lounge, dodging students headed in the other direction. “He did! I swear it. Right at me.”

Ollie had probably been winking at Sara. He knew perfectly well that she hated when he and Laurel made appearances at her school. “Mmhmm,” she agreed absently. “That Green Arrow. Quite the flirt.” Ollie was a flirt, or he had been. The Green Arrow was anything but.

“Do you think I should go blond again?” Felicity stopped, facing Sara, wrapping her fingers around a tendril of her hair and holding it out to inspect it critically. “I like the goth-y look,” she commented, starting to turn to head toward the lounge again, “but…oof!”

She collided right with a tall, thin boy, knocking his bag out of his hands and knocking her own glasses off her face. Grasping desperately for them, she grabbed the edges of his worn black jacket instead, the glasses clattering to the floor. The boy reacted with a startled noise and stepped back, tripping over his own bag, making a faint sound of pain as he did so.

Sara stepped forward in concern, reaching out to steady him, even as Felicity stooped and felt around for her glasses. But he caught himself without incident, shaking his head, and Sara stopped wondering if she’d imagined that pained gasp.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

The boy, who had dark, very short hair with what might even be a few glints of premature silver in it, was still looking aside, stooping to reclaim his bag.

“I’m all right,” he said in a low tone as he straightened. “Really. Thanks.”

Felicity gave a cry of victory and stuffed her glasses back on to her face, standing again. ”Sorry!” she told the boy cheerfully, then frowned. “Wait. Do I know you?”

He gave an almost curt shake of his head, looking at Felicity, then finally glancing at Sara. His eyes—an icy blue that was so striking that Sara sucked in a breath--widened, and he turned away abruptly. Sara blinked, watching him duck into the senior lounge. He’d been quite good-lucking, really, she thought. Those cheekbones and eyelashes were totally unfair in addition to those eyes.

“Sara! Sara!”

Felicity would keep Sara-ing her until she responded. With a sigh, she looked at her friend, who was still gaping at the door to the lounge. “What?”

The other girl looked upset, for some reason. “Don’t you know who that was?”

“…no?” The boy had looked vaguely familiar, though everything about him—his hunched shoulders, his downcast eyes—screamed that he didn’t want to be noticed.

“That was Leonard Snart. Snart, Sara!”

The world stopped. “Oh.”

Snart. The son of Lewis Snart, the crooked officer who’d tried to arrange for her dad’s assassination, who’d rocked Star City with the explosion that had killed her mother and so many others. For a moment, Sara couldn’t breathe. The memories were still so strong…the search for survivors, the hunt for suspects, the news that’d trickled out about motives and targets. The trial, which had, mercifully, been extremely brief.

“How do you know?” she asked numbly, stepping to the side to let other seniors by. “I mean. I know he had two kids, a son and daughter. But neither of them went here…before…”

Felicity sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her gaze was sympathetic and troubled.

“Remember that hackerspace thing I was involved with a few years back?” she asked. “Over in the East Side? I ran into him there once or twice. Never talked, barely knew his name. He’s a quiet kid. It took me a minute to recognize him here. He shaved off his curls.” She glanced away. “It’s not like I was going to bring it up after. But…Snart. Sort of a memorable name.”

“Yeah.” Sara stood, frozen, another moment, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like he had anything to do with it. I just…I thought both of them went into foster care in Central. I remember reading…”

She’d once read the articles about the case obsessively, determined to figure out if anything could have saved her mom, could prevent something like that from ever happening again. She’d always wondered if Laurel or Ollie could have, if they’d been using their powers for hero-ing back then. But it was the kind of thing she’d never had the heart to ask.

“I know.” Felicity’s voice was low. She sighed again. “I can’t figure out why he’d even want to come back here.”

“Um. I might know something about that…”

Both of them turned at the sheepish voice behind them. Barry Allen, shuffling his feet, gave them an uncertain grin. Felicity squeaked and put her hands on her hips. She’d dated Barry briefly, but while it hadn’t lasted, they were still friends. And as Sara well knew, withholding information was majorly against the Felicity’s-friend code.

“Spill, Allen,” she said, fiercely enough that Barry paled a little.

“Well, not really the reasons,” he clarified, switching his gaze to Sara, his cheeks a little pink. She smiled despite herself. Barry was such a lovable dork. “But some of the story behind it.”

Felicity folded her arms and fixed him with a glare that was probably supposed to be intimidating, then gave him a regal nod, as if to tell him to carry on with it.

