#not a lot of dialogue or actual names in this one but it's something nonetheless

[mirage-of-the-virtuoso]

Darkness...

Silence...

Calm, cold, collected.

My emotions do not control me.

Control myself, and serenity will follow.

I am no one's possession.

I am no one's pawn.

The choices I make are my own.

I will take my fate into my own hands.

A figure looms high over the Dreamdark Enclave, watching from the mushrooms above. They had snuck by the guards with the help of invisibility and have found a spot among the mushrooms and twisted vines where the mortars won't detect them, where the Courtiers and their pets can't detect them.

Be still...

Be silent...

The figure - a sylvari with blue skin, white leafy hair tied back, and a pale pink glow - watched from above. By now, the Courtiers and Kennelmasters should be wrapping up whatever party they're indulging in. They seem so... normal, in terms of what Sylvari would act like. Their beliefs are just different than Dreamers. They wanted independence, individuality, to embrace the darker parts of their soul and to crumble the idealistic perfectionism into dust. They see cultish noble-esque pawns obsessed with a stone, and their enemy sees them as maddened fanatics obsessed with setting the world ablaze.

It's difficult to remain as a neutral party. A spy for neither. But his Wyld Hunt relies on communication with the Firstborn and the Pale Tree. The Nightmare Court, while considered a threat in Caledon, is far from priority.

Would he even be welcome here? Would he even belong? In the end, he must be considered a "convert" and that didn't settle with him. He's not "switching sides", and he refuses to be another's willing pawn.

I am no one's pawn...

One of the Counts tried their luck, attempted to reason with him and lure him in with promises of mental freedom and a release from the shackles of the Pale Tree.

How he wished it were that simple, to just be discontent. How wrong they were; it's not the Pale Tree that keeps him paranoid, clouded with self-doubt, unable to sleep. No... it was something else.

Breathe in... Breathe out...

The courtiers dispersed, and only a few guards lingered. Right on schedule.

The lone Dreamer drops down carefully, keeping behind vines and mushrooms, ever-vigilant for any sign of detection. As needed, he used his Mantras to quickly tear apart mortars and burst blossoms. With the help of his Signet, his teleports, and his invisibility magic, he swiftly crossed the otherwise open clearing undetected and climbed the mushrooms on the other side. The stealth spell won't last for long, he just needs to be out of sight when it fades.

The sylvari hid amongst the nearest twisted vine, and ripped apart yet another mortar that activated with his presence. The courtiers took notice, but they shrugged it off. The mortars had apparently been going off with random animals and insects. No reason why it was different.

The trespasser took a silent breath and glanced around the corner. Still nothing out of place to them.

Now that he was on the other side to his exit, perhaps it was time to reduce their numbers...

He climbed closer to the top and began to hum an unknown melody. The sylvari left a clone behind to shatter, as one of the guards would try to investigate and by then, he would be too far to maintain it.

Before long, one of the courtiers bark at another to inform one of the Counts of a mesmer intrusion. Only one, but who knows how many more are lurking. This is sure to send them into a panic.

Another courtier or two joined in from below, overhearing the commotion. The sylvari's face began to have a suspicious grin on it. While he may not understand their appeal for senseless killing, he does understand the appeal for mind games. And what better mind game than trying to figure out if the trespasser is a Dreamer, gone rogue out of a sense of justice, or another dissident unhappy with the Grove, toying with the Court as a means of proving themselves of their usefulness.

Funny how the answer is just out of a simple boredom, spurred by a feeling of being eternally out of place.

The sylvari hurried along and climbed to his exit. Behind him, various clones were shattering and drawing attention.

Usually, he doesn't jump the gun and lure someone early. But he's particularly stressed and they just happen to be there. Wrong place, wrong time, poor unfortunate souls.

Once he makes it up there, he turns to the chest he had made use of up there and pulled out a pistol and sword hidden inside. The first courtier to show their face got taken out right between the eyes with a bullet. The second and third were startled, calling a warning before being silenced with one shot each. Fourth, fifth, and sixth drew their weapons, only to be caught up in a large circle and inflicted with various phantom sensation of chills, poisoning, and sudden weakness.

One of the veterans came from the rear, greatsword in hand, only to find the corpses of their fallen allies on the ground.

And a haunting melody being hummed from the lone sylvari mesmer.

The mask the trespasser wore, crafted to look obnoxiously happy, pissed the courtier off. With a battle cry, they lunged, clashed blades with the mesmer, and was taken by surprised by the pain of the mesmer's blade.

As they lay bleeding on the ground, they demanded to know their identity. With their final breath, they got their wish.

The mask came off, but held so the mask was shielding the tresspasser's face still from any stragglers bringing up the rear.

It was the Valiant that tricked and killed Renvari with Caithe. The one known as Chrysallus.

What was he doing here?? Did the Pale Tree send him?!

A group of courtiers stood by the mushrooms, and the one Chrys only knew as the "Duke of Terror" walked closer, rifle in hand.

When asked what he wanted, Chrys distorted his voice and replaced the mask, saying that he wanted nothing. He was bored and they interrupted his period of solitude. He said they had a choice: either he can use this spot as a place to relax without interruption and therefore spare them the trouble of replacing more courtiers and relocating, or he would come back during the day and destroy the entire camp.

What guarantee did they have that this mesmer would keep his word? The most the sylvari offered was this: "See for yourself for two nights. Leave me unharmed, and I'll see to it that you are undisturbed by Dreamers. I only wish for my mind to be at peace."

The Duke told him that his request is laughable at best, and that there was nothing stopping him from killing the trespasser here and now.

"I'll take that as a no, then?"

The simple question was laced with an unsettling calmness, sending an odd chill down the spines of some of the newer courtiers.

"Suit yourself, I suppose. Should you change your mind on my offer..." The mesmer tapped the chest beside him. "Just leave me a sign of a peace offering. You have 24 hours. After that, what harm comes to your camp is on your hands."

With that, a couple of the feral hounds snapped free of their leashes and lunged at the mesmer, only to have him distort, then shatter, then disappear off the edge of the cliff.

A courtier hurried over to see where he had gone, but by then, there was no trace of him.

Two squads were sent out to search for the mesmer, but by morning, only three courtiers returned, half-scared out of their wits and insistent that "the Siren" was coming for them, that they were next.

Impressed by the display of showmanship and profiency at mental torture, the Duke reconsidered, and awaited the so-called "Siren" upon the high ledges of the Enclave.

And sure enough, he returned, as promised. The Duke asked why the mesmer expressed discontent with both the Grove and the Court. Were their goals not the same? To break free of Ventari's Tablet and cut off from the Pale Tree?

"No. As I've said previously, I only wanted some peace of mind. Silence has it's benefits, but I much prefer to be an observer. The background noise helps with collecting my thoughts. No offense to the Court, but I am ill-suited for them as I am for the Grove. I'm better off on my own."

The Duke of Terror told him that, should he ever change his mind and wish to be a full member of the Court, to only say the word and reveal his identity. That he earned his two nights of solitude.

"Siren" was expressed his gratitude, but warned that this doesn't mean a permanent alliance. It was just fortunate that the Dreamers wouldn't come near this place because of the Court.

[screemnch]

The Pathologic Russian and English analysis: Clara Saburova the Changeling Part 2

I am finally free to have a single month of summer vacation, so I'm taking this opportunity to finish up the last of the healer to healer communication analysis. Are you excited? I sure am.

As the Haruspex: I uhhh… Don’t have much to say specifically about the differences between Clara in Russian and English that I haven’t already said. Like yeah, she acts differently with Artemy than she does with Daniil, but that is present in both of the versions - she is much more vulnerable and emotive with Burakh, while she is a lot more deceitful with Dankovsky (which is sorta muddled by the fact that he’s the only one of the two to meet her "twin"). She refers to Artemy using exclusively the informal “you” and has a very stubborn and argumentative way of speaking for most of it. The instances of the “biblical” way of speaking that I pointed out in the Bachelor route are less frequent here, and Clara comes across as, well, just a girl. I uh… Also think that the dialogue website I’m using might be missing the bit of dialogue on day 11 when Clara actually offers to help Artemy? It has the dialogue for when he’s already in the Kaiur, but not beforehand (and the wiki tells me that they do talk in person before that. Correct me if I’m wrong). Sooooo yeah, that’s about it. This analysis is a bit more… Explaining the references and intertextualities within the dialogue rather than discussing what translational differences imply, but I think it’d be a cool insight nonetheless. So let’s get started!

This is… Completely unrelated to any translation stuff, but I did want to provide a little bit of intertextual context for “Suok” to allow all the fans that don’t speak Russian to speculate about this on their own. I tried to look up and see if there were any other potential sources for this name, but haven’t been able to find any alternative ones. So here goes. Suok is a last name, which served as inspiration for a character name from the Russian story book “the Three Fat Men” by Yuri Olesha. Very briefly the story is about a town being held under the oppressive rule of the titular three fat men, who had each taken control of one of the town’s resources (that sure reminds me of someone). Suok in this story is a young circus performer, who pretends to be the previously broken doll of Tutti - the Fat Men’s heir. She does so to free one of the leaders of the revolution that has been captured and sentenced to execution. It is revealed in the story that Suok was actually the twin sister of Tutti, which is why the doll looked so like her - it was made to replace her. It’s not the most well known of Russian stories, but it’s recognizable enough for an expat like me to remember. Thematically I do think it’s funny that there’s a reference to a story where three powerful people attempt to squash a revolution (which is by the way led by two men), and a little girl with a twin ends up saving one of those revolutionaries from certain death. And the doll theming. However, if I’m just ignorant and there’s actually like… A Buryat or Mongolian name or entity that’s also called Suok and it’s actually a reference to that… I shall wear a dunce cap, or something, Idk.

I really wish that I could convey how… Story-like Clara’s way of speaking becomes here? Like, yeah, she does talk somewhat… “biblically” but this is not that. She’s not just reciting the events, the way the story is phrased and the language flows feels like she’s restating it word for word. Especially in the part where Clara talks about how Suok was unkillable by anything - it’s all one continuous sentence. It reminds me of, and this is truly truly obscure Russian stuff, that one cartoon about Kutkh the Raven and the four silly mice that kept annoying the life out of him (it’s on Youtube I believe, so go educate yourself on some fairytales from Kamchatka). Those stories have a way of being both lyrical and conversational at the same time - it uses improper grammar (like starting your sentence with “and”) and feels very casual in its sentence structure, but the words it chooses and the matter it discusses is grandiose and epic (in the literary sense). Also a fun little detail is that rather than saying that the abyss couldn’t claim Suok, Clara says that she “did not wish to return to the abyss.”

Adding to my collection of “Clara and Artemy are a comedic duo, actually” is this moment in which (while the English version makes it sounds a little ironic and cautious) Artemy just casually goes “wow, that’s just like us…” as Clara is telling him the Kin’s creation myth. Though you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t be the kind of person that looks at a Bosch painting and goes “that’s so me.”

More from the “fun Russian idioms” world…While we do have a translation of “a little bird told me” in Russian - it is exactly that - a translation. From English actually. The idiom used here is, as far as I know, an originally Russian one. Namely “a dog barks, the wind carries it” which is essentially just “yeah it’s gossip I heard on the street.” Nothing particularly significant about this difference, just thought y’all would appreciate it.

At this point I’m becoming painfully aware of the fact that calling these an analysis of a specific character is silly, because there’s always two people involved in the conversation, but the format has been set already sooo… I could wax poetic about how much more laconic Russian is in terms of threats (partially due to the fact that we don’t use articles and stuff) but also I can’t help but feel like this was much easily translatable? Like, the line is, essentially “let’s hope you don’t regret this!” which is very much a threat already. But I guess the translating team decided to take the road less travelled.

I think I may have peaked. It doesn’t get better from here, this is the ultimate achievement of this analysis. In the last instalment of the madness project I spent a whole paragraph trying to explain why the Bachelor calling Clara “trash” was actually a scathing, humiliating insult that was translated as “little tramp” for no apparent reason, which made it seem (at least to me) a lot less cutting. I’d ask you to look at that screenshot in the previous analysis to see if you spot anything familiar, but I don’t even have an exclusive tag for this madness project (I totally should tho) and I won’t subject you to the other stuff I’ve written in my ramblings. I’ll just cut the suspense here: In this dialogue Artemy uses the exact same word that was translated as “tramp” for Daniil. The word “дрянь” (dryan’), meaning trash or something too worn out and torn to be useful. I understand this must’ve been done because the Bachelor and the Haruspex are supposed to have very different vibes about them and because, as previously stated, the Bachelor doesn’t get to be nearly as aggressive as he is in Russian but like… Wow. I think I need this in a meme format or something, because it’s just so funny to me. To clarify, too: “дрянь” isn’t an explicit swear word. It’s an insult, but it doesn’t need to be censored or anything. Neither “tramp” nor “bitch” fits the translation more or less. And I think that’s hilarious that they translated it so differently for the two characters.

And we’re back in the realm of “interesting” instead of “baffling” and “confusing”. Instead of “dying” or “letting people die” the two of them specifically talk about “killing”. Artemy asks if Clara wants to kill Taya, making the situation a lot more malicious from Clara’s perspective (this is the whole quest with figuring out how the story that Clara started telling Taya ends). Pretty short for a note, but it’s also just interesting in terms of like… How malice is attributed to Clara in the Russian version, but seems impersonal in the English version.

Just as fascinating (and probably just as short of a note) is this line, where in Russian Artemy calls Clara “daughter” with a diminutive. A lot of Russian words have diminutives, but it doesn’t necessarily make them appear kinder. Actually with words like “daughter”, the non-diminutive version – “дочь” (doch’) – is used a lot less and usually feels colder and more distant. The version with the diminutive – “дочка” (doch’ka) is the one used in everyday conversations. If you want to add endearment to the word, you’d have to put in another diminutive, making the word “доченька” (dochen’ka). That being said, I guess calling someone who isn’t related to you “son” or “daughter” isn’t too uncommon (though I usually picture it being said by like… grandmas on a bench, or helpful fairytale entities), though your everyday person is much more likely to just say “girl”, “boy”, or “kid”.

Not a translation difference, but I’ve already included a bunch of intertextual references in this particular analysis, so why not one more, huh? The story that Clara tells about the crystal flower, while obviously being an allusion to the town and the polyhedron, specifically referring to the utopian ending (cutting down the living flowers instead of the crystal flower -> razing the town and leaving the tower to stand) also reminds me of a specific story within the “Malachite Box” collection of the fairytales by Pavel Bazhov (check them out if you can, it’s a bunch of folk tales from the Ural mountains and they’re fascinating and incredibly dark). Specifically “the Stone Flower” - a story following Danila - an orphan boy that becomes a master-stone carver, but struggles to finish an order that doesn’t fit his own particular standards. He is told of the Stone Flower in the lair of the Mistress of the Copper Mountain (a force of nature entity that’s recurring in the “malachite box”) and how seeing it will allow someone to understand the stone and how to carve it. However he is warned that all who’ve seen it have always remained in the mountain, working for the Mistress of the Copper Mountain. Danila does, indeed, manage to see the stone flower and return to his bride, but what only manages to stay for so long before he destroys almost every single one of his creations and disappears without a trace. It’s left up for debate whether he simply went mad and perished in the woods, or if he returned to the Copper Mountain. I do think there are some parallels to be drawn between this story and Pathologic’s polyhedron – specifically in how it relates to Peter Stamatin. Not a one to one comparison, of course, but there’s something to be said there about the madness that comes with creating or trying to create something bigger than yourself, to the point where it’s less of the human world and more of the world of miracles and myth.

Not a particularly drastic difference here, but just wanted to point out that the whole “your lies are so crafty…” bit of this dialogue isn’t… actually present in the Russian version? I think the translating team kinda got used to the fact that this dialogue is almost the same as when Daniil talks to Clara, so they’ve added in this line even though Artemy just says “I’m fed up with you”.

