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sierraraeck · 4 years

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Betrayal (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Partially inspired by 8x4 God Complex. Aundreya finally figures out who Spencer has been calling on the payphone. Story ten.

Category: Fluff at the beginning, then angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Normal CM stuff. Mentions of drugs. An internal identity crisis.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Please welcome Tara Lewis everyone. I know that she was never a part of this particular team, but she now has a guest appearance because I wanted her to have one.

“You have zero manners,” Morgan said.

“That is not true!” I snapped back.

“Yes. It is. You literally inhale your food in under ten seconds and just now you walked in here and basically yelled ‘I’m back, baby’ to the entire bullpen,” he pointed out.

“Okay, sure, but that doesn’t mean I lack all manners completely. I just have unconventional ones,” I countered.

“Unconventional?” Prentiss snorted. “You are one of the most uncivilized people I have ever met.”

“Fuck you, I’m civilized!” I said, flabbergasted. They both just stared at me with a knowing look and I wanted to hit myself. I slowly nodded my head, and clicked my tongue. “Yeah. I hear it now.”

Morgan gave a single laugh shaking his head and Prentiss just rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Ah, who cares? At least you keep things interesting,” a voice behind me said. I turned around to see a tall, gorgeous woman I didn’t recognize standing behind me.

Prentiss jumped up and hugged her, “Tara! It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you could join us for this case.”

“I’m happy to be here,” she said.

“Derek Morgan,” he introduced, holding his hand out. She shook it and then turned to me.

“Aundreya Chambers.”

“I know,” Tara said, extending her hand. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered, but I just brushed it off.

I was about to reach for her hand when Morgan interrupted, “Woah, woah, woah. You might not want to do that.”

I turned to glare at him, knowing he was going to make some dumbass joke about me ‘rubbing off on people’. But then I decided I’d not only go along with it, but I’d take control of it.

“Wait, why?” Tara asked, hand still floating in mid air.

“It’s because I have a highly contagious, chronic disease. I hope you have all of your vaccines,” I said before Morgan could jump in. He gave me a wide-eyed look, but shortly after, I saw him suppress a smile.

“Oh, really?” Tara’s expression was a mix between confusion and worry.

“Yeah, I’ve been battling it for pretty much my entire life. It’s gotten worse over these past couple of years, though,” I said. Emily frowned at me, but Derek was definitely enjoying himself.

“What disease?”

“It’s uh … It’s called uh,” I started, snapping my fingers like I was trying to recall the word. “Derek, what’s it called?”

“Being a bitch?” he offered, eyebrows raised.

“Ah! That’s the one!” I said, pointing my finger over at him like I’d just had a revelation. I winked at him and he couldn’t hold back his grin any longer.

Tara started laughing, but then quickly composed herself. “That sounds really serious, I’m so sorry to hear that. How are you doing?”

“You know, I manage,” I said, smiling at her.

She nodded, returning my smile. “Well, I actually lived with someone fighting that very same disease, so I’ve built up the antibodies. I don’t think one handshake will hurt.”

“Few. That’s a relief,” I said, finally shaking her hand.

“You will have to excuse her and her occasional antics,” JJ said walking by.

Spencer was right behind her, gesturing toward Morgan. “Yeah, and his. He’s not much better.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Morgan was quick to defend.

“Sure it is,” Emily said sarcastically.

Rossi walked into the room, already knowing that we were being unprofessional. “Guys, behave. Agent Lewis, I apologize for anything they may have already said or done.” He looked pointedly at Morgan and I. We both put our hands up in defense.

Tara still had a smile plastered on her face. “Don’t worry. I already like your team. I’m going to have no problem working with you all on this case.”

“And we already like you,” I told her. “I’m glad you have a good sense of humor.”

“What can I say? I enjoy trying to keep the mood as light as possible. Gotta have some sort of balance working a job like this,” she said. We all nodded profusely at her words.

When we arrived at the round table, Hotch was already there.

“So I see you’ve met Doctor Lewis,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Ooh. Doctor. Be careful Spencer, she’s coming for your title,” I joked.

“Oh, no! Definitely not. Under no circumstances do I want to compete against the genius,” she quickly corrected. Reid just shyly smiled.

“I think you should at least try and give him a run for his money,” I entertained.

“Aundreya?” Aaron intervened.

“Yeah?”

“Focus.”

