#it drives me up a fucking wall but whatever. the real lesson from this who gives a shit about how much money something makes

[ooglywooglies]

dude ive been living in my own fucking world, i watched beau is afraid very soon after it came out i didnt see anyone talk about it. i think i actually watched it specifically bc a youtuber i like made a video about it and i was like im not gonna play around this time im gonna watch it first. and then i didnt interact with any like reviews (i really have hardly seen anyone talking about it even)

so i keep hearing that a lot of people fucking hated it and im like ???

like, i mean i kinda get it i think a lot of people get really freaked out when movies get too surreal, like midsommar was probably the most a lot of people could handle and beau is afraid is very silly, its especially very unserious in a lot of ways

i think that if you cant appreciate that aspect of it you are a stupid coward and ill kill you, its not a horror movie, or its very very nontraditional. its not something you have to work hard to dissect its a very surface level movie (as is hereditary, as is midsommar lmao)

but i really liked it, i keep telling people its like, its a trip, its an experience, you go and you sit for 3 hours and you just FEEL things nonstop, a lot of the feelings are discomfort, embarrassment, stress, but idk, i liked it, i like when movies stress me out

it reminded me of the kind of nightmares i have a lot, theyre really nonsensical, very social based, maybe the movie spoke to me because i suffer from extreme social anxiety and ocd and stuff

i love surrealism man, thats one thing i wish i could do more in my own art is just get weird, i dont think i have the creativity for it though

[bunnyreaper]

come crawling

kinktober 7 - stuck in a wall

(18+/mdni stepcest, dubcon/noncon)

Deployments are always long and hard for Johnny--especially without his favourite little step sister to take care of him. You've been ignoring his calls and leaving his texts on read, anytime he tries to reach out to you for relief.

All he has had to rely on is some old pictures and videos he has of him filling you full of sticky cum, or painting your face with ropes as he makes you stick your tongue out and smile for him--back when you weren't such a fucking brat.

The second he arrives back at your parents, he's hoping for a hero's welcome--his pretty little sister in a skimpy outfit giving him a warm smile and tight hug. Instead you're fixated on your phone, giggling and smiling for someone who isn't him, and his blood fucking boils.

His ma and your father at least greet him with the warmth he expects, but you don't even acknowledge his existence.

"She's always texting that boy she's talking to." Your dad explains with a clap to Johnny's shoulder. "Don't take it personally, son."

"Oh aye, boy?" Johnny asks, hoping to draw your attention so he can learn more about whatever fucking unworthy prick has got his hands all over you while Johnny is away. If it is even real, and not just part of one of your bratty schemes.

Clearly Johnny hasn't been firm enough with you lately, or showed you just who you belong to. You're long overdue a fucking lesson. Johnny's palm is already itching to make your pretty little arse red raw, but for now you all have to play happy families, and pretend like the two of you aren't entangled in a filthy, forbidden back and forth.

Throughout dinner, you barely put down your phone, and as soon as your meal is complete, you excuse yourself to your room, explaining that you're oh so tired. Johnny sees right through it, but he bites his tongue, intent on paying you a visit later that night and finally giving you the reminder that you so clearly need.

When he finally makes his way to your room, his knock goes ignored. He shouldn't be surprised, but his jaw ticks anyway. His hand starts to shake as he goes to knock again, before he decides to just wrench the door open and force his way inside. You won't ignore him any longer, he won't allow it.

What he sees shouldn't take him by surprise--you, trying to sneak out of your fucking window, presumably to see that boy you've been texting.

Johnny is over in an instant, startling you as the window slides back down and traps you between it and the sill.

"Help me, Johnny!" You cry out, squirming and trying to free yourself from the awkward, revealing position.

You feel your step-brother approach, feel the warmth of his body as he presses himself against you.

"Oh lass, I'll help yer alright." His hands rove over your waist, following your curves down to the bottom of your teeny tiny skirt, which he flips up in favour of grabbing fist fulls of your arse. "Such a pretty sight. Where d'ya think yer going?"

You try to kick out your legs to wriggle free, but Johnny is stronger, he's a soldier, and you've never been able to fight back. "Let me go, Johnny, you sicko!"

He moves back slightly so his knuckle can brush over your exposed panties, his finger nudging against your rapidly swelling clit. "If I'm a sicko, why are you so wet, bonnie?"

The finger hooks your panties aside, as his other hand comes to stroke through your wetness. "I think yer just as sick as I am."

His touch forces moans out of your throat, ones you can't hold back, before he withdraws. You hear the jingle of his belt and the rustle of his jeans, and before you know it he's plunging his length straight into your needy hole.

"Not going anywhere, not when I'm right here tae take care of you." His hips start to thrust, driving his cock deeper inside you and fucking away any and all resistance you've been building up over the past few weeks.

All this time you were kidding yourself, thinking you could go without Johnny's touch, go without his cock. No one can take care of you like he can.

As he pushes against that spot inside you, you have to clamp a hand around your mouth to stifle the moans, to make sure your parents don't get to find out about yours and Johnny's special relationship.

His hand smacks down on the flesh of your behind, the sound cracking in the cool night air alongside the slick sounds of skin against skin--the two of you giving in to your forbidden addiction.

Johnny stills for a moment.

"I'm gonna grab yer phone, and you're gonna give yer little boyfriend a ring and tell him you won't be coming out to play." He smacks your arse once more when you don't immediately respond. "Understood?"

"Yes, Johnny!" You whine, hole clenching around nothing as he pulls out. He's gone only for a few moments, returning as he pushes open the window and sets the phone against your face as he pushes his cock back inside and captures your reaction.

"Go on, tell him how good yer getting fucked by me."

[stay-midnight]

Royals. I

Hyunjin x Male Reader

(Late Hyunjin Day Special)

a/n: Look at me and my late ass post again 💀, Anyways, this would be split up into two or tbree parts cause it’s gonna be a bit long than my other fics. So enjoy this for now 🤧 Smut would be on the second part which would be posted in a week or two (No promises though cuz 🤡)

Things to note: Royal AU!, Insult Fight, Implied Changsung (BinxSung), All of skz is here/mentioned, Implied Hookups, TXT is mentioned, Y/N’s a bit of a dick, Hyunjin is barely mentioned here yet, Minho is also a bit of dick, flirty Minho, Minho and Y/N tension, maybe some Seungmin x Y/N here and there too-. Prince! Felix, Jeongin, Changbin, Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Y/N and Knights! Minho and Chan. Y/N’s last name here is "Hyangsu"

W.C - 2.9K

A prince of the Hwang Kingdom is having their 21st birthday and you were invited, you were a bit salty about this since you really just wanted to relax after these past weeks of taking different lessons from your oh-so-called studious teacher.

As a prince of Hyangsu Kingdom, you were called to attend the Hwang Prince’s birthday ball, and attending this party was of your at most displeasure since you just wanted to have a relaxing break from your studies.

It was a 21st birthday after all, the age where you’re supposed to find a possible suitor and you just didn’t want to see girls fawning over someone.

You sighed in annoyance as your butler comes rushing with different clothes from your wardrobe, ranging from the royal-tailored attire, elegant clothing to a more casual one.

“Just pick me something that looks presentable as Prince, please.” you mumble to him as you glared him down causing him to tremble at your passive-aggressive tone.

You didn’t even know why they’re so serious about this, you’ve went to many royal banquet and events before, and none of them have ever got your parents or workers so.... worked up.

Is it because the Hwang Kingdom was one of the most powerful in the continent? You wanted to scoff at that thought but you may not be wrong.

In the end of playing a game of picking clothes with your butler, he picked a white suit with gold lines tattered over it, it had a gold plating at the shoulder, a red silk belt matching with the red silk long half-blouse, and white pants accompanied by white boots with a red sole.

After getting dressed you walked down to the lounge, waiting for the caravan to arrive.

You were a bit rude and snappy to people, you hated if they interrupted you one bit, not to mention you were sarcastic and people find it hard to win arguments about you. The only things people really liked about you are your looks and brains, you actually had a brain, unlike those snobby rich prince and princesses — who thinks they own the whole world, and the only aspect that are important to them are looks and money.

You sigh as you wait for the royal caravan to arrive.

. . . .

After minutes and minutes of waiting, “Sire?! The caravan is here, the carriage you are going to stay in is ready outside the palace gates.” your butler said fast, fixing his tie and cleaning his monocle afterwards.

You nodded and stood up to walk over to the gates, without command or words exchanged — the guards opened it as soon as they saw you walk down the path. Bowing respectfully at your presence which you answered with a simple “Thank you.”

You hum at the sight of the royal carriage — colored white with intricate designs and patterns made with real gold and of course, the family crest at the side of it.

A knight in a silver suddenly came out of the royal carriage, removing his helmet and smiling as he waved at you.

You let out a small smile back to him, Ah, the one and only Lee Minho, “Minho.” you spoke, reaching out to shake his hand, to which he gladly obliged.

“Y/N. Always a pleasure to see the prince. Well, if you were a bit more excited about this.” He teased, letting out a few snorts. Petting your head while constantly laughing amusedly.

“I’ll stick a fork in your eye one of these days, you stupid knight.” You gave him a death glare as a warning.

“Ah, Prince, you’re so kind~” he grinned, winking at you too, you rolled your eyes at his behaviour. He was always like this, flirty and sometimes egotistic. You didn’t mind it though since he is an amazing duelist and mentor. He isn’t a King’s guard for no reason.

But one day, his cocky attitude is gonna bite him in the ass.

You grumbled and moved forward to the royal carriage, “Lino, you should move, we can’t be late remember?” You tsked, giving Minho a smirk.

“Whatever.” He spoke up in an sassy tone, you snorted at him, to which he glared at you.

He entered inside the carriage, with you slowly following right after.

After entering inside, you sat down at one side while Minho sat near you. It was spacious inside as expected and a small window was also in place.

You had no interest in staying awake for 3 hours during the ride so you decided to take a nap.

~

“You could use my shoulder, you know?” He teased, patting his shoulder while smirking at you.

“Shut up.” you mumble as you shifted a bit so your head could rest more comfortably against the wall.

As much as you wanted to just sleep laying down at the long couch-like thingy where you’re sat at, you can’t because this stupid knight is watching you.

And the last thing you want is him, teasing you for being less than ‘formal’.

Slowly, the sounds around you seem to deafen itself out causing you to relax your shoulders and fall asleep regardless whether Minho is there watching your every move.

~

Opening your eyes as you felt someone poke your cheek, your eyes drifted slowly to the side. You were eye to eye with the knight, faces inches apart.

Your recently droopy eyes from sleeping — shot open in panic, “W-What are you doing!” you stuttered, leaning back from him which made him grin.

“We’re at the city, prince~” He pets your hair, running his hand through it softly.

You glowered and slapped his hand away, “Ugh, keep your hands to yourself, Lino.” you tried to glare the knight down.

“Ah, Feisty.” he smiled back at you to which you responded with a scowl making him laugh loudly.

“No need to be so aggressive~” Minho winked making you just look away and give up, you ignored him and looked out through the window, finding the surrounding endearing.

The loud chattering from the outside is muffled by the walls of the carriage, from at first glance, this was a very happy city.

It has a warm and vibrant tone to it.

. . .

The carriage comes to a sudden halt after riding in what seems to be a hill due to how it felt riding it earlier, the ground was sloped upwards.

The coachman driving the carriage suddenly spoke up, “We’re here, sire.” he spoke up, muffled by the wooden walls but you caught it.

With a sigh, you opened the door and slowly stepped down — your eyes widening at the sight of the towering castle.

It had a wonderful structure, the stone bricks perfectly fit into one another and of course the Hwang family crest adorned the flags that were raised.

Your kingdom’s castle was in no means small but it pales in comparison to that.

Looking around at the surroundings, you saw that a lot of royals were around, some you recognized and some that you had no idea where they came from.

You looked far and noticed the view of the capital at the city which you saw while taking a ride.

.

“...Prince Y/N.” After getting lost in a little bubble after staring at the refreshing view, Minho was nudging your shoulder.

“Hm? What is it?” you said, looking at him with raised eyebrows as you fixed the tie of your suit.

He rolled his eyes, “Did you even hear what I said?” he glared, tapping his foot on the ground multiple times.

“Would I be asking you if I did?” you shot back, clicking your tongue in annoyance as you waited for his answer.

He groaned at your attitude, “You have to sign up to enter the castle. Lose the attitude too, prince.” he said in a careless tone, looking at you with his icy glare.

“Who are you to talk like that to me, knight..?” you scowled at him as you stood your ground firmly.

What was happening now was in contrast to earlier, this was a more serious battle between you and Minho. These were times were usually one of the houseworkers back at your kingdom, steps in to stop both of you and succeeded most of the time.

To be honest though, this fight shouldn't escalate at all.

. . .

From the distance though, someone was watching both of you in amusement, “The party hasn’t even started and they’re bickering all ready.”

“Chan if you could stop them, please?” The man with long black hair commanded to the person next to him.

The knight fixed his posture and nodded, “Of course, my prince.”

“You can call me by my name, you know? We’ve been friends for a long time.” the long-haired man chuckled.

“Still need to use honorifics, sire.” the shorter smiled at the taller before leaving to stop the heated glare-down and exchange of insults at the entrance.

He took one last glance at the royal that was bickering with a knight, finding him amusing but at the same time, he found him interesting.

“Might need to keep an eye on that one.” he hummed to himself before going back inside the castle.

. . .

Minho just recently called you a brat and undeserving of being called a prince of your kingdom, he even mentioned your brother, the crown prince — next in line to the throne — he says of how your brother is just better than you in every way. This sends a devastating pang to your heart as this was not only hurtful to your pride but in a way, he also disregards all your hard work.

“Fuck you. You have no rights to tell me this. You are not my brother nor my parents. You are merely a fucking knight!” you said, shouting the last part.

Your own eyes are tinted with anger, wanting to choke the life out of your escorting knight.

“What, isn’t what all I said was t—”

An applaud was heard from the near distance, cutting Lino off and causing your head to turn to the source of sound.

The man with the curly locks and a pretty face bowed to your direction, “The opening ceremony of the party is starting soon, Prince Hyangsu Y/N. I suggest you sign the guest book and head on inside.” he smiles at you, dimples shown causing you go soften your look.

“While you,” he said sighing after, pointing to Minho with a finger.

“...Fellow knight, let’s chit chat for a bit.” he coughed and grabbed Minho’s hand — dragging him away despites the struggling knight's protest.

You looked around and noticed some of the royals still outside, staring at you with a hint of disappointment probably because of your fight with Minho.

You grumbled, annoyed and angry at the disrespectful knight — you'll most likely have to talk with Minho after this god-forsaken party.

. . .

A yawn almost slipped out of your mouth as the host of the party or ball, at this point you question which is it. The speech lacked any entertainment of the sorts causing you to just listen with half-lidded eyes.

Then came the introduction of the Prince that is having their born day.

A tall man suddenly came out of the curtains, aura filled with confidence and pride, gleaming and filling the room. You inspected his face and not gonna lie, he was indeed pretty, prettier than most princes you have seen — Long black locks neatly tied up in a ponytail, alluring eyes, thick and kissable li— You snapped out of your little bubble after noticing that you were checking the Hwang, this is not good.

You turned away from the center of attention and looked for your small group of friends but felt as if someone was boring holes into your skull.

Turning back, only to see no one staring at you but instead just the continuous blah blah blah’s by the Hwang Prince.

Sighing, you continue to scout the palace room for any signs of a certain fox-eyed brat, someone who dressed too dark and a ray of sunshine.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance when you still haven’t spotted the trio.

. . .

The Prince finally stopped talking and just announced that the dance will start in about an hour, giving his guests — free time to converse with one another.

After going through a sea of screaming princesses that want to marry him, you sighed in relief and just wished to leave this place. That is, until you finally caught a glimpse of a familiar royal. Finally.

.

You poked the shoulder of the foxy prince which startled him, almost causing him to spill his red drink over his royal wear. “God, Y/N, couldn’t you just approach me like a normal person.” he tutted.

Then returned his dimpled smile, he hugged you with one hand unable to engulf with his arms due to the drink he was holding.

“I thought you didn’t go to this clownfest.” you sighed, your words having a sarcastic tone.

“Me? Yang Jeongin wouldn’t miss a ball, especially one that is hosted by one of the richest kingdoms.” he laughed, taking a sip of his drink.

“Is that wine or juice? Also, why are you talking in third person?” you stared at him with confusion.

“This is red water.” he sassed mockingly causing you to roll your eyes and flick his forehead a bit too hard with your index finger.

“Ow!” Jeongin squinted his eyes at you.

He pulls on your ear at payback which you took easily before yawning and looking at the clock impatiently. You wanted to return home and sleep, and also give Minho a lecture.

“Where’s Bin and Lix?” you piped up before taking a seat at the small seat near a pillar, curiously scouting the again for signs of them.

He sighed and sat down right next to you, “Felix-hyung is hunting for more exotic food, since he liked the Shark meat a bit too much and well...” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink and clearing his throat.

“Bin-hyung is getting flirted slash hitted on again by Prince Jisung of the Han Kingdom. I thought the he already gave up but nope. He still pursuing the Bin booty.” Jeongin chuckled, calling over a roaming waiter for a refill to which the worker happily obliged

You laughed at that since Han has been shooting hearts at Changbin for a long time and always had flirted with him at different parties. Changbin had always rejected his advances though.

“Also they sent a new representative from the Kim kingdom. I’ve never seen him before. Looks cute though, might be your type.” Jeongin said, nudging your shoulders and pointing at a specific direction. Your eyes raked over the prince’s form, charming and handsome but at the same time cute — He was leaning back at the wall, also drinking something.

You grumbled though, this is once again Jeongin trying to hook you up with someone again. It didn’t end well last time — The last prince, Jeongin hooked you up was Prince Yeonjun — All he wanted was sex though, causing you to immediately cut off ties with said prince, leaving a bit heartbroken at that since he only said that he wanted sex after you already spent the night together.

“Not this again, Innie.” you tsked, crossing your arms around your chest.

“Come onnn~.. I thought Yeonjun liked you a lot, he stared at you a lot during Taehyun’s party” Jeongin mumbles since he knows, that you don't like fooling around with people who didn’t even have a single interest on being on an actual relationship.

He felt bad matching you up with him, since he thought that was time you actually would get out of the singles’ list.

He nudged you and tilted his head to the Kim prince’s direction, “He’s walking over here.”

Your head immediately snapped to him, “Did he notice me staring at him earlier?!” you whispered nervously.

He raised his shoulders as he doesn’t know but you could already hear his evil mind spouting not-so-good ideas when he let out a grim grin.

“Well.....~ Y/N, I have to go find Felix, I kinda wanna try the shark meat, Ok byeeeee~” he said as if he was in a rush but this was just a part of his scheme.

“Jeongin, wait, don’t lea—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was out of sight, the man was already extremely near you, his eyes never leaving your own.

You gulp, not knowing what to do in this situation.

In a mere second, you were face to face with the unfamiliar prince. He looked down at you with a emotionless face before sitting down next to you.

“My name is Kim Seungmin, yours?” He spoke with a honey-laced voice crossing his legs as he looked at you with curious eyes.

A smirk was starting to form at the corner of his lips before you opened your mouth to speak.

But nothing came out

He was attractive but he had soft features and an aura that resonates well with his features. He had this cute puppy-look to him but by that smirk he isn’t all that rainbows and sunshines.

Now, this is totally not good.

Little did Y/N know someone was watching this interaction in the distance, a prince than seems to be allured to you ever since he saw you within the crowd. He doesn't seem happy though~

~ tbc

[olderthannetfic]

Ah, I do see your points, anon. I'm not going to post all your asks publicly because if you really feel that unsafe, it's probably best not to have a bigass chunk of your text for people to analyze and try to guess your identity from. I think one of the best points you made is about how close to home it hits when the non-fave is not only your fave but is similar to you in some way like demographic. You're not wrong for having those emotions. I do wonder if they make it hard to see how some other people feel similarly embattled on other axes.

TBH, I think one of the big problems here is that the large aggregate patterns you're talking about are racist, but most individual fics and fans are not really the problem. It's hard to know how to talk about this or who to tell to "fix" it when we're looking at free, hobbyist art.

A lot of people's tastes are certainly formed by shitty society, but once they're formed, they don't change fast if at all. Asking someone to rewrite their libido is a big ask, yet tumblr does it all the time as though it's as simple as snapping your fingers.

This leaves me with the sense that a lot of tumblr is... like... the political lesbians of porn fic or something: desire is not real, only choosing based on logic and politics. Or maybe people are so asexual that they just don't understand the lizard brain's "YES!" at some porn things and complete indifference to others?

I don't think it's great if great swaths of people feel like bottom!Nicky is super hot and top!Nicky fundamentally isn't, but I also don't think they can necessarily just turn it off like flipping a switch.

(If someone reading this doesn't like their current tastes and wants to attempt to alter them, I do think it's possible. What you should do is line up a large slate of media that prominently features characters of the ethnicity or whatever that you don't find hot/interesting. These should be leads whose emotional development drives the plot and is supposed to be central to the audience's enjoyment of the media. Watch/read/etc. this media all the time. All. The. Time. Try out many pieces because you won't like every character or every show, and we're looking for genuine enjoyment, not the fandom equivalent of a pity fuck. Spend enough time on this, and your unconscious sense of who's hot and interesting will eventually shift somewhat. This is a project you should expect to take a few years.)

But I digress.

The one tweet thing is a very toxic pattern. If TOG fandom is doing that, guys, please try to be more conscious of holding the actors of color to a higher standard (or the women or whomever). I know this often comes from a place of paying more attention to our own and wanting to set a good standard, but the effect is that minorities can't fuck up ever while white dudes get infinite passes.

Okay, on to the fic thing... Gotta say, my instant reaction to that description is "Ooh!"--as it would be for the same scenario with the characters reversed. (Ships who start out trying to kill each other are my favorite! x1000 if they're resurrecting style immortals and they literally do.) I can see how it would feel like slamming into a brick wall if you aren't kinky in just the right way and you didn't know it was coming though.

Part of why I react so strongly to a lot of discourse that runs along these lines is that I am a naturally extremely kinky person. It's not so much about what I do (which as a deeply lazy person in a long distance relationship is essentially nothing), but it's absolutely how I'm wired.

And I can tell you that my quotidian experience in fandom is sharing something I don't even realize is a big deal only to have someone I like, respect, and trust react in horror and tell me that it's triggering and awful and should not be allowed in fandom spaces because it makes "people" unsafe. It's such an instant, kneejerk reaction they don't even realize I was sharing it because it spoke to the very core of me. Lesson learned, friend. Lesson learned.

That sounds a bit off topic, I know, but bear with me: The point of that anecdote is that it's pretty common for me to get people trying to raise my awareness of things I have already thought deeply about while denying my essential humanity and not even realizing. As a kinky person who likes to make my fave the top (and generally a conflicted sadist), this constant request to explain and justify is exhausting.

I doubt most of the top!Joe fans have this precise problem simply because people who make their fave the top are much less common in fandom than people who make their fave the bottom, but I see a similar pattern with fans who are just fundamentally wired for rape fantasies (one of the most common fantasies that exists) vs. fans who just don't get rape fantasies at all. Or substitute your BDSM/kinky/messed up fantasy trope of choice. Covertly radical feminist attitudes towards kink and power are on the rise in fandom, and as a naturally kinky person, boy do I notice it!

I know that it feels like crucial activism to share these insights about why the ratio of top!Joe is hurtful, and the pain you feel is real. But it's also the case that it's a big ask to want people to listen. (Not me. Obviously, I routinely choose to engage with discourse. I mean overall.) The reason for that is that you're only seeing a fraction of what they do or who they are, and you don't know how many previous people they've listened to how many previous times. It's a very different situation from someone whose job is making some major TV series or movie or something. That person does, in my opinion, owe you some amount of listening.

Now, I'm not saying no top Joe fan was ever a jerk. I'll bet they were. There's a tendency to be rude and to publicly air your schadenfreude when you feel like everyone has been yelling at you. What I am saying is that a lot of the problem here boils down to conflicting needs, and that means there isn't a good solution. It's a situation where people are genuinely hurt, but I don't necessarily agree that other people have harmed them.

I like that you did an actual count of the explicit fics, btw. It's good to look at the real numbers. I see too little of that in these situations. My off the cuff reaction is that 2/3 to 1/3 is not a bad ratio at all compared to many fandoms, but yeah, it definitely shows a strong trend, and that can be painful. (I have a fandom where I think there's maybe like 1 bottom so-and-so fic in the entire zine era fandom. One. It's pretty extreme.)

I guess my thinking here overall is: What is the practical solution? What are we hoping to gain? What is reasonable to ask of people?

And it can't be "Well, if they would just listen..." That's just a sneaky way of saying "If you haven't done it my way, it's because you haven't listened to me yet."

So the question I would ask of people is this:

What does a non-racist fic where Joe tops look like?

What does a non-racist sex pollen, dubcon, or even noncon fic where Joe tops look like?

And if you say the latter is impossible... well... sadists exist everywhere in the world. So do doms. So do people who prefer to top in a purely physical sense. People with rape fantasies where they're the rapist exist (people who are not actually rapists, I mean). None of this is restricted to any one group. We can't categorically say fic like that about Joe is coming from a place of racism without denying the fundamental humanity of kinky MENA people who'd want to make Joe like themselves or like their ideal partner. (Yes, I agree this won't be the majority of fic writers writing top!Joe, but this is a place to start for figuring out what the better version would look like.)

IDK, maybe you're that kinkster yourself, but your asks gave me the vibe that you don't really get the drive towards those darker kinds of fics and what might be motivating it besides stereotypes and shittiness.

If we can answer these kinds of questions, we can better critique the way people write what they write without telling them all of their taste is bad and they should just stop writing. Even if we think the latter is true, it isn't going to get us anywhere. Figuring out how to make Joe more multidimensional in the fic they already want to write or finding very specific wording that should be avoided might actually work.

Beyond that, the actions I think are productive would be running prompt fests, exchanges, or other events for bottom!Joe or for top!Joe where he's the main character and the fics are required to be from his POV. Themed collections and recs lists are great. (I've seen a bit of this going around in TOG fandom in the past, and that's an excellent approach! Keep it up!) Positive actions tend to work better here. Make more of what you want. Promote what you want to see.

I don't mean this in some fluffy magical thinking way: you aren't going to change that ratio radically just by the power of positivity. But I've seen this kind of thing play out in many, many fandoms, and going after the people who write what you don't like, even in a well-intentioned effort to educate and even in a polite, kind way doesn't do much. A few people feel guilty. A few feel defensive. A lot ignore you. The overall fic doesn't change. It's not a good use of your limited time and energy.

I'm off to look up that fic to see what I think of it in practice, but I'm going to post this before tumblr manages to eat it.

[arumin-arureruto]

Honeytea PT 2

Kyoya x fem reader and Hikaru x fem reader, Kyoya angst, Hikaru slowburn.

Warnings: none

word count: 1.7k

songs to listen to while reading:

What Am I by Why Dont We

Greek God by Conan Gray

hikaru’s outfit:

Reader’s outfit (your outfit can be whatever you want this is just what I had in mind while writing <3):

Cafe Hikaru and reader are at:

you woke up with the sun shining on your eyes, reaching out to feel the spot where your husband had been sleeping cold and empty, he had already left for work. Last night was emotionally exhausting, you had a fight with Kyoya and called Hikaru while your emotions were running high, even though you woke up feeling calmer it would still be nice to see him. You decided to get up and check your phone to see if you were still on for today, there were 6 unread messages from Hikaru.

“checking if ur okay”

“meet me tomorrow at 12pm for lunch at that cafe near my house, the one Honey got banned from”

“btw how the fuck do you manage to get banned from a restaurant for eating too much cake”

*picture of a single spoon inside a sink* “lol me”

“I should probably go to bed now goodnight”

He hasn’t changed a bit since high school, that’s what was so comforting to you about Hikaru. He took you back to a time where everything was much more simpler, lazy afternoons on the grass with the host club, drinking tea by the window in music room 3 with Kyoya, study sessions with Mori and Honey, getting into all sorts of mischief with Hikaru and Kauro, quietly reading with Haruhi, piano lessons from Tamaki…

All those memories started playing back in your mind and you started to feel all warm inside, you really didn’t know how good you had it. It’s not that you weren’t happy, you were married to the man you loved, you were one of the most respected and powerful women in society, what else could you ask for? But sometimes it felt like you were missing out on something, like your world could be so much more. When you mentioned this to Kyoya a couple months ago he suggested you try for children but you quickly shot down the idea, you were 23 and he was 24, having kids right now would be too big of a responsibility.

Shaking those thoughts from your head you checked the time on your phone, 10am. You still had 2hours before you had to meet Hikaru so going back to sleep was a tempting offer, but considering the cafe was almost 30 minutes away and you got easily distracted while getting ready it would be wiser to start picking out some clothes and getting in the shower. There was about 45 minutes before a maid was supposed to come in and clean your room so you figured that should be enough time to take a quick shower, you could just ask them to wait till you were done but you always felt awkward doing so.

After zoning out for a minute you headed for the shower, got undressed, put your hair up and turned on the hot water, you already washed your hair yesterday so there was no point in washing it again. You had always loved showers, the feeling of the warm water on your skin, the sound of the water dripping on the floor and the smell of all your products were enough to wash all your problems away. After about 25 minutes in the shower you turned the water off and stepped out, already missing the warmth of the water. After quickly drying yourself off with a towel you started massaging some lotion into your skin, first your arms and then your legs, this was your favorite part of your routine. When you felt that you had enough lotion on already you put on a robe, walked out of the bathroom and towards your walk in closet. It was september so the weather was still warm, today would be a simple dress day, or as simple as you could. Downside of being married to Kyoya Ootori: having to keep up appearances ALWAYS. After picking out a dress it was time for shoes, you gravitated towards a gorgeous pair of open toed gold heels that would’ve gone really well with your dress, but your legs were still slightly sore from last night so sandals it is.

After scrutinizing every part of your outfit and make up, which in the end you decided to go with a simple eyeliner, mascara and gloss, it was already 11:15. You grabbed your purse and asked someone to bring the car around. You hurriedly walked down the large staircase, excitement clear in your step, you got inside the car and gave a quick hello to the driver.

“Good morning Mrs Ootori, where to?”

“Morning Ryuzaki, Honeytea Cafe.”

“Understood ma’am.”

After giving your instructions you  pressed the button to lift the divider between the driver and the backseat, needing to be alone. You hadn’t seen Hikaru in person since your wedding reception, you talked on the phone occasionally but always for less than 2 minutes, this was the first time in months you would be in the same room again. Was it gonna be awkward? I mean you did call him yesterday late at night crying so what if he thought you were weird? No, no, this was Hikaru, your best friend since your first year of high school, everything was gonna be fine.

The 30 minute ride felt like it went by in less than 15, After getting to the cafe you told Ryuzaki to go back home and that you would call when you were done, since you didn’t know how long you would take. 11: 52pm, 8 minutes till you were supposed to meet Hikaru, meaning you had 8 minutes to get your act together.

You stepped into the cafe and scanned the place, 6 years and nothing had changed. Still the same old tall bookshelves lined the walls. The same paintings on the walls, and just like you remembered, peace and quiet. Since the cafe was a bit old fashioned it tended to attract an older crowd, old people just trying to enjoy their coffee and adults in their 30s that wanted a quiet place to work. While you continued to examine the room, lost in your own world, you felt a pair of slender hands on your shoulders and heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“Taking a trip down memory lane while blocking the way huh? Honestly y/n I thought commoners taught their children better manners.”

At first you were startled but then you quickly turned around to face the voice and there he was. Tall, mischievous smile and wild hair, Hikaru Hitachiin in the flesh. “Hikaru I-” you hugged him before you could even finish your sentence. You stood there with your arms wrapped around his neck in silence for a couple more seconds.

“y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re still blocking the way.”

Oh right.

Behind you 2 old ladies stood with unpleasant expressions on their faces, you both moved out of the way to let the ladies through, they walked past you and muttered something about today’s youth having no respect for their elders. You stood there slightly embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks while Hikaru looked like he might burst out laughing.

You decide to grab a table at the very back of the cafe, away from everyone else. After you sit down Hikaru strikes a conversation. “Haven’t seen you in a year y/n, how’s married life been treating you?” He propped up his elbow and leaned his head on his hand, keeping his eyes focused on you.

Damn so we’re already on that topic.

“We’ve had our ups and downs, what about you? How are you and Kaoru doing?” Hopefully he won't bring up your phone call from yesterday. “We’re doing pretty good, Kaoru actually started seeing someone a couple months ago. Cute boy he met at an art gallery.” You could hear the tiniest hint of jealousy in the last part, but overall Hikaru sounded happy for his brother. “Oh he did? That’s cool” you stay silent for a couple seconds before proceeding with what you were saying. “And how do you feel about Kaoru seeing someone?” Hikaru’s eyes shifted from you to the table and kept them focused there. “In the beginning it was weird, I hated the idea of having to share him with someone else but now, I see how happy he is with Evan and that’s all that matters to me.” He looked up from the table to look at you and smile, then he spoke again but this time in a more playful tone. “So are we eating or what? Man were you seriously gonna let me starve? Typical Ootori.” That comment made you laugh, you really did miss him.

You both ordered and paid separately, since you knew you would argue over who would pay the bill. After you both received your food you sat down to eat, while you ate you reminisced about the past and talked about all the trouble you used to get into back in the day.

“No no, you were the one that tricked Tamaki into dressing up as Haruhi to fool the doctors during the physical exam that one time.” He laughed and pointed at you with a piece of bread. “Whaaaaat? Me? I would never, I was just an innocent bystander” you defended yourself while also laughing, then you remembered something. “No but for real that one wasn’t my idea, actually Kyoya came up with it.” Hikaru stopped laughing but still had a smile on his face, he then asked you a question.

“So Kyoya…” There was a pause before he spoke again.

“You mentioned you have your ups and downs, I’m guessing yesterday was a down?”

The food that was in your throat had trouble going down, you tried to quickly swallow and answer Hikaru’s question. “Yesterday was definitely not one of our best days” You let out a nervous laugh. Before you could elaborate a middle aged man came up to your table and asked if he could borrow one of your chairs for his daughter, seeing that you were both already finished with your food you told him he could have the chairs and got up to leave.

As you were walking out of the coffee shop Hikaru tapped your shoulder.

“Hey my house is just a 5 minute drive from here, we could go there if you wanna talk more in private.”

[yongiefilms]

FILM | Flickering

BASED ON | The bingo collaboration feature done by legendnct studios

PRODUCED BY | “Whatever goes around eventually comes back to you. So you gotta be careful, baby,” from After The Storm by Kali Uchis (feat. Tyler, The Creator and Booty Colins) ; “Don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms,” from Slow Dancing In the Dark by Joji ; “Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?” from Honestly by Pink Sweat$

STARRING | Lee Taeyong and Female Reader

FEATURING | Jung Jaehyun, Lee Mark, Lee Jeno, Nakamoto Yuta, Suh Johnny, and Xiao Dejun

GENRE | Romance, Drama, Teen, Angst, Fluff, Slowburn, College, and Frat boy Centred

RATING | PG-13

WARNINGS | Thematic elements, some action, crude humor, mentions of: alcohol, drinking, smoking, anxiety, panic attacks, and heartbreak, excessive partying, stupid college shenanigans, suggestive references, language, and adult themes

PLOT | You were unlucky when it came to love. You fell too fast and gave too much. Though as often as you experienced misfortune, you never truly learned your lesson. However, entering college you knew it would be different, it had to be. No more chasing after infatuation that you perceived to be love, but when you came across him, you knew it would be harder than you anticipated. He drew you in with his alluring aura and made you curious, something that would drive you to seek after someone who didn’t want to be found. Yet as many say, curiosity kills the cat, and one wrong move was all it took. OR He was a fleeting moment, a mere second of time that didn’t last too long.

RUNNING TIME | 29k words

1, 2, 3 NOW ROLLING...

“Okay…Be honest, does this dress make me look like shit?” 

Your best friend, who was perched on your bed some several feet over to where you stood in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, rolled her eyes and let out a scoff, lifting her head up from peering down at her cell phone screen. She knew the question was ridiculous and had no direction because you were beautiful, something no one would deny. Her eyes moved up and down your figure to conduct a proper inspection of you and the dress that hugged your body. Her gaze was borderlining a glare once she was done. She was right, as she always tended to be.

She huffed out a breath, leaning her hands behind her on the soft comforter that laid over your bed and tilted her head to the side. “You can’t be serious. You literally look stunning.”

You flatten your palms against the front of your black satin mini dress, confirming you appeared to be as good as you could possibly be with no wrinkles in sight. “All right, I just have to make sure.”

She scoffed yet again as you twirled around in front of the mirror with a smile on your face, your eyes lighting up with excitement for what would soon come.

But the thrill in your veins subdued as you gave her a pointed stare. “Also just because you’re my hype woman and number one fan, doesn’t mean you can’t tell me like it is.”

She stood up from her position on the bed and made her way over to where you stood, her red stilettos clicking against the vivid brown wood. She placed her hands on your shoulders to smoothen the material of your dress and gave you another once over for good measure.

“Yes I am aware, but you should know by now that I never lie.” Her nose scrunched up the tiniest bit as she showcased her pearly whites. “But seriously,” she stepped back from you, letting her hands drop to her sides. “Can we go now? You take forever to get ready and I just want to go have some fun.” She whined and it was now your turn to roll your eyes at her behavior. She was just as excited as you were, though your ability to mask your emotions was far better than hers. Going to your first college party was enough cause to be eager, surely. 

“Yes we can go now, drama queen.”

She gave a slight glare in your direction at the mention of the nickname, but you laughed it off, loving to tease her as much as she loved to tease you before continuing.

“Anyways let me grab my phone and purse first.”

She nodded her head, and walked out of your bedroom towards the living room area to wait for you, her mobile phone tightly grasped in her left hand with her car keys looped around her index finger.

Once you grabbed your own charged cell phone off the nightstand and placed it in your purse, swinging the strap over your shoulder, you switched the lights off to exit your room.

“Got it!” You exclaimed as you reached her figure leaning against the wall opposite of the front door. You grabbed the sleek doorknob and opened the door, ushering her out as you followed suit.

She smirked at you once you locked the door and placed the key in your bag.

She swung her car keys around her index finger, the metal imprinting her palm when she caught them. “Time for the real fun to begin.”

Then you were off towards your destination, her behind the wheel driving, and you in the passenger seat, the wind blowing against both of your faces from the rolled down windows. The music was blaring from the radio speaker and you giggled amongst yourselves, lip-synching the lyrics to the songs that were your favorites. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins, causing a rush and the unknowns of the night spoke wonders.

If only it was real fun when you arrived at the expanse of the Nu Chi Tau frat house, or more commonly known as NCT around campus. There were already people there, covering the gigantic front yard with red solo cups in hand and flashy attire, but it wasn’t the sparkles of the glitter nor the drunken state of the people that caught your attention, it was something more magnificent. 

The residence that stood before you mimicked one you would only see in the movies. A perfectly mowed green lawn with assorted scrubs encompassed the front yard, leading up to the stairs of the entryway. When you walked ahead you saw everything in clearer light. The house was a few stories high, painted a stark white that stood out in the background of the increasing night. The front lights were on, casting ill-lit shadows that danced against the concrete and some windows glowed the same color, giving evidence that those rooms were filled with occupants at the moment. There was an archway with columns to the side that protruded from the front of the house, as the rest of the habitation was left in the shade. The Greek letters for Nu Chi Tau were nailed on the archway in black and as you neared closer to the front doors, you could make out the words NCT engraved in golden script. You were mesmerized to say the least, the house was beyond beautiful and you pondered how it still looked relatively new in comparison to the other bland frat and sorority houses you had come across. Although, you would have been more in awe if your feet weren’t killing you in that present moment.

When Nicole turned onto the street that would lead the two of you to the frat house, you both had noticed how filled the street was with cars for miles. You had assumed it was most likely due to the party, or the fact that the road was so very narrow, swindling like a wave that made it hard for others to park. Yet regardless of the reason, it is where your dilemma began, for she had to park in the nearest open space, which would be some blocks down from where you needed to be. 

Therefore that is how you both ended up wending your way to the frat house that was so conveniently located at the end of the narrow street, and on top of a hill no less, making matters worse. 

You don’t know how long it took you to arrive, but you had calculated around thirty minutes give or take other technicalities. You were glad you made it all in one piece even if the adrenaline in your veins departed and the light in your eyes dimmed, yet you would still try to have the time of your life.

Your hand gripped the golden handle of the front door and turned, pushing it wider with ease to welcome the even more impressive interior as you strode in with Nicole hot on your trail.

The white painted walls, crystal chandelier, golden swirls on the columns, and the spiraling staircase would have blinded you if it had not been encompassed by the dark, the only light emitting from surrounding rooms and the sporadic flashes of color.

You heard a groan from behind you, jerking you out of the blue.

“Ah fuck…fuck…fuck…fuck. My feet are dead.”

You spun around to see Nicole, struggling to take off her stilettos in quick movements, as you could indisputably make out the redness around the heel of her foot and toes. Her drastic measures were a sight that made it difficult to suppress your giggles.

She heaved a loud sigh from successfully getting her stilettos off and hooked the straps over her two fingers, the footwear dangling from her hand when she stood up straight.

She locked her eyes with yours, puffing out air and a lock of hair that fell in her face amidst her conflict. “I need a drink.”

Your subdued titters came out as you nodded your head in agreement. You both needed some energy after the long dreaded walk and what better way than to drink some alcohol. 

