#meh i just feel.... Unheard again

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing���no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[death-by-daylight123]

Ok, ok, ok, hear me out. The reason why people die by these demonic ass creatures in horror movies is because they use inside-of-the-box solutions for outside-of-the-box problems. Like, real shit, what if the survivor just pulled down their pants in the middle of a chase and started running again like nothing happened?

👀 Wraith, Spirit, and anyone else 👀

... I'm sure you want this to go another way but I just thought of something funny with this so imma going to go the non nsfw for this one, but if y'all do want one just ask; but this one is just the survivor being a smartass.( My parents are over my shoulder and I don't want them to know that I have an account lol).

I also decided to go the small story route fo this one.

Spirt

This is a sport of a young highschool student that has so much life to look forward to, much like you did before the fog took you. Now we all know she angy 24/7 but sometimes she has this clarity that overcomes her to where she is just numb; and it was in this numb moment where you did something unheard of in the trials.

Pulled down your pants.

Lets back up.

So you were out with your friends when y'all wanted to be adventurous and try out new clothes in your closet. Like the ones that you hardly wear. So you gathered these clothes and went to the allotted spot to meet up and that when the fog came. Now what you were in right now was the skinniest jeans that have ever skinny jeaned. And that's no exaggeration. Them things tight. You just realized how tight when you were being chased by a literal ghost thing that was screaming with rage and crying. Meh not your problem.

So you're here running like an actual champ( the fat gym teacher at your school would be so proud 🥲) when you finally couldn't bear these jeans anymore,so like any sane person would you naturally began to strip down quickly after you pallet stunned the ghost girl.

And this is when her post-nut-clarity comes in.

In this moment after you had stripped out of your tight pants and we're only standing in you underwear getting ready to run and tying the legs of your pants around your waist, did she have this moment. At first she didn't know what to do, she felt embarrassed and flustered and like going home to cry or laugh ( no in between) then remembered she had no home to go to.

As her eyes landed on your retreaing figure though she couldn't help but to be brought back to that feeling of humor and something else. It felt like she was a little warm again. This is what brought her to giggle then to finally laugh for the first time in a long time.

To bad there was only one survivor to witness it. And that my dead friends was Bill who was also trying not to laugh.

Wraith

This is a poor man. Really poor may who has been bullied by life and even now in death-ish? Flashlights do be shining on this man peridotically ,but even with that he is a feared killer because he is one of the best, and has some respect still to his name.

For one part even in the fog this man is a gentleman. Not only has he been able to snag the nurse ( she just ✨fine✨ uk?) ( Sry for interrupting) but he also tries to be respectful to anyone he has a trial with. For example this man respects pallets,the crouchy crouch, and if a survivor is ride or die for a gen( sometimes he even lets them complete it too) over all the survivors don't mind it too much is they get brutally slaughtered by him. Tehe. ( I hate myself for typing that).

But even with that he does one thing that most other killers don't : he holds survivors by the pants. Or if they have a skirt on he pulls it down when he's putting them on his shoulder. He's going to have to rethink the pants thing though expressly after what you just did .

Let's back up.

So in the few trails you've had you have made yourself be known as a smartass by survivors and killers alike by your way of doing the trials.

With saying that you have made traps that haven't been really thought of such as tripwires, the home alone paint bucket thing but except a paint bucket you had to used a bigass rock that you could with Dwight's tie as a rope,wood from broken pallets to stab killers, you've even tripped killers and tied them up.

You think you're funny at least,but you've come a long way since your first trial with the Spirt- heck you even have new pants ( they were some of Jake's oldish ones) - at least you thought so. Right now you're just wiggling on the shoulder of a tree man that smells like blood ,oak , and hospital linnins. You aren't going to question the last one.

To make matters worse the hook was only getting closer. You had a hatred of the hook. Though you don't get hooked that many times to be honest, but who would like the hook? I lay my point to rest and take a nap.

Then when you both were just 6ft from the hook it clicked that he wasn't holding YOU he was gripping onto your pants. So like a magestic walrus flopping around to go into the water you slid out of your pants and quickly went to get away from him as fast as you could-

Leaving a flustered tree man. He... did not expect that.

Don't get him wrong he knew it was going to be different with you in a trial but he didn't expect something that ... drastic. How is he even going to give you your pants back? He was still in a state of shock as he watches your figure to to the other corner of the map to hide.

Then all the sudden Nea falls out of the locker just laughing and crying . So that was when he picked her up and hooked her, then gave her your pants so she could give them back.

He can't really force himself to go for you or look you in the eye after that day. But as they say time heals all wounds.

Freddy ( the Nightmare)

This man and you have a massive vendetta. He's not a good man and from Quentin's stories of him have only fueled this madness. FOR REAL SIS even the entity is in on the bets. For right now Ace is on the winning side with you, with the entity constantly punishing Freddy for losing.

So the stakes were real for him...but they also were for you for other reasons. You see you didn't know anything about the bets and stuff;you just didn't want to be touched or gotten the best of by a pedophile.

It's also isn't like the other survivors don't help you or anything,they do the regular team stuff and help out as much as they can without getting in your way ;but when it comes to two people who hate each other so much there is not really much to do .

It was one trial that the entity was getting tired of you winning so it set you up with a handicap.

No Mither.

David's forsaken awful perk.

All because Freddy wasn't as strong after the entity nerfed him so much.

But before you even started the trial and noticed that you couldn't replace it you knew it was that punk bitch Freddy.

So as bad bitches do you were duking it out at shack and went to go vault the window when he caught you by the seam of the pants. And since basement was RIGHT THERE you decided on something. You quickly slipped out of Jake's hand-me-downs and sprinted to the other side as adrenalin took over your bloodstream.

He didn't know what to do ,but he did enjoy the veiw~

As Quentin flashlight-ed him to high heavens and David yanked your pants out of his grip and quickly vaulted the window to find you and give you back your pants.

It's safe to say they've gotten used to this;and see you as the younger brat of a little sister.

Y'all got each other's backs especially against a pedo.

[blackenchanting]

Welcome to ravens borough episode 8

Somewhere in the unheard of town of Raven's Borough…

The contents of this story are nsfw therefore not for children

"Wait up jailbird!" a cute boys voice said as a young Ameila came to a stop waiting up for him

"Sorry, I guess it's just hard to keep up with today." she said

"It's okay just wait up for me." Rob said looking at the Tabaxi with wonder and love having developed maybe something of a crush for her.

"I'll try." Ameila said running up ahead as he chased after her.

"Ugh jailbird..." Rob said running after her as watched her run chasing after her. As he began to slow down, however, she continued running until he came to a stop. Watching her disappear. He slowly sat up in bed unable to sleep as he went down stairs and left.

With a clack and a flicker a sign with Orion on it that said Orion's twenty four hour roadside assistance and repairs on it. moved gesturing a giant wrench. As the Impala turned the corner by the large white twelve bay garage.

"Goddamn insomnia." Rob said. Pulling into the garage where Orion's truck was sitting as his dash said it was four am

"Couldn't let me get another two hours of sleep could you fuckin memories." Rob said parking the car. He got out approaching the garage as he stepped into bay two where Orion's truck was sitting as the radio sang

"🎶 Oh I used to say.. I would never fall in love again until I found her.. I said I would never fall unless it's you🎶" Orion sang to it while fiddling with a welding torch.

"You have a weird taste in music, man." Rob said.

"Yes I am aware" Orion said as fire sprayed from the welding torch as he shut it off setting it down on his massive toolbox

"Whatcha working on?" Rob said.

"I was putting more decals on the truck." Orion said, gesturing to it.

"Oh?" Rob asked, looking at the truck. Which now had red and yellow caution tape on the back. The phone number was now bigger and it said we work on auto repairs, truck repairs and motorcycle repairs on the doors. And across the side of the back it said I work twenty four hours so you don't have too.

"Very nice. Why'd you need a welding torch though? Thought that was all part of the paint job." Rob said.

"I was gonna finally weld the winch onto the front of the truck while I was waiting for phone calls." Orion said.

"Makes sense." Rob said.

"🎶Georgia, pulled me in I asked to love her once again You fell, I caught you I'll never let you go again like I did🎶... So let me guess couldn't sleep?" Orion asked

"Nope. Thought a night drive would help and nope, wide awake." Rob said.

"Well I guess I'm honored you drove all the way out here." Orion said.

"I just kinda guessed you'd be awake really." Rob said.

"It ain't called Orion's twenty four hour roadside assistance and repairs for nothing." he said ending it with a yawn.

"Fair. Surprised you actually mean that. Though you really gotta get more people to work a graveyard shift." Rob said.

"Meh… the extra sleep would be nice. But then nothing would get done how I'd like. Was angry earlier… woke up from this weird dream and it was perfect. Had Saffron wrapped around me and rose between us. And then I couldn't get back to sleep so now I am here." Orion said.

"Yeah, I feel that. Woke up with Eva wrapped around me… couldn't get back to sleep despite how perfect it was." Rob said.

Without warning the fog crept into the bay covering the ground as Orion continued talking unfazed by it.

"Still weird to me how this fog doesn't operate like regular fog." Rob said.

"Just one of those things that you gotta accept. It's an unstoppable force of nature that can't be explained" Orion said

"Like for example me and romantic love songs. I don't know why it happens, it just does." Orion added.

"Fair enough." Rob said.

"So how was your vacation to the best western desternation in america brah?" Orion asked

"In short. Moon's haunted." Rob said.

"I don't get it.. unless you're referring to the moon hanging from the ceiling." Orion said.

"That was also probably haunted too, yes. There's some shady shit going on there. On top of the ghosts, place might have been besieged by demons an hour ago." Rob said.

"You lost me at demons brah" Orion replied.

"Yeah, it's fuckin weird. Place is definitely fuckin haunted by Veronica Madison." Rob said.

"Didn't know her." Orion said applying a decal to the truck.

"Neither did I, I knew Chris and Ameila, and that's it. Shits fuckin weird and I ain't going back without a warrant. But, after what I've learned, I think there's a good guess at what made people disappear." Rob said.

"Shoot for it" Orion said

"Either the company has been silencing people who talk about the okami kinetics salvage operation they're running behind the restaurant or ghosts." Rob said.

"I don't think ghosts.. can make people vanish without a trace" Orion said applying another decal

"True. Though the woman in charge warned us to not go out at three am. Which is highly fuckin suspicious." Rob said.

"Oh.. that's just a town rule in general appointed by the vice mayor. Did you not know this?" Orion said.

"Nope. Which is even more concerning but that's a problem for another day." Rob said.

"Athena put the rule in place because the fog is the worst at three am. You can't see the roads so the town rule is leave before three am. Or leave at four." Orion said.

"Ah, right. Makes sense." Rob said.

"Huh I guess I do pay attention at those talks" Orion said.

"Yes. I usually don't." Rob said.

"Huh salvage shed.. actually I probably shouldn't be talking about it good idea Orion" Orion said to himself

"Yeah probably not. That place gives me the creeps." Rob said.

"Worst you've ever seen?" Orion asked.

"Not quite." Rob said.

"Uh huh." Orion said.

"What? I've seen some shit that should give me nightmares if I regularly had dreams." Rob said.

"Uhuh" Orion said again

"So what was the dream you had about yesterday." he asked

"The one that woke me up? It was more of a memory. About Ameila. Heh, I used to have a crush on her as a kid but I just couldn't keep up." Rob said.

