#i still switched back to a windows computer for other reasons. the fact that i could get a tough little laptop for under $500 among them

[rohirric-hunter]

I got a bluetooth keyboard hoping it would make it easier to write on my phone but what I didn't account for was the clicky noises the keys make being really really satisfying so I maybe just spent like 20 minutes repeatedly pressing my hands down on a powered down keyboard that isn't even connected to anything instead of actually writing

[gay-milton-quotes]

I'm Unpeeling Myself from Big Tech!

"Unpeeling" being any act you take that limits the amount of data a large tech corporation can gather from you, decreases your reliance on products of those corporations, or increases autonomy over your technology. I'm ripping the term from a line in this review by Joanna Nelius, where she writes, "People are looking for ways to peel their eyes from their smartphones like a layer of Elmer’s glue from their hand — to remove a part of themselves that really isn’t a part of themselves." It's different than "unplugging" because the goal isn't to go off the grid, or even to limit one's technology usage. The goal, instead, is to extract from the invasive, addictive, destructive capitalist vision a set of tools that are useful to YOU.

It started when I realized I don't need a smartphone. I've deleted most social media from my phone, and the stuff I still have I prefer to check on my laptop. Not all "dumb phones" (I hate this term) offer the same features, though, so I began to think on a granular level about what I need from a cell phone. Eg, not all "dumb phones" provide MMS, but my family lives 3k miles away. I wanna still talk in the groupchat.

On the more complex end, I write on my phone. I've been using Google Docs to move seamlessly from scribbled writing drafts on my phone to formatted, finished works on my computer since I was fourteen.

Except, Google Docs is useless now. I've been unable to use it since they lowered the storage capacity. The only other cloud storage writing thingy with similar functionality is Office 365, which sucks.

Could a dumb phone with a basic "notes" feature work? Maybe, but I'd have to re-type everything to get it into a formatted document. Ideally, I'd have like, a mini-laptop just for writing - something I could fit in my pocket or in a small bag, so I could bring it to work without looking like a dick - and then, in addition, a basic phone for calls/texts/GPS stuff. But does a device this specific to my use case even exist?

Yes. Yes it does.

This is a GPD Micro PC. GPD mainly sells handheld gaming machines, though this product is designed for mobile IT professionals. It's probably too chonky for a pocket, but mark my words, I will figure out how to make it work for me.

It's stupid, but this gave me a rush. I've been struggling along, tied to the bloated corpses of three gmail accounts, for years, because I needed Google Docs for my writing workflow. But now I don't. I have the power to actually tailor my tech for my life.

By this point, I was like, alright, I don't need Google Docs anymore, I don't need a smartphone, what else? Do I need Windows? No, probably not, right? I can use Linux Mint on this new guy, especially since he'll mostly be a basic writing machine. LibreOffice is less intrusive and bloated than MS Word - a better experience for free than I'd have from the paid program. If I go all the way and install Linux, I also won't have to deal with ads in my start menu, or pre-installed spyware screenshotting my activities.

In fact, if I back everything up on an external drive, I can delete my old Google Drives and switch my main computer to Linux, too! So, I finally bit the bullet and invested in an external hard drive.

This is the problem with "product ecosystems," by the way. When one part of that ecosystem - Google Docs - fails, the whole thing collapses. All the bloat and corruption you dealt with just stops being worth it, and it's easier to make a radical change to a new system. I witnessed something similar happen with comedy tech youtuber Dankpods earlier this year, except with Apple's ecosystem: he was a lifetime Apple guy - seemingly not in a worship way, but he liked their products, and was certainly in Apple's ecosystem. Then a couple things went sour for him, and now he runs Linux.

I'm doing this for personal and ideological reasons. I'm personally sick of Clippy - I mean, Copilot - peeping in to tell me how to write what I'm writing on Office 365. I abhor the idea of paying Google for a service they offered for free until recently, knowing they can flip the script at any point. And while we're talking ideology, I'm a communist, and even though this is far from a shift everyone can make, I believe that taking any available steps towards shutting Big Tech out of our lives is a net good. If all you can do is delete Instagram, or use a screentime tracker, or switch to Firefox, do it. I'm finally in a position to make this more drastic change, and I'm excited.

Get in the weeds about how you use technology. Do you need everything at your fingertips, all the time? If not, what, specifically, do you need? Is there a way that you, now or in the future, can trim out the parts you dislike? And what can you change now?

[lilblucat]

I just saw the ask by slushysblog. In response you sent a gif that blew me away:

You see, I'm just getting into digital art, and my PC can only handle about 5 or 6 layers before my graphics environment crashes. (Ofc this forces me to restart my PC and lose anything not saved.)

I've learned to work around this, my art isn't nearly so complex as yours, but I know if I want to continue I'll have to get a better computer at some point.

I was hoping you could tell me a bit about the technical side of your work. What are your PC specs? What software do you use? That sort of thing.

Thanks in advance! I love your art!

My set-up is complete overkill for art. It's a heavy gaming-ready desktop PC I got a few years back that I've upgraded the RAM and storage on over the years. I was doing fine with 16GB of RAM but I always have open a lot in CSP and other stuff so upgrading was definitely something I needed to do. 16GB should be fine for most people though.

You can also see that I run Arch Linux and uh yeahhhhhh it's a long story. The short of it is that my old laptop broke its Windows install during an update and I was completely unable to fix it so I just.... switched to Linux lol. I started out on Ubuntu and switched to Arch after a while. I don't rec using Arch unless you know what you're doing, Ubuntu is way easier.

What you might find more interesting is my away from home set up on my laptop since it's an older gaming laptop.

The graphics card is actually a NVIDIA Geforce 850 or something. It's so old that you can't play some games on it. However, I have no issues with it for art. I can open my comic project files in CSP fine on it. It's also running on Linux Mint, which isn't showing up on the little image for some reason. Both of my devices run Linux, but that's a me preference/need thing and I don't rec messing with your operating system if you don't know much about computers. It gives me a bit of an edge since the system doesn't use as much RAM as Windows but yeah don't touch unless you're committed to learn. Windows will serve you fine. Or MacOS even.

As for my program, I use Clip Studio Paint EX. I bought Pro a long time ago and upgraded to EX because of the extra tools for comics and animation (I've heard animators don't like CSP though, it's the BEST program for comics however). It's a really solid program but the recent changes to pricing and updates is really stupid. Fun fact: I use only default brushes and materials because getting it to run on Linux breaks the store. I also use an older version of it because of how I got it working on this system.

For my tablet I use an XP-Pen Artist 12 Pro. It's a pretty solid screen tablet on a budget (I bought it on a sale) and I have no issues with it. I actually partly got it because I thought it was cool that XP-Pen carries official drivers for Linux too, and this helped a bit since this was before Windows bricked on me and I switched to that. It was kinda weird how it played out lol. I would heavily not rec a Wacom tablet unless it's an older one for cheap. Wacom is stupidly expensive and you can get a better bang for your buck at other companies. My first tablet is a Wacom and it's still holding up pretty well but their quality on their new tablets isn't great. Check out XP-Pen, Gaomon, and Huion for better tablet options.

[aotearoa20]

Ghost Hunter Au

Midnight Encounters

Curufin stares down at his computer as he ran over the code he was working on once again. He can’t find where he went wrong. Something obvious probably, he’s gone through all the complicated solutions. But it was coming to that time of the night when even the stress of being awake can’t even keep his eyes from closing anymore.

The hairs on the back of his neck rise and he looks up. From his little corner on the kitchen bench the whole room looks like another world. The stove light set shadows lurking in strange places and the emptiness in the room that at all other times ought to be bursting with noise seemed alien. There’s a flash of lightning and Celegorm appears in the window.

“You heading out or coming in?”

A redundant question. Celegorm likes to get up around the time Curufin heads to bed. And he’s still sheltered from the rain battering against the roof. But he asks as he always does.

There is a long silence before his reply. He’s half tempted to check if he’s sleep walking again.

“Curufin, I think I killed Amrod.”

Curufin set down his mug. That was… not what he was expecting. 

In truth he’d been up far later than normal, Celegorm also was late. The storm clouds were hiding the early morning light. There was a reason he’d been avoiding his bed and the waiting cacophony of his own thoughts.

The funeral had been less than a week ago though it feels like an age. In the quiet that came after he thinks it’s the first time anyone had said his name.

It shakes him more than he’d expected. He can’t think what to say.

“You didn’t kill A-Amrod, you saved Amras.” He tries though Celegorm shakes he’s head, “You said he was conscious and mobile right? Then it was the right decision to prioritise Amras.” A little frustration leaks into his voice. He should have made it out. He went over the numbers the stories. There had been enough time. “By all rights and logic he should have been able to get out of the car before...” 

His big brother sobs against the cold window. His breath leaves no mark on the glass. Curvo swears under his breath, he’d messed it up.

Outside the thunder rumbles and the stove lights flicker off. He runs up and places a stiff hand on his shoulder, considering calling for Maglor or Maedhros.

“Celegorm I… it’s okay,”

He’s words make no real impression. Celegorm has never cried in front of him before. He slides down to the floor and Curufin follows him down, wishing he could fix a thing beyond his skill. Celegorm speaks into Curufin’s silence.

“I think… someone wanted to hurt me and… they hurt Amrod instead. I think I was supposed to die in that car.”

Curufin takes a breath and shakes his head. He wants to deny it. It’s not true. But what words could he used to make Celgorm believe it also.

“This isn’t a conversation to have in the dark,” he mutters, getting to his feet. 

“No! No please, don’t turn on the light,” Celegorm’s hand wrapped around his wrist. His fingers were strangely cool. 

But he shrugged him off. He strides over to the wall and after a moments hesitation flicks the switch. Out of the corner of his eyes he things he sees something aweful and twisted by the window. His heart leaps in his throat as he spins back.

But he blinks and sees only Celegorm looking up at him like some sort of terrified rabbit. For a moment both are completely still. But nothing happens. The kitchen in the light is as it always ought to be  and Curufin tuts.

His moves to pick his mug off the counter, though he won’t take his eyes of his brother. It’s Atya’s magic tea, for fixing sad things. He’s older now. He knows thats not how tea works but the fact remains you can’t cry and drink at the same time.

“I don’t think anyone has it out for you,” he says and carries on over Celegorms protests, “but if they did, then they killed Amrod and they’d better watch themselves.”

He looks out the window. In the folds between the sheets of rain weaving across the garden, Curufin fancies he sees some lights. “Because when this family finds them they’ll be sorry.”

Perhaps he might have thought they looked rather uncomfortablly like eyes but somehow beside Celegorm he feels safe.

He kneels back down beside him and puts the cup in his hands.

Celegorm’s silvery eyes meet his, still heavy with sorrow but faintly bemused.

“Your being awfully kind for your usual sleep deprived self.”

“Yep,” Curufin crossed his arms, “and I’m running low on good will so you’d better cheer up fast.”

Turko chuckles and looks down at his drink. Watching him, Curufin chews his lip. A bad habit he’d rid himself of ages ago. He tuts again and fall forward into into his big brothers arms.

Celegorm grunts in surprise only just managing to manicure the tea without spilling it to wrap his arms around the boy.

“I love you.” Curufin, red faced mumbles into his unusually fair hair.

Celegorm doesn’t reply with words. He does his sort of half hum half growl that rumbles through his chest. Curvo chuckles against his shoulder and holds him tighter.

[ponds-of-ink]

Sing The Ghosts A Christmas Carol: Chapter Two (“Late Night Visitor”)

After much writing (and bizarre technical issues), I’m back with the next chapter. And it looks like William’s still asleep… For now.

-

Time passed for both realms. Small towns from beyond darkened their windows. Cities still bustled, but their crowdedness varied. And, in the realm of the neon cemetery, all was still. Even the slumbering William was too deep in sleep to move.

..Until a chilling dream snagged him back to reality, that is. Something so terrifying that he jolted upright out of some long-formed habit. The mustiness in the air gently soothed him back into reality, only to make him more puzzled.

The office had changed, seemingly all by itself. Broken arcade games manned the spots besides the ever-consistent two doors. The walls were more green-tinted and grime- covered. It was almost as if it was set up in some underground alleyway, though William knew this was not the case.

In fact, he knew exactly what this place was supposed to be.

He turned his attention to the monitor. No matter what method he tried, it refused to turn on. “Computer, please,” he said with gnashed teeth. “I need to see if there’s anyone outside. If I have no idea what’s coming, then I have no way to defend myself. Do you understand?”

The computer remained “silent”.

William grit his teeth. He had no choice but to listen for any signs of intrusion. Footsteps limping down the hallway. Heavy thumping through the vents. Music boxes singing their simple yet plaintive songs. Anything that didn’t match the droning of the fan or the current pounding of his heart in his ears.

But there was no other sound. Not even a random pin falling onto the checkerboard tile. William’s alarm slowly changed to confusion. He rose from his seat and looked towards the nearest doorway. “I would guess that this is a prank of some kind, but nothing’s really happened,” he thought to himself. “Have I somehow achieved being in a dream within a dream? Or did someone sneak into my office and accidentally turn on the ‘Switch Offices’ command?”

With the question lingering, he peered outside the door. The only thing haunted him was the abnormal length of the corridor, stretching as far as the eye could see.

He pried himself back into the main office. Then, out of some duty to remain thorough, he made his way to the opposite door. It was the same, save for a few extra drawings here and there.

“It must be the latter option,” he reasoned with himself as he leaned against the doorframe. “Something bizarre should’ve happened by now. Like the walls changing colors as if they were disco balls or the hallways changing into mythical forests. Not this… emptiness.”

He frowned as he returned to his seat. “Might as well wait this out,” he concluded, resting an elbow on the table. “I’m sure Goldie will come along and reset things. That, or Dee- Dee will leave a challenger at my doorstep again.” He practically sneered at the last idea.

The unseen clock ticked on. William tried to keep his mind entertained, but nothing really stuck. The comfort of those Christmas hymns only lasted for a while. Planning out his revenge sounded fun at first, but that quickly turned into battle tactics for beating the Ultimate Challenge itself. And, if he had to be honest with himself, he was clearly not in the right situation for that. In fact, he wasn’t in the right situation for anything. It was too bleak here. Too tainted with some sort of joylessness that drained what was left of his being. At least the main office had some sort of light to it, though that one bulb tended to flicker very often.

A faint rattle interrupted William’s spiraling train of thought. He looked over his shoulder. A pale glow appeared out of nowhere, slowly engulfing the center of the room. The shaking chains grew louder and louder. Some bipedal figure began to emerge in like a spirit emerging from an even worse fate than the man before it. All of this only made William inch his repositioned chair towards the strange sight. Though he had no basis for it, a flight of fancy made his dead heart skip. “Henry?” he asked softly, a broken smile creeping in. “Is.. Is that you? I don’t know why you’d come back in such a Marley-like fashion, but I welcome—“

A long, desperate gasp cut him off. The stabilized figure gripped its rabbit-like ears, quickly dashing any of William’s hopes. “Henry is long gone, you silly goose!” it cried, tugging down said ears. “Only I remain!”

The glow quickly weakened, letting William actually see the stranger. To his surprise, it was a once-golden rabbit dressed a tattered suit— Complete with a violet bow-tie. A bandage also supported its jaw and head, which made it look even stranger than its mere existence here in this realm.

William leaned forward in his seat. “Spring-Bonnie?” he asked, more puzzled than annoyed. “How—and, perhaps more importantly, why— are you here?”

Spring-Bonnie finally let go of his drooping ears. “By some miracle, I’ve been allowed to leave my wretched fate,” he answered, putting a hand to his head. “Always wandering the living minds of those we’ve impacted, Willie. Only able to exist as a silent memory floating here and there, wanting to apologize but never being able to.” He then lifted his arm, making links of reddish chains visible. “These chains drag me here and there, forcing me to repeat everything we’ve done. Everything you made me do.”

A shiver ran down William’s spine. “You mean our… ‘business’, don’t you?” he asked uneasily, tugging at his mismatched shirt collar. “It’s an unfortunate legacy, yes, but surely this didn’t hurt your reputation as much.”

Spring-Bonnie tugged his ears again. He let out a massive shriek of rage, threatening to puncture both glass and eardrums. “Merrymaking was our business, Willie!!” he yelled, grabbing William and furiously shaking him by the shoulders. “Making others happy was our business!! Everything we did, we did together! We laughed, we danced, and we played ‘Follow the Yellow Rabbit’! The only reason why these chains haven’t made us tag-team in your nightmare is because they understand that I was practically your accomplice!” He paused, his rage melting into sorrow. “Oh, if only I was an actual person like you,” he lamented to himself, loosening his grip on the shaken man. “Or if I ‘retired’ faster. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to be stuck with a chain only half as long as yours.”

William winced. His mind could picture the horrid red chains bound around himself. And, even worse, he could almost imagine himself giving these same grievances to some other misguided soul. …Almost. One question prevented him from completely giving into that trap. “Are you here to cut these chains off somehow?” he inquired, attempting to keep a steady tone despite the dull ache in his soul. “Or are you here to correct me in some other way? Say, for instance, my refusals to participate in Christmas activities?”

A teary-eyed Spring-Bonnie tilted his head. “Why would I be mad about you not going to Christmas parties?” he asked in turn, one of his ears raising a little. “That’s the kind of thing I expect you to do, you party pooper.”

“I see,” William responded as he tried to gently pry one of the bunny’s paws off his shoulder. “Then why are you here? Never mind the Jacob Marley attire for the moment. That we can probably discuss later.”

“Oh, right,” Spring-Bonnie said, letting go of his listener and putting a hand to his jaw. “How’d I forget? That’s much more important than talking about my chains! Why, yours are double the length— If not ten-doubled!”

“I believe the term is ‘decupled’,” William corrected swiftly.

Spring-Bonnie muttered something off-handily about his maker still being unable to count to two, then straightened his bow-tie. “My point still stands,” he huffed. “Your chain is much, much longer. And, if you ever leave this place, you won’t get the same fate I have. Actually, you’ll get much worse. Don’t you remember what was the last thing Henry said to you?”

William thought back. He remembered the flames engulfing everything. He recalled his own yells being snuffed out by smoke and other noises. He silently recited his actual business partner’s final speech, practically skimming it though it was mere garbled audio.

When he finally reached the part meant for him, all became clear. If what Spring-Bonnie said was true, then—

His entire body went ice cold.

Spring-Bonnie simply nodded. “That’s why I’m here,” he replied, fiddling with his prop bandage. “If I can’t escape my fate, then maybe—Just maybe— I can help you escape yours. Even if it isn’t what I’m betting it is. It could even be wandering the earth as an actual ghost, what do I know?”

Though some of Spring’s words gave him a bit of comfort, William now felt the true terror of Scrooge. “What am I supposed to do?” he sputtered out, grabbing the rabbit’s closest arm for support. “Am I supposed to fend off myself for six hours straight? Or am I supposed to suffer my original demises from a different perspective? Tell me, Springs!”

“First of all: Calm down, silly,” Spring-Bonnie answered dryly, removing his arm from the trembling man. “Second, expect three more visitors soon. They can help you much better than I can.”

At the words “three visitors”, William’s tremor lessened. “The Spirits of Christmas, correct?” he questioned softly, the mere mention of them easing him even further.

“Yup,” Spring-Bonnie responded, bobbing his head with a hint of pride. “But probably not in the forms you’re thinking of.”

“Bah,” William grumbled, putting a hand to his head. “I was starting to look forward to seeing an ever-changing candle ghost light these hallways.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll still like the Ghost of Christmas Past,” the rabbit added, chuckling a little. “Maybe even the other ghosts too, if you quit being such a grumpy guts.”

William only glared back.

A faint bell rang in the left hallway. Spring’s chains took a life of their own, harshly pulling the rabbit towards the left door. He tried to fight back, but all he could do was cling onto the frame for dear life. “Expect the first ghost in an hour!” he cried, frantically waving an arm. “The rest I think you can guess! Goodbye and—!”

Unfortunately, Spring-Bonnie’s chains tugged with all their might. He let go of the doorframe and fell onto the floor. The last noises William heard was the shrillness of scraping tile and frantic pleas from the once-cartoonishly silly rabbit. It would be an absolute lie to say that the man quickly fell back into bored complacency. In fact, it would be much better to say that he practically shivered for twenty minutes. Yes, it came and went, but the freezing horror remained all the same. As did the inevitable question of “who or what is showing up here in an hour?”

[dragonmarquise]

I found out that some stupid Windows update was the reason my computer kept tanking these past few nights, to the point where it kept making Firefox and other programs freeze. Last night I just let the update run by itself, while closing everything else and keeping an eye on its progress. It managed to finish and everything's back to normal.

... that being said, this really feels like a sign I should finally get a new computer. My desktop is 9 years old, it's probably a little overdue. e_e;

I don't want to just upgrade the parts and risk breaking something, but I don't want to buy completely brand new either. Both to avoid Windows 11 and because most brand new PCs right now tend to be overpriced like hell!!

There's a really nice refurbished mini PC I found that more than fits my needs (plus it has Windows 10 instead of 11 thank god). But it's still like $500. And I want to get a new monitor with it, that bumps it up to a little over $600 for a good monitor plus adapter cable.

The monitor I'm using right now is actually "work equipment" from my company's office, but I've been using it for both my work laptop and personal desktop. Sure, no one will probably care, but it would probably be good to have a separate personal monitor in case something happens to the work monitor, y'know? :u

I think I should be fine to buy it maybe by the end of this month or next month. Then again, I'm also considering opening some quick commissions (like, very simple doodles and maybe chibi drawings) via Ko-fi to help with this too. Even if I don't get enough to cover the full amount, it'd still be helpful!

I'll just have to see how this works out. Hopefully the mini PC won't be gone by the time I'm ready to buy it. D:

Edit: Just to clarify, if it weren't for the fact that a couple of programs I rely on are exclusively Windows (and it's iffy whether Windows emulation/virtualization will work for them), I would probably just switch to some flavor of Linux, probably Ubuntu. But yeah, I gotta cling onto Windows 10 for the time being...

[crimmson]

hi I hate hormonal fluctuates do y'all wanna know the absolutely unhinged runaway train of thought that upset me so fucking much the last couple of days very suddenly and for no discernable reason??

so a while ago I also had a mini meltdown about how frustrated I was that my whole life is pretty much stuffed into my childhood bedroom. I am a grown-ass 32 year old adult, and this like 10x10 room is effectively my bedroom, dining room, gaming room, hobby room, etc. I was getting annoyed and trying to rearrange my desk to optimize the space and couldn't and started like frustrated half-crying with a bunch of half disassembled shit on the floor around me.

my dad very graciously talked with me and was like why don't you move some of your stuff into [my mom's old home office/unused exercise room/misc storage room] and that has become my Computer/Game room. and that has certainly helped the last couple of months.

HOWEVER, a couple of days ago I was already just on edge for unidentifiable reasons and my dad has been prepping some stuff because we're getting windows replaced this week. so he was hammering and drilling and stuff, and even with the door shut and my headphones on I could still hear it, and for whatever reason that was just Enough. i already wasn't fully in a gaming mood so I just quit my game and I started just angry-straightening-up my desk and laundry and shit and getting snippy so he was very understandably like "what in the fuck"

THIS led to me getting annoyed again that I just don't have the fine, granular control over various house stuff that I'd like to have. and general lack of ~privacy in my own home~ kind of shit. like I feel weird walking from the bathroom to my room in my underwear after I take a shower but I don't wanna bring the towel with me because then I'll have to go back and hang it up. just stupid little shit like that. and the fact that he will bitch at me about his brother coming up to ramble at him for 20 minutes about shit he doesn't care about, with the irony that he's doing the same fucking thing to me just sailing right over his head. but then I feel like an asshole for not having the patience anymore to play along. I wanna do my own shit but then I feel guilty.

or the fact that I'd love to have easy access to maintenance shit like thoroughly cleaning out the washing machine or the dishwasher filter. or doing my laundry on a schedule. but I can't really do that shit because I'd have to organize around other people in the house. and some small stupid shit like my dad and uncle leaving their dishes in the sink for days at a time if not a couple of weeks, whereas I put my shit straight into the dishwasher. or leaving wrappers on the counter instead of putting them straight into the garbage.

but at the same time I have no real right to complain, because there's plenty of shit I leave around because the moment I put something down and walk away, there's a 50/50 chance I will forget it's there. so it's like. kind of an asshole move for me to get prickly about things when I do similar shit.

then THAT led to me being like... he's already compromised for me before, and compromises go both ways, and I know this. so why am I still so annoyed. so NOW I'm annoyed that I'm annoyed.

(also at some point the annoyance of 'why on earth does he even need the larger master bedroom at this point when he effectively just uses it for sleeping and he has the whole living room' floated through my mind but it's also insane to switch up bedrooms at this point)

but then THAT led to "oh my god, if I'm ultimately always going to be unhappy with compromise and demand more then the problem is me, and nobody should ever live with me because I will drive them up a fucking wall, which means nobody should ever like-like me (because mentally I'm 12 and love is a scary word)"

which THEN led to "oh my god am I doomed to always inevitably become unhappy with every situation because everything I've done that I thought would magically fix my problems has not, eventually the relief fades and there's always something that seems to creep up"

and then THAT turned into "oh jesus christ i can't even afford to live on my own if I want to because it's too expensive here but I hate the idea of moving and learning how to do a new job and I LIKE my job despite my bitching and I'm comfortable with it, I just dont know how tf anyone is supposed to actually survive in this expensive fucking area when rent is like 60% of my monthly income so im LUCKY to live rent free with my dad. so I need to just deal with it for now. because no matter what I'm trapped and I just need to make peace with that."

