I Write Like... (Variation of 'Share Your Writing')

Stumbled across a fun little website which determines what famous author you write like and thought it’ll be an interesting variation on the ‘Share Your Writing’ threads you see on some forums.

Here’s the work I submitted, apparently I write like Dan Brown (which I have to disagree with).

My Submitted Text

The Devil Herself

All was silent when he arrived in the dead of night. Expecting the house to be asleep, he’d stumbled through the front door and was greeted by the sudden dazzle of light. As his vision slowly adjusted, he could make out the devil herself standing a couple meters in front of him, floor lamp to her left.

“Is that blood?” She exclaimed, eyeing the bright red stain on his shirt she took a step towards him.

Blurting out a surprised “No?”, he defensively took a step backwards, matching her stride.

She stopped dead in her tracks. She could see the bewilderment in his eyes, hear his heavy breathing and smell the fear emanating off his skin.

Something was amiss, she thought, eyeing his shirt suspiciously.

“That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question,” she added coldly, and resumed her advance.

He kept his distance and shuffled backwards as his bewilderment quickly turned to panic. He opened his mouth to speak yet his words remained stuck in his throat, producing no more than the unintelligible stutter.

She shifted her focus from his shirt to his hands behind his back. He was holding something.

She did not break pace and continued to walk him out the front door until his foot found no more ground and he fell… down he went as gravity pulled, stumbling down the steps leading to his front door with a wine bottle in hand which shattered against the concrete ground.

“I can explain…” his voice trailed off as he averted his gaze from the devil he knows as his mother.

What do you think? Agree or disagree?

Would be interesting to see what other people get, bonus points if you share your writing (optional) so everyone else can make that assessment too.

Link: I Write Like

I write like Neil Gaiman, apparently

In a field of dead grass, beneath a yawning black sky unbroken by moon or starlight, tucked away in a little corner of the world known to few, stood the Witching Tree.

It was hard to tell what species the tree might have been, as its trunk had been scraped clean of bark centuries ago. Its branches hadn’t known the protection of leaves for as far back as memory stretched. The Witching Tree was a bleached, pale thing, stooping gnarled and crooked like a skeleton. Its boughs hung sweeping and low. Most nights it was alone in its desolate field. But on a night like tonight, when the moon was nowhere to be seen and winter’s bitter chill hung in the air, a tree this ancient was bound to be disturbed.

A tall, slender woman with wavy white hair down to her thighs and light brown skin that seemed to glow approached the tree. Though she wore not a stitch of clothing, her body was covered in a thin sheen of blood—not quite dry, but sticky and viscous. She stretched her hands out, palms slick with gore. The calloused pads of her fingertips were just millimeters away from the tree trunk when she felt a sharp pain in the center of her hand.

The blood-covered woman hissed, recoiling and examining her palm.

A single thorn protruded from the middle of her hand. Not as though it had stuck her, but as if it had grown from beneath her skin. As she watched, a single drop of sap rolled down the barbed point, inky and black.

“Thought I might find you here.”

A dry voice cut through the clearing. High and noxiously sweet, positively dripping with sarcasm. The bloody woman whirled around and scowled. “Begone, fae.”

From the other side of the tree, a golden light the size of a firefly flew in front of her. It grew bigger in a flurry of blinding sparks. When the light finally faded and the bloody woman could look without hurting her eyes, a slim figure was leaning against the smooth tree trunk, fuzzy moth’s wings tucked in neatly and sharp teeth curled into a wicked smile.

“Last I checked,” the faery said, “You’re in no position to be ordering me around.”

The woman bared her teeth. “Leave before—”

The faery held up a hand. Black claws flashed. “Stop talking.”

When the bloody woman found she could no longer speak, the faery grinned. “Much better. Now. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to step away from the tree. You’re going to leave this godsforsaken field. You’re going to forget this place ever existed. And you’re never going to come back.”

The bloody woman’s jaw flexed as she tried to loosen the faery’s hold over her, but it was no use. She stumbled away from the tree, mind fuzzy. What was she doing here? What was this place? It was dark and miserable and the dead grass scratched the soles of her bare feet. The air smelled like honeysuckle and rot. She could hear the distant tinkling of bells. She walked aimlessly, dazed and delirious, until the ground split open beneath her and swallowed her whole.

Everything was still for a moment, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Finally, the faery pulled away from the tree trunk and sighed. The bloody woman was only the start. Other creatures would come, more powerful things. In another shower of golden light, the faery shrank back down to the size of a beetle and landed on a tree branch, lying in wait.

