#no one clickity clacks away at a keyboard like her

[euthymiya]

Tomorrow I go to the doctors office where I have the cutest little receptionist to check me in who I have the biggest crush on 😌

[thebiasrekkers]

No Words, pt 9

Pairing: Taehyung x Jeongguk x OC [ft.  Namjoon x OC]

Type: Series

Chapter Rating: M 

Genre: Idol, Poly, Interracial, Tall Female, Smut, Angst, Fluff [if you squint]

Warning: Vivian. That’s right, the warning is Vivian.

A/N - I fell into that pit of ‘what are you doing with this trash story’ style negative brain activity. Things took a turn. I’m sorry for making you wait. This story is still a mess. We’re back on the tracks, folks!

Words:  2.5k

---

Tasha watched her friend huddle over notebooks with her brow deeply furrowed. The holidays were rushing up to greet them, and they were bustling to finish their course-load. They had been pouring over notebooks, comparing notes, and debating practicums for the last few weeks. They were huddled with the newbies in the common room at the Hannam-dong dorm space. It was easy to help the new kids with their first-year work. It was a big boost of confidence, and perhaps ego that they could spout off the answers and explanations so easily.

But, as the older kids on the block? Things had changed technologically for them. The American vs. Korean applications of sound and camera work were on a whole different scale. Their whole purpose was a comparison of the two. Yet, they found themselves in a conundrum. It was simple, really it was, that with the consumption of Hallyu in the rest of the world - people were developing different expectations for music videos and shows. They were in the front seat of this grand show of change. Now, this isn’t to say that there weren’t pioneers.

There would always be respect for those that paved the way prior. Those bold visionaries that twisted their earlier experiences. But like all things, time brings change and new technology. They were barely scraping the surface of the musical experience. People weren’t satisfied with the entertainer simply being still surrounded by bodies. There was a want for more of a storytelling aspect. Or, they wanted snappy effects that added something. The thing is people were wanting more than what they were getting.

“Ahhh! My eyes are starting to cross. I swear to GOD.” Tasha rubbed her face flinging those rainbow-colored plaits out of her face. She turned to the others as they stared at blinking cursors paused in mid-sentence. She groaned, checking the time, “Ok, guys. Let’s…let’s stop, for now, yea?” A few agree to shut their laptops down - except for one person.

“Hey, we have a function to get ready for, missy.” The clickity-clack of keys had slowed from the beginning of their session but remained steady.

“I’m well aware of that, Tasha.” She quipped as she stared over the top of her glasses. Tasha grunted as the new kids laughed.

“Come on, we know she’s the nerd of the group. Are you surprised?” Tasha’s gaze narrowed to the owner of that voice. “I’m surprised she managed to have any fun while being here.” The bad attempt sarcasm rubbed Tasha the wrong fucking way.

There was always one in every group! That one person that thought they were so fucking cool - and pretty and popular. Even if that person was extremely beautiful and found themselves in the center of attention, all the g’damned time. Tasha was about to say something, but it was cut short when three familiar voices echoed out in the hallway.

Tasha blinked because those three voices belonged to none other than…

“Taehyung-ah, Gguk-ah, seriously.” Namjoon groaned into a laugh as they turned to enter the common room. “O-oh.” He stopped abruptly, and the maknae line bumped into him.

“Ah, Hyung! I almost stepped on - Oh.” Jeongguk blinked when Taehyung tapped him on the shoulder. The new kids still had to get used to just randomly running into BTS members throughout the day. The first group merely bowed or waved, muttering greetings. Tasha’s eyes whipped quickly to her bag when she locked gazes with Namjoon. She coughed lightly, clapping her hands. “Ah, well. We should probably start getting ready, guys.” A thumb jutted to the partly dressed trio shuffling into the room.

“Ah! It’s the oppa’s!” That voice piped up again, and Tasha did everything in her power not to hurl. But that girl jumped up, clapping her hands together. “You guys look good! We should be so lucky to be escorted by such dapper gentlemen.”

Everyone rolled their eyes. Namjoon was kinder - and refrained. “Ah, well. You know it’s a special occasion. You all make sure you talk to people and network.” She giggled lightly, placing the tips of her fingers along Namjoon’s forearm.

Namjoon coughed softly as he stepped around her - leaving Taehyung and Jeongguk to be prodded at instead. The soft taps of a keyboard still echoed as Namjoon continued. “The first group here really set a tone that we hope you can follow.” A brow arched as he spun on his heels.

The new kids smirked, staring at the one who continued to type. That girl - ah, she had a name. Vivian the Vivacious. That’s what she called herself - the life of every party. She slipped an arm through Tae and Gguk’s as if she was the prize between them. “I am sure we’ll meet and exceed every expectation required of us.” Haughty, as she tossed those long raven locks over her shoulder.

It was apparent she was the Queen Bee among the new kids. There was always one.

Tasha inhaled deeply as suddenly the sound of keys ticking stopped. A soft exhale broke a thick silence. “Vivian.” Everyone turned to her, even Tasha stiffened momentarily, as she removed her glasses. “There’s a saying that comes to mind.” She stashed her glasses in their case. “Overconfidence is the most dangerous form of carelessness.” A brow arched upward as she neatly collected her things.

There was a subtle warning in her tone that she didn’t bother to hide. “I don’t care what you think about me, but do not take my silence as putting up with your bullshit.” She turned to the rest of the new kids. “Do not embarrass us tonight. Because I’m the one standing between your continued presence here…” She hefted her bag on her shoulder. “…and long coach ride back to where the fuck you came from.”

Tasha had to turn in the opposite direction to hide the smile, threatening to split her face. Namjoon caught it and tilted his head upward, a hand over his mouth. Taehyung and Jeongguk were torn between something akin to awe and lust. Vivian glared at her as she smiled, her grasp tightening on Tae and Gguk’s forearms. They both turned their gaze to the top of the girl’s head.

Tasha was close to losing her shit. “Ok! Alright! Let’s go! We’re wasting time.” She bowed to the trio, refusing to reach for Vivian as she beat feet out of the common room. The other first-year folks left with satisfied looks on their faces.

She decided to follow-up the last of them, pausing by Vivian as she clung to the maknae members. “And I’ll have you know, I was plenty of fun while I was here. Maybe you’ll get a chance to sing karaoke with Jeongguk-ah.” Her gaze slid up between the two of them.

Her pupils went wide to match theirs as her lips parted on a smirk. That look lowered to Vivian as she tilted the corner of her lips. “Maybe if you’re as fun as me.” She waltzed out of the common room, leaving Vivian scowling.

“Jeongguk-oppa! You think I’m fun, don’t you?” Vivian tilted a lookup through thick lashes, fluttering them prettily at the maknae.

Who was paying her no mind?

She turned to Taehyung prepared to do the same, and she paused. The look that he gave her caused her to wither, just slightly. He looked like a haughty Prince, curious about the status of the person touching him. Her fingers slid away from his arm, and she turned to see Jeongguk with a brow arched at her fingers. “Oh come on, I’m much more fun than she is!” She pressed her cleavage against his side - and he moved as if he’d been burned.

“Vivian,” Namjoon spoke quietly. “I think you should go get ready. You don’t want to get left behind.” He grabbed the apple he wanted originally and breezed by her. Taehyung offered that boxy smile with a slight bow, as he followed. Jeongguk fell in step, looking exasperated as they went to visit the stylist.

Vivian continued to scowl but was broken from that facade of purity and fun. The sound of crisp fruit being pierced by that dimpled half-smile. Namjoon tilted his head as he shook the apple in her direction. “And I’d keep that in mind.” He finished chewing, leaning back on his heels. “…because, you will get left behind if you’re not careful.” He watched as Vivian crossed her arms, schooling a neutral expression. “Make us proud tonight.” Namjoon walked off with a partial smile, leaving her to scowl by herself. He rounded the corner, rubbing absently at where she touched him.

It’s fine. He’d just have to rub himself all over Tasha later on to cure himself.

—

“She’s infuriating! I hate her! Hate is a strong word, isn’t it?” Tasha paced in her thigh-highs, the snaps of a garter belt clicking. “Is that wrong? Should I feel bad?” She threw her hands up as if she was suffering some moral dilemma. “God, there’s one in every bunch!” Tasha continued to rumble and rant in her fury.

“Latasha.” She sighed as her friend finally paused. “You do realize you have yet to put your dress on?” A brow arched as Tasha finally saw the time.

“Shit!” She skittered to the other room to pull on the perfect black dress. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?!” Tasha whined as she pulled the curl rods from her updo.

“I tried. You kept going back to how pretty, perfect, and detestable she is.” Tasha grunted as she hobbled up to the front, finally settling herself in two-inch heels.

“Well, shit. You kept oddly cool for where she wound up.” Tasha mused with a smirk as she watched her friend clip on a dangly earring set. A set of large hoops in the other hole as the dangling stars seemed to swing in its opening.

“Look, we earned our spots working with the members. I’m not going to let petty jealousy cloud my judgment.” She arched a brow while pressing a red stick across the swell of her lip. It was a bold color choice. Hell, her whole ensemble was bright.

It wasn’t that the dress was short - it was that she was tall. And this happened every time, where this would be a reasonable fit for average height? For her? Well, it was snug on her hips and just passed her knees - and that is only by a wing and a prayer. That paired with heels that catapulted her into the near six-foot-tall range of height? Completed the look.

Tasha had spent the whole day previously blowing out her hair. A silk press left her hair in a shiny fall of layered waves about her shoulders. She turned around as Tasha gave her a final appraisal.

“Damn, I am good. Maybe this tech stuff isn’t my calling. Maybe they’ll let me be a stylist?” They both stared at each other before falling into a peal of laughter. Tasha grabbed her jacket and purse, offering an arm to escort them from her apartment.

