#crash landing on you wallpaper

[celibatairedramas]

— like or reblog if you save. ♡

[panda-writes-kpop]

I'll crawl home to her ~ k. mj.

a/n: only one week late woo!! improvements are happening, y'all!! happy belated jiu/minji day! wrote this at the request of @dark-night-insomniac - enjoy, my platonic soulmate <3

tw: arranged marriages, love at her sight trope, running away from responsibilities (me too), quick mention of blood, reader is a professional little shit

wc: 1.8k

summary: your party-crashing antics go awry when you sneak into the engagement party that celebrates the union of the oldest Kim girl and another high-ranking member of society. you don't expect that Kim girl to be Minji, the one you've been dreaming of for weeks, or for Kim Minji to recognize you right away.

♡ Masterlist ♡

To mask oneself is often a way of hiding emotions, to shield yourself from any physical, mental, or emotional harm. A mask hides your identity from the world and yourself, if you keep the mask on long enough. For you, a mask was most useful for some good, old-fashioned hell-raising.

Dressed in your second-best outfit (to sneak into the party required going through a muddy stretch of road, and your maid would’ve had a fit if you got something on your future engagement outfit), you slip past the guards and head inside of the Kim manor.

You adjust your mask as you’ve landed directly in enemy territory - the Kim family and yours have been feuding for many generations- and you didn’t need the backlash from your appearance. 

Siyeon links her arm with yours as you navigate through the party, one that was supposed to celebrate the engagement of the oldest Kim girl to another. You felt bad for the girl - the Kim family was old-fashioned, and had taken to arranged marriages to marry off for the girl. At least your family lets you decide on your marriage partner, even if the stuffy clothes and constant public appearances could be a little much for you.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Siyeon whispers as you hand her a vial filled with a red liquid. 

“No, but it’ll be hilarious if we manage to pull this off.” You say as she hides the vial within the deepest pockets of her overcoat. 

“Why do I have to help with all of your schemes? Why not drag along one of my cousins?”

“Dami would never agree to do something this daring, and Gahyeon would babble to her parents and get us caught before we even started.” You explain before placing a hand on her shoulder. “Remember, if you get caught-”

“-Play the foreigner card, I know.” Siyeon finishes your statement before smiling to herself. “My life would be too simple if we weren’t friends.”

“There’s the Siyeon I know.” You rub her shoulder before offering her a parting sentiment. “Be careful, and make sure to keep your head down if you run into a Kim.”

“Got it.” She blends into the moving crowd too easily as you allow yourself to be pushed towards the main center of buzz and activity. The gardens surrounding the manor are gorgeous, but they don’t hold a candle to the interior of the manor itself.

The ballroom that you find yourself in is expansive and wider than you could’ve imagined, covered head-to-toe in expensive wallpaper, flooring, and decorations.

“It’s beautiful.” One of the party-goers stares in amazement as another comments on the interior.

It’s tacky, you think as you automatically roll your eyes, and you’re impressed too easily.

Is your home nearly as fancy as this? No.

Do you feel a small spark of jealousy within you? Perhaps.

You drown the negative feelings with a glass of champagne. Maybe two glasses would be the best way to enjoy the fireworks to come?

It’s all fun and games, games that you’ve played plenty of times before, until you see her.

You know who she is - she’s a Kim girl, but you were completely unaware that she was the oldest Kim girl. 

Your first and only interaction with her happened when you were out with Siyeon, playing around as you normally did.

“Ah, I apologize, ma’am.” You bow to the girl who you’ve nearly sent tumbling to the ground, all because Siyeon has bad aim.  

“No, it’s alright, my dress is the only thing that is harmed.” She turns and shows you the small amount of mud on the bottom of her skirt.

“Let me pay for it,” You say before noticing the Kim family crest on her attire, “and I can walk you home if you’d like?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” She nods before taking her arm. “Forgive my rudeness. My name is Kim Minji.”

“Minji,” You repeat to yourself, “what a lovely name.”

You both had chatted for hours, long past the time it would take to clean her dress and walk her back to the manor. Minji never questioned how you knew exactly where the manor was, or the fact that you made a few shortcuts to avoid your home.

“Thank you for your utmost kindness,” She smiles before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “and good night to you.”

“Good night.” You mumble to her as she lets go of your arm and heads inside of the gates.

It was worth the lecture from your housekeeper for being late to dinner, and you weren’t able to keep the smug smile off of your face until you fell asleep that night.

You never forgot Minji, she was the girl in your dreams. The one you’d dream of running away from this fanciful life with. You weren’t sure that your feelings were mutual - you only met her once, of course. 

Minji looks radiant in her princess-style dress that spills out over her feet and onto the floor. You’d swear she was a princess herself if the family crest on her arm didn’t give away her current familial standing. 

You notice that her fiancé is off in the distance, drinking a little more than they should. They weren’t royalty, not by any means, but a respectable match for a lady of Minji’s standing. 

Minji greets a few of her closest friends and family before wandering into the crowd. You find yourself pushing through the many people inside of the ballroom, wondering if you’ll even be able to catch her before she sees the one she’s supposed to marry. 

Luckily, the crowd breaks just enough for you to see the back of Minji’s dress. Once you’re an arms-length away, you lightly tap her shoulder as you think of something to say.

“Thank you for coming to my party, you’re-” Her beautiful smile causes your heart to pound as you’re left speechless. “You’re the stranger from a few weeks ago, the one that helped clean up my dress and walked me home.”

“How did you know it was me?” You ask.

“I could recognize you in a crowd of millions, and besides,” She leans in close to you, “I saw the family crest on the inside of your overcoat.”

“Ah,” You shyly pull the overcoat closer to your body, “you know my secret, then?”

“It wasn’t much of a secret to begin with, really.” She shrugs before backing up and laughing. “What mayhem are you here to cause?”

“I wasn’t-”

“-I know of the things you’ve done, and I must say, I’m quite… amused by you.” Minji folds her arms after fixing her hair. “You have such a notable reputation.”

“Now you sound like my mother.” You roll your eyes before silently laughing. “I knew you were a Kim girl, and I was surprised by your kindness and grace. My parents had raised me to hate your family, but I’m starting to think that they were just blinded by past feuds and bitterness.”

“We should make new beginnings for ourselves, then. Wipe the slate new.” She offers you her hand, which you gladly take. “To new beginnings?”

“To new beginnings.” You take a sip of your champagne as she squeezes your hand.

“May I tell you something, in confidence?” She asks as a waiter takes your empty glass.

“Of course, Minji, you may.” You let go of her hand as she takes your arm and leads you to a nearby balcony.

“In all truthfulness, I haven’t been able to sleep without seeing your face. You’ve managed to consume my sleeping moments, as well as some of my waking ones. I never knew how someone could be so enchanted by a stranger, but you, you’re… so different.” Minji softly confesses to you. “I was okay with the arranged marriage, it was always going to be a part of my life as a Kim, but now I want so much more.”

“I’ve felt similarly, in all honesty. I never was one for balls and suitors, but you have completely changed my mind. My foolish tricks were not the only things that brought me here tonight. I was hoping you would see me, and maybe I would have a chance, but…” You trail off as you stare at her fiancé. “You have someone here for you.”

“I-” She pauses as a guard storms into the ballroom.

“There appears to be… unsavory company in our midst. We are requesting all attendees report to their nearest guard to be checked for the family crest that they adorn.” The guard announces as a few more appear behind him.

Well, shit.

“C’mon, I know of a secret passageway. I can help you escape.” Minji pulls you towards the exit as you try to hide your face with your overcoat.

~

Your escape from the party was a lot less eventful than you expected. You ended up in Minji’s private garden when the passage door closed behind you.

“I don’t think I will be able to express my gratitude for you, Minji.” You say before sitting on a park bench.

“It was my pleasure to help you.” She gently pulls up her skirt before sitting next to you. “Pray tell, how will you make your daring escape?”

“The hedges aren’t too tall or thick, so I could climb over or squeeze through them, depending on the durability of my pants.” You lightly pick at the stitching as she laughs. “Then, I will use the nighttime to sneak away to my home, where my housemaid will surely belittle me until I fall asleep.”

“It sounds perfect, except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“Doesn’t the adventurer, after escaping near death, need to show their affection for the love interest before they leave?”

You chuckle before lightly smacking your head.

“Of course, how could I forget?”

You lean in and softly kiss her lips as her arms wrap around you. You deepen the kiss as your arms meet her waist, and you find yourself missing her lips as soon as they leave yours.

“Would the love interest like to travel with the adventurer, explore the world a bit, before settling down?” You unwrap yourself from Minji before standing up and offering her your hand.

“What would their family and friends say?”

“Nothing bad, if they truly cared for the person they were traveling with,” You smile as she grabs your hand, “and I truly care for you with all of my heart.”

“Then I suppose a bit of traveling couldn’t hurt, then.”

The two of you wander into the night, far away from the places you call home, in hopes of finding what truly lies behind the walls that have entrapped the both of you. Maybe you’ll find peace, or another place to stay.

Or maybe you’ll realize how much you need Minji, how you’d crawl home to her from the pits of hell if you had to.

Maybe you’ll find nothing at all and return back to your normal lives.

But as you hold Minji’s hand and run through the forest with her, it seems like everything is possible. The world is at your fingertips, ready for a new story to be told by a new generation.

[sonoyoung]

— Sweet noise

neighbour!junhui x gn!reader | fluff + strangers to lovers (?) + blind attraction | 0.8k

a/n. I was watching a show and i saw this concept with siblings talking to each other like this and I thought it could be a cute pansexual kinda love story. happy birthday to moon junhui even though im a bit late here he deserves all the wishes. I hope y’all enjoy this <33

You could understand where your friends were coming from, but it didn't bother you as much, a warning would have been nice, but you were starting to enjoy the little voice in your wall.

You noticed it in your first week in the building, most of the house was blocked from outside noises but once you entered your room, the distant sounds were hard to ignore. He wasn’t trying to be loud or bother you just minding his business living his life, humming to himself, thinking out loud but you could hear it, sometimes clearer than others.

There had been numerous instances where you had wanted to go knock on your talkative neighbour’s door to ask him to keep it down, but you never did, it wasn’t exactly his fault the walls were bad. You kept it to yourself hoping to meet him coincidentally and bring it up, it would be more casual, but that chance never came up. So you didn’t know your neighbour, but you didn’t not know him, you had heard him talk a lot, about so many things, you had unconsciously started to enjoy hearing his opinion even though it wasn’t for your ears, you were to shy to stop him so you just hoped it would be okay.

It was starting to become a routine, just accepting the noise as background music, enjoying how appeasing his voice felt against your eardrums, sometimes falling asleep to his soft singing. Then you noticed it, a strip of wallpaper had fallen off the wall and you saw the hole, it was small, tennis ball sized, netted like some sort of confessing room, but it was there. The other side was dark, possibly covered by the same shitty wallpaper; you could still hear him blabbering.

Discovering the hole made things more complicated because now it just seemed like a violation of privacy if you didn’t go report it, but you had grown a dumb attachment to the man across the wall. Getting up from your spot beside the hole you manage to knock over your whole nightstand causing a loud crash followed by your simultaneous cussing.

“Fuck!” you let the words out without realizing it, right there by the hole with your hands over your mouth hoping somehow your weak yelling didn’t get through to him.

“Are you okay?” you hear footsteps in your direction listening as they scatter around the room, he heard you clearly now he was looking for you. With a light cough you clear your throat before speaking up again.

“Oh! I’m great and you?” you blurt out, struggling to put everything back together on your side table desperately wanting to escape the situation you had landed yourself in.

“Are you like in the wall or some sort of angel?” light taps on the wall as he speaks right before a finger pokes through the hole, tearing it open, forcing you to move out of sight.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, I thought was imagining women voices” your body moves instinctively back to look through the hole, you had been convinced he had no perception of your existence so it was quite the revelation. The net blurs out all his distinctive attributes so you’re unsure what you’re looking at until he speaks again, “You have a really cute laugh”

“I didn’t laugh though” now he’s the one laughing, it’s impossible to make out anything you see through the hole, but you are sure he’s moved away, but his voice is still near.

“I hear your voice often, it’s usually faint but it’s grown on me. you have this cute rhythmic giggle it’s… it’s sweet”

He was just as you thought he would be, even talking to you now he just says the words as they come, the slight hesitation at the end made the words touch your heart. Knowing yourself, you didn’t get swooned by compliments especially from strangers but maybe it was the familiar voice, you couldn’t help the burning sensation building up from the tips of your ears.

“Most of the time laughing cause of you.”

“I know.” it’s almost a whisper, a breath that escaped.

“Sometimes I’d say something absurd cause I knew you would laugh, I’d lean on this wall just to hear you better”

You can’t place the feeling, it felt absurd being so easily swayed by a voice that you had no face to place with. There was nothing romantic about the scene but somehow everything was romantic about the scene. Was it luck or maybe fate, you had never been one to look for connections in faces but that was all that had been pushed your way; all you wanted was something authentic.

“Is the singing for me too?” you mumble under your breath unable to keep your smile to yourself, you can hear his smile as his voice gets louder coming directly from the hole.

“Would that be too much?” its a genuine question, this is a completely new pace, for both of you.

“I like your voice.” leaning over to the hole peeking through, his smile is so evident even with the mesh obscuring your view, what a smile. “Does the voice have a name?”

“Jun’s voice.”

ty for reading feedback is much appreciated

[scenteddelusion5]

can you write a zestial x reader where the reader is an angel and they have a secret relationship but the seraphim found out and b an ned her from heaven

A Daring Creature -Part 1

Zestial x angel fem reader

Note: AHHH!!! I LOVE this!! Also why don't we have yellow text colours! I also had to take a LOT of liberties writing Zestial because we don't know much about him.

Warning: inacurate middle English

Word count: 1880

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Zestial was more than 400 years old, he lost the real count a LONG time ago. What he would never lose count of was how long he'd known her. To be fair it wasn't all THAT long ago, only 42 years ago, but he swore to himself he'd never forget that day.

He was hiding out in his mansion on his territory during extermination day when he heard a loud pang outside. Something must've hit the ground very hard, if it was a sinner they would probably already be dead by this point and if it was an exterminator, he didn't want to cross paths with them. So instead he hid deeper, in the basement of his mansion.

The day went on without a hitch and Zestial could leave his manor again to check what happened. While he was exploring his garden, he found a strange creature had crashed into the path, having destroyed the beautiful tiles. She had giant white wings and a yellow halo above her head. small wounds and bruises adorned her body with golden blood flowing out of them, they were, however, healing quickly. She wasn't dead.

Was this angel an exterminator? No, she didn't wear their uniform nor did she hold a black hallow like her military sisters, then why was she here. Zestial had many questions, but first he had to decide. Was it worth bringing in this angel to gain their favour even though she could become a threat later on?

She didn't seem to have any angelic weapons on her, she wouldn't be able to kill him... Zestial decided to bring her in and laid her down on a bed in one of his guest rooms. He designated one of his demon contracts to take care of her and warn him when she wakes up.

Y/n woke up with a headache, the last thing she remembered was falling face first into the ground and now she was in a bed? How did she get here. She slowly sat up, looking around the room, it was decorated with red, black and greenish yellow decor. Did this mean she made it to hell? Another look over her eyes landed on a man standing in the corner, he was short, wore a butler-like uniform and had a web in his hair. What she assumed to be a demon, had red skin and black horns.

"H-hello," she spoke but the demon stayed quiet. "Where am I?"

The demon looked at his watch. "Please put on this attire and wait here. I'll be informing master that you're awake." And with that the demon left without answering her question.

On the chair laid a simple black dress, nothing fancy but it also wasn't a rag. She slowly got out of bed, being careful with her headache, and changed out of her very badly damaged angel attire.

Who was this guy's master? The demon who lived there seemed to be very well of and thus powerful. What kind of mess did she get herself in now?

A knock came from the door, "lady, if you're finished changing please come out."

When she walked out, she saw the same demon waiting on her in the hallway.

"Follow me."

Looking around the hallways, the building looked like it was decorated by someone from th 17th century. Besides all the luxury paintings and dressers, what really stood out were the strange spiderweb motives all around the building, from the wallpapers to the candle chandeliers.

They ended up in front of a pair of doors that were at least 3 meters (10 feet) tall. The tops were arched and the handles looked like spiders.

The demon knocked on the giant doors. "She's here, sir."

"Thee can enter!"

The demon didn't react, so Y/n opened the door just enough to walk through. Inside was an office. The wooden walls as well as the furniture had flowery carvings in them, the fabric used for the cushiony parts of the furniture had web patterns in them and the candle light glowed green instead of yellow.

On the armchair behind the desk sat a tall figure, he had four green glowing eyes, a dark black cloak wrapped around his body, spider held the place of where his bowtie was supposed to be and a hat sat upon his head making his already tall figure even taller.