It was going to be a long night.


I remember doing this a couple years ago and the fact that it changed with each excerpt- at least for me. So here’s what I got for the five latest things I’ve written. I didn’t share the excerpts as I don’t feel comfortable doing that at this moment.

P. G. Wodehouse

Mystery thriller

Margaret Atwood


Ian Fleming


J. R. R. Tolkien

Paranormal mystery

Dan Brown

Paranormal thriller/ mystery


Apparently, I write like Bram Stoker…
Not sure how to feel about that…

I have a little paragraph instead of a long one.


A new dawn is coming and with a new dawn comes endless possibilities.
There is something so mysterious about a new day that when it comes it can leave you wondering and even wanting more. Some days are better than most, but today is life seems a little more clearer than yesterday.
I wholeheartedly welcome the new dawn.


I write like… Jk Rowling?


I wanted to scream.

But no matter how much I strained my lungs, only a strangled keen escaped my throat. No matter how fast I tried to run, it was like I was stuck in some thick miasma that slowed my movements—like I was stuck in a dream. Or… more like I was trapped in a nightmare.

Because monsters were hunting me.

I couldn’t see them, for either I had gone blind, or the world had been plunged into heavy, pulsating darkness, but I could hear them hissing and shuffling behind me on long, spindly, and numerous legs. I could feel them when they reached out with their hands and clutched at my clothes and hair as I ran.

“H-help me!” I wailed, grasping at more of that darkness ahead of me. My voice didn’t carry far. The echoes of my pleas seemed to linger in the heavy atmosphere like flies in a web, barely a breath away from my face. My foot caught on something I could not see. With a pitiful gasp, I fell into what felt like sand.

Hissing surrounded me. Clawed feet of unseen creatures kicked up the sand around me. I expected my breath to quicken as the din that ricocheted in my spinning head increased. I expected my heart to race. I expected my blood to turn to ice.

But neither of those things happened. I felt nothing but a sick emptiness within me.

Something else’s breath beat down on my face. I swore I could hear the slow, wet sound of toothy jaws parting.

And then there came a light.

Interesting that it changes depending on the length of my snippet. I also got HG Wells.


I write like… JRR Tolkien.

Not really a surprise actually, I’ve been told this before.

I submitted my first paragraph from the first chapter of my Fantasy yarn. Which I leave below…

From under the dark boughs of old gnarled trees, two mounted steeds broke out into the light of day, a wild glare in their eyes, snorting and frothing at the bit. Hooves franticly pounded the ground with a matched pace. Their riders hooded and crouched low in the saddles clutching the reins, and their horses spurred on with fear of what may befall them. On they sped over rough turfs of coarse grasses as shrill cries went up into the air and faded into choking end. Winding between the rocks strewn across the lowlands, they sped towards the wide valleys before them. Only when a great distance was behind them would they slow their charge. But one rider looked back; crystal grey eyes looked deep into the darkness from under the forest eaves. Shadows, shadows deeper than the shade of the trees moved, waving weapons and cursing the light, cursing the riders as they fled .Arrows whined and swept through the air falling about them, embedding the earth with black feathered stalks.



That’s cool!



I can see why, you’re good at creating a magical atmosphere.



I at first input the whole chapter so far of my WIP which is a mystery/thriller. I’m currently writing a male POV chapter, and it told me I write like James Joyce (Ulysses author)

I then input the latest chapter I’m editing of a chick lit/romance/slice of life from a female POV and I got JK Rowling

Third time I put in the whole first chapter of my cozy mystery/romance and I got Neil Gaiman.



Thanks. I just made up that sentence on the fly though.


I’ve done this twice and gotten Chuck Palahniuk both times, which I’m excited about because he’s one of my favorite authors! His prose style inspired me to write in first person present despite all the haters out there who told me that was a bad idea, and how that wasn’t a viable way to write fiction (again recently by an MFA student who said that it’s only appropriate for screenwriting, but they’re as pretentious as any other MFA student I’ve met…including my own classmates). My writing style has a long way to go, but I still love my story, and Fight Club is still one of my favorite books.


Thank you!! :black_heart:


I had any number of matches from different books and chapters. I honestly don’t know if the website is particularly robust. I just tried Ryan’s POV from Raised by the Mafia, and it came back with Raymond Chandler, hard-boiled noir detective writer in the 30’s….


Interesting… lol.