AND THEN I SLEPT FOR LIKE 10 HOURS TWO DAYS IN A ROW AND IM MOSTLY BETTER NOW SO WHAT THE FUCK

[boreal-sea]

So, despite my troubles, and despite the fact that the screen on the other laptop sucks dicks, I may switch over to using it as my primary computer. We'll see - I want to make sure I can long into Windows and get OneDrive set up and download a backup of all my graduate school work. If everything on the Dell is indeed properly backed up, then... I might genuinely switch. And if I do that, then I can remove all of my files and programs etc from the Dell, and then install Mint on it, too. I think I'd still do it as a dual boot, because I'm scared to fully lose the ability to use Windows on it if I need to for some reason. But the Dell literally only has a 220 GB drive that is simultaneously hosting Windows and all my programs and being used for storage.

[noteguk]

bad attitude | jjk | m

[ ! ] this is part of the bad influence collection. You can read it as a stand-alone though! 

— summary; in which Jungkook finally learns how to behave. Kind of. 

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, brattysub!kook x dom!reader, actually more of a switch!kook/switch!reader, the oc is kind of a demon with teasing because payback is a bitch, bondage, edging, dirty talk, begging, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, cockwarming, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb), creampie, stuffing, Taehyung makes a cameo, terrible use of the two wolves meme I’m so sorry 

— words; 7,2k 

— author’s note; yes I started this with a meme and no I��m not okay. This is kind of chaotic tbh but I wanted to write something a bit more unhinged and lighthearted after all that drama from the third part of the series. This happens some time after bad reputation. 

Also! Take a look at the text messages that brought them to this moment ;) 

Probably one of the dumbest things that Jungkook had ever heard came from his roommate and childhood friend, Taehyung, after a few hours scrolling through Facebook with a blunt hanging from the corner of his lips. Taehyung was in the deep web equivalent of social media: entrepreneur pages, where young, overly-dressed men with obviously rented convertibles promised to teach gullible people how to become millionaires by working at home (if you only pay for their courses). Nevertheless, what started as an ironic scroll through shallow motivational quotes quickly escalated into a semi-believable, mostly high rant about the importance of controlling your inner demons, which Jungkook sadly had to endure, since he was the only person around and, therefore, his roommate's sole target. 

Taehyung was high out of his mind, but it seemed as if he would be the last to get that memo: in his twisted conception, he was spilling the hottest of truths (and not the incoherent ramble that it really was). Fighting through Jungkook’s complaints and eye rolls, he simply went on and on about how the page “Alpha Billionaire 101” wasn’t really that off beat when they said that you do, in fact, have two wolves inside you — and the one you feed is the one that wins. Jungkook was basically disassociating by the point that Taehyung started drawing some graphs, looking fixedly at the two wolves on the screen of his computer (one written “success and drive” and the other one representing “failure and procrastination”) and wishing that the gods above would strike him down once and for all. 

And why is that important? Well, because eventually Taehyung fell asleep and moved on with his life, only casually mentioning the other stuff he saw on that page, but his words stuck around, glued to the back of Jungkook’s head. Not because they held any sort of meaning, but because the wolf metaphor was just too stupid to forget. And that eventually caught up to Jungkook in the strangest, most unexpected of ways: with you and bondage being involved. 

Now, Jungkook had two wolves inside of him: one was extremely laid back and barely cared about most things that happened, as long as he was having a good time. The second wolf was a bitter, prideful, egocentric, mean little thing that simply wouldn’t fold no matter how much the world wanted it to. And it was that second wolf that took him to that position: because Jungkook told you that he was positive, certain, a hundred percent sure that he’d never be like you and beg for something during sex. 

Which made both of your wolves absolutely pissed. 

“What the fuck…” he mumbled, looking up at your agile hands moving like wasps around his wrists. The room was dark, barely illuminated by the moonlight that came from the window, but that wasn’t really the reason why his pupils were so blown-out. “Where did you learn to tie knots like this?” 

You smiled, giving a last pull on the ropes to make sure they would stay still. Jungkook had been elated when you finally told him that you’d be willing to try it out bondage. One thing he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be the one getting tied up. “I was in the Girl Scouts,” you told him, sitting back against his thighs. 

Jungkook scoffed, tugging at the ropes. They weren’t too tight, yet they burned his skin a bit — not an unwelcome feeling, but his mind wasn’t too focused on it. He had to live up to his own words. “Of course you were in the fucking Girl Scouts.” He rolled his eyes. “So, how long is this gonna take?”

His gaze followed as your hands unclasped your bra. Jungkook, who had already been stripped down to his boxers, could barely disguise the twitching of his eyebrows when your breasts finally came into view. The bra collapsed somewhere on the floor. “Depends on how long it takes for you to say it,” you reminded him. 

Jungkook shifted around, gaze following the rise and fall of your chest. His hands struggled against the ropes, aching to touch your breasts, and you could notice the frustration blossoming at the back of his throat when he spoke up. “I’m not gonna say it.” 

With a pout, you leaned back in, placing your hands on his broad chest for leverage. “Then it’s probably going to take a long time.” You blinked up at him, and there was a devilish glint in your eyes that he didn’t remember seeing before. He was doomed. “Comfortable?”

“Not at all,” he complained. 

The smile you gifted him made his knees weak for a second. “Perfect.” Your hands traveled to the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair and eyes zeroing in on his mouth. “Now, be good and kiss me like you mean it, okay?” 

Be good? 

Jungkook didn’t get any time to digest your words before your mouth was pressing against his, enveloping him in your warmth — and suddenly he didn’t want to think about anything else. How could he? When you had your hands caressing his neck, with a soft sigh against his lips, there was nothing else in the world that could rob his attention. 

In the end, past his brooding, unshakable persona, Jungkook was still a weak man when it came to you, he really was. It had become a natural, well-rehearsed reaction of his to explore your mouth with his tongue at every chance that he got; your lips slapping together as he groaned against you. The skin of his wrists was tingling, pressing hard against the ropes that held his hands back from exploring your body; from pulling you closer like he wanted to. Instead, he was at your mercy, following your own pace as you leaned your head to the side, fingers tugging on his hair as you sighed happily into the kiss. 

It was exactly the way he liked: sensual, slow, messy; made his head spin when you rolled your clothed center on his erection before sucking on his tongue. Jungkook was sure that you were doing all that on purpose, riling him up as much as possible before finally touching him where he needed so much, and that was definitely going to be a problem. 

In the back of his head, Jungkook was currently trying to decide if he hated Taehyung or not: the fact that his roommate had compulsively chosen to attend a party three hours away was the reason that you were there, kissing him like he was the air that you breathed, but also the reason why Jungkook had gotten tied up in the first place. If he had had a bit more time between texting you that he would never beg in sex (a very dumb, very unthought action), and the moment that you actually tried to make it happen, perhaps he would be able to convince you to step down from it. Perhaps he would realize that his prideful side was also really, really fucking stupid when it came to predicting his own limits. 

Truth was: Jungkook was pretty much panicking when you moaned against his lips, because his cock was unbearably hard inside his underwear and he just knew that he would fold after some time. Especially when you were acting like that, like a demon trying to seduce him into selling his soul; a siren about to drag him to the abyssal depths of the ocean. He could barely follow what was happening. 

Because of his dominating tendencies, Jungkook had never seen you showing your typical neurotic, controlling self during your sexual adventures — which was something he endlessly teased you for, but never thought it would actually have any sort of backlash. It seemed that both of you liked the usual dynamic (of Jungkook taking over) well enough and, yet, as he watched that sadistic expression monopolizing your features, he realized that maybe it was for the best. Maybe you had been training your whole life to perfect the masterful art of having things happening the way you wanted it, and maybe giving you the lead was one of the worst decisions he had made in some time. 

As you pulled away, Jungkook chased after your mouth, managing to place another small kiss on your lips before the ropes held him back. “More,” he groaned. 

The curve of your mouth was a wicked little thing, almost making him lose his composure for a second. “No, no more,” you were firm in your words. “Be patient.” 

He huffed. “You only got an attitude because my hands are tied up.”

“I always have an attitude,” you were fast to correct, getting out of his lap. The lack of your warmth was instantly felt, made his chest heave in frustration as you sat down next to him. There was an embarrassingly large wet spot on his underwear that he was hoping you wouldn’t notice. “But, yeah, maybe I’m a little braver because of it.” Before he could muster up a response, one of your hands traveled between his thighs, faintly tracing its way up his skin. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Jungkook clenched his jaw — it was embarrassing how sensitive he was, goosebumps spreading through his legs. “Don’t tease."

“Or what?” A squeeze of his bulge was everything you need to make him shut up, his hips buckling up to meet your palm. Jungkook was hard and leaking, pulsating as you gave him a few, half-assed pumps through his underwear. A few seconds were more than enough to let him have his fun, it seemed, because you were soon removing your hand from his erection. “Now, stay still unless you want me to tie your feet too.” 

He hissed at the lack of contact, but refused to complain about it out loud. You smiled at his reaction: Jungkook was so stubborn when it came to things like that, would never show you his weak, needy side so easily. But you were patient and, from what you had been told, you had all night to get your way. 

Call it revenge, call it whatever: there was nothing that you wanted more than to see Jungkook bite back his own words and beg for you. It was an ego thing, perhaps, the mission to leave him just as overwhelmed and desperate as he had made you so many times in the past. Maybe you were a bit mean about it. But it was well deserved. 

You took your time pulling one of his legs towards you, watching as his cock throbbed when you placed your body between his thighs. Jungkook could only think about how soft your mouth felt as you kissed up his thigh before, at last, you were nuzzling your face against his erection, placing kisses on his clothed member as your thumb pressed down on his sensitive tip. His breath grew irregular at the feeling, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as you looked up at him with that demonic smirk of yours, those big doe eyes that wiped his thoughts clean. Jungkook was absolutely fucked. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to urge you further because, soon enough, you were pulling his underwear down, making it join your bra on his bedroom floor. Jungkook could’ve cried when you rolled your thumb over his crown, spreading his precum all over him, a delighted hum dripping past your throat. “You’re leaking,” you commented, eyes following the glistening of his reddened tip. He could only muster a raggedy, short sigh before you were talking again. “I can clean you up, don’t worry.” 

Jungkook moaned out when you wrapped your lips around his cock, not hesitating much before you sank down on him. His head fell back when you started sucking, your cheeks hollowing out and tongue pressed flat against him. “God, your mouth feels so fucking perfect.” His hips thrusted up, but you had enough of a reflex to pull away before he managed to hit the back of your throat. “Take it deeper, baby, do it for me.”

But you did the opposite, removing him from your mouth. You glanced up at him with a disinterested look plastered all over your face, lips glossy with a beautiful mixture of your saliva and his wetness. Jungkook made a mental note to never forget that sight. “I don’t know if you understand what’s going on here, Jungkook.” You wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping it twice. It felt good, but nothing compared to your mouth. “But it’s really not your place to tell me what to do right now. That’s not how it works.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckled, eyebrows raised in a silent dare. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Poor decisions: Jungkook’s week was filled with poor decisions. Blame that unshakable arrogant side of his, blame his terribly constructed defense mechanisms; blame whatever it was that didn’t allow him to think clearly when you were so beautifully placed between his legs, but it seemed that he really thought it would be a good call to provoke you when you were already 1) deadset on making him embarrass himself 2) probably the best Girl Scout to ever tie a knot in history. 

Jungkook was completely helpless: he knew that, you knew that. So the reason why he mocked you in such a position would forever be another mystery that science could never answer. 

And the payback arrived soon enough. Jungkook only earned a few seconds of relaxation, staring at your impassive face, before your mouth was sinking back down around his member. 

If Jungkook thought that you were teasing him before, now you were sucking him like you wanted him to cum in two seconds — hands pumping his length, playing with his balls, tip hitting your throat, tongue dragging against his slit: the four horsemen of your apocalyptic blowjob technique that got him seeing stars in no time. “Fuck, that’s my girl,” he moaned. He was sure his wrists would be all red in the following morning from the way he was mindlessly moving his arms around, his mind just so hyper-focused on the need to touch you, to pull your hair when you were wrapping around his cock so well. “Feels so fucking perfect.” 

Then, as he was just about to tip over, you pulled away. 

“No, what the fuck,” Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, still unfocused and glazed-over. His body flinched at the interruption of his pleasure, and his cock throbbing against his pelvis, angry for attention. “Fuck, why did you stop?”

“That’s what I’m going to do about it.” You smiled, and Jungkook noticed that he was really playing a very dangerous game. In a span of two seconds, he asked himself if he was that mean to you, realized that he probably was, and came to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t change anything about it. “Are you going to behave now, Jungkook?” 

He groaned, fighting against the frustrated waves that overtook his body. His orgasm, before so close, had now been washed away, leaving him with a pulsating feeling inside his guts. “You’re pissing me off.”

“Likewise.” You tilted your head to the side, placing one hand on his thigh. “Now, stay still and do what I tell you to do. That’s the last time I’m asking.” 

He frowned. “Or what?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. “Isn’t it obvious? Or I’m leaving you like this.” 

Jungkook’s brain finally seemed to comprehend the fact that, sometimes, it’s better to keep your mouth shut. So, instead of saying something, he simply watched as you removed your underwear before sitting between his legs, your thighs over his. 

Because you absolutely hated him, you had opened your legs wide, pussy on full display, as you used one hand to lean back against the mattress. His eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when you used two fingers to spread your folds apart. “Look,” you said, your breathy voice making something inside his chest switch. “I’m so wet.” 

And wet you were. Jungkook exhaled, nostrils flaring. His mouth salivated at the thought of licking you clean, fingers growing white around the ropes. He never hated an object so hard in his life. “I can… I can see that.” 

You giggled at the grogginess of his tone, dove into the satisfaction that came from his focused eyes on your soaked folds. A gentle suspire left you as your digits slipped up, covering your clit with your arousal before pressing down on it. You were acting up a bit, whining loudly at the feeling because you knew that it drove him crazy to hear you make sounds for him. “Jungkook…” you trailed off. You had to bite back a laugh when his stare snapped up at you, looking so overwhelmingly horny and pissed off at the same time — the duality of men. “Want to have you inside me.” 

He exhaled heavily. “Do it,” he said and you allowed him to think that it was his order (and not your decision) that made you move. 

Jungkook’s pupils were blown out in sheer desire, wanting to absorb every light that bounced off your soft skin when you lined yourself with his cock, covering his tip with your warm wetness, allowing it to rub between your folds. By the time that you sat down on him, he was dangerously close to cracking. 

“Oh fuck.” His hips thrusted up, wanting to feel more of your tight walls around him. It was heaven and hell, just the way he loved it, but his delight wouldn’t last long. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

“It does,” you agreed, but there was a teasing inflection in your tone that he did not miss. Soon, your fingers were back where they were before, circling your clit. “And I happen to know how to make it even better. For myself, at least.” 

It took him a few moments to understand what was going on, but, once it clicked inside his head, he could’ve cried from frustration. “What are you doing?”

“Getting myself off.” You smiled — oh you were such a fucking demon, he thought, a trickster spirit that wouldn’t rest until he was begging you to let him cum. Worst part? He might as well do it. “You don’t mind, do you? I know you love to keep your cock inside me like this.” 

They say that revenge is sweet and, as you saw the flash of desperation that crossed Jungkook’s face, you couldn’t agree more. “Aren’t… aren’t you going to move?” He tried. 

You could tell that he was holding back from just thrusting up inside you, which was equally satisfying and arousing: maybe, just maybe, he was starting to learn one thing or two about following your orders. “Hmmm… not at all.” You smirked, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as you circled your sensitive spot just the right way. Jungkook followed the movement of your lips as if they were writing the secrets of the universe. “Not if you keep that attitude up.” 

He frowned, the corners of his mouth twitching in frustration. From your peripheral vision, you could see his wrists vaguely struggling against your knots — humbly speaking, you were a great Girl Scout, the typical overachiever, and you were positive that they would hold up. 

“You’re going to regret this later,” Jungkook warned, but his words didn’t even have the chance to affect you. One clenching of your walls around him was all that it took for his head to roll back, a deep grunt dripping from his mouth at the sensation. It was just enough to keep him dangling over the edge, but not even close to making him cum. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

“I’m almost there, that’s why.” Your other hand slithered up your waist, cupping one of your breasts. Being a bit more theatrical than necessary (because you wanted to provoke him as much as you could), you gasped out his name as you rolled one nipple between your fingers, arching your back at the sensation. You swore you saw Jungkook’s eye twitch. “Gonna cum just like this. And you’re gonna be good and watch me.” 

Again with that be good bullshit, again not giving him enough time to process it before you were timidly rolling your hips. “Baby,” he gasped. “This isn’t fair.” 

“It isn’t,” you agreed, slightly breathless, your hand moving to play with your other breast. Jungkook followed the action like every part of you was magnetic, calling for his attention. “You do that to me all the time, though.” 

He frowned. “But I let you fucking touch me.” 

“How nice of you,” you sarcastically remarked. Another small roll of your hips made you gasp, fingers working faster around your clit. Teasing Jungkook got you shamefully turned on, it seemed, because you were just about to tip over the edge. “Fuck, feels so good.” 

“It would feel so much better if you just— God, you’re so fucking wet,” his mind was barely functioning at that point, the heavenly feeling of your walls clenching around him was making him go insane. “Just ride my cock, baby.” 

“No,” that simple word was like an arrow, shooting all his hopes down. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head back, trying to fight against the claustrophobic nature of his position. There was no way he could hold himself back, he thought, he would beg you as many times as he needed it that was what it took for him to finally cum. “I’m close, Kook.” 

That whimpery, needy tone of yours would be the death of him one of those days. “I can fucking feel it,” he cursed. Jungkook just wanted to thrust inside your dripping pussy, make you cream his cock like you were made for it, but he knew that you would just stop everything again if he did so, and he seriously didn’t think he could take that. “S-Shit, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” 

But you had a good idea of how you were affecting him. Through parted lids, you watched as his face contorted in pleasure when you squeezed particularly tightly around him; a muffled sob perishing on his throat when you vaguely raised your hips. Jungkook was filling you up so perfectly, like he always did, and it was that amazing stretch of his cock inside you, combined with the clear hunger that covered his features, that pulled your climax towards you. 

The orgasm that washed over you was abrupt, overbearing, just blinding enough so you didn’t notice the weak little moans that Jungkook let out at the throbbing of your walls around his aching length. You tried to prolong it for as long as possible, rubbing yourself, crying out his name for theatrical reasons, but eventually sensitivity got the best of you and you stopped. 

What you found when you did, however, was a glorious sight. Jungkook was a perfect picture of lust and desperation, his chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked on where your two bodies joined. There was a thin coat of sweat all over his skin, the small sound of the  ropes pulling on the headboard. When he noticed you were staring, he found your gaze. “I- I stood still,” he said. 

“I know, you did so good.” You placed one hand on his cheek, leveling your face with his so you could kiss him. Jungkook melted under your touch, a deep sigh leaving his mouth as you pulled away, his cock still deep inside you. “I’m proud of you.” 

As if something had magically changed, Jungkook tried to fight against his immobilized hands, only to find out that he was still unable to free himself. “Wanna touch you so bad, baby. You look so fucking hot sitting on my cock like this.” Jungkook was spoiled, you realized, because it didn’t take him two seconds of good behavior to revert back to what he wanted to happen. It was a terrible habit, you realized, one that you probably helped enable. “Fuck, just let me cum, baby. Take these off and I’ll fuck you just the way you like it.” 

And maybe if you weren’t so high up in your power rush, you would’ve at least considered his offer. However, having Jungkook turned into a pliant mess beneath you was worth more than anything else at that moment. “I’ll think about it if you say the magic word.”

He frowned, his charm melting away. Jungkook was so adamant on having it his way that it bordered on a joke. “Not gonna do it.” 

You kissed him once again before speaking up. “Then we don’t have a deal.” You shook your head, moving away from him. Jungkook searched after your mouth, but your stupid Girl Scouts knots didn’t allow him to go much further. He collapsed back against the headboard with a frustrated groan. “You’re a terrible sub.”

“Maybe because I’m not a fucking sub— Shit.” All his thoughts were wiped clean when you slowly raised your hips, only leaving his engorged tip inside, before, finally, sitting back down. The drag of your velvety walls against his sensitive cock was driving Jungkook up the wall, his tied-up wrists mindlessly knocking against each other. “Fuck. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You pouted, repeating the movement. You watched as his jaw clenched, a sharp exhale leaving his nostrils as Jungkook both fought against and searched for his pleasure. “Sure you don’t wanna say it?” 

A deliciously slow roll of your hips got him gasping out. “I’m not gonna — fuck — not gonna say it.” 

You leaned your head to the side, stopping your movements. Jungkook’s abdomen was caving in with every small brush of your pussy around him, the illumination from the streets making the drops of sweat on his skin look like small diamonds. It was an erotic sight, from the falling of his dark hair over his hooded eyes, to the beautiful inked drawings on his arms. Unfortunately, you had other things to do other than to admire him endlessly. 

With a sigh, you got up from his lap. “Too bad.”

“Baby,” Jungkook whined — actually whined —  when he felt his cock slip out of your perfect heat, collapsing against his abdomen. The sensation got him flinching, made him bite his lip for a second in an attempt to compose himself. “Baby, don’t leave me like this, come on.”

You frowned, faking annoyance. “How can I not leave you like this, Jungkook?” Your palms slithered around his shoulders, pulling your body closer to his. “You’re being horrible right now.” 

“S-Sorry.” His breath caught in his throat when your mouth met the skin of his neck, tongue prodding out to lick a small trail up his skin. Your heat was unbearable, suffocating him and drowning out his thoughts to the point that he had really apologized for his poor demeanor. If your predictions were correct, it wouldn’t take long before he folded the way you wanted him to. “Just, come on, you can’t just— I’m just so hard right now.” 

You giggled, fingertips moving down on his chest until you found what you were looking for. “Aw. Poor thing,” you teased, feeling as he grew stiff when you started to play with his nipples. A few weeks back, you had made the wonderful and unexpected discovery that Jungkook was really sensitive there, but you never really had a chance to explore that side of him before he flipped you over and had you his way. But the universe always searched for balance, and that moment was the karmic payback you were looking for. “What’s the problem, Kook?” 

“Wanna cum.” He winced away from your faint caresses, but he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. A smirk curled up on your lips as you watched Jungkook fight against the knots, a frail, airy moan leaving his chest as you rolled his nipples between your fingers. He sounded so perfect: so needy and desperate that you could feel another gush of arousal accumulating between your folds. “Just wanna cum so bad, baby.” 

“I’m not gonna be mean and hold it off,” you told him, moving back so you could place a kiss against his pouty, swollen lips. Jungkook looked so beautifully messy, so on edge, that you almost cried out at the sight of it. “You just have to say it,” you told him, lowering your hips until you were straddling his cock. 

With a roll of your pussy against him, his cock brushed between your wet folds, tearing a broken sob from his throat. “Fuck,” Jungkook cursed. He was never in a position like that: edged for so long that he couldn’t even control the grunts that left his throat. “You’re so fucking evil.”

“You love it.” Another grind of your pussy had him throwing his head back, a loud moan ripping itself from his heaving chest. Jungkook was sensitive, responsive to the tiniest of your touches and, most of all: he was desperate, seconds away from cracking. “You know, if you say it, I’ll let you cum.” 

His cock throbbed against you when you finally stopped your movements, raising your hips so your center moved away from his. Jungkook complained at the lack of sensation, practically on the limit of throwing a tantrum, and his pelvis mindlessly buckling up in search of your warmth. Instead, he found nothing, and his member simply collapsed back against his abdomen, aching for its release. 

“This— This is torture,” he groaned. You giggled at his distress, taking one hand to brush away the sweaty hair from his forehead. Jungkook leaned into your touch. “Please, baby, just fuck me.”

Your ears perked up at that, a pool of arousal starting to grow between your legs. That sounded even better than you had predicted. “Sorry, what was that?” You teased. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Don’t make me say it again.” 

Slowly, you lowered your hips again, pressing your pussy against his cock. Jungkook reacted instantly, taking in a sharp inhale. “Didn’t hear you,” you said. 

“God, baby, just fuck me, please,” he finally broke down, his dazed-out gaze seemed to have some trouble focusing on your face. Desperation was plastered all over him, staring at you like a beautiful, shimmering trophy. “Please, just let me cum. Please.” 

You hummed, leaning away so you could sit on his thighs, facing his erection. You were a woman of your word: you said you wouldn’t hold it back, and you wouldn’t. “Since you asked so nicely…” you trailed off, one hand wrapping around his base, pumping him a few times. Jungkook throbbed in your hands, his abdomen sinking as your thumb grazed his sensitive crown. “Where do you wanna cum?” 

It looked like you had truly broken the poor boy down because, for the first time in his life, Jungkook didn’t have any idea on how to answer that question. “I- I don’t know,” he struggled to speak when your hand was still caressing his member: just enough for him to feel something, but too slow and light for him to actually cum. “Anywhere. Just wanna cum.” 

You pouted, letting his cock go. It bounced on his pelvis, tore a painful cry from his throat as he felt his pleasure wash away once again. “I need an answer, Kook.” 

And he said the first thing that came into his mind. “Your pussy, baby, please.” 

A smile tugged on your lips — it seemed as if that word wasn’t so hard to say anymore. “Of course, you’ve been so good.” You moved around until you were sinking down on him, feeling that fantastic stretch all over again, and earning a shaky moan from his part. You only spoke up again after you were sure he couldn’t go any deeper. “Kook?” You called. His pleading eyes shot up at you. “Wanna fuck me?” 

He breathed out, just a tremulous gush of air that he could barely get ahold of. “Y-Yes, yes, please.” 

