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#chapter 5 preview

I’m making some pretty good progress on chapter 5, so here’s a sneak peek of what’s to come. I have the beginning and the ending mostly done, I just have to plop some more in the middle so I don’t think this will take too much longer (yay!). This section is from the beginning of the chapter. I’ve placed it under the cut, because the contents could be a little spoilery if you don’t want to see that. :)

She glanced up when Peeta walked through the side door, greeting her with a smile and a light kiss before setting the bag of groceries on the counter. “Hey, love,” once his arms were empty, he slipped them arm around her waist affectionately, “thanks for doing this stuff for dad, even if I told you a hundred times it wasn’t necessary.”

Keep reading

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Continuum - Chapter 5 Preview


Behind? Catch up HERE 😊

Amazing moodboard created by @crownofstardustandbone @therollingstonys thank you so much! 💖


“Pictures of what?” Ned asked as he suddenly appeared behind Peter’s left shoulder. Peter jumped, almost knocking into Gwen as he grabbed her hand, tugging her around.

“Jesus, Ned!” Peter exclaimed. “Dude, you can’t sneak up on me like that!”

Ned’s eyebrows knitted together. “Um… I didn’t, but okay. But what’re you taking pictures of?”

“Peter’s gonna get a telescope this coming weekend,” said Gwen.

“Really?” Ned said. “Dude, that’s so cool! Are you gonna let us come over and see it once you get it set up?”

“Ah, it’s gonna be up at the Compound,” said Peter. “Sorry.”

“Oh,” Ned said. “Well, I guess that makes more sense, since upstate’s probably better for stargazing. It just kinda sucks that you’ve gotta go up there every single weekend.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Peter said. “It’s actually kinda nice to get out of the city every now and then. It’s a lot quieter up there.”

“Yeah, I guess. But since when did you like it quiet?” Ned asked. “You know what, nevermind. Wait till you hear what my mom heard yesterday at her book club.”

“You mean her gossip club, right?” Gwen asked as they made their way towards their homeroom classroom. “‘Cause I swear all your mom seems to do there is talk about people.”

“Well… yeah, that is part of it,” Ned admitted. “You know my mom just likes to know what’s going on, so…” He gave his head a quick shake. “Anyway, she told me that one of her friends was walking in the city on Saturday afternoon and saw Dr Stephen Strange go into a comic book store.”

“Who?” asked Gwen, shooting Peter a questioning look. “Am I supposed to know who that is or something?”

“He’s that rich doctor that drove his car off a mountain a few months ago,” said Peter. “The neurosurgeon?” He didn’t add that Dad had disliked Dr Strange ever since he and Papa had tried to get him to consult on Peter during his weeks-long coma after the battle in the Miami bunker, and that the surgeon had flat-out refused because he’d said that he didn’t work on children.

And no amount of begging, pleading, or bribing could get him to change his mind.

Oh well, it’d probably been for the best anyway. From what Peter had heard about Dr Strange, he was a massive jerk, and Dad did not have a good track record dealing with medical professionals who were jerks. Dad was amazingly generous with most of the doctors and nurses who had treated Peter back when he was little, and sick most of the time, but Peter had witnessed him dressing down plenty of arrogant or jerky ones too. Since Dad had enough intelligence and knowledge to pretty much get his own medical degree in any number of fields, he tended to figure out who he could trust and who he could not very quickly.

As it turned out, Dr Strange wouldn’t have been able to do anything for Peter anyway, and not getting him involved ended up saving his dads from having to explain Peter’s genetic mutation and enhancements to yet another person outside their family.

Now that Ned had brought him up, though, Peter had to admit he was pretty curious as to what the former surgeon had been up to in the last several months.

“Oh, yeah, I remember my dad saying something about that,” Gwen said with a nod. “Okay… so…?”

“Well, I guess after his accident, he kinda went nuts trying to find a cure for the nerve damage in his hands. Ended up selling just about everything he owned to try some really weird treatments,” said Ned. “And then one day he just up and disappeared. My mom’s friend thought he was dead until she saw him again.”