Nicole led the way, brushing up against the loads of people that crowded the foyer, not even managing to mumble a single excuse me, but that’s how she was, especially when she needed to get buzzed. After steering through countless throngs of people, you being the one to mutter apologies, you both had arrived at the kitchen. It was as modern as the rest of the house, with the subtle hints of Roman and Greek roots. The appliances were just as pale as the walls, giving off the illusion that nothing appeared to be present, howbeit the only contrast was the black buckets on the countertops and the black bar stools that were placed near the aisle along with the golden lighting fixtures floating above. Not to mention the various silver tin kegs that were located around the kitchen and the bar, which you passed on the way here, not worth the wait for the drinks the two of you desperately needed. 

The kitchen wasn’t nearly as crowded as the rest of the house, withal there were just some scarce students waiting around, refilling their cups, or grabbing a new drink altogether.

Nicole unhands her stilettos on the white marble floor, the bright red color vaguely resembling smeared blood on a snowy surface, before sinking down at one of the free stools and placing her hand in the black bucket to pull out a beer. Conveniently it was a twist off and in mere instances she took large gulps of the brown liquid, finishing the bottle in one go, not bothering to wait for you to have your own bottle in hand.

She licked her lips and elevated her empty beer bottle out to you. “Cheers my love!” She gave a lazy grin and a smile slipped onto your face. “And shit that beer wasn’t strong enough, I need an actual drink.”

You laughed at her as she stood up and rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen, on the desperate search for some secret stash. You took the empty seat next to the previously occupied one, and placed your purse on the counter, resting your cheek on your knuckles, waiting to see if she had struck lucky.

“Ah!” she suddenly proclaimed, reaching up on her tippy toes to grab the translucent liquid bottle that was placed on the top shelf. Her fingertips barely touched the tall glass, even so she managed to grab it to some shock, her feet being firmly planted on the tile when she had it in her grasp.

She closed the cabinet door and turned with a crude smirk on her face, hiding the bottle behind her back.

“Guess what they were stashing away?”

Your eyes went wide as you dropped the hand that held the weight of your head to your lap. You were curious but also slightly scared at how the smirk on her face grew. It couldn’t be good.

“Um…” you trailed off, placing your hands on the cool marble countertops. You had no idea.

“Those bastards,” she swore, taking the bottle out from behind her to shake it from side to side as you squint your eyes to get a good look at the label. Though you didn’t have to for she told you herself.

“They stored away Balkan 176 Vodka. Who the fuck does that? Like share you greedy, motherfuckers.”

She placed the tall bottle on the countertop, reaching over to the stack of red and blue solo cups that were near the buckets and pulled out two empty cups.

Your eyes got wider at the realization because no way they had Balkan 176 Vodka, it was the strongest in the United Kingdom market with an alcohol by volume of 88%. 

How did they manage to get a hold of it? 

The damn vodka even has thirteen health warnings on the label.

What the hell are they doing in this house?

You heard the pop of the bottle cap and the echoing sound of the liquid being poured into the two cups, interrupting you out of your thoughts.

Nicole held out the blue solo cup to you, jerking her chin out as a form of encouragement to take the cup from her.

With shaking hands, you reach forward, wrapping your hands around the cup.

You knew you would be wasted beyond belief if she poured a lot of the vodka and you only hoped she didn’t, even if your alcohol tolerance was relatively high.

She bumped her plastic cup with yours, murmuring lowly, “Cheers,” and proceeded to down the vodka in one go as you reciprocated the action.

The clear liquid stung in your throat and you could feel a tingling sensation erupt on your tongue. You shook your head to get rid of the feeling and closed your eyes, scrunching up your nose as if it would somehow help extinguish the burn.

Some tears escaped your eyes and through your blurry vision you saw Nicole step away from the counter, shaking her hands out in front of her with her head tilted towards the ceiling.

“Ah shit that burns…” She let out a few coughs, wiping the back of her hand over her lips. “But it feels great.” She puts her hands on her hips and gives you a wide teary eyed smile when she looks over at you.

You cough yourself before giving her an eye roll, placing two fingers on your temples and giving a soft rub to the skin to guarantee you won’t get a headache.

“You’re crazy, you know that right?”

She walked around the counter to where you sat, as you peered up at her, dropping your hands.

She leaned forward to whisper in your ear rather loudly in order to be heard, “Go big or go home baby.”

You placed your hand on her shoulder and gave her a small push, her giggles standing out despite the music resounding in the other room.

Then her giggles ceased and she stared straight ahead, a blank look overtaking her face, her mouth slightly opening.

Your eyebrows scrunched together. “Hey Nicole?” You asked, raising your butt off the seat to poke at her shoulder.

Her body swayed to the left then right before she shook her head and came out of her trance.

She stumbled over her footing as she tried to move forward and pick up her discarded stilettos off the tile to put them on.

“Nicole!” you called as she prowled forward once she tied the ends of the felt, discrediting the fact that you were still there, but your loud voice caught her attention for her head jolted back to peek over her shoulder to where you still sat.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath and pivoted on her heel to go back to where she once was.

“Sorry, sorry love,” she spoke in a rushed manner, fixing her gaze over her shoulder every so often as she shook her head once more. “I just saw some really freaking hot guy and I just—”

You cut her off, knowing where this would lead to. You gave her a small smile of empathy and encouragement. “It’s okay Nicki. Go get some.”

You lightly gave her a push as she staggered forward. Your smile had morphed into a subtle smirk and she laughed at your eagerness for her.

“Oh I will and make sure to get some for yourself too.” She turned around to give you a wink and a peck on the crown of your head, waving goodbye once she pivoted on her heel to presumably stride over to the boy in question.

The kitchen connected to a small dining space that a handful of students were occupying, having conversations with drinks in hand and you just so happened to be in luck for there wasn’t an enormous wave of people, making it easy to see who caught Nicole’s eye.

You followed her figure of a ruby red strapless dress that stood out amongst the neutral tones of the other attire, to where she had passed by a boy with washed out blonde hair, who so happened to be having a conversation to two other girls. He was adorned in a black crisp button up shirt that was folded up to the elbows, with two buttons undone at the top to showcase a bit of chest. You could catch a glimpse of the light reflecting off the silver necklace that peeked out from under his shirt, which was tucked into a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, contrasting his white vans. He took a sip from his red solo cup, letting out a laugh at something one of the girls said, allowing his perfect set of teeth to be seen as his head leaned back. He had a defined jawline and strong eyebrows that looked even better than anyone else’s in hindsight. Nicole really had gotten lucky and when she brushed her shoulder against his, muttering a sorry under her breath, his eyes had followed after her when she moved away.

He apologized to the other girls and quickly whipped his head around to see where Nicole had disappeared to, realizing she starkly could be seen ready to turn the corner to go to another room. His feet made hast as he was hot on her trail and when you saw him loosely latch his hand onto her wrist to turn her around to face him, you knew she would get even luckier. With her sultry gaze and his flirty smile there was no doubt in your mind.

They vanish from sight moments after for he was ready to whisk her away to the second floor with his arm wrapped around her waist and her hand wrapped around his bicep, whispering in his ear.

Lucky indeed.

You turned away after observing them and sighed loudly, swishing the already nonexistent liquid in your cup. You knew it would be possible to find a boy to spend the rest of night with amongst countless that were available to you, natheless you couldn’t help to feel like you didn’t have the desire to “get some” for a particular reason.

So you heaved yourself off the bar stool, too afraid if you hung around in one area for too long someone would surely make a move to hit on you. You weren’t in the mood for company exuding testosterone and cockiness. You weren’t in the mood for assholes.

You poured some more of the hell vodka into your empty cup to give you something to hold onto when you explored the house. You also made sure to grab your purse off the stool, swearing under your breath that you should have just left it in the car and put your cell phone along with keys in your bra like Nicole had done. Sometimes your level of intellect astounded you.

With a cup in hand and purse slung over your shoulder you made your way around the house, bypassing time without any one thing in mind, hoping to see if you could catch your best friend amidst the large gatherings of people, something that most likely seemed impossible. Yet impossible had a good chance as any to become possible too.

You didn’t know how long you had been moving, probably already circled the whole first floor various times, since the remaining floors were closed off for members of the frat. Time went by faster when you were trying to kindly reject offers of those that made an effort to ask you to dance or if you wanted another drink.

Only then is when you saw him—a glimpse of a boy you once knew when you stopped at the bar for a rest.

He looked the same as he did ever since the start of summer, the same from those weeks ago. Light honey colored hair. Dark eyes. A small beauty mark under his left eye. A soft chiseled jaw. Pale pink lips. His signature eye smile, a favorite feature of yours, one bright enough to light up an entire room, one which always made you feel comforted.

Every aspect of his being was the same, except for the outfit which adored his body, that still managed to give you nostalgia—a black short sleeve button up shirt with one button undone to showcase his smooth pale skin, a pair of white jeans that perfectly hugged his legs, and his staple piece of black worn out combat boots.

It reminded you of that one time he had picked you up in a vaguely similar outfit to take you to the outskirts of the city, late at night just for exploring, for adventure, when the both of you started hanging out.

All of it was the same, he was the same, and seeing him there flirting with some other girl wronged you in more ways than one, even if it had been a little over a month since you last saw him in person so close, yet so very far away.

You ducked your head lower, to conceal your figure behind those that were in your line of sight, even if you were still in the open area of view, while secretly keeping an eye on him to see if he would move. He would either notice you directly or his knowledge would be the one to give you away. He always had a sense of knowing where you were without even surveying or asking. He just knew and there was no doubt he would know you were there tonight. You had to escape one way or another before you became found. 

However, you weren’t as inconspicuous as you had perceived yourself to be.

He must have caught you staring, behind the figures that did little to help you in your avoidance of the boy. You didn’t know when he exactly saw you for his leaden eyes had suddenly flitted over the heads of the people surrounding him to meet yours.

Caught.

To say you were scared or anxious would be an understatement for your palms got sweaty and you felt like you could no longer breathe with your heart beating in your ribcage like the fast beat of a drum.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

He excused himself from the brunette he was talking to, gently taking her dainty hand off his bicep when he turned to leave, muttering an apology to her, and stalked over to where you sat rooted to your stool, nearly paralyzed.

But your senses kicked in before then, prohibiting you from just waiting for his arrival. You stumbled over your footing, the heels on your feet making it difficult to get by unnoticed since you were having some difficulty walking away at a fast pace. You tried your best to steer through the people that blocked your path, heading towards an area away from prying eyes, which so happened to be a dimly lit hall that was empty from what you could see.

He was pushing through the drunken bodies, not even managing to say sorry after every push and shove. You heard him call your name, although it was drowned out with the ringing in your ears, the sounds of the music and shouts mixing together indefinitely.

You turned your head over your shoulder to see if he had caught up to you or if you lost him in the crowd.

No figure in sight. You lost him. You escaped.

You leaned your head against the wall, heaving a loud sigh, trying to shake off the jitters in your body. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and the thumping in your chest refused to cease. You wrapped your arms around you in an attempt to calm yourself, to provide much needed comfort.

Comfort that turned to queasiness.

A unlit impending figure loomed over you, casting your body in a black shadow as your breath became short, making it a hassle to inhale, exhale. 

Caught yet again.

You peered up, to see eye to eye with a boy that once held the entire galaxy in his orbs, but now only held emptiness.

The stare was too intense, making you force your eyes away for your own well-being. His shadow became woozy and blurry, making it difficult to pick out which replica was the real version of him.

You were nearly hyperventilating, your breath staggering and your lungs felt as if they would combust any second from lack of oxygen.

The ringing in your ears became louder as you could faintly make out him mouthing your name through reading his lips.

He then raised his hand, cupping your cheek with his thumb, caressing the skin, and that was when everything became calm through a simple touch.

The ringing in your ears ceased, the pounding of the music and chatters of the people became silent, the jitters in your body were gone, and mellowness coursed through your veins to where everything was at a standstill.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, awaiting his next move, his next words.

“Bub…” He started then shook his head, the affectionate nickname accidently slipping without consciousness. You hadn’t heard that name come from his mouth in so long. You missed it. “Ah, sorry.” Another shake of the head. “Are you okay? You were almost having a panic attack. Y-Your…” He trailed off, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest by his side as he turned his head away then back to face you. His eyes were soft and filled with concern. He whispered so softly, you could barely make out his words. “Your anxiety hasn’t gotten worse right?”

It was now your turn to move away from his piercing gaze. You never talked about your conflicts with your friends before, you had almost forgotten you had told him, that he knew a secret of yours, but he was never willing to share his own.

You rubbed your hands up and down your arms to provide some heat from the chills that suddenly erupted throughout your entire body.

You refused to behold him. “No,” you muttered, eyeing the floor. “It hasn’t so don’t worry. I’m fine.”

His calloused hands grasp at your chin so he could turn your face to lay your eyes on him. “Are you really okay?”

You knew the underlying meaning to his question. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, just waiting to fall at four words that seemed so simple to provide an answer to, despite that it was so very hard to voice.

Your eyes dropped to the floor, but he titled your chin up to make sure he saw your eyes when you answered, to see if you were telling the truth.

There was no point to lie, to him of all people, so you mumbled the dreadful word, knowing it was the last one he would want to hear, “No.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, letting his hand fall and took a step back, to provide some space between your bodies. He was the one that now refused to take note of you.

“What do you mean?”

You hugged your own body closer, seeing that he couldn’t provide the much needed comfort, not when what you once had no longer existed.

Your delicate voice could barely be heard. “I-It’s just been h-hard without you. I thought I could do it, b-but…” You trailed off, a stray tear making its way down your cheek and onto the floor. The round droplet of water becoming so lonely, resting there by itself, just like you. “I-I can’t.”

He stepped further away, pushing a hand through his hair, messing up the once neat locks.

“You can’t say that.” He inhaled a breath, raising his eyes to the ceiling then at your figure leaning against the wall. “You can’t ask that of me.”

The frustration seeped through your tone. “I know that!” Your voice became softer. “Trust me I know, but what do you want me to say? That I’m fine without you? That I am happy without you in my life?” You paused, trying to cower into your body further if it was even possible. “You know I can’t lie to you, Jen.” He flinched at the nickname, furthering clutching his hair. “You know I can’t so what’s the point? I’m not happy, I’m not happy…unless it’s with you and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I haven’t moved on.”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, his hand relaxing before settling by his sides. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can no longer be your happiness, but it’s for the best. We both agreed on this, remember? Even if it pains us, it’s for the best.”

You wiped at your eyes. The dry tears could be still felt on your skin, be that as it may you no longer were on the verge of crying, you were angrier than anything else. You threw your hands up in the air, taking steps towards him until you were mere inches away.

“But why can’t the best be filled with joy instead of sorrow. Why Jen? Why can’t we be happy together?”

Your red rimmed eyes and teary face bruised him on all accounts. Whenever you were hurt, he was as well and it was something he was afraid of, he would always be till the end of time. 

“I…” He inhaled a breath. “I don’t know.”

You placed your hand on his bicep giving him a small smile, not letting your temper consume you today. “It’s okay, I get it.”

He leaned his head forward to rest on your shoulder letting out small, shallow breaths as you raise your hand to run through his thick locks of hair.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, bub,” he choked on his words, the nickname slipping past his lips unheard. He hitches up his head off your shoulder, allowing your hand to drop from the movement. He gazed into your eyes, the regret ever so prevalent. “I’m the one to blame for us falling apart.”

You nodded your head, not knowing what else to say, both shocked at his shameless declaration and admittance of his faults, nonetheless also touched that he spoke the truth.

His cell phone then suddenly dinged in his pocket, startling the both of you as he took the device out of his back pocket, the light from the screen illuminating his face in a bright, blinding glow.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked up at you and your furrowed eyebrows. “I-I have to go. I…” He opened his mouth, wrangling with his next words, trying to be careful with what he said next because they could either mend or break the already hanging thread that bounded the two of you together.

A subtle smile slipped onto your face that he could see in the muted lit hall and it melted his heart. He knew you understood, like you always had and always will. 

“I’ll see you around.” He reached for your hand, giving it a slight squeeze, the contact alone was one that left tingles in your skin. “Stay safe.”

He leaves, letting go of your hand and the hold you had over his life, retreating into the darkness of the night for an adventure he always sought to seek, except this time you weren’t by his side.

Though even if you weren’t with him, you weren’t alone. 

“You know,” a voice spoke up amidst the near gloominess of the hall, startling you. You jolted in your spot and turned your body around slowly, the pulse of your beating heart quickening. You saw a figure in the shadows, well at least that is what you could make out.

Had someone been there the whole time? Listening to your conversation with Jeno?

You were more exposed than you realized and you wished it wouldn’t bite you in the back.

Your feet padded against the marble floor and you squint your eyes to get a better look a couple of inches away. Their back was resting on the wall with their left foot planted flatly there as you could see the red solo cup in their right hand. Their head tilted forward slightly as they swished the liquid around the cup before bringing it to their lips and then they proceeded to push themselves off to advance towards you. You saw his figure emerge out of the darkness and when he stood so close to you you didn’t know what to do, feel, or think. You felt like your heart stopped beating in your chest and the blood coursed that through your veins spiked with utter heat, it was a different state, one you never experienced before, not even with a previous lover. 

Your mind went blank and your mouth became dry.

The boy that stood before you was beyond beautiful. You could make out his features in the pale lit hall from every little perfection to perfection for he struck you like he was crafted from above to be unrivaled with no fault in sight.

The first thing that drew you in was his eyes. His eyes were sharp and catlike, a deep brown color that cut through your soul as if he could see every aspect of your being. His eyebrows were rich and fine, in a perfect shape, every hair in the same direction, brushed to be unmoving. While his nose was soft and round, enhancing his delicate features. His cupid bow was prominent, yet light, shaping his thin lips that were pink and utterly pulposus. His skin appeared to be smooth, without any blemish in sight, but you could make out a small scar on the right side of his face that was covered by his hair, though the mark did not take away from his loveliness, only amplified it. His hair was midnight black, almost blending into the background and perfectly framed his face, the strands falling to the sides, right above his eyes, leaving a little bit of his forehead exposed. His face was completely stoic with no mein painted across its fairness and he still was able to be so ethereal, yet imitating with his sharp jawline and pierced ears. He was too good to be true and you felt as if you weren’t worthy enough to lock eyes with an exquisite being such as himself. Even so, your eyes roamed around his face to analyze each and every feature, to truly engrave his image in your mind. 

You could stare all day and get lost in him till he broke you out of your thoughts.

“You know,” he repeated again and you could feel his eyes on you as you struggled to look anywhere but at his gorgeous face. “Whatever goes around eventually comes back to you.” He paused and licked his lips, contemplating a motive. He titled his head before stepping forward while your eyes became wide with curiosity, wondering what he was about to do next. He brought his free hand up from his side, delicately grasping your chin to make you focus on him. His thumb came to rest on your lower lip as you unconsciously parted your lips from his scorching touch. He softly moved his thumb around for several seconds before pulling your lip down at a slow pace. His hand settled completely afterwards, resting by his side anew. He maneuvered right next to your body and leaned his face closer, his pink lips touching your earlobe. He whispered so quietly that you could barely make out what he said or if he even said anything at all. “So you gotta be careful, baby.”

Your mouth opened and closed, attempting to get a response out. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you could feel your hands begin to get clammy. He called you baby, a simple word of affection you heard a thousand times in your life, yet when he said it the feelings that overcame you were different. There was something else in the pet name, an unknown tone of emotion that you couldn’t figure out.

You couldn’t figure him out. 

He affected you so much with mere words as well as actions and you had barely glimpsed at him for not many fleeting seconds. He held you in a spell and you didn’t know if it was one that could be broken. 

You gathered enough courage to turn your head, hoping to see his face a mere centimeters from you, but he wasn’t. He stepped away from you amongst your captivated state and the hotness that emitted from his body turned cold. He didn’t even look at you as he strode by, becoming a small figure amidst a bigger crowd, only leaving you with his last lovely words of advice. You were confused to say the least. He didn’t say goodbye or inform you that he would catch you around campus like you hoped he would. He simply left and with that, you felt as if a piece of your heart did as well. What hurt the most was that you didn’t even catch his name.

Who was he?

That was a question you would strive to find the answer to, if it was the last thing you could do on this forsaken planet during your lifetime. For you were mesmerized by a stranger in the dark, a beautiful one at that who had the power to make you fall with his mere presence and make you forget all the same.

You suppose that the mere explanation why you were disoriented as you made your way back to the heart of the party courtesy of the enigma himself, the thought of Lee Jeno long forgotten.

Everything felt dizzy around you as you felt reality slowly morph into fantasy. The colors of the flashing LED lights were blurring together and the bodies that were pushing up against you when you crossed the dance floor felt too close for comfort.

You needed a glass of water or the fresh air or even someone to take your mind off things. You needed to truly be lost to the bliss of your mind in order to gain sobriety thereafter. You were slightly tipsy, most certainly pushing it, yes, but you were also intoxicated from another source that made you drunk—a boy.

Not even the Balkan 176 Vodka had this much of an impact.

You stumbled forward, pushing through the crowd to get to the kitchen, hoping you recalled the familiar pathway to your destination that had started off your night.

You must have been too close to the floor or were worse in appearance than you assumed yourself to be for you tripped on your footing and fell forward, not before someone’s arm came to wrap around you waist to prevent you from face planting the floor.

“Woah,” they said, their husky voice sounding like music to your ears. “Are you okay there?”

You closed your eyes shut and nodded your head, too scared to turn around to face them through your embarrassment. They maneuvered you around so the front of your body was directly in front of their own. You slowly opened your eyes to the sight of yet another breathtaking boy, making him one of countless others you had seen throughout the night. This particular boy though was one with a dimpled smile. He had a boyish charm that exuded from his persona, but also a sense of maturity at the same time. His deep black hair was parted and a few loose strands fell perfectly over his forehead. He had an inviting look on his face and you suppose that is why you choose him.

You didn’t even think twice before grabbing the collar of his shirt and crashing your lips onto his.

A distraction is what he would be from the brutal reality of your intoxicated world full of heartbreak, lies, and a sprinkle of hope.

He must have been startled for he didn’t move his plump lips against yours for a handful of seconds, but after much adherence he gave in.

It might have been weird to make out with a stranger you didn’t know, one whose name you didn’t even ask for, that is the glamor of college frat parties in some form. Everyone hooked up with everyone. No judgment was given and you were just there for some fun, even if it countered your morals.

Sense was out the door and a high took over. No room for second guessing.

You made out with the attractive boy for some long, draining seconds, before he pulled back first. His lips were swollen and so very red. You were sure you mirrored his features.He licked his lips and titled his head, his gaze locking onto yours as he gave his eyebrow a slight raise.

“Wow,” he muttered then proceeded to chuckle. “Do you always make out with strangers before knowing their name? Or just make out with a stranger right when you meet them?” Another chuckle and a shake of the head.

You turned away, the embarrassment coursing through your veins again. You were thankful that sobriety was achieved, howbeit it partially had to be because of a make out session no less. Sometimes you hated when you drank, too out of it to be aware of your actions.

Damn Nicole.

He moved his hand forward and grasped your chin lightly to turn your face towards him. He was the third to make contact with your skin that night, still and all his touch didn’t burn like the boy that emerged from the dark, for it only left you unfeeling.

He hummed waiting for your answer and the intensity of his stare when you peered at him under your lashes made your knees buckle.

“Um…” you trailed off letting out an awkward and forced giggle. “N-no…not really,” you cleared your throat to get the proper words out. Confidence is what you had to remember. “No, but I—”

You were cut off by a shout of another male calling your name, whose figure was pushing through the throngs of people to reach you when you turned your head to take a gander.

“Ah,” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “There you are! I have been looking all over for you.” He huffs out a breath and gives you a pointed stare. “I told you not to go running off…” He then stops abruptly when he inspects the boy who was so blatantly close to you, too close by his standards at least.

His eyebrows furrowed and zoned in at the boy's hand that were placed firmly on your side and how your chest was pressed up close to his. The boy’s hand hadn’t moved from its previous position either, but when he saw the stare of your best friend he let it rest back to his sides and stepped backwards letting go of his hold on you completely.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing? No,” he shook his head and slightly glared at the presumably older boy. “What were you doing?”

Jaehyun, the boy you now knew the name of after a kiss, shyly laughed and brought his hand up to rub at his neck. You could see the tips of his ears beginning to turn pink as he refused to make eye contact.

While you knew he wouldn’t say what you both were truly doing before your friend’s arrival you didn’t want to leave him grasping at straws.

“He—” you started, then stopped at the same pointed look your best friend gave you and let out a huff at his behavior. He was always too overprotective of you.

“It wasn’t what it looked like Mark, I swear.” He put his hands up at the eyebrow raise Mark gave him as if he caught onto the lie Jaehyun was going to tell. His hands sank to his sides before he continued. “I saw her stumbling through the crowd some minutes ago and she was so clearly out of it that she almost tripped so obviously I didn’t want her to hurt herself. I just stopped her from nearly collapsing on the floor. That’s all.”

When he finished speaking, Mark's gaze was anything but less suspicious, yet his face slowly morphed into a subtle smile. “Always a gentleman huh, Jae?” He asked and let out a laugh in which the boy returned.

Jaehyun’s eyes peered over at you as he gave a lopsided grin and subtle wink. “Always.”

You were hoping Mark didn’t catch on, but with the way his hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you harshly forward, you were beginning to think he had.

“Okay well we better get going. It is a Thursday and we do have class tomorrow so I'll catch you later, Jae. Just tell the guys I had to drop someone off if they’re wondering where I am.”

Jaehyun nodded his head, his eyes still on your own before flashing to meet Mark's. “Will do and hey,” he jerked his head towards you as your eyes slightly furrowed, speculating what he wanted to say to you. “Try not to face plant the floor again, okay?”

You laughed at his remark as Mark's arm came to wrap around your waist tightly, trying to whisk you away towards the front door. You stumbled over how fast he was trying to get your further away from Jaehyun, but still made an effort to reply to the other boy.

You whipped your head around to see him one last time before he would be one figure amongst hundreds. “No promises!”

He shook his head at you and pivoted on his heel. The figure of a boy with a dimpled grin being lost in the sea of people. You hoped you could see him around another time and considering everything you knew you would.

“Try not to flirt with my friends will you?” Mark spoke out as he maneuvered you around the countless bodies occupying the house. He tugged your arm over his shoulder to give him more support while you walked. 

You rolled your eyes at him and pouted. “I was not,” you burped. “Flirting.”

He snickered, peering over at you instantly. “Sure you weren’t.” He looked over the heads of people as he was nearing the front door, stopping in his tracks when you were a few feet away from leaving the house. 

“Anyways where’s Nicole? You came with her right? That’s what you told me because you didn’t want me to come pick you up to bring you to the party.”

You nodded your head, letting out a small yawn. “Mhm, but I lost her not even ten minutes into the party. She went off with one of your frat boys I am sure, I don’t know which one obviously and just left me to mingle.”

He sighed. “We won’t be seeing her for quite some time then.”

“Nope,” you spoke, popping the ‘p.’ “Not a chance.”

“Guess I’ll have to give you a ride then, not that I wasn’t going to but I didn’t want to leave you both alone just in case.” He spoke glancing around to see if by chance Nicole was around, having returned from her little fun escapade.

“Agreed,” you said, yawning once more and you snuggled into the crook of Mark's neck, letting your eyes shut close. Partying for who knows how long and drinking who knows how much alcohol made you exhausted beyond belief. 

“Why have a frat party on Thursday? Especially when most of us have classes the next day. I don’t get it,” you mumbled into his neck as he fondly glanced down at you. There was something endearing about you in that moment, regardless of being at a frat party with sweaty bodies and stomach-churning smells. He leaned forward to kiss the top of your head before adjusting his grip on you so he could get you both out the front door and into his car without any mishaps.

“It is called a frat party for a reason, angel. No day of the week stops us, not even school days.”

You let out a loud groan. “Just great for us, huh?”

He let out a laugh. “Mhm because you’ll definitely have a hangover tomorrow and won’t want to get out of bed, but yay classes. You’re a freshman too and it’s your first week so mind you that you can’t skip even if you wanted to.”

“Screw you.” You murmur elevating your head slightly to properly glare at him. Instead of a threatening look it was something he found cute. But at that same moment when you upheave your head from Mark's shoulder you caught a glimpse of him. You were sure it was him, you couldn’t forget his face even if you tried. He was leaning on a tree in the front yard, once more in the shadows. His right foot was planted on the stump, and in his right hand was an unlit cigarette. His free hand reached into his front pocket and he pulled out a silver lighter that caught glimpses of the moonlight, shining so prominently. When he lit his cigarette he took a long drag and then exhaled, gray smoke encompassing him in a gloomy cloud. He wasn’t checking anywhere but straight ahead to the murkiness of the road, the only light emitting from the lights of the house behind you, that casted a perfect glow across his face, if only he stepped out from the shadows so you could see him in all his enchanting glory. You thought he would turn to eye you, people always did when they felt someone staring, but he didn’t and you forced your head away when Mark called your name.

“Angel?” He asked, his tone curious. “You okay? You blank spaced for a few seconds there.”

You peep up at him to see the concern in his eyes.

You shook your head to get rid of the image that plagued your mind: an image of a boy you thought you wouldn’t see afresh.

“Yeah,” you peered over Mark’s shoulder to see if he was still there, but what you saw was a bare and lonely tree with no boy leaning against it. You were left in disappointment along with confusion for he was there moments ago but left once you turned your head away.

Weird.

Another shake of the head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just sleepy, sorry.” You sheepishly smiled up at him.

He chuckled, giving a kiss to your forehead. “Understandable so let's get you home.”

You rested your head on his shoulder once more, your eyes filled with both drowsiness and longing for a boy you didn’t know. Hope was all you had and it would be a driving force for you to see the bewildering boy for more than a fleeting second.

If only you knew he had caught you staring when he slipped away.

“You’re sober right?” You questioned when you both arrived at the location in which Mark had parked his black Audi Suv Q8. How he had the money for such a gorgeous car was a shocker, especially considering he was in college no less. Mark always did surprise you in more ways than one.

His grip on you loosened so he could fumble through his jean pocket to find his keys. He gave you an exasperated look when his keys jingled in his hand, clinking against one another.

“Angel, seriously? Of course I'm sober. You know I don't really like to drink anyways, especially at parties.”

You giggled at him. “Sorry, I forgot but I just wanted to make sure! You know my safety can be at risk.”

He brought you over to the side of the passenger’s seat as he unlocked the car, opening up the door to push you inside. He unwrapped his arm from around your waist and tugged your arm away from his neck, so you could sit comfortably in the leather cushion. As he reached over to click the seatbelt into place, he became undeniably close to you, his breath fanning your face.

“Angel you’re always safe with me, “ he drew back to get a good glimpse of your face. “Never forget that.” And when you thought he would give you a friendly kiss on the head like he did various times before, he raised his right hand and gave a small flick to your forehead instead.

“Agreed?”

You lurched back, shocked that he flicked you and he laughed at your wide eyes.

“You flicked me!”

His eyes roll in your sight and he leans back to stand up properly. “Yeah I flicked you, had to get you more sober somehow.”

Then he closes the door shut as he makes his way to the driver’s seat leaving your response unheard.

You grumbled underneath your breath and crossed your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t very nice.”

You turned away from him when he got in the car and clicked his seatbelt into place. He stuck the keys in the ignition and a rumbling was heard thereafter of the engine starting.

He called your name, reaching his right arm over to place his hand on your thigh. He patted the bare skin to get your attention. “Angel come on.” He was glancing between you and the empty road in front of him. “Don’t be mean now.”

You shifted your body, turning forward, his hand dropping from your thigh. He now placed both hands on the wheel, still awaiting to see if you would talk to him.

You sighed before letting out a small giggle and stuck out your tongue when you knew he wasn’t paying attention. “I would never.”

He whipped his head suddenly to make contact with you, your laughter still echoing in the car. “Did you just—”

“Hey! Eyes on the road dumbass!” You hollered and reached over to grab hold of the wheel when he had begun to slightly swerve into the left lane from looking at you for too long. He jerked suddenly when he heard your exclamation as he took over the wheel and steered the car back into the right lane.

He let out a sigh of relief, looking straight ahead, glad no cars were near him when the mishap occurred. He released his right hand off the steering wheel, brushing it through his luscious locks of hair before going back to gripping the wheel, his knuckles turning white from how hard his hold was.

You leaned back in your seat, snuggling into the warm leather. Your tone was mocking as you spoke your next words, “You’re so smart, Markie.” You stifled a laugh when he gave a roll of his eyes.

You knew he would reach over to softly punch you, only if he wasn’t afraid of possibly crashing once more.

“Shut up.”

Your laughter rang out and would flood the increasing silence for moments to come along with the pop music that blared from the car’s speakers, Mark’s attempt of drowning out your titters until you finally reached your destination.

You only lived a few minutes away from campus since you didn’t live in the dorms like other fellow freshmen, lucky enough that your parents had been willing to pay for your own place once you had gotten into university.

Mark had pulled up in the parking lot, turning the keys in the ignition to shut off his car. He released a subtle yawn, leaning back in his seat and turned his head to peer over at you.

Your eyes locked with his own, the contact between you lasting for what felt like instances too long. You could see the tenderness in his gaze and a small smile broke out on his face, one you could barely make out due to the darkness of the wee hours of the morning. You were sure it was past two. 

“Come on,” he reached over the center console and brushed his knuckle against your check, as your own lips uplifted into a lazy beam. “Let me walk you inside.”

You hummed in response and he retracted his hand to clutch onto the handle of the car door in order to get out. You waited for him to come to the other side so he could help you out the car and to the door of your apartment, since you intelligibly could not do it on your own, the drowsiness taking over.

He opened the door and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your eyelids feel heavy with sleep as you could barely keep them open, when his right arm wrapped around your waist to haul you up. You thought he would just help you to your door, allowing you to hold some of your own bodyweight, but he didn’t. When your feet were planted on the concrete, he latched one arm under your legs, the other still placed around your waist, permitting him to carry you bridal style. Your eyes fluttered open at the abrupt movements, but you just placed your head in the crook of his shoulder once more, finally allowing your eyes to close as he maneuvered your arm around his neck for further support.

He carried you all the way to your doorstep, knowing you had placed a spare key under the doormat when you first moved in.

He placed the key in the lock, turning it in place and pushed the door open with the front of his foot. The lights flickered on, detecting the motion and he trotted on to the end of the hall where the entrance of your bedroom was. He glanced at the stark neon numbers of your alarm clock, noting it was half past three in the morning. He shook his head and you moved in the process, letting out a small whine. He knew your class would be in a little more than four hours and he knew how much you would dread to get up in the morning.

He dropped you lightly on the bed, unraveling your limbs from around him. You turned in your bed, a groan leaving your lips.

He softly chuckled at you then proceeded to tug off your heels, deciding to leave you in the rest of your attire, even if a mini dress wasn’t ideal to sleep in. However, you would manage, especially considering you were too out of it to care.

He tugs the covers out from underneath you, evident of the sounds of protest emitting from your lips.

“I am just trying to tuck you in, you big baby,” he teases. “So stop moving.”

You weren’t fully passed out yet so you took heed to his words, stopping in your movements as you felt the snugness of the blankets engulf you. He made sure you were tucked in nicely before leaning over and placing a gentle peck on your forehead, in which he caught a glimpse of a smile.

“Good night, angel,” he whispered once he leaned back. He brought the covers up to your chin, giving your cheek a little tap with his index finger. “I love you.”

You hummed, tilting your head up to scrunch up your nose in the air as your eyes became closed crescent moons. “Love you too, Markie.” You let out a yawn and turned your head away to face the wall, snuggling deeper into your covers.

A smile was painted on his face as he pivoted on his heel to exit the room and ultimately your apartment in order to drive back to his frat house since he needed some sleep himself, considering you would rely on him in a few hours to make it out of bed for class.

He then stopped in his tracks before he was completely out the door. “I’ll come by in the morning…in a few hours and shoot you a text so you can get up on time. Class at 8am sharp, angel. Don’t forget.” 

His footsteps faded into the hall and you heard the front door slam shut moments after. While he didn’t think you were awake when he spoke his friendly reminder, you were, at least before you finally let sleep take you under. Yet, in those few hours, when Mark said he would swing by, he didn’t.

So there you were, jerking awake in raw sweat when you glanced at your alarm clock that indicated the time was ten past eight in the morning.

“Shit,” you said, bringing your hand up to rub at your temples to potentially soothe the pounding headache you had.

Trust Mark to let you down, though you knew there was a possible conflict. He never forgot things, there had to be a reason, but you wouldn’t let it worry you now when you were assuredly late for class.

You thought of skipping, but recalled the oh so fantastic reminder that you were still a freshman and your class attendance did matter, especially since it was the first week.

You scrambled to get out of bed, tripping over your two left feet as you made your way to the bathroom that was a few steps away from your room.

You rushed to brush your teeth and wash your face, the light makeup crusty beyond belief. You also made sure to pee, just like your usual morning routine. Then you rushed back into your room to swiftly change into a more comfortable outfit, something that wasn’t a short mini dress because no way were you going to be marching into lecture looking like you came straight from the club. You tugged on some black jeans and took the first hoodie you laid eyes on off the hanger before jumping into your socks and grabbing the first pair of Vans that lay by your shoe rack.

You reached for your cell phone on the bedside table along with your car keys, seeing the time was now 8:17am and assorted texts from your friends. The one that stood out most was Mark’s which was the most recent, but you had no time to check what he said, most likely noting he was apologizing for not coming over. You slipped your mobile into your back pocket and went down the hall. You made a fast stop to your kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge and reaching for the bottle of Advil in the cupboard, that you would undoubtedly need to down in order to get rid of your hangover, the headache pounding feeling louder by the second. You skidded over to the couch in your living room and grabbed your backpack off the cushion, hoping it had all the materials you would need for your classes today. 

After shutting the door to your apartment, making sure it was locked, and skipping down the stairs by twos, you reached the parking garage of your complex, nearly running to get to your sleek grey Toyota Corolla. You kick started your car and drove down the highway, speeding to the point you were sure you would get pulled over if a cop so happened to pass by. Although fate was on your side today because you made it to campus in nearly record time, right on the dot at 8:22am. You would get marked late and definitely scolded some more if you stepped through the door at 8:30am for a lecture, but you could make it if you sprinted across campus, which was what you were going to do.

Yet, running sometimes doesn’t work for you because when you turned the corner of the hallway where your morning class was located, you bumped into someone. 

“Ow,” you muttered under your breath. Their chest was rock solid and the impact hurt. Their hands came to rest on your forearms to steady you.

“Oh fuck. Are you okay?” they asked gruffly, concern patent in their tone and for some reason their voice was vaguely recognizable. 

“Ah yeah, I’m…” You trailed off, just about ready to see who you ran into, but in the corner of your eye, right before you could, you saw him, a glimpse of a figure with black bucket hat and oversized paint splatter tee. It could have just been anyone, yet you were sure it was him because you would notice those arcane and void eyes anywhere. His eyes barely glanced at his surroundings as he was walking and he had the effect to unintentionally stop your train of thought. You knew it was him, the boy from the frat party, the one that stunned you into silence, the one that made your heart beat rapidly, the one that called you baby, the one—

“Hey!” the person in front of you exclaimed, slightly shaking your arms. “Are you sure you’re good? You were out of it there for a second, princess.”

You shook your head to get your mind unclouded, noting the boy had faded into oblivion, yet again. You never quite had the timing right. Sometimes fate was on your side, other times not so much.

You turn your head, locking eyes with the deep brown of the boy who you bumped into, the same boy who had saved you yesterday. Just perfect. 

He has a gentle smile on his face, one that made you feel cozy and his dimples were showcased so prominently. 

“Well, if it isn't my favorite clumsy girl. We meet again and soon at that. Do I have to keep you from falling all the time?”

You giggle nervously when he quirks his brow, “Well?”

You stutter, looking behind your shoulder then back at his face. “U-Um...well...I-I…”

His boisterous laugh rings. “I’m just messing, princess. If anything I so happen to enjoy our little run-ins. Gives me an excuse to talk to you and have you fall into my arms,” he states with no shame, the smile widening. 

“Of course you’d say that.”

“Can’t help it princess, that was some kiss last night,” his smile transforms to a small smirk.

You hit his chest and he chortles at your action, his head leaning back. You whisper in response, “Shut up, someone might hear you.”

“My bad,” he manages to say in between his amusement.

You shake your head, but then your eyes go wide with realization that you needed to be in class, as in right now. 

“Shit,” you cursed, the fear seeping in your bones. You never had been late before. 

His laughter stops and his eyebrows wrinkle together. “You all right?”

You let out another high strung laugh, stepping back from him and to the other side of his body. His eyes follow your every move. “Oh yeah sorry. I’m fine…I just have to go,” you spoke and then dashed forward, leaving him behind in the dust along with the memory of the same mysterious boy from before Jaehyun stole your attention away. 

You were glad you made it right on time to class, well as late as you were. You footslog through the door at 8:30am, with each pair of eyes in the classroom looking at you for the tiniest nanosecond. You were glad your professor hadn’t called you out, too invested in his lesson that he didn’t spare you a single glance even if you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull as you made your way to your seat in the back of the room. Class droned on for two hours and you felt every ounce of willpower draining from your veins. You were sure you would collapse any second now and taking a few tablets of Advil added to your disoriented state of sleepiness. You still had another two classes after this one before you would be able to take a break for lunch and even then you had one more class before you were done for the day.

You were hoping it went by fast, but with your hangover still quite literally hanging around, and your lack of focus, you knew you were fucked.

Fucked is what you were until lunch time came around. 

