#it's the guy he's interested in. he forgot for a split second whom he talking to and trusted him enough to tell all about these

[fadelsburger]

THE HEART KILLERS (2024-2025) เขาจ้างให้ผมจีบนักฆ่า dir. Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong

[zodiyack]

Should I Stay Or Should I Go

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, teen angst, fluff, a smol mature reference?

Words: 1,834

Summary: Her mom’s boyfriend practically ruins and controls her life, going as far as to force them to move. It doesn’t sit well with the couple, and they both have their own way of solving it.

Song: Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash

Key: Lyrics = Bold + Italic, Memories (and sometimes emphasis/thoughts) = Italic

Note: I’m sorry if it sucks, I liked the ending with the song, so I tried to make a full story, and...I just don’t like it as much as the ending lol it doesn’t help that i’ve tried writing a section every other day...it’s hard to get it to make sense when you do that oop

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

Darling, you got to let me know, Should I stay or should I go? If you say that you are mine; I'll be here 'til the end of time. So you got to let me know, Should I stay or should I go?

Listening to random artists, genres, pretty much just music, was pretty much everything they had done all day. Jonathan made a mix-tape for his girlfriend, his and her favorite songs in a randomized order on the cassette tape. It was the second one he’d made, and he was eager to have her listen to it.

Practically shoving past Y/n’s mother and into his girlfriend’s room was the first thing he’d done upon arriving. The second being putting the cassette tape into the player, and the third informing Y/n on what it was.

"You hungry?” Y/n sat up, giggling softly as Jonathan played with the socks covering her feet, a small tickle against her feet every now and then. He nodded and moved his arms, allowing her to hop off her bed and walk to the kitchen. “Oh- hey mom.”

Her mother was at the kitchen counter. Even though she was dressed to cook, something had clearly been on her mind as she was just leaning against the surface and squinting her eyes while she stared into space. The distraction was powerful, from what Y/n could tell, because when she greeted her mother, she made a startled yelp and jumped slightly.

“Sweetie! I uh...I need to talk to you... Could you please send Jonathan home?” Y/n hesitated, but nodded. She left to get her boyfriend, returning and giving him a kiss after he put his shoes back on. “Oh, Jonathan! Could you please tell your mother I said hello?”

“Of course.” He smiled shyly, “Thank you for having me over, Mrs. L/n.”

“Anytime! Thank you for coming, Jonathan!” She waited until he left to turn and ask Y/n to sit down for a moment. “I...Well, I- um...”

“Mom? If you need a moment, I can wait-”

“No! I just...I’ve decided to start seeing people again and...I’ve got a boyfriend daring!”

Y/n stared at her mom for a second or two, then began laughing. Her mother was shy but happy and wanted her daughter to be happy for her. Happy for the fact that she was recovering from the divorce. That, Y/n could understand, but she couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s great mom! Is he cute?”

The woman blushed, biting her lower lip as she leaned back on the counter nervously. “Yes... That’s not all I’d like to talk about though....I want to invite him for dinner.”

“Really? Okay, I’ll go hang out with the Byers’ so you guys can have some priva-”

“No, sweetie...I want to invite him to eat dinner with us. The both of us.”

It's always tease, tease, tease, You're happy when I'm on my knees. One day it's fine and next it's black. So if you want me off your back, Well, come on and let me know, Should I stay or should I go?

"How was it?”

“He’s an asshole!!” She flopped onto her back, a pained, but faux, expression covered her features. Jonathan laughed, moving stray hairs out of her face and smiling brightly. “What? Do I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No... You’re just...” He lifted his camera from it’s spot- dangling off his neck, and to his eye. The clicks sounded as he shot photos of Y/n, smiling to himself as he looked through the lens. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah, keep stroking my ego camera-man. But like I was saying, he’s a dick!”

“No,” he lowered his camera, “you said asshole.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled back at him. “Shut up.”

“Only if you make me.”

Taking his quip as a challenge, she grabbed his head and began to pull him down. Her eyes looked into his with genuine interest. Their lips came close to touching and-

“Y/n! Your mom’s on the phone!!”

The couple sighed and pulled apart. “Thank you, Joyce!” She frowned to Jonathan, pecking his lips and walking out of his room. But she didn’t leave with out quirking a brow, a corner of her mouth lifting as well, and adding quietly, “10 pm. My window or yours?”

Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go, there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double, So come on and let me know

This indecision's bugging me. If you don't want me, set me free. Exactly whom I'm supposed to be, Don't you know which clothes even fit me? Come on and let me know, Should I cool it or should I blow?

Split!

"I have to go.”

“What?”

“He’s making us move.” Her mom’s boyfriend decided he’d had enough with Hawkins, especially after he’d caught Jonathan sneaking into Y/n’s room. From then on, he called her things like slut, bitch and whore. The night she’d told Jonathan about it, he joked, but with 100% seriousness, “it’s like he’s never heard of a teenager, or even been one for that matter.”

Their argument had escalated.

“Why? He shouldn’t get to decide what you or your mom have to or get to do, you’re almost an adult and your mom’s an adult, I don’t see why he’s all of a sudden the boss.”

“That’s exactly what I said! But- my mom agreed...we’re moving next week.”

His expression dropped. “Next week?”

“Next week.” Y/n repeated as confirmation.

Jonathan held her gaze for a moment or two before rolling his eyes and running and through his hair, “That’s bullshit.”

“E-excuse me?”

“It’s bullshit. You could ask your mother if you could live here with us or something, or even run away, you have so many choices, but you choose to give up and go with that- that- that dick?” 

“Yes! Because, like you said, I’m almost an adult. Not an adult, almost. I can’t just leave my mom with him either-”

“All I’m getting is that you’re either a dumbass or just a coward. Either way, you’re his bitch, and you’ll always be his bitch if you don’t learn how to tell him no.” He was acting out emotionally, the words extreme and unintended.

And while Y/n knew that, her heart couldn’t take too much. “I’m not, his bitch.” She stormed out of the Byers house, thanking Joyce in a rush, and hopped into her car, slamming the door shut tightly. Inside the car, with much more privacy, she sighed and wiped her hands down her face, attempting to control her breathing.

Attempting to no avail, at that. She slammed her fist on the wheel a couple times, tears running down her cheeks as she let out pained-whimper-like-sounds. Then, having just let some of the anger out, she breathed in deeply, exhaled, and repeated a couple times before driving back home.

“I can get Jonathan-”

“Thanks, Mrs. Byers...but...he and I aren’t really...on speaking terms...” She averted her gaze. The time from the rest of the week had effected her appearance and nearly everything about her.

She hadn’t slept, noticeable by the bags below her eyes, she had a hard time thinking straight, noticeable for many reasons, eating was a problem as well- some nights she’d eat her snacks like they were a buffet, and others she’d just poke and stare at it with a bland expression.

Joyce studied her more, not quite letting her get off her ‘mom-radar’ this time. Curse the upside down, curse it taking Will, and curse the Mind Flayer. Joyce’s ability to notice when someone’s lying or hiding something practically heightened after everything that happened in the upside down. “A-are you alright, sweetie?”

“Mhm...”

“Mom, have you seen- Oh.” Jonathan walked into the room, perfect timing. “Y/n. Are you...moving today?”

“Uh- yeah...I just...I wanted to...” It’d been so awkward after their fight.

“Here, sweetie, you go talk in his room, I’ll stay out here and get some stuff for you and your mom.” She couldn’t argue, as Joyce was already leading them to Jonathan’s room.

“So...”

“So.”

They kept quiet as an awkward tension filled Jonathan’s room. A minute went by, still full of silence.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes.

Five minutes.

Y/n thought to herself, ‘what if I did something I’d regret?’

Six minutes.

Jonathan had pondered as well, ‘it’s the last time I’ll see her...’

Seven minutes.

Their eyes, puffy from crying, met.

Eight minutes.

Y/n and Jonathan now fully faced each other.

Nine minutes.

They both talked to their inner thoughts, saying the same thing unknowingly;

‘do it.’

Ten minutes-

Their lips met in a feverish kiss, one that probably would’ve finished with clothes strewn about and a bed shaking under the weight of two bodies made one had Joyce not stepped in to drop off two mugs for both teens.

“Oh!” The shock was evident in her voice before she began to laugh a little. Both Y/n and Jonathan had pulled away in an instant as they realized their position. “Well I’m glad you’ve made up!” She set the mugs down and began to leave the room, “Wait! I forgot, Y/n, your mom said to be home in five.”

Y/n thanked Joyce and waited until she closed the door, then pulled Jonathan in for another kiss. He was the one to pull away, and intentionally this time. “Before you go, I need you to know something.”

Her arms still relaxed around his neck. “What is it?”

“Remember when I called you his...”

“Yeah.”

“I- uh- ...I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of what I said that night. I was just- ...I was scared. I am scared...”

“Why?”

“Because...I don’t want to lose you. But I want you to be happy, with your mom.”

She scrunched her brows, growing more confused as he tried to explain why he felt the way he felt.

He wanted her to be happy, which she was when she was with him- so it didn’t make much sense, but he didn’t want to lose her, which she returned the feelings about.

“I’m happy with you, Jonathan. I love you, so so much. I promise, one day, I’ll try something. I’ll visit you or maybe run away with you, I’ll do something. I promise, okay?” He nodded, holding her close to him for the few minutes they had left.

Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double; So ya gotta let me know, Should I cool it or should I blow?

He never let her see Jonathan. In fact, he specifically forbid her, like he had the authority to do that, from seeing or calling or even writing to him. Her ass of a step-father had pushed her last button, and she was centimeters away from snapping.

Y/n revved her engine, hesitating in her choice. She could go, or she could stay.

If she left, her mother would be heartbroken and her step-father would blame her if she were to ever return home.

If she stayed, she’d miss out on being with the love of her life, likely making him think she decided she didn’t love him despite telling him so.

Then again, she couldn’t take another day with that bastard of a step-father.

Adjusting the mirror in the front of the car, she took one last look at her step-father’s home, revving the engine louder until he came outside. He shouted at her, but the stereo, which blasted The Clash from the mix-tape Jonathan had made her, and her engine drowned out his voice.

Y/n removed her eyes from his reflection, focusing on the road and picturing herself in Jonathan’s arms again. 

And how he’d been right.

She was acting like her stepdad’s bitch. But Y/n snapped out of it, just like Jonathan had said she could. She was done being his bitch. She was done letting him be such a dick to her. She was done letting him prevent her from being happy.

“Fuck you, asshole.” With a smirk upon her lips and a jump of her heart, she pressed on the gas.

Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double; So ya gotta let me know me tienes que decir, Should I stay or should I go?

[randomguywithwords]

A Magic Trick (Neito X Itsuka Short Story)

The U.A Reunion Party was in full swing. Present Mic was manning the DJ booth, accompanied by Kyoka Jiro, who had dragged her boyfriend Denki Kaminari. Even after 10 years, Hizashi Yamada still maintained his enthusiasm and youthfulness, screaming into his loudspeakers and blasting music through the school hall, which was filled with alumni. 

Itsuka Kendo couldn’t help but crack a smile at her ex-English teacher as she looked at him doing a rock-sign gesture with both his hands. The smile continued to be etched on her face as she saw her many classmates, some whom she had lost contact with for a while, others that she remained good friends to this day. 

“Kendo!” The mouth of Setsuna Tokage greeted her. She scanned for the rest of the girl’s body, before a hand pulled her to her right, where her friends were. Yui Kodai, Reiko Tanagi, Kinoko Komori…She was surprised that she remembered her classmates’ names. 

They all waved and exchanged pleasantries, until Sen Kaibara noticed. 

“Wait, where’s Neito?” 

Setsuna smirked and nudged Itsuka with her detached elbow. The lizard girl seemed to be taking advantage of the liberties of quirk usage in the school compound too much. “Where’s your boyfriend, Itsuka?”

Many of her classmates’ eyes widened at Kendo’s flushed face. “Really? You two hooked up?” Yosetsu Awase grinned. “Nice.” 

“When did this occur?” Shihai Kuroiro inquired, and the rest nodded their heads in agreement, pressuring her. 

“After we graduated…” Kendo was saying when she was interrupted by Kosei Tsuburaba’s triumphant whoop. 

“Pay up, bitch!” He laughed at Hiryu Rin, who groaned and slapped 2 bucks in Kosei’s gesturing palm, muttering something about, “Can’t believe you remembered.”

“We made a bet that Monoma would ask you out after our 3rd year,” He explained, then quailed under the girls’ death glares. “Uh I mean, congrats Kendo. Real happy for you.” 

“Might wanna give that back, Tsuburaba,” Kendo replied with a smirk. “I asked him out.” 

“Woah, woah, hold up.” Reiko made a time-out gesture, speaking over Kosei’s groan as he returned the money to its rightful owner. “You asked him? We all thought the opposite.” 

“Nope. He was way too scared, so I stepped up. Does it really matter?” Kendo said.

One second passed in collective silence. Then the whole crowd started passing cash around with defeated sighs and fist pumps. 

“You all made bets? Wait, even you, Shiozaki? Were we that much of a ship?” Kendo asked incredulously seeing the supposedly religious girl keep a couple of coins in her wallet. She returned a sheepish smile. “You two looked like a cute couple.”

“Well duh, you guys spent so much time together training. I had to buy Tetsutetsu an ice cream because I said you guys would be dating by the 2nd year,” Juzo Honenuki grumbled.

“No, that was me and Bondo,” Kaibara pointed out. Bondo gave a rumble of agreement. “We enjoyed it very much, thanks.” 

Everyone chuckled at Honenuki’s misfortune, then Pony interjected, “You still haven’t answered us, Kendo. Where is he?”

Itsuka shrugged. “He had something to do, so he told me to go ahead first.” 

Yui sucked in a breath as she looked behind her. “Um, Itsuka…” 

Turning around, Kendo’s face flared up at the sight of her boyfriend. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” She said. He was wearing a two-piece suit similar to his hero costume, but replacing his light blue tie with a velvet one. His hair was neatly combed – Itsuka could not remember any time he had done that, even when they went out on dates, and he was looking right at her and the class with a smirk. Suddenly he looked just like the Phantom Thief she fell and stayed in love with a decade ago.

Someone pushed her. Probably Setsuna, and Kendo stalked over towards him. His arm was outstretched in a gallant display. “M’lady?” 

“I am wearing a denim jacket and a blouse, and you show up in this.” She gestured at his attire, and then at the few eyes watching them, including a smiling Yaoyorozu Momo. “You’re just begging to be slapped, aren’t you?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He winked infuriatingly, and her face flushed red. “Come on, let’s go see our friends.” 

Holding hands, they went back to the table of Class 1-B students, with the wolf whistles of Awase and Kaibara heralding their arrival. People laughed and talked. The class caught up, and Itsuka nearly forgot about Monoma’s extravagant, unnecessary fashion sense until Juzo asked the question.

“So, Neito, what’s with the get-up?” 

“Oh, I was planning to do some magic tricks,” Monoma said, to some oohs and aahs around. 

Itsuka giggled. “You mean the card tricks that failed that time?” 

“No, and we will not speak of that ever again.” The reply earned a light chuckle from everyone. 

“Come on, Monoma, show us!” Kinoko egged him on with excitement. 

“Alright.” Neito reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a marble and placed it on his left hand. Then he rolled up his sleeves, and with both his palms open, he said, “So, this first trick is pretty simple. I’m making this marble disappear.”

With a flourish, he tossed the marble in the air and caught it in his right fist. Flipping it front and back, he opened it and his left palm to reveal nothing in both.

A resounding “Oooh.” spread around the crowd. 

“Alright, whose quirk did he take? Yui, was it you?” Setsuna pointed at the girl with an accusatory finger, but received a shake of her head. Monoma raised a finger silently, all mysterious-like – What else, it was Monoma, Itsuka thought with a chuckle as she watched him. Then he jerked his right fist into the air and upon miming catching a marble, he opened his left palm. Lo and behold, the marble was there.

That got some more cheers and applause, and it was beginning to attract a crowd. Some Class 1-A students approached them and were engaging the 1-B students in small conversation or watching Neito’s show. Yaoyorozu had walked up to Itsuka to rub her head endearingly as they watched Monoma. 

“Alright, I’ll do it one more time, watch closely.” Monoma smirked. But one trick later, no one could figure it out, and the hushed whispers had shifted to hypothesising whose quirk Monoma had used. 

Monoma calmed the crowd down with a smile befitting an actual magician, and he definitely had the showmanship to boot. “Alright, last trick. And if I could enlist the help of my lovely girlfriend Itsuka…” 

Itsuka grumbled under her breath as a blush spread across her face. She walked up while everyone sent more cheers and wolf whistles her way. 

“So this last trick is pretty simple. She just has to choose which hand the marble is in. Watch closely, Ms. Kendo...” With that, he flourished his hands once more, tossing the marble from one hand to the other. Then with his closed fists, he offered them up. 

“Which one?” Neito asked, a smile on his face. 

The crowd and Kendo both saw it in his right fist, and many of them shouted out the answer, while others just shouted the left hand because it was a magic trick. And Kendo figured it would be neither because it was a magic trick.

Shrugging, she tapped his left hand. “Alright, Neito, show us how you did it.”

Looking at him, she noted that despite the smile on his face, he looked nervous. It was similar to his expression at their second-year sports festival when he was up against Bakugou. A nervous smile. She liked to tease him about it. 

Then the palm opened, and her heart skipped a beat. 

Silence befell the crowd, until Setsuna screamed, “HOLY SHIT MONOMA YOU FUCKING MADLAD!”

It was a ring. Glimmering silver and gold. It was beautiful.

It took Kendo a split second to realise what was going on. Then her ears burned, and her blush deepened. Her legs suddenly felt like she had practiced karate kicks for an entire day non-stop. “Oh my god.” 

Monoma knelt down as the crowd cheered even louder than before. His smile was even wider now, but he was, like her, nearing a nervous breakdown too. But he held out strong. 

“Itsuka Kendo,” He said, his voice trembling, “I have no idea how to do this properly…” That got some people laughing. “But I know it’s really just asking one question, so...will you marry me?” 

The answer was already on her lips as he started speaking. She realised she was crying and laughing as she said, “Yes.” 

The school hall exploded into deafening cheers  as Monoma inserted the ring on her ring finger, and the two hugged and kissed. Itsuka laughed into his shoulders as the tears stained his suit. She could feel him shaking against her; he was probably more nerve-wracked than she was.

“Thank you,” She whispered, soft enough for only him to hear.

Later, she would find out that Yaoyorozu had helped Monoma by lending him her quirk to practice creating the ring, but only after he promised her that he bought the ring, both as a reference and to ensure he wasn’t, as Yaoyorozu called it, “plunging the economy into another recession.”. Todoroki had ruffled her hair affectionately as she said it in an indignant tone. Kendo laughed and embraced her friend in gratitude, while Neito expressed his thanks for helping him pull this off. 

Class 1-B celebrated with drinks afterwards, and Vlad King had congratulated them with a gruff but approving tone, though Kendo knew her ex-form teacher was brimming with joy under the surface. 

She was too, but was perhaps too exhilarated to take it all in. Her mind kept trying to grasp the same thought throughout the party.

She was engaged. Engaged to Neito Monoma, her high-school boyfriend. That was something. It was one hell of a magic trick.

––––

YAYYY I finally finished it after being confident enough in dialogue. And yes this was the story idea I had referenced in my earlier post. I just needed to write another shipfic to upload to my compilation on AO3. Link for the interested, but it’s basically just the masterlist on my blog, reuploaded on AO3. 

And, yeah I’m only 18, this is just fantasy. And god knows I’ll never do something like this. Personally I feel young adults will talk just like teenagers if you give them the room to, especially when they’re old classmates. 

I hoped you enjoyed, and if you have any feedback on how to write proposals, I’ll gladly take it. Or just any feedback in general. Thank you. I’m gonna go sleep now. 

[wildandsexyjacks]

Your Smile and You - Pt.4

Pairing: Han Seungwoo + Reader

Genre: Fluff + Friends to Lovers AU

Word count: 1.8k

previous | next

It had been a terrible week, full of double shifts and your boss demanding tests with unreasonable deadlines. By the end of it, you want nothing more than to run back home and sleep for three days straight. 

Well, actually, there’s one thing you’d want more than that, but Seungwoo had texted you earlier that day to let you know he’d go out to celebrate his roommate’s birthday - whom you haven’t met yet because your relationship is still a secret and you keep coming and going from his apartment at weird hours precisely to avoid running into the guy.

Since you can’t join them at the party, it’s a lonesome night for you. No, not lonesome. It’s me time... You need that. Me time is good. 

Or at least it would be, but as you’re getting ready to leave one of your coworkers come inside the locker room and leans against the doorframe, blocking the way.

“We’re having drinks tonight.” she announces and you instantly shake your head.

“Nic, this week’s been hell. I’m super tired.”

“That’s why you need to go out and relax.”  she smirks “Dr. Kim is buying.”

You frown.

“Why?”

“Finally got promoted to Chief Surgeon or whatever.” The girl shrugs “Who cares, anyway? It’s free booze and not really an invitation, you have to go because I wanna go and you’re my only friend in this godforsaken place.”

That makes you laugh. Nic is a good friend who helps you a lot with your work, so you throw your hands up and sigh.

“Fine. I’ll have one drink.”

-

Obviously, it’s not just one drink.

Time flies by and you don’t even notice it. Nic’s had at least two tequila shots and a Mojito, you’re in your third Pink Raspberry Cosmo, your boss looks completely shitfaced, and some of the others are wilding on the dance floor. You haven’t been working there for more than a couple of months, but it’s the first time you see your coworkers enjoy themselves so much. Maybe that week was hard on everyone.

While you sip from your glass, the door is pushed open and a loud group of guys steps inside, wearing suits and birthday hats, led by a tall man in a blue sash that reads Birthday Bitch. 

They find a table next to yours and one of them signals to the bartender. 

“Hey!” your other friend Carol, who works at the front desk, taps your shoulder “Isn’t that Pretty Attorney Boy?”

You look in the direction she’s pointing at and sure enough there he is, looking amazing in a pinstripe suit with his hair pushed back. Seungwoo is wearing one of those stupid hats and has his arm wrapped around the birthday boy - his roommate Cho Seungyoun, you assume -, a soft smile on his lips as he listens to what the guy is saying. 

“Who is that?” Nic asks, staring at the group.

You start to get nervous.

“Um, he’s my bro-“

“No,” she waves her hand  “We all know who Pretty Attorney Boy is, I meant the Birthday Bitch.”

“Oh!” now half nervous and half relieved, you laugh, then take a sip from your drink before answering “I’m not sure but I think his name is Seungyoun.”

“Well then get your ass over there and find out for me, would you?”

“What?” You glance at their table, mortified “Of course not.”

“Fine.” Nic downs her drink and basically screams for the whole bar to hear: “Hey, Han Seungwoo!”

He perks his head up, looking around, visibly surprised. When his eyes fall on your table, his first reaction is to frown, a little confused, but as soon as he recognizes you, Seungwoo smiles and gets up from his seat. 

“Y/N, hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you here…”

You could die right then and there, but plaster a smile on your face instead.

“My boss is-” you turn to Dr. Kim, only to find out she’s not there anymore “Oh, nevermind. Long time no see,” you lie “how have you been?”

He rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m fine, great.” Seungwoo stops, pressing his lips together until someone at his table clears their throat “Oh, right. Yeah. Right. These are my friends. Hangyul, Wooseok, Yohan, and this is my roommate Seungyoun. It’s his birthday.”

“Happy birthday.” You mumble on autopilot. “These are Nic and Carol.”

Nic tilts her head to the side to take a good look at Seungyoun and smiles in a very suggestive way.

“Happy birthday, Seungyoun.”

He seems very pleased and returns the exact same smile.

“Thank you. Would you girls like to join us for a few drinks?” you're about to say no but he pouts “It’s my birthday.”

And that’s how you end up squished between your friends at a table that’s too small for you all, seated across from Seungwoo and looking at your lap while your friend and his roommate shamelessly flirt with each other. As the waiter brings a new set of drinks for everyone, Seungwoo keeps trying to steal glances but you’re too uncomfortable to even look up, switching your focus between staring at your drink and your phone while the others get to know one another.

Your phone dings with a series of texts from the man in front of you.

[9:55 p.m] HSW: Hi there. 

[9:55 p.m] HSW: You look beautiful.

[9:55 p.m] HSW: Do you want a ride home?

[9:56 p.m] HSW: Seungyoun seems pretty busy right now, we wouldn’t be missed.

“Who are you texting?” the one called Wooseok tries to look over Seungwoo’s shoulder “Is it your secret girlfriend?”

“You have a secret girlfriend?” Nic finally stops talking to Seungyoun to stare at him.

“You have a secret girlfriend!” Carol repeats after her, sounding disappointed “So that’s why you haven’t gone to the hospital to see Y/N lately…”

You slide forward on your seat and cover your face with both hands, embarrassed.

“What?” Seungwoo laughs nervously “I’m just busy. I don’t have a secret girlfriend. Or any girlfriend. I don’t have girlfriends.”

“Oh, but you do.” Seungyoun chimes in, raising his index finger “She’s always at our place, I can smell her perfume and sometimes I hear you talking to someone. I’ve never seen her, but I know she’s there.” he adds and strokes his chin, pondering “Maybe one day I should just barge into your room.”

“Please don’t.” Seungwoo pleads, rubbing his face.

“Aha! So you admit to having a secret girlfriend!” Hangyul teases “I wonder why you’ve never introduced her to us, though. I bet it’s someone from the office.”

“My money’s on Ms. Song.” Wooseok ventures, tapping his finger on the table.

“Hyeongjun’s sister???” Yohan gapes at Seungwoo, looking both shocked and impressed.

“NO!” he all but screams, moving in his seat and bumping his knees into the table “I don’t- I’m not that kind of person.”