The full chapter will post on Monday, September 28th 😊

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A/N: Enjoy! This chap is requiring a bit more research from me, but I think it’s gonna turn out great. <3

It was still dark out. As dark behind her eyelids as it was to the naked eye. No candle lit, no light switch on, even the moon did not shine through the sheer drapes covering the wide, glass windows. In a deep, heavy, dreamless sleep, Iris never would have expected the middle-of-the-night proposition that came next.

“Iris?” came the whispered question, falling from the lips of her beloved.

She didn’t move, not really sure if the word had come from reality and not the spark of a dream.

“Iris,” it came again, this time with a gentle hand on her bare shoulder, nudging her out of her deep sleep.

She moaned a little in protest but refused to turn to face him. She snuggled deeper into her pillow instead.


His lips came to rest beneath her ear and his fingers slipped beneath the straps of her nightie, and she felt a liquid pooling between her legs.

Oh, that is not fair.

“No,” she murmured stubbornly. “We just had sex a few hours ago, Barry.”

She felt him smile against her skin and knew he would be the death of her.

“I’m not waking you up for sex, Iris,” he whispered, pulling his fingers back and running them down her arm.

She squashed the slight disappointment.

“No? Could’ve fooled me.”

She pulled her arm almost out of reach so she could slide her hand beneath her pillow.

He chuckled lightly and covered his arm over hers, intertwining their fingers beneath her pillow. He moved so his whole body framed hers and one of his legs half-straddled hers.

She groaned, her entire body on fire now, even though he was only semi-aroused beneath his boxers.

“You sure you’re not waking me up for sex?”

“Well, I’m tempted to now, believe me,” he paused. “Even if it makes us late.”

His face was deep in her tresses, scattering goosebumps all over Iris’ bare skin, when his last words finally hit their target and Iris’ brows furrowed.



She could hear him smelling her hair, and God if that wasn’t a huge turn-on for her.

“Late for what?”

Reluctantly – very reluctantly – Iris opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. She couldn’t see him very well in the dark, but the sensual and soft glint in his eyes made his identity unmistakable.

“Can you say…walking tour to an active volcano?”

Her eyes widened and she turned her body to face him entirely, pulling her arms into her body so she could soak up his warmth.

“I can say it, but do I want to?”

He smiled slyly.

“What have you got up your sleeve, Barry Allen?” She looked at him suspiciously. “And ti-” She glanced past him to the alarm clock on their bedside table. “It’s two in the morning!” She looked back at him, her mouth hanging open. “What are we doing up at two in the morning that we could possibly be late for? Don’t tell me-”

“Yep. Walking tour to Mount Batur. There are two actually. Well, there are more than two, but there were two I couldn’t choose between, so I signed us up for them both.”

“Oh, Barry.”

“Here, let me show you the brochures.”

“No, Barry, wait!”

But it was too late, and he was too excited. Barry sat up and yanked on the chain to turn on the bedside lamp, nearly blinding Iris if it hadn’t been for the gauzy drapes hanging around their canopy bed.

Barry was oblivious to her plight. He reached between the drapes to open up the drawer on the table and pulled out the two pamphlets. One read Bali Mount Batur Sunrise Trekking Tour and the other read Small-Group Batur Caldera Trekking and Natural Hot Spring Tour. The folded, glossy promotional pieces looked suspiciously home-made.

“Barry,” she warned.

“Okay, so I printed up info at home and created brochures for us. These include reviews and a list of bullet point details of all each tour entails. I think it’s much more thorough than anything we could’ve found in the hotel lobby.”

“Did you look in the hotel lobby?” she deadpanned.

He scoffed, which she couldn’t decide was a yes or a no.

“Okay, babe, I appreciate the thought you put into this. Really, I do. But…it’s two in the morning. We’ve barely gotten any sleep at all. Aren’t there like…any tours that start when it’s already light out?”