"Please, sitteth down." The man conjured up two cups of thee, one of which he took a sip from. "Now, wherefore is there an angel down here? Thee aren't an exterminator."

"I was just really curious about hell and kind off... Snuck down." Y/n awkwardly looked around the room avoiding eye contact with the demon in front of her. "What is an exterminator?"

Zestial choked on his tea hearing her question. "Does thou not knoweth?"

"No," she answered.

"Alloweth me to proposeth a deal." He got her attention again after she started to search around the room again. "I shall bid thee about the exterminations and hell, in turneth thee bid me in detaileth about how thee did get here." Zestial held out his hand, it became surrounded by glowing webs.

"Uhm sure, but we don't have to do the hand thingy." She laughed it off. "So when I first arrived in heaven three years ago, I started to wonder what hell was like. Nobody could give me a concrete answer, not even the seraphim. I made it my mission to find out what's it like. After two years, I realised a group of angels went down every year..."

"Hey lute!" Y/n ran up to the older angel. "Where were you yesterday?" "Work." "For a whole twenty four hours?" She asked. "Yes," Lute sighed, "what do you want Y/n?" "I was just curious." "Too curious, it's none of your business where and how I work."

"I knew I just had to follow them, so the next time they gathered, I snuck through the gates and jumped after them. On the way down, I had a bit of an accident, my wing got caught on the metal tip of a strange tower and it ripped through me. And that's how I ended up falling into the ground."

"I supposeth I shouldst hold up my own endeth. Every year, the heavens sendeth down an army of exterminators." As Zestial was telling her this Y/n's eyes widened. "Thy sisters cometh down to slaught'r."

"I... I know Lute and the others aren't model angels, but I doubt they would-"

"T's the thruth." Zestial stood up from his desk. "Anon, t's better thee leaveth. I wanteth not beest the targeteth of thy sisters."

He was about to snap his fingers when Y/n yelled, "WAIT!"

He stopped.

"How about another deal? No one of the angels know I'm here and I have a strong alibi. You seem like a powerful demon and I probably wouldn't survive the streets of hell. So, I stay with you for a year, you show me around and I'll give you... Whatever you want...?" Even though she talked a million miles a minute, he still understood her.

"I aught to want?" He considered it for a few seconds. "Dealeth." Zestial held out his hand and the glowing webs were back.

"You haven't said what yet..." But y/n didn't get an answer. "Fine, ONE thing you want."

Zestial nodded his head.

"Deal."

She shook his hand and for a slight second, his whole appearance seemed to change. The man became even taller, spiders crawled around his body and webs covered their intertwined hands. And then it was gone again, like it never happened.

"Edward shall be in chargeth of thy careth. I expecteth thee to never grise foor of these grounds unless thee has't mine own permission to doth so. Thee may taketh thy leave now." He shoed her away.

Y/n walked out of her office finally realising the gravity of the situation. She just gave a DEMON to make her do or get anything he wanted from her without any limits, except that he could only do so once of course. How stupid could she be? At least now she had a safe place to stay and a very intimidating tour guide.

A week went by and Y/n hadn't been able to explore hell at all. She was stuck in the manor, barely even allowed into the garden. At least she grew closer to the demon butler Edward.

At first the man was distant and cold but he slowly opened up to her. His wife and kids had gone to heaven while he was cast down for protecting them. Zestial had offered the safe and comfortable job as his butler and Edward accepted.

She also learned he was a lot more of a joker than he made himself out to be. When Y/n was helping him prepare dinner for only them two, which they decided was going to be pizza, she had tried to spin the dough and toss it in the air. It went horribly wrong, the dough landing on top of her face. Edward laughed so hard he started crying, after a while the man decided to try it too, only to end up in the same predicament.

Zestial was aware the two had grown closer, he didn’t mind, however. It meant that she wouldn’t bother him and go to Edward for everything. What he wasn't aware of was for the fact that Y/n had made it her mission to create fun activities in an otherwise boring mansion.

One day, Zestial was walking down the corridor to go and ask Ed to pick up an important package for him, only to find the strangest display in the hallway.

"This is going to go horribly wrong," the butler stated.

"It'll be fine, loosen up!" She laughed.

Edward sighed, "If you get hurt, I'm not patching up your wounds."

"I'll take that risk."

What Zestial saw was that the angel had tied sponges to her shoes and tried to skate around on the wet and soapy marble floor. He was just about to speak up when she slipped and fell back. Her back hit his waist, he quickly caught her.

"What art thee doing, î̷̟n̷̰͆͜s̴̢͍͒o̷̖͐l̷̟͇̂͠é̷͖n̶̙̫̑t̶̲̘̅͝ angel?" The overlord was glaring at her.

"I'm sorry sir, uh... Zestial sir." Y/n looked down at her soapy boots. "But you haven't showed me around all the fun stuff in hell, so I decided to make the fun!"

"I can't even but now," he explained, "Everything in doth timeth."

"Then I'll keep finding fun things to do."

Zestial sighed. Maybe this angel was more work than she was worth. "Fine, I shall taketh thee out tomorrow morning." He caved. "Doth not maketh me regreth it."

"YES!"

That nights Zestial was pondering about his angel guest while looking for a big robe. She was quite bothersome but then again, he had made the deal to show Y/n around. Although, the manor had been much more livelier in the week she had been there. Almost every day, he would walk through the hallways and hear laughter, which was a stark difference from before. The manor used to be eerily quiet, maybe she wasn't too bad after all.

Part 2

Masterlist/request guidelines

[dinner--starving]

TLD - Real John's voice bleeds through the nightmare

Listen to the audio in this scene again, carefully. I think this must've been brought up by someone in the fandom before, I am just not able to find that post.

DRIVER: Hey, you! What’s the matter with you? SMITH’s VOICE (echoing): Anyone! (As Smith’s voice continues to echoingly repeat the word, Sherlock’s vision homes in on the driver, who has got out of his car and is leaning an arm on the open door while looking at him in half-irritation, half-concern.) DRIVER: Do you know where you are? Are you drunk? (Sherlock blinks.) WIGGINS: Shezza. (The driver has been replaced by Bill, who is looking at him sternly.) SHERLOCK: What are you doing here? WIGGINS (now standing in front of the fireplace in 221B’s living room): What were you doing in the middle of a bloody street? SHERLOCK (still in the middle of the bloody street): You should be at Baker Street. (His head twitches and he stumbles slightly.) WIGGINS (in the living room): I am. So are you. (In the street, the scenery around Sherlock goes very out of focus as he lowers his head a little and blinks rapidly. Behind him, a large backdrop ripples down to cover the view. The backdrop is the far wallpaper of the living room with a two-dimensional image of the sofa at the bottom. The backdrop thumps down into place and straightens out while Sherlock raises his head and stares around in front of him.) WIGGINS (in the real living room): They found your address; they brought you here. (Confused, Sherlock turns and looks around the room.) WIGGINS: You’ve ’ad too much … (Sherlock turns back to him, wide-eyed and bewildered.) WIGGINS: … an’ that’s me sayin’ this. (Flailing in panic, Sherlock stumbles backwards and up onto the now solid sofa. His back ought to crash into the wall but instead he lands flat on his back on the rug some distance in front of the sofa. In a brief cut-away, Smith is on TV looking bored as the audience applauds behind him. He gestures towards the camera.) SMITH: Kill. (He smacks his hand down onto the big red button on the table in front of him. In 221 Sherlock struggles to turn over onto his side. Then, without transition he’s back on his feet, possibly standing on the sofa, and he turns and stares around the room wide-eyed. Brief cut-away of Smith in his tracksuit during a fun run, holding up his index fingers and thumbs to the crowd as he forms the letter ‘W’ with them. [Presumably in this context he intends it to mean ‘winner’ rather than certain other options.] WIGGINS’ VOICE (distantly, offscreen): Sherlock. Sherlock rolls onto his back again on the rug.

(X)

The last part (towards -0:03) a voice that says "Sherlock", the official subtitles also say that it's Wiggins'. But it's not. He's always called him Shezza. We also don't actually see Wiggins call him Sherlock in that scene.

That's clearly John's voice.

Wherever Sherlock is right now in real life (fighting for his life most likely), John's besides him and calling out to him.

It is one of the few moments in S4 where we have tangible proof it's not real. And I am so happy for it.

[elaenya]

127

Ascended Astarion x gn reader.

Just an angst drabble of a scenario i’ve imagined lately. Astarion is described as rather abusive.

TW:Abuse, isolation, depressive thoughts, suicide.

127 years, one week and four days. You had counted every single day since your freedom had been taken from you.

This wasn’t what you expected, and if you had known that this life was ahead of you, you wouldn’t have even considered helping him take the power that now seemed to crush your very being.

But he had been so compelling, so convincing. He had your strings wrapped around his fingers and played you like a puppeteer.

It wasn’t always this bad, though. For the first 30 years he had given you everything that he’d promised. You danced, travelled, stretched your wings and soul in every corner of the world and came back to the home you’d settled in together. He threw you parties, brought you the finest wine, and held you as the heat of the morning sun escaped through your windows and settled upon your cold skin.

Then he became possessive, paranoid. He accused you of things you never did, of trying to leave- so he made sure that you never could again. It was funny how that worked, a vampire spawn tied to its master. Just his words forbidding your leave left a burning power through your veins. If you ever tried to even as much as stretch your arms out through the window, the agony that soared across your bones and limbs would leave you weakened for days.

Sometimes you wondered how your friends were doing, though you weren’t sure if you could really remember just who they were. You knew their names, their voices that echoed through your dreams, and that you longed for the absent reality where they burst through the door to rescue you from your prison. Was Jaheira still as warm and strict, and did Wyll still love to dance?

Were they still alive? Any of them..

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, to think that you were all that alone in the world.

In some ways you almost wished your cell had been in a cold underground prison, not in the mansion that reminded you everyday of what you used to have. Not the bed you used to lay in, not the halls he used to chase you down. Just a stone wall and a cold bed.

Anger, fear, sadness- it all rushed down on you like lightning. It stole the air from your lungs.

The realisation that the realities you imagined weren’t real and never would be crushed your entire soul until only strained breaths were left. You weren’t going to see Karlach break down your door, or Shadowheart embrace you tightly. No, all you had was the stupidly detailed wallpaper and a ceiling which didn’t turn any less white and plain each day that passed.

You swung your body up, grabbing on to the first thing your hand got contact with and threw it across the room. A vase. It landed on the wooden table on the far right of your room, crashing into small pieces on the floor.

It wasn’t enough.

You grabbed a hold of the thin wooden post of your bed, tugging on it until broke off and you could throw it on the floor. There it fell into pieces, sharp and ragged wooden pieces.

Perhaps it was desperation, or pure rage, but for a moment you saw the sharpest wooden piece as something else. A stake.

Your hands fumbled as you fell down on your knees, tears staining the carpet below you. There weren’t many thoughts as you moved, just a scream of despair as you grabbed on to the piece and plunged it into your chest.

It burned and ripped through your body with a pain far worse than anything you’d felt before. It strangled you, engulfed you, and yet there was also a sense of relief.

Arms wrapped around you, trying to tug yours away from your body. Muffled shouting surrounded and echoed against you.

The two of you both got to feel something you hadn’t felt in very long.

Freedom, and pain.

[xxreader-writerxx]

Perfect

A/N: Alright I've come out of my hidey hole. I know you missed me ;) Anyways enjoy my perfect flowers.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader (not yet dating)

Warnings: Nothing really. Just pure fluff.

Summary: Remus wants to preparefor your birthday but struggles to be perfect.

Word Count: 1.5k

It was a bright, sunny day as I walked across the courtyard. I giggle as a rogue pygmy-puff dashes across my feet. The fluffy hair tickling my ankles above my black shoes. I tuck my books into my bag because all my classes are done for the day. Scanning the yard for my favorite boys and snicker at the sight. Sirius tries to flirt with some Gryffindors and James ruins it by magically mocking him. I walk over and Peter pulls me into a hug.

“Finally someone to help me with these idiots.” He jokes into my ear quietly. I cover my smile and lightly hit his chest. My face morphs into a slight frown when I realize Remus isn’t with the boys. “And when I finally made the shot I could feel the rush- Yes darling?” Sirius asks when he feels the tap on his shoulder. “Where’s Rem?” I asked him since they were together last. “Oh last I remember he was skipping off to our dorm. Saying he had something to do.” He tells me and I kiss his cheek. “Thank you pads.” 

I giggle as he starts to rush an explanation to the Gryffindors in front of him, blushing furiously. I make my way inside. I smell what the elves are making for dinner waft through the hallways as I pass the painting to the kitchen. There are traces of mushrooms, steak, and bread in the air that could make any stomach growl. The best part of Hogwarts is that even the non-magical things that even muggles could do become magical just by default.

Fingers dragging along the cool stone walls, the bumps of the pillars halting them from time to time. The castle is warm but somehow the walls themselves have a type of independence, choosing to have a cool temperature that could save you from the day’s heat. The wallpaper of the walls goes all the way to the ceiling, delicate designs most likely made by fairies. The hallway is full of quiet chattering, footsteps, and laughter. Some students having clubs rush past to make it on time, others not having a care in the world letting time fly during the free time they have.

The fat lady comes into view, singing her famous “operatic” melody that might not break glass but certainly can burst an eardrum. Her pink dress ruffled looking like she’s been running around, most likely searching for an unwilling audience. “Password?” Her cultured voice sings and I nod. I tell her the password and the painting opens to show the common room.

The common room always smells of firewood and old books. A fire is crackling underneath a painting of an old man. I was half expecting to see messy brown curls tucked into the red sofa but it was completely empty besides a cozy blanket and pillows. Huffing, I look at the staircase that leads to the boy’s dorms and begin my journey. Posters scattering every other door, some muggle sports and some wizarding. The seeker of the Irish team winked at me as I passed by, making me a bit shy. He was always a flirt, making the boys I often have by my side huff about how he wasn’t all that charming.

Finally making it to the door I was looking for I raise my fist to knock but pause at the sounds inside. There’s crashing and rummaging like someone was looting around. Folding my hand around my wand I whisper “Alohomora,” there's a click signifying the lock opening and I turn the door knob. Opening the door quietly, hoping to not let any possible intruder know someone was entering. Instead of a burglar all I see is a cluttered room with a messy Remus in the middle of all the clutter. “Where is that damned thing?” He mutters to himself as he throws a shirt behind him, unknowingly landing on me.

I begin to pick up around the room, folding jerseys, putting trinkets back into their designated shelves, and other things as I slowly walk up to him. I place the folded clothes on Jame’s bed and place my hands softly on his shoulders and go on my tippy toes. “What are you looking for Remus?” I softly question and his shoulders relax for a second before they stiffen.

He flips around and I nearly fall if it wasn’t for him being there. He holds my wrists softly looking down at me. “What are you doing here?” He questions and I bite my lip. It does seem a bit strange that I welcomed myself into his dorm room unannounced. It’s normal for me when all the boys are in here but never when only one is inside. My face heats and I place my heels back on the ground. “Oh um- I’m sorry. I just- and you were-” I stutter and he smirks at me. “I’m not upset darling, I just wish it wasn’t a whole mess for you.” he tells me.

He looks behind him, still not breaking contact, using one of his hands to shuffle the mess on the table. He finally finds what he was looking for and takes his wand. “Scourgify.” He casts with a whip of his wand. The room around us starts to put itself away, as if an invisible maid or butler was making their rounds. He walks with me over to his side of the room and I notice that his foot is kicking a box under his bed. I quirk my brow and lean down grabbing the package. 

“No don’t-” He sighs, pinching his brow “...do that.” Looking at the package I smile. “Oh Remmy…” I gasp, placing my hand at my chest. “I- I was trying to wrap it for your birthday but… but-” He groans, flopping on his bed. “No one ever taught me how to wrap presents.” He whispers under his hands. My fingers trace the broken parcel around the present. There’s strips of tape trying to hold it together and the brown parcel is crumbled with a string holding it in place. “Oh Remus, how did you know?” I ask, feeling tears prick at my lashes. “Well I overheard you saying that you didn’t care much for your birthday and I- I couldn’t bear the thought. I also noticed whenever we were heading to the Broomstick how you eyed this. I scrounged some money together and bought it.” He blurts out and I climb next to him on the bed.

Lightly peeling his hands from his face, I smile at him softly. “Why are you so stressed? I love it, Remmy…” I tell him and his face stays solemn. “I wanted to make sure it was perfect, now I spoiled it and it’s all messy…” He frowns and I lay my hand on his chest, tracing small pictures across it. “Remus, it’s already perfect because you made it. You could’ve gotten me a stink bomb and I would’ve loved it.” I tell him and he holds my hand, squeezing it. “But it’s not. It’s all torn and I can’t find another roll of parcel.” He complains and I giggle. I raise my wand and wink. “Acio roll of parcel.” I smirk and he groans slightly laughing. “I didn’t think of that.” He mumbles and I reach out for the parcel floating towards us.