"Not trying to sound like a therapist here. But maybe there's a reason you had the dream" Orion said

"Probably. Not sure why but I'll figure it out in time. Probably just cause I still care about her." Rob said.

"Last time I had a dream about anyone one it was Ralph.. and we both know what happened to them." Orion said

"Oh god." Rob said.

"Poor bastard.. completely unrecognizable.. had to be identified through dna." Orion said.

"Yeah, I know. Bad way to go." Rob said.

"If I were you I'd keep an eye on her. Now don't pester her twenty four seven but keep an eye on her." Orion said.

"Yeah I will. She's a good friend. Even if she's become… distant lately." Rob said.

"That is okay, friends grow distant sometimes. But that doesn't mean they don't care about you." Orion said.

"Yeah. It just kinda hurts." Rob said.. hearing a tire squeal and the sound of a crash in his mind while thinking about Ameila.

"The wheel is spinning but the hamster is dead." Orion said.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Rob said.

"Alright I'm losing my sanity, how about you pull America's golden girl in here so I can inspect it." Orion said.

"Alright." Rob said getting back in the Impala.

With a wurr Orion raised it up on the lift and grabbed an airline, gun, and socket. And quickly took the lug nuts off before pulling the wheel off. then shining a small flashlight at the brake pads

"I see." Orion said.

"I'll just let you do your thing really." Rob said.

"Gotta take it easy on the brakes man." Orion said, walking over to a parts room.

"I'm not the one driving usually. Though I don't know why you insist on using stock brakes on her." Rob said.

"I don't.. I use metallic brake pads that's why it shocks me." Orion's slightly distance voice said.

"I don't think there's an ounce of the word 'stock' on this car, not anymore at least." he said, returning with new brake pads.

"The paint, seats and probably the body itself." Rob said.

"Paints not stock I've repainted it several times due Eva's excessive scratching." Orion said.

"Yeah that's fair." Rob said.

"But it's your car man tell her to let off the brakes because you know the brakes give out after some time. And this pedal isn't always gonna save your butt you feel me?" Orion said pushing the brakes in as it barely did anything.

"Yeah, I'll tell her when she's lucid enough." Rob said.

[mearcatsreturns]

Ok. So.

In 2 days, i will be let go. They (the organization i work for) don’t have the money to keep paying me, and that’s when my contract ends. They’ve been happy with the work I’ve done and the speed at which I’ve done it.

A couple weeks ago, we shipped the bulk of the archive to our international center/archive in Europe. They’re an NGO, and frankly, they no longer have the resources in the US that they did a couple decades ago. My boss is over 70 and wants to retire, and this has basically been a small satellite office. My boss and I are full-time, and there's another very part-time employee. All this is pretty straightforward and has been in the works for years.

I've been working here over two years, but only full-time for a little over a year. And hoo boy. Things that were not a big deal or that made sense when I was there a day or two per week became real issues when I was there daily. One example: lunch. Again, when you're only there once or twice a week, the expectation of eating lunch together makes sense. But every day? Absolutely not. And yet, that's been the expectation. My boss...what read as curiosity and friendliness once a week translates into outright invasiveness and deeply controlling tendencies when it's daily.

I'm going to try to focus on what's been annoying to me most recently and not tell everything--close friends have heard much more about the nonsense, but it's a LOT, and even this rant is going to be long. It boils down to this: my boss deeply needs to go to therapy, but she won't and she'll make it everyone else's problem. She routinely asks invasive (and on one occasion, illegal) questions. Like I'm talking not even my best friend and I exchange that kind of information. For a while earlier this year, she was commenting on my clothing or appearance nearly daily (usually asking if something was new, and as she's very intense about buying most things secondhand it does not read as a compliment). I ended up severely limiting what I wear to work, trying to make it as boring and repetitive as possible. This blows, because over the last few years, I've had a great time finding where my personal style meets comfort, and I enjoy experimenting. She still finds new things, somehow. Anyway.

Attempts to place and enforce boundaries haven't been successful long-term. If I tell her that something makes me uncomfortable or anxious, she'll tell me either "that's not how I feel about it" (eye roll) or "I can see where you're coming from." And then within days, she'll start doing that thing again, possibly more. (Example: I really don't want to be asked about my commute every day. I take public transportation, and it's often meh, sometimes really shitty, and occasionally, transcendentally awesome. The thing is, because it often skews negative, dwelling on it just makes me feel negative. There's nothing I can do about changing this entire system, and I'm generally pretty good at putting it behind me when I get off the train/bus. I will tell someone if something cool or very bad happens, but by and large I don't want to dwell on it. I have told her this repeatedly. She says okay...and then goes back to asking me every fucking day how it was that morning and the previous evening.) One time when I tried to curb her invasive tendencies by simply not sharing information, she whipped herself into a frenzy and ended up accusing me of time theft because I didn't tell her where I'd gone during an hour I took off but made up. The funny thing is, I had been Going Through It, so I'd actually taken rideshares most of the days she accused me of it, so I had literal receipts to prove her wrong.

One of the most distressing developments over the last few months has been that she keeps trying to get me to do things that are by no means covered by my job description or that I have authorization to do. This ranges from cleaning the bathrooms (weird but okay, and I did eventually get across to her that this was unheard of...when advocating for our new temp employee). When my previous coworker quit, she asked me to be there/help with the exit interview. She's started saying, "oh, we need to do x"...and then will end up staring at me and wringing her hands until she gets me to do the thing or flat out asks me to. I ended up doing the bulk of the interview for the temp employee and making the hiring decision. I've ended up figuring out (and doing) a lot of the packaging of our recycling. I ended up being the one handling the movers and coordinating lists on the day of the move, and she utterly fucked up the bits she did (which was about 15% of what temp guy and I each did).

Things calmed down a bit after the move, but as she's realized she needs to deal with the administrative items that needed to remain in the country before the end of November, she's gotten unbearable again. Especially since, again, Thursday is my last day. After I finished updating some finding aids and writing a reflection essay (heavily edited so as to be neutral, I'm not trying to burn bridges), I didn't have that much to do. Mearcats, you might ask, what about the administrative records staying in the country? Well, you see, I have been asking for a retention policy or guidelines since at least January of this year. I kept getting the brush off of "oh, I'll get on that" or "I'll handle it, you don't need to worry". Then, at the end of last week, she asked me to work on the retention policy...which had died in the water earlier this year and was a complete mess. There was an earlier one from 2009, but it was pretty outdated and involved states that no longer were relevant. I said sure, because you REALLY need at least an unofficial one to deal with administrative records. The thing is, most of the information in a retention policy is informed by law and accounting policies. I am neither a lawyer nor an accountant, and I tried to make this clear. I figured I would find a template and essentially work on organizing the information given us by the lawyer, and I can definitely do the organizing bit well.

Friends, it has not been that. She is looking for answers. No matter how much I tell her I'm unqualified (literally. legally.), she keeps expecting me to know it? Even though she's the one who communicates with the superiors and has isolated me pretty well from direct communication with them? I told her after I turned in a draft of this that I wouldn't be comfortable proceeding with disposing of any admin files until she looked it over and was able to at least partially reconcile some of the issues in this draft I came up with. While she was doing that, she asked me to look at a few of the boxes, because we didn't know quite as well what was in them beyond "administrative". I did so, making a spreadsheet with the contents (usually the folder title, which was nice) and the dates. She still hadn't gotten a response back to me on the retention policy draft this morning, and she asked what I was working on. I showed her the spreadsheet, and she dead-ass said "I didn't ask you to do that, why are you wasting your time with it?" Like?? Do you expect me to just remember the contents of 3 boxes? I'm not going to discard documents before I have at least the okay to do so? Anyway, she came around on that, but jesus christ. And she keeps asking me things and not reaching out to people with answers (like, say, a lawyer or accountant) but then questioning the things I do have really well documented. It's so tense, I shouldn't be doing this, and UGH. It deeply sucks that I'm almost excited for unemployment, just because it means she won't be a horrible fixture in my life anymore.

cannot emphasize enough how much i want to do crime right now

[awkwardtaco056]

Girls are angry too was a good episode

[boyenthusiast]

okay master post of all the Guys in my life that i post about kinda often. both cause it can be confusing and also i like talking about these guys

vinyl guy- his real name is matthew and we met through a post i put on my college's snapchat story about how im selling my vinyl collection. he's from my hometown (went to my rival high school!) and he's buying two of my beatles vinyls on saturday morning and when i researched the history of these albums and my specific vinyls, i told him about it and he seemed excited :)

micro econ guy- he's also in my science and critical thinking class, but i didn't realize until later cause they're both huge classes. his real name is pierce and he's tall with the like middle part longish hair that's popular now. he has nails painted light blue and he sits next to me in micro econ but across the room in science and critical thinking. painted nails on a guy who's a business major is like. unheard of. and thats why i first noticed him. i do not know how to talk to him lmao.

ive referred to him as "brba j guy" cause there used to be two breaking bad guys but the other one is just kinda meh to me actually- the first breaking bad guy, k guy, is named kaden, and j guy is named john. he went to my high school and we had english class together senior year (thats when i first met him) and also last semester (we go to the same college). he plays keyboard in a band and has good tastes in music and fashion. he also has cool longish hair and always has v cool outfits.

sam- he's not really a Guy, he's my most recent ex. i'm over him but there are aspects of our relationship that still affect me and he's the reason behind like 11 of the poems i wrote in late november if that gives you any idea. a few days ago i sent him a "i dont think i want to be friends again or even talk with you because of these reasons" text but he has yet to read or respond to it (i know because snapchat has read receipts). i dont really have negative feelings toward him, but i just dont want him in my life anymore because personal and complicated reasons

ethan- again, not really a Guy, but they're my second-to-last ex and the partner i was with the longest (2 1/2 years). they broke up with me the last week of august and both the breakup and relationship obviously affected me a whole lot. while i have no negative feelings toward them, i havent talked to them since early october and we dont want to be in each other's lives.

matthew, pierce, and john are all maybe potential crushes?? idk i'd have to hang out with them one-on-one before i can tell for sure. however, idk how i'd get with any of them. matthew has a girlfriend, i dont know if pierce is gay (but he has painted nails 👀), and john is pan but i'm not sure if i like him just yet. like 95% of my journal (that i started in late december) has been about these guys. also i've referred to them as ___ guy in the past because i didn't know id post about them as much as i have also to protect their privacy, but tbh you cant tell much from a first name so

[redrobin-detective]

turn and face the strange

“Hey Val,” a deep voice whispered into her ear and Valerie nearly jumped off of her hoverboard. She whirled around and pointed her weapon at the stupid ghost that had dared to sneak up on Amity’s greatest hunter... only to find Phantom with a cheeky grin and his hands held up playfully. “Oh man, back to shooting on sight? That is so three years ago.”

“Phantom?” She questioned, lowering her gun but only a fraction. It wasn’t unheard for ghosts to take advantage of Phantom’s fame and face. Amorpho could have blown back into town to cause problems again. The ghost’s face settled into one of polite confusion as he lowered his hands.

“Yeah? I know we haven’t seen each other in almost a month but I didn’t think I was that forgettable.” He quipped easily but his deep green eyes searched her for signs that something was wrong. Valerie finally lowered her weapon completely, no ghost could fake Phantom’s level of concern.