Hangyul rolls his eyes.

“What? You don’t date your friends’ sisters?”

At his words, you lift your hands, suddenly interested in the subject. Seungwoo’s eyes find yours for a split second before he clears his throat and takes a long gulp from his beer bottle. 

“I don’t date people from work, isn’t this a bit unethical?” he tries, instantly busying himself with his phone again.

Wooseok laughs.

“I know so many girls who would be heartbroken by these words, Seungwoo.”

You clear your throat and our boyfriend’s eyes shoot up to you again.

“So our Seungwooni’s popular with girls…” you joke, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“Not as popular as me” Wooseok shrugs “but yeah.”

“Oh, that’s right! I remember now…” Seungyoun leans over the table to take a closer look at you.

Maybe he knows something. You forgot your shampoo in their bathroom once. Maybe a hair tie. Perhaps he’s seen some of the daily texts you exchange with Seungwoo.

Oh god, this was a bad idea.

“It was you that day at the restaurant, right?” drinking from his bottle, he nods to himself, “Your hair looked different back then but I remember your voice, calling Seungwoo a tiny baby and all.”

The other boys start to laugh and agree, all of them talking at the same time. Seungwoo shakes his head.

“They still tease me about it.”

You shrug and finish your drink, then get up from your chair.

“It was really nice meeting you all, but I’m gonna head home now, I’m super tired.”

The boys wave their goodbyes, and Nic is so engrossed in her conversation with Seungyoun she doesn’t even notice you’re leaving but Carol offers to wait for your cab with you. You thank her but decline her offer, and grab your purse to leave.

After about five minutes you’re outside, a large hand closes around your elbow, and Seungwoo pulls you to the side of the building, pushing you against the wall.

“Hi.” he smiles before kissing you, one hand on the wall and the other holding your waist.

“Excuse me, sir, I’m taken.” you half whisper half moan when he brushes his lips against your neck.

“So am I.”

“One of the pretty girls from the office?”

That makes him stop. Seungwoo laughs - a beautiful, clear sound - then takes a step back to face you.

“Don’t mind Wooseok, he’s just messing with me.”

Furrowed brows, you stare at him, skeptical.

“So there are no pretty girls interested in you whatsoever.”

“Well, I didn’t say that. There’s one girl, I guess. Her name is Y/N. Now that I think about it, miss beautiful stranger at the bar, you look a lot like her…” he jumps to dodge your boot when you try to kick him and laughs again “I can’t believe you’re jealous of imaginary suitors…” Seungwoo shrugs “Wanna go back inside and clear things up? I’m pretty sure your friends would love to know why I don’t visit you at the hospital anymore.”

You could, but Seungsik doesn’t know about your relationship yet, and you want to tell him first. Thankfully, the Lord is merciful: before you have the chance to deny Seungwoo’s request disguised as an offer, your cab pulls up to the front of the bar, honking two times.

“Maybe some other time.” you pass by him and march to the car, fully aware you do sound jealous, despite all your efforts to not seem so. 

Seungwoo follows close behind, and as you take the backseat, he climbs onto the passenger seat, smiling at the driver. 

You frown.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you home, baby.” he states it like it’s obvious, but the fact that he gives the driver his address instead of yours doesn’t go unnoticed.

“What about your friends?”

“Seungyoun is probably making out with Nic by now, and the others don’t really care. I’m always the first to leave, anyway.”

You sigh loudly and the driver takes it as his cue to start the engine. Seungwoo stares at you through the rear-view mirror and you roll your eyes at him, but he can still catch a glimpse of your smile.

You don’t need me time. Seungwoo time is much, much better.

-

almost a whole month later.... happy birthday snoopy, and welcome to instagram u adorable old man 💜💜

[neonbluewaves]

How about 3,4 and 6 for characters of your choosing? ^-^

Thank you!! hope you like them, picked one character for each

The three broomsticks is packed with students. This is the last visit before everyone goes home for the holidays so they make the most of it. Drink butterbeer, buy as much candy as possible, and even some presents for family and friends. 

Although Jacob does his shopping a bit different. He has his eyes set on some rare ingredients for a potion Duncan had to brew them. So he went to a fast, reliable source. Rue Garnet, with whom he was sitting at the moment drinking butterbeer. Her dad was a pretty good potioneer and he only used the best ingredients, from his wife’s apothecary. He had gone on a couple of dates already, faking a great interest in potions, and she had already given him a phial of dragon blood. They didn’t have any use for it, so he had saved it to give to his uncle as a present, being a healer he would appreciate it the way he didn’t.

He reached to her hand and held it gently, a smile on his face. This made the girl blush and take a sip of her glass, before clearing her throat and letting out a deep sigh.

-Isn’t this great?.- she asked, looking around.- the…uh… the season, that is! um… Christmas! It’s so wonderful, full of joy, and lights, and love and, you know, just

-Beautiful.- Jaocb said, looking directly into her eyes, as if impliying he was talking about her, and not Christmas time. She stared back at him, her face growing redder. 

-It’s my favourite season, what about you? What is your favourite season?

Jacob slightly tilted his head. Summer. He loved summer. His mom loved to make sangria, she loved going out, specially the beach. She loved cooking food, packing it up and making everyone treck to wherever she felt the view was worth it and have a family picnic. She smiled so bright the sun had nothing on her. And all their problems, all those rumors and bad reputation following them were gone. His dad had shown them once how a Welkin flew. No broom, no magic carpet. It was true what they said, once you saw a Welkin fly you never forgot. He had promised that once Neon were old enough he’d teach them both how to do it.

He loved going out with friends, but also exploring around their town, as far as they could go with his sister and cousins, dreaming of the day he’d be able to do it seriously, as a job. 

He let out a dramatic long sigh and used his free hand to rest his chin

-What a strange coincidence, mine is Christmas too!

And when she let out a nervous giggle, he knew he’d get what he needed before coming back from the holidays.

Neon sat with Kirley Duke sat in the empty Ghoul studies classroom letting the afternoon pass by. She actually enjoyed his company, he didn’t talk much but when he did it was an actual interesting conversation. He had lent Neon some mystery books and so had she in return. She felt that with every mystery she read about she got better at finding clues and putting pieces together, like the main characters in the novels did.

At the moment she was reading a novel called “The hound of the Baskervilles”, and Neon didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or smack Kirley in the head with it.“I think you’ll like it, you might feel identified” he had joked. She didn’t like jokes about the damn chruch grim, but she found herself being mildy annoyed instead of pissed. Kirley’s little smile and teasing tone were well-meaning, and she found herself actually intrigued to see this Sherlock dude solve the mystery. By her side her guitarist friend with a bunch of papers spread out the table, looking at one he held on his hand while writing down stuff with the other. His guitar laid between his torso and the table, untouched for a long time, Neon had been able to read in peace, but him not playing wasn’t a good sing.

-Hating your piece?.- she asked, leaving the book open so she wouldn’t lose the page she was on. He shrugged, unsure what to say. She leaned closer to read the lyrics, and then the melody, putting them together in her head. It seemed decent enough, but something about that composition lacked their usual zing, and Neon could see why he was doubting.

-You know -he started, soft voice calling her attention.- if you told Myron you play, he’d give you a spot in the band without second thought, you could help me with melodies.

-This is the first time you open your mouth and sound stupid, I told you guys I don’t know music, I’m tone deaf.- she lies so easily everyone’s believed her so far. But not Kirley, apparently.

-You looked at the sheet music as if you’d seen a thousand of these, and your eyes followed along it as if reading. What do you play?

-You keep that up I’m not going to your future concert, and I’m not inviting you guys to see any either.- she slightly changes subject because Kirley will keep cornering her, he had caught her knowing stuff she supposedly didn’t.

-Oh? So you’ve been to concerts before? What was the first concert you went to? - He drops the lyric sheet and the quill he was holding and turns to Neon, holding his guitar so it doesn’t fall

-It was a muggle rock band, Barón Rojo. Same year I played with you guys. Must admit I was glad my cousin and her boyfriend brought me there, if I hadn’t sit on Bastien’s shoulders I wouldn’t have seen shit, I was too short and the people there were too tall.- She knows Bastien got the tickets to buy her love, because he was shy, and a bit awkward, and his french accent made it a bit hard to understand, as he had some trouble understanding their weird mix of northern English and southern Spanish. He thought like this Neon would like him more, she was hard to get along with no matter what, and Neon let him believe that he was getting on her good graces like that. He was Laura’s boyfriend. They came and went. He’d probably be gone in a couple of months, or years, who cared. 

-you could come to our first concert...- Kirley says

-Thanks

-...as our rythm guitarrist- he ends his previous sentence

- I don’t play, dude.

+ + + + + 

Nuria sits by the shade the low walls in the courtyard offer, enjoying her free hours before transfiguration class, reading ‘Hogwarts, a history’. It’s not the kind of reading she usually likes. But Rowan is always talking about it, and she’d like to have a conversation about it with them. It’d probably be a great surprise too, being able to talk about one of their favourite books with one of their friend.

She was currently reading about the cockatrice incident that happened in the Triwizard Tournament of 1972, “didn’t some of our great, great, many more great grandparents participate in this Tournament thing?”, when she heard a flutter of wings nearby. She looked up and not too far, up on the wall, she saw an eagle looking at her. 

She smiles at it before going back to her reading. After a while of not hearing anything she looks up again, the eagle hasn’t moved. She looks around, nobody around.

-You can come sit next to me if you want.- she says loud enough to be heard by the bird.- I’m inviting you to come. -she adds, just in case

It flies down near where she is and in a split second Talbott is standing there.

-I didn’t want to interrupt your reading.- he says, and Nuria hears a bit of bashfulness there, and the thought of him feeling shy because of her makes her a bit giddy.

-You never interrupt, sit, wanna talk?

-I don’t know, what are you reading?

-Hogwarts, a history

-Talking it is.

Nuria laughs at this, and as Talbott sits next to her she looks around, looking for her bookmark, but she can’t seem to find it. She lets out a defeated sigh thinking a breeze might have blown it away.

-Can’t find my bookmark, guess I’ll write the page down on my hand

-Or you could dog ear it

-I could what?

-you know... Do you ever dog ear books?

Talbott looks at her, she honestly looks confused, and he is for a moment until he remembers this girl’s first language isn’t english, and that she honestly doesn’t know what this means.

-Dog ear, you know, fold the corner of the page

-Oh! that’s what it’s called? haha that’s so cute!.- her laugh is soft and hearty, and Talbott can’t help but smile a bit, of course she’d find the term cute.

-No, no. I can’t do that to a book, Neon would hit me with her chancla, and then my grandmother would raise from her grave and drag me six feet under with her.

Talbott, still smiling tilts his head as if asking for an explanation

-You see, back home we’ve got books, many, many books, different editions, special editions... Some of them are handwritten from medieval times, precious books that must be treated with care, they cost a fortune and cannot be replaced. So missteating a book like that would be unthinkable. Skye Parkin ripped pages off a book and Neon didn’t throw her off the quidditch stands because she was busy getting back those pages to put it back together.

Nuria laughs some more, and Talbott smile widens a bit more. He looks in his pocket and takes out a small wrapper.

-Would this work? it’s not sticky or anything

Nuria takes it, and their fingers brush lightly, but it feels like electricity, and warmth spreads through their faces. Nuria uses it as a bookmark and sets the book down into her bag. And they spend the rest of their free time talking.

From then on Nuria uses the wrapper as a bookmark and makes sure not to lose it.

[bytheangell]

Keeping It Real

(Read on AO3)

Everybody knew that Magnus Bane liked Alexander Lightwood… everyone, that was, except Alexander Lightwood.

Mr. Bane, the World History teacher and girls soccer coach at Alicante High, and Mr. Lightwood, the Literature and Composition teacher, got along like lifelong best friends, despite the fact that they only met at the start of this year when Mr. Lightwood moved to town.  It was painfully obvious the way Magnus’ eyes lit up the moment Alec walked into the room that he thought the world of his colleague. He jumped through hoops to volunteer for the same events that Alec did, the highlight of which was the Fall Ball they both found themselves chaperoning just a few weeks back. Magnus grabbed Alec by the hand and spun him around, eliciting a surprised laugh from the usually stony-faced English teacher.  

Alec, for his part, remained hopelessly oblivious. The few students who saw the moment, however, were sold.

“They have to be dating,” Simon said the next morning, huddled at Clary’s locker with her and her boyfriend, Jace. “They have to like each other, at the very least. There’s no way Mr. Lightwood doesn’t - I haven’t seen anyone else who can make him crack a smile when he’s in ‘I’m A Very Serious Teacher’ mode.”

“I don’t know,” Clary shrugged. “He’s a little scary. Do you really think he and Mr. Bane would get along outside of school?”

“Someone’s gotta get him to lighten up,” Simon pointed out, watching Mr. Lightwood poke his head out of the door to yell at a kid for wearing a hat indoors.

“I’m with you on that one,” Jace agreed without hesitation, fumbling the baseball cap off of his own head and into his backpack before Mr. Lightwood saw.

---

Everyone knew that Magnus was hopelessly pining after Alec, and so when Magnus won the honor of being the teacher in charge of the class trip to Spain (a trip that Lorenzo Rey was gunning for the entire year prior) he knew exactly how to get under Magnus’ skin as payback.

After school that day in the teacher’s lounge, while Magnus was very loudly discussing all of the plans he already had in mind for the trip with no shortage of smug looks in Lorenzo’s direction, Lorenzo made his way over to where Alec stood in the corner. He was observing from the outside the way he usually did in larger groups like this. It’d been a couple of months now, but Alec was still the new guy here, and it showed from time to time.

“Alexander,” he said, and though Alec loved his full name when he heard it lilting off of Magnus’ gentle tongue, it somehow felt wrong to hear coming from Lorenzo. “How have you been?”

Alec, surprised at the sudden attention while all of the other eyes were on Magnus, offered a half-smile. “Not too bad,” he said. “How about you?”

“Only ‘not too bad’? Well, we’ll have to do something to change that, now won’t we.” Lorenzo smirked a bit, leaning in so that he was unapologetically in Alec’s personal space. “What do you say to dinner? I know a lovely Italian restaurant in the city, you normally need a reservation, but fortunately I know the owner and…”

Alec realized what was happening too late to avoid it - but Magnus noticed, too. Magnus knew it wasn’t fair of him to feel a flare of jealousy over Lorenzo hitting on Alec, or the surprising amount of anger he felt when Alec smiled back nervously, but he felt it all the same. Magnus was positive Lorenzo didn’t give a damn about Alec, and if Lorenzo thought for one second he was about to use  Alec like that then he had another thing coming.

Magnus had no idea what his plan was when he broke away from the small group he was talking with to make his way across the room towards Alec and Lorenzo, but stopped short when he heard Alec speak again.

“Sorry, Lorenzo, I’d love to but I’ve already got a date tonight.”

“Oh?” Lorenzo pried, clearly not buying it. “With whom?”

Oh. Magnus frowned, turning to leave the room. He suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore. It was bad enough that Alec had a date with someone else, but the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to tell him--

“--with Magnus.” Alec’s voice was raised just enough for Magnus to hear him, and Magnus caught the hint of panicked undertone. Luckily, Lorenzo spun to face Magnus just as Magnus turned back towards the two of them, so the other man missed the pleading look in Alec’s eyes that silently begged Magnus to go along with it.

Magnus had absolutely no problem with that.

“What, you didn’t think I forgot about tonight, did you?” Magnus asked without missing a beat, seamlessly making his way over to Alec’s side. Magnus tried to ignore the race of his pulse as he slid an arm around Alec’s waist, just as Alec tried desperately to fight the flush that rose high on his cheeks.

“I see.” Lorenzo turned and left with a huff, and Alec took a quick step away from Magnus (who wanted nothing more than to reach back out and pull him back).

“Oh my god, Magnus, I’m so sorry. I panicked, and you were right there… I should've made up another name I don’t know why I dragged you into this--” Alec started, but Magnus cut him off with an insistent shake of his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Although, just to keep up appearances, I believe you owe me a date tonight.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his usual playful banter on the surface, though Magnus knew he was playing a dangerous game of wanting more. He swore it was just this once, just to see. Even if it wasn’t real.

“I owe you big time for playing along with that,” Alec agreed much easier than Magnus anticipated. “How about dinner, at that new Chinese place that just opened up? Luke tells me it’s amazing.”

“Sounds perfect.” He caught Lorenzo still eyeing them from just close enough to hear Magnus raise his voice to reply. “You can pick me up at 7, darling.”

“It’s a date.”

--

Alec wished it was a real date. He knew this was just him paying Magnus back for helping him out earlier, but that wasn’t enough to stop him from spending every second of the evening imagining it was real. Every time Magnus laughed he got a little more lost in the sound, allowing his voice to drown out the chatter around them. It didn’t help that Magnus looked amazing, too. Not that Magnus didn’t constantly look flawless, because he did, but it was obvious he put in a little extra effort to get ready for this dinner, wearing a dark blue blazer that was one of Alec’s favorites.

It was enough to make Alec lose his breath every time he looked across the table.

They talked and laughed and drank a little, and by the end of the night Alec felt like he was walking home on a cloud. Magnus even went so far as to walk him home, even though it wasn’t very far from the restaurant.

“I had a really good time,” Alec admitted.

They paused outside the door. For a split second there was an almost electric tension between them. For a moment Alec debated giving in to the impulsive desire to lean in and kiss Magnus goodnight. He thought he saw Magnus’ eyes drop down to his lips, he thought maybe it wasn’t just him, but then Magnus turned away just as quickly and the moment was gone.  

“Me too, Alexander. Have a good night.” He was already motioning for a cab.

Alec tried not to look too disappointed. It wasn’t like this was a real date; it wasn’t like he imagined someone like Magnus Bane could ever actually like him like that. He was just being nice, because Alec put him in an awkward position. That’s all. 

“Yeah, you too.”

---

“I saw them at dinner together,” Simon practically hissed, coming up behind Clary in the cafeteria the next day.

“What? Who? Stop hovering and sit down - you didn’t have too much coffee again this morning, did you?” Clary demanded, eyeing her best friend and judging his strange behaviour.

“No, I didn’t.” Simon pouted, but he sat down just the same. “Also - Mr. Bane and Mr. Lightwood! I was out with my parents for dinner and they were there. Together.”

“Maybe they were just getting dinner. They are friends, I think.”

“No, this was different. You had to see it, but… they were definitely into each other.”

At that moment, Mr. Bane and Mr. Lightwood both came into the cafeteria from different directions, meeting up near the middle to grab lunch together like they always did.

“They’re not acting any different,” Clary observed. “...then again, I guess they always did act a little in love.”

“Who’s in love?” Maia asked, coming up beside Simon.

“Mr. Bane and Mr. Lightwood,” Simon said definitively.

“Oh, totally. I wish they’d just hook up already so Coach Bane could focus during soccer practice instead of just staring at Mr. Lightwood while he runs laps after school.” Maia rolled her eyes.

“Do you think Mr. Lightwood does that on purpose?” Simon questioned, squinting in their direction as they take their food out of the cafeteria and back to the teacher’s lounge.

“He almost has to. There’s no way he doesn’t know.”

---

‘He has to be doing this on purpose.’ Magnus thought to himself, as he did every single day he held soccer practice on the field after school while Alec ran laps (shirtless, both a blessing and a curse) on the track that surrounded the grass. ‘There’s no way he doesn’t know what this does to--’

“Heads up, Coach!” Maia shouted, giving him just enough time to duck as a ball came soaring towards his face.

“Sorry,” Maia said, but the knowing smirk on her face told him she wasn’t entirely sorry.

It also told him that perhaps he’d been caught staring. Again.

Magnus did his best to focus the rest of the hour before the kids took their things back up to the locker rooms and Alec jogged over to him.

“Hey, Magnus.”

Magnus caught the anxious look on Alec’s face almost immediately. “What’s up?”

“So… Lorenzo asked me what I was doing again tomorrow night.”

“Oh?” Magnus asked, aiming for nonchalant but falling somewhere in the realm of ‘definitely more can casually interested’ instead.

“I, uh, might have told him we had plans again.” Alec looked over at him with a half-smile, half wince. “But if you’re busy, or you don’t want to--”

“Nonsense, Alexander. I actually had a lot of fun yesterday.”

Alec relaxed. “Yeah?”

Magnus nodded. “Of course. In fact, I have just the thing. I’ll pick you up at 6.”

“Where are we going?”

Magnus shook his head, smiling. “It’s a surprise. Dress warm.”

---

If there was anywhere Alec expected Magnus to take him, the Drive-In Theater on the outskirts of the city certainly wasn’t it.

“You own a pick-up truck?” Alec questioned, eyeing the vehicle Magnus picked him up in.

“Absolutely not,” Magnus sounded offended that Alec even considered the option. “I borrowed it from a friend.”

There were blankets and pillows in the bed of the truck, and the two of them propped themselves up against the cab with their popcorn, drinks, and a few other snacks Magnus grabbed from home for variety. Alec told himself it was no different than showing up to a friend’s house to watch tv…  but something felt different.

Maybe it was the fact that this was supposed to be a bit of a show, the two of them ‘dating’. They could’ve easily just said they were going out and not seen one another at all, just for the sake of telling Lorenzo they had. But instead, Magnus went very out of his way to arrange a trip to the drive-in, to watch a movie Alec mentioned wanting to see so offhandedly the other week he almost forgot about it himself.

But Magnus remembered.

And now Magnus’ shoulder brushed against his, their bodies leaning towards one another under the shared blanket. Definitely for body heat in the cool night air, and not for any other reason. Not at all.

Alec thought Magnus was intentionally making a move when he felt ringed fingers lace through his own underneath the blanket and was more than happy to leave them there. In fact, he was relieved to know that it wasn't just him feeling this way… that was, until Magnus seemed to realized what he was doing a few minutes later and pulled his hand back like Alec burned to the touch. Then, just as quickly as the hand was gone, so was any chance of an accidental graze of contact when Magnus shifted himself over as far as he could while remaining under the blanket.

And when Magnus barely made eye contact with him for the rest of the night, Alec realized what a mistake this whole thing might’ve been.

---

“Coach Bane isn’t in today,” Maia observed, leaning over to whisper to Clary during second period.

“I know, Mr. Lightwood kept checking his phone every 5 seconds during class first period. I hope nothing’s wrong…”

Something was definitely wrong. The students noticed it the next day when Mr. Bane was back at school but seemed to be avoiding Mr. Lightwood at all costs. He didn’t even get lunch in the cafeteria. And after school, Alec didn’t come to run laps while the soccer team had practice, which was somehow even more distracting for Coach Bane who checked the surroundings not-so-subtly every few minutes, just in case.

“Do you think they broke up?” Simon asked after meeting up with Maia to walk home after her practice.

“We don’t even know if they were actually dating, Si. But they’re definitely not talking. I wonder what happened.”

Simon, to her surprise, started to smile. “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

---

Magnus woke up the next morning with one goal: to tell Alexander how he felt. He had to. It might be enough for Alec to keep pretending, but he couldn’t do it anymore. Each time they went out Magnus fell for him a little more - if that was even possible given the extent of his crush before they started playing this little game of theirs.

But now? Now it was too much. He couldn’t keep pretending, not with slip-ups like the other night, holding Alec’s hand for God knows how long before he even realized… no, he had to come clean. Maybe if he was honest before things got too far he could still salvage what friendship with Alec he had left.  

Magnus didn’t bother to knock on the door to Alec’s classroom since it was already cracked open when he got there. He certainly wasn’t expecting to see Alec sitting there with a vase of roses at his desk, smiling fondly down at the card in his hand.

Roses that Magnus didn’t send, which meant that someone else was sending Alexander Lightwood flowers at school. The look soft, pure joy written all over Alec’s face told Magnus that whoever they were from, it wasn’t unwelcome.  

“...I don’t suppose those are from Lorenzo, are they?” Magnus asked hopefully, just in case, but he felt his stomach sink with dread before Alec even answered.

“What? No.”

Magnus gave a heavy sigh. “Well, I guess it had to end sometime, didn’t it?”

Alec looked confused.  “What are you talking about?”

“This. Us. Well, fake-us. I can’t be keeping you from real dates with whoever put that dopey grin on your face, now can I?” Clearly, Alec had someone special in his life. Someone who wasn’t him.  “I just thought...” Magnus started, wondering if he should tell him anyway, before thinking better of it. “...nevermind.”

Magnus turned to leave, but stopped at the sound of Alec’s voice.

“Wait, so these aren’t from you?”

“No?” Now it was Magnus’ turn to look confused.  

“Oh.” Alec’s face dropped. Disappointment wasn’t a strong enough word for what registered there in place of the smile Magnus saw there a moment before: Alec looked crushed. “I mean, there’s no name on them. I shouldn’t have assumed-”  

Before Alec could say anything more there was the sound of someone bumping against the door, the sight of Simon Lewis’ head ducking out from the small rectangular window, and the tell-tale whispers and stomping feet of several students taking off down the hallway.

“It seems we were set up,” Alec said, walking over to hand the small card that came with the flowers to Magnus.

‘My day isn’t the same without you in it.’

“I think they noticed you were avoiding me,” Alec said, giving a pointed look in Magnus’ direction.

Magnus winced.

“Look, you don’t have to keep pretending to like me, Magnus. I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” Magnus blurted out before he could stop himself. Part of him wanted to walk away without saying another word. Alec never had to know. They could keep being friends. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that the hopeful look on Alec’s face when he walked in was because he thought Magnus sent him that note. And if Alec hoped he wanted him in his life… maybe everything else wasn’t just in his head, too.

He took a deep breath and continued before he could talk himself out of it. “I was never pretending. I need to stop because I can’t keep pretending I don’t actually care, when I do. And I can’t keep doing this knowing it doesn’t mean the same for you as it does for me. I thought I could, but… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“...can I make a confession?”

The question caught Magnus by surprise. He nodded.