To sum it up: yeah, I don’t have much. Clara is a fascinating character to me, but I do think that she is fascinating in both English and Russian. She’s a multitude of contradictory things, and she is condemned by those around her for either not fitting into the category they believe her to belong to, or being exactly what they believe her to be. She doesn’t get a break. Most of the differences between English and Russian have been just slightly “vibe altering” ones, and it’s a bit difficult to place a finger on the reasons why those changes I made. Like, with Daniil I could generalise that in an attempt to make him seem cold and detached, he accidentally lost a lot of his emotiveness. I have made the argument that Clara’s Russian dialogue makes her come across as more meta-aware (and there’s something to be said about how I argued that Clara and Aglaya are very idealistically opposed about the exact same belief and how that notion is echoed in Clara’s dialogue with Artemy) but at the end of the day… Yeah, the translators did a pretty good job with this one. I’ve said before that it’s not really a good idea to have every piece of dialogue include a footnote explaining what every word means (at least in a game like Pathologic. A game focused on education would be soooo fun with those. Like Martial Law, for example) but to add to that: I think it’s pretty cool that Ice Pick Lodge managed to create a game that is so distinctly Russian, that even a city boy like me can understand, despite taking place in the steppe. And at the same time, you don’t have to be Russian to understand it. I’ve provided a bit of intertextual context here, but you don’t actually need it to feel and understand what makes it so compelling, as seen by the fact that this game is beloved both in and outside of Russia. And I love that for all of us.

And that is it, folks, at least for the three healers and how they interact with each other. Up next (and hopefully not several months later) I'm gonna examine the shared dialogue that the healers have with the townsfolk. I guess that one will be both comparing the similarities and differences between the languages and between the three of them. Yippeee.

[starrysnowdrop]

Why Hali/Aymeric?

This is something that I’ve been wanting to write up for a long time now, and I’ve finally been able to get my thoughts down properly. For those who have been around for a while might be used to my ship by now and can see how their chemistry is, but I know I have some newer followers that might be interested in this explanation. Or perhaps you’re just curious even though you’ve been here forever. Either way, I thank you in advance for taking your time to read this! See under the cut below.

Updated: 09/21/2024

So, you might or might not know that Hali is actually not my first WoL OC. Before Hali, I had made an Auri Hingan Samurai woman named Yume Aino, whom I first created back in 2019, shortly after the release of Shadowbringers (Yume’s blog can be found here: @firelightmuse). I didn’t realize it at first, but because of how I had written Yume, as a stoic, no nonsense warrior through and through, but also someone who was dealing with a lot of trauma and trying to find purpose in her life, I soon had a really hard time shipping her with anyone. Over the years I had tried shipping Yume with Cid, G’raha, and I briefly thought of Artoirel, but I now have found her perfect ship with Zenos. Before any of them, however, my first choice of an NPC ship was Aymeric.

Why Aymeric? Well, it took me quite a while to realize that a huge part of me wanting to ship Yume with Aymeric as a first choice was a very personal one. Aymeric was the first character in FFXIV that I completely fell for. Though I enjoyed the characters of Cid, Haurchefant, and G’raha in ARR, it wasn’t until we meet Aymeric in the Pre-HW patches that I had gotten attached to the world and the story through finding a favorite character of my own. Aymeric is so special to me, and that made me try to ship my only WoL at the time with him. But as you can see, that ultimately didn’t work out.

It didn’t work out because Yume and Aymeric didn’t vibe well with each other. There was a severe lack of chemistry between the two. I had realized that Aymeric is much too polite and respectful of decorum to break Yume out of her shell to make a deeper connection than just comrades that respect one another, and I didn’t think Yume was the kind of person that Aymeric would come to love either, as she would likely remind him of the many Ishgardian nobles that he was around all the time, for many reasons which I won’t elaborate on here due to brevity. And as I didn’t have any other OCs at the time, I just continued developing Yume and an NPC ship with Aymeric was discarded. Although I personally was very saddened by that, I thought it was the right decision for both characters.

Yet, I continued having trouble writing any kind of ship with Yume over time. After a few years, as I kept getting frustrated with the ships I was trying to write for her, I got inspired to make another WoL OC that would be different from Yume in every way. She actually would end up being much more of a self insert than I ever expected, but nonetheless I fell in love with the pink haired, happy go lucky Lalafellin woman who would become Hali Aloke, my pride and joy.

As I got Hali through base ARR and into the ARR patches, I didn’t have any intention on trying to ship her Aymeric and to try a WoL x NPC ship with him a second time, as I actually had intentions to ship Hali with Krile later on in her WoL journey.

But everything changed once Hali met Aymeric in 2.4, the lead up to Heavensward. I saw them in the cutscenes together, and as ridiculous of a height difference they had, I still couldn’t help but giggle and squeal whenever they were together. They just were incredibly adorable, and I couldn’t hold myself back. I just had to try to ship Hali with Aymeric.

So I decided to try to write a few prompts with them together and see how their dynamic was. And it was even better than I had expected. Their chemistry was so amazing, and the dialogue between them flowed quite effortlessly. Not only was I highly impressed and kept getting inspired to write more and more, but I got a ton of positive feedback from so many people telling me that they loved Hali and Aymeric together.

And I guess that was that. I have never looked back since. Hali x Aymeric are my everything (well besides Yume x Zenos now of course); my ship makes me so damn happy. Just looking at them makes me smile and want to write and gpose more. I can’t get enough of them. It’s to the point now that I don’t know if I could ever write a ship better than Hali x Aymeric. And you know what? I don’t even want to try at this point.

I still can’t fully comprehend how a pink haired, bubbly, sunshine of a lalafellin woman and a noble, brave, and charismatic Ishgardian knight could be such a beautiful and dynamic couple that would not only bring me endless joy but also keep inspiring me far more than anything else I’ve ever written. It is utterly beyond my comprehension, but somehow it works. And I am forever grateful that I just followed my heart and wrote what I wanted, and not for anyone else’s approval, but my own.

I somehow hope this helps inspire someone out there to not be afraid and just go for the ship they want to write for, despite what the fandom at large says. Trust me, it’s worth it.

[teriwrites]

The Fatal Choice: Part 1

My Live Reactions to Reading Through My 2013 Novel

Story opens with Delroy sighing over studies, he's so real for that

'He straightened himself up and - without even realizing he was doing it - flattened out his shoulder-length hair again and fixed his crooked tie.' okaaaay with the casual character quirks, the man cares about appearances

"Hello, fine chap. I was wondering whether you could accompany an old friend to dinner." Okay is this dialogue style a bit or are they really gonna sound like this for the whole novel?? bc it sounds like a bit. really hoping it's a bit

Their rebel group is really more of an anarchist commune in the mountains than a proper 'rebellion'

I mean they're literally called the 'Isolates', they're not trying to rejoin and stir up trouble in society

Ewewew Delroy is younger than me

I made him 25 to be a 'proper' adult

Raelyn's dad doesn't like him or his friendship with Raelyn bc he's Poor

Delroy supposedly has 'natural charisma' but I can tell you confidently, based on the events of this book, that that is not true

A lot of explaining characters directly rather than allowing them to show up on the page but I'm just glad I was clearly thinking about them lol

"Ah, Keegan," Delroy sighed. "You always deliver news a tad bit late, but I am glad to hear it nonetheless." okay he does just talk like that, folks

"What does it matter how the coup started? What does it matter what relationship the Governor Cedric Boyd has with the current Prime Minister?" (idk if I knew it at the time, but that's literally like the plot of book 2 lmaoo)

Whoooooa wtf Keegan is a man?? From what I remembered, he was originally a cynocephalus (man with a dog's head)

Okay, actually, a lot of this plot is different from the story's second draft. These guys aren't rebels at all! They're being paid off by the government! Delroy's friends aren't spies, they're envoys!

The government has denied ties to their group, and have now claimed that Delroy's pals - Seth and Roland - are trying to swindle them, and have decided to sentence them to death, rip

He's in such shock that he just sort of gets ready for bed at like 5PM and stares at the ceiling

'Going to sleep in your day clothes wasn't exactly the most hygienic.' once again, says something about him, love that

Still has to go to class the next day, bummer

'[He] hurried out of his house, trying to rush but not run, which wasn't very dignified.' this guy's gonna choke on his own necktie if it's gonna be this uptight

The set-up of this commune is SO much different from the second draft lol in that one, they're half-based in this enormous stone cathedral built into the side of the mountain (created long before they arrived, it's a whole thing), this time they're a bunch of wooden buildings on a plateau

In Below, it was 'Shawna'. In the Abernathy Chronicles, we hate on the name 'Jacob'

Mahogany shout-out is 100% owed to the Hunger Games movie

"I'm sure you slept well," Keegan commented.' bro you literally told him yesterday his friends are slated for execution, maybe give him a break

"Here, boy, go ahead and put your hair up. It looks much more dignified that way." ahhhh okay keegan is the reason delroy's Like That

Casting one (1) spell for a couple seconds breaks over 50 separate laws in this nation, apparently

Justification for outlawing magic was to insist that it was addictive and people were using it for the wrong reasons... interesting

Weird that this commune based around keeping out of the government's reach has such strict SES divisions - the educated elite, the service workers, etc.

Oh but it's fine, these maids CHOSE not to learn to read

'And Delroy knew that one of the most dangerous kinds of enemies would be an enemy that worked in the kitchen and helped make your food.' and he's right for that

I really loved a flashback back then

He was the son of an orphanage owner, and some of the orphans bullied him out of envy of having a living parent

You ever seen that guy who does 'how many ______ does it take to hold me up?' and then he'll video himself trying one of the thing, two of the thing, etc., each time falling violently to the ground as the objects snap, until finally, they hold him up?

This scene is like that, but 'how many clothespins does it take to hang a small child from a clothesline?'

'Also, not wearing a shirt was a sign of a low class citizen.' alright...

More info on Cedric Boyd: he's in charge of the court system

More info on Ardeai: borders are largely shut down (also it's an island)

More info on Delroy's obsession with appearances: his coat is shit at being a coat and, yk, keeping one warm, but it looks nice!

People need to stop casually breaking into this man's house! I get that he doesn't have a lock on his door, but please! Give him some privacy!

Oh it's mail delivery

His friends mailed him their Wills and goodbye letters, oof

'Despite its rather tacky appearance, Delroy looked at it and appreciated the fact that Seth had bothered spending the time writing a letter at all, with all that was going on in his life.' that's something you say about a friend who had a kid, or is busy at work, not one being slated for execution!! also bro, critiquing the appearance of the letter is Foul lmao

I've been working in the legal field too long, all I'm noticing about this letter is that Seth isn't capitalizing 'Will'

He's talking about dying for a cause, but so far, it doesn't sound like the Isolates have a cause outside of 'avoid having negative government attention', which you fumbled pretty badly here, Seth

'I will be perfectly fine and I'm sure that I won't feel a thing.' you're being hanged, Roland

'It'll be over quickly.' terrible news about being hanged, Roland

And Raelyn is here to comfort and then actually needs comfort herself, classic

Ending Thoughts:

This is so interesting! I have a pretty clear picture of what this story winds up being in the second draft (which was written outside of November and so won't factor into this project like Below's rewrite, though I definitely want to go back and read it one of these days), but unlike with Below, there seems to be quite a bit of difference between how the story plays out here. Some of the worldbuilding is different - the mountain range has a different name, the Isolates don't actually do much rebelling, their set-up is much less 'society hidden away in a treacherous mountain range' and more 'commune set up somewhere far from other communities'. Seth and Roland were diplomats rather than spies. Another thing of note, the writing quality has made another leap! Yes, the dialogue is much more stylized, but in general the phrasing of things flows more smoothly, grammar is neater. We're definitely without our over-the-top narrator offering up input every other sentence, but it's still a really interesting read!

[coraniaid]

To the ever growing list of dead adult women in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Catherine Madison, Jenny Calendar, and Joyce’s friend Pat so far, with at least three more significant names to come over the next three years) we can now add Faith’s first Watcher.  This character never officially gets a name, but she’s called Diana Dormer in the Go Ask Malice tie-in novel and I’ll use that name too just to avoid typing out “Faith’s first Watcher” repeatedly.  ‘Diana’ has zero lines of dialogue and appears on screen for zero minutes (which is pretty bad even by the standards of this show) and after this episode she will never be mentioned by anyone again, but nonetheless I think she’s a very interesting character.

Even if Faith’s arc in Season 3 wasn’t fully planned out from the start, Faith, Hope & Trick establishes quite a lot of what her character will look like going forward.  In particular, we see signs of what she’ll later self-diagnose as a “problem with authority figures” in her initial enthusiasm about the possibility for “having fun” now that she’s “Watcherless and fancy-free”, and in the first of a handful of hints about the circumstances of her pre-Slaying life (“my dead mother hit harder than that”, she tells a vampire mid-fight).  

And we also see, at the end of the episode, that this posture of tough self-sufficiency that Faith assumes is something of an act: that her Watcher’s death has actually had a huge impact on her, one which she’s been trying and failing to suppress since before she arrived in Sunnydale.  It’s surely not a coincidence that we have a scene of Faith hurriedly packing and preparing to flee town this episode which mirrors the scene of Buffy doing the same thing just last episode.  After all, there was a part of the quote from Revelations I omitted earlier: the problem Faith has with authority figures is that “they end up kind of dead”.

What was Faith’s Watcher actually like?  The show doesn’t think to tell us; the writers simply don’t care. All we know about her from this episode, other than that she’s dead, is the vaguest of suggestions that she was older than Giles (since, on seeing Giles, Faith comments that she hadn’t “known they came that young and cute”) and perhaps that she was in rather better standing with the Watcher’s Council (Diana, after all, probably was invited to the retreat, or how else would Faith have known about it?).  We also know that Faith blames herself for not being able to protect Diana from Kakistos (“I was there […] I saw what he did to her [...] I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t.  And I ran.”).  

I think those scraps – a dead, possibly abusive mother who, we’ll learn later, spent a lot of time “enjoying the drinking and passing out parts of life”, and a dead Watcher she wasn’t able to save – explain a lot about how quick Faith is to bond with practically every adult who spends even five minutes making the effort.  From Joyce in this very episode (“your Mom’s really cool, huh?” she tells Buffy within minutes of meeting her, her loyalty bought by a plate of food and the promise of a second soft drink), to Gwendolyn Post in just a few episodes’ time, to the Mayor himself in the second half of this season. Faith has a problem with authority figures, in that she really desperately wants one in her life.

One last thought. 

Something I hadn’t really considered before – and which I’m not sure the writers thought through either – is that Faith knowing about the Watcher’s retreat (and assuming Giles would be at it) means her Watcher must have told her she was going to the retreat herself, presumably sometime shortly before she died.  And at this point, even assuming she was Called soon after Kendra died, Faith can only have known Diana for a couple of months.

So at some point soon after meeting her, and only shortly after finding out about being a Slayer, Faith’s Watcher must have had to sit her down and tell her that she’d be leaving the country for a bit, to go and hobnob and kayak and socialize with the other Watchers in England, and that Faith would have to look after herself again for a little while.  I can imagine Faith playing it tough, like it was no big deal.  Other kids might be scared, but not her.  She can take care of herself, after all, can’t she?

And then her Watcher died, right in front of her eyes, and it turned out that she couldn’t.

Still, this episode at least ends on a positive note.  “The Council has approved our request,” Giles tells Buffy at the end of the episode.  “Faith is to stay here indefinitely.  I’m to look after you both until a new Watcher is assigned.”  Things have been tough – as Buffy notes, Faith had “a lot to deal with” – but she’s got somebody else to look after her now, so everything’s going to be fine forever.

… right?

[synthwayve]

Who are your FIVE favorite Bloodborne characters and also why? (Yes sorry there are three more to choose from besides Micolash and Laurence 😞)

Thank you for the ask!! This really made me think tbh

1. Micolash (to nobody’s surprise)

He was actually not the first bloodborne boss fight I ever saw, but his fight captivated me nonetheless. His design is just so COOL. I can’t get over it. I always saw him as a gigantic meme but then I got into the lore more and realized wow, this character has a lot to him! Medical malpractice, insanity, possible regret, you name it! I always thought his contrast against what I’d heard of Laurence was interesting too, and now that I’m deep in the trenches it just gets better haha.