“My dad met him, Snart—uh, Len—in Central City, when he was there doing some, ah, charity work.” Barry continued. Sara remembered that his dad was a doctor, and that his family was originally from Central. “His little sister, she’s happy there, in school, with a good family, but Len wanted to come back here to at least finish school.” He bit his lip. “Dad helped him with the emancipation paperwork. I don’t know where he’s living, but he’s come by our house for dinner once or twice, at my parents’ insistence. Doesn’t talk much.” He sighed. “Be nice to him, OK? He’s had a rough road, but he’s an OK guy. There’s good in him.”

His pleading gaze was on Sara, who really had no intention of holding Leonard Snart responsible for his father’s misdeeds. She nodded, then smirked, deciding to try to lighten the mood a little.

“Aww,” she teased. “Gotta crush on him, Barry? He is really cute.”

Barry blinked, then turned pinker. “What? No! Uh. Not that I have a problem with that.”

Barry and his current girlfriend, Iris West, were currently the leading contenders for most likely to get married right after graduation. It was just a lot of fun to tease him about it.

Felicity got a particularly evil look on her face, but Sara, still smirking, cut back in.

“Of course I’ll be nice to him,” she said, then sobered. “Having a horrible parent doesn’t make him a bad person.” She nibbled her lip a little, thinking. “He’s kinda one of his dad’s victims too, in a way, isn’t he?”

Barry nodded, growing serious himself. “Yeah. I mean…he hated the guy. Hated. It’s not like he’s talked about it, really, but…”

“Join the crowd,” Sara murmured, as Felicity nodded next to her. “No worries, Bar. In fact…”

She shouldered her backpack, took a deep breath, and headed for the lounge. “In fact, I think there’s something I need to do.”

She could hear Barry and Felicity following her, but she ignored them, stopping in the entrance and scanning the room. There. The dark-haired boy was sitting by himself at a table in the far corner, pulling a laptop out of his much-abused bag and opening it on the table. He glanced up as she approached, a flash of something darting over his face, and Sara felt a pang of empathy.

“Hey,” she said as he met her eyes, his own gaze opaque. “I just wanted to say, sorry about my friend. She’s a klutz.” She took a deep breath (ignoring Felicity’s protests behind her), then held out her hand. “I’m Sara Lance.”

The boy—Leonard—held her gaze for a long moment, then stood. He was tall, Sara thought, eying him. And…yeah. Cute. Hot, really. Mm. He didn’t look like a senior in high school. College student, at least.

“Hey,” he said in return, so quietly that she could barely hear him. “It’s OK.” He shrugged. “It was an accident.”

“Your laptop’s all right?” Sara darted a look down at it. It was an old machine, she thought. But that didn’t mean it didn’t mean a lot to him.

“It’s fine.” The corner of his mouth tugged up a little, a tiny little smile, but a smile nonetheless. Sara felt like she’d won a victory. Then he reached out and took her proffered hand.

A firm, calloused grip, one that didn’t back down because she was a girl. Sara liked that. And he didn’t seem to find her gesture overly formal because they were only in high school. His handshake was steady, and so were his eyes, and damn…

“Leonard Snart,” he said so quietly that she could barely hear him.

“Pleased to meet you, Leonard,” she said quietly in return. “Glad you’re OK.”

She’d been pulled away from Leonard nearly immediately, and that was OK too. Felicity had wanted to talk about the physics lab she’d been uninterested in earlier, and then to gush about the Green Arrow and the Black Canary some more. Then Barry and Iris had come over, asking about the upcoming talent show, and she’d gotten distracted again.

When the club hours had ended and they’d all been told to go home, Sara glanced around, but Leonard Snart was already gone. She shook her head, then bade other friends farewell and walked with Felicity toward the parking lot, where the other girl turned to her.

“Do you need a ride home?” Felicity asked, a touch distractedly. “It’s no problem. I can drop you off on the way.”

Felicity drove like a bat out of hell. Sara loved her friend, but she was actually glad to have an excuse not to trust her life to the Fliss-mobile today.

“Nah. My dad is actually home tonight. He wants us all to have dinner together, for once,” she demurred. “Should be here soon.”

Felicity gave her a cheerful wave, then headed toward her old Cobalt, peeling out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. Sara shook her head, then checked her phone.

Nothing. But after only a few moments, it chimed. Sara, watching the other seniors trickle out one by one, checked it again.

“Sorry, honey,” her dad texted. “Stuck here late. Can Felicity give you a ride?”

Sara bit her lip. Why hadn’t he sent that a few moments ago? But she’d thought that this dinner thing might actually happen. She could text Laurel, but her sister and Ollie almost certainly had something more important going on. Hero-ing and whatnot.

“Sure,” she texted back after a moment. “See you later.”