You were sure everyone could catch on to the fact that you were hung over because simply put you looked like shit. You had your hoodie on, but it barely accomplished concealing your very visible red-rimmed eyes and droopy lids. You were basically dragging yourself over to your designated spot where Nicole, Mark, and you always met up for your breaks. You were glad your schedules overlapped to where you would be able to catch up with them before the other had to dash off to another class. Mark was busier since he was a year above, but he still tried to organize his schedule around your own because his classes were from the early morning to night at times. While you and Nicole usually had classes up till the midafternoon, allowing the rest of your day and night to be free.

When you reached the expanse of the indoor cafeteria, you struggled to find either one of your friends, desperately searching for a similar shade of brown and black amongst countless others.

Then you saw Mark pushing his way through the surrounding students, coming over to you and you caught sight of Nicole sitting at the table tucked into the corner of the dining room, tapping away at her cell phone screen, her tray of food discarded.

There was a smirk plastered on his face when he reached you and slung his arm over your shoulder. He whispered in your ear rather obnoxiously, “You look like shit.”

You pushed at his side to get him off of you from his crude remark, but to no avail for he brought his arm tighter around you so he could hug you to his chest. His laughter rang loud amongst the noise of the cafeteria, but you were sure it would have stood out like a sore thumb.

You mumbled into his chest, your cheek resting on his sky blue button up shirt, inhaling the scent of citrus and detergent. “I hate you.”

His laughter got even louder if that was possible. “You don’t, but whatever you say angel.” He released his grip on you, unraveling himself from your body, though his arm was still around your shoulder as you closed your eyes momentarily, leaning on him.

“Now let’s get you some food, hm?”

You nodded your head as he steered you through the crowd to get to the table. When your eyes opened you still saw Nicole typing away furiously on her mobile, but then she heaved a loud and long sigh, nearly slamming the cellular device down on the table in the process.

You walked around the table to sit next to her, Mark’s arm dropping from your shoulder as he excused himself to go pick up some food for both you and him.

You wrapped your own arm around her as she leaned her body into yours.

“What’s up?” you asked, rubbing your thumb over her clothed skin.

She sighed yet again and shook her head. “Nothing…it’s just a lot happened at that party after I left you alone…” She paused, peering up at the ceiling then down at her twiddling hands in her lap. “A lot and I don’t know…I don’t know.”

You nodded your head in acknowledgement, you had some idea what she meant, most likely referring to the boy she wandered off with at the start of the party, but you would wait for her to tell you what happened and she would when she felt like sharing. There was no point to pressure her.

“I get it, don’t worry Nicki. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”

She turned her head to smile up at you and raised her hand to boop your nose. “Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

You lazily smiled back at her. “Yeah I know.”

She let out a giggle and you were glad you achieved your goal to make her happy in that moment, but it was for a moment too short because the sound of a tray hitting the table echoed in the cafeteria courtesy of Mark Lee himself.

“Ah shit, sorry, sorry,” he muttered, his mouth turned down into a frown. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything between you two.” He rubbed the back of his neck before gently placing the next tray onto the table to lessen the noise.

You laughed as Nicole’s weight lifted off of you.

“You’re fine, Markie, don’t worry.” You smiled up to him and patted the seat next to you. “So what did you get me for lunch?”

He maneuvered around the table to sit next to you, sliding the trays over once he sat down.

He gave you a boyish grin, his star-filled eyes sparkling. “Your favorite.”

You peered down at the tray in front of you, with two styrofoam containers of various sizes and some napkins he had so graciously placed at the sides.

You quirked an eyebrow when you looked over at him, wondering what he meant, considering you loved most food and it was always hard to pick one favorite.

You opened the larger container to a sandwich cut perfectly into two triangles, the distinct turkey slices and cheddar cheese sticking out.

“You didn’t…”

His beam grew. “Yup! A turkey, apple, and cheddar sandwich, baby! I know you’ve been craving one too and since hangovers also suck ass it is perfect for lunch.”

He bumped his shoulder with yours. “With a side of fries of course.”

You giggled and bumped his shoulder right back, making sure to give his hand a squeeze that rested on his thigh.

“Thank you, Markie. You always do take care of me.”

He squeezed your hand right back before you let go to begin eating your food.

“Always.”

“Aw you guys are always so cute…I’m jealous,” a voice broke out, interrupting the intimate moment between you and Mark. 

Nicole had a pout on her face when you turned to look at her, making the both of you laugh.

“Laughing at my misfortune, sweet,” she mumbled with a roll of her eyes, but you could clearly see her trying to hold back a smile.

“Shut up, Nicki. You just wish you had a relationship like us,” Mark exclaimed with a smirk, throwing his arm around your shoulder, tugging you close to him amidst you trying to take a bite out of your sandwich.

You huffed and shook your shoulders to get the weight of his arm off of you in order to eat before your lunch break was over. “Trying to eat, mate.”

Nicole let out a loud, boisterous laugh as she stood up from the table, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. Her boots clicked against the tile as she took small steps to where the two of you sat. She patted Mark’s head, slightly ruffling his locks of black hair, in which he opposed and kissed the crown of your head, her flowery scent lingering when she stepped back.

“As much as I would love to continue this, my loves, I have to get to my next class early. I have to ask the professor some questions about an upcoming assignment.” She tugged on the straps of her backpack to hitch them higher, the sadness in her eyes transparent at her departure when her eyes glimpsed between you and Mark.

“Aw man,” you pouted. “See you later though! Make sure to text me too!”

She gave you a sly wink. “For sure!” She then smirked over at Mark. “Don’t worry I won’t forget to text you either.”

He gave a roll of his eyes but nodded his head nonetheless. “I am honored. Now go!”

“Okay, okay! I am going so bye bye loves.” She gave a little wave and pivoted on her heels, off towards her next class, but stopped in her tracks after a number of steps.

She moved her head to the right in order to glance at Mark from the corner of her eye. “Oh and Mark? Make sure our little party girl makes it to class in one piece.”

She whipped her head forward and continued walking, not sparing an ounce of extra time to see either one of your reactions. Although Mark besides you was trying his best to contain his laughter.

You punched his shoulder and pushed him thereafter, his body swaying right then left, his laughter ever increasing with no complaints of pain from your bold actions.

“You guys are so annoying,” you mustered, the aggressive sound of your chewing echoing in your ears and his own.

He patted your head, maneuvering his hands over to open his containers of food.

He shrugged his shoulders, picking up his fork to twirl the noodles around before stuffing his face with food. He chewed slowly contrary to your prior actions. He swallowed then spoke, “Yeah, but you still love us.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up a fry and pointing it at him. “Don’t give yourself too much credit there, bud.”

You took a bite when he gave you an exasperated look. “Whatever you say, angel, but you and I both know the truth.”

You ignored him and continued eating, food occupying your mind rather than the bullshit Mark pulled on you, though he did in fact call your bluff. You very much loved him and Nicole, no matter how much you joked about not loving them.

Amidst the quietness that surrounded you and Mark, the only sound of you both chewing every so often, until your ears perked up at a conversation from the tables near you, whispers of remarks. 

“They’re here.”

“Who?”

“The frat boys from NCT, who else? Legends on campus. Heartbreakers of the century. Know how to throw a good party. They are pretty smart too and literally all of them are handsome, it’s insane. A whole package if you ask me. Damn good genes.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the statements, contemplating how accurate they could be and if they really held the very weight conveyed.

Then a light bulb went off in your head—the boys from the NCT frat house, the very boys who threw the outrageous party you attended yesterday. They were here in the cafeteria and everyone was making a big ruckus out of their arrival. While they surely had a name for themselves, they couldn’t be that legendary or that gorgeous, but oh how you were so very wrong.

The diverse boys that walked into the cafeteria, their power exuding from their auras, instances after your claims, were so striking it left you breathless and in awe. 

What the fuck was up with all these college boys being so pretty? 

College was a whole different beast from high school, if the boys were any indication.

You were speculating the boys that stode in didn’t whole frat house, since more often than none frats had a lot of members and even more so that they would all be in different years with different classes throughout the day, not being lucky enough to have an identical period of break. Although, you knew it was possible if the right strings were pulled, but you just believed they weren’t capable of such doings for an odd reason you couldn’t point out. Regardless, the members that strode in surely spoke for the rest of them, indeed the good genes.

To your amazement they didn’t stop to grab food like other students would have if they entered the cafeteria, for the sole purpose of food and food alone. Instead they were on the search for someone, their eyes wandering over the heads of the entire student body that were captivated at their presence. They paid no mind to the apparent stares, set on who they were looking for, even disregarding the flirty winks or sultry gazes a number of girls were sending them.  

Surprising you, one of them managed to send a wink right back when he strided by, a boy with relatively long brown hair with blonde highlights and fierce eyes who looked like he came straight out of a Japanese anime.

You rolled your eyes at the boy’s actions and went back to eating the rest of your fries, having already finished your sandwich, as there was no reason for you to pay attention to them in the slightest. Your meal held more importance. Not to mention, you knew they wouldn't head your way, noting that they weren’t looking for you, rather someone else, a girl or a fellow frat boy if another was in the room.

Then you paused suddenly before you took the final bite out of your french fry. You were hit with an abrupt realization. Mark was in a frat—their frat and they could in fact be looking for him.

Your suspicions were confirmed when a very tall and lean boy, with tousled black hair pushed to the side, presumably leading the other boys that trailed behind him, began to head in the direction of where you sat with Mark, his eyes lighting up as he became closer.

Well shit.

Mark doesn’t look up, too immersed in savoring his meal and glancing at his electronic device from time to time that rested on the table.

You on the other hand, do look up, and your eyes are wide in fear the nearer the frat boys get to the table. You weren’t scared of them, no, you were scared of what could possibly happen once they stopped in front of the both of you.

The tall boy is inches away and when you lock eyes with him, all he does is give you a sly smirk.

Not good at all.

You harshly nudge your shoulder with Mark to capture his attention and he turns to you right after, placing his fork down to give you an annoyed look.

You don’t mutter a word, but rather jerk your head forward in the direction of where all the frat boys stood in their glory. Some with smirks plastered on their faces, soft smiles, or no countenance at all. You could make the distinction between the ones you should ignore and befriend. Not that it should matter, Mark wouldn’t allow it all because of what he dubbed his “best friend duty,” which wasn’t anywhere near practical.

Mark’s eyebrows wrinkle and his lips pucker when he moves his head up to see what—or who you were trying to inform him of.

“Oh,” he lets out, barely audible to anyone that wasn’t close to him.

His facial features suddenly relax and the biggest grin slips onto his face. “Hey guys, what’s up?” He questions energetically, picking up the stray napkin to wipe his fingers clean and pocketing his cell after as he awaits a response.

The tall boy moves first, grabbing an empty chair and taking a seat, flicking his hand up in the air to serve as a signal for the other boys, the meaning it held to you, unknown. They disperse in seconds, swiftly walking to the exit of the cafeteria and only one boy, the one that winked at the girl earlier, stays, him too grabbing the chair next to the tall boy in order to sit down.

The tall boy’s smile is too sweet, too kind, and too secretive as he glances between you and Mark when he answers. “Just came to tell you that we set the date for the next NCT frat party.” He leans back in his seat with his arms crossed.

Mark snickers, peering at you in his peripheral vision. You were still shaken at their arrival, but put up a composed front, placing your hands under your thighs and trying to stop the shaking of your right leg. Mark reached his left hand out and put it on the top of your thigh, slightly giving the clothed skin a squeeze, an act of reassurance.

“And this news couldn’t wait till I got back home?”

The grin on the tall boy's face morphs into a thin line, his eyes becoming serious, no longer filled with mirth that was present before. His voice is stern when he speaks. “No, it couldn’t.” He unravels his arms, placing his forearms on the table while he leans his body forward with his piercing gaze directed at Mark. “It couldn’t, especially when you missed our chapter for the week.”  His gaze got icier if it was even possible. “I am sure you know how important they are.”

Mark gulps, moving his eyes away to look down at the table. He doesn’t respond, opting for unnerving silence, with regards to the chatter of the students around that gives you goosebumps all over.

The unnamed boy that was quiet throughout the duration of the talk between the tall boy and Mark lets out an unexpected guffaw that fills the void. He was slouching in his chair, picking at his nails, but straightens his posture to clap a hand on Mark’s shoulder over the table. He gives Mark a small push, his loud voice echoing. “Relax there Markie boy.” He stifles his laughter at the way Mark’s eyes widen and his nose scrunches at the nickname. He leans back, pulling an object out of his back pocket of his black ripped skinny jeans—a lighter and he twiddles with it between his fingers.

The taller boy too chuckles loudly, leaning back, his arms crossed once more. “Exactly. No need to look so scared Mark. I was joking.” A teasing grin rests upon his lips, his eyes twinkling in contrast to the dullness that once made him look empty. He mutters under his breath, “Partially at least.”

The tall boy puffs out a breath of air in-between his lips, looking over at his companion who turns his head. He smirks first, the laughter bubbling up while the latter joins in with the inside joke, shaking his head, disregarding how Mark and you were still in their vicinity.

They both turn their heads forward, the chuckles dying down. Your eyebrows are furrowed, confusion unmistakable in your eyes and Mark’s expression remains neutral, with a hint of annoyance in his starless eyes.

An easy smile rests on the taller boy’s face when he clears his throat to speak. “Anyways as I was saying, another frat party. It will be in two weeks, on a Friday like we usually do.” He pauses then reaches over to pick up a stray fry off your tray, chewing slowly to savor the taste before he continues. His eyes glinted mischief when they flitted over to look at you for a split second. You were going to protest at him stealing your food, but decided against it, too worried about the outcome, even if you knew the only thing he would do was tease you. That is how most frat boys worked anyways and he wouldn’t be any different, if his actions weren’t enough of an indication. “I will let you know the exact details, but invite whoever you want as we get closer to the date. You know the drill for these…yada yada.” He flicks his hand in the air. “But keep in mind we want it more exclusive this time. There were way too many people for our back to school party yesterday. Way too many.” He rolls his eyes. “We get it, we are the fraternity, but people still show up uninvited and fuck up our house with their shitfaced actions.”

Mark hums in agreement, nodding his head. “Okay yeah got it.”

He sternly replies, “Good, we had enough of seeing way too much vomit.” He visibly shudders and your face contorts to a disgusted expression. You understood where they were coming from and you knew you didn’t want your own house to be filled with a repellent smell.

The discussion ceased after his statement and you thought that was it, that he was done with what he came to the cafeteria for, which was to audibly inform Mark about some frat business. Yet you were in the wrong, because he didn’t get out of his seat and stand up to leave like you believed him to do, no, he stayed rooted to his spot and so did his friend.

He suddenly addresses you, the cheekiness in his gaze and tone, displeasing you. He was hot, yes, but you had enough with the absentminded flirting for one night, even if it was hours later.

Alcohol leaving your system sure did marvels.

He leans forward one more, his head tilted to the side while he quirks up a brow to look you dead in the eyes. “Will you be there, gorgeous?”

You had to stop yourself from giving an eye roll when he asked you the question and his implication of a compliment. You gave him a tight lipped smile, your eyes refusing to meet his own as you opted to look at his forehead discreetly.

You were going to respond until Mark beat you to an answer, the firmness crystal clear in his tone.

“Don’t flirt with her, Johnny,” he warned, directing another annoyed gaze at the tall boy who you now had a name to attach to his face.

Johnny leans back, throwing his arm over the occupied chair to his left and snickers. “Okay lover boy.”

Mark groans, just about as done as you were with Johnny’s ever prominent teasing. He never seemed to stop and you were curious as to how Mark could keep up with him. He did spend most of his time with the boys in his frat and Johnny was one of many who could surely have his fair share of annoying moments.

“Also,” Johnny pipes up, his eyes trailing over at the girl that passes by him, before he diverts his attention to the two of you. “Taeyong is looking for you.”

Mark’s eyebrows come together in confusion and your interest is spiked at the mention of an unknown person. Something stirs within you, an emotion of familiarity as if you had ever met someone with the same name, when you were sure you hadn’t. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it as if they were the answer to a long awaited question.

“Taeyong? Why?”

Johnny lets his arm drop from around the chair and shrugs his shoulders, picking at a loose strand on his washed out ripped jeans. “I don’t know, something about a project? I can’t remember all the details.”

“Oh shit,” Mark swears under his breath as everyone looks over at him, including you. “Right.” He shakes his head, mumbling words to himself as his actions draw attention. He could feel the eyes on him and when he looked up, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck in a bashful manner and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry.”

Johnny chuckles. “Anyways Yuta and I need to get going.” He bumps his shoulder with Yuta to capture his attention. You now had another name to a face and you knew you would surely remember them both, it was hard to forget any frat boy. Johnny and Yuta both stand up, the latter putting the lighter in his back pocket as their bodies are turned to leave.

“I’ll see you at the house later,” Johnny states, nodding his head at Mark who returns the gesture. His eyes then flit to look down at you, an easy beam resting on his face. “As for you, I’ll catch you around, gorgeous.” He winks at you then turns, sauntering away to the exit of the cafeteria with Yuta sluggishly trailing behind him. Amidst his departure he raises a hand up and yells, “Bye Markie boy.” Both his and Johnny’s laughter echo in the hall until it fades out into nothingness.

Mark heaves a sigh, “Sometimes I can’t stand them.” He regards you with a displeased look and you have to hold back your giggles from his predicament.

“Of course you would want to laugh right, but angel I have to get going,” Mark exclaims, sadness in his gaze. “I’d hate to leave you here on your own, but understand I totally forgot about it. I really have to go, I can’t hold this...project back forever.”

You beam warmly at him, reaching over to pat his hand and give it a squeeze. “It’s fine Markie, don’t worry about it. Go.” You push his shoulder to get him on the move, allowing him to let out a laugh.

He scrambles to collect his trash onto the tray and swings the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, double checking that his cell phone is in his back pocket. Once he stands up and pushes his chair in with his hip, he leans down to give a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay, bye angel. I’ll see you soon.” He grins and you nod your head at him, muttering your own, “Okay.”

He then quickly treads away, evaporating into the mess of students. Gone in a second.

He truly was in a rush and you couldn’t help but ponder why that was. The project must have been of uttermost importance for him to dash out so speedily. You wondered if there was something more, or maybe you were thinking too much into things, especially regarding a boy who wore his heart on his sleeve ever since you met him. Even so you were curious about the one he was meeting.

Who the hell was Taeyong?

You sigh. There was no room for pondering when it surely didn’t matter and sitting at the now deserted table, you realized you were left alone like you were at the very start.

Left in solitude and utter loneliness, but you soon wouldn’t be for time could tell.

Time worked faster than you realized, as you spent the next two weeks anxious and nervous beyond belief, for a party you knew could potentially give you the responses you so desperately sought.

In the deepest part of your soul you hoped you would see him there, the boy that captivated you without even trying. You needed to figure who he really was and who he could be. You couldn’t be disappointed and when Friday rolls around after long anticipation, you would find out if fate was on your side.

Leading up to the party, your last two weeks were mostly productive to say the least. In between classes, coursework, and your small part time job at a nearby diner along with making time to hang out with your best friends, everything went by in a blur.

Before you knew it, Nicole had come knocking on your door hours before the party, intent on making you look as stunning as you always did, while you would return the favor.

She seemed to have gotten over her so-called slump from the week prior, yet she still didn’t share the cause of her being upset or out of it, though you did have a hunch it still had to do with the boy she escaped with, someone who most likely had captured her heart when she thought no one could ever. If they were to see each other anew you desired that everything would be satisfactory, that everything would go well for Nicole more than anything, because while she put up a tough front, she was more fragile on the inside than what anyone ever gave her credit for.

Seems like fate would have to give her a chance too.

Driving to the frat house, earlier than fashionably late all due to not wanting to kill your feet once again, nerves got to you. Nicole even had to call you out for it, like she seemed to always do when she knew you weren’t calm. She kept you in check.

She even held your arm as you were making your way up to the front door, the recollection from that night hitting you like a splash of cold water in the face during a hot day.

“You good?” She questioned once she let you sit down on the black stool by the kitchen counter, the same place you were the last time you visited the house.

“Mhm, I’m good.” You rested your arms on the cool surface and put your head down, a groan escaping your lips.

She poked your shoulder. “Sure you are babe. What’s up?” She pulled the empty stool out next to you to sit down, awaiting a response.

You didn’t haul your head up, opting to mumble the words that she wouldn’t be able to make out. “Nothing, but everything.” You paused and hoisted your head up, choosing not to antagonize her. She peered at you with expectant eyes that were still tender, one eyebrow lifted in waiting. You rested your head on your knuckles, looking down at the counter instead of into her eyes. You spoke so quietly, she had to lean in closer to make out your words with the loud sounds that surrounded you both.

“It’s just I saw this boy here the other night and I was maybe…I don’t know…hoping—”

She cut you off. “Hoping to see him again?”

You nodded your head, lifting your eyes up. “Yeah, just maybe.”

She sighed loudly. “Listen love, boys in college they’re…” She paused, puffing out air in between her nude colored lips. “They are exactly like the ones we met during high school. They aren’t all too different because they aren’t innocent, caring, or mature in the slightest. No, they aren’t no matter how much their façade proves otherwise. They hold more secrets then necessary and those are the ones that keep them alive. They get a thrill out of being mysterious, untouchable, since they know how much they are desired, especially these frat boys.”

She taps a finger above your heart. “So you have to be careful, love. You have to shield your heart even if you want to open it up to the first guy that enchants you. Don’t do it. Resist because they bring more trouble than what you bargained for. Not everyone is what, who, they seem and I am saying this as a warning, a reminder for you to heed to. I don’t want to see you hurt so please be careful.”

She grasps your empty hand that rests on your thigh, giving you a small squeeze. Her eyes are somber and you can see the twinge of hurt that lingers when you make contact with her. The tone she had was too relatable for her not to be speaking out of her own experiences. Something must have happened and not for the better like you wished.

You drop your hand from holding the weight of your head and put it on top of hers. “Nicki…what happened?”

You tilt your head when she looks away.

“I guess I am not as tough as I seem,” she murmurs.

You shake your enclosed hands to make her turn back. “Hey,” you say when her broken eyes look at you. “You are the strongest person I know and just because you weren’t immune to someone else’s charms doesn’t belittle that. Nicki we all make mistakes and we all hurt at one time or another so it’s okay. You have to be aware that it is okay to be human.”

She nods her head, giving you a light smile. “I suppose you’re right. I am not weak for feeling. I am strong for it.”

“Damn right you are. You’re a bad bitch, remember?”

She chuckles loud and direct, shaking her head at your words. “Indeed I am. We are bad bitches together.”

She slips her hand out from where she was holding yours and raises her pinky.

“Forever?”

You latch your pinky around her own, smiling at her so bright, that she can’t help but let her grin widen. Her eyes now contain a hint of happiness when you shake your pinkies. “Forever.”

You both sit there, smiling at each other, the youthfulness in your gazes and you feel impenetrable. The world could build you up and break you down, but you’d still be left standing no matter how much you endured. After all, you both were bad bitches together, forever.

“Okay,” Nicole laughs, unlatching her pinky from yours. “I think that is enough sappiness for tonight. I mean we came to party right?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Great!” She yells, the music from the next room escalating in sound. “Let me get us some drinks.” She stands up, the creak of her bar stool vibrating. “You’ll be okay on your own while I go to the bar right?”

You nod your head, giving her a smile of reassurance. “Yes I’ll be fine, just don’t be gone too long.”

“I won’t! Be right back!” Then she vanishes from sight, being lost in the scatters of students.

Your knee moves up and down, the nerves coursing through your body. You didn’t want to worry her that you wouldn’t necessarily be okay on your own. You were scared of encountering Jeno, Jaehyun or the other two frat boys that you had met. The awkwardness that would surely ensure, you weren’t ready to face. You could only rely on Nicole to be fast when getting the drinks so you wouldn’t be left alone, unguarded for too long. Yet you knew she always did speak words of truth.

You suppose you were partially lucky and partially not for a few minutes went by and Nicole hadn’t returned, but on the other hand no one dared to look in your direction or spark up a conversation for some peculiar reason. You were left untouched contrary to how the other night went.

In your wait nothing of the sort happened, and you were bored, just glancing around the room and at the bright lit screen of your mobile. You just wanted to be buzzed so you could go dance and forge the thoughts that lingered in your mind. Somber when dancing never was a good fit, more so at a party.

But then you caught sight of someone who had faded out of your mind once you stepped foot into the house. It had to be him…it had to be and your suspicions were confirmed as he became closer to you. The same pitch black hair and hooded eyes that you knew by now after seeing him in passing a variety of times.

He was wearing a short sleeve silk button up shirt adorned with a circular pattern of purple, white, and green that had few top buttons undone to allow his white, creamy skin to be seen. He had paired it with black cargo pants, two dangling silver wallet chains looped to the belt and low cut, white Converse that appeared to be customized in the dim light. The silver necklace and bracelet sparkled when he moved, once more his presence stunned you.

You couldn’t let this moment go unscathed because you had to know something about him, anything rather than admiring from afar. The wants of your heart rather than mind served as a driving force once you stood up from your seat and followed after him before he disappeared like the many times before. His bright colored shirt served as an indicator in the crowd, his steps taken leisurely while yours were taken in a rush to ensure you didn’t lose him. You didn’t know where he was headed, hands tucked into his front pockets as if he didn’t want to be there, but you soon did. He took a sharp right heading in route to one of the side doors in the house, ready to exit to the back.

It wasn’t supposed to be chilly that night, but when you stepped into the backyard, chills erupted on your skin and you rubbed your arms to stop yourself from shivering.

You had never seen the backyard before, only ever been secluded to the first floor of the house, yet it was as equally beautiful as the rest of it. There was an expanse of a pool, leveled from the ground of where you stood that was illuminating with stark blue, casting glows among the rest of the yard with the candles that were placed at the sides and the other bright LED lights. You proceeded out to where the patio area was, a few chairs scattered about and a large glass table in the middle. There was another seating area to your left with high bar stools and marble counters lined along the edges leading up to a small outside kitchen with a television screen plastered on the tile. To your right was a fire pit and a few lawn chairs surrounded the area. In front of you, before one would take the stairs up to the pool, was an empty tiled area with a basketball hoop pushed to the side, a place you supposed they interchanged to fit their activities depending on the day.

Besides being mind-blown at the beauty, you were more shocked that no one was outside. It was unnervingly silent give or take the tweets of the birds and hoots of the owls along with the inside pounding of the music, which faded from penetrating through the walls completely.

“You aren’t supposed to be out here, you know.” He spoke in his light and sweet, slightly raspy voice, that directly contrasted his outside demeanor.

You didn’t know how he had sensed someone followed him outside and you probably knew you weren’t all too discreet, but you took a small group of steps to reach him, where his back still remained in your vision. You were embarrassed that he found out so quickly, though you still had to have some ounce of dignity, some ounce of unwavering confidence.

You gulped before speaking, making sure your next words were the right ones. “How do you know I’m not supposed to be?”

He turned his head to look over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through your soul. He hitched up a perfectly arched brow, “You aren’t a frat boy are you?”

You were taken aback and shook your head rapidly, stuttering out a response. “N-No…”

He moved his head forward, disregarding you and snickered. “Didn’t think so. The top levels and the backyard are off limits unless you’re part of the frat.”

That made sense as to why no one was out here, but why didn’t they lock the doors? Did they trust no one would come out here? Even when drunk? 

The functions of the NCT frat house dazed you, never truly knowing how everything worked.

You took more careful steps until you reached him, your shoulder a few inches away from his own, the both of you looking forward. You briefly glanced at him, at the side of his face when you asked your next question. “Then why are you out here?”

He chuckles lowly and moves slightly, his gaze is one that mocks, but there was some mirth that twinkled.

You look down at the floor in recognition. “O-Oh…”

He was part of the frat, of course he was. Another gorgeous boy amongst others. He would be permitted outside and at all parties without any invitation. He could dissipate and reappear as he pleased, although it still threw you off. He didn’t truly seem like the person to commit to something, being all too free-spirited and not open to take orders. However, he still was very much in frat and you meditated on what type of position he held, if he had more authority than what he was letting on.

He spins on his heels, refusing to indulge further in a conversation. His hands are still placed in his front pocket as he strides by, not bearing to glimpse at you in his departure. “Next time don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms.”

You stand unmoving, considering his words and the underlying meaning, maybe there would be a next time, although the sensibility comes back once you take note that he is leaving once more. 

“Wait!” You yell, partially taking large strides to catch up to him in your pumps as he stands still, indeed waiting for you. You reach him, deciding against touching his shoulder for fear of the untold. “What’s your name?”

You had to know the name of the handsome boy to settle some part of your heart.

He looks at you this time, really looks at you, as your gazes are interlocked. “You’ll have to earn it, sweetheart.” He reaches his hand out to touch your chin, his soft touch making your eyelids flutter close. He slightly jerks you forward, your eyes opening as his breath fans over your lips. “Not many have the privilege of having my name come out their mouth.” He drops his hand, stepping back to truly depart.

You stay rooted to your spot. He called you another nickname, the butterflies fluttering in your chest at the sound of it escaping his lips. He truly did have an unwanted effect no matter how much you could refuse to acknowledge it.

Before his hand touches the silver handle of the door to go back inside, you call out to him once more.

“Will I at least see you around?” You were hopeful that you would and could.

“Who knows? You’ll just have to wait and see.” He replies ominously and then he grabs the handle, turning it downward to open the door while he steps inside. The door closes on his bright figure as you are left in the backyard by yourself, left with more hope than you had in a long time.

Yes, he was imitating and impersonal , even so he made you coxy all over. You wanted to see him again, you wanted something more. You yearned for it, and standing there observing the closed door, for nothing at all, you had to figure how you could achieve it, that is until you recalled who you were waiting for previously until he had swept your attention away—Nicole.

She had probably already arrived back at the kitchen, losing her head over where you ran off to without any warning. She did have a big imagination, thinking of the worse, nevertheless she could be practical as well, though in this situation at a party, with strange people, the latter wouldn’t sit quite right.

You rushed forward, opening the door with the bang and got lost in the bodies around you. You pushed through with hurried steps, not bothering to apologize as they would either be too drunk to realize or didn’t care after being crushed up against others.

You were finally able to reach the kitchen after much effort, staggering your way forward at the sight of Nicole’s gold satin A-line dress.

She saw you first and the relief that came across her face made you feel guilty for going off on your own.

“Oh thank goodness,” she said, wrapping her hands around your body in order to give you a hug. You wrapped your own hands around her waist to return the gesture. She sighed and let her hands drop, holding you at arm’s length when she moved back.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I hope I wasn’t gone too long,” you uttered, twiddling with your fingers.

She pats your arm. “I know you didn’t, still wouldn’t stop me. You were only gone for a few minutes when I got back, which isn’t all too bad.”

You hummed, glad everything worked out, that is until she asked the dreaded question.

“Where were you though?” She added with a pointed gaze, her worry and frustration having already faded, only curiosity lingered. “You know you aren’t supposed to go running off anyways.”

“Ah sorry, sorry. I thought I saw Mark, but when I went after him…well it wasn’t Mark.” You let out a nervous giggle, stepping away to sit down on the chair while she remained standing.

Her eyes zoned in on your face before she gave you a once over to see if anything had changed with your appearance. “Mhm…okay. I reckon that makes sense.”

She was suspicious, yet she didn’t push and you didn’t know what you would have done if she had.

If only she would have known who you were with, someone she indirectly warned against and someone you would see many more times thereafter against your control or hers.

You didn’t think it would be so soon when you saw him again, a few days after the party.

You spotted him on your way to class right after your lunch break. He was sporting a baby blue hoodie with words you couldn’t make out scribbled across the chest, light washed ripped skinny jeans, a blue cap with the words Supreme etched out in white on a red background, and Balenciaga black and white speed sneakers. He had a black leather backpack swung over one shoulder and airpods in his ears.

You had to do a double take when you saw him before you because his outfit was contrary to his natural esoteric aura. You didn’t think he could look so innocent and pure in baby blue.

You didn’t think twice before you jogged forward to meet him, surely not debating possible consequences right then and there.

“Um…hey,” you voiced as you stood side by side with him, walking to wherever he was headed to, when you knew it was the exact opposite of where you were meant to go, however it didn’t matter. They always say the heart wants what it wants.

He took his right airpod out, putting it in the case that dangled from his belt loop. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect him to be so straightforward and shameless. You were still touched that he remembered you, even if his tone seemed the opposite of welcoming.

“Uh…um…I…” you started, not sure what to say or even ask. You didn’t expect to get this far.

He abruptly stopped, turning his whole body to face you. “Well?” He fixes his hat, hoisting it up slightly to peer at you for a split second, his eyes covered by his jet back, long strands of hair, making it difficult to make direct eye contact. “Get on with it.”

You shook your head, rocking back and forth on the heels of your sneakers. “Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you um…” You paused, peeking at him then at the gray concrete, racking your brain for something, anything. “Wanted to get coffee sometime?”

Some instances passed, no word mentioned by him and you knew that the silence meant you weren’t going to be so lucky. He rejected you—your offer and you had to live with that, your not so discreet attempt at scoring a date.

Until he thunderstrucks you.

He tilts his head and shrugs his shoulders, answering with a firm, “Sure.”

You were positive you hadn’t heard him right. There was no way he agreed to get coffee. You knew you had set yourself for rejection, nonetheless he proved you wrong. Somewhere deep down maybe you had a chance.

“Oh…um…okay then. Should I get your number then?” You couldn’t see his eyes, despite that you knew the intensity they held, some sort of judgment at your boldness. You stuttered, “Y-You know s-o we can s-set a t-time and p-place.”

He shook his head, taking his airpod out of the case and placing it in his ear again. He leaned forward, his face inches away from yours and whispered in your ear, “No, you have to earn that too, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter at the proximity and his special nickname that he now began to use. You worry that he can hear the loud pounding of your heart from how near he was.

He backs away and strides forward, not before stating an answer to your unsaid question. “Meet me at the café on Second Street and Thorn at 2:30pm sharp, this Friday. It’s the only chance you get, sweetheart so take it or leave it.”

Then he’s off, leaving you to comprehend what fully happened in a few short minutes. He agreed to coffee and set a date so rapidly, the thought of not having his number leaving your mind. You were finally one step closer to discovering who he truly was and it took a small leap, one he returned in his own way.

You were giddy when you spun in the other direction to get to your last class for the day, nearly skipping on your way there and your happiness would continue till the end of the week, when the desirable day arrived.

In fact, Mark and Nicole noticed your more than cheerful mood, glad that not everything in your life wasn’t as shitty as they perceived it to be because college was more often than none dreadful at times with constant work, some of which were surely questionable. Yet they didn’t complain because your happiness meant theirs too, even if they didn’t know the cause and you hoped you could keep it that way. You weren’t prepared to see the outcomes if they found out it was a he, Mark’s very own frat brother that was to blame for the shift in your mood.

Friday came around in record’s time and when you exited your third class for the day, on your way to the designated café during your lunch break, you weren’t all that tense. Sure, you pondered on what would happen and if he would leave you hanging as you strolled through the doors, nonetheless you could be with him and it was all that mattered.

He didn’t set you up for devastation once the bell above the café doors rung because as soon as you got through the entrance you saw him huddled up at the table in the corner of the room. His head was down as he was scrolling through his cell phone absentmindedly, his bright red high top Converse contrasting the black and white tiled floor. He had on a classic black leather jacket that was thrown over a red, blue, and white checkered flannel with a white GUESS t-shirt underneath, which wasn’t tucked into his loose blue jeans.

A style he pulled off so effortlessly.

He peered up when you were heading his way and pocketed his cell phone in his jeans.

“Hey,” you commented, sliding into the wooden chair opposite of him.

He nodded his head, not selecting to give a verbal response of greeting. “I assume you haven’t eaten lunch yet. We can get you something to eat and a coffee too if you want. Though I am not sure if you want to drink that in the middle of the day.”

“Um…yeah, sure. It’s my lunch break right now so I haven’t eaten anything.”

“Good,” he stated and pushed his chair back to stand up, not waiting for you as he strolled to the front counter. He was quick on his feet and seemed to be one to leave people in the dust.

His eyes were flitting left and right to inspect the menu. He didn’t spare you a regard when you were shoulder to shoulder.

“What do you want?”

You squinted at the menu looking at the drinks section and at the food they offered. They had a wide selection, very beneficial for a café and your hunger that needed to be sufficed.

“Uh…a small iced coffee with a caramel swirl and almond milk. Light on the ice and a California club croissant sandwich, no tomatoes please,” you recite to the cashier when they appeared after he asked the question. They nodded their head, typing your order into the screen, then their eyes peered expectedly at the boy next to you.

“A medium iced golden ginger and club sandwich.”

“Okay!” The cashier enthusiastically noted, their fingers typing away. “Your total will come out to $21.77. Cash or credit?”

You scrabbled to take your cell phone out your back pocket, seeing the opportunity to pay first, since you technically invited him out, he only accepted your invitation.

Just when you were able to raise your device to the scanner, he placed his platinum credit card on the counter, sliding it over to the cashier.

“I’ll pay,” he announced as the cashier swiped his card and handed it back to him moments after. You nodded your head slowly, putting your phone back in your pocket, and slightly slouching your shoulders in defeat.

“Here’s your receipt,” the cashier declared, holding out the white gloss paper over to your companion. He took it swiftly from their grasp and crumbled the paper into his front pocket.

“We’ll have your order out momentarily,” they smiled sweetly before turning away to prepare your drinks and food.

He walked away from the counter and back to the spot hidden away from view. You both sat down and he propped his leg on the empty chair next to you.

“So…” you trailed, clasping your hands together on the wooden table. You focused on him and he stared right back, the zeal so very hard to bear. “What’s your major?”

“Neuroscience.”

The shock surely mirrored in your face. 

He was a science major? 

Anything in relation to science would be at the bottom of the list for a career he would pursue, you would think, because he appeared to be anything but. Despite your assumptions, he indubitably had surprises up his sleeve.

“W-What? You major in biological and biomedical science?”

“Yes,” he leans forward with a tilt of his head, placing his own hands on the table. “Let me fathom, I don’t seem like a science major?”

You shake your head. “Y-Yes…No…I mean I truthfully thought you were an art major, specifically in fashion design or something of the alike.”

He presses on, “Why is that?”

“Well…I don’t know. A hunch I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, not knowing what you were truly getting at. “You just strike me as a very creative person with a great sense of style. You even wore something customized the other day. I am sure you did that yourself.”

He leans back, crossing his arms in his chair. “You aren’t wrong. I like art, but more as a hobby and I happen to have natural fashion taste. Customizing clothes and shoes is just a pastime.”

You nod your head slowly. Not everything is as it seems. “Oh…well, it still holds true in some regard.”

“Indeed,” he murmurs.

You both get interrupted at the arrival of your food and drinks. The young girl serves the plates and drinks, a kind beam etched onto her face. Her gaze lingers too long on him when she asks if anything else is needed before she trudges away and he would be a fool not to notice. He disregards it, however, opting to ignore. You wished you could remain as neutral as he was, still the green, ugly monster couldn’t help but claw in your being.

While you were going to continue to ask him questions to get to know him better, you decided against it. Maybe after you finished your meal so you ate in silence, the occasional slurp and chewing sounds filling the quietness, regardless of those that came and went into the café.

He wipes his mouth clean with his spare napkin once he finishes eating, crumbling it up in a ball when he’s done. “Your major, what is it?”

You look up, in the midst of sipping the last droplets of your iced coffee and give him a small smile. “I’m a psychology major.”

“Ah,” he says, pushing his plate forward to the center of the table.

You thought he would add on, but he doesn’t and you decide to further the conversation.

“I know you already told me a hobby of yours, any more you have though?”

“I compose music,” he shrugs, raising his arms in the air to stretch. “I cook too.” His arms lower and he rests them on the empty chair to his right. You knew he wouldn’t ask you about your own hobbies as he seemed to like being on the receiving end and didn’t seem all too interested in you, when you wanted to know everything in contrast.

You decide to speak up for yourself, to permit him to know some things about you too. “Well I like to bake and I do some graphic design on the side.”

He nods his head for the unkempt time that day. You wished he would talk more than use actions. His voice was all more soothing to listen to.

“How about—”

You are cut off by a ding sounding from his cell as he checks the screen that illuminates with a notification. He stands up abruptly, his cell phone held tightly in his grasp.

“I have to go. I’ll see you around…” He pauses peering down at your furrowed brows. “We should do this again sometime.”

Did he say that correctly?

You were sure this “date” was more boring rather than entertaining.

Your eyes furrow even more as you’re amazed at his open admittance to another so-called gathering between the two of you. You were going to ask yourself, but he beat you to it.

“Sure,” you replied with a kind smile. “I’d like that.”

His head movement is slight and you notice his agreeance. He steps away from the table and your hand reaches out to catch onto the cool leather of his jacket before you can stop yourself.

He eyeballs you expectantly, wondering why you had stopped him.

“Does that mean I can get your number?” you question with a tilt of your head.

He chuckles lowly at your shamelessness. “I suppose you earned it, sweetheart.”

He takes his cell phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you in order to put in all your contact information while you take out your own device from your pocket to give to him. You take his cell from his grasp and type away your first name along with your phone number. Once the electronics are returned to their respectful owners, you glance down at the name he put into his phone, holding onto the fact that it could very much be his real name, except it wasn’t. He had named himself “NCT 1,” and you had to roll your eyes from the name of choice.

You slightly giggle and you can see the ghost of a smile on his face when he went his way towards the exit. The bell dings when he’s gone and as you look at his retreating figure in the huge glass window, a smile twitches on your face, one so very wide.