You hummed, wiggling your ass around just so you could watch his face contort in despair, crumbling under the delicious drag of your plump walls around his cock. Jungkook almost looked cute, you dared to think, even if you were sure he would fold you in half the second that he got those ropes off. It was like teasing a tiger in a zoo: people only felt brave enough to do it because there was a thick glass between them. “You better do it, then,” you told him. 

After everything you had put him through, Jungkook seemed almost hesitant to do so. “C-Can I move?” He asked, just to be sure. Last thing he needed was to do something wrong and have you walking out on him. His cock was so hard, leaking inside you, and he didn’t believe that he could handle being left like that. 

“Of course,” you told him, the tenderness of your voice so different from what you sounded like all night. Jungkook was still on the palm of your hand, but your victory when it came to making him beg had already been achieved. So you could relax and let him do the heavy lifting for once. Being active was exhausting sometimes. “Come on, Kook,” you egged him on, leaning forward so you could find support on his chest. You knew what was coming. “Fuck me.” 

That seemed to be the last spark he needed to ignite his fire because, soon enough, he was placing both feet on the mattress and thrusting upwards, your body collapsing forward under the force of his movements. Jungkook barely gave you any time to breathe: he fucked you fast and deep, helped by the gravity of your weight above him; shallow breaths and noisy whines leaving his mouth in a beautiful cacophony of sounds. It wasn’t long before he was making you bounce on his cock, pretty moans melting upon your lips as you fought to keep your balance over him. 

“B-Baby,” Jungkook stammered, an airy, high-pitched moan sounding from his parted mouth. His brain was utterly bewildered by the movement of your body above his own, the bouncing of your breasts and the wild fluttering of your eyelashes. And those moans, those gorgeous, ethereal little sounds that you reserved just for him. “S-So perfect. All mine.” 

“All yours,” you said promptly, struggling to meet his gaze. No matter how much you tried, you could not follow the speed of his thrusts, so you simply kept your body in place as he used it as he pleased. “Is this what you wanted?” 

He nodded, mouth falling open. His lips were pouty and swollen, slightly red from the way he had bitten them before. “Wanna cum,” he breathed out, “inside you.” 

No pretty please, you realized. Perhaps it wasn’t your best call to ask him to fuck you, because it dawned on you that you had just handed Jungkook his esteemed control back on a silver platter. That started simply as a doubt in the corners of your mind, however, you were sure that you had lost that battle once his needy whimpers started to wash away, instead replaced by the guttural, rough groans that he usually presented to you. 

Not that you truly cared about it: you had already proven your point. 

His head leaned to the side, pressing against his elevated arm. Jungkook was hypnotized by the way that your bodies met, the way you held yourself up so he could fuck himself inside you. You were always so good for him. “Your pussy feels so fucking amazing, baby,” Jungkook moaned out, hips snapping up against yours. A hiss dripped from his mouth when he felt you clench around him, signaling that you were close once again. “Look so pretty. Made for my cock.” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, head falling back. You could feel that familiar tingling at the bottom of your stomach, your orgasm ready to snap once more. Jungkook always fucked you so well, even when his hands were tied up, always left your brain scrambling after the most basic of words. “I’m c-close.” 

Jungkook tried once more to pull at his restraints, but it simply wouldn’t bulge. The contrast between the red ropes and the dark ink decorating his skin was beautiful, the veins of his hands getting thicker as tugged again and again. Jungkook was beyond the realms of reason by that point, struggling like a caged animal because there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more than to touch; to suck your breasts and to fuck you the way he wanted to. “Gonna cum too, baby,” his voice was almost a roar, deep and frustrated. It shot straight up to your core, made you tip over the edge and come down spasming around his cock, your high washing over you. “That’s it, cream my cock,” he praised. In the background of your overwhelmed state, you could feel as his member throbbed inside you, ready to release. “Take everything for me, alright? Wanna fill you up.”  

You barely had any time to nod before he was spilling himself inside you, a long, throaty moan dripping like sin from his lips. Jungkook tried to keep his movements up for a bit longer, delighting himself in the way you winced at the feeling, but even he had grown too tired to continue it. So, at last, he collapsed back against the mattress, sweaty hair falling over his eyes. 

“Get up,” he commanded, breathless. “Let me see it.” 

With shaky movements, you did as he requested, planting one hand on his thigh so you could raise your body. His cock slipped out at the motion, already softening, but his gaze was stuck on the gradual dripping of his cum between your pussy lips. As much as you were used to that specific request, it always made your legs weak when you looked at him during that part — no matter what happened before, Jungkook always had that maniac expression plastered all over his face, like the mere image of his cum slipping out of you was enough to send him into a frenzy all over again. And, most times, it was. 

“Good girl,” his dark stare slowly navigated towards your eyes. His arms were surprisingly still, no longer battling against the ropes, and there was something ominous about that. “Push it back in.” 

Because you didn’t want to anger him any further, you agreed. It was almost impressive how quickly Jungkook was able to take back his control: even with him being immobilized, you were still folding and following his wishes like it was your second nature. “Like this?” You asked, using two of your fingers to stuff his cum back inside. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He breathed out, the final seconds of his exhale morphing into a low growl. “Now, ___,” he called, eyes still glued to your pussy. “Untie me.” 

You almost wanted to go against that, given the way he was about to break you in half, but that wasn’t probably the brightest of ideas. A bit nervous, you moved off his lap and sat down next to him, hands flying to undo the knots. “Hang on,” you requested. From the corners of his vision, you could see Jungkook staring you down, his piercing eyes focused on your face, silently watching you through the curtain of his black hair. At last, you managed to undo the ropes, the thick material falling beside you as Jungkook lowered his arms and started to massage his wrists. “How are your hands? I hope it wasn’t—“

“Lay down.” He interrupted, dry. Your mouth fell shut — none of your usual sarcastic remarks finding their way past the lump in your throat. 

The softness of the pillow was a welcomed sensation, but your body could not relax, not when Jungkook was still looking at the pink marks on his inked skin, thinking about what he was going to do to you. You waited for what seemed like hours until he finally moved around, arms on either side of your head and chest pressed flush against yours. Jungkook’s heat was asphyxiating, his nose bumping against yours as he placed a small, tender kiss on your lips. He was being too calm, you noticed that instantly; still waters with sharks swimming underneath. 

“Silly girl,” he mumbled against your mouth, fingers pressing on either side of your jaw. Jungkook pulled your mouth open, thumb caressing your lower lip as he stared down at you like an arrogant monarch. You felt terribly small, shrinking under his presence. “It’s not my hands that you should be worrying about.” He smirked, and his thumb paused its tender motions on your lip. He sighed. “Now that you had your fun, I’m gonna have mine.” 

~ 

Jungkook was right: his wrists were red the next day. He naively thought that no one would be able to see it through his tattoos, but Taehyung, even in his hungover stupor, had his detective eye ready and noticed the marks right away. There was absolutely no way all his crime documentaries made him such an expert, Jungkook thought, but couldn’t really be sure of it. 

“You know… things like this only make me more curious,” Taehyung said after Jungkook had refused to tell him who had come over the previous night. He was munching on his sandwich like his life depended on it, brows furrowed into a perfect picture of concentration. There was jelly all over his mouth, pulling up the corners of his lips and making Taehyung look like a terrible, discount copy of the joker. “Like, a chick tied you up? Come on, I have to meet someone like that. It’s a matter of, like, survival, some alpha wolf bullshit—“

“Fuck off,” Jungkook cut him short, burying his face on his hands. He was too tired to deal with any of that. “I never want to hear about you or your wolves ever again.”

~

check out the rest of the bad influence collection! 

taglist > @minyoongiboongi  @bvrrym0re @marcoazam2 @shojotae @youurkryptonite @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky @imluckybitches @gyukult @jinsalpaca @0901-1230 @we8joon​ @gamerkooks​

[technowoah]

Be Okay

Dream won't drink water and it gets out of hand

- Dream x gen! Neutral reader

- Anon requested!

Prompts!

4) "I never fucking wanted this/that!"

5) "Please stop talking for one damn second!"

11) "It's not important apparently"

⚠︎ angst to fluff, swearing, angery dream. This is kinda a blurb instead- not proofread

Masterlist

You thought about knocking on the door softly to alert Clay of your presence but then immediately thought against it. You didnt even want to go in there and interrupt him and his editing process because he told you strictly not to interrupt him because he was focused and he didn't want to lose his focus.

Clay was a hard worker, and everyone knew that. You admired that about him, you admired his dedication to his fans and his work, but you were worried about him right now. He hasn't came out of his room in about an hour and a half. Clay hasn't eaten all day, and hasnt taken care of himself.

You came over his house earlier that day to see him still in his bed. You laid in bed with him, which he accepted your hugs and cuddles, but when you asked what was wrong he never answered or just brushed oft the question.

Now Clay was stuck at his computer and the first time you tried to give him some water he brushed you off saying. "Dont bother me right now, I'm trying to stay focused." At the time that hurt you, and it still does so you didn't enter his room until now.

You stood at his door with some water and some pizza rolls. You were nervous of how he would react, but he needed to take a break. You wanted him to relax and not stare at the bright computer all day. His eyes were probably strained and he wasnt taking care of his body.

You gained the courage to knock on the door infront of you first time softly and then the next a little bit harder. Both times there was no response, so you decided to go inside of his room. The only light in the room was coming from the daylight outside from the open windows. At least he was getting a good breeze. Clay didnt even spare you a glance and continued typing and clicking on the computer.

"Clay." You said cautiously.

"Yeah?" He responded bluntly. You didn't want to already be annoyed by his attitude.

"I made some pizza rolls and got you a bottle of water. You need to eat."

Clay scoffed. "No I don't, Im fine. Im breathing."

"I need you to eat though!" You placed the food and water near his keyboard and crossed your arms.

"I. Dont. Need. To. Let me work." Clay said facing you for a minute and then went back to his work.

"I have been letting you work for the past half and hour! Can you take a break? I know Im being annoying, but you need to take care of yourself."

Clay looked at the food near his computer and took the bowl and held it out for you to take from him, but you didn't take the bowl put of his hand.

"Can you just take this shit away." He said grumbling.

"There's no need to swear, why can't you just take a break and eat? Its not gonna hurt your process."

"The reason I want you to take this is because I'm not starving! Im actually getting interrupted by you forcing me to eat!" Clay started yelling.

"I never fucking wanted this!" He said gesturing to the bowl of now cold pizza rolls in his hand.

"I only want you to fucking eat! That's it! Is that too much to ask?!" You yelled as he shut you out again. He returned editing his video and let out frustrated groans because he messed up a clip and had to redo it.

"It's not that important apparently." You rolled your eyes. It was petty of you, you could've just left it at that and talked about it later.

Clay banged the table with his fists. "Please stop talking for one damn second!" He yelled more violently this time, you could bet the neighbors heard him.

You weren't going to let tears fall. You weren't going to show Clay that you were weak, so you stormed out of his room and slammed the door behind you hoping he heard that loud and clear. You threw yourself onto tbe couch and sobbed into your hands, you then grabbed a throw pillow and cried into that trying to muffle your frustration. Staying like that until you calmed down you traveled to the kitchen to grab a bag of chips and went back to the couch to put on some mindless TV shows to distract you from the chaos that happened before.

Halfway into your tv show you heard someone coming down the hallway, but you didn't bother looking towards them to greet them.

"Hey y/n!" You turned around to the different voice who spoke and saw that it was Nick who spoke to you who was now walking to sit by you. To be honest you forgot that Nick was even in the house when you went to speak to Clay.

"I heard some yelling in the other room and I wanted to know what was going on are you okay?" Nick asked while sitting next to you.

Damn, you felt bad that your quick fight had turned into yelling and Nick overheard.

"Yeah, Im fine. I cried into your throw pillows, but me a Clay had a huge fight about him overworking himself." You said tapping the throw pillow on your lap. "Long story short he's probably still mad and now I feel like shit, I might go home. Also I'm sorry you heard that!" You rushed.

"No, it's okay. I really wanted to know if you were okay. I heard you crying too, but I didn't want to intrude." Nick said while putting a hand on your shoulder. "Do you want me to drive you back?"

"You dont have to Nick! But its appreciated."

"Do you want me to tell Drea- Clay?" He asked awaiting your answer.

You paused before answering Nick. "I'll- I'll go tell him." You said confidently.

"Positive?"

"Positive." You stood up and walked towards Clay's room for the third time today.

"I'll be ready when you're done!" Nick yelled down the hallway.

You were at the same place you were a few minutes ago. This time you didn't hesitate to open the door and face Clay again. Your heartbeat quickened, because of the fact that you didnt know what would come out od Clay's mouth this time. It was nerve-wracking, but you had to face him wether it was today, tomorrow, or the next day.

You didn't bother knocking and just entered the room. He was still in the same chair facing away from you but this time he wasn't looking at his computer, his head was resting in his hands while his his video edits weren't on the screen anymore.

"Clay." You started and he turned around facing you.

"Y/n! Im so sorry." Clay spoke, you were about to speak but he interrupted you. "Please, I'm a dumbass, im sorry I yelled at you. I know you were just trying to help. Forgive me?"

Clay stood up walking towards you, you didn't walk away you just stared at him for a while before speaking.

"Clay I understand and I forgive you. It really pained me to hear that, that's the first time I heard that anger from you except for when you play in Minecraft." You chuckled and he smiled. "Just take care of yourself."

You walked towards him and brung him into a hug which he reciprocated. You two stayed like that for a while until you spoke again.

"I dont want this to happen again. We'll work around it like we always do."

"That sounds like a plan. I dont want it to happen either, I didn't like that." Clay chuckled.

"Im sorry I made you cry." Clay spoke again.

"You heard me cry?!"

"Yeah from the living room."

"Damn I didn't know I cried that loud." You laughed into his chest.

You and Clay finally let go of eachother and he went to go officially turn off his computer for the night and came back to you. He grabbed your hand and you both walked out of his room closing the door and walking to the living room.

"Im taking you're not going home?" Nick said from the couch as you both joined him sitting on it.

"Not now atleast. We made it work." You said as you leaned against Clay's shoulder.

"Good!" Nick said while switching the TV to something else.

Clay wapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed you on the cheek. You finally got him back.

"Those pizza rolls were cold."

Taglist: @annshit

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 2

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The aircraft door opened and you stepped out gratefully onto the air jetty. You weren’t scared of flying, you just didn’t like being cooped up in a flying tube for several hours on end. Up an escalator and along a short corridor and then you were able to see outside through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky was beginning to shade into the colours it would take on for dusk. It looked like it had been a nice day and you hoped the good weather would continue for your stay.

Karen had texted you while you were sitting on the plane at JFK, waiting for it to push back. Frank had told her that Micro had tracked your phone to the airport so boy, were you glad you’d turned off your old phone and switched to the new one when you did. She’d also told you that Billy had asked him to find out where you were headed, and your heart sank. You knew it wouldn’t take long for Micro’s vast and nerdy computer skills to find you but then again, London was a huge city and they’d have no idea whereabouts in it you’d gone to ground, thanks to your new ‘burner phone’.

You were feeling super-excited. This was beginning to feel like an action movie, with you on the run from the bad guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“London??!!” Billy shouted, making Frank quickly move his phone away from his ear on the other end. “Yeah, London,” he replied.

Billy was back at his usual post by the window. “I mean... obviously I knew she was gonna fly somewhere but I thought it would the West coast, Miami, Seattle, Alaska... somewhere like that. But to go to a whole other continent....!!!!” Frank sighed, “Yeah, Bill, sounds like she’s really not keen to bump into you anytime soon.” “Yeah, thanks for remindin’ me.” “Bill, you brought this on yourself, buddy.” “I know!” yelled Billy, “An’ all I wanna do is get her back and make it up to her for the rest of my life, and all I know is she’s in London! Do you know how big that place is?” “Yeah, I do. And t’be honest... I dunno how you’re gonna even try to find her over there.”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “I mean...” Frank continued, “I’m guessin’ you are gonna go over there and try to find her, Bill?”

Billy’s shoulder twitched upwards briefly, and he stared intently out the window at the New York skyline.

“Yeah, Frankie... yeah, I damn well am.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d left two of your big suitcases and the backpacks in a luggage storage facility at JFK, travelling with just the one suitcase and a large shoulder bag. You took the overground Heathrow Express to Paddington before negotiating a change onto the Tube to reach Tower Hill DLR station, boarding one of the driverless trains out to Canary Wharf. Settling back into your seat, feeling pretty proud of yourself for managing not to get hopelessly lost.

Your AirBnB apartment was in a part of the city called Docklands, beside the Thames on the Isle of Dogs. It was an area of shiny skyscraper offices and fancy apartment blocks built round the old docks, and your accommodation for the next two weeks was in one of those. You were suitably impressed when you got inside it... open plan, all trendy furniture and gleaming fittings. Big, big windows with views of the river and the tall buildings.

Your phone chimed and you saw a text from Karen on your notifications. Taking your suitcase and bag into the bedroom, you went back out to the main area and sat on the sofa to read it. Oh. Billy now knew you were in London, and had apparently booked a flight over - he’d be arriving tomorrow. Your heart rate sped up; Billy was a sniper, used to finding, stalking, watching his prey. But, you told yourself, he had no idea whereabouts in the city you were and no way of finding you.

Relax.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy stepped off the Heathrow Express, looking around for signs indicating where the taxi rank was. He’d been looking at the Tube map during the train journey. Nah, fuck that.

He was too wired to even think about getting to London Bridge on the Underground, or ‘Tube’ as he found out Londoners called it. His brain had been working overtime trying to figure out how the hell he was going to find her in a city the size of London. She’d stay central, surely - she wouldn’t head to the suburbs, he felt confident of that.

Getting into the first taxi in the queue, he drawled out, “The Shard, please.” The taxi driver nodded and pulled away from the station without saying anything. Thank fuck, thought Billy, I can’t be dealing with a talker right now. But just as the thought had left his head, the driver’s London accent said, “First time in London, guv?” Billy sighed, “No. No, it isn’t.” In fact it was, but he wasn’t about to tell the driver that. He’d only end up getting taken on the ‘scenic route’, double the time, double the price.

The driver grunted and turned up the radio... really annoying music could now be heard but Billy would take that over inane small talk any day. He looked out of the windows at the city streets and his mind went back to his mission. Mission impossible. Finally he saw the river and the taxi crossed a wide bridge before pulling up outside the lofty skyscraper that was The Shard. According to the blurb he’d read on some travel website it was the tallest in Western Europe, and while there were taller buildings in New York, the shape of this one made it look quite dramatic.

He paid and got out of the taxi with his expensive wheeled duffel bag, heading to the Shangri La entrance of The Shard and going inside. (It’s one of the priciest hotels in London - of course). Checked in at reception on the 35th floor, he was then whisked up to his room on the 52nd by another express lift. The windows were huge and the views spectacular.

Once again, he was gazing out of a window at a cityscape.

Where is she?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your first full day, you occupied yourself with getting to know the surrounding area, doing some grocery shopping and sitting on your large balcony, enjoying the view and relaxing with a glass of wine.

Every time a plane went overhead you wondered if Billy was on it - he was due here today. You shook yourself a little, you’d just have to stop thinking about it. He wouldn’t find you.

Your mind wandered unbidden to his recent behaviour. Knowing Billy was a player from day one, you’d still got involved with him. More fool you. Another old cliché.... you thought you’d be the one to change him. And you thought you had. You’d dated him for a few months, he seemed to have ditched his old hound-dog ways and when he’d asked you to move in with him, you’d agreed without thinking it over too deeply.

Now, looking back, it seems like you’d made a big mistake.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Micro had spent quite some time constructing a query table that he could run against accommodation reservations in London for her arrival day. She had no reason to book under another name and he’d just have to run with that assumption.

When Billy had come directly to him instead of going via Frank to ask that he try and track down her reservation, Micro had been too scared to refuse. Billy still really unsettled him - he always reminded him of a circling predator.

This query would take a while to run. He hit the go button and wandered off to work on another project while it tunnelled its way through layer upon layer of data.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was pacing his swanky hotel room like a caged panther. He’d given up on the idea of roaming the streets of London trying to spot his target, that was just one dumbass idea. He’d never find her that way, much better to just wait on that geeky twat to come up with the answer with his internet wizardry.

He’d spoken to Frank earlier, who had nothing new to report. Billy wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty at cutting him out of the loop on his recent ask to Micro. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Frank wouldn’t mention it to Karen. Much as he loved him like a brother, Frank was a big sap when it came to Karen and he knew he’d give in and tell her, probably sooner rather than later.

However Frank had told him that Madani had called earlier that day, wanting to know where Billy was and why she couldn’t get in touch with him. Billy had figured out that his girl had got herself a new phone, and he’d followed suit. Which is why Dinah hadn’t been able to reach him. “Whaddya tell her?”he’d asked. “That you were on an overseas operation and were incommunicado.” “Good,” nodded Billy, “....that takes care of that little problem for a while at least,” feeling a sense of relief.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank cut the call, a grim smile on his face. He hadn’t been completely straight with Billy, but it was for his own good. What he’d told Madani, however, had been the unadulterated gospel truth.

He’d said to her that Billy had hared off to Europe in pursuit of his live-in girlfriend, who’d suspected him of cheating on her and left him. He was absolutely determined to get her back.

He’d taken great satisfaction in the dead silence on the other end of the line, eventually punctuated by an angry snort and the call being abruptly ended.

That ‘little problem’ was hopefully taken care of for good.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Micro looked at his phone as it beeped at him, the notification saying that his query was complete. That had taken much longer than he thought it would. Now he could only hope it hadn’t returned too many matches as he’d thought it prudent to run it on surname only.

He pulled up the results table and was pleased to see that there were only a thousand or so, he’d feared there would be many more. He scrolled through the list and quickly pinpointed the one he’d been looking for.

With a deep sigh he picked up his phone, typed “Wood Wharf, Water St, London E14”, a building and apartment number into a new message, then hit send. It would be the early hours of the following morning in London, so he very much doubted that Billy would leap out of bed and head right over there.

He finished eating his supper, drank a beer and settled down to watch TV when his conscience started bothering him. Should he? He shivered when he thought about what Russo might do to him if he found out.

Popping another bottle of beer open, he sat and contemplated what he should do for quite a while. He suddenly picked up his phone, sending a quick text to Frank telling him about the whole situation and including the fact that Russo now had her London address.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

While you were lounging on your balcony, sipping your wine and watching the world go by, it suddenly occurred to you that this would be a great base to work out of for a while. You messaged the estate agent and extended your stay to one month, with an option to extend if required.

Then, on a whim, you booked a flight to Barcelona early the next morning from City Airport - it was really close to your apartment even if the flights were a bit more expensive. You’d been doing a little research into other destinations to explore, and having a base in London to travel to and from made you feel much more comfortable. The W Barcelona had caught your eye while you’d been browsing for accommodation and as you were only going for a few nights, you’d booked in there.

Feeling extremely pleased with yourself, you got up and went into your bedroom, looking for a folded-up smaller travel bag you knew you’d packed in your luggage. Finding it, you began to choose some outfits for your short trip, thinking what a joy it was that you could now leave your large suitcase here.

But damn, you were going to have to be up early tomorrow. Best to get an early night, you thought, immediately yawning.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy shot up in bed as his phone chimed with Micro’s text. When he read the information in the text, contrary to Micro’s belief he did leap out of bed and started pulling on his clothes (Micro had forgotten that this was an ex-Marine he was dealing with here).

He sat back down on the bed and googled the location. Oh okay, East London.... Docklands. Too far to walk and he didn’t think the Tube ran at this hour. Then he pulled up the Uber app and booked an immediate pick-up.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Walking into the terminal building at City Airport, you were in the middle of a total yawning fit when a text came in. It was from Karen and you stopped, putting down your bag so you could read it.

Karen: Sorry to tell you this hon, but Billy went direct to Micro 🙄 and intimidated him into finding your London accom. Frank’s told him not to do that again no matter how much he’s shitting himself! Please take care of yourself 💋

You: Bastard 👿 thanks for the heads-up, I will do 😘

Picking your bags up again, you hurried over to one of the automated check-in machines to get your luggage tag.

Whoever had said ‘timing is everything’ had definitely got that right.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“Oi!!!” yelled an irate male voice. Billy turned his head to see a groggy-looking tousle-haired guy, obviously just having been woken up. “Keep the noise down!”

Billy said nothing, just gave the guy his death stare. His head quickly disappeared back inside his apartment.

After pressing the buttons of a few apartment numbers at the main entrance, someone had buzzed him in and he’d been pounding on her apartment door for the last five minutes. But there was no response, and he knew she wasn’t that heavy a sleeper.

He slid tiredly down onto the floor outside her door. Had she somehow known he was on his way over here? No.... how would she know that?

His head dropped down in momentary defeat and he ran his fingers through his hair, groaning.

She hadn’t moved on already, had she?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The plane lifted off the tarmac, and immediately you felt a huge sense of relief. You just weren’t ready to see Billy right now - you’d probably kill him if you did, ex-Marine or not.

Now you were off on your next adventure.

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London

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss

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[miastideclock]

Stray Kids Reaction To Their S/O Being Shy About Their Singing-Talents

anon asked:

Can you do stray kids reaction to their s/o being a good rapper and singer but they get shy and have low confidence? - 🐻💙

Of course love! I hope you like it x So sorry for the wait! While we're here, I just wanna say I'm sorry for the length difference of the individual reactions! * y/n/n is what i use for your nickname btw

Word Count: 3.5k-ish

Bang Chan

Silence. At least for the most part. You clicking the keyboard of your computer, Chan humming slightly as he clicked around on his own, as well as twisting and turning the dials on his audio mixer, connected to said computer. The sounds had sort of blended into the silence though, so neither of you really noticed it at this point.