2. Rom (okay this might be a bit surprising)

As much as I draw other characters, Rom is super close to my heart. Im not the sharpest crayon in the box(and never have been) so her character is very endearing to me: I see her as having been the sort of person who yearns to be useful. To be good at something. Everyone could reassure her that “you don’t have to be smart or talented, you’re kind!” But when you’re surrounded by the extraordinary, the bar of “decent person” just doesn’t cut it. I think she ascended in an attempt to fix this, to be “special” like her peers, and not the sometimes-funny airheaded woman she thinks they take her to be. Also, her design is just very cool x,D

3. Laurence

His character has a lot of sides, which is ironic since he is a dlc boss and has maybe 4 lines of dialogue total lmao. I think that he had good intentions that rotted under the weight of his leadership, and he’s definitely super fun to work with on his own even outside of other character dynamics. If he’s manipulative and bordering on cruel, why is he like that? If he’s sweet but just misguided, why didn’t he give up on the blood before it blew up in his face? Should we feel bad for him? Should we feel angry? There’s a lot to think about- he’s a fun character to both design and interpret!

4. Caryll

I love Caryll’s entire concept, and the Caryll-rune system is particularly interesting to me. I like how many sides there can be to this character! I’ve always been one to heavily reference lore, but not tie myself down to it, so I just like their general vibe and the possibilities of their placement in the story. I’m sure if I stuck to the lore religiously I’d actually like them a bit less, since to me, the mystery around them is a big part of the character! I like to imagine their relations with the others too :)

5. Edgar

This was really hard to pick between him and Damian tbh, I put them at about the same level. Edgar is very flexible as a character but he has solid lore points that can’t be easily ignored, which I really appreciate! His possible dynamic with Micolash is always super interesting and I love the juxtaposition of a very accountant-coded character lugging around Ludwig’s Holy Blade with the full intention to punt you into the moon. As for Damian, I just have a particular soft spot for characters that are “right-hands” to a leader, left to mourn or act in their absence. The coolheaded assistant type has always been appealing to me, and I like that both of them have a very short presence in game but the fandom has widely made them bigger players!

Thanks again for the ask! It was a lot of fun to think about :) I love a lot of the BB characters honestly, narrowing down to top 5 made me *sweat* haha. If we had a top 6, Maria would be next!

[meyerlansky]

gonna get REAL snippy about some disk horse tonight: i am real fuckin' fed up of seeing everyone who felt impacted by the idea that astarion might be asexual or aspec in some way feel like they have to qualify their interpretation of a canonically sex-repulsed character openly discussing that sex repulsion in a way that is very resonant for a lot of asexual people. i am really fucking tired of the fact that everyone talking about astarion maybe even possibly being some variety of aspec feels COWED into couching it in "it's just a headcanon, it's just something that felt important to me personally! i'm not saying anyone else has to agree, it's just that it resonated for me."

i get not wanting to impose your reading of the text on other people—there are a fuckton of posts floating around about how that's a shitty thing to do and how x read isn't any more canon than y read and people who insist x IS more canon than y are jerks. and i don't disagree! people who insist there's One Canon in a choice-centric RPG are fucking dicks.

but i was also here in 2014, at the peak of exclusionist discourse, when every single time someone said "it's not that i have a problem with asexual people, i just wish they weren't taking up the resources meant for [REAL gay people/rape survivors/people dealing with comphet/etc]." what they actually meant was "I will not be satisfied until you shut the fuck up and never talk about your experiences in a place where i have to hear about it again". and it fucking worked; people recloseted themselves, blogs centered on the aspec community deactivated, real life organizations stopped explicitly including asexuality in their documentation when they had the previous year. for a solid three years, the only time any "big name blogs" mentioned asexuality was to make a joke out of it. i watched this shit happen with my own two eyes.

i don't have a problem with people who disagree with my reading of a character as asexual. i don't have a problem with allosexual people who say "this same thing resonated with me too, just in a different way" and move the fuck on. what i do have a problem with is the implicit vibe that comes up any time asexual and aspec people decide to talk about their experiences and things that resonated with them that we shouldn't take up too much space when we talk about that, because there are other people who don't feel that way and their interpretations deserve to be heard too.

i have not seen a single person on the acestarion train saying "you HAVE to think of him as asexual." i have seen multiple comments saying people who do see him as asexual are delusional or reaching, or that it's insulting—to whatever other identity—to read asexuality into his sex-repulsion. and i am really fucking annoyed [not at all surprised, but annoyed nonetheless!] that not only does the compassion for different takes not go both ways, but that people discussing their resonance with astarion from an asexual/aspec perspective are instinctually or habitually ceding ground by couching it in "you don't have to agree!" kind of statements, when that should be the fucking baseline for every single conversation about any characterization choice in, AGAIN, AN RPG BASED ON INDIVIDUAL CHOICE.

and i don't have any way to express this to the people that i actually have an issue with, because, again: asexual people relating to a character that's not explicitly stated to be asexual is treated as a joke at best and an attack on other identities at worst. but at this point, to me, calling a reading of astarion as asexual/aspec a "headcanon" is minimizing what it actually is: an interpretation of the text, supported by both dialogue and action[s], that is not monolithic but is no less "canonical" and/or rooted-in-the-text-itself than many, many other readings of his characterization, intended by the character's creator[s] or no. you're not going to catch me apologizing for how i read the character and how his dialogue resonated with me. and i don't think anyone else should feel like they have to apologize for it either.

[fawnydoe]

okay. episode 1 thoughts.

animation is gorgeous. with all the horror stories i've heard about the production of this show, it's hard to fully enjoy but it's nonetheless really impressive.

that said. it's waaaayy to bouncy and overanimated, no one has any weight. it feels like i could snap their limbs open with my bare hands and suck the meat from it like a crab.

the main character designs range from meh to flat out bad. i'm not gonna pretend im a good artist, designer, or animator lol but i do enough to say that the similar palettes make this a nightmare as an ensemble show. everyone bleeds together, the environments bleed into characters. the only standout ones are the ones you can tell weren't designed by vivienne.

no consistency, exterminators have the same horns as imps. adam looking like an imp makes no sense in context. it's just a design choice the creators likes but didn't flesh out any further.

the writing is awful. as soon as the lore dump ended and the actual plot began, i could feel an evil feeling creeping into me as if i had opened some sort of evil book.

angel dust's dialogue is pretty much only sex jokes and/or sexual harassment, specifically against the ugly cat. the va is doing a bad impression of the original one.

other va's are fine, but keith david's voice is so jarring to hear out of that skinny fucking cat, it doesn't work. i also know stephanie beatriz can act AND do the monotone voice, i know she can sing too! so im pinning this on the voice direction because clearly something is not being communicated. she's not working as vaggie.

why is the only lesbian named vaggie? can i kill myself?

swearing has become white noise, it's every other sentence. it's so lazy. why is charlie swearing if she's a disney princess? why is adam swearing? adam being a detectable dickhead is fine but the only way the writers seemed to want to convey this is through swearing and vulgarity, it feels cheap and lazy. why not go for the condescending holier-than-thou attitude? give me a bev fucking keane, someone who uses their faith as a way to put down others and keep themselves on a pedestal.

alastor and angel dust are shaping up to be my least favorites. insufferable writing, the way you can smell the issues within them and know they'll never be resolved in a satisfying manner.

however....beyond the mediocre writing, poor direction, horrible designs, terrible art direction, and so on. i get why people like this show. themes of redemption, of unfair social structure, of change and yeah obviously it already had a fanbase pre attached. but i feel like i can see the glimmer of potential that a lot of people attached themselves to.

but also this thing is a mantis? a fucking mantis? do you hate me specifically?

[isaiahpadams]

hello. i read the excerpt you posted on the writing community. i liked it. it’s sweet. as someone also with english as my second language, i relate to your characters’ using poetic, even archaic, words. even though i know myself to be good in english, when i began to learn more of it, it’s those beautiful words that i learned, fell in love with, and now began to integrate into my vocabulary. learning the way i did, and falling in love with classic literature, i agree in that there is just no other way to express how i feel other than how i learned my english words to be. i like it, so much so that i don’t mind sounding archaic or poetic. i like how you were able to express that, and that it’s that understanding that connects your lovers. that’s so beautiful.

one thing, though, if i may. it’s not about the writing itself, just the formatting. i found it just a tad difficult to navigate through the dialogues and the descriptions without their being broken down into paragraphs. i understand that you may still be in the middle of writing it, and that it may also still be a rough draft — and that you asked for none of our thoughts on it — but, respectfully, i thought to just let you know.

nonetheless, i liked reading it. it’s a lovely piece. i just thought it’d be nice if the format was easier on the eyes.

that is all. happy new year, isaiah.

Thank you so much, this means a lot and I'm so glad people can even slightly relate to what I write. It's something I myself was a little insecure about at one point of my life so I'm glad others can see what I was trying to convey and see it as a positive.

I don't mind opinions, criticism, thoughts and such. I actually need and really appreciate it! I would love more, it honestly helps me improve and pushes me further towards my goal of completing my novel and being published one day :)

I understand what you mean too, my post was horribly formatted and slightly rushed in all honesty. It was/is a very rough draft but still, I'll make sure to work on that in future.

Thank you so much again and happy new year!!

The post being referred to ^

Information about the novel overall ^

[kels-orange-joe]

introduction ^_^ (regularly updates)

haii my name is stitch (not my real name obviously)

and yes as in the chaotic blue creature from lilo & stitch but that’s besides the point

this is my side blog!! an omori (mainly kel) themed one at that. my main blog is @stitchthelilo, and this is specifically for stimboards/sensory boards (well some other stuff too but that’s like the main thing) whatever you wanna call em, it’s also a kel fanblog cuz he is THE BEST OMORI CHARACTER!!! I WILL STAND BY THAT TIL THE DAY I DIE BECAUSE ITS TRUE

nonetheless.. i do take requests! and my status will update when they are open and stuff like that idk

i tend to use emoticons a lot and i’m a lil bit cringe so just a warning

my first time doing this so criticism is accepted with wide arms :)

the stuff you can request is what i have put in the tags section :3 (will further elaborate in rules/boundaries section)

ohh and even if you wanna request something really specific (like combining #sunny’s sketchbook and #character portraits for example) you can still request it as long as it’s something that is a combination of tags that i put

also if you want to request a prompt pls specify if you want it to be dialogue or scenarios

TAGS

#waves of orange joe = stimboards/sensory boards

#sunny’s sketchbook = art

#character portraits = pfps

#mari’s picnic blanket = flags

#headspace shenanigans = fanfics

#basils’s photo album = headcanons

#white space vibes = mood boards

#space boyfriend’s tape = playlists

#sunny’s inner mind = prompts

#the headspace alter egos = names/pronouns

RULES/BOUNDARIES

sfw interactions only!

any fandoms are accepted! some i just know more about better than others which i will get into in a bit, so please do understand.. as that is why the accuracy for some stimboards is off

i have the right to deny your request, ESPECIALLY if it’s something very icky

proshippers/comshippers, dubcon/noncon, nsfw blogs, ddlg blogs, anti-lgbtqia+, anti-religion (muslimphobic, islamophobic, etc. etc), anti-xenogender/neopronouns, anti-otherkin/therian/whateva idrk, racist, zionists, and just anyone who supports anything gross GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THIS BLOG DNI

please do understand i have a life and you will have to be patient, your requests will be done eventually just wait

just have common sense, if you KNOW something is bad but are still here then go away oml

feel free to just talk to me in the asks! anon or not, i’m willing to just talk, as it isn’t just for requests. you can vent or rant there too if you want, i’ll listen! you are loved remember that <3

any ships are fine as long as they aren’t illegal or anything, a personal favourite of mine is suntan :3

you may request: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, whump, slow burn, nsfw (just not smut, i’d rather not do that on a blog like this.. implied smut is ok though! and gore and heavy topics are fine too), panic attacks, all types of horror, comedy, drama, pining, mutual pining, all kinds of relationships (as long as the toxic ones are not romanticised), and basically just anything that isn’t in the you may not request part

you may not request: smut, proship/comship, dubcon/noncon, romanticisation of gross things (but if it isn’t meant to be romanticised then you can request), just anything gross really

THINGS I WILL MAKE

ocs as long as you provide pics and/or info, info is optional though ofc! but if you don’t provide it i am just gonna go off of aesthetic

total drama

danganronpa

omori

undertale/deltarune but moreso undertale

pokemon

sonic

mario

cookie run

the amazing digital circus

murder drones

smg4

bfdi/bfb/tpot

ii

hfjone

any object show really lmao

mlp

adventure time. however……. i may not be that accurate when it comes to later seasons or fionna and cake, cuz i never actually finished it or watched the spin-off, lmao sorry

gravity falls! same as adventure time though, haven’t yet finished it (but ik bill cipher and allat)

vocaloid

warriors/warrior cats (i haven’t read the books though, might not be accurate sorry)

scp foundation

bbc ghosts

she-ra: and the princesses of power

memes

garfield

the sims

among us (as cringe as that may sound, it’s a good game)

my singing monsters

the battle cats

dnd

agere/petre/agedre/petdre

otherkin/therian

furry

starters movieunleashers

hazbin hotel/helluva boss (i do NOT support vivziepop or her team, i separate content from creator because the episodes can really be good, even if they miss most of the time.. and i love the concept of both shows. I PIRATE IT Y’ALL DW I AM NOT GIVING PRIME VIDEO NOR VIVZIEPOP MY MONEY 😭)

doctor who

good omens

and much more! but i can’t be bothered adding them.. if any more of my interests are in an ask i’ll just tell y’all and edit this

[defensivelee]

some scene/dialogue ideas for the hypothetical NSO-esque Louis dating sim in which you play as a mistress of him (sorry no male MC). I think the point of it would be to try to ASSERT YOUR INFLUENCE on him until you basically run the country yourself, which he makes extremely difficult for you to do. idk why I'm thinking of it so much 😭

---------

Louis: Do you think this looks good on me?

He'll probably be asking this a lot when he tries something on. You basically get to dress him since he'll usually listen to your opinions as you are very important to him.

Upon saying it looks awful but he secretly disagrees:

Louis: Well...just a little, I suppose.

Upon saying it looks awful and he agrees:

Louis: Who thought of this?

Upon saying it looks good:

Louis: Not much of an observation, love, you know everything looks good on me.

---------

Louis: I have a question. Do you love me? Really really really love me?

He'll ask this every night, just in a different form. Usually you would have three choices, all of which say the same thing: "Yes, I love you." I doubt it's because he's insecure, he just wants to hear you say it.

After a bad day in which you didn't really make him happy, though, he'll say:

Louis: I thought you loved me. You told me yesterday. Do you really really really love me?

He usually stares at you with a smile, sitting pleasantly on his bed, but at this point the music stops briefly and he sort of glowers at you. You have three choices again, and only one is different:

Player: No, you know why I stayed with you at all.

Louis will look down and smile, and the music will start up again.

Louis: Ahaha....you are not wrong.

If you say you love him, he looks vaguely suspicious but accepts it anyway.

---------

To increase the Trust & Love bar (probably the least important for your status, but necessary nonetheless if you want him to keep you around) you would have to give him a gift. I think you should be able to give him a little carp because it would be funny and he likes them.

Louis: You got me another fish? See, this is why I love you. You give me stuff.

Louis: She is so beautiful...can you name her for me?

Whatever the name is that you choose, he'll find it very endearing. Unless you attempt to call it Louis, in which case he'll feign offense but actually be laughing a little.

---------

You can make it your goal for him to just have awful days constantly so that his Happiness & Certainty will go down. Eventually he will start getting really personal at night instead of having sex, and he'll tell you things you may not have known about him. This makes him easier to manipulate/blackmail later on.

Louis: I will never understand Philippe. A boy kissed me once.

Louis: *his eyes now widening* I wanted to kill myself.

Louis: He said he was going to kill me if I told anyone--

Things like that.

[sonkitty]

Earthly Objects - Part 1

"You can't just manifest and cause trouble, there are rules." -Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 5 (The Ball)

(Crowley was blurry from the back when he really said that so the above screenshot is from the lines right before)

This post was last updated 07/07/2024.

Much of this post is some heavily involved theorizing. However, the Threshold Tricks existing actually supports a lot of this theorizing. I make mistakes nonetheless. Please keep that in mind. I am still confident in the Threshold Tricks, if nothing else.

...

The Game

Earthly Objects is a layered game. The characters in Good Omens 2 are playing it. A curious audience member can play it by trying to figure out how the game works.

The game consists of some notable patterns that start to resemble an expected script from the characters. Hence, there are rules. These rules can and will be broken.

The two main characters, Crowley and Aziraphale, play Earthly Objects the most and at the highest level of play. They have a heightened awareness compared to everyone else.

Most other characters play Earthly Objects on instinct with basic rule-following.

One character in particular, the Metatron, makes repeated mistakes.