I pull him to sit on the ground with me. I reach for a box similar in size and he raises an eyebrow. “What’s this?” He asks and I shrug. “I’ll teach you.” I whisper and he wipes under his eyes though they are mostly dry. “Ok…” He whispers back and we get started. 

“So, I fold it like this… And how do I tape it without it unfolding?” He asks, holding down the triangle he just made. “Well you are a beginner and that is a high level move…” I joke and he rolls his eyes. “Here I’ll help you this time.” I say and quickly jut my hand out to take his place. My fingers graze the back of his hand and I jerk it back for a second. My face heats up in an instant and I place my hand back. “Ok…” He says, looking up at me. His nose nearly meets mine and we lock eyes. “You- You can tape it now.” I mutter, his hand unmoving. He makes a small noise agreeing but still doesn’t move his hand. “Your eyes always take my breath away…” He mutters under his breath and I gulp. So quickly I question if it even happened his chin moves closer, lips almost touching but never making contact.

He moves away and grabs the tape and I stay there amazed. I snap too once he finally tapes the last part and he laughs. “I did it!” He tells me and I nod happily. “I have no idea why you were so worried. I never took you as a perfectionist.” I say and he sighs. “Because it’s for you. I always thought you were the most perfect person I’ve ever met and wanted you to know that…” He admits and I smile. “Remmy…” I sigh, I lean closer only to be interrupted by Sirius barreling into the room. “You completely ruined my chances, you asshole!” He yells and I laugh, hiding behind Remus to dodge the pillows being hurled.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

COASTAL VENTURE

Word Count: 2.5K

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem! Reader.

Summary: RAFE SAVES Y/N WHEN SHE IS PUSHED OVERBOARD OFF COASTAL VENTURE

Warnings: Drowning (not dead), rescued,CPR, kissing, cuddling, fighting, head injury , swearing etc.

Here I was held captive by the one and only Ward Cameron on the Coastal Venture sailing out to sea away from the OBX. I was trapped in the boiler room where the temperature was rising by the second. He had handcuffed me to the pipe that my back was leaning against. It was a small, dark room and the only light that was seen was from the seam under the door. At this point I was starting to panic, I didn’t want to be here, I was all alone, I wanted Rafe to save me but how could he, he doesn’t even know where I am.

1 Month Before……

Rafe and I had been dating for over a year now and nothing had ever come between us because we wouldn’t let it, we loved each other and would doing anything for each other.

My parents, Rafe and I had been after ‘The Cross of Santo Domingo’ for the last 2 years, never stopped looking. We followed trails which lead us to the Island Room that happened to be at Tanney Hill. Rafe let us in and we started to tear the wallpaper away and uncover the map illustrated on the walls. “Y/N we are so close” my mother says as she smiles at me. As I go to speak, I’m interrupted “What the hell have you done to my house? You have no right to be in here” Ward says angrily as he looks at Rafe and you can see the rage behind his eyes. “Go wait in my office,” Rafe starts to speak but is hit with a slap to his face. Y/N runs to Rafe’s aid and is alsohit with the same response. Ward yells at Rafe to go now and he does, looking back to make sure you were okay. You nod your head at him. 

After that day I saw ward arguing with my father about his cut of the money. I knew that Ward had found out about us looking for the cross and that we were getting closer. Ward was always greedy and wanted more money and power. 

2 weeks on………..

(Y/N parents died in car crash)

After the funeral I received a letter in the mail addressed to the last living Y/L/N relative, I couldn’t open it as tears started to run down my face. Rafe and I had stopped looking for the cross since the accident. However Ward never stopped asking if my parents left any clues to where it could be. He wasn’t going to give up on the only thing that could make him the richest man on the land. As time past I started to be more motivated than ever to find this cross and that's when I opened the letter.

When my parents past away they left me a coded message and coordinates to a church called Freedman’s Assembly of God, where the The Cross was hidden in the architecture of the building. “OMG…….. I can’t believe they actually found it”. Y/n yelled. “I can’t believe we found it y/n” said Rafe. Y/n ran and jumped into Rafe’s arms and kissed him. 

We arranged for a truck to come and pick up The Cross and take it back to Tanney Hill. When we got back to Rafe’s house we had the cross stashed in the guest house and went to decode this message my parents left me. I read the message and automatically start to hyperventilate. “Y/n what's wrong? Talk to me, I’m right here baby” He says holding my hands in his. I look up at him “He’s going to kill me…….I’m going to die” I say while tears start to form in my eyes. Rafe looked so confused as to what I said. “What are you talking about y/n, who’s going to kill you?” Rafe tried to calm me down by rubbing circles on back. “Ward is going to kill me, I’m the only one who can open the cross!” I breathed out. “The letter says to open the cross they need the blood of a Y/L/N ancestor.” I say quietly so no-one but Rafe hears me. Rafe can’t believe what he hears as he stands up with his heads to his head and starts to pace back and forth. As I watch him, I bring my legs up to my chin and put my head in my hands and start to cry. 

Wards POV

Just getting home from work I see four men leave the guest house and wonder what they could possibly be doing on my property. As I watch them get into the truck and drive out, I go into the guest house and see ‘The Cross of Santo Domingo’ leaning against the wall. “OMG they found it……………..I must have it, my son wouldn’t know what to do with it, it's better in my hands than theirs”. I say to myself. I enter the house and go upstairs to make arrangements about stealing the cross when I overhear Rafe and Y/N talking. “I’m the only one who can open the cross, a blood sacrifice is needed.” I ran down stairs into my office and called a pick up truck to have the cross transported on to a freight ship. “I need to transport at 6 foot cross it the next 24 hrs and my family will be onboard but not apart for the manifest.” I say to the captain of the ship. 

The Night Before…………

As I sleep beside Rafe in bed all I can think about is Ward killing me to make himself richer. I toss and turn all night until I finally wake up and go down stairs to get a bottle of water. It's about 1:30am and I hear people outside talking. I walk to the window and that's when I see the cross being lifted into a wooden box and driving away. I go to run and tell Rafe, as I turn around I see Ward holding a damp cloth “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.” That's the last thing I remember until I woke up on the ship.

Rafe woke in the morning and saw a note on the pillow “Dear Rafe, I'm so sorry I had to leave this way. I could never fully trust that you weren’t going to kill me in my sleep and sell me out to Ward. I suppose I never really loved you enough to try and work this out. Please don’t look for me as I never want to see you again , Y/N.” Rafe’s heart melted and he got so angry that he punched a hole in the wall. Ward came through the door and said to Rafe that we were leaving in an 1hr and that he had to pack a bag. Rafe obliged and started to pack. 

Ward drove the family to the docks and told them to get on the ship. Sarah not wanting to leave was forced on to the ship, as Rose, Wheezie and rafe followed behind. “My family I have with us a The Cross and it ours to keep or sell if I wish” ward said proudly and smirked. “I’m glad Y/N isn’t here for this” Rafe thought to himself. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was on the ship. As I sit it the heated box handcuffed to the pipe I can feel my lungs starting to close from the lack of fresh air. I start hitting my handcuffs against the pipe to get attention from anyone. I hear someone walking past outside and I call out “help me, help me please!” The door opens and I see Sarah Cameron, she looks back at me and comes to help me escape. “What are you doing here? What happened to you? She says. “Ward kidnapped me, he’s going to kill me to open the cross” Her eyes open in shock at how here father would kill an innocent person just for another dollar in his pocket. “There's a lifeboat, I saw it when I got on, I can help you get off. Your like my sister y/n im not letting him kill you” she said as she helped me up and hugged me. 

As we make our way to the back of the boat we approached by the captain. He tries to stop us from leaving. He radios ward “I found your daughter and another girl with her, what do you want me to do?” “Don’t let them escape” ward yells. As he goes to respond Sarah hits the captain with a piece of wood. While he’s down Sarah and I run to the lifeboat and wench it down. I go to jump off when Sarah is struck to the back by the bunt end of a machete and fall to the ground. I go to help but then Im hit with a strong force to the side of my head almost knocking me overboard and then placed in a headlock. “I have the two girls, there not going anywhere” he says. Rafe overhears the radio “what is he talking about, what two girls” he yells stepping up to ward. 

Ward and Rose push past Rafe and storm out to the back deck to see y/n almost unconscious and Sarah knocked out. Rafe following rose see the scene before him. Rose runs to Sarah’s side at takes her back inside. “What the Fuck is this?” He says as he goes to help y/n. Ward grabs his son my the shirt and throws him up against the wall “You have been holding out on us, your family. You had the key to the cross this entire time sleeping right beside you and what you forgot to tell me, your father.” He speaks abruptly as Rafe looks into wards eyes “I have no idea what the fuck your talking about.” He yells, this captures your attention and you try to free yourself, not getting much luck. Ward turns around and looks at me. “Any last words Miss Y/L/N” he laughs. “You’ll never get what you want” I say before making enough space to undo the hold around me and go to hit the captain with his machete. As I swing my arm around he clocks his fist into my head I stumble back and he pushes me overboard, hitting the water face down. “nooooooooo, what have you done” ward screams running over to the side to see y/n lifeless body floating in the water. “Y/N” Rafe yells sprinting over to see her. Rafe jumps overboard and swims over to y/n and flips here over. rafe lightly hits my face to get me to wake up. “Y/n wake up baby, wake up. Don’t die on me, I need you to wake up please wake up. I love you y/n.” My eyes slowly open and I feel rafe’s arms holding me up from the water. “Rafe” I say nearly above a whisper. “You saved me” “I love you y/n” “I love you too Rafe.” Ward shouts from the deck “you have made a huge mistake boy, your done, your not getting a single dollar, your cut off. You’ll have nothing to come back to if you ever survive out here.” Rafe shouts back “I have all I need right here and you better hope I never see you again, because if I do, your a dead man.”

And with that ward walks away leaving us to drown in the water while the ship gets further and further away. “What now” I say. Rafe has been trending water while desperately trying to keep me above him for at least an hour now and I can see him getting tired. He looks at me and signals his head to an island he can see in the distance. We finally make it to shore and I feel the tiny grains of sand between my fingers. I turn around and lay flat on the shoreline. 

The sun starts to set in the west, and rafe carries me bridal style and places me next to the fire that he built from scratch. He comes and sits behind me handing me the shirt off his back to keep me warm. I feel like I’m in a freezer, my body is shaking from the hit I took back on the boat. I can see my vision starting to blur, as my eyes start to close I hear rafe speak up “I’m sorry what happened to you baby, when I saw your letter I was so hurt and angry that you had just left without a goodbye. But when I saw you there held against your will, I knew my father had brought you here to kill you.” I turned my head to the side and looked into his eyes. My fingers intertwined with his. “When I was in the boiler room I never thought id see you again and tell you how much I love you…………….I love you Rafe as much as my heart can take. “I love you Y/N and no-one will ever take you away from me again.” Rafe said as he leaned down and his lips melted into mine. i kissed him back sliding my tongue through his teeth and deepening the kiss. His hand was on my face, and the other was on the back of my head. He slowly withdraw his face and held me in his arms. I wrapped my arms around his biceps and leaned my head on his bare chest as we both watch the fire burn. Rafe rubs soft circles into back to comfort me and I can feel my heart starting to slow. I feel my body slowly shutting down and my eyes getting heavy and my blinking starts getting longer and longer, until my eyes finally close.  

(Play while reading last paragraph)

The fire begins to subside and Rafe lifts me off to put more wood on the fire. He returns back to me to find me as cold as ice, he tries to wake me up, although I do not. “Y/N, baby are you okay, your freezing?. Y/n, baby, hey wake up.” He cry out. He turned my body onto my back and leaned over me to feel my pulse. He felt nothing. He tilted my head back and opened my mouth, he placed his hands over my heart and started to push to revive me. “Please don’t leave me y/n, I need you, I can’t live without you” he said as he gave me CPR giving me two breaths of air and repeating this five times. On the final breath, I gasped for air and saw tears dropping from his chin as he had his forehead against mine. “What happened” I say bringing my hand to the back of his neck. Rafe lifts his head at looks at me “You were unconscious for over three minutes and I…………….I saved your life baby!” He said as he lifts me up and he hugs me into his chest. “Never do that to me again, I can’t lose you y/n you're all I have” he say as looks into my eyes. “Your all I have too” I say hugging him back and placing my head in the crook of his neck. “Seems like I owe you one Cameron” I laugh. “Just don’t die on me and we can call it even” he smirks and kiss me on the forehead as we watch the sunrise together. 

Hope you loved this as much as I did Like & Comment below

[princessmisery666]

Vacation Plans - Part 3 - No One's In The Room Mini Series

Series Summary: Jake and Ryleigh find themselves stranded in a remote location when a mission goes sideways. Injured and dependent on his help, she gets a glimpse of the man beneath the façade of ‘The Terminator’. Once they are rescued, the bubble of their personal Vegas bursts, and Jake struggles with new emotions while Ryleigh hopes he will finally see the man she came to know when no one else is in the room.

Summary: Ryleigh is surprised at how easily Jake fits into a domestic setting. Jake enjoys their newfound friendship. 

Warnings: fluff.

W/C: 3.4k

Characters: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Ryleigh ‘Rodeo’.

Pairing: fwb - Ryleigh x Fanboy mentioned

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me on canva.

Catch up here

Vacation Plans

Jake awoke after hearing a crash from the kitchen. He jumped from the bed, feet landing on the cold floor, only then noticing Ryleigh was absent. He rushed to the source of the noise to find her sans pants again, crouching at a very odd angle with her injured leg stretched out to her side, attempting to pick up a gooey mess from the floor.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked.

She paused in her cleaning and looked up at him, “Would you believe me if I said a raccoon got in?” 

He laughed, walking closer and taking in the mess. Water leaked from a jug, hitting the floor and mixing with a powder he assumed was pancake mix; chocolate chips spilled from the packet, and possibly every utensil available was lying on the countertop. “It looks like it has.” 

Jake held his hand out, and she willingly accepted, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “You made dinner, so I wanted to make you breakfast. But my leg hurts more than I thought it would; I bumped it on a drawer handle and made a mess.”

“Ryleigh,” he scolded, “is it bleeding?” he lifted the hem of the shirt and bent to check. Luckily, her disaster of a breakfast attempt hadn’t opened the stitches. “Sit down. I got this.”

“Have you taken more pills?” he asked once she’d taken a seat at the table, sighing in noticeable relief at taking the weight off her leg. 

“Yes, Doctor Seresin,” she snarked with a playful smile.

His mind flashed to her clad in a tight-fitting PVC nurse outfit, but before the image could embarrass him, he winked, drawling, “Good girl.”

She appeared to bite the inside of her cheek and shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together, causing him to smirk. Perhaps he’d learned another new thing about her from the small gesture.

A blush crept across her cheeks, but she snapped her fingers. “Back in the room, Jake.” 

“Okay,” he said, checking the ingredients she’d already mixed together, “what was the plan here?”

“Pancakes?” she said, but it sounded like a question. 

“I can make pancakes.”

He set about finishing what she’d started, clearing up the mess on the floor, checking what was salvageable, and felt his eyes drifting to the windows, checking the status of the blizzard and then the clock above the front door.

“Got somewhere you need to be?” she asked when he’d repeated the clock checking a third time.

“Kind of,” he shrugged, whisking the batter, holding the bowl in the crook of his arm. “Well, I needed to make a call.” 

“Who’s the unlucky lady?” she quipped, but the undertone was friendly banter.

“My niece,” Jake explained, “it’s her birthday. I promised to FaceTime her. But we’re not getting picked up today,” he pointed out at the blizzard, “so I guess I’ll have to break a promise.”  

“Where’s your phone?” she asked

“Over there,” he gestured toward the small table beside the door. “But we have no cell service here.” 

“I know,” she said, limping to retrieve his phone. “Passcode.”

“Seven, zero, six, one.” he replied, “what are you doing?”

“Wow, that’s way too cute.” her bottom lip jutted out, flipping his phone to show she was referring to his wallpaper. An image of him with his niece on his back, both smiling broadly.

“We already know you think I’m pretty, but now I’m cute, too?” he joked, “just tell me you want me already, Rodeo, no shame or judgment,” he smirked, “this is a safe place, it’s Vegas remember.” 

She laughed, nodding along with him, “Are you done?” and waved him over, “come here.”

“Are you going to serenade me about how I’m the love of your life and that your universe would have no light if I weren’t in it?”

“No.”

“Then no,” he shrugged, turning back to prepare breakfast. 

“Jake,” she whined so needily it made him slowly turn to face her. She pouted, then snapped her fingers before pointing at him and then at the floor.  

“I have to admit, Ryleigh,” he said, answering her request and walking to stand in front of her. “I like how my name sounds on your lips.”

“Well, Jake,” she smiled, “I have to admit, I kinda like this new friendship of ours. Now, stand by the window and look pretty,” she said, manhandling him into the position she wanted. “I’m gonna record you leaving a message for…”

“Maddie,” Jake supplied. 