A click louder than all of the others soon came from Chan's computer, meaning he was going to connect his progress to the speakers of his studio, so he could fully take in the track he was working on. He had played it what seemed like a million times already, but you didn't mind. You were already so phased out that he could be announcing the break up of Stray Kids', and you honestly wouldn't even catch it.

The familiar beat of their upcoming title track boomed through the speakers, and as if on autopilot, you sang along. You had heard the beginning of that very song so many times now, the lyrics were as good as engraved into the inside of your eyelids.

Once the first verse and chorus were over, the song stopped, as did you. It was when the song didn't play again you finally snapped out of your computer-trance. You shifted your eyes from the screen over to your boyfriend who was sitting on the other side of the room.

"Y/n."

You then realized you had been singing along, and probably not as quiet as you had thought. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to distract you. I'll keep quiet." You quickly apologized.

You were hanging out with your boyfriend, yes- but he was still at work, and you'd hate to be the reason for him switching out of his creative-mode.

"No! No, no, don't worry. You're just so good? How come I have never heard you sing before?" Chan grinned as he turned his spinny-chair to face you and fell back into it, looking at you with admiration.

You had been sitting on the floor with your back against the seat of the couch, so the coffee table by the mentioned couch had your laptop at shoulder-height, meaning you had to close the screen of your computer to see your boyfriend. Once you had done so, you moved your hands up to your face, covering your cheeks.

"I don't like the attention. I hate it when people look at me like- exactly like you're doing now, stop!" You giggled when Chan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He decided to mess around with you and started staring you down. You laughed and begged him to stop, but the more you did, the more intensely he stared at you- until he eventually cracked, sending you both into fits of laughter.

Lee Know

"First things first rest in peace Uncle Phil."

The music blared from your headphones straight into your head, being the only thing keeping you motivated as you did some housework. Seeing as you were mopping when the J.Cole song started playing, you figured the handle would prove to be the perfect microphone.

"For real, you the only father that I ever knew." You continued, singing and rapping along while shaking your butt and cleaning the floor. Maybe not the world's most efficient cleaning strategy, but my-oh-my did it get the job done.

Due to the loud volume in your headphones, you didn't hear the front door open and shut, as your boyfriend came home for the day.

Minho didn't even get the chance to put down his bag before his attention was completely wrapped around you having a concert in your living-room. He quickly recognized the song and let his head bob along to the beat, even though he could only hear you rapping, and not the song itself. He kicked off his shoes and placed his things on the ground before he slowly made his way into the living-room, doing a little boogie as he did so.

It wasn't until you finally turned around almost a minute later you saw your boyfriend joking around, dancing to your rapping. You instantly dropped the mop and let out a little scream as he startled you, covering your face with your hands once you saw it was just him.

"Minho! What are you doing?" You cried out in embarrassement after removing your headphones. Minho couldn't help but chuckle at you before he came closer and gave you a kiss-hello.

"Y/n, I never knew you had such voice-control! You've never rapped in front of me before, why?" He asked when he pulled away, his arms still wrapped around your waist, but his face a few inches away from yours.

"Because you're an actual rapper in an actual band!! That's like showing Michelangelo your drawing!" You argued back, a massive smile on your face. Minho then continued to shower you in compliments, making you hide your blushing face from him by burying it into his chest.

Changbin

The kitchen had all kinds of different smells as you were stirring the pot of soup you had on the stove in front of you. The kitchen-window was open, letting in a fresh spring breeze, and the radio was playing a familiar song.

"Hold me close and hold me fast The magic spell you cast This is La Vie En Rose." You softly sang along, your body swaying back and forth to the tune. You continued to sing along as you used the wooden-spoon to stir around, making sure it didn't burn.

(bro, i think i fucked up my sOUP)

"Hey, Y/n/n." It suddenly came from the doorway to the kitchen, instantly causing you to stop singing and spin around. "Hi, Binnie." You gave him a smile and then turned back around, squeezing your eyes shut, only for a second- as if you were trying to erase the past ten seconds. You hoped the radio was louder than your voice, but that hope soon came crashing down.

"No, why'd you stop?" He asked as he placed a few sheets of paper on the table and continued over to you. You started smiling like an idiot for a second before you raised your hands to cover your face. Chanbin noticed and chuckled as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. "Don't be shy!"

He then spun you around so you were facing him, but your hands still covered your face. This made Changbin just chuckle even more. He tried to jokingly pry your hands from your face, but you just shoved your head into his shoulder so he wouldn't be able to grab you properly. You either couldn't help but chuckle as you messed around, but quickly stopped once you remembered you were cooking.

You turned around to keep stirring your soup, Changbin never let go of you. "But tell me, why have I never heard you sing before when your voice is THAT good?" He asked, but you ignored him.

"For real?" He tried again, but you pretended he didn't say anything.

"Would you like some soup?" You asked him, turning slightly to look at him. He seemed amused, but he just nodded, accepting your choice of lunch.

Hyunjin

Hot water poured down your back, the whole shower smelling like your body wash. You had just gotten back from a run and decided to clean up a bit before Hyunjin came back from work. So after getting out of your leggings and hoodie, you had grabbed your speaker and headed for the washroom.

Knowing Hyunjin wasn't home, you qued the best of the best from your playlist, getting ready to absolutely shred the imaginary rap battles you were about to have. Banger after banger played as you sang into your microphone. Your mic being an empty shampoo bottle you had yet to throw out.

You were mid-shampoo when Streets by Doja Cat played, and you almost slipped and fell while hurriedly reaching for your microphone.

"Damn, papi, you a rare breed, no comparing." You borderline yelled, as if you had just gotten out of a failed relationship where you still loved your partner, when in fact that wasn't your case at all. You were very much in love with your boyfriend, and you were on great terms- but for the sake of your rap battle, you had to get into it.

"When other chickens tryna get in my coop 'Cause you're a one in a million There ain't no man like you!" Not to toot your own horn or anything, but you could confidently say you absolutely bodied that verse, and you were soon let know you weren't the only one who thought so.

(I don't actually think he is the one to cuss, but this is simply because I cannot think of another way to say it, so for the lack of a better word:) "Fuck it up, baby!" You heard Hyunjin hype you up on the other side of the bathroom door, making your stomach drop for a second.

"You're not supposed to be home yet." You answered him after turning off the speaker, and the shower. You stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around you, then went to open the door.

"Well, I had to hurry home when I heard the rap God themselves was having a concert in our bathroom." Hyunjin chuckled once you opened the door with almost a shameful face. "Should I talk to JYP about getting you a rap-audition, or..?" He dragged out the last word, kind of he was taunting you, but in the most loving way possible. Feeling your cheeks grow hot, you closed the door back up and locked him out.

"I'm never leaving this bathroom." You announced as you covered your face, even though Hyunjin could no longer see you.

"Y/n/n, I was kidding! You were great though, I might actually talk to JY-" He started again, but you cut him off by groaning, causing the both of you to break out laughing.

Han

Clicking of a pen. Gentle tapping of a foot. Frustrated hair ripping. You had seen these symptoms before- that's right, Jisung was in a slump.

You were at the studio with your boyfriend, and you were both seated in the sitting group, Jisung leaning his elbows on the table, head in his hands, tugging at his hair as if it would activate his creative juices. You had tagged along just to get out of the house, and maybe Jisung needed moral support, and wouldn't you have guessed- that was exactly what he needed.

"You good?" You asked him after he let out the umpteenth sigh in the past hour. He then finally confessed he just couldn't get the ending of the second verse down. "Why don't you sing it, so you can hear what's missing, rather than just reading it?"

He did as you suggested and sang through it. When he came to the part he was talking about, you also heard it. Something about it was just kinda.. off.

You tilted your head to the side as you were thinking of ways to better it, to try and help him. An idea popped into your head, and maybe it could work- after all you were no song writer. You tried your best to explain to Jisung what it was you were thinking, but about half-way through, you could see he was as lost as that one time Chan and Changbin had accidentally left the two of you behind at IKEA.

"I'm so sorry, babe. I don't fully understand what you mean." He confessed, and you nodded, knowing well that was him being sweet about the fact that you sucked at explaining things. So in the spirit of making it easier for him to understand, you just sang it. You sang through the song and added the part you had tried to explain.

"Did that make more sense?" You asked when you were done, looking from the sheet of paper up at your boyfriend, who was sat there, his lips slightly parted as his jaw hung lose. "Jisung? Babe?" You tried to snap him back to reality as it seemed he had zoned out, but only for a moment.

"Wait, that was so good? Since when were you that good?" Jisung suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, smiling and almost bouncing in his seat. He continued to shower you in compliments, making you feel like a turtle trying to get back into its shell.

"Stop. If you ever mention me singing again, I will throw myself out the window." You said, both humor in your tone, and being dead serious at the same time.

"Okay, dramatic much?" Jisung joked back, making you shove his shoulder as you chuckled alongside him.

Felix

A car zoomed past you as you walked on the pavement on the side of the road, admiring the spring at its full bloom. You were almost a bit disappointed when you reached your home as you wanted to continue to look at the flowers, but that thought soon fell right out of your head. As you walked up the staircase to your apartment, you heard a constant noise grow louder and louder. You were about to turn the key when you realized the noise was more rhythmic than you originally thought, and that the music was coming from inside your apartment.

Curiosity completely consumed your body when you finally opened the door, and was met with a wall of noise. You took a few steps in and shut the door behind you, protecting the outside world from the sight you had in front of you.

Felix was using a hairbrush as he jumped around both on the floor and in the couch, crying out the lyrics to a song you didn't quite recognize. You laughed at your boyfriend as you kicked off your shoes and hung your coat in the closet.

Felix finally spotted you and quickly pulled out his phone that was connected to the speakers, and changed the song. The familiar intro of your favorite song soon played, and it didn't take as much as a second before you were as hyped as Felix were. You began jumping around and dancing with him, matching his energy.

Felix screamed the lyrics into the hairbrush before he swiftly tossed you the brush, letting you pop off as well. You rapped the words perfectly into the brush, standing on the couch as your concert evolved.

The song eventually came to an end, causing the both of you to fall breathlessly to the ground, heaving for air- massive smiles on your faces. The ground was cool against your now sweaty backs. A few seconds passed before Felix spoke.

"I don't think I have ever heard you rap before." He admitted. You kept staring at the ceiling, ignoring the boy at your side for a few seconds before you decided to answer him.

"And you will never hear it again."

Both you and Felix could back the claim that he had never moved as fast as he did when you said that. He had jumped up so he was on his elbows, facing you with wide eyes.

"No!! Please! You were so good!" He cried out, making you laugh at him. You just gave him a wink before you got to your feet and went to get the groceries you had left in the hallway.

Seungmin

"How about we go in there? Maybe I can find you a shirt?" You spoke after pointing to a store.

You were currently out shopping with your boyfriend, Seungmin. He had asked you to get him an outfit, not for any special occasion of anything, just for shits and giggles. It was your favorite type of dates, the ones where you don't really plan anything, you just end up doing fun and silly things.

Seungmin nodded and you soon dragged him into the store. The layout of the shop was like any other, so you soon made your way to the back where the mens clothing was.

As you were casually roaming the racks of clothes, the speakers soon started playing one of your favorite songs, making it impossible for you to not hum along. You kept looking at the different items of clothing on your left, Seungmin behind you, looking through the clothes on your right hand side.

Soon, the song picked up, you quietly jamming along, allowing yourself to softly sing along as there were no other customers near you.

Your hand suddenly slid over a material that caught your attention. It was a green oversized tee, with some colorful and funky letters on the front. You cut yourself off to turn around and show Seungmin the shirt, asking him what he thought about the item.

You held it up, but no reply. "Seungmin?" You tried again. It was odd seeing as he was looking at you with a slight smile, yet he was not replying to your question. You then lowered the shirt and waved your hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"You okay?" You asked him once he gently shook his head to re-focus his eyes. He nodded gleefully.

"Sorry, your voice was just so good that I completely forgot where we were." He admitted, giving you a look. You pursed your lips and spun on your heel, so he wouldn't see your burning cheeks.

I.N

Date night! You and boyfriend Jeongin had just been at a local restaurant for a cute night out. Nothing overly fancy, just a chance to enjoy each others company, since you both had been busy lately.

After you had paid your bill, the two of you went for a walk to enjoy the warm, evening air. With nowhere in mind, you just casually wandered down the street, your hands intertwined as you swung them back and forth, pulling and pushing at each other in a joking manner.

"Woah, when did this get here?" Jeongin suddenly asked as you passed a building with a bright neon sign hanging out front. You looked to your side to see what it was he was talking about.

Karaoke, the neon sign read. You turned back to your boyfriend and gave him a smug smile, hoping he was thinking the same as you. He returned the smile and suddenly you were being shown to a private room by the hostess.

The first few songs were just the two of you messing around, screaming ABBA into your respective microphones. At one point while picking the next song, Jeongin saw a song he really wanted to do, but as you didn't know the lyrics, you decided to sit this one out.

He belted his heart out to the tune you found unfamiliar, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. Jeongin was after all a singer in a world-renowned band- boy had talent.

The song came to an end, resulting in you giving him a standing ovation as he playfully bowed repeatedly.

"I'm your biggest fan!" You raised your hands to your mouth and pretended to be yelling it at the 'stage', like he just held a concert for thousands. You both laughed at yourselves before Jeongin announced it would be his turn to sit one out. You took that as you cue to get up from the couch and pick a song.

You were no singer, never was- never will be, at least not in public. So when you had to pick a song, you didn't care if it didn't 'fit your range', or 'suit your voice'. You picked a song you liked and ran with it.

The melody started, and you raised your mic to your lips, singing the words that were showing on the large screen in front of you. You found it wasn't as fun to sing without your boyfriend, but got through the song anyways.

As most things do, the song came to and end. You placed the mic on the table and turned around to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Mid turn, you saw your boyfriend like you never had before. His eyes were wide and his jaw was lose.

"What?" You asked him, uncapping the water bottle and taking a swig.

"Where did that come from?" He asked, eyes still wide as dinner-plates. You raised your eyebrow in a questioning manner, as if you were asking him to elaborate. "You're an amazing singer! How have I never heard that before?"

You felt your cheeks grow hot, and your eyes instantly found the ground, suddenly too shy to look at Jeongin. He chuckled at your reaction, and leaned forward so he could reach your hand from where he was sitting. He then pulled you back so you fell to the couch, crossing your arms over your chest, your shoulders up to your ears by now.

"We have to do this more often so I can hear you sing more!" He stated as he poked your arm, trying to get you to be less shy- and somehow it worked.

Hope you liked it! Feel free to request again!

-bentley

[fan-of-encouragement]

Honey I'm Still Free

This is a commissioned fic that @danniburgh wrote for me, and I'm absolutely In Love. Her commissions are open as of posting this, and she's amazing.

Marcus Pike × F!reader

No warnings, just fluff and mention of Marcus's past bad relationships.

He was new.

A new face to know.

And he was cheerful; almost too cheerful.

He was happy; you met him as a happy man, self realized, self assured, self-centered but not egotistical; he was kind, and he was good. And he was happy.

Marcus Pike arrived at the D.C. FBI office and you were the one that gave him the welcome tour; in between directions and pointings at where which room was located and who worked where, he told you almost everything about himself and that kicked off an unexpected friendship. One that began inside the four walls of his office and the four walls of yours, and the glass walls of the shared conference room that separated them and that most often than not, was used as a lunch room.

When you met Marcus, he was a once divorced, newly engaged man that was waiting patiently for his bride to arrive and live with him what he described as a life he wanted; he told you everything he had to tell about his girlfriend and how he felt, deep inside of him, that she was the one.

Until she broke up with him.

Then, as if by magic, or as if someone had flicked a switch, Marcus changed.

You didn’t understand, whenever you analyzed it, why a woman would leave a man like him; whenever you put a little bit of thought on the matter you came to the same conclusion: there was no good reason. The truth of the matter was, even having met Marcus for no more than a month when that went down, that he was a good man. And everyone that walked around him or worked with him or even talked to him knew it.

Marcus Pike was a good man with a good, kind, warm soul that radiated nothing but care and love for others; he was stern and he was good at his job; he managed a team like no other agent you saw before but, at the end of the workday; when all the reports had been signed, when all the field agents had called in and Marcus lit his desk lamp to finish the last of the paperwork of the day, when the floor was quiet enough to hear the cars drive sporadically on the highway next to the building, he was craving for something more. Something he didn’t have and he was desperate for. Love.

Six months into you knowing Marcus, as he laughed at a bad joke you told him, with his head thrown back and his lids closed and the wrinkles on the sides of his eyes showing at full contrast, you realized you had fallen in love with him.

But you didn’t fight it; it felt right. You knew he was still struggling with the fact that two serious relationships in his life had failed in what he described as a miserable, sad, incredibly stupid manner. 

The remnants of that pain were still noticeable; when he looked outside the window for more time that he wanted to admit, whenever he heard a certain song on the radio, whenever someone mentioned any lines from Casablanca, the glowing ashes of the hot, scorching pain he had yet to get rid of and extinguish could be seen from his eyes.

You knew and you understood him; he needed time; he needed support to get out of the house in flames he was inside of because of people that didn’t know what they wanted. And you, as he hugged you goodbye, resolved you were gonna be there for him.

As you drove home, you realized there was some selfishness behind your resolution; but you figured out as much. You were in love with him, and besides trying to help him be himself; as you had met him or better, you hoped, just further back in your mind and your heart, he would notice you were there. Waiting for him to be the man he wanted to be.

When you opened your front door and you slipped out of your shoes, you thought of how would he react if you told him you were falling in love with him; you knew he wouldn’t let you wait for him like a damsel expecting a brave prince or a knight in shiny armor galloping to you on a mighty stallion. But you weren’t dropping everything until he decided he was better… You were just hoping he would notice you were there. And that was rightfully enough reason for you to do it. 

And you were his friend.

The next morning you texted him before going out to work if he was in the mood for some pancakes; immediately getting a big YES in all caps as a response. You drove to your favorite diner; which had quickly become his too. And walked out of there with two white plastic bags filled with pancakes for him and waffles for you.

“Oh my god, bless you!” Marcus let out as you walked into his office with the two big bags. You gave him a smile as he moved his stuff to the side so you could put the bags down.

“Since when are you devoted, Mr. Pike?” you teased, when you put the bags on the desk and pushed his towards the other side, towards him.

“Since my best friend brings me breakfast,” he raised his eyebrows and pulled out the styrofoam packet from the bag and a plastic fork “how much do I owe you?” Marcus asked as he opened the plate and bit his lower lip when the chocolate chip and strawberry pancakes saluted him from the dish.

“Nothing?” you replied, doing the same with your honey caramel waffles, Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Then lunch is on me.” he shrugged, lifting his tie and loosening it a bit from around his neck, throwing it on his shoulder, you scoffed and saw him dig into the pancakes with a small smile adorning your features.

“The least you could do, baby.” you teased, making him smile through his pancake bite.

When lunch hour arrived that same day; he knocked on your door and opened it before you could say come in. He stuck his head inside your office and smiled at you.

“Lunch?” he asked with his eyebrows raised and his small smirk on his face, you reciprocated his smile and nodded, standing up from your chair and closing your computer.

“What are we ordering?” you asked as you walked around your desk and he opened the door wide.

“No, we’re going out.” he let out lowly. You narrowed your eyes as you crossed the threshold and he started walking towards the elevators.

“To what do I owe this honor?” you asked, following him, Marcus chuckled.

“What do you mean?” he said as he clicked the elevator button to call it.

“You’ve never taken me out to lunch, Marcus.” you remarked, the elevator doors opened and he frowned.

“Really?” he questioned, you nodded and hummed in affirmation as the both of you walked into the metal box. “why?” he chuckled.

“What do you mean why?” you laughed at his reaction.

“I mean…” he started, crossing his arms on his chest “we’ve been close almost since I arrived, don’t we?” you nodded with a small smile on your face, Marcus blinked a few times “I feel like we would've gone out together, at least once…” he said with a shrug.

“No, not once.” you remarked again as the elevator door opened on the basement parking lot and you walked out.

“Well, that’s on me, then, I’m the asshole friend.” he let out as he nodded his chin in direction to his car, you chuckled.

“Not an asshole, a busy friend.” you tried to reassure him as he remotely unlocked the car and the both of you hopped inside at the same time. 

“I shouldn’t be busy for you, anyway,” he muttered, pushing the ignition button to turn on the engine. “I mean, you’re the one that helps me the most around here, I should be more grateful.”

“Nah,” you whispered as you buckled your seatbelt “I’m just the coworker that doesn’t like to see others struggling.” you teased with a smile as he backed up the car, he looked at you for a split second and sighed, calling your name.

“You know you’re not just my coworker.” he muttered, getting out of the parking lot and incorporating into the traffic. Your smile grew.

“No?” you turned to see him, knowing exactly what he was going to say if you dropped the question that was dangling on your lips, he shook his head. “then what am I?” you asked with a low voice that you hadn’t use in a long time because you didn’t find the time or the place to use it. But, as you were sitting inside the car of the man you were growing deep feelings for, with the tiniest opening to his heart and his mind, you decided to bring it out again.

Marcus almost slammed the brakes of the car. He felt his breath hitch in his throat and as he stopped the car on a red light; he turned to you.

“What?” he whispered. You raised an eyebrow and shrugged slightly.

“What am I?” you repeated the question. Marcus knew the look you were giving him; god he was sure he wouldn’t get that look from anyone anymore, and he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t look for that look in any woman he met. But there it was; your gaze was deep on him, your lips were loose and open just slightly towards him, your eyes were steady on his and he felt the despicable, gut wrenching feeling of the most deep, disgusting, ingrained insecurity inside his mind and inside his chest that made him think of nothing but his trained instinct of fight or fly.

“My friend.” he whispered out just as the light changed to green. You smiled to yourself and looked out through the window, letting out a sigh.

“Good,” you let out, “besties.” you teased. Marcus let out a nervous chuckle and nodded. He didn’t say another word until he stirred the car to the restaurant’s parking lot.

__

Marcus heard two consecutive knocks on his door and lifted his head from the massive email he was reading.

“Come in.” he let out on a sigh as he stretched on his chair, and rubbed his eyes; the light of the computer wasn’t helping his sight.

“Brought you coffee.” he heard you, he opened his eyes and saw you closing the door behind you with your hip and two carton cups that were steaming.

“My lifesaver.” he smiled at you and shifted on the chair, you sat in front of him and handed him his cup.

“Cream and no sugar,” you let out “so you don’t get sleepy.” he smiled.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, you rolled your eyes.

“The occasion is ten thirty at night and you’re still here.” you said, Marcus sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows.

“You’re here as well.” he shrugged.

“I just finished,” you let out “kinda was waiting for you.” Marcus frowned, you leaned down and rested your back on the chair.

“Why?” he let out, tensing his shoulders.

“Wanted to talk to you.” you muttered, gazing at him. Marcus wanted to shrink on the chair and flee from the room, but he didn’t, he stayed at his full height of 5’11” and tried to hold your gaze.

“Okay? something happened?” he asked with a low voice, you shook your head twice and saw him partially relax.

“Marcus, how long have we known each other?” you asked him, he frowned a bit but looked at the surface of his desk.

“Almost a year, why?” he replied and you hummed in appreciation at it.

“You know why, don’t you?” you said, biting your lip and smiling at him.

“I have a suspicion.” he muttered.

“Good, so should I just say it?” you asked, Marcus shook his head immediately.

“Please, don’t,” he whispered, you were expecting his reaction so you just nodded “I’m so sorry.”

“I understand,” you smiled again at him and Marcus felt his chest contract inside his torso “I was just… making sure.”

“Honey…” he let out, you shook your head.

“Really, I get it.” you winked at him, taking your coffee and standing up.

“Wait,” he stood up as well, “am I gonna lose you?” he asked, trying to reach to you, you raised your hand and he took it.

“Of course not, silly,” you gripped his hand “I’m gonna be around, just let me know if you need me.” you said, Marcus nodded and you slipped your hand off his.

Marcus saw you leave his office and let out a deep sigh once you had closed the door. He threw himself on his chair and dropped his head back to look at the ceiling. God, what was wrong with him?

He tried to reason with himself as he started to breathe normally; you were amazing. He was sure of it because he saw you almost every day. You were beautiful and attractive and funny. You were smart and so damn capable it made him feel beneath you even when you were at the same rank; you meant a lot to him and you, for some reason that didn’t fit inside his head, never hesitated to tell him how much he meant to you, too.

And it was so damn obvious how you felt about him because you didn’t even bother to hide it; he admired the way you just showed it without advertising it and how you just didn’t let it affect your job or your life.

Jesus Christ, you were in love with him and he was there, sitting in his office after you just told him you understood him; you’d stayed close to him despite him being trapped in his own insecurities, despite the barrier he had put between you and him, despite looking at him clutching at the past and wrapping himself around his tragedies like an orphan child would do to a warm blanket.

You were there for him, loving him and caring for him as best as you could, even when you knew he was processing and working to be out in the open again; even when you knew it took him time to comprehend that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed or sad anymore.

Holy shit; you were there all that time and he was just choosing to be blind to what you were doing; even choosing to shove away all the deep, warm, involving love he felt for you.

Marcus stood up from his chair once again and he rushed to walk around his desk and out of the office, walking the few feet there was between his office and yours, he knocked a few times and opened the door; about to burst out his words, then he noticed the office was empty. He checked his watch. It was ten minutes past eleven and he cursed himself for thinking you meant you were going to be around literally.