“What is it with you people today, coming at me like this,” I let my hands slap against my thighs.

“Aundreya.”

“Yes, okay, I’m focused, god.”

He gave me that signature stone face and I gestured for him to continue. I saw Derek smirk out of the corner of my eye, so I swiftly made eye contact with him, scratching my temple with only my middle finger. He blew air out of his nose in a small laugh.

“We are going to be flying to Phoenix to revisit the Ken Keith case. As you all know, he was one of Phoenix’s most prolific serial killers and at some point we thought he had a partner, but the killings stopped after he was incarcerated, so we figured we had it wrong. Last night, there was another killing that partially matched Keith’s MO and signature,” Aaron explained.

“Partially matched?” Prentiss asked.

“When the body was found, they had all of their limbs, except their leg had been amputated and replaced.”

“Okay, so a copycat?” JJ asked.

“That’s what the local PD initially thought, but the victim had traces of tomato soup in her stomach, a ritual that was never released to the public,” Hotch said. “Doctor Lewis will be aiding us in speaking with Keith considering that is her area of expertise.”

I leaned over and whispered, “Have fun with that.”

“I always do,” Tara replied.

“If this partner is anything like Keith, we need to catch him as quickly as possible. Wheels up in 30.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Ken Keith is what you would call a mad scientist. He spent five years amputating one of his victim’s legs, and then trying to replace it with someone else’s. When it didn’t work, he would cut off all of their limbs and dump their torso with their head. We never knew what he did with the rest of the limbs. After he got arrested, he refused to tell us why he did any of it. Hopefully Tara could change that, but if not, the rest of us basically started over with the profile.

On the plane after we had already discussed all of the information we had, I saw Rossi fumbling around with a Rubik’s cube.

“I didn’t take you for a Rubik’s cube person,” I commented.

He set the cube down in front of him with a frustrated sigh. “That’s because I’m not. I had an old friend give me this, challenging me to figure out how to solve it before he could. As you can see, it is not working out so well for me.”

I laughed. “I can help you.”

“You know how to solve a Rubik’s cube?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I have a variety of odd skills.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, relinquishing the cube to me. “Have at it.”

Within the next thirty or so seconds, I set the cube back down, completely solved.

“I have to say I’m impressed,” Rossi admitted, picking up the cube to evaluate it, “I don’t know how you do that.”

“It’s really just all math,” Reid said, sitting down next to us, “See, there are a variety of algorithms that are used at various steps in the process, and many people have come up with numerous different ways that work. For example, there is one that solves for the entire first and second layer, then moves on to completing the top before the corners, and then there are others that do the reverse, completing the corners before the top.”

Rossi just stared at him, and if I had to guess what was going through his head, it was somewhere between ‘I have no idea what the hell you just said’ and ‘I’m not quite sure I care’.

“In other words, there are patterns you can learn that will help you solve it. We can teach you, if you want,” I offered.

“I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep up,” Rossi said. He slid the cube back over mine and Reid’s way.

Reid scooped it up and started fidgeting with it. “I didn’t know you could solve a Rubik’s cube.”

“I can. Not only that, but I can solve a two-by-two, and a four-by-four,” I said, content with my answer.

He looked at me with furrowed brows. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Tara. “Prove it.”

I looked up at her. “Gladly. When we get back, I will show off my cube-solving skills.”

She smiled, “I look forward to it.”

“Or she can just prove it now,” Spencer said, retrieving three cubes from his bag.

“Of course you would have those in your bag,” I chuckled. “Go ahead, then. Mix them up for me.”

“Okay, now I have to get in on the action,” Morgan said, reaching over Reid from the seat behind him and grabbing the biggest cube. I rolled my eyes.

Once the three of them thought that the cubes were sufficiently mixed up, I started solving. I solved the two-by-two first, then the three-by-three, then the four-by-four. I set them down in a row next to each other.

“I’ll be damned,” Morgan said, shaking his head.

“What? Did you ever doubt me?” I feigned offense.

“Definitely not,” he said with a wink.

“Well, it looks to me that you are now the one giving the genius a run for his money,” Tara said.

I scoffed. “Nope. I’m sure he could still kick my ass.”

“Willing to test that theory?” Derek asked.

“Absolutely,” I said, looking at Spencer expectantly.

“Sure.”

Tara messed up one of the three-by-three cubes for me, and Derek messed up the other for Spencer.