Your little lunch “date” went better than expected and it was one of many for more to come, serving as the much needed catalyst. Over the next couple of weeks, you would text with the boy whose name wasn’t disclosed and bask in his presence over the semi-dates you had with each other, ranging from ones at the same café for lunch or ones late at night in the library. They varied and whenever you met up, there was a sparkle in your eyes and a lightness in your chest. You were able to get to know him more and more, to truly understand him, to get to see what laid beyond the surface of his façade. He was more than what meets the eye, even if he seemed to deflect his fair share of personal information, you still had gotten closer. He wouldn’t have asked to meet up so often if you hadn’t liked the company and you wouldn’t have agreed if you thought he was a waste of time.

The only aspect that was frustrating was his refusal to share his name or even give a hint at what it could be. He would deflect, saying it didn’t matter and all that did was the moments with each other, yet his reassurance did little to suppress your ever growing curiosity. However, he had eventually cracked at your most recent study date.

“It’s Lee…Lee Taeyong,” he proclaimed randomly when you were scribbling down notes and he was reading a passage for his assigned reading in the dim corner of the library at nearly ten past eleven at night. The sound of the tick-tock filling the void of silence.

“Huh?” you asked, placing your pen down on the table and glancing up at him, head tilted, forehead wrinkled.

“My name,” he cleared his throat, locking eyes with you. “My name is Lee Taeyong.”

You had gotten a name that night to attach to the gorgeous boy you now knew more than ever about and his name was as equally captivating as himself.

Although contrary to your meetups, you rarely saw him around campus and if you did so happen to see him, he always seemed to be with a fellow frat brother, refusing to acknowledge you if you looked his way. It was odd in contrast to how he acted when you two were alone, and somehow you understood where he was coming from. You wouldn’t want to be caught either with him. Too many questions to deal with after, too much judgment and disappointment.

Despite that fear hidden in the back of your mind, he unknowingly made you happy, beyond content for a reason that was too hard to explain and too obvious to those around you.

Mark and Nicole knew something was up, but never lodged on the matter, regarding that joy could be found anywhere and in anything. Yet, you weren’t as subtle with your dashing off or disappearing for long periods of time when the meet ups became more frequent. They would eventually catch on, although you would remain blinded by the manufactured bubble of joy that was created.

So your then high became a low.

You blame Mark, but at the same time you don’t because you knew you had to be cautious. 

He invited you that week for a small get together at his frat house, nothing grand like the parties they hosted nearly every two weeks on a Friday. No, this gathering would be for close friends and companions, just for some lighthearted fun, to serve as a destresser before the hell weeks would start in December. It was a Thanksgiving celebration of sorts, a Friendsgiving where you would come together and strengthen your bonds with each other, regardless of how much you knew of the others who would join. 

He invited you and Nicole like he always did with any event that revolved around his fraternity or partying in general. You thought it would be nice to come, to spend some quality time with your best friends that you felt you hadn’t seen in forever, too preoccupied with Taeyong to have some time with them. He was far from your mind when Mark extended the invitation and you wished your common sense would have kicked in earlier, before the small party began, because he was in fact part of the fraternity and would very much be there.

You shouldn’t have been shocked when you saw him right when you ambled into the house with Mark and Nicole in tow. He was chatting with Johnny, the tall boy you hadn’t seen in so long ever since that encounter months ago. He held a champagne glass in one hand while the other was tucked into his black jeans. He had his signature chains intertwined in the belt loops with a light lavender turtleneck, that had a graphic design in blue of a person’s lower face in the center of the chest, tucked into his jeans, and a black and white tweed blazer thrown over the top. His shiny, black dress shoes completed the outfit as he was surely one of the best dressed by far. Even if the event was semi-formal and everyone you saw littering around in the entryway were classy, yet simple in their approaches, he managed to catch your eye right away.

“Ah, if it isn’t little Lee arriving right on time!” Johnny yells out, striding over in big steps to where the three of you stood by the entrance.

Mark rolls his eyes at the nickname, but goes in for a half handshake and hug. “Hey at least I made it and also it isn’t little Lee anymore, remember? If anything I am the middle Lee.” 

“Still won’t stop me from calling you little Lee, little Lee.” Johnny slaps him on the shoulder, his laughter echoing. “I see you brought two stunning ladies in tow too.” He directs his attention to you and Nicole, not bothering to conceal the fact that he was blatantly checking the both of you out.

“Looks like we meet again, gorgeous,” Johnny states, reaching for your hand and giving a light kiss to the skin, a wink thrown after you retract your hand.

You don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Hi Johnny,” you mutter with a sickly gratifying smile plastered across your face.

He laughs once more as his eyes then trail to Nicole who stands unfazed and slightly bored at the appearance of Johnny.

“Well I don’t think we’ve met before. I would have remembered a face like yours, someone so absolutely breathtaking,” he cheekily vocalizes.

It is now Nicole’s turn to roll her eyes and she takes steps to get nearer to Johnny, his eyebrows shooting up at her boldness, but then a smirk rests on his face.

She reaches out her hand and pats him on the chest before he gets the chance to kiss her hand. “Save the flirting for someone else, will you mate? For someone you at least have a chance with because it ain’t me honey,” she drawls, stepping away to go further inside the house, waving her hand in the air as a farewell.

Mark and you stifle back laughter at her shamelessness. She sure was something, you would admit.

“Fuck you guys,” Johnny remarks, flipping both you and Mark off, yet you could see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he retreats after Nicole.

“She’s something, huh?” Someone says, taking the thoughts right out of your head.

“Yeah,” you respond, wiping your finger under your eyes from how hilarious that scene played out. “She sure is.”

And that is when you pause in realization. You knew that voice.

You turn around to come face to face with an all too familiar boy—Lee Taeyong.

You chuckled timidly, fumbling with your fingers as you fix your gaze on him. His eyebrow is arched and when he takes a sip of his champagne you can see his smile reflected in the glass.

“Oh!” Mark exclaims, putting his arm around your shoulder, an action that makes Taeyong’s eyes harden in the smallest way, or maybe you were imagining it. “I don’t think you guys have been introduced to each other before. This is Taeyong angel, and Taeyong this is—”

Taeyong doesn’t let Mark finish, muttering out a stern, “I know who she is Mark, I’ve seen her around with you before.”

“Oh,” Mark lets out, his enthusiastic self diminishing. “That makes sense.”

Taeyong nods and lifts his glass in your direction, his eyes refusing to make contact for more than a second. “Nice to meet you.”

You mumble back with a slight frown you desperately try to hide. You conjectured why he was acting so cold. “You too.”

“Okay, anyways…” Mark trails off looking between the two of you, trying to figure out if something was up. “I am going to get a drink. You ready, angel?” He asks you when he peers at the side of your face.

You give Mark a small smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, but…um I have to use the restroom first.”

Though before you could depart, someone else makes an appearance, someone you forgot about and would make matters much more complicated than they need to be.

“Yo Mark! They need help with the drinks in the back,” he yells walking into the room, jabbing his finger behind him. “They apparently stocked up on their orders of alcohol so it’s a lot.” 

You glance at the entrance when you hear his voice and your heart stops in your chest. 

What the hell was Lee Jeno doing here?

Mark’s arm drops from your shoulder, giving a roll of his eyes. “Of course they fucking did. I'll be right there.” He doesn’t spare Jeno another glance and neither do you, desperately trying to conceal yourself from his line of sight. Mark regards you with kind eyes, knowing you had questions he would answer at a more convenient time about why Jeno was here. He continues on from before he was interrupted. “You know where the restroom is right?”

Your eyes can’t help but flit to where Jeno stood, trying to see if he left, but when you look over Mark’s shoulder, you see him patiently waiting for the older boy and his eyes are already staring right at you. You gulp, turning back to look at Mark. “Yes, I do,” you step away from him, not spearing another glance at Taeyong or Jeno as you get lost down the hall towards the bathroom. 

Although you do manage to see the way everyone’s eyes follow your figure and the way Jeno had slightly placed his foot forward, debating to follow after you or not, yet he retreats to follow after Mark instead to help in the back.

You didn’t really have to go to the restroom, you just wanted to get away from the suffocating room with the three boys, for the dread that your secrets would get revealed if you weren’t cautious.

You hear the footsteps before you see him and you just knew there was a chance he would be the one to follow you.

You don’t have to turn around to confirm your suspicions, wrapping your arms around your body.

“What was that?” he questions lowly.

You groan. “What do you mean what was that? You were the one acting all cold.”

His hand reaches out to hold your upper arm, turning you to face him, except you don’t, opting to check out the floor.

“I was so-called cold,” he makes quotation marks once his hand drops. “Because you refused to acknowledge me. Do I also have to mention the way I saw you look at Jeno? Don’t think I didn’t see it sweetheart, because I did and I’m sure anyone else with two eyes could see it too.”

You shake your head, scoffing at his bluntness. “Oh, of course you would point that out, but it isn’t that deep. Don’t let jealousy cloud your vision, Yong,” you drawl and you see the way his eyes go dark. “It isn’t me you should be concerned about, when you were acting all high and mighty way before.”

He stays silent because he knew you were right, yet it does little to lessen his hard stare. “Listen you know we can’t be seen together or seen as if we know each other, it will raise too many questions.” You placed your hand on his bicep, his previous declaration about Jeno not holding any importance. Your eyes become so round and wide that he can feel his heart slightly crack. “I don’t want any of them to be upset at me or question my sensibility.”

He pursues his lips, “I understand that, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I understand and I apologize for the way I acted. I apologize for acting like an ass.” His attention moved to the floor, his strands of hair falling over his face and you let out a small giggle from his candor. 

You maneuver your hand to cup his cheek, rubbing his cheek. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

The moment lasts for the shortest while all due to Mark’s loud voice calling your name.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping your hand. “He can’t see you.” You push Taeyong in the direction further down the hallway, that you hoped would lead somewhere away from where Mark would reach in a few more steps.

Taeyong doesn’t utter a word and paces down the hall without so much as a goodbye, just in time when Mark squints his eyes to make out your figure, but he wasn’t looking at you, rather behind you.

He caught sight of Taeyong and you were doomed.

“Angel…” he trails off, his eyes still squinted in scrutiny. “Why were you with Taeyong?”

“W-What?” You stutter in response, swearing at yourself internally at the fact that you gave it away in just one word. Mark knew you were hiding something whenever you stumbled over your words.

“You heard me, why were you with Taeyong?”

The way he was saying the boy’s name and the implications in his pitch of voice stirred something inside of you. You needed to defend him more than yourself.

“Why can’t I?” 

He regards you with somber eyes and reaches forward to take your hand. “Angel...”

You step away from him, tucking your hands into your body. “No, answer me.”

He is startled at your seriousness and evident protest. You were never one to turn away from him.

“He’s just…” he pauses, struggling to find the right words, ones that wouldn’t destroy you. He decides against finishing his sentence, choosing the all too familiar words. “Be careful. Just be careful, angel.”

Your brows furrow and that is when you lose it.

“Be careful,” you scoff, letting your hands free from around your body. “Everyone says that. Be careful. Be careful, but of what?” You throw your hands up in the air, frustration seeping in your voice. “What do I have to be careful of Mark?”

Mark visibly winces at the sound of his name coming from your lips, you never called him that, not since you first met those fateful years ago. You called him Markie and always Markie, which is how he knew you were truly upset. 

“Tell me. For goodness sake tell me! He’s just a boy like the rest of you in this forsaken frat house of yours. So why, oh why, can’t I be seen with him!?”

You pace back and forth, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to keep composure that you lost at the start.

Mark heaves a sigh, he knew where you were coming from, it was all too common and seeing you in this predicament made him ache more than you’ll ever know.

He whispers his next words carefully, scared at what your answer could mean when he asked. “You like him don’t you?” His eyes flickering close for the merest moment in wait. 

You resemble someone who’s deepest, darkest secret just got exposed after trying so hard to cover the tracks when he peered at you.

“I never said that.” Your clenched hands relaxed as you now nervously fiddled with your fingers.

“No and you don’t need to, but it isn’t hard to tell. I saw the way you looked at him when we came inside. After all, actions speak louder than words.”

Silence. 

The tick-tock of the clock somewhere in the hall, decreasing. 

The laughs and chatters of those in the other rooms, muffled. 

All that was heard were the steady breaths of you and Mark.

Mark disturbs the quietude first. “Angel I—”

You rapidly shake your head. “Mark…stop,” you whisper and he closes his mouth before he can finish. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. If I like him I do, and if I don’t then you don’t have to worry. Just let me figure out things on my own.” 

You lock eyes with him, the tears prickling the corner of your eye as you stride forward. “Please…just please….let me live once on my own terms rather than your own.” You don’t lay your eyes on him again after your last words are spoken, you simply trudge away, leaving two boys who held pieces of your heart in different ways.

You couldn’t help but ponder over the words of Mark as you were plodding to the exit of the house, no longer wishing to stay because of the mess that was created all within less than an hour.

Twisting open the door and letting it shut close, believing that no one saw you leave, you were encompassed in the night. The twinkling stars overhead and the white glow of the moon shining down, the fluorescent lights of the house adding to brightness. 

Peeping at the sky, everything flooded your mind at once. 

Were you really starting to fall like Mark said? Was it really that obvious? That you had caught feelings for a boy that seemed to be off limits and that you were warned about?

Did you truly like Lee Taeyong?

Those were the questions floating around, all that you couldn’t answer because you knew you wouldn’t like the result. 

You were never good at feelings or admittance of faults, you choose to ignore them, but this was one of those times you couldn’t entirely push them aside because they meant something more. They were unlike anything ever felt and you never truly liked mystery, no matter if it drew you in. You had to figure out what was different and if it was worth the risk to take.

You didn’t necessarily find out the answers to the questions that plagued your mind when your next friendly date came around with Taeyong, this one unlike the others before, being on a Friday after classes and at a cute ice cream parlor you had found one day, nestled between a bookshop and the farmer’s mart. 

All the bad blood between you from last Friday had diminished into nothing, you forgave and forgot as he did as well. That was the only argument you ever truly had ever since your friendship blossomed, the last one you would ever encounter if you were lucky.

Stepping inside and finding a seat while Taeyong got the ice cream after asking for your order, you clasped your hands together tightly, your knuckles turning white. 

You knew what you had to do today, before your outing ended and Taeyong left till the next time you would see him. Three words that had the ability to bring people together or tear them apart.

He scraped the chair across the tile, startling you as he sat down and placed a cup of cookie dough ice cream down along with a green tea flavored one. He took the latter for himself, and pushed the other cup in your direction, the small pink spoon poking out.

“Bon appetit,” he exclaims and takes a large spoonful of his ice cream while you leave your dessert unscathed. You suddenly lost your appetite, dreading what would come.

“Hey,” he says, tapping his index finger on your hand, the cool metal of his ring causing you to shiver. “What’s wrong?”

He takes his hand back and places it on the table. You always noticed how he never initiated skinship or desired to touch like you wished him to do. If anything his touch would only linger for a few seconds, whether it be a pat on the hand or a palm on your shoulder, nothing too grand that had to bear on for eternity. 

You cleared your throat, not maintaining eye contact with him any more.. “I have to tell you something…”

He hummed in response as an indicator to keep you going.

“It’s frankly frightening for me to admit and I have no idea if you feel the same, but I just have to tell you. To get this weight off my chest, even if I am setting myself up for the worst,” you stop and reach your hand over the table to place it on top of his, being bold with disregard to your observations. You don’t even notice the way he slightly flinches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I guess over our time of getting to know each other, something further stirred in my chest. In fact it was already there but it was more profound once I got to know the type of person you are—someone who isn’t so esoteric or unexpressive. Someone who indeed has a fragile, yet caring heart and maybe it took a slap in the face to notice, but…Yong…”

Your thumb caressed his skin as you peered at him with so very gentle eyes and his own remained stoic.

You took a deep breath—make or break. “I like you.”

He retracted his hand so briskly, it was if he had gotten burned. He rubbed at his hand, where your touch still lingered. He shakes his head rapidly, “No…No…No. You can’t…”

This is the first time he ever denied to make eye contact with you and you felt your heart shatter both at his words as well as actions.

Rejection.

You should have expected this, but your all too positive outlook on life was your downfall.

You croaked out, “What do you mean you can’t?”

You deserved some sort of explanation, he couldn’t leave you hanging.

He turned his head to finally see you and you could make out the coherent regret in his eyes, with an ounce of pity. You didn’t want pity, you wanted understanding.

“Baby…” You cower back at the affectionate name, his hands holding onto each other so tightly you could only see white. He repeats himself again, the internal battle he was having with himself unknown to you. “Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?”

Another crack and a few more you would be gone, submerging yourself in tears of regret.

“B-But it is. Can’t you see? I like you and you—”

He cuts you off, standing up from his chair abruptly, the sound catching the attention of those that sat at the tables near you.

“No,” he shakes his head one more, this time calmer than the last. “No, there’s a difference. You’re infatuated with me. You just like the idea of me so don’t call me your lover, don’t tell me you have feelings for me, when you don’t even love me.”

His words were an arrow to the heart.

How could he possibly know your feelings when he couldn’t even tell his own?

His warning echoes in your ears when he leaves, the slam of the door scaring those inside the parlor but you remain unfazed. This was more than rejection, it was a declaration, a calling for lonely souls that would never find love.

After all, they say all good things come to an end and after you were sparked with a surge of boldness to confess, Lee Taeyong walked away from you, when you thought he would be by your side.

He forgets about you that day and if only it was easy to forget about him.

You weren’t as good as hiding things as you thought you were because your somber mood could be seen for miles. Mark had an idea of why you were so upset, after all he seemed to know every detail when it came to your nonexistent love life, especially since he saw Taeyong nearly every day. On the other hand, Nicole had no idea since she didn’t know Taeyong and you never told her, but she had a hunch it had to do with a boy. Whenever you were down, even in high school, it always had to be because of a boy who wasn’t worth your time as she always reminded you.

You don’t know how much time had passed since your last encounter with Taeyong, since that last fateful day. Time either went by faster or slower whenever you were sad, though more often than none it was the latter. Despite everything you still found yourself meeting up with your best friends and staying on top of your classes, pushing aside any invitations you received for a frat or sorority party when you knew you had the potential to see him there. You knew you would crumble if you did and that weakness was one you weren’t quite ready to share.

So it was Wednesday of the however many days had gone and when you were poking at your salad, refusing to eat more than a few leaves, that Mark speaks up inside the cafeteria, at your usual meet up. Only small remarks were ever made at those now, they knew you weren’t in the right state of mind to talk, but he does so anyways. 

“Angel, I’m sorry.”

His words burn a hole through your heart, of course he was, he was the one that said to be careful—him and Nicole.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you mutter angrily and swipe your backpack off the chair with your books in hand, your tray with you unfinished food in the other. You stand up and leave the cafeteria so fast it takes a while for Nicole and Mark to truly comprehend yet they don’t come after you. Some friends they could be

You dump your leftover meal into the trashcan and place the tray on the top of the metal your way out. You were more frustrated and pissed off than anything else. Today was clearly not your day, it hasn’t been in such a long time and it was why you decided to skip your last class for the day even if it would bite you back in the ass.

You had no problem getting into your car and speeding down the highway to your apartment, too gone when you arrived at your complex. You wanted to take a long awaited nap and maybe cry yourself to sleep to get rid of the icky feelings you had all over.

You stagger your way through the door after pushing it open and down the narrow hall to your bedroom. You don’t bother to change out of your school clothes, choosing to just kick off your Vans before you crash face forward into your soft mattress. Just when you are about to close your eyes you hear a knock at your door.

You hoick your head up with a groan. 

Who the fuck would be here right now?

You have no choice but to get your lazy and gloomy ass out of bed to answer the door, not prepared to see who is on the other side of the wooden frame.

You open the door to none other than Lee fucking Taeyong, in all his glory, with his smooth parted hair that fell over his forehead and his so very gorgeous face. His stylish outfit was more dressed down than ever with a simple blue Gucci hoodie, baggy blue jeans that were cuffed at the ankles, and some simple white sneakers. Yet, he looked the exact same as he did that day, no ounce of any toll the event had taken on him, but if you inspected closely enough, you could see the bags under his eyes. He hadn’t been getting much sleep and neither had you, something that made you feel a little bit better, that he had his own fair share of pain after what he did to you—the both of you.

“Oh hell,” you muttered immediately, closing the door on his face, but his foot makes contact with the door, stopping you from fully shutting the entryway.

You groan, you determine you would have to deal with him eventually so might as well get it over with. You open the door widely, ushering him in with a dramatic gesture that he has to hold back a laugh from due to your annoyance.

You close the door, locking it shut while you regard him with deadpan eyes. “Okay what the hell are you doing here? No, no…wait. How did you get my apartment number? I never told you.”

The seriousness in your gaze slightly frightens him, he had never seen you look so unlike yourself. Your features were always soft and welcoming, but now they were rough and seemed so lifeless.

He gulps, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket, his left leg moving up and down. “I asked Mark where you were…actually no, he called me. He was worried about you and wanted me to check up on you, to resolve what’s going on with us.” He waves a hand between the two of your bodies and you can’t but roll your eyes. He couldn’t even say what the matter was, he had no idea what he did wrong.

When he notices you won’t speak another word, he continues on, “Listen, sweetheart.” He notices your wince at the all too nostalgic nickname, still continuing on. “Mark cares about you, he really does and you shouldn’t ignore him. You shouldn’t push him or Nicole away…please don’t for my sake at least.”

You scoff, crossing your hands over your chest, “You’re one to talk.”

“Trust me I know but—“

You cut him off, eyes zoning in on his face, diverting the conversation another way. You still didn’t know why he truly came. “What are you doing here Taeyong?”

“I already told you—“

“No,” you cut him off once more, eyes narrowing even further, “Why are you really here and don’t say for Mark or Nicole. Why did you decide to come?”

He stutters, you never saw him stutter. He was always calm and collected, so sure of himself. “I-I just really wanted to see you…I missed you.”

Those mere words are when you burst.

“You can’t say that! You can’t. You ghosted me for days, for weeks, I don’t know how long it has been. I reached out to your friends, your fellow frat brothers to ask where you were and they always deflected, saying you were too busy with assignments, with everything else going on in your life, especially finals coming up. But I could see it in their eyes, Taeyong.”

He winces at his full name. You always opted to call him Yong or any other variation of his name, but not Taeyong.

“I could tell they were lying to me. You weren’t as busy as they said. In fact you know…” You turn your attention away to look at the clock in the kitchen. “I saw you the other day when I came out of the library. It was already dark out and you know,” you could feel your tears slipping out and the look of absolute guilt plagues his face. He never wanted you to cry because of him.  “Someone was with you, a boy, a girl, a frat brother, I don’t know, but you had this smile on your face that I could see for miles. You never smiled at me like that before and I knew in some small way that you were doing well, while I was over here beating myself about everything revolving around my stupid confession. So you know what? Don’t say you miss me when you don’t really mean it. Don’t give me too many words, too many excuses and not enough love…just…” you choke on your words, breaking down, piece by piece. “Get out.”

He looks destroyed at your last words and reaches out his hand, “I—”

You turn your body away from him, cowering into yourself.

He releases a sigh, he knew you wouldn’t budge. “Okay, okay. I’ll go.”

So he leaves, going out the front door and withdrawing from your life once more. You only wish he fought back and didn’t surrender to defeat.

But it isn’t even twenty-four hours later when Lee Taeyong comes knocking at your door another time, on your way out for your morning class for the day. He rushes in with messy bed hair, a striped black and red long sleeve shirt, baggy black jeans, and some brown Converse.

He came back for you after all and it touched your heart, mending some pieces that were broken from his own faults, even when the rest of your soul wanted you to stay mad at him.

He places his hands on your shoulder, directing your eye contact solely to him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart for what I said and how I acted. It was never my intention to harm you, but I was scared of the feelings that you voiced, the ones I wasn’t sure if I could return so I ran away from it, from you, leaving you in pain because I couldn’t admit anything to myself. I apologize and I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.”

You could tell the sincerity in his words, how he was speaking from his heart rather than his mind. He truly was sorry and you both knew you would be all right even with a bump like this in the road. It was inevitable, everyone fought, for stupid or valid reasons, an aspect part of the cycle of life, but you could overcome that obstacle as would he. 

You took Taeyong’s hand into your own, a smile on your face, one that made him release a sigh that you weren’t mad. “I get it, Yongie. I get it and I forgive you. You did hurt me, I admit, but hey what’s life without a little woe?”

He lightly laughs and squeezes your hand, the relief noticeable in his face. “Thank you.”

“But it still doesn’t bypass the fact that I caused you distress too and I apologize for that as well. We offended each other unintentionally, but I am glad we are somewhat okay.”

He steps back from you, his hands covered by his long sleeves. “I sure hope so, but sweetheart?”

You hum.

“I can’t return your feelings. I can’t, no matter how much you want me to.”

You nod your head, your smile now sad. “It’s okay. I might want something more, but you can’t give that and it’s okay. To be in love is both a blessing and a curse. I’ll just have to live with it and learn to get over it. You can’t have control over who you fall in love with.”

“I wish I could,” he mutters.

You shake your head, “You can’t change what’s meant to be.”

His regretful eyes lock onto you when he ushers his hand out, if not lovers then there was something even equally or more so valuable. “Friends?”

You latch your hand onto his, “Friends.”

Then all is well with Lee Taeyong as you go back to your usual routine, hanging out on select days, whenever you both were free, but with the end of the December having rolled around you saw less and less of him. You were both busy with taking your finals, but he had more on his plate being a third year. It was hard to set aside time to go out or even text as he became drowned in his ever increasing workload.

You suppose that should have served as a warner because then everything goes downhill like the rollercoaster that explained your life.

Mark is the one that delivers the news at the end of finals week when you all gathered at your apartment for a much needed Disney movie marathon—the trio back again after a much stressful week. You rarely saw each other, too immersed in your studies and wants to receive high marks.

“Thank goodness hell week is over,” Nicole groans, stretching her body on the couch. “I felt like I was going to pass out by the time it was Wednesday.”

“I feel ya, sister,” you murmur, planting yourself down on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in your hands. “I was about to give up.”

Mark rolls his eyes when he sits down next to you, placing the bowl of assorted candy on the floor. “You guys are exaggerating. First year finals aren’t too bad. Just wait till next year.”

Nicole reaches over and whacks the top of Mark’s head as he lets out a whine. “Hey!”

“Shut up, you motherfucker,” she states, sneaking a hand into the popcorn in your grasp. “This isn’t about you.”

“I never said it was.”

“You always complain. Do you ever shut up?”

“Guys!” you yell amidst their argument.

“Why the hell are you attacking me?”

“Why not? It’s fun.”

“Guys!” you yell once more, your voice raising that catches their attention.

Mark sheepishly smiles at you, but not before sending a glare at Nicole, one which she returns. 

“Sorry, angel.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him. “Can we just pick a movie?”

He nods his head and grabs the remote on the glass table, opening Disney Plus and scrolling through the selection of movies.

You hear the chewing of Nicole and the clicking of the remote, filling up the quietness in contrast to the noise that was prevalent before.

You ask a question, meekly, not particularly addressing anyone in the room once Mark lands on a movie suggestion. “Do you know how Taeyong is?”

Nicole’s chewing ceases and Mark looks over at you, still holding onto the remote. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I hadn’t seen him since the week before finals. He said he would text me once it was over, but I haven’t received anything and today is the last day before break.”

You see Mark lock eyes with Nicole, them having a silent conversation that you had no clue to decipher. Nicole gives a nod to Mark and your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, allowing Mark to speak up in a whisper. “He didn’t tell you?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Tell me what?”

He swears under his breath, moving closer to you to grasp your hands. “Angel…he’s leaving.”

You try to tug your hands away, but he won’t let you go. “What do you mean leaving?”

“He’s going to the states for a master’s program at Harvard, he received a full ride to study neuroscience. He finished all his credits early so he was able to graduate this semester instead of in another year like he was supposed to. His flight leaves tomorrow morning. He wanted to get an early start to settle down and everything.”

Mark finally lets go of your hands, giving a squeeze when you pull away. Water was prickling in the corner of your eyes, waiting to be released. “W-What? Y-Your lying. W-Why didn’t he t-tell me?”

Mark tilts his head up, contemplating what to say next when you were readably getting emotional and he didn’t want to wound you further. “I’m not, angel, but I think why he didn’t tell you was because he didn’t want to upset you. You had only gotten close this year and him telling you he was leaving would give you more hurt than he ever would want you to bear, especially considering you both had a tough couple of weeks that placed a stain on your friendship.”

“T-That shouldn’t m-matter b-because doesn’t he know this h-hurts me too? Him leaving w-without saying goodbye?”

You feel the weight of Nicole’s hand on your shoulders once more, rubbing the clothed skin. “You have to know where he’s coming from love. I am sure he has a reason.”

“Yeah, a bullshit one!” you croak out, some tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Hey, angel, hey,” Mark speaks out, resting his hand on your thigh. “Calm down. I can drive you to the airport tomorrow. I know when his flight leaves. How about that? Give him a piece of your mind and a proper goodbye.”

You sniffle, wiping the tears from underneath your eyes. “Y-Yeah…that s-sounds good.”

Mark smiles. “Good. Trust Taeyong to be stupid as fuck sometimes.”

You chuckle at your best friend’s attempt to lighten the mood, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. “You can say that again.”

The next morning you are all jitters, waking up at six in the morning sharp to drive an hour to the airport, in hopes you would arrive before his flight departs at eight.

Mark had served as a wakeup call, being on facetime as you both got ready. Nicole couldn’t join the two of you for some reason, giving the excuse that she needed to sleep in after her emotional and mental exhaustion from finals. You couldn’t complain, you needed sleep too, but catching Taeyong mattered more.

Mark kept calling you out for your nervousness, your leg moving up and down throughout nearly the whole ride and when he put his hand on your thigh to calm you in some way, you switched to messing with your fingers.

There was more traffic than you realized and Mark drove exceptionally slow to where you arrived at the airport twenty minutes to eight. You rushed between the crowds, Mark hot on your trail as you searched for the correct gate that so happened to be at the opposite end of where you parked.

You glanced at the time on your cell phone, it was now five minutes to eight and your eyes peered over the heads of countless people to look for gate C7.

Then you spotted the neon yellow sign of the gate of where Taeyong would hopefully be. You glanced at the waiting area near the gate, searching for a familiar mop of hair and superb fashion sense, though to no avail, he wasn’t there, until a voice spoke up behind you, one light, yet masculine.

“Sweetheart?”

You didn’t think twice, turning on your heels and latching your arms around his neck. He didn’t flinch away this time, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you closer.

“You’re an idiot, Lee Taeyong. A dumb fucking idiot,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, holding back your tears the second day in a row. “You were really going to leave without saying goodbye? Who the fuck does that?”

He loosens his hold on you and puts you at arm's length to properly take a good look at you, wiping his thumb underneath your eye at the stray tear that falls down.

“I know, trust me, I know and I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I was leaving…I didn’t want to break your heart a second time.” He gives you a sad and soft smile.

You shake your head, bringing your sleeve up to wipe at your eyes. “That’s a dumb excuse, Yong. I’m only ever yours to break.”

“I wish that wasn’t the case, my love. I don’t think I deserve that right.” 

You interlock your hands together with his, giving him a squeeze with fondness in your gaze. “You deserve everything, Yongie. You deserve the universe.”

He chuckles, letting go. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Your smile widens as you tear up once more from his words. “Guess fate made us both lucky.”

He nods his head. “Indeed it did.”

You converse further, “I’m proud of you, you know, I’m proud that you’re achieving your goals.”

“Now boarding passengers for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Proceed to gate C7.”

His eyes widen at the announcement and he latches his hand onto your wrist to pull you into his chest one more time before he leaves, holding more tightly than he ever did, both of you afraid to let go.

Time ran out.

He whispers with his chin resting on your head and swaying your bodies back and forth, “I am proud of you too, my love.”

He doesn’t cry, but you can sense the sadness exuding off of him at the fact that he truly had to leave you behind when he was wishing he didn’t have to.

He steps back, letting go at once, his smile making you all cozy inside even with stained tears on your cheeks. “Goodbye, sweetheart. Take care of yourself for me. Take care of Mark and the rest of those obnoxious boys.”

You laugh at his use of words and nod your head, the smile on your lips wavering.

“But most importantly, don’t be a stranger,” he winks, grabbing the handle of his luggage and duffle bag as he advances forward to the gate. “Don’t forget about me,” he whispers to himself.

He is mere steps away from going through the gate when he turns his head back, giving you a small wave and you wave right back till he turns around again.

Then you realized you couldn’t leave him like that, with a small conversation, without anything to remember you by in that moment, so you run forward without thought, yelling out, “Wait!”

His eyes are wide with curiosity when he sees you run full speed ahead and you catch the front of his unbuttoned black silk shirt with gold patterns etched into the material, to pull him to a kiss.

You mumble against his lips, “Just love me once,” and he does, kissing you back with so much fervor it makes you dizzy, your heart going haywire with its frantic beats.

You don’t know how long you remain locking lips till the intercom announces overhead another time.

“Last call for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Last call for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts.  Proceed to gate C7. Proceed to gate C7.”

The announcement serves as your deal breaker for he steps back, his arms leaving your waist bare and cold. His lips are swollen pink and the black sunglasses fixated on the top of his lead is lopsided, his shirt a little wrinkly from where you held on.

You giggle at his appearance and he shakes his head, leaning forward to peck your forehead, not making a direct comment about the kiss.“Tell me baby, would you still love me even if we weren’t together?”

Your smile widens, fixing up his silk shirt, “I’ll always love you.”

You wore your heart on your sleeve for him and even if he couldn’t return the favor you knew he didn’t invalidate your feelings because candidly he returned them. He liked you as much as you liked him, but he couldn’t confess, he couldn’t proclaim the feelings that kept him up at night and made him feel whole. No, he couldn’t because he was slightly afraid of what it meant and because the timing was off when his entire future laid ahead. To him there was no point to have a relationship when he would leave almost a month later so he pushed those emotions connecting the two of you to the back of his mind for the greater good. For you to be happy with just knowing him, getting to befriend rather than longing after him when he would leave.

He would only prevent you from loving and that was something he couldn’t let you do.

Your answer to his question was the one he was looking for, the one he always wanted to hear coming out of your lips one day, for his smile is enough to set the whole world ablaze. He takes your hand to give the skin a kiss, a lingering touch of remembrance. “Perhaps I do too.”

His last words are permanently engraved in your mind for he had admitted his true feelings indirectly and that was enough. That was enough to keep you hoping when he vanished through the airport gate to go to another part of the world, somewhere where he could thrive again and live to his fullest potential. 

After all he was just a flickering flame, there one second then gone the next and not so easy to tame for flames always had the want to be free. 

Though sometimes flames are reborn, with new intentions and motivations. 

You hoped he would be too in some other life, where the two of you could have a happy ending, instead of one where he leaves you behind in the dust at the start of the finish line with a love that he couldn’t hold steady. 

[passable-talent]

guess what I’m up to?

if you guessed “writing for another obscure hayden christensen character before that movie disappears from Tubi”, you’d be correct!

David Rice x GN!Reader, Jumper (2008)

ik this movie was based on a book but i have not read it. forgive me if, when i play around with the rules of jumping, it violates what the book says a jumper can do. I’m gonna operate with the best understanding i can. also i’m changing the ending woooo

At fourteen, you met a boy. His name was Elliot Rhodes- and he was a jumper. 

At first it was freaky, sure. Finding out that teleportation is real? It would freak anybody out. 

But it... it also explained a lot of things. It explained the way that you’d always wake up in your bed when you swore you passed out on the couch. It explained the way that you’d sometimes walk in the front door, not really remembering the bus ride home. It explained how you’d pop into a different room when you’d only taken half as many steps as you needed to. 

Were you a jumper, too?

You met Elliot when you were fourteen, and life was good for five years. He was your best friend, he was more than that. He helped you learn how to jump, helped you hide it from your parents, from the school. The both of you knew that you should be hiding your ability, could feel that it was a secret you had to keep, but didn’t quite know why. 

Then, five years into your relationship, when you’d finally figured out how to live, how to use your powers to make a living without being found out, when you were just about ready to leave your parent’s place and move into the cabin in Canada his parents left for him-

Death came for you, on his pale white horse. But it was his hair that was white, instead. And he didn’t come for you, exactly. 

Roland Cox. He appeared at Elliot’s home, and killed him. Then, before you even had your hand on your phone to call the police, someone else jumped into the room. 

You’d lashed out at him, throwing him away from Elliot, but he pushed you back, getting right to business. 

He knew who Roland was. He knew why he’d come. He introduced himself, his name was Griffin- and he offered you a chance to help him get back at Roland. 

Griffin didn’t really hold up to his word. He couldn’t trace Roland any better than you could’ve, but you were happy to have an ally, someone who had a mission, and a mission that would keep you out of your grief. You channeled your anger into hunting paladins, just like Griffin did. He wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but he was a good guy... somewhere, deep down. 

He was somewhat understanding of you. He recognized your grief, found it similar to his own. And, in the four years you’d been hanging out with him, you’d become a pretty skilled fighter. You’d learned the tricks- you were a paladin hunter. 

It was a pretty solid new life. Given the superpowers and the dead boyfriend and the newfound target on your back from some ridiculous religious zealots, you could’ve done a lot worse. 

And then, along came David. 

David Rice. You’d seen him a thousand times, even if it wasn’t actually him. He was just another jumper who’d never had a run-in with the paladins, who’d never lost someone to the paladins, just another idiot who robbed a bank (unoriginal), and took his girlfriend on an ill-advised trip (bland). There was nothing exceptional about David Rice. 

Well, he was cute. A little. 

Okay, fine, he’s really cute. He’s a jackass, but he’s got a sweet smile. And he’s still a little puppy dog, following after a girl that he’s not into, but he’s convinced himself he’s still in love with. 

Textbook. You’d seen it a thousand times. It was something that a lot of jumpers did, using their new power and money and suave to find the person they were in love with before things changed, and wooing them. It always worked, at first, but things fell apart, because those amateurs could never keep it together. Even if they did manage to keep their partners out of the claws of the paladins, the secrets or the lying did them in. Most of the time, these jumpers weren’t even in it for the people, anymore. Just like David- he didn’t love her, not anymore. He just loved the idea of getting what he’d always wanted. 

When you saw him, at a bar in London, you had this quick little thought, ‘he’s not gonna last long.’ 

No, no, he was more impressive than that. He showed up at the Colosseum, and Griffin followed, assuming that the paladins weren’t far behind. And he was right, he always was, and you got to have plenty of fun moving around and fucking with paladins. 

“Ya know,” you said with a laugh when one of them had their eyes on you, their cables tearing up another priceless stone wall, “you sure don’t have much respect for history.” 

They managed to get a cable around you, and you felt that familiar tingle of lots and lots of electricity roll through you. But you were used to this, and you slipped out of your outer layer, then using the fabric to hold onto the cable and jump it through a wall, so it couldn’t be yanked out by any human force. Now, it was useless, and they had one less weapon. 

You jumped in front of them, and slipped your jacket back over your shoulders. 

“Loose fabric,” you said with a smirk, then landed a strong punch across his jaw. 

You jumped back to Griffin’s lair with unconscious paladin in tow, and quickly handcuffed him to the usual spot. Griffin wasn’t far behind with the other, but then, David appeared too. 

Griffin kicked him out, fast. 

“Yeah, he’s dead in a week, tops,” you said with a shake of your head. Griffin rolled his eyes, and started his work with the same level of anger and annoyance that he always did. 

A few hours passed in silence. Griffin had a new controller, so you let him ramble on about whatever game he was playing while you stretched out on the short couch you’d swiped from a closing furniture store a few months back. It was the closest to peace you ever seemed to get anymore, at least whenever you hung out with Griffin. But then David came back. He had nagging questions, they always did, when they managed to get ahold of Griffin. It usually didn’t change their fates. 

No, what changed their fates was when someone they cared about died. It happened to Griffin. It happened to you. And when he discovered his dad dead, it happened to David, too. So he wanted to help hunt Roland. 

Join the club. 

David gathered up the most recent intel Griffin had on Roland- which just so happened to be what you’d given him, four years ago. You watched from across the room as he and Griffin got into a bit of a tiff. 

Griffin pulled out the scars on his neck, to prove to David the high stakes he was messing with. That caught your attention- Griffin wasn’t one to be vulnerable. 

“Look, forget it! Forget Roland. Don’t waste your time.” Griffin righted his shoulders, taking a step back. “Just leave it to me.” He went off to his business out of your line of sight, which just left David. You still hadn’t really said a word to the man, too focused on Griffin’s drama to pay the new guy much attention. But you stood, taking a step closer to him, so now you could at least see Griffin working at his safe. Like always when he pulled the key from around his neck, you looked away. David hadn’t yet learned that lesson. 

Just like it had been when you first arrived, David awkwardly turned his back to the safe while Griffin entered it. You still didn’t quite know what was in there, but you knew it was important, and you knew it was dangerous. There were a few obvious conclusions you could leap to. 

“I’m-” David started, letting out a little breath. He really wasn’t prepared for any of this, was he? How long had he been jumping without running into the paladins?

“I was thinking that if we do this together, we could get him.” 

“Oh, no,” you said with a bit of a laugh, laying your head back against the stone wall. “He’s a solo act. He only keeps me around ‘cause I’m so charming.” 

“No, you’re not,” Griffin threw over his shoulder, and you only laughed at him. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t play well with others.” When you heard the safe close, you lifted your head back to the two of them, and watched as Griffin paced toward the doorway. You followed only after David did, and noticed him heading toward one of his vehicles, an old trailer- why Griffin liked to mess with it before he jumped, you didn’t quite get. It wasn’t going to move, anyway. 