“When we get back, you can show Maddie you were thinking about her, even though you couldn’t call,” Ryleigh shrugged, “and maybe if the snow slows down, we could build her a snow cake or something.”

Flirting, banter, and new friendship aside, he was grateful and wondered why he hadn’t thought of doing it himself.

“One, two, three.”

“Hey, Maddie Baby! Happy Birthday, Munchkin! I wish I could be there with you, but,” he pointed toward the window, and Ryleigh panned the camera to capture the snowfall. “I think Santa’s Elves forgot to turn the snow machine off, and I’m stuck.” She focused the camera back on him, and he hesitated to continue. He would be revealing a lot with what he wanted to say, but he remembered Vegas and Friendship. “As soon as I’m back, we’re having a Princess Pajama party, with smores and milkshakes. Can't wait to smother you with hugs and kisses! I love you loads. I miss you loads.” He blew a kiss to the camera, and Ryleigh pushed the button to stop.

“Can I get an invite to this party?” she asked, smiling at him. “It sounds awesome.”

“Anytime, Rodeo, anytime,” he said, returning to prepare breakfast.

“You finish breakfast,” she said, “I'll get in touch with command and ask them to call your family. If they’re expecting your call, they’ll worry if they don’t hear from you.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jake scoffed, looking out the window he was leaning against. “You’d come somewhere like this on vacation?” 

Ryleigh nodded from her position opposite him, taking a sip of her lava-hot coffee, to which Jake had added a splash of vanilla. She’d never pictured him as the domestic type, but he slipped into the part perfectly. Just another thing he was frustratingly good at.

“That,” he pointed out to the sea of white. “Is your idea of a vacation?”

“Absolutely,” she said. 

“You’re killing me, darlin’,” he groaned, motioning up and down her body, “You’d cover up all of that in a snowsuit.” 

“Who said anything about a snowsuit?” she laughed. “Think about it, in an isolated cabin you can be as loud as you want. No cell service, so no interruptions.”

“Okay,” he smiled, catching on, “I’m starting to see the appeal.”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “It’s cold, so you’d need to share body heat to stay warm. TV doesn’t work, not much else to do for entertainment, except…” 

“Just say the word, Rodeo; I’ll keep you warm all night long.”

That southern drawl always took precedence when he was flirting, and she had to admit she liked it when it was aimed at her. “Oh, I have no doubt that you could,” she replied, “no one is as cocky as you without being able to back it up, but like I’ve said... Never. Gonna. Happen.” 

“Why not?” he asked, brow creased with confusion, “This is Vegas remember? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

“Do I really need to spell it out to you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, one, we work together.”

Jake shrugged, taking a step closer. “Sex would just level up our relationship.” 

“Relationship? We kinda hate each other.” 

“Hate fucking is therapeutic,” he said, crowding her personal space, taking her coffee mug, and setting it on the window sill.

“I’m injured,” she reminded him, tilting her head to look at him. 

His eyes followed the path his fingers mapped up the side of her good leg, and he felt the goosebumps pepper her skin. “I’ll do all the work,” he whispered, meeting her eyes.

She pressed her hands to lay flat on his chest, and he expected her to push him away, but she didn’t. “I can’t do casual sex.” 

“I hear all your excuses,” he said, dipping his head, “but I haven’t heard a no.” 

His nose brushed hers, and she surprised him by placing a chaste kiss on his lips and then pulling back to look him in the eye, smiling devilishly, “No.”

Jake groaned, “tease,” but his smile was jesting. He kissed her cheek as swiftly as she’d kissed his lips but left his cheek pressed to hers to mumble in her ear, “being stuck here would be a lot easier if you weren’t so hot.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d commented on her appearance, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She wondered if any woman actually swooned over that kind of thing. She’d always found it a little insulting. She was more than her appearance. Still, to save an argument about shallowness, she laughed as she stepped away. 

“I’m sure you won’t spontaneously combust if you don’t get your dick wet for a couple of days,” Ryleigh said, sitting on the couch. 

She paused for a rebuttal, giving him a moment to think of something. When he didn’t reply but quoted, ‘can’t do casual sex,’ as he sat next to her, she knew he would file the provocative comment away for later use.

She shrugged, “I can do casual sex. I have an arrangement with Mickey.”

She paused for his reaction, and though he felt the blow to his ego - she clearly didn’t have an issue with sleeping with a colleague, so the problem must be him - he managed to keep his expression neutral, but the disbelief was in his tone. “Fanboy?”

“Not sure why you’re so shocked. It’s not exactly a secret, and we’re not shy about it either. We help each other out when the job gets stressful or when we’re drunk,” she laughed lightly, “whenever the mood strikes us, I guess.”

“But?”

“But, I’m over it. Not Mickey; he’s great - absolutely no complaints. I just want more. Y’know?” she asked but answered for him. “No, of course, you don’t. You’re the terminator. I want the intimacy, the trust, the comfort, and the highs and lows of being with someone on more than a purely physical level. I deserve more than being a sex toy for someone. I’m worth more than that,” she explained. Her tone softened as if afraid to continue, but she held his eyes and spoke kindly, “so are you, Jake.”

She wasn’t bantering or trying to get a rise out of him; her words had been sincere, and he could see in her expression she knew he didn’t think himself worthy. He was an excellent trophy for his sexual conquests to brag about to their friends, making them envious that they’d bagged the hottest guy in the bar, but that’s as far as it went. 

“You deserve someone who worries about you if you don’t call,” continued Ryleigh, through his silence, “someone excited to see you, someone to tell your troubles to, celebrate your kills.”

“Three, now,” he interrupted, holding up the count on his fingers.

“Reassure you that Amber,” she sneered around the name, rolling her eyes for good measure, “was a goddamn fool, someone to show you what love should be.”

“You mean love isn’t fucking and fighting?” he asked, eyes bright with mischief.

“It can be, but it can be so much more too. I swear, sex with someone you trust unconditionally is…it’s something else,” she explained. “When there’s no need to hold back - when you know you won’t be shamed or judged, there’s no pressure to impress - the only goal is the need to make each other feel good. Taking your time, exploring each other, pushing each other’s buttons. Bringing someone to the edge and pulling back, teasing, tasting, and then falling apart together, it’s…” she growled, hands shaped like claws as if frustrated that she couldn’t hold the feeling, “it’s incredible.” 

“Speaking from experience?” he questioned softly.

She nodded and felt the grief of the loss wash over her as she dropped her eyes. “Yeah, I had it all for a minute.”

“But?”

“He gave me an ultimatum, him or the Navy.” 

“And seeing as you’re sitting here with me, I can guess what your stubborn ass decided.”

“Yep.” 

“Regret it?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged, fidgeting with her hands and still not meeting his eyes. “I don’t miss him anymore, just the intimacy of it all.” 

“Having someone to worry about you if you don’t call, someone who’s excited to see you, someone to tell your troubles to,” he recited. 

She smiled cheekily, “wow, you do listen sometimes,” and found the courage in her teasing to look at him.

“Only to hot chicks when I’m trying to get my dick wet.” 

There it is! She thought, but Jake continued before she could comment, “wanna know what I think?” 

“No, but you’re probably going to tell me anyway,” she joked. 

He held her gaze and, with more sincerity than she’d ever heard from him, said, “He’s a goddamn fool.” 

“We should introduce him and Amber,” she suggested, “they deserve each other.”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” he asked with a chuckle. “Amber really pissed you off, huh?”

“Damn right she has,” Ryleigh teased, “she broke my buddy’s heart,” she gently punched his bicep, “there’s no forgiving that.” 

He laughed genuinely but shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“That I am, Lieutenant, that I am,” she playfully agreed. “Now, enough of this sappy crap; let’s watch a movie.” 

The television had no reception, but there was a DVD player and some old dust-covered DVDs. They settled in to watch Pulp Fiction after Jake got over the offense that Ryleigh had never seen it. Ten minutes in, she’d less than subtly readjusted her position four times.

“Leg acting up?” Jake asked.

“It’s just aching,” she said, hoisting herself up and unfolding her good leg from beneath her. She stretched both legs straight out, and Jake saw her wince.

Pausing the movie, he shuffled over to the middle cushion of the three-seater sofa, “Come here,” he said, reaching over to grab her legs just below her knees and maneuvering her to lay her legs over him, “good?” 

“Yeah,” she said, fidgeting to pull the plaid shirt down, so it wasn’t ruffled up her back and twisting to rest most of her weight on her good hip, meaning she was turned into Jake.

“Want the blanket?” he asked, pointing to the one draped over the armchair. 

“No, I’m good.” 

“Good, now keep still, woman!”

The movie played out, the snow continued to fall outside, and Ryleigh remained still, legs draped over Jake’s lap. The further the movie progressed, the more Jake relaxed, and Ryleigh’s vacation plans made more sense. The quiet outside, the knowledge that they had nowhere to be, no one would be interrupting them, was a blissful serenity he hadn’t felt, well, ever.

Absent-mindedly, he stroked gentle patterns up, down, and around her calf, her skin as soft beneath his fingertips as he’d imagined it would be. 

A few minutes before the credits began rolling, he felt her relax even further into the cushions and turned to see her head resting on the back of the couch, features slackened by sleep.

She truly was gorgeous, but now he saw something else too. He’d learned more about her in the last twenty-four hours than in the years since he’d known her. She was strong-willed, independent, and fiercely loyal if her reaction to Amber was anything to go by. She didn’t suffer fools - she’d called him out on his shit more than once. She was thoughtful - the video for his niece, understanding - she hadn’t mentioned his arachnophobia. 

Strangely, he was thankful she’d shot down his advances, and they’d never slept together. He knew this newfound friendship and the current situation would look entirely different if they had. He looked forward to seeing where it could lead.

The wind howled outside, and he worried she’d grow cold and wake, so he delicately eased himself off the sofa, lifting her legs and placing them back down gently. He took their used coffee mugs to the sink, and though he knew none of the doors or windows had been opened, he checked they were secured. He quietly went to the bedroom, staring at Ryleigh’s sleeping innocence as he passed. He closed the curtains, pushed the comforter back, and fluffed her pillows before returning to her.

She stirred, softly groaning as he fitted his arms under her knees and shoulders. “Sshh,” Jake whispered, “it’s just me, sleep.” He waited for her to settle, picking her up as gently as possible, careful not to jostle her injury. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling into his chest, and her contented sigh made him smile. 

He lay her on the bed, and she helped him ease her legs under the duvet. He brushed some hair from her face and followed his urge to place a featherlight kiss on her temple. “Sweet dreams.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she groggily asked, “where’re you going? Need you.”

He stifled a groan, he understood she meant his warmth, but the sleep-hazed plea was reminiscent of a dream he’d had about her, one that morphed into a fantasy when he was alone. He swiftly removed his shirt and jeans and climbed in beside her.

Part 4 - Melted With The Snow

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[grubhubgamingofficial]

Pizza Tower: A Rant

Let me preface this with a warning. I am not good at Pizza Tower. I can only get A-Ranks, can’t keep a combo for the life of me, and I accidentally unlocked the Bad Bones outfit in Pizzascape. In boss fights, I usually end with 1 health, getting a D-Rank almost always. My highest rank is a B in The Noise fight, and that’s only because I kept trying to P-Rank him via Parry spam. That being said, this rant will also contain spoilers for the Final Boss, Boss 4, and the ending in general. Viewers beware, you’re in for a scare!

TL;DR, Pizza Tower is a love letter to the 90s and the Wario Land franchise, with an artstyle fitting of a 90s gross-out Platformer the likes of which are forgotten to time. It’s an amazing game, with heart and soul poured into each crevasse of its scuffed form. It’s easy to learn, but to master it takes skill. Little story, good music, and infinite potential.

Now, I won’t go into detail on every individual level, only some highlights, and the bosses. If I did the whole game, we’d be here forever. Also, each lobby, of course.

Layer 1 of the tower is the Tower Lobby, which boasts some slightly menacing music. This is the first leg of the journey, and already, it readies you for what’s to come.

The first level the average player does is John Gutter. The music is calm, the sounds of tinkling crystal and rushing wind only accentuated by the familiar beat of Pizza Time. As it goes on, the music becomes… well, music. But, unlike its main leitmotif, it’s… calm. The level is dotted with dead pillars, similar to Pillar John. You can break them without triggering Pizza Time, and even get an achievement for breaking them all. The background looks like an old vaporwave wallpaper, pillars with John’s face on them poking diagonally out of the background. Palm Trees on raised platforms dot the landscape.

Beyond this level, everything is somewhat forgettable, so we’ll move to the first boss. Pepperman. For a first boss, he’s still really good. His music has amazing rhythm, and the background tells all you need to know about our red friend. The walls are lined with works of himself, from a king to a knight. Everything he has is themed to himself. The only artwork not of him is promptly destroyed, being art of Peppino. Statues fall from above to crush you, poor drawings of Pepperman come from off-camera to knock you around, and knights who look like the great Pepper slide along the ground in Phase 2. The only thing he likes more than himself is art. His last two hits need you to make a statue, which he will begin critiquing. This is your chance to smack him.

After the lobby, put on your cowboy hat and saddle up, because it’s the Western District. Based on cowboys and indians. The first level I’ll talk about is Oregano Desert. You enter it, and you can already tell what it’s about. The music has the famous whistle instrument of western music, and the background is full of pizzas. Tribal piles of sentient cheese dance around totems for rain dances, and caricatures of Colonel Sanders in massive Cowboy hats dot the landscape. However, the desert isn’t real. One of the backgrounds shows a spotlight, shining down. None of the levels are outside, sans the final boss’ fight. All of them are in the tower, all simulated environments. However, even in environments can be environments. A UFO lies in the middle of the sands, crashed. Pillar John resides within.

Fun Farm is the other important level. It’s the calmest level, the music being more atmospheric than anything. A lush, green field awaits you. Cows stand, stacked atop one another. A UFO kidnaps a cow in the background. While walking through, a face from time long since passed will greet you in this level. Jumping from a well, Mort the Chicken from his own Playstation game, Mort the Chicken, will land upon your head. Mort is a… helpful(?) addition to the level, as he lets you move through easier. Oddly enough, this is one of the few places with a lore reason. Fun Farm was run by John E. Cheese, the grandfather of the boss of the Western District. Now, that boss owns this place. However, Peppino accidentally burns it down on his way out.

The boss of Layer 2 is The Vigilante. A cheese slime wearing a cowboy hat and wielding a revolver. He is an honorable duelist, though, and gives you a free gun. If you avoid it, he looks at the camera, as he has no time for shenanigans. His fight is chaotic. Vigilante will fire cheese bullets at you, throw dynamite, and even use an Uzi to rattle you to bits. But, hold through, you will see the most beautiful second phase ever. The world will be wreathed in shadow, the background your only way to see. The battle ends in a quick draw duel, ending in a glorious fashion, and moving into Layer 3. Vacation Resort.

The only level of note is GOLF. That’s right, GOLF. There’s a golfing minigame in this game. GOLF is a bizarre level concept. You’re thrown into a restaurant, and from there, you smack a ball of cheese through hoops in an attempt to get the lowest possible score. Known as a Primo Burg. Your enemies will be fellow golfers, demons, and pitchers. The music has the right amount of kick for a golfing mini-game. Fun fact, this level was a spoof for DOOM, the golf demon being clearly a Pinky demon from DOOM.

So, with not much on the GOLF, or Vacation Resort in general, let’s go to the boss. The Noise. The boss is a chaotic mess, taking the chaos of the Noid from old Domino’s commercials with the zaniness of the 90s, topped off with an MTV spin-off in the NTV cameras following him. Noise drops bombs, rides a pogo stick, and rides a skateboard. Furthermore, a Hot Air Balloon waits in the background, suddenly blowing towards you in Phase 2. The battle ends with Noise taking out a Minigun before being dragged off-screen by his girlfriend, Noisette.

Floor 4 is Slum, an industrial utopia. EVERY LEVEL IS UNIQUE. I cannot talk about them in their own lines, so I’ll do all here. The Pig City has the best music, and gives off the grimy vibe of a city. Corrupt pig cops cuff you around every corner, gangster pizzas slide around, and shrimp will try to shank you. Oh Shit! is the sewer level, and it’s gross-out to the nth degree. Blocks of feces help progression, and the whole level IS a sewer. Peppibot Factory pulls off its theme well, with the vibe of Kirby 64 in each note. The last level, Refrigerator-Refrigerador-Freezerator, is the most interesting in that it combines everything above. Music gives off major icy vibes, the landscape is a cold wasteland, and the last pick-up you get is even spicy to counterbalance it!