“You good, chick?” She stared down at her friend as they walked quietly toward their transportation.

“Yeah, you’re right. We earned our spots.” Tasha nodded with a substantial lift to her confidence. They smiled at each other as they approached the building foyer. Folks were already being loaded into SUVs. They were the last ones to arrive as the boys from BTS made their way down to wait for their perspective cars.

The two women turned with a whistle at the cleaned-up crew.

“Ohmygod. It’s BTS. Should we ask for an autograph?” Tasha leaned in, pretending to whisper while being excruciatingly obvious.

“I don’t know, do you think they’ll even notice us?” She responded just as obviously.

“Ahh, our adoring fans! How could we ever not notice you.” Jin threw a trademark kiss in their direction. Jimin rolled his eyes while moving between them.

“I think we would be doing the world a disservice if we didn’t notice our adoring fans. Someone take a picture quick!.” Jimin did his best James Bond look while the girls posed on the side. “Ok, as we practiced.”

“Ah! This is more embarrassing than Jin-hyung and his jokes.” Hobi laughed - but snapped the photo anyway. “Yes, yes! More! More!” They made devious faces at each other, smoldering looks as Jimin wrapped his arm around each girl’s waist.

“Ok, ok. That’s enough. That’s enough.” Namjoon chuckled as Jimin frowned. “We’re holding up the line.” Tasha was tugged gently away from Jimin, causing her brows to arch upward. “You look really nice.” She smiled widely.

“Why, thank you, Namjoon-ah. You don’t look so bad yourself.” Jin, Hobi, and Jimin rolled their eyes with playful groans.

Taehyung, on the other hand, got a chance to approach her for the first time in what seemed like - months. Oh, because it had been. They’d been increasingly busy since their karaoke escapade. It worked out to her favor, of course.

But now?

“You look beautiful.” The depth of his tone littered goosebumps across her skin. A response she just couldn’t help as he stood just behind her. Their body heat clashed as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Wow, Noona.” Jeongguk approached with his hands in his pockets. And although the maknae was wearing that wide bunny smile? His eyes wore something else entirely. They all looked impeccable, their styling team truly outdid themselves.

Yoongi clicked his tongue against his teeth as he shuffled toward the door. “You all need to pick your lips up off the floor so we can get in the car.” The girls chuckled, making swift getaways from their captors as he held the door for them.

“Thanks, Yoongi.” The girls spoke in sing-song unison as they exited. He shook his head as he watched them get packed into an SUV.

He scratched at the back of his neck, a slight tilt of his head. “I think we have the most beautiful women in all the networks with us tonight.” Everybody turned to Min Yoongi with their mouths agape. He gave a careless shrug as he toed the door back open. “I’m human too, you know? Let’s go, yea?”

The wind tousled his hair a bit as he adjusted his cufflinks.

“Should we be worried?” Taehyung turned to Namjoon, who was still shocked.

“Uh. I…don’t …know?” Namjoon’s brow furrowed as Jimin squeezed by them.

“You should be worried.” Jimin teased with a brow waggle as he jogged to catch up with Yoongi.

Hoseok and Jin grinned, moving by after clapping a hand on the trio’s shoulder. “I wonder if he’s going to get to dance with them first?” Jin mused, loudly, to Hoseok. The Dance Captain tilted his head in deep concentration.

“Not before I get to ask first.”

Jeongguk balked, pushing the door open to speed up to protest. “H-hey, Hobi-hyung! W-wait just a minute!”

Taehyung pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep groan. Namjoon sighed, “I know, Taehyung-ah. I know. Just remember to mind your manners, alright?”

Taehyung smirked while tucking his thumb in his lapel. His tone was deep and thickened by the weight of his satoori. “Hey, Hyung, don’t worry.” He moved forward, opening the door for Namjoon. “…I’m a great actor, remember?” Taehyung popped his tongue with a wink as the Leader shook his head with a dimpled smile.

“Let’s not give them too much of a show, yeah?” Namjoon arched a brow. The two shared a look before stepping into the waiting SUV

[darknytemare]

No Words - pt 9

Pairing: Taehyung x Jeongguk x OC [ft.  Namjoon x OC]

Type: Series

Genre: Idol, Poly, Interracial, Tall Female, Smut, Angst, Fluff [if you squint]

Warning: Vivian. That’s right, the warning is Vivian. 

A/N - I fell into that pit of ‘what are you doing with this trash story’ style negative brain activity. Things took a turn. I’m sorry for making you wait. This story is still a mess. We’re back on the tracks, folks! Also, my friend made a banner for this story. SQUEE.

Words:  2.5k

Tasha watched her friend huddle over notebooks with her brow deeply furrowed. The holidays were rushing up to greet them, and they were bustling to finish their course-load. They had been pouring over notebooks, comparing notes, and debating practicums for the last few weeks. They were huddled with the newbies in the common room at the Hannam-dong dorm space. It was easy to help the new kids with their first-year work. It was a big boost of confidence, and perhaps ego, that they could spout off the answers and explanations so easily. 

But, as the older kids on the block? Things had changed technologically for them. The American vs. Korean applications of sound and camera work were on a whole different scale. Their whole purpose was a comparison of the two. Yet, they found themselves in a conundrum. It was simple, really it was, that with the consumption of Hallyu in the rest of the world - people were developing different expectations for music videos and shows. They were in the front seat of this grand show of change. Now, this isn't to say that there weren’t pioneers. 

There would always be respect for those that paved the way prior. Those bold visionaries that twisted their earlier experiences. But like all things, time brings change and new technology. They were barely scraping the surface of the musical experience. People weren’t satisfied with the entertainer simply being still surrounded by bodies. There was a want for more of a storytelling aspect. Or, they wanted snappy effects that added something. The thing is people were wanting more than what they were getting. 

“Ahhh! My eyes are starting to cross. I swear to GOD.” Tasha rubbed her face flinging those rainbow-colored plaits out of her face. She turned to the others as they stared at blinking cursors paused in mid-sentence. She groaned checking the time, “Ok, guys. Let’s...let’s stop, for now, yea?” A few agree to shut their laptops down - except for one person.

“Hey, we have a function to get ready for, missy.” The clickity-clack of keys had slowed from the beginning of their session but remained steady. 

“I’m well aware of that, Tasha.” She quipped as she stared over the top of her glasses. Tasha grunted as the new kids laughed. 

“Come on, we know she’s the nerd of the group. Are you surprised?” Tasha’s gaze narrowed to the owner of that voice. “I’m surprised she managed to have any fun while being here.” The bad attempt sarcasm rubbed Tasha the wrong fucking way. 

There was always one in every group! That one person that thought they were so fucking cool - and pretty, and popular. Even if that person was extremely beautiful and found themselves in the center of attention all the g’damned time. Tasha was about to say something but it was cut short when three familiar voices echoed out in the hallway. 

Tasha blinked because those three voices belonged to none other than...

“Taehyung-ah, Gguk-ah, seriously.” Namjoon groaned into a laugh as they turned to enter the common room. “O-oh.” He stopped abruptly and the maknae line bumped into him. 

“Ah, Hyung! I almost stepped on - Oh.” Jeongguk blinked when Taehyung tapped him on the shoulder. The new kids still had to get used to just randomly running into BTS members throughout the day. The first group merely bowed or waved, muttering greetings. Tasha’s eyes whipped quickly to her bag when she locked gazes with Namjoon. She coughed lightly clapping her hands. “Ah, well. We should probably start getting ready guys.” A thumb jutted to the partly dressed trio shuffling into the room. 

“Ah! It’s the oppa’s!” That voice piped up again and Tasha did everything in her power not to hurl. But, that girl jumped up clapping her hands together. “You guys look good! We should be so lucky to be escorted by such dapper gentlemen.” 

Everyone rolled their eyes. Namjoon was kinder - and refrained. “Ah, well. You know it’s a special occasion. You all make sure you talk to people and network.” She giggled lightly, placing the tips of her fingers along Namjoon’s forearm.

Namjoon coughed softly as he stepped around her - leaving Taehyung and Jeongguk to be prodded at instead. The soft taps of a keyboard still echoed as Namjoon continued. “The first group here really set a tone that we hope you can follow.” A brow arched as he spun on his heels. 

The new kids smirked, staring at the one who continued to type. That girl - ah, she had a name. Vivian the Vivacious. That’s what she called herself - the life of every party. She slipped an arm through Tae and Gguk’s as if she was the prize between them. “I am sure we’ll meet and exceed every expectation required of us.” Haughty, as she tossed those long raven locks over her shoulder. 

It was apparent she was the Queen Bee among the new kids. There was always one. 

Tasha inhaled deeply as suddenly the sound of keys ticking stopped. A soft exhale broke a thick silence. “Vivian.” Everyone turned to her, even Tasha stiffened momentarily, as she removed her glasses. “There’s a saying that comes to mind.” She stashed her glasses in their case. “Overconfidence is the most dangerous form of carelessness.” A brow arched upward as she neatly collected her things. 

There was a subtle warning in her tone that she didn’t bother to hide. “I don’t care what you think about me, but do not take my silence as putting up with your bullshit.” She turned to the rest of the new kids. “Do not embarrass us tonight. Because I’m the one standing between your continued presence here…” She hefted her bag on her shoulder. “...and long coach ride back to where the fuck you came from.” 

Tasha had to turn in the opposite direction to hide the smile threatening to split her face. Namjoon caught it and tilted his head upward, a hand over his mouth. Taehyung and Jeongguk were torn between something akin to awe and lust. Vivian glared at her as she smiled, her grasp tightening on Tae and Gguk’s forearms. They both turned their gaze to the top of the girl’s head. 