And Fireman’s Girl came as Dan Brown. Too wordy, I guess?


Lots of different results depending on which excerpts I put in. Dan Brown, David Foster Wallace, Kurt Vonnegut, P.G. Wodehouse, Lewis Carroll… Vonnegut comes up the most often.

A very unfinished piece of writing, but apparently it's written like J. R. R. Tolkien

And so it begins again. I can barely believe my eyes, despite knowing what was coming. The familiar red glow of my world greets me as I tear my way through the doorway that keeps the worlds separate. The inspiration for the repetitive idea of an underworld that many humans have. It haunts their mythologies, their religions, over and over, a prison, a place of torment and punishment, a home of monsters and demons, where horrible people go when they die, filled to the brim with pain and horror, or sometimes just emptiness. All that isn’t exactly true, although like many myths, the idea does have a seed of truth in it. Also like many myths, that seed has been twisted and exaggerated into something practically unrecognizable. The realm I just entered isn’t hell or some other underworld. It’s my home. But then again, my name has been twisted as well.
I take one step, then two, then three. The silence is haunting. It’s empty, the lack of sound echoing through me. I flinch out of habit, expecting something that never comes. It’s too quiet. I look around, the red smoke curling through the air and obscuring much more than I’d like. I stumble. There’s nothing in front of me that I could have tripped over. The ground is flat and dry, old grey dirt so packed down by years of footsteps that it’s practically stone. I slow my feet down, fighting the urge to run as quickly as I can. Suddenly wary of making any wrong moves in a place where I should be comfortable, I fasten my hair back, the thick curls protesting being restrained. I continue to walk the worn path, taking care to minimize the sounds that feel far too obvious in the suffocating silence. I look into the woods that begin to enclose me as I tiptoe down from the plateau I had come from. The tear in space glitters from the area I just left, and I curse. My voice seems to be swallowed up by the smoke, but I know that I’ve been making mistakes from the moment I entered. I climb back up the incline, silently hoping I hadn’t let my guard down too far when I rushed through the portal. A potentially fatal mistake. One I hadn’t made in decades. Especially not at this time. I finish the much more difficult climb up, and close my hands around what appears to be a jagged rip in the air. Shoving the edges together, I reseal the gap with a few motions, familiar words uttered quietly enough so that someone would only be able to hear them if they were standing right in front of my face. I whirl around as I feel a bit of wind behind me and squint into the mist. I can’t see anything that could have caused the wind.
I creep down the incline and into the forest once again. Everything stays quiet, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. I keep walking. I can’t afford any more mistakes. I have the unshakeable feeling that all the luck I’ve had so far wasn’t luck at all, but carefully calculated allowances, given to me by something I can’t see. Taking a shaky breath, I turn my attention inward for a moment. My skin tingles and I can feel a subtle pull toward the other side of the woods.


Oooh, I’ve tried this site before! Many times :joy: I was upset when I got Stephenie Meyer during one of those tries, but most of my results say I write like Agatha Christie.

I’ve just tried it again and now it says I write like Dan Brown.

The excerpt I submitted:
Cory Doctrow twice for the same story, and Anne White once . Different exerpts. I don't know either of them, so I suppose that means I developed my prose style on my own.

The letter just beside that one, however, seemed a little more interesting to Sara. It was sent by someone unknown, simply signed with dT.
Please exercise caution where you tread. Do not do anything rash. The kanya has very strong morals, and things will fall apart if she gets wind of our work. Do not harm her. Remember our deal. If anything happens to her, I will personally make sure your entire operation is brought to light and all of you swines face justice, no matter the cost and chaos.
I will be by soon, after the plan is carried out to help you with the transition, and to ensure you uphold your side of the deal.
Remember, a gemflower is hard at first, but subtle manipulation is what gets it to soften.
The nation is at stake here.
Sara read through it again. The nation is at stake? What operation was the Raja running that would change the whole of Arya? What were these people planning with the kanya? Who was it that was working with Raja Gopal, and what stake did he have with the devakanya’s life?
The letter said kanya, didn’t it? That meant this was sent before the murder of the kanyastha, when the kanyastha was still a devakanya.
And what did the line about the gemflower mean? Sure, a gemflower could be manipulated into softening using the Grace within it, but Sara doubted that was what it meant. Was it somehow alluding to the devakanya, again? Devi Annika’s house symbol was a gemflower, and the devakanya was Annika’s vessel.
Who was this dT person? Clearly, they did not live in Devasena’s durbar all the time.
Confused, Sara stuffed the letter into a pouch hidden under the belt of her underskirt, about to pick up another paper when she heard faint laughter. Sara stilled.
The laughter was followed by voices that grew in volume, and soon, accompanying footsteps could be discerned.
Someone was coming towards the study.
She had nowhere to go. What could she do? Running out would ensure that those people saw her. She had to hide somewhere in here.
Could she pretend to be a devadasi cleaning up?
But she knew nothing about this household, and would not be able to answer even the simplest questions.
Sara was doomed.
Her mind raced through the possibilities, even as footsteps and conversations got closer and louder, and in a desperate bid, Sara ran to the walls.
The walls-
She was dressed as a devadasi-
Frantically, Sara searched for some hidden frame within the walls, her fingers running over every crevice in the wall and pushing until one finally gave a clicking sound, and a panel swung inwards.
Thanking the devas, Sara ducked inside and shut the door not a moment too soon as the door to the study swung open and the people entered.