He rushed again to his office for his things and his car key, desperately trying to order words inside his brain as he all but banged his foot on the elevator floor and trying at the same time to calm the fuck down as he walked to his car.

Marcus was sure it was a good idea with poor execution; he was a romantic at heart he should go pick up something that would tell you he just took his head out of his own ass and realized he was also in love with you; but the feeling of just tell you everything was stronger and was driving him crazy. He was driving like a madman through the highway that led to your apartment, and when he pulled over and looked at the building, he nodded to himself.

“Just say it, Marcus.” he muttered to himself, opening the car door and walking out.

The easiest part was to walk to the front door, buzz himself in and walk up the stairs to the fourth floor; the easiest part was stepping through the hall and towards your door and knocking on it three times.

You opened the door and the easiest part was over; you were in your pajamas; a silk, shimmering top and shorts too short for Marcus’s own good.

“Marcus, what’s going on?” you asked. He cursed himself inside his head. He had forgotten each and every word of the three point argument he had built inside his head on the way to your home; he saw his thoughts pour over his head and melt at your feet and he did nothing else but stand there, in your threshold; with his mouth dry and his eyes on your body. “Marcus?”

You frowned and stepped to the side, grabbing his forearm to pull him inside. Marcus had been in your apartment before, but he knew then it was different.

“You okay? I’m getting worried” you muttered. Closing the door, Marcus shook his head and tried to steady his heartbeat, failing.

“You told me to let you know if I needed you, right?” he asked, barely audibly. You nodded. Marcus licked his lower lip and sighed, “I kinda need you now.”

“Yeah, absolutely, what happened?” you told him, stepping closer to him, raising your hand to his arm.

Marcus felt a bolt of confidence because of your touch. He breathed in deeply and smiled at you, making you frown again.

He put his hand hesitantly on your waist and he felt you stiffen. His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips and back, and he stepped even closer to you with a smile on his face.

“You’re here.” he whispered, leaning towards you to grab your lips in his with a kiss you didn’t expect, but didn’t dare to deny.

[oscar-lettjohanssonloveme]

Mr. Sandman pt. 2 (Miss Venable x reader)

After one month I finally finished the second pt, whooho :) Well i guess its a bit different, than the first chapter, but i hope yall like it- I can imagine making a third pt of this, but it would be much more fucked up and weird, than this chapter..lol I wanted to say thank you for your nice comments under the first chapter, they made me really happy :3

summary: three weeks have passed and you are trying to understand everything

warnings: depression (idk if a robot can have depression-), uhm bruises,..

And if ur name is Laura, don't hate me! yikes hahah

here is the first pt. :

https://littlejeaniehugsbumblebees.tumblr.com/post/639876084639334400/mr-sandman-ms-venable-x-reader

hello google translate:3

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream Make her the cutest that I've ever seen Give her two lips like roses and clover And tell her that her lonely nights are over

It had been 3 weeks since the thing with the letter. 3 fucking weeks since you found out you were nothing more than a programmed machine.

And everything had gotten weird.

Ordinarily, you might call your behavior depression, but you were a goddamn robot and couldn't actually feel anything.

Sometimes you would spend hours in front of the mirror looking at your strange body. No.. to look at her body. You were just an image of her and your body was just a thing made of metal, tied through with cables and covered with a skin-colored rubber.

It all made no sense, all your memories of your family, your friends and your meeting with Mina (your first meeting in your bookstore, your first date, the first kiss, ..) all of this had to be real. But as Mutt had explained to you, your brain was just a hard drive with a stored script in which Mina had invested a lot of time to make your "memories" as detailed as possible. After all, she wanted you to be perfect.

To be honest, you had no idea how to act towards Mina. She was right somewhere, without her, you wouldn't exist. Maybe you should be grateful or happy that she created you. And on top of that, you really thought you loved her, needed her, or wanted her. But inside you knew that you only did all of these things because she programmed you to do so. Nothing you ever did was really your own excuse. You were just what she wanted you to be and in addition to that, you weren't even unique anymore. Mina had just copied you and used you for her own purposes.

Inwardly, you tried to fight the urge to kiss her, sit on her lap, or even smile at her, simply because you knew it wasn't what you wanted, but what she wanted. She wanted you to kiss her, wanted you to sit on her lap and wanted you to smile at her.

And all these feelings that cooked in you at the same time, the forced love for Mina and at the same time the hate because she was so selfish, let you get tired and pulled you down into a deep hole.

But you were a robot, you couldn't feel anything.

------------------------

"You should fucking stop coking while you're working on her", hissed Mina, staring into the stupid faces of Jeff and Mutt.

"She should be perfect, do you understand that?"

"Calm down", Mutt mutturd, raising both hands as Jeff swept the rest of the cocaine off the table. The fine powder fell like snow on the floor and the fact that these drugs were now on the white floor made Mina even more angry.

"We're the best at this and we know that if she doesn't turn out perfect, you'll probably kill us," Jeff explained with a smug grin on his ugly face.

"It's better for you if you know," Mina growled, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"How far are you?"

"So," Jeff got up bored to go to his project.

"All we have to do is insert her face and load your script from her hard drive and then we're done."

Mina's gaze wandered to the 3D printer Jeff was pointing to. Inside was the mask of a face ... your face. It was her eyes staring at some point, the same blush of her cheeks on yours, as was the gentle curve of your lips as hers.

"May I ..?" Mina asked and held out her hand for the mask. Jeff shrugged.

"Do what you want, but then bring the mask with you to her body, then we can finish it off."

The man turned to go to the computer next to the body on the table.

"Meanwhile I'll be loading your script on her hard drive", he called afterwards, but Miss Venable no longer listened to him. Her attention was fully focused on the mask, which she had carefully removed from the printer.

The face looked almost dead in her hands as not a single facial muscle was tense and yet Miss Venable could already tell that you were exactly as she had imagined. Just like she remembered Y / N.

Miss Venable stepped away from the 3D printer to walk past Jeff to your body.

She took off her leather gloves before running her fingers over the exposed skin of your arm. It was fascinating how much the rubber felt like real skin. It wasn't the first time, that she saw the result of your body, but it always fascinated her.

Her gaze wandered to your head and she was startled, when she saw directly in your head on the hard drive, that was connected to Jeff's computer by a black cable.

"And she won't ask any questions?" She asked, turning to Jeff.

"Nope," said Mutt, who stood with his arms folded next to his colleague to stare at the computer.

"I took the liberty of reading your script and apart from all the crazy sex you wrote down there, it seems to be very verbose."

Mina's eyes narrowed at Mutt's words and she bit the inside of her cheek to swallow all the insults that came into her mind. This script had been private.

On the other hand, she was tired of waiting for you and just wanted it to be over as soon as possible and that she could finally have you after waiting so many years.

"Okay, this is what we got," Jeff began as he got up from the computer and walked over to your body to pull the cable out of your head.

"Y / N will think, she was here to pick you up from work and then she would have passed out for whatever reason. So she won't wonder why she is here. Well, you know, she thinks that you've been together for a few years, so you have to play along right away. "

"I've spent so many years preparing for this moment," Mina hissed as she watched Jeff insert the face into your body.

And she was right, for years she had lived in her house like a second person was living with her. She had bought Y / N's size clothes, her make-up, her perfume, the books she liked ... Someone would have called it madness, but to her it was confidence. Just because she knew she'd have you one day. And today she could finally take you home with her.

"We're ready," Jeff said, turning to Mutt.

"You can power her up."

"Wait," Mina interrupted while she stared down into your blank face. Your eyes were closed and now it almost looked like you were sleeping.

"I want to be alone with her, when she wakes up."

"B-but what if something doesn't work?"

"It will work."

"Your decision", Jeff mumbled and went to Mutt to leave the room with him.

"Oh and Miss Venable, you know, that telling her about your her identity wouldn't be the best idea."

"She will never know, I'll make sure", Mina replied and went to the computer to switch you on. As quickly as she could, she came back to the table you were lying on, staring expectantly into your face.

And then you came to life.

First your eyes opened and Mina saw you blink a few times confused at the bright ceiling lamp.

"What's up, honey?" You asked her with a frown, but Mina couldn't answer. You looked so damn real, just like her.

"Are you okay?", You grinned crookedly while you sat up.

Your smile, the slightly curved eyebrows and your lively eyes, it was perfect.

"I- I am just happy that you're awake again," Mina finally managed to stutter.

"Naww you were worried about me? You're cute," you muttered, reaching for her hands.

"Can we go home now?"

Mina nodded slowly while she stared into the loving glitter eyes.

You were perfect

Wilhemina opened her eyes. The image of your sparkling eyes was still buzzing around in her head while she stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. Damn it, how many weeks had you not looked at her like that?

Miss Venable was usually not one to wake up at night, but since you knew what you really were, she slept badly and at night dreamed of the time when you didn't know and you were both happy. In addition, the weight of your head was missing on her chest..Your arm wrapped around her waist and the locks of hair that usually tickled her face.

It was almost impossible to sleep like this. She just needed to feel like you belonged to her. How many times had Miss Venable dreamed of Y/N in Jonathan's arms one night and then woke up only to see, that you were as close to her as you could possibly be?

And since you knew it, you just lay next to her in bed, curled up in yourself and felt worlds away from Mina. She was sure you were toying with the idea of ​​sleeping in the guest room. But you could never do that, because that's how she programmed you. You wanted to be with her.

Mina turned her head to the side to see you. You lay on your back next to her and stared out the window with glassy eyes. Lost, thought Miss Venable.

"Why are you awake?" She asked softly and grabbed your hand, which was on your chest.

"I can't sleep"you replied dryly without looking at her.

I don't need to sleep, I'm a fucking robot Wilhemina.

"Do you want to read? Uhm- We haven't read together in ages," she asked and began to run her thumb over the back of your hand.

You just shook your head before turning to her and looking at her with such a pain in your eyes, that she wanted to cry.

"I'm not real, Mina," you said in a thick voice as tears came out of your eyes. You reached your other hand to your face to wipe away the tears.

"These tears are not real."

"That is not true." Mina whispered and took your other hand as well.

"You are here and you are real."

"I'm not even alive. I'm just a dead thing made of cables, I live as much as your computer does."

"Don't say something like that.", Mina mumbled reaching behind her to turn on the bedside lamp. She actually wanted to say something, but when she turned back to you, her eyes fell on the small bruises on your arm.

"What the hell, Y / N", she scolded in horror and ran her fingers over the dark spots.

"Oh, it's not that bad," you said quickly as you pulled your arm away.

"It's actually quite interesting, you know, when we were in the office to fix my hand, Mutt explained to me that I have certain sensors under this rubber layer, that make me think I'm feeling pain. And how my skin changes color when I injure myself..you know, its really cool"

Mina looked at you disturbed, while you explained to her factually how interesting you found that.

"Mutt sent me the plans for my body too," you continued, staring thoughtfully at your forearm.

"It's so fascinating to see how my body digests food or how my emotions work."

"Why are you in contact with this idiot?", Mina frowned.

"Because I wanted to know how I work..I also noticed that I can't get any older and it's kind of funny."

"Funny", Mina repeated, planning a thousand ways in her head, how she would kill Mutt.

----------------

"You fucking idiot," she hissed the next day as she hobbled into Jeff and Mutt's office.

"How dare you even think you have the right to clear Y / N?"

"I thought, it would be good, after she found out everything," Mutt muttered without looking up from his computer.

"Oh yeah?", Mina's eyes sparkled with anger.

"And I thought, we said,  it would be best if she didn't know."

"I understand why he gave her the plans," Jeff interjected.

"Who the hell asked you ??", Mina spat and Jeff shrugged.

"I'm just saying, that I think it's better for her. You want her to be happy and I think that's only possible, if she knows who she is."

"Oh no," Mina shook her head. "I want her to be like Y / N again and unfortunately that won't work if you explain how her robot body works. You could have sent her the script right away."

"Who knows, maybe I'll do that too," Mutt mumbled and looked enviously at Jeff, who was already coking again. "She deserves to know everything."

"You won't do anything like that," Mina growled dangerously.

"You both still work for me and what I do with my girlfriend is my decision".

With that she turned to walk out of the office and eventually out of the building. She just wanted to go home, but at the same time she knew that you and not Y / N would be waiting for her there.

"I'm home princess", she called out loud as she always did when she came home and like the weeks before she got no answer from you. Mina sighed as she hung her jacket on the stand. She hobbled into the bedroom and saw you the night before, just lying there and staring out the window. You hadn't gone to work in the past few weeks, it felt kind of pointless.

"How was your day, princess?" Asked your girlfriend, who was lost in the doorway and tried to get you to talk somehow.

"Good," you said curtly. "You didn't want to tell me how long I've been around, but I think I figured it out today."

Mina's breath caught.

"Did Mutt tell you that too?"

"Nope," you mumbled. "It was me alone. Well, I noticed that based on what I thought I knew, we've been living together for 4 years, but there are only pictures of the last two years, so I think, I'm 2 years old. Somehow that sounds funny, doesn't it? You're dating a two year old. "

For a few seconds, Mina just stared at you. You were right, you were two years old.

"When will you finally get back to normal," she finally mumbled and stepped outthe door frame to sit on the bed. You snorted in annoyance and shook your head as you sat up.

"Define normal, Mina."

"When will you talk to me again? When will you kiss me again? Will you sit on my lap or at least smile at me?" She screamed, making you wince at her volume.

"You treat me like I did something wrong."

"Sorry, but do you find it normal to live with someone, who is actually dead and looks like your 'big love'?" You yelled back.

"It was normal until you knew it and now you pretend there was something wrong with it," Mina stared at you in disbelief, as if she didn't understand how fucked up these facts actually were.

"You could at least have made me unique with a will of my own .. I could have loved you anyway and if I had decided it myself, that's actually how it works," you spat as you leaned against the headboard.

"Then you wouldn't have been like her," Mina replied dryly and you just rolled your eyes.

"So what?".

"So what ?!", Mina repeated angrily.

"Maybe because the only person I love is her and not you?"

Your eyes widened at her words.

"You- you are insane, Mina," you stuttered and got up to walk out of the room. And you would have loved to leave, but you were a human boomerang, no matter how far away you went, you would keep coming back to her. Because that's how she programmed you.

----------------------

A few days went by and you thought a lot about the fact, that she had told you in the face, that she didn't love you but this woman. And you started to hate it all. You hated Mina for her incredible selfishness. You hated yourself for being completely at the mercy of her because she programmed you that way and you hated Y / N (although you were actually Y / N, only in lesbian and metal) because Mina loved her and not you.

You knew, that Mina regretted telling you that, at least she tried to apologize to you later, but you ignored her.

In your eyes, what Mina felt was no longer love, but madness. And if you hadn't hated Y / N, you would probably have prayed for her, that Mina wouldn't have the idea of ​​kidnapping her. Probably the next step on the insane scale. First Y / N had decided on Jonathan and then the stupid robot broke, so Mina was only left with kidnapping as a way out.

You really did your best to understand her behavior, but you just couldn't. Okay, well ... you were just a stupid robot and you only knew empathy from Mina's script.

"Well," you began when you came into her working space on Wednesday afternoon and sat across from her at the desk.

"I've thought of something."

That was the first time in days that you spoke to her without being asked.

You had actually decided to ignore her, until it was enough for her and she decided to leave you. However, the human part of you (Mina's ugly script) thought it would be fair to at least give her the opportunity to explain to you why she was the way she was.

Mina looked up from her laptop and smiled gently at you.

"Anything you want, princess".

You could hear the relief in her voice and you knew she was probably glad you spoke to her again.

And to be honest, you liked that situation. The fact, that she was so eager to talk to you again gave you an incredible feeling of power.

Usually you played by her rules and now you had the reins in hand.

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at her for a few seconds with narrowed eyes. Despair literally glittered in her eyes and you couldn't help but enjoy this moment.

"I want to get to know Y / N", you finally said and watched as her brown eyes widened.

"You can't be serious," she whispered in disbelief.

"I am absolutely serious."

You shrugged your shoulders.

"You want me to get 'normal' again, but for that to happen, I have to understand you first, and here we are."

"But- ..", Mina started and then broke off herself. This stunned look sparked another war in you.

One side wanted to love her and tell her the idea was stupid, while the other side of you hated her profoundly.

"I hope you are aware, that this is not possible," she said quietly.

"And why not? Because then she finds out that you are a psychopath? This is your problem and not mine."

"Y / N, I can't do this," she mumbled, always seeing youstill horrified.

"I can dress up or something," you replied and immediately hated yourself for your willingness to compromise.

Mina shook her head.

"That's impossible Y / N ... your voice even sounds like hers."

"Nobody pays attention to the voice."

"Jonathan would notice," Mina said, pressing her lips together.

"Jonathan?" You repeated, confused, and raised an eyebrow.

"Her Husband," she mumbled softly.

"And why should your husband come with her, when I just want to see her?"

"He does not like me."

"And why should you come with me, when I want to see her?"

"Oh Y / N, come on", Mina rolled her eyes. "Do you really think, I'm so stupid and leave you alone with her? No way."

You snorted in annoyance and shook your head as you stood up.

"It was clear that you wanted to be in control of that too," you muttered, turning to walk out of the room.

"I'll leave the decision to you, Mina, but don't expect me to come back to you if you don't even give me the opportunity to understand you."

----------------------

And Mina actually didn't seem to have given up hope, when she told you on the same day, ,that she would agree to your request.

It was maybe a bit ridiculous to dress up because of the whole thing, but otherwise Mina would not have agreed and you also wanted to spare Y / N, what had happened to you the last few weeks. By being basically Y / N, you knew exactly what it would feel like for her to find out the truth about you.

"So .. what do you think?" You asked when you walked into the hallway to Mina, who was already waiting.

Mina looked you up and down critically.

You had to do your best not to look like yourself, or rather not to look like her.

Dyed hair, different make-up, more conspicuous clothing and jewelry.

"I don't like it," Mina muttered and you rolled your eyes.

"It's not about whether you like it, it's about whether I look like her."

Mina shook her head.

"You definitely don't do that and I still think it's ugly."

"Well, maybe I should always dress like this now," you muttered as you stepped forward to leave the house.

During the drive to the café, Mina explained her rules to you and that she would interrupt the whole thing immediately if you didn't follow them.

But you didn't listen to her at all. In your mind you were with Y / N and the life that was actually intended for you and it annoyed you, that Mina was so addicted to control.

"So, behave, understand?" She finished her sermon as she parked the car.

"Do I have any other choice? Otherwise you would probably take me to the junkyard," you joked and climbed out of the car, only for Mina to come to you and take her hand in yours. You wanted to push her away, her behavior was disgusting, but instead you gave her a warm smile and pressed a quick kiss on her cheek.

You knew exactly how much that would hurt her.

Mina pulled you into the overcrowded café and despite the many people you immediately discovered the young couple, who were sitting at one of the back tables.

Y / N, who had a child on her lap and her husband Jonathan.

Shit, shot through your head. They look so happy ..

You felt Mina's grip on your hand tighten a little, and if your bones weren't made of steel, you would have been afraid, Mina would break your hand. As you both approached the table, your eyes were glued to Y / N. In fact, she looked exactly like you, the only difference being that her hair was a little longer than yours. She moved like you, had the same posture as you and wore the same innocent smile on her face as you always did.

And as much as you loathe Mina, you had to give her one thing: she had done an excellent job designing you and you finally understood, what she always meant when she told you, that you were perfect.

She could have shown you a photo of Y / N and you would have been 100% sure that it was you.

"Oh Mina, hi", Y / N squeaked excitedly and got up from her seat when she saw Mina and you and you couldn't help but grin. Stupid thing.

"Hello Y / N," Mina mumbled when Y / N came and hugged her.

"I'm Y / N," Y / N said to you with a polite smile after letting go of Mina.

"And this is my husband Jonathan and our daughter Emily."

Your gaze wandered to the child who paid you no attention and to Jonathan who smiled crookedly.

"Uhm Y / N, that's my girlfriend Laura", Mina stammered and you looked at her confused. Laura?

"Hi," you mumbled tersely, trying to bring a smile to your face.

You watched Y / N turn away from you againe to sit next to your husband and put the child back on your lap.

"God, I'm so glad, that we can meet," Y / N said excitedly as Mina and you sat down (Mina across from Y / N while you sat down across from her annoyed husband).

"You know, I was really sad when you said a few weeks ago you weren't going to our college meeting .. I missed you, Mina."

You knew how much Y / N's words would hurt Mina and suddenly you found the fact, that you were sitting with her in this cafe with the real Y / N and her great life more than just amazing. And you knew that Mina made herself very vulnerable at that moment, which was actually a rarity.

"You know, Mina, I was really happy for you when you told me that you had a girlfriend," Y / N said while she stared at you curiously. Holy shit.

"How did you meet?"

"Uhm she-" Mina began, but you interrupted her.

"Let me tell her, honey."

You grabbed Mina's hand, that was on the table and crossed her fingers with yours.

"Well, as you know, Mina works in this robot company. And because Mina is not stupid, she had the great idea to create a human robot that exactly meets her ideas, who wouldn't do that if you were CEO of this company? And unfortunately her ideas looked exactly like me and in front of you sits the end result of her experiment and thats our lovestory. "

Y / N and Jonathan stared at you in confusion and you could hear Mina holding her breath. You held this tension for a few seconds before you laughed out loud.

"Oh my god, guys..that was a joke", you laughed and immediately the looks of the others relaxed again. Mina cleared her throat only to growl a quiet "not funny".

"So you know, I work in a bookstore and she was my customer back then. Love at first sight and that shit. And then we started dating," you explained and looked at Mina lovingly from the side. Disgusting.

You heard Y / N squeak softly next to Jonathan and you wondered if you were as annoying as she was.

"Thats so cute," she said. "And how long have you been together?"

"4 years", Mina muttered and you hummed in agreement.

"I'm happy for you," said Y / N and looked back and forth between you and Mina, smiling.

"Jonathan and I have known each other since college, as Mina must have told you."

"Oh yeah," you said, staring at the child playing in Y / N's lap. It looked just like her, and who knows, maybe it was just a robot?

"Mina told me a lot about you, unfortunately a little late. Well, whatever, what are you two doing?"

"We're both mechanics and work in rocket construction," Y / N explained and Jonathan just nodded.

"You know, Jonathan is currently working with other mechanics on a rocket that will go to Mars."

Y / N gave Jonathan a proud look.

"Oh wow, that's so cool," you said with mock admiration as you stared at Jonathan with bright eyes.

"You know, Mina's work is really boring, but rocket building? That is so interesting, tell me more about your work, jonathan."

The man in front of you looked at you confused as you cocked your head and smiled sweetly at him.

"Uhm, so I work in a team with 14 other mechanics," he explained bored and crossed his arms over his chest. "And we plan to finish the whole project within the next two years."

"And should the rocket be for humans?" You asked as you put your hand on his arm to remove a lint that didn't exist. Beside you, you could feel Mina squeeze your hand tight and you knew, that she hated to see you obviously flirting with the man.

Jonathan cleared his throat and pulled his arms apart again so that you had to remove your hand again.

"This rocket is supposed to be for robots," he muttered, looking at his wife, who was sitting next to him, smiling gently.

"Oh, did you hear Mina? Robots?" You said as you turned to Mina to look at her with shining eyes.

"Maybe I should report to NASA, I would be the perfect astronaut for this mission".

You looked back at Y / N and Jonathan, who obviously didn't know what to make of your statement again. You grinned cheekily when you put your hand on Jonathans again.

"I understand, that all of the robot comments might sound a bit confusing, but you have to know, that Mina has some really weird fetishes."

------------

"What the hell was that supposed to be?" Scolded Mina after the two of you had reentered your house. You turned to her and shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know what you mean, honey," you said with an innocent smile on your face as you approached her passed to enter the living room. Mina watched you angrily as you let yourself fall on the sofa to stare indifferently out of the window.

"Those stupid robot comments?" She hissed angrily.

"And then the disgusting way you stared at Jonathan with .."

You snorted in annoyance.

"Of course it is that thing that bothers you".

"Yes, it bothers me because you know that I hate him", Mina hissed and hobbled into the room to stand in front of you.

"You fucking belong to me Y / N .."

"Of course I'm yours," you mumbled sadly and while you were still looking out the window, you could feel her angry eyes digging into your skin. You thought back to the previous afternoon. Y / N had started talking about their perfect life in response to your questions. Her and Jonathan's career, and then cute Emily, who had been sitting at the table the whole time playing with a teddy bear. You noticed, that as a stupid robot you could probably never have children and you couldn't help but feel envy for this woman and again there was this hate for Mina.

"Okay, take that off," Mina suddenly said in a sharp voice. You looked at her confused and blinked a few times.

"Please what-?"

"Take. That. Off.", She repeated, growling, while her eyes wandered over your body. "This makeup, the jewelry and these clothes, that's not you. And I want you .. now"

"Oh no ... I definitely won't do that," you breathed as you stood up.

"I told you, I didn't want anything physical from you until things were cleared up."

"I waited a long time Y / N and nothing happened, so take this shit off," Mina spat, staring at you impatiently.

"Leave me alone, Wilhemina," you muttered as you stepped past her to leave the room.

"You will come back immediately, Y / N", Mina suddenly shouted in a tone that was strange to you and immediately made you jump. Her voice suddenly sounded so shrill that it gave goose bumps over your body.

You turned around automatically to go back to the living room, where Mina was still angry and looking at you expectantly.

"I want you to take your clothes off," she said sharply, and you just couldn't argue. There was that sound in her voice that she had never yelled at you with, even though you had argued a lot in the past few weeks.