“Sorry,” she grumbled, the word still giving her a bitter aftertaste even after being partners and sort of friends with the ghost going on two years. “But what happened to you? Since when are you all...” she gestured vaguely to all of him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Val; I think you studied too much during the break. You’re looking at an Ivy league school, yeah? I know someone who can get you some practice guides and-”

“No, but your voice!” Val interrupted. “It wasn’t like that before, it’s all deep and weird and since when were you taller than me and have muscle!”

“Are you checking me out, Valerie Grey?” the ghost teased lightly, “because I believe I have mentioned I am very happily in a relationship and-”

“No,” she interrupted again, “when did you grow up?” She asked, unable to think of another word to describe the near adult before her.

“Probably around the same time you did,” Phantom shrugged. Valerie almost disputed it but then paused. She thought of the weeks and months before the Christmas Truce that had halted almost all ghost attacks. 

It had all happened very gradually, just like her widening hips and broader shoulders. She’d gotten used to seeing him every day, often more than she wanted, that it hadn’t registered. The ghost boy had become a man right before her eyes and she hadn’t even noticed. 

“But how? You’re a ghost.”

“Meh,” Phantom added unhelpfully, flipping over to float lazily on his back as if his existence wasn’t breaking her brain right now.

“Don’t Meh me,” she hissed. “You were what? 12 when you uh became a ghost?”

“Excuse you, I was 14,” Phantom said casually as if dying so tragically young wasn’t something to worry about. “And now I’m 17.”

“No, that’s not how it works,” Val countered. Had she known that they were the exact same age? It had never really come up before since she made an effort not to get too close to the annoying ghost. Would he have been her classmate, her friend, if he hadn’t died? “You’re still 14, ghosts don’t age.”

“I do,” Phantom stated. “I’ve had three birthdays and three death days since I got my powers. As you just pointed out a few minutes ago, I’m not the shrimpy, squeaky voiced little brat that I was. I even know how to drive now, not that I do it all that much since I can fly and don’t really have a car...”

“That’s not how death works,” Valerie explained but even she was losing steam.

“You’re going to lecture me on how death works?” Phantom asked shooting her with the driest look he could manage with his undead eyes. “I get that its a little weird but what is life but a series of weird coincidences? Ghosts aren’t as static as you think, we can feel and change and grow.” He stuck out his tongue out at her, “some of us even grow taller than you.”

“Jerk,” Valerie said but she couldn’t help but smile at little bit. Phantom was annoying, he was annoying and arrogant and stupidly protective and kind. It had always bothered her a bit how he could be so otherworldly and so human at the same time but maybe ghosts weren’t that different after all. Maybe it was time to finally accept that Phantom wasn’t just an echo, a leftover consciousness but a person in his own right. “So Mr. Adult Phantom, if I’m going to an Ivy League school to study law what are you doing with your afterlife?”

“Oh you know, fight some ghosts, scare some tourists, be forcibly crowned Ghost King once I turn 18 and make some effort to repair human and ghostly relations.” 

“Be forcibly what?” Val shrieked.

“Yeah,” Phantom sighed mournfully. “Word to the wise, do NOT seal away strange Ghost Kings in sarcophaguses or a bunch of eyeballs will try and make you his replacement. I got them to wait until I was 18 so I guess that’s something.” His eyes widened with realization. “Hey when you’re done your law degree you want to replace Walker as the warden of the Zone? You can fight people with your fists and paperwork!”

“What the hell!” Valerie asked, getting in Phantom’s face. “They’re going to make you King? The ghosts hate you!”

“I know, it’s gonna be a ride. Well, thanks for reminding me of my dwindling freedom. I’m going to try and break the sound barrier. Want to join me?” He teased. 

“You’re gonna have to break the sound barrier if you want to get away from me, I need answers, you stupid ghost!” She reached out to grab him but he floated away. His eyes were light, playful as he sped off. He turned over his shoulder, to see if she would chase him not as a predator after a prey but one kid chasing another. 

They both had big changes and big responsibilities coming up when they’d both have to grow up properly. But for now, they could streak across the skies of the city they both swore to protect and enjoy the last dregs of their youth, living and dead.

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed in The Shadows - Prologue

James Potter x OC

Words: 3,7k

Cecily Grant. At your service. Ordinary Sixth Year Gryffindor, Chaser of the Quidditch team and mediocre witch. Dreams of becoming the number one Healer anyone has ever seen (at least my parents think that's my dream) and having my first kiss before I bloody graduate. Don't I sound absolutely charming? Special? Note-worthy?

No. And apparently the rest of the school agrees since I hardly get acknowledged by anyone outside of class...or year. We're a big school, of course no one knows everyone. But at least within one year...

"OI, are you daydreaming again?" Marlene flicked my forehead. Oh well, I guess some did notice me.

"It's not called daydreaming when I'm just trying to ignore your traditional boy rant in the morning," I teased, picking the sweet back up to munch on it.

Marlene scoffed, "At least, I have boys to rant about." She flipped me off when I pressed my hand against my heart with an inaudible 'ouch', causing her to giggle.

Yeah, I shouldn't be complaining about my life. I have an established friendship group, my grades are good enough to satisfy my parents and Hogwarts was an amazing school in general. Plus, I even had a hobby. Quidditch. Hah, take that.

Nonetheless, the routine that my life had become was pretty boring, depressing even if I were to look at my boy's department. Or rather, lack of. I know I shouldn't identify myself through the boyfriends I had or had not, because I'm more than that (female empowerment, y'all!) but as a sixteen year old you are simply not able to resist the urge to want a male in your life and experience all that romantic ish. Especially when you see all your friends developing crushes. Not that I had never not developed a crush. I currently had more than one crush to be honest. But their crushes were actually two-sided and resulted in dates and relationships…well, Marlene's did at least. If Lily would only get as far as a second date until the bloke suddenly disappeared from Hogwarts (just kidding, they would just run away at first sight). Three guesses, whose fault that was.

Anyways, back to me because at least in my story I want to be the protagonist. My crushes were never reciprocated even if I thought so at the beginning (Marlene's fault mostly), so I was left as probably the only Sixth Year in Gryffindor's history to have never been in a romantic relationship. And mind you, I don't have big expectations. I can't really in my position. I'm no Lily Evans with her shiny red hair and bright, emerald green eyes and neither a Marlene McKinnon with her tanned skin, hazelnut brown hair- I'm getting off topic again, which is me.

I sighed. Not even in my thoughts I could keep the attention to myself, why would anyone else?

…

"She's not listening again," Marlene huffed, flicking my forehead.

After that inner-monologue at breakfast, I headed off to the first class this morning; History of Magic. I had a distinct feeling I would continue with that monologue in class. No wonder, I failed that class in my O.W.L's. Meh, whatever.

Since Lily and Marlene were closer friends than any of them with me, it was natural for them to sit together in every class, which caused me to slip into any free seat next to someone I usually never talk to. Joy.

To my surprise, I saw a vacant seat next to Remus Lupin, who was still standing and taking his stuff out whilst his two friends Sirius Black and James Potter took over the seats behind them. Ah, now the infamous Marauders. Minus one that is mysteriously missing right now. But nonetheless, no one would dare split the four apart, knowing they are always together and always partnering in each class-

"Hey Remus," I greeted the sandy-haired boy cheerfully, plopping on the seat next to him. I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. Remus gave me a surprised smile, seemingly not minding and I was sure as hell not going to ask. At least, he wasn't a total stranger. I was proud to say that every Sixth Year knew every Sixth Year within their house at least. And since I was on the Gryffindor team, I was known to him solely because of James Potter and Sirius Black, who were both players as well, the former even having been named Captain this year.

"Hey Cecily, how you doing?" Remus asked politely, settling himself down. His skin looked paler than usual upon closer inspection and he looked positively exhausted. I took out a bar of chocolate I always kept in the pockets of my robes (for emergencies only, of course!) and offered him some. "Good, and you?" I asked as he gratefully accepted without question. He was used to me randomly offering him some. "Fine, had a bit of a restless night, but should be better tomorrow," he said quietly, which went mostly unheard when one rowdy Sirius hollered from back, "Oi, aren't you gonna offer some to us as well?"

I glanced backwards at the two notorious troublemakers. "Um, no?" Sirius pouted and any ordinary girl would start to swoon at the sight. I'm ordinary, so I did. But years of practice taught me to only do it internally. And the amount of times I caught him with his tongue down another girl's throat was enough disgust to keep myself sane whilst resting my eyes on his unnatural beauty. I ain't kidding, really. He was handsome in ways that sometimes made me question whether he was a male-Veela. Those surely existed. Perfectly groomed, thick black hair, striking grey eyes, an annoyingly perfect nose and a jaw line that could cut someone in half. I am ashamed to admit there was a time where I would have gladly let him stomp on me if that would have made him acknowledge me.

I mean, come on, who hadn't had a crush on him, male and female? I was convinced, James did and was just trying to cover it with his constant profession of love towards one Lily Evans. I shall explain in a minute but let's first get through my most important description of the next Marauder, who was unfortunately now my Captain.

Unfortunate, because he already had been a nightmare in the last two years I had been on the team, constantly taking over the leader spot from the actual Captain to order us around, demanding more laps, longer practice hours until we were all bruised and frustrated enough to attempt a mutiny even though he wasn't even on charge. Imagine, how he was going to be now with the actual permission to order us around? I still have nightmares.

Besides that, he was probably also the leader of the little Marauder gang, a dumb name for their tight-knit group of friends. I couldn't deny though I was a bit envious of their friendship and I could imagine many others were, too.

Didn't change the fact that their gang name sounded stupid. Now, why I think James Potter is secretly crushing on his best mate (like every sane person would); I could hardly take his 'undying' love for Lily seriously, mainly because he had such ridiculous ways of professing his love for her that I doubted he was serious about it…or sirius. Heh. Anyways, he would probably be more believable if he weren't always so damn public about his declarations. That was also probably the reason why Lily was able to reject him all this time and call him an arrogant toe-rag in all her hateful rants. It didn't seem like she believed him.

Otherwise it would be hard to resist him for years. I mean, he was handsome, smart if he wanted to be and a pretty good Quidditch player. The whole package, really.

Merlin, I sounded like I had a crush on him, too. BUT. To be honest, everyone would have a crush on him as well as Sirius if he wasn't so 'devoted'.

I mentally slapped myself. At this rate, I would crush on Frank Longbottom's toad. "I seriously need a boyfriend," I muttered to myself.

"Hm, what was that?" Remus asked amused, chuckling quietly. Just then did I hear the complaints of the boys behind me.

"Are we air?"

"You siriusly going to ignore your Captain? That's ten extra laps this Thursday, Grant!"

I just remembered why I could keep my crushes under control. At least when it came to these two.

"Nothing," I muttered to Remus before turning over, raising an eyebrow at them, "What do you want?"

"Respect."

"Chocolate."

"Sorry, I have neither for you two," I said with a shrug, turning back over whilst they spluttered. It was easy handling them after years of practice together. Besides these interactions at class and on the Quidditch field, we had no other kind of connection, which was good for my heart.

But well, that would change quickly.

"Why is Remus always getting chocolate and we don't?" Sirius complained after class as I packed up the rest of the bar along with other stuff (such as the piece of parchment and quill I didn't use at all for this lesson). Rolling my eyes, I offered him some. "No, I don't want it anymore."

"Jeez, like a kid," I said loudly, "And for the record, I do it because Remus gives me his notes. Doesn't he?" I directed the question towards my seat partner with the most innocent smile. Remus Lupin with the gentle chuckle. He would probably be a heartthrob as well if it weren't for his quiet and introverted nature. In fact, all of the Marauders could be heartthrobs. Except Peter Pettigrew. Who was part of the gang for some reason. 'But even he is in a relationship right now,' I thought miserably, 'Probably off snogging his girlfriend and skipping class..'