This series of posts focuses on the present day since the minisodes are more difficult to follow for me. You can look at my Sideburns Scheme posts for when I remark on what I do find in the minisodes themselves.

Who made the rules? I don't know. It could be Crowley because it's very engineered, complicated, and he knows the game's intricacies better than anyone. He is most likely the best player in the whole thing. It could be God since she told us Herself she plays an ineffable game of her own devising in season 1. It could be Adam as an eventual result of his rebooting reality at the end of season 1. Season 1 had something resembling Earthly Objects as well. It could be the Metatron because certain characters are never allowed to say Crowley's name, and the Metatron clearly has something against Crowley himself. It could be an already existing book someone threw the characters into.

Whoever or whatever is responsible, the game is there with a number of findable, solvable puzzles for any willing and curious audience member.

I call the game Earthly Objects due to the use of the phrase "earthly object" in episode 1 and the touching even shown during that segment. The mechanics of this game are largely based on touching.

...

The Rule of Three

Earthly Objects loves the number 3. It is everywhere in the game and everywhere in the story. The standard set of points is 3. Even with Crowley's Threshold Tricks, the number 3 can still be found as the number of primary multiplicative adjectives required.

...

Points

A standard set of points is 3.

I cannot name all the sets, but I've seen and found enough, that's still my understanding of the main game in play.

One earthly object touch is worth 1 point. Standard dialogue points can be earned through "Hello" or an approved equivalent, questions, names, and numbers.

If two characters interact, the game usually wants each character to earn at least one point. Other scenes are meant to stand out when not adhering to this rule to find the game itself or as part of its broader puzzles.

Solo scenes still often require 3 points from that one character.

Points are dependent on context, timing, and placement around thresholds.

Things grow ever more complex with more characters involved.

...

Earthly Objects

Earth has objects, often thought of by humans as tangible objects. In this story, earthly does not mean solid, and touch does not mean direct skin or clothing contact. They are the most easily evident and likely common methods. The touch depends on how it is done and the nature of the object in question.

Checking a watch for the time is an earthly object touch because that is how you use a watch on Earth. Looking through a window is an earthly object touch because people look through windows to see things on Earth.

We see three earthly objects in the show's opening before Earth even exists. Those objects are a crank, a scroll, and a book. One of them, the book, is touched through a supernatural method but still touched.

An earthly object can be held during a character interaction and still count in many contexts.

These are basic earthly objects, for a few examples; see more at the end:

Chairs

Windows

Tables

Walls

Books

Mirrors

Cups

Doorknobs

Bodies of living natural beings (humans and goats for example)

...

Blurs

Blurs have multiple functions within the game, and an audience player must consider the surrounding context for their intention.

Among such functions is pass or share. For me, this part became evident in studying how window looks work.

...

Thresholds

Thresholds are largely understood to be doors.

Doors have earthly objects on them, such as doorknobs, door handles, locks, push plates, shades, windows, mirrors—even the astragal for double doors. The panel serving its function as mainly the door is different. That is the threshold and not an earthly object.

This story has other non-door thresholds, such as the edge of the sidewalk.

Window frames are thresholds and windows themselves have a remarkable threshold component when it comes to looking, with a link explaining such a thing further down.

...

Threshold Tricks

I love these things despite my frequent complaints on The Pocket Trick.

The Threshold Tricks are 6 special, advanced moves in Earthly Objects performed by Crowley. Each one requires assistance in some form, but Crowley himself is the main player performing the Trick in question.

These things are findable, solvable puzzles with at least two rounds for an audience member to play. I hope there isn't a third round because I don't think I could handle it. I have been stuck in Round 2 for months.

Round 1:

Round 1 involves finding the given Threshold Trick. It is complicated. There should be a Single, a Double, and a Triple. It should have a name. Five of the six Threshold Tricks should have a core concept with The Pocket Trick missing one. The core concept is the simple idea the Threshold Trick is based on. In Round 1, an audience member is only required to play the game by checking frame-by-frame during The Perfect Entrance Trick due to its quick movement, blurs, and a thumb tip touching a window pane.

It is still very challenging because a player must be familiar with the events of the story and put a lot of thought into these core concepts to solve the puzzle.

Round 2:

Based solely on my own experience, I admit, Round 2 starts with a second look at The Pocket Trick in case you missed something since there's a decent chance you're missing core concept itself.

To play Round 2, an audience member is definitely required to play the game by looking at things frame-by-frame because you can't discover the Tied Hands any other way. Well, at least you probably wouldn't. The Tied Hands are just the start of realizing the scale of The Pocket Trick and its giant impact on so much else within the Earthly Objects game.

Here is a post I made about the Threshold Tricks:

Threshold Tricks (Good Omens 2).

The Threshold Tricks require a minimum of 6 points due to their involvement with thresholds and even a specified format of a primary Single, Double, and Triple.

Aziraphale may not manipulate thresholds on the same level as Crowley, but he is aware and involved in quite likely all of the Tricks. In fact, at the story's end, he actually has his own part to play with his own special Magic Trick linked to The Door Trick with its own special name of The Door Catch.

Muriel is Crowley's trusted assistant in the last touches of The Bigger Thresholds Trick and The Pocket Trick, suggesting the pair have a hidden, past friendship from a previous draft or previous drafts of the story. The game further suggests this possibility with ensuring that Muriel scenes bookend one side of at least part of every Threshold Trick. I could be misreading it, of course, but the only other interpretation I have is a deep-rooted trust even if they aren't friends.

...

Vary Technique

The story does not want the characters to use the same exact technique twice on the same type of earthly object touch to earn a point, in a different later scene. It can be similar but should have some variation. An easy example is Shax knocks on the window using her knuckles at Crowley’s car, then later knocks on a window to the bookshop with just an index finger.

I most certainly have not verified this rule, just noticed subtle variations when looking for these things. Crowley's Threshold Tricks have a pattern that I do believe is intended to be, "Never do the same trick twice."

...

Awareness

I'm convinced Crowley and Aziraphale are aware of the rules and making choices about them, but that doesn't mean they know every move they are making that is following the rules.

When Crowley shoots out lightning in episode 1, the lightning itself still actually follows the rules with three different touches on the door to the coffee shop. I don't think Crowley did that on purpose or even knows it happened. But it did happen.

Still, his choices in most, or at least quite a bit, of his movement during the story do appear to be deliberate choices.

I'm not entirely sure how this awareness mixes with the drama of the presented story. There seems to be some layering involved, maybe even a switch to hit certain levels of the layering for what they need to move forward.

...

Earth

The surface upon which characters stand and walk is the Earth. They can touch the Earth to earn a point, but it requires a little more effort, such as hopping. The hopping might require the feet touch the ground at different times.

Let's check in with our experts.

Crowley hops in place in episode 1 before shooting out lightning. He also hops while talking to Muriel before the scene ends in episode 6. In both cases, the feet do not touch the ground at the same time.

Aziraphale deliberately avoids a point in episode 6 when he makes sure to step backwards off a rug onto the floor in episode 6. No points for stepping backwards onto Earth. Or at least he didn't earn a point for walking partly on a rug.

When Crowley is walking on the sidewalk and passing by the coffee shop in episode 1, he does the following to earn two points, not even in the same set believe it or not. The first thing he does is rotate his body, such that his left foot is fully on the ground, but his right foot isn't. Instead, only the heel touches the ground. As such, he gets the point because the heel is touching the ground. He's not just standing. After he fixes the power, the camera shows that his left foot is already off the sidewalk and moving to the road. He gets a point for the step because he's not just walking on the sidewalk, then the road. He's stepping from the sidewalk to the road. It might help that the edge of a sidewalk is a threshold. His second step after crossing the threshold has the foot conveniently cut off from the camera.

...

Apparel (Clothing and Accessories)

Generally speaking, touches require care in what qualifies as a proper touch, so I've assumed much the same when it comes to apparel. It depends on the context and what the camera sees.

Supernatural beings can usually manage self-clothing touches without much issue, but the ball invitations show Crowley putting himself in a position multiple times where self-clothing touches must be done with the assistance of an earthly object to allow the touch to happen. Most likely, that is due to Crowley intentionally not talking to anyone during the actual invitation phase.

Crowley’s sunglasses are a special type of accessory because they have both Accessory Mode and Door Mode. Thanks to the different modes and his understanding of context within the game, he can earn special accessory points with the sunglasses.

More info can be found here:

Earthly Object Study - Crowley’s Sunglasses (Good Omens 2)

Due to how the story ends, I suspect the apparel rules are not as simple as just letting two interacting characters to touch only such things with a scene as extensive as the bookshop scene between Crowley and Aziraphale at the end of episode 6. The story cares about context, and there is some big time context happening in that scene.

...

Humans

Humans are earthly objects. As such, they can do self-touches, such as clasping their hands.

Maggie is the show's prime example as she uses this method quite frequently. She might be a special type of human based on other things we observe in the show, but the story considers her human enough to allow this method nonetheless.

..

Supernatural Beings

If a supernatural being is actively touching an earthy object, they can, like humans, do self-touches.

There do seem to be related methods that make this rule seem rather lax and pointless. There's something like angels can do self-touches so long as one of them, somewhere on the screen is touching an earthly object and/or their reflections are visible on the floor. Or, if there is more than one supernatural being on screen and if one of them is doing a self-touch with no earthly objects on screen, all of them should be doing a self-touch on screen.

Aziraphale seems able to use self-touches on his hands as much as any human can anytime in the whole story except during only certain parts of his rule-breaking session in The Final Fifteen.

Miracle touches onto earthly objects are allowed. Crowley changing three traffic lights from red to green at the same time? That's an earthly object touch.

Supernatural beings are allowed reciprocal touches between each other, such as a fist bump or holding hands. Kissing is probably allowed though the one kiss shown has exceptional circumstances with a lot of other touching deliberately not happening.

Because of the ball invitations and intense nature of the argument scene in the bookshop in the Final Fifteen, I do still think there is some kind of rule or set of rules that has higher restrictions than what humans are allowed to do.

...

Windows

Windows are easy to overlook because once you do take the time to study them in their more complex use, they are by no means easy to understand.

Windows have specific functions on Earth in that people look through windows to see things, so looking through a window itself is an earthly object touch, provided the camera sees that touch in the proper way.

Here's a messy post about mostly a few more complex scenes involving windows:

Earthly Objects Study - Windows

Here is the simplified visual representation of The Window Trick:

The Window Trick - Visual Representation

...

Chairs

Aziraphale has a mysterious vendetta against the backs of chairs ever since Gabriel interrupted Aziraphale from listening to music. The chair he sits in when talking to Crowley about wanting help looking after Gabriel seems to be the main exception.

Aziraphale's got no visible back of a chair in the coffee shop or the pub, maybe other places, and even in the bookshop, when he is sitting in a chair, his back is not in the back of the chair most or all of the time. I don’t care enough to confirm every scene. It's weird.

This mystery suggests there is a point for the back to the chair that he is simply adamant to not earn. His back itself is rather important to the season's ending due to the shadows of the green leaves on the back of his coat.

There are plenty of other ways to earn points from chairs. It mainly needs to make sense for how a chair would be touched, such as using an arm rest.

...

Knock

Knocking on a window probably earns a point, provided the camera sees it. When Gabriel knocks on the door in episode 1? Not sure. The camera saw it, but the eventual response takes awhile. A blur might make it a pass. It's hard to tell.

...

Hands

Hands are complex. For instance, depending on the touch, credit could be determined by the number of fingers visibly used. If the touch is standard for one index finger and one index finger and thumb, it's probably fine.

Crowley messes with this rule a lot. He cares which touch is credited how. It’s not enough to earn points. In his first present day scene, he his holding a newspaper with only his index and middle finger extended. With his back to the bench, his arm on an arm rest, his line of sight toward the newspaper as if reading it, and possibly further complex pocket mechanics at work on his clothing, the two-finger-touched newspaper can can act as his own personal threshold until he decides otherwise.

Thumbs and thumb tips are particularly important when it comes to managing thresholds. Thumb tips can activate Door Mode with proper care.

By far, the weirdest, funniest hand mechanic I have found is that when it comes to pockets, Crowley's tie strands are connected to his hands because they are his Tied Hands. The tassels are their thumbs, and the clasps are their thumb joints. I am never, ever getting over that.

I doubt I'll ever figure out the hand mechanics fully myself.

...

Earthly Objects Main

Earthly Objects Part 2

Earthly Objects Part 3

...

Past version overall:

The Earthly Objects Game

[foodfightnovelization]

Chapter 7: Analysis and Discussion

We're back once again! As we make our way into Chapter 7, as is becoming increasingly common in this novelization, we open with a scene that isn't in the movie at all. Dan is riding a horse-drawn chuck wagon to the Copabanana (google "chuck wagon" if you don't know what that is) on account of his plane crashing a few chapters ago. Dan is pissed that he's taking such an archaic mode of transportation to the club as he was hoping to arrive in style, and does a backflip off the back of it to try and look cool. He fails. It's here we're introduced to the character of Lady X- and this whole scene is a pretty major diversion from the movie, where she isn't introduced until a little later. She's described as being a tall woman in a tight red dress, and if you haven't seen the movie (Dear god why would you be reading this blog if you haven't?) that's a fair, albeit incredibly brief summary of her appearance.

Lady X asks where she can go for a good time, and Dan awkwardly stammers "Banana!". She responds saying she prefers zucchini, and I genuinely can't tell if this is supposed to be a sex joke? So far the novelization has mostly avoided the movie's numerous cases of innuendo and sex puns so I GUESS not? Anyway, I actually think the movie not including this scene is for the best- it's a very low-key introduction to the character of Lady X, whereas in the movie the way she's introduced about a scene later is much more dramatic and gives some much-needed weight to the arrival of her character.

Meanwhile Dex is still at the Copabanana, mourning his missing girlfriend, and he once again tries to catch a raisin in his mouth. He fails.

Lady X enters the Copabanana, and THIS is where her character first shows up in the movie. Here in the novelization it's her second appearance, and there are some notable differences from the way it's depicted in the movie as well. We're told "Vlad, who had Rosa in a perfect dip, dropped her". This isn't in the movie's version of the scene, and the novelization doesn't tell us who Rosa is supposed to be (possibly the mascot for Rosarita, a brand of canned Mexican food?) so there's not much I can say about her. We're also told Tiki Taki, a breath mint Ike, starts breathing fire. This IS in the movie, but we're never told his name or what he's the mascot of, whereas here we are! (this is perhaps one of the advantages of a written format) I'll actually share the movie's version of this scene below, since it's accompanied by (what I believe) to be a genuinely fantastic song. Enjoy:

Lady X continues walking through the club as everyone watches in awe. On her way through the dance floor, she accidentally steps on the tail of "the maître d'". In the movie, this is Charlie The Tuna, and she says "Sorry, Charlie" after stepping on him. However, as we established in the previous chapter, this is clearly still SUPPOSED to be Charlie Tuna, and they just couldn't refer to him by name. So yeah, there are a few differences here and there in her introduction (notably the song isn't in the book on account of it being, well, a book) but it's more or less the same.

Dex sees Lady X and mutters "Of all the produce bars in all the supermarkets in all the world, she had to walk into mine". This is yet another reference to Casablanca, and it isn't the last either. Of course, in Casablanca Rick says "gin joints" and "towns in all the world" and he isn't a cartoon cereal dog mourning his raisin girlfriend, but it's a reference nonetheless. Lady X introduces himself to Dex, and this exchange is more or less the same as it is in the movie, save for a few additional lines of dialogue about how Hairy Hold is running the store now.

Dex and Lady X share some dialogue that isn't in the movie, mainly consisting of a whole lot of supermarket-based puns, before they're interrupted by Dan insisting he's Lady X's "sugar daddy". Kaptain Krispy points out there's something suspicious about Lady X and Brand X as a whole, leading the two to an argument. There are a few additional lines of dialogue here- Dex acknowledges Krispy's had a rough day, but asks that he doesn't take his anger out on Dan. There's honestly very few scenes in this novelization without some kind of extra dialogue that wasn't in the movie, and I've gotta say in almost every instance it adds something to the plot.

The argument continues with Lady X's comment about "things getting sour" between the sugar and salt Ikes, and Dex saying this isn't a "condiment conspiracy". Neither of these lines are in the movie, but the rest of the scene is more or less unchanged. Krispy is upset his bag was stomped by Mr Clipboard (that was like FOUR chapters ago, come on now) and the entire Copabanana explodes in a bar fight. In the movie Dan yells "Foodfight!" in a Suicide-Squad style title drop before brawling, but that isn't present here.