For other books, I got Bram Stroker, Stephanie Meyer, JK Rowling, Anne Rice twice more, Gertude stein twive (I don’t know her, but I got her twice, so worth mentioning) and a bunch of other authors I really don’t know.

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Behold this dumpster fire of a first chapter I put into the thing.

Jayden stared at the board with too much intensity. He could feel it. He was just looking at it too hard, and he could feel Bailey’s judgement radiating onto him from across the table.

“Just move already, Jay. You’ve lost the game, let’s just get it over with,” Bailey said. He smirked, resting his hands on the back of his chair, which he had intentionally spun around backward.

Jaydon growled slightly. “Only because you cheated.” He rested his finger beside one of the dice, then lifted it back up.

“It’s not cheating,” Bailey said so casually Jayden wanted to punch him. “It’s the way the game is played.”

He looked at the board again and shook his head. He picked up a die and rolled it. A one, finally. He glanced up at Bailey with the faintest smirk on his face. “Oh… I’ve lost the game, have I?”

“Damnit that completed your set, didn’t it?”

“About time, huh?” Jayden marked something on his slip of paper and glanced over the board again. He glanced at the pieces lines up just to Bailey’s part of the board, then back at the board. The issue wasn’t that he was out of pieces, it was that he was out of good pieces for the numbers he’d been rolling. Ones were practically useless on their own, but the more of them you had, the better off they put you. He had all of them now. That was a good place to be, as long as you were smart with how you used them.

Codalesct gave a high trill from his shoulder and drifted down to the board. The blue dragon studied one of Bailey’s pieces and began to push it forward onto the next space.

Jayden chuckled and lifted the dragon off the board as tenderly as he could. “We can do a lot more than that.” He pushed Bailey’s piece back where it belonged. The dragon looked confused as he returned to Jayden’s shoulder.

“You know,” Bailey said absently, watching Jayden stare at the board, “You talk to that thing like it’s a cat, but it just suggested you make not only a legal move for your roll, but the single best move you could have made with that roll if it weren’t for the set.”

“I know,” Jayden shot back, reaching up to scratch Codalesct’s shoulder. “Little guy’s learning how to play, isn’t he?”

Bailey shook his head, but couldn’t surpress a smile.

Finally, Jayden picked up a piece and moved it all the way to his side of the board, then moved a few of his back towards himself. Codalesct’s eyes looked like they were ready to hop out of his head. He made a shrill sound and hopped down onto the board to try and push pieces back where they had been. He looked mad, and kept glaring at Jayden as he kept putting the pieces back where he’d set them.

Bailey and Jayden were both laughing. Bailey lifted Codalesct off the board after a moment. “Hey, it’s okay, he’s allowed to do that,” he said, struggling to keep the dragon back.

Jayden nodded, passing the dice to Bailey. “Yep, there’s this thing called a set,” he said, showing Codalesct the paper that had the six ones marked in a vertical column, “and it lets you get away with things you otherwise couldn’t do.”

Bailey nodded, rolling a die. It fell off the table and he bent over to pic it up.

Codalesct gave a trill sound and shot toward the ground before Bailey could reach it. He picked up the die and brought it back to the table, setting down so it showed a four. Bailey nodded, and started to scribble something on his paper slip, but Codalesct batted away the pencil before he could and shoved the die back at him, flaring his nostrils.

“I think he wants you to reroll,” Jayden said with a smirk. “He’s right, too. It fell on the floor.”

Bailey grumbled but took the die and rerolled it. “I know,” he said as the die landed on a five. “But I needed that four.”