"Of course I do," Remus answered, charming his notes to double and handing me the copy.

"Thanks, Remus!" I said cheerily, stuffing the notes into my bag before swinging it over and trudging past the protesting boys, "Hey, why don't we ever get your notes?!"

I ran to catch up with Marlene and Lily, who were already on their way to Herbology. "Hey girls, wait up!" They startled into a stop, "Oh, right. Sorry Cecily, we should have waited for you," Lily said sweetly and I grimaced. I was probably the Peter Pettigrew in our little friendship group.

Not that I could blame them. Lily and Marlene were both popular, extraordinary beauties and smart on top. I was the boring, ordinary looking and mediocre Peter that had nothing special to her name.

But that would change.

The days passed in a blur of classes, gossip and studying. The usual boring tirade, really. The only thing I looked forward to was food. And Quidditch.

So, imagine my elation when Thursday came up…and the sour mood I got in when James actually demanded those extra ten laps, apparently being good at holding a grudge. "Keep it up, Chaser No. 2!"

"Honestly, Potter," I huffed, coming to a stand in front of him, the only one still on the ground besides him as everyone was already up on their brooms.

"It's Captain, Chaser No. 2."

"Seriously? Chaser No. 2?"

"Well, there are three Chasers. I have to tell them apart."

"You have to tell them apart?" I snorted, "Potter, you know every player's name, family background, favourite team and player."

"True, and the Montrose Magpies still suck."

"They don't!"

"They do!"

"Still better than the Chudley Cannons!"

"Take that back!"

"Nope."

"Ten more laps."

I snorted again, mounting my broom. "As if."

"Grant, you get back down here this instant!"

"Who the hell is Grant? I'm Chaser No. 2," I yelled back, causing Sirius to bark a laugh as he heard. We started simulating a game with Team A against Team B for a while before mixing the players together. I rolled my eyes as Archie Stan knocked his shoulder against mine more roughly than necessary in an attempt to loosen my grip on the Quaffle. I wasn't born yesterday though, my grip tighter on the ball than a package of almond biscuits.

"Good, Chaser No. 2!" James shouted as I threw the Quaffle through the loop, whooping exaggerately, "Wooo -oof!" I clutched my broomstick to regain my balance as Stan knocked against me from behind this time, the air leaving my lungs for a second at the unexpected hit. "Watch it, Sideline-Chaser No. 3!"

"Not cool, bro!" Sirius and Frank booed, causing the Seventh Year boy to roll his eyes.

"Alright, everyone. Good game today," James called out, wrapping up the practice. We all cheered in relief, flying towards the ground to stretch and loosen up. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it!" Our captain stated cheekily, grinning broadly now that he left the Captain mode behind. The others grumbled under their breaths as we all made our way to the locker rooms. I rubbed my sore shoulder, the rough handling having left a bit of a mark. "You alright there, Grant?" James asked as I passed him by.

"Yeah, just sore."

"Stan is an idiot," James commented, looking after the boy in question, "He is still bitter about how you took over his spot on the A team."

"His fault that he sucks," I muttered, causing the messy-haired boy to chuckle. "He doesn't suck. You are just better than him."

"Wow, can't believe I'm hearing a compliment from the Captain that only knows how to motivate us with insults."

He winked, catching me off guard, "Don't get used to it." I stared for a second at his smirk, wondering how he could pull that off without seeming arrogant like Sirius. Maybe it had to do with his unruly hair that gave him somewhat of a boyish, innocent look or maybe the warmth in his almond eyes that would turn into pure amber if the sun hit him in the face…

'I'm thinking way too much about this,' I thought, shaking myself out of it with a mental slap.

"Evans!" he suddenly called out, causing me to flinch in surprise. His entire expression brightened tenfold as he spotted the red-head over my shoulder. I turned to see her trudging over along with Marlene and Alice Prewett, who was probably the sole reason why they were here in the first place as she always wanted to cheer for her boyfriend. "Glad to see you are here to support the Gryffindor team! Or did you just come to watch me in my natural element?"

"Neither, Potter. Quidditch is useless," Lily commented harshly, and I winced slightly at the sharp tone she had solely reserved for him, watching how James' ego deflated along with his puffed-out chest.

"Touché," he chuckled, almost choking on the word and I could practically see his inner battle between agreeing with the love of his life and defending his love for the game.

"Excuse me, Quidditch isn't useless!" I protested indignantly. Lily just rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she walked past us with the other girls, who simply gave me small smiles in passing. I huffed. I really needed friends that supported this game.

"One day…," James sighed blissfully, staring after them, "One day she will admit her love for me and we will be together forever."

I shifted slightly, "Yeaaahhhh."

He frowned, straightening up to his full height, "You don't think so?"

Lie. Lie. Say everything else but what you really think, "I think you are in love with Sirius and trying to cover it up."

I TOLD YOU TO-

"W-what?" James spluttered and I snapped my head over my shoulder, "Yep, I'm coming!" I called back to the owl that flew past us in that moment, swiftly turning to walk away, "Bye Potter!"

"Wait, hold up!" the dark-haired boy caught me by the hood of my uniform, successfully pulling me back and I grimaced, "What the bloody hell do you mean I'm in love with Padfoot?!"

"Who isn't?" the boy in question asked, coming up towards after the quickest shower ever. I facepalmed in embarrassment as he walked over, ruffling his still wet hair.

"I'm certainly not!" James exclaimed, shaking me slightly with his grip on my hood, "She thinks so!"

"Oh?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at me, smirking in amusement, "I thought you were talking about her being in love with me."

"You know you gonna catch a cold if you walk around with your hair wet in this weather," I pointed out, trying to change the subject. Not that I was actually in love with him but since I had a tiny crush and I was really bad at lying, I would probably blurt something out that would make them think I was.

"Don't change the subject. Why the hell do you think I'm in love with Padfoot?"

"Well, for one. You have a pet name for him," I pointed out.

"For Moony and Wormtail, too! And they call him that, too!"

"Maybe it's a group thing then," I said dismissively, trying to find a way out and finally hit the showers, crawl into my bed and die. The longest conversation with the two heartthrobs yet and it had to be about my thoughts on their relationships.

"It's not!" Both James and Sirius denied.

"Two negatives make one positive," I said with a grin.

"Well, I wouldn't hold it against any of the blokes if they were in love with me," Sirius stated, flipping his hair and placing a hand on James' shoulder, "You can tell me, I won't judge."

James shrugged him off, "Of course, I don't! I never did, I don't now and I'm never going to!" Then he paused, "You don't think anyone else thinks that?"

Sirius shrugged and shook his head simultaneously, "Why would they?"

"Yeah, why would they?" I agreed hastily, side-stepping discreetly in hopes of- "YOU think so? You tell me!" James demanded, blocking my way.

I sighed, "I was just kidding."

"You were not."

I frowned, "How do you know?"

James pinched his nose. "You don't think Evans thinks I'm in love with Padfoot, do you?"

Shrugging, I leaned against my broomstick with a sigh, realising that this would take longer than I would like to, "How would I know?"

"Because you are friends?"

"Yeah, but I don't always listen when they talk about boy stuff." Mainly because I didn't always want to feel the green eyed monster crawling up whenever they talked about their dates or relationships or even drama. I wish I had some drama to talk about.

"And why do you think I do?" James pressed.

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Love Padfoot!" James said loudly in exasperation, causing heads to turn as the other players slowly got out of the locker room, freshened up.

"Is that your way of matchmaking, James?" Frank called out teasingly, "Shouting at the victim to love your best mate?"

"Oi, what do you mean 'victim'?" Sirius shouted back as the others laughed around us. I went beet red.

"This conversation is over, Potter," I decided, side-stepping him swiftly to walk towards the locker rooms. The girls looked at me questioningly, but I just shook my head as I walked into the warm room, James hot on my heels.

"I'm serious, Grant. Why do you think I'm in love with Padfoot and not Evans? Does she think that? Is she doubting my love for her?" he fired one question after another as he followed me.

"Well, maybe," I replied to his last question as I placed broomstick against the wall next to the girls' changing rooms door, stopping with a hand on the handle, "I mean, it would explain why she hasn't agreed to go out with you after your countless times of asking her."

"How is asking someone out causing someone to doubt their love for them?" James asked incredulously as he proceeded to try and follow me inside the room.

"Off limits, Potter!" I said sternly with half a foot inside the room as he stood right in front of me.

"Captain here, Grant!" James retaliated, pushing me inside before half-closing the door to give me some privacy. I sighed, figuring that would be all I would get as I opened my locker. "Now, answer the question!"

"Well, maybe it's just the way you are handling your 'love' for her," I mused as I changed, knowing he wouldn't stop pestering me unless I satisfied his curiousity.

"What do you mean?"

"You are being overbearing about it. Obnoxious," I explained, grinning at his childish scoff, "I mean, I would have believed you at some point after all these years, but your affections seem kind of…superficial, given the fact that you never tried to actually get to know her."

"…How do you know all that? Did she tell you that?"

I blushed. "Y-yeah, probably." I was glad he couldn't see my red face from lying. It was still better than telling him that I was mindlessly obsessing over my friend's relationships and boy dramas since I had none myself. Sighing, I stuffed my Quidditch robes into my sack before throwing it over my shoulder and heading towards the door.

Unsurprisingly, James stood there still, an unusual thoughtful expression on his face. "So, you think I should get to know her more?"

"I think you should leave her alone."

"What? I can't-"

"I mean, everything you try at this point will be fruitless because Lily won't believe you like she hasn't all the years before," I explained patiently, "It would be smarter to just lean back and be civil for a while, give her space to breathe instead of giving her yet another reason to complain how much of an arrogant toe-rag you are."

James went quiet for a second and I wondered if I had imagined the slight flicker of hurt in his eyes at my words. "She really said that?" he asked softly and I mentally berated myself for throwing that in his face thoughtlessly.

"Maybe not with those words…," I tried to deny but he saw right through it, sighing heavily as he ran a hand through his air.

"…Be civil, eh?"

I nodded whilst simultaneously wondering how I had suddenly become a relationship counsellor for my Quidditch Captain. "Be civil."

Little did I know how this little conversation got the ball rolling towards the most unexpected direction.

Chapter One

[thetravelerwrites]

Monster Match #22: Tikbalang

The Traveler's Masterlist

For @severedreamerbeard​: You’ve been matched with a tikbalang!

Tikbalangs, or Tigbolan, scare travelers by leading them astray and playing tricks on them, such as making them return to an arbitrary path, no matter how far they go or where they turn. A superstition popular with the Tagalogs of Rizal Province is that Tikbalangs are benevolent guardians of elemental kingdoms. They are usually found standing at the foot of large trees looking around for anyone who dares to bestow malignancy on their kingdom's territory.

It is a tall, bony humanoid creature with the head and hooves of a horse and disproportionately long limbs, to the point that its knees reach above its head when it squats down.

In some versions, the tikbalang can also transform itself into human form or turn invisible to humans and they like to lead travelers astray. Tikbalang is generally associated with dark, sparsely populated, foliage-overgrown areas, with legends variously identifying their abode as being beneath bridges, in bamboo clumps or banana groves, and atop Kalumpang (Sterculia foetida) or Balite (Ficus indica) trees.