Then she started for home.

It wasn’t a long walk, really. But with the level of violence in Star City these days, neither her dad nor her sister usually liked her walking home alone, especially not later in the day. Whatever. Sara had a black belt. She could take care of herself. Her grip tightened on her backpack. Right? She’d be fine.

Sara was crossing the railroad tracks just outside the edge of the Glades when she heard the footsteps. Two people, at a guess. Well. People went for walks here too. Probably. She listened, heart beating just a little faster, then scanned the street ahead of her. Stores and other businesses closed down early here these days. Nothing seemed to be open, and traffic was nonexistent.

She picked up the pace, just a little. The footsteps picked up too. And then they were three sets. Four?

Sara abandoned her pretense and ran. There had to be someplace she could duck into, she thought, her own heartbeat echoing in her ears. There had to be!

A male voice behind her called out something in a snarl. Sara didn’t look back, pelting down the uneven sidewalk, scanning the quiet street, wondering if she should yell or...

Someone grabbed her backpack, jerking her to a stop, and Sara kept enough presence of mind to turn fighting. She lashed out at the man with a hand, fingers stiff, jabbing toward his eyes and connecting. He yelped, putting his hands to his face, and she pulled away, turning to run ahead.

But there were two more men there, young and scruffy, thin and looking a bit strung out. Sara didn’t hesitate. She struck out at one’s face, then kicked hard at his kneecap, sending him tumbling to the ground, then rounded on the other, who gaped at her a moment, apparently stunned by her reaction.

Sara drove her foot into his groin without a flicker of sympathy, stepping past him as he folded, drawing a breath to run again. She’d done it, she’d defended herself, she could...

The first man, however, hadn’t been as down for the count as she’d hoped. An arm looped around her neck even as she took a step, pulling her back again, and...damn. Something cold and metal pressed against the skin just under her right ear, something sharp.

“Money!” her captor hissed in her ear, arm tightening. Sara could hear the groans from the other two, interspersed with cursing. She tried to take a deep breath, thinking about what she had in her bag.

“I don’t have any,” she said after a moment. “I don’t! Really. Look!”

“Yeah, right!” The knife pricked harder...but then the man did move it, reaching down toward her bag, and his other arm loosened just a little.

Sara took advantage of it. She stomped on the instep of his foot, hard, then threw an elbow right into his solar plexus when his grip loosened. He crumbled and she turned to run again, taking a step, then two...

“OK, pretty girl, freeze!”

There had been a fourth man. And he had a gun. Which was now pointed right at her head.

Sara froze.

The man was to her right, but she could see him, and the gun, out of the corner of her eye. He held it steady and seemed far more calm and competent than the other men. Which made him far scarier.

For a long moment, he studied her, then let out a snort of laughter. Sara wanted to bristle at the derision...but she didn’t dare move a muscle. Supers were said to have a sixth sense about people in trouble, and while Laurel and Oliver said it was nebulous and impossible to measure, there was a measure of truth to it. Surely one of them would come to her rescue? It would be mortifying...but at this point...

“Someone will pay ransom for you,” the other man said, finally. “Girl like you in a place like this? Someone’s gotta be looking for you.” He chuckled again. It was not a nice chuckle. “Maybe we’ll even give you back. Maybe not.”

Sara took a slow breath. She couldn’t let this man just kidnap her. And she had to move before the other men regrouped. They were all getting to their feet, muttering to each other.

Then there was a noise to her left, a thud as if of someone landing on the ground. A sense of chill. Sara nearly looked, hoping for Laurel or Oliver, but the gun was still pointed at her and...

“Duck—and close your eyes!”

This isn’t the time to look a gift hero in the mouth. Err, something like that. Sara did as she was told, dropping to a knee and squeezing her eyes shut.

The blast of cold came from the left, so close to Sara’s face that she could feel the frost forming on her eyelashes. Somewhere, a corner of her brain registered that was new, that there wasn’t a super with ice powers in Star City, or none that she knew of. (Or that Felicity knew of, which was even more conclusive.) She heard yelps from the men and the crackle of what seemed to be ice, and braced for the crack of a gunshot...but none came. Just more thuds, as if of bodies falling to the ground.

“OK. You can look.”

Sara opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the four men, all stretched out on the ground, all covered by a sheen of frost. A sigh of relief escaped her lips even as she flinched, wondering.

“Are they...”

“They’re just out...cold. You all right?”

Sara looked up.

The figure in front of her, extending a hand to help her up, was no one she’d ever seen before. Black pants, black boots…and then a blue parka over the top, fur-fringed hood pulled up over his head. His face was obscured by a pair of goggles, but a smile tugged at his mouth as he looked at her.