“Lorenzo never asked me out a second time.” Alec’s lips twitched up into a guilty smile. “I just wanted an excuse to go out with you again.”

Their eyes met, each searching the other for any sign they might be lying. But all they found was a spark, a light they saved just for each other, except now they could recognize it for what it was. And this time when Magnus’ eyes flickered down to Alec’s lips, Alec wasted no time leaning in to close the gap between them.

It was a slow, simple kiss, but they were both pleasantly surprised at how right it felt. They only broke apart when the sound of approaching voices in the hallway grew louder as students started to grab books from their lockers and head to class.

“Now what?”

“Now, Alexander, I believe we have a third date to plan.”

[lilgoblingirl]

Dungeons, Dragons, and Heartbreak

So, last month I lost my first character that I had ever created. Her name was Catriona Feltaelyn, an elven ranger from the mountains. Now, I won’t go too deep into her backstory, but she died in a hauntingly similar way to one (1) Mollymauk Tealeaf, tiefling bloodhunter extraordinaire. There’s a lot of writing here, but I mostly am thinking about how hard it is to let go a character that had much more potential.

We were level 5 just like the M9. My party was in a city attempting to save a questionably ancient relic of our rogue tiefling (a weird cup that she fills with blood to talk to her demon dad). We had completed the first task, and were on to the next; however, my elf got aged up higher than she really wanted--as she had a half-elf in her home town whom she loved and hoped to find him to spend her life with one day. She went to a temple to get this fixed BUT ran into a very attractive guy. Catriona was interested in him also because he was a vigilante of the city, and she was trying to get into this party in the fancy district of town so they could steal some sword for the second task. 

She went with him for breakfast where she could tell he was lying to her about how badass he had been--he claimed to have killed an oni. My dumbass forgot what an oni was (*cough Lorenzo)), and Catriona agreed to go--in hindsight this was good because it made me not metagame. She went to his house because he claimed that he would tell her the truth and that evening the party was off punching some racists and burning down a racist ba so she went in alone. 

EARLIER THAT WEEK. She had just gotten flying boots--that I was so excited to try out. This guy kept avoiding the truth and took Catriona upstairs to show her his target practice. He asked Catriona if he could try her bow, but this sent off red flags and she kept thinking about her boy back home. She decided to leave, but BECAUSE HE’S AN ONI he tried to charm her. I rolled a 3. Then I remembered that as an elf I have advantage on wisdom saving throws AND I ROLLED A NATURAL 20. 

Catriona ran directly up to the window taking an attack of opportunity so she could dash her way there. She broke the window, got hit, and proceeded to fly out of the window. However, the oni wasn’t alone in the house. He made two creepy flying head things that also attacked her. She was reduced to zero hit points--stabbed through the chest with a giant glave and fallen from a three story building. 

I was in a lot of shock, because I could have done things so much differently that probably could have ended in her staying alive. She could have healed herself, took the disengage as her action, or asked her friends to come with her; but in the end, it happened the way it did. It was so hard because my DM and I had been talking about her and her backstory a lot earlier that day. 

However, there are similarities in our story and the M9 that fascinate me (and the players making certain decisions don’t really watch CR). 

1. Beau and Molly// V and Catriona

-Our tiefling rogue V struggled to get along too well with Catriona at first. Cat was a rich bitch, and V was way too mysterious for Catriona to trust. However, they began to see each other as helpful. When they found her body, V thanked Catriona for showing her that there was more to life than just getting rich. 

2. First real loss within the party at level 5

-With us being so low level, we weren’t able to bring anyone back from the dead yet. Plus, we split the party which was voluntary where as the M9 split was non-voluntary (in-game at least); however, it still led to Cat’s and Molly’s deaths. 

3. Revenge imminent

-The party saw that the vigilante’s was not crying genuinely and definitely think something is up. Several of the members are angry and regretful that Cat’s last day and minutes were spent dying alone in the face of evil. They will not forget that. 

4. I did not have a backup character

-I just had an idea of a homebrew druid class. That was it. It took me a while to say goodbye to my first character, but I totally understand how difficult it would have been to introduce Caduceus to the M9 after one week of saying goodbye to Mollymauk. I think Matt was wise for not forcing the story to introduce Caduceus until it was right narrative wise. It’ll be interesting to see how my character gets introduced in the next game.

[homeiswherethestuckis]

Hey, It Pays the Rent (Part 1/3) Enemies

@notedchampagne happy early birthday!!!!  :D  To celebrate your birthiversary I thought it would be cool to try and write you a three part roommates/ enemies to friends to lovers fic!  The next two parts should hopefully be done pretty quick.  Anyway, happy birthday, I hope you like the first installment of your present!!!!

(Part 2/3) Friends

(Part 3/3) Lovers

“Are you sure you don’t know a single person in need of a place to stay? At least for a couple months?” You ask John again as you grab your coffee off the counter and follow him to a table.

“No, Dave.” He rolls his eyes as he plops down in a chair. “I’ve asked around and there’s no one right now. Why weren’t you looking during the beginning of the semester? People were jumping for a chance to get a room, then.”

You slump into the seat across from him and groan. “I didn’t need a roommate then. I had my financial situation all under control-”

John snorts. You shoot a glare at him and kick him under the table.

“I had it all under control,” you repeat, “but then my bastard landlord raised the rent like the roof was on fire or some shit and now I’m swimming in debts while just trying to keep my head about water. Because let me tell you one thing, John, I refuse to be fully submerged. I mean sure, I can hold my breath like a son of a bitch and I float like a corpse, but I can’t have my head below the water. That’d totally ruin my hair. Not to mention my shades, which are totally irreplaceable.”

“I know, I bought them for you.”

“So you get my problem now?”

“That you need swimming lessons?”

“John, what the fuck?” You frown at him and take a sip of your drink. “You knew what I meant.”

He grins and holds his hands up to you. “I know, I know.” He blows on his coffee to cool it off a little before taking a drink. Then he gets serious. “Money’s been tight for you right now, and that really sucks. But you keep refusing my help every time I offer, and honestly I don’t know what else I can do.”

John’s been helping you out financially as much as he can, taking you out for food whenever he can, loaning you some money when your funds are way too low to even matter, and just generally being a chill presence in your life. You really appreciate it, but if you’re being honest you’re also a little ashamed that you have to borrow your friend’s money so often. You were certain you were going to be able to live by yourself and be completely independent. Right now you’re just a leash sucking cash blood out of John’s big money jugular.

The worst part is, you know if John ever told his Dad about your trouble right now, you’d have a sudden large endowment in your bank account courtesy of Crocker Corp. You’re certain the only reason that hasn’t happened yet is because you begged John to keep this all on the down low. You told him that it would’ve made you feel like a charity case. As if borrowing money from John is any better.

God, you feel like an asshole.

Which is why you need a roommate to split the burden with, fast.

“Are you describing it as the dope crash pad it is, or are you downplaying its awesome glory for mass appeal? Because that might have an effect on why people aren’t exactly lining up to rub elbow room with the Dave Strider.”

“You’re right, I’ve probably been downplaying it.” He nods in agreement. “Shit! I forgot to name drop you!”

He bangs his fist on the table like he’s disappointed in himself. You roll your eyes, you know a sarcastic move when you see one.

“Well, remember to do that next time.” Your chair scrapes across the floor as you stand up. “I gotta go, I have some posters to put up before I head off to work. Keep me posted if anyone gets interested.”

“Will do.” He gives you a quick thumbs up. “Have a good time at work.”

You laugh as you leave the cafe. “John, that’s not a thing.”

Work, as always, is exhausting as hell. Who would’ve thought working at a gas station could take so much out of you? You never feel like you do shit, but at the end of the day you can barely make yourself walk home.

Somehow, you manage to make it all the way home to your shitty (but just not shitty enough for you to be able to afford by yourself) apartment and collapse on your awful thrift store couch. You don’t bother turning on the lights as you kick your shoes off and dig your phone out of your pocket. Not like you need lights to scroll through social media before hitting the sack.

There’s a call from John that you missed. You spend a second weighing the pros and cons of calling him back when you realize he also texted you.

good news! i found some one willing to move in with your sorry butt. they want to set up a meeting with you first to check out the place and discuss room mate stuff with you. get back to me when you can.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, this financial nightmare is over. Or at least, somewhat more financially stable.

“Thanks, dude.” You say into the voice to text function of your phone, “I knew I could count on you. Sunglasses emoji. Send.”

With that taken care of, you drag yourself over to the kitchen and make yourself snack dinner. Which is just. Half a bag of doritos but you’re eating it for dinner. Hey, that’s just how it is, sometimes. You take your snack dinner back to to the couch and turn on some cartoons to help you chill for a bit. A couple hours of brain mushing tv and phone scrolling, you decide to call it a night and go to bed.

The meeting between you and your potential mystery roommate is set up for Saturday, because the three of you all happen to be free on Saturday.

That’s right.

The three of you.

Because for some reason John wanted to come and chaperone your meeting. As if you couldn’t act like a semiprofessional for five fucking minutes. But as much as you told John this, he insisted on coming. He even offered to buy drinks for you and his pal, because he figured the two of you owing him a seven whole dollars and some change would be enough for you to let him stay. And, well, he was right.

All of John’s talk about being present and telling you to keep the conversation as civil as possible, and to really seriously consider the position you’re in right now before you make any decisions really has you wondering just what kind of person he’s expecting you to meet with. You’re usually cordial as one of those old dudes who sits on his porch on a scorching hot day and offers some of his fresh squeezed lemonade to all the dehydrated street folks. Of course, nobody accepts it because stranger danger, the street folks aren’t total idiots, but they get that you were being nice and they appreciate the gesture to parch their throats with your suspicious lemonade. How do they even know if you washed your hands? They don’t, they’d just have to take your word for it, which they won’t, because you’re a senile dirty old dude, but you’re definitely fucking cordial. That is the very essence of your being. The lemony, lemony essence.

You think John’s probably overreacting. You’re chill with pretty much everyone you meet, or at the very least you can keep your distaste in check for long enough to get them to agree to live with you. There’s really only one person (aside from Asshole Whom You’ll Never Speak of Again) who’s ever pissed you off to the point you can’t even pretend to be nice to him over his stream of bullshit.

Of course, there’s no way John invited Doucheface McSpazzatron here to room with you. That guy’s all the way across the country, thank fuck. You can rest assured it’s not him.

But that still leaves....the possibility that John knows someone so fucking similar to that guy that he thinks it’s going to be a problem for you. That’s a worrying thought in and of itself.

You’re not looking forward to this meeting.

You sigh and brace yourself for the worst as you push open the cafe door. You go up to the counter, order a dink, and ask them to put it on John’s tab. Once it’s delivered to you and slowly burning your hands, you start scanning the room for any signs of John and his friend. You arrived a little late, so no way they aren’t here already.

Eventually, you spot John’s face through the Saturday morning coffee crowd. There he is, smiling and laughing at whatever the mystery person said. From where you’re standing, you can only see the other person’s back. You can’t tell if you know them from here, all you really know for sure is that they’re wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled up. You drink some of your coffee, shrug to yourself, and start walking over. You’re going to have to talk to them eventually, and who knows, maybe they won’t be completely terrible. Lord knows they can’t be as bad as that fuckbag-

“Karkat?”

You’re frozen in place in complete disbelief. What the fuck’s he doing here? He’s supposed to be at school halfway across the country!

He screws his face up into a scowl that you are more than familiar with. “Dave.”

Your shock at seeing him here melted the moment you had his voice grating at your ears, and suddenly you can move again. You pull your chair out and sit down, angling it far away from the table so you’re as far away from him as you can be without making it too obvious. You fix a glare at him. Now you can focus on the more important things, like what the fuck he’s even doing back here so soon.

And just what the fuck is on his face?

“You’re not going near my place til you fucking shave.” You say pointedly, gesturing to horrible patch of hair on his chin. “I don’t need you shedding all over the carpet and anyway I’m not allowed to have a pet.”

“You think I like this?” Karkat holds a hand under his chin to frame his scruffy soul patch. “Any part of this? I despise having this fucking scrub brush uselessly attached to my face all the time? Do you think I don’t know how much this makes me look like a douche?”

“Look like?” You snort as you take out your phone and snap a quick pic of Karkat’s agitated face.

He snarls at you and gives you the finger. “I would shear this shit right off in a bloodpush thump, but my cheap ass fucking razor broke and now I’m trapped with this piece of steel wool on my chin. And you know what? It’s just the moldy icing on my shit cake right now! Because now, I have to beg you with this to let me squat in your tiny loadgaper of a home for awhile under the threat of being hiveless! If I live long enough the become ancient and decrepit, I don’t think I’ll ever experience a moment lower than this one.”

John laughs. “Karkat, you could’ve just asked to borrow a razor.”

“Hiveless, you say?” Interesting. “You serious?”

“Yes.” He sighs and covers his face with one of his hands. The other is wrapped around his cup of coffee. “I’m completely serious. Why else would I even fucking be here if I wasn’t under some dire shitty circumstances?”

“I see.” You nod. “So you came to me in your time of need.”

He levels a glare at you. “It’s not like a wanted to. I’m all out of options.”

“Of course you are.” You take a contemplative sip of your drink, savoring both the flavor and this perfect situation you’ve stumbled upon. Well, perfect fo you. Obviously it sucks for Karkat. You’re not very sympathetic, though, since you’re not his biggest fan. “I guess that means this shit’s all settled, then.”

“So you and Karkat are gonna be roommates, now?” John asks. He sounds relieved, like he wasn’t expecting it to go this well.

“Not so fast!” You hold up your hand to him. “Before I give our homeless buddy here the grand tour and allow him the privilege of living with me-”

Karkat snorts into his drink.

“-there’s one thing I need to hear first.”

John tilts his head. “One thing you need to hear?”

“Yeah.” You smirk and nudge Karkat with your leg. “You know what it is.”

Karkat looks confused, like he’s not sure what you’re talking about. He and John exchange a look. You don’t give him any hints.

You see it in his eyes as the realization strikes him. He sips his coffee and frowns. “You abominable fucking nerd.”

You shake your head. “That’s not it, and you know it.”

He groans and hangs his head, and you can feel the giant shit eating grin spread over your face. “Help me, Dave Strider, you’re my only hope.”

“You’re damn right, I am.” You polish off the remains of your drink in one gulp. “Let’s go.”

You take Karkat to check your place out. He walks around inspecting everything, kicking your shit around and telling you how much of a disgusting fucking sty your apartment is. Have you ever heard of a vacuum, Dave? Or do you like wallowing in your filth like a fat nasty oinkbeast? Blah blah blah ad nauseum. John came with you, too. Again, just to make sure neither of you do anything stupid, like say no to living together, in the heat of your mutual distaste for each other.

God, you’re going to fucking hate living with Karkat. He’s probably the worst roommate ever. But you’re out of options, and apparently so is he.

Karkat walks over to you. “Okay,” he kicks a piece of trash you haven’t bothered to pick up yet, “as much as the thought fills my throat with hot bile, I’ll do it. I’ll room with you.”

He holds out his hand. You shake it. “Great. I’ll go get the lease so you can sign it. After you kill that rat on your face and toss it out.”

He covers his soul patch with his hand defensively. “Fuck you, I don’t have a razor!”

“Get one!”

“I’ll get one after you let me sign the lease!” Your grips are still locked in a handshake. Karkat’s squeezing your hand tightly.

You squeeze back. “You’re not putting your John Hancock on shit til your face doesn’t make me gag.”

“Joke’s on you, asshole! My face always makes you gag!” He sticks his face really close to yours. So close your noses are almost touching. “Look me in the bulb and say it fucking doesn’t! I dare you!”

“Get your greasy hairball of a face away from me!”

“Or what?” You can smell his breath as he eggs you on. It’s hot and a little sour. “What are you gonna do?”

“Move it or I’m gonna lick you!” You consider shoving him, but you resist the urge. “Don’t test me, dude, I’ll stick my god damn tongue in your ear, I swear I will.”

“Do it, pussy!  I fucking dare you!”  Karkat turns his head so his ear is directly in your face.  

Your tongue is out of your mouth and going straight for his dirty ass ear before you can even consider what you’re really doing.  You literally told him not to test you a second ago, and then he did it anyway!  Dammit, you threatened to do it, and now you gotta follow through.  You gotta!  You’re nothing if not a man of your word.

“Hey!”

An arm slams between the two of you before you can fulfill your promise of delivering the wettest of willies straight from the source.  John squeezes his way between you and Karkat, acting as a barrier to separate you.  

“Dave, go talk to your landlord about the lease.  I’ll take Karkat back over to my place to get his stuff and shave and we’ll come back later.  Does that work for you?”

Fuck, you hate how riled up Karkat makes you.  More than that, you hate that John always has to step in and intervene.  How the fuck did he become the voice of reason?  

You breathe deeply.  “Yeah, that works for me.”

“Alright,” John nods and turns to Karkat, “what about you?”

Karkat huffs and rolls his eyes.  “Of course that works for me, why the fuck wouldn’t it?  I already went on a tirade about how I hate this unruly fuzz always scratching at my chin in the most hellishly uncomfortable way imaginable.  Do you really think I’d change my tune just because Dave has an iota of common sense concerning facial hair?  Shit, I know I’m petty, but I’m not that petty!”

You raise an eyebrow and open your mouth to disagree, but John shoots you a look that makes you close it again.  Whatever you were going to say is really not necessary.  Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to get into stupid arguments with Karkat for no apparent reason once you’re living together.

Fuck, you’re going to be living together.

“Okay, so that settles it!”  John wraps an arm around Karkat’s shoulders and starts leading him towards the door.  “Hey, we should go out for dinner to celebrate tonight!  My treat.”

Before you can tell him that’s not necessary -John’s already been doing a lot for you- he drags Karkat out and closes the door.  You’re left alone in your apartment.  

You flop face first onto the couch and groan into it.  You’re going to have to savor these fleeting moments while they last.  Soon it won’t just be your apartment. You won’t be able to relax like this anymore.  

You’re going to have to deal with Karkat on a daily basis.  This is going to be hell.

You flip over and stare up at the ceiling, letting out another loud groan.  

But..for the sake of the rent, you think you can deal with Karkat and his bullshit.  

Yeah.  Doesn’t sound too hard.  You got this.

Holy shit, no amount of money is worth this.

Your schedules are different enough that you barely see Karkat most of the time, but when you do see him, it makes you feel like he took a steaming, liquidy shit all over your good day.

Karkat is taking some online courses, which you wouldn’t give even half a turd about under normal circumstances.  The problem is that he does his homework in the living room with the tv on at full volume.  Again, this wouldn’t be much of a problem, either.

Except he doesn’t let you watch anything when he’s doing his homework.  You once tried to take the remote and he hissed at you.  He fucking hissed. As if he hasn’t already seen When Harry Met Sally fifty times already.  But no, its always his dumb fucking romantic troll sap, 24/7 and 360 fucking 5 forever and always.  Or at least until Karkat’s finished doing shit.  But really, in the moment those feel like the same thing.

Leaving the room doesn’t help much.  Usually you can still hear it through your door.

If he’s not laying claim over the couch and tv, he’s cleaning something.  That actually came as a pleasant surprise at first.  You’re not exactly big on cleaning, so it was refreshing to come home to a clean house.  The problem isn’t the apartment being clean, obviously, the problem is how Karkat goes about doing it.

Karkat’s cleaning pattern is as unpredictable and erratic as a chihuahua tornado.  He’ll start a load of dishes, then stop in the middle to vacuum the living room carpet, and then take a break to clean the bathroom sink.  All the while complaining about the disgusting state of the apartment.  Granted, his complaints about the apartment being gross die down once he starts regularly cleaning any shit he can get his grubby hands on.   

Given what he does instead now, you kind of miss the complaints.  Now he runs around the apartment cleaning and singing at the top of his lungs.

If you can call it singing.  

It’s more like...screaming?  

Yeah, it’s definitely screaming.  It really makes you wonder just how ear splittingly loud his music must be if he thinks it’s okay to fucking belt out the lyrics to every song in The Killers discography like a sandpaper throated banshee.  

The only good that comes from that is that you know which room he’s in at all times and you can avoid him better.

Mundane and everyday tasks are annoying as hell now.  You can’t even buy goddamn groceries without it being a huge federal case.  You want your cheap ass snacks, but Karkat always demands getting troll food, too.  Also a thing that shouldn’t be a big deal, except that troll cuisine is more expensive than human food because even with the high concentration of trolls on the planet, it’s still technically a delicacy.  On top of that, Karkat wants to make sure you get the right kind of food and not the awful but equally as expensive stuff stocked at your local grocer.  So instead you gotta buy your groceries (which Karkat will inevitably also eat because that’s how this arrangement works, you share snacks) and then you have to go home, put those away, and then take a bus to the next town over so Karkat can hit up the Authentic Troll Food Store, which is hella expensive because everything there is imported straight from Alternia.  It’s a hassle and you get absolutely jack shit out of it because your uncultured ass can’t stand the taste of troll garbage slime chow.

Then, of course, there’s John.

Karkat always seems to be near John.  Texting him, calling him.  Hanging out in his dorm.  Having dinner at Mr. Egbert’s place with him.  Tagging along whenever you go chill with him.  

Fuck, it’s like you’re fourteen all over again.

You fucking hate it.

The summer before you started high school, Karkat moved into town.  And for that whole year, he was always hanging around John.  He was like a pimple on your ass that was agonizingly annoying, but every time you popped it it just came back worse, bigger and more filled with puss than the last time.  You couldn’t get John alone for a second, it was awful.  Karkat was taking up all his time and there was nothing you could do about it without  looking like an even bigger asshole than him.

That whole year was torture.  Thinking back on it, only half of it was really Karkat’s fault.  It took you years to come to terms with the fact that you’d had a crush on John and were jealous of how much of his attention Karkat was taking up.  The other half just wanted to hang out with your best friend without the addition of some angry, loud troll kid who was obviously crushing hard on him.

Yeah, Karkat had had a crush on John, and it was...not subtle.

There was a blessed summer without Karkat right before your junior year.  It was a good season for you.  You only saw him once over that whole three month period. You remember it pretty well.  You and John were going to get some matches from the gas station (the one you’re currently working at) to light off some fireworks when you saw Karkat on his way out.  Karkat froze like a deer caught in headlights and he dropped his slushie.  John said hi, and then Karkat ran.  Neither of you had gone after him.  

When school started back up again, everything went back to normal, save for the fact that Karkat wasn’t clinging to John anymore.  

But here you are, right back where you started.  You’ve come full circle once again.

Karkat is hanging around John and taking up all of his spare time like a fucking attention leech again.  And just like before, you’re more jealous than you’d care to admit.

The only difference is this time you’re not jealous because you have a repressed crush on John.  It’s all because you just want to spend time with your friend without Karkat.

After a month of all this bullshit piling up, your last straw finally snaps under its weight.

You come home after a long day of work to a dark apartment.  You just want to collapse on the couch, but you can see as you toe off your shoes by the door that you’re not gonna be able to do that.  One of Karkat’s movies is on.  The tv is so bright in the pitch black that you don’t even notice Karkat’s laptop is open on the coffee table until you walk by the couch on the way to your room.  

But it is open.  

And on it is John’s face.  His mouth is moving, but you can’t hear a word he’s saying.  You can tell he sees you, though, because he waves.

Karkat turns his head.  His glare is illuminated from the soft glow of both screens.  Clearly his disapproves of you interrupting his facetime with John.

But you know what?  Fuck that.  Fuck him.

You walk around the couch and over to the other side of the coffee table.  You stand tall over Karkat, leveling your own steely gaze at him as you slam his laptop closed with one hand.

He sneers at you.  “What the fuck was that for?”

“This shit has to stop.”

“Oh?  And just what shit are you talking about?”  He inquires with disinterest.  Clearly he doesn’t give a damn about what your reasons are.  “Enlighten me.”

You can’t contain it anymore, not for all the rent money in the world.

You explode and enlighten him.

“All of this bullshit with John!”  You yell at him in an attempt to get it through his thick skull.  “Stop demanding his attention all the time!  He has more important shit to do than waste his time talking to your thirsty, pining ass all day, dude.  Jesus, just tell him you have a crush on him already and get it over with!”

“A crush?”  Karkat tilts his head to the side, and you think you can see a hint of a smile on his face.  “On John?”

He snorts.

“Dave, really?  You think I have a crush on John?”  He’s outright laughing now.  What the fuck?  “I haven’t had a crush of any sort on that idiot since I was seven sweeps.”

It occurs to you that this might be the first time you’ve ever made Karkat laugh.  Somehow that makes this whole confrontation worse for you.

“Then how the hell do you explain all your weird ass behavior lately, hm?”  You press on, undeterred by Karkat’s claim. “You’ve been following John around like a lovestruck puppy nursed back to health from the brink of death on his chiseled bosom.  Don’t deny it, we both know this shit isn’t normal.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why the fuck does it matter so much to you?”

“I just want to know why you’re being so fucking clingy with John all of a sudden!”  You admit.  “Ever since you moved back here, you’ve been acting weird and sticking to John just like when we were kids and if it’s not because you’re into him well….then I can’t think of a reason why you’d be like this.”

“You really want to know?”  He says it as if it’s a challenge.  He gets up off the couch and leans in closer to you over the coffee table.  He’s still sneering at you.  His teeth look dead and sharp in the tv’s light.  “Do you really want to fucking know?”

You’re not backing down.  “Yes.”

He slams his hand against the table.  “I’m fucking lonely, you maggot brained shithead!”

Karkat huffs and falls back onto the couch.  He’s glaring up at you, waiting for you to say something.  

You’re still processing.

That….was not what you were expecting him to say.

“You’re fucking what?”

Wow, that wasn’t the stupidest thing you could’ve said, you fucking moron.

He crosses his arms over his chest.  “You heard me.”