Tasha was close to losing her shit. “Ok! Alright! Let’s go! We’re wasting time.” She bowed to the trio, refusing to reach for Vivian as she beat feet out of the common room. The other first-year folks left with satisfied looks on their faces. 

She decided to follow-up the last of them, pausing by Vivian as she clung to the maknae members. “And I’ll have you know, I was plenty of fun while I was here. Maybe you’ll get a chance to sing karaoke with Jeongguk-ah.” Her gaze slid up between the two of them. 

Her pupils went wide to match theirs as her lips parted on a smirk. That look lowered to Vivian as she tilted the corner of her lips. “Maybe if you’re as fun as me.” She waltzed out of the common room leaving Vivian scowling. 

“Jeongguk-oppa! You think I’m fun don’t you?” Vivian tilted a lookup through thick lashes, fluttering them prettily at the maknae. 

Who was paying her no mind? 

She turned to Taehyung prepared to do the same, and she paused. The look that he gave her caused her to wither, just slightly. He looked like a haughty Prince, curious about the status of the person touching him. Her fingers slid away from his arm and she turned to see Jeongguk with a brow arched at her fingers. “Oh come on, I’m much more fun than she is!” She pressed her cleavage against his side - and he moved as if he’d been burned. 

“Vivian,” Namjoon spoke quietly. “I think you should go get ready. You don’t want to get left behind.” He grabbed the apple he wanted originally and breezed by her. Taehyung offered that boxy smile with a slight bow, as he followed. Jeongguk fell in step looking exasperated as they went to visit the stylist. 

Vivian continued to scowl but was broken from that facade of purity and fun. The sound of crisp fruit being pierced by that dimpled half-smile. Namjoon tilted his head as he shook the apple in her direction. “And I’d keep that in mind.” He finished chewing leaning back on his heels. “...because you will get left behind if you’re not careful.” He watched as Vivian crossed her arms schooling a neutral expression. “Make us proud tonight.” Namjoon walked off with a partial smile leaving her to scowl by herself. He rounded the corner rubbing absently at where she touched him. 

It’s fine. He’d just have to rub himself all over Tasha later on to cure himself.

---

“She’s infuriating! I hate her! Hate is a strong word isn’t it?” Tasha paced in her thigh-highs the snaps of a garter belt clicking. “Is that wrong? Should I feel bad?” She threw her hands up as if she was suffering some moral dilemma. “God, there’s one in every bunch!” Tasha continued to rumble and rant in her fury.

“Latasha.” She sighed as her friend finally paused. “You do realize you have yet to put your dress on?” A brow arched as Tasha finally saw the time. 

“Shit!” She skittered to the other room to pull on the perfect black dress. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?!” Tasha whined as she pulled the curl rods from her updo. 

“I tried. You kept going back to how pretty, perfect, and detestable she is.” Tasha grunted as she hobbled up to the front, finally settling herself in two-inch heels. 

“Well, shit. You kept oddly cool for where she wound up.” Tasha mused with a smirk as she watched her friend clip on a dangly earring set. A set of large hoops in the other hole as the dangling stars seemed to swing in its opening. 

“Look, we earned our spots working with the members. I’m not going to let petty jealousy cloud my judgment.” She arched a brow while pressing a red stick across the swell of her lip. It was a bold color choice. Hell, her whole ensemble was bold. 

It wasn’t that the dress was short - it was that she was tall. And this happened every time, where this would be a normal fit for average height? For her? Well, it was snug on her hips and just passed her knees - and that is just by a wing and a prayer. That paired with heels that catapulted her into the near six-foot-tall range of height? Completed the look. 

Tasha had spent the whole day previously blowing out her hair. A silk press left her hair in a shiny fall of layered waves about her shoulders. She turned around as Tasha gave her a final appraisal.

“Damn, I am good. Maybe this tech stuff isn’t my calling. Maybe they’ll let me be a stylist?” They both stared at each other before falling into a peal of laughter. Tasha grabbed her jacket and purse, offering an arm to escort them from her apartment.

“You good, chick?” She stared down at her friend as they walked quietly toward their transportation. 

“Yeah, you’re right. We earned our spots.” Tasha nodded with a solid lift to her confidence. They smiled at each other as they approached the building foyer. Folks were already being loaded into SUVs. They were the last ones to arrive as the boys from BTS made their way down to wait for their perspective cars. 

The two women turned with a whistle at the cleaned-up crew. 

 “Ohmygod. It’s BTS. Should we ask for an autograph?” Tasha leaned in pretending to whisper while being excruciatingly obvious. 

“I don’t know do you think they’ll even notice us?” She responded just as obviously.

“Ahh, our adoring fans! How could we ever not notice you.” Jin threw a trademark kiss in their direction. Jimin rolled his eyes while moving between them. 

“I think we would be doing the world a disservice if we didn’t notice our adoring fans. Someone take a picture quick!.” Jimin did his best James Bond look while the girls posed on the side. “Ok, as we practiced.” 

“Ah! This is more embarrassing than Jin-hyung and his jokes.” Hobi laughed - but snapped the photo anyway. “Yes, yes! More! More!” They made devious faces at each other, smoldering looks as Jimin wrapped his arm around each girl’s waist. 

“Ok, ok. That’s enough. That’s enough.” Namjoon chuckled as Jimin frowned. “We’re holding up the line.” Tasha was tugged gently away from Jimin causing her brows to arch upward. “You look really nice.” She smiled widely. 

“Why thank you, Namjoon-ah. You don’t look so bad yourself.” Jin, Hobi and Jimin rolled their eyes with playful groans. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, got a chance to approach her for the first time in what seemed like - months. Oh, because it had been. They’d been increasingly busy since their karaoke escapade. It worked out to her favor, of course. 

But now?

“You look beautiful.” The depth of his tone littered goosebumps across her skin. A response she just couldn’t help as he stood just behind her. Their body heat clashed as she glanced over her shoulder. 

“Wow, Noona.” Jeongguk approached with his hands in his pockets. And although the maknae was wearing that wide bunny smile? His eyes wore something else entirely. They all looked impeccable, their styling team truly outdid themselves. 

Yoongi clicked his tongue against his teeth as he shuffled toward the door. “You all need to pick your lips up off the floor so we can get in the car.” The girls chuckled, making swift getaways from their captors as he held the door for them. 

“Thanks, Yoongi.” The girls spoke in sing-song unison as they exited. He shook his head as he watched them get packed into an SUV. 

He scratched at the back of his neck, a slight tilt of his head. “I think we have the most beautiful women in all the networks with us tonight.” Everybody turned to Min Yoongi with their mouths agape. He gave a haphazard shrug as he toed the door back open. “I’m human too, you know? Let’s go, yea?” 

The wind tousled his hair a bit as he adjusted his cufflinks. 

“Should we be worried?” Taehyung turned to Namjoon who was still shocked. 

“Uh. I...don't ...know?” Namjoon’s brow furrowed as Jimin squeezed by them. 

“You should be worried.” Jimin teased with a brow waggle as he jogged to catch up with Yoongi. 

Hoseok and Jin grinned moving by after clapping a hand on the trio’s shoulder. “I wonder if he’s going to get to dance with them first?” Jin mused, loudly, to Hoseok. The Dance Captain tilted his head in deep concentration. 

“Not before I get to ask first.” 

Jeongguk balked pushing the door open to speed up to protest. “H-hey, Hobi-hyung! W-wait just a minute!” 

Taehyung pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep groan. Namjoon sighed, “I know, Taehyung-ah. I know. Just remember to mind your manners, alright?” 

Taehyung smirked while tucking his thumb in his lapel. His tone was deep and thickened by the weight of his satoori. “Hey, Hyung, don’t worry.” He moved forward opening the door for Namjoon. “...I’m a great actor, remember?” Taehyung popped his tongue with a wink as the Leader shook his head with a dimpled smile.

“Let’s not give them too much of a show, yeah?” Namjoon arched a brow. The two shared a look before stepping into the waiting SUV.

[afangirlwashere]

Spanish panic (p.p.)

Summary: Spanish classes can get tough but nothing is worse than having a panic attack at a school bathroom. 

Author’s Note: I had this idea running through my head for a while. It’s just a one-shot to get these thoughts out of my head. If you have any ideas that are bothering you and you’d like a fanfic made out of them feel free to send it my way! 

Warnings: Panic attack and Endgame spoilers

Song inspiration: Burn It Down - Daughter (this song is honestly post-Endgame Peter Parker I don’t take criticism) also if you want to you can listen to Neptune by Sleeping At Last that one goes well with it too

Masterlist

The class was filled with nervous whispering and (Y/N)’s tapping.  In the presence of the two classmates next to her - Nancy and Wendy - any concentration wasn’t possible. 

“Chill out.” Betty was typing something on her laptop while (Y/N) stared in her notes. 

“If señora Diosa gives us the test I’m screwed!” she skimmed through her scribbled notes. 

Betty rolled her eyes “We haven’t been in Spanish class for literally five years. There is no way señora Diosa remembers we were supposed to have a test! She didn’t blip!” 

“I’m telling you this old crone is going to remember!” (Y/N) put her hair behind her ear as she shook with nervousness “God how I hate the high heels she wears. You can hear her from miles! Click, clack, clickity, clack.” 

Betty giggled “If she still wears them...”

“But it’s totally crazy!” Nancy whispered as quietly as if Wendy was an old deaf woman “It’s space! It’s infinite! There’s no way anyone could get back to Earth. I’ve read a few articles from different University professors who calculated the exact chance Tony Stark had to get back. It was practically zero! Not even he could have solved something like this!! There has to be something bigger behind it!” 

Wendy was on the edge of her seat fiercely nodding “I’ve heard that they want to make a documentary about him. Mr. Sommers said that every school is going to make their students watch it when it comes out. And we’ll probably be watching it for the anniversary of the day everyone was brought back. That’s cool right?”