“It’s OK,” he said, keeping the hand extended. “I don’t bite. Unless it’s frostbite. Heh. Maybe that’s a potential name.”

Bad puns. Why did supers love them so much? Sara stared at him long enough that the smile fled, but he kept the hand held out to her.

Male, from the voice. And about her age, also from the voice. Sara frowned, trying to place it, but then took the offered hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“Um,” she said. “Thanks. Really. I thought I had that, but...the gun...”

“I saw. You were badass. I just figured I should help out.” The tone was admiring. And he still had her hand. Sara looked down at it, noting that he also wore black gloves, but the super let go then, taking a step back courteously.

“You’re new,” she said, still a little shell-shocked. “Ice powers. That’s...new.”

“Yeah. Sort of.” The boy...man?...walked over to the four men and studied them. “I’ll alert the cops that they’re here. They’ll thaw out soon enough. We should get going...hey, wait!”

Sara had already turned away and started walking as fast as she could, not quite running. The super caught up to her easily, though, jogging along next to her, glancing her way.

“That was really impressive,” he said. “What...what’s your name?”

This guy, hero or not, was starting to annoy her. Sara frowned at him, although she kept walking.

“I said thank you,” she gritted out. “What do you want?”

“Just making conversation.” He almost sounded hurt. “Hey, like you said, I’m new. Thought maybe...”

“You thought wrong.” Sara took a breath and stopped. “Look. Iceman, or whatever your name is...”

“I think that one’s taken.” The drawl was amused. He smirked at her, an infectious expression, and she almost smirked back. But...she already knew far too much about two of the city’s main supers. She didn’t need, or want, to know any more.

“Thank you,” she said again, trying to project sincerity. “Truly. Now, I have to get home.”

He nodded, but didn’t move, the smirk fading into something more...wistful? Somehow it touched a chord, and Sara studied him a moment longer, intrigued despite herself. Then, cursing her curiosity, she turned and headed down the street.

And that jerk kept following her.

“I could see you home,” he said.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You are fine,” he retorted. “But I can still make sure you get there...”

“Goodbye, Iceman.”

A sigh. Then: “Goodbye, Sara.”

She whipped around, but he was gone already, apparently faded into the trees at the side of the street in one of those near-patented super moves.

Ass. Sara studied the trees, curiosity surging again, then turned and headed home as fast as she could, feeling the irritating sense of someone watching her the entire way. She made it in the door, slamming and locking it behind her, then dropped her backpack on the floor and closed her eyes.

She’d been rescued by the world’s most infuriating superhero.

Par for the course.

Week 12 Studio Tutorial – Photography

Task:

Part 1: The 2 hour photo challenge Your are on photographic assignment! You have been dropped into the UNSW Campus from far afield and have been asked to put together a photo essay that captures life on campus. Your photo essay will feature in an upcoming edition of a prominent magazine and you need to supply a selection of 6 amazing images. The shoot deadline is tight - the shots are be taken today, within a two hour window.

Part 2: Editing and Post production In the next few days, you must then edit your shots to select the best series of 6 using Adobe Bridge, enhance them in Adobe Camera RAW / Photoshop and post them on your blog by Sunday midnight. Your final edit must include:

A portrait (preferably of a complete stranger)

Something from the built environment

Something from the natural environment

An interesting detail

ORIGINAL IMAGES-

-portrait/candid photography

-natural environment/street photography

-natural environment photography

-built environment/street photography

-‘natural’ environment meets ’built’ environment (not the faculty) photography

-interesting detail/ ‘natural’ environment meets ’built’ environment (not the faculty) photography

-street photography

-street photography

EDITED IMAGES-

AIM-

For this image i was trying to go for that b&w film street photography style by adding some strong contrast between the background and jumper and adding noise to the image. The blank expression, clutching of the phone and gazing into the distance at something we cant see, as well as his gesture of having his arms folded in to compact his ‘personal space/bubble add a mysterious feel to the image as well as showing a disconnect and loneliness facing whatever lies past the darker half of the image (perhaps zooming out and making him smaller would’ve furthered that disconnect from the world and loneliness however the background cut off if i cropped any higher). During year 12 i had purchased my first camera cos i wanted to start with film; a Nikon FE (the poor mans F3) and unfortunately I’ve only shot multiple rolls of colour film, but this shot and further on below, my other two “street” photography (loose way to describe them) shots are making me more interested in purchasing some b&w film (maybe after i try out some cinestill 800 film too).