“Okay, I want you both to start at the same time when I say go,” Tara said. She teased us, making us wait on the edge of our seats in silence before finally saying, “Go.”

We both started solving and according to the lovely commentary provided by Derek, I was in the lead. Soon though, too soon, that started to change.

“Oh no. He’s catching up,” I said.

“How do you know that? You haven’t taken your eyes off of your own,” Emily asked. To her point, I hadn’t even realized she was there.

“I can hear it.”

“You can he-” Morgan started, cutting himself off. “Of course you can. Naturally.”

A few seconds later, I put my cube down, just moments before Spencer put his down.

“That’s unbelievable,” Rossi teased. He was resting his chin on his hand, an amused smirk on his face as he watched Spencer and I compete. All he was missing was a bowl of popcorn.

“I almost had you!” Reid exclaimed.

“You’re outta practice. Maybe next time, champ,” I said, patting his shoulder.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Three days into our investigation, we had a possible partner’s name and body language confirmation from Keith. Garcia sent us his work and home addresses like the lovely queen she is, and we split up into two groups. Spencer, Emily, Rossi, and myself went to his work address while Hotch, Morgan, JJ, and Tara went to his home address.

“Can I help you?” asked a tall, black haired man.

“Yes, we are looking for Caleb Wheelan,” Prentiss said, holding out her badge.

“He’s not in today,” the man responded. “Is there a problem?”

“We just need to ask him a few questions. Do you know where he would be?”

“I’d assume at his house because he called in sick this morning,” the man told us.

We asked him a variety of other questions about his co-worker and even searched his cubicle and computer and found nothing.

“Thank you. Please give us a call if he turns up,” Prentiss concluded, handing the man her business card. The man nodded and we walked away, Reid already on the phone with Aaron.

“He wasn’t at his house, but there is nothing there that points to him being our unsub,” he said once he got off the phone.

“Okay, so we keep digging, and hopefully we’ll be able to find him and ask him some questions,” Rossi said, and we headed back to the precinct.

The next day, Caleb Wheelan called us.

“I just got off the phone with Wheelan, and he claims that he knew Keith before he had his psychotic break. They worked together and Keith tried to rope Wheelan into his experiments, but once Wheelan realized what was actually going on, he backed out,” Emily said, walking into the conference room.

“Do you believe him?” I asked.

“Yeah. The rest of the details he gave me, the fact that we found nothing at his home or work, and he only fits portions of the profile, suggest that he’s telling the truth,” Emily stated.

“Okay, great. What now?” JJ asked.

“Now we revisit the profile. Lewis is still having trouble getting Keith to tell us anything, so we should start coming up with ideas as to why he did this, and why this new unsub hasn’t escalated as much as Keith, only removing their leg not the rest of their limbs,” Hotch said.

We didn’t have much time to brainstorm because the deputy came in, informing us that there was another body.

We raced to the crime scene, a small, trashed alley, immediately noticing the change in MO.

“The victim’s name is Maria Rodriguez,” Morgan said.

“First time he’s operated on a woman,” Reid pointed out.

“And he transplanted the left leg this time,” Morgan said.

“She died from blood loss, there’s no gangrene on the transplanted leg which means the surgery’s fresh.”

“You think he still has the other woman?”

“It justifies his haste in dumping her here. Why didn’t he go to the desert or a hospital?” Spencer’s voice slowed on the last word, realization taking over his face.

“It also means he’s speeding up his surgeries,” Derek deduced. Without another word, Spencer walked away from us, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “Reid, where are you going?”

When he didn’t answer I called after him, “Reid!”

I turned back to look at Morgan, puzzled.

He shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s going on with him?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been trying to ask him about it, but I keep getting a bunch of nothing.”

“You don’t think he’s back on drugs do you?”

“No. This is a whole different kind of strange,” I said. Derek just sighed and turned his attention back to the victim.

I glanced back at Spencer right as he hung up, making eye contact with me for only a second before turning away. “Tara! Lewis, wait. Where are you going?”

This caught Derek’s attention and he looked back over to where Reid was now jogging toward Lewis.

“Hotch called. He wants us back at the station ASAP,” Tara said. I checked my own phone, realizing I had just received a text as well.

“Can you give me a ride to 5th and Main? It’s on the way,” Spencer asked.

What the hell?

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Tara started wearily. “What’s at 5th and Main?”

That’s what I’d like to know.