“Somebody should teach them how to whisper.” Betty grumbled and typed louder on her keyboard.

(Y/N) noticed that she didn’t like to talk about the tragedy which affected the whole world. She was always quite pale but whenever Thanos was mentioned she seemed almost translucent. 

“How do you say small in Spanish? How would you say it!?” (Y/N) quickly browsed between three pages of notes. 

“Try asking him.” 

Peter sat right in front of them. He was silent and stiff the whole time which wasn’t like him at all. (Y/N) barely spoke to him since they blipped back. He’d go home immediately after school or disappeared somewhere with Ned. 

“Oh, mighty overlord of Spanish!” (Y/N) kicked Peter’s chair “Would you be so kind and share with me your wisdom? How would you transcribe the Spanish word for-” 

Peter’s chair rumbled as he stood up and stumbled out of the classroom leaving with heavy breaths.  All his stuff was still on the table which was weird. If he wanted to skip this class (like he used to) why wouldn’t he take it? 

“Did I do something wrong?” (Y/N)’s voice cut through the silence. She didn’t even realize everyone's attention was on Peter as well. 

It only took a few seconds before she got up and ran after him. Any stress from the test was replaced by worry for Peter.  She saw him disappear to the boy's bathroom. She stood facing the door and considered if she should knock, barge in or just wait for him in the hallway. 

But before she could decide she heard a familiar click, clack, clickity, clack. Señora Diosa was rushing to class.  (Y/N) knew that if her teacher saw her here she’d get in serious trouble because how do you say ‘I think I pissed my friend off so much that he ran to the boy’s bathroom and I need to make sure he’s fine’ in Spanish? 

Before she could think it through her hands were pushing on the door, her eyes firmly shut. This tactic didn’t work for long though because the moment she heard heavy breaths her curiosity couldn’t be stopped. 

In the corner of the room next to the sink was Peter sat, shaking, with his head between his knees. The screen of his phone was lit up next to him. 

“Peter?” (Y/N) slowly stepped closer, all the shame of being in a boy's bathroom has already left her.

She kneeled next to him, her eyes set on his phone. First thing that went through her head was ‘What if something happened to his aunt?’

But his phone was ringing. And the name of the person who Peter tried to call was ‘Tony Stark’. 

Of course... Why didn’t she think of that earlier? People all around the world were shocked by Tony Stark’s heroic death but (Y/N) didn’t realize Peter knew him personally. He constantly spoke about him being his mentor and role-model. Peter probably didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to him. And now he was gone.

(Y/N) quickly canceled the call and locked his phone “Peter...” she cautiously touched his shoulder hoping human contact would provide some support. 

His head jerked up as if she still startled him. He didn’t even know that somebody was in the room with him. Tears as big as peas were running down his cheeks. 

“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be alright.” she gently rubbed his arm “Can you hear me?” she lowered her head to look him in the eyes. 

Peter wiped his nose on his sleeve, eyelids shuddering as he nodded “Can you speak?” (Y/N) whispered.

Peter took a shaky breath, his mouth was dry and instead of words coming out of it he painfully exhaled. His forehead glistened with cold sweat while white spots danced in front of his eyes.  He wrapped his hands around her waist as a heartwrenching sob left his throat. 

(Y/N) moved closer, hoping his firm grip would loosen. She felt his tears seep through her shirt. He was trying to say something but (Y/N) couldn’t understand his mumbling. 

“Shhhh... I’m here... I’m here with you.” she stroked his head and pulled one of his hands to her heart. Her other hand snaked around to touch his neck which was covered in goosebumps “Can you look at me Peter?” 

His eyelids were heavy but somehow he managed to raise his head enough to look at her even when everything was blurry or covered by spots that seemingly weren’t about to fade. 

“I want you to try and concentrate on my breathing yeah? We’re gonna breathe together alright? You’re going to be okay again I promise just breathe with me.” She watched him close his eyes and nod. 

“Alright. Breathe in...” her chest rose in a large breath so that Peter could feel it as well “And breathe out...” 

Peter’s lips trembled through the first three tries and he could only listen to the calming breaths and heartbeats as he held onto her like his life depended on it. 

When his breathing slightly stabilized (Y/N) spoke again “Can you tell me three things you see around you?” 

“You...” he swallowed hard, fiddling with her shirt “Soaked up napkin...” (Y/N) turned around to make sure it was actually there “Bathroom stall door...” 

“Good... Good... Just keep breathing... You’re safe. Nothing’s gonna happen to you I swear.” she pushed the curls that stuck to his sweaty forehead away from his face “You’re burning up...” 

(Y/N) automatically fumbled in the back pocket of her jeans where she kept a tissue since she was known for her bleeding nose at any circumstance. Explaining why there’s smeared blood next to her answer on a test got pretty tiring real quick. 

“I’ll be right back,” she tried to pull his hand away “I’m gonna wet the tissue okay?” when he didn’t respond she tried again “Peter?”

His eyes were shut but he slowly nodded, rubbing his face with shaky hands as he leaned on the tiles.  When she kneeled next to him his breathes were shaky and irregular again. 

“I’m going to put a cold tissue on your forehead now. I’ll wipe it on your hand first so you can feel it.” after wiping it on his hand she slowly pressed it to his forehead. (Y/N) sat next to him, holding one of his hands in hers so he could still feel her presence if his vision betrayed him. 

Water dribbled from the tap for a long time before Peter spoke “I... I didn’t save him.” 

(Y/N) pulled her knees away from her face and stared in his. It wasn’t hard to guess who was in question “Peter...” she ran over his hand “It wasn’t your fault you...” she intertwined their fingers thinking twice what to say next “You couldn’t have saved him.” 

Peter stared ahead, sings of doubt if he should tell (Y/N) the truth showed in his eyes “I could have..” his voice trembled and before he could stop himself the whole truth came out of his mouth along with tears which he wasn’t fast enough to wipe away. 

[sadistic-second]

Alright, first of all, this is going under a cut. Reasons being I wrote a thing that’s 1) Suicidal and 2) potential spoiler-y? @axgmented wrote an ask for me the other day that I kept. It made me think and inspired this. So if suicide bothers you and that kinda thing, I wouldn’t read this. This is your only warning.

Reno hadn’t slept at all the night before. The Turk had been sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. Nightmares plagued him constantly. It was all too easy to distance himself when he was awake, he just shut off, shut down. Just looking at him one wouldn't be able to tell the emotions playing around inside his head. The thoughts that continuously screamed inside his head. That dorky smile and playful banter hid more pain than anyone cared to realize.

Exhaustion had brought him to bed that night, too tired to go to a friend’s place. Hadn’t even bothered to take off the clothes he’d worn. The moment his feet hit the interior of his apartment, the door slammed shut, locked. He was walking down the hallway. Barely stripped out of anything, he’d flopped on the mattress. How long had he gotten to sleep before the terror had set in?

The clock had said 9:30 pm when he’d made it to bed. It was now 1 am. Three and a half hours of sleep before he was torn away from the horror that had plagued his dreams. From the dread that sank into every fiber of his being. Had it been worth it? Had the money actually been worth all of that? Had any of that been worth it in the end?

The answer was on a seesaw teetering in his head. 

Normally this wouldn't have bothered him. What was another sin added to his growing list? Nothing that copious amount of alcohol and thundering metal music couldn't solve.  Heh, would he even really want to listen to metal? Just the sound of that word alone was turning his stomach. None of this had bothered him. Not a single thing about it had him second-guessing anything. 

She had found out.

That’s what bothered him.

Reno was teaching Rem how to be a Turk, sure. Going to show her everything he knew and then some. But there were just certain things that he didn’t want her to see. Didn’t want her to know. What he’d done had been one of those things. How was he supposed to shield her from that? Her reaction hadn’t been expected, he wasn’t going to lie. Where was all the hate? The discrimination? Certainly, she had to have felt something about him for this? A sigh and he was shaking his head violently.

There were sides of himself that he hid from her specifically. There were parts that he wanted to keep her safe from. She would have to deal with her own struggles, she didn't need to know his, too. His only solace had been that she hadn’t been there, only read about it. She didn’t need to know everything that happened . . . But she had found out.

Either Tseng had told her of its location or she had just stumbled across it. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know. The pages she’d read, they contained the whole incident in the most graphic of details. ‘Spare no expense’ he’d been told. ‘Write everything down’. Fuck did he hate paperwork. It hadn’t been such a burden on him before. But after this? Heh, after this he never wanted to do it again. No one needed to know anything that he did. Not everything. Not to this degree.

The resulting fight that took place up there was easily forgettable. That’s what he kept telling himself. They’d had the chance to stop him. Maybe he’d been a little careless. Hadn’t given it his all in a sense. Maybe he’d wanted them to stop him. Anything for an excise to have failed. Oh, but he hadn’t failed, had he? His speed was a blessing and a curse. Fingers had tapped away that that keyboard before anyone could catch him. But he hadn’t initiated it right away. It was one button press away. They could have stopped him. It was almost like Rude joining him, they were both begging to be stopped. But of course, that didn’t happen. Why hadn’t it happened? Had they been too afraid to go through with killing them or . . .

No, they were Turks. They were just too good at their job.

Rude might have pressed the button to start it all off, but it was Reno who put in the command. It was Reno who had gotten there first. Each clickity-clack of those buttons had drawn him in closer and closer. Each key a piece of him died, broke off. Pieces of himself that he no longer needed. They would have to be replaced, but he could deal with all of this later. Or rather, that’s what he had to himself at the time. But what if he didn’t want to deal with it? What if he just wanted to ignore it? Move on? Pretend that it hadn’t been him?