POINTS FOR IMPROVEMENT- 

with this image i probably would've benefited from brightening up his face to capture his expression more but i pulled back the red exposure in my HSL sliders to darken the background and make his jumper pop and that pulled his face back as well and i wasn't too bothered going in separately

the head room is a bit too close in my opinion however was only placed like that so the crop would have him on the third and the pattern background would fill the whole screen

coming one or two steps to the left to capture his gaze may have created more interest or perhaps as it is the emotionless face staring into the distance of something not depicted in the image is enough 

AIM-

Just another sad teal and orange edit, I was trying to create more visual interest in the tree and figure staring up at the tree, I simply saw the moment as she was walking towards us, saw the tree added some form of visual interest and tried to capture her walking and gestural actions facing the tree. Unfortunately as soon as she saw the cameras she did a U-turn.

POINTS FOR IMPROVEMENT-

perhaps stop using photo edit cliches (but if it ain’t broke don’t fix it)

capture the image with the same composition or similar variant if I had more time to plan the shot, but where shes walked closer to really see her facial expression and walking motion (which couldn't happen cos she turned away)

somehow isolate parts of the image more 

bracket my exposures or just bring it down to retain the sky detail (or maybe white looks nice, I crushed the whites a tad so it wouldn't blend with the Tumblr feed background)

AIM-

In this picture I simply wanted to capture a perspective not many people think about or see during a normal day and I wanted to further contrast the trees and natural environment by having a building fill the left side to show people that its okay to be part of that world but there’s beauty all around and sometimes all it takes is looking up. Of course to further this again i warmed up the image quite a bit and shifted the greens and yellows to a nice red and orange to create a more beautiful, deep and rich colour.

POINTS FOR IMPROVEMENT-

perhaps better composition and having a distinct gap between all the trees or more of the building on the screen

exposing lower to capture more detail in the trees and sky although quite a bit was pulled out compared to the original

AIM- 

Another teal and orange edit, in this image i was simply captured by the sun setting but as i was walking noticed the building on the right and the use of reflections in an image was really interesting to me so i tried capturing the built environment faculty in the reflection, the warm glow of the setting sun and the posing figure was a bonus i waited for to walk in the frame.

POINTS FOR IMPROVEMENT-

perhaps if the figure was standing closer or there just wasn't such a dark object behind him so his head wouldn't blend in with the background and he could stand out more as a visual element

AIM-

when I walked up the building overlooking the main walkway, instead of capturing the cliche walkway photo itself (although a crowd walking with a bit of a longer exposure would’ve been cool- something Hans captured) I noticed there were about 4 or 5 cranes all lined up along the skyline. Unfortunately from the position I was in i couldn’t capture that and even this image was a bit of a cheeky edit to get a whole crane as seen in the original having a massive object in the way. i wanted the built man-made environment to come out and above the natural environment (trees on the right) and to emphasise that i simply increased the blacks until the only colour was sky to which i desaturated the blues and added orange in the overall tone.

POINTS FOR IMPROVEMENT-

the Photoshop is a bit dodgy, it was a two minute fix with the spot healing brush and looks a little unnatural with the ripples

AIM-

in this picture i noticed a light on the ground and these colourful leaves spread all over the floor so decided to pile them on top and let the light filter through. I added my shoes in the bottom of the frame to emphasise the image as something that was set and there and to add visual interest and also shifted the colours to a really warm orange for the autumn/fall vibes. The light adds strong visual interest as it filters through and around the leaves but wasn’t strong enough by itself.

POINTS FOR IMPROVEMENT-

small compositional things could've been done to improve this photo

AIM-

Something i used to do a lot when i first bought a film camera was to look for moments made by people framed within these natural or man-made frames in the real world.  The empty seats at the front and lack of life emphasise the loneliness of the figure and night life on campus however we don’t know where shes going (probably the library up the stairs actually.. but not knowing the context creates interest).

POINTS FOR IMPROVEMENT-

making the figure stand out more and perhaps having a bit more of a slower shutter speed to get a little motion blur in her walk

AIM-

Another framed shot and my favourite shot of the bunch. The light behind the figure on the phone, her stance, the second figure walking up the stairs, both framed by outside objects, interest in why the person is alone or what the phone calls about, the all black clothing, the leaves on the ground, the tree splitting the image in two and two juxtaposing characters, etc. etc. Wondering what this would look like in maybe a 400 speed b&w film for the noise and slower shutter speed.

POINTS FOR IMPROVEMENT-

being an attempt at ‘street’ photography (never going to be brave enough to actually get in peoples faces..at least not yet) I’d say perfection isn’t something you can capture because it isn’t a real thing so compositionally I wouldn't change anything.