“I need to talk to somebody,” Reid said, walking around to open the passenger-side door before any one of us could protest. Derek and I looked at Lewis, eyes wide, but she just shrugged.

“Oh, okay, sure.”

Not even concerned with personal privacy, I called Garcia.

“Hey Queen P. What’s at 5th and Main?”

“It’s a payphone. I don’t know why he asked for it either,” she responded.

A payphone? So he is back on drugs?

“Okay, thanks, girl,” I said, hanging up.

Derek and I got into the car and drove back to the precinct. The nice thing was that Spencer was right: 5th and Main was on the way. Once we got there, I decided I’d take a ‘bathroom break’. When I was out of sight of the rest of the team, I hauled ass to 5th and Main. I didn’t want to take any chances in case he was going to meet another dealer, considering how well that ended last time.

When I got there, I easily spotted him. I crept up the side of brick building just behind the payphone, getting as close as I could without being seen.

“Yes, thank you, exactly! That’s not an accident. He’s obviously using it as a cover to screen for something and that’s why I’m calling you. I’m hoping that you can help me figure out what he’s screening for,” I heard Spencer say.

What? Why is he discussing the case with this person? Clearly he’s comfortable with them because of how he’s addressing them.

My mind was racing.

“Yeah we worked doubling into the profile … I don’t know, actually … So you think this guy’s pursuing his own impossible cause …”

Who is this person? Who’s smart enough that Spencer’s going to them for help on a case? Not to mention close enough to him?

“Before he transplants, he turns them into amputees. That’s part of his experiment. What if there’s a condition the victim shares, something involving amputation?” he asked.

He’s calling them from a payphone like he did with his dealer, but this person isn’t a dealer. Could this be that friend I never followed up on that was being threatened?

“Unless it’s congenital, something that caused the amputation in utero?” A pause. “Exactly. So I guess the question is, what else causes birth defects?”

Okay, focus. He’s been calling someone on a payphone for at least a month, that I know of, so probably a bit longer. He has a secret friend that he really wants to protect. He was acting weird around Derek and I earlier tonight and asked Tara, the temporary member, to drive him instead of one of us. He’s showing no signs of relapse drug abuse.

I was racking my brain, trying to make sense of all of this.

Wait. If he’s calling this person on payphones, was he calling them right before we went to meet his dealer?

“What if we focused on what causes limb deformities specifically?” he asked.

This person is knowledgeable in the medical field. Surgeon, nurse, pediatrics, geneticist, epidemiologist, immunologist, infectious disease specialist…

“But there are a lot of different strains of herpes. You know, chicken pox, for instance. If a mother isn’t inoculated and she passes the virus in utero, can’t that cause birth defects?”

He’s literally solving this case with whoever the hell this is and the rest of us aren’t even included. He‘s talking with such passion and intrigue, his mind and mouth moving a million miles an hour, something he usually only did when he was bouncing ideas off of me or talking with me on the jet.

I checked my watch.

Shit. I’ve been out for five minutes.

I had to get back to the precinct and soon. The team was going to ask questions, and I couldn’t risk Reid getting back before me. I couldn’t wait to hear what else he had to say, quickly moving away from the side of the building, bursting into a full on sprint. I reached the precinct doors, somewhat out of breath, knowing the pink tint on my face was going to betray me.

I entered the conference room as casually as possible. Luckily, they were all deep in thought, wondering what we’d missed. I would’ve loved to jump in and offer what little information I heard from a one-sided phone call, but I knew I wouldn’t be helpful and all it would do would just let them know that I was eavesdropping. We’d just have to wait until Spencer got back.

When he did, he had the key information that we needed to narrow down our search. Apparently, we were looking for a man who married a woman that had limb deformities caused by chicken pox. The only one that showed up in Garcia’s search was a John Nelson. Rossi, JJ, and Reid headed over to his house to bring him in for questioning.

“What was that about?” Emily wondered aloud.

“I’d love to know,” I agreed.

“No, not that. Well yes, that, but I was more wondering about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah. Is everything okay? You look stressed,” she pointed out.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I replied.

“You sure? You look a little flushed.”

“I’m good, I promise.”

“Alright. Let me know if that changes,” she said with a quick eyebrow raise.

“Will do,” I said. We both knew that was a lie.