You met Bayani in your art class on your very first day. He had immigrated from the Philippines to attend college a year before you started school, and due to his unusual appearance, had trouble making friends. You hadn’t seen anyone like him before, and where that made some people uncomfortable, it fascinated you. He was such a sweet person that you couldn’t help befriending him.

It took him some time to open up to you, but once he did, you realized how homesick he was. His kind typically lived in the same grove they were born in for their entire lives. Moving away was highly unlikely, but to actually integrate into society was practically unheard of. As far as you knew, he was the first of his kind to attend college. Anywhere. In history.

The only reason he wasn’t in the news was because he had specifically requested not to be. In fact, his advocates had filed injunctions to prevent the media from reporting on it. He didn’t want attention for doing what millions of people did all the time.

His sweetness made you friends, but it was the shy humility and talent that attracted you to him. He didn’t think much of himself, often having heard the awful things people said about him, and you wanted him to think of himself the way you did: unique and intelligent and kind. You were nervous about speaking your attraction to him. He was new to society and you weren’t sure of his preferences, or if he was even looking for any sort of romance.

“What is it like? Your home?” You asked him once during class. The two of you were sitting a little bit away from everyone else to give his long legs enough room without kicking someone else’s chair or easel.

“It is beautiful,” He told you, starting to sketch on a fresh page. “I lived deep in the jungle on the island of Luzon, near a steam that branched from the Magat River. It was lush and green. It never grew cold there, and there were many birds. My whole family had lived there for hundreds of years undetected before we learned of the Mass Integration. I miss it.”

“Why did you leave?”  

“We had only heard that non-human creatures had joined humanity a few years ago, but we were still nervous to reveal ourselves. I was the first to decide to leave and see what the world was like. When my time in college is over, I plan to travel for a few years, then return with what I’ve learned. The rest of my clan will then decide if they wish to leave or stay.”

“Will you stay home after that?” You asked him.

“I don’t know yet,” He admitted. Looking over, you saw him drawing the thick underbrush of a forest. “I suppose I will decide when the time comes.”

“What’s been the hardest thing? Was it difficult to get into college?” You asked him.

“No, actually, passing the test was relatively easy after I took that year of tutoring. And the scholarship I received has made it rather easy.” He stopped sketching and sighed, looking out of the window. “I… I suppose I… did not realize how… small… people can be. How petty. How… superficial? Is that the word?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s right,” You replied.

He sighed. “I thought, because non-humans felt safe enough to reveal themselves, that it would be… less…” He sighed again sharply. “I can’t think of the words.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” You said. “Humans have a long history of not getting along with each other, so it’s unfortunately not surprising that they aren’t exactly nice to other species of people.”

“I can’t understand that,” He said with a grimace.

“Honestly, I can’t either,” You replied sadly. “Are you drawing home?”

“Yes,” He said, his mood brightening. “See? I can’t get the shape of the houses right, though.”

“Oh,” You said, scooting closer. “What kind of houses are they?”

“Small structures, usually one room, nothing grand. Most had open sides with only one or two complete walls, built up off the ground in case of flooding. Since it gets very hot, it was better to have open homes where the breezes could blow through, and we didn’t mind the rain.”

“Like this?” You asked as you sketched.

“Sloped roofs,” He said. “And they’re all pointed toward the river, so that the runoff drains that way. Yes, just like that.”

After sketching for a few more minutes, you took your paper and laid it over Bayani’s sketch, merging the two perfectly.

“Ha,” Bayani said softly. “There it is. Home.”

“I’d like to see it one day,” You said.

“Perhaps you will,” He replied.

“Isn’t it closed to outsiders?”

“Ordinarily,” He said. “But we make exceptions for friends.”

You smiled. “Are you going to enter the art competition they had on the notice board?” You asked him after a moment. “First prize is ten thousand dollars. You could go traveling on summer break, like you want to. Get a head start on seeing the world.”

“I don’t know,” He said. “I don’t think I’m good enough yet to enter. What about you? You’re a wonderful artist.”

“Thanks,” You said. “But I’m not exactly amazing either.”

“You’re incredibly talented!” Bayani replied, earning a shushing from the professor. He ducked his head and spoke in a lower whisper. “You’ve got to win.”

“I’ll enter the contest if you will,” You told him.

“But I don’t even know what to do for the contest,” Bayani said, their face scrunched. “The theme is comfort. I’m not exactly comfortable right now.”

“I know,” You replied. “But there are things that comfort you. Your home does. Do that.”

“Meh, that’s predictable. I’d have to do something original to win.”

“Hmm, that’s true.”

“You enter and I’ll cheer you on,” Bayani said, smiling. “Competition isn’t natural to my people, so I’m still trying to understand it.”

“That’s why you should enter!” You insisted. “You have such a unique style, it’s sure to win.”

“Well, if you’re doing it, then I will, too. If only to challenge myself.”

“That’s the spirit,” You said as the professor called for the end of class. You began packing up your things and getting ready to leave. Bayani always let everyone leave first, and you always waited for him.

“I do find you a comfort,” Bayani said. “You remind me of a friend I had back home. We were always together. Until he found a mate, that is.”

“And you?” You asked, attempting to be nonchalant. “No interest in a mate?”

“Mm,” He replied noncommittally. “Not really. It’s hard to be interested in people I’ve known my whole life. There’s nothing new to learn about them. I feel like discovering new things about your partner is half the fun of loving them.”

“But what about when you’ve learned all there is to know about a person? Do you stop loving them?”

“Not necessarily,” He said, contemplative. “When you learn all there is to know about someone, then you change the situation and learn new things. I like to learn, and there’s no end to learning, now that the world is bigger than I first thought. And now that I can see the world and all the people in it, I can find someone who understands. Does that make sense?”

You laughed a little. “Honestly, that makes perfect sense.”

“What do you find comforting?” He asked. “In terms of the contest?”

“It differs on how I feel at the time,” You said. “If I’m scared, I like being hugged. If I’m sad, I like hugs. If I’m lonely… Oh. Well, I guess I’m not as complicated as I thought.”

He laughed. “How do you convey that through art?”

“I have no idea,” You said, laughing too. “I suppose I’ll figure it out.”

“What will you do with the money if you win?”

“Dunno,” You said. “Maybe start paying off my student loans.”

“Money is another thing that is odd to me,” He said, his face scrunching again like it did whenever he encountered a notion that was foreign to him. “At home, if you needed something, it was given to you. Debt is not a concept we believe in.”

“I wish it was like that everywhere.” You replied wistfully.

Outside of the Arts building, he bid you farewell. “I should hurry. The bus will be here soon and I don’t want to be late getting home. Today is my host sister’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to her birthday dinner.”

“Oh, have fun!” You said, waving. “Tell them I said hi!”

He waved back and began to jog toward the bus stop.

You walked back to your car, fumbling for your keys, lost in thought. Comfort was such an amorphous thing. Everyone had a different idea of what was comforting to them, but they often overlapped. Music, physical touch, objects, food. Different things, similar themes. How would you find a way to convey what comforted you the most?

You thought back on Bayani describing his home, the soft look of fondness he had when he was drawing it. His expression was familiar, if distant. Maybe it wasn’t your comfort you should focus on. Bayani was homesick, that much was obvious. What could you do to help?

At home in your apartment, trying to work with your roommate singing drunkenly along with the TV, you stared at an empty page. You’d been sitting there for an hour trying to draw something, but nothing was coming to you. Banging your head against the desk hadn’t helped, though it did cause your roommate to rush in with a half-empty vodka bottle, convinced someone was trying to break in. After taking the bottle awawy from him and putting him to bed, you sat back down at your desk and sighed, the blank paper mocking you with its… blankness. Fuck you, paper.

Start simple, you told yourself. A tree. Draw a tree.

You began to draw, and progress was stilted at first, but after a while, you tuned out sound and focused on your work. Time blurred and passed as if you were asleep, and before you knew it, the sun was rising.

Well, you were going to be useless today.

Looking back down, you were a little surprised to see Bayani on the page, sitting on the porch of one of those open-faced houses of his home. He was crouched over paper, drawing an undefined sketch. His face was relaxed, his posture at ease. His legs dangled over the side of the raised platform, and even as long as his legs were, they didn’t touch the ground. There were no stairs, but you imagined his people had no trouble getting up and down. Surrounding him was the forest of his home as he had described it to you, with the tall trees and flowers and birds nesting in the branches. There were younger Tikbalangs playing in the background, the younger siblings he spoke of so often.

“So this is what comfort looks like,” You said softly. “I think I get it now.”

It took a week before you were satisfied with the result, but you entered it without telling Bayani. You weren’t sure how he would feel about you using him as the subject of your submission, and it wasn’t likely that you’d win anyway, so he would probably never see it.

Two months later, you got a letter in the mail from the contest and put it away in your backpack, not thinking anything about it. When you got to school, however, it fell out of your pack and Bayani picked it up.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Oh, I think it’s something from the art competition.”

“You entered?” He said. “That’s great, you didn’t tell me!”

“I figured I wouldn’t win, so there was no point.”

“It’s unopened. Didn’t you even look?”

“Nah,” You said. “It’s probably just thanking me for my participation or something.”

“Can I open it?”

“Feel free.”

As you were getting your stuff set up to start class, you heard Bayani open the letter and a pause, then a gasp.

“You… won.”

“What?”

“You won!” He offered you the letter. “Look!”

“You’re shitting me,” You said, taking the letter and reading it. There, at the top in big bold letters, was Congratulations! “Well, fuck me.”

“What did you submit?”

“Oh…” You cleared your throat. “There’s a copy here.” You handed it to him.

He looked at it, and was silent for several minutes. You watched him apprehensively, the din of the class fading from your ears and it seemed as if you were the only two in the room.

“This is me,” He said quietly.

“I hope you don’t find this offensive,” You said anxiously. “I just remembered everything you told me about your home and it sounded amazing. I didn’t even realize what I was drawing until I was finished.”

“It’s beautiful,” He said.

“Oh…” You replied. “Thank you.”

He looked at you with a sweet smile. “It’s no wonder you won. I knew you could.”

You smiled back. “Thanks. I was thinking… maybe I could use the money and take us on a trip to your home. I know how homesick you are.”

He shook his head. “You should spend the money on what you want, not on what I want,” He replied.

“That is what I want,” You said. “Although… if I’m honest, there is one other thing I’d like to do.”

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Take you on a date?” You said hopefully.

The smile widened. “A new experience. Will I get to learn more about you?”

“I’m hoping you’ll learn everything about me, but I also hope you won’t get bored.”

He reached across and took your hand. “I don’t think that’s possible. In fact, I think we’ll be learning about each other for quite a long time. I look forward to all of it.”

You squeezed his hand in returned. “So do I.”

To get your own Monster Match, buy me a Kofi!

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[someillplanetreigns]

Fic meme

I was tagged by @sheliesshattered. Thank you!

I’ll tag @violetvapours, @freudensteins-monster and @nyebevans if you feel like it (no pressure!), and equally if anyone else wants to do it consider yourself tagged by me :)

My Ao3

Fandoms I’ve made fanworks for: Published on my Ao3 it’s just Marvel stuff. I wrote stuff years and years ago that’s not published for other things, but in recent years it’s just been Marvel

Number of fics: 3 published

Fics I spent more time on: Incantation-Fetter’s Arms There were nearly 3 years between when I first started writing this and when I published the last chapter. I took some very long breaks from writing it though. 