So, for the best world, there needs to be a good boss. Well, Boss 4 is the best. Fake. Peppino. Every good late 90s-early 2000s game had a faker. Sonic has Shadow, Link has Dark Link, Mario has Wario. Peppino’s worst foe is a clone of himself, whose music is even a warped form of the Pizza Time music. Fake Peppino can do everything normal Peppino can, but weirder, and with clones to boot. The background begins as Peppino’s Pizza 2, a clone of the original, supposedly better than the original. “Nothing Compares!” cries the cut-out on the wall. However, in Phase 2, hell breaks loose. Limbs break from the walls, the cut-out turns to gibberish, and the sign denoting it Peppino’s Pizza 2 begins recurring the name. Peppino. If this wasn’t enough, the final act of the fight has Fake Peppino morphed into a monstrosity, chasing you down through the darkened pipeways of the condemned building.

World 5 has the same issue as World 4, but to a lesser extent. Only 3 real levels, one of which I’ll skip over, but still the other 80% is talked about. But, I’ll split it up. This is Staff Only.

Don’t Make A Sound is a unique level. It’s a spoof of Five Nights at Freddy’s, with the REAL enemy being five animatronics based on the Toppins you’ve rescued all this time. There’s only four until the end, however, where a teleporting fifth one enters the fray. This mirrors FNAF, where there’s only four, with the fifth one being a teleporting menace. All four have unique attributes, too. Well, not Mushroom and Sausage, they follow the same thing. Cheese will jump onto the ceiling, and Tomato just plain floats at you. However, it’s still a dangerous level, full of panic due to being chased by the monsters. The music gets intense as they chase after Peppino, a voice laughing in the background. Until you get the Shotgun. That’s right, you get to go on a tear with a gun.

After DMAS is WAR! The only level with a time limit without a Pillar John to initiate Pizza Time. You get a Shotgun again, and have to run to the end gate while keeping the time from going too low. The level is chaotic, the music going from a Platformer to a Hotline Miami-esque murder spree soundtrack. It culminates with the seconds ticking down one by one, until you just barely miss the last one through the exit door.

The last boss is Pizza Face. You reach the apex of the tower, the skies a crimson red. Peppino’s Pizza looms in the background, reminding you of why you did this as the fight begins. As Pizza spits out enemies, you throw them up at him for a stun, punching him until you hit Phase 2. The music gives off the urgency of this, as he plans to destroy your way of life. Like hell you’re letting that happen. One by one, his Hit Points go away, until eventually, he opens up, to reveal a familiar face from cut-outs. Pizzahead comes from the machine, the music becoming way more chaotic in a zany way. Televisions of Pizzahead begin floating by in the background, swirls of purple in the sky. However, still Peppino’s Pizza remains. So, you fight on, knowing your goal. Each hit is satisfying, watching his smug grin be turned inside out. Eventually, you will reduce him to zero. He’ll fall over, before getting back up. Pizzahead reaches back down, pulling up the old bosses. Peppino, however, is DONE. It begins raining as he lets out an enraged scream, rushing Pepperman and unleashing a combo of devastating proportions on him. The music in this area is littered with almost every level’s leitmotifs, and with each boss down, Peppino’s anger mounts. The cinematics of this fight get to you, and you can FEEL each satisfying crunch of bone as Peppino lets his full rage loose. Each enemy stomped, each throw, each grab, each wall destroyed, all led to this. As you grind through Pepperman, Vigilante, Noise, and your own shadow, you reach Pizzahead. He doesn’t truly fight, taking this as a game, letting you get free hits. You finish the boss by taking him into the heavens, on a beatdown delivered hot and ready by the greatest pizza maker there ever was. The last blow is a piledriver, sending his head INTO the tower.

The tower shakes under Pizzahead’s defeat. Peppino’s shatters the last Pillar John, and the tower begins falling apart. So, you begin the TRUE last stage. Level 25, The Crumbling Tower of Pizza. You begin rushing to get out, grabbing every foe and friend along the way. Everything comes back, every foe trying to stop your descent. Everything follows you, the Pizza Time leitmotif coming back one more time to help your motivation on the way down. One by one, blocks crack, enemies fall, and eventually, you make it to the end, friends intact. The last level over, you celebrate your victory. Everything you’ve done up to that point was worth it.

Or was it? There’s two endings. If you’ve been paying attention in levels, you’d find Tower Secret Treasures. These help you obtain the secret ending. By finding Gerome, a Janitor of the tower, and having him unlock doors for you, grabbing all 19 treasures from the former levels, you unlock the secret ending. Peppino will lose the treasures, reviving John in a new state, living once more as a real man instead of a cracked pillar. Pillar John will send Pizzahead blasting off into the stratosphere with a hearty uppercut.

Finally, the game over, you can relax. Or can you? There’s so much to do. Achievements, P-Ranks, and so much more. Can you find the Mort Cube? Or Grandpa? Or even Noisette’s Cafe, deep in the tower? Really, the game never truly ends, instead, you can go on forever. Collect all the clothes, beat every mission, don’t kill Snotty upon first entering Slum! That secret ending is hard, too, so why not try to get it in general? Indeed, there’s a lot to do. Plus, Pizza Tower doesn’t end with the Tower. There’s also fangames, too. Like, say, Sugary Spire.

[twists-and-things-betwixt]

Of Nightingales and Night Ravens: Chapter 4 - Ramshackle Renovations

Chapter: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII

Read on AO3

Summary: In which the cult gets more screen time, debts are paid through cleaning services, Yuu is a Disney Princess for real this time, there are too many animals in one room, and a first meeting occurs in the woods behind Ramshackle, but not the one you're thinking of. (or, Whistle While You Work)

Yuura is referred to as They and He.

Despite however long the Headmage claimed the building to be abandoned, Ramshackle itself is still in fair condition.

Now that the dormitory houses more than three mischievous ghosts, the water and electricity have been turned back on. The hardwood floors are scuffed and carpeted in a thick layer of dust, but they seem to be properly treated and stained; jumping up and down on one of the upper landings didn’t result in Yuura crashing into the floor below. Where the wallpaper is peeling, it's at the corners of individual sheets that could be easily glued back down. The broken furniture could be shoved into an empty storage room to be tended to at a later date.

And in spite of Ramshackle’s rundown appearance, the foundation is solid, the walls could repel the wind, and the roof could keep out the rain and sun. It's nothing more than a large clean up job.

Stains in the wallpaper? Nothing some warm, soapy water can’t fix. The staggering number of cobwebs dangling from the ceilings and sticking to the hard-to-reach corners? There was a broom conveniently abandoned in the entry hall, and a ladder in the back shed. The copious amounts of dust everywhere? In the attic, Yuura found a box of old but clean rags alongside a feather duster that still had all its plumes and a sturdy racket that was perfect for beating carpets and mattresses. The laundry room they stumbled upon was still stocked with cartons and boxes of powdered soap and cleaning detergents. There's even a full set of mops and buckets, and a large metal tub with its own old-fashioned steel washboard.

This, Yuura cataloged with a notepad and pencil, spending the free hours of their day exploring the building. There was no map they could find, so they drew up their own crude copy, counting the rooms and learning of their old designations from the resident ghosts (kitchen, supply closet, parlor, bedroom, study, bedroom, bedroom, bedroom…). Counting windows and determining which ones got top priority (bottom floor to top, front-facing, kitchen and master bedroom). Stacking scattered books and fallen paintings. Remembering which carpet belonged to which room after cleaning. Fixing the clocks and frames they found askew on the walls.

"What do you think, Mr. Giddens?” Yuura asks, hopping off the last step of the stairs connecting the first and second floors. They’d been testing the boards for levels of squeakiness rather than overall sturdiness (a little creaky towards the middle, but muffled by the carpet, and silent if you used the edges instead).

The Chubby Ghost of Ramshackle Dorm floats lazily to their side, taking a peek at the notes in their hand. It was a scribbled mix of Barren script, Common, and neat sketches of the building’s layout littered with numbers, arrows, and doodles of dancing mops and brooms.

"I think this seems like a tall order for one person to handle,” Mr. Giddens drawls.

"Especially for someone as small as you!” pipes in Mr. Weylin, dropping in from the ceiling alongside Mr. Melrose.

The Tiny Ghost nods in agreement. "Your arms will fall off before you finish sweeping the lounge." He shakes one of Yuura’s arms for emphasis.

"I’m sturdier than I look," Yuura insists, already making their way to the supply closet, pencil tucked behind their ear. "I helped my Uncle Sandro clean all the time, and our house was a little bigger than this.

"Besides, I won’t be alone." They turn on their heel, their smile rather cheery for someone who was about to spend the next several hours walking into spider webs. "I’ve got Grim with me, haven’t I?"

----

Among the Heartslabyul students who were present during the Housewarden’s Overblot and witnessed the aftermath, having fled into the Rose Maze before the destruction and missed the Headmaster’s call for evacuation, there was a vote—who to send as pseudo-emissaries to the Prefect who may or may not be a long-lost god of healing.

That’s how one freshman, two sophomores, and one junior find themselves standing on the creaky front porch of Ramshackle Dorm one Saturday morning, two weeks after the first Incident, less than a week after the second Incident when the Prefect was found singing All in the Golden Afternoon in the maze. As if that song isn’t highly restricted in use by the Queendom’s Royal Botanic Society.

"...so who’s gonna knock?"

"Not me! Make Quentin do it."

"What? What did I do?"

"Are you that much of a coward that you can’t even knock a door?"

"You wanna say that to my face, Poncy?"

"Bring it on, Angie."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake—look, there’s a doorbell. Let’s just ring the doorbell, and get this over with."

The doorbell does not work—properly. Rather than a chime or a tinkling tune, their ears are assaulted by a grating screech that lasts long enough for someone to answer the door.

"Hohoho, what do we have here?"

"Visitors? Visitors here?"

"Visitors, or intruders? What do you think, Mr. Giddens?"

"Heartslabyul, I think. And I see nary a red heart or a black spade among them."

"Intruders, then. Heheheh, do you know what that means, Mr. Giddens?"

"I think I do, Mr. Weylin."

Well, we don’t! the four hapless Heartslabyul students cry, huddling together despite their earlier animosity. Is this how it ended, joining the ranks of the ghosts who haunted Ramshackle? There's a reason why everyone avoided the building for decades!

"Oy! What did Yuu say about harassing visitors?”

The quartet would have sighed in relief, were it not for the fact that their savior came in the form of that fiery cat-monster that nearly burned down the Mirror Chamber during the Entrance Ceremony. It’s a little hard not to gawk when the creature comes waddling in with tiny rubber gloves over its front paws and its fiery ears tucked under a checkered kerchief.

(Huh. You’d think that’d be a safety hazard or something).

Bright blue eyes narrow on sight. "Hey, you ain’t Ace or Deuce. What’s a buncha Heartslabyul prisses doin’ here?"

One of the sophomores—the one referred to as Poncy—leans through the open door to shake his fist. “What’s that supposed to mean, ya cúl tóna beag?”

Someone hisses, "Pontius!" and tries to drag him back inside when the ghosts start leering again.

The monster bristles, nose scrunched up and forked tail flicking in agitation. "You wanna fight? I'll show you what the Great Lord Grim can do!"

"Gri—i—im!" Students, ghosts, and cat-monster alike all jump at the call. The voice comes closer, from the slightly ajar doors at the end of the entry hall. "Grim, are you alright? I heard the doorbell ringing. Oh! visitors."

Peeking into the hallway, a great pair of owlish, hazel-brown eyes, framed between an off-white kerchief around the mouth and over the nose, and a blue plaid kerchief around the head, pushing back a tousled mass of dark curls.

"Welcome to Ramshackle!" The Prefect steps into full view, revealing a full-length apron atop faded gym clothes that look several years out of date, bright yellow rubber gloves, and a broom in hand that looks like it's been through the wringer. "Pardon the mess, but today's a cleaning day and we weren't expecting visitors." Once he's close enough, the Prefect extends his free hand, retracts it upon realizing how grimy it is, and settles for a polite yet welcoming nod. Even with the mask in the way, his smile is visible in the corners of his eyes and the lift of his cheeks.

He doesn’t look much like an immortal in hiding or—as some of the guys suggested—a forgotten god of healing. Not with the secondhand clothes, or the messy hair, or the broom.

But they had seen the Prefect fend off that Blot monster’s attack when it came straight for Trappola; if it had been any of them, it would have been every man for himself and Trappola would be mulch. They’d seen him sing a Lost Song that made Diamond lose some of his composure and brought Rosehearts back from the brink of death. Those who were close enough to the spectacle had felt the lingering effects of the Prefect’s spell—warmth like a kind touch, like a sunbeam in the darkness, soothing their aches and pains. And then there were others who were convinced that he was the god of something more, because when they found him singing to those flowers, they not only moved in response, they sang back, unfurling their petals and leaves to reveal uncanny faces, singing with the Prefect in perfect harmony as they swayed like they were dancing in the breeze.

Which brings us back to why they were here in the first place.

Any persisting pride the four Heartslabyul students might have had is dwarfed in comparison to the awe and gratitude that they have towards the Prefect.

“Prefect!” The junior steps up first and bows almost parallel to the floor. The Prefect lets out an inelegant squeak. “My name is Octavian Kendrick, third-year, and on behalf of the other guys in Heartslabyul, we wanted to thank you for what you did for us.”

The Prefect blinks, lowers his mask, opens his mouth, closes it, then blinks some more. “Thank me for what, exactly?”

The other students look at each other incredulously while Octavian shoots up straight in disbelief. “For what?”

“For taking the ruler out of Rosehearts’ ass and making him chill out, obviously—ow!”

“Angus!”

“What Angus means,” the junior continues, blocking his bickering underclassmen from the Prefect’s line of sight, “is that ever since the Housewarden’s, er, Incident, he’s been… mellower. Less… severe when it comes to enforcing the Queen of Hearts’ rules.”

“Less anal retentive, you mean—ow!”

“Angus!”

Octavian sighs.

The Prefect rolls his broom between his hands, humming. "I don’t understand why you would be offering me thanks. Senior Riddle has been doing remarkably well improving himself with Senior Trey and Senior Cater’s guidance, and I didn’t help during his... Predicament as much as Ace and Deuce did. If anything, you should be thanking them."

How is this guy a student at Night Raven?

The sophomore with a club over his left eye and rubbing his ribs—Angus—snorts. "Didn’t help? All of us saw the way you threw yourself in front of Trappola—"

"Like some sort of self-sacrificing idiot—"

"Pontius!"

"And then there’s the part where you used a Lost Song to bring the Housewarden back from the dead!" the freshman with a blue heart on his face exclaims, stars in his eyes. "In Black Tongue, too. I’m from the Shaftlands, and even I don’t know any of the words besides the first line in Pyroxisch. And you need to be really, really good at magic to use a spell that powerful, and you used it to bring the Housewarden back from the dead."

"Quentin," the sophomore with a diamond—Pontius—cuts in sharply, while the Prefect corrects, "He wasn’t dead."

"But he was dying," Angus says, "Like, on Death’s doorstep, and then you started singing in a dead language, and it was like nothing happened to him! We all thought you were supposed to be Magicless."

"Basically Magicless," Pontius clarifies.

"You saw all of that?" is what the Prefect takes away from All of That.

Octavian nods. "About a dozen of us or so. We were in the Rose Maze when it happened."

"A bunch of guys ran in there after the whole Egg Thing and the Housewarden started going on a rampage," Quentin helpfully explains. "We saw everything."

"Ah," the Prefect says thoughtfully, as if he hadn’t been witnessed performing something akin to a miracle; something that would definitely make global news if word ever got out. "To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t entirely certain if that would work."

"What."

"Mm-hm." The Prefect starts sweeping idly at the dirt the boys had tracked in. "Let’s just say… It’s been a long time since I last sang, and I couldn’t be sure if the Song would work or not. But I needed to try, for Senior Riddle’s sake. You understand, of course?"

No, they did not understand. Where did this kid come from? Why is he even here? Everyone in the area had fled or hidden during Rosehearts’ Overblot, besides the Suits and the Prefect (who all appear to be of the same breed of freaking crazy). And then when the tiny, red tyrant was only a pint away from bleeding to death, the Prefect whipped out a Lost Song like it was nothing! Like the ones with surviving lyrics or melodies aren’t guarded as national secrets. Like the only people who remember all the words in their original Barren Tongue aren’t all dead.

…except for one, it seems.

Octavian bows to the Prefect again, and this time, his underclassmen follow suit. "You saved the Housewarden’s life, and because of whatever else you did to make him calm down and not decapitate people left and right, Heartslabyul Dorm is in your debt."

At the word debt, the Prefect’s eyes widen. "Debt?" he echoes. "Oh no, oh no, oh no! You don’t owe me anything, least of all the entirety of your dorm. I only wanted to help—Senior Riddle, and my friends, and..." He trails off, sheepish. "I suppose the rest of you as well."

"And that’s why we’re indebted to you, id—" Pontius falters at the several pairs of glaring eyes that lock onto him—from his senior, his junior, the cat-monster standing at the Prefect’s side, and the trio of ghosts still lingering nearby. "Ahem—Prefect. You helped us all out, so now we have to pay you back."