Part 2

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

@kris-stuff

@wooya1224

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scullyy · 5 years

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Catch Me When I Fall

Title: Catch Me When I Fall

Pairing: Clementine x Louis

Word Count: 1607

Summary: Louis discovers a bottle of wine hidden away in the Headmasters office and gives into temptation, leaving Clementine to look after him.

A/N: Thank you to the anon for requesting this, it’s such a cute idea. I hope you enjoy this. And of course, my inbox is always open for other fic requests!

Louis held the crimson bottle proudly in the air, brandishing it like a trophy. “Hear ye, hear ye!” He called out to his friends, all of which were scattered around the Headmaster’s broad desk, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. When Louis stormed into their rooms crying about something important, they all immediately hopped to it. But this wasn’t what they thought it would be. “I bid ye all a message! Look what thou hath brought to light!”

Violet dropped her shoulders, falling back into her typical posture. “I thought your Shakespeare phase had ended?” She was done with Louis’s shenanigans since the moment he marched into her room calling for her presence. Why she had gotten her hopes up was a forgotten reason. It was too late to be dealing with his shit.

“He’s making a comeback,” He placed the bottle onto the centre picnic table. It glimmered beneath the flecks of moonlight peeking through the clouds. “After an unsuccessful night of sleeping, I thought I’d go for a wander. I ended up in the Headmaster’s office where I found this bottle of 1996 Barolo. I figured we’ve been working hard the past few days, we deserve a midnight snack.”

Clementine eyed down the liquid inside, alcohol was something that never crossed her mind. Better to keep it sharp. “It could be fun, this group I was with did it once and we actually had a good time,” Her eyes flickered to the hallway; AJ was fast asleep in their bedroom, he was no longer that little baby anymore. “Doesn’t make it smart though.” If she returned to a sleeping AJ in a drunken stupor there would be a lot to answer for.

Louis popped the cork off the bottle, jumping at the loud burst. A thin layer of smoke rose up from the neck like a dragon, wowing the crowd.

Aasim rolled his eyes. “You cannot be serious" Out of all the dumbass stunts Louis has tried to pull, this takes the dumbass cake. “This is the reason you woke us all up?”

Louis crossed his arms, this plan was not going accordingly. “Hey, at least I was careful enough to not wake up the youngsters. If you don’t want any then you don’t have to, more for the rest of us." He hung the bottle below his nose and took a small sniff, something he had seen his mother do countless times at the dinner table.

"Wait, you gotta make a toast." Clementine leaned against the desk, the smell of the aged wine floated over to her, oh boy did it smell good.

"Alrighty," He cleared his throat and lifted the bottle. "To our last night alive!”

She slapped his shoulder. “Stop saying that.”

Louis took a mighty swig of the strange drink. The wine had a strong cherry flavour to it with a slight liquorice aftertaste. “Not bad at all.”

Omar felt a small part of him die. “I could have used that for cooking.” Such a waste of resources.

“I’ll pass Louis,” Violet had seen the true power of alcohol, it wasn’t a path she dared venture down. She sat atop the desk, eyeing down the bottle as if it was about to leap out and attack her. “But I won’t miss an opportunity to see you guys act like idiots.”

Ruby hovered over Clementine’s shoulder. “I guess it can’t hurt to try it once.” She looked back at Aasim, he was cute when indecisive.

“Uh...fine.” He grumbled. Aasim never thought he was the type of guy to do something dumb in order to impress a girl. But Ruby seemed excited, so maybe it was worth it.

“There’s some for you too Clemster,” Louis waved the bottle in her face, she was a valued member of Team Fun after all.

She slowly took the bottle from his grasp. “Just one sip.” That wouldn’t hurt, right?

By three a.m the group had finished the bottle. With nothing left to share, they recounted stories from their childhood. Clementine learned that Ruby was really good at making shadow puppets and that Omar could solve a Rubik’s Cube with his eyes closed.

“You...you see all those stars,” Aasim had slowly morphed into a Greek philosopher, the thoughts that he usually saved for his journal were spilling out too soon. He pointed out the shattered window to the deep sky. “So many, as I kid I would just think ‘woah’ cause I was so small compared to them.”

“You’re still small compared to them, there is no ‘was’.” Louis mumbled. His body was slowly swaying back and forth to a tune that was repeating itself in his head.

“Fuck off.”

Ruby leaned her head against his shoulder. “I miss horses. Such beautiful animals...the way they neigh..” She didn’t mean to fall asleep so quickly, Aasim’s sleeve was just really comfy.