"Now, Y / N," she hissed loudly before she hit the floor with her stick and you immediately began to take off all the jewelry, that you had only been wearing to not look like Y / N. You grabbed an unused kleenex, that was lying on the living room table to wipe the lipstick off your lips. Your fingers carefully removed the lashes, that you had placed on your eyelashes. Your eyes were still on Mina, who had meanwhile sat down on the sofa and watched your every move. You stood in front of her, undecided after throwing the handkerchief with your lipstick and lashes on the table.

"I want you to sit on my lap," said Mina and suddenly you understood why you were actually doing what she wanted. 

“I want.”

Damn robot.

You carefully climbed onto her lap and stared sadly into her brown eyes, which were dark with lust.

"Good girl," she hummed, sending warmth through your whole body.

"Its that what you want, isn't it? Be my good girl?"

You looked down at her with glassy eyes before you nodded.

Immediately her hands began to wander over your body and you knew that you had failed.

You had never hated yourself and your stupid body as much as you had for the next few hours. As warm tears of frustration ran down your face, you moaned her name like a whore. It was fascinating how your body reacted to her touch, you wanted her so bad, simply because she programmed you that way.

With that she had won.

You had fought her for 3 weeks, only to end up in bed with her again. You hated her for it and you hated yourself and still you let her fuck you so senselessly.

When you found yourself in your bed a few hours later and felt her naked body pressed against yours, you felt more terrible than ever. Mina had her arms wrapped tightly around you and you could feel her breath on your neck. It was all disgusting and you noticed how it got too much.

You carefully freed yourself from her iron grip to go quietly from your bedroom into the bathroom. You turn on the light and stand in front of the mirror to examine your naked body. Disgusting.

Your face looked completely tearful, with a swollen lower lip that she had a few hours agohad eyes.

Your body was covered with small bruises and the prints of her fingernails and suddenly you could feel her hands running over your body again. It was electrifying.

You hated this picture in front of you. You were only there to be hers. To do what she wanted. And there was nothing you could do about it.

Your fingers carefully traced her markings. None of this was real. Your skin was some kind of rubber that only discolored. An illusion to hide your cables. And you've had enough of this human shell, this illusion. You were a robot and you looked like a human, you acted like a human and that didn't make any sense. You finally wanted to know who or rather what you were. Your eyes wandered from your reflection in the mirror to the sink and the small nail scissors stabbed your eyes.

The whole thing was idiotic, but you couldn't help but hold out your trembling hand for it.

----------------

A few minutes after you got out of bed, Mina woke up too. The lack of warmth in your body was missing, as was your weight in her arms. For a brief moment she was afraid, that you would finally have run away, but then it occurred to her, that you couldn't run away, that's how she had programmed you. Still, she had the feeling that something was wrong.

Mina sat up to grab her dressing gown, which she pulled over her naked body, and then hobbled out of the bedroom into the hallway to look for you. She didn't have to look far as the light shone from the open bathroom and she saw you leaning over the sink.

"Princess?" She asked softly and put a hand on your bare shoulder. You winced at her touch as you turned and revealed to Mina what you had done. Mina let out a shocked scream and stared in horror at your slashed arm, which revealed all the cables and your metal bones.

"What the fuck are you doing ?!", She screamed angrily as she grabbed your arm.

"I- I just wanted to see my real body," you stuttered and hid the nail scissors behind your back.

"Don't you see that you are destroying everything?", Mina spat and looked at you hurt.

"You're the one who breaks everything."

"Mina, please," you mumbled and pulled your open arm back again.

"I just want you to be normal again," she breathed and felt tears come out of her eyes. You shook your head slowly.

"We already had this conversation, I'm not going back to normal, you have to understand."

"Oh I understand it now".

Mina looked at you thoughtfully for a moment before continuing.

"Get dressed."

"It's 5 am," you said and watched in confusion as Mina turned around to go back to your bedroom from the bathroom.

"You understood me, Y / N", Mina mumbled and heard how you ran after her angrily.

"Make up your mind Mina," you hissed as you walked past her to your closet. "Before you wanted me to take my clothes off, just so you would tell me now to get dressed again."

"You can also accompany me to my office naked," Mina hummed, who started to get dressed. You spun around and stared at her in confusion.

"You want us to go to your office?"

"Exactly".

"Forget it," you snorted and shook your head.

"I won't do that shit. You can't-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Shouted Mina.

"I want us to go to my office and you will come with me, do you understand me?"

She glared at you and you nodded quickly.

"Good," she hissed. "Now damn it, get dressed and shut up."

----------

Mina was incredibly nervous when she drove to her office. She didn't really know what she wanted there herself.

She wanted you to go back to normal, but you didn't go back to normal. She wanted you to be Y / N again, but you weren't. Mina could feel that you were scared when you sat silently next to her in the car without moving. But she didn't care, earlier she might have calmed you down, but earlier you were still like Y / N.

Mina parked the car in the company's parking lot before opening the door for you to get out. Without a word, she ran through the building, clutching your wrist with her free hand. What hadn't been cut open. She stomped angrily into the office of Jeff and Mutt, who were bent over the table again to coke.

"Look Mutt, Venny joins the chatroom," grinned Mutt as he lifted his head from the table and recognized Miss Venable.

"What gives us the honor?"

Mina put her hand on your back and pushed you forward.

"She is broken," she croaked. "She doesn't work anymore .."

"So what should we do now?" Asked Jeff, as he got up and walked over to you to look at your cut arm.

"I want you to fix her, she should be normal," Mina hissed and felt tears sting in her eyes again.

"Otherwise replace her if you have to, I don't want her if she is like that."

Mina looked sadly into your fearful eyes. There was nothing left of the loving glint she'd seen when you smiled at her the first time. You weren't like Y / N and as long as you weren't like her, she didn't want you. Damn robot.

Sandman, I'm so alone Don't have nobody to call my own Please turn on your magic beam Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

[tenspontaneite]

The Ceracurist (Chapter 3/?)

Even after these past months, she wasn’t yet used to it. Another Full Moon spent alone.

(Chapter length: 10.4k. ao3 link)

---

“Did you go to the game night?” Was Ethari’s first question when she called him the next day.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, Ethari.”

He looked delighted. “Did you make friends?”

She hesitated, thinking about it. “…Well, I did beat them all at Antiquitora,” she said eventually. “And you were right, they did appreciate that.” She paused, and added “I’m probably going back, I think.”

She spent the next ten minutes having details pried out of her so warmly and kindly it hardly felt like an interrogation at all. Ethari was good at that. Finally she secured her escape via the need to leave for training, and was farewelled with considerably less fretting than usual. When the call dropped, she was about to shut down the Sunbeam module entirely, but then-

New Contact Requests, said the alert in the corner. Rayla blinked, nonplussed, and opened it, already having a decent idea of what she’d find. Sure enough, there were three new requests from codes she recognised: Kazi, Nihatasi, and Callum. She lingered there for a while, feeling bizarrely overwhelmed, then finally accepted all three of them.

She didn’t linger by the computer, after that – she had training to get to. Rayla paused at the door to perform a final once-over of her armour, then grabbed her swords and left.

 ---

 Rayla stumbled back into her room in late afternoon, covered in about three different kinds of mud and her body aching all-over in the aftermath of prolonged exertion. She spent the next two hours with rigid discipline: cleaning herself, cleaning her armour, checking her weapons. She cooked unenthusiastically and ate, then finally felt justified in utter collapse. She landed face-first into her bed and fell asleep immediately.

Three hours later, she woke to a stirring of magic in her veins, prickling over her skin, all the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, and pushed herself up; every hint of soreness from training was completely gone. She turned her eyes to the window, staring at the Moon rising full and resplendent past the horizon. Something deep and instinctive in her delighted at the sight of it. But something else twisted, sharp with the pang of homesickness.

Even after these past months, she wasn’t yet used to it. Another Full Moon spent alone. She sighed, and tried not to think of the festivities that would surely be beginning back home. It was moonrise; Ethari and Runaan would be at the Circle by now. Had the dancing already started? With the Moon this high, it must have.

She stared unblinkingly out of the window, turning thoughts over and over in her head. It wasn’t right to be alone at Full Moon. It wasn’t right to spend it all indoors, either. She couldn’t do much about the first thing, but the second…

Silent, Rayla slipped outside. A few of her wingmates were out in the common room, chattering drunkenly with each other near the table. She blinked, slowly, and exhaled. When she passed, they didn’t see her; only started with surprise at the open and close of the door. She crept through the streets like a ghost, visiting each of the parks and training grounds in turn until she finally found one unoccupied: a small stand of well-kept trees, and a fountain that reflected the full body of the Moon in its burbling waters. It would do.

It was no Circle. There were no runes in the ground – nothing here that awaited the careful precision of the lunar dances, nothing that would light up at her passing. But it was better than nothing. Rayla pulled at the moonlight until she was nothing but shadows flickering in the shadows of the trees, and danced.

There were plenty of moondances that could be done alone, and she circled the fountain with all of them, one by one. A tracery of magic hummed in the air at her passing, whispers of light following her; magic summoned by her motions, without the guidance of a Circle’s shaping. Even formless and aimless, it was beautiful. So, for the pleasure of it, she spun through those motes of moonlight and held them flickering in the shadows of her skin; light and dark woven together.

When she was done, she felt…not joyous, maybe, or exhilarated, as a celebration back home might have left her. But she was satisfied. Calm, and a little less sad. With the Full Moon still high above her, its magic brimming in her veins, Rayla headed home once more.

She didn’t bother to hide herself this time, and when she came through the door and passed by the remaining wingmates still up and awake, they saw her perfectly well: skin night-dark, eyes glowing, the edges of her form blurring into the shadows. They were all of them Sunfire and Skywing, and went a little quiet as she went by them; she wondered if they’d ever seen one of her kind at Full Moon before. Somehow, she doubted it.

Finally, Rayla arrived at her door, disarmed its security, and closed it behind her. She sighed, standing for a moment in the moonlight through her window, and considered it. Sleep would be a lost cause for another few hours, probably. So, somewhat inevitably, she ended up checking the computer. Browsing the mageskein was probably the best way to kill a few hours, and it wasn’t like she had anything else to do, this time of night.

Except: her Sunbeam module was still on, humming inside its casing, and…when she looked, it had projected a few message alerts onto the screen. Hesitantly, she checked them.

One was from Ethari, wishing her a good Moon, and entreating her once again to visit a Circle for it. Somewhat belated, that. One was from Kazi, confirming the time of their rematch tomorrow, as well as the address. Nihatasi had sent another, packed with effusive praise for her gaming excellence, insistence that she return, and an offer to come by the house whenever she wanted. Rayla shook her head at that, reluctantly amused. It wasn’t as though she’d met many nomads before – not in a social setting, anyway – but so far, Nihatasi more than matched their reputation for being aggressively sociable.

The last message was from Callum, and she steadfastly pretended that she wasn’t any more interested in it than the rest. He’d cheerfully thanked her for coming to the game night, said he hoped she’d come again, and then made an inquiry about her gaming tastes. Did she play computer games? If so, which were her favourites?

With the slow, halting uncertainty of the socially awkward, Rayla responded to all of them except Ethari’s. Kazi’s was easy enough, she just had to say ‘thanks’ and ‘see you tomorrow’. The other two took more doing. To Nihatasi, she expressed her thanks, and her assurances that she intended to come to a game night again. She said nothing about the house visit. To Callum, she reiterated her intentions to return, and admitted that, yes, she did like computer games, but hadn’t had the opportunity to play many of them, for lack of the necessary modules or a computer with the right specifications.  

Given the hour, she certainly didn’t expect any response, so she switched active modules to the mageskein to start browsing. News headlines on the home site vied for her attention: something about the outcome of the latest Katolis-Evenere expedition into the wastelands; the most recent public appearance of the Dragon Prince with his esteemed parents; a gossip piece about some Katolian royal’s birthday. She checked the second one for images, and sure enough, there he was: the young prince Azymondias, still tiny in comparison to his queen mother…and, in the background, a few Dragonguard standing at the ready. Rayla spotted her parents and smiled. She clicked to transfer the picture through its Sunbeam link and waited.

The other module hummed, her computer making distressed noises as it attempted juggling the inputs of Sunbeam and Mageskein at once. The unit at home wouldn’t have had any trouble, but this one…she sighed, and waited, and was eventually rewarded when her Sunbeam successfully imported the image and displayed it full-fidelity, with all the depth and nuance of lighting that a flat picture could never convey. She filed it away, and was about to switch back, when she saw the alert.

A new message. At this hour? It had to be at least two in the morning by now, surely. She checked her clock to be sure, and, yep. 2:14am. She eyed the icon with consternation, then opened it.

Callum had responded. She stared, brow furrowing as she read. Hey, glad to hear back from you! He opened, cheerfully failing to acknowledge the fact that it was currently stupidly late. The rest of it was perfectly normal too; commiserating about her lack of access to proper computing, commenting that yeah, I didn’t get to play any EX games until I moved here, and you know what WX graphics are like, and which ones did you get to play? Any I’d know about?

Rayla reread its entirety several times, mildly flummoxed. At Full Moon her emotions were all closer to the surface than usual, so there was an undeniable thread of glee in her chest about this unexpected late-night contact, but…well, she was curious. In her limited experience with the ways of other students, the only reasons a non-Moonshadow would be up this late would be ‘partying’ or ‘insomnia’. Or ‘last-minute coursework’, but that was unlikely to apply when term was already over. So: You’re up late, she wrote, without thinking about it, and sent it back without responding to any of his actual questions. She’d begun composing a belated second message, but apparently Callum was a lot speedier with typing than she was.

Haha, yeah, I kind of lost track of time. Gaming, incidentally. She thought he must be used to significantly faster systems and transfer times than she was, because that was the entirety of that message, and then he sent another one: What about you? What are you doing up?

Rayla blinked, then settled herself a little more comfortably in her chair, since it seemed like, well. Like there might be a conversation happening, here. She brought the keyboard further forward. It’s Full Moon, she responded to him, a little dryly. Her computer took its sweet time about sending the message, as usual.

Oh. It is? After a pause, during which he presumably looked out of a window or something, he said Huh. So it is. Does it keep you awake?

She paused. Kind of, she wrote, slowly, and then wasn’t quite sure how much more to divulge. Eventually, she wrote It’s kind of hard to sleep through when it’s still high. I’ll be okay in a couple hours.

That must be so cool, he answered, which seemed a weird thing to say to a statement of Moon-induced insomnia. I’ve used artefacts to cast moon-magic before, but it must feel totally different when you’ve got the arcanum. What’s it like?

Rayla stared at her screen. She recalled the implications of him being a mage student, and was suddenly brimming with curiosity. I don’t know, I’m not a mage, she wrote, and then paused. Do you cast a lot of artefact magic, or was that a one-time thing?

She probably should have just outright asked about the mage student thing, rather than trying to be cagey about it. He probably wouldn’t have minded. Except, that turned out to be unnecessary, because the next thing he wrote, as if it were perfectly natural and unsurprising, was Well, I’m doing a thaumaturgy / thaumatology masters, so I definitely cast a lot of magic, yeah. Then, while she was still gawping at that, he followed it up with Listen, do you want to call?

What? She sent back, astonished, still in the middle of trying to process the concept of a human thaumaturgy student. She couldn’t quite get her head around it. How did that even work?

It’s okay if you don’t, he clarified. But your Sunbeam seems to have kind of a lot of connection lag, so it’d probably be faster to talk, you know?

Rayla was, in fact, using a fairly old edition of the Sunbeam module, which did have to establish a new connection for every individual message it sent and received. It was what was cheapest, and the lag was just…an unavoidable side-effect. She called more often than she messaged anyway, so it was rarely relevant. Except, apparently, now. It’s two in the morning, Callum, she sent to him, bewildered.

And we’re both awake, he pointed out, as if it was perfectly reasonable to call someone you’d only met twice before in the middle of the night.

Her first instinct, fuelled by bemusement and social anxiety, was to say no. Her second instinct was quick to the scene, with some very definite opinions about interacting with Callum, even at as weird an hour as this. She hesitated, wavering.

In the end, it was a glance at the Moon through the window that decided her. Rayla was emphatically not a mystical person, but even so, there were things that were deeply culturally ingrained. And one of those things was Full Moon is community time. Family, or friends, or a wider community – it didn’t really matter, but you weren’t supposed to be alone. This…probably counted.

Yeah, okay, she typed in the end, foot tapping under the desk with a frisson of tension. But only for a bit.

He didn’t waste any time about it, just sent the call request. Rayla took a quick moment to check she hadn’t made a mess of herself dancing, realised it was something of a moot point when everything attached to her was veiled in shadows, and finally accepted the call.

Callum’s room was startlingly brightly-lit when it appeared in the monitor, and it hurt her eyes a bit. She blinked rapidly, fighting the urge to squint, and glimpsed what looked like a well-appointed loft room with an unexpectedly dense population of easels. She could see at least three of them, most of which occupied by some sort of paper or canvas. She blinked, nonplussed, then steadfastly did not react when his face came into view. It moved around jarringly as he adjusted the lightcatcher, then finally settled.

He grinned at the screen, looking sleepy but in good enough humour, and said “Hey! Wow your room is dark.”

Rayla opened her mouth, closed it, then blinked. “Oh, right, your eyes,” she said, embarrassed. She generally only ever called her family, whose night vision was perfectly equal to hers. Humans, as well as most other elf races, were not nearly as well-suited for the dark. “Can you even see anything?”

“I can see your eyes,” he volunteered helpfully, looking amused. “They’re glowing. Really brightly, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s the Full Moon,” Rayla told him, already standing to go for the switch of the wall lamp over her desk. She’d never actually had cause to use it before, other than testing it when she first moved in, so the soft blue light it produced was almost wholly unfamiliar. “Is that better?” She asked, moving back to her chair.

“Well, I can actually see your room now, so-“ he started, then cut off abruptly as she settled back down in front of the lightcatcher. “Oh, wow,” he said instead as he stared at her, eyes wide.

Rayla ignored the self-conscious twinge in her stomach and frowned at him, folding her arms. “What?” she demanded.

He startled, as if only just realising what he’d said. “Oh. Um, sorry?” he attempted, weakly. “It’s just – I’ve never seen a Moonshadow elf all, er…” he waved expressively at her, contrite. “You know, Full Moon-ish?”

Oh. She eyed him, determined that he wasn’t messing with her, and relaxed a little. “What, not even in the Honour Games?” She asked, after a moment.

“Well, I mean, sometimes. But that’s usually in broad daylight, you know, and from a distance, and broadcasted.” He shrugged, a light dusting of pink rising in his cheeks, like he was embarrassed. “Kind of different to…” he nodded to her via the lightcatcher, smiling sheepishly.

“Suppose it is a tad different to a close-up Sunbeam call,” she conceded, lips twitching.

“I should’ve expected it, really, considering it’s full moon and everything,” he said ruefully. “Sorry, I’m not exactly at my brightest at two in the morning.”

Oh, that was right. It was the middle of the night. She squinted at him. “Then shouldn’t you be sleeping, instead of sunbeaming random Moonshadow elves?”

“Well, you’re up,” he said, as if this was a perfectly logical reason for him to be awake too. “And it’s not like I have to be up early.”

Lucky for him. She thought of the training and the Antiquitora rematch she had scheduled for the day, and suppressed a sigh. It was sometimes truly inconvenient to live in a mixed-race city that didn’t automatically expect the day after Full Moon (and the day of and before New Moon, of course) to be a rest day. “Wish I could say the same.”

He winced sympathetically. “Can you not cancel whatever it is?”

She opened her mouth to say no, stopped, and frowned. She hadn’t yet missed training even once. But…it wasn’t like attending every session was compulsory. And she did train three other times a week…and besides, a Sunday morning short session had never fallen on Full Moon recovery day before. “Probably, honestly,” she admitted. “My – uncle wouldn’t even tell me off for it. Moonshadow elves aren’t supposed to work the day after a Full Moon.”

“Because none of you can get to sleep the whole night?” He asked with interest, as if the cultural habits of her kind were genuinely intriguing to him. “Makes sense, I guess.”

Rayla huffed and shook her head. “Kinda. Mostly it’s because, traditionally, we’re supposed to spend moonrise to moonset with – family, or the community, or whatever. And we’re not much good for anything except collapsing once the Moon’s gone. So we all take the next day off.”

He blinked at her curiously, but if he wondered why she wasn’t currently out spending the Moon with her rightful community, he was tactful enough not to ask. “You should skip your thing, then. Whatever it is,” he determined, after a moment. “Get some actual sleep.”

“Says you,” Rayla said, wry. “You don’t even have a stupid magical reason to be up this late.”

“Does a technomantic game count as a stupid magical reason?” He grinned at her, his smile lopsided and full of humour. Her stomach did a weird flip-flop. “I mean. It is magical.”

Despite herself, she snorted. “And it is stupid,” she allowed, lips twitching. “As far as reasons to be sleep-deprived go, anyway.”

“Worth it,” he claimed, cheerfully. “I don’t have work till the afternoon anyway, so I’m fine.”

Rayla nodded at that, then a moment later actually recalled what his job was, and practically felt her face heating. Thank the Moon – literally – for her skin currently being too dark to show it.

He noticed some sort of reaction, though. Maybe her shoulders had hunched a bit. He tilted his head at her, a little rueful, and said “Yeah, er, about that. I wanted to apologise, for the others talking about it, yesterday? Couldn’t have been super comfortable.”

Abruptly hyper-aware of the weight and presence of her horns, Rayla did her best not to sink into the chair. “…It’s fine,” she muttered, embarrassed. “It’s not like you told them about it, they just guessed.”

“Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t tell them about who my customers were unless my customers said something about it first,” he assured her. “Not really professional, you know? We’re supposed to be confidential about it.” Suddenly, he smiled again. “Then again, it’s not like I usually end up meeting my customers at game night, so that part tends to be easier to manage.”

“Usually?” she asked dryly, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to lift her hands and hide her face behind them.

“No, yeah, you’re definitely the first time that’s happened,” he admitted. “It was kind of a surprise.”

She thought about how she’d reacted to seeing him appear through that door yesterday. “Just a tad.”

“A good one, though!” he claimed, cheerful. “It was nice to meet you properly.”

Rayla was tempted to say something along the lines of you know, where I come from, touching up someone’s horns is considerably more than a ‘proper’ meeting, but that was too mortifying to express, and he probably knew it anyway. She couldn’t imagine anyone becoming an experienced ceracurist without learning all the assorted implications that sort of thing had. “Even though I kicked your Archdragon across the board?” She questioned eventually, when she found her voice again.

“Even though you totally kicked my butt, yeah,” he agreed readily, looking far too pleased about it. “It was a great match. You’re crazy good at that game.”

An involuntary smile pulled at her lips. “Well, Kazi’s better,” she said, pleased despite herself. “They’d have had me easily, if they weren’t playing Ocean.”

He didn’t argue with her. Clearly, he understood the game plenty well enough to know the truth of that. “Still the second-best player I’ve met,” he insisted staunchly. “Is Antiquitora one of the computer games you said you did play? You must’ve put in some serious practice time.”

Rayla snorted. “I wish. No, the only games I ever actually got to play were on a gameship, just the one time, when I was…” she frowned, trying to remember. “Thirteen, maybe? Good long while ago.”

He perked up, expression brightening. “I love gameships,” he enthused. “There’s one that comes by Gullcrest twice a year, and I swear, all the students in the entire engineering department just disappear on board until it leaves. It’s crazy.” After a moment, he admitted “Well, to be fair, I disappear on board too, so, you know. It’s not like I can judge.”

She blinked, and leaned forwards. “What clan is the ship?” She asked, with considerable interest.

“It’s a joint management. Serat-Demani,” he said, watching her knowingly.

“Moon above,” she swore, and he grinned.

“Right?” Looking exceedingly pleased with her reaction, he took that as his cue to go into extensive, exacting detail about the wonders that a fully-stocked, state-of-the-art Demani entertainment airship had to offer. She listened raptly the entire time, interjecting with questions about the rates, the facilities, the games. If it was a Demani ship, it had to have Skycrawler, surely? What was it like? Was the gameplay everything it was said to be?

In the end, Rayla didn’t think she could really be blamed for losing track of time.

Callum was in the middle of enthusiastically praising Scion of Shadow, with particular attention to its unusually enjoyable stealth mechanics, when out of nowhere a yawn cracked through his sentence. He seemed fully ready to keep on talking once it was done, but Rayla sat up a little straighter, and for the first time in a while remembered that it was the middle of the night. She consulted her Moon-sense, and then the clock, and then buried her face in her hands.

He cut off mid-sentence, inquisitive. “What?”

“Callum, it’s nearly four in the morning,” she informed him, lowering her hands to stare at the clock, consumed with a baleful sense of having been betrayed by the passage of time.  “The sun’s probably not even far off rising.”

He blinked, looked to the side, then blinked again. “…Huh,” he observed, a little sheepish. “Yeah, that’s…later than I usually stay up.”

“It’s later than I usually stay up, even on Full Moons.” Technically true, for the ones she’d spent at university. At home, though…moonset was, after all, later than sunrise in summer. Full Moon celebrations usually concluded once everyone’s skin was back to normal, but not always.

Callum shot her a weird look, long and appraising, before he spoke. “You’re still all…Moon-shadowy, though.”

“That won’t stop for a while yet,” she informed him, and shook her head. “I can probably get to sleep by now, anyway. Or another hour off, at most. You…” For a moment, she inspected him, spotting the signs of tiredness in his bearing. “You won’t have that problem, I think. You look knackered.”

He offered a rueful smile. “I’ll probably pass out the second I lay down, yeah,” he admitted. “I kind of lost track of time. Again.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Well, I’ll just go now, then, so you can’t get distracted again.”