“Do me a favor, yeah?” Griffin asked David, “Don’t be here when I get back. Find a rock, crawl under it, stay there.” He turned back to David, and you watched with a raised eyebrow from against the doorway. 

“ ‘Joi woo’, brother,” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “That’s ‘goodbye’ in Chinese.” 

For some reason, you didn’t think it was. 

He stabbed a knife into the tarp and jumped, and though you hoped that was the end of it, David followed him through his jump scar. 

Perfect. Just perfect.  

You followed as well, hoping to at least keep David out of trouble. When he followed Griffin, you just kept pace beside him, sticking to him in a way you knew would annoy him. You were like a bystander, letting the two of them figure out their annoyances with each other, staying out of it. It took him what seemed like half of the length of Tokyo until he finally got around to the point.

“And I know where to find Roland.”

“Why didn’t ya lead with that?” You asked, smacking the back of your hand against David’s shoulder. 

Griffin turned away, but the two of you followed. He swiped a car, you loved when he does that, because it’s always a really nice one, and you get to lean out of it and feel the wind. David took shotgun, and that’s fine, he’s the one with the special information or whatever. Didn’t matter, you could just enjoy the way that Griffin drives. He’s fun. 

All the sudden, David jumped to an airport, and the both of you followed. After a quick conversation, it was time to jump back to the lair, get some weapons together. You pulled on your loosest hoodie, knowing you’d probably need it, if they were bringing cables to whatever fight you were about to have. Was there a plan? It’s not like you were listening, but it didn’t seem to you like David had exactly explained where he planned on finding Roman. 

“Hey, what the hell?” You snarled when he jumped into the lair with his little girlfriend. “Oh, no, no, you can not bring her here. No way.” 

“Look, I gotta keep her safe, alright? Where’s Griffin?”

“Out front. You have to get her out of here.” Your words fell on deaf ears as he charged out to get Griffin, and you watched with a bit of annoyance as the girl followed. What was her name? Millie? Poor lamb probably didn’t know anything of what was going on at all. 

You heard whispering behind you, and turned around with a drop of your heart. Oh, this was bad, this was bad. They’d used- they had a wormhole, right into the lair.

“Griffin!” You shouted, and not a moment later he appeared beside you, the same look of dread on his face that you were feeling in your chest. David appeared, then, and Griffin turned on him instantly. 

“What have you done?”

“Griffin-” 

“Where does this thing go?”

“We gotta go.”

“David, what did you do?!”

The both of them jumped away, and it seemed like you were the only one who had any sense at all. 

You jumped immediately to the mouth of the lair, where you found Millie, looking confused and terrified. Naturally. Good for her, honestly, for keeping it together as much as she was. 

“ ‘ello, love,” you said, “Millie, right?” You took hold of her hands and jumped her away, far away, where she’d be much safer. On the other side, you waited for just a moment for her to get her wits together, so she’d register your words. 

“Stay here, okay? I mean it. Don’t go outside. There’s water and food and power, you’ll be fine. Just- seriously. Stay here.” You jumped back, then, to the mouth of the lair, hoping that when you entered, you wouldn’t be interrupting something important. 

Well, judging by the use of Griffin’s flamethrower, something important was happening. 

There were two men, plus Roland. As much as you wanted to take on Roland yourself, Griffin seemed to have that covered, and there were others you needed to deal with. With just a grab to the shoulder, one of them took a nice fun drop into the Mariana Trench. 

What? You’d read a book on it, once. 

The other was charred to a crisp, it seemed, and so you went looking for the only other person unaccounted for. 

“David?” You called into the lair, and you heard him groaning, along with the crackle of electricity. 

“Where’s Millie?” He asked, and you rounded the corner to see him strung up to the ceiling. 

“Somewhere safe, relax,” you said, shucking your hoodie off of your shoulders to wrap the fabric around your hands and grab onto the cables. Once you had them, you could jump away easily, pulling them off of him. You jumped back, slipping your hoodie back on, and gave him a cocky smile. 

“Loose fabrics,” you said, then jumped away to try to find out what Griffin was up to. 

A double-decker bus, that’s what. Then came Roland, and then came Griffin with the flame-thrower. When they both disappeared into the jump scar, David rounded on you, narrowing his eyes.

“Where’s Millie?” he snarled, and you took a step back. 

“She’s fine, I told you! She’s safe!” 

“Where is she?” David roared, and you shoved him away from you.

“She’s fine! Christ, boy, you don’t even love her, anyway!” 

That caught him off guard. 

“What?”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, turning your head before snapping your eyes to him, more ferocity in your gaze. “You know you don’t. You’re just holding onto the last thing you had when things were normal.” 

“Where is she?” He said again, taking an intimidating step toward you.

“I get it, okay?” You said, though now you were yelling. “I get it. But you’re putting her in danger! David, just let her go. You’re never going to be able to protect her. Not from them.” David’s eyes widened for just a moment, and then he looked down. You could see it as he gave in. 

“Let me take her home. At least let me do that.” 

“Sorry,” you said softly, “The place I put her, I- I can’t let anyone else see it. You gotta understand.”

Before it could get any worse, Griffin threw himself through the jump scar. 

“Nice,” he said as he righted himself, then immediately opened his safe. “The whole lot of them are in that apartment.”

“Oh, you’re finally gonna use the safe?” You asked, watching as he punched a few buttons. 

“I’ll take ‘em all out while they’re still there.”

“That’s Millie’s apartment!” David said, and Griffin turned to him with a shrug.

“She’s not there,” he said, nonchalantly, as though it was obvious. What’s the harm in destroying the apartment if no one innocent dies in it?

Griffin readied the safe and jumped away, leaving you and David behind. You turned to him, raising your gaze to his. He still looked vaguely angry. 

“She’s-” You turned your head to the side, before you could finish the sentence. You hadn’t told anyone about the cabin, not even Griffin. “She’s in Canada. Near a lake. She’s got water and power, nobody knows about it but me. She’s fine. But-” You gestured toward where the jumpscar to her apartment used to be, “Now she’s got nowhere to go back to.” 

“I know where her mom lives,” David said, shaking his head. “I’ll take her there.” You nodded slowly, then brought your gaze to his. He had- he had really blue eyes. Strikingly blue. You knew he couldn’t get to the cabin without following your scar, so you made him wait for you, made him wait until this moment ended. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“Hey, thanks,” he said after a moment, “You got her out of there.” He was speaking a bit gentler now, and this tone of voice you could certainly get used to. Was he being genuine with you? That was new. 

“Well, she seemed important.” 

“Yeah,” David said, a small smile finally growing on his face, and even though it was dark, you could swear you saw him begin to blush. Bashful little fucker. “We never even- Rome, I-” 

“Save it,” you said with a smile, reaching out to take his hand, which was surprisingly warm. You jumped him to the cabin, and found Millie curled up on the couch, looking out the window at the lake. 

“Sorry about all this, love,” you said, letting David have his moment. 

“Just take me home,” she said with a bit of a whimper, and you shook your head, even as you walked to the cabinet to grab a packet of crackers. 

“Sorry, love, that apartment’s gone. Kinda had to. Hope you understand.” 

“What?” Millie asked in disbelief.

“Really, (Y/N)?” David asked over his shoulder, before taking Millie’s hands and jumping her out of your cabin. 

You were meant to move here, with Elliot. This wasn’t even technically your place, even though you’d taken it up. Every now and again, you still missed him- but now that Griffin had taken care of Roland, it didn’t hurt so bad anymore. 

Four years was a long time to heal, maybe. But you’d needed it. And now that you had, and Roland was gone, and the world was just a bit safer for you- maybe you could consider trying again.

Maybe with someone that had strikingly blue eyes. And surprisingly warm hands. 

-🦌 Roe

[amwritingmeta]

S15: Dean and Cas

Pardon my lateness. Life is mental at the moment! I haven’t watched 15x17 yet but hope to do so today or tomorrow. Gods preserve me, for then there will be only three more episodes left. *is this real life??*

Okay, leaving that, let’s talk about Dean and Cas, shall we? Yes, we shall!

Dean and Cas’ relationship, or rather, how they relate themselves to each other, has been in focus this season, because it’s been pivotal to both of their arcs in canonically straightforward ways. Ways so straightforward that we haven’t really seen the likes of them since S11, and with the very heavy-duty callbacks to S11 these last two episodes, it all seems quite fitting.

I mean, Jack is a bomb like Dean was a bomb and Dean got to ask Amara why she would bring Mary back, and she got to clarify she meant it as a gift, a thank you at the end of S11, because Dean didn’t blow himself to kingdom come and her along with him, because instead he realised how he could broker peace and allow for light and dark to find balance.

Which is what Dean needs to find right now.

He needs to balance out the light and dark, the masculine and the feminine, the conscious and unconscious, the ego and the shadow. He needs to balance himself out in order to let go of his fury. Why does he need that? Why would the narrative continuously hit on him needing to let go of his anger? Because that’s the reason why he was put on this journey to begin with, this slow and steady coming-of-age-coming-into-his-own progression of finding forgiveness and feeling worthy and having faith that he deserves good things.

How do we know this?

Well, arguably this season through what happens to Dean whenever he gives his fury free range, whenever he allows it to hollow out his faith, his trust, making him one-track minded, suspicious and controlling: he loses something.

He loses Cas.

This season has been all about highlighting what happens when Dean is unable to be even the slightest bit self-aware, when he veers off the path of self-acceptance. This season, Dean has had Cas disappear out of his life twice: first when Cas walked out of the bunker and second in Purgatory, when Cas went with the Leviathan. (to get them away from Dean)

The first time Dean almost lost Cas was really all about highlighting Cas’ independence (thank fuck for that), letting us see how far they’ve come in their relationship, because Dean didn’t dig himself a grave this time, perhaps having faith, in spite of it all, that Cas would come back to him, and Cas went off on his own, feeling like there was nothing left for him at the bunker when there was no forgiveness to be had from Dean.

Except, Cas thought better of it. He realised it wasn’t just on Dean to push for change—it was on him as well. And, knowing Dean, Cas had the epiphany that he would have to lead the way. 

Dean, of course, not being able to forgive and forget all that easily, needed a final push, which is why the second time he almost lost Cas was all about Dean. He had to confront his anger. He had to, because naming it and admitting it as the root cause of so many of his actions (and reactions) is a cornerstone for him to begin letting that anger go.

Almost losing Cas brought him to a moment of clarity, brought him to take a knee and admit to being wrong and offering the forgiveness he’d been holding back, because being angry is easier, especially when, it could be argued, you were beginning to feel that trust in good things lasting.

Yeah, speaking of good things lasting, it brings us to this question: Why is Dean so angry? 

He doesn’t know why (or so he claims) and he probably does need to have his eyes opened for him, the way Amara tried to open them, the way his conversation with her was a highlighter for the point he’s being pushed to finally reach in his progression: forgiving the past, embracing the present, trusting in the future and in the fact that he deserves to live a long and happy rest of his life. 

The fact that she’s completely dressed in pink - hello positive femininity representative who kicks ass and who once almost killed God and then was balanced out so that she instead healed him with her light and they twisted into dark and light smoke and went off together - is just delicious icing on the cake.

Yeah, and that’s the issue, Dean, alright, buddy?

Dean is angry because his mother died and her death meant that he lost his father too, it meant that he didn’t get to have a childhood, it meant that he stopped believing that he could have good things that would last, because of a confused sense of identity and a crippled sense of self-worth—why did bad things happen to him if he didn’t deserve it somehow?— and pushed him to mold himself into what would make him feel strong and brave: the image that his father projected. 

The soldier.

The weapon and the shield.

And now it seems Protect Sammy has morphed into Sacrifice Jack, all because Dean’s fury at Chuck’s manipulation isn’t containable, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let Chuck live. Even if it means Jack dies in the process. As Dean said to Sam in 15x16: at least it’s not them this time. 

All the while we just sit here and witness Dean morphing into the revenge thirsty spitting image of his father one last time, for one final, big ole push towards the line he’ll have to cross if he’s to finally understand once and for all where it’s actually drawn.

At Cas’ feet.

Remember back in S12, before Cas died, there was that subtle (erm) motif of pointy things going through people’s hearts from behind? Yeah. It happened twice, if I remember correctly, before the pointy end of an angel blade went through Cas’ heart and he died an angel death in the season finale.

Yeah. That.

So.

So now, in S15, we have Cas caught in a motif again, only this time Dean is right there with him, because it involves both of them. 

We’ve had anger and loss, and then honesty and forgiveness.

We’re back to anger, we’re back to Dean seeing red, blinded by it, and the only thing—we’ve been shown—that can unblind him is…?

That’s right: losing Cas.

So he will lose Cas again. We’ve been on the precepice of this as fact for a good long while now, haven’t we, my merry macarons? We have indeed! The question becomes how will Dean lose Cas again? Is Cas actually going to die? Again??

I still sincerely doubt it.

I think Cas will find another way, and that other way will equal a sacrifice on his part. His life? I mean, it could be, but what about the Empty? What about allowing himself to be happy? It could add up somehow, I guess I just can’t see it. So I think the sacrifice will somehow involve Heaven, because we know Michael will be back, and I hope it will involve Hell and all of the forces God has brought into being working against him—together.

S p e c.

Now, I’m a sadist. No, not like that -> I’m a sadist when it comes to characters. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a sadist. (Misha Collins is one, as we all know) (I joke!) (down Bessie!) What I’m getting at is that I want Cas having no other recourse but to do whatever it is he’ll have to do to save Jack to, quite literally, break Dean. 

We know they’re all teary eyed in 15x18 (feels like it’s Billie whom Dean is glaring at) and we’ve seen Dean crying against a wall and omfg I want it to be explicit and over Cas. Yeah? 

We ain’t getting them driving off in the Impala together (which is fine btw because the final episode should focus on the brothers more than anything else) (I mean, a hint that they will be driving around in that Impala post season finale while Sam goes to be with Eileen would be fab, but we can only hope and wish, yeah?) (horses held), so let’s get Dean broken over thinking he’ll never see Cas again. 

Let it be done with a big fat black marker in enormous circles around his emotional state. Let him TELL Cas to stay this time, like he should’ve done when Cas walked out the door in 15x03, only for Cas to be unable to comply, because this is all to teach Dean a lesson that this is where his anger gets him, and what he needs to do to save Cas is let that anger go, stop thinking Jack is expendable, and find a better way.

I mean, this is speculation, guys. This is hoping and wishing all over this narrative. But glory effing be if it’s anywhere in the ballpark.

It would be mind-blowing if there was a God intervention of some sort, a talking down off the ledge, as it were, as per end of S11, but I’m not going to hold my breath for *rainbows*…

I’ll hold it for balance, though. :)

Cas has waited for Dean for a long time. Dean being dismissive of Cas in 15x15 can, once again— because whenever he acts like a dick it comes back to bite him on the ass (there’s a visual for you)— be looked at as part of the tapestry that makes Cas feel there’s nothing more for him but being a father to Jack. 

Dean did nothing but instill this feeling in Cas after Cas came back from the black hole that is the Empty in S13, Dean being all “You were brought back because we needed you”—Dean saying zero things about how he was basically ripping apart at the seams from the grief of losing Cas just hours before Cas made that phone call. 

And of course not. Why would Dean admit that? Even to himself, once Cas was back. 

He wouldn’t! 

Ignoring how he really feels about stuff and taking Cas for granted is kinda what he does, so back to normal it all went. So normal and so leveled out that something had to happen, right? Because, in Dean’s mind, good things don’t last.

And then Mary happened.

Oh, my heart!

And Dean went off and cried, by himself, because he still couldn’t show emotion that openly, even to the people closest to him. But he went down on his knees and he cried in Cas’ ear during that prayer, and that really was something.

That said, Mary’s death was Dean proven right once again, and this person, who is the source of faith and hope and that budding belief that maybe, this time, everything was going to actually get better and stay that way, became the target of Dean’s anger over the injustice of it all. Because Cas was the root of it. He’s always been the root of Dean’s slow-to-grow hope that could bloom into belief and trust, if he just dared let it, that he deserves to be happy.

I wrote in an ask reply that I doubt we’ll get human!Cas, but then I remembered that Cas is still status quo-ing it. It’s why he almost left the bunker without telling anyone again, that choice of skedaddling without checking in getting interrupted by Dean, and Cas being brought into a situation where he had to divulge the information, not only that he was leaving and might not make it back (Dean’s face though!), but that Jack is going through a trial that will ultimately destroy him, which was a nice shift in this dynamic of theirs.

Now, look it, the writers may end Cas’ journey on him status quo-ing it... but for the Empty. 

And I would shrug at the Empty and think, well, maybe that won’t come into play... but for the fact that the deal was brought up just a few episodes back. 

So. Happiness.  

Somehow something will need to push Cas toward a moment of happiness. And letting himself be happy is such a climactic moment for his entire journey—and look at how it perfectly mirrors what Dean is being pushed toward—that I find it difficult to see how that moment would bring an eternity in the Empty.

But I’ve written a lot of words on why I just can’t make sense of why they would choose to kill him or have his moment of happiness be tied to a narrative punishment so I’m not getting into all that again, but because both Dean and Cas are being pushed toward happiness, I’m curious to see which route the writers have chosen to take with it.

It would be thrilling and satisfying in equal measure if we finally get Dean crying over Cas, and only Cas. No filter of Bobby or Mary to take away focus and allow for an argument that he’s not actually grieving Cas. 

It would be thrilling and satisfying for it to be very baseline Just Cas. As it has been just Cas this entire season. Cas at the center of Dean’s anger. Cas at the center of Dean’s push toward healing. Cas having had enough, drawing a line—the one that is still there, at his feet—and doing what he’s always done best: calling Dean out on his bullshit behaviour. Cas making Dean put words to his anger, express forgiveness and say that he’s sorry and all within the same moment to boot.

What all this will amount to, we’ll have to wait and see. 

In a few weeks. Or next week. Or maybe there will be strong indicators where the pendulum is actually swinging in 15x17!

Holy. Hell.

But I can’t see it ending somewhere tragic. If it does, it does. And it will be what it will be. And I’ll mourn a little, and accept it and move on. But I do believe it will end somewhere hopeful. Somewhere that leaves things quite tied up, but also open to interpretation, so that we can pick and choose who ends up where and how these men decide to continue on their journeys, now that this enormous leg of their progression is done, and they’ve learned to put the past to rest.

And if S11 is anything to go by, then the echoes of that ending would be a powerful way to tie everything up, as S11 was meant to be the end of the road, until Andrew Dabb picked up the reins with an idea of how to continue the show for a few more seasons. Or so I’ve heard.

11x23 also gave us the most gloriously frustrating exchange ever written for two characters in a car. Omg. Dean we-ing the absolute hell out of his speech when it was him, he was the one, the entire time Cas was possessed by Lucifer, who insisted they make sure Cas came back unscathed. “You’re the best friend we ever had” my ass, Dean! 

I wanted to talk about Dean and Sam as well, but there’s too little time at the moment for me to write more. And it’s painful, but I have to concede or hit a wall and hitting walls fucken hurts. 

I will mention that Sam telling Dean off at the end of 15x16 still gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

Finally, Sam. Finally.

As ever, sprinklings of salt all over this meta and speculation, my dearlings, but omfg it’s beautiful.

Right then. I’m off to watch 15x17! Wish me luck! *gah!*

[jo-the-schmo]

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch. 1

A/N: Alright so... I started writing this fic over a year ago, and was posting it as I wrote it. I fell out of it for a few reasons but I’ve missed it. So I decided to start writing it again. The original versions of the first 5 chapters already exist on my blog but I want to repost them and do some editing. This way I can make the series more polished. I also want to try and do a once a week maybe schedule to give me some time in between writing chapters and so I can take some feedback into consideration.I hope some of the people who originally wanted to keep up with my series see this and I want to apologize for falling back on this. I feel really bad about it. I’ll try harder to commit to this. Thank you so much for being interested in my work. If anyone would like to be tagged just let me know, I don’t wanna assume the people who did before want to now. 

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous and seemingly impossible position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Word count: 5,988

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes.

“Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner. 

“This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in the 21st century, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!”

“Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat.

“Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate. 

“We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled. 

“Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped. 

“Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI CAN get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!” 

“6.” Austin corrected. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.” 

“She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view. 

“Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?”

“Yes’ir.” 

“I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad. 

“You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.”

“Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads. 

The doors were kicked in. 

“EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing. 

“Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person. 

“Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?” 

“I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack. 

“I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils. 

“Staying alert, Dove?”

“Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines. 

“Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others. 

“I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be. 

“Take the shot!”

“Fuck you!” 

“Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected. 

“Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation. 

“Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her. 

“Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you. 

“At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care. 

“And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute. 

“Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice. 

“Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!” 

“There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.”

“And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed. 

“We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in. 

“They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit. 

“Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!”

“In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.” 

“We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two. 

“Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath. 

“Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood. 

The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands. 

But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling. 

And falling. 

The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared. 

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside. 

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!” 

The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here? 

“Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone. 

You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight. 

“You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground. 

“Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson. 

“Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“

“I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood. 

You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance. 

“Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt. 

“Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster. 

“Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat. 

“You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage. 

“James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option. 

“Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.  

“I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty-

“HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up. 

“Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed. 

“Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you. 

“Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you. 

“That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was. 

“Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” 

“Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either. 

“I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?” 

“Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name. 

“Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it. 

“Where are you from, son?”

“California.” That was a safe enough answer. 

“James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy. 

“I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’” 

“I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion. 

You handed the gun back to Dutch. 

“Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk.

“I think I like kid!” 

“Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside.

“Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him. 

“Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.”  You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe. 

There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you lept through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table. 

“What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in. 

“We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language.

“Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan.

“Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!” 

“Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening. 

“Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact. 

“They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind. 

“Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman. 

“Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets.

“Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering. 

“Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky. 

“Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward.

“Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment. 

“Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?”

“We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What?

“What?”

“Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking?

“It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry.

“Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.” 

Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled. Everything was black. 

[princessofgayskull]

somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?” Scorpia raised an eyebrow. 

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete. 

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body. 

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that. 

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation. 

“Oh.” 

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence. 

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think? 

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt. 

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority. 

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang. 

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task. 

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her. 

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a  person who takes care of and looks after her children? 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that? 

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with? 

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response. 

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.  

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES:

Sunday, January 24th

chapter twenty-seven: save me from this january gloom

Mikasa truly hated driving.

She kept her eyes on the road and blared her music.

Zeke’s house was truly in the middle of nowhere.

The mailbox read JAEGER as the GPS told Mikasa she was in the right place.

Zeke’s van and car were both sitting in the driveway. Zeke himself was standing out there smoking.

Mikasa pulled up to the three story home and parked in the driveway. She got out, grabbing her backpack.

“Eren’s inside. The girl in there is Pieck. Don’t mind her, she just broke up with her boyfriend,” Zeke said as he pointed to the door.

Mikasa made her way to the front door along with Zeke and stepped inside. There was a brunette girl that Mikasa guessed was Pieck.

“You’re Mikasa from all the pictures. I’ve heard a lot about you. You were pretty in the photos but you’re even prettier in person. I’m Pieck,” she said as she extended her hand.

Mikasa shook it.

“Hi,” Mikasa replied awkwardly.

After a moment, Pieck let go of Mikasa’s hand.

“Pieck, don’t be weird to Eren's girlfriend,” Zeke sighed as closed the door behind him.

“Do you see her bone structure? Not to mention the photos I’ve seen! She’d be perfect!”

Zeke sighed again, “you’re making it worse. She doesn’t want to be one of your models. She’s also friends with your ex boyfriend.”

“He’s not my ex boyfriend.”

“Okay, I believe that,” Zeke scoffed.

Mikasa felt like she was missing something.

“Upstairs, second floor, third door on the left,” Zeke informed her.

Mikasa walked upstairs and found the room Zeke was talking about. Should she knock?

“How did you win again?!” She heard Eren say through the wall. She took that as a sign that it was safe for her to open the door.

Eren was sitting on his bed, playing video games. A headset was on his head, plugged into the controller he was using.

“Oh hey, Mikasa,” He said, giving her a little wave.

Mikasa dropped her backpack, took off her coat, and kicked off her shoes before sitting on the bed next to Eren.

“Jean and Connie say hi.”

“Hi, Connie and Jean,” Mikasa said as she leaned over close to the mic.

“Yeah, I’m getting off, bye.” Eren said before exiting out the game and powering the console off.

He got up and put his headset on his desk. Then he sat back back down next to Mikasa.

“How are you?” She asked.

“I’m okay. Had therapy this morning so that was fun.”

“Oh.”

“We talked about my dad. I kind of had to...with everything.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know but you’re you. I mean we’re not keeping secrets anymore, right? Besides, you saw first hand the down spiral I went through when he died.”

“I’m sor-”

“Please, don’t. I know everyone says they’re sorry he’s gone but as fucked up as it sounds, I’m not,” he leaned back in his bed, his head hit the pillow. “I wonder if mom hadn’t died if he would have smashed my guitar eventually too.”

“Eren-”

This time he cut her off by grabbing her waist and pulling her close to him. He made sure her head hit the pillow next to him.

“Eren!” she squeaked in surprise.

He laughed, “I’m okay, really. You can ask Zeke. I just don’t…..want to end up like him. I know, I know. That was my whole problem before but now I’m just telling you. I’m not…..”

“Running away like a coward?”

“Yeah, that. He’s ruined enough for me, about me. Zeke grew up in spite of him. I failed at that part.”

“Did he ever apologize to you about hiding the fact you had a brother?”

“I never heard him apologize to anyone, not even my mom. Whatever was wrong with him….he didn’t want help for it. I think he was drowning in it, like I was. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to smash a guitar or leave my family.”

“Kind of already did the last part.”

“Yeah, I know. My therapist is pretty proud of me for telling you everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, said I was pretty lucky to get this chance. Most people don’t and to not fuck it up again.”

“I doubt that they said that.”

“Oh, you have not met Dr. Magath.”

Mikasa and Eren laughed.

“You are laughing and the door is open. I am taking that as my cue that you are not having sex and I can come in,” Zeke said as he entered the room from the hallway.

Mikasa and Eren both immediately went red. They both remembered when Zeke had walked into Grisha’s house on New Year's Day.

“Anyway, Pieck wants lunch so get your coat. We are meeting up with the Galliards and Reiner,” Zeke informed them.

"What are you? My mother?" Eren asked.

"Someone has to be."

"Where are we going?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Eren, if you don't hurry up, I'm going to become a cannibal," Pieck said as she entered the room. "Are you joining us, Mikasa?

"She goes where I go," Eren replied as he swung his legs to the floor.

"Another girl! Finally! And one who isn't trying to date Zeke for his money!"

"Why do you constantly have to bring her up?" Zeke groaned.

"Because your reaction amuses me,” Pieck said as she booped him on the nose.

Zeke flicked her in the ear causing her to jump.

Pieck immediately grabbed his glasses and ran away.

"Pieck! I cannot see without those. I will fall down the stairs and die."

"Then die," her voice called from the hallway.

Zeke sighed as he left Eren's room.

A thud was heard right outside of Eren's room.

"Ow! You knocked me down!"

"Maybe because I cannot fucking see without my glasses."

"You're buying me lunch."

"When do I not buy you lunch?"

"Are they….." Mikasa asked after they heard the footsteps retreat.

"No, not to my knowledge. Pieck was hooking up with Jean until recently. They broke up the other day. She’s not taking it too well.”

“Jean? Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been talking to him about the whole thing. He gave her a chance to be more and she didn’t take it. He seems pretty heartbroken by it. I kind of feel bad for the guy.”

“Why?”

“Because he finally moved on from you for real this time and she broke his heart while breaking her own.”

“Well, that’s depressing,” Mikasa muttered.

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

The restaurant was mostly empty.

"Why do you assholes have to come here? Not you, Pieck and Mikasa," Niccolo asked as he leaned on the podium.

"Because they just love you so much," Pieck replied.

"Zeke better tip well. How many?" Niccolo began to gather menus.

"Let's see, Marcel, Porco, us, Reiner, and Gabi."

"So seven, you want a table or a booth? And how is Gabi holding up?"

"Either. I'm not sure about Gabi. I imagine as well as someone who’s mom is dying can. I can’t believe it after losing her dad…”

"I'll give you a table."

Niccolo led them to a table in the back.

Mikasa sat down on one side of Eren while Zeke sat on the other.

Pieck sat down on the other side of Zeke.

"Niccolo! Come wait on us!" A voice called from the front of the restaurant.

"Porco…….I'll wait on you alright. We're over here!" Niccolo yelled back.

A tall blonde man and a brunette man made their way over to the table.

"Porco, Marcel, this is the infamous Mikasa. Isn't she super pretty?" Pieck asked.

"There you go making it weird again, Pieck." Zeke sighed.

"Hey Mikasa, I'm Marcel,” the brunette man said as he sat down.

"And I'm Porco. Good to meet the girl behind the songs. Don't let Pieck scare you off. She's just...someone who appreciates beauty,” the blonde said as he sat down next to Pieck.

"And she's a photographer. She tries to recruit people to model for her,” Marcel replied.

“Zeke! Pieck! You here yet?!”

That was a voice Mikasa recognized.

“Back here, Reiner!” Zeke yelled.

Reiner made his way to the table. He looked a mess. There was a young girl getting a piggyback ride from him.

"You look like shit," Porco replied.

"He does look like shit," the young girl replied.

"Don't say shit, Gabi," Reiner scolded.

Gabi and Mikasa's eyes met. Then Mikasa realized she was the girl from the video of the kids dancing.

"You're the pretty keyboard lady!" She exclaimed. "Reiner, put me down! I want to talk to her! Can I sit next to you?"

Mikasa remembered what Niccolo had said. This girl had one parent while another was dying. She’d be an orphan soon, just like Mikasa was.

"Sure," she replied.

Gabi squealed before she took the seat next to Mikasa.

"Hey, how come you don't freak out when you see us?" Niccolo asked.

Gabi ignored Niccolo and launched right into talking to Mikasa. "Hi. I'm Gabi Braun. I'm starting a band with my friends. My friend Falco can play the piano like you and I'm going to be the lead singer. Mr. Zeke is even giving me guitar lessons! Then my friend Udo is learning the drums and Zofia is going to play bass and we're going to be just like you!"

"Take a breath in there sometime, Gabi," Reiner scoffed as he sat down on the other side of Gabi

"And you're really pretty! All of you are! Just like me!" Gabi smiled at Mikasa.

Mikasa's face turned red. She wasn't used to this type of attention. "Thank you," she said.

"You all want drinks or am I just supposed to stand here all afternoon?" Niccolo said.

As the table ordered their drinks, Mikasa realized she hadn't even looked at the menu.

When it got to her, Mikasa felt very self conscious.

"I like the strawberry slushie lemonade,” Gabi informed her.

"Yeah, okay. I'll take that,” Mikasa told her.

Gabi beamed at the fact that Mikasa listened.

Eren smiled at Mikasa, “your first big fan!”

"Oh! I forgot they have those! Niccolo, can I change mine, please?” Pieck asked.

“Sure,” Niccolo said, “Eren? What do you want?”

“Blue raspberry slushie lemonade,” Eren replied.

“I’ll be back,” Niccolo said before he walked away.

Mikasa looked at the menu. She was trying to figure out what she was in the mood for. Gabi seemed to have calmed down with all her questions. Eren leaned over to Mikasa.

“Her dad died a few years ago. Her mom went into the hospital last week,” he whispered.

“How?”

“Dad was a soldier, died in an explosion. Her mom has cancer. Reiner’s mom will probably get custody of her.”

Mikasa looked over at the small girl to her side.

The story was all too familiar.

An explosion.

What had killed Levi’s squad and given him scars, mental and physical.

The rest of the table was happily chatting among themselves. Gabi, who may have seemed okay to some, seemed to be exhausted. The excitement of seeing Mikasa was wearing off.

“So who is going to write your songs then?” Mikasa asked.

Gabi lit up as she looked at the older girl. “Me, of course! Falco wrote a love song and I’m not singing that shit.”

“Gabi, don’t say shit,” Reiner scolded her again.

Niccolo returned with a tray of drinks. He passed them out to everyone.

“You seem to be in a shitty ass mood, Niccolo. What’s up with that?” Marcel asked.

“Don’t worry about it. You ready to order?” He asked.

“I am,” Pieck said.

The orders began and Niccolo stormed away from the table after he was done.

“What the fuck is up with that?” Porco asked as he sipped on his drink.

“Sasha and him had a fight. I think they broke up,” Pieck replied.

Mikasa remembered what Sasha had told her. She felt a little guilty being her in that moment. Then again, it was not like she had planned to see Niccolo.

After ordering, Mikasa pulled out her phone and began to text Sasha.

Mikasa Ackerman:

Hey sorry I’m at lunch and Niccolo is here. He’s waiting on us. Zeke and Pieck picked the place...I think.

Sasha Blouse:

Not a big deal.

Mikasa Ackerman:

I still feel bad.

Sasha Blouse:

Don’t.

Mikasa Ackerman:

:(

Sasha Blouse:

You worry too much. Just don’t say anything about me. K?

Mikasa Ackerman:

Done.

Sasha Blouse:

Ily. Now go enjoy your lunch. Don’t text me back. :)

Mikasa put her phone back into her pocket.

“I’m just saying a love song is a bad idea. What does Falco even know about love? He’s only twelve! Besides, who could he be in love with?” Gabi argued.

Reiner looked over at Mikasa.

“Remind you of anyone?” he asked.

Eren had said the exact same thing about Mikasa.

“Be nice to Falco, Gabi. He cares about you a lot,” Reiner said.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid,” Eren said before he took a drink.

“I am nice to him! He comes over everyday! We walk home together. We take turns carrying one another’s books! I’m super nice to Falco!” Gabi protested.

“Maybe he is in love with someone but he isn’t ready to tell them yet. That’s what I did,” Mikasa reassured Gabi.

“I just hope it’s not Zofia because that would be….I dunno what it would be but I wouldn’t like. I don’t want him to be in love with somebody.”

“She’s just as clueless as my brother,” Zeke muttered.

“Still not as clueless as Pieck with…..” Porco said.

Pieck stomped on Porco’s foot as hard as she possibly could.

“What the fuck, Pieck?” Porco said to her.

“We’re not talking about him!” Pieck yelled.

“Why are you so loud?” Niccolo asked as he returned with the food.

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

Once Zeke paid for lunch and they were on their way out, Reiner stopped Mikasa.

“Thanks for listening to Gabi. I know she’ll talk your ear off but this is the first time I’ve seen her smile since her mom went into the hospital She really loves your band,” Reiner confessed. “She’s a good kid. Reminds me a lot of….”

“Me?” Eren said as he walked up to them and wrapped his arm around Mikasa's shoulders.

“She’s exactly like you. Clueless as ever,” Reiner scoffed.

“Don’t let her fuck it up with Falco then.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Jaeger. She’s not making your mistakes.”

Gabi ran up to them.

“Do you think you can give me a shoutout on your next livestream?” She asked.

“Yeah, we can,” Mikasa smiled.

“Take that, Falco!” she yelled as she pumped her hand into the air.

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

The rest of the day was mostly keeping Eren busy.

Mikasa tried to beat him at video games again.

Once again, she lost to him.

The Restorationists had practice once Niccolo was off work. Mikasa respected their privacy, working on her own lyrics. She had a good idea for a song, though she wasn’t sure how exactly she wanted to compose the music. She hoped Historia would like it.

The music from the Restorationists filled the house.

Niccolo was still clearly upset. He would get angry when he’d mess up, yelling every time the band had to restart.

Then again, Mikasa hadn’t been around him all that much. So maybe this was natural.

“Mikasa! You want pizza? I am not cooking!” Zeke yelled when they were taking a break.

“I’m okay with that!” She yelled back.

“Okay! I will order it!”

Practice resumed.

Listening to the music echo through the house, Mikasa remember that she was suppose to ask them if they wanted to collaborate. She and Eren had done that many times in high school. This would be different. Her and Historia had already written the music and lyrics with the collaboration in mind.

“Bye, Mikasa! I’m going to work at the club!” Niccolo called after practice ended.

“Bye!” she yelled.

Eren walked into the room after a moment. He collapsed on his bed.

“Bad?” she asked him.

“Eh, not really. I mean, everyone has an off day,” he replied.

“What do you think about a collaboration? I mean I saw someone posted it on Instagram with the video of the kids but I didn’t know if your band actually wanted to.”

“Niccolo is my only worry but he was the one to suggest it on Instagram. I think it’s a good idea. We’ll just have to ask Zeke and Pieck. Let’s go bother them,” Eren said before getting out of bed.

Mikasa followed his lead and then followed him downstairs.

“Collaboration with No Name?” Eren asked as he walked into the living room.

“Yes! More girls!” Pieck exclaimed.

“It would be beneficial for both bands,” Zeke said.

“Well, I guess that means it's happening. We already wrote a song with your band in mind,” Mikasa remarked.

There was a knock on the door.

“That would be the pizza,” Zeke said as he made his way to the door.

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

Pieck left at dinner, leaving just Zeke, Eren, and Mikasa.

“You should show her the third floor,” Zeke said as he pulled his coat on.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that!” Eren exclaimed as he stood up from the kitchen table.

“What’s on the third floor?” Mikasa asked as she stood up.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Eren said before taking her hand and dragging her up the stairs.

They passed Eren’s bedroom as they went towards the next set of stairs.

The third floor had several rooms that they passed as they walked up to two large doors. Eren pulled them open, revealing a large ornate room. There was a grand piano in the middle of the room. One side was nothing but bookshelves. The pictures that once lined the halls of Grisha’s house lined one wall along with pictures of Zeke and his friends.

“That’s Dina, Zeke’s mom,” Eren said, pointing to a photo of Grisha, Zeke, and Dina. “How my dad ended up with all these pretty women is a mystery to me.”

“Zeke looks like a blonde you,” Mikasa teased.

“Don’t remind me. There’s my grandparents, my aunt.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died when my dad was a kid. He never really spoke about her. Neither did our grandparents according to Zeke. There was some sort of accident and I guess my dad blames himself for it. That’s all we know,” Eren replied before he pulled her towards the piano.

Mikasa sat down on the bench and Eren sat down next to her.

“You can play it. Zeke gets it tuned regularly. He and Pieck can play. Go on,” Eren encouraged her.

Mikasa reached and pressed one of the keys.

It was such a familiar, comforting sound.

Music was an escape for both Eren and Mikasa. A way to speak that others could understand. A way to get all the horrible feelings out of their heads.

Eren watched her play. How her fingers skillfully navigated for each note. He didn’t recognize the song, that wasn’t surprising to him. Mikasa wrote new songs almost every other day. He wasn’t much better.

It was very comforting that while everything else had changed, Mikasa still wrote music.

Eren smiled, allowing the music to take over.

Zeke had snuck up to see how Eren and Mikasa were, just checking up on them. He smiled at the sight he saw in front of him.

For some reason, Zeke felt his mom in that moment. He could see her playing that piano. Though her own family had kicked her out, Zeke’s grandparents had not, even after Grisha left her. She was still their daughter in law.

The piano had been in Zeke’s childhood home before it had been moved here during the renovations.

Zeke snapped a picture of the young couple and sent it to Levi.  

Levi sent back a simple message.

CAPTAIN LEVI ACKERMAN:

Told you so.

Yeah. Levi had.

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

Niccolo got the word that night that The Restorationists were actually collaborating with No Name.

He had been the one to suggest that.

He couldn’t back out of it now.

Not to mention how happy everyone else in the band seemed to be about it .

Maybe that’s why he got drunk that night.

Maybe it was because he had been here before.

A girl he liked being so close to her ex, it was all too familiar.

There was a rational part of him that said Sasha wasn’t his ex girlfriend.

Then there was the part of him that had already seen this play out before.

Girls seemed to always end up back with their exes.

He knew Connie was a good guy or at least he had seemed that way.

He knew Connie had a girlfriend.

Niccolo took a drink of whiskey directly from the bottle.

He felt like an idiot.

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten mad about Connie.

It was stupid.

But there was no taking it back now.

He had gone to the bar earlier in the night with plans to take someone home but he couldn’t bring himself to.

How had they gone from not being able to talk to one another to becoming more comfortable to this?

But it hurt him.

Maybe it was because he had hoped to be her first.

He was stupid and having double standards.

He got that.

But the fact that it was with someone she was still friends with?

Yeah, he wasn’t okay with that at all.

He took another drink before he put the cap back on before he sat it back down on the kitchen counter.

He climbed the stairs and went to bed at 6:00 am.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

spn 15.14

now this is the late-season spn content i’m craving: an absurdly cheerful and superficial veneer over dark and abyssal horror. and it’s not horror in the universe-is-ending sort of way (tho that’s happening too, but eh, whatever, the characters aren’t too cut-up over it) but in the insidious way the show both indulges in and explicitly acknowledges the toxicity of its main relationships. it’s just a very fitting tone for the show to take, given reality’s kinda been similar for the last several years: increasingly aware that it’s irredeemably fucked up, but (mostly) carrying on all the same. 

spoilers ahead.

1. i can’t believe this is one of the first episodes i see after the eldritch-bunker fic i wrote. spn has never been about that kind of horror, but it was cool to see a little more of the bunker’s secrets revealed (tho wasn’t there a lockdown-type situation in s12? i think? the reset button could’ve come in real handy then.)

1.25. it’s still remarkable to me, though, that despite living out of the bunker for nearly seven years, samndean are... strangely incurious about how it works. i would’ve thought at least sam would want to explore and figure things out, though maybe gaining knowledge for knowledge’s sake has dropped very low on his list of priorities in the last several years, and he’s busy trying to conserve what little physical/mental energy he has. ‘research’ has always meant either trying to deal with the aftermath of an apocalyptic disaster or trying frantically to prevent another one, and i don’t suppose ‘looking at more supernatural shit’ is something sam would associate with pleasure or positivity now.