Fics I spent less time on: The Forgotten Queen was probably my quickest write - I think I wrote a first draft in one sitting iirc? 

Longest fic: Incantation-Fetter’s Arms is just over 45k and is by far and away my longest published fic - the other two are one-shots.

Shortest story: The Forgotten Queen - 1399 words

Most hits: Incantation-Fetter’s Arms (4285)

Most kudos: Incantation-Fetter’s Arms again (277)

Most bookmarks: Once again, Incantation-Fetter’s Arms (48) - it’s definitely my most popular fic! 

Fic you want to rewrite or expand: In some ways I want to say Incantation-Fetter’s Arms, because as it stands it represents a very specific time in my life. The ending felt rushed because I’d drifted away from that time by the time I came to finishing it off. So if I could make it a bit more cohesive, that would be great. But actually I think if I had to go back and expand one, right now it would be What We Are Made to Bear. Infinity War and Endgame have made me long for more Avengers team found family fic, and I also don’t ship Wanda and Vision, so I was a bit meh about most of the Wanda content we did get in those films. So I think that would be the one I’d go to to build more of that.

Total words combined: Just published, 48,852

Fav fic you wrote: Probably the one I’m currently working on, which I expect is fairly common. Of the published ones it’s a really tough call… I like them all for different reasons! I will say that though it’s garnered least attention on Ao3, I really like and am proud of The Forgotten Queen.

Share a bit of your WIP or idea if you have anything planned: I’m working on a fic with working title The Play’s the Thing (Wherein I’ll Catch the Conscience of the King). I’ve talked about this a bit here before. I’m so into coming up with Watsonian explanations for things, and this one explores two: Frigga’s complicity in keeping Loki’s heritage a secret, and the melodramatic tone in which Loki relates his own story in The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard. Also: another new take on Sigyn I am incorrigible. Little extract below 

“Can I help you?” Sigyn asked, sheepishly lowering her feet to the floor.

“I have been given permission to consult the royal archives,” the woman said, holding up a folded and sealed document as she approached. “For research purposes.”

The doors closed silently behind her as she came to a stop in front of Sigyn’s desk. Sigyn took the proffered document, and to her surprise saw that the seal was the Allfather’s own. There was an office that would issue these, normally; in her time at least the Allfather had never issued a pass himself.

The woman’s name, apparently, was Theoric. It didn’t ring any bells. And apparently…

“You’re writing a play?”

“Yes.”

Now that she was right in front of Sigyn’s desk, Sigyn realised that the initial impression that she’d got of her, which was that she was very tall, didn’t even begin to cover it. Sigyn rarely found herself to be towered over by another woman, but it was clear that this woman would easily achieve that. She must have been taller than most men, even on Asgard. Her long legs were particularly apparent in the tight trousers and high boots she wore – not clothing unheard of for women, but certainly unusual. Oh, and she was beautiful. Long black hair left loose, sculpted features, and glass green eyes which were currently looking down at Sigyn with a detached hauteur.

[the-orange-thoroughbred]

Day 1 of Horse Shopping

Yesterday i spent the whole day viewing horses for sale and well it was a damn trip!

First pair i looked at looked okay but the lady selling was a bit.... meh? weird? and after traveling 45mins to look at them she failed to tell me that i needed to bring my own tack to try them out which is so unheard of which gave me bad vibes on them. She had a gorgeous 17hh chestnut gelding that looked great but then she tells me hes probably only had about 30 rides which turned me off a bit and not only that he started windsucking bunch of times within 10mins which completely crossed him off my list. This next one the lady had was a 16hh bay gelding that has the most amazing conformation i’ve ever seen in a thoroughbred in a long time!, super pretty and basically a puppy dog and was the one i had my eyes on in the first place but again she failed to tell me before turning  up that she ‘thinks’ shes sold him so made it almost pointless being there, but told her if he doesn’t sell i’d come back with some tack to try him.

While traveling to the first lady i got a random message from someone else with a thoroughbred that looked and sounded like an absolute bargain for what he was, so we got in touch and figured welp while we sitting in the car lets go look at this one too and so we did! another hour in the opposite direction we went and he looked okay, im still not 100% on him. He was a 16hh bay gelding (if you haven’t noticed yet im chasing geldings lol), So i asked the lady to lunge him in the round yard first to have a good look at him because he had a cut on a back fetlock that i was a bit iffy about and he looked fine just bucked and pigrooted a lot which was something she said he always did lunging, then she stopped and kept looking at his front leg which was pulling the red flags in my mind, so she saddled him up and got on and he was perfect! i could tell he was a genuinely a good quiet beginners horse with a bit of attitude, the lady only did walk, trot on him because he just wasn’t having it and kept pulling up sore so the lady jumped off and told me and checked him over and he was a bit sore in the pastern area on one of his front legs, so i got on and just walked him around and again he was great and then i got off. The lady apologized a million times and offered for me to come back later this week if hes better to try him again and make a decision on him.

Anyway funny story, i was chatting to the lady while she was getting her horses feeds ready and she starts telling me about a little black arab pony she picked up last week for $100 and i had a VERY good feeling what little arab it was and so i started to question her where she got it from and surprise, surprise it was that stupid girls arab that was in the same paddock as Wriggles! and so we started talking about how stupid the girl was and how she didn't know what the hell she was doing and it was great that i wasn’t the only one that thought this.... but hey such a small world!

[lovetheangelshadow]

N'Pressions: Shazam!

I found out about Shazam (or Captain Marvel as I knew him and still prefer to call him but I won’t for the sake of clarity) almost a decade ago by sheer accident. My college library had a huge collection of the Showcase Presents DC Comics volumes from Justice League, to Batman, Teen Titans, and of course Captain Marvel. And with all the Batman films that kept coming out, Shazam was the one DC hero above all others I really wanted to see on the big screen. He had a cool costume, a crazy assortment of villains from the over the top Sivanna, to his dark double Black Adam, and Ibac who gets his powers from the sum of four of the most evil men on earth at the time of his creation. Oh and Mr. Mind who is a telepathic alien worm. And side character Talky Tawny who is a basically an anthro tiger. While Endgame is still on my roster of must see in the theatre movies, Shazam was one superhero movie I really wanted to see when it first came out. I know I’m late in posting this, and that’s on me.

Anyway the movie opens with young Sivanna being summoned to the Rock of Eternity to be tested if he is worthy of the new Champion mettle but gets tempted by the Seven Deadly Sins and hoo boy we’ll get to you even in good time. Oh and I guess he was seen as worthless by his dad and bulled by his older brother and blah blah not like we haven’t seen it a gazillion times. I know it’s an odd thing to harp on but the biggest reason it bugs me in retrospect is because for the most part the film plays itself very straight forward and there really wasn’t a big payoff at least for me. Anyway Sivanna becomes obsessed with finding the way back to the Rock of Eternity. When he finally gets back there, he releases the Seven and absorbs their spirits to gain power to go and get revenge. Afterwards we see Billy Batson trick police and breaking into their car to locate an address. So Billy’s semi new origin story was that he was lost at a carnival and has run out of foster homes to try and find her again with each result leading to a dead end. At least this one does pay off later. The system sends Billy to a group home run by two former foster kids who have a very strong sense of communal family and he meets Freddy who is a major superhero buff. Later at school, while Billy is distancing himself from the rest of the family, Freddy is bullied. Billy at first just walks off but then defends him to where he has to run to escape and hides in a subway car. From there the wizard summons him and chooses him as champion because there isn’t much time before the Sins really tear things up.

So the movie goes on from there with Billy and Freddy figuring out just what Shazam can do and screw around; slipping classes, buying alcohol, etc. Especially not really acting like a hero. Am I mad? Not really, no. Considering that Billy is a teenager yeah this is something that a teen would do first when he got superpowers. Heck, Spiderman did until it bit him in the arse is a big way pushing him to be the hero that he needs to be though sometimes dancing with temptation to just do things for yourself. Plus the humor around it was pretty fun and natural. Save for maybe a couple times where it felt a little cringe but they quickly passed and didn’t drag like Ghostbusters 2016. Also Zac Levi. And yes I could not unheard him as Flynn Rider I am not sorry. Sure both Billy and Freddy are kind of selfish brats, but they are also kids who have gone through some shit and this is their big break of levity. Also their messing around does have concequences. Freddy starts bragging and his boasts get him suitcase wedgied and Billy nearly kills a bunch of people because of his recklessness. Also them getting their family held hostage by Sivanna and Sins.

I give props to DC for not going the dark, deconstructing route that it had been doing for some years now. While I haven’t seen a lot of the animated film catalog for some years now, at least even from trailer standalones they looked a lot more interesting and felt right in comic book movie tone than the live action ones did. Sure, Marvel has had some duds here and there but at least they knew and embraced what they were building and varied it from hero to hero as needed. DC? Hey let’s just keep copying the Batman template even if it fits just as well as a 30 pin dock connector into a lightning port. I am not opposed to dark comics and dark comic book movies but when it is the same every single time and you don’t tailor it to what each hero is and represents, it really gets aggravating. Also the Justice League cartoon did it better. ANYWAY.

If there is really only one (and a half) thing that bugged me, it was the villain. Not that is isn’t a viable threat, not that he doesn’t push Billy/Shazam to his limits to where he finally gets the hero thing. He’s generic. He was honestly a villain I’ve seen so many times and nothing about him really stands out. Granted, I haven’t read the comics in ages, but this didn’t feel right for Sivanna to me. Sivanna, to me, as a over the top mad scientist who wanted to be supreme ruler because he thought he was better intellectually. He had diabolical twin children. Heck, his looked like a human rat for crying out loud. This kinda wasn’t Sivanna to me and the whole backstory, personality, and heck powers seemed a better fit for Black Adam. Sure, Black Adam has a different backstory in the comics as being a former Champion who went bad but heck making his powers come from the Seven Sins would have worked and him being obsessed with power and getting revenge on the Wizard and others he feels crossed him just would have fit so much more nicely. Granted Sivanna was the first villain in the comics, but what are you going to do. Oh and the Sins were just meh. I couldn’t tell you who was who except they were voiced by Hulk and Wolverine

Other than that I really enjoyed this movie and I hope this is turning point for DC movies going back to basics and finally getting a real chance to shine on its own without being compared and/or overshadowed by Marvel. And from rumors on both sides of Marvel and DC, we might get that. One can only hope even as oversaturated as the comic book market has been. I’m Noctina Noir, and beware of random lightning strikes on sunny days in Philadelphia.

[kickassfu]

So I saw destination wedding, that romantic comedy with Keanu Reeves and Wynona Ryder, and I’m not sure how I feel about the movie yet...so

It certainly wasn’t what I wanted nor what I expected, and I almost don’t want it to call it a movie, because it didn’t feel like one? lol But I didn’t hate it, I actually liked it, I’m just unsure if I loved it or if I just feel meh about it...and I know, it’s my brain, shouldn’t I know how I feel? Yeah but I dont lol

This movie is just a conversation between two characters, that’s it, from beginning to end, it’s a big conversation, between a cinic and an optimist that both have kind of tired and negative views on the world and their lives. I did laugh a lot, even if there was a joke I particularly didn’t like about another character that happens to be pansexual...the way Frank reacts to the explanation of what a pansexual was...kinda irked me a bit, but hey they actually talked about pansexuality which is rare or almost unheard of. And they talked about the 1% for a sec...and they talked about the issues of ppl that technically don’t really have any important “issues” so they shouldn’t really talk about them, cause who cares? (as in, u can only complain if you don’t have first world problems) which again i found a bit tone deaf, buuuut Lyndsay did talk back to his point, so I think this movie basically shows us how real ppl talk about the world around them. 