Dex picks up a barstool to join the fight, only to find Polar Penguin is sitting atop it. He declares the party's over, and everyone clears out. There's an additional few lines here where Maximilius is about to throw Dan out of the club and he pleads to be let go, but otherwise the scene is mostly the same as it is in the film.

Dan and Lady X head out of the club together, and the chapter draws to a close. I've gotta say, the changes in this novelization have really made Foodfight! a lot more enjoyable so far. The additional scenes, the altered dialogue and the absent sexual humor really make for a much better experience overall. Obviously the novelization has a huge advantage due to it just being the written word as opposed to the absolute eyesore of the finished film, but regardless it still feels vastly superior. I'm actually really enjoying this version of the story! Anyway, see you next time for Chapter 8!

[amplexadversary]

Additional thoughts on Live A Live

The medley of everyone's chapter themes during the end credits owns.

I like how the T. Rex sprite has similar chonky proportions to the budgie god. My reasons for liking this are many, and although I'm pretty sure the reason for the way Odo looks is so that they could fit him in the boss box, it's delightful nonetheless.

According to my friend who played the original, the cowboy's jerky used to be cigars. I actually kind of prefer them as a food item because snarfing three servings of dried meat in combat makes more sense to me than somehow speed-smoking cigars. I'd have liked to have had the molotovs though.

I doubt the old-lady's crochet was the same thing in the original either, but I think it's far funnier having the punk running around in that, clashing with his other clothes than whatever underwear it probably used to be. I'm imagining a (admittedly very nice before the washer got to it) shawl my mother once made that goes just around the shoulders and doesn't close in front, but in pink. I think he'd rock that over the jacket, with the handbag worn saddle-bag style. Very little says IDGAF better than clearly stolen clothing.

Speaking of the Mazinger chapter - throughout the whole beginning all the little kids do is ask me for food before I've had the chance to acquire any. But as soon as I did the taiyaki stand minigame and came back, the game auto-advanced the plot, and I never got to give them the snacks I had acquired. Not going to lie, I'm a little bit disappointed there isn't another opportunity to hand those off once you can get into the lab and no one is in any immediate danger.

I will concede to liking a stylistic choice the devs made in one respect: Having Hoersted's dialogue be in Iambic kicks ass. Having the NPCs in his chapter speak like that... not so much (it made the king sound like he was having a stroke at times).

Yes I put an H in font of Oersted's name to mock him. I was a little concerned I wasn't going to be rewarded with some Chrono Trigger cast call for completing the game. It turned out he earns the scorn for other reasons. No way in hell I'm playing his chapter again so it stays.

I'm amused by how much funnier the joke I was making while watching the balcony scene became thanks to where the plot went. I was being an ass and supplementing the dialogue with something along the lines of:

"Look, princess, I think we both know based on your reaction that you aren't having it, so I have some good news: I'm not either. We're headed to beard city over here so you should probably start thinking about who you want to cheat on me with now so I can cover for- ah shit of course she just got kidnapped."

Damn the little player character sprites are adorable. I want a lanyard or something with my favorites on it (mainly because if I got a little keychain I'd actually have to get three; one of the dirtbag ninja, one of the smartass psychic, and one of the Domon-lookalike. Also, they all have a few different poses that are really cute).

I swear I'm calling the ninja a dirtbag as an affectionate term; part of it is due to how much I liked the AOE and debuff on his dust veil move and so I had the poor guy doing his best chinchilla impression at the start of a lot of battles in his chapter. The other reason is that there are just a bunch of ways to be a dick in his chapter and I decided to roll with the interpretation.

Taeko's Furious Fist has got to be my favorite weapon in the game just because of the flavor text and how you get it. It's not a tangible object. The guy just rolls with the vibe. I was a little bit sad when I had to unequip it to make room for more powerful gear.

I still think the names I picked are better than the default ones with the exception of the one I couldn't come up with any decent alternative for (the kung-fu style) and for the MMA guy (a blatant reference). The rest I had to think about before committing, and I think the only one I'd change is I'd lengthen the psychic's name to Vulcan (from Vul) because it looks better next to the length of the others. Admittedly, the one I chose for the robot is also a blatant reference but honestly anything I put in there would have been an improvement over Cube.

[nyomjoon]

this is for J (@webslingingslasher) ONLY. if u not them then go away <3 all u need to know is this is the best fic on tumblr rn & you need to read it.

this is my long overdue love letter but needed to be said nonetheless. i've been a silent reader for the most part, with sending anon asks here and there, but i think i followed your blog when you released the oneshot abt reader smoking weed and peter trying it for the first time. i frequently reread your works, but when i tell you, you completely blew this one out of the park.

i've had to stow away in my little rat hole and think about what to write but you're writing has never ceased to amaze me. i love everything you put out but the immense excitement i've had for this fic and to say you've met beyond expectation... you're amazing. you've probably felt a lot of pressure releasing this - but let me tell you, you have nothing to worry about. it's absolutely wonderful.

now into the nitty gritty, I WAS NOT EXPECTING TROUBLE TO BE THIS MASTERMIND, HOLD ONNN....I'm not too sure if you had an explicit reason as to why trouble was stitching up her mates (i've only read it once, can you imagine? and the impact its had), but i'm so keen to find out. i think you said that you weren't writing in peter's pov after the first chapter, but it was so lovely to read the introduction to everything in his pov to see how he Really thinks, considering we've gotten heaps of cutesy little drabbles and concepts. going with things i was not expecting - HARVEY BEING LIKE THAT?? like yes, i should've seen the Typical Frat guy, but when you initially talked about him i was picturing that asian guy from the edge of seventeen, yk the one.

the frat boy dynamics are so perfect i'm sooooo excited to see more of them. ALSO TROUBLE KEEPING ETHAN AS A POTENTIAL PROSPECT????? WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT EITHER. As soon as ethan mentioned his lab partner for his bio class, i had to put my phone down because Ms. J......ur insane actually.

with the dual pov, i didn't feel bored at all. it felt very cohesive and maybe it was excitement but i was still hanging onto every word on the screen, immaculate experience. ALSO THE LITTLE PAGE BREAKERS???? THEY'RE ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE J!!!!! also the title of the fic is so smart? help? so cutesy.

we know that meeting may is so important and monumental and that when trouble gets to see her it'll be a real development in their relationship, but i think meeting linda will be almost as important? unless.... you've inserted her to put her in danger.................but also the insertion of action into this fic is also smth to think about....also linda's granddaughter hitting on peter? yeah, she's so me.

i cannot stress to you how much i love your dialogue. i was the one who sent the anon msg about that new girl titkok reminding me of ur writing style hehe. favs in particular:

“does she keep showing up or are you just noticing her?” “I just met the girl, Bakner. I don’t even know her name, how could I notice her?”  “Maybe cause you want to know her name, Parker.” 

“You’re the best person to ever exist and I don’t say it enough.”  “Wanna sit on my balcony and smoke a backwood while we do it?” He can’t imagine a better scenario.  "I'll cry right now, Keznek."

“Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly misogynistic?”  “Just one, I think she doesn’t know what misogyny is.”  “you’re mansplaining now?” “Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly difficult?” “just one, I don’t think he knows what difficult is yet.”  oh, peter you don't know what treat you're in for....

he’s a tough guy to hate. it’s something about him.’  oh, trouble....you poor woman (but at the same time, you get peter dick so how bad am i meant to be feeling...)

crying at the thought that Matt was closer to seeing trouble titties before peter ever was. ALSO I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE THEM ON THE FLIGHT. SQUEALING AND GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET. (I'll be doing one of these for chapter 2, yes).

thank u sm to ur dedication for this fic, and being so lovely. don't feel pressured to always be writing a drabble for a concept and make sure to take lonnngggg breaks if things start to get overwhelming (given, but can be forgotten).

love ya! x <3

banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

because of the character count (145,091) and tumblrs format skills (it's shit) i had to adjust some sizing but i wanted all of this in one part.

CHAPTER ONE: BRUJA

PETER PARKER’S FIRST WEEK.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH 

Steve Jobs is lucky he’s dead. 

Because if he wasn’t, he’d have to deal with a pissed off Peter Parker woken up with a brooding hangover by the screeches of marimba. 

Peter wasn’t sure whose idea it was to throw a goodbye summer bash the night before classes started but he wishes them death. A ‘goodbye summer' party, what a dumb fucking idea. It’s college, every day is summer. If he’s picked up anything from being with the frat for two years it’s that they’ll make up any excuse to party. 

International Women’s Day? Guys can only get in if they’re half naked. 

Valentine’s Day? Singles dress as cupid, couples in red and pink. 

Friday the 13th? Horror movie character costumes only. 

St. Patrick's Day? That’s what those guys lived for. 

It didn’t matter what it was, if there was cause for celebration and drinking, it was going to be a party. Trying to ease a headache he rubbed his temples, it did nothing and proved useless when someone banging a spoon and pot in the kitchen made his ears ring. 

“Chapter meeting! Chapter meeting! Chapter-” Peter yelled as loud as he could, “shut the fuck up!” His head throbbed.

God, he fucking hated the start of the year, all the new people coming in sucking up to him and everyone else in the frat. The secondary members used it to their advantage, most of the officers didn’t impress easily, only using them when they felt like laughing at someone desperately trying to please. 

He had to redo the entire budget, and had to run through the same health and safety meeting that would get ignored, and then he’d have to get physical when someone pushed the rules a little too far. 

Peter had a hangover from hell and almost gagged getting up from bed, shuffling towards his bedroom door in just sweatpants. Yawning and scratching at his scalp as he walked down the stairs, he made the routine walk to the meeting room door that was open, a hidden room behind a bookcase, only chapter officers allowed. 

The room was dark, a gigantic oak table took up the center of the room, black leather chairs surrounded. The frats name and logo grinded into the middle. A pool table in one corner, a bar in the back and several leather couches. Peter took his seat and nodded at his friend next to him, the chapter president paced the front of the room with notes, when the last guy entered the door was shut behind him. 

“Welcome to the hunt boys, we waited all year for this.” 

Trent Simpson, chapter president. Deep alumni, the fraternity in his family for generations. 

“Before we start the meeting, please state who you are and your role on the board. Obviously, I’m Trent Simpson, your president.”

“Matt Paul, chapter vice president.” 

“Nick Aaron, secretary.” 

“Ethan Keznek, sergeant-at-arms.” 

“Peter Parker, treasurer and health and safety officer.” 

“Tarrent Bakner, recruitment chairman.” 

“James Hasco, housing officer.” 

“Booker Thomas, membership development.” 

Trent clapped his hands and motioned to the black folder everyone had. “Welcome to the first meeting of our rushing season for Sigma Nu. In each of your folders you’ll see our potential new members, if you don’t see anyone you like, time to tell me is now.” 

Peter eyed the page, only one thing set him off. Ted and Harry Linus, twins. He hated twins, last year he had gotten put in the middle of so many fights he swore he’d never let twins back in his house. 

Peter’s hand jotted up, clicking his pen quickly. “Nix the twins.” Trent crossed out the names with a sharpie, “nixed.” 

“Next are the outline of our weeks with the rush, and hazing schedules. Parker, I want you and Keznek to print up the chapter handbooks.” Ethan held his fist up towards Peter, he tapped his knuckles on his and looked over the schedule. 

“Finally, and this is a new one. I acquired a friend that can get some hard to get info really easily, so what you see in front of you is every fraternity's event.” 

Interesting, that’s a pretty hard thing to get your hands on, let alone fifteen. Fraternity events were highly competitive, and if they had every event in their back pocket they could be number one. 

Peter fought back a yawn, he wanted nothing more than another two hours of sleep. But his day began here, in a chapter officer meeting, on a Tuesday, with a hangover and only time to prepare for class. God, he really didn’t want to go to class today. He can barely remember what he signed up for. 

“... again, that’ll be next Tuesday, and like usual, freshman welcome on Friday. Any more questions before we close?” 

Booker’s hand goes up, “what about the sororities?” 

“Great question, we’ll only be circling with Zeta and Omega.” 

Peter nods approvingly, that’s nice to hear. Last year they partnered with four sororities and even the party guys were getting a little overwhelmed. It sucked they had to use the frat houses for parties but they chipped in and bought way better alcohol, not to mention all the fucking girls, it was truly pick of the litter. 

Matt Paul shoots out, “can we please promise each other right now we won’t have another Sara situation?” 

There was a reason Peter had two positions, Logan Leeman freaked out when Sara Niks dumped him. Actually went full blown nuts and had to be carted off in an ambulance, no one’s heard from him since. 

“God that was awful, I mean, he knew the chick for what, four months?” 

Peter nodded absentmindedly at Nick’s comment, disconnecting from the conversation and running numbers through his head. His attention was brought back when Trent smacked his gavel on the soundblock. 

“We’re back baby, and it’s open fucking season. One, two, three,” 

The brotherhood chanted, “Sig Nu!” 

—------------

Peter’s rinsing shampoo out of his hair when someone bangs on his bathroom door, he calls out over the rushing water, “yeah?” 

“Hey, some of the guys and I are gonna hit up the food hall before we gotta split, you down?” 

He can’t lie, the dining hall is damn good. He’s missed the breakfast burritos, and Linda. She’s been working in the kitchen at the university for over twenty years, he got to talking to her one day and now goes out of his way to give her a hello. He can’t wait to catch up and tell her all about his summer, and fuck, he’d kill for an orange juice. Oh god, he has to do so much grocery shopping. 

“Yeah, give me ten minutes!” As if on command his stomach growls, he’s reminded of his hangover and he has physics in two hours. At least the shower’s warm. It’s his saving grace. 

University has been good on Peter, he looks like he belongs; top dog on campus feels good. He fills out his frat tee better this year, spidey working double time this summer to make up for the slow six months he’s about to have. Heather gray and red detailing, his pants black, and a signature white snapback. He should’ve gotten a haircut, but he chose to drink like an idiot. The night was fun though, it was worth it in the moment. 

Taking a final glance, Peter tucks the chain around his neck into his shirt, and takes a deep breath before his first day of his junior year starts. 

He’s ready.

—----------------

“Did anyone see Trevor slam his head against the wall last night or was that just me?” 

“You mean Lopes?” Peter really wishes he was around to see that. 

Hasco is on level ten, Peter’s convinced he’s off a bump or two of coke, he’s just a tad too twitchy for his liking. “Bro, he just bounced that fucker off the wall. Stared at me and did it. No fucking reason. He’s fucking crazy.” 

Peter snorts, “why, was he off the powder?” He bites down on his bottom lip when his friends toss him around by his shoulders giving soft ‘oo’s’ at his jab. Hasco flips him the bird, “even if he was, that’s fucked up, right?” 

Keznek follows up, “you think he’d do it again if i asked?” 

Nick pipes up, “ten down on yes,” Tarrent raises a finger, “coked up or sober?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Tarrent nods, “fair enough.” 

Peter cuts through the bullshit, “can we please talk about Simpson and the fucking list this year? Thirty two people is such bullshit, at this point it’s just a dick measuring contest with Alpha Delta.” 

Hasco sniffs as he nods his head, “yeah, not to mention all the fucking shuffling. Too many people for no reason, especially because we’re cutting twelve almost immediately.” Nick scoffs, “you’re telling me, I have to keep track of every motherfucker going in and out.” 

Peter’s best friend lets out a refreshing sigh, “I got the best job, I just make sure Tarrent does his job.” Hasco barks back, “shut the fuck up, Keznek.” 

“If I may, I have the worst out of all of you combined. I have to keep track of every fucking receipt, everyone’s dues, every god damn bill. Then I get to sit around and try to teach consent to a bunch of brain dead eighteen year olds.” 

“And safety! Don’t forget all the fights you had to break up last year.” 

It’s just so fucking tiring sometimes, but he’s the reason he and the entire frat have a place to sleep. “Thanks for the reminder, Nick.” Nick claps his shoulder, “anytime, bud.” Tarrent starts humming, “I’m getting so much food, you have no idea.” 

“I’m doubling down on burritos.” 

Ethan sucks in a breath, “me too.” 