1.5. which is why it’s kind of a stroke of genius to have mrs butters represent the spirit of the bunker: samndean’s complacency as long as she took care of their needs without seeming to want anything of her own is very reminiscent of how they treat their alleged home. 

2. cuthbert sinclair cameo! man, i miss s8....

3. it’s kind of darkly hilarious how many times mary’s death was brought up in an episode where mrs butters fulfilled a fantasy-mother’s role. she is the idealised mother-figure: always kind, nurturing, giving and giving and never taking--in sharp contrast to their actual mother, who turned out to be a far more complicated person than the ones her sons had idealised. (if anything mary’s second death has sort of resurrected her as a martyr figure in dean’s eyes: something on which to hang his righteous fury.) it was bizarre, yet entirely fitting, that both samndean went along with it after 2.5 seconds of vague misgivings. hell, dean was prepared to let mrs butters capturing and threatening to kill jack go if it meant that she could keep taking care of them!

3.5. of course mrs butters then turned out to be dangerous and twisted--but not because of any inherent nature but because she had been tortured and brainwashed into fulfilling a role ‘in the family’ by men whom she still pined after at the end of the episode. like. OH MY GOD.

if things couldn’t get more explicit, the episode had sam be the only one to acknowledge and empathise with mrs butters, yet accept her tragic and twisted devotion to the MOL as benign and even adorable at the end of episode anyway. why wouldn’t he? his own edges have been at first chiseled away, then inelegantly lopped off, to fit the Winchester Ideal--something that he’s learned not to get angry about, then to be grateful for. this episode even juxtaposes mrs butters talking about pain ‘being a wonderful teacher’ while torturing sam with dean going ‘pain is just weakness leaving your body’ to jack: these are lessons about needing to be in pain in the service of a higher, correct goal.

this is why late-season spn is both exciting and drives me up the fucking wall.

3.8. dean’s disappointment when he said ‘of course you had to pull a ratched’ gave me chills. there is not one iota of effort from him to acknowledge the atrocity that has been committed on mrs butters, one that he was more than happy to exploit. sam is a bit better, but only just. 

4. i haven’t even been watching the last few seasons regularly and i feel like this debate over jack being a ‘monster’ has been rehashed way too many times already. what would be more interesting to acknowledge is the way samndean treat him like a weapon rather than the kid they keep professing he is. even in that confrontation with mrs butters, while sam at least talked about jack being a kid who���s gone through too much already, dean could only come up with ‘he’s going to save the world’. mrs butters even leaves with a ‘you save the world’ to jack rather than anything more intimate/personal. what a terrible burden to leave on this kid! what a terrible way to re-enact the tragedies that shaped samndean into the twisted, fucked-up men that they are on this being that’s only ever existed to win their approval!

i really feel like sam had an opportunity to at least try and make things right at the end of the episode, when jack confesses his self-doubt to him. but he blew it: all he could say was, ‘you’re the only one who can do it’. sam, bless him, continues to fail to stand up for jack, which means, for all his good intentions and love, he continues to fail jack.

5. i’ve noticed that lately when i write these reviews, i write ‘samndean’ a lot--it’s because they often act as one entity, existing with seemingly no conflict between them. on one level, it’s boring and--no no. on the same level, it’s downright fucking chilling. dean makes the decisions, and sam makes a weak, token protest, but goes along with a shake of his head and a soft smile. he doesn’t get angry anymore. he hasn’t stood up for himself in a good long while. 

can they fight again, maybe? brotherly conflict doesn’t have to lead to a straight line to fratricide, but it would be nice to be reminded, before the end, that sam and dean have distinct personalities.

6. it’s just really hard to square the winchesters’ discomfort and then visceral opposition to the way the british men of letters operated with their casual acceptance of the exploitative, unethical and elitist legacy that the american men of letters left them. it’s hard to take any of their numerous. numerous conversations about how monsters are people too over the last decade and a half seriously when they’re happily taking advantage of a ‘monster radar’ to go and lop the heads of monsters who haven’t even done anything to deserve being hunted (that poor vampire kid was pouring a blood bag into his giant soda cup! he didn’t deserve to die like that!). the romanticisation of supernatural being about roadtripping across small-town america while hunting supernatural monsters is laughable when its heroes spend all their time holed up in a gigantic luxury bunker built centuries ago by a bunch of rich, secretive assholes. it’s baffling to be told that sam and dean can barely take care of themselves when they’ve spent all their lives taking care of themselves (with a bit of ‘oh boys will be boys’ casual sexism thrown in).

why would you undermine your legacy like this, show? is this how sam and dean are going to end? 

[wayward-mikaelson]

Centuries--Three

Word Count: 2255

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack, Reader, Crowley (Mentioned), Maggie (Mentioned), Hezekiah (OG, Mentioned), Farid (OG)

About: The Reader and Dean go out after learning from Cas that she is on both Heavens and Hells most wanted list. They are then cornered by a few demons where they learn about another missing piece of the Readers missing memories. One that has both Dean and Reader agreeing that Sam mustn’t know about.

Warnings: Language, Tease (Sexual), Fluff, Angst, Fighting, Blood and Gore, Panic Attack, 

A/N: I am noticing that I am changing my original story line a bit. I really hope you all like it!!!! 

A/N 2: Tag all your fave accounts/friends who love SPN!!! 

A/N 3: If you want to be tagged in of my fics, Let me know below or send me a DM!!!

Forever Tag List: @hobby27​ @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @magssteenkamp​ @elansaidaris​ @440mxs-wife​ @squirrelnotsam​

Dean/Jensen Tag List: @akshi8278​ @sandlee44​

*18+ CONTENT. ANYONE YOUNGER THAN 18 WILL NEED TO MOVE ON. I DON’T WANT TO RISK MY ACCOUNT BEING THANOSED.

**PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION OR WITHOUT GIVING ME THE PROPER CREDIT. I WORK TOO HARD ON MY STORIES TO HAVE THEM STOLEN.

***THIS WORK IS ALSO POSTED ON IG, WATTPAD, AND AO3. PLEASE GO SHOW THEM SOME LOVE THERE TOO.

"A whole fucking year?!" Dean asks the next morning. He sits up in bed and tousles his hair. If he weren't too annoyed and upset, I would have found the action sexy and hot. But I don't, also doesn't mean I'm not turn on by it. "And you didn't think to wake me up with this information?"

I take a deep breath. Understand what he's saying. I should have woken him up but, to be honest, I was more focused on what I was feeling when I found out I had been back for a full on year. "According to what Sam found on the phone," I say rolling out of bed. Before I get dressed, I turn back to Dean. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. You actually looked really peaceful sleeping."

When I came back to the room, I had seen how peaceful he looked. Even when I was living the first time around...wow, I never knew I would ever have a thought like that.  Dean rarely ever saw rest like that. It could have been the sex. It could have been seeing me alive and somewhat well. It could have been a combination of both.

Dean nods his head and rolls out of bed. I bite my lip as I see his entire figure. "I did sleep good," He turns back to me and smiles at me. Then he notices me staring at him. Dean leans over the bed and eyes the black underwear I'm wearing under his tshirt. "You know," he tugs at the hem of the shirt and elastic of the underwear. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

I smile and playfully push his hand back. "Not now," I pull some pants on and throw my hair up in a hair tie. Turning back around dean is in my favorite red button up shirt. That damn red shirt did things to me and made me feel things that are just as dirty as the sex last night.

"Well, now that's hot." Dean's dressed and pulls me into his arms. "Maybe we can get you some fake glasses and you can teach me a few lessons." His voices purrs against my skin and I am very tempted to rip my clothes off and shove Dean on the bed. But I can't. Not this time at least. We have so much to do and get onto.

"Sweetheart," I say wrapping my arms around his neck. "When all of this over and I get a years worth of memories back, you can have me in whatever way and shape you want." I plant a soft and gentle kiss on his lips.

"I guess we should get those memories back then huh?" Dean gives my ass a little squeeze before pushing away from me. "What do you say we get some food?"

We head to the kitchen to hear Sam talking to Cas. When we enter the Kitchen we see the two of them huddled up while Jack sat a few feet from them looking at a book. He looks confused and interested at the same time. Cas looks up and stops talking.

"What's up?" I ask sitting across from Jack but the questions is aimed at Cas and Sam. They continue to look at me and not say anything. Dean picks it up too.

"Dragons are real?" Jack looks up at me with his eye brows knitted together.

"Yes," I say. "They kidnap virgins and the only way they can be killed is by a blade they forge." I take the book from him and close it. "Go to my room, its down that hall and the third door on the left. There will be better books in there for you to choose from. Grab The Lightning Thief  and read it."

Jack gets up and does what I say. Once he was gone Cas sighs. "He should be reading up on all the Lore he can."

"He's a child Cas," I say. "Let him enjoy something fun." I turn towards the angel and younger Winchester. "Now, what's up that you guys had to stop talking in hushed tones. It sure has something to do with me. Let's get it all out in the open now."

It's quiet for a while. My heart races because if it was something I did and because I won't remember it, then I don't know what I would do to even forgive myself. Dean must have seen my worry because he is sitting next to me. Cas and Sam look at each other and Sam nods.

Cas takes a deep breath before speaking. "I over heard something on Angel radio," Another deep breath. "That both angels and demons are looking for you. Apparently they have had you on their radar since you came back last year. They want to know how and why. It is not pretty."

I let out a shaky breath. "Well they can get in line until we figure that out." I get up to get my blood moving. Dean attempts to grab my hand but, I push it away. "I need to get out of here and get some air." I start to feel dizzy. What did I do to get on heavens and hells most wanted list? I get to the top of the stairs and realize that Dean has my hands and his turning me towards him.

"I can't let you go out there," he says. "Not with a giant target on your back. You're on a wanted list. If any of them get you, it won't be pretty. They will torture you and I don't know what I would do if I lost you again."

I stare at Dean. I see the worry on his face. He must see the fear on mine. "You're not my parent. Dean," I whisper. "I'm full grown ass woman who can't breath in here," My voice raises through clenched teeth. "So let me go so I can get some air or I will kick your ass."

Dean drops my hands and ushers me out the door. Once outside, I put my hands on my knees and just breath.  Dean standing beside me rubbing my back. "I'm sorry," He says kneeling down to look at me. "Where should we go?" He rattles the impala keys in his hands.

Within the hour, we are parked in a alley way about to rip our clothes off when there is tapping on the window. We both sigh in annoyance. I slide off Deans lap and fix up my hair and see not one but, four people standing in the alley. I look at Dean who is getting the same vibe I am. Dean opens the glove compartment and pulls out two angel blades.

"Probably not the best idea," he says as he slides a blade over to me.

"Best idea in the moment," I open the door and step out and smile at the group of demons. "What do we owe for this visit?" I give a taunting smile. The kind of smile I remember using in Hell to get what I wanted when I was a demon. Dean notices and looks me up and down.

"Crowley wants your head." one of the two females say.

"Of course he does," I say keeping the taunting smile. But what for? I wondered. "And why is that, again?" I ask.

The demons laugh. A male demon steps forward. "Don't play stupid."

"Hey!" Dean points his blade and the male stops talking. "If anyone calls YN stupid or any other names, I will be sending you back to Crowley in a tiny USPS box."

The demons look at each other. The female who spoke before, well, she walks up to me. I continue to keep my taunting smile  but, from the corner of my eye I see Deans body stiffen up. "All those deals you made as a demon, all those souls that were rightfully Crowley's, have been null and void since you came back. So he's a little pisses and want's your he for it but according to the self righteous dicks they want you for information on a rogue angel you've been in cahoots with."

I loose my smile and look at Dean. I don't care about the deals being voided by whatever, what I do care about is the fact I was working with a rogue angel. Then something clicks in the back of my brain. "Hezekiah," I say under my breath.

"Ahhh yes, that's his name. The same dick that sicked you on that poor hunter chick a while back. Sliced her throat and almost bled her dry. Into a hikers camel back." She smiles wickedly and it sends a shiver down my spine.

"What?" I can barely get my voice out. I can hear Cas's words echo in my head from the day before. Maggie had been found with a throat slashed. In the woods. I look at Dean who is looking at me, there's a realization on his face when he connects the dots too. Sam mustn't know. I look back at the demon licking my lips.

"Prove it," Dean says to the demons. "Prove that it was her if you're so sure that it was her."

The demon laughs and stalks towards Dean. Making  your already on edge body and mind even more on edge. I turn a bit so that I don't loose sight of the other three demons standing with weapons in their hands. "We don't have to prove anything to you," She get's too close for my liking but I don't move. I watch as the demon pulls an angel blade out and draws the tip of it up his arm to his cheek. "Farid," she calls to the male demon who basically called me stupid. "Grab YN, take her Crowley. I might have a little fun with the Winchester."

Having a flashback of that time in the field before I died going through the gates of Heaven. Everything starts to move in slow motion. I turn to see the demon, Farid, run towards me. From the corner of my eye I see Dean spin the female demon around and stab her with her own blade. She lights up and falls to the ground. I focus on the demon charging me and simply side step away and grab his arm and push him on the wall. I drive my blade into the middle of his back and watch as his body lights up. I watch as his body falls to the ground and the blood spills out of his body.

I turn to see the other two demons smoke out, leaving their vessels behind. Dean and I go and check to see if they are alive but, sadly they are not. I sit back and start to breath deeply. I feel that my body is starting to relax and my heart pace quickens. I close my eyes and try to forget what the demon told us. I did not kill Maggie. I wouldn't kill my best friend. I hope to God that I didn't. Sam will never forgive me I did.

I feel Deans hand on mine and I open my eyes. "Hey, you wouldn't kill Maggie. You want to know why I know that? You and her were always joined at the hip, the best of friends." I know Dean is trying to help but it doesn't make me feel any better.

"And if I did?" I ask letting tears fall. I can't stop thinking about it. Something deep inside me was telling me that its true. And if I did, Sam will most likely kill me.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," Dean brushes the tears away. Dean helps me up and leads me back to the Impala. "We will have Cas try and search hard for that forgotten memory." I nod and hug my arms around myself and close my eyes.

"We don't tell Sam about this at all," I say and see Dean nod in agreement.

Once we are back at the bunker and are inside, Cas tells us that Sam went out with Jack on a supply run. Which makes everything better. Dean catches Cas up to speed and I head to the room 7B. I stood in the door way as I remember Michael, in Deans body, sitting at the table strapped to wires. I remember that some hours before that he had stabbed me after kidnapping me.

Take a deep breath and walk into the room and grab rope and a chair. I turn to see both Dean and Cas standing in the door way. I hold the rope out and Dean approaches me and takes the rope. I sit in the chair and let him tie me up. One the way back I told Dean he would need to tie me down because for some reason if something were to snap in my head and I went into some robot killer mode, the both of us were protected.

"Okay," Dean steps aside. Cas walks up behind me and places two hands on both sides of head.

"Here goes nothing," Cas says. I feel a wave of energy run through my brain. It hurts like hell but I can't find the will to scream out in pain but, I can't possibly tell him to stop. "There is a wall up but, theres a crack. I might be able to get into it."

"Whatever you have to do," I say through the pain in my brain.

Then, my vision is clouded by a bright light.

[theabandonmentissues]

EPISODE ONE TRANSCRIPT

Warning: The following podcast is for entertainment purposes only. Trespassing is not only illegal, but often incredibly dangerous. The hosts do not condone any activities that could put their listeners in harms way, and encourage you to proceed with caution and do your research before exploring the unknown. We cannot be held liable for any accidents, injury, or hauntings that may occur. Listener discretion is advised. 

(full transcript under the cut.)

E:Alright I think this is right.

Z: Is it?

E: Yeah, yeah that's right, okay.

Z: Beautiful.

E: Let me find this tweet. The first thing in my drafts, is (laughs)-

Z: I'm scared.

E: (laughs)...I remember typing this out at like 2 o'clock in the morning when I had to be up for work at five. I put, “I love not learning new pop culture terms. Love being blissfully unaware. I still am not sure what poggers means. I do not care. I am free.”

Z: (laughs)

E: And I was so tired I thought that was profound. Let's see.

Z: (continues laughing)

E & Z: (laugh)

Z: Damn. That's like our declaration of independence.

E: (laughs) I'm going to print that out on the wall.

Z: That's Gen Z's declaration.

E: Let's see, where is it? There's one about Jack Black being sexy.

Z: Yeah, and it's in the drafts, why?

E: (laughs) This one says, this one all it says, no capitalization, no punctuation is, “I want Ellen Ripley to knock me out cold.”

E: (laughs)

Z: (laughs)

E: And I live by that.

Z: That's your truth and you should speak it.

E: Okay, here it is. “Sometimes, facing your fears means letting out that earth-shattering fart in the public restroom, even if there are other occupants. Speak loud, even when your voice shakes, babes.”

Z: (laughs) Shut the fuck up.

E: (laughs)

Z: No!

E: Yeah, that one...uh, that one is in the drafts. Alright, well. You asked about an intro, and I had something that was work shopping.

Z: Oooooo...

E: Do you wanna hear it?

Z: Yes, please. Please, please.

E: Alright. Hello, welcome to The Abandonment Issues, a periodical podcast about the past, the paranormal, and the just plain perplexing. I'm your host, Em.

Z: And I'm Zack.

E: How'd you feel-

Z: The other host. (laughs)

E: How'd you feel about that alliteration?

Z: You know I love alliteration.

E: I do too, I got really excited about it.

Z: (laughs)

E: I was like dead asleep, well, I wasn't dead asleep. I was very close to being though.

Z: Right.

E: And I had that thought, and I was like “Fuck, I gotta wake up and type that.” So...

Z: It was worth it though.

E: Thank you.

Z: I like it.

E: I don't know if that'll stick, but I think-

Z: I don't know, it's a start

E: It's a good start. Yeah.

Z: Yeah. Well..

E: So.

Z: Howdy doody, how ya doing.

E: Oh god, well um, I just whacked my headphones against my mic and I think it's still vibrating. But otherwise, I'm doing great.

Z: (laughs) Well, that's good.

E: How ya been?

Z: I mean, I've been alright.

E: That's good.

Z: We haven't seen each other, I mean, we haven't like recorded-recorded in two weeks?

E: Yeah.

Z: It's been like two weeks, so.

E: Yeah, I think so.

Z: It's been a second, but yeah.

E: Oh?

Z: So.

E: This is our first official, like official recording, the other ones were just tests, so.

Z: So, it's a little different, yeah. Like Em said, we did a couple recordings, so we kind of like, dipped our toes in the water of what it's like to just get behind the mics and stuff, but again this is our first episode, and we kinda just wanted to, lean in and kind of explain why we are here.

E: Yeah.

Z: What we are going to be doing, things we are going to talk about et cetera, et cetera.

E: Yeah.

Z: So. Do you want to-let's start with the-we have a couple ice breaker questions.

E: I'm so excited.

Z: Because, okay, so, you have a college degree.

E: I do.

Z: I have college credits. So we both went to college. (laughs)

E: Yes.

Z: You know, it's fun to do the ice breaker questions when you start a class.

E: Yeah.

Z: Because, even if you don't pay attention to anything that anybody else says-

E: Someone is going to change something that changes your life.

Z: Every single time-

E: Especially, I'm sorry to interrupt.

Z: No, you're good.

E: But, especially if you are playing two truths and a lie. I have found that that is the ice breaker game that I come away changed forever, like I've learned some things about some people playing that game. Are you okay?

Z: There's a burp coming.

E: (laughs)

E: Just let 'er out.

Z: (burps) There it is. (laughs)

E: Wow, that was lovely.

Z: Not to derail, real quick, but-

E: Go for it.

Z: Have you ever used Bumble?

E: Very briefly.

Z: One of my favorite things about Bumble, is that you can do like questions or whatever-

E: And that's one of 'em.

Z: That's one of them! It really, it's really telling. And I love, cause one of my truths is always so bizarre. You know which one I am talking about, but no one ever goes for it.

E: I honestly can't-

Z: The car. *laughs*

E: Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, that one is pretty unbelievable. But-

Z: Yeah, we'll save that for another time.

E: I've seen that one, uh, I've seen the repercussions of that one in real time.

Z: Anyway.

Z: (laugh)

E: Alright, well...

Z: Episode one, we are going to expose my entire past.

E: Yeah.

Z: Okay, so. When we first kind of, started talking about the idea for this podcast, which really was just bred, I think just kind of like a joke text that I sent. Or that you sent.

E: I honestly don't even remember.

Z: It was, I mean just the, the very cliché, “We should start a podcast!” and then it just kind of went from there. Just I mean, 2020.

E: Yeah.

Z: It's nothing but boredom. When when we first started talking about, what we wanted to do with our podcast. It really just stemmed from, for me anyway, just really wanting to bring light to the history that exists here in the south.

E: Yeah we didn't really say that, we-

Z: No. (laughs)

E:...we are in the south, we are some good 'ol southern boys.

Z: Just a couple of southern boys.

E: Yea!

Z: We grew up very close to each other, as far as, location.

E: Yeah.

Z: And you know, our high schools probably taught around the same genre and path of like history.

E: Yeah.

Z: It's all white washed and gross. Bleh. But-

E: It's only getting worse, did you hear that Tennessee is like, passing laws to, how did they put it, it's so, it's such bullshit. Basically erasing any history of slavery or discrimination. I think that call it something like Radical Race Theory.

Z: Well, that's great. Welcome to our podcast where we are gonna nip all that in the butt.

E: Yeah.

Z: Because truly, like Em just stated, it's only getting worse, apparently. Jesus Christ, I hate Tennessee.

E: Yeah, I found out like a week ago.

E: Hi guys this is Em, I'm doing the editing, and I just wanted to clarify something really quick. When we were recording this episode, I misspoke and I said that this concept was called Radical Race Theory, but that is incorrect. The correct term is Critical Race Theory. So, I am sorry for that error. If you don't know what a ban like this would mean, the short version is basically, is that American lawmakers are trying to dictate and restrict what can and can't be taught in public schools about the history of systemic racism and slavery in the United States. I'm going to include some links in our resources for the episode where you can learn more about this and we really encourage you to check those out and do your research, because this is obviously an important part of American history for everyone. To erase these topics from lesson plans, really presents a biased and skewed version of events. Anyway, I'm sorry for that error and I hope you enjoy the rest of the episode .

Z: There's just so much history and just stories that are just passed down even by even just word of mouth-

E: Mmhmm

Z:...down here in the south. That literally no one knows about.

E: Yeah.

Z: I think that's, that really is what piqued our interest. When we were throwing around the idea of this podcast to begin with, it really was just like, “We're gonna find an abandoned building, we're going to dig into the research of it, and we're going to talk about this abandoned place.” And from what we are now, it's really expanded to literally just like a history lesson.

E: History, I think it's important to not only to cover the actual facts, but also, I think, not necessarily, like fiction and urban legends and that kind of thing. I think that sort of thing has a lot to do with like story telling, and the culture of the area like-

Z: Right.

E:..like there are, you know, you have things from like, the stories that your grandmother would tell you to keep you from being a little shit when you were a kid.

Z: (laughs)

E: Or, you know, why if there's like an anecdote for why is the sky blue, how did this mountain range be formed. Y'know I think stuff like that is really interesting. When you're driving along some random ass back road and you see an old house, and you think, “Huh, I wanna know the history of that place.” That is the kind of, the kind of thing, that I think really inspires me, is like. Seeing something, not knowing anything about it, wanting to learn about it.

Z: Exactly. And-

E: (laughs)

Z:...we had created like a little baby list of questions that we wanted to ask. When we first started kind of throwing around the idea of what we wanted to do. We kind of already covered a couple of them. But I guess I'll just kind of go down the list again.

E: Okay, sure.

Z: Just to kind of like, ya know, put the nail in the coffin, so to speak.

E: Yeah.

Z: So, the first question that we have, is who or what are our inspirations?

E: Okay.

Z: So I would say, for me personally, like I said, just growing up, and like I can't think of anything off the top of my head. But like growing up and learning that an event happened. Or someone did this thing and, you come to realize later on in life that what you were taught, wasn't necessarily the truth. The whole truth, anyway.

E: Yeah.

Z: So for me, I guess, it's not so much a who, as so much as a what. For me it's just really like uncovering what is real.

E: Okay, yeah.

Z: So.

E: I think, I think that's a good way to put it. And I feel like, y'know, disclaimer, we are not perfect, we are probably not always going to do perfect research. You know, we're not exposing all the facts, in their, 100% true form, 'cause you know. We're just taking the information that we can find and putting that to use. But I agree, I think that that's a big part of it for me is like. I can remember several times when I was younger, like having a teacher, do a lesson and be like, “Oh well this thing happened,” and then being like well, “Okay I want to know more about that but I don't know how.” And now, you know, I'm an adult, and I have better research skills, so.

Z: Right.

E: I think it's a far more entertaining use of my time, that what I was doing previously. Which was just, laying on the floor and looking at TikTok.

Z: Right. (laughs)

E: (laughs)

Z: TikTok truly, worms in my brain.

E: Yeah.

Z: But, it truly, this is just, even, I mean, we've been batting around the idea of this podcast for a couple months.

E: Mmhmm.

Z: And just getting started, and doing the research and like looking into these stories, has been so much fun.

E: Oh yeah.

Z: And, I know the story that you're going to cover today has been one.

E: Yes.

Z: And I know that I've heard bits and pieces throughout our friendship, pretty much.

E: Mmhmm.

Z: And we've known each other for awhile.

E: Mmhmm.

Z: So I'm excited to get, like the full, like get in there.

E: Yeah, I'm excited about yours too, because like,it-it's, I mean, I think, I feel like maybe comparatively I might know just a tiny bit more about yours than you might know about mine.

Z: Right.

E: Just because I've been to this location.

Z: Right.

E: And I've like snooped around there.

Z: Everyone has in this area.

E: Yeah.

Z: Well, goals for the podcast. Do you have any goals in mind?

E: I want a Lamborghini.

Z: I want to be Mr. Beast.

E: I thought you were *laughs* I thought you were gonna say Mr. Bean.

E&Z: *laugh*

E: Oh my god, which actually-

Z: That too.

E:...derailed, for a second, but this is relevant considering what I just said, um, did you know-do you listen...I know you like Gracie Helbig and Mamrie Hart.

Z: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

E: Do you listen to their podcast?

Z: Oh yeah.

E: Have you heard the one where they talk about how Mr. Bean has wrecked two McLarens?

Z: YES!

E: Apparently the man has like a 170 IQ and a passion, a deep burning passion for sports cars. And he has-I don't know if he has if he has wrecked two different ones or if it's the same one that he's wrecked twice. But he is currently trying to sell it for like 12 million dollars. And that, I have thought about that fact all fucking week. All week. They were talking about cars at work yesterday and I had to just like clench my fists and hold in the fact that I wanted to yell across the expo station, “MR. BEAN HAS WRECKED TWO MCLARENS!” Anyway.

Z: Truly it's a-

E: So sorry, but I had to get that off my chest

Z: Oh my god.

E: Rowan Atkincenter, what is his name? Ronan? Rowan Atkinson?

Z: Mr. Bean?

E: Yeah.

Z: I don't know his-the only thing I know about Mr. Bean is that he has wrecked two McLarens.

E&Z: *laughs*

E: Oh my god..

Z: Um, jesus. Goals for the podcast for me um. Yeah, a Lamborghini would be nice.

E: It would be nice, wouldn't it?

Z: No, truthfully, and I feel like I've said this like 50 times already. It's just getting the information out there. Letting people be in the know about what's going on in the south. Because I feel like *clears throat* excuse me. There's like this weird stigma against the south.

E: For sure.

Z: And it's just poor and dirty...

E: And ignorant.

Z: And ignorant. And like, there's so much that goes on down here that no one really knows about because it is so outside of “normal society?”

E: Yeah.

Z: I guess in other people's eyes? And that's even just like in the United States, even outside of the United States I'm sure that...The south is just like a cesspool of jokes.

E: Yeah.

Z: But-

E: Well I agree with that. I think that it's very much, uh there's a disconnect between like, people who actually live here and people that have never been here. And just like how it's, you know portrayed in the media. There's so. I think there's something like, I don't know the exact statistics, but I'm pretty sure that if you actually look at the numbers there is so much more diversity than in a good deal of the United States. Like, um I was reading something the other day that said that the south, like the American south is one of the most diverse places in terms of like LGBT folks and I'm not sure if that's true. But honestly, I would believe it. But yeah, I think that that's very much, getting the information out there, but also, it's a desire, personally, it's you know, a desire for more information in general.

Z: True.

E: Because-

Z: Yeah.

E: You know, I've lived here my whole life and I feel like I know a lot of cool little bits and pieces about stuff but you can always learn more.

Z: Oh yeah.

E: That is my motto.

Z: 100%.

E: You can always, always find something else out. Even if it's something that you think that you know everything about it, you can always dig deeper and find out more. So.

Z: 100%.

E: For sure, for sure.

Z: This next question is past exploration stories. I'm about to tell one of mine.

E: Okay.

Z: That's my whole story. So, do you have any that you would like to share?

E: Hm...

Z: I mean, I've done like geocaching, that sort of thing, but like.

E: Yeah,

Z: Other than that, like.

E: Yeah. I have been geocaching, I actually, I have been to the location you're going to cover today. And I thought I was going to get in big trouble, because the owner pulled up in his pickup truck and I was so afraid. I was there with my sister and, Vivian, I don't know if you'll hear this. But um, my friend Vivian, and we were walking around. We climbed the steps. We like went-I was too chicken shit to go all the way up to the top because it's a very tall structure and the stairs are very old. And I was like “nope, Imma go halfway but this step is broken, I'm not going any farther.” And then we came back down and this guy pulled up and I was like “Oh god, he's gonna get so mad at us.” He pulled up and we had Vivian's puppy with us and he rolled the window of his truck down, and he was like, “Can I give the dog a biscuit?!” And we were like, “Yes sir you can!” And he just stood there and talked to us for a little while, it was very cool.

Z: Yeah.

E: But yeah, I can't think of anything other than that, not offhand. I would like to make some more.

Z: Yeah. Same.

E: I have not been in an old building in a cool minute. Um, actually, I'm sorry, I did think of one.

Z: No, you're good.

E: Uh, we were walking around, I don't want to triangulate our location. *laughs*

Z: Right.

E: But we were, a couple of my friends and I, were walking around in this, kind of like, like uh small back road I guess you would say near one of their houses. And there was this old kind of a house? I don't know if it was actually a house at one point or if it was just like a shed. But we uh, hiked back a little off the road and went in there, and there was just like all these old bottles. Like, from the '50s all over the floor and that's something that I collect, and I was like “Oh shit, this is private property, I know we're probably trespassing. Imma take some of these bottles.” And I had a coat on with big pockets. So I put a couple of them in my pocket.

Z: *laughs*

E: And we hiked back out, and my mom called me, and I was probably like, I don't know sixteen, seventeen maybe?

Z: Sure.

E: She was like, “Hey where are you?” And I was like “We went for a walk, we're walking back to so and so's house.” and she was like “ Okay well, we'll meet you up there, I have something to give you,” and I was like “okay.” And when she pulled up I was like, “I have something to give YOU.” And she was like “What?” and I pulled out this crusty ass bottle of like vanilla extract from the 1960s, and was like, “Here ya go!” And my mom of course, I get that fascination from her, she also collects that stuff. So she was like, “Wow! This is so cool, where did you get it?” And I was like, “Well...-

Z: *laughs* That spooky building! As the thunder claps.

E:...we went in that spooky house.” And she was like, “Oh my god that's dangerous!!” And I was like, “Well, we already did it.”

Z: Yeah.

E: So yeah, that was fun. I love doing shit like that.

Z: God, me too. Is this trespassing? I love trespassing.

E: (laughs) I do, I do.

Z: Oh my god.

E: Yeah.

Z: Any topics that you wanna cover, discuss, why?

E: I think we both have a list of stuff that we would like to cover in the future.

Z: Right.

E: I will say, I don't want this to be like specifically true crime. Like I don't want to have all my stories be in one genre. I will say that some of them are paranormal related, some of them are true crime related, some of them are just general history.

Z: Same yeah.

E: I am always, I have very much a morbid curiosity.

Z: Same.

E: I will do my best to treat those with respect and there is one in particular that I am very interested to cover, because I have never heard of it, and it happened, like, in the town that I grew up in, which is very small.

Z: Right.

E: Not a whole lot of reported murders, but his name is Joe Shepherd and he was a killer in that area in the 70s I believe? And I was having a conversation with a friend of mine one day, when we were, like, first work shopping this. I don't think we'd even bought our mics yet-

Z: I don't think so either

E:...and we were talking about it, and she was just like, “Oh you know about Joe Shepherd right?” And I said, “No?” And she was like, “ Yeah, he murdered somebody and put her in the wood pile.” And I was like, “EXCUSE ME, how have I never heard this?!” So I uh, I have to, have to know more about that. I gotta know whats going on.

Z: Right. For me it's kind of in the same vein of, I mean my stories are kind of gonna be everywhere, but I'm really excited for my story for the next podcast that we're gonna do. Because it was right around the time where we started really figuring out what we wanted to do for sure with this podcast. And we went to just like a couple of used bookstores just to look for some, just some paper sources. And I found a book that was super cool, very interesting. Loved it, I've read it like twice already.

E: Oh really the whole thing?

Z: It's not very long, but I've read it like twice already, just reading through. The first story in that book is truly whacko-

E: Yeah?

Z:..so I'm going to cover that the next time we record

E: That's exciting.

Z: And I'm really excited for it. It's a missing persons. We won't say true crime, but I'll say it's a missing persons.

E: Yeah, 'cause we're not really sure if a crime was committed. Like I don't really know the whole story obviously but you've told me bits and pieces, and you know, there's several theories right? Of what actually happened?

Z: Oh yeah, I've got a couple theories that I have that I wanna, but we'll get to that.

E: We'll get to that next time.

Z: Alright, so full disclosure, this whole operation, it's just us, it's me and Em and Em and me. We do have an assistant.

E: Vanessa.

Z: Her name is Linda and we love her.

E: We love Tracy with all our hearts

Z: Veronica, she really gets it done. We asked our lovely assistant, Carly, to get some normal ice breaker questions outside of the podcast because it's really, like we said before it's really telling of someone's character to have these questions answered and we just told. We told Carol to go nuts, so.

E: I'm excited for this, because you've had a little bit of a look at these, I don't know anything.

Z: I've read like the first two, and was like okay, I can see the direction that Sharon's going. Okay, so you haven't looked at these, I've read a couple so I'm just gonna go for it.

E: Let's go.

Z: The first one is if you could be on any reality/game show what would you choose?

E: Wheel of Fortune.

Z: Wheel of Fortune?

E: I always loved Wheel of Fortune. Or Jeopardy. I'm not smart enough to be on Jeopardy, but I love Jeopardy. I miss Alex Trebek, rest in peace.

Z: Rest in peace.

E: That man, god fucking bless.

Z: God bless. For me, and you'll know this, here lately, I've been really into discord, like, essentially role play survivor games. They're so much fun. I've applied to play my first one, but they're so much fun to watch. So I would say maybe that, or if it had to be a game show, I'm going to go with either Press Your Luck-

E: Okay.

Z: Or Shop Till You Drop.

E: I don't know what either of those are

Z: Really? Press your-

E: What is press your luck?

Z: Press your luck is the no whammies, no whammies, that one?

E: I don't know what that is.

Z: You don't know that one? I will show you a clip of.

E: I feel like I've heard someone say that.

Z: So well, here's the tea, my grandma would wake up in the mornings and she would watch us before we went to school. She would wake up in the morning, she would make my grandpa food. She would sit her butt in her recliner and turn on game show network, until her husband came home from work, and then she would make him dinner and then she would watch more game shows until she went to bed. That's all this woman did.

E: I love that.

Z: So, this brain-

E: It's in your brain forever.

Z:..is a rolodex of game show trivia, but that one's a fun one. Shop Till You Drop was essentially, I don't know which one came first, but Supermarket Sweep.

E: Okay.

Z: Have you ever seen that?

E: Like guys grocery game?

Z: Kind of, but they don't like cook, so they'll have like a list, like you'll get carrots on aisle five, and tuna on aisle six, and baby formula on aisle 12, and they just, they go for it. And the first to do it wins or whatever.

E: That sounds like a lot of fun. I do love to grocery shop. I think that would be a fun one too.

Z: So number 2, if you could eliminate one food, so that no one ever ate it again, what would you pick to destroy?

E: My gut instinct says tomatoes, because I hate tomatoes.

Z: *whispers* Same.

E: But I do, it's only, like. I like tomato based sauces and I like tomato soup, so I feel like I would regret that choice.

Z: Ketchup.

E: I don't know if you're for or against ketchup.

Z: I like ketchup but I hate tomatoes. I was adding to tomatoes' cause.

E: Yeah. That's a tough one.

Z: I'm gonna go with green beans.

E: I don't think I can agree with you on that one, I'm sorry.

Z: That's fine, you're entitled to your opinion, but I'm destroying green beans.

E: Okay, okay, um, god, that's really hard. I don't, I don't like tomatoes at all. I hate touching them, I hate dealing with them. I work in food service. I could also say mushrooms 'cause I really hate mushrooms.

Z: I love mushrooms.

E: That is something I find so interesting about you.

Z: That I like mushrooms?

E: Yeah, you know. You're kind of a-I don't know much about. I don't know, you're-in my eyes you're kind of a picky eater. Cause you don't like, like lettuce.

Z: I don't like lettuce.

E: What about like a good arugula? Do you like arugula?

Z: What's arugula?

E: Okay, we're gonna get you some arugula. It's a leafy green. You'll probably like, well no okay. I should-I take that back. You like Spinach.

Z: I do like Spinach.

E: Okay.

Z: Baby kale.

E: Do you like kale?

Z: I like baby kale.

E: Oh, okay.

Z: I don't like that-

E: I don't know that I've ever had the baby-

Z: It's just like spinach.

E: I mean it's-okay. Yeah that's fair.

Z: But.

E: Yeah, I'm gonna hard answer, I'm gonna say mushrooms 'cause I really fucking hate mushrooms.

Z: Valid.

E: Alright question 3.

Z: What is your favorite restaurant? In parenthesis, Zack, you cannot say McDonald's.

E&Z: *laugh*

E: Oh.

Z: Well.

E: Oh, Clarice. She's roasting ya.

Z: She really is. Shoot. I'm just going to go with fast food because-

E: Okay.

Z: Restaurants can mean any-

E: Fast food/fast casual, I think that's good.

Z: Sure. Dang, I really like. Well fast casual, I'm going to say Chili's.

E: Ooh yes.

Z: That street corn, honey chipotle tenders.

E: Those honey chipotle tenders, if I ever get married, that's what I want at my wedding.

Z: Catered?

E: Yeah, catered.

Z: Remember when I went to a-if you're hearing this Morgan, I'm sorry, remember when I went to a wedding that was catered by Cracker Barrel?

E: Yes!

Z: Morgan, I love you but, a choice was made. Okay, favorite restaurant?

E: The first thing that popped into my head was Olive Garden.

Z: *gasps*

E: I unironically, unashamedly, unabashedly. I love Olive Garden. I am-

Z: I'm white.

E: Very. Yeah, I am-I think like I don't wanna go all 23 & me, given that I haven't even taken one of those fucking tests. As far ass my family has told me I am like an 8th or a 16th Sicilian or something, so that Italian blood, it makes be crave Olive Garden like nobody's business.

Z: The breadsticks.

E: I see like the sign in the sky and it's like a werewolf to a full moon. And I go crazy.

Z: *laughs* I love Olive Garden.

E: The tiramisu? The chicken gnocchi soup with breadsticks?

Z: Gnocchi!

E: The Tour of Italy? Ah.

Z: The five dollar, to go entrees? You have lunch tomorrow.

E: That is a brilliant business plan.

Z: True.

E: You know what I want? What I desperately desperately want one. The unlimited pasta pass. I have wanted one of those since the day. Justin McElroy did an unboxxing and he got one.

Z: Olive Garden.

E: I really wanted one ever since.

Z: *whispers* Same.

E: Olive Garden sponsor us?

Z: Please god, I know this is our first episode but please.

E: I had an idea for another sponsor. Oh, Subway! Subway should sponsor us.

Z: Truly.

E: I can't believe that neither of us said Subway, actually. We-fun little BTS, behind the scenes, not the K-Pop group, sorry.

Z: Why did my brain go there first?

E: We know why.

Z: Not today. That's a song.

E: LITERALLY every time we've gotten together to brainstorm, put together anything for this show, with the exception of maybe once or twice, that I can't even recall, it's subway every single time, so.

Z: We gotta eat fresh.

E: Somebody, at Subway headquarters, say, “Hey, sponsor The Abandonment Issues-”

Z: Sponsor these people.

E: Plead our case, please.

Z: Please, please, we'll send you merch if we ever

get any.

E: I'll figure it out. I'll use my art degree. Alright. Question four!

Z: If you could take a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

E: Hm.

Z: Forks, Washington.

E: Oh my god.

Z: Final answer.

E: Oh my god. That's a good one, shit.

Z: (laughs) 'Cause genuinely, I don't know 'cause there's so many places to go.

E: Yeah, yeah it's very hard. I always did-okay, well on the topic of my Italian heritage.

Z: Oh Jesus.

E: I was supposed to go to Italy my junior year of college and, the trip got canceled because we didn't have enough people to go. And I was very excited for it, and I would still really enjoy it. I would love to go make that trip, because we were going to stay at a farm in Tuscany that's been there for like, I don't even know. Since like 700 A.D. Or some shit.

Z: That is crazy.