“Okay,” you nod, “do...you need to talk about that?”

Did you just offer to listen to Karkat complain?  Did you actually volunteer for that?  What the fuck is wrong with you?

Karkat looks just as surprised by your question as you are.  “I don’t think I’d...hate talking about it?”

Neither of you seem to know where to go from here.  Do you wait for him to start talking?  Do you take a seat beside him on the couch?  Do you write shit down like a therapist might?  Should you get Rose on the line instead, since she’s a good listener?

You end up walking around the table and taking a seat on the couch.  In terms of couch distance, you’re far away from him.  You wait patiently for him to start talking.

“I uh…”  He takes a deep breath.  “I wanted to be independent when I left for school.  I didn’t want to have to rely on anybody for shit, which is why I decided to go so far away in the first place.  I even managed to get a single room when I got there.  For the first few weeks, everything was fine-”

Everything was not fine.

The first few weeks weren’t fine, they were hectic.  You were lost in figuring out your class schedule and what was expected of you in those classes.  But once you knew what was up, things were a lot less fine and a lot more shitty than they initially appeared.

You did your homework, you studied, you wrote essays.  You did all the educational fuckery you needed to do to ensure you didn’t fail any of your classes.  You didn’t have a lot of time to spare with all this studious shit, but it was enough time to make you wish you had someone else to spend time with.

In your core, you’re a social being.  You crave interaction, but because of a certain situation you’re not comfortable discussing, you have a hard time bringing yourself to even talk to people enough to make a real acquaintance.  Out of fear of discovery, you withdrew into yourself.

You didn’t go to any social events, nor were you fucking invited to any in the first place.  You ate lunch alone, when you ate lunch at all.  You had a difficult time getting any studying done in groups of people, so you didn’t even try.  And since you had a single room, you didn’t even have a dorm mate to fall back on for interaction.

You had so many friends at home that you’ve known for sweeps, you forgot how hard it was to make them in the first place.  How insanely hard it was for you to actually trust anyone enough to spend time with them.  

Two months into school, you missed your home and your friends more than you ever though possible.  You were starved for a nice conversation, for some contact, for anything really.  Even though you were still in touch with your friends, it wasn’t the same.  Somehow all the texting and phone calls and video chatting made you feel worse.

The stress piling up from all of the homework didn’t help you at all.  At first the homework distracted you from your lack of a social life, and then it all consumed your life.  Sometimes it was so overwhelming you couldn’t function anymore.  

You hate to admit this, but you cried yourself to sleep more than once during your time there.

Everything was horrible and it was shit and you were completely aware of that.  But what were you going to do?  Admit your failure?  Give up on school and come back home?  Of course not!  You could get through the whole year, you were strong enough for at least that!

But then you saw a picture of Kanaya with Rose and some of their other friends.  Kanaya came down from school to spend the weekend with everybody because she lived close enough to do that.  There was your best friend, hanging out with her friends and girlfriend and having a fun time.  And here you were, all alone in your dorm room across the country.

That’s what decided it for you.  

You talked to the appropriate people about leaving school and transferring to the local college back home.  You decided to finish off the rest of the year on your first school’s online program and then start at the new one.  You told John you were coming back, and he offered to let you stay at his house for a bit, and you immediately took the offer.  You didn’t actually have a plan for where you were going to stay once you came back, so it was appreciated.  After finals ended, you took a plane and a bus back home.  And now you’re here.

“I came back because I missed everybody, but they’re all busy with school and work and other life shit.”  Karkat shrugs.  “I’ve been spending time with John because he’s available.”

He lapses into silence.  Are you supposed to say something now?  

“It...sounds like you had a real shitty time.”

He snorts again.  “I’ll say.”

And that’s the end of everything you thought of to say.

You understand missing friends a lot.  All of your friends are extremely important to you, and you can’t imagine your life without them.  Well, you can, but it’s incredibly shitty.  You don’t know how to tell Karkat that he has your sympathy on this front without sounding like you’re pitying him.  You don’t know what else you can say.

Karkat must realize it, too.  He stands up and grabs his laptop off the table.  “I’m going to my block now.”

He starts walking away.  Fuck, you feel like you still need to say something, but what?  What the hell else do you have to offer?

Shit, he’s already opening his bedroom door.  You need to say something!  Anything!  Just fucking open your mouth!

“Hey,”  He turns his head.  Hell yeah, nailed it.  You said some words.  “I just realized no one threw you a welcome back party.  We should...fix that?  Next weekend?”

You can’t read his face because the hallway’s too dark. “Yeah, okay.  Next weekend.”

The party happens sooner than you anticipated it would.  It feels like you blinked and the week finished.  You still can’t believe that you spent all this time planning a party for a guy you don’t even like at all.  

Karkat’s been less insufferable than usual.  It’s a pleasant change to the bad month that came before that.

You invite everyone you can think of over to the apartment on Saturday afternoon.  They all RSVP, and some people (Rose) question your act of kindness towards Karkat.  You let Rose know you’re just as lost about it as she is.  

Honestly, outside of inviting people over, you really didn’t do much planning.  You don’t think Karkat’s going to care at all, though.  He doesn’t give a shit about the actual party, he just wants people over.

That becomes evident when the guests start arriving.

Rose comes first, bearing a bundt cake and an interest in analyzing your relationship with your roommate.  No amount of Lalondian analysis in the world could have prepared either of you for the hug she got from Karkat.

“Hello, Karkat.”  Her voice betrays her surprise and she gives him an awkward pat on the back with her free hand.  “Book club hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I’m glad you came, Rose!”  He breaks away from her reluctantly and takes the cake away from her.  “You got any new shit for me to read?  I’ve been waiting for an update.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.  Just give me a moment to find where you were.”  Rose pulls her phone out of her jacket and starts scrolling through it.

Karkat and Rose sit together on the couch and you watch as she passes him her phone.  You’re hanging out in the kitchen and ordering pizza while you wait for everybody else.

It doesn’t take long for more people to show up.  Karkat hugs each and every person who walks through the door.  Everyone seems just as shocked by this experience as you and Rose were.  

About twenty minutes in everyone is chilling in the living room.  At this point you’re just waiting on pizza and the final guest.  You wonder if she’ll show up before the pizza.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by someone walking in.  Yep, she got here first.

Karkat’s eyes light up.  “Kanaya!”

She smiles.  “Sorry I’m late.”

She doesn’t get any more words out before Karkat runs over to the door and hugs her so tightly he lifts her off the floor.

You didn’t really have anything planned, so you set up a game of Uno with your special Star Wars Uno cards that you know Karkat claims he hates.  He only says that because he’s never fucking seen any of them, that uncultured swine.

You get a couple rounds in before the pizza comes, and once that’s here you can’t really play Uno anymore.  You switch to watching tv instead, just for background noise while you all talk.

It’s been awhile since you’ve all gotten together, and it’s so amazing to be surrounded by your friends you wonder why you don’t do this more often.  

Karkat is sitting on the floor between Kanaya and John.  You’re not sure what they’re talking about, but you know this is the happiest you’ve ever seen him.  

Seeing him smile this much is a little surreal.  Hopefully it’s something you’ll get used to.  

The party lasts late into the night, but eventually people begin to leave.  Karkat walks all of them to the door and hugs them again as they exit.  After a long debate about whether they should spend the night or not, Rose and Kanaya also take their leave.  The door closes behind them, and it’s just you, Karkat, and your post-party messy apartment.  

The atmosphere in the apartment feels a little awkward to you.  You clear your throat to clear the silence.  Karkat is still staring at the closed door.

“So, uh…” you don’t really have anything say right now, “I didn’t know you were such a hugger, Karkat.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by what happens after that, but it still catches you off guard.

He hugs you.  

His arms are warm and they’re wrapped tightly around you.  His face is buried in your sweatshirt.  

It’s….nice.  Soft.  A comforting embrace that you never expected to get from someone like Karkat.  

You’d hug back, but Karkat’s pinned your arms to your sides.  

“Thanks for this, Dave.”  His voice is muffled by your shirt.  

You shrug in the most casual way possible. “Don’t mention it.”  

“No, shut the fuck up!  Let me thank you, I needed this more than I thought I did.”

“Okay, okay, fine.”  You roll your eyes, but you also smile because you know Karkat can’t see it right now.  “You’re welcome, you owe me now.”

“You don’t have to come with me to Troll Foods anymore.”

“Oh, sweet!  I hate that place.  But I was thinking more along the lines of making you marathon Star Wars with me.”

“Really, Dave?”  He groans into your shirt.  “Star Wars?  Why the fuck are you so obsessed with that series?  It’s not even an accurate portrayal of alien life and space travel.”

“Uh, of course it’s not, it’s called fiction, jackass.  Read a fucking book.”  You retort.  “Besides, Star Wars is the best and I refuse to be friends with someone who hasn’t seen Star Wars.”

Karkat pulls away from you.  “Did you just call me your friend?”

“Jesus, maybe I should’ve stuck my tongue in your ear, that probably would’ve cleaned all the gunk out.”  You smirk.  “I said you have to watch Star Wars first.”

“And then you’ll think of me as your friend?”  Karkat asks, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

You nod. “Oh, yeah, dude.”  

“Okay, fine.”  He sighs.  “I’ll watch your dumb space trilogy.”

“Cool.”  You run over to your room.  “You’re gonna love the shit outta them, I swear.”

What Karkat doesn’t know is that you just lied to his face.  You don’t actually have a Star Wars prerequisite, you just wanted to make him watch them.

You already think of Karkat as your friend.

[sollotaire]

How about another sero story, this one where his s/o is long distance (in another country like the us) and all the dudes thinks he's lying about his relationship because all the girls at the academy "friend zoned" him but in reality all the girls know of his relationship and think he and his female foreign s/o are so cute together and sjcksnjfkskf idk just a cute fluffy story about Dem boys getting proven wrong??

So funny story haha. It's not exactly fluffy (though I do plan to do a bonus piece to this for some fluff if you want). The day Sero got a girl was the day Bakugou got an attitude adjustment, or at least that was what Kaminari had said when they were talking about it after class was dismissed for the day. It was the same blond haired male who started the conversation, having caught Sero smiling at his phone just moments before. Sero had been talking to his girlfriend who was currently living in America because of her parents work. She was currently enrolled in the American hero course, being in pretty much the same class as he was if she would have been in Japan. She was fangirling over some hero that she saw in a video from a Japanese news channel on her phone, but was struggling to type everything without a mass of typos and jumbled up words. (Y/N) was a complete fangirl, even rivaling that of Midoriya which was quite hard to rival in the first place. He would be lying if he said that he didn't love that about her. She was the best thing that happened to him so far and he found it hard to imagine what he'd do if he lost her. But at the same time she often caused him trouble, which was what he was in now. Kaminari was hell bent on figuring out if the lady behind the phone was actually real, even going as far as to assume that she was just a catfish since every girl in the academy seemed to only ever friend zone the poor boy. Sero though was pretty confident in the fact that his girlfriend of two months was real due to the countless video and phone calls they did daily. "Admit it! She's gotta be a fake right?!" Kaminari continued, pointing at Sero accusingly. "Are you guys talking about, (Y/N)-chan?" Mina interrupted, standing next to Sero. "Ooooo! (Y/N)-chan?!" Hagakure exclaimed excitedly. "She's so pretty, Sero-kun!" The invisible girl's skirt swished a bit, noting her excitement despite not being able to see her face. Sero grinned at his female friends, having introduced them to his lovely girlfriend just weeks ago. "YOU'RE FALLING FOR HER TRICKS TOO?!" He screamed, slamming his hands on the table. "She's in America!! Who knows if she'll ever come back to Japan or hell who knows if she's ever lived here before then! Maybe she was lying to him!" "I think you're overthinking things, Kaminari. (Y/N) is really nice and is most definitely not a fake." Jiro cut in, fixing the blonde haired male with a slightly irritated stare. "Oi! Where's the fucking proof huh?!" Bakugou yelled, getting annoyed with all the pointing fingers and such. Sero laughed a bit, rubbing his finger along the rough edges of his phone case. "I'd call her but she's asleep right now." The ash blonde male huffed in response, honestly having been curious about if the tape dispenser actually had a girlfriend. Knowing Sero though, he wasn't the type to flat out lie in order to up his image so while Bakugou was still apprehensive he accepted the excuse; much to Kaminari's dissatisfaction. He was truly the only one who was making a big deal out of it despite the rest of the guys being a bit weary as well. "I know!! Why don't we do a group video chat this weekend that way it doesn't cut into her school or anything!" Kirishima suggested. "We could hook Sero's laptop up to the tv in the lounge area of the dorms so we could all see her better!" "I approve of this idea!" Iida chimed in, making a chopping motion with his hand. Sero grinned and nodded his approval, everyone else agreeing as well. The weekend came quickly, Sero having been texting you constantly about the ordeal. You had mentioned briefly how you probably weren't going to be able to do the call, but promised to try and make time for it since you wanted to meet the rest of your boyfriend's classmates; Kaminari thinking you were making up excuses because you were a fake.Things were quite busy for you though since you were moving back to Japan, something you wanted to surprise Sero with. You had spent the week out of school packing and was the first to be shipped off back to Japan as your parents had some final loose ends to tie up. You were to start at U.A. under the hero course next week, your old school managing to get you into class 1-A since you were in the same class ranking back in America. You stepped out of the airport, the sky dark despite you feeling like the sun should be out. It was eleven p.m in Japan, but your body was responding to America's time zones. You groaned and made your way to the man quite literally shouting your name from beside a parked car. He introduced himself as Present Mic and the dark haired male asleep in the front seat was Aizawa Shota, whom you knew from talking to him before coming as well as the many figurines you possessed from your childhood. The former helped you put your things in the car before driving you to the dorm. In that moment your phone had rang (having gotten what you needed for it to work), showing that Sero was attempting to Skype you like he said he would. You put an earbud back into your ear as you answered the call, smiling at the sight of your boyfriend and his friends. "Han-tan~" You cooed, alerting the two men in the front of the car. You held a finger to your lips to show that they had to be silent since you wanted your arrival to be a surprise. The whole class seemed to erupt into pure chaos which mostly came from the boys. "Sorry about lighting, we're currently going through a tunnel and not many lights are on." You lied easily, it being rehearsed beforehand. "It's fine." Sero spoke, smiling softly. "Everyone was in a rush to meet you or see you again and make sure you were real that they almost forgot that you're literally on the other side of the world." He laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "I still don't believe you're real!!! We can barely see your face!!! Hagakure said that you were pretty but for all we know that could be a lie as well!!" Kaminari accused, making you laugh. "You have a right to be cautious, especially when it concerns a long distance relationship. I'd say that I looked about average though." You shrugged, moving out of the vehicle once you arrived at campus. "Hold on guys." You spoke, putting the call on hold as you grabbed your suitcase and duffle bag everything else being in your room at the dorm. Once you split from Aizawa and Present Mic you took the call off of hold, making your way up to the front of the Class 1-A dorms. "Sorry about that." You gave an apologetic smile and glanced through the window of the dorms, spotting Sero and the rest of his classmates. "Ooo! I wanna show you guys something cool!" You spoke, keeping your voice low as if you were trying not to disturb whoever you were with. You switched the camera to the back one, and pointed it through the window at the now shocked students. "Isn't the sight beautiful. Hold on let me get closer." You walked through the door, setting your bags down on the floor with a bright grin as you kept the camera on them. "Hey! I'm your new student from America! Call me (Y/N)!" You greeted, cutting the call and placing your phone into your hoodie pocket. Sero was the first to move of course, his arms wrapping around your body and lifting you up into a tight hug; a grin settled onto his own lips. You wrapped your arms around and buried your face into his neck, thoroughly happy to finally be able to meet your boyfriend. He spun you around excitedly, causing you to giggle at how cute he was being. "You're here! You're here!" He laughed out, eventually putting you down and letting go. "Surprise, Han-tan!" "No fucking way.." Bakugou murmured, his own eyes uncharacteristically wide. He expected less if he were honest, but you were surprisingly stunning. You were average height, possibly as tall as Midoriya if not (taller/shorter), your (h/c) hair was in a bun that sat nestled atop your head and your (e/c) eyes were kind but calculating. "HOW THE HELL TAPE FACE?!" "Dude what the fuck?! How do you end up with a total babe but I'm still single?!" Kaminari whined. "It's because you're too dumb for a girl to like you." Jiro jabbed. You stifled a laugh, feeling as Sero intertwined your fingers together then pull you closer to his friends. Your eyes ran over each one of them curiously, listening as they finally introduced themselves to you. "I'm Mineta Minoru and I'm pleased to meet that ass." You heard. Turning your head to see who said that you were met with a small teen-child who seemed to look at your bottom hungrily. You gave him a sweet smile, letting go of Sero's hand to kneel in front of him; much to the surprise of your new classmates. "You've got some fucking nerve trash. Why the hell would I ever consider your shitty ass as a romantic interest." You tilted your head, your smile still on your lips as you glared at the grape fucker. "Don't fuck with me, trash, I ain't here to babysit you nor play some fucked up version of house with you." You growled angrily. You stood and turned back to Sero, only to have your hand snatched by the grape boy who had found your threats hot. You didn't hesitate to throw him into the wall nearby, watching as his body left a hole. "DONT YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! DO YOU WANNA FUCKING DIE!! I'll KILL YOU YOU GRAPE MOTHERFUCKER!!" You screamed in pure rage. "Holy Shit, I like her already." Bakugou admitted, surprising the red haired male next to him. "You like people?" He teased, earning some very harsh words (more like screams) from the ash blonde male. "Oh great… a second Bakugou." Tokoyami chimed in for the first time, a sigh escaping as well. "Is she like this all the time?" Midoriya questioned, nervously watching her beat Mineta into the walk even more. "Only when she's pissed, so no. It's kinda hot if I'm being honest." Sero spoke, using his tape to pull you away from bashing Mineta's head in. He pulled you into his chest, running his fingers through your hair to calm you down. "Calm down, I think he gets it." He whispered gently into your ear, the sound of his voice successfully soothing you. You wound your arms around his waist and buried your head into his chest, heaving a sigh. "You're too good for this world." She admitted, nuzzling his chest a bit. He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Hardly."

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #44

UPDATE 44: The Mastermind and the Hero

Last time Taylor had taken a decision on what to do now that her former plans of betraying the Undersiders were revealed. She doesn’t want to be a hero, returning to the group is not an option...what is left? She took a decision, which isn’t mentioned here, so it’s going to be interesting and a surprise. Let’s continue with the intermission to finish this arc.

The moment I read the first sentence of this intermission I know it’s going to be good.

Coil held firmly to the philosophy that one couldn’t be too paranoid.

Coil, huh. Rather fitting for him to be the focus of this intermission, given the circumstances. He’s a rather important character right now, this is a good chance to see more of how he thinks and behaves. Besides, he’s interesting, and his power is one I have a lot of curiosity for. I already have high expectations for this interlude!

There are two realities right now, no indication on which one Coil will choose in the end. To make optimal use of his power – I think – he is in rather different situations, almost opposite to each other. In one he is at his hideout, with all those soldiers. In the other he is with what I imagine is his civilian identity, going to work and living in a neighborhood that’s not as flooded as the rest of the city. I see, I see. Hm.

To all appearances, he was an ordinary man leaving for work.  His identity, fabricated, was complete, a real job at a real company, records going back ten years in health, taxes, dentistry, house payments and more.

How odd...so he had to fabricate an identity, huh. I wonder why he had to do that? I mean, before he got his powers and all, I suppose he had an identity, didn’t he? Could it be Coil’s civilian identity is thought to be dead? Or in prison? Or in any other circumstances that would make it really inconvenient for his real name to be revealed? There must be something going on here...but I’m not sure what it could be. Maybe it’s just his paranoia. He said it, you can’t be too paranoid.

Coil’s favorite henchmen were those who had, hm, a hook, a vice or something they needed on a primal, desperate level.  Thanks to that kind of thing, it was easier to obtain their loyalty, since he could provide what they need. I suppose those are the perks of being hella rich and having a power like his, that he has ways to give those people what they want.

Well, they were the Travelers, Creeps and Grues of the world.

I wonder what he offered to the Travelers and Grue? Maybe the reason why the Travelers were nomadic is because they were looking for something, and they finally have the chance to obtain it thanks to Coil? That’d explain why they’d stick around. And Grue...well, my thought is that it could be related to his sister. He would do anything for her.

Coil puts on his costume while on the back of a van a person known as Creep will drive. They’re going to the construction site, to the hideout. He is considering ditching his civilian identity and sticking to the Coil identity permanently. I don’t know, wearing that costume 24/7 has to get uncomfortable at some point. Hah! Okay, no, for real, people may notice the civilian identity disappearing, perhaps? Well, maybe not, if he doesn’t socialize much and has an isolated lifestyle. He seems the kind of person that’d have that kind of lifestyle.

Coil’s underground base had fallen just beyond the scope of the massive lake in the middle of downtown.  Had the crater extended another forty or fifty feet, it might have done more than crack the interior walls, cost Coil months of time rather than days, hundreds of thousands rather than thousands.

Lucky guy. Well, maybe it’s for the better. If the base had been affected more, Dinah could have been in danger.

Speaking of Dinah, the first thing he does is go see her and ask what seem to be routine questions: if there will be trouble during the next hour, and if there will be trouble before lunchtime. Both answers are met with rather low percentages of trouble, so he deletes the reality where he stayed up all night gathering information. Ah, so that’s how he does it...interesting. As soon as he deletes those, he divides reality again.

He often wondered if he really was creating the realities, or if it was solely in his perception, foretelling futures to the extent that they hinged on his actions. He’d asked his Tattletale, and she hadn’t had an answer for him.

Who knows. In my opinion, it looks more like the second possibility. It’s not that I think it’s impossible for someone to be creating split timelines and all that, it’s more like...I think if a new timeline was created, other stuff would change other than what Coil affects with his actions and plans, it’d all divert more than it does according to this power. I think it’s more like foresight depending on his own actions.

He also ensures his actions in each timeline differ a lot. I suppose that’s smart, it helps know what would happen depending on drastically different actions. Here he divided the timelines. In one he goes with his captains, in the other he surveys the base.

He owned the company that had built the underground shelters in Brockton Bay and neighboring cities.  Hiding the details on his base in construction was a matter of intercepting information at the right time and place, paying with his own money rather than the city’s, controlling what was reported and to whom.

He owns that company? Well! That explains how he managed to hide this secret base without anyone noticing. I suppose he’s adding the same protections the rest of the shelters have – and more than that, because I bet he’s giving his own base perks the other shelters don’t have. Making it sturdier or something.

The Travelers’ room is ready, there’s even a containment facility for…uh…I forgot her name, dang. You know who they’re referring to. The worse she feels, the stronger her powers are, if I remember correctly. It’s no surprise a containment facility is needed for her. At least the rest of the Travelers are here to keep her more or less calm and as harmless as possible.

One of the reasons why he makes timelines so different is because he doesn’t like to talk with important subordinates without having a…failsafe, a reality to escape to just in case something goes wrong. The information stays, and none of the consequences happen.

Now that I think about it, what happens if Coil dies in one of the timelines? Is it deleted automatically and all returns to the one he is alive in? Does the timeline where he died continue intact? I wonder…

Okay, I didn’t expect to see background information on this Mr. Pitter guy. His is a rather tragic backstory, he was an exemplary nanny until he tried to divorce and his former wife ruined his life. Coil made that wife disappear, and that bought his undying loyalty.  Not so tragic anymore! But hey, he is perfect to deal with Noelle’s complicated situation. Noelle, that’s her name. I won’t forget it ever again.

Once Mr. Pitter sadistically wakes up Trickster after just three hours of sleep, Coil takes the reins of the situation.

“Thank you,” Coil replied, “I would like to speak with your friend, downstairs.  Past experience has suggested this works best if you act as an intermediary.”

I don’t know, I think that’s bound to upset Noelle, even if Trickster is here. This is going to be rather delicate. Not that…Coil will be in trouble, if talking with Noelle goes pear-shaped, he can go to his other timeline.

“Nothing definitive.  I had intended to introduce Tattletale from the Undersiders to this situation, ask her for her opinions.  That is, if she doesn’t already have some idea of what’s going on.  Either way, her talents might turn up some details we have missed.”

“Had intended? I take it that she can’t, now, because of what happened at the hospital?”

“Something like that. She’s informed me that there’s currently difficulties within her group and requested that I not distract her or give her tasks until things have been settled ‘one way or the other’.  Her words.”

I think Trickster will have an idea of what Tattletale meant. He was there when the events of that chapter happened, recording it in his phone, he may be aware of Skitter’s alignment and can imagine they’re trying to deal with her. Heck, I wouldn’t blame him if he thinks ‘one way or another’ is an euphemism for ‘we’re giving her brand new cement shoes’. Not that anyone in the Undersiders would want to do that.

Okay! Meeting Noelle won’t be as risky as I thought it’d be! They can do it from outside the vault, there’s an intercom there. Noelle shows her face, it’s obvious she isn’t having a good time. The construction noise may have made her antsy, so she was locked here, and she doesn’t like it. Hm. I hope this room is soundproof – what am I saying? Coil isn’t stupid. I bet it is soundproof!

Noelle sounds rather coherent. That may be a good sign. She is lonely, she can’t call anyone – well, she can, but she thinks Trickster and Oliver are busy all the time (she may or may not be right) and Mr. Pitter is a creepy man. I mean, if he gave Coil pause then yeah, he must be really creepy. His lack of reaction here doesn’t cement him as the poster boy of kindness and personality.

Huh. So...what Coil promised in exchange for the Travelers’ cooperation was to fix Noelle? That’s a really tall order.

“You’ve been working on that for a month now!”  She began to shout, which only added to the gravelly quality of her voice, “Fix this!  Fix me! You did this to me, Krouse!”