Pretending to pass out had been the least that he could do. The crushing weight of the realization of what he’d done bearing down on him. Why hadn’t Cloud just ended his fucking life right there? Then he wouldn't be having this breakdown right now. The way everything seemed to happen in slow motion after that. It felt like an eternity until Rude picked him up. He could feel the plate beneath him, the way it had seemed to vibrate as it gave away. 

His face was wet, tears were coming from his eyes. Metal should never have to make that creaking sound. Isn’t that why they used metal?! Brackets separated, girders strained. The suspension was forced to cave in. The Turk didn’t know all the technical terms, he didn’t know how to build shit like that. Just break it. But the haunting throng of horror played over and over in his mind to the point he couldn't stand it.

Tears weren’t the only reason his face was wet. When had he gotten into the shower? He didn’t even remember getting off the bed. A quick assessment of himself and he realized several things at once. Partially dressed. His gun had been brought with him and it was conveniently in his mouth. There was this weird little smile on his face as he left it in there. This was the least that he deserved for what he’d done. It wasn’t that hard to turn the safety off from this angle. And all it would take is a twitch of his finger and they would find him lying in his blood-stained bathtub.

So why was he hesitating? This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Punishment for what he’d done. So why wasn’t he doing it? His body had started shaking. Was that fear? Turks didn’t have fear. Blame the water temperature all he wanted, it was too warm to cause this. Eyes had focused up at the showerhead before they lulled back to being closed. His hand had steadied. 

This was it, it would all be over in a manner of moments . . .

His cellphone starting ringing.

Reno could have ignored the phone if he wanted and just gone through with it. Ended it as nothing else mattered. But a special tone was playing. The one that he had specifically set up for her. His gun left its temporary home, the water shut off. Dripping wet, he didn’t even bother to make an attempt to dry off as he walked back into the bedroom to answer the phone before it went to voicemail.

“Hey, Remmy, what’s up?”

[genocidershodan]

Tagged by @johnandrasjaqobis Probably because she only tags me in hard things.

List the first lines of your last 20 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

20 stories? This is gonna require some scrounging. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to even track down 20, but here we go.

Black Horizon (original work) The Noose was a thin stretch of land, barely a kilometre wide, cleanly dividing Great Lake Gresdin. The western edge was a slightly elevated plateau, completely flat over its entire span, with three sets of train tracks running along it. Not often, but on the odd occasion observers might see on the middle track an elegantly ornate train, decorated with gleaming chrome and golden trimmings as royalty travelled to the northern reaches. More frequently a dull spartan train transporting soldiers or equipment for the Toraanim Armed Forces. 

The Altairian Connection (original work) The Winifred Miles Memorial Theatre was one of the main attractions in Stormwise, named after one of the city’s founding settlers. The sprawling metropolis lit the night with colour as tall buildings reached to the skies. The theatre itself was a large artistic construction of steel and glass.

Unnamed story featuring friend’s OC’s Deckard’s basement was fairly large, but quite cramped. Most of the expanse was filled either with plain brown cardboard boxes, or bits and pieces of his stuff stuff. The area was lit by a small yellow lamp in one corner, contrasting with the harsh glow of the computer screens. Bonnie shuffled uncomfortably in the poorly lit basement as her, Francine, and Rowena looked at each other restlessly. The only sound was Deckard, seated at his computer, clickity clacking away at his keyboards, his eyes quickly shifting between the three screens.

Unnamed story featuring the same OC’s The three girls slowly made their way along the sidewalk. The streets were dead silent and just barely illuminated by the street side lights in the early hours of the morning. They were all quite inebriated, Francine more so than the others as she barely managed to stumble along in a straight line as she lead her friends. “Here it is!” She shouted, her gravelly voice echoed loudly in the suburban area, threatening to almost wake up the entire street. They had made it to an intersection of the quiet back streets, the other two girls looked around expectantly. “Where exactly are we?” Inquired Rowena in a more subdued tone, though with a slight slur. The redhead took this moment to rest against a nearby fence. Her bare feet were sore walking on the rocky sidewalk as she had been carrying her heeled shoes for the last thirty minutes.

Short story about a character I roleplayed named Stannis Fairon that I needed to write as part of my application to this roleplaying site Stannis clapped along with all the other men as the bard finished his song. He whooped loudly and raised his mug, slopping the brew all over the table. Ahnolt, one of the soldiers at Stannis’ table, laughed loudly. “That’s it!” He shouted mirthily, “That’s the song I want them to play at my funeral!” The man beside him clapped him on his back. “What, That sad tune? Definitely not!”

Short Story I wrote for the epic Lily and Luffy fight that I was probably really high during writing. Thick clouds shrouded Hyrule temple in darkness as rain poured down heavily in giant drops. Lily lay on the ground. Covered in bruises and breathing in staggered bursts. The bright red flower in hair has long since been lost. Luffy stood over her prone form, face obscured by the brim of his straw hat, lightning flashed in the distance, the thunder rumbled moments later.

But Shadows and Dust (Majesty fanfic) You know, in times when you feel death is certain, it is strange the things that come into your head. 

Like now, as I hear yelling in many directions. From my left I can hear the words "I'm done for!" In the corner of my eye I see a wizard, one whom I have only met for a few moments, fleeing from the three oncoming dragons. He was known as Faldor the Sage, whether or not this was his real name I knew not, nor did I care. I always held little regard for wizards, fighting from afar, and hightailing even when the odds were in his favour. On my right I hear the distinct sounds of a paladin blessing herself. Her, I knew very well. She was known as Dian the Righteous; I turned my head to see that her face betrayed no emotion. It was none too reassuring to know that this powerful paladin was just as scared as I.

Yet, the one thought that is ceaselessly coursing through my head is "I wonder how my brother is getting on?" As I said before, it is strange the thoughts that come into your head when you feel that certain death looms before you. My name, if it's of any importance, is Duric. 

The Cemetery (Harry Potter fanfic written before Order of the Phoenix came out) Drip, drip, drip. It was the only sound that could be heard in green field; it was like an endless flowing river of dark green. Every metre a post was sticking out of the ground with a plaque underneath. The only movement, not including the hard rain, was a solitary figure walking through the field, stopping at each post to read the inscription.

Loud Mountain (A Silent Hill parody I wrote when I was 16 and thought I was hilarious) "Daddy, why does my little notebook have 'codwigr diner' written on it?" "Shut up woman and bake me some pie!" 

It had been three long years since Harry Mason's beloved wife had died. That is probably why he loved his daughter Cheryl so much. "Is my pie ready yet, devil woman?" "No, not yet daddy."

Every year, Harry Mason took Cheryl on a holiday to some exotic location. "As long as it don't cost me anything," he would say lovingly to his daughter, "now where's my pie?" This time, for some inexplicable reason, she said. "Listen daddy, I won't bake you pies, until we go to Loud Mountain, or Alice Springs." At this, Harry said "Alice? Alice? Where the." without having to finish the sentence, Harry consulted the Atlas, finding out that Alice springs was a thriving trade centre smack bang in the middle of Australia, or a run down world war 2 relic twelve kilometres outside Warsaw, Poland. He decided to settle for Loud Mountain, which was a quaint town in Northern Kansas, or an old folks home nestled quietly in the Chicago subway system.

So that’s all I’m really prepared to track down without doing some serious digging. Apart from the really old ones, I think that I do have propensity for laying the scene first and foremost. Where are we? Who is there? Lay down some atmosphere. I don’t know whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. But one of the first things I do is put the reader in the scene and know what’s around them.

I really don’t know who to tag in this, I’m sorry. But if you see this and want to do it, definitely go for it. And tag me in so I can see your shit.

[zumester]

Behind the Black

This is our contribution to M3, Multiple Media Month. For those who don't know, M3 is a time in which the multiple/plural community has a special opportunity to get together and create. It can be anything, from a piece of visual art to a line of code. If you identify as plural, you can contribute using the hashtag #multiplemediamonth.

This is a piece we wrote, recounting some events that took place within the system over the last few weeks. Hope you enjoy.

The mindscape was permeated by an all consuming darkness, hiding the hills and valleys, the sharp corners, the signature of the land. Hiding squinted eyes and thin smiles and hints of movement that otherwise would have been invisible, just above the horizon.

You wouldn't have known, as an outsider looking in, but above the ground, a loft hung bolted to the underside of the sky. A loft made of the same abysmal black as everything else was.

If you could have seen through the darkness, you'd have noticed the occasional murky glimmer from deep within the walls. Suggestions that something inside of it was alive, and at work. And if you could have seen through the darkness, you might even have been able to guess what he was doing. You might have been able to hear the pressing of buttons, the pulling of levers, the clickity clack of fingers on a keyboard, and the muttering of half formed words. You might have been able to smell smoke billowing just under the surface and wondered what, of the things there, was worth hiding.

If not for that darkness, you'd have seen a vaguely humanoid shape emerge from the door to the loft. You'd have seen him step out onto the beginnings of a catwalk that weaved through the mind, highways forged out of metal and madness. The walk spread for infinite miles, looming above the ground below, an endless expanse of empty space.

He perched his hands on the catwalk’s railing and looked down. Tried to make sense of the scattered activities of his fellow headmates. From below, he appeared black on black, a silhouette whose shape was ever changing, no single feature stagnating long enough for anyone to have caught more than a glimpse.

He called himself the Master Plan.

“We talked about doing an overhaul of the mindscape… Any suggestions before I start moving things?”

Eli was the first one to lift his head, running his tongue over a pair of fangs before speaking. “Moving what? Your loft isn't going anywhere. Alpha’s probably never going to leave the basement. I'm the only one on the ‘ground floor’ with a room, and it's not even a room! It's just a designated zone where hordes of shadows sprites like to congregate. It's not corporeal, you can't move it.”

It sounded like a challenge. Plan quirked his brow, only for as long as it took him to find inspiration.