"That’s the rules here," Angus shrugs, leaning onto a protesting Pontius’ shoulder. "Trust us, no one here wants to remain indebted to anyone. Have seen Octavinelle? Have you seen their Dorm Leader?"

"Actually, I am familiar with Senior Ashengro—"

"Anyway," Octavian interrupts, because he did not like where that sentence was going, "you get what we’re saying. You helped us deal with Rosehearts; we help you out in any way we can."

"Within reason," Quentin adds. "That’s what the others back at the dorm said."

Again, the Prefect appears lost in contemplation, rolling the handle of his broom back and forth.

"Myah, Yuura." They all look down to see the weasel-cat—Grim—yanking on the Prefect’s pant leg. "It’s cleaning day, 'member?"

The big ghost starts chuckling, deep and booming. "Hohoho, I see!"

"It would be nice to have a spare set of human hands helping you out," says the skinny ghost, floating over the Prefect’s shoulder. "Or four, or twelve."

The Prefect glances back at the open door at the end of the hall, and for the first time since they arrived, the Heartslabyul students finally notice the sounds of shuffling and… clacking? coming from that direction.

The Prefect offers them a shy, hopeful smile when he turns back. "You wouldn’t happen to be free later today, would you?"

----

"What, exactly, is going on here?"

"Hou—Housewarden Rosehearts, sir!"

"Nothing’s going on, sir!"

"Nothing? Then enlighten me—why would nothing require a dozen students disappearing together on a Friday afternoon?"

"Uh, well, you see, clubs—and other such after-school activities—"

"Oh, for the love of—"

"Ramshackle, sir! Everyone’s leaving for Ramshackle Dorm!"

"Finnian!"

"I’m sorry! I panic under pressure."

"...Ramshackle?"

----

"Senior Ruggie! Horrible news!"

"So you know how the Housewarden’s tryna to—"

"—heard it from the Hearts guys in my club—"

"I didn’t know the Prefect was accepting offerings—"

"—going on for weeks, apparently—"

"—they don’t even have a washing machine—"

"EH? What d'ya mean Heartslabyul’s—!"

----

Anyone passing by Ramshackle Dorm one Saturday morning in early November would have doubletake'd at the assembly of characters standing at the dilapidated building’s front porch. Certainly, the poor Heartslabyul freshman who volunteered to answer the door swears his heart seized in that moment as he struggles to not immediately slam the door in their faces.

"Housewarden Rosehearts!" he salutes, forgetting the feather duster in hand that sends a cloud of dust flying. "Er, and Housewarden Kingscholar!"

(Nearby, a Savanaclaw student almost drops the wall sconce he was screwing back into place. Turning the corner from the larger storage room, a Heartslabyul pair stumbles and knocks the newly repaired sideboard they were carrying into a wall.)

"...and entourage," the freshman tacks on, rather pathetically.

("Why are we ‘entourage’?" mutters Ace from where he stands by Deuce, narrowed eyes trained on the Savanaclaw trio beside them.)

The Heartslabyul Housewarden studies his dorm member with a critical eye, noting the feather duster, the lack of his uniform blazer, the kerchief in his hair. With the door open, the hubbub of many people moving around inside is obvious. So is the distant sound of singing. "...Quentin Herzfeld, I believe."

"Yes, sir!"

Even out of dorm uniform and carrying what looks to be a covered basket with a bright red bow, Riddle Rosehearts cuts an imposing figure. "Well?" he snaps. "Are you not going to invite us in?"

"Yes, sir! Right this way, sir! Please excuse the mess!"

Someone further back has already run ahead into the lounge, shouting something that sounds like, "—ner Circ—!"

Those still present in the entry hall watch Rosehearts and Kingscholar try to enter the building at the same time, only to knock shoulders and start glaring at each other.

And they just finished gluing down the wallpaper after the last scuffle, too…

----

"So, friends, even though you’re vermin, we’re a happy working throng—oh! Senior Riddle, Senior Leona. I didn’t expect to see you two here. Welcome!"

"Prefect." Riddle sounds close to having a conniption. "There’s vermin in your dormitory."

"Senior Riddle, they’re not vermin," the Prefect chides the Heartslabyul Housewarden, stepping around the line of rats scurrying across the floor. "They're friends." They set their heavy tray down on the coffee table, already crowded with similar trays laden with stacks of painted glasses, old metal pitchers and crystal jugs, and porcelain plates of finger foods. Almost immediately, several students scattered around the lounge drop whatever’s in hand and swarm the Prefect, laughing their thanks and sighing in relief.

The Prefect laughs with them before turning to address their visitors. It’s quite a sight for them, seeing the young men they consider their friends standing together (even if Riddle is steadily turning red; and Leona is looking distinctly vexed; and Jack bewildered; and Ruggie and Trey plainly amused; and Ace and Deuce particularly annoyed; Cater is just taking pictures again). "It’s been a while since I’ve seen some of you together. How are you?"

"Prefect, the rats."

"Yuurachen, love what you’ve done with the place! Smile for the camera!"

"Hey, Yuu-kun, are those sandwiches for everyone?"

"I’m just here to make sure the guys I sent were actually doing their jobs and not slacking off."

"As if you’re one to talk about slacking off…"

"Oy, Yuura! Since when were you inviting other guys into Ramshackle?"

"What about the rats! Yuu, did you replace us with rats?"

"Have you just been cleaning your dorm in your free time for the past two months? Prefect, no."

"We brought you a goodie basket."

Unbelievably, that's what the Prefect zeroes in on, extracting themself from Diamond’s hold to retrieve the covered basket from Clover. "Really? Oh, you didn't have to, thank you!" Removing the gingham cloth fills the air with the yeasty, spicy, sweet aromas of fresh baked breads and pastries. "You wouldn’t mind if I shared these, would you?"

"Well, actually—"

"Hey, don’t ignore us!" Ace whirls them around by the shoulders. "Why's this the first we’ve heard of you bringing a buncha Savanaclaw meatheads and our own dorm-mates into Ramshackle—hrmph!"

Yuura withdraws another cinnamon palmier from the basket and holds it out to the hyena beastman. "Of course, help yourself. I'm making more sandwiches in the kitchen, and there are brownies in the oven, if you want any."

"Score!" Ruggie knocks Ace aside, the redhead's yells muffled by the arlette in his mouth. Half of the pastry in their hand disappears in one bite. "You're the bes', kidege."

"Ati, Ruggie—who're you calling kidege?" Ace is further knocked aside—this time into Deuce, nearly choking on flaky crumbs—as Leona inserts himself between the pair. Somehow, he looks even more irritated than usual, though that could easily be attributed to the presence of not only the Heartslabyul prigs, but also their damn Dorm Leader and his Suits. If he’d known the Little Red Queen had the same plans as him, he wouldn’t have bothered stopping by Ramshackle in the first place.

("You didn’t have to stay, y’know," Ruggie will later point out about an hour later, when Yuura bids everyone goodbye and sends Savanaclaw off with leftover boxes and promises to visit on Sunday.

(To which Leona will answer with a "Tsk," and proceed to avoid the question.)

"Shishishi! Why, jealous?" Ruggie slings an arm over the Prefect’s shoulders, already reaching into the basket for a square of caramel shortbread. "Maybe you shoulda been nicer to Yuu-kun here if you wanted them to love you as much as they love me. Jaza ya ihsani ni ihsani. Anipendaye, nami nampenda."

Several Savana residents choke on their drinks as their Housewarden scowls and retorts, "Ihsani iandame imani." He sweeps his arm around the lounge, more polished and spruced up compared to the beginning of the school term. A few of his dorm members are still hard at work caulking squeaky floorboards in the upper landing, reinstalling fallen light fixtures, and replacing heavy curtain rods over the windows. "What do you call this, then?"

"Compensation, I should think, for the injuries the Prefect incurred trying to clean up your messes." Riddle appears to have recovered from his rat-induced shock, because now he’s stepping in between Leona and the Prefect, eyeing both beastmen with obvious displeasure. "Uninspired, as well, seeing as Heartslabyul already had renovations well underway by the time Savanaclaw decided to stick their muzzles where they don’t belong."

"Eh?" Leona stalks forward, towering over his fellow Dorm Leader. "Word travels fast, Riddle. We all know what happened between you and the Prefect in September. Your hands are as red as mine."

Everyone in the room (and in the adjacent kitchen, entry hall, and dining room, because all the doors are open and sound travels far in Ramshackle) stiffens, the tension palpable between two powerful Housewardens who are still recovering from the aftermath of Overblotting and nearly dying.

Everyone except for the Prefect, of course.

"Excuse me, please." The Savanaclaw trio and Heartslabyul quintet jump back as the Prefect draw circles in the air with their broom handle. "Mostro Lounge rules apply here, gentlemen—no fighting between dorms. And no soliciting, as well, I suppose." They lower their broom and plant a hand on their hip, their mild disappointment evident and more devastating than any anger or upset.

("Why bring up the Mostro Lounge rules, anyway?"

("Dude, they work at the Mostro Lounge."

("They what?")

"Really, Senior Riddle, Senior Leona—your students are present. As their Housewardens, shouldn’t you set better precedents for them when it comes to fostering interdorm relations?" It took many promises and placations to calm everyone down that first day, when both Savanaclaw and Heartslabyul appeared on Ramshackle’s doorstep the previous week and immediately clashed. Yuura would not tolerate all their hard work being undone, not even by Riddle or Leona.

To the astonishment of all those watching, both Housewardens actually look ashamed—they look away from the Prefect and each other, Riddle flushed with embarrassment, Leona clicking his tongue, contrite.

Riddle coughs into his fist and smooths down the front of his waistcoat. "I… apologize, Prefect. You’re absolutely correct. It would be disrespectful of us to engage in altercations while we are guests under your care."

There are too many people in the room for Leona to properly avoid any eye contact. Eventually, he closes his eyes, sighs, and says, "Fine. Whatever. As long as you don’t insist I act all buddy-buddy with Mister Queen over there."

"It never hurts to dream." Disregarding Rosehearts' indignant sputtering, the smile the Prefect gives is like a reward in and of itself—kind, and lighthearted, and encouraging in its genuinity.

("By the Seven…" a Savanaclaw junior murmurs in awe. Like many of his dorm-mates, he's wearing his uniform bandana around his head and an old apron the Prefect found in a box filled with equally old aprons.

("I know, right?" his Heartslabyul year-mate whispers back excitedly, passing a plate full of tea sandwiches.

("Is this what they mean by beast-taming…?" another Heartslabyul student mumbles in a daze. His expression is reflected in several other faces.

(Someone else from Savanaclaw mimics a whip cracking, and is immediately shushed.)

The Prefect smacks the top of their head. "Oh, but where are my manners? Sit down, sit down, please!" They usher their guests around the lounge, mindful of the recently shampooed carpet and the various animal tails lying around, both beastfolk and rattus. "The Cards helped me clean the cushioned furniture a few weeks ago, and the Savana boys helped finish up the rest of the lounge." They turn to the dusty, grungy students delegated to sitting on the floors. "Again, thank you for the assistance. I don't know what I would have done without all of you."

They're answered by an overlapping chorus of "It's no problem," and "You can count on us!", and "Anything for you, Mx. Prefect!"

(On separate couches, Leona and Riddle share the same expression of vague betrayal—from their own dorm members, or from the Prefect, or perhaps both. Seated with Riddle, Trey and Cater share a meaningful, silent Look. On the third couch, Deuce cracks his knuckles and Ace throws a menacing glance at his fellow Card Soldiers. Leaning against the staircase banister, Jack is frowning even more so than usual. And Ruggie? Ruggie is snickering to himself where he's sat on the carpet, cradling the goodie basket the Prefect kindly entrusted to him like a treasure chest.)

Ace takes the glass of lemonade the Prefect pours out for him with a petulant air, grumbling rather loudly, "I don't see why you had to ask these cretini e scrocconi for help, anyway."

"You're one to talk, Trappola!" someone who sounds like one of his dorm-mates says. "Vai a vendere il culo!"

"Cazzo si, Campana! Bacha ma culo, tu brutto figlio di—mrph!" He yanks the sandwich triangle out of his mouth. "Yuu, I'm not Grim, stop doing that!" The Prefect tugs lightly at an unruly lock of red hair. "Yuu."

"Stop antagonizing my guests." They pass the plate in their other hand to their blue-haired friend. "Have a sandwich, Ducky; there's egg salad and tamago sando."

"O—Oh, thank you." That mollifies Deuce for the time being, if the slight fluster means anything. Yuura grants him a pleased smile and a pat on the head.

"Tsk. This is blatant favoritism."

"I don't play favorites so obviously, Pip, you know this." Just in case, they pat his head too. Ace groans some more, but doesn't move away from their hand.

(Blatant favoritism, is the thought on many people's minds as the Prefect fusses over their best friends. Then they move across the room to hand Howl a full glass and to pat his arm. He accepts both gestures with a neutral face, a nod, and a conspicuously hidden tail. Howl, you too?!)

"And your dorm-mates offered to help me, as well as Savanaclaw," they call over their shoulder as they bustle to the open kitchen door. "I couldn’t very well refuse them when they were so willing to help, and kind enough to offer it. What was I supposed to do, turn them away from my door?"

"Yes."

"Ace."

"Wait, wait, hold on a minute." Jack waits for the Prefect to pull their head back in from the kitchen—"Could someone put a kettle on, please?"—"I’ve got it, Mx. Yuu!"—before nudging them back into the room’s focus. "If Ace and Deuce weren’t helping you, and you only started getting help at the end of September…" He shoots them his own disappointed stare. "Don’t tell me you were cleaning your dorm by yourself for a whole month."

"It wasn’t a whole month," the Prefect insists, reaching higher to pat his shoulder. His frown doesn't abate. "I swear it! I had Grim to help me, as well—"

"Grim can barely hold a pen."

"—and, well…" They fiddle with the chain of their necklace, actually hesitant for once. Hazel eyes flicker around the room between their latest guests. "I had a little help on the side, I suppose you could say."

"Oh! Oh, Prefect!" A Savanaclaw freshman with blond hair and the dark ears of a hyrax—the one who was shushed earlier—starts bouncing on his knees. "Prefect, you have to show them that Song you used!"

"Emmanuel!" someone hisses.

"Song?" the Prefect’s Heartslabyul friends echo, curious and intrigued.

"Song?" the Prefect’s Savanaclaw friends echo, ears pulling back almost flat against their hair.

(And who can blame them for being on guard? Everyone who witnessed Leona Kingscholar’s Overblot was also privy to the Prefect at their most destructive and ruthless. Heartslabyul had seen the Prefect protect their friend and heal their enemy; and saw a god of healing, forgiveness, compassion. Savanaclaw had seen the Prefect split the earth in two and summon columns of green flame and geysers of boiling steam; and saw a god of retribution and mercy that came in the form of a swift, humbling defeat.)

The Prefect flaps their hand in a vaguely reassuring manner. "Nothing so drastic or damaging, you needn't worry about that. But… it is a little overwhelming, in its own way."

"Overwhelming how?" Riddle asks with a scrutinizing gaze. By the way he's shifting his feet, he seems to have remembered the numerous rats dotting the lounge floor. Probably because one skirted a little too close to his shoe and nearly sent him flying off the couch.

...is that one wearing a bow?

"Well…"

"Oh, c'mon, Prefect—!" That sets off a clamoring from all directions of the lounge, over a dozen young men begging and pleading with the Prefect, with a comfortable informality and ease born from spending many hours working alongside the suspected immortal (possible god), who so far has displayed a greater preference for goodwill and charity than vengeance and retaliation.

(Which is all well and good for those who initially derided the Prefect for being so small, and weak, and supposedly Magicless, or close to it. Especially Savanaclaw; none of them will be forgetting anytime soon just how easily the Prefect could have ended their Housewarden right then and there. Instead, they healed him completely at the expense of their own health. Truly a merciful being.)

Riddle appears close to beheading people, and Leona to nursing a migraine, before the Prefect throws up their hands and laughs, "Alright, alright, settle down, please!" Then, with a tentatively eager grin, "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt, just this once." And that’s enough reassurance for their friends to settle down. If there’s one thing they’ve learned about Yuura Miyajima, it’s that they hate harming others, necessarily or otherwise. Even being left bedridden in the infirmary didn’t prevent them from making sure both Riddle and Leona were fully recovered from their Episodes.

Whatever this Song is, it can’t be anymore dangerous than Der Zauberspruch or All in the Golden Afternoon.

Cheering, the lounge bursts into action as people leap off the floor and scatter around the room, tossing dirty rags, kerchiefs, and aprons, and tools and supplies onto the ground, throwing open the curtains and windows, and the back door in the kitchen—all under the Prefect’s direction.

"Could someone get the windows, please?"

"We got ‘em, Prefect!

"Everyone grab what’s left on the plates, if you will!"

"Way ahead of you!"