Oh man, that sure is opening a can of worms! Let’s see...by Krouse she means Trickster, because Coil says Trickster is not to blame. Then could it be possible Trickster accidentally triggered Noelle’s awakening? Did he cause her trigger event? That’s my theory here, that something he did made Noelle gain the powers she hates so much. In that case, is Trickster taking her with them because he feels guilty about it, perhaps? Come on, give more details!

No details. Coil gets rid of this reality, having confirmed Noelle is getting worse. He positions himself into the reality where he is going with his captains.

Okay, Coil seamlessly gains consciousness about what happened in the other timeline, without reacting not even a little bit! I wonder how it felt the first few times? How did he find out how his power works? Golly, there are so many details I want to know and no time to get them. I think that says a lot about Mr. Wildbow’s writing, that it makes me keep wondering about stuff, and it’s not because plot holes or anything like that, it’s because it’s so interesting and it also makes me wonder how the characters react.

Coil uses his knowledge to good use. Trickster shall sleep, Noelle will be given double rations so she has nothing to complain about – except, you know, that she isn’t getting any better. And, just in case, the vault will be reinforced. Another door, mostly. Yeah, he had said Noelle was getting worse, didn’t he? This is an obvious precaution.

Better ask Dinah the usual questions. Routines are important. The numbers haven’t changed at all, but there are new questions here, so it’s not like this is a repeated scene. Interesting questions, right here.

“The chance my grand plan is a success, ignoring any uses of my powers?”

“Seventy two point two zero zero two one percent.”

And that is without using his powers? Wow, Coil’s work has been really effective! It’s not a hundred percent, and there’s no reason for him to ever stop using his powers – percentages can change at the drop of a hat, we already saw that – but this is a good way to measure his progress.

Interestingly enough, the number was better than it had been before Leviathan attacked.

Hmmm...maybe that’s not so surprising. Someone among the capes who died may had the potential to be a significant player in any way to try to stop Coil. Kaiser is my first thought, but it could have been a hero, many died, including local ones.

Coil also tries to find out the odds the Undersiders’ problems will be resolved. When that turns out to be too vague, he asks if they’ll be standing by his side when he succeeds or fails.

“Sixty five point six.  But they aren’t all the same Undersiders.”

Without Skitter, then? If so, then Coil’s success/failure will arrive in matter of days, or Skitter will have to take a hella long time to reconcile with them or do...whatever she wants to do.

“One more question.  What is the chance that I find a remedy to the Travelers’ circumstances?  To one decimal point?”

“Nine point five.  Candy?”

A full seven percent lower than it had been before the Endbringer attack.  Had a crucial individual died or left the city? Or was his running theory correct? Was there a reason Leviathan had come here, beyond the chance to attack a city already under siege?

Seven percent?! Their odds were already worryingly low, and now they’re even lower! Wow. Noelle’s odds are looking awful. There’s no way Coil is telling the Travelers this – not that he’d have a reason to talk about Dinah to them. But still...the Travelers’ patience may have a limit. If they see no progress, they may decide to leave Coil. That’ll impact his plans somehow, won’t it?

It was hard to ignore the reality, that Leviathan, from the time he arrived, had gradually moved closer and closer to this location, where the girl had already been ensconced.  The Travelers had even picked up on that, called him, worried.

...when it’s brought up like this it’s impossible it was just a coincidence. Leviathan was going to get Noelle? What for? I think that’s the important question here, why he’d try to get to Noelle. Is she like a beacon, or is her power somehow attracting Leviathan, or...hm. Depending of what’s going on, there is a chance Leviathan may return in the future again, then? I don’t think this city can withstand another attack from Leviathan.

Seven percent lower.  At what point did earning their loyalty fail to be worth the resources he was investing?

When they start failing or they start having serious doubts about you being able to help, of course. What’s hard to know is when it’ll start happening.

His plans are going so well he can almost taste victory. This all has been years of work, it started with gaming the markets, and kept going from there, having to be patient.

It had certainly been an expensive talent.  Even with his ability to game the markets in a way that clairvoyants and precognitives couldn’t detect, it had taken him years to pay it off.  A maddening, frustrating endeavor, when he had already been thinking of plans he wanted to set in motion, having to postpone them. And he still owed a favor, even now, up to a week’s services.  He couldn’t be sure if he was powerful and secure enough to fight back if they demanded too expensive a price, or too much of his time at a point critical to his plan.

It sounds to me like there’s someone else above Coil, someone who...I’m not sure of the implications here. It kind of sounds like he was given this power, but I’m not sure. Those would be quite meaningful implications.

He can’t get impatient now, nor he can indulge himself in his vices, not when he is so close to victory. And that’s the end of this interlude. That was quite the interesting glimpse into Coil’s way of working! I’m glad this exists. Great! He’s turning out to be every bit as twisted as I expected, maybe even more. There always was this continuous feeling of malice in his actions. I mean, it’s pretty obvious he looks only his own success, isn’t it? Improving the city and all that...that’d be more like an afterthought, that’s what I have thought for a long while.

So, there’s a new arc coming! Ninth arc, it’s titled ‘Sentinel’. Let’s get it started!

Okay, I have read a few paragraphs and I can already see Worm has taken a sharp left turn, so to say. This reads almost like an intermission, but it's a normal arc. Huh! When I was saying things were going to change, I didn’t mean even a change in the point of view character, Mr. Wildbow! I can’t even tell yet who this person is supposed to be, hm...a male character, arriving to the city. Can’t tell alignment yet.

Stainless steel handles on the doors.  He put his hands on the painted surface instead, pushed them open, and then held one of the doors open for the cart.  He was distracted enough that he almost didn’t notice the group waiting for him.

The group consisted of a squad of PRT officers with their regular assortment of nonlethal weaponry and a large woman with a bleached blonde bob.

A group of PRT officers, and the woman here says she is glad he arrived. So this guy here isn’t a villain or someone to be imprisoned. Does that mean we’re stepping away from the villain protagonist thing? That’d be a shame, I thought that was pretty fun.

He glanced quickly at her hand, checking there were no rings, then shook it.  “Thank you, ma’am.  Director Piggot, I’m assuming?”

Ah. He’s meeting Director Piggot right after arriving! This guy must be a rather important person – and young, too, judging by what happened with his luggage a moment ago.

It seems things aren’t getting much better in Brockton Bay after Leviathan’s attack. Anarchy reigns. People who were frustrated and living from paycheck to paycheck are now...well who knows what they’re doing. Nothing good, Piggot’s words make that much clear. Riots, perhaps?

“Are you ready to take command of the local Wards?”

I must say, I’m surprised at the risk Mr. Wildbow is taking! We go from a wannabe hero turned villain, to a cape that’s going to be the leader of the Wards. That’s rather different from what I have read so far in this story! I wonder if it’s just for this arc, or if it’s a more permanent thing?

Leaving that aside, since this person will lead the Wards, that means he is a teenager. Alright!

“Good. The team here is smaller than your old team in Boston.  It currently consists of Clockblocker, Vista, Kid Win and Shadow Stalker.  We had two members die in the attack, and a third left with his family when they evacuated.”

Rest in peace, Aegis and Gallant. Also, Browbeat wasn’t mentioned, so he may have been the one who left with his family. It was Browbeat, right? Or maybe I’m getting him mixed up with another cape? There are so many that even with my notes I have a bit of a hard time keeping track of what each one does and who they are, hah.

The Director took the hand of a uniform inside the helicopter, stepping inside, and Weld followed her up, refusing a helping hand.  The helicopter shifted slightly with the addition of his six hundred pounds of weight.

Oh hey, it’s Weld! The one who can absorb metals! And he...weighs six hundred pounds, apparently. Must be all that metal piling up, somehow. That can be quite the problem in everyday life, no elevators or anything like that. Weld seemed like a rather decent person, if I remember right how he behaved last arc. Nice!

Since he will lead the Wards, Piggot makes sure he at least knows the terminology everyone uses to classify capes.

Mover, Shaker,

Brute and Breaker.

Master, Tinker,

Blaster and Thinker,

Striker, Changer,

Trump and Stranger.

I’m pretty sure I received a message explaining each one of these in a word or two, but it seems I lost it somewhere in my website. I really should have tagged it or at least add it to my notes. Way to go, me.

Most are self-explanatory, but I’m not sure what a Shaker, Trump or Stranger do. I suppose I’ll find out the more this story continues, especially now that I’m reading from the point of view of someone who may use those classifications.

Weld is classified as a brute and changer, because he is rather tough and he can change. Simple enough! These classifications were originally aimed at villains, not at heroes, but now they’re used for everyone. Talking about these classifications is a chance for Piggot to introduce a new Ward.

“Right. This potential recruit is tentatively marked down as a Tinker/Mover.  It isn’t unusual for powers to emerge in the wake of an event as serious as this.  For this reason, we keep careful track of things to see if we cannot detect any new parahumans.  This young man has been observed in the south end, moving at over a hundred miles an hour with the assistance of a mechanical suit.  His inclusion on a local team would help fill gaps left by the death of Velocity, a local Protectorate member, and Armsmaster’s retirement.”

Tinker/Mover...so, invention and ingenuity, and skills that allows them to move with ease. Did I get it right? I suppose capes like Velocity are classified as Movers, so I think I got it right.

Leaving that aside...so Armsmaster is retired. Or...”retired”. I’m making the air quotes with my fingers, yeah. It’s a bit vague, this doesn’t tell much of what happened to him. I suppose that they’d all like to spread the word Armsmaster retired instead of whatever happened to him. Maybe he is in the Birdcage. It’d be awful PR if word gets out about what Armsmaster did.

“Others may make themselves known, and we will approach each of them in turn.  To help fill the gap in the meantime, Flechette is arriving from New York.”

That’s a familiar name. She was fighting Leviathan too, wasn’t she? My readers were right, Mr. Wildbow doesn’t introduce names randomly! Weld knows Flechette already, they had a playful rivalry. Piggot takes her role as a humorless boss to the upper limits and doesn’t appreciate the inherent humor in this turn of fate. Will it kill you to show even a little bit of mirth, Piggot? Then again, I suppose you need a stern hand when you’re dealing with a bunch of overpowered teenagers.

“Clockblocker and Vista are your best assets.  Clockblocker is a Striker 7 with touch-based time-stopping.  Vista is a Shaker 9.  Large scale spatial distortion.”

Okay, I wasn’t getting right the Striker denomination! I wasn’t sure what kind of label would fit Clockblocker, but Striker wasn’t one I ever considered would be correct. Vista is a Shaker...hm.

“Kid Win is a Tinker 4.  Guns and antigravity devices, primarily.  Shadow Stalker is more ambiguous.  Breaker 3, sublabels are Stranger 2, Mover 1.  Her particular nature as a ‘breaker’ makes her superlight, semi-gaseous, transparent and capable of passing through solid surfaces.”

Tinker, yep. Breaker...another one I kind of misinterpreted. Shadow Stalker’s Stranger status doesn’t shed any light on what it means, unfortunately for me. The Mover part kind of fits what I had already said, though. I’ll take what I can get.

“Then the top priority as far as opposition goes is… the Archer’s Bridge Merchants? Superpowered drug dealers.  A Shaker 2, Tinker 2/Mover 3 and a Shifter 4. These aren’t big numbers.  Am I missing something?”

The...the Merchants. They’re the top priority.

...

...well alright! Piggot was right, this city is going straight to hell!

The reason why they have acquired so much power is because they have become a rallying point for a lot of people. ‘Have-nots’, as Piggot says. I suppose that after Leviathan’s attack, the number of have-nots increased a lot. Desperation is a rather powerful force.

The Merchants took over the Docks, and their forces increased at breakneck speeds, recently they have started attacking infrastructure and hoarding arriving supplies. It sounds like most of these forces are civilians, who I’m willing to bet don’t have the strength or skill to fight a cape. It’d be an unfair battle. Perhaps aiming for the Merchants themselves may be good?

Speaking of the consequences of Leviathan’s attack, Empire Eighty-Eight is gone, it divided into two factions.

“One of two major offshoots of the Aryan villain group, Empire Eighty-Eight, which fell apart after the death of their leader, Kaiser.  Fenrir’s Chosen are led by Hookwolf.  Violent, utterly merciless, and reveling in the current chaos.”

One offshoot is violent and with brute force, the other is more diplomatic but no less despicable. Unfortunately for Brockton Bay, Hookwolf’s faction has a lot of parahumans. I don’t think Hookwolf has any of the traits that made Kaiser a dangerously competent leader, but sometimes brute force can be enough to tilt the scales on your favor. Purity and her faction aren’t faring very well in their diplomatic plans, the Protectorate have rejected every offer of help they did, and Weld is forbidden of accepting anything from her.

“Noted. Let’s see…  Coil, powers unknown.  The Travelers have high ratings on their powers, but their crimes are low end, pretty much.  There’s the Undersiders… three Master classifications in one team.”

They have no information on Coil. He’ll be pleased. In fact, I bet Coil already knows. But hey, the Protectorate are aware of his existence, that’s a start. The Travelers’ classification isn’t told at all and seem to be considered low-priority. Even though the Undersiders have three Master parahumans – Taylor, Alec and...Rachel? I think, yeah – they’re also low-priority. If I had to guess, I’d say Coil prefers it this way.

Faultline’s Crew are pretty much a nonentity. I still want to see more about them.

Onto more mundane matters. Weld will attend Arcadia High School. The teachers have been informed about his nature. What Piggot isn’t sure about is how other students will react to Weld. It’s not like everyone will know he is a Ward, so—

Weld looked down at his hands.  His body, from skin to hair to bone, was all metal and alloys of varying types.  “I’ve dealt with it before, I’ll manage.”

...oh. Okay. Looks like...even when he’s not actively being a hero he still is made of metal. Alright! That’s...that kinda is the type of detail that’d be nice to know much earlier, Mr. Wildbow. No wonder he weighs so much! And it’d be rather difficult for anyone at school not to know he is a Ward. This kid here...it’s impossible he has a private life.

Each Ward receives an allowance and a salary that gets added to a trust fund. Weld’s room has been examined and confirmed not to have any exposed metal, because when he touches metal his body immediately bonds to it, forcing him to absorb it or shed a part of himself. Sounds rather inconvenient, yeah.

The reason why Piggot and everyone else bother to accommodate Weld – and other capes, I suppose – is because they want to help society and the world accommodate parahumans better. Now that’s unlikely. With so many different types of parahuman powers, with so many villains and heroes, it’d be impossible to create a world where parahumans can be fully integrated, no matter how many accommodations are made. Honestly, it seems to me the most parahumans can aspire to is to be treated like heroic figures. That’d give them the love and appreciation of the public. Other than that...yeah, civilian identities will be needed.

Piggot shows a rare moment of empathy when she accepts not to slightly demean the director of parahumans matters in Boston, because he is a father figure to Weld. Nice! And then back to Piggot’s theories on what to do with parahumans and society. One word: PR.

“As the number of parahumans first became clear, a long-term plan was established. In the early phases of the plan, much effort was dedicated to setting up the Protectorate and Wards, ensuring the public had heroes they could look up to, likable faces, likable personalities. Merchandising, interviews, tv shows, music, movies and more were all encouraged and supported with the idea of building up this image.  Law, policy and rules for the official groups were all shaped with the idea of gradually building confidence in heroes.”

All this sound like long-term plans. But yeah, the early phases were to introduce parahumans as heroes the general public could rely on. It doesn’t sound too different from what’s done with comic book heroes and the such, just that instead of promoting a fictional character as rolemodel and helpful to society and people, these are real capes people can see and find out about. In other words: it’ll be much harder than promoting any old comic book hero.

The next part of the plan is to promote the existence of rogues, parahumans who aren’t affiliated to heroes or villains, they just go on with their lives and powers. It’d be easier to integrate rogues if you didn’t arrest and send them to the Birdcage like you did to Canary, guys. I can’t imagine rogues and society will feel very encouraged if something like that is known around.

This is a sensitive subject, slow to advance, as major corporations are particularly litigious when parahumans get involved.  In simple terms, the big businesses do not want people with powers affecting the status quo, and it is very easy for them to derail years of work with one bad media campaign targeting parahumans.”

“I see,” Weld commented.  He didn’t like that in simple terms bit of what she’d said.  Too many people implied he was stupid because he was strong.  But could he really speak up about it, when he couldn’t be sure if her choice of words came from an offensive or judgemental perspective?  Or was he being overly sensitive?

I think that fits under ‘overly sensitive’, but it’s understandable and he shouldn’t be blamed for that. I think I’d be a bit bristled, yeah.

“-but you have fans, and people are interested in you.  You get higher ratings for your interviews than even the average handsome hero gets.  You’re second most popular for team leaders for number of youtube videos, possibly helped by a briefly lived internet meme featuring your face, and you have a blemish-free record, both academically and in your two years serving as a part of the Wards.”

You know how odd it is to see something like ‘hey, the number of YouTube videos about you means you’re popular, and there’s also this meme with your face, way to go’ in a superhero story? These are the wonders of the modern world. I suppose it’s no surprise Piggot talks about it. The Protectorate and the Wards seem rather focused on positive PR and all that. Of course she’d be happy to see someone who is in good standings with the public. Not that good PR will replace skill and leadership. His bright future will have to depend on how good he does with this Ward team.

Weld is an eager beaver, charming!

“One.  I was hoping to arrange interstate training sessions with the New York and Boston Wards groups.  As far as I’m aware, the local team doesn’t do this.  They barely have regular situation training.”

Sounds like a decent proposal as long as those other teams have a teleporter cape to bring them all to Brockton Bay. Piggot doesn’t consider it necessary or a priority – and she tries to fight, but Weld is assertive and argues he is willing to deal with the paperwork and the reports. Nice! He’s already taking leadership and doing stuff that hasn’t been done before! He’ll have a bright future if he continues like this.

It’ll have to be done during their free time. Good luck convincing the rest from joining you, buddy. I doubt heroes have much free time, they may be reticent to let it go, no matter how fun whatever you have in mind will be.

Once they arrive, Piggot offers to go introduce him to everyone, he decides to go by himself because Piggot isn’t known for her friendliness and good standing with the Wards. Good decision…I thiiiink…? Arriving to the right place was simple enough. The team is all there, with their masks off. Time for the first impression! A greeting, received with the usual tepid salutations any teenager would give. It may be because they’re tired, though. Vista is injured, too.

“From everything I’ve heard, you guys are an excellent team, and I hope I can do you justice as a leader.  It’s my hope that we can improve on a winning formula.  I’ve talked to the director about some special training-”

“Training?” Clockblocker interrupted, “You just lost me.”

Whooops! That went by like a lead balloon. It’s not that everyone here hates training or anything like that, it’s just that the current times aren’t going to give enough liberty to have fun like Weld wants to. Not that he had time to explain what he had in mind. Pessimism is heavy, even Shadow Stalker feels the riots and disturbed civilians are going to be a permanent fixture. They even have anecdotes about what’s going on out there. It’s every bit as dire as I feared.

“Pull a fifteen hour patrol out there, then come back and talk to me about hope,” Clockblocker spoke.  “You know, I could almost play along.  Go with the blind optimism, say yippee to training.  But you don’t even mention the guy you’re replacing?  A few words for the dead?  It’s a matter of respect, bro.”

He’s got a point there. It’d have been respectful to say a few words. Nothing fancy, something like ‘I know I won’t ever be able to truly replace your former leader’ may have worked. Not that…it’s particularly poignant. I doubt there’s really a right way to bring up this topic.

“I didn’t mean to dismiss them or their sacrifice.  I just didn’t know them, and-”

That right there just made me wince. Bad move, Weld, it kind of implies you need to know them in order to give a few words of respect. It makes you look a tad standoffish. This guy is ruining the first impression already, and it’s not like he’s doing that on purpose. No surprise Clockblocker gets angry and goes out, making a point to turn his back to Weld before addressing the rest. Nobody else is even trying to pay attention to him, agreeing on what they’ll do during the next few hours.

Vista actually tries to be kind with the new guy, telling him everyone is just tired and that maybe Clockblocker simply didn’t give him enough time to mention Aegis and Gallant. Weld proceeds to ruin this lifeline by saying:

“Right,” Weld replied, feeling lost, “Aegis and Gallant.  They’re the ones who died?”

He didn’t shove his foot in his mouth, he unhinged his jaw and swallowed his whole leg. Man, dealing with the Wards during the city’s awful situation and while everyone is tired will truly be a test of character. Good luck, Weld, you’re going to need it. He immediately starts studying the stack of files Piggot gave him, and that’s where the chapter ends.

Well this sure is a change of pace! A new point of view, from the diametrically opposite faction to the Undersiders. It’s good to see how the hero side is faring under the strain of Brockton Bay being a disaster zone, that gives a whole new perspective to this place and its problems. He’s going to have such a hard time I already feel pity for him.

I’ll continue next time.

Next update: next time

[was-gryff-whitehills-apologist]

So, I did end up splitting the rest of the prologue in two — now it is going to consist of three parts (this time I can say it for sure, haha) (the first part is here, btw). There’s less scenes in this one, but I’m hoping it’ll still be decent. My thanks go to everyone who commented/liked/reblogged/took interest in this fic - you guys are my main source of inspiration!!

I also forgot to do this last time, I think, but credit to @badgershite​ for some of his characters I used in this (and took some creative liberties with) - Astor Greyson, maester Wyllard & Roslin Snow.

"Well, we sure as shit ain't freezing to death this way, are we? I've heard, that is the biggest danger this far North, so if we carry on like this — I say, there's nothing to worry about." This was not the first — and likely, not the last — wise line, cracked by the very same recruit, who tried to speak to Gryff during the training. Man's high spirits didn't seem to lower no matter — not after doing rather poorly at the fighting yard ("never aimed to be assigned a ranger and become food to the shadowcats, do you feel me?"), not while having to chop firewood for what felt like ages already ("better than cleaning the swinery, am I right?") & certainly — not at the fact, that Gryff barely listened to him & only seemed to grow more annoyed with each new clever phrase.  The future watcher's name was Alen & it felt like he was everywhere at once — jumping at whatever task elders would give them, making acquaintance with other men & getting a word in every conversation, that would start amidst the crows. Few minded that — the day was dragging lazily, even more so after the sword practice has ended, and it could use at least some entertainment.  "Where do you come from?" Gryff flinched, halting with axe in his hand hanging over the chopping block, realizing it was him being addressed. Behind his shoulder, he could feel Alen giving him that same light smile he had when asking the question to everyone else in the courtyard before.  "North." He responded curtly, bringing the axe down & cracking a log in two.  "Means you didn't have to travel far from home, right? Good for you." His comrade smirked, picking up the firewood Gryff had cut. "And you're no stranger to this bloody cold either. I'm from the Reach myself, grew up near Sunhouse. Must be hard to believe for you — but I only saw snow for the first time on my way here. Imagine how it'd be for you, if you haven't known it since childhood — just wake up one morning, your sleeping bag frozen to the ground & you both covered in all white! I thought I would..." Gryff wasn't really paying attention. The other did look like a southerner, he guessed — his skin was slightly more tanned than that of most men here, & he would shiver & hug himself, trying to keep warm, fairly often, even though he remained smiling the whole time. That did not make him anymore interesting in the Whitehill's eyes. His never-ending chatter grated on his nerves & concentrating on what the man was saying was too hard either way.  "Are you planning to finish your work or prattle like a bunch of maidens 'till night falls?" A deep voice sounded from the stairs that led to the dining hall. A man was approaching them — sturdy, wide-shouldered fella, whose tone & smirk seemed friendly enough nonetheless. "Not to be a pain in your asses, lads, but it's this wood, that'll go to the fireplaces in your cells. Might want to hurry — or you'll be warming up each ones' beds yourself tonight if you don't wanna freeze!" Low guffaw could be heard, while the man sat on one of the barrels & looked over the recruits. Gryff recalled seeing this one along with Astor earlier — Corlys was his name, if he remembered correctly, and probably a builder too, from his looks & the way he followed Astor around.  "We could use some help." Ayden, one of the newcomers from the sword practice beforehand, spoke to the watcher, his tone serious. "You don't look busy — and you'll need a fireplace tonight too, like any of us." "All in good time." Corlys took no offense from being addressed so boldly by a man of lower rank. "When I first arrived, me an' my like slaved away without any help like you do now — showing what we were capable of on our own. Every'ne goes through that. First days are the toughest — you'll get used to it. Won't be long till you yourself are ordering newcomers around." "What are you here for? If you don't mind me asking." The builder asked the very same recruit, casually. "Seem tough — got in a brawl that got outta' hand? Bashed the wrong head in?" "I'm no killer." Ayden appeared to be unnerved by the implication. "And I wasn't sent here. I am a volunteer." More distinct laughs could be heard, and many curious eyes turned to the lad — Gryff's not included. That did not make the recruit waver, however, keeping his expression deadly serious.  "Not many volunteers we get these days." Corlys leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyeing the younger man with curiosity. "Was it really that bad wherever you're from? Can't imagine what'd make a man do such thing." "It was not— not bad, not worse than it was for anyone else anyway." Ayden shrugged. "I just knew that was the right thing to do. The best way of serving the Realm I am capable of." Now even Gryff stole a quick skeptic glance at him. The expression in the man's eyes suggested his words were no joke. Several others whispered amid themselves, uttering short laughs. Nobody seemed particularly impressed by what has just been said, but rather confused instead.  "Figures..." Corlys huffed out air, that turned white from the cold as it left him. "So, who else got any stories to share?" Now he turned to the rest of them, trying to stir conversation further. "Something more interesting than stealing a sack of cabbage or stabbing your fellow man over the maiden fair he bedded before you could? Anyone?”    