Meanwhile, Eli wasn't done. “Everyone else is just kind of groping around in the dark. No landmarks, no landscape, nothing to--nothing that--”

From some undetermined location in the darkness beyond Eli’s “not a room”, Nomad finished his sentence. “Nothing which would ground one to their surroundings.”

It struck him, belatedly, that Nomad’s words had been a pun, but before Eli could respond, Plan had already raised his hands and gathered what energy was in them, ready to make his move. The drone of angry machines fueled by roaring steam pipes reached their ears, presumably from inside the loft. It had never been clear exactly what made the mindscape what it was, but it was clear that whatever it was, the Master Plan held dominion over it.

With a flick of his wrists, the shadows circling around Eli’s head were pulled out of formation, tugged in one direction and then another by invisible strings; dancing puppets that only knew one song. Plan stretched his arms wide and the entire scape resonated with a daunting chorus: clanging metal and unrecognizable voices. He held a remote control that no one could see. A power over their shared mental space that no one could understand.

From his spot on the catwalk, lodged in the sky, he made Eli’s “designated zone” spread to two dozen times its original size. It was as if he held a remote control that no one saw. A power over their mental space that no one understood. Shadow's licked at the air, now far away. What they revealed was an opening in the darkness that almost looked like light.

For the first time, everyone could see everyone, revealed for what they were. Strangers shambling through an empty eternity.

Still holding the railing like a set of reins, Plan sorted Eli’s face out of the crowd. “What was it that you said about moving shadows?”

Footsteps echoed like gunshots in their newly broadened scape. Plan, slouched forward with his hands in his pockets, made his way to the ground floor, as if to say, “Look at me, bringing myself down to your level. Let's make something together.”

A tunnel opened up in the ground, not far from Plan’s feet. Metal hinges screamed, and a figure emerged from within. “All this open space is well and good, but we need our own rooms. Places we can have and hold and hide in.”

Eli nodded in his brother’s direction. “Alpha, finally decided to join the party?”

Plan’s gaze had shifted to the horizon. “You're right. But we'd need so much space, so much maneuverability. For a cluster of minds that never stop creating… What way would we have of keeping up with what one another was creating, making it all fit together into a three dimensional space? Without getting hopelessly lost in the process?”

“It doesn't have to be that complicated,” said Jude, who had otherwise gone unnoticed. “If we set this slot of land up as the base, we can layer as many alternate realities as we want on top of it. They can all exist at the same time, right next to each other, without interfering with one another. Easy enough for you to keep track of, with a measure of privacy for whoever wants it.”

Plan’s expression condensed into a frown, gears turning behind his face. “We'll need gateways of some kind. A way of allowing each of you a personalized method of entering your own rooms. A method of organizing it all in a way that can be visualized from any part of the mind, by any of its inhabitants. Ensuring that no one enters anyone else's reality by mistake. Doors with their own keys.”

“What are the doors gonna look like?” Domino asked.

Scattered silence followed. Despite sharing a mind and a body, the members of the system didn't have a lot in common. They weren't even the same species. Architectural design wasn't exactly the kind of subject that made collaboration easy.

Ideas spiraled into the air and became clouds of thought, reaching for the highest layers of the upper consciousness, far beyond sight.

Static that played on a loop from speakers unseen was overshadowed by a subtle melody weaving its way between stacks of cumulonimbus.

From one corner of the mindscape, a little blonde head lifted and big blue eyes scanned the horizon, as though certain that the song had been written specifically for her.

She padded across the featureless black ground and knelt beside the figure of another child. His hands were buried wrist deep in the ground. Searching for something?

He lifted his head to look at her and moved to open his mouth, but was stopped by the web of string that had sewn his lips together. She understood him anyway. Partially-formed bits and pieces of thought were visualized above their heads as a scrambled collage.

“There's something under the ground. It's really big, spread out all over the place,” she said, pointing to get Plan’s attention. “But he says it's stuck.”

He was almost glaring now. Not at Ghost. No, he seemed frustrated at the idea that he might be missing something.

He stooped down and ran one palm over the air directly above the surface of the ground, going for a less hands-on approach than Brenn had. The rest of them were fixated on the spot just beneath his fingers, and as he clenched them into a fist, curiosity rewarded them. A set of mangled roots emerged from the dirt, and the ground around them was displaced, shifting upward in a way that suggested that this was only the tip of the iceberg.

“Who planted that?” Oliver asked.

Plan didn't answer.

Master Plan grew entire trees from the horde of roots interlocked beneath them. Most everyone in the system chose a tree and nurtured it to full size, building each one into something as unique as its owner. They functioned as literal grounding techniques, as well as doors.

Ghost’s tree had a wooden toy chest growing in the space between two branches. She was a 5 year old kid and it suited her. Aside from serving as an actual toy chest, when opened, it also formed a kind of mental wormhole. All she had to do was hop in and be ready to fall.

Nomad’s tree had a thick trunk and, at its top, the tree's branches spread out in such a way that the center had formed into the shape of a bowl. It held a small body of water, and its reflective surface linked it to another world that Nomad could visit whenever he wanted to, just by diving in.

Oliver’s tree appeared to be a normal willow, other than the fact that one of its branches was actually a lever that could be pulled into place to reveal a fissure in the surface that opened into a fully sized door. The shape and location of this lever changed every time the door was opened, to keep outsiders out. He was a bit of a hermit.

Brenn’s door, though built plainly into the trunk of his tree, required the repetition of a specific tune before it could be opened. One of the tree’s branches curved down in front of the door at arm's length, with piano keys carved, perfectly, out of its surface. Brenn, a mute who was obsessed with the power of musical expression, had only to play three notes to unlock his door--his name.

Domino’s tree didn't seem to have any kind of security system built into it. It simply employed a series of doors; small doors built into progressively larger ones. As a polymorph, she required entryways of all shapes.

Deth had pulled a slice of bark away from the base of his tree--just far enough away that he could slip into the narrow space between. Somewhere inside was a similar break in time and space that allowed him access to all kinds of places, but most often, he preferred to rest directly behind the bark, quietly watching the rest of the mindscape.

Lorys's tree wasn't so much a tree as a bush, with a large pet door in front. This was, of course, because Lorys was a man who had been reincarnated into the form of a wolf.

Some of them resisted.

“I'm still not leaving my basement,” Alpha said, from below ground.

Jude attempted to reason with him. “C’mon, Alpha,” he said. “Plan made you a tree and everything.”

It stood towards the western edge of the scape, and Plan was still playing with the way the leaves had arranged themselves on its upper branches.

“I like it down here, it feels…” He wanted to tell them that it felt safe, down there, with the heat of the furnace gliding off of his back and a familiar feline curled around his feet while he played his organ. He didn't want to sound human. He certainly didn't want to live with them.

“We had a theme going,” Plan said, and stepped back to survey his work, tilted his head as though judging the balance in a photograph. His words were noncommittal, more so than the words he didn't say aloud: “We had a theme and you're ruining it.”

Maybe out of spite more than anything else, Alpha reacted; appeared at the door to the basement and laid eyes on the tree. Lifted one hand and pulled. The sight of it wasn't entirely unlike watching a mime pull on a rope that wasn't there. Watching a jedi padawan try a tad too hard.

“What are you doing?!” Nomad cried, climbing out of the pond in his tree, still dripping wet. “You're killing nature!”

Alpha’s eyes glowed red. “I'm fixing it.”

His tree began to shake, wood cracking and giving way as its trunk began to bend down. Some of its roots snapped, and the ones that didn't curled inward. The trunk itself arched toward the ground in the shape of an inverted U. It slid into place along the floor of Alpha’s tunnel, where its leaves withered to dust.

He brought one fist down to his core and opened it, palm spread skyward. The trunk of the tree molded into the shape of a set of stairs leading right to his doorstep. At the mouth of the tunnel, a mess of roots obscured the entrance, but the onlookers could all hear Alpha ascend his newly installed staircase and as he approached the surface, that mess untangled for long enough to let him through.

“Better?” he asked.

He wasn't the only one to resist. Jude politely declined Plan’s offer, preferring to wander the forest on his own. He was the “host” after all, the one who spoke to most outsiders, the one who went to work and did the groceries and went to doctor’s appointments. He had to be in tune with what the others were doing. He had to be ready to front on a moment’s notice. He couldn't afford a world of his own that wasn't directly adjacent to the one outside, like the mindscape was. But while that was a reasonable choice, the scape’s resident demon infestation (Eli and Grubbs) resisted with motives that weren't as clear.

“We'll just hang out over here,” Eli had said, sticking to the edge of the forest; the small strip of land between the tree line and the beginning of the shadow wastes. The area beyond the mindscape, where Eli’s shadow sprites had been delegated to swarm aimlessly and obscure what lay beyond.

The wastes seemed impossible to navigate, but then, no one really needed to. They were all fairly content with the forest they'd been given and the loft hanging above their heads. It seemed natural enough that some places, like the upper consciousness and the deep subconscious (the areas encompassed by shadow) wouldn't just be available for exploration on demand.

Not long after the mindscape’s intensive remodeling, someone started popping in and out of view, partially visible from within the shadows. Eli saw him first. A tall, lanky type. Straight purple hair. Carried boyish charm in his pockets, and wore makeup to match. He seemed to drift close to the mindscape’s edge, and then back away again, not quite ready to be found, but teasing the idea of it.

Nobody but Eli seemed to care. It wasn't entirely uncommon for fragments beyond the scape to show themselves long enough to be seen, perhaps long enough to make a passing comment.

Master Plan was in charge of who was allowed in. His word was final, and he hadn't chosen to speak up on the matter. But Eli wasn't happy with that. He respected Plan’s authority. He'd earned that much, by this point. But Eli reserved his right to investigate what little he could. So, again and again, he found himself hovering at the shadows’ edge, peering into the wastes, calling to what might lay beyond and waving to get its attention.