Violet allowed herself to cackle like a madman, Ruby’s snore was such a weird thing to hear. “This is one of the best ideas you’ve ever had Lou, and they’ve all been jack shit.”

“Thank you, Violet,” A hiccup escaped him. “I will say, my best idea was deciding to save Clem from that car crash all those years ago.”

Clementine squinted at his lack of knowledge. “Louis it was only last year.” At least that's what her makeshift calendar said.

“Really? Shit.”

“And it was Marlon that saw the car first!” Aasim declared as he threw a long finger at Louis.

Louis held his hands up in defence. “Okay maybe, but I was the one who got Clem out of the car.”

“With the help of Marlon!”

He shrugged. "Oh well, c'est la vie,” Louis turned to Clementine, his head an inch from her own. “I’m so tired.” He whispered.

Clementine pushed some dreads from his face. “Need any help getting to bed?” She was thankful for her past decision to only have one sip, unlike her boy in front of her, she was still coherent.

He shook his head quickly, causing more dreads to cover his face.

“Alright, we should all be getting back to bed anyway,” Clem hooked Louis’s arm over her shoulder. “See you in a few hours guys.” Louis stumbled to his feet, without Clementine’s grip on his shoulders he would have been one with the ground.

Clementine was met with a chorus of “byyyeee”, “hasta la vista” and “I’ll sleep when I’m dead”.

“C’mon Lou, your bed awaits.” His body heat bled through his coat, keeping them both warm that winter’s night.

Louis sighed, his eyes fluttering in and out of sleep. “Sweet bed.” His voice was barely a whisper, a strange difference to his roaring daytime voice.

Clementine giggled. It was as if Louis was caught in a separate dreamland, whenever his eyes were open they appeared so bright and fascinated by everything, like a newborn baby. “Thanks for the fun night - or morning."

“Anytime my darling. I figured everyone could do with some easy fun,” Louis pushed himself away from her, blinking a few times to try and stop the world from spinning. “Lemme show you something cool.”

He stretched his back out before lunging his leg at his bedroom door, the rotting wood gave a false impression as to how strong it truly was. Louis bounced off the door instantly, his body crumbled to the floor like dust.

“Ow.”

Clementine leaned over him. “You sound so disheartened.”

Louis rubbed the back of his head, luckily the alcohol helped numb the pain. "This is why I’ll never be cool.”

She gripped his hand and pulled him back up. “You’re cool, but not when you try and break down doors.” Clementine pushed it open gently this time. Louis staggered through the doorway, his eyes lighting up when he saw his bed, so warm and inviting. His legs gave way as Clem set him down on the blankets, his face making direct contact with his firm pillow.

“Louis, can I ask you something?” Clementine gently shook his shoulder, her touch was enough to reanimate him. Louis rose to his knees and scooted over to Clem, their noses brushing each other. “What?”

“Is it true? Were you the one who pulled me out of the car?"

Louis bit the inside of his cheek. "Aasim was kinda right, Marlon did notice it first and went to go check it out. But your knight in mediocre tinfoil pulled you out,” He looked right into her bronze eyes, what a sight to behold. “My first thought was ‘damn, she’s pretty’.”

She scoffed, now he was being silly. “Yeah, covered in all this dirt is really appealing.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

Clementine pulled him into a tight hug, he smelled strongly of cherry and firewood, somehow it was a heavenly combination. He buried his nose into her jacket, taking all the affection she was offering.

“Hey Clem, wanna know a secret?” Louis was hushing her before she could open her mouth. “AJ loves you and you should love you because I love you.”

She left a small kiss atop his head. “I love you too Louis,” Clementine gently shook him. “Louis?” His breathing had slowed down to a soft hum and his body went limp. She slowly laid him back down onto the bed, covering his feet with the blanket.

“Thanks for saving me, I promise to return the favour someday.”

Just as Clementine made a break for the door, she heard a slight scuffle behind her, she turned on her heels and saw Louis propped up on his elbows. His eyes were half-closed yet his mouth opened just enough to reveal a second secret.

“You already have.”