Gryff had no idea what kind of "interesting stories" he was expecting from these men. Not that he cared, but thanks to Alen's never-ending talking, he had, against his will, heard the other speak to most of the recruits already & found out the crimes, that got most of them sent to the Watch. Dennet has indeed stabbed some man, Eman, a short & bearded northerner, was a rapist, some lanky & ugly lad, who hailed from the Riverlands, has been caught stealing one time too many & his lord got fed up with that, but had mercy & banished him here instead of taking a hand... All clothed in the same black recruits' armor, shuffling back & forth through the courtyard, carrying out their assignments, starting small talk here & there in gruff voices, they were nothing but a faceless mass to him, barely different from one another. Even speaking to any of them seemed like a waste of time.  "What about you, pretty mug?" Corlys ran an eye over Alen, who was happy to stop by his side & join the conversation rather than continue with the work. "It was, probably, just a sack of stolen cabbage — or, maybe, from the looks of you, someone's stolen maidenhood?" It was true, that the recruit was handsome, with thick & wavy chestnut hair & soft, bright eyes. Along with the constant disarming smile, all that gave him an extremely non-threatening look. Nothing in his appearance would let the guy be mistaken for an experienced fighter. "I'm tougher than I seem, actually." The reachman made a mockingly offended face. "And it costed the last man who underestimated me. Unfortunately, he was no mere man — he was my lord's son. I only escaped with my head because I didn't kill the guy — but have roughened him up a fair bit." "What'd a wimp like you do to roughen' a man up?" Eman laughed hoarsely, dumping the chopped firewood he's carried on top of other logs. "Bit off 'is cock when you 'ere pleasin' him on ye knees?"  "Let's just say, he can't walk very well anymore." Alen crossed arms on his chest, eyes narrowing at the raper. "Nothing you, or anyone here, would want for yourselves." "I'm pissin' my pants in terror." Bearded northerner huffed, heading back to the chopping block, hands busy rubbing knots out of his lower back. "And what does the lordling has to say for 'imself?" Phrase came as a surprise, making Gryff tense up — but not turn around. He felt the other's eyes prickle his back like a knife's tip. "What makes a noble join the company of our likes?" Another inhale of cold air tightened inside his chest, his body heat not enough to warm it. Putting all of his force in it, Gryff brought the axe down for the hundredth time, chopping a log in two.  "That's not the business of any of you." Ayden cast him a glare, frowning. Corlys, turning more serious in a matter of seconds, got back up from where he sat.  "Alright, that's enough talking. Take the lordling's example and get back to work. You'll be warmer that way, and—" "And why ain't it any of our business?" Eman stood with hands on his hips, with a grin, that made a show of his cracked teeth. "Think you're too good for us, simpler folk? Well, you wouldn't 'ave been sent here if that was so — so don't be so fuckin' prissy, your lordship. Everyone's tellin' their story, so what's so special about yers'?" "Look, just drop it, alright?.." Alen picked up his own axe from the frozen ground, avoiding the eyes of either men. "I'm tired of listening to the same shit all over again, aren't you? The sooner we finish, the sooner we're all getting fed..." "I just don't want the lordling to get any wrong ideas." The raper shrugged, tucking at the end of his beard. "He thinks just because he got a darn last name, he's suddenly special?.. People deserve to know whom they'll serve with. What if he's a deserter? A backstabber? A coward? How are you going to trust him to watch yer back, if he won't even—" "That is rich" Gryff's voice sounded foreign even to himself, cold, sardonic & lacking any passion. "From a pisstain, who chose this, so he wouldn't get his prick cut off. Aren't you the trustworthy one?" "Aye." Now the man's own voice was akin to cracking of thick ice — harsh & cold. "It was my cock, that got me sent here, boy — least that means I have one. Can't say the same 'bout you so far, fourthborn. Which one of yer lord-brothers didn't you have the balls to fight, so you let them take you by the scruff & throw this far north?" His fingers tightened around the axe's handle & finally, he turned to face the opponent. Other men seemed to be low-key taking steps back from the two, forming sort of an empty circle around them. Eman's gaze only briefly scurried over Gryff's weapon, the sight causing him little to no distress.  "Hit a nerve there, 'ave I?" He cocked his head, grin widening. "Don't be shy, just say it out loud. Tell us how you got kicked out, because you couldn't keep a hold of a lousy garrison against a bunch of leftovers from biggar men's war."

Another one who knows, knows more than he is supposed to, the sickening thought pulsated in his mind, but Gryff refused to show it in any way. He could not allow anybody to know how their words truly affected him — pretending like it was nothing would be for the best. "And here I wondered who you reminded me of. You watch out there" Gryff was rocking the axe in his hand slightly, as if adjusting the weapon & readying to aim it. His shoulders hunched forward slightly & muscles tensed, prepared. "Many of the leftovers didn't live to tell that story." "Many, an' still not enough to earn you a way back in the house." The fucker was mocking him, & showed no fear, not the slightest twitch. "Drop the act, your lordship — every'une here will know who you are soon. No point in hiding—" Gryff was slowly drawing the hand with axe in it behind his back, readying for a swing, when it suddenly slipped out of his fingers — got pulled from them. Turning back, he found himself face-to-face with Astor Greyson, who displayed no signs of disturbance, weighing the axe in his hand casually.  "Decent job you lot did here, I have to admit." He looked satisfied, while handing the axe to Alen, who has conveniently stepped in from behind. "That's enough firewood for a bloody fortnight — I suggest we all take a break from this. Corlys, find the lads something else to do. And you" Gryff was just about to get back to Eman's case, this time armed with nothing more than his fists, when Astor's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Come with me, if you don't mind. There are some things, I believe, only you can help me with." Gryff did mind, actually, and a lot — minded being dragged away from the starting conflict like a mutt, by his scruff, minded being in the company of this fucker, who had, undoubtedly, caused the rumors about him to start spreading. He also knew he would have to swallow all that. The rapist was smirking at him, clearly considering himself the winner, and Gryff swallowed that too, unwillingly dragging after Astor, who was leading him away from the rest of men, towards the entrance to the keep. 

It took some mental effort to find his way to the maester’s chambers. Gryff had never been a frequent visitor of the place anyway – not with Ebbert spending time there as often as he used to before fucking off to the Citadel. He also recalled little about the Highpoint’s current healer, but that hardly mattered now – it’s not like their acquaintance was promising to be a long one. He opened the door – and froze, words he was about to utter getting stuck in his throat like a bone, while Gryff’s mind struggled to process what he was seeing. Apparently, no actions were actually needed on his part – an excited gasp, the no-longer-familiar “uncle Gryff!..” exclamation, the quick patter of feet & seconds later he was hit with the full force of the jump-hug of his niece, who now clung tightly to his neck, chuckling joyously. “Now, ww-what the hell?..” A voice from somewhere behind Roslin’s back inquired, lazily, yet indignantly. “I thought I’ve told ye, I needed it to be quiet if you wan’ me to be done with the cursed scratch anytime soon…” Paying little mind to the words – or the pain that awoke in his own bruised body at the impact of the hug – Gryff momentarily snaked his arms around the girl’s frame, lifting her up & clutching close to his chest. The sheer emotion was overwhelming, causing his hands, one pressed securely to her back, and another – stroking the fluffy golden hair, to tremble. His fogged brain hadn’t even registered what was going on yet, but the feeling of foreign warmth already settled inside – so real, so tangible, that it was slowly replacing the sheer hollowness, that was there seconds ago. “I knew I was right and you’d return, eventually!..” Roslin’s voice at one point turned high-pitched from excitement. Her embrace felt so tight, that if Gryff was to let go of her, she’d probably remain hanging from his neck, legs dangling in the air. “Why was it so long though? No one would even tell me where you were, so I had no idea- but is this because of what happened with the bad men sneaking in tonight? I thought you were fighting them, but they are gone, and you’re here, and that’s good, because I don’t want them to get you.”  She chattered on, her thought trail flowing from one subject to another overwhelmingly quickly. “It’s safe now that father has fended them off, so I think we should all be staying here, so he can protect us if they try doing it for the second time. I’m glad you didn’t run in with them on your way home- you could’ve, but it’s still good that you’ve arrived…” Finally, she stumbled, having run out of all air. “S-slow down there, little star.” It’s been so painfully long since he had a chance to say that nickname. Carefully, Gryff pulled back from the hug, still holding Ros in his arms securely, to examine her face. The initial excitement was wearing off, as the sight of a long, red cut on her face caused his blood to run cold.  "What happened?..” He couldn’t prevent the horror he felt from leaking into his voice. Almost against his will, one of his hands moved to touch her cheek below the horrendous scar, as if checking whether she was still in one piece & otherwise unharmed. “Who did this to you?” “I’m trying to tell you – it was the bad man.” The girl winced & Gryff sensed her whole body become tense briefly. “Wait – did they, did they actually get you too?” She must’ve only noticed his missing eye now. “Are you hurt?” She reached to touch the fabric of his eyepatch, but then pulled her hand back, like she was afraid of causing him more pain. “Did you run in with the bad men? Was it them who hurt you? How bad is it?” “Nothing.” There was unusual firmness in Gryff’s tone & he pulled Roslin back in his embrace, hiding the sight of his missing eye & the scars, that ran from under the eyepatch like thin cracks in stone, from the girl’s line of view. “I swear to you, it’s nothing, little star. I’m fine – I just need to know, that you are too.”  His arms were already getting tired from holding her – curse the bone-deep ache & weakness, that sat in him ever since the fall – so Gryff stepped forward, carefully lowering his niece back to sit on the low table where the maester was tending to her when he came in. “That is good to know.” A smile returned on her face within a moment. “I’m fine too – it just still hurts a little, but father said I was very brave and could bear it a little longer, so I did, and it’s good now.” Roslin’s expression became more concerned. “I- I’m glad your eye doesn’t hurt, but – I hope you can also still see? I don’t mean anything, it just looks… Well, it is…” She struggled to find the right words & Gryff couldn't blame her. It looked fucking revolting, the skin around the wound unnaturally green, blue, even yellow, inflamed scratch marks threatening to leak with either blood or some gross liquid he didn’t even have a name for. “I mean it – it’s nothing.” He didn’t even have to force a smile – it just crept on his lips naturally, from merely looking at Ros. Gryff took a seat by the girl’s side, circling an arm around her shoulders. “I can still see you well enough to tell how much you’ve grown, can’t I? It’s all good.” “If you say so.” With a content sigh, she moved closer to him. As she took one more look at his face, her smile widened further. “It’s like we match now! See – and on the same sides.” She pointed out. “I mean, it isn’t pretty, but it isn’t too bad either. It’s… I don’t know… It’s sort of special? Us having something in common like that.” Roslin shrugged, absentmindedly swinging her legs in the air. Gryff had his own opinion on the matter, one he would not voice, so as not to upset his niece. His gaze kept traveling back to her scar, the sight causing uneasiness to swell in his stomach. The hasty story about some “bad men” just wouldn’t form into anything coherent in his head. He needed some explanation of how that could’ve happened – how the fuck did they allow Ros to get hurt at all. His bewildered gaze traveled across the room until it stopped on the maester, who’s been watching them with a displeased scowl, annoyed at being ignored by the duo. “S-so, you must be Gryff, eh?” Finally, the man spoke up. “His l-lordship’s brother. Didn’t expect you to ever come barging in to me like that.” The words were heavily laced with sarcasm. “From the way he speaks of you, I thought you’d be sent to crypt up'n arrival, not here…” Roslin didn’t seem to get the implication, while Gryff shot the healer the dirtiest look he could manage. He’d gladly get up & demonstrate just how much damage he could still do for someone ready to be buried, but violence was clearly off limits in the presence of his niece.  “Cut the crap, maester.” He spoke through his teeth gritted. “And tell me what the actual hell happened here, will you? How could she get hurt like that?" “We all ‘ave nearly gotten hurt while you were sitting your ass off at Ironrath, pretendin' to be important.” Wyllard didn’t seem to care about the fact he was talking to a noble – probably due to being aware of Gryff’s place in the house’s hierarchy. “The F-forrester an’ his Glenmore buddies were here… And some other lord with ‘em – some, eh… Grey-something… Fuck if I know. What I know, is that the fucker meant to slit as much throats as he could – an’ would’ve, if Torrhen didn’t know bet-tter, and haven’t set ‘em a trap…” Gryff blinked once, then the second time, his mind barely even registering any of what was said past the last name “Forrester”. “Do you…” His throat felt like it has turned dry as parchment. “Do you mean it was Rodrik- Rodrik Forrester who did this?” “I don’t know for sure.” Roslin intervened, frowning a little with the effort to recall. “I think, papa fought him – but it was someone else who cut my face. I don’t really know…” If anything, she appeared confused rather than scared. “Someone just grabbed me and held me from behind… Then I got cut- I don’t remember how, exactly… The man who did it was gone, but I didn’t see where. And there was somebody on the floor – he must’ve been hurt too…” It wasn’t just shivers that ran down Gryff’s back now – it felt like waves of heat & cold took turns rushing under his skin. Before he knew it, the arm around Roslin tightened, protectively. She looked like she was searching her memory for another moment, but then shook her head a little – almost as if shaking off the thoughts – and looked back at Gryff with another smile. “Papa was there to protect me though.” She concluded. “What happened to him?” Gryff barely even recognized his own voice – dreadfully calm & steely, enough that it seemed to make Wyllard shrink from unease. “Where is he now?” “The Forrester? On the way to his bloody keep, for all I know…” Maester scoffed, but sensibly moved in the opposite direction from Gryff a bit & pretended to go through the equipment he left on a smaller table. “Hell knowss-s – after I’ve finished patchin’ his arm, he and their men, that were left…” “Patching his arm?” None of this even seemed real to Gryff – it felt more like a strange dream you’d get from sleeping in a hot room. A stupid story somebody made up out of boredom. “On the way to his keep? What the fucking hell are you saying?” Roslin seemed to be shifting a little in her seat, disturbed by her uncle’s change in demeanor, but even that couldn’t bring the man back to his senses. “Are you telling me, that Rodrik Forrester came here at night to start a slaughter, got Roslin hurt and is still bloody alive?.. Where do you think his lordship Torrhen was looking then?” “Fuck- what d’you expect me to say, huh?” Wyllard fought back in a small voice, his eyes shifting across the room, trying to look anywhere, but at the man silently seething with rage in front of him. “I’m-mm just, just tellin’ you what I saw, alright?! As for Torrhen – how ‘bout you go an’ ask him yourself? It was his bloody idea to make peace with them and let them go! That - and give up some of his guards, no less…” “Peace?..” “Why do we have to talk about this now, uncle?” Ros tucked at Gryff’s arm, trying to get his attention. ”The bad men are gone – you don’t have to worry about them anymore. Why don’t you tell me where you’ve been this whole time instead? I’ve been dying to find out for so long!” For half a second Gryff tried to collect his thoughts & think of something to respond with, before the maester, albeit without knowing, came to his aid. “And I’ve been dying to find out why you came ‘ere in the ff-first place.” Wyllard grunted. “Can’t be the eye – don’t tell me you never got it sorted out over the whole time you’ve been away…” It only hit Gryff now, that he was supposed to be having his injuries looked at right now. Determining whether he was good to leave — that last part has completely slipped from his mind when he saw Ros, who was now leaning on his side, smiling joyously. The thought of having to voice the truth of the matter to her clenched his insides in a cold, painful grip.  "I... Fell off a horse on my way here." The part where he was first stabbed in the back by a little Forrester shit out of the blue, and then kicked about by a bunch of Ashwood bastards, was left out — it hardly suited his niece's ears. "Hit my head, and, eh... Everything else, really." He was stalling, wishing to prolong the calm moment. Gryff truly had no idea of what he'd say to Roslin when it was the time — he still had trouble processing reality on his own, leave alone putting it to words.  Realizing he could not escape more work, Wyllard rolled his eyes, grimacing like all of his teeth had suddenly started hurting. Gryff noted how pale & sickly the maester was looking — not exactly ill, but definitely not normal either. If he had to guess, he'd say the other was suffering from hangover, but that didn't make much sense — Torrhen would hardly let one if his men go drunken if he's been preparing for an ambush.  "Fuckin' fine." He huffed, shuffling through his equipment. "Take your shit off then — armor, eyepatch... I'm gonna ss-see what's to be done." Gryff hesitantly obliged — first unfastening the pauldrons, then slowly & carefully dragging off the leathery armor, his scarf & shirt, remaining naked up from the waistline — an action, that made him bite the inside of his mouth to keep from moaning, all the injuries starting to ache worse at once.  The sight under there was not... pretty, to put it mildly, enough to make Roslin gasp softly in shock. Gryff himself had not quite anticipated the extent to which the damage went. Stunned, he observed his side that's been skinned raw, most likely when hitting the ground after the cliff fall, & the almost black bruises where he received the kicks from the four fuckface siblings of his cursed former bride. Scratches & dried blood adorned almost his entire frame, and the stab wound under the left shoulder blade, while not too deep, throbbed fiercely.  "So... You did run in with the bad men..." Ros stated quietly while her uncle, wincing, took off the eyepatch too, just to reveal a messy wound that used to be an eye — scratched raw, wetly glittering from blood & puss, that have been soaking from it for gods know how long now, while the injury remained untreated.  "I... Did, little star, yes." He had to admit, turning his face away from Roslin, so that the missing eye wouldn't attract her attention.  "Don't worry about that." He added quickly — & just a tad sternly. "Better tell me how things have been around here while I was away." He gave her an encouraging smile. "I've heard rumors about your parents finally getting around to giving you a little brother, right? How do you like him?" It was of great importance to the fouthborn that Roslin wouldn't become neglected in favor of her more legitimate sibling. With his brother's uncontrollable ego, Gryff wouldn't put that past him, as for his woman — he knew nothing of her, not even if she cared for her husband's bastard child at all. She was not Roslin's parent by blood — but he could still see it hurting the girl if a trueborn boy would be openly cherished more. The mere thought made his blood boil.  "Of course I like Karl!" The mention of her sibling seemed to cheer Roslin up, excitement flickering in her eyes. "Have you seen him, uncle Gryff?” Question was met with a mere shrug — he did, out of the corner of his eye, notice a bundle wrapped up in clothing in the arms of lady Whitehill, but that was it. "You really should! Father might not like that... But, I think, when he is busy enough not to notice, we could sneak you to take a look? Mother is going to agree, I'm sure — she doesn't know you, but I'll tell her you mean no harm — and she'll see it herself when she meets you!" "Mother?.." He sounded slightly surprised — mostly from not expecting that. While Roslin spoke, Wyllard had pushed a bowl of water & a washcloth towards him to clean the blood off while he prepared his equipment, which Gryff did, not without wincing. "So, I take it, you and your father's wife get along nicely?" He tried his best to make that sound natural — it was just the fact, that he was not used to Ros calling anyone "mother". The word as whole held nothing but a negative, hate-filled undertone for Gryff — but he'd be glad to know it wasn't so for Roslin.  "Me and lady Greta? We do, yes..." Mention of the woman seemed to fluster Ros further, her features filling with an even more overjoyed expression, but something seemed to hold that joy back in a way. "Oh, uncle, I can't wait till you get to know her! She's so— I, I don't even know! She is the best mother I could ever hope to have. I knew father would bring me one, eventually, but I never expected it to be someone like her." Something akin to uncertainty reflected in the girl's blue eyes, and her gaze traveled to the floor.  "I... wasn't sure she'd want me to be her daughter, to be honest." She confessed quietly, making Gryff's heart skip a beat. Smile was back on her lips in a heartbeat, though. "But she did. And I wouldn't want to have any other mother." Before Gryff could respond, he felt Wyllard's hand on his torso, palpating the ribcage unceremoniously, making him gasp in pain. Maester observed the damage, his gaze glassy & mind clearly not in the action.  "Ssseven hells..." Healer shook head, as if trying to get his brain into working. "Doesn't look like you got any broken ribs to me... Does it hurt to breathe in? Deeply, try it." Unwillingly, Gryff took a deep breath, that seemed to make the pressure & pain sharper in the spot maester's hand was on. As soon as he felt like he couldn't handle it anymore, he hastily sighed, letting out the air, that prompted another short stab in that spot, but then the ache eased to dull again.  "Eh— one might be cracked..." Wyllard shrugged & stepped back from him. "Will 'rap it up just in case. F-ffor now" He picked some bowl from his table & shoved it in Gryff's hand. "Just spread this on your wounds. That should do." Gryff squinted down, distrustfully — he's been given some gooey salve, that distinctly smelled of herbs. Something told him, the maester was to take a little bit more of a participation in the process — but he honestly had no wish for the drunkard to touch him more than needed. Dipping fingers into the ointment, he started carefully working it into his skin where it hurt the most, wincing from the cold & pain awakening in the scratches.

"What did he mean... one is cracked?" Ros tilted her head to the side in confusion. "What is cracked?"

"His rib, girl." The maester barked, annoyed, meanwhile proceeding to cut a long & wide piece from a cloth, that he, presumably, meant to use as a bandage. "What else you think it'd be — his skull? I'd n-not be surprised... And what are you doing hanging 'round here anyway? You're fine, so quit gettin’ under my feet — go search for your father, or something..."

"Leave­ her be, you..." Gryff almost dropped the bowl, sharply turning to face the healer, his eye hurling lightnings. "You drunken fool." He had to tone down what he actually wanted to say in Roslin's presence, making up for it with venom in his voice.  "She can be wherever she pleases — nobody asked for your bloody opinion." Part of him was simply enraged that this cretin would dismiss his niece as nothing more than a bother. Another, however, shrank from chilly fear when Wyllard mentioned Torrhen. There was a high possibility Roslin would indeed run off to find her father if reminded to — and then he could possibly not get another chance to speak with her before leaving. Then she'd be led to believe he chose to go away again without an explanation or a goodbye — Torrhen would undoubtedly instill the idea in her mind. The mere thought made the entirety of Gryff's skin crawl with anxiety.

"I told you pa says I can be where I want, didn't I?" Ros looked at Wyllard victoriously, but there was hardly any gloating in her tone, so he simply scoffed, admitting defeat. The girl turned back to Gryff, smiling, glad that her uncle had backed her up on the subject. 

"And I'm not getting under your feet, right? I just missed you, that is all!" He couldn't resist — rising his left hand, the one that wasn't covered in salve, to shuffle through her golden hair, causing the girl to chuckle. "I'm just really glad you're home. I know you and father don't like being around each other, but you can just be in different places, right? The castle's big enough for you two. I hope you can stay for a while now..."

Gryff could feel his throat tightening dangerously. He dreaded the revelation, and wished for nothing more than to defer it just a little more — but he could not bring himself to be dishonest with her at the same time. Roslin was noticing the change in his expression, he could tell, so he had to speak up, while he still could.

"Little star..." His hand lowered to rest on her shoulder, Gryff cleared his throat, having to clench his teeth to remain calm. "I... I'm sorry, but— I can't, well... stay..." His bewildered & guilty gaze shifted lower, feeling unable to face her. "I'm going to leave again... And soon, actually. I will be gone for even longer this time..."

"What?" Girl's big, blue eyes grew wide from shock at first, but then her whole expression changed to a hurt one. "Why? Uncle Gryff, that's just not fair..." There was a soft whining intonation in her voice, that made Gryff's heart drop. "Even father says he can stay now, and he is the lord! Why do you have to go away again? And where? What is so important that you'd leave us because of it..."

"I would not!" Gryff's swift response sounded almost desperate, while the hand on Roslin's shoulder started to tremble. "Ros, you have to believe me — I-I don't want this, but I have no choice. Your father is sending me to the Night's Watch." At the mention of his sentence, Wyllard perked up a bit, squinting with curiosity. "I have no choice, he—" Gryff fell silent, hit with the realization, that he had trapped himself. He couldn't speak ill of Torrhen in her presence — not unless he wanted his niece to hate him — but he could not take the blame for this either, couldn't let her think he was leaving willingly.

"The Night's what?" Ros wrinkled her nose, frowning. "Is that far from Highpoint? Why do you even have to be there? When will you return?" She kept asking questions Gryff simply could not bring himself to answer. The last one, however, seemed to have attracted the maester's attention.

"Rr-return? From the bloody Watch?" He smirked lacklusterly, wiping the blade in his hand on the ragged pieces of cut cloth. "This 'as to be a joke, right?.. Or don't you know that—" The man was cut off, when his sleepy red eyes met Gryff's. Something in the way the fourthborn looked at him caused Wyllard to shut up instantly, and cower, bending over his working table & keeping his head low.

"You can't even tell me? Roslin's tone grew more worried. "What even is that place? Is it safe for you to be there?"

"N-now, actually..." The pair was interrupted by Wyllard’s approaching, with bandages at the ready. "If what's they been sayin' 'bout you and the Ashwood lot's true — hell, it's prob'ly safer for you there than 'ere. 'Least they won't come bargin' in, demanding yer h-hhead — and if they do, heh, I wish 'em luck. The Watch gives no fucks about lords' games. They got bigger things to worry for.”

Gryff stared back at the man, baffled — more so by the coherency of his words, than their content, as well as the fact, that the maester has unknowingly helped him out. Ros blinked, overwhelmed by the flow of new information she clearly had trouble sorting out.

"Ashwoods? Are they part of the bad men too?" She turned to Gryff with a concerned frown. "Why else would they want to come and get you?"

"Yes... Yes, Roslin, they are." He had little choice of what to say, and Gryff's response was genuine enough. "They are the ones I ran in with on my way here."

"So it were them who injured you so badly?" Roslin gasped. "We—we can't let them get you again!"

"Your lord-father took care of that though." Wyllard dropped casually. "As I was sayin' — that ain't gonna be a concern when he's at Castle Black..."

"So he is protecting you from the bad men by sending you there..." As the girl concluded, her face gradually lit up again. "Uncle, I'm going to miss you, but... I can't ask you to stay if it's not safe, right? And if papa thinks it isn't, then it must be bad..."

"And I'll miss you, little star..." He needed all of his remaining strength not to let too much of his true emotion show. "Thank you... For understanding."

"Of course." Much to Gryff's relief, Roslin was now relaxed & smiling brightly again. "And when you're back, we can still..."