Tarrent opens the doors to the dining hall and voices explode, overlapping chatter from every corner. It pierced through his ears and stabbed at his headache, Hasco sniffs and nods his head impressively, “fuck yeah,” bumping Peter’s shoulder when he walked in. 

“Jesus fucking christ.”

 Ethan holds back a chuckle at Peter’s audible mumble, choosing to mock Hasco instead, nodding at Peter walking by, “fuck yeah, man.” 

Peter nods towards Paul, sitting at a table with his girlfriend and who he assumes are her friends, he doesn’t care enough to actually look. Paul barely gives him a wave between inhaling his burrito, he’s gotten three, meaning he has to do an impressive four, unless Tarrents goes for four, then he’s maxing out at five. 

Things you learn in a frat, it’s the little things that mean the most dominance wise. 

He hangs at the back of the line so he can catch up with his favorite lunch lady on campus, until the closer he gets he can’t see her. Moving his head back and forth but coming up short he assumes she’s in the kitchen. She usually worked the register in the morning and afternoon, but he supposes new year, a new schedule.

Peter slides through the line with six breakfast burritos and a fruit cup, because it’s all about balance. Giving that deathly smile to his second favorite lunch lady, “hey, Mrs. Zoe. How was your summer?” 

Sweat dots her forehead, “hot and long, how about yours, honey?” He can’t complain much, he actually took it slow. “Pretty good, hey, um, is Linda around?” Peter doesn’t know what it is but he knows it’s bad by the way Zoe’s face drops, she looked younger than she was, until she was full frowning, then she looked every bit of sixty. 

“You didn’t hear?” Peter’s scared to say no but still shakes his head. 

“Oh, shit. She dropped a pot on her foot just the right way and shattered the whole thing. She ran out of time off and was let go.” 

Peter feels everything in him shake with rage. 

Linda took care of him for the past two years of his life, and worked harder than he ever has in his entire life. She dedicated decades of her life to this place, an institution built on community, until one got hurt. Linda made sure that even if he was away from home, he was still fed with love. She talked to him, they formed a bond, he asked about her granddaughter all the time, her husband was sick, she was supporting the house, now what? 

“They fired her?” He’s full of pain and anger but his voice comes out timid. 

Mrs. Zoe nods her head solemnly, Peter looks at his tray, he’s not so hungry anymore knowing Linda didn’t make a thing on it. Suddenly six burritos seem daunting. 

“Is she okay?” That’s all that mattered. He had to fix this, he wasn’t sure how yet but it’s his personal mission to get her back where she belonged. 

“She’s still healing up but I guess the university gave her a nice severance package, so she’ll be okay for a while.” 

The line’s starting to back up, “do you think I could get her number? I’ll come back for lunch and get it, if you think that’s okay.” 

A beaming smile, she looks young again, her eyes crinkle and it shows her joy. “I think she’d love that. I’ll get it for you.” Even if he’s mad, he gives her a polite smile, “thanks, Mrs. Zoe.” 

Peter’s heart races as he walks away, the situation swirling in his mind, how fucked it all was. He doesn’t care if they gave her a severance package, she got hurt at work. They should’ve held her job, they should’ve given her a break for the first time in over twenty years. 

How could he fix this? Maybe he could get the frat to do a petition, if they sign it then most of the school would get on board. Or shit, what if they go on protest? Do they sit in strike until they give in to the demand? What if he gets- 

“So sorry!” 

Peter stopped himself from stumbling any further, caught off guard and in the midst of a breakdown he took it out on the assaulter. He doesn’t care if it was an accident, he’s not hard to miss, they just weren’t looking, or paying attention. 

And he can see why, big doe eyes blinking at him. Like they’ve never seen an adult man, as if his presence alone was enough to send them into fight or flight. There’s one reason and one reason only, and it’s written all over their face. 

“Fucking freshman,” he hates them like no other, last year was enough to paint them in a negative light forever. They were babies, new to drinking, new to being on their own, new to parting. And the entitlement was off a new chart level, they thought they were the big dogs because they finally reached adulthood. 

The kind of entitlement that sent them running into people three times their size. 

The girl's face changed, she went from frightened to pissed in under three seconds. It almost impressed him, her eyes narrowed as she looked him directly in the eye. For a second he felt challenged, like someone he had to nearly look down on had equal footing against him. All from a freshman no less. 

Her words hit directly, she packed a punch behind them and meant each word as they spewed. 

“I hope you fucking choke.” 

Peter was left speechless, watching her stomp off, while slowly approaching the table his friends occupied. Hasco and Keznek bickering back and forth, which was pointless, Hasco always has to have the last word. 

“Explain this one to me,” he immediately caught attention. 

“Some freshman knocked into me, almost made me drop everything, then told me she hoped I’d choke. I mean, what the fuck?” 

Peter has to look away when Tarrent spews his idea, egg dropping from his mouth. 

“She wants to fuck you bro.” Sometimes his stupidity hurts, “what? It was a twenty second interaction and she told me to die.” 

“Yeah, that’s how it always starts.” 

The table goes quiet, Ethan’s the first to speak. “Tarrent, I think you should sit in on Parker’s health and safety course for a refresher.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

—------------------------

Peter thinks he’s a little too hungover and it’s a little too early for him to focus on mechanics and math, so he chooses to look over his syllabus and yawn. 

His year was littered with hard classes, approaching the end of his major and now everything counted. The pressure was on, he was prepared to make this his year. He was done with the little kid shit, it was time he got serious and put his future first.

 How boring of him, he was going to need Ethan to help bounce him back. 

Peter’s first and only class of the day was intro to quantum mechanics, having to sit through that much math and theory made his already pounding headache increase tenfold. Taking a harsh inhale he pulled out his phone for the brother’s group chat, hiding his phone in his lap while his new professor droned on.

‘Who’s fucking idea was this party? I’m dying rn.’ 

‘Blame Paul.’

‘that’d be pauly.’ 

‘Keznek emphasized ‘blame paul.’ 

‘blame me!’ 

‘Fuck you, paul.” 

Peter would be lying if it didn’t make him feel a little bit better. Still, blinking under the fluorescent lighting he wished he could wish his hangover away, he’s never felt this shitty in his life, he’s sure of it. He only had forty minutes left, all he had to do was make it through the lesson, buy his books and spend the rest of the day in bed hiding from every and all light and sound. 

It wouldn’t be a terrible year, his professor was the textbook definition of MILF. Blonde bob with streaks of gray, an hourglass figure and oval glasses. Her pantsuit hugged her curves and for a moment he thinks her husband is a lucky guy. 

Plus he was pocketed between the hottest chick on campus and some mega genius, so smart Peter was put to shame. It wouldn’t be a bad week either, after he got this girl's number and invited her over to a party. Peter politely sat through the lecture, going over the syllabus with his professor's powerpoint and writing down anything he deemed important. 

Then the hour was over and he deserved a treat. He worked hard, so now he can play hard.

Fighting through his looming hangover and using every ounce of charm, he turns his head and smiles at the girl. She had long, slick black hair and he wanted to wrap every bit of it around his fist. 

“Hey, I’m Parker.” 

She has a nice smile, and a nose ring, he wonders what else is pierced. 

“Hey, I’m Rose.” 

He’s not sure if it’s a nickname or her real name, it doesn’t matter to him, it suits her well. Peter can see a peek of a tattoo that blossomed from her chest. He wanted to unwrap her like a present and figure her out. 

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I just had to let you know I think I have the best seat partner in the whole room.” 

“I know, right? Teddy is hella smart.” Her grin tells him she knows what he meant by his comment. 

“You seem pretty smart too, maybe we should exchange numbers in case I need any help?” 

God, her smile is fucking raident. 

“Not sure my girlfriend would like that too much, Parker.” 

He exhales a breath, “oh you were waiting to say that.” 

Rose nods, “it’s always a fun bomb to drop. Nobody thinks I’m a lesbian until I say it, then I get the-” 

“I can see it.” 

Her hand raises, “point in case.” She’s still cool. And he has four months with her. 

“Let me try again. Hey, Rose, would you and your girlfriend like to come to our party on friday?” 

There’s that fucking smile. “We’d love to.” 

Peter nods his head, okay with the turn of events. “Alright, Rose, I’ll see you and…” 

“Lily,” she fills in for him. 

“Lily, how perfect. I’ll see both friday.”

Peter gathers his things and stands, his first try of the year was a swing and a miss, unless… 

“Hey, if you were straight would-” 

“My girlfriend will kill you, tread carefully, new friend.” 

Peter can’t wait to meet her, he already likes her. 

—-------------

Peter’s day just got longer or more miserable, because as he should’ve assumed, the bookstore line was wrapped around the building. If only he had given himself a head start, he could’ve done this days ago but there were other things in his personal life he had to wrap up first. 

Just so he could sit in line, under the sun, with a hangover, to buy hundreds of dollars worth of textbooks he’d never use again. 

Ray Bans rested on his nose, blocking the glare of the sun. He kept refreshing his twitter feed but was quickly bored, switching to instagram and endlessly scrolling. Liking a few pictures, his brother’s party posts, an old classmate’s ‘moving back in!’ post, a summer throwback bikini picture from a girl he’d hooked up with a few times the year prior.   

Jostling forward, Peter had to stabilize his stance. Caught off guard and his back ran into, he had to admit it just wasn’t his day. 

He scoffs as the assaulter mutters out apologies. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you and I’m sorry!” 

Turning sideways to look at the girl he gave a bitter laugh, “Jesus Christ, freshman. Want a tip? Look where you’re walking.” 

The girl in front of him looked pissed, “I said sorry, you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Peter pulled his head back and turned to face her full on. “You’re telling me about mean? You knocked into me twice and said you’d hope I fucking choke, if we’re tallying scores I’d think you’re the bully, sweetheart.” 

She huffs, “does the misogynistic shtik always work for you?” 

He holds his hand to his chest, “misogynistic, because I called you sweetheart? I’d say that’s irony, or sarcasm, because you’ve been anything but sweet.” 

“Well… maybe I’d be nicer if you were.” 

Peter’s having fun with this, she’s just shittalking him to do it, and he kinda respects that. His hands move as he speaks, emphasizing his point. “You hit me! Why do I have to be nice?” 

The girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in defense.  “I bumped you, I hope you’re majoring in acting because you could win an oscar for your dramatics.” 

His tongue pokes at his cheek, a cocky grin spreads. “Babe, I’m the best at what I do. You think I’d be here and not at Juilliard?” 

Peter won, she scoffs and opens her mouth before shutting it and spinning on her heel, turning her back on him.

“Realized you couldn’t win?” 

He turns back around, hiding a grin, fumbling for his phone in his back pocket. He opens up the ‘Captain Nu’ group chat and sends out a message. 

‘The entitlement from these freshmen gets worse every year.’ 

‘true dat. this freshie charles just got coffee all over me, i can’t wait to ruin his year.’ 

‘rip charles. never had a chance.’ 

‘@trent ally just said her friend is gonna do the ski trip after all.’ 

‘@paul, Ally’s got a friend? 👀’

‘@parker, lol, yea.’ 

‘paul is the world's worst wingman, lmaoooo.’ 

‘Of course he is, he met the girl he’s gonna marry at 16.’ 

‘@parker maybe u would too if you bothered to know their name after.’ 

‘@parker if anyone has dibs on ally’s friend it’s me. we’ve already been in talks. 🤔’ 

‘@trent, yo, tf? We’re gatekeeping now?’ 

‘@paul, invite her to the party friday. We’ll see who she wants, @trent’ 

‘🫡’ 

‘Hold on, Parker’s betting on a chick? I’m getting a lawn chair & a 12 pack rn.’ 

‘Good thing your name isn’t in the mix, isn’t it? @keznek’ 

‘ally said she’s coming, my money’s on trent, sorry parker.’ 

‘Hmmm, I dunno, Paul. Parker’s got that underdog in him.’ 

‘At least E believes in me.’

Glancing up, and noticing a gap in the line he moves up. Putting his phone back in his pocket he glances over his shoulder and peers at the girl with her gaze locked in on her phone screen. He’s learned several things while at the frat, one of the most important, you can never have too many options. 

She’d probably show up anyways, but if she was invited by him to his frat for their freshman welcome party, she’d definitely show up and if Trent wins, he’d have his bases covered. Clearing his throat and turning one eighty, Peter walked backwards to keep up in line, she followed with small steps. Smirking, he stopped quickly, her shoe toe hitting his own. 

She looked up quickly, “this one’s on me, sweetheart.” 

Her mouth opened, but he talked before she could. Before he could regret inviting her. Worst comes to worse, she’d be a good hate fuck. 

“Has anyone shown you frat row yet?” 

“I’m not-” she gives a frustrated sigh, “yes, I know where frat row is.” 

“Cool, so I’m Parker. I’m in Sigma Nu,” he gestures to the emblem on his corner pocket. “And on the first Friday of the school year we throw a freshman welcome party, you should come.” 

Peter can tell she’s trying to figure out his motive, it’s kind of cute, the way she's analyzing him. He immediately throws that idea from his head, he doesn’t find girls cute, he finds them attractive. Cute implies you want them to hang around and she’s nothing but infuriating.

“Uh huh. Sure.” Keeping watch of the line he backs up further, he’s three away from being saved from the sun.

“That’s a personal invite, babe.” 

She gasps, it smells of sarcasm. “My goodness, in that case I must show! How else will I know my worth when I watch you make out with another girl across the house?” 

That stumbles him a bit, not used to his game being called outright. Even if that was something that might happen, being told it would happen made him feel a little shitty. 

“That’s not at all what I-” 

Her hand stops him, “you have backup plan written all over your face, I think the summer made you lose some of that frat boy edge.” 

He just met this chick, after she threw herself into him twice, and now she’s telling him who he is? God damn, the entitlement is reeking from every orifice. 

“You-” 

“Line.”

He had to accept the loss and enter the store, but the second he saw her at his party, he’d throw in a few choice words. Remind the freshman who was on top. 

He was Peter Parker and he was the treasure and health and safety officer, and this was his fucking year. Hangovers and all.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH. 

Peter’s looking at a house across from him, it’s a faded yellow with maroon shutters. A plethora of flowers covered the base foundation, the grass was a little long, definitely a few weeks since the last cut. 

It looked like a home. 

He could picture a series of generations passing in and out the front door, it was a small house but the love he felt looking at it felt big. Peter felt just as much love for the woman inside the house, stepping over cracks in the concrete he knocked on the door and looked down at his feet while he ran lines through his head. 

A growing smile took over when the door cracked open, frizzy gray hair poked through. When Linda caught sight of him the door swung open, her arms went right around him, squeezing him with all her might. 

“Peter! Oh my goodness, I thought I wouldn’t see you again! I was going to send you a letter but you beat me to it!” Joy filled his heart, Peter wrapped his arms around her shoulders and laughed. “Mrs. Zoe helped me, I thought she’d call you. Guess not.” 

Linda gave him a parting squash before cupping his cheeks, “she knew I’d love the surprise.” She looks behind her, “wanna come in for some tea?” He took her up on the offer, he needed to let her know that he and the school needed her and he was willing to do whatever he could to get her back where she belonged. 

A blue oriental rug ran from the front door into the kitchen. Peter dropped his backpack by an entrance table and kicked his shoes off. While he looked around at the family pictures stretched across the walls he felt something rub against his legs, a scratchy meow followed. 

Peter looked down at an orange crusty cat, his heart melted. He wasted no time in picking them up and curling them to his chest, “is this Nelly?” Linda turned and smiled at her cat butting her head against Peter’s hand, “yes, she’s an attention grabber. Now you’ve held her, she'll expect it every visit.” 

As he followed Linda he looked deeper into the home, his stomach tugged when he looked into a bedroom off from the living room, an old man lying still in a hospital bed, three full IV bags hanging off a medical pole. 

The sun was coming through the kitchen window creating a sunspot, a sleeping chihuahua was soaking it up. 

“Teeny?” He already knew the answer.

 Linda bent down to pet the old dog, she mumbles while Teeny licks at her nose. “Yes, tú eres mi cariño, isn’t that right?” The cat in Peter’s hold pushed at his chest, a guttural meow while she looked at her food bowl. 

Setting her down, he looked back up to a young female standing by a cabinet, she seemed vaguely familiar. She looked a little flustered, and brushed down her shirt to prove it could fit better. 

“Hi.” Peter took a shot in the dark, “Hey, Kat. Nice braids.” 