He frowned. “I couldn’t find any. Which I suppose makes sense. Don’t want to be hiking in extreme heat, right?”

She sighed and nodded. “Right.”


He put each brochure before her and then teasingly pulled them back in circular motions, a giddy smile on his face, as he pushed her to pick one. The thought clearly hadn’t occurred to him that she would flat out refuse the excursion, or even suggest they take it later in the week. She didn’t know how difficult it would be for them to cancel either, though she hoped he wouldn’t have signed them up for something that they couldn’t cancel last minute and still get their refund back. There was always the chance that he was so sure of her loving the idea that he had completely foregone the possibility of what to do in the event she didn’t want to do it.

Even now he couldn’t see that she was considering very hard the best way to let him down easy.

“They both include swimming in hot springs after reaching the peak,” he was saying as a way to encourage her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to turn him down. She would have to suck it up and go on this damn excursion, because her man had done his homework and he thought he was giving her the best surprise, and she didn’t think she could handle the look on his face, those sad puppy eyes if she made it clear she wasn’t going.

So, she summoned a brilliant smile and grabbed a brochure from out of his hands.

“All right, Barry Allen, let me see what you’ve gotten us into.”

His grin stretched further across his face.

“Read fast. The pick-up for both tours comes in half an hour.”

Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. By some miracle her jaw didn’t drop.

“Read! Read!” he said when she didn’t move for several seconds, trying to wrap her head around getting ready and trying to think clearly enough to make a well-thought out decision this early in the morning.

“How about you read while I get ready,” she said, tossing the blankets off her and climbing out of bed.

“Okay!” he said cheerfully, and she made sure not to make her rolling eyes evident as she began to search through her belongings.

Bless his heart, her husband was a morning person.

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A huge thank you to my beta @sunsetsrmydreams for her friendship, support and guidance. She also made my beautiful banner. Isn’t she clever!

A special cheerio goes out to @mega-aulover for being a wonderfully caring person and talking me through a rough patch. You’re tops in my books Mega!

Warnings: Rated Explicit; Mental Health Issues (there’s lots of other tags so…).


“I’m so tired Katniss, I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” Peeta says after a few moments of silence. “What if this new therapy makes it worse?” 

He sounds so defeated and lost but I won’t have it. He’s going to get better. He just needs to let those who care, help. 

“Don’t think like that. It’s going to help you, I know it.” 

“What if he comes back?” 

“Then we’ll talk to him. The doctor thinks it would be a step in the right direction.” 

“What if he tries to hurt you?’’ 

“I don’t think he will. I’ll make him understand that I’m not a threat. I’m not afraid to try Peeta. Besides, he protects you, so he can’t be all bad.” 

Over the confines of my District 13 standard issue shirt, I clutch the locket that is safely tucked away from view and hold onto it tightly. 

“Maybe it’s time you let Dr Aurelius help you.”

To read more click here AO3. 

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Previous Chapters: 1 – Reflected Appraisal ◊ 2 – Self Presentation ◊ 3 – Moral Exclusion 4 - Cognitive Dissonance

Chapter: 5/14 – Conformity 

Author’s Note: Here’s a quick peek at Chapter 5 of “The Dalton Prison Study.” The full chapter will be up later this afternoon. So sorry for the delay, but we plan to resume our regular posting schedule from here on out and Chapter 6 will still go up on Sunday as planned. Enjoy and hope to see you back here later this afternoon to hear what you think of the full chapter. As always, if you like what you are reading, please feel free to like and/or reblog it. Nothing would make Alexei and I happier.

Look, I’m sure you are a perfectly nice and decent guy in real life, but I just can’t… When you are nice to me, it’s so much harder to…” Prisoner 219 trailed off, swallowing hard against the growing lump in his throat.

Officer Anderson was silent for so long, Kurt was sure he wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally asked, “Harder to what?”