"Actually.­" Maester's hissing low voice interrupted them yet again, and Gryff instantly tensed — afraid, that the other was about to drop the harsh reality on Roslin. "Nobody's gonna be gettin' back, or forth, or wherever if I don't bandage him the f-fuck up now, so how about you let me get to it?" He was clearly getting tired & looked like he'd rather be going to sleep than dealing with a second patient that night.

Motioning for Gryff to get his arms out of the way, he got to wrapping his torso up tightly, prompting a low groan from him. The maester wasn't showing his fresh scars any mercy & the bandage was tight enough to make it harder to breath & his cracked rib start to hurt worse. Roslin flinched at the sound, concern finding her face, but only for a moment as she figured out what to do immediately — carefully taking Gryff's hand in her own, smaller one & smiling at him encouragingly. The action was enough to take his mind off whatever was being done to him — despite the pain, a smile cracked his own face.

Finishing his job, Wyllard finally cast a look at the festering wound in the place of an eye, scowling with disgust. Taking eyepatch off just made it worse & the mere touch of air against sore, raw, wet injury made Gryff squirm uncomfortably. The maester got back to his table, hand hovering over the load of tools.

"I take it, no one's looked at it for fuck-knows-how-long­, ey?..." Finally making up his mind, he picked up what looked like a rather sharp knife with thin handle & a double-edged blade. Gryff gulped nervously at the sight of dried brown blood that stained it, while the healer proceeded to scrub it off with some cloth.

"The hell are you about to do with... this?"

"What d'you think?" Squinting, Wyllard lifted his empty stare to him. "Even the girl here could tell it'ss rotting. You're runnin' a fever, if you couldn't tell — it's s-still low, but if nothing's done, it'll get worse. And if the abscess ruptures, and all that is in there starts ss-spilling outta control... You don't want it happenin', trust me."

"But, you can do something about it, right?" Roslin hardly understood the meaning of these words, beyond the fact, that her uncle wasn't doing good, and that was enough to rise her worry. "I won't get under your feet anymore, promise — if you can fix it..." 

The offer sounded so innocently genuine, that it promoted half a smirk even from Wyllard.

"Course I do." He grunted hoarsely, uncorking a small vessel, that instantly filled the room with a sharp, alcohol-like smell — prompting a satisfied sigh from the maester. With visible regret, he spilled the liquid on the blade, making it glitter slightly. "Goin' to cut it open myself." The man grinned, like it was more of a dark joke, than anything, and upon noticing how Gryff looked at him, added: "Unlesss you'd rather just leave it be. Suits me ffine, honestly. W-who knows" He shrugged, concluding under his breath, so that Ros wouldn't hear. "Perhaps that's the way Torrhen would actually prefer it to be..." Gryff watched the blade silently, unable to make up his mind at once. The mere thought of it cutting into the overly sensitive flesh of the wound & letting out whatever’s been gathering there was frankly terrifying – just as much as the perspective of doing nothing about it, until it would fucking leak inside his skull or some shit. He did feel feverish, had been feeling that way for a long time, but had already grown used to it, only reflecting on his state now that it's been pointed out to him. Whenever he was not distracted enough to stop caring, the wound itched, and burned, and made him feel restless and nauseated. Something needed to be done about it, he tried to convince himself, but the sight of the maester’s knife made it impossible to push out a word. 

Hell, maybe saying no to Cley, when he had offered to look at the wound wasn’t actually a very good idea... Noticing the tense silence from her uncle, Roslin tightened the grip of her hand around his.

"It can't be too bad, right?" She stated in her most confident tone, looking up at him. "I was scared to have mine looked at too, but it was okay in the end – only throbbed for a little, but then felt better. You want me to stay here while he looks at your eye? I don’t think ma and pa will be looking for me – they must be busy, after all that’s happened…” Gryff’s only eye met hers, and the decision pretty much made itself. “I guess, if you were brave enough, then I should try to be too, right?” With a nervous laugh, he clenched her hand in his own – just a bit, careful not to hurt Ros. “Only because you say so, little star.” With that said, he swiftly nodded to Wyllard, before fear had a chance to get hold of him once more. “Fuckin’ finally.” The man huffed as he approached him, lifting the blade so that it was right in front of Gryff’s eyes. “I’ll try to be quick, so you try to keep silent” maester’s eyes stopped on Roslin briefly. “and not break her damn fingers. Not gonna lie” he smirked grimly. “That’s-s about to hurt like all seven hells, and more than that…” Before any response could be received, Wyllard brought the blade forward & sliced, cutting through the inflamed, festering flesh.

He followed Astor through dark & cold unfamiliar corridors & several stairways, that felt like a maze to Gryff. The other had cast him a look or two, but must've considered his expression too hostile to try & start a conversation. The Whitehill felt little to no inclination towards speaking – it would, after all, most likely be some shit about how he was supposed to try harder to get along with the others, like he was fucking ten. When the watcher finally spoke up, they were in an empty hallway, with no other black brothers to be seen.

“So, Gryff – I take it you had a chance to look around a bit?..”

“So, ser.” He parroted the other’s casual tone. “I take it, you pester every man who arrives here, till they’re ready to jump from the top of the Wall just to be rid of you?”

“Well, not exactly every one of them.” That wasn’t enough to put Astor Greyson out of countenance, even if a shade of surprise reflected in his expression. “Only those, who, I think, need it most, truly.” That made Gryff roll his eye, unsurprised – Torrhen would never have missed a chance to stick it to him one last time, writing the best damn recommendation letter possible, one that painted him as something in between a psychopath, too dangerous to trust with a training sword, and a drooling moron, unable to tie his own shoelaces. It only made fucking sense, that this man would set out to supervise him – new lord Whitehill knew exactly what to say to ensure Gryff would not be trusted.

“While we're at it” deciding, that it was probably best to keep moving, Astor went on, continuing his speech without having to look Gryff in the eye. “Any luck with picking a place to stay? For the time being, at least. Not like it’s luxurious, but we have so few men, that newcomers can be choosy with the sleeping place. If you’re still uncertain, I could always help out. Have been here long enough to know what might suit your taste.”

“Fuck if I know.” Gryff jerked a shoulder, muttering under his breath. He didn’t even know which of the buildings were meant for the watchers to sleep in, much less where he’d like to be. He had no wish to be anywhere at Castle Black for another minute, and neither – to take any help from this man, but just saying nothing would make him look stupid. “Somewhere where it’s quiet, I guess. Far from the fuckers like the one you so kindly took me away from.” He couldn’t help but add the last sarcasticsentence.

“Hardin’s Tower should be good if you’re the loner type.” Astor stated. “Too lonely for my taste, barely anyone lives there – a couple brothers, and, I think, a wildling or two, out of those few, who fancied staying here – in case such company bothers you.” Gryff couldn’t care less, and actually found that fitting, in a way. Whatever wildling chose to settle down at Castle Black would likely become a pariah among black brothers from day one – a fate, that, the Whitehill presumed, he would soon share. 

“You’ll hardly even run into each other much. What do you say?” One more question Gryff didn’t grace with a response, just shrugging in an irritated manner. Hardin’s Tower it was, then – not that he had even been expecting to be given a choice. If the Greyson had only called on him to discuss accommodation, then he expected to be able to leave now – and possibly seek Eman out, to explain, in the most expressive of phrases (and punches) the error of man's ways to him.

“I’ll let myself be honest.” They have approached a door, that Astor opened, revealing a small, but comfortable enough looking cell to Gryff’s view, & motioning for him to follow inside. “I understand, you must not be in the… best of moods, but I don’t recall giving you a reason to be so hostile to me in particular. If I did something to offend – you should say so, so we can work it out. Shooting glares and rolling eyes won’t get us anywhere.” He didn’t smirk anymore, but didn’t look angry either – just serious, waiting patiently for Gryff explain himself.

“What gives you the thought, that I want to work anything out with you?” Anger was starting to choke him. “Who the fuck do you even think you are, my wet nurse? Or have you read a bloody letter, by a fuckface you know nothing of, and now think you know everything about me? Well, guess what – that’s nothing to pride yourself on, if every last man in this fucking keep had already taken a peak too. So how about you let others handle the mess, and leave me be, if I’m being such a bother?..”

That was the most words he had uttered at once, probably ever since departing from Highpoint, and now he was out of breath, glaring at the man in front of him with disgust. Astor, however, frowned & seemed genuinely taken aback, for the first time since meeting Gryff.

“I’m sorry, but…” He shook his head a little, frown furthering. “I genuinely don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“For fuck’s sake…” Gryff threw his head back, jaw clenching tightly. “Quit pretending to be clueless, will you? Or why’d you think I even bothered with that asshole, there, in the courtyard? He knows awfully a lot about my life, that I’ve told no one here. Oh yes, he, and the master-at-arms, and probably every last stableboy as well at this point. Where do you think they would get all that, if not from you – and from the bloody letter?”

The Greyson did not respond, instead looking at Gryff for a few seconds, and then going up to his desk, where he hastily began to search for something in the drawer.

“Now it at least makes sense why you’d get angry at me…” He spoke more to himself, than to Gryff, who watched on uncomprehendingly. What he got out was the familiar envelop. “I’m… at a loss, really. This is actually what- part of what I called you here for, but I guess, other matters can wait. I understand why you’d think it was me spreading rumors, or showing the letter around, but you see – that’s not what happened. I simply had no chance to.” 

He handed the envelop to Gryff, who stared at it, baffled – the blue seal with the familiar Whitehill sigil was untouched. “I haven’t read it, and, apparently, nobody else did. Don’t know if you’ll believe me, but nobody heard the things I know about you from me either. I have no interest in doing that, and ser Raffard isn’t exactly someone I’d share those things with either way.”

“But…” Gryff blinked, pieces refusing to come together in his mind. “If not from you or the letter, then how would they…”

“No idea. Maybe the men you arrived with told someone when you didn’t hear. Perhaps somebody else wrote the Watch, unlikely as that is… Anyway – I’d like to consider the problem between the two of us resolved. I don’t blame you for getting defensive – I just hope you believe me now.”

Gryff’s eye moved from the watcher to the letter, and then back to the watcher. He wasn’t sure of what to say – still not over the previous fit of anger, but not exactly feeling comfortable with taking it out on Astor anymore.

“Why didn’t you read it?..” Were the first words he found. “And… why give it to me instead?”

“Not going to lie.” Astor motioned towards a seat, inviting Gryff to take it – another gesture, that was ignored. “Under other circumstances, I would probably have at least taken a look – not to go and tell others about it, of course. However, after your arrival I’ve had time to put together what I’ve heard of you and of your house, and well… I decided, it wouldn’t be the best way to go about things. Let’s say, I’d rather get to know you myself, than let your- other man’s opinion of you muddy the waters.”

“Are you not, at least, curious what I was sent here for?”

“A failure to keep a stronghold of your enemies following a war.” Astor stated plainly. “The man, who brought you here told me that much – and for me, that’s enough. Unless, of course, you yourself have something to add, Gryff – in which case, I’m all ears.”

None of this made sense to him, not a even a bit-

“So, you’d trust my word, but not my lord-brother’s?” Gryff scoffed, skeptically. “A wise choice... would be for someone, who knows us both, which you don’t.”

“With all due respect for your lord-brother” the Gresyon went back to smirking. “I don’t particularly care about him, or his words. He’s at Highpoint, and that’s where he’ll remain, from what I can predict – while you are here, and to be my brother one day. What you have to say is, from now on, far more important to me, than any words of any man south of the Wall.

You can lie to me, if you please, but the only one you’ll be wronging by doing so is yourself.” Astor went on with a sigh, taking the offered seat himself. “Things are different here, Gryff, and if you think you have a better idea of what life at the Wall is than other newcomers, just because you’re a northerner – you’re mistaken. That’s a mistake I made as well when I just arrived. Things, that people used to condemn you for in your past life, won’t matter the same way in the Watch – unless you give them the power to. You’re to start a new life, give your name a new meaning – and lies aren’t the best way to go about that. I’m sure, you understand that yourself.”

He was left at a loss of words. Surely, this has been merely a lecture, an attempt to teach him some “wisdom of life”, yet at the same time – it didn’t come out as unnecessary & stupid, as most of life lectures, that Gryff had chanced to hear before. Words about Torrhen stuck out particularly, but he refused to think into them further. As soon as he’d start to ponder them, he would fall into a dangerous trap – and perhaps even grow to think of this watcher as someone to be trusted, someone who actually understood things & maybe even gave a shit.

That was a mistake Gryff could not afford.

“What…” He swallowed heavily. “What with the letter? The fuck am I to do with it now?..”

“Whatever you think is best. Read it, burn it, keep it or toss it out – it is only fair that you get to decide.” Astor concluded. “I won’t pretend to know more than I do, but I think you deserve that, Gryff. This is about you, about your new life. I just think you deserve a chance to keep it untainted by the past. Everybody here does.”

There were many questions Gryff would’ve asked, had he enough energy to do so. How had Astor guessed what the contents of the letter would most likely be, how had he learned things about the Whitehill family, why was he sorting out his problems, even though no one probably ordered him to, what possessed him to even bother… But he kept silent instead, his eye lowering. Now that he wasn’t angry, at least not at Astor, speaking became a chore once again, and he felt exhausted, suddenly. Hours of work had not affected him, but a simple human interaction drained another source of strength – one, that had been almost worn out for inside of him. 

“Can I go now?” Gryff only spoke up because staying silent any longer would’ve been awkward. He just wished to be left alone, and the Greyson seemed to understand, as he simply nodded.

“Aye. Go, of course. Don’t bother returning to the courtyard – it is late already, everybody must be at the dining hall. You go too – have something to eat, you could use that. And find me if you’ll need anything else." Last words were specifically empathized. "And I mean this – literally anything.”

Opening the door to the hallway, the cursed letter still in his hand, Gryff practically felt Astor’s gaze with his back – and dreaded the possibility of him saying something, asking another question, or making a comment, yet none of that came. The door closed, cutting him off, but as Gryff walked all the way back, same corridors & staircases floating before his eye, that gaze remained with him the entire time.

[oh-ishouldnt]

Night series: Shades On

Shades On | Jack Maynard | smut Night series are a little thing I’ll be doing today because of The Vamps’ new album, Night & Day. It will be 7 imagines, one new song for each Buttercream boy, and you can check them here. A/N: Okay guys, things are about to heat in here! Are you ready? This is the only smut of this series and, of course, it’s with Mr. Jack Maynard by that other radio hit of Night & Day, Shades On. Hope you enjoy it!

⇢ Buttercream masterlist can be found here

As soon as you spotted the boy, you knew he would be your nemesis. You were quite a Conor Maynard’s fan back in the good days, when you were younger and he seemed to be so amazing with that voice and that style, so you followed him on Twitter and, as soon as his younger brother hit Youtube, you found out that the good look thing was something in the genes. Now you were older, Jack Maynard was little bit more interesting than the first Maynard, because, although he couldn’t sing, he could fit better your purposes. None of them involved singing. Or speaking in general.

“Oh, fuck off.” Y/F/N complained when she saw where you were looking, well, to whom you were looking. And who was looking right back.

You laughed. “What?”

“You are going to hook up with Jack Maynard? Really? I mean, I’m so jealous! I hate having you as a friend.”

“Oh my God, I’m not hooking up with anyone. Calm down.”

“Yeah, I see your looks, Y/N. Don’t try to deny it.”

You giggled. “Just looks, Y/F/N.”

“And it will be just looks if you continue to stand here like some stupid girl.” She told you.

“What you want me to do?”

“Go in there, say ‘Hi, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you’. For God’s sake, woman.”

You smirked at your friend. “You know one of my lemmas, Y/F/N. If he doesn’t come to you, it’s not worth it go to him.”

She stared at you. “You deserve a long walk through hell, Y/N. It’s Jack Maynard, get your ass out of here!”

“He will come to me if he thinks I’m the best in here.” You said with your confident smile. “And I’m feeling quite good today.” You winked, taking the last sip of your drink before hitting the dance floor.

Jack Maynard was a statement. And he knew that. One thing he didn’t know was when exactly he started to build his confidence, but he had that now and he also knew exactly how to use it. Jack wasn’t the most empathic person in the room, however, once he chose you to talk to, you couldn’t resist. It was the Maynard magic or some shit like that.

Jack was feeling particularly marvelous that night, especially when he saw you on that club. Hot looking and eyes that could kill. He could tell that you knew the good stuff, what fitted his mood. Just as he fitted your purpose.

He watched your movements on the dance floor, sometimes you smiled like you were having fun and others like you could have him as fun. Some random guy approached you and you raised an eyebrow to Jack, should you accept that dude? Jack shrugged and you took that as a challenge. Fine, maybe it was exactly what Mr. Maynard needed to take an action.

For one moment you forgot Jack’s existence. You wouldn’t be there all night and he should be doing something about you two, not only stand there seeing your movements. You proved him already that, yep, you got moves! And, maybe, if he was smart enough, you could do your movements on him. So you started dancing for real with that strange man, looking through your shoulder just once to glimpse at Jack and let him know exactly what you were thinking. He was starring you like you had a spotlight all to yourself. Well, you should have one.

You did that little game for two songs and then you were done. You pushed the guy without saying a single word, bored already with him. You decided to go to the bar again, you had only one drink and it was time to get another. You enjoyed dancing anytime in any day in the week, however dancing on Fridays’ nights required a good amount of alcohol, otherwise, it wouldn’t be worth it. You were at a club, weren’t you? If you wouldn’t be getting drunk, you could just stay at home.

The bartender who attended you was quite hot, so you smiled at him and flirted a little by saying you wanted the tastiest liquid they had in there. He smiled back to you, promising the second tastiest liquid they had in there, adding his thoughts about being sure that you could do some stuff that would taste even better. You could really.

He went away to prepare something you didn’t know yet, so you waited, looking around to see who could be interesting. A smile spread through your face when you captured gorgeous blue eyes coming right at you.

“Hello.” You said to the guy who stopped in front of you.

“Hey.” He winked. “I’m...”

“Jack Maynard.” You completed, not afraid of showing you knew his name. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Y/N.” You held out your hand.

He laughed and shook your hand. “Can I buy you a drink, Y/N?”

Just like the bartender could hear the question, he got right in the timing and poked you to hand your drink, you said thanks with a nice smile, his eyes flinching yours.

“Maybe the next one?” You suggested while taking a sip of the mixture, still not knowing what the heck it was. You looked at the glass while tasting it in your tongue, deciding you liked it or not. Definitely was stronger than something you would order to yourself, something you found good because it meant you caused an impression in the bartender, but bad because you wanted to actually know what was getting out of your mouth while talking to Jack.

“I will need to be around when you end this one then,” Jack commented, you shrugged.

“It’s up to you, I guess.” You told him like you weren’t interested if he stayed or not at the same time showing you were up to whatever he wanted to.

“Therefore, I think I’m staying a little bit more. Is it okay with you?”

You looked into his eyes and drank the lilac liquid you were holding. “Sure.”

You were way too drunk to know what you were doing and for caring if someone was watching you or not. The song which was playing was strangely slow and sexy, at least, it was in your head. Jack seemed to listen to that same song because his hands were grabbing your hips really tight while you were swinging it against his body. You had one hand holding his hair and the other one passing through your own body while Jack kissed your neck, going up and down it, sucking, leaving marks, blowing and driving you insane.

Suddenly, he turned you around and started kissing you. You pulled yourself like you could make you and Jack become one, starting to breathe heavily against his lips. Jack put his right hand in your ass, seeming he wanted you two to be one as well, and the left was grabbing your hair.

“Jack, mate, not in here, please.” You heard someone saying to him, making you two stop kissing. The club had that many lights when you closed your eyes for the last time?

Jack was as stunned as you. “Huh?” He asked.

For your surprise, the guy who was splitting you two was Joseph Sugg. He laughed at his friend’s face.

“Don’t have sex in the middle of the club, Jack.” He recommended as you two got back into your pieces.

“Don’t spoil my night, Joe,” Jack mumbled.

“You will thank me later.” Joe smiled and gave a tap on Jack’s back. “Won’t you introduce me to this beautiful lady?”

“Y/N, Joe. Joe, Y/N.” Jack said, kinda moody, as he held your hand.

“Hi.” You smiled at Joe.

Jack gave you a side look. “What? No ‘Nice to meet you, Joe. I’m Y/N?’” He teased, Joe was confused.

You smirked, not letting him shook your confidence. “I only do this move one time at evening. I don’t usually need to do that twice.”

He smiled at your answer. Yes, it seemed that he had picked exactly the right girl.

“Well, we really got to get going, Joe,” Jack announced, your smile grew bigger. Now you were getting where you wanted to get. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime, mate.” Joe laughed at Jack’s urge. “Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“Same.” You nodded your head to Joe while Jack pulled you out the club by the head. “See you around!”

You needed to remember to send Y/F/N a text saying you wouldn’t come back with her.

“Need some help with that, honey?” You asked with an eyebrow raised. Jack wasn’t able to open the door because he was too busy kissing you.

He snorted and pushed you to concentrate on opening his flat’s door. Finally, he could and you two entered. Well, entered was the soft verb to describe it, since it looked like you and him were a cannonball. No time for taking a breath, no patience for having space between you two.

Your back hit a wall and then his back hit a wall. Even you couldn’t say where you started or where you ended. Jack was pretty good at tracing his path through the place, you guessed that he could recognize what wall was it with his back because somehow you reached his bedroom.

“Jump.” He ordered and you did as the command.

You took his jacket off while you were in his lap, his hands playing with the rubber band of your panty underneath the dress. You also took his white t-shirt off, something you wanted to do since you put your eyes on that piece of fabric. And soon you felt the soft mattress against your back, really different than the roughness of the walls.

He bit your ear and you felt your breath going away, Jack’s hands held your waist while you scratched his shoulders. Once again he was at the bottom of your neck, but now he could go further down, therefore he went. He gave little sucks through your chest and pulled your dress to clear his way.

“No bra, huh?” He approved with a smile.

“No time to waist.” You explained, just before you let a moan escape because he started sucking your nipple. Oh, boy.

And, for a moment, you let your mind think about the other he. Think about him. Just for that short second, your ex-boyfriend passed through your mind. You were sure you and Jack should look like a mess right now. What a shame, your ex would think. You smiled, delighted that you broke up and now could taste the clouds, sure you were in Heaven.

You grabbed Jack’s hair and pulled him to a rough kiss, switching your positions in bed. Your legs were one in each side of the boy, your clit being stimulated through the thin fabric of your panty as you slide your body until you reached Jack’s belt. You removed it, as well you did it with his jeans, so glad you had only one piece left to take off.

You bit your lower lip, your nails tracing Jack’s abdomen, your mouth salivating, your hands sweating from the expectation. You could feel his muscles contracting according to your moves and, by the time you entered one hand into his boxers, Jack was almost craving for your touches.

“Are you kidding with me?” Jack snorted. “Stop playing.” You slipped your hand out of his underwear.

“What?” You pretended you were confused, sitting in his member. “Don’t like waiting?” You questioned, biting your nail while you moved your hips. Jack moaned loudly. You laughed.

He looked at you and your expression of fun. “No time to waist.” He played back, holding your waist while quickly switching the positions in bed again.

He was on top now and the first thing he did was tear your dress apart. Literally. The strings which held the piece in place no longer existed, but you hadn’t time to think about if the tightness of the dress would be enough to make it useless yet (you would certainly need that later to go home), because Jack’s mouth was doing an amazing job by exploring the part that once was covered by your clothes.

When Jack got into your Paradise’s path, you couldn’t handle it. You were rubbing your thighs to create any friction you could. Jack’s finger once more was playing with the rubber band.

“Tear it.” You wished with a sigh.

Jack smiled. “What?”

“Tear it apart.” You asked. “Please.”

“No time to waste?” He teased.

“No time to waste.” You confessed.

And he really ripped your panty, something you found delicious to hear and delicious to feel. Apparently, Mr. Maynard had no worries about clothes and their welfare. Now on, neither did you.

Jack started massaging your clit with his thumb, making you whine loudly, it wasn’t enough though.

“C’mon, Y/N.” He said. “You can get louder than that.”

“F-fuck off.” You mumbled, barely making the words get out from your mouth because you couldn’t think straight. “You don’t... You don’t know about... that.” You argued, your fingers intertwined in the blonde hair of the boy.

“You don’t seem to be a quiet girl.” He said with a smirk.

You were intoxicated, the alcohol and the pleasure becoming one in your veins. “Use your mouth and find out, Maynard.” You suggested, thinking that he would come and give you a kiss.

In a certain way, Jack did kiss you... It wasn’t in the lips you were thinking of when said those words though. You felt your whole body get weak when Jack threw your right leg through his shoulder and sucked your vagina. You took a deep breath and suddenly you couldn’t shut your mouth, groaning like a wild animal. You didn’t even know that you were able to do such noises.

Jack had one hand into his underwear, the other one was holding you in your place. You were pressing your own boobs, something that Jack seemed to enjoy to watch.

“I’m... I’m about to c-come.” You revealed, not wanting to do it without him on you. You were out of breath.

Jack put your leg back in the bed and kissed your abdomen, making the reverse way he traced moments before. You pulled him to the last kiss before getting down his busyness.

His cock wasn’t in his underwear anymore and you were glad because you would be a bit guilty if all this time he would be confined in the boxers. Boxers you soon get totally rid of. You went over him and you licked Jack’s length before holding it and going up and down. Then you watched Jack close his eyes and moan as loud as you, making the temperature of your own body go up.

While you stimulated Jack’s penis, you gave him little kisses through his body, feeling him shiver each time you pressed your lips against his skin.

“C’mon, baby girl, let’s get into it.” He asked and you stopped holding his dick.

“Condoms.” You remembered.

Jack nodded to you and rolled into bed to take a package of condoms in the bedside table. As soon as he put the condom, he got under you again and held your waist to position you right.