Basically this movie is about two ppl that are kind of on the outside looking in, as in they’re the “outsiders” in a situation, and both a bit odd which i kind of have a soft spot for lol still even for a viewer they can be a bit grating at times, and since it’s just a conversation between the two - which is cool, to be seeing how 2 ppl see the world, even on opposite sides and see how they come to term with things - it gets a bit boring at times? For me, personally, I know some ppl will hate this movie, and some will love, I still don’t know where I stand exactly haha 

I think it’s kind of brave to do something like this, so kudos to the writer and director of the movie i suppose.

It’s just...don’t go into this movie expecting a movie, but actually a long conversation between two people, and maybe knowing this you’ll be prepared and not feel taken back by it like I was. I wonder how other ppl that have seen this movie feel about it? Please do tell me :D

[peculiar-shardscape]

What happends if a point in the middle of a fusion dies (sorry if its kinda dark rlly curious)

STARS I’ve been thinking about this all night last night oh my god

Well. If the fusion is still fused together, it’s impossible for the Point to die! In fact, most of the time, fusing can actually help Points stay alive, even heal within the body! Often it’s what some Points do as a way to keep themselves alive when it’s a last resort.

… BUT! Remember that concept idea I had of Fusions living in the minds of their Points when they unfuse? Basically the Fusion can still interact with the Points but their voices are faint and they can’t be seen. Well I have two concepts for this and how it’ll go.

1. The Point dies (outside of fusion). When this happens, a fusion is MUCH more likely to fail HOWEVER… Fusing is still possible! If the living Point actually tries hard enough, they can fuse with the dead Point and actually BRING THEM TO LIFE in the meanwhile. It’s very very difficult to do but it’s possible. Often the fusion will be weaker, but still have their personality. When a Point dies, the Fusion within the Points’ mind immediately silences. It’s like as if they stopped existing. But when the Point comes back to life, they tend to not notice their disappearance at all

2. The FUSION dies! Yes, it’s possible! And there are numerous ways this can go down! It depends on how strong the Fusion is and how well the Points relationships are. Commonly, Fusions are strengthened by the Points’ strong relationships, but you know. Some can try!

2i-Fusion is pretty strong, maybe very strong, and dies from a wound/attack. They turn into dust, and the Points will not be able to hear them. It is possible for them to fuse again, and when they do, the Fusion will remember their death and be anxious about it from now on

2ii-Fusion is average, dies from a wound/attack. They also turn to dust and are unheard of within the mind. It is almost impossible for them to refuse, but still possible nonetheless. When revived, they will NOT remember their death. Often, they’ll act as if they only just woke up for the first time ever

2iii. Fusion is weak/unstable, dies from a wound/injury. The fusion will shatter completely into pieces. Depending on how hard the Points try, they COULD revive the fusion, however it’s next to impossible. If they manage to revive the fusion, they are MUCH more difficult to control and often given a slightly more unstable personality

A fusion death is ALWAYS traumatic to Points. This DOES include Cyalm and Solence, even if they’ve died before. When a Fusion is dying, the Points WILL feel the pain they feel and often have an incredibly hard time accepting the death of their fusion. If they were close with their fusion, it can lead them to severe anxiety, socially inactive and sometimes even isolated for a long time. The main sources of comfort they have are the Points they fused with. If their relationship with the Fusion was a simple meh, it’ll still be heavily disturbed to them, but they’re more likely to move on easier.

… HELL YEAH DEATH!

[artificialqueens]

Cupid’s Blind Arrow (Group Fic) Chapter 5 ~ Ginger Nut

A/N: schools been stressing me the fuck out recently and prelims are coming up so sorry if I don’t update as frequently

Since Miss raja had handed out the assignment, most of the pairs had only met once. Some, like Willam and Sharon, had not met at all. Unsurprisingly, Willam has been giving her a cold shoulder of some sort, favouring Alaska in the ongoing feud between the two. There hadn’t been any big blow outs since, but nothing had been resolved either. Sharon still kept her head down in classes, engraving doodles into her desk; Alaska threw herself into her work continuing to ace every single one of her classes. Bianca and Adore had nearly finished their assignment two weeks early. This was unheard of for Adore, but something about her partner motivated her, lit a fire inside of her. Usually, Adore went to Bianca’s after school. Bianca rarely went to Adores – not because she didn’t want to be there, but because she couldn’t work well while sitting in a sunken bean bag in a room decorated with leftovers. Trixie and Katya were making slow progress; they met in the library every Tuesday after school but got sidetracked and listened to the ironic librarian telling story after story about her personal life. Violet and Pearl hadn’t met outside of school, but they’d met in the library over a couple of lunchtimes. They both had such busy schedules, with Pearl staying most nights after school for art study and Violet juggling media study and aerial classes. They talked over text a lot though and had gotten quite close. They were now each other’s top best friend on snapchat. “This filter looks like your face” Violet captioned one day, as the filter gave her the face of a sloth. “At least I don’t look like this” Pearl snapped back, now with her faced comedically stretched out. The pair went on like this all day, every day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Willam walked across her kitchen counter, it was 22:30 and she’d only finished structuring her plan for the assignment. You’re going to have to see that bitch some time, better be prepared so there’s no awkward silence while I try to keep my hands off of her throat she thought as she made herself coffee. She stood in an oversized t shirt that was some guys she hooked up with once, but never gave it back. Meh, he’ll have other shirts Willam shrugged. Seating herself at the island in the middle of the room, she put down her coffee and logged onto her laptop. Her phone buzzed. It was Sharon. “Hey listen, we really should get started on this whole assignment. When suits?” The sound of fresh acrylics tapping on a screen emerged as Willam typed out a reply while her laptop loaded. “I’m good to do any days after school apart from Fridays, not lunch times though. Can’t leave Lask on her own.” Willam re-read that final sentence before thinking fuck it and hit send. “Probably shouldn’t have gone there but hey,” she said to herself “I’m not the one who fucked up.” As one hand raked through her naturally curly mane and another scrolled through Facebook updates, Willams face lit up at the sight of a certain notification.

Caught in the act would like to FaceTime

After clicking accept, Willam saw Courtney’s glowing smile appear on the screen. “Wills! Hi! I’ve missed your face!” She exclaimed. Willam felt a warmth grow inside of her in response to her comment. “Hey girl. How’s life back in the dunny?” she asked, giving her best Courtney impression. Courtney chuckled, “it’s okay but it would be so much better if you were here too. I’ve got no one to tutor now!” “Yeah that’s because you go to a private school where everyone is crazy fucking smart.” Willam leaned onto the counter of the island, cupping her face with her hands. Courtney rolled her eyes as she giggled, the position of the camera slightly moving, giving Willam a clear view of a familiar shirt covering Courtney’s chest. “Is that my motherfucking Gucci?” She screamed, “I’ve been looking for thaaaaaaat” Willam drawled out the last word, feigning sadness. Well, she was partly annoyed but there was something about seeing Courtney, on the other side of the world, still with her that overpowered any annoyance. “How do you even have that?” Courtney hugged herself and smiled. “I thiiiiink, it was the night I stayed over last minute.” She explained a huge grin appearing. “And I just, never gave it back I guess.” Willam shook her head. She spun around on her stool purely to hide the ever growing blush on her cheeks. “What?” The aussie questioned, suddenly intrigued as to why the girl on the screen had spun around more than 5 times. Willam stopped and gazed at Courtney. Her eyes contained a whole galaxy. An ever changing colour, they framed the girl’s face so perfectly. Willam never wanted to look away, never wanted the picture in front of her to leave. Willam found her heart fluttering in a way it never did. People didn’t phase Willam, so why did Courtney still have so much power over her? Especially when she wasn’t even here with Willam. Courtney tapped the screen, making a clicking sound come over Willam’s laptop speakers, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Hellooo, are you still there?” “I…I just…” Willam stuttered. She looked down to meet Courtney’s eyes again. Willam picked at her nails and traced her hands, remembering where Courtney’s used to fit. “I really miss you. That’s all.” “Really?” Courtney raised an eyebrow. “You miss the 4 hour English lessons?” “You used to bring chocolates,” Willam smiled at the memory. Courtney mirrored her. “You miss me singing quotes to you at midnight?” “We would be home alone,” she glanced over to the mass of her tiled floor, remembering the blonde girl performing musical acts of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and To kill a Mockingbird. “You miss answering paper after paper of textual analysis?” Courtney cocked her head to the side, twirling her hair which was in a high ponytail. Her voice was sweet, like candy. “Okay bitch,” Willam gave in, “you got me there. I HATED those.” The pair broke out in laughter thinking back to numerous nights when Willams profanity over past papers got so extreme they had to take a break. “I don’t fucking know why they used the word emancipation, why should I? They’re the dicks who wrote it. I shit you not Miss Act, I’m seriously never gonna need this. Like, not one Tom, Dick or Harry in the goddamn street is gonna come up and be like; what did you think of the word choice in paragraph 4?” Courtney and Willam talked until their hearts were content. They missed each other terribly, but times like these they treasured greatly and no one could take those hours away from them. Their conversation would change from friends, to tv shows, to memories they had, to…. well, anything. “Nah I just don’t see it Wills” “Why the fuck not? Me, you, and Alaska; walking down the runway in Chachki’s fashion line” “Wait, I still don’t get how Violet got a fashion line” Courtney was tired, rubbing her eyes before cursing as she remembered putting mascara and eyeliner on this morning. Willam sighed, “It’s not a real one her class is doing it as part of their exam. They have to create stuff.” She stood up from her barstool and positioned herself far away from the camera. “Me, you and lask,” she pointed to two other points each side of her, placing herself in the middle. “We walk down,” She strutted across her kitchen floor, “we pose like there’s no tomorrow.” She placed her hands on her hips and threw her hair, striking different poses for Courtney. Wolf whistles came from the laptop, encouraging the model. “We wave to the crowd,” Willam gave a sly, over the shoulder smile. “See it’s that simple.” Courtney yawned. The sky was starting to become dark outside her window and she glanced at the time, 19:41. She hadn’t even eaten dinner, still had to shower and had a mountain of work to do. But none of that mattered, a girl in the computer was pretending to be a model in her kitchen while wearing a faded Oasis t shirt and Victoria secret satin shorts. What a dork she thought to herself, smiling wholeheartedly. “One problem” Courtney interrupted Willam’s make believe fashion show. “I’m kinda in another continent” “We have planes bitch. Hop on one and come over.” “Willlllllls, I can’t just hop on a plane that quickly.” “Well you hopped on me pretty fast.” Willam crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, “What’s stopping you?” As nonchalant as ever, Courtney thought. “Exams, my family, graduation, my 18th! Did I mention exams?” Willam didn’t see the big deal, scrunching up her face at Court’s phony problems. “The flight’s long - study then. You’ve literally seen your family since birth, trust me they can last a couple months without you. You’ll be back in time for exams. I’ll throw you a mad party, I know a guy who’s got a wicked venue. And yeah, you did mention that.” Courtney’s face didn’t change, she didn’t see a logical reason to go to America again so soon aside from seeing her Wills. “At least say you’ll think about it, pleeeeease?” Clutching her hands together Willam plastered her face with the biggest, cheesiest, full teeth smile she could muster. “Willam Belli? Are you begging?” With a serious humour Willam leaned forward and spoke straight into the webcam; “You want me on my knees? All you gotta do is ask.” The girls held each other in their eyes, shutting out everything. A special bond flickered between them, replenishing the passionate feelings they shared. Courtney’s voice was barely audible, her lips parting only slightly “I’ll talk to you later Wills, I gotta go.” Her voice was low and somewhat husky, igniting a fire in Willam. “Bye.” Willam’s laptop returned to Facebook where she could see her aunts latest update; Selling a Tiffany’s ring. $250. Hardly worn. Message me for any more details “Shit” Willam thought to herself, “Well that engagement didn’t last long did it Jackie?” As she scrolled down her feed she looked through some of Bianca’s photos she’d just uploaded, Willam couldn’t help but notice how many of them contained Adore. Just then her phone buzzed with a new message from Sharon. Wednesday? Library? Willam whined to herself and frowned looking at the message. The last thing she wanted right now was to be spending time with the girl who broke her best friends heart. Fine I’ll be there

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Violet had been working on the assignment; it wasn’t necessary but she felt the need to perfect a few things. She’d highlighted a couple of lines and felt the need to tell her partner. She whipped out her phone and found Pearl in her contacts. V: Found a couple of quotes from act 4 that we should prob use, they’re really versatile so we can talk about them from both sides Almost instantly Violet saw the three dots appear and waited for a reply. P: versatile eh?