"Now where did I put my broom…? Oh! Thank you, Khari."

"’S nothing, Mx. Prefect."

Slipping away to find a good angle to film from, Cater finds one of his fellow Cards and asks, "Hey, so what’s this super mysterious song everyone’s so hyped about?"

The sophomore—his last name might’ve been Pfenning or Farthing, or something like that—flinches. "Oh, Senior Diamond, it’s just you. Uh… you’re from Pyroxene too, right? You remember that clean-up song kids used to sing? Wer bei der Arbeit pfeift?"

"Wer bei der Arbeit pfeift?" two voices exclaim. Cater startles and turns to the direction of the other voice. Little Jack Howl stares back at him, first with mild surprise that he had heard him from across the room, then with shared bafflement. Wait, you heard that? Wait, you know Pyroxisch? Wait, did you hear what I heard correctly?

In the center of the room, lit up by the midday sunlight pouring through the open windows, the Prefect readjusts the kerchief in their hair before crouching and knocking the floor, steadying themself with their broom. “Gustav, Yasha, Marusya, come here, everyone.”

Everyone not accustomed to the Prefect’s Little Friends—mostly Riddle, he still hasn’t moved out of that stiff stance—jumps back and retracts their feet as well over a dozen rats scamper across the floor to congregate around the Prefect, who smiles and pets them like one would a cat or a dog, and not a mischief of grubby, possibly diseased rodents (again, mostly Riddle’s words).

(Never mind that all of them have sleek, fluffy coats and seem to be wearing some sort of miniature clothing item or accessory. When did the Prefect have the time to knit that fat one a sweater?)

"I’ll have to ask for your help again today, but you’ll get to see your friends. Aren’t you excited?"

It feels like foreshadowing, how responsive the rats are to the Prefect speaking in Common as they bob their heads and chitter in agreement.

Then the Prefect stands up and whistles a painfully nostalgic tune that reminds the native Shaftlanders of clean-up time and overly enthusiastic kindergarten teachers—and something from the woods outside whistles back.

"Please don’t be alarmed," the Prefect says, before a fluttering, flocking shadow descends.

----

"So were you expecting a crap-ton of birds and forest animals?" Ace whispers, his voice a little weak even in his own ears. The rabbit on his lap continues to paw at his waistcoat.

Careful not to disturb the birds that decided his shoulders and head were adequate perches, Deuce leans over and replies, "I’m more surprised there were deer in the woods."

"Honestly, same."

Said deer—a doe—and its fawn seem to have taken a liking to their green-haired senior and Housewarden, with Trey struggling not to laugh in the face of Riddle’s bewilderment as the mother-child pair nudge their legs and the fawn attempts to clamber onto Riddle’s lap. "No, wait, don’t do that. No, stop—"

Leona isn’t faring any better—no matter how many times he growls or lashes out his hand, far too many chipmunks and squirrels return, circling the Savanaclaw Housewarden in hopes that he’ll let them climb on his person. "Herbivore," he says through gritted teeth. "What is this?"

The Prefect’s shoulders shake with stifled laughter, the birds resting on them undisturbed by the movement. "It means they like you, Senior Leona," they say, oddly calm for someone whose lounge is now crowded with an excess of squirrels, chipmunks, and rats, a herd of rabbits, a pair of large turtles, a family of deer, an entire nursery of raccoons, and too many birds to count.

"Totes adorable," Cater declares, taking pics of the rabbits gathering around him for Magicam.

"Hey. Hey, no, not there." Jack waves at the bird that’s made its nest in his hair. It jumps and flutters in the air for a moment before settling down again. "What did I just say? Not there."

"Shoo. Go away." Ruggie kicks a foot out towards the raccoons that keep approaching him. He’s still got the basket in his arms, plus a couple plates he managed to snatch from the coffee table. "These ain’t for you, now beat it!"

(Inner Circle, their dorm-mates think with envious sighs, their persons woefully bereft of any curious or cozy forest creature. Even the animals can tell who the Prefect favors over others. Lucky bastards.)

The Prefect claps their hands. It’s a little unnerving how that instantly catches the attention of every animal in the vicinity. "Alright, everyone," they start in a chipper voice, slightly more pitched than usual. They point to various parts of the room, and in the smoothest transition into Barren any of them have heard, says, "Now you wash the dishes. You tidy up the room. You clean the fireplace—"

They hold their broom aloft. "And I’ll use the broom!"

They whistle again, and then the birds whistle back, and then…

"Just whistle while you work!"

"Off the couch, off the couch, off the couch—" Their dorm-mates probably had the right idea, retreating to the stairs and the upper landing overlooking the lounge. The moment every bird takes off into the air and the animals start moving, Ace and Deuce bolt, ducking their heads and nearly tripping over various rabbits and rodents as they stumble up the stairs. Close behind them are Ruggie and Jack, the former expertly dodging every animal underfoot and the latter nearly getting his ears clipped by a pair of birds lifting a plate.

"How are they carrying those?"

"I dunno, freaky Prefect magic crap?! Where’s the music coming from!"

Their seniors are not so quick in their escapes.

"And cheerfully together, we can tidy up the place." As they sweep around the carpet, the Prefect passes by Riddle and Trey. Riddle has given up all sense of decorum to kneel on the couch, very much dismayed by the number of animals dusting with their tails and carrying very delicate dishes and glassware.

"I—what? No, wait—" Riddle grips Trey’s arm, his expression somewhat (very) panicked. “Trey. Trey, there are squirrels dusting the mantle.”

"Let it go, Riddle." His face is somber and resigned. He only steps aside when a turtle waddles past carrying a stack of overturned glasses on its shell.

"But—"

"This is Ramshackle Dorm. Only the Prefect’s rules apply here."

"So hum a merry tune—hm-mm-mm-mm, hm-mm-mm..." When the Prefect passes by the other occupied couch in the room, they find a certain lion lying face-down, a decorative pillow thrown over his head. They’d worry more about his ability to breathe if it weren’t for the exposed tail snapping back and forth. Instead, they laugh again and kick a dirty rag on the floor up into the air. It’s swiftly caught by a diving sparrow. "It won’t take long when there’s a song to help you set the pace.

"And as you sweep the room…" They start twirling with the broom, moving with remarkable ease around the rats with dusters in their tails, and chipmunks with dishes in their paws, and raccoons with aprons and kerchiefs on their backs. "Imagine that the broom is someone that you love, and soon—"

"You'll find you’re dancing to the tune!" "Du fängst mit ihm zu tanzen an!"

"Oh!" Before their forehead can collide with someone else’s chin, someone’s there to catch them. And when they raise their head, they find green eyes glinting playfully down at them, one hand on their arm and the other still recording with his phone. "Senior Cater!" They beam, positively delighted that another person knows this song that was a part of their childhood.

(Unbeknownst to them, they share this trait with every Shaftlander in the room, and in fact, the entire school. It’s pervasiveness is on par with that Yahoo! nursery rhyme.)

"Drum sei gescheit—"

"—the time will fly—"

"So whistle while you work!" "Wer bei der Arbeit pfeift!"

Oh, you smooth bastard, is the bitter sentiment shared by those watching from up above as Diamond takes the Prefect’s hand and gives them a twirl, eliciting giddy laughter from the Prefect and disbelieving looks from even his Housewarden and the other Suits.

("What’s he doing?"

("Not on my watch—"

("Whoa, Deuce, chill! Get back here!")

The Prefect wasn’t exaggerating when they said the effects of the song would be… overwhelming. But there’s also something so fascinating, almost whimsical about it, too.

For an army of forest creatures, they set about their given tasks with great efficiency. Squirrels swipe their bushy tails over railings, the mantle, and the blackened bricks before beating the dust out of them on the window sills. Rats and turtles carry abandoned tools and empty plates into the kitchen. Dirty rags and aprons are draped over a buck that bumbles after them on its way to the backyard. A few of the braver students make their way downstairs and follow the deer, only to find more squirrels and rabbits washing dishes in the overflowing sinks with startling dexterity.

("They shouldn’t have the motor skills to do this!")

Back in the lounge, a succession of songbirds fly in and out with yellow and white autumn flowers in their beaks, dropping them one by one into a water pitcher that had been left on the table (did they coordinate that?). From the back door in the kitchen and through the open windows in the lounge, there’s a clear view of the laundry set up in the backyard, where the buck sheds its load and the raccoons and chipmunks take over, half-submerged in white suds as they scrub dust cloths and kerchiefs. More little birds fly by, depositing more laundry into the water before plucking clean pieces from the wash tubs. Those are sprawled across the grass and hung on the nearby clothesline to dry.

All the while, the Prefect continues their Song, humming along with the disembodied music and vocalizing in a register many didn’t believe they could reach until now.

("This shouldn’t be possible. At least Der Zauberspruch is an established spell. This is supposed to be a children’s song."

("Wait, so you’re saying…?"

("Whatever’s going on right now, it’s the Prefect affecting the Song, not the other way around."

("The Prefect’s manipulating a children’s song like a Lost Song?"

(What a terrifying thought.)

"So, whistle while you work!"

But perhaps not so terrifying, when the Prefect pauses in their sweeping to offer their finger as a perch to an approaching passerine.

It lands and warbles back, and the Prefect sings, and it’s like something from a fairy tale.

----

"Bye! Bye, Mx. Prefect!"

"Drop by Savana tomorrow! You promised!"

"Hey, come by Heartslabyul later!"

"See ya later, Mx. Prefect!"

"We’ll talk on Monday!"

"Goodbye, everyone! Take care!"

----

"What a bother. Should’ve just stayed in and slept."

"You didn’t have to stay, y’know."

"Tsk. Gotta make sure the herbivore doesn’t do something incredibly stupid. Kid’s too naïve for their own good."

"Ridiculously trusting and naïve, maybe, Senior, but not defenseless."

"Ch. No, not defenseless."

----

"What did we say about trusting people so easily, eh? Don’t play innocent with us, Yuura Miyajima."

"I don’t think they’re playing; they're always this foolish, remember?"

"Aww, Deuce, not you as well."

"Hey, we’re not done with this conversation!"

"Of course not. Will you two be stopping by Ramshackle after class next week? With Senior Riddle’s permission, we could have a sleepover. It’ll be like old times."

"Pfft. I know your tricks, Yuu. Don’t think you can avoid the topic that easily."

"I’m not! I swear it on my mother’s ashes. If Riddle agrees, I’ll even make breakfast for you both. I just went grocery shopping. Those omelets I made before? The fluffy ones with milk and sautéed vegetables? I even got a tin of hot cocoa."

"Hot cocoa? What do you think we are, little kids?"

"Ace, c’mon…"

"I’ll make cherry turnovers."

"...Fine."

At the very least, they could say they got to Yuura first and had them the longest.

(Unless you asked Grim, of course. That's a whole 'nother story.)

----

"I think it goes without saying, that no footage of the Prefect Singing should be released, especially considering what happened the last time it happened."

"What do you take me for, ay? Hey, we all learned a lesson last time! See? No video, I just uploaded some of the pics I took."

@OkayCayCay: @iseeyuu hard at work making the rest of us look bad #CayToday #NRC #RamshackleRenovations #shabbychic #broomdancing #mädchenfromamärchen

@SuziQChuChu: is that the new nrc prefect? cute! <3

@enamel_eclipse: That's the brown eyed kid from last time, right?

@mamamiya: hey, its the person from the nightingale video

@cecilily: what's the nightingale video?

"...Cater—what is the nightingale video?"

"...You're gonna find this hilarious."

"Cater."

----

It’s a little blue songbird that leads them away, alighting on Yuura’s offered hand as they clean up the tubs and washboards outside. "Hello there, ptichka,” they giggle, recalling one of the many endearments their uncles used to address them by. “What are you doing here, all on your lonesome?"

The bluebird chirps, shaking its head and ruffling its feathers. It hops up and down on their finger before flying off and landing in the grass some distance away. It turns around and hops some more. Well? What are you waiting for?

Now, having been partially raised on the many, many tomes and texts that made up their family’s library, Yuura is well-read enough to know that even following a tiny bird into the woods could spell trouble. Why, it could just as easily lead Yuura to imminent peril or their disastrous doom as it could be guiding them to some great treasure, or perhaps even the love of their life! Wouldn't that be a tale to tell? Still, what harm could there be in following? They didn’t get to where they are now without taking a few (read: several) risks here and there. "Lead the way."

The woods behind campus have become quite familiar to Yuura. There are always apples and berries and flowers to be found there, the strong boughs and knotted bark of the trees are perfect for climbing, and it's where their animal friends reside. There’s always a lovely atmosphere, even at night, but especially now in the late afternoon—golden-amber sunlight dappling the soft green grass underfoot, filtered by the lush, fruit-laden branches above. The mildest of autumn breezes that whispers through the leaves and stirs the mess of curls about their face. It’s a gentle, sleepy atmosphere, dreamy and suspended in time.

The little bird flits about up ahead and Yuura obediently follows. In the hazy afternoon light, the figure cradled in the twisted roots of a tree becomes apparent. The birds and squirrels surrounding the figure turn to look at Yuura, but do not flee as they approach, slowing their steps with barely a rustle in the grass.

A standard NRC uniform with a striped tie and the vibrant green waistcoat of Diasomnia House—maybe he knows Yuura’s midnight visitor? A peculiar baton of green and black hanging from the belt. From the relaxed position he’s in, his gloved hands folded atop his stomach and the steady rise and fall of his chest, this person must’ve fallen asleep here, rather than having passed out. How odd. How curious.

"Oh!" Yuura gasps, moving to kneel by his side, "I remember him!"

It's the boy from the Spelldrive Tournament, the quiet, aloof one who had accompanied Sebek Zigvolt and Senior Lilia.

Yuura recalls his hair being gray, but up close, it shines like spun silver in the shaded light, distinct from Jack's grayish-white, or Senior Kalim's pearly white. Up close, Yuura discovers a lovely, well-shaped face; it reminds them of Tsunotaro's unearthly allure and noble mien—charming and enchanting, something straight from a storybook. He’s beautiful.

"Like Sleeping Beauty in the Woods," Yuura whispers. "Do you think he's a prince? Or maybe a knight?" The little bird only chirps in response.

As loathed as they are to disturb such a peaceful slumber (speaking from experience), the hour is growing late, and they'd rather not abandon this man in the woods.

"Hello?" He's sturdier than he looks, barely budging when Yuura shakes his shoulder.

"...Hmm?"

They shake him some more. "Hello—o—o. I'm sorry to disturb you, but it's getting late, and it'll be dark soon—ah!" He lurches upright, nearly knocking foreheads with Yuura.

"Oh! my goodness, are you alright?" Yuura leans away, resting a hand on his shoulder as he sways. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Blue-violet eyes stare at them, cloudy with sleep, blinking with a syrupy slowness. "...This is strange," he murmurs, "You seem... familiar. Have we met somewhere before?"

What a mysterious thing to say. Yuura grins, unable to help themself. "Once upon a dream, perhaps," they say with a wave of their hand.

(They do not notice the sudden alertness in those lethargic eyes. Why would they?)

"I suppose you know where you are? I'm the the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm, Yuura Miyajima. Class A, freshman year." Shifting into a proper seiza, they bow their head to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"...I have heard of you. Silver. Diasomnia, Class A, sophomore year. Likewise."

----

Translations Central Rosen (Irish Gaelic) - cúl tóna beag = "little asshole" Lugha ya Machweo (Kiswahili) - ati = "hey" - kidege = "little bird" - Jaza ya ihsani ni ihsani = "The reward of kindness is kindness" - Anipendaye, nami nampenda = "The person who loves me, I love too" - Ihsani iandame imani = "A loving relationship should follow acts of kindness" Coastal Rosen (Italian) - cretini e scrocconi = "jerks and freeloaders" - Vai a vendere il culo! = "Fuck off!" lit. "Go and sell your ass!" - Cazzo si, Campana! Bacha ma culo, tu brutto figlio di...! = "Fuck you, Campana! Kiss my ass, you ugly son of...!" Pyroxisch (German) - Yuurachen = approx. "Little Yuura" - Wer bei der Arbeit pfeift = "(He) who whistles at work"

[players-notebook]

I am a receptionist for a hotel. My job is to check people in when they come in. When they come in. I last saw people a few days ago..maybe months? I can't tell the time since it looks like it's always raining. I sometimes count how many diamond shapes are in our green wallpaper. Or how many times the wooden floorboards creak. My new pastime is counting how many times I hear the random knocking every hour; two hundred and twenty, if you were wondering.

Though...there was an incident lately that made me write  down my experiences here and upload it on the only site that won't crash or have a load time for what feels like days. Before I tell you what happened, let me explain something swiftly.

My job is to sit behind the front desk, check-in and out random suitcases that appear, and sleep in the armchair whenever I'm tired. I only remember the one significant rule I was told; Never go through the doors. So I never entertained the idea since I'm honestly a coward.

Then last night, I had a dream.