E: It's called Spannocchia if you want to look it up. There's this incredible little-they have this website with like a video that you can check it out. You get to eat like all the food that they give you and all the wine that they have is like made on site. We were going-they have like the original wood kiln-

Z: Wow.

E:...on site, and you could make things in their ceramics studio and you fire it in the kiln at the end of the trip. But they also do like chefs and like butchers internships there where you can go over there and learn how to do things the way they do them and I think that's fascinating.

Z: That's really cool.

E: One day I would love to go there.

Z: Oh yeah, 100%.

Z: Get the swear jar ready.

E: Oh god.

Z: What game or movie universe would you most like to live in? Kingdom Hearts.

E: *Did you bring a roll of quarters?

Z: I'm just gonna leave it at that. Kingdom hearts.

E: I know you said game or movie-

Z: Book?

E:...but can I fudge it a little bit and say podcast?

Z: Sure!

E: I would love to be a citizen of the town of Nightvale. I know you don't know anything about Welcome to Nightvale, but boy lemme tell ya. I would live there in a heartbeat. I love it. It's so weird. I know that that's maybe not some people want because it's kind of fucked up. Bad things happen to people there all the time.

Z: Right.

E: But it's that cosmic horror, but in a fun lighthearted way.

Z: Right.

E: That's the best way I can explain it. I just love it so much. Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Kramer.

Z: God bless.

E: God bless you. You two really do some amazing work. I'm literally looking at a signed photograph of Symphony Sanders and Cecil Baldwin right now. They watch over our podcast. But yeah, I would love that. I think that the aesthetic is immaculate. There's deserts, there's glowing lights in the sky above the Arby's.

Z: There's an Arby's in this Universe?

E: Yes bitch! They're just regular people like you and me. There's literally, I wanna say in episode one, there's this beautiful passage where Cecil is like “Lights, blinking in the sky above the Arby's. Not the glowing sign of the Arby's, but something higher.

Z: Did I write this? Did I ghost write this?

E: You could have. I have all the books behind me, I'm very much a fan.

Z: If you could be any mythical creature, what would you be?

E: Hypogriff.

Z: That was a fast but good answer. I would probably be a gnome.

E: (laughs) Oh fuck! Yeah.

Z: I spend my entire life-

E: Yeah.

Z:..being 6 foot tall, I just wanna live a little down there.

E: That's a good one.

Z: Yeah. What small, insignificant thing gives you joy?

E: Thrift store knick knacks.

Z: Sure.

E: That's pretty much the biggest one. I go into Amvets like once a week. And I'll get-I don't have my Keith Urban mug in here. But I get so many tiny dingy things and they always bring me such joy. That tiny little frog that I got at the antique store the last time you and I went, that thing? I'm still riding the high.

Z: For me, I would say it's like when you, complete a book series, and you get that final one and you put it up on the shelf, and you see it on the shelf together. That's my-and it doesn't have to be like, for me it's like books, video games, manga, whatever.

E: Yeah.

Z: Just seeing it complete on the shelf just does it for me.

E: I love that. That's a very good feeling.

E: Yeah.

Z: What is the dumbest purchase you have ever made?

E: Oh Zack, oh Zack, this is a hard question, cause I really-

Z: I don't know! Because I make a lot of dumb purchases.

E: I know exactly what mine is, I'm afraid to say.

Z: Can you say it? What is it?

E: You know what it pertains to.

Z: Do I? Why are you blinking? You don't have to say it if you don't want to.

E: No, I'm gonna say it.

Z: Thank god.

E: So, what was the year? I wanna say 2011/2013.

Z: Uh-oh. I know where we're going!

E: God, I made you promise not to mention this, to not drag me about any of this but i'm going to go ahead and out myself in episode one.

Z: Oh no.

E: I was a backer of the-

Z: Ahaaahaahaaaaa!!!!

E: Stop screaming and just let me get the words out. I was a higher tier backer of the Homestuck Hiveswap Kickstarter in 2013. And that haunts me to this day. To this day I will never-I will never recover from the amount of money that I spent on that when I was god-I was not a legal adult. I spoke to my mother, and I said, “Listen, I need to get this money out of my savings and I need it now.” And she was like, “Are you sure you wanna do that?” and I said, “Yes please.” and then she let me do it. And I respect that she gave me that freedom but I wish that she had just told me no.

Z: That's fair.

E: It was not worth it, and the worst part. It's been like a long time. I still have not played that game.

Z: That's just how the cookie crumbles.

E: Yeah.

Z: Dumbest purchase, my mind just scrambled. Because me and Em just shared a very panicked glance at one another before this story was told and it just jumbled everything I had lined up. I make very-

E: I'm like sweaty.

Z: (laughs)

E: That really stressed me out that I had to admit that. Feel my hand.

Z: Oh, you're clammy!

E: I am disgusting right now.

Z: You're a whole seafood buffet with them clammy hands.

E: I am.

Z: Oh my god. What was the question? Dumbest purchase. I don't know man. I make a lot of dumb purchases. I'm probably, most recently, I'm going to say my book drug dealer.

E: Oh yeah.

Z: Robert. I feel, like I feel obligated at this point to meet up with this man to buy antique books and some of them aren't really the best.

E: But still it's a cool hook-up.

Z: Yeah, I buy them anyway. So, the last time I saw this man, I bought this falling apart copy of Orwell or something.

E: That's pretty dope though.

Z: I mean it's cool, it's got a bunch of his novels and shit. It was pretty cool, but it not in the condition that he said it was in.

E: Aw, that sad.

Z: It's fine. Sorry Robert if you are listening. I'm just going to say that because literally my coworkers put me on a Facebook Marketplace timeout, and I wasn't allowed to buy from Facebook Marketplace.

E: I didn't know about that, oh my god.

Z: They were like, you have to take off two weeks. And I was like, “Fine, that's fine, we get paid in two weeks it's fine.” So, I'm just gonna say that. (laughs)

E: Oh wow.

Z: Question number 9 is what is the longest you have gone without sleep and why? I know mine.

E: Oh man.

Z: I know mine.

E: I mean, the why really for me is-it's one of two answers. College or the pandemic. And I'm leaning more towards the pandemic because I was basically only sleeping like once every other night. Over when I got furloughed from my job last spring. I remember a couple of times I was like, “I'm gonna start a craft project!” and was just cracked out on Monster Energy at 6:00 in the morning, ironing patches onto a denim jacket and shaking my ass to Glass Animals. But yeah, I wanna say the longest amount of time was like three days, but I know you got me beat, I think.

Z: You know mine.

E: Do I?

Z: You know mine. When I was in high school and I watched Men in Black.

E: Yeahhhh.

Z: So I didn't watch Men in Black when I was a child. Probably watched the first one when I was in high school and then I watched the second one, and then there's that whole subplot that there's a universe wrapped around a cat's collar or whatever.

E: It's in his little tag.

Z: It sent me down a rabbit hole. I did not sleep for four days because I was deep in infinite space theory because I just drove myself crazy. Because I was like, “If a cat collar can hold a universe, what if we're the universe inside the cat collar? Which I feel like was the entire point. But it drove me up the walls. I couldn't sleep, I just stayed up for four days straight in front of my computer just googling infinite space theory, and learning more and digging into it, and then I crashed, obviously after four days, and I woke up and was like, “Never again.”

E: Well.

Z: So.

E: I bought a book not long ago, it's called Time Warps. And I opened it and the first two pages this guy starts talking about time travel and the secrets of the universe and everything and reincarnation and physics are all connected and that really reminded me of that. So, maybe I'll read you a little passage of that after this and see if it-

Z: I can't wait.

E:..jogs anything in your brain.

Z: I'll see ya next week and I will still be awake.

E: (laughs) Oh my god.

Z: Last question, who is the most intelligent

person you know?

E: Brownie.

Z: Where is he?

E: He just walked right behind you.

Z: Oh.

E: He's not a person. He's very smart.

Z: That's a tough question.

E: Yeah, that is a really tough question.

Z: I'm gonna say it's our assistant Becky.

E: Yeah, yeah. Trisha, she really, she's probably. What even is her IQ it's gotta be in the 170s?

Z: It's probably at least a thousand.

E: The smartest person that I know of is Mr. Bean. I genuinely can't believe he has an IQ that high. Not anything against that man, I don't know him personally, but the fact that that is the kind of movie that he makes.

Z: Oh my god, and apparently there's only like 12 episodes of that show.

E: 13 I think.

Z: Yeah, so he really stretched it out.

E: Yeah.

Z: I don't know. Welp.

E: Well yeah.

Z: Thank you to Veronica for all those icebreaker questions. Really eye opening.

E: It was great. You really did the damn thing.

Z: Well. I guess that now everyone knows our deepest darkest secrets since we exposed them in episode one, I guess we can kind of get into our topics a little bit?

E: Yeah.

Z: So I feel as if you're gonna go hard.

E: Perhaps, perhaps.

Z: So if you don't mind I'm gonna go first.

E: Okay.

Z: I'm not gonna go as hard as I could. With mine, mostly just because I wanna leave it open for a return, if I want to cover it again maybe later on. My first topic is going to be about the Roundhouse that exists in Tellico Plains, TN.

E: Nice.

Z: Fairly local, kind of close to us for the most part. Here's the issue with this, is that it was a silo for a local mining company and dating back to even before the civil war, this thing was operational. So there's a lot of stuff that has gone on-

E:Okay.

Z:...in this big old building. Another problem is that there's not a plot of information online.

E: Yeah, that was a problem I ran into mine too actually.

Z: Unfortunately, the person who posted this, the beginning of this is going to be a lot from Reddit.

E: Oh, okay.

Z: The person who posted this is a local urban explorer. I've seen some of their stuff, all of their stuff is really cool, their photographs are amazing. They do posts on Facebook and stuff here and there. All of their stuff is really well researched and really good, but I don't want to set a trend of making Reddit a, you know.

E: For sure, it's not like a primary source. So do you want to-did you make note of who that person was though.

Z: Yeah, the post that was made thearcherofred on Reddit. That is their username. When we post all of our sources I will give a link to this specific person I am talking about.

E: Excellant.

Z: Yeah, that's the problem I ran into and I guess that's probably why I didn't get as into it. Mostly because I wanted to leave it open so I could share a little bit about my own experience when I went.

E: Cool, okay.

Z: I am going to give a little bit of a backstory about the area, the place, what all happened. Like I said this was a post made by thearcherofred on Reddit, all one word. About 30 years after the Civil War, Southern Slate Works purchased the land where the Roundhouse exists now. This land before used the be part of the Tellico Iron Works Company. The Iron Works Company basically mined iron and other ores during the Civil War. It was demolished during the war, and really from what I can tell, nothing really happened in this area where the Roundhouse exists now up until it was purchased on December 7th of 1893.

E: Okay.

Z: In June of 1920, J.B. Preston bought 300 acres of land from another citizen of Tellico named Cyril Herford with the intent to mine the area. It is unknown if this was part of the Southern Slate Company or a solo kind of gig. Preston had plans of making a fully working mine complete with machinery, houses for the mine workers, storage facilities, and other stuff you'd need to run a mine. He also was-he was also given permission to construct a railroad system to the mine and the quarry was set to open on January 1st 1921. He then leased this area out to Tennessee Rocks Products Company and it was operational from 1921-1928. In '22 Cyril then sued the rock company because some of the debris had gotten into the creek that ran through his property and it polluted the water. There was another lawsuit that same year against the rock company. This lawsuit came from a local farmer named Henry Fritts. He was suing for very similar reasons as Herford, because the dust coming from the mines and quarry had killed crops and vegetation. That lawsuit was settled for 600-I'm assuming there's no information about the 1st lawsuit, because there was no information on this post about it. From what I can tell, nothing really happened after that, company shut down until 1928-er shut down in 1928, that is until the mid to late 50s.

E: Okay, that's kind of a long time.

Z: Yeah, it's a minute. At this point, a man named Dr. William Alfred Rogers purchased the property in the 50s, and he was a local practicing doctor. A little bit about Mr. Rogers, he was born in Violet, NC. During the late 50s he was one of 6 doctors that lived in the Tellico Plains area during that time. He had a small stone house, that stood in downtown but eventually he built a large three story home on Unicoi Mountain.

E: Oh, okay.

Z: He thought that the high altitude would help his more chronic patients, so that's why he wanted his house to be so far up in the mountains. Rodgers and his wife ran the practice out of their home for about six years before the couple had the idea of turning the silo into a hotel/Air BnB. Not Air BnB. Sorry, that's the Gen Z in me speaking. Just a B&B. Just a normal B&B.

E: A 1950s Air BnB.

Z: Beautiful, ahead of their time, truly.

E: You get a telegraph after and they're like, “How was your stay? Please rate us.”

Z: God. So he essentially divided the space inside the silo into multiple floors and created small apartment like rooms on each story. Supposedly, right when it was set to open, a fire marshal came to inspect it and it was deemed unsafe as there needed to be two clear exits from each room, but there was only one considering that it's a large tall vertical-

E: It's just a tube.

Z: It's literally, quite literally a tube. I will. I will post some pictures and some links to some pictures so you can kind of see. But truly, it's an old silo, it's a big stone, round silo. Cylinder, and on the outside there's a staircase that leads into the first floor but there's essentially just a round staircase that-

E: It's like a fire escape.

Z: It just wraps around the outside of it and that's how you would go up there and get into your little hotel room or whatever. The fire marshal said it was no good so they couldn't really open it as a hotel.

E: So did it ever have guests like that? Or did he just kind of kill that immediately?

Z: It's hard to really pin down what really happened after that. Some sites claim that Mr. Rogers and his moved into the Roundhouse after this and they continued the practice there. Other sites claim that they went back to the house at Unicoi and ran the practice out of it. I also read somewhere, and I couldn't really pin it down again, now that I started doing the research on it again but there were some rumors about someone running a restaurant out of it.

E: I think I've heard that one actually.

Z: And it was just on the first floor, it wasn't on any of the other floors, I think there's 5 stories in that thing. I couldn't really find that again, so I don't really have any information on it. The doctor passed away 10 years after this ordeal in '67, and it has just kinda sat dormant since then, aside from the possible restaurant owner being in there, but there's not really a whole lot to go off of on that route. Unfortunately as of now, the inside of the roundhouse has been completely destroyed by vandals. The walls are covered in graffiti and there was a house that was right next to it, and again, I can't really pinpoint what that was really for. I would assume that it was probably just another house that was-

E: Yeah, I heard from somewhere that that was something to do with the hotel aspect of it.

Z: Sure, I mean. I wouldn't doubt it, but that house is all but rotted to the ground. I've been inside, and the floor is rotted to the ground. There's no foundation, there was also a large fire that happened inside the roundhouse. Can't really pinpoint a date or time. Because it sat, it was just out in the middle of nowhere.

E: Not necessarily keeping track or reporting that to-

Z: Right.

E:...anyone.

Z: It basically made everything from the bottom floor to the top floor inaccessible. I've been on the top floor. Probably wasn't that smart of a move.

E: Prolly not.

Z: I was like 17, and you're invincible at 17, nothing matters. We went up there and just kind of hung around, and I'll talk about that in a second. But that basically made all the other floors inbetween inaccessible. That's really, literally all I could find online about it. I definitely have tried to join the local library to get some book sources or something about it, but I'm currently fighting with our local library. It's so shrouded in mystery that no one really knows what's going on in there. We've got a couple reports about the lawsuits and the early 20s. Nothing until the 50s, and then this random guy wants to build a hotel there, and someone says no and it just sits there again.

E: Do you know-I know when we first started doing the research, we were talking about how it was for sale. Do you know if it still is or did it get bought?

Z: I looked at it yesterday before I was putting the finishing touches on everything. It is currently off the market, it was not sold, but it is off the market. It was going for upwards of like $500,000.

E: I would love to buy it.

Z: Same I would also-Subway?!

E: Subway sponsor us!!

Z: Please.

E: Subway just buy us The Roundhouse.

Z: We will put a Subway in the bottom floor.

E: (laughs) Like the food court in a mall.

Z: Truly. That's all the information that I have on it.

E: Well tell us your story.

Z: Well, when I was like 17/18, I worked at a local grocery store and one of my cashiers, the current at the time, the caretaker now is a new guy, but at the time she was friends with-the caretaker was a family friend. And she basically reached out to him and was like, “Hey we wanna explore after work one night. Do you think it would be cool if we went up there?” And he was like, “Yeah, sure no problem, let me know and I'll leave the gate unlocked for you guys.”

E: Cool.

Z: We went up there after work and it was probably like 10/11 o'clock and we were just gonna check it out and then leave, but I was just very curious and very fascinated so we went into the first floor and I will try to dig up photos because I took photos. The test of time has not been kind to them-

E: Absolutely not.

Z:...with phones and just everything, I think they're on my twitter somewhere so I have to really dig and find them, but like I said, the first floor there was a fire. You can look up and see the damage has been done to this place. It's covered in graffiti. We kind of poked around a little bit, there's not really much to see. There's old appliances, wood here and there, debris, vandalism, that sort of thing. We found the beginning of the staircase that leads up around the side of the Roundhouse and we climbed up to inspect it, about halfway up, it's broken-

E: Yeah that was-

Z: Very teetery.

E: Yeah.

Z: Once you get over that step it's solid again, bolted into the side of that wall or whatever, and you just keep on trucking. We went up to the top and we sat down on the floor up there, we pulled out a Ouija board.

E: Oh my god Zack.

Z: (laughs) Not my finest moment.

E: (laughs)

Z: It wasn't even a good Ouija board, it was obviously, very much produced by Hasbro, and it had the glow in the dark light in it, to where if you pushed down on the planchette it would glow.

E: Oh my god.

Z: Obviously, we got nothing because nothing happened in that building.

E: I can't believe it.

Z: Then we went back down the stairs and then we went into the house that's next to it. Like I said, there was very few places where I was comfortable standing. Floors rotted, walls punched in, knocked in, burned. We were able to go up-there's an attic.

E: Oh really?

Z: Yeah, there's an attic in there. I wasn't able to go-I didn't go up in it because I didn't really trust it. I stood at the top of the staircase and peered in a took a picture or two.

E: Cool, I never knew that.

Z: Then, we discovered a basement.

E: Oh god! Under that same house?

Z: Yeah. Here's the deal. You didn't know this did you? About the basement?

E:About the basement, no.

Z: So there's a basement, and the stairs have rotted off, so you kinda had to hop in that hole and-

E: Love it.

Z: We got down there, and it was trash.

E: Yeah.

Z: Broken glass, beer bottles, cans, old screen doors, anything that you could think of, old appliances everything, underneath that house. Then I saw a little filter of light off in the distance, so I was like, I'm gonna go in that direction. There was a tunnel.

E: I know you were going to say a tunnel and I was so afraid.

Z: A tunnel that lead directly underneath the roundhouse.

E: Bro!

Z: It's crazy.

E: That's really cool. Very scary.

Z: Very scary. I was like, “This is some-,” have you every seen House of Wax?

E: No but I think I know what you're talking about.

Z: Very House of Wax. Secret-

E: Like trap doors and stuff.

Z: Was not a fan. So then after that we kinda booked it outta there. 'Cause I was like, “Who's idea was it, to build a tunnel-,” I don't even want to know. I'm sure there was a reason.

E: I wonder if was with the intent of it being a hotel, if it was a service hallway or something like that?

Z: I mean, has to be. Has to be. Otherwise-

E: It's the only non-creepy answer.

Z: It's what's gonna let me sleep at night.

E: Oof.

Z: After that we kinda hightailed it out. I have since reached out to that cashier, and obviously neither of us work there anymore. I've since reached out, and asked if she knew who the current caretaker was and unfortunately that caretaker had passed away. There's currently a new one.

E: I wonder if that was the guy I met that gave us a dog biscuit.

Z: Might've been if he was nice.

E: He was just a nice old man.

Z: I never met him, but I'm assuming if he let a group of teenagers go wild out at the Roundhouse he probably didn't care and was a nice guy.

E: That's sad.

Z: Like I said a minute ago, it's not on the market, but when it does come on the market, I will be very eager to see if it sells this time. Hopefully, to me.

E: Maybe by then we'll get some sponsorship cash.

Z: Olive Garden please.

E: Can I trade an unlimited pasta pass for this house?

Z: Truly.

E: It's worth it's weight in gold.

Z: Truly, 'cause you think about it. We go to Olive Garden three times a day, lunch, dinner, second dinner. We don't eat breakfast anymore.

E: Oh my god, well I don't eat breakfast to begin with. Who has time for that nonsense?

Z: I do, but only because I'm at work.

E: Eating a banana. You're being very healthy.

Z: I'm eating a banana, having a monster.

E: Alright, well.

Z: Well, that's it for the Roundhouse. Like I said, thearcherofred on Reddit, thank you so much for that post. They're a couple more that they have made about the Roundhouse. I've only used the one, so feel free to look into it yourself. I'll be posting a couple links to some pictures, and hopefully I will be able to find the pictures that I took when I went. We'll post all those.

E: Thank you very much for that story. Today-

Z: Please, go off.

E:...I'm very excited about this story, because this is a story that has fascinated me literally since my childhood. I remember my teacher telling me about it when I was in, I wanna say 5th grade. Then, it turned out that there was a book about this guy, and I had the book because it was my dad's copy, and that's actually the copy that I used today for all my research. I am about to tell you the story of Mason Kershaw Evans-

Z: Yeeesss!

E:...the Hermit of Chilhowee Mountain.

Z: Yes.

E: Basically, my sources-I did have a couple, just for a little bit of fleshing out about the area and a couple facts about the specific region, but everything about Mason himself came from the book. As I discovered, the man doesn't even have a Wikipedia page.

Z: Right.

E: Which isn't really that surprising to me. 'Cause the area that he was from was a very tiny place, it was in the early 19th century. There wasn't a whole lot.

Z: Right.

E: So, let's get into it! Our story takes place in the area surrounding Chilhowee Mountain, which is more commonly known today as Star Mountain, but it was named that because of a plantation owner named Caleb Star, who back in the day, he basically owned the entire mountain. Chilhowee Mountain is located partly in the southwest corner of Monroe County, TN and in Polk County. It is in the Cherokee National Forest. The flat, plateau like mountain is about halfway between Tellico Plains and Etowah and it's elevation ranges from 750 to 2,290 ft. This mountain was a favorite hunting ground for deer. So that's actually how it got it's name, because Chilhowee means cold deer in Cherokee. During the 19th century, this area was the home to Mason Evans. As I said before, it's kind of hard to find anything about him on the internet, he doesn't have a Wikipedia page, so everything I know about him I pulled from this book, Torment in the Knobs by R. Frank. McKinney. To quote the book, “This book was written give it's readers the highlights of the main events from the early advent of the early white settlers in the area during the early 20s, during the Hiwassee purchase of 1817, the removal of the Indians in 1838, the great American Conflict, The Civil War of the 60s, the building and operation the fabulous White Springs Hotel atop Star Mountain, the coming of the railroads into McMinn County, and many other events of that century. So it's not just about Mason's life, it kind of encapsulates basically everything that was going on in this area at the time. Because there was a lot of stuff going on, there was a lot of conflict, it was the time of the Civil War. It was a lot. It is a very interesting read, it's one of the more detailed accounts of this area, however, it's not without it's flaws. It was published in 1976. R. Frank McKinney was an old white man living in a very rural area of the south. He had some prejudices. I'm not really going to talk about that a whole lot, but if you do decide to-if this story does interest you and you do decide to get a copy of this book and read it, just go into it knowing that. There is also a lot of dramatization and speculation. That is explained by, another quote from the book that said, “Torment in the Knobs is a historical novel but throughout the author was at many times forced to draw his own conclusions to what was said in the conversations or dialogues between the people. This he believed was actually said, but not verified. The pages of the book are mostly written in the newspaper reporting style, but not all in together for into the phraseology of fiction writers. In many places, it combines the two. There would have been no need to write this book, Torment in the Knobs had there been a printed history of the east side of McMinn County and the lower regions of Monroe during the 19th century. What little had been printed in the newspapers and periodicals was wildly scattered and never compiled into a comprehensive history of the area. This book is not intended to be a history of either McMinn or Monroe counties, although the events mentioned took place in one or the other. The book was inspired by this pamphlet and was written in 1890 by W. F. McCarron, who was the founder and editor of The Athenian newspaper. The pamphlet was called-this is a hell of a title. I thought The Abandoment Issues was kind of a long name. This pamphlet was titled The Wild Man of Chilhowee: the True Story of Mason Evans the Hermit, 40 Years in the Wilderness, the Most Wonderful Creature of Modern Times Lives in a Cave in this County, Subsists on Raw Meats and Stolen Food. That's the whole ass title of a pamphlet.

Z: A pam-that's the whole pamphlet!

E: Yeah, literally. The book also says the great many people thought was a legend was unfolded as fact as 90 years later when a house in east Etowah was being raised to the ground. An 1890 issue of The Athenian was found in a chimney and brought to me, the author R. Frank Mckinney, who was then the editor of The Etowah Enterprise. Mickinney also did extensive research and interviews with local folks who's parents and grandparents has either met Mason, or had seen them visit their homesteads. Okay, so, there's this hermit..

Z: (laughs) I was waiting for it! Oh my god.

E: So there's this hermit..R. Frank Mckinney is the king of the fucking run-on sentence. This man could ramble. I think he's dead now? Probably. He had a lot to say, and not a whole lot of punctuation to put in it.

Z: He had a lot to say and no comma, period, comma splice was gonna get in his way.

E: Lots of question marks though. That is evidenced by his introduction to the story of what happened to Mason Evans. He said, “What happens to a man when his sweetheart suddenly jilts him? Does he take it in stride, or does his brain snap and he resort to unearthly things? What really did happen that day in 1848 in that little school house in Monroe County, TN, that caused a brilliant teacher to suddenly walk out of the school room, head to the mountains, never to say another intelligent word? And live there on snakes, rabbits, or other raw meat and whatever he could forage from mountaineers' chicken houses or gardens, and for forty years? Let's find out.

Z: Let's. Find. Out.

E: Mason was born May 10, 1824 in a log cabin at the base of the Chilhowee Mountain. At the time, the Chilhowee Mountain region was occupied primarily by the Cherokee Trible of the Native Americans. The capital of their nation, Chota, was only a few miles from the Evans's home. Mason's parents were names Robert, I'm sorry if I pronounce this wrong, I believe it's Hebrew. Her name is Karen-Happuch. That is K A R E N – H A P P U C H. I think Karen-Happuch.

Z: Okay.

E: I'm not sure though. They immigrated to Greene county in 1820, but they moved to Monroe after the Hiwassee purchase of 1817. The Evans' family was of Quaker faith, and their family consisted of Robert and Karen-Happuch, and their four boys and five girls: Moses, Robert, Mason, Samuel, Abigail, Sophia, Demaris, Caroline, and Octavia. Don't you just love that name? I love an Octavia.

Z: It's so out of left field though.

E: It is. I wonder-is that like a biblical name?

Z: I don't think so.

E: I've never thought of it as such but maybe it is.

Z: I don't think so, but go off, Imma google.

E: Mason was said to be the most talented of those children. I don't know how I'd feel about that as a Sophia or an Octavia in that family. Mason-that's kinda not fair, you don't get to be the best. Anyway, art seemed to come naturally to him. His penmanship was the talk of the settlement. Men in the region would commonly come to him to solve medical problems. In his youth, Mason was good friends with many of the Cherokee children of his age. He was 14 when the Native American Removal began, and it impacted him for the rest of his life. I mentioned Caleb Starr before, he's the one that lived on this mountain and basically gave it its current name. I had never heard anyone call it Chilhowee, fun fact, until recently. One of his son's named James was very active in Cherokee politics and he actually worked to negotiate the treaty that would result in the Trail of Tears.

Z: Ah.

E: Because of his native ancestry, eventually forced him and his own family to leave home and move westward, and he was accused-rightfully fucking so-of selling out the Natives to the white man. Eventually he was killed because of this. James, come the fuck on, what did you expect?

Z: Truly. Hello? Okay.

E: I don't want to make light of that obviously, because it was this horrible thing. At one point I had the numbers written down here, but I must have moved them. Thousands and thousands of people lost their lives on the Trail of Tears and this man basically was just-

Z: Didn't help!

E: Yeah, I don't know what he was-what he thought was going to happen. His whole family had to leave and give up their land. Hundreds of other families had to, too. Caleb Starr, as I said was a slave plantation owner and he had many 100 slaves. This is another really grim part of the story, because the way it is written, it kind of makes it sounds very praisy? They basically kind of put him on a pedestal a little bit, and they talk about about how-they talk about how much the people Caleb Starr literally bought and sold adored him and how much pride they took in their work they took for him. It is said when he left on the Trail of Tears some grieved themselves to death and were buried alongside the waters of Conasauga Creek. And that may have been true, they were grief stricken but it really grossed me out that a book written in like the 20th century was like, “Yes, this man was great, he owned 100s of people.”

Z: Yeah.

E: Anyways, but that's just-I only included that to highlight the way that it is kind of a biased telling of the story, but again it was pretty much the only source I had. Within a year the treaty was signed and the removal began in 1838. What at one time had been 50,000 square miles of native territory were reduced to only a few hundred. Until he saw them driven from their homes to an unwanted territory in the west, Mason Evans pleaded the case of the white settlers. After 1838, he formed a different opinion but kept it to himself, is what the book says.

Z: Okay.

E: I would imagine that was a pretty traumatic experience. Having all these friends and then seeing them be forced to move away.

Z: Right, yeah.

E: Anyways, so Mason went on to become a captain of a militia commissioned as such by the governor in 1841. He was 17 years old. Then, in his adulthood, instead of-I think he was supposed to go on to be a general or something. Initially thought he would have a career with the military, but he was so smart we would really rather you be a teacher, so he accepted a job as a teacher at a local school. Now we get into 'The Heartbreak' is what I have titled this chapter.

Z: Yay.

E: Essentially, the cause that is attributed to Mason deciding to go off into the wilderness forever is that he had his heart broken by his sweetheart. No one knows her true identity. What is known about her, is that she was the daughter of a prominent doctor in the area. “She was the apple of his eye, an only child whom he love more than life.No one would say, nor was it in print who the prominent doctor was, or what was his daughter's name. Was it because people wanted to protect the girl? Or was it because the doctor was so influential in Monroe County, that no one would even think to breathe a scandal such as the Mason Kershaw Evans affair.” It's all written very dramatically.

Z: Right.

E: Like a tabloid, but she was a co-teacher with Mason at the same school. They spent a lot of time together in the schoolhouse, but they would also go out together and roam around in the forest. They would ride their horses together. Mason would paint pictures for her, and draw for her. They just had a great time together. When he proposed to her, and she accepted. Mason didn't really wanna tell anybody, but she insisted that she had to tell her daughter, and he was like, “Okay, well, you tell your father, and I'll tell my mother and that'll be the only people that we tell.” Earlier, before we got started this was one of those where you could tell I was getting tired of their bullshit and just tired in general. Despite her anonymity, the author of the book gave her a name, that I quite honestly to be fucking hilarious. Dawn O'Day, and I put here, “Like bitch what is she, a leprechaun?”

E&Z: (laughs)

E: The whole that there was, there's this very dramatic story of her birth because Mason's mom a midwife, and though her father was a doctor, he decided it was bad luck to deliver your own baby, so he called for Mason's mother because she was an experienced midwife, and she was actually pregnant with Mason at the time. He and Dawn are only a few months apart in age, so she was born at the brink of day, and so the author was like, her name is Dawn O'Day.

Z: Oh-

E: Yeah

Z:...my god. What's his name again? The author?

E: R. Frank McKinney.

Z: R. Frankly, I don't like it.

E: (laughs) As I said, Mason's mother was the midwife who delivered his eventual sweetheart. What?

Z: Another thing.

E: What?

Z: I wouldn't care about bad luck. Well, I guess this was a different time period. But-

E: Yeah.

Z:...just, it's free. Just have the baby, you ain't gotta worry about it.

E: That's free real estate.

Z: That's free real estate, truly, but I mean, as soon as I said it, I was like “They didn't really have hospital bills.” But!

E: Well here's the thing that bothers me too about this whole debacle in the-I had a lot more of this whole birth scene when I initially was doing my notes because it was just. It's so hard to tell what of this was actually true, and what of it was speculation because everything seems like it was speculation the way that it was written.

Z: Right.

E: Basically there's this whole scene Dawn's mother is obviously in distress, she's in labor, she's in pain, and he just fucking backhands her and tells her to quiet down, and then she dies. Yeah, she fucking dies. She dies in childbirth. Okay first of all, he smacked the hell out of her, she falls back quote, “whimpering onto the pillow,” he drugs her to keep her calmer, and when she does deliver the baby, she dies. And he's like “Oh my god, my wife died, and I slapped her.” Like no shit. First, you shouldn't be slapping your wife in the first place, what the hell? That really-I'm sorry I just got real loud.

Z: No you're fine, speechless.

E: Oh, it frustrated the hell out of me. I could really go on about this book. He slaps the mother of his child, until she literally falls back on the bed, she dies, and that is part of why he was so protective of his daughter. Ironically, in turn, when Mason was born the doctor was the one that they called on to deliver him. This family structure, this community, they're all very tight nit, it's a very small place, they all know each other. As they got older, Dawn was very drawn to Mason because of his skills in the arts. She quickly became friends with him. She was allowed to spend some of her free time hanging out with Mason, but her father said, “Mason Evans is a bright chap, but I just don't have any use for soldiers.” It was speculated that he felt this way because he maybe had something in his past that made him kind of resent the military. A lot of people in this story in particular were draft dodgers for the Revolutionary War, which is a really weird thing to think about.

Z: 100%

E: I don't know why, I never really thought about the Revoutionary War having been-having had a draft. I guess that makes sense?

Z: Yeah.

E: It's possible that that's why he felt that way. He in general was very possessive and protective of his daughter. So she never really brought up the topic of her having any sort of affection for Mason until he proposed to her, and she said, “Well, I have to tell my dad.” She went home, and when she told him that she had intended to marry Mason, they had this massive argument and he forbade her to marry him. As incentive for her to not marry him, he promised her the farm and $1,000.00 in gold if she would turn Mason down. Now, I didn't google how much $1000.00 would have been in 1820 whatever, actually no that was later. I think this is like 1840. This is also one, in your story you had said there aren't a lot of really exact dates. There are very few exact dates in this too. Basically, I have his birth date and his death date and anything pertaining to the Civil War that was recorded by the government, but nothing specific in between. So, he promised her the farm and $1000.00 in gold, and he said, “Compare that to tending babies, scrubbing floors, tilling the ground, never having money of your own, your own husband being gone from home, soldiering, leaving you with all the chores to do. If you're in your right mind, you'll never do it.” And I have here, which, this guy was a raging shithead, but he did make some valid points. I would take that money.

Z: (whispers) Same. And a farm?!

E: A farm?! Yes.

Z: Cottagecore!

E: Yes, exactly.

Z: I don't mean to scream.

E: It's fine. That's how you feel about cottagecore.

Z: I love it, I love it.

E: Dawn didn't go to school the following morning. Mason received a note from her father's gardener, informing him that she would not be in school that day, and her students were to be sent home and return the day following. Mason accepted that, but he was acting very strangely after that. He was very anxious, and his students were taking notice. “At times he would lose his train of thought, stop his teaching, stare into space, and after a moment of silence, would again gain his pupils attention by frequently running his fingers through his hair, laughing foolishly, and whispering to himself.” Students feared that he had been bewitched because they had seen him act similarly at religious camp meetings, writhing, wringing his hands and crying. There's another quote here, “This was the first time anything had happened to him since the time he fell sick at his brother's home in Mississippi several years back.” He had gotten really ill. I don't think they ever said exactly what he had, but he had a very high fever. This is kind of where they think things started to really effect him, because he was kind of-It was a a high enough fever to where it was starting to effect his brain function, and they think that that may have permanently damaged his brain. His brother had actually said he had congestion of the brain, but Mason said, “But I wasn't crazy.” This is another-basically, any quote that I'm gonna say is certainly written by R. Frank McKinney, not by the actual people that said them. It says, “But I wasn't crazy, it was the high fever that caused me to go out of my mind,” he rationalized with himself. Mason had studied enough medicine to know something about fever. If he hadn't became a teacher, he would certainly have became a doctor, as he had said many times before. He wrote all of this behavior off of his anxiety and he told himself that he would see Dawn after class. The gardener came back, and brought him another note, telling him not to leave until Dawn showed up. Which I think is kind of funny, because why send this poor man to the schoolhouse, when you could have just said “She ain't coming to school today, also Mason, hang out for a little bit after.”

Z: Yeah.

E: Put it in the same note!

Z: Yeah.

E: I digress. So Dawn comes up, and they have this fight, she breaks it off with him. She basically does that whole thing of, even though she didn't actually hate him, she played it up like she really hated him, just to make it a cleaner break, which I get, I guess.

Z: Been there.

E: Yeah, it happens. Doesn't make it hurt any less, but that's what happened. He was devastated, and he got on his horse and he rode away into the forest to be alone. After that, he eventually went home, but Mason didn't come inside to get his food like he always did. His mom looked outside and she saw him run into the barn, grab a coat of a hook, and run back into the woods, leaving his horse behind. She said to his brother Milton, “Mason's gone off without his supper, wonder where he's headed for?” Milton replied, “To Panther Cave, I guess.” That's where he's gone a lot lately to write poetry and compose songs for that female school teacher. He said that Panther Cave is the quietest place in the Knobbs for when you wanna meditate.” Now what we'll learn here is that Mason is a douche. Oh, not Mason, sorry, Milton. Milton very much hated this girl. He, the whole time is portrayed as just thinking she has the worst of intentions. He literally calls her a witch at one point. That's another thing about this, all the exaggeration I've talked about before, instead of portraying as what I believe it to be, and what I think most people that would read this in modern times to believe, is that Mason was sick, he had some underlying illness and his behaviors after this point were possibly inflamed by trauma. To me it all reads as very much this man had undiagnosed mental illness in the 1840s. However, they demonize the shit out of Ms. Dawn O'Day.

Z: Great.

E: Constantly talking about Mason is wandering around in the woods just thinking about how he misses her, thinking about how she destroyed his life. Milton is constantly quoted as saying she ruined everything for him, and destroyed his future. It's fucked. Literally, all she did was break up with him.

Z: Right.

E: That really is another beef I have with this book. Panther Cave. Panther Cave is this cave on the western side of Chilhowee Mountain that was as the name implies known for being a hiding place for panthers and it became Mason's primary hide out in the years following this event. His family went looking for him there after he ran away, but they didn't find him because he had already left, and he was on his way back to the house. That evening, they heard someone in the barn and they thought that someone had broken in. When his father went in to investigate, he found Mason sitting on the floor in his horse's stall hugging his legs. Which, they say, this is a great horse, but I would not wanna be down there.

Z: No.

E: A horse could kill you straight up with one kick.

Z: Oh yeah.

E: Not the point.

Z: Mason's crying, he's sitting on the floor hugging his horses legs. He keeps repeating to his family, “I had to see my horse, I had to see my horse, he's the only one that would understand me.” And same, Mason I get it. Listen I understand you. I was a horse kid, okay? My mom still has horses. They're good animals. You still coulda got kicked in the head. His family convinced him to stay and have a meal with them. His mother told him to sit down at the table but he wouldn't. “Instead he began pacing the floor with bodily agitations and jerks. He ran his hands through his hair, jerking his head back and forth, then letting his body fall on the floor, writhing as if in extreme pain. Robert and Milton tried to get him off the floor but he fought them off. Finally, Mason righted himself, began to sing in words never heard before, singing most melodiously, not from the mouth or nose, but but entirely from the breast. I don't-that still boggles my mind, I have no idea. He would run from one end of the kitchen to the other and back again, often barking and grunting with each stroke of his head. His family basically thought what was happening to him was “a spell,” similar to behavior that they had seen people exhibit at Methodist camp meetings. Such as like speaking in tongues, that kinda thing. Mason was obviously in distress and they didn't know what to do. One of his parents said, “Mason's just like the man in the Bible that was possessed by demons, full of unclean spirits, until Jesus sent them into a heard of swine. But what could have caused such a thing? That was another point in which Milton was like, “It's all that woman's fault.” called her a witch. Like I said, they didn't have any idea what was happening because they had no understanding of mental illness or any kind of brain injury, knowledge or anything like that.

Z: Right.

E: So they just tried to make him comfortable and placate him. They finally fed him, and it said, “Mason ate his meal ravenously, with his hands rather than any other utensils. He ate everything they put in front of him and downed two quarts of coffee.” Which sounds like a great day. I would love for that to be me.

Z: Same.

E: I wanna do that.

Z: Same.

E: They tried to convince him to explain what had happened, but he jumped up from the table, grabbed a knapsack from a hook on the wall, and ran back into the woods. His brother Milton was a medical student and he insisted that one day he would become a doctor and he would fix Mason's problems. We're gonna time skip a little bit.

Z: Sure.

E: In July of 1850, there was a 10 day stretch of near constant rain. It brought widespread flooding to the region. Many people were forced out of their homes, and dead animals, human waste, and debris were washing up in massive quantities on the farmland. I feel like I should specify, in this area where this is all taking place. It's a lot of flood planes between mountains, so when it rains, even now, it's really easily flooded. Ten straight days of rain is bad. It was very bad. Mason, at this point, had been living in the wilderness about two years. His father had sold off his horse because Mason wasn't around to care for him. He gave him the money from the sale, he was paid $100.00, and he told Mason that he needed to take it and use it, but Mason didn't want it. He put it in his backpack, and just let this $100 bill get shredded up in his backpack.

Z: Mason.

E: Yeah. He didn't have any use for money, he was out in the woods-

Z: Fair.