You decided to go slowly for the first time, fully enjoying the sensation of Jack penetrating you. Your head hanged back and you heard Jack be out of breath. You bit your lower lip to stop you from howl. You started moving your hips before start riding for real. First as slow as the first entry, then fast like you needed it to be.

Jack grabbed your waist really thigh and it was delicious, but to your surprise, he took his right hand and gave you a slap. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, although you definitely felt something when he did that. You squeaked with shock, and you were even more shocked that it felt so good.

“Sorry.” He said as putting his hand on your waist again. Jack thought you were used to it.

“Do that again.” You asked, trying to catch a breath.

Jack smiled at you, his blue eyes shining right into yours. You felt his hand leave your waist again and really screamed this time when the slap was harder. You started ride even faster, now you really needed to come.

Jack’s hand held your ass exactly where the slap was. “I knew you would scream.”

You didn’t worry yourself for replying to that comment, especially when your legs started to tremble and you needed to switch positions once more. Now you were under, Jack didn’t spare any strength, pushing him into you harder and harder. If you screamed when he slapped you, you didn’t know what the heck you were doing now, all you knew was that however people describe it, it would be related to the word “loud”.

Jack wasn’t quiet either and hearing him roar only made you hotter. His grip was strong and you felt the bed shake beneath you. You were flooded with the pleasure, couldn’t form one single word properly.

You didn’t just come, you felt like you were running and threw your entire body out of a cliff, diving into a deliciously cold ocean on the hottest day of summer. Jack came after you, shivering and sweating while sighing.

He laid in bed on your side, gasping as much as you.

“This was...” He was out of words.

“Something.” You completed.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Your muscles were melting into that bed, you never felt so tired in your entire life. Maynard magic. You would buy that crap if someone offered you.

You two stayed like that for a few minutes, then Jack stood up to throw the condom away. When he returned to the bedroom, he found you out of the bed searching your clothes.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Going home?” You weren’t really paying attention to him.

“Already? I thought you were staying until the morning.”

You shrugged, taking your dress from the floor and putting it back.

“Not my style, really.” You smiled at him, seeing he had a glass of water in his hand. He offered it to you.

“Well... This is... unusual.” He was kinda of confused, deciding it was better to put his boxer on again too.

“Yeah, I don’t like to bother others.” You told Jack and drank the water.

“So you never stay until morning? I mean, morning sex is the best.” You laughed, Jack was almost sad he wouldn’t have sex the next morning with you.

“I’ll pass it. Thank you.” You returned the glass of water for him.

He watched you finish to pick your stuff, not saying nothing more. You noticed he starring your ass when you were looking in the mirror trying to hide the damaged straps of your dress. You rolled your eyes.

“Can you open the door for me, please?”

He blinked, finally realizing he couldn’t stare your body forever. “Oh, of course.” He got up from the bed and followed you when you made your way to the door. “Won’t you even tell me what is your last name?” He questioned with a smirk while opening the front door.

You smirked back to him and approached his body, sliding your hands in his chest and whispering into his ear. “I guess you will need to call me to discover that, Jack.” You stepped away and winked, passing through the door.

“But I don’t have your number!” He complained when you were already walking down the aisle.

You looked over your shoulder. “You should look on your bedside table in that case.”

[donaldresslerfanfic]

Camping Trip.

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language (little bit)

Word Count: 2207

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Eight.

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Maggie

Maybe pulling an all-nighter last night wasn’t such a good idea. I went to bed at 3 and was up today at 6 to prepare everything for out weekend in the Anglokian park in Maryland. Weather was going to be good this weekend and with luck we would arrive at 8 there.

I had prepared a change of clothes, my fishing equipment some snacks, we has divided the chores between the 7 of us.

Don was coming, I don’t know when was the last time I was so eager to see a boy, we hadn’t talked much this week, he had to work with Raymond. I had to tell him about last week.

That aside, I missed him. He was this really closed off don’t talk about my family special agent, but sometimes I worried sick about him, that split second when I thought that one day I may never see him again always left me nauseous. But whatever, might as well enjoy my time with him these next to days, maybe he’ll open up to me a bit more.

My phone rang and I took my things while answering it

“Hello?”

“I’m outside, need help carrying anything?” Don asked me.

“Nope, I’ll be right down”

I hung up and took my things, making sure I took everything I needed then closed the door of my apartment.

I dashed downstairs and outside to find Don looking through his trunk, I left my thing in the side of the car for him to arrange

“How are you?” I asked, giddy to see him, he looked at me and gave me a smile while taking my bag

“I’m fine, are you a morning person?”

My eyes settled on the fading purple spot on his temple, accompanied with little cuts, I frowned and moved to look at him properly.

“The hell happened to you?” I asked concerned. He frowned back and shut the trunk facing me

“What?”

“Your…” I motioned at his head “are you OK?”

“Yeah, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“But what happened?”

“I fought three Chinese killers on the tenth floor of a building under construction” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world “shall we? I’m not a morning person until my second coffee”

I nodded, still shaken up, but followed him to the car, I sat shotgun, looking at him as he set himself to drive. He looked at me and smiled at my confused expression.

“I’m fine Maggie”

“People are gonna ask questions about it”

“Don’t you think it makes me look tough?” He said playfully as he drove down the street, I let out a smile while letting my shoulders down. “So, while I was single handedly taking down three martial arts experts, what did you do?”

“I bought a ficus.” He laughed, making me smile “and I began personal defense clases, two times a week”

“Any special motive for that?”

“Raymond knows”

His expression changed while he gave me a look, setting his eyes in the road again

“What did he say, exactly?”

“He said that he doesn’t want to hurt me, that he works for you for a good reason and that he trusts I won’t tell you anything that could endanger his…. Contingency plans. So, I’m a cross road now”

“How come?”

“I want to help, but if I help you Reddington kills me?”

“I trust your judgment, Maggie. I know that you’ll tell us the right thing at the right time”

I nodded, looking at the road as we parked near a coffee shop, I was the first to open the door and head out before Don, seeing that it was my turn to pay for the coffee.

Gina and I had settled in meeting with everyone at her house and then drive together to the park.

At Gina’s house, we met with Marcus’ friends for work, Matt and Damon, I loved that already. Gina’s friend was an old friend from college named Laura who the second she set her eyes on Donald couldn’t conceal a little smirk.

Too bad honey, you’re stuck with the nerds on this car ride.

“Well, now I can take ‘Hang out with Matt Damon’ out of my bucket list”

I chuckled, looking at Don, who just gave me a polite smile. We settled back in the car after some fast breakfast at Gina’s, then we began driving, following her car.

“You don’t know who I’m talking about do you. Matt Damon?” He just shrugged his shoulders at me “Matt Damon?” I asked again, stressing out the name “how can you not know who Matt Damon is? You’re a man”

“Unless he’s a convicted felon I don’t hold other kind of names”

“Jason Bourne? Bourne identity? It’s the best movir about CIA undercover operations, they try to take down Bourne. It’s three movies and counting.”

“And why are you watching these movies?”

“Matt Damon is hot”

I saw him roll his eyes and shake his head at me with a little smile. I turned to look at the city disappear behind us.

The car ride was silent, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, I liked to watch through the window if I wasn’t driving, and Donald probably used this time to think, the radio was on, broadcasting the hits of the summer though it was the exact opposite, we were nearing down on winter.

“Do you like winter?” I asked, still looking outside.

“Too much clothes, makes the job uncomfortable sometimes”

“I bet you have a large mid thigh black coat”

“I do have one” he said frowning  “how do you know this?”

“I just picture you with it, it would be cozy but flexible for you to work, chase bad guys and the likes”

He smirked and gave me a quick look.

“And you?”

“I don’t have a trench coat” I said shaking my hand in denial “I love winter. Snow days, cozy up in bed, watching snow pour, hot cup of coffee”

“Matt Damon” I chuckled and looked at him

“Specially Matt Damon to keep me warm” I winked at him when I he gave me a look. “But I like blondes better”

“Keep the lineage up?”

I looked at my blonde hair sprawled on my chest.

“Maybe. I dyed it brown once”

“Mmm. I bet it lighted up your eyes”

I smiled and looked away, trying to hide my blush from him, that only meant he had been looking at me with detention.

“When I was young my friends dyed my hair on my birthday when I was asleep”

I chuckled and shook my head.

“Your dad was mad right?”

“He was fuming” I laughed again.

“Do you have pictures of that?”

“I’ll have to dig in for some. Do you have pictures with brown hair?”

“Yeah, I have some on my phone”

“Well, I show you mine when I have it and you show me yours. I’ll decide if I like you better blonde or brunette”

Was Donald flirting? With me? I mean, yeah, if he wants to flirt I’ll flirt him back but… Me? I don’t think he noticed that to me that was a flirt, or he was really good at hiding it. What I wasn’t good at hiding was my stupid starstruck smile for the whole ride.

That compliment about my eyes and the hair thing had me giddy as fuck. It felt like it’s been forever since I’ve been told something cute.

Maybe it was the fact that I had seen Don as a friend for so many months now that this under cover flirting was really getting to me… Or maybe I was falling for Ressler.

Ressler

I think I can recall the last time I was in this position, was maybe the first year after I got in the agency, we used to have barbecues, or simply moments like this. A fire, some beer, friends, laughs, jokes.

Then, I became a field agent, and then I began searching for Red. I had no free days, no more barbecues and gatherings for months, and the ones that I did ended up going ended up with me talking back about work with the people who I was with.

This was a different scenario entirely. I was sitting in front of a fire, beer in hand, just looking at how the conversation flowed. It was something beautiful to have company who wasn’t on the same job I was.

I told everyone I was with law enforcement, which wasn’t a lie, but everyone believed I just took charges when people came to present them, and the punch in the side of my head was from the little times I got out to patrol.

I refused to address Matt before Damon, now that I knew about the little inside joke they had in the group. Damon and Matt’s work was analytics, things I really didn’t care about, but I knew that I had a new set of eyes when I needed a second opinion.

Laura, Gina’s friend, hadn’t stop giving me flirty looks and suggestive commentaries throughout the weekend. Gina and her husband Marcus were good people, married people who were looking to not get bored of each other.

Then there was Maggie, my confidant, my fishing buddy with whom I spent 5 hours talking while fishing this morning, the one who took me out of a uncomfortable situation or quietly whispered at me about pop culture references they were throwing around. The one who made me belong in a group of people with whom I had nothing in common, but we all had her in common somehow. She was the one who knew how I liked my coffee, the one we walked with me when I felt like going hiking, the one who got her hands dirty with work, setting up a fire, looking for wood, making a tent. She was simply the best person I could’ve asked for to share my off days with.

I forgot about work for two days, I was able to turn down my phone for those two days and not feel guilty that I was having a good time. If something happened it wouldn’t be on me, that’s what I got from that weekend, that it was OK to have some spare time.

And here we were again, just Maggie and I up since 7 am, having our last breakfast at the cabin. Everyone had gotten so wasted on the last day we weren’t expecting to come back until 6 pm. Maggie knew I had to sober up for work, and here she was, pouring me a coffee.

“What are you thinking about?”

She set the coffee in front of me, sitting down on my side as she pulled her bowl of cereal to her.

“That I don’t want to go back to the routine after this”

“Right? Chasing down criminals doesn’t sound as appealing now”

“It really doesn’t, no. We haven’t even seen Bourne Ultimatum”

“They find out who he actually is in that one” she pointed out. “Gina was talking about doing this once a month, if the weather is good with us. I’ll let you know if you’re interested in being a permanent member of the group”

“Sign me up”

“That will get you an immediate addition to the chat group and the moral obligation to participate in some embarrassing karaoke nights”

“I’ll take the hit” she gave me another smile and a little clap of her hands as she continued to eat her breakfast.

“I’ll record you and upload the video to YouTube”

“And I’ll have Aram block you account”

She gave me a little stank eye, to which I laughed at.

The road back and subsequent drop off of Maggie to her place was a bummer, going back to work tomorrow was going to be tough, and by the looks of the texts when I turned my phone again in the car, Reddington had a few cases for us. Some interesting ones at that.

Maggie entered her apartment and left her purse on the table, looking around the house as I left her bags on the kitchen counter.

“Everything OK?” I asked, since she was still suspiciously looking around.

“Yeah, it’s just that I had a neighbor come and look at the plants while I was away”

“Nothing is missing?”

“Apparently not, but I guess I’ll look and not find” she gave me a smile ��thank you for helping me” she motioned at her things.

“Thank you for inviting me Mags, I had the best time I’ve had in a while” I was walking down to the door while she gave me a little smile.

“You deserve it”

I gave her another smile as I tucked my hands on my pockets.

“I think I’ll be busy for the next few days so, don’t worry if I don’t pick up”

She nodded and leaned on the door, her eyes drooping, she was tired

“I’ll see you one of this days” she gave me another nod as I moved to begin walking out. She waved me goodbye and I walked down the hall

Back to my car, back to the routine.

[thrashermaxey]

21 Fantasy Hockey Rambles

Every Sunday, we'll share 21 Fantasy Rambles — formerly 20 Fantasy Thoughts — from our writers at DobberHockey. These thoughts are curated from the past week's ‘Daily Ramblings’.

Writers: Michael Clifford, Ian Gooding, Cam Robinson, and Dobber

  1. Jesperi Kotkaniemi is a guy I’m keeping in my back pocket for 2019-20. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that the youngest player in the league is at least the team’s No.2 center next season. (mar7)

Kotkaniemi was a healthy scratch on two occasions this past week. It was the first time the 18-year-old has sat in the press box this season, as coach Claude Julien expressed some concern that fatigue was creeping into his game.

It should be noted that the youngster suited up in 84 total games last season – split between the Finnish Liiga and international tournaments. Prior to that, his career-high had been 41 contests. Despite averaging just 14 minutes a night with Montreal this season, the wear of 66 NHL games for a rookie is real.

There shouldn’t be any concerns about Kotkaniemi moving forward. He’s a spectacular playmaker with a bright future. (mar6)

  2. I don’t know how I didn’t know this, or maybe I did and forgot, but a big need for the Oilers is a top puck-moving defenseman and they actually drafted Erik Gustafsson (fourth round, 2012). They couldn’t come to terms with him (or didn’t want to) in 2014 and lost him. A year later, Chicago signed him. Four years later, he has 48 points in 65 games. (mar4)

  3. At this time last month, we were worried that an Artemi Panarin trade would hurt Cam Atkinson’s value. That scenario looks like it will still play out – just not until after the season.

For the moment, Atkinson continues to roll and shows a career high of 38 goals. As the Blue Jackets attempt to deliver on their all-in playoff push, expect them to ride their leading goal scorer. Atkinson has logged at least 20 minutes in each of his last four games. (mar10)

  4. It’s a combination of the new coach and the fact that all the star players are gone, well…more of the latter, but Chris Tierney is finally getting big power-play time.

I almost really like his outlook for next year. First, he’s one of the best players on the team now (who are they going to sign that is better? Will anyone even want to go there this summer?).

Second, he’ll be 25 next season. I love the age of 26 the most in fantasy, but that’s close enough.

Third, his trend is astonishingly steady. It goes upward at a nice pace, even going up a little during the supposed sophomore slump: 0.25, 0.29, 0.49 points-per-game average the last three years and is 0.61 this year. The only problem is – and it’s a big one – to whom will he give the puck? If he leads all Ottawa forwards in scoring next year will that be with 49 points? (mar4)

  5. After a strong first half, Sharks’ Timo Meier had cooled off in the new year with just three goals in 23 games in January and February. The switch has turned on in March with five goals over his last four games, to bring his current season total to 26. Just in time for your fantasy playoffs. (mar10)

  6. I thought I’d been seeing Vladislav Namestnikov’s name in the boxscore more often lately and his recent numbers prove it. Over his last 12 games, Namestnikov has 11 points (6g-5a), including his three-point game on Saturday.

I mentioned him last month when he began his run with another three-point game (2g-1a) after being held without a point in his previous 10 games. A commenter who must have watched the game replied that “nothing has changed because both goals were gifts” – one an empty-netter, the other a giveaway by the goalie.

Something has changed, though: his ice time. Namestnikov averaged just 13 minutes over the first quarter, while over the last half-dozen games he has averaged 18 minutes. The trades of Mats Zuccarello and Kevin Hayes have likely had that effect. (mar10)

  7. Before adding a goal and two helpers, Alex Tuch, had entered Saturday’s matchup with just four points in his last 16 games. With the addition of Stone, Tuch has been bumped down from the Paul Stastny – Max Pacioretty line to the Cody Eakin line. That’s a significant drop in value. (mar10)

  8. I might be cherry-picking stats here, but Ryan Strome has 12 points (6g-6a) over his last 14 games, including two goals and an assist on Saturday. Over his last six games he’s also been averaging 18 minutes per game. Looks like a midseason trade has helped not one, but two Strome brothers. (mar10)

  9. When colleague Cam Robinson discussed ‘stacking mates’ in a recent Ramblings, it felt like he was talking directly to me! You see, I own three Florida Panthers on one of my teams: Aleksander Barkov, Jonathan Huberdeau and Mike Hoffman. (On this same roster, I also owned three Ottawa Senators until Matt Duchene and Mark Stone were traded.)

Yes, I can attest to the fact that this can be a risky strategy, particularly in head-to-head fantasy setups, where the number of games played and the team’s overall output can have a significant impact on the week’s results. It kind of happened to me by accident after Duchene was traded last season and Hoffman was traded during the offseason. Yet, I won my league last season, and I’m in contention again this season. So, if you decide to stack your roster, at least pick the team’s best players, which will at least minimize the risk. Otherwise, the mutual fund strategy of diversification works best for your fantasy portfolio.

If you own multiple Panthers players and this is a critical week for you, then stacking has paid back in spades for you. Barkov picked up not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE assists on Friday, while Huberdeau added a goal and three assists. In fact, the Barkov-Huberdeau-Evgenii Dadonov line was a combined plus-14, with the latter chipping in three helpers of his own.

Over consecutive nights, Barkov and Huberdeau have been scorching hot, accruing seven points each. Huby has now hit 70 points for the first time in his career, while Barkov is just three points shy of his 78-point career high set last season. Start these Panthers with confidence as their team attempts a last-ditch playoff push. (mar9)

  10. After Mike Babcock said that Frederik Andersen would be held to 56 appearances, he clarified that he miscalculated that number and that Andersen would actually be held to 60 games (Chris Johnston). The 56-appearance projection would basically have Andersen split starts with Garret Sparks for the rest of the season, but an extra four starts means that Andersen will receive close to one more start per week than that. That’s an arrangement that Andersen owners should be able to live with.

As an Andersen owner, I figured that he could be looking at a workload reduction anyway, since the Leafs have been on a collision course with the Bruins all season anyway to face each other in the first round. What’s an extra home playoff game if the team is worn out by the playoffs? (mar9)

  11. Some ill-timed news for fantasy owners of Gabriel Landeskog. The Colorado captain is expected to be sidelined for the next 4-6 weeks with an upper-body injury. This timeline effectively ends Landeskog’s regular season and makes him droppable in non-keeper formats that do not use separate IR slots, which will only be useful in the event that he returns significantly earlier than expected.

In just 68 games, Landeskog had already set career highs in goals, points, and power-play points. His shot total is the highest since his rookie season (270 SOG), while his 114 hits at the time of injury ranked him second on the Avalanche. Of course, playing on arguably the league’s best line with two of the league’s top-10 scorers in Mikko Rantanen and Nathan MacKinnon doesn’t hurt. Regardless, it’s been a career season for Landeskog, even if it has been cut short.

Alexander Kerfoot seems like a possibility to be bumped up to the top line, which would be a huge boost to his fantasy value. Kerfoot has just one goal over his past six games, so his value could use a jumpstart anyway. (mar9)

  12. The Bruins are now 15-0-4 since January 29. That’s great news for Tuukka Rask owners, as he has won 10 of his last 11 games. Since the beginning of February, Rask has a 1.97 GAA and a .923 SV%. (mar10)

  13. Our Report Generator on DobberHockey continues to be improved. The most recent addition has been in the power play (PP) Data area, where Eric Daoust has included PPPt/60 – which is essentially how many power-play points a player gets for every 60 minutes of power-play deployment. It’s a mouthful, but it provides tangible evidence to support how effective a player is on a man-advantage unit.

To me, this is a potential gold mine. Teams are constantly looking to improve their special teams’ production and finding players who are thriving in a limited role would likely be a good starting point in attempting to unearth assets that will see their value increase with further opportunities.

At the top of this list, we see the elites: Nikita Kucherov, Brayden Point, David Pastrnak, Phil Kessel, Brent Burns, etc. But what I’m looking for are those undervalued players, for example:  Jack Roslovic and Kevin Labanc. (mar8)

  14. Roslovic: Pegged by many as a prime candidate to steal the second-line center gig in Winnipeg this season, Roslovic has found himself locked in the bottom-six skating fewer than 10 minutes a contest and very few power-play opportunities. However, in his 45 minutes of man-advantage action, the 22-year-old has produced 7.9 PPPt/60. As of Friday, that number put him a shade ahead of Patrice Bergeron.

The Jets are going to run into cap issues soon, and when they do, Roslovic will be there to eat up offensive minutes for a reasonable price. He'll be another good bet to garner more interest next season assuming Winnipeg doesn't find a way to add a center this offseason. (mar8)

  15. Labanc: The Sharks have a bevy of forward talent to choose from when an opponent heads to the sin bin. But it's Labanc who leads them in PPPt/60. His 7.1 PPPt/60 is amongst the league-leaders and not due to small sample size. His 145 minutes of man-advantage action (also as of Friday) is less than the big dogs, but still averaging out to over two-minutes per contest.

He'll need to continue to fight off Timo Meier for that top unit spot, but Labanc has shown capable of improving production year-over-year. A few more minutes per night and we could be talking about a 65-point forward next season. (mar8)

  16. Another neat tool has been added to our Dobber Prospects profiles projecting a prospect based on production at different levels in different leagues (PNHLe), as calculated by Mason Black. The one linked above is of Jordan Kyrou but you can check in on any of your favourite prospects to see what could be expected of them. (mar7)

  17. In order to take the next step in fantasy relevance, Travis Sanheim needs to do two things: shoot more and earn meaningful power play minutes. One of those things is in his control and one is not. He’s currently third on the team depth chart for power play minutes behind Shayne Gostisbehere and Ivan Provorov and that’s unlikely to change anytime soon. In that sense, it’ll be very hard for Sanheim to have significant fantasy relevance.

Consider that in 2017-18, Provorov was the only defenseman with 10 or fewer PPPs to crack 40 points. This year, going into Thursday action, Mattias Ekholm had already cracked 40 points with just seven PPPs, while Jared Spurgeon (39) and Ryan Ellis (36) were the only other two within striking distance with eight or fewer PPPs. In other words, for Sanheim to get to that magical 40-point mark with his current level of PP production (which is related to his PP minutes allotment), he’ll need a lot to go right. It’s not something to rely upon.

Now, he can control how much he shoots, and I’m not overly concerned about the dip this year. It’s really his first full season and there is a laundry list of guys who are high volume shooters now who weren’t earlier in their career. Names like Roman Josi, Dougie Hamilton, and Tyson Barrie all shot less earlier in their careers, even if Barrie’s career numbers are a bit wonky because of those awful Avs teams from a few years ago. It could take two or three more years before Sanheim really finds whatever his normal shot level will be.

Until he takes over PP duties for one of Gostisbehere or Provorov, Ekholm’s 2018-19 season should be seen as some sort of ceiling for what Sanheim can achieve. With a bit of luck, he can be a 10-goal, 45-point defenseman. However, it’s most likely he settles in somewhere around 7-8 goals and 35 points for now. (mar7)

  18. Just spit-balling but I’m not sure what to make of Luke Kunin’s season so far. The underlying numbers aren’t great but how much of that is due to injuries on his part and upheaval of the roster by management? It can’t be an easy situation to overcome.

By the eye, he’s looked fine whenever I’ve watched him if unspectacular. He should have a big role on this team in 2019-20 (he’s played 17:40 per game over the last month) so he’ll be a guy to follow over the final month. It could tell us a lot about what to expect from him next year. (mar5)

  19. Just wanted to chime in briefly on Jesse Puljujarvi’s injury. It’s clear that three years of development from the Oilers has done nothing, and now he’s on the shelf for most of the summer with double hip surgery. To me, that means 2019-20 will be mostly getting back up to speed as he’s behind the eight ball again. Not that this effectively ends his career, but if next year is basically just trying to get his legs under him following surgery, he’ll be four years into his career with little to show for it, even with this year and next mostly being a wash due to injury. I wonder how much longer we wait before the Oilers move on. (mar5)

  20. A year and a half ago I was high on Nathan Beaulieu, touting him as a strong dark horse. I did this because the Sabres went after him hard, acquiring him and immediately putting him on their power play. They desperately wanted him to succeed as a PP QB.

A dark horse is all about opportunity. You’re betting purely on opportunity and not on results (because none are there yet). In this case, it flopped. I had him in two of my leagues and dropped him as soon as I could after the failure became clear. Now he’s been cast off to the Jets.

I wonder if he could be a depth producer next year in the way that Tyler Myers has been this year. Beaulieu is 26 years old, so the timing is right. As a former first-round pick, the talent is there. Somewhere. And this is a high-scoring team so he could get 20 points almost by accident. He is an RFA this summer. (mar4)

  21. With another two goals on Saturday, Nino Niederreiter has 11 goals and 21 points in 22 games as a Hurricane. He’s fitting right in. Not that Wild fans need to be reminded, but Victor Rask has a goal and an assist in 10 games as a member of the Wild. Rask is currently on IR as well. (mar10)

  Have a good week, folks!!

  from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-home/21-fantasy-hockey-rambles/21-fantasy-hockey-rambles-8/