#twdg #the walking dead game #twdgs4 #clementine twdg #the walking dead game season four #twdg louis #louisentine #clouis #fanfiction #xscullyx

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buckychristwrites · 6 years

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what if hydra taught bucky a bunch of random things to help dexterity of the soldier like he knows how to play the piano or solve a rubik’s cube in under a minute or can knit rlly well and one day he just sits down and starts playing fuckin bach and knits steve a sweater

I love the idea of Bucky learning dumbass random things either before Hydra or during Hydra that he doesn’t remember, so now he just has these random skill sets that he doesn’t know he has until he tries the activities.

Bucky one day picks up a Sudoku book and has the whole thing finished, from front to back, in under a half hour. Doesn’t recall ever doing Sudoku in his life, and Steve confirms that.

He demolishes Tony in chess the day he asks Tony to teach him to play because he never got the chance to before. At least, not that he remembers.

And when the fuck did he learn origami? He couldn’t fucking tell you, but that doesn’t explain the perfectly folded swan he just handed Sam.

#a concept. answered #Anonymous

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biselfesteem · 7 years

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in a valiant attempt to take the edge off of summer depression i decided to learn a new skill and I decided to learn how to do a rubiks cube but highkey im too much of a dumbass to do it

#the instructions n the videos still hard af rip

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idolizerp · 5 years

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LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S LEAD RAP BAN JISUNG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Modeling

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): jiji, cat dad, face genius INSPIRATION: the hip hop legend himself, tiger jk. SPECIAL TALENTS:

beatboxing.

solve a rubiks cube in under 30 seconds.

remain unflinching during “don’t laugh” challenges.

NOTABLE FACTS:

mom and dad are reputable journalists living abroad.

is an only child.

can play the piano and drums.

owner of a one year old maine coon kitten named piper.

turned down an admission to nyu in order to become an idol.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

keep working, pushing forward, pulling his weight. idol contracts are temporary, but the grind is forever. they’ve made it despite the odds, and he’s wholly focused on having that ball stay rolling. a nifty name brand deal (or three) would be nice to end the year, but he’s not picky.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

do everything, leave nothing–establish himself as the go-to brand face, dabble in acting, put out a solo (though given msg’s track record, he’ll give himself another couple of years before giving it a chance), establish some sort of music collective a decade down the line, roll around in CF money for the rest of his days to come.

IDOL IMAGE

outer

actor face, model proportions, nobody rapper. the weight of the last moniker is the card that knocks it all off balance, locks him (them) into this seemingly never-ending cycle of shoddy luck, until that survival show miraculously turned the tides for the better. before that, he’s the dissonance that msg likes to play off of–softer visuals of his sort don’t scream “rapper,” but that’s precisely the point.

with this wave of newfound fame now, he’s this: actor face, model proportions, indigo’s lead rapper; now with a more extensive list of footnotes tacked to each label following his name. there’s still a lot of focus on how he looks, surface-level perfection that plays off a criss-cross of intimidating and downright ethereal, a physical symmetry that at times (even on the account of the most grainy, pixelated fantaken shots) is difficult to fathom whole. it’s enough to gain him some traction in advertising, something the company has pushed and he’s complied with wholeheartedly.

the rule of thumb? stay aware of your image, but never fail to be humble–being projected to the same spew of lovely compliments on loop of course makes this awfully easy. they want him to be relatable, down to earth. another trick with contrast that’s enough to entertain the masses and gain empathy. jisung’s own personal touch being to never cross the threshold into straight up delusional territory (exhibit a: attitude controversies? what the fuck are you smoking? exhibit b: saying they don’t need girlfriends when they’ve got their fans? no thank you.).

the same philosophy is applied when it comes to his place among the boys–give credit where its due and be thankful for what’s given and got. anything that goes above and beyond and enters peak uncharacteristic excessive tomfoolery? then on god, he’s gotta be the one that’s smoking mad.

inner

his single crime is having a backbone. a human spine can only take so much pressure before it snaps under the weight of the unimaginable. humiliation stings (they’re nothing, were nothing), sure, but there’s a reason why language exists. the pen’s mightier than the sword for a reason, and a mouth that knows how to strike someone numb than the slap of a palm works the same way. it’s not loyalty here, but merely an honest defense of everything that has his name associated with it. in the past, he’d been notorious for it–particularly in the wake of senior groups who don’t know when to can it, like they’re not only on top because fortune favors the fucked up and vice versa. the truth hurts, and the only thing that’s changed in the name of it is that he now has ground that is more solid than it’s ever been before if he’s to take the fall. evolutionary tactics for the sake of survival. it’s that simple.