Hastily, he sat bolt upright. “But there was something I wanted to-“

“Tomorrow,” she told him, firmly. “Or…today, technically. Later, anyway. Whatever it is can wait.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then smiled sleepily at her. It looked far more endearing than it had any right to. “Well, okay then.”

Rayla nodded to him, said “Thanks,” then leaned in and shut the call down without a further word. Sunbeam’s active connection died down, Callum’s face disappearing from the screen, and she leaned back in her chair to fix the ceiling with a long-suffering stare.

On one hand, Ethari would’ve probably been delighted to hear she’d spent a couple hours of her Full Moon socialising, as a proper Moonshadow elf ought to. But on the other….Ethari could absolutely never, ever find out about this. If he knew she’d been up chatting with someone, losing track of time, for actual hours…she’d never hear the end of it. To say nothing of how he’d react if he got wind that she – that she might sort of-

“Ugh,” Rayla grumbled to herself, wiping a hand over her face.

She stared at the ceiling for a good long while, experiencing a variety of emotions that she wasn’t keen on thinking about too hard. She also spent a not inconsiderable amount of time thinking about the conversation, running it over in her head, thoughts stubbornly fixed on Callum. This was how she ended up realising that she’d never actually asked about the mage-student-thing, and she still had no idea how that worked.

“Ugh,” she said again, more emphatically, and finally left her chair. She left her room to perform some necessary ablutions in the bathroom she shared with the next room over, then returned to draw the curtains. Without the direct moonlight through her window, the magic in her skin started to stutter a little. In ten minutes or so, she’d be back to normal again…and, with luck, she might be asleep by then.

Begrudgingly, Rayla peeled herself out of her clothes and threw them haphazardly onto the floor, not even bothering to watch the magic desert them, and climbed into bed. A suboptimal amount of time later, she was asleep.

 ---

 “Goodness, you look tired,” said Kazi, welcoming Rayla in. Rayla, for her part, was a little too exhausted to feel particularly awkward, which was nice. “Was the Full Moon particularly trying?”

Rayla’s lips twitched. At least this one knew when Full Moon was. “No more than usual,” she said dryly, bending to remove her shoes when Kazi made noises about it. “Just, you know, getting enough sleep is kind of a lost cause.”

“Oh, I know the feeling. Or at least somewhat,” they commiserated, leading her through to a small and cosy-looking living room lined with bookshelves, and then through to a somewhat larger dining room, whose table was…occupied. Very thoroughly occupied. Rayla tried not to look at it too closely until she had a chance to inspect it properly. “There was a solar flare a few years ago, and of course I and the other Sunfire elves couldn’t sleep for days. It was quite the experience! And I’m sure you know how the Skywing elves get when there’s a particularly powerful storm abound.”

She had, in fact, had occasion to see what Skywing elves looked like when they were storm-drunk. It had been funny, up until it got annoying. “Probably more of a pain for them and you, really, since none of you take anything like moondust,” she volunteered after a moment, mouth turning up with wry sympathy. She’d hate to be a Skywing and be subject to random, unpredictable bouts of their equivalent of being moonstruck. “You all get the full effect of it.”

Kazi looked a little curious at that, but didn’t ask. “Yes, I suppose so. We should be thankful our magical overload is not so consistent as it is for you. In any case-“ they gestured towards the table. “Please take a seat wherever you prefer! Would you like any stimulants?”

Rayla blinked. “…Could you repeat that?”

“Tea,” they clarified, eyes merry with humour. “Or perhaps reveillant, or coffee, by your preference. I have all three, in some measure.”

For a moment she’d wondered if she was being offered something illegal, which…looking at Kazi, she was quite sure had been on purpose. She shook her head, reluctantly amused, and said “I could try some reveillant? I’ve only had it once.”

“It is not especially common, in a Skywing city like this,” Kazi allowed, already heading in the direction of one of the doorways. They kept speaking as they disappeared through it, still perfectly audible to her ears. “But I always keep a supply. It’s the only one that tastes particularly good cold, after all, unless you are very creative with your teas.” There was the sound of a cupboard opening, and then a good bit of rummaging.

During the wait, Rayla cautiously selected a seat at the table and settled there, finally letting her increasingly wide eyes rove over the board set up across it. She was still gawping conspicuously when Kazi returned, brandishing three brown paper packets of what she assumed to be reveillant.

“Do you prefer unflavoured, citrus, or mixed berry varieties?” they inquired mildly, hiding a smile when they saw her inspecting the board.

“Er, berry?” Rayla offered, only half paying attention. She was too busy looking at the intricate detail on the hand-carved and probably hideously valuable Antiquitora board. There were no pieces on it yet, but even just the tiles…it was astonishing. All of the terrain had been dyed and varnished in different colours, with careful attention to the different biomes. It all gleamed. The ocean tiles had even been coated in some kind of resin, making them look wet. The artisan had even mimicked the effect of the edge of an underwater continental shelf seen from above, with an area of lighter ‘water’ closer to the ‘coastline’.

“Berry it is,” Kazi said, sounding quite smug. Rayla didn’t have the chance to see what their face looked like, because they’d already disappeared back into what she assumed was the kitchen. She spent the next five minutes of beverage preparation time inspecting the game board with undisguised admiration. Rayla wasn’t one to usually pay much attention to art, but…this was game related art. It was different.

“The set you brought to the game night wasn’t your one set, then,” Rayla finally commented, when Kazi reappeared. She accepted her cup with exacting care, not wanting to risk a drink spillage near a board like this. She was honestly surprised Kazi allowed drinks so close to this thing.

Kazi smiled, disproportionately small for the amount of self-satisfaction in it. “Yes, it’s my more portable set,” they said pleasantly, and took a seat across the table from her, setting down their own glass. “This one…well, I certainly do not take it out of the house.”

“I can imagine,” she expressed, uncertain whether to be jealous of the board or just plain impressed. She wouldn’t even want something this pricey. She’d constantly be worrying about damaging it somehow. But, even so…the hint of avarice remained. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“The various tile-pieces and figures are quite a sight themselves, I think,” they said, evidently extremely pleased with themself. Rayla wondered how many people they invited round for Antiquitora for the express purpose of showing off this set. “Have you decided your faction for today? Once we have that settled, we can begin setting up.”

Rayla snorted, lips turning up into a half-smirk. “Depends what you’re playing as.”

Kazi beamed back. “Do you have a preference? I am perfectly open to suggestions.”

She considered it. Allegedly, Kazi was most beastly when playing Earth or Sun. Rayla herself was best at Moon and Sky…and Sky was exceptionally poorly matched against Earth. Sun’s best counters were Earth and Ocean. Moon wasn’t great against Sun, but not terrible either. “Take Sun,” she decided, eventually. “I’ll do Moon. I want to see for myself how much you wipe the board with everyone when you get to play properly.”

If Kazi had been smiling before, they looked positively frightening now. Not that their smile had widened, or anything; they just seemed to have a way of looking disconcertingly menacing while beaming pleasantly at you. “I will do my best to arrange that,” they said, and reached for three boxes: Moon, Sun, and the tiles and dice and cards.

Setting up would have gone more quickly if not for Rayla’s interest in inspecting the various gamepieces, and Kazi’s interest in flaunting them. Most of the units, from citizens to mages, were all carved in beautifully varnished wood. The Hero and Archdragon figures, though… “Is that gemstone inlay?” Rayla asked with disbelief, inspecting her Lunar Archdragon and turning it this way and that.

“The Lunar Archdragon has mother-of-pearl inlay, in fact,” Kazi said pleasantly. “And, yes, some very small gemstones for the eyes.”

She shook her head at that, half-impressed, half in disbelief. “Where did you even get this?”

“It’s an heirloom,” they elaborated, which made sense. The only other way for someone to have a set like this would be by being ridiculously rich, or by knowing an insanely skilled craftself. “Hence why it has the standardised continent shape. It does need fairly careful maintenance, though. I paid to have some of the varnishing redone recently, for example. But for me, the joy of owning a set like this is well-worth the upkeep.”

Rayla nodded. It wasn’t her sort of thing, personally, but she understood well enough. “I bet you try to get people over to play you every chance you get,” she said, amused. “With a board like this…”

“It would be quite a shame otherwise, yes,” they agreed. “I must thank you for obliging me! This board so rarely sees a high-level game.”

She huffed, amused, and kept unpacking the gamepieces one-by-one. Kazi had to know that they were the better player. If she’d barely beaten them when they were playing Ocean and underestimating her for most of the game, she certainly wasn’t going to win now. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Eventually, when everything was set up, they rolled the starting conditions and began playing. Kazi very obviously knew what they were doing with the primary advantages of the Sun faction – agriculture, population, and military might – but Rayla was perfectly well acquainted with a proper Moon playstyle as well. She leaned into the espionage and intrigue skillset as heavily as she could manage, wreaking political strife in Kazi’s territory wherever she found an opening. When Kazi could find them, her units died; but that certainly wasn’t always.

Even so, the outcome was something of a foregone conclusion. The game lasted a while, because Rayla knew that her main defence against the Sun armies was if they couldn’t find the Moon cities, and planned accordingly…but Rayla hadn’t succeeded in assassinating the Archdragon, and hadn’t managed to get the Sun citizenry to demand a leadership duel either. So, unsurprisingly, Kazi eventually managed to field an assault that broke through the illusory barriers protecting Rayla’s stronghold, striking at her Archdragon precisely on the turn before New Moon. It died of its injuries the turn later.

Rayla considered the board carefully after that. Her best chances of winning against Sun would be crop poisoning, Archdragon assassinating, leadership disputes, or revolution. She’d managed the first and had been making decent headway on the latter two, but, in the end…it wasn’t close enough. She smiled ruefully, and said “Moon concedes.”

They nodded, having expected that, and smiled beatifically. “It was a marvellous game,” they said warmly, already reaching over to begin clearing the pieces. “Thank you very much for it.”

“I don’t know, it was a pretty solid victory for you.” Her voice was dry as she reached out to help, handling each of the intricately-carved figures with care. “You’re obviously the better player, here.”

“Yes,” they agreed, neither modestly nor boastfully, simply as the fact it was. “But nonetheless, you are certainly the best player I’ve encountered in-person in a very long time. Certainly the only one I didn’t arrange to meet with beforehand. It was a good game, no matter that you lost it.”

Rayla dipped her head, smiling a little. It wasn’t like she enjoyed losing…but she’d appreciated the challenge enough to make up for it. She’d ceased finding any sort of challenge back home a long, long time ago. “Yeah, it wasn’t bad.”

Kazi reached for another piece, paused, then eyed her consideringly. “Would you…like to discuss it?” they asked, tilting their head, watching her.

She glanced up, surprised. It was hardly an unfamiliar concept. She’d watched enough matches broadcast on Sunbeam to know how it went; when two top-tier players concluded a match, they talked about it afterwards. They discussed each other’s plays and strategies, pointed out mistakes, considered where there was room for improvement…

The only after-game discussions she’d ever had had been at Runaan’s knee, when she was still small and didn’t know the game nearly as well. It was weirdly flattering to be invited to do it now.

“…Yeah,” Rayla said, eventually, and sat back down. “I’d like that.”

Kazi beamed like the Sun they’d just used to trounce her. “Very good.”

The next half hour involved more talking than Rayla thought she’d done at a time in months…or, well, she would’ve said so, if not for last night. It was certainly a good second-place contender though, and by the end her voice was feeling a little tired from overuse. They concluded the discussion, packed away the gamepieces and board, and then were done.

“But of course, you must stay for another drink,” Kazi said, and whisked her empty glass of reveillant away. “You liked the berry infusion, yes? Excellent, I will get you another.” Good to their word, they did precisely that, and returned in short order.

Rayla did feel a little more awake, on that second glass of the reveillant. It was effective stuff; as much or more so than coffee, with (in her opinion) a considerably better taste. She was debating the merits of asking Kazi where they got it when they spoke up first.

“You’ll be returning, I hope?” they said, and it took Rayla a moment to think of what they meant.

“….Here?” she guessed. “For a rematch?”

“Well, yes, naturally.” Kazi pushed their glasses up, smiling a little. “I had assumed as much. But, no, I was referring to the game society. You’d be an excellent fit, I think.”

Rayla blinked. “Oh.” She thought of the previous night, and hunched down a little in embarrassment.

“I know it was only a very small group when you visited, but I have the impression you prefer that, anyway,” they said, neatly demonstrating that they were as unnervingly good at reading her as she’d sort of inferred. “It can get rowdier in term time – at least at the official meetings. The meet-ups at our houses are much calmer – usually just the core group.”

“Which is?” Rayla asked, a little reserved now, if only to disguise the fact that she really didn’t need convincing. She might have, after just the Friday. But after this…after yesterday…

“Myself, Callum, Nihatasi. Usually Pava, but often he spends the whole time tinkering instead of playing.” They shook their head, amused. “In term time – well, usually I’d say to expect Evairas, but he is spectacularly busy these days, so perhaps not.”

“…They sent messages,” she commented, after a moment. “Callum and Nihatasi, I mean. Pava didn’t.”

“Pava tends to forget Sunbeam exists for weeks at a time, don’t mind him,” Kazi assured her. “Nihatasi and Callum though, I’m not at all surprised. Nihatasi adores new people, and Callum…” they eyed her, just a little speculatively. “Well, I think you impressed him. Has he invited you to Tuesday, yet?”

Rayla blinked with consternation. “Invited me to what on Tuesday?”

“Game meeting, at the house,” they clarified. “It’s hardly an official thing, but it’s often Callum’s house that has everyone over. He hasn’t invited you over, yet? Well, he will. I am quite sure of it.”

For a long moment, she looked into her glass and the dark red liquid therein, pondering it as if it held all the answers for how she was supposed to respond. “If you say so,” she said, finally, and lifted her glass to drink.

“I do,” Kazi claimed serenely, and gracefully changed the topic to (naturally) more about Antiquitora. By the time Rayla finished her drink, she’d learned that Kazi played broadcast games online fairly regularly, under a handle that she recognised; she’d watched a good few of their games before.

“Is there a story behind that skein-name?” she asked, undeniably curious now that she was acquainted with the elf behind it. “’Finguistician’.”

Kazi laughed, like she’d surprised them. “Oh, that,” they said, mirthfully. “It’s something of an in-joke. You see, I have my doctorate in Linguistics – specifically, in non-verbal linguistics. Various sign languages, Draconic Corpus, and so on. I made a joke once, when I was still an undergraduate in a sign-language module, that the course should be called finguistics, given, well,” they waggled their fingers at her.

She snorted, amused. “Did it catch on?”

“Sadly, no. But I do call my sign language classes for the public ‘finguistics’, and no one can stop me, because I am the teacher.” They giggled a little to themself. “Perhaps in time it will become a more widely-used term. I would like that; it would be very amusing. In any case, that is where the handle comes from.”

Rayla thought, for a moment, about a moment from the game night: Kazi and Callum had used some sort of sign language with each other for a second, hadn’t they? She considered asking about it, wondering what his background in that was. Did he take any of Kazi’s lessons, or had he learned some other way?

In the end, she bit her tongue and said nothing. After a little more idle conversation, she eventually made her leave, farewelled at the door by her cheerful host. Without the game to bolster her, she swiftly began to really feel her exhaustion. Stimulants or not, she was so tired that a headache was starting to pound luridly behind her eyes, almost enough to make them water.

She headed home intending to collapse back into bed and nap – if the lingering effects of the drinks allowed her to, anyway. Which was why she was considerably displeased to arrive back to find her wing busy and full of noise and various elves milling about. The halls were crowded. She was about to say “What the fuck”, or perhaps “Shut up, do you know how bad my headache is right now”, but before she had the chance one of the closest elves (some wingmate she didn’t know the name of) spotted her and shouted down the hall “It’s her, she’s here, she’s not dead!”

All eyes went to her, and an immediate chattering started up. Rayla stared, utterly nonplussed, fighting the urge to pull on the Moon and take advantage of a state of near-invisibility to just retreat to her nice, privacy-sealed bedroom. The noise cancellation ought to take care of this racket.

After a few seconds, a face she actually had a name for pushed forwards. It was Stavian, a Skywing elf from her bellatorium, still in armour from training. “Rayla,” he said, sounding very relieved. “Thank goodness, we were about to call for an official search!”

Rayla had no idea what was happening. “What in Xadia’s name is going on here?” she demanded, finally, and her irate tone seemed to remind him that he (for some reason) customarily seemed to be quite intimidated by her. He shrank back a little, and as he did, a few of the rest of the Honour Games team started to appear.

“You didn’t show up for training!” he said, defensively. “And from anyone else that wouldn’t be much of a big deal, but you’ve never missed a day before. And then when we went to check on you afterwards you weren’t here.”

“And none of your wingmates knew where you were,” added one of her teammates: Fiera, a particularly tiny Skywing mage with hair and feathers dyed a distinctive lilac colour.

Rayla stared for a few more seconds, then wiped a hand over her face. “It was Full Moon,” she said, very slowly, her patience already somewhere on level with the floor. “I didn’t get to sleep till around five; of course I wasn’t going to go to morning training.” She ignored the fact that, if not for Callum, she absolutely would have. He’d been right; it was completely reasonable to miss training on a Full Moon rest day, and if they had a problem with that they could bite her.

The vast collective of people assembled in the halls all looked very embarrassed, suddenly. And honestly, they should be. Moonshadow elves were definitely uncommon in Gullcrest, but surely someone should have known it was Full Moon, and made the obvious conclusions. “Oh,” said Fiera, weakly. Her wings drooped a little. “That…makes sense.”

Now looking very abashed, Stavian echoed “Oh.” The crowd of assorted wingmates and guests, probably attracted by the initial hubbub, started to grumble and dissipate.

Rayla sighed, and rubbed at her eyes, attempting to scrounge some sort of positive emotion from beneath her absolute crankiness at being confronted with a noisy group of people when she was this sleep-deprived. “Look,” she attempted, tiredly, “It’s…nice you were worried. I didn’t realise anyone would be looking for me.” She searched for something appropriate to say. “I’ll…put a note on my door, if something like this comes up again?”

Her teammates, four of whom had shown up, nodded contritely. “Sorry for bothering you on a rest day,” offered another of them, starting to shove the others towards the door. “We’ll see you for training tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Rayla looked longingly down the hallway, where her bed awaited. “I don’t exactly make a habit of missing training, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re very – dedicated,” Fiera said, in the tones of someone trying to be diplomatic, still being ushered doorwards. “Have a good rest day!” she called, right before the rest of them filed out and the wing became something approaching quiet again.

Too tired and too grumpy to have much emotional response to the whole thing, Rayla turned and headed down her hallway without a further word. The wing was still bustling, and it was more of a relief than usual to close her door on it; the privacy runes hummed lethargically as they activated, but the noise level outside cut off sharply enough that for once she didn’t mind their quality too much. They mostly did their job, and that was all she really needed.

It turned out that the effect of the reveillant couldn’t really complete with post-Full-Moon sleep deprivation; Rayla crawled into bed and fell asleep more or less instantly.

She woke some hours later, stirring at the sound of some computer module or other humming as it reactivated from idling. It wasn’t loud by any means, but she was quite sensitive to new or changing sounds in her vicinity, so it was enough. She blinked her eyes open, rubbing grit from their edges, and stumbled out of bed with a glance at the clock along the way. Moon-sense said it was late afternoon; the clock was a bit more specific about it, and said 6.33pm. The sky outside was still blue and light, but in that summer-evening way, where the sun had fallen low enough to cast long shadows between the city buildings. It was still bright enough to make her tired to look at.

There were new messages on her Sunbeam.

Rayla dropped into her desk chair and eyed the icon tiredly, uncertain if she was awake or rested enough to deal with any further social contact today. In the end she decided there probably wasn’t any harm in checking them, so…she looked. Kazi had thanked her for the game, and sent her some sort of invitation to make an account on…what looked to be the skeinsite that hosted the high-level Antiquitora broadcasts. She wasn’t sure what the purpose of that was, and didn’t have her head on sufficiently to figure it out, so she left it for later. Ethari had asked how her Full Moon had been. And…

She sighed, not sure whether to be pleased or embarrassed, because: Callum had left messages, too. Fairly recently, actually.

They read Hope you got to sleep okay, and how are you feeling? There was no mention of whatever he’d supposedly wanted to mention before the call ended, so he’d probably forgotten, or…something.

She debated whether or not to reply now. She found she was a little wary of…something. She wasn’t quite sure what. Making a fool of herself, maybe? She’d already spent nearly two very late-night hours sunbeaming him, and…that was already…well.

In the end, Rayla spent about five minutes trying to wrestle some semblance of reason past her sleep-mired brain, finally concluding that she was probably unlikely to come across as an infatuated idiot by responding to a couple of messages. Then, slowly, she picked at the keys to write back: Kind of knackered, but okay. While that one was processing, she hesitantly sent another: Just woke up from a nap. I think it helped?

She left the computer to visit the bathroom, tidying up her hair and washing her face with cold water. It did little to make her feel more alert, or to remove the weird muggy haze of exhaustion from her head, but it was better than nothing. She contemplated getting something to eat, but knew she wasn’t going to be up to cooking tonight. She went for one of her bottles of emergency moonberry elixir instead, which were so full of nutrients they probably counted as some kind of soup.

That in hand, she returned to her computer….and, somehow, wasn’t surprised to find that Callum had already replied. Was he just constantly glued to his computer, or what?

Well, at least it’s apparently traditional to be tired after full moon, I guess? He’d written, light-heartedly. At least you got a nap! Although it’s kind of late. Won’t you have trouble getting to sleep later?

Rayla shuffled forwards in her chair to respond. Nah. There’s a neat trick you can use to get to sleep at night if you’re a Moonshadow elf, and if it’s not Full Moon. Just need to shine a bright light in my face and I’ll be good. She hadn’t had to use it in a while, but she knew where the thing was: on her windowsill, to soak up sunlight during the day. It’d do the job just fine.

The pause in response seemed to be longer than connection lag would account for. That’s so weird, and cool, he marvelled, eventually. I just looked it up. They call them sun lamps?

Yep. Flash of sunlight in a dark place gets us sleepy pretty much every time. Moonshadow elves tended to be mostly diurnal by practice, but naturally, they all had the wiring for a nocturnal lifestyle. Bright sunlight in the eyes after being in the dark would usually trigger tiredness, even in elves perfectly used to going about in the daytime. Sun lamps were extraordinarily simple as far as enchanted objects went, but extraordinarily useful for Moonshadow elves with weird schedules.

What about if someone turns a light on in a dark room? He asked, apparently fascinated.

Nah. Has to be sunlight. It’s pretty specific.

That’s so cool, he reiterated, from that bizarre well of enthusiasm he seemed to have for banal magical elements of everyday life. Rayla waited to see if he’d write anything more, and after a moment, realised she’d started smiling. She wasn’t sure when that had happened. Eventually, he did send something else: I’d ask if you wanted to call again, but you should probably, you know, be getting actual sleep.

What Rayla intended to write then was something along the lines of, ‘yes, you’re entirely correct, I need to sleep for like twelve hours if I’m not going to be a useless wreck for training tomorrow’.

Instead, what she ending up sending was keep it half an hour or less, and you’re probably fine.

I’ll set a timer :) he typed, complete with smiley, which was something she’d never actually encountered outside of the mageskein before. And then he called her.

“How’s the light level?” she asked him, when the call resolved. It wasn’t yet far into sunset, so she thought there ought to be sufficient lighting in her room to see by, but who really knew with humans. She certainly didn’t know how bad their eyes were.

In his own room, Callum was bathed in the warm glow of the light through his windows, shaded the same pink-orange that she was. He was smiling, even as he pretended to squint exaggeratedly at her room. “Yeah, I can just about see,” he said, obviously teasing. “It’s not dark yet.” A pause, and he took a moment to look her over a little more directly. He was a little more concerned when he added “Are you sure it’s okay to be calling? You really do look tired.”

“I think I’ll survive half an hour, Callum,” she told him wryly, and one corner of his lips twitched upwards.

“Yeah, fair enough.” He hesitated for a moment, like he was summoning his nerve for something. “Listen – I wanted to ask before, yesterday, but – there’s going to be a sort of casual gaming night? At my house? On Tuesday. The others will be there. And my housemates, er, obviously.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry if it’s short notice, but – do you want to come?”

Rayla stared at him, half bemused by the offer itself, half at his apparent nervousness. “Kazi said you were going to invite me,” she said, a little too nonplussed to offer any more intelligent response. “I guess they were right.”

He blinked. “You’ve been talking to Kazi?” A pause. “No, wait, what am I saying, of course you’ve been talking to Kazi. There’s no way they’d let someone who beat them at Antiquitora get away.”

“We had a rematch today, actually,” Rayla admitted, lips twitching. “I let them take Sun. Naturally they destroyed me.”

“Ow,” Callum said, with feeling. “I’ve been on the receiving end of Kazi playing Sun before. It’s…” he searched for the words. “Really something.”

She smiled, remembering it. With a few hours separating her from the game, she realised she’d enjoyed the experience more than she’d anticipated. The discussion in particular had been welcome. “I’m just glad to be able to play someone new, honestly,” she confided. “Though it’d be nice to do it again when I’ve actually slept.” A second later, she remembered he’d had an almost equally dubious bedtime, and inspected him critically. He looked surprisingly okay, actually. A little tired, but not like he’d been up most of the night. “Did you sleep in late, or what?” She asked then, a little amused. “You don’t actually look tired.”

He laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, I didn’t wake up till around lunchtime,” he admitted. “I had to go to work after that, though.”

Rayla paused, still very unsure of how to respond to mentions of his work. “And…was that okay?” She asked at last, uncertainly.