V: you just can’t help yourself can you

P: guess not Vi :))

V: you’re going to hell I hope you know that

Pearl sat on her unmade bed in her room with her phone LED as the only light source. She had been sketching for the past hour or so but had no inspiration. The only person on her mind was Violet. P: And I hope you realise that you’re working on a Saturday night The three dots appeared on Pearls phone before disappearing shortly after with no text to replace it. that shut her up. P: Could I be of any help???

V: don’t try and sweet talk me now Pearly

P: I have no idea what you’re talking about

V: well, since you’re such a studious pupil feel free to come over and help me with our assignment

P: is that a serious invitation?

V: only if you want it to be…

Pearl sat up and contemplated the invite before changing into a nicer top and out of her joggers. She briefly brushed her hair and slapped on powder and a subtle lipstick. As she tied her converse and threw on her denim jacket, Pearl typed out one more message for Violet. P: Okay loser, where do you live?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bianca had rung the doorbell twice already and the weighty bag of takeaway in her hand felt like it was going to give away any second. Come on chola she muttered, growing impatient at the closed door in front of her. She tried the doorbell again and finally heard footsteps and a disgruntled moan behind the door. Adore opened the door, revealing a dimly lit mess of a room. Her face soon turned to confusion at the sight of a fresh faced Bianca in her doorway. she stepped to the side as an invite for the girl to come in. Bianca rolled her eyes, “Someone’s hungover” she smiled half-heartedly and raised the lukewarm bag in her hand. “I brought dinner.” Adore smiled at the gesture and walked into the kitchen to get plates. Bianca followed and reached into the top left cupboard to get glasses. She’d become acquainted with Adore’s house in the very few times she’d been. It was pretty self explanatory apart from the fact that she kept glasses on the other end of the kitchen from all the other dining things. “So, how’ve you been?” Adore asked, her voice monotone and groggy. “Better than you it sounds like,” the brunette jokingly replied, “Water or coffee?” Adore surveyed her options. “Water.” Bianca nodded. “Slice of cucumber,” both girls added at the same time. As Adore laid out the food, Bianca came up behind her and ruffled a hand through her hair. “What deranged party were you at last night?” “None actually.” “So why do you sound half asleep?” Defensively Adore crossed her arms before rubbing her eyes. “Because I was napping until you came.” Bianca chuckled before walking over to the sleepy being and pulling her into a hug. “Aww,” she said in a baby voice, “is Delano a little sleepy?” “I actually am because I was working on this stupid ass assignment” They both sat at the table and proceeded to eat the food Bianca brought. After a couple moments of comfortable silence Adore leaned forward and furrowed her brow. “Wait B,” she asked. The other girl looked up from her plate and waited for Adore to continue. “Why are you here? Not that I’m unhappy about it but… you don’t like it here.” Both laughed at the bold but true statement Adore just made. Bianca shrugged and fished around her plate with her fork. “I was home alone and Violet was busy.” Adore nodded. She looked back down at her food and smiled, knowing Bianca voluntarily wanted to hang out with Adore. They weren’t working, it had nothing to do with school. She wanted to see her. That’s real cute Adore thought. Real cute.

[rnaryjune]

alright let’s get a little more in-depth here and sort out who to root for. working backwards this time.

Raven: likes frankie grande. PASS. like the idea that she’s not afraid to make big moves, but lbh that doesn’t mean squat unless and until she actually goes through with it. the all female ghost hunting team thing is cool though it better come up in the show i demand to know about this.

Ramses: superfan, loves dan (which...okay i never actually saw dan’s season i really only know him from the coaches twist and even then i didn’t really pay attention to him? but anyway i know from the fandom that this is a good sign), he wants to do that SUPER SMART DANIELLE THING of having a person on the other side of the house and keeping track of it that way. that being said, his strategy is a little...TOO thought-out. with a game like big brother you have to be ready to make adjustments and think on your feet, and i’m not sure he’ll be able to do that if necessary. HEY HE IS the obligatory gay man...and a gay man of color at that. which....okay let’s be honest, big brother does not have the best track record when it comes to games of gmoc (Marcellas, Lawon, JOZEA, among others). buuuuuuuut....i’m willing to stick my neck out once more. KEEP.

Megan: eugh she likes frank victor and paul which like...okay tbf i kinda understand from a game perspective because they did pull some interesting moves (and ngl paul’s gameplay was always a bit like how i imagine i would play). but i think she likes them as ppl too which...no. also she says she doesn’t wanna be like vanessa???? THE SIRENS GOING OFF AT THAT STATEMENT. she ain’t gonna last. PASS. oh my god and then later in her bio “ At the same time, there is always that whiny, crying girl that just can't handle the pressures of the house. I would make her my friend and my secret ally. This is the only person in the house I will be loyal to. I'll take her to Final 2 and, since she didn't do anything the whole time, I'll win.” like girl....that’s gonna be you lmao. also she wants to buddy up with a gym-partner guy? can we say obvious showmancer? look if she can back it up with some comp wins then maybe she could pull a rachel but i just don’t see that happening. she literally says she’s gonna play scared which like...yea you’re never for sure safe in the bb house but she is literally gonna go down the vanessa path.

Matthew: HE LIKES DONNY. HE IS IN MY GOOD GRACES. he wants to align with the women too??? tentative KEEP because the fact that he says donny is a good person makes me want to trust that he, too, is a good person. but i’ve been burned before, and besides, as great as it would be to see a mainly female alliance with one guy, so far the girls aren’t impressing me much, so i don’t have high hopes for that.

Mark: you know it makes sense he likes brendon. so yea, definite showmance material. possibly with megan too actually. honestly not impressed. PASS.

Kevin: he doesn’t even have a favorite player he just “met derrick once” lol man u are DEFINITELY not gonna win. unless he can adapt quickly which...is unlikely. “I was Mr. Massachusetts and also won a hunk contest” okay buddy. also he’s all like “being myself will probably work everytime” dude if u don’t win that first hoh u are easy target number one. PASS. probably nice but will not win. no chance in hell. unless something MAJOR happens.

Josh: like evel dick so....look, i’ll be honest, i was very young when season 8 was on so like...idr all the stuff that dick pulled, i mostly know from posts in the fandom. but at the time, i was a huge fan of him, and was thrilled he won. and i mean, he did at least have some gameplay, unlike other despicable ppl in later seasons (*cough* andy). so i mean from a gameplay standpoint, i can see why someone would want to emulate dick’s game. however, i think it would require stealthier manipulation than josh thinks. and the fact that he didn’t need to be on anybody’s good side? nice thought and all, but if he didn’t have danielle and her alliances, he would have never made it as far as he did. you HAVE to have someone in your corner, even just one person. josh underestimates the power of alliance and is probably gonna end up being like a paulie. eugh. PASS. sidenote: dude wants to bring his mom in the house not because he would miss her but so she would cook and clean for him???? LOL FUCK THIS GUY i hate him already. his fun facts aren’t even fun facts they’re just personality traits lmao

Jillian: worried about saying the wrong thing? could be a bad sign or just innocent. i am intrigued by her answers though, so a tentative KEEP.

Jessica: janelle/natalie hybrid? could be interesting and if she says she sees herself in janelle that’s VERY promising. less promising is that she wants to align with a guy. could very easily get sidetracked by showmance. hopeful though, so tentative KEEP.

Jason: oh god almost forgot anbout hfajlfhghfskh RODEO CLWON JfHASFJFlshAL. ahem. he likes James which...tbh i liked him too. look if he’s good enough for natalie then he’s decent enough for me. anyway, i fricking love jason’s answer about his strategy: “yes” that’s it that’s all he says I LOVE IT. also he has a bull??? WE BETTER SEE IT IN THE SHOW. i don’t expect him to win but he seems an interesting person so....KEEP. for now.

Elena: likes james and thinks the strategy is situational aKA THE TRUTH. seems like she might actually be able to play the game???? which seems unheard of nowadays. can’t get a real idea of her character but for gameplay i’ll go with a KEEP for now.

Dominique: “nor do i shy away from controversy” is again something that could go either way and instantly makes me cautious. but let’s look at gameplay. she says she’ll take mental notes of everyone and be observant, and she can read ppl really well, so i want to think she’ll do well. but her indecision over a fave past houseguest is something that makes me take pause as well. screw it, KEEP for now. i’m curious to see what she can do.

Cody: seems smart and obviously physically capable....BUT something in his answers rubs me the wrong way. his reasoning for picking evel dick is something i can agree with, but his strategy is, once again, too airtight. where is the wiggle room? look it’s true the basic building blocks of big brother are generally the same every season but you never know what could get changed. also he’s all like “i’ve never taken a selfie” you’ve never taken a picture of yourself? ever? that seems unlikely but it’s whatever aside from assumed pretentiousness. HOWEVER the real big flag is “i have never been offended not once” buddy that is a DAMNED lie and i caNNOT WAIT until he gets pissy about something in the house and the fandom calls him out on it lmao oh anyway PASS.

Christmas: oh  my god she chose HELEN. HELEN OF ALL PEOPLE. THIS IS A GOOD SIGN. idk man i’m very hopeful about this one the fave houseguest is a good sign and i want to like christmas for it....also because her picture is gorgeous but like. she chose HELEN. like im sorry but i feel like most ppl wouldn’t even think of helen. maybe christmas can align with that guy who likes donny??? YES I LIKE THIS. anyway KEEP.

Cameron: well of COURSE his fave is ian like how damn predictable can u be. also he just reminded me of ginamarie and the fact that she won an hoh at some point (how???). that being said, the fact that he’d just tell people that someone is going after them?? bad plan. unless there’s ANY truth to it, but if he pulls it out of his ass he’s going to end up imploding his own game. PASS, not just for meh gameplay but also because he bores me. (seriously i’m so tired of ian clones none of them have been anywhere near as good or interesting why are we still doing this)

Alex: “i can manipulate anyone, including boys” aka she will probably start a showmance. idk with who and tbh idc. her fun facts are actual, legitimate fun facts, and she seems nice, but i don’t get good gameplay vibes. PASS, but i hope she surprises me.