E:...and at this point he had become an expert at chicken snatching, taking food from gardens in the middle of the night, anything that he could find, he could eat. He was an expert forager, he knew all the berries and roots and stuff he could eat. He did eat all his meat raw, but he didn't really have anything to cook with in a cave.

Z: You gotta do whatcha gotta do.

E: Yeah, although it's not like he didn't know how to light a fire, it's just he apparently didn't cook his food. That didn't kill him, so I guess it's okay. Disclaimer, if you're listening to this, and you're considering the Mason Evans Diet, don't.

Z: Don't.

E: Don't. Cook your chicken thoroughly. At this point, he'd lived out there for two years. Dogs would bark and chase him up trees and hunters had to come and call them off to rescue him, because they would tree him like a bear. Overall, he was adapting to his new life. He was learning how to function out in the wilderness, but things were about to take a turn because the Evans family was victim to a lot of the flooding damage. They lived right on the banks of the creek and they had to clean up a lot after the storms. By this point, all of Mason's siblings had grown up and moved away and gotten married, so his parents were all alone to deal with this. This is topical, unfortunately, the flooding brought with it something much worse than just property damage, it brought illness. There was an epidemic of typhoid fever, and people just started dropping like flies. Entire families were dead in days. Milton had gone to Knoxville to go to medical school. He was called home, not because they were enlisting all the doctors in the region to care for people, but because both of his parents died like (snaps fingers) immediately.

Z: Jesus.

E: It was horrible. He said, “I wonder how many people thought to boil the water before drinking it.” 'Cause they wouldn't have known.

Z: Right.

E: That was a lot of what was killing people was they were drinking unclean drinking water. The Evans family all came together to make arrangements for their parents, and the question came up, “What do we do about Mason?” Milton, always the spokesman of the group, decided he was going to track his brother down, but when he did find him, he decided to just yell at him. He told him that he was disgusting and that he looked like a wild animal, that he didn't look like a person at all anymore. He told him, “If you'll come and get cleaned up you can go with me, but not before. You can't see Ma and Pa looking like that.” He was just now finding out that his parents had died, he's already traumatized by a number of other things. Mason of course, didn't want to hear it and he ran off into the woods again. He didn't do what Milton told him to do, however he did attend their funeral. He followed the procession of, there was like a wagon with matching white horses that carried their caskets. It's described in this very beautiful and flowery way that honestly, genuinely very sad, and his parents were buried at Hickory Grove Cemetery, while Mason watched from the woods. After that, this is where things are getting up into the Civil War, because we are coming up on the 1860s. At this time, the construction was finishing up on the White Cliff Springs Hotel. It is a very important location in Mason's life, in his history. The owner, Harvey McGill, and instructed Jonas and Betsy Jefferson, the couple that ran the hotel kitchen, to attend to all of Mason's needs. They would feed him, and often, Mr. McGill would come to the kitchen while Mason was there and he would talk to him and kind of give him the scoop on what was going on. I also feel like I should mention at this point, Mason basically went non-verbal. He didn't really speak very much, if at all. At lot of time in the book they describe him as kind of communicating in grunts and hand gestures, but it wasn't that he didn't understand things that people were saying to him. A lot of things in the book kind of-at the same time they're like, “yes, he was brilliant,” there was kind of this air of, “well he didn't talk anymore so he was stupid.” I just want to say, that's not how it works.

Z: Right.

E: You can be nonverbal and understand things, you know.

Z: Yeah.

E: Anyway, that's a whole other spiel for another time. So he would come in, and he would get the hot goss, and he would find out what was going on. He basically learned, at the White Cliffs Hotel, that the war was coming. He learned all about states seceding from the Union and that sort of thing. He was like, “Well, I am of the age of the draft,” he would be draft-able, so he was like, “I gotta hide.” He hunkered down Panther Cave for a little while, a long time, several months I guess? While he was still in hiding there was an accident. He decided that he was afraid of being caught by the authorities, he wasn't even gonna go to the hotel, he was just kinda gonna stockpile supplies, stay in his cave. One night while he was out foraging, he sees this light in the sky. He followed it, and the hotel was on fire. Burning to the ground. He shows up, and the fire marshal is there, and they're like, “Well, there's your fire bug,” and they basically threatened to arrest him. He is very upset, he ends up-they describe him as kind of having a fit. He started convulsing, he was very upset, he didn't know how to communicate that he hadn't been the one to do it because people were basically just accusing him already.

Z: Right.

E: Fortunately, at the same time that this was happening, this woman came forward, and was like, “My daughter knocked a candle over into a laundry basket, and that's what happened.” He was exonerated and he got up and ran away. The hotel burned to the ground. Mason went back to Panther Cave. This is another one of those points in the story where the author speculates that Mason spent much of his time lost in the memory of his ill-fated love affair.

Z: I don't think so.

E: I have here, “Like come on bro, it wasn't that serious.” After that he visited his sister Demaris and her husband Horner Coltharp, and to his surprise, he learned that his brother, Milton, had become a doctor, like he said he would. Instead of doing anything to help Mason, he filed paperwork with the court system in Monroe County to declare Mason a lunatic and subject to the confinement of a lunatic asylum. Milton also sold the land that was willed to Mason, without his consent, and basically was like, “Okay cops, go get him. Lock him up.” Very helpful. So-

Z: I don't like Milton.

E:...yeah, Milton is a shithead!

Z: Truly.

E: Demaris and Horner explained to Mason that Milton had moved away, but he had alerted local authorities to be on the lookout for him. Demaris requested that her husband build a shelter for him, where he could be supervised and he could be safe. Horner Coltharp did what he was asked. He constructed an 8x10 shanty for him, supplied him with food. They implored him not to wander off. He did, of course, try to leave to go back to the forest, and he was captured and chained to the floor. Which was great, because when people heard about this, people would come and just stare at him like he was a fucking zoo animal.

Z: Great.

E: Yeah, but there is a silver lining to this because this group of women heard what was happening to him. They were sympathetic so they came to see him and they brought him some supplies. They asked him if he could make use of a file, and he was like, “Yes, fuck yes, I can use a file. I can get out of here if I have a file.” So they baked him a loaf of bread with a file hidden in it.

Z: (gasps)

E: He was able to eat the bread, get the file out, and escape. How cool is that?

Z: I love that.

E: I know! These vigilante southern mamas are just like, “Nah this is not okay, you can't be doing this. This is a grown man, let him live his life. Let him out, here's a file, go be free!” I have so much respect for that. That's probably my favorite part of this whole story.

Z: I love that.

E: Yeah, so he escaped and he basically-he vowed never to return to his sister's property again because even though they had tried to help him, he didn't wanna get captured again. He continued to wander. He did go back occasionally and visit the White Cliff Hotel because they were constructing a second one, or rebuilding it. But he felt really uncomfortable being around there. He set up a number of outposts throughout the knobs with supplies and shelters where he could hide, should the authorities come to hunt him down again. A lot of people had complained about him raiding their gardens, and stealing their animals. The police never really caught him. Four years passed from the night of the fire and Mason showed up and he was very surprised to find that there was another hermit living there. Well, he wasn't living there, but he was a visitor, and they were treating him the way they were treating Mason, where they would feed him and give him whatever he wanted. His name is Gabriel North, and he'd had a very hard life. He had been fending for himself since childhood due to a strained relationship with his family. The book also implied that he had some mental illness as well and that that might have been effecting the way that his family treated him, so he was on his own. He did, however, have two dogs and Mason did not like dogs. When Harvey McGill was like, “I don't want you two at my hotel at the same time, I think you both should leave, go show him Panther Cave.” Mason was like “Cool, let's go,” Gabriel was like, “Okay well here's my dogs, and the dogs immediately attacked him. Immediately attacked Mason. They get into a fight, he hits the dog, because the dog is trying to attack him, and Gabriel was like “If you ever hit my dog again, you'll regret it Mason.” He kind of explained, “I have a checkered past with dogs, they do not like me,” and Gabriel basically was like, “Okay, cool that's fine. Just don't do it again,” and they became friends. But, another epidemic of illness hit the region. Yellow fever this time, and Gabriel was like, “I don't wanna be around for that. I'm afraid, I don't wanna get sick, I'm leaving.” So he left, and Mason was left alone again. That was in 1878. At this point, the book talks about what Mason had done for companionship previously. Allegedly, he had a couple of different animals for companionship. He had a rooster that he stole from a farm, like a prize rooster. This rooster and him were like BFFs. He kept it in a hollow oak tree that he called his rooster house. It road in his pocket until the action of squeezing in and out of his pocket caused it to loose all it's feathers. So he had a naked chicken that-

Z: (laughs)

E:..that was his best friend.

Z: (still laughing) I love that.

E: I know!

Z: Oh my god!

E: He also befriended a very large yellow tomcat, which followed him around for a long period of time. Now, here's the thing that's kind of icky. The rooster eventually died, and Mason ate it. Which, yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and say, I get it because he, you know. You gotta do what you gotta do to survive, and he was already catching and killing chickens before that.

Z: Sure.

E: The thing that bothers me about this, is that people were very into the speculation that he ate the cat too.

Z: I was afraid you were gonna say that.

E: I don't know that that happened. That's another thing that is in there just for shock value I think.

Z: I think so too. I feel like he was smart enough to know not to eat the cat.

E: I don't know, and honestly who the hell am I to judge him if he did.

Z: I've never had cat, who knows maybe it's good.

E: Living in a cave in the woods, you forage for all your food. Honor every part of them right.

Z: Yeah...

E: I know that's kind of fucked up to say about a cat but yeah. I just thought that that was-it was just randomly tossed in there between, “Here's a story of the Civil War,” “Mason Evans may have eaten his cat.” Like what??

Z: (laughs)

E: What are you talking about??

Z: Written. Like. A. Tabloid.

E: It must have been a slow news day.

Z: Truly.

E: Anyway, we're finally winding down. In the 1880s, a lot of things began to change. Lumber became a big industry in the Monroe County area, therefore, railroad started moving in. It was also at this time, that The Athenian, the newspaper that printed the pamphlet that I mentioned in the beginning, began it's operation. The publisher was a man named Wilbur F. McCarron. McCarron had promised the people of McMinn County “a newspaper of prestige, one whose literary content would be the best in the nation. There, the people who subscribed to the newspaper could be assured of many interesting features about McMinn, Meigs, and Monroe Counties.” The funny thing about this, is that people were not about this happening because they were like, “We wanna know about politics, we don't give a shit about whatever literature you're trying to bring us.” They also didn't like him because this was in the time period where Democrats and Republicans were flipped values wise-

Z: Right.

E:...and he was a Republican, and I thought it was really funny because they were like, “We don't like republicans around here.” And I was like “Boy you better fast forward 200 years.

Z: You better buckle up!

E: That's all we got. Within a month of the publication's beginning, McCarron came to visit the White Cliff Hotel and he told Mr. McGill that he wanted to know about Mason and eventually write a piece about him. Mr. McGill basically told him that the best person to talk to would be Horner Colthrop, his brother-in-law. When he returned to Athens, McCarron immediately published a series of articles in his paper about quote, “The Wild Man of the Chilhowee.” He recounted the stories of the people who had encountered him through direct interviews. The article stirred up a lot of controversy, and on January 9, 1886, ,the sheriff captured Mason and brought him to the Athens County Jail, and yet again, his capture drew in a lot of spectators. A lot of people came to watch them, arrest him basically and put him in prison. They took his photo on the steps of the courthouse, gave him a change of clothes and sentenced him to an insane asylum in Nashville. Very, for context, Monroe County is like the bottom eastern corner of Tennessee. Nashville is 4 hours away?

Z: Yeah, like three of four.

E: Three or four hours away, so that's very far from anything he's every known. In The Athenian, Mr. McCarron wrote, “Till a short time ago, Mason Evans kept with regularity the date of his birth, the day of the week, the month, and the year, and when urged to do so, would write a few sentences and solve problems with as much exactness as the days of yore. But age is creeping upon him. His eyesight is failing, and the little spark of passion and the reason that should have never left him is gradually being extinguished. It was only by the exercise of strategy and urgent persuasion he was induced without using force to come down from his mountain home and get into a wagon waiting to convey him into town, a distance of some 15-20 miles.” Mason did not want-whether they forced him or not, he did not want what they took him to do. He attempted to escape several times. So far as to get the start of his guards, several 100s of yards going at full speed toward the mountains. Mostly reports said that he was harmless, but a few people had said that in his older age he would get confused, he would lash out a little bit. What it actually said was, “attacks of raving lunacy.” Which, yikes. A few weeks later, McCarron wrote that Mason was taken the McMinn County Poorhouse. Once he arrived there, he very quickly made his escape. He walked a distance of around 20 miles back to his brother-in-law's house. Horner Colthrop provided him a shelter to stay in at night and he was free to roam during the day. Which is kind of what the situation was before, but this time there wasn't really much of an issue with it. He actually used the shelter he was given, the cops didn't try to come take him away, they all kind of came to an agreement. At this point, things were really, finally starting to calm down for him. During the winter of 1891-1892, Mason stayed in the cabin intermittently. He continued to visit the White Cliff kitchens and he was very grateful for the services that they gave him, because he was 68 years old, and his health was beginning to decline. Any food that they could give him, any warmth, he was grateful for. Unfortunately, on the morning of January 11, 1892, Mason's body was found frozen sitting under a tree. His brother-in-law claimed his remains, and Mason was buried in a simple wooden casket near his parents at Hickory Grove Cemetery. For 40 years, he had lived alone in the wilderness, kept himself alive. I think that that is fucking crazy.

Z: Truly.

E: Obviously, if you threw me out there now, given that I am of the-I'm on the millenial/gen z cusp. I've basically always had a cell phone in my hand. I would not last a day.

Z: I can't even poop in the woods.

E: Exactly! Thank you! I know it was a different time but wow. 40 years, completely alone.

Z: Yeah.

E: Didn't have a house, lived in a cave. Finally I have a quote here from Harvey McGill, the owner of the White Cliff Hotel who said, “Mason Evans is much better off dead than alive and Hickory Grove is a much better place than the shack he lived in. The final resting place of his soul is with God, I am sure.” That is-

Z: That's sweet.

E:...the story of Mason Evans.

Z: Oh my god. I am still shook about those women.

E: I know.

Z: The loaf of bread.

E: It's so cool. It's so cool.

Z: Oh my god.

E: That just goes to show you. That's the definition of southern hospitality.

Z: Truly.

E: Truly.

Z: Well, thank god I finally know all about Mason.

E: I'm sorry that was so long-

Z: Nah.

E:...for our first run, but I really just needed to

get that one off my chest. Fortunately, it had given me kind of a branching off of some other topics that I want to cover too. I definitely want to talk more about the White Cliff Hotel and I am actually planning on doing an episode on sinkholes.

Z:OOooo.

E: Caves and sinkholes are all kind of connected. So that's that. Thank you for listening.

Z: Of course.

E: What's your issue this week?

Z: My issue this week, and-okay there is a side of TikTok-

E: I'm afraid now.

Z:...currently, and again, brain worms. My issue this week is cleantok. Cleaning TikTok.

E: Ooo, that sounds nice.

Z: I'm gonna do a little bit of a trigger warning here-

E: Oh, okay.

Z:...for child abuse.

E: Okay...

Z: Because skip ahead like 2 minutes, if you don't want to hear about this, but-

E: I was not expecting this.

Z:...have you ever read the book A Child Called It?

E: No, but I know about it. I know like the general plot.

Z: There's a scene where household chemicals are mixed and it's supposed to be-

E: Oh.

Z: Okay.

E: Like the mustard gas?

Z: Yeah, pretty much.

E: I think I know where this is going.

Z: There's this side of TikTok now where people are like, “We're on cleantok, we're gonna clean.” and they'll dump half a container of AJAX, Clorox, Dawn, literally everything under the-

E: Ammonia.

Z: Ammonia, everything and that's just where my brain goes is mixing chemicals together and making deadly toxic gases and I'm just waiting, because there's livestreams of people that'll just go live and dump-

E: Yeah, I've seen a couple of those videos where people are just throwing in 4 different kinds of powder and dumping multiple liquids on top of it.

Z: Yeah!

E: How are you not dead? Someone's gonna get hurt.

Z: Truly, and that's where my brain went. I was like, someone is going to not realize it. 'Cause it's science, they're chemicals. You're mixing shit together, you don't know what you're mixing. Somethings going to happen, someone is going to get hurt, because these people on TikTok are like “Oh I'm going to make a rainbow in my toilet today.”

E: Can I say, I feel like a lot of that we don't have home-ec in schools anymore.

Z: Yeah.

E: Because I learned, my mom was the one that told me, don't mix ammonia and bleach cause you'll make mustard gas, but I don't know if that's actually true. I know that it makes something that is very dangerous, but that is kind of where you would learn about these household things. Schools are so underfunded that you don't have that anymore.

Z: Yep.

E: That's just sad.

Z: Well, that was my issue. Sorry to get a little dark there for a second but truly I saw just one video, and you know how TikTok is, they'll be one here or there, and it really made me mad.

E: Well, hey, PSA don't do that. Don't mix things.

Z: Please.

E: Do your research if you're going to use multiple chemicals because, because holy shit you could literally gas yourself to death.

Z: Here's the tea. One is enough.

E: Yeah, most of the time.

Z: Scrubbing bubbles? Fine.

E: Yeah.

Z: Dawn Dishwashing Liquid? Fine. Don't start mixing shit. You don't need to. That's what they're there for.

E: Yes, yes. Please be safe. Please don't get hurt.

Z: What's your issue now that I'm all worked up?

E: My issue, maybe this is dark, my issue is honestly that I had to take Brownie to the emergency vet.

Z: Yeah.

E: 'Cause that was a nightmare.

Z: Yeah.

E: I had to take my sweet little boy to the vet because I came home from work and he had poopied blood and I was terrified and I thought he was gonna die. It turns out that he just had a mild infection, and he's had his antibiotics. He's good to go now. We did his follow up, and the vet said he looked fine. His issue this week is probably the fact that they shaved that funky chunk out of the side of his neck, because they had to give him fluids, so he has this wonky ass-it looks like the state of South Carolina.

Z: Have you ever seen that episode of Bob's Burgers where he gets the stitch in his finger-

E: Yes!

Z:...and he's like, “Why did you shave my arm?”

E: That is exactly it, yeah. God that's such-I love Bob's Burgers.

Z: Same.

E: But yeah, that's my issue. He's fine. I'm still-I don't think I'm ever gonna recover from that. That was so stressful. He's okay and he's standing here staring at me because it's been two hours, and he probably needs to poop.

Z: He probably needs to poop.

(dog shaking his head noises)

E: Yeah.

Z: We'll take that as a yes.

E: Alright, well, thanks for listening.

Z: Of course, thanks for listening to me ramble, thanks for listening to Em ramble.

E: Thanks for really listening to me ramble.

E&Z: (laughs)

Z: Well we'll hopefully see you next time, hopefully we'll see you next time, I'm really excited for my topic next week.

Z: Hi guys.

E: Hey.

Z: How's it going? So when we initially recorded this episode, we didn't have all of our social media set up completely. There were a couple that had different usernames or whatever, just rookie mistakes that we had made, but we just wanted to rerecord the ending here. Kinda touch base with you, so you know exactly where to find us so there's no confusion, and we're all on the same page. So Twitter, TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube @issues-podcast. Our Tumblr is @theabandonmentissues. Or you can simply go to our LinkTree whick is linktr.ee/issues_podcast. And all of this will be linked in the description below. But that's got all of our relevant links including our cited sourced, social media, and our Patreon can be found there as well.

E: We also have an email for listener story submissions now. So if you have any places nearby you that you think are relevant to the topics that we cover, we would like to hear from you. You can send those to us at tellusyourissue@gmail.com, and we might read it out on the air.

Z: You never know what could happen.

E: You never know. You can also send whatever you want to that email. Anything you want us to know. Anything relevant.

Z: Send us memes. We'll print them out, and we'll hand them to Gertrude.

E: Exactly. Yeah.

Z: No problem.

E: That should pretty much cover everything, contact wise.

Z: We appreciate you guys understanding that we're fools.

E&Z: (laughs)

E: We're just some fresh faced youngsters.

Z: Listen, we're little rookies, we gotta figure it out as we go, and unfortunately this is one of them.

E: If you need anything from us, that's were you can find us.

Z: Please, send me memes.

E: (laughs) Please. It's what keeps him going.

Z: It's all I got left in this world.

E: Yeah.

[starkerism]

Title: Kiss Me

Summary: Five times Peter and Tony almost kiss and one time they did.

First Time | Second Time | Third Time | Fourth Time | Fifth Time | Final

The next few weeks around the compound leaves Peter feeling strung out and exhausted.

It felt like every time Tony enters the room, every molecule in Peter’s body bursts into flames. He’s hyper-focused on everything; Tony’s breathing, his movements, his voice. Each sound sends a new wave of fire coursing through his body and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t tear his eyes away from his mentor.

In a room full of superheroes with the ability to catch onto microexpressions, Peter could’ve stood on the nearest table and screamed about the situation and it’d be less obvious.

But if anyone notices, they say nothing. Mr Stark says nothing – in fact, not only does he say nothing, he refuses to acknowledge Peter’s presence all together. No greeting, no friendly pat on the back, no smiles. Just glances that seem to stick just a little too long. And the really, really sick thing is that it just makes Peter want more.

They’re all spread across the lounge, drinks in their hands, a gentle hum of music playing in the background. It’s a rare day where no one was on any life-threatening missions, no one was brooding. Despite Peter’s awareness of Tony throughout the whole night, he felt comfortable. At home. With family.

Peter watches as Tony spreads an arm across the back of the sofa, his forearm brushing against Steve’s shoulders as he lets out a laugh. His legs stretch out in front of him, jeans pulling tight across his thighs. Peter’s mouth goes dry and he chugs back the rest of his beer, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth to catch the rogue drops. This action brings Tony’s attention to him and even though he’s nodding in agreement to something Steve says, his eyes are trailing across Peter’s body.

God, Peter curses inwardly and his body moves on its own accord, legs spreading, head tilting back, mouth parting. Mr Stark’s eyes darken and whatever Steve’s saying is forgotten. The sounds in the room around them fade out, replaced with a buzzing in Peter’s head, the room blurring around everything but Tony.

A hand on his shoulder jerks him out of his stupor and he immediately straightens up, splashing a small drop of beer onto his leg in the process. He looks up at Nat, who’s watching him carefully, head tilted to the side. Instead of acknowledging her, he glances back over to Mr Stark, who’s gone back to talking to Steve like nothing had happened.

“He’s twice your age, you know,” Nat says quietly, propping herself onto the arm of Peter’s chair. Panic shoots through Peter, straight down his spine and then back up again, right into his chest.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Peter stammers and even he doesn’t believe his own voice. Nat snorts softly, sipping the martini in her hand.

“Remind me to sign you up for lessons in lying, Parker. Pretty sure it’s superhero 101.”

Peter swallows, a hard lump appearing in his throat. His eyes flicker around the room, making sure everyone is occupied enough to not pay attention to their conversation. He leans closer to her and drops his voice to a whisper.

“Is it that obvious?”  

Nat smiles gently at him, taking a sip of her drink to delay the time before she answers, pondering how to reply.  

“I want to say no, just to save you the crushing embarrassment, but that would be cruel,” She smirks at the look of horror on Peter’s face. She smacks his chest with the back of his hand. “Hey, if it’s any consolation, Tony’s not being as discreet as he thinks he is either.”

Peter’s gaze snaps straight to her, mouth falling open slightly, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“Jesus, Parker, you’re supposed to have super-spidey senses. You telling me don’t know bedroom eyes when you see them? I’m perfectly human but even I can pick up on that.” Nat tips back the rest of the martini into her mouth and taps her nails against the empty glass. She’s watching Tony carefully and Peter follows her gaze. He’s still talking to Steve, but sends the occasional suspicious glance their way. “Listen,” Nat says, standing up, “He’s a piece of work. Pepper got out of there before he dragged her under. But this – whatever this is – that you two have going on, you better be sure you know what it is you want, because I’m pretty sure Tony won’t be able to handle having his heart ripped out again.”

And then she leaves, and Peter’s left wondering whether she’d just told him to stay away for his own good, or whether she’d just given her stamp of approval wrapped up in a ‘hurt him and I’ll hurt you’ warning.

-

Peter has to get out of there. As the evening goes on, Mr Stark strips one layer off and leaves himself in just a tank and baggy sweatpants that keep sliding down, and Peter can’t take it. He ducks into a nearby storage room, a single dim light sending an orange glow across the wooden shelves stocked with wine, bottles of beer and spirits. He rips off his jumper, leaving him in a too-baggy t-shirt that slips off of his shoulder when he grinds his palms into his eyes.

He can’t take it. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had strong feelings towards someone, or because of how everything in his body had been amplified after the spider bite, but every little action Tony takes is driving him crazy.

A finger across his lips, a brush of his hand against his own thigh, a flash of a smile, a look through half-lidded eyes, arms stretching above his head and showing a patch of skin just above the waistband of his sweatpants.  

It’s too much and Peter’s groin aches. His chest hurts, his lips are dry and twitching, waiting.  

He’s trying to cool himself, his head pounding and throat scratchy and dry. The alcohol hasn’t helped – it’s sent his body into a hot overdrive, limp and pliant. The cold of his palms against his eyes is soothing and he keeps them there, head tipped back against the wall and chest heaving. He doesn’t even hear the door open over the sounds of his distress.

“Pete?”

His breath catches in his throat and his hands snap back to his side, attempting to right himself. He can’t though; Tony’s here, he’s at the door, in the dark, and Peter breathes in, takes in the lingering smell of alcohol and aftershave coating the air between them. His breathing comes out heavier, his skin prickles down his back, and then Tony’s in front of him, hands grasping his shoulders.

“Snap out of it, hey, Pete, come on.” Tony shakes him gently and it knocks Peter out of his trance just enough. Peter grabs Tony by the arms and flips them round quickly, a small grunt forced out of Tony’s mouth when his back collides with the wall.

Peter dives forwards, pressing his forehead into the side of Tony’s neck. It’s warm, soft, smells delicious.

“What—” Mr Stark starts, words trapped in his throat when Peter’s lips press hard against his pulse. Peter can feel the shiver that runs through him. “Pete—”

“Please,” Peter croaks against the skin underneath Mr Stark’s ear. “I—I messed up, I know, back in the lab,” Peter rolls his head onto Tony’s shoulder and brings his hands down from Tony’s shoulders to grasp at his hands. He presses them gently against the wall and feels Tony’s breath hitch. “But I can’t—I want—” Peter moves his head from Mr Stark’s shoulders, cheek brushing against stubble, until their mouths are so close Peter can feel when Tony stops breathing. He brushes their lips together, fingers tightening in their place around Tony’s wrists, still pressing them firmly against the wall.  

“Fuck, kid, you—” Tony tilts his head back against the wall, breaking their not-kiss, to let out a breath. “You’re really putting me through hell. I’m not really one for self-control, but god—“ He cuts himself off with a groan when Peter leans forwards to bite at his earlobe. There’s a few beats of silence, their heavy breaths creating a muted bubble around them.

“My skin feels like it’s gonna burst whenever you’re in the room,” Peter admits, whispering brokenly into Tony’s neck. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, doing… things to you. I don’t know if it’s the spider bite but everything is so intense and it almost hurts, Mr Stark, I just need to…” He trails off to press their foreheads together and neither of them are looking anywhere but each others mouths. It goes quiet and Peter’s scared, he’s absolutely fucking petrified, because he’s going to take the kiss even if Tony doesn’t want it—

But Tony stretches his head forwards and closes the gap between them. He presses his lips hard into Peter’s, forehead creasing, and Peter’s soaring.

The fire flares up, and everything in Peter’s mind focuses on that one point of contact. They’re still, just their lips pushed together, but then Tony tilts his head to the side, nose nudging across Peter’s, and opens his mouth and Peter loses it.

His hands leave Tony’s wrists to snap to his head, fingers burying themselves into Tony’s hair to deepen the kiss, prising Tony’s lips open with his own and slipping his tongue inside. Tony’s moan reverberates through Peter’s mouth, down to his chest, then to his toes, and then Peter’s being flipped over himself. Tony crowds in closer, pushing him tightly against the wall, hands finding the base of Peter’s neck and the back of his head. Tony’s taking it now, mouth sliding easily across Peter’s, and Peter whimpers, legs going weak.  

They part to take a breath, Tony’s tongue leaving a trail of glistening saliva across Peter’s bottom lip, and they stand in the dim light, panting into each others mouths, hands gripping different parts of their bodies.

“This is a real bad idea,” Mr Stark whispers and the feel of his breath across Peter’s sensitive mouth sends a shiver down his spine. The burning need in Peter has sizzled into a simmer now that he’d felt it, tasted Tony’s lips on his. He brought his hand round from the back of Tony’s head to his cheek, eyes flitting between both of Tony’s. He’d felt it, and he was never going to let it go now.

“Didn’t feel like it,” Peter replies and he grins when Mr Stark lets out a huff of laughter in response. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Miss Romanoff gave us her blessing.”

Mr Stark looks less shocked then he should. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, subtlety isn’t my strongest suit.” His fingers find the back of Peter’s hair and he tugs a little, eyes darkening when Peter lets out a tiny gasp.

“Or self-restraint, apparently.”

Tony’s eyes dart back  down to Peter’s mouth and he leans forwards, closing the distance to press a surprisingly tender kiss to Peter’s mouth. When he pulls away, he’s taking in Peter’s face like it’s the last time he’ll see it.

“If we do this, it’s for the long haul,” Tony whispers, voice trembling slightly. Peter’s heart thuds, hard, at the confession. Peter thinks maybe he should take a second, to think it through, wonder about the future. But he doesn’t. He leans forwards, the space between them shrinking until their lips are pressed together again. One, two, three kisses.

It’s a promise.  

A knock at the door makes them jump apart, Peter’s heart beating a million miles a second.  

“If you guys don’t mind, I’d rather you took it somewhere away from the beers,” Sam’s voice calls out from the other side of the wood. Heat rushes to Peter’s face and he shares an uneasy smile with Tony, who doesn’t even look embarrassed, more surprised.

“Guess even the dumbasses could see what was going on,” Tony says into the silence, and Peter snorts. Tony reaches down between them and grabs Peter’s hand, firm and warm. Grounding. He reaches across to the shelf and takes down an extra pack of beers. “Definitely leaving here with a lot more than I thought I would.”  

Peter surprises himself – and Tony – when he surges forwards and takes Tony’s lips again, the bottles on the shelf rattling when Tony’s back pushes against it. He takes, and takes, and takes, mouth pulling back and diving back in against Tony’s, hands brushing down Tony’s chest, his arms, his waist, his ass—

Peter pulls back, breathing heavily, and Tony’s staring at him with that same look; the one that makes Peter feel like he’s alight.  

“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” Peter says through panted breaths. Tony laughs and pushes himself up off of the shelf.

“Yeah, we’re gonna need to keep you doing that to a minimum or I’m pretty sure we’ll christen every surface of this tower within a week.”

The implications of that sentence makes Peter flush, but he nods in agreement and takes Tony’s hand, surprised at his own boldness. Tony entwines their fingers together and nods towards the door.

“Best go face the music,” He says, heading towards the door. Peter doesn’t hear it. He’s looking down at their hands, small slender fingers against rough, thick ones, and he feels good. It feels good.

Five kisses, Peter thinks, staring at Tony’s face as he pulls open the door to the storage room. He trails his eyes down his face, past his stubble, down his neck, his chest, back to their hands. A small smile twitches around his lips. And more.

[izzy-b-hands]

Too Much Blues

Gotta be honest, no idea what this is. I wanted to write, I put on some music and did some jumping around Spotify, and now here this is. I’ve been writing for like three hours and it somehow got dark around me, idk when that happened. 

Not sure if this really qualifies as angst? It isn’t happy, but it isn’t like overwhelmingly sad for Eugene or Snafu either. Y’all will have to let me know I guess. 

Title is from the song by James Booker which I have linked there on his name because I recently discovered him, and he is absolutely wonderful, and deserves more people listening to his music. After you read this, give him a listen. He’s Freddie levels of amazing piano playing, and sings so strongly it transports you. I can’t believe I didn’t know of him until now, and I wish I had sooner. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

The taste of blood on his tongue wasn’t unfamiliar, but it was unwelcome. 

The alley he was laying in wasn’t cold, thanks to the August heat, but it was wet. Rain poured, sluicing off of the rooftops as fast as it could fall from the clouds. 

He wouldn’t admit that this had been a bad idea though. Not yet. It would have to get a lot worse for that. 

Eugene had thought it was a bad idea from the start. 

“You can’t win the money we need by gambling. The math doesn’t pan out-” 

“I’m lucky,” Snafu had told him, accompanying it with a kiss. “I can win us a thousand dollars, easy. Give me the weekend in New Orleans, let me hit up the old haunts, and I’ll have it. I promise.” 

“At least let me go with you,” Eugene had begged as he had watched him pack. “For safety’s sake.” 

“I used to live there, Gene. The city isn’t any more unsafe than anywhere else anyway. Besides what else are we gonna do?” 

Eugene hadn’t had an answer for that, and neither did Snafu for that matter. It was purely bad luck and bad timing, that two of the cats had needed the vet, that Eugene had busted his arm trying to help repair part of the roof after a particularly bad hailstorm fucked it all the way up, that another storm had hit after that and done such damage that they had to hire someone to come fix it up instead of trying to do it themselves, that the break in Eugene’s arm wasn’t healing well and required more visits to the doctor than previously expected. 

The first thousand they’d raised by selling off things from the house, one by one, first to the pawn shop in town, then by driving out of town to the pawn shops of neighboring towns until they had enough. Their house was slightly more bare (and missing some furniture) but it was worth it. Neither of them wanted to beg help from Eugene’s parents, or Sid and Mary. Not their debts, not their problem, was the agreed upon mantra. 

But the pawn shops didn’t want any more of their things, and to pay off the thousand now would drain their accounts. 

And Snafu had always enjoyed gambling. 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t anticipated this. You could get jumped in any city in the country, for any reason, he figured. 

This time, however, he wasn’t sure what the reason was. He’d lost more than he’d won, and the few hundred he had on him was still all present and accounted for. They’d beaten him to a pulp, and run, and that was that.

“Just bad luck,” he mumbled as he stood and staggered out of the alley. 

People traipsed past him without a care, some drunk, others just deep in conversation with those they walked beside, or taking in the scenery. The city had never chewed them up and spat them back out like it had him. Maybe other cities had, and this was their safe place. 

It had been his, once. And he wanted to believe it still was. 

But it was difficult, bloody and bruised, the rain seemingly never-ending as he finally dropped to the curb and sat. And he was tired. It had been hours finding any game he could, in any place he could, trying to win as much as possible. No booze like he might have had normally, this was too important not to stay sharp. 

But even that hadn’t done it. It was nearly Sunday morning, and Eugene would be expecting him back by Sunday night. It didn’t seem enough time, not nearly enough time. 

“You need a rest,” the man who had stopped in front of him said it not as a question, but as a fact. He wore a sharp suit, and looked just as tired as Snafu. 

“Don’t we all?” 

The man nodded. “I know a restful place.” 

He let the man help him up, and tried not to slow him as they made their way down the road to the nearest bar. 

“Needs some cleaning up,” the man said to the bartender, who nodded and came out from behind the bar with a rag and a small first aid kit. 

“I can pay you,” Snafu said, even though it hurt to say. Any money gone was less to bring home to Eugene, and he already could barely bear how little he would be bringing. 

“Nah,” the man replied. “How about a story instead?” 

“What about?” 

“Anything,” the man replied, watching as the bartender cleaned the cuts on Snafu’s face. “Lotta rings on them, hm?” 

Snafu winced at the antiseptic, and nodded. “What little I got to see of them before...well.” 

“Got everything you had before they took you down?” 

“Yeah,” Snafu replied. “Thankfully.” 

“How long you been away?” 

Snafu sighed. “Too long, maybe. I live in Alabama now, with my hu-” 

It came so naturally to say back at home, where he knew he was mostly safe, but he bit his tongue now, and held his breath as he watched the man’s reaction. 

“Your husband,” the man finished. “Okay. And you came back to town because...” 

“We need money,” Snafu admitted. “I was gonna win it for us. Some cards, whatever else I could find, you know.” 

“Just see what’s going on for the night, what you start winning at,” the man agreed. “You win all you need?” 

Snafu scoffed, and nodded his thanks to the bartender as he finished up. “I wish. Six hundred and some I got, but I need a thousand. I’ve got the rest of tonight, and most of tomorrow to get the last four hundred.” 

“Son,” the man said. “It’s already four in the morning on Sunday. How much luck you think you’re gonna find before you have to head home?” 

“Not enough,” Snafu muttered. “I can’t go back to him with just this.” 

The man nodded. “How well can you play?” 

“Play what?”

“Piano. I can tell by your hands, those fingers.” 

Snafu shrugged. He had been given lessons as a child, but hadn’t made much effort to keep up with them the older he got. And war didn’t exactly lend itself well to piano practice, what with no drops of pianos on the islands in the Pacific. 

“I’ve got to run and play at church myself,” the man said. “But my grandmother is at home, too sick in bed to go. She wants nothing more than to hear some of the music I’d be playing. If you can do even a song or two, it would mean the world. And I’ll give you that last four hundred.” 

He smirked. “Four hundred dollars to play piano for someone I don’t know? Pull the other one.” 

“Not at all,” the man said. “I give you my word, and my name.” 

“Your name?” 

“Names are power,” the man replied. “Call me Jim. You?” 

“Snafu.” 

Jim grinned. “That ain’t your real name, but Jim ain’t my real name either, so fair enough. Come on then, and I’ll take you to her. Play for the next few hours, and the money is yours.” 

Jim led out of the bar with only a wave to the bartender, who seemed nonplussed by all of it, and called them a cab. It drove them from the Quarter to Metairie quickly, to a small white house with blue trim. 

Jim didn’t introduce him to the elderly woman who was tucked into the small twin bed in the living room, only said a few words to her, and gestured Snafu to the piano near it, then left. 

He settled onto the bench, and let his fingers rest uncertainly on the keys. 

“Can you play me something about losing?” the woman’s voice was soft, but scratched with the effort of being brought forth. 

“I know about losing,” Snafu murmured, and patted the wad of bills in his pocket before starting in on St. Jame’s Infirmary Blues. It was one of the few songs he could remember well, though it certainly didn’t fit the bill of a ‘church song.’ “Though you wanted something from your church though? That’s what Jim told me.” 

“Jim? Is that what he’s having you call him? Well, he is a sweetheart, but he doesn’t need to know what I have you play,” the woman replied. “I like this one.” 

It wasn’t a particularly long song, but he let his fingers play on the keys, adding into it, until she hummed discontentedly. 

“What else do you know?” 

“More blues?” Snafu winced. “Mostly remember what folks around here play, what I heard before I left, what I heard now walkin’ the streets. Think I could replicate some of it-” 

“Don’t talk it over till it falls apart,” the woman interrupted gently. “Just play. I trust you.” 

He searched his mind for the chords, the melodies, letting them fall into place, then playing about with them. He didn’t worry about perfectly matching what he could recall in his head; she hummed happily each time he did his own variations. 

There was a clock on the wall, but he paid it no mind, until Jim came back inside. 

He motioned for Snafu to continue playing, then stepped up to the bed, kneeling down to the woman. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “She’s smiling. How she always wanted to go.” 

Snafu stopped short, and nearly tripped running out from behind the piano. “Is she-” 

“She kept telling us it would be today, and she’s not often wrong about anything,” Jim chuckled. “Thank you for your kindness, and your help. If I couldn’t be here, I’m glad you could be.” 

“You don’t know me,” Snafu couldn’t help but murmur. 

“You’re a son of the city, and I bet you had a grandmother sweet as mine that you once played for.” 

“Something like that,” Snafu said, and pushed the memories back down. 

“That’s enough. Don’t need to know everything about someone to be kind to them, to do the most basic human act of creating something to make them happy, to ease them in a time of suffering. And I knew you could and would do that for her.” 

Jim handed him a bundle of bills. “Count it if you like; I don’t blame you if you do. But it’s all there. Four hundred, plus an extra hundred in case you run into trouble on the way home.” 

Snafu took the bundle with shaking hands. “Thank you. Is there...” 

“You’ve done everything we needed you to,” Jim interrupted, a soft and sad smile on his face. “You get home to your husband, and take care of your debts. Be well. Maybe we’ll find each other again, should you come back. Bring your husband this time, and we’ll all share a drink.” 

“You sound so certain that I’ll be back,” Snafu said. 

“Because you will be,” Jim said matter-of-factly. “A visit to one home, from another. Because the city is always home to you, even if you forget that once you go. But places never forget the children that grew up in their streets. Their pain and their happiness and their sadness. She’ll remember this particular sadness, and the pain you met here this time. And be ready to comfort you to make up for it, the next time you come home.” 

He left the house, and found a cab waiting for him outside. The ride to the train station was a bit longer than the ride to the house had been, and he considered using it to count the bills Jim had given him. 

But he didn’t. Somehow, in his gut, he knew there was no need. 

He didn’t on the train ride back either. Instead, he slept, the most he had slept since getting to New Orleans. 

At the station, he called Eugene. 

“I’ve got enough. More than enough.” 

He hung up before Eugene could ask any questions, and settled onto a bench outside the station to wait for him. 

The taste of blood on his tongue, as he chewed at his lower lip anxiously, was not unfamiliar, or unwelcome. 

The iron tasted like life, whatever remained of his, of Eugene’s. 

He wondered if there would be music at the end, for them.