Kurt sighed heavily. “Harder to be Prisoner 219. Harder to not be me.”

Anderson let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a dark laugh and sob. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I get that.”

Conformity: The tendency for people to adopt the behaviors, attitudes, and values of other members of a reference group.

Kurt was jolted awake by a sharp bleat that was sounding over and over again. In his half-conscious state, his first thought was that Rachel had managed to set off the fire alarm with her horrible cooking yet again. But as he rolled over, shivering as he pulled up the thin scratchy wool blanket that did little to block out the dank chill of his current environment, the events of the previous day came rushing back to him. Almost immediately, any residual sleepiness was gone as Kurt sat up in bed and got quickly to his feet, wincing at the indentation the heavy chain had made in his right ankle as he slept, his whole foot stinging with pins and needles as it slowly woke up. Kurt blinked rapidly as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, confirming that he was still in his prison cell alone. But across the hall, he could hear the other correctional officers shouting and shaking their prisoners awake, blowing whistles and shouting numbers and curse words in an endless stream. Bleary eyed and disoriented much like Kurt, the prisoners slowly woke and rose to their feet, following the correctional officers out into the hallway where they had done their first line up the night before.

Kurt heard one of the correctional officers call his number, 219. Karofsky? Smythe? He couldn’t be sure, but he knew immediately that the harsh bark did not belong to Anderson. All he knew was that when he didn’t answer immediately, the yelling shifted to Correctional Officer Anderson. Seconds later, Anderson was at the door of Kurt’s cell, swiftly unlocking it, all the while muttering apologies under his breath.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Blaine started awkwardly, half asleep himself and surprised to see Prisoner 219 standing at attention.

“I don’t think anyone could sleep through that racket,” Kurt replied mildly, looking on in amusement as Correctional Officer Anderson quickly tucked the slightly too big khaki shirt into his uniform pants before attempting to smooth down his obvious bedhead, the curls springing back into disarray the second his hands left his hair.

“Yeah sorry, it’s really late. Or early I guess. Depending on your perspective,” Correctional Officer Anderson replied, failing to stifle a yawn.

“What time is it?” Kurt asked curiously.

Blaine’s face blanched white at the question. “Umm, I’m not supposed to tell you. That’s why there aren’t any clocks or windows in here.” He looked at Prisoner 219 apologetically, seeming as if he wanted to say more before he glanced back at the other correctional officers and prisoners assembled in the hall.

“Anderson, get a fucking move on. Cuff him and get him out here,” Correctional Officer Karofksy shouted impatiently, tossing a pair of metal handcuffs that Anderson barely caught.

“Sorry,” Anderson said again, as he stepped between Kurt and the bed, reaching for him wrists. “Just have to do this for one second,” he continued, narrating his movements. “House rules and all.” He carefully fingered the red welts that ringed Kurt’s wrists from where the handcuffs had cut into his skin the day before. “Ouch,” he whispered, wincing slightly as his fingers lightly grazed the reddened skin. “Who put them on that tight? I’ll be sure they’re a lot looser this time, okay?”

Kurt stood rigid and silent, following back into his role as a sullen prisoner. It had felt like only hours ago that he’d asked, more like begged actually, for Anderson to stop being nice to him. And yet here was Correctional Officer Anderson, apologizing for waking him and gently cradling his wrists in his hands. But as Kurt was forcing himself to remember, those were also the same hands that had strip searched him the night before and were about to handcuff him and lead him into god knows what kind of melee. It was confusing and disorienting. For a moment, Kurt found himself wishing for a different guard whose cruelty was routine and predictable. This whole thing would be easier if he could simply hate his guard, but Kurt was quickly learning that Anderson made it difficult for anyone to hate him.

Blaine gently latched one of the handcuffs around Prisoner 219’s wrist, making sure to leave it on the widest setting to prevent further chafing of what looked to be very sore wrists. He took Prisoner 219’s right hand in his in order to place the second cuff, wincing at the feel of Prisoner 219’s ice cold hand. “Geez, your hands are freezing,” he remarked. “Are you cold?”