Jude watched him with curiosity. The rest ignored what they saw as futile.

Until the one beyond the shadows began to respond.

The outsider was standing there, smiling at him. Waving, like it was nothing. He'd disappear back into obscurity and then reappear, a few steps ahead of where he'd been before.

He'd appear masculine one moment, feminine the next. In jeans and a jacket, then in a dress and heels, then in a button down, a bow tie and a flowing skirt. He carried a suitcase in his hands, and the shit eating grin on his face suggested that there was something fantastic on the inside of it.

The rest of the system was beginning to gather, suddenly curious.

The outsider’s grin faded and he pointed through the crowd. Behind them, Plan stood, expression characteristically blank. “Pherris. His name is Pherris.”

Eli’s line of vision bounced back and forth between them. “Pherris?”

“He--actually, he seems to be juggling pronouns here. Not sure which ones to pick, perhaps? No...more like… he… she… uses both?”

Plan was accessing stray bits of information from within the wastes. Something that only he had the ability to do. Latching onto new information and stringing it together into statements of fact.

He figured it out at the same moment that they did. Felt it, a truth whispered in the farthest reaches of the upper consciousness, while they saw it, in the gaunt look of the outsider’s body, her grayed out eyes and pale lips.

“She's undead.”

A cold hand reached out of the writhing mass of shadow sprites. Eli grabbed hold and pulled. They tumbled out onto the grass and she struggled to find her footing. “S-Sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to…” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, and if her body hadn't been dead, she probably would have been blushing.

“How did you die?” they later asked. It was the obvious, most pressing question. Most of the system members held a distinct identity with its own context and origin. But she could only offer an apologetic shrug. She had no memory of her previous life.

“I'm pretty sure that I used to be a necromancer… Ironic, huh? But that's it. I don't know what my life was like, why it ended, why I'm not lost within the deep subconscious, a rotting corpse of memory, fading into nothing.”

On the catwalk above, Jude turned to face the Master Plan. “Do you know?” he asked. “About her life, I mean?”

He didn't answer right away, which didn't bode well.

“C’mon, there must be something out there in the wastes to tell us where she came from.”

“There isn't. Anywhere. I've checked and double checked and triple checked. Whatever thought patterns she's made of, I have no idea where she came from or what her origins are.”

“Well, she must have originated somewhere in the mind.

“... Are you sure?” He retreated to the loft and closed the door in Jude’s face when he tried to follow.

For days, Plan’s main focus was sifting through the neural network, searching for any shred of data that might shed light on the situation.

Meanwhile, Pherris settled into life in the mindscape. She was given her own tree, but was at a loss as to how to reach her room.

When Eli came to investigate, she was kneeling at the base of the tree, running her fingers down roots that spread like veins into the grass. He poked his head out from behind the trunk, eyeing her for a moment. “S… where's the door?”

“What?” she squeaked, not having seen him until he spoke.

“The door. Isn't that the point of the trees? Gateways to our own dimensions. Privacy and freedom of expression and all that good shit.”

“Oh… I… I just feel like a door would be too… direct? I feel like I used to be very good at that magic stuff. I can sense it, resonating through this tree. Life. What feeds all white magic. I… don't have it anymore. It's not fair. I don't remember being a witch, but… I miss it.”

“You're right, that blows.”

She stared at her hands, struggling to hold onto her past, a finely orchestrated web of sights and sounds. Left to weave a tapestry using the few strings of thought she had left.

“But…” Pherris lifted her head, brows furrowing. “But white magic isn't all that's out there. The living aren't the only ones capable of accessing the supernatural. There are some nonliving entities capable of tapping into sources of energy other than their own bodies…” Her wandering eyes landed on Eli. “Like demons.”

He froze. “What?”

“I remember… I was swimming in darkness and I saw you there. No soul, no humanity. Dead, according to the laws of nature. Dead, and very much alive.”

He stood, resisting the urge to back away. Unsure as to where this conversation was heading.

If she noticed his skepticism, she didn't show it. “You use magic, right? That floaty thing you do. I've seen it.”

“I… If that's magic, then I don't know how it works. I don't know how I do it.”

She reached out to him. “I bet I could figure it out.”

He grabbed her wrist and bared his fangs. “But you won't.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm no one’s lab rat.”

“But you have so much untapped potential. There are so many things you could do, if you only knew how…”

The growl in the back of his throat faded, slightly. “... what do you mean?”

“Magic is a very versatile craft. Once you have a source of power and know how to use it, there are few limits on what can be done. All that is required of you is that you be willing to learn.”

He turned this idea over in his head a few times, examining it.

Pherris searched the expression on his face and grinned. “You could do almost anything.”

“Don't tempt me.”

“... said the demon.”

Her grin was contagious, and it tugged at the edges of his mouth. His body relaxed and he released his grip on her arm; couldn't help but consider the implications of what she was telling him.

The mindscape was non physical, yes, but it was also under the control of the Master Plan. Anyone couldn't just do as they pleased. Their rooms were the exception to that rule. They offered a space in which system members could do whatever they wanted, however they wanted, with as much space as they wanted. The catch, of course, being that their rooms were completely isolated from the mindscape. Isolated from the space they shared. The one that mattered. The rooms that Plan offered them were empty promises. A game. And that was why Eli had refused the offer.

But Pherris wasn't from the mind. Not even Plan knew where she'd originated.

If she could teach him how to tap into a power that the Master Plan himself couldn't interfere with…

“Let's do it.”

The next day, the system had a new addition. Plan and Jude spoke in hushed tones after the stranger showed up, having emerged from the wastes entirely unnoticed by the rest of the system. They waited for the others to catch on. Waited for the show to start.

“I've been catching bits and pieces of information about him for the last day or so. But with Pherris still so new, I figured it might be best to hold off on a system wide announcement until I was certain he'd be joining us. And then, he was just… here.”

Jude tried desperately to read his face, but it was an amorphous silhouette that cycled through a handful of different shapes for every second that he looked at him.

“Who is he?”

“He's from the mind. I'm sure of that. But… I didn't piece him together. Again, I didn't invite him here. Name's Krowen. He's blind, but…”

“What is he?”

“He's composed of anger, but… nothing like Eli’s. Eli filters the system’s anger in the moment. He helps them vent. This one… I don't know if there's anything in him but pain.”

“That's what you said about Ghost.”

“This feels… different. His anger isn't the same kind of anger as any of ours. This is rage, spawned by much older and much stronger catalysts.”

“Like what?”

Plan shook his head and marched past him. “If this is handled correctly, I won't have to tell you.”

The members of their system recognized, one by one, that someone even newer than Pherris had come to town. She didn't say it, but seeing him sent a feeling of dread right to her stomach.

He wasn't speaking. No, he seemed to prefer aimlessly wandering through the forest. The system, which tended to welcome newcomers with open arms, met Krowen’s silence with silence of their own.

That night, magic was the last thing on Pherris’ s mind. She had begun to become increasingly aware of a kink in her neck that just wouldn't go away. When she reached back to run a hand up her spine, she felt a bump. A bump where one of her vertebrae had been displaced and pressed tight to the skin.

It must have crushed her windpipe. It must have damaged her spinal cord. It must have killed her.

When Jude saw it, he went knocking on the loft door. “Plan. Open up!”

No answer.

“I know you can hear me. I know you saw what I saw!”

He thought that, maybe, Plan had resolved to ignore him. Until the door swung open to reveal a silhouette superimposed over the brightly flashing control panel that hummed in the background.

“Earlier, when we spoke,” Jude said, “you mentioned that Krowen was blind. That he was blind and something else… What was the ‘something else’?”

Master Plan sighed, almost inaudible over the mechanical orchestra playing around them. “He’s blind, but he has an ability that compensates this loss. He can speak to the dead.”

They were laying down, nestled comfortably in bed, face half buried in a pillow, legs cocooned in a tangle of bedding.

The room was blurred out of focus by exhaustion but it didn't matter. Rays of light pouring down on a palette of yellow and white, none of it mattered. It was time to sleep. The familiar lull weighed them down, pulled them under the covers, and it all felt so warm, so comfortable, so inviting that--

They could hardly breathe.

Internal dialogue played in the backdrop of their fading consciousness.

“Can't breathe.”

“That's a bit worrying.”

“What do we do?”

“I don't know, can't we just finish falling asleep?”

“So… tired…”

“What if we suffocate in the night?”

“That probably won't happen.”

“But wouldn't that be a stupid way to die?”

“...”

So they sat up. Or tried to. Tried to push the covers back. Tried to roll off their face. Tried to move at all, really. But nothing happened. And lethargy only weighed down on them further. Until mild annoyance turned into panic.

And then the dream ended.

Their eyes popped open and they realized that it had all been the beginnings of a disturbing nightmare. That they were okay, in their physical body, in their physical room.

Plan settled down at the controls in his loft, hands dancing over the keys like lightning danced over the ground. Because this nightmare had felt different. This had to be something new…

Krowen had been given his own tree, but at the time, he'd simply burned it down and left a charred stump at the center of the forest.

Now, he huddled among its smoking roots and grinned. Plan felt it before he saw it.

“You.”

The whole system resonated with the strength of the accusation as he made it.

“You're doing this.”

He materialized in front of Krowen, arms folded, while the rest of them kept their distance. Krowen tried to stand, but Alpha molded a set of chains out of the darkness and wrapped them around the stranger, pinning him to the trunk with a force that shook the entire scape.

“Whatever the reason, stop,” Plan said, his words wearing a tone that held no room for defiance. “We need to sleep. It's been over 24 hours. What, a day and a half? 36? 40?”

He glanced at Alpha, who shrugged.

Krowen said nothing. Hardly suggested that he heard at all.