“Yeah, actually. I had a pattern etching appointment, and those are some of my favourites,” he said, brightening. “This one wanted one of my new designs, too. It turned out great!”

She’d seen something about that on the posters in the waiting room, she thought. “That’d be the…buzzing patterns into the horns?” She asked, faintly.

“Mmhm. I use sort of a really small thin version of an electric buffer, and work the etching in that way,” he agreed. “I draw the design on first and follow the lines, and then after you can either just polish it up and leave it, or like, fill with metal or something. It takes a while, but, you know, that’s kind of just how art works.” He shrugged. “It looks great, anyway.”

Rayla thought of her looming appointment, maybe a week or so away, and found she was entirely unprepared for thinking about that. “You…seem to kind of do the art thing a lot?” she hazarded, as a distraction, nodding to the nearest easel. “Painting?”

He turned to look, then grinned back at her. “Yeah! I mean, art is…well, I probably draw more than I game, and that’s really saying something. I do all sorts, kinda. I’ll have to show you some of my sketchbooks sometime.” That seemed to remind him of the question she still hadn’t answered, and he abruptly looked nervous again. “So. Er. Um. About Tuesday…?”

She tried, very hard, to keep an even expression. “Er,” she managed, and then finally: “…Yeah. Sounds good? I’ll…be there.” Wherever ‘there’ was. She did have the address written down, but hadn’t actually tried to figure out where it was in the city yet.

Callum straightened up, brightening. “Really? That’s great!” A second later, he amended “It’ll be really nice to have someone new over! We’ll have food and stuff, too.”

She paused at that. “Should I bring anything?” Hospitality expectations tended to be very different depending on culture, so it merited the question.

“Nah. Well, if you want, you can bring snacks or food, but you don’t need to. We have loads.” A second later, he added ruefully “Kassa has some…pretty strong opinions about how fully-stocked a kitchen should be.”

“That’s one of your housemates?” she remembered.

“Yeah! Actually, I lived with Kassa and her mom for a few years before. They sort of hosted me, when I was…well, when I first came to Gullcrest.” He amended his sentence half-way through, as if realising he was about to say too much. She was intensely curious about that. “This house is her family property, too, so we don’t have to pay much on it. We moved in when Kassa started her undergrad.”

She blinked, filing that information away. This had something to do with the mystery of him doing a mage’s masters at the age of eighteen, she was sure of it, but… “What about your other housemates?”

“Nihatasi moved in because we had room and she was a friend,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Soren…” he hesitated. “Well, he’s a childhood friend of mine,” he settled on eventually. “So he came to study here, and he took the last spare room.”

Rayla eyed him, but didn’t question him on the obvious secrets clamouring behind his words. “Looks a lot roomier than usual student wings, at least,” she commented finally. “These rooms are pretty cramped. And the runework is pretty worn-down. My door makes this horrible droning noise every time the wards come on.”

He made an ‘oof’ sound. “I’ve visited student wings before. They’re…well, they’re okay. Definitely prefer this house though.” He eyed her curiously. “Is yours at least one of the ones where you get one bathroom between two people? Because I knew someone who only had one bathroom for twelve, and it was terrible.”

“That sounds disgusting,” she said, making a face. She could hardly imagine how terrible that would be, with how some of her wingmates were. “I’m so glad that’s not me.”

“So glad,” he agreed, and before she knew it, they were off on a weirdly engrossing conversation about the merits of student living compared to home life. He was pretty evasive about it, but she got the impression he’d been used to a fairly fancy home before he came to Gullcrest, and he’d been astonished at what student wings were like.

Rayla was in the middle of describing how chaotic move-in day had been, with so many elves hauling all their boxes of things in at once, when a shrill ringing started up from over Callum’s voicecatcher. He reached hastily to the side and disabled some sort of egg timer that had gone off, settling back into view with a sheepish smile.

“That was the timer,” he said, apologetically.

Half an hour, already. It was a little disconcerting how quickly it’d gone by. “I’d better try to turn in for an early night, then,” she offered, weirdly reluctant to hang up.

He hesitated a fair bit, too. “Probably a good idea,” he agreed, wry. “We can talk again later?” His tone went questioning, at that. A little hopeful.

Rayla resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. “…Yeah, sure,” she sighed, more and more exasperated with herself for just how much she wanted to talk to him.

Callum smiled again, the edges of him lit up from the light of the falling sun. “Later, then,” he said, and hesitated once again. Then he reached out, and the call disconnected. Sunbeam minimised to its idling overlay around the edges of her screen, the background of Silvergrove scenery back to the fore.

She sighed, and leaned back in her chair. Ruefully, she spend a while reflecting on exactly how in trouble she was. Then she did as a responsible elf on their Full Moon rest day ought, and went to attempt an early night.

She managed it almost as soon as it was dark enough for her magic rune-rock to work. Thank Xadia for sun lamps, honestly.

  ---

End chapter.

Yeah so this is basically completely unbetaed, even by me, because I’ve been frantically trying to churn out a complete chapter this week in time for the Modern AU day of rayllum month. There will be typos, there will be clunky sentences, that’s just what you get for a rush job. I’ll return to it and do some editing in the morning.

Re: the Antiquitora. ‘Would you like to discuss the game’ *hikago fandom origins vibes intensify*

  Worldbuilding notes for this chapter:

Moondances: specific ritual dances made to react with the runic Circles that Moonshadow elves use. The dancing is used as a form of spellcraft, to cast enchantments or strengthen the magic of a community. The Full Moon dances in Silvergrove for example are integral for keeping its magical defences running. (piaj)

EX and WX: East Xadian and West Xadia. A more modern and correct term for the human and elf/dragon sides of the continent, respectively.

Artefact magic: primal magic cast with a power source other than your own arcanum. E.g. a primal stone, a moon opal.

Thaumaturgy: the practice of magic casting.

Thaumatology: the study of magic.

Lightcatcher: magic camera, basically.

Voicecatcher: magic microphone, basically.

Honour Games: a fun sport :) more on this later.

Technomancy/technomantic: alternate proper term for magical engineering.

Antiquitora notes: while the game has been steadily gaining complexity over time, the game at its fundamentals is very old, and quite traditional. It’s considered a respectable strategy game, and Runaan certainly would have approved of Rayla showing an interest in it when she was younger. Modern variants tend to adopt features and ‘house rules’ that don’t strictly conform to traditional standards, though.

East Xadian computer games: though boasting dramatically better visuals and audio than human technology is currently capable of, the limitations of elven computing mean that computer games are extremely expensive, and difficult to integrate into lesser systems. Most elves will never be able to run the best gaming modules at home.

Nomad Gameships: Brevili nomads are well known for their magical engineering, and produce some of the most advanced technomantic games there are. Owing to the limited number of elves who can actually afford to buy them, they get creative with the marketing: many clans field airships whose sole purpose is travelling around as a sort of mobile arcade, landing at various destinations for a set amount of time, during which customers can pay for access to the many assorted games they have on offer. Demani, as the clan that (a good long while ago) invented the airship in the first place, boasts the most impressive facilities on their ships.

Skycrawler: a game so advanced and finicky that its developers haven’t yet figured out how to get it to run on less advanced systems than the gameships’ computers. There are a handful like these, usually the newest and most technomantically complex titles, and their release on gameships usually serves as something of a ‘beta’ build while they refine the technology for more accessible use. Imunaviga was one of these, and was very recently released for public purchase.

Imunaviga: as several commenters guessed, this is indeed a Subnautica expy. Rayla is not at all keen on the idea of playing it. I spent probably too much time working out the worldbuilding and plot for the elf AU version of this game. It was a lot of fun though.

Scion of Shadow: a well-regarded game with a Moonshadow elf protagonist, involving a lot of stealth gameplay, a highly-lauded storyline, and in-setting ‘fantasy’ elements; i.e. they’d be considered fantasy in this fantasy setting.

Magical overload states: Natural events that cause high levels of ambient primal magic can induce some very unusual effects in beings with the relevant arcana. Terms include ‘moonstruck’ for Moonshadow elves, ‘sunstruck’ for Sunfire, and ‘storm-drunk’ for Skywing. (piaj)

Moondust: a magic-dampening drug taken in different dosages based on the phase of the moon, to dampen the effect of the lunar cycle on Moonshadow elves’ bodies and minds. Not all Moonshadow elves take it, but most do. (piaj)

Reveillant: Sunfire elf beverage made from the dried berries of a shrub with stimulant properties. Some preparations are very strong and are restricted, but preparations from the berries are mild and very popular. (piaj)

Draconic Corpus: a sort of full-body sign language spoken by dragons incapable of complex vocal speech. Given this accounts for the majority of dragons, it’s generally useful to understand some of, even if bipeds are generally incapable of speaking it properly. (piaj)

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 21: Prinxiety (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 21: Combine two soulmate prompts. (This will make sense soon, I promise.)

It’s the sequel you’ve all been waiting for! This is the second part to day 16 (read that first!!!!!), and y’all finally get to see what happened to Virgil! Please heed the trigger warnings below.

TRIGGER/content WARNINGS!! Anxiety, food mention, crappy foster system/group homes, implied past abuse, religious guilt/negative view of religion, homophobia, conversion therapy/abuse, starvation, sneaking medication (antipsychotics/side effects), electrocution, seizure, ambulance. I’m sorry. 

Word count: 3.8k

Unlike most kids in the foster system, Virgil didn’t know his birthday. He knew it was sometime in December, but that didn’t do much. Technically, birthdays weren’t really a huge thing anyways, not when the group home he rarely left was awfully underfunded, and a party came second to little things like working sinks and clothes without holes. Even still, all the other kids at least got a little cupcake and a half hearted birthday song on their special day, and his festivities were pushed onto Christmas. He didn’t get a weak excuse for a celebration, because the other kids ‘found it unfair’ that he got that and Christmas in the same month. To prevent an upheaval, the workers told him that he’d just have to be happy with what he got.

But it wasn’t fair, because some kids got Easter and a birthday, or Halloween and a birthday, or New Years and a birthday, and poor Virgil didn’t. The fact of the matter was, they plain didn’t like him. The other kids didn’t like that he got extra free time because of his anxiety, or was allowed to leave the table when they weren’t, and they especially didn’t like he was the youngest of the bunch. The youngest had the highest chance of getting adopted, it was just facts, so they had seemingly decided that if his stay here would be the shortest, it would be the most tortured. 

It wasn’t the shortest stay, though. With his barrage of anxiety related issues and group-home-toughened demeanor, no foster home wanted to deal with him. He was snarky, ran away, regularly got in fights with the biological children of the parents, and was promptly labeled a problem child. Eventually, it was deemed easier for him to just stay in a group home until he outgrew the system, since he seemed set to escape every other place. Virgil tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did; it was his fault, after all. As he watched all his older tormentors grow out of a crooked system, he resigned himself to the same fate. After all, he was almost sixteen now, and he knew his chances were out. So he stayed stuck in his group home, lashing out at his caretakers and therapists, refusing to eat unless it was alone in his room (technically, three kids slept in there, but he so rarely left it, and they wanted to avoid him, it was unofficially deemed his room), and listening to music on his phone.

He’d been given the phone on his fifteenth birthday, a gift from one of his caretakers. It was the cheapest piece of crap he’d ever seen, glitched out every other minute and needed to be charged at least three times a day, but it was a phone nonetheless. Granted, he had no one to text. But he had access to a computer, a totally one hundred percent legal music downloading website, and a strong sense of determination, so he’d soon filled the phone’s entire measly storage with all the music he could cram on the thing. 

That’s what he was doing on the night of December 18th, listening to his “Emo Playlist” on a pair of $4 Dollar Store earbuds, laying on his bed and finding shapes in his popcorn ceiling as the moon shone through the window. In the bunk beds across the room from him, his two other roommates were fast asleep, but he couldn’t follow suit. It was sadly normal for Virgil to have sleepless nights where no matter what, his anxious brain just wouldn’t shut off, and it just felt like one of those nights. His hands shook and his eyelids flinched every few seconds for no reason, so he turned the music just a little bit louder and tried to calm his breathing. 

It was just past 1 am when his life changed forever. 

He was on the fourth cycle of his playlist, eyes no more heavy than hours before and just as flinchy. It was just entering the “existential crisis” time of the night where he started questioning reality, and he was about to give in and start letting his mind drift to darker places, when a song distinctly not his began to play in the midst of a song switch.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don’t know you yet.

He froze, eyes suddenly wide open, and yanked the earbuds out of his ears. The song continued; not in his headphones, but in his head. It didn’t take an idiot to realize that it was his soulmate, responding, and as an afterthought, Virgil suddenly identified that today was probably his birthday. Both amazing revelations, but one was slightly more time sensitive. 

Desperately scrolling through his playlists as the song stopped after the chorus, he tried to find a song that would be an adequate introduction to this new person. When his eyes landed on a song from his Adele phase (he didn’t talk about that time) that he hadn’t had the energy to delete yet, he simultaneously groaned and grinned. Subtly meme-y, heartfelt like the song his soulmate had played, a decent greeting. He tapped play. 

Hello,

It’s me.

He hoped his soulmate had the same sense of humor of him and had actually given a laugh, since he was trying to stifle laughter behind his sleeve to avoid waking the sleeping kids. He paused after the first verse, since he didn’t really want to remember that phase of his life more than he had to, and waited for the other to play the next song. Hopefully they could work out some sort of rhythm, play songs back and forth. He for sure wouldn’t be able to sleep now.

(The next song his soulmate played was an almost atrocious obviously-musical-theatre song that almost made Virgil hit his head against the wall, so he retaliated with a favorite of his, the most ear assaulting screamo he could find on his playlist.)

The clock had just passed four in the morning when there was a small pause in the routine, before his soulmate played a children’s lullaby. It definitely wasn’t something you’d listen to in everyday life, so Virgil could only assume it was the other’s way of indicating that they had to sleep. As if I’m going to let you go that easily, Virgil smirked, opening YouTube and begging that the video he’d chosen would play without an ad.

It did, filling his crackling, cheap earbuds with the opening chorus of Baby Shark. Fight fire with fire, he decided, chuckling to himself as he turned off the song just before the ‘mommy shark’ verse. Silence filled his head and he mentally wished the other a good night, turning onto his stomach and screaming into his pillow, grinning madly. 

Eight months later, their new way of life was deeply imbedded into him; getting woken up at asscrack o’clock in the morning by a worker who wanted to be there as much as he did, and either playing his morning playlist to get himself slightly more ready to face another monotonous day or waiting in silence until his soulmate woke up and played their own music. He’d begrudgingly started to even enjoy the showtunes. Everyone around the home had noticed his gradual shift in attitude, and he couldn’t help the natural smiles that pulled at his cheeks when a new song played out of nowhere. It got to the point where his therapist noticed his lifted mood, and the other kids stopped avoiding him and, unknown to Virgil, his social workers decided that he was ready to try another foster home. 

That’s why, eight months later, there was a knock on his bedroom door and his main worker poked in her head, asking him to come downstairs. He’d been playing music for his soulmate, so he silently apologized and joined her at the dining room table, giving her a half hearted smile. 

“Virgil, we’ve found a new home for you. A foster home that specializes in… harder to place cases. They’ve opened their doors to you, and we’re hoping to get you into a trial period there within the next week.”

At first, Virgil vehemently refused. No. He didn’t want to go back to foster homes, not after… everything he went to in the first few. The ones that hurt him, the ones that were more densely crowded than group homes, the ones that turned him into the angry shell he was before he had met a sign of a possibly happy future. He didn’t want to lose the progress he’d made. 

But Bev looked so hopeful, so pleadingly at him, that he gave in after three days of denying. He said goodbye to the kids he’d unfortunately grown attached to, threw his few belongings into a black garbage bag, and got into his worker’s car for the first time in years. Just rebuckling that seatbelt caused a shudder to run up his spine. 

------1 month later------

“Virgil, what are you doing? Do you have earbuds in? We’ve made it abundantly clear that you are not to have technology at the table.”

Virgil fought every urge in his body to roll his eyes, flicking his hair behind his ears to show they were empty. It had gotten long and shaggy, just reaching his jaw in the back. “No earbuds. My soulmate’s listening to music, and it’s catchy.” Frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t been caught bopping along to silence before by the stiflers. 

They were nice enough, a woman and a man and their two biological children, but they were too religious for Virgil’s liking. He’d never had qualms with religion before, but he had grown tired of spending Saturdays and Sundays (his only days off from their homeschool regime) in a church, surrounded by older people singing repetitive songs and being yelled at by a guy on the pulpit. Faking being sick only worked so many times before they refused to listen to his excuses. They also insisted he go to a specialized youth group on Tuesdays, but that was easy enough to escape. He just waved by and booked it to the closest 7/11 when they left, making sure he was back at the church by the time it was over and made up some bullshit about the gathering. Jameson, the attendant at the gas station, was becoming the closest friend he’d ever had. 

“Your soulmate?” One of the children asked around a bite of toast, spitting a decent amount onto Virgil’s sleeve. 

“Like daddy and I, Mariam.” The woman explained briefly, not bothering to chastise her about speaking with her mouth full. 

“Yeah.” Unlike most of the kids at his old group home, he wasn’t warming up to theirs. They were too spoiled, too bratty. One had even bit him in his first week here and he was still bitter about it. 

“When did you connect with yours, Virgil?” The question wasn’t asked kindly, more for the sake of being polite, and he assumed if he didn’t answer in an equally polite tone, they’d probably make him paint a fence or something. 

He knew they cared about his bond about as much as he did about theirs. Which was approximately none. The mom took her children’s empty plates and placed them in the sink, Virgil quickly following suit. No use losing more computer time because he didn’t clean his plate.  

“Last December. I didn’t even know it was my birthday, and they started playing music out of nowhere. It was pretty cool.” He finished rinsing off his plate and was confused at the sudden stillness in the room.

“‘They’?” The mom asked, giving her husband what she must have believed to be a subtle glance.

“Uhm… yeah?” Virgil said slowly, “I’m bisexual. So I’m not sure if my partner’s a guy or a girl or… something in between. So… they?” 

He stared with rising anxiety as the two parents had a silent interaction over the kitchen island, before the dad stood up. “Kids, plates in the sink and then go get ready for church. Virgil, you too.”

There was minimal whining as the younger ones did as they were asked, racing each other up the stairs. Virgil followed, slower, listening to hushed beginnings of a conversation, unable to fight the feeling that he’d just royally fucked up. 

------------------------

“Virgil, may we speak with you for a moment?”

He froze, slowly turning from where he’d been half way up the stairs. They’d just wrapped up lessons for the day (Virgil never thought he’d miss an actual school building before, but alas) and the kids had been excused, leaving just him and the parents behind. It had been almost a week since the incident, and a part of him had been hoping they’d just drop it. There wasn’t much they could do, anyways; if their religion conflicted so badly with his sexuality, the worst they would do is send him back to the home anyways. In all honesty, he kind of hoped they would. He was sick of being here, and it was better for his record if he didn’t run. 

Not that it mattered much anymore. He was almost aged out of the system anyways. 

He took a cautious seat back at the dining room table, which they had just cleared from classes. The mom sat back in her chair, eyeing him carefully, as the dad began to speak.

“We spoke with our pastor the other day, and we think it would be best if we put you in therapy.”

“I don’t…” He’d stopped regular therapy at the group home almost a month before coming here, and he couldn’t imagine why he’d need to go back. He definitely wasn’t happy here, but he didn’t figure a grumpy mood was enough to warrant counseling. “I don’t understand.”

“After… what you told us? About your… urges-”

“Urges.” He couldn’t help his own disgusted tone. Of course they were homophobic.

“Yes. Our pastor suggested we try conversion therapy.”

Virgil scoffed, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart started pounding, “Right. As if you could ever get my social workers to approve that. Ward of the state, remember?” He tapped his chest a couple times.

“Fortunately, we already talked to your social worker, Virgil. We had it approved just this morning.” The man finally stopped, as if waiting for a response.

Virgil’s eyes grew wide as he looked frantically between the two of them, the woman quickly avoiding eye contact. That wasn’t normal. 

“There’s no way in hell that you-”

“Profanity, Virgil!” The man barked and Virgil shrank back in his chair, impulsively ducking to avoid a fist that didn’t come. They hadn’t hit him so far, but old habits die hard. “We’ve already signed you up. Your first session is tomorrow. First thing’s first-” He stood up, reaching a hand out to a still-shaking Virgil, “Hand over your phone.”

-------------------------

His hair was short now. Shorter than he could ever remember it being. He missed his bangs, he missed the tiny boosts of confidence it gave him when the rest of his appearance disgusted him. Now there was nothing for his hands to run through. There was no style to it, just an electric razor in the hands of his silent foster mother. He should have fought it, he really should have, but he was shaking far too much to try to move.

He didn’t like hands so near his throat. 

------------------------

Surely, his social worker didn’t approve of this. The only explanation Virgil could possibly rationalize was they’d lied about the purpose of the therapy, or the method, or something. But any type of change in a foster kid's life had to go through about a million different levels to get approved, so how the hell were they getting away with this?

It wasn’t too bad. A lot of it was using religious guilt, something Virgil did not have much of, saying he was immoral and inhumane. The rest of it was just his new therapist trying to dig into his supposed ‘trauma’ that made him ‘this way’, as if there was something that caused it. They talked a lot about his old foster homes, and his therapist seemed positive something there had to be the root to everything. It made his blood boil.

It didn’t help that they still hadn’t given his phone back, and they confined him to his room when he wasn’t doing school work at the kitchen table. He could hear the way his soulmate was losing morale, the longer he didn’t respond. The songs were darker, and were few and far between. They still refused to play songs on what he’d called ‘his days’.

--------------------

His ‘therapy’ had ended hours ago, and yet he couldn’t stop twitching. Every time he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to sleep, it was like the electrodes were attached to him again. The images they’d shown him flashed before his eyes, of men kissing, holding hands, and were quickly followed by the sharp sting of electric shocks. He couldn’t close his eyes without flinching violently, no music to calm his nerves.

Virgil didn’t sleep that night.

----------------------

He held to the music like an anchor, soaking in every rare song his soulmate played like a sponge. It was his only relief from the hunger pangs in his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t been allowed to eat at all in the day leading up to another therapy session. Apparently they wanted to put him on some kind of medication, try to increase the intensity of his sessions. It was getting to the point where Virgil was tempted to pretend it was working just to make them stop. 

He missed his soulmate. 

----------------------

No. He’d said no to the drugs. They wanted to put him on anti-psychotics, claiming he was severely mentally ill, and he’d downright refused. There was no way in hell he was going on anti-psychotics. Finally, after days of their demanding being met with stubbornness, they’d given in. 

That had been a month ago. Maybe. Time had gotten kind of funny, like in that limbo between Christmas and New Years, or in the depths of summer break. It had been a while, for sure. They still fed him so rarely a growling stomach was more common than a full one, claiming it was part of his new therapy. He couldn’t help wonder why he was gaining weight, though. He’d been underweight for a majority of his life, thanks to a constantly overworking metabolism and genetics, along with the nasty food they served at group homes that he gladly avoided, but he was starting to fill out slightly. His ribs were barely showing. 

That would be a symptom of being on antipsychotics, he knew from previous research. But he wasn’t on them, so why…?

He took another sip of his apple juice his foster mom had brought him, trying to focus on his homework. Had apple juice always tasted that bitter?

-----------------------

They’d gone too far this time, Virgil knew that much. Curse his stubbornness, his inability to just lie and go along with it. He could have just claimed the conversion therapy was working, ‘oh golly, I’m healed!’, and go on with his life, finally talk to his fucking social worker, but no. He wasn’t capable of that. 

They’d shown him more pictures, shocking him more frequently, refusing to stop the session even as tears streamed down his face. It just hurt so bad. Then he remembered a shout (maybe his own?), blinding pain, and the next thing he knew, he was in his foster dad’s car. He said he’d had a seizure, but he was okay now, so they were heading home. A cup of water was forced down his throat and he was laid down in bed, commanded to rest. He was so confused, but also so tired, so he let his eyes drift shut. 

Just before he lost consciousness for the second time that day, he heard a soft melody drift through his mind as his soulmate played another song. It had been so long since the last time he’d heard them play music… despite his exhaustion, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

--------------------

The days had been a bit of a blur since his seizure. It was probably because his brain had done the human equivalent to ‘Have you tried turning it off and back on again?’, but even that was hazy in his mind. All he wanted to do was sleep, to rest, to not have to do the school work that they were still shoving down his throat. From where he was laying motionless in his bed, he watched the slowly setting sun dip below the horizon. 

There was a knock at the door downstairs. Virgil flinched from the noise, triggering a series of twitches down his spine and into his limbs. People were talking downstairs. He could distinctly hear the voice of his foster parents, but the others were unfamiliar. They were getting louder, near shouting, and there were pounding footsteps echoing up the stairs and down his hallway. 

He couldn’t even find the energy to be scared as his door was thrown open and a man’s voice shouted, “He’s in here!”. A flurry of people stormed into the room, the ones in the lead dressed in blue. 

Clambering, people shifting to make space, a woman holding his hand. She was asking him questions as they loaded him into a stretcher and he tried his best to answer, but he was just so tired. His name was said multiple times, as well as the names of his foster parents, but it was hazy, so hazy… 

“We were just trying to help, I didn’t want this to happen, I don’t-”

“Quiet, woman!”

She raised her voice but it was growing farther away. Virgil realized with a start that he was looking at the sky, bumping along on the gravel path, the bright lights of an ambulance flashing across his vision. 

The husband shouted again, trying to silence his wife. That was the last thing Virgil heard as the doors slammed shut, and he finally allowed his eyes to close. 

Part 3 HERE

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