Her face exploded in a smile, a faint blush crossed her cheeks. “You remember me?” 

“Yeah, I think we met my first year, you went…” 

“...to work with my grandma after I got in trouble that summer!” She finished for him. 

Linda moved around the small area, setting a bright red kettle on the stove. 

“You were what, fifteen?” Kat’s face went neutral, “I’m eighteen now, Peter.” Kat crossed her arms, subtly pushing her cleavage up. She’s pretty, but she’s too young for him, she can try to make it happen all she wants but he respects Linda too much. 

“Kathrine, go let Teeny out.” It seems like Linda doesn’t want it to happen either. 

“But-” Kat flinches when Linda points a wooden spoon at her, “you dare question me in my own home? Desagradecida!” Her granddaughter hangs her head and slowly passes Peter, going out of her way to brush against his shoulder, he lets her have it. 

The second the porch door slides shut Linda points the spoon at him, “not gonna happen, frat boy. Comprende?” Peter holds his hands up, “comprendido, comprendido!” A smile forms, crinkles by her eyes shows Peter she’s no real threat. 

“Green or herbal?” 

Peter glances at a pouty Kat in the backyard, it brings him back to his early teens. It makes him slightly chuckle, she’d be fine, the first rejection always hurts the most. 

“Green, please.” 

Peter’s been on a roll, spewing everything he thinks she needs to hear about his summer and upcoming school year. She’s nodding along and asking questions when an alarm starts beeping, she jumps from her seat and holds out an arm. “Be right back.” When she tucks herself into the bedroom her husband’s in, Peter feels a little sick. 

It’s the elephant in the room when she returns, she sits back in the teal chair across from him and tosses hair behind her shoulder. Linda’s hands wrap around her mug, steam billows when she blows on the rim. She gives him a knowing smirk, “you want to ask about Ronaldo, don’t you?” 

Peter feels shy, he does want to make sure she’s okay, but also knows it’s not something to really bring up. “Is he okay?” It’s a dumb question, he has to hold back on wincing when she shakes her head. “No. He’s comfortable for now, and he’s home. That’s all he ever wanted while he was in the hospital.” 

He swallows thickly, “is he in hospice?” Linda grabs his hand, “he is. It’s been hard, but we’ve made every decision together. He gave me and our family his best years, I think it’s time I take the brunt.” 

She wears a sad smile, but Peter can still see how strong she is underneath. Patting his hand she follows up like she knows where he’s going. 

“And I am very thankful I get to spend our last moments together by his side. I know it seems like bad luck, but that damn pot put me where I needed to be.” Peter’s smile is faulty, “so, you can’t be swayed into coming back?” 

“No, cariño. I can’t.” 

“But it feels so unfair! They should’ve given you something.” 

Linda clicks her tongue at him, “trust me, mi amor, I know what unfair is. And what happened was a grace of God. I get to watch my husband peacefully pass, and I get to spend the rest of my life watching my family grow. I can finally go see my great grandchildren in Mexico, my life is anything but unfair. ” 

If there’s anyone he wants the best for it’s Linda, and if she sees it as a blessing he could too. He takes a moment, “so, the severance package was good?” 

Linda scoffs, “if you call twenty five years pay at once good, then it’s good.” 

It was everything Peter needed to hear.

Peter finishes off his tea, “I’m still gonna miss you, Linda. No one can make a breakfast burrito like you. Or cut fruit! You should’ve seen the slices of cantaloupe, not one uniform cut!” 

A warm hand is cupped around his cheek, “you come by anytime for a meal. I know you’re local, but if you ever need a mom, a place to lay low, or an open door with no questions asked, you know where I am.” 

It brings tears to his eyes, he blinks fast, chuckling when a tear drops. Peter wipes at it with his sleeve, “I’m really, really, gonna miss you.” 

“You won’t miss me too much, you’ll be coming by every Wednesday for breakfast. Comprende?” 

Peter blows a sharp breath before laughing, “comprendido.” 

—--------------------

Spider-Man pats his tummy looking over the skyline. 

Linda made him a full cast iron of Huevos Rancheros, and when his eyes widened at the size she laughed and said, “What? You suddenly lost your appetite over the summer?” He had not, and ate the entire thing. 

Peter wishes he took up her offer to sleep on the couch while she watches reruns of ‘La Patrona.’ He politely declined, but tortillas and spicy eggs mixing in his stomach made him wish he was taking a nap.

He feels lead in his gut as he swings across the street, too sluggish to fight; he holds out a hand to stop a runaway bike thief. He went flying over the handlebars at an extreme speed, Spider-Man just watched and shrugged. 

An eight year old appeared, throwing his arms around Spider-Man and squeezing. Peter lets out a squeak, “alright, Spidey had a little too many eggs for breakfast-” the kid backs away and stares in amazement. 

“No way! I had eggs for breakfast too!” 

“Look at us, coupla egg eating guys.” 

The kid hugs him again, a panicked mother catches up. “Jacob! You can’t run away from me like-” Jacob bounces as he screams, “Mom! Mom! Spider-Man saved my bike! And, and, and guess what! He had eggs for breakfast too!” 

Sometimes the pure excitement of who he was made the shitty parts of his job manageable. 

“That’s awesome, honey! But you really can’t run away from mom like that.” 

Spider-Man crouches to Jacob’s height, and nods at his mom. “You know what I did when I was eight?” Jacob’s eyes grow wide, “no, what?!” 

“I listened to my mom. And I ate all my vegetables.” 

“Woah.” The child turns to his mom, she gives a knowing look to Spider-Man. “Mom! We have to go get broccoli!” She smiles at her son, “sure thing, buddy.” Holding his bike steady he takes mount, she mouths a thank you and Spider-Man waves her off. 

Jacob gives a parting salute, “bye, Spider-Man!” 

Peter feels like he’s going to puke when he takes flight, he thinks for a second, then starts heading east.

May doesn’t mind that he stopped by for a mid-morning nap. 

—---------------------------

After running through the budget four times, Peter’s positive he’s got the first two weeks handled.

Then, he’d have to rework the entire thing weekly until the final placements were made. And he still has that powerpoint to re-touch, after last year he had quite a few things to add to his health and safety presentation. 

Oh, and the chapter handbooks. That only took up an entire afternoon, even with two people working it. And grocery shopping tonight, he might be able to strong arm Ethan into going with him. 

Not to mention how he doubled up on physics this year, just because he’s gotten used to self-atonement.  

Everything was fine, it wasn’t like he was stressed already. 

Peter waited until the last minute, but he burned more time than necessary and finally pushed himself from his desk chair to go to the chapter’s private quarters, a meeting with Trent mandatory. 

It’s nothing too personal on Trent, but he just doesn’t like him. There wasn’t a real reason, just a general dislike. He was a bit too frat boy for him, although it makes sense, he’s the president, he’s had to make it his entire personality. But still, his subtle misogyny and hint of alpha male made Peter keep his distance. 

Checking for the fifth time, Peter opens the hidden door and slides in. 

“Parker!” 

“What’s up, Simpson?” 

Trent looks up grinning, his eyes clocking the folder in Peter’s hand. “Got my reports?” Peter hands over the folder, Trent opens it immediately and looks it over, nodding impressively at the number. 

“Thirty two recruits and you did this magic? I think I’ll keep you around, Parker. Speaking of, where are we on the shopping?” 

Peter wants to grit his teeth, when Trent said he was treasurer and everything money related would be run through him, he wasn’t exaggerating. “I have late classes tomorrow, so I’ll go tonight. I’m gonna get together with Tarrent and see what’s on the menu, plan around that.” 

Trent nods approvingly, “he’s on strict recruitment duty the next two days, so keep it short. We’ve doubled PNM's.” 

Peter keeps a straight face, “yeah, I know.” 

Trent picks up a tilt, “got a problem with it, Parker?” 

There’s that alpha, the subtle shift of dominance that runs rapidly in a house full of testosterone. 

“Not one, Simpson. It’s like you said, it’s open fucking season.” That makes him proud, “you’re damn right, baby. Now go fill up my fridge.” 

Peter nods, “I’ll check with Bakner and get Keznek to come with me. Anything else?” 

“Yes! I forgot, I’m thinking this year you do the health and safety for everyone. Not just the new recruits. I think some of these newer guys need to be reminded of what this campus and frat really stands for.” 

And Peter thinks that’s a really good idea. Maybe Trent wouldn’t be that awful this year. 

“Oh, Parker, one more thing?” One more thing, that’s fine, he doesn’t have enough on his plate. 

“Yeah?” 

“Harvey’s coming back on Friday, make sure he’s got a spot set up in here.” 

“I’ll make Hasco do it, he’s the housing officer.” Trent must not like his tone, “I know who Hasco is, Parker. Just do what I fucking say.” 

Okay, he might be awful this year. 

“Sure, yeah, you got it. Anything else,” your highness? He added in his head. 

“Tell Paul I need to meet with him, this Ally shit is annoying. He needs to know what he’s committed to.” 

His girlfriend, he’s committed to his girlfriend. And since she’s a human being, she takes priority over a frat house but Trent can’t wrap his thick skull around the idea of it. 

“Got it.” 

God bless the woman that ever puts up with that.

—--------------------

Three sheets of notebook paper, that’s how long the shopping list was. 

Tarrent was prepared and that was appreciated. Instead of having to sit around while he scrambled to prepare something, when Peter knocked on his door and asked about the groceries all he was granted was a grunt and an arm shoving out crumpled printer paper. 

Peter and Ethan walked down the cereal aisle side by side, each had a half full cart. 

“So, I was thinking about the Salander sisters. You think they’d hate me if I went after both and took the one that chooses me?”

Peter grabs six cereal boxes off the shelf, tossing the stack in his cart, he crosses off another item on the list, He’s only got two and a quarter pages left, next time, he’s bringing the pledges. 

“Aren’t they twins?” 

Ethan corrects him, “Irish twins, there’s a difference.” His attention drifted to where his best friend’s pointing, “fruit roll ups, twelve of ‘em. Which one are you trying first?” Ethan shakes his head piling cardboard and throwing it in his cart. “As if it’s a question, obviously it’s Sara.”

“I thought you were more into Sam,” cause he swore he was, “oatmeal, four of each flavor.” 

Ethan speaks over his shoulder, quaker oats sailing, Peter catching each one. “Until she picked you to kiss during that stupid card game.” 

Peter remembers, he apologized to Ethan after too. Ethan wouldn’t hear it, it wasn’t Peter’s fault he was picked, and Ethan made sure he knew it. Sam kissed him, Sam chose him, and he wasn’t owed any real loyalty, they’d only chatted a few times at a few different parties. 

Still, that night had left a bad taste in Ethan’s mouth and she shot to the bottom of his list real fast. Peter had never spoken to her before that night, but Ethan had. And she still chose Peter. 

‘I wanted to tell her no but then I'm the asshole.’ 

‘Dude, forget about it. It’s not like you stepped on any toes, if anything, you got a hookup tonight.’ 

It was tempting, but it was an unspoken agreement that any girl the other one liked, was off limits. So, he never even tried. 

“If it helps, she was a bad kisser. It was wet.”

Ethan shudders, “not sloppy?” 

Peter doubles down, “wet.”

“Do you think Sara’s the same way? Cause I can’t do sloppy kisses.” Raising a finger, Peter corrects him, making his way to the dairy section. “Wet, Keznek, it was wet.” 

“If you think a kiss was wet, what are the chances she also-” 

Peter cuts him off, “no, we’re not going there.” 

“Boo, no fun, how much milk do we need?” 

“A gallon of literally everything.” 

“We’re going to be here forever, I have moves to make, Parker.” 

A snort, “oh yeah? What’s on the radar for tonight?” 

“I don’t know yet, I’m stuck in a grocery store. 

Ethan is such a whiner, he’d do anything you asked but was a martyr through and through. 

Peter’s got it the worst and he’s not complaining, he could, but it wouldn't do anything. He’s got triple the load Ethan has, all he had to do was sit back and make sure the chapter officers were doing their job. 

At least he helps pass the time, and cuts the job in half. 

“So, I hit on a lesbian today.” 

Ethan almost stops breathing, “no way, where at? You think I could get a copy of the security footage?” 

—-----------------

At his current point in time, Peter had no idea what time it was, and he was only sure of three things. 

He had late classes tomorrow and could sleep in, Hasco put on the weirdest movie known to man, he still can’t tell if it’s in english, and he was absolutely baked. It was a new level of toasted, his arms were like noodles on his sides, limp and lifeless. Peter swears he can hear his eyelids blink, or it was Tarrent eating sunflower seeds. 

Peter’s slump against the back of the couch between Ethan and Tarrent, on Tarrent’s right was Hasco. The first, and only, sign of life from Ethan was him slowly slouching more and more until he was leaning on Peter’s shoulder, he assumes it’s to ground him because he’s allowing it for the same reason. 

Hasco’s giggling madly, slapping on his knee while the other three are locked on the screen. 

“We are so fucking high, you know how I know?” 

Peter looks to Tarrent to answer for the crowd, he supplies a ‘hmph,’ between spitting kernels. 

“I just remembered this movie is in portuguese.” 

“Oh.” It’s all Peter could get out, somehow, he understands it more than before. Tarrent is impressively loud, “even if it was in ASL shit would suck. This is like The Fast and The Furious meets Twilight.” 

“Bro, I know! Isn’t it fucking sick?” 

Peter blinks, he can look but can’t see, zoned out in a world of blank space. Ethan wheezes on Peter’s left, even out of his mind he can’t miss a shot at Hasco, “fucking sick.” 

In two days it would be the real start of the year, once the first party of the year commenced, they would never stop. It always felt like there were a million people in the house when the year started, it goes from pledges to recruits and back to members. Then you have friends and girlfriends and sororities, every night there would be at least twenty people downstairs drinking. 

It was a rare moment for the frat house to be so quiet and everyone was enjoying it, the calm before the storm. Peter thinks he’s enjoying it, but he’s also surfing the ozone layer. 

“You guys wanna get pizza?” 

Tarrent is a fucking tank, it’s seriously impressive. 

“Do you know how much money we spent at the grocery store today? Fuck no, make a sandwich.” Ethan smacks his arm, “make it two, no, three, I want one too.” Peter’s so glad Tarrent’s playing nice tonight, he actually stands and nods at the couch crew, “my boys want a BLT?” 

Not that he needs to say it, but it was the best fucking BLT of his life. 

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

It was always a good day when you wake up before your alarm and realize you have a few more hours to sleep. Mornings like that make Peter feel more energized than eating a bag of chocolate covered espresso beans, a habit he has far too often. 

At ten thirty he couldn’t sleep anymore, throwing his sheets off him and standing with a yawn, scratching his thigh while his eyes watered. He would take a shower, hit up the dining hall with whoever lingered in the house still, then think about thermodynamics. 

His schedule, made while he was in the thick of a concussion from his spidey summer, made him sick. The classes alone made him want to eat a brick, but the days and times he chose fucked him up. His entire week was up and down. Monday he had two classes, Tuesday he had one, Wednesday he had none, Thursday he had one class and for god knows what reason, blocked his lab and lecture back to back on Friday. 

At least it was every other week, two Fridays out of the month he had nothing to do, which was pretty nice. With a big stretch and another yawn, Peter walked to his bathroom and started the shower, his boxers flying to the sink. 

The hot water felt good, his mind raced about the party the next night, how he’d be up most of the night moving things around, and how he had a lab-lecture combo. 

All he knew was that he had some fine opportunities coming up and he’d be dumb to have his bed empty tomorrow night. 

—-------------------

Belgian waffles were the only thing on Peter’s mind, the rest of his day could melt into whatever bullshit that needed to happen so he could carry on to another day. But first, he needed waffles. 

It was a whole bar, a set up of freshly made waffles and toppings galore. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, maple syrup, sprinkles, butter, chopped pecans, and that was just what was on his. 

Peter was double plating, two hands, two plates. Each one had two waffles dressed to the nines, Tarrent following behind with his own. 

“Wanna sit with Paul?” 

Yuck, he was at his girlfriend's table. Ally was nice and pretty cool, but everything he’s learned about her has been against his will. Sometimes she pulls the girlfriend card a little too much, and it really only annoys him when Paul has to drop everything for her. But, for the past two years he’s known her, he can say that Ally was a perfect fit for Paul. 