Plan sighed, strung out and on edge. “Okay, we're going back to sleep. Alpha, keep an eye on him. Eli, you're on high alert. Nomad, round up the littles. Lorys, patrol. Good night. The end.”

He trudged back up to his loft and slammed the door.

Less than 10 minutes later, they were there again. Laying in bed. Above them, a ceiling fan whirred and whirred, getting louder and louder as the need for oxygen became more and more desperate.

Again, they were forced awake by their own terror, and again, Plan found himself in front of the stranger with the grin plastered across his face.

He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream--if only because it might weasel an answer out of the troublesome newcomer.

But Eli was just as exhausted as the rest of them were. None of them had the strength to be angry.

So Plan decided to say what they were thinking. To vocalize their fears, in the hopes that it'd set them down a path towards resolution.

“You murdered Pherris.”

Almost immediately, images flashed above her head. A nondescript but very humanoid figure loomed above the bed from their dreams. And there was an inescapable feeling of helplessness as he leaned over her, laid his hands on her body. Drained the blood from deep gashes in her arms. Wounds that manifested themselves now, on her undead body, as carefully stitched scarlines. Wounds that painted the white sheets red, like roses.

It was why she couldn't move, couldn't speak. Why every part of her seemed to be fading into nothingness. She was on the verge of death, and he just couldn't wait to finish the job.

She was taking too long. Maybe it was the will to live. Tendrils of magic pumping life through her veins while she still had it.

So he reached down, took her neck in his hand, pulled her from the bed, lifted her into the air, palm cupping her spine, and snapped it.

“So help me, you will not be allowed to tear this system apart. I'll kill you if I have to, and if you have the nerve and the strength to come back, I'll kill you again. I'll kill you over and over and over and over again if it means keeping this system running.”

He said it, but even as he said it, Plan knew that it wouldn't matter. For as long as Krowen kept coming back, Plan was wasting his time. Providing a temporary answer to a long term problem. That wasn't going to cut it. Not this time.

He needed to turn a curse into a blessing.

The system was in lockdown. Sleep wasn't working. Every time they tried, nightmares wrapped further around the mindscape. Thick vines; thorns that latched onto everything they touched.

Plan wandered endlessly across the catwalks in the sky, muttering to himself, muttering things that ended up making it to the outside, to those beyond the system.

“How did he even get inside?”

“Pherris. She was a decoy. When she came to the system, I focused most of my energy on learning who she was and supervising her transition to life in the mindscape. The mystery of where she'd come from and how she'd died was enough to… to distract me from… the real threat…”

“A primordial archdemon. Meant to embody the subconscious mind’s darkest desires, bred from the conscious mind’s worst memories.”

“I had theorized at the eventual formation of an entity like this. We--they--they have so many bloody, twisted, self deprecating, emotionally cannibalizing thoughts; cropping up in the mind all the time. I had to put them somewhere. So I cast them to the bottom of the subconscious mind where they became an unchecked mass of fear and hate. It was so easy. Loading them into the dumbwaiter, pulling the lever, saying goodbye. Thought I was saving everyone… It festered there, congealed into personhood, became… him. It was naive of me to think that I'd solved the problem simply because I could no longer see it. Now, it's back. Locking it in the dungeon of our mind won't work. I should have known that.”

“But… how did a fragment crawl out of the subconscious mind on his own and formulate a plan for infiltrating the mindscape? That's more than impressive… That's…”

The Master Plan froze in place, realization washing over him, baptizing him in dread.

“He had an accomplice, and I know who it is.”

Master Plan stepped into the elevator built into his loft and pressed one of two buttons. The box shook in it's frame, and he wondered briefly why machines in the scape needed upkeep. Why his elevator groaned in response to use, why the lights flickered. Everything else in the scape was the manifestation of the system’s thoughts and feelings and--oh.

He began to sink.

The mind was like an ocean. Above the surface, thoughts became actions, became reactions, became realities. It was where system members went to front.

The upper layers of the “water” constituted the most active regions of the conscious mind. Short term memories, fleeting thoughts.

Far enough below the surface that it wasn't effected by rippling waves and wind, the mindscape was a veritable Atlantis. It was where the system’s members lived, interacted with one another, spent their downtime, all while sheltered from the outside world.

If you went much farther down than that, you found yourself in the mind’s Marianas Trench. The deepest depths that the ocean had to offer. The subconscious mind.

That was where Plan was headed.

The elevator came to a rickety stop and the doors opened on a cold, smokey darkness.

There were things strewn about the ruins of the mind. A purple bicycle with pom poms glued to the ends of the handlebars. A toy dinosaur that had had his tail gnawed off. A red hat, covered in moth holes. A doll with curly brown hair.

Half faded images came in and out of focus, projected onto the shadows in the distance. Images of the family, the friends. Images of the used-to-be family and the used-to-be friends. Eyes scrawled out in angry black ink. Repressed. Buried deeper than the bottom of the ocean. Forgotten forever--or, that was the intention.

Above it all, roots hung in the air. Hopelessly entangled, reaching ever further upward. It wasn't a stretch to think that they might reach as far as the mindscape. Somehow, Plan wasn't surprised, and he was fairly certain that he knew, now, who had planted them.

He was there, perching on a pile of garbage. A faint silhouette on an already colorless exterior. Ever changing. A thousand faces in one.

Plan stopped at the foot of the pile and met eyes with his twin. “Master Disaster. It's been a long time.”

Disaster glanced up from what he'd been inspecting. A ragged, homemade “book”. Newspaper articles and journal pages taped together between two pieces of cardboard. “For Julia, my gem,” it said.

He set it aside and took a few steps down the pile, knocking memories free from their graves and sending them rolling down the hillside, coming to a halt around Plan’s feet.

When he reached the bottom and the two found themselves at eye level, Plan lifted a hand, to shake his brother's hand. It was a bid for formality, and it failed. Plan was the personification for association, order, reason. Disaster personified dissociation, disorder, chaos.

“You would know better if you visited once or twice a decade,” said Disaster, tactfully avoiding the outstretched palm. He turned and led Plan deeper into the subconscious.

Plan considered asking the question he'd come to ask, but he already knew the answer, and his brother knew that he knew.

“You fashioned that child out of all of the worst memories hiding in the deepest corners of the mind. He's toxic waste, leaking pain and suffering everywhere he goes. So, how do we clean it up?”

“I hope that you aren't surprised by these developments. We both know that something like Krowen has to exist. This mind is broken. Not having an entity like Krowen, forced to embody the worst of the damage… is a luxury. A luxury that we can no longer afford.”

“But having him so close to the others--”

“Is a good thing.”

Plan fumbled for words, not used to being on this side of the discussion. “Why?”

He tripped over something wedged into the sea floor. Would have fallen, if Disaster hadn't steadied him in time. Looking back, he saw that it was a small toy lock box. It had rattled when knocked out of place by Plan’s foot. Filled with childhood secrets.

“There's so much down here that… I never thought I'd see again.”

“Foolish not to stay in touch with this part of the mind. Clearly, it has just as much bearing on the system as anything else does.”

“And you? What have you been doing down here all this time?”

Disaster looked away. “You don't remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Did you ever consider that of all the things you cast into the abyss, over all these years, I was the first?”

It wasn't until Plan was alone again, in the elevator, rising slowly, that he received his answer.

It came from above the stormy surface of the water. From another system entirely.

He had been so focused on saving the system from Krowen’s wrath that, possibly, the most obvious solution had sat unnoticed for weeks.

“...what if he's the one who needs saving?”

If you could see through the darkness, if you could see into the innerworkings of those within, if you could see anything but the pale, human face, the hazel eyes, the glasses, the short, red undercut, the septum ring--if you could, you'd see the smile on Plan's face.

But you can't.

[leighasnotebook]

Viable Outlet.

hello interwebians. tis I Leigha from Leighas notebook. Its been forrreeeeevvvverr since I posted anything on here because my computer broke. yes so I haven't been on here or runescape in nearly a year it feels like. which for me is bonkers. But its been okay. I do miss writing a lot though. like sooo much. I got my hands on an actual keyboard and it feels great. its like a drug to me the clickity clacking away. writing in a notebook just isn't the same. It takes too long to write everything out. this for me can actually keep up with my thoughts. 

I'm currently working on a computer coding project with my friend michelle for her class. its a type of choose your own adventure so I'm writing some storylines out for her. its fun. getting me back in the game. I have the day off from work today so I started it out by getting high. was very great. and now that I have my computer and I can hook it up to my tv its great. any show anytime yo. or even like just surfing the web on a big screen is super nice. 

Ive had lots of emotional ups and downs since ive last been on here. who hasn't right? lololol :/ but I'm still alive and I'm still here. after it all. Always room for improvement every single day, which is a great thing to hold in your back pocket. regardless of the happenings you can find a way if youre willing. And I know this can for sure come off as some naïve optimist mumbo jumbo. but that's all it will be if that's how you perceive it. get your mind right folks. 

ups and downs and spinning rounds. my day to day.. oh well. anyway.. teheh

Ive been learning on how to better focus myself on achievable tasks in life. rather than having this huge world view of what I want and scrambling all at once to get it. because that is unrealistic. and here we are folks. once again. the struggle to be realistic is real homies. like super real. like in yo face with a can o mace real. like so real that being unrealistic is like tantalizingly fun. 

so organzing myself and obtainable goals are a couple things that continue to be on the list. and that's where they should be.    organization is key. allotting time where its needed for tasks is also a big one. especially if you work full time. finding time for life outside of that is a must. anyway.. I'm going to get back into writing more on here. its hard to come back from so long and feel like I can just pick back up but I will have to. itll be like I never left soon and this will once again be one of my most viable outlets. :D 

over and out. tty SOON.