Jayden gave a smirk as Bailey was forced to move one of his most useful pieces back toward himself, right into the line of fire of one of Jayden’s, instead of the one to its left which had space for safe passage. Bailey collected his pencil and marked down his five before passing the dice back to Jayden. Jayden looked down at the colorful cubes and then studied his sheet. White and black, red and blue, green and orange. They were pairs. They did opposites. He was sitting pretty well right now, and he could roll a whole pair if he wanted to, but… He glanced at the board, the dice, and his slip, and picked up the black die.

“You’re mad, Jay,” Bailey said. “That one hates you and you know it.”

Jayden shrugged and rolled the die. He’d already touched it, too late to change his mind anyways. It landed on two. Jayden blinked a few times. Bailey snickered. “Shut up,” Jayden said eventually. He scribbled the two down on his paper slip and passed the dice back, sitting back in his chair.

Bailey growled slightly, but made no objection. Codalesct curled around himself on the edge of the table and watched carefully. Bailey spread the dice out before him and whistled slightly. “I can’t believe you actually decided to keep that…” He huffed and looked at the board for half a second before he grabbed the orange die and rolled it.


“Damn it when did the dice gods decide you were their favorite?” Bailey asked, glaring at Jayden.

“Oh, I don’t think they have,” Jayden shot back. “Simply, they have decided to hate you as much as they hate me in recent… Moments.”

Bailey chuckled and grabbed the same piece he had moved on his last turn and moved it one to the right. He marked down the three and passed the dice back. “Sure, sure.”

“Gee,” Jayden said as he accepted the dice. “Making my job easy, aren’t you?” He spread the dice out and picked up the black one again.

“Sure are one for risks this afternoon, aren’t you, Jayden?” a third voice asked from across the room.

Jayden dropped the die and turned quickly. Almost too slowly to see the little smirk on the woman’s face. “Uh- Hey, Dianne… How long have you been standing there?”

She shrugged. “Long enough to see you pick black twice in a row. You two gonna wrap it up soon are is the [boss] gonna come down here and wrap it up for you?”

Bailey’s eyes narrowed. “What do you…”

Dianne sighed. “We just got a call from one of the locals. They say they’ve got a new book that’s specifically on the Sword of the Fallen. Master Seymond wants the two of you to check it out.”

Jayden sighed and looked at the board, biting his lip. Bailey had just moved his King into a tight spot. If he could just get his Rook out and corner him… He picked up the black die from where he’d dropped it and rolled. He’d need a three for this to work.

Six. It was a six.

Jayden felt the disappointment rising in his gut, but didn’t have time to let it sink in. Bailey let his head drop to the table. And that’s when it clicked. “Don’t worry, Di. We can wrap this up in no time.” He marked the six on his slip and made the mark to show he was using it with his black 2 from earlier. This way, he could swap the places of his King and Bailey’s King, completely surrounding it in his pieces. He passed the white die to Bailey. “Roll defense, but I don’t think you have the support to get out of that one…”

Bailey mocked Jayden’s words but took the die and rolled it. “I don’t but…” He grunted. “It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.” He put the die back with the rest. “It’s a one. And for a moment there I thought I could have finally beaten you…”

They put away the game.

“So where’s the Master, eh?” Bailey asked as he put the box up on the shelf. “Or does he just expect us to prowl around the city until we find something?”

Dianne leaned against the wall and looked the two of them over. “He was in his quarters. Probably best if you… proceed with caution, eh?” There was an element of mockery to her tone, but she didn’t stay long enough for either of them to really pick up on it.

Jayden sighed and let himself sink against the wall. “We’re doomed if we keep this up, aren’t we?”

“Most likely,” Bailey answered, pulling him back to his feet. “Come along, shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer than we have to, eh?”

Jayden nodded and sulked to the door, following his friend. “You know, she still gets under my skin like there ain’t no tomorrow.”

Bailey huffed and nodded. “I can see that. I mean… You two were close, I understand why it’s like that, but there’s gotta be a day when you just decide to live your own life, you know? She can only dictate so much. Stop letting her treat you like a doll, and eventually she’ll stop thinking of you like one.”

Jayden shook his head. “Not that simple, Bay. I’ve tried… I’m trying, but she’s just… So…”

Bailey put his hand on Jayden’s shoulder and twisted him, slamming him into the wall. “Stop I don’t want to hear that again. Jayden, I know where you come from. I came from there too, remember? You gotta stop letting that control you, too. Actually- The really kind of are one and the same, huh?”