Reaching out, I traced the number etched into the wooden block attached to the door. With cautious hands, I turned and pushed the door open. Walking into the room with hesitating steps, my eyes scanned the room.

It looked like an average room, one you would find inside a house but no lobby. Feeling uneasy, I quickly walked to the next door, yanking hard on the doorknob. My attempt to proceed was stopped by a lock on the door, making my heart flutter. The feeling of intruding into someone's space made my face hot. What if a guest came in and saw me? I could potentially lose this job..and I need this job.

Seeing a door, I rushed over to it and pushed it open. Inside was a bed, a wardrobe, and a nightstand. Sitting on the neatly made bed was the key to the door. Snatching it swiftly, I hurried to unlock the door.

I need to find... what do I need to find? What do I need to remember? I turned back to the room in hopes I could just return back...only to find the number the room I was in had...melted.

I reached to touch it and yanked it back with a loud hiss. Falling to my knees and clutching my hand to my chest to ease the pain. The black substance was no longer on my hand.. but my fingers looked red and felt tender.

As the pain throbbed and subsided, I slowly pushed myself back up to look into the room. Ahead of me was a door, but as I walked towards it, a set of stairs to my right led down to another door. My breath caught in my throat when I looked back at the door in front of me, the number reading twenty-four and the one downstairs reading twenty-five.

I could even remember the room I was stuck in, let alone the one I was on now! Nervously I etched closer to the door in front of me, my anxiety making my breath uneven. I stopped, looking down at the door below.

"Maybe..." I mumbled out loud, turning to take the stairs to the door. The sounds of rumbling were louder. Was this the way back up front? The rumbling was so familiar to the comfortable storms that I slept too.

I reached to trace the etching of the door. It felt off.. the engraving needed to be more balanced and well-made. I stepped back slightly, confused. Was it just me? But the rumbling...

"Fuck it.." I breathed out, reaching out to open the door. My blood chilled as my eyes landed on two large bloodshot eyes. It's big toothy grin dripped with blood. It lunged with an earsplitting scream, grabbing me by my leg. I screamed as it dragged me into the darkness, my attempts to escape ripped away.

As I said, it was a nightmare.. but it felt so weird to me because when I woke back up at the front desk, my ears were ringing. That's not all! I only discovered it now while writing, but my fingers...the tips of them are red. If I press too hard onto them, they still hurt.

I keep hearing knocking on the wall behind me when I'm behind my desk. It keeps itching away at my brain, and I'm trying my best to ignore it. But..the key to the lock is right behind me, and the more I forget it..., the more I want to unlock it and venture inside.

I'm thinking about using my pocket notebook I keep in my drawer. I'll write whatever I can there and hope to learn more about what this place is. I'm leaving a note just in case...if one of my theories is correct, then I'm going to need a reminder.

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Manuscript Search Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables and @kaiusvnoir! :D

Words: grit, slam, high, soft, yellow, silent, share, drop and real. These are from The Power and the Glory, Gracemeadow Manor, and The Unfortunate Moth:

Grit:

Tananerl was less a principality and more a loose association of kingdoms and tribes who were forced to work together with gritted teeth. As such its capital was constantly disputed. Five thousand years ago Ilaran came up with the idea of having two capitals, a temporary summer one and a permanent winter one. The summer one was a different city each year and moved around all the kingdoms in turn. The winter one was Magdrőd-Keszgy, capital of Ahalál. Ilaran might only be Prince of Tananerl, but he was also still King of Ahalál.

Slam:

Doors slammed and the building shook. Abi's hand brushed against a doorknob. She grabbed it and staggered into the room beyond. It was dark as midnight. She stayed close to the wall as she tried to feel her way to the other side of the room. Someone was still slamming doors. With a jolt she realised, That's gunfire.

High:

"I said I meddled in necromancy and accidentally killed myself. Then I -- also accidentally -- brought myself back to life. Actually, you might say I annoyed Death into bringing me back. She doesn't have a high opinion of necromancers. In fact I suspect she went out of her way to ruin everything for me."

Soft:

Abi circled overhead. Her feathers shone so brightly she looked like a small comet. She landed on the gate of the spaceport. It was the only way in and Irímé lay facing it so nothing could sneak up on them. She trilled softly. In this form Irímé had no way to tell her he couldn't understand her. He tried to get the message across by tilting his head to the side and giving her an unimpressed look.

Yellow:

By the time the servants finally showed Abihira into her sister's living room she would have happily raised an army of the dead just to destroy the house. The sight that greeted her was not calculated to improve her mood or raise her opinion of the palace. Líusal's living room was a riot of colour and tastelessness. Never before had Abihira seen wallpaper with stripes of magenta and sickly yellow. She hoped she never saw it again.

Silent:

Jane unlocked the back door. Her hands were covered in blood but they left no mark on the white paint. Arthur was a silent presence at her side. She didn't speak to him.

Share:

Phil counted back from ten as she left the balcony. Her room was much smaller — and less expensive — than her aunt's, but it had one advantage: it had a phone. This was solely for her aunt's convenience. When staying in hotels Rachael Patton-Langdale refused to have a phone in her own room where it could disturb her sleep. She was much more cavalier about her niece's sleep being disturbed. Phil had lost count of the times she'd been jolted awake by some business partner of her aunt's phoning about stocks and shares and goodness knew what.

Drop:

Colman dropped the last sheaf of papers on top of the pile. He watched without apparent surprise as they promptly slid off and fell to the floor. Yo-han resisted the urge to suggest he should take housekeeping lessons.

Real:

After the first two days the gossip about Mirio and Lian's supposed engagement mostly died down. Somehow or other word got out that Abi was a notorious troublemaker -- which was true -- and that led to the rumour that she'd probably eloped with Lian herself -- which was so far from the truth that Mirio found it a real struggle to keep a straight face. That rumour was widely believed in the court. Mirio almost felt sorry for Abi. Almost.

Tagging @whimsyqueen, @eccaiia, @verba-writing, @pandawriterstuff, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D New words: cat, crumble, crash and concern.

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@bishop-percival

(Previous) Mike was so focused on the contents of Teddy’s phone he barely processed Teddy had sprang on him until he crashed into the adjacent chair at basically the same spot and angle that had crashed into the pew when Percy shoved him. At that point he was plenty content with what he saw in that short amount of time and was about to willingly let go when Teddy suddenly elbowed him. Mike coughed and immediately released Teddy’s phone. The sudden release combined with Teddy’s desperate pulling was enough force to make him tumble back. Mike meanwhile clutched his stomach as he laid his head face down on the table... and was oddly… Laughing? It was wheezy, raspy and muffled considering he was just elbowed, but it definitely seemed like he was laughing. He finally managed to mumble out “I like your phone screen background…”

Teddy twisted his body just in time to hit his forearm on the chair instead of having his back slammed into the edge. That was still enough to force a pained grunt out of him.

After a moment Teddy used the chair to support himself as he helped himself to his feet while shooting Revenard Mike a nasty glare. All that and this bastard thinks he can laugh at his wallpaper!? He'd ask what was wrong with him if he didn't think it'd require a psychiatrist writing a fifty page report to list every issue.

Then he straightened up, pulled his notebook out of his pocket, and slammed it down on the table. It landed less than an inch from Revenard Mike's face with a loud smack.

"Don't you dare mess with my stuff again," Teddy growled as he put his hands on his hips. "Either wait for the file to arrive or deal with my handwriting."

[finsterhund]

Listen if I was in the Skinamarink house I'd just infodump about Mayhem Mountain constantly while playing HoD or whatever the fuck. rip to Kevin and whatever his sister's name was but I'm different.

I literally spend my life thirsting after wanting to own "big old spooky old house with analog media and toys and shit everywhere with no parents" this is the fucking experience here. (Okay maybe I also want parental figures too but I need to be at least somewhat realistic. I'm not ever getting that. But if this stupid housing industry crashes and burns I can get a house someday. I fucking want a house. I would kill to get a house. Etc.)

Every time I hear about people abandoning houses and not wanting to live in haunted houses I'm like "you stupid assholes are rich enough to be picky about a fucking house you own. Give it to me you fuckers I will eat a demon and fistfight a ghost and the only thing haunting it will be me and my demonic little boy taken by the consumption ass vibes." (Please don't mention that I'm scared of New England the east coast is cursed and evil also if we're being honest if I got a cool carpenter gothic or whatever the fuck house for free there I would bite the bullet and go there because you know what fuck it free house. Worst case scenario I find a way to straight up take the house somewhere else.)

There are so many houses left to rot by my grandparents house. That's a thing there. It's been a thing for a hundred years or so and it pisses me off. The beloved town my cousins used to live where I visited like once and never wanted to fucking leave and it had a little swimming pool is almost a ghost town now. Apparently they lost their grain elevator in a fire and I don't even know if that rumor is true or not but I legit fucking had a weeping fit about that somewhere last week idk my brain was soup and all I remember from then was that I ground my jaw so bad it locked up. There's so many fucking houses abandoned in the plains. I would live in all those houses. Give me the fucking houses. I will live in a fucking grain elevator that was turned into a house. Fuck you.

Everyone always bitches about being in the middle of nowhere but if there's fucking electricity and plumbing and internet (yeah there is now. Suck on that assholes) and roads what's the fucking problem you big fucking baby. Getting a driver's license is probably possible for me in that province because nobody gives a shit. If I fucking own a house and fucking land I don't give a fuck if I have to drive to get to stores and shit I have a fucking attention span and patience when I fucking want to. Asshole. Also pretty sure people can have small private planes and fly them there. You certainly have enough space for takeoff and landing. Can you fucking imagine even having small paraglider personal flying devices and shit you could do that there.

There's shit called paramotors please look at this fucking shit please look at it. I could have this. Fuck you.

https://youtu.be/rvQ9DjJNal0

I am fucking screaming in emotional anguish agony pain. This is for me. This is what my life should be. In a house. Windows XP wallpaper ass land. Paramotor trips into idk swiftcurrent or whatever. Fuck you fuck you fuck you. Screaming crying throwing up. It's not fair.

Apparently Canada treats paramotor like ultralight aircraft need permit and stuff but there's a guy who's been doing just fine without one. Fuck the government.

Want paramotor so bad. Screaming crying throwing up.

Anyways yeah. So mad. So sad. Miserable.

It's perfect in every fucking way. My fucking body craves the steppe. Did you know why I fucking ended up always loving the goddamn windows XP desktop background Naboo ass aesthetic? It's because it's literally my fucking blood I was fucking born for there. I'm literally fucking homesick I want to fucking cry. It literally fucking looks like that there. I am screaming. If my fucking mother didn't fucking take me back from my grandparents. I am going to fucking scream. (I would have never experienced the CSA from my birth father either) am going to fucking commit die.

I have manic obsessions over the extended family houses I barely fucking remember from childhood visits. Hell, even the Spot house. And that was a place with my stupid fucking birth father in the stupid fucking childhood costal city.

I would take the Spot house and move it to the steppe. Most of the houses in the near ghost town my cousins used to live look like the Spot house. Screaming.

I am filled with the utmost of hatred and grief and wrath. I do not resent my mother more for this because she was taken advantage of by that fucking demon too and I know every day she regrets leaving her parents too. But she doesn't fucking want to go back she loves that shitty fucking place she's in now I just don't understand that. She's like the people who left the houses. She thinks winter is cold. I don't understand.

You have no idea how much I want a fucking house and my preference is literally 1900s-1970s construction. So shut the fuck about things being old and outdated I literally fucking want that. Bitch give it to me. I am no longer asking. 🗡️🗡️🗡️ I will put the knife in your eye

I found a scary story the other day where a guy got an old magic key that when he opened his closet with it the closet lead to some cool old hidden secret castle room or whatever the fuck with a bunch of neat antique shit and instead of living there he fucking plundered it all like a stupid little bitch. I was so mad. This also ended up getting his ass because he kept finding doors and doors to do this to just to steal all the cool shit just to sell it and eventually he let out a monster because he was such a stupid little moron.

Am I rambling? Yeah but I don't care. I'm actually conscious and awake and functional right now. It's not even noon yet and I've taken all my meds. I am actually awake and not tired right now for some fucking reason and of course immediately the mania starts.

I am just explosive right now. Oh my god. You know I'm so apathetic and tired and exhausted and have no drive or energy or anything anymore but I have so fuckibg much for my goddamn house quest my fucking dream.

Could make my own grassland city state. Landback sovereign citizen shit. Get army of friends to all bring back the almost dead town and it's ours now and we rebuild the grain elevator and reopen the pool and shit.

This is my dream and what I want. I want to achieve it through violence.

(if I'm being completely honest if I got all this I don't even think I'd NEED there to be internet at that point. Everyone always brings up internet but so much of the internet for me is a surrogate for one thing or another.) If I could have my friends with me I would not need to use the internet to be with them for example.

I apologize if I appear to be crazy (I actually am lol and sometimes I get really fucking tired of presenting myself in respectable coherent ways. I tire of masking for the benefit and comfort of others. Of hiding my mental illnesses at every turn because of you domestics thinking that anything short of tame subservience is dangerous and that aggression and violence are unbecoming of the human nature. When in reality it is us with "dangerous" mental disabilities who are the primary victims of violence and harm for being the way we are.) but I really can't fucking take this anymore. I am a member of a species meant to live off the land and wander and have big space to call your own and exist within the natural world and not live in a tiny little box. Life in captivity has both made me weak and pitiful and violently explosive wanting to be reborn as I was meant to be. I'm at that point where you know what? I can import my medicine in bulk. I can have it delivered to me. If I can't then I fucking should. And if I need a hospital but do not make it in time then this is nature. I should not be scared I should not live in captivity because of death because of disability because captivity is worse than a natural death. I am sick of living as a domesticated shell of how I should be.

I fear change. I fear it so badly. But I have been tricked into fearing the small changes when in reality I need to learn that what is truly harming me is that gradual change that put me into this environment. It is scary to move and to leave behind these places like where I live now and the things that have become routine but that is not the big picture. This is the comfort of domestication and is a trick. It is my attachment to the tiny little white room where I live even though with time I would not miss it in comparison to the love in my heart for the new life of the big house. The uncertainty of change is clouding the judgement and I am a fucking coward.

I fear rejection from the domestics and their stupid world even though I resent it. This is a survival instinct warped by trauma. To mask and roll over and submit for fear of being hit. To play nice so that they do not take my tiny white room because it is all I have. Because they have made it so. My safety in this environment is dependant on them. When it shouldn't be. This is in a way a form of grooming that I have yet to overcome.

I do not know how to overcome it. I suppose acknowledging this is a first step.

Andy want house.

[matthewholt41]

research for idea 2:

So the research that i am going to look at it space, spaceships, asteroids, games, movies but i will try and winding my view on what i can look in to this research is going to be used to have an idea on what my game could look like and this will help me to have a clear understanding on what i could like to take my game to 

space

I got this image from a site called https://wallup.net/universe-space-stars-artwork/

this image it about space and it is wallpaper art I like the colour that have being used to make this image come to life. What i like about this image is you would not see theses colours in space as space is dark and cold this image makes me feel it is harm and not afraid of space. What do i not like about this image the thing that i don’t like about this image is there is like blue light and i think this is for the stars but it is not clear but other then that i do like the image but there are things that i would change with this images.

Space ships:

so i got this image from a site called https://fineartamerica.com/featured/space-shuttle-atlantis-landing-nasascience-photo-library.html  

This is an image of a space ship i think it is a cool design but i think with the game that i would like to make the space more sci fi design and get inspiration from movies and see what i could make for the game what do i like about this design is it is common design to get people after they have come out of space  or if people want to know what zero gravity fells like.

Star wars squadrons is a space combat game set in the starwars universe development by motive studio it was released on October 2 2020. Players take control of starfighters from either the galactic empire or the new republic navy. The ships  utillise the movement of power between the ships function of weaponry,shileds and engines to defeat their opponents in combat.

https://www.trustedreviews.com/reviews/star-wars-squadrons

No mans sky is an action adventure survival game. The game is built around five pillars exploration, survival, combat, trading and base building. through the game’s procedural generation system planets have their own ecosystems with unquie forms of flora and fauna, and various alien species may engage the player in combat or trade with in planetary system. The player takes the role of a specimen of alien humanoid planetary explorer, known an game as the traveller in the uncharted universe. They start on a randomized planet near a crashed spacecraft towards the edge of the galaxy and are equipped with a survival exosuit with a jetpack

.https://www.eurogamer.net/digitalfoundry-2022-no-mans-sky-for-nintendo-switch-a-valiant-effort-but-the-compromises-cut-too-deep

 Space engineers is a voxel based sandbox game that was developed and published by czech independent developer keen software house. Game play of space engineers begins with the player selecting or joining a world with specific settings such as the number of asteroids and the available starting equipment. when creating or editing a world serval advanced options are available to change how the player will interact with the world and how the world will appear.

https://www.spaceengineersgame.com/