Kurt weighed Anderson’s question carefully in his mind before responding. The truth was that he was incredibly, bone-chilingly cold. The thin smock uniform didn’t help nor did his bare feet on the concrete floors. But as a guard, wasn’t Anderson at least partially to blame for his discomfort? Plus, Kurt was trying to do everything he could to discourage Anderson from wanting to protect or take care of him because he didn’t need or want that. The truth was that Kurt thrived on being self-sufficient. It was part of the reason he’d chosen to take this job instead of asking his dad for the money or working his garage. And while Kurt had been assigned to be a prisoner in this stupid study, he absolutely refused to be the victim. It was something with which he’d had much too much experience in high school thanks to years of bullying. More importantly, it was a part of himself that Kurt was absolutely determined to keep in the past.

“A bit but isn’t that the point of these lovely prisoner uniforms? To make us miserable” Prisoner 219 spit back after a moment’s pause, his words coming out slightly harsher than he’d intended.

“I wouldn’t know. This isn’t exactly my idea of a good time either, you know,” Correctional Officer Anderson responded, his voice soft, but obviously wounded. He silently clicked the second handcuff into place but couldn’t help but linger for a moment with his hand over Prisoner 219’s, trying to rub a little warmth into his icy hands. He was trying not to take Prisoner 219’s sudden shifts in mood personally, but it was hard. Blaine knew that a lot was being asked of Prisoner 219. In less than 24 hours, he’d been stripped, deloused, insulted, and threatened. Several of those things had been at Blaine’s hands, no less. And while Blaine wanted Prisoner 219 to feel safe, he wasn’t sure that was something he could promise him. All he knew was that he would try to do whatever he could, within reason, to keep the worst of what Karofsky and Sebastian had to offer away from Prisoner 219. But first, Prisoner 219 needed to trust him. He needed to know that Blaine truly was on his side and didn’t want to hurt him. However, seeing how quickly Prisoner 219 had shut down the night before, Blaine had a feeling that wasn’t going to be an easy task.  

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Hi there, you also need either 70 more heart of gold/40 or less will of iron, AND you need to choose responses that will convince Thumma to help you (if Tovrik is dead or alive, what do you tell her about him, etc.). It could also be a bug, but I’ve hopefully squashed the majority of those and most people seem to be clearing that check now successfully, so I couldn’t say for sure!

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Hi there, thank you so much for letting me know you enjoyed it, I’m so glad!! And sorry, that was a mistake on my part that’s now been fixed! You should have at least 3 stats at 50 to convince Thumma (such as courage, intelligence, or et cetera), but those are not the only things that can convince her! Good luck!

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Hi anon, this may be a little late but it was brought to my attention on Discord that I actually put the wrong numbers for those stat checks (the pitfalls of working without sleep lol)! They were previously 70, which was impossible to reach, and have now been fixed to 50! (You have to get five ‘points’ to convince Thumma by telling her the right things, and some of those things check courage, compassionate, cunning, or others!)

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Hi there, you’re so close but not quite there! Currently the requirements for the wyvern are the same as Briony, off the top of my head: 70 Magic and uh I can’t remember what Physique, possibly 65? And I believe it requires an astral, arcane, or psionic stat, as well! These numbers pull from the stats that users reported when I asked a few months ago and are subject to change as I gather data via the feedback form I linked: if the numbers show overwhelming failure, I’ll adjust the stat checks! Thanks for your understanding!

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Hi there! It actually differs slightly depending on whether you’re fighting the big boi or Wonder Woman, but generally you should have at least 70 magic and the specialization that is required of that move: so only Summoners/Conjurers are going to be able to summon a companion to fight alongside them, etc. I might throw in an astral/psionic/arcane check down the road so non-specialized users can try the move, but I need more player data to determine what number those checks should be! Hopefully that helps!

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