Jayden took a breath and nodded.

Bailey returned the gesture and released him, but kept a careful eye on him. Jayden shook his head aggressively, but not because he was disagreeing. It was more like… More like he was trying to shake something out of that messy flop of hair he had.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking away,

Bailey blinked. “What for, Jay? Why-” Bailey shook his head, just absently at first, but then more forcefully. “No. You- Jay, you didn’t do anything, buddy. You hear me?” Bailey grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “You did nothing wrong, okay?”

Jayden took a deep breath and nodded.

Bailey sighed. “Nervous?” he asked.

Jayden nodded.

Bailey closed his eyes and looked at the floor. “It’s okay. I am too. I can go in first if you want?”

Jayden looked at Bailey for a long moment. “I…” He huffed. “Thank you,” he said, swallowing. “But I have to do it…” The determination in his voice sort of tapered off as he finished the sentence.

“No you don’t,” Bailey said. “Not yet, not if you don’t want to.”

Jayden shook his head. “If I don’t…” He sighed and looked at the ground. “If I don’t, then she’ll get at me again. Every time I…”

Bailey put his arm over his friends shoulders and continued down the corridor. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine, okay? You’re doing great! It’s gonna be rough, changing how your mind works is never… Easy, but gosh darn it, Jayden- You’re doing great, okay?”

Jayden nodded, something almost like a smile on his face. “Thank, Bay. I… I think I needed that.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bailey said with a smile, pulling them both around a corner and up a flight of steps. At the top was a door, and behind it… Behind it, Master Seymond waited what was most likely impatiently.

Jayden gulped. He could feel his hands shaking as he stared at the door. Nothing about the door was designed to be particularly calming. From the fact that it was built immediately at the top of the stairs, without even a landing to make it accessible, to its size, to the carvings in its frame… It was just all around built to be intimidating. And it did a good job of it.

Codalesct curled his tail around Jayden’s neck and put one of his front claws on his jaw. Even reaching that far was a stretch for the dragon, but it was comforting to feel him so close. Jayden smiled slightly and reached up and scratched the dragon’s neck. “We’ll be okay, Coda,” he whispered. “We’ll be okay.” He only hoped that was true, but the dragon didn’t need to know that… Right?

Bailey knocked on the door. It made a loud sound. Too loud, it seemed at times.

The door creaked open, slowly. Eventually it was all the way open, and the two of them were staring into Master Seymond’s quarters. Sure enough, the Master looked pissed. Dianne sat on the arm of his chair, like she usually did, and he had his arm around her waist, and it was obvious he was quite pleased with her, but it was also painfully obvious that he was equally as displeased with the men standing just outside his door.

“Well,” he said after a moment, staring dead into their eyes… Somehow both at once. “I see you’ve finally seen fit to show yourselves.”

Jayden swallowed hard, biting the inside of his lip to keep his jaw from shaking. He clasped his hands behind his back for the same reason. It was hard to keep his breathing under control, though. His heart was racing and his lungs were desperately trying to keep up. Hell- He was probably on the verge of a panic attack or something.

Master Seymond sighed and beckoned with h is free hand for them to come inside.

Jayden froze. He couldn’t move. Fortunately, Bailey seemed to realize this and stepped into the room. Jayden shook himself and followed. He was shaking, everywhere, and nothing was really abundantly clear to him at the moment. Just that he was likely in trouble.

“Master Seymond, Sir,” Bailey said, bowing slightly. “We came as soon as we could.”

Jayden nodded, though it was a bit hard to tell that he wasn’t just quivering like a leaf on a tree.

“I didn’t ask, child,” Seymond snapped, looking at Jayden. He sighed after a moment and beckoned for them both to leave. “Go. You’ll find the information on your assignment with the gate keepers.”

They both nodded, bowed and withdrew. The door closed behind them.

Jayden sat down on the stairs immediately, breathing heavy. “I- I-”

Bailey hushed him and sat down beside him. “Don’t say anything yet. Just breathe. You’re okay, right?”

Jayden nodded, closing his eyes.

“Yeah, and we’re getting out of here for awhile, right?”

Jayden nodded some more, his breathing slowly regulating as his heart began to slow down.

“Right,” Bailey continued, “So there’s nothing to worry about.” He put his arm across his friend’s back for a few moments before he stood up. “Come on, we better get going.”

This is what the thing told me:

I… Actually haven’t heard that name before.

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