IDOL HISTORY

baggage? pass. any brand of mommy-daddy issues or familial dysfunction both nuclear or extended? forget about it. there’s absence, but in a world this big, who doesn’t want some negative space in their lives? brooklyn is being pushed and pushed til it spills over, and he’s caught in the flood. childlike wonder keeps him distracted most days–that, and a schedule of extracurriculars that has him up and running. life moves by the rhythmic click-clack of the L, the school bell ringing for every hour, and earbuds glued in on his way to baseball practice. the blueprint, epmd’s strictly business, odds and ends of music mixes and archives he clicks through, building up a little world of rat-tat and snares.

there’s a meaningfulness to it, a to-the-point truth, the same sort that his parents jot down or announce through television screens. he takes to it like breathing, and from then on it’s kind of all-consuming. experimenting with different sounds, moods, flows–ranging from embarrassingly bad efforts to perfectly decent with some polish.

opportunity knocks after junior year. the rare trip to seoul to visit his grandparents turns to an msg talent scout handing him a card for consideration. if there’s anything to be thankful for, it’s that he’d sprouted like a beanstalk the summer before–paired with him growing quite nicely into his features, there’s a chance here. and with passing auditions, it expands. jisung weighs the percentages in his head, a high school diploma versus the paper-thin degrees of (possible) fame and affluence. his parents look at him as if to say with their eyes, god, seventeen years, and only to raise atall dumbass?

the prideful creature that he is, jisung doesn’t know how that could be possible. it’s only when the trainee days hit that he realizes with silent horror that oh. they might’ve had a point.

being familiar with singing and rapping gives him a leg-up in evaluations, all for that to be for naught the second they have to learn how to dance. it’s probably the first time having legs this long and inflexible nearly screws him over, but that’s where fake it ‘til you make it is exceptionally handy.

it all ends sooner than anticipated, anyway (like all fever dreams do, you could suppose). a year and then some, and he’s slotted for msg’s upcoming boy group. they’re multifaceted and (for the most part) interesting. neither of these qualities, jisung also comes to understand, mean shit. but he clings anyway, because there’s that so-called “meaningfulness” to it that might as well be the proverbial titanic in the face of the iceberg called public opinion. and if there’s nothing else going for him, face and body aside, he’s got a nose for smelling out bullshit, and jisung knows, this is anything but. jumping ship isn’t happening anytime soon.

they keep releasing songs, performing, and releasing more songs, rinse, repeat ad nauseam. hope is a thing with feathers, except those feathers are molting real fast for some of them. the years drag on, the calls from his parents offering to terminate that damned contract once and for all more tempting by the minute. but he’s a twenty-something by now, and with it the buddings of adult responsibility. emphasis on buddings, because as far as the msg execs are concerned, he’s not doing anything along the lines of responsible.

case in point: what he says, or rather, does. his transparency is a double-edged sword, simultaneously refreshing and well, sharp. not in the way that they like, and especially when he uses it against (senior) industry mates taking the liberties to drag their lack of reputation through filth. pity is the last thing desired, but there’s something about soon to be has-beens themselves picking on small fry that doesn’t sit well with him. so (allegedly) ignoring such folks on broadcast to forgoing the honorifics with a drop of the hat, no doubt it’ll get the rumor mill running. it’s not until the public eye starts zeroing in on an apparent pattern of him not bowing to other acts on stage does msg bring the hammer down–reflecting the obvious resort, but the reminder-slash-warning of the heavier consequences if he’s not careful.

but by then, he’s a different kind of desperate as is. re:group is taken to like a second chance, fever dream-like training sessions that feel like deja vu and all. three years in, and dignity be damned. he’s grateful for the chance. exposure feels both like a second skin and a novelty, fits him glove-sleek in spite of not lasting there all that long, let alone making it to the final cut. it’s enough of a catalyst, enough of tiny, tiny nudge to skyrocket them into an overnight success.

compromise, along with this “nothing to something” narrative, makes for a winning combination. it no longer becomes a matter of being talented but being marketable. the love calls begin soon after, and so starts the growing repertoire in endorsement deals and magazine spreads, and he’s looking to expand his horizons a little further. he’d been here solely for the music from the start, and always will be, but in the face of a changing sound (which he privately wishes wasn’t so piano-driven now, but hey, money talks), there’s something oddly relieving in filling a different path to success that is hard to deny.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.indigo #id.cha eunwoo

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