“Fuck no, that freshman is over there.” She was, when he looked back to confirm, their eyes locked. Peter wasn’t backing down, not after that last interaction. Her eyes focused in on him, he doesn’t know why but his knees felt weak, suddenly he thinks she’s a witch. It wouldn’t be far-fetched, she’s evil, hates men, and makes him feel weird things. Plus, he’s Spider-Man, so they could exist, right? 

It was a staring contest, until Ally caught on to her friend looking at something, when she turned her head to look back the girl stopped her. Reaching out and breaking eye contact, she played like she was in a daze, laughing at something Paul said. 

It was weird, she was weird. Peter couldn’t choose between staying away and getting closer. 

“-Are you even listening to me? God, bro, it’s chill if you like the freshman. You can talk to her, no one will care.” Peter was snapped back to life, “she’s weird and keeps showing up.” Plastic plates click against the table top, the chairs screeching to life. Tarrent flops down, scraping his teeth across his fork when he takes a bite. He’s got a terrible habit of talking while eating, “does she keep showing up or are you just noticing her?”

“I just met the girl, Bakner. I don’t even know her name, how could I notice her?” 

“Maybe cause you want to know her name, Parker.” 

Tarrent doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Sure, she may have caught his attention a little and sure, he might have invited her to the party with the intention of possibly getting into her pants. But that has nothing to do with wanting to know her name or anything. He doesn’t care about girls like that.  

Peter still misses his favorite lunch lady but the waffles were really good this morning. 

He pulls a Tarrent and talks while cheeking his bite, “she bumped into me, several times. And was mean about it, why would I want to know her?” 

“Maybe she likes you, ever think about that, dingus?” 

Well, not really. She doesn’t even know him, how could she like him? The school year just started, unless he’s got a stalker walking around… or a witch.

“Someone taught you the word maybe once and you haven’t stopped using it since.” 

A grin full of bacon, “maybe.” 

Peter can’t stop himself from asking, “why do you think she likes me?” Tarrent’s fork clatters to his plate, “knew it.” 

“Knew what?” 

“I knew you liked her.” 

“I don’t know her! She’s the one that- we’re talking in circles, Bakner!” 

Tarrent pats Peter’s shoulder, which he shakes off and mumbles insults about Tarrent’s IQ level. “You know what, Parker? I think this is the year you get a girlfriend.” 

Peter stares his friend in the eye while he chews and swallows, “eat shit, Bakner.” 

—---------------------

“Welcome to thermodynamics. This is a fast paced, no frills, no bullshit class. If you cannot handle that, you will be left behind. This is a hands-on class, and I have high standards for everyone in here. If you do not follow my rules, you’ll be excluded and shunned from the rest of us. I’m Dr. Octavius, I’ll be your professor for the next fifteen weeks and it is my honor to teach you the fun in thermodynamics.”

This guy was absolutely not fucking around, he was all business and execution. Or as Peter likes to call these people, too smart for their own good. He earns his respect immediately, he’s the type of teacher that would get under his skin and push him to his extreme limits. Those are his favorite kinds. 

“I want each of you to look at the person on your left and right,” the class pauses, but he encourages them to do so. Peter looks at the guys next to him, one looks like a deer in headlights, the other looks more like Peter, excited to be challenged. 

For a second he imagines what his reaction would be if he saw the freshman sitting next to him. It wouldn’t be possible, but he imagines how shocked he would be. And the annoyance, god, he’d be so annoyed. But a small, tiny, itty bitty, microscopic part of him would be glad to be entertained. 

She’s not even around and he’s annoyed thinking about her. 

Why was he thinking about her? Why is she in his mind? Why is he imagining his reaction to her? 

She’s a witch. No other explanation. 

Peter shakes her from his mind and refocuses. 

Dr. Octavius nods at the group, “yes, good, good commit them to memory,” A few people start chatting, and he seems all for it, until his hand raises and everyone silences. “Now, immediately forget them.” 

Even if it wasn’t audible, he could hear everyone choke.

“Because, thirty percent of you will not be here by the sixteenth. If you want to drop my class, do it by then, if not, you’ll be charged for the semester and I won’t hear your sob story.” 

Ice cold. This is the best professor he’s ever had, he has a few more to meet but no way they would compare. This guy could tell Peter to go lay in a bath of acid because he’s not worth the surface matter he’s wasting to exist and he’d lay down for him. 

“I hope everyone here knows what thermodynamics are, if not, you’ve been failed by everyone around you.” He studies the room, reading each face for a moment before smiling. Pressing a button in his hand, the projector turns on, the syllabus on the screen. 

“Any questions?” 

No one raises their hand.

—-----------------

If Peter was a rich man, and he really wished he was, he'd buy himself a nap today. Not that naps are something you can buy, but if he could pay someone to do his work for him then he could take a nap. Normally, that just means employing a pledge to the task, but he won’t have one for a few days. 

The frat pays him, which is pretty nice because it pays him more than he could make in any part time job. It’s hard to become a chapter officer, but when you make it, it’s so worth it. He’s a top dog on campus and in the house, it’s nice having power outside the suit.  

But, he couldn’t buy a nap and he had thirty two chapter handbooks to make, hopefully getting to skip out on the set up for the party the next night. He’d have to go out for booze tomorrow, but he was praying he wouldn’t have to shove furniture around. 

When Peter walked in the house door he could hear something happening in the kitchen and it wasn’t sounding good. Suddenly, Peter felt wide awake. Hasco was yelling at Booker, who was holding back his anger but the wall was faltering. 

Ethan was absolutely useless, holding a bowl of cornflakes to his chest while he watched the brewing flight. He nodded at Peter, then to Hasco spitting insults at a million miles an hour. “Fuckin sick,” the mocking never got old. 

Before he intervened he needed to know if he should, something he’s learned as a man and as someone in a frat, sometimes you just need to fight it out. 

Peter shook his backpack off and watched them bicker back and forth. It was more like a coked up Hasco on a tangent and a way too calm exterior but built with inner rage Booker listening and tightening his fist with each insult. Booker played hockey, he was an athlete on and off the field, meaning, he took all he could before exploding. 

“What’s happening?” Ethan’s in no rush to respond, drinking milk from the bowl. 

“Something that needs to happen.”  

Hasco’s about to get the absolute shit beat out of him, “he’s been screaming for five minutes, I think Booker’s gonna knock him out.” 

That’s fine with him but his blender’s right there. 

“Booker, don’t get his blood on my blender please.” It stops Hasco, but seals his fate. 

“Who-” raging bloodshot eyes on him, “who the fuck’s gonna get blood on the blender? Me? You think this fuckin guy can put his hands on me? You think he can fight me? You think any of you motherfuckers can take me down?” 

Hasco slaps the side of his face, “fuckin do it, pussy. I know you won’t, you’re a bitch just like your mom-” 

Peter and Ethan pull their head back in a hiss, the collison sounded like a crack. It was enough to send Hasco’s head spinning before he dropped, he was real silent real fast. 

Booker stood over him and pulled him up by his shirt, a raised hand in the air. “Don’t fucking talk about my mom, you don’t know shit about her and what she’s done for me.” 

Ethan points his spoon towards him, defending his point. “Facts, the mom card was too far, Hasco.” 

“I should beat your ass, but Parker said no blood on his blender.” 

“Thank you!” 

“Thank your white friend and apologize on my moms behalf,” when Hasco stays silent Booker lifts his hand a little, Peter moves around to see him wince in fear. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I was just heated man, you know how it is, it’s all crazy this time of year, cause all these new guys come in and my mind is all scrambled-” 

Ethan’s spoon points again, “that’s the coke.” 

“Hey! Fuck you man! If you wanna fucking go then we can go, motherfucker.” 

“You’re being held down by another man talking about beating my ass.” 

“Fuck all you! The only real one here is Parker, he’s a real friend, he has my back, he’s the only one here protecting me.” 

“I was protecting my blender,” Ethan shoves his elbow into his and mumbles, “health and safety officer,” he corrects himself, “and you, Hasco. It’s my job to protect everyone in the house. Do we need to settle this with a gulag or can it end here?” 

Booker’s over it, and Hasco needs a bump. 

“Let me up and we can hug it out,” and they do. Awkwardly slapping at each other’s back, Hasco giving him a “we all good brotha,” causing Peter and Ethan to wince again. 

“Don’t ever fucking say that to me.” 

“Parker! He’s still threat-” 

“Anything Booker deems racist is gonna get your ass beat, that’s a rule we signed in.” Ethan nods, “can confirm, I was there as witness.” 

“Simpson agreed? Of course he did, Polish motherfucker.” 

Ethan lost it, his shoulders shaking with his laugh. Hasco had something to say about everyone, last year after they butted heads, Hasco called him ‘plant fucker’ for six weeks and it never got old. Ethan laughing made Peter smirk, but he had to kill it before Hasco could catch him. 

“You know I love you, man! No more disrespect on your mom, you slapped the shit outta me. I feel like a bitch, I would’ve rather you punched me.” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” 

Hasco made a motion of his mind exploding, “wild man, you’re a wild man.” He jumps at the idea of something and looks around the kitchen rubbing his nose, “hey, uh, we all good here guys? I got some shit to do in my room.” 

Eyes are on Peter, he’s the one that makes the call. He assumes everything’s fine, Booker looks bored and Hasco’s running his tongue over his gums, eyes twitching to the staircase. 

“Cleared.” 

Hasco nods, “fuckin sick,” and slithers between Peter and Ethan, slowly walking to the staircase before running up them. Peter’s stating the obvious, but it needs to be said. 

“Oh, he needs a fucking rehab.” 

Booker shrugs, “I dunno, dude. I slapped him sober.” 

Ethan cleans his bowl in the sink, “slapped him into next week, that shit ricocheted off the cabinets.” Booker eyed Peter as he said, “I mean, he deserved it?” Peter raised his hands up, “I said it was cleared, you don’t have to explain or excuse shit.” 

He snapped his fingers and pointed at him, “Parker, you’re my fuckin guy. I gotta get to practice, but you’re my fuckin guy.” Peter waved him off, “you protected my blender, bro. Tarrent loves that thing.” 

Booker jogged away pointing at him, “my guy! Still my guy!” 

Ethan raised his eyebrows at Peter when they were left alone, “you’re gonna love me.” 

“What’d you do?” 

Ethan shrugs, “made use of my day off and printed those handbooks.” Peter feels like he could cry, his best friend really was one, he took one for the team and dedicated himself to hours in the library to do the brunt of the work. 

“God,” A finger stops him, “not done, I also got the folders and brackets from the supply store. All we need to do is staple, stamp and book em’.” 

“You’re the best person to ever exist and I don’t say it enough.” 

“Wanna sit on my balcony and smoke a backwood while we do it?” He can’t imagine a better scenario. 

Then wonders if the freshman smoked, and finds himself aggravated at the thought. Why was he still thinking about her? 

She’s a witch, she has to be. He pushes her away, and focuses on his friend. 

“I’ll cry right now, Keznek.” 

—-------------------

It was nice outside, Peter was comfortable in a hoodie and sweatpants, and so was Ethan. They slowly talked while they worked back and forth. Peter would staple the pages, Ethan would bracket them into the booklets, then Peter would stamp them. 

"You remember those info sheets Trent's 'new friend' got him?"

"Yeah, do you know who it is?"

Ethan hisses when he pinches his finger, “nah, I did find out it's a chick though." Even though they’re alone Ethan leans in and talks low, “and apparently it’s top, top secret. Like, no one can find out, ever. She has something on him.” Those pages are held too tightly to their chests, every fraternity in competition with each other no one dares share or spill. 

“How’d you find out?” 

“Simpson left his computer open, he had it on his notes app.” Peter blows a harsh breath, “how do you think she got it?”

“No idea, but that shit comes at a price. She wants something, and it’s gonna be something Trent can control.” 

There’s a lot he can control, everyone can think they’re the most manly in the house, but Trent owned the title. Peter doesn’t know why, but it makes him itch to find out. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but he has a weird tug that demands to be discovered. 

It was that same tug he felt when that witch looked at him today, and why is he thinking about her? Why is he still thinking about her, he doesn’t even know her name, and she’s mean. Was Tarrent right, was he just noticing her instead of her showing up? Has he been looking out for her? And why in the hell is he still thinking about her? 

He’s right, he has to be. She’s a fucking witch. 

Peter snaps out of it and stamps three books. “What if she’s just bullshitting? Is there any way to prove it’s real?” 

“She’s not and she has. She hacked their computers.” 

It’s blackmail, she needs something over the frat. It’s his job to protect the frat, from the personnel to the building. His guess is money, but the why is lost on him. If it’s frat money he’d find out, Trent would have to run it through him, and if not, he’d find it the next time he went through the books. 

“That’s so weird, and speaking of weird, you remember that chick that bumped into me?” 

Why was he talking about her? Why was he still thinking about her? It just came out, he didn’t even have anything to say. She’s a fucking witch.

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t know, nevermind.” 

Ethan shrugs, “alright. Wanna guess what Tarrent’s doing for hazing?” Peter reloads the stapler, it’s automatic and he feels like a king. “You know it’s my job to prevent hazing, right?” 

“No, it’s your job to prevent poor or dangerous hazing, and guess who makes that call?” 

“Are you saying the definition of poor and dangerous hazing is at my discretion?” 

Ethan teeter totters, “technically mine too, I have to make sure you’re doing your job.” Peter fills in the blank, “by letting hazing happen?” 

“Alright, look. It’s a right of passage, you did it, I did it, everyone in that house and the other fifteen did it. Generations of fraternities have done it dating back to three hundred and eighty seven B.C. Everyone does it, that’s all I'm saying.” 

Ethan looks up at him from the gold brackets he’s thumbing flat on the book, “I know you have…” he tries to find the right words, “higher morals than most of us, and I know you’ll know when to shut it down.” 

“I never said I wanted to stop it, I just meant we’re not gonna be the frat that kills a kid.” 

“Jesus, of course we aren’t, I just didn’t want you killing the vibe.” 

Peter scoffs, “oh, well that’s just insulting.” He can see the end of the tunnel, only eighteen books left. “So, tell me what he’s doing. Please say it’s something better than the drunk soccer match.” 

Ethan cackles, “fuck you, that’s gold. It’s happening for sure.” 

Peter can think of one better, “imagine a drunk obstacle course, like, one of those bounce house ones? But we can make it all manly, so they think it’s something easy but on the other side it’s like a fucking bootcamp.” 

“Railing sixteen beers and rope climbing a six foot wall,” the idea made him laugh just as hard as the soccer match. “That’s so sick, you’re sick for that.” 

Peter stamps three more and finishes for him, “so obviously we’re gonna do it, right?” Ethan nods, “absolutely we are.” 

It falls silent, both of them working together but enjoying the quiet. Peter likes that most about Ethan, since day one he’s felt comfortable around him. He can be himself around him and it’s never once been awkward, they just agree on everything. 

It’s weird, sometimes it feels like Ethan doesn’t care about him but that also makes him a better friend to Peter. He acts like he’s less involved than he is, like he knows that Peter pushes people away when they get too close. The only person closer to Peter than Ethan is his aunt. 

But Ethan pretends he doesn’t know that, and it makes their bond stronger. Ethan’s opinion means the world to him, anything he says is taken with a mountain of salt. And no judgment, never, ever judgment. It takes a lot for him to say it, but he’d trust him with his life. 

When they’re down to the last ten Peter clears his throat, “have you gotten anywhere with the Salander sisters?” Ethan shrugs, “I’ve been feeling this girl in my bio class, she’s pretty cool. I invited her to the party, she seemed into me, I think.” 

“Woah, the Ethan Keznek catching feelings?” 

“Easy, I had two classes with her. She seems like she’d be fun to hang with, I’m not trying to date her.” 

Peter spits it out before he can stop it, “Tarrent thinks freshman and I will end up together.” 

Why the fuck does he keep thinking about her? 

She’s a fucking witch, she has to be. 

“The entitled one?” Ethan knows he can’t get his mind off her, he brought her up twice. And each time he looked like he regretted it, but he doesn’t care enough to push it. 

“Yeah. But he’s kinda dumb, right?” Peter doesn’t even know her, he hates how she’s been popping up in his mind throughout the day.

“He could be, or he may be a clairvoyant genius that sees the future. Personally, I vote for the latter.” 

Proof he’s a best friend, giving Peter an out through a joke. 

“He’s majoring in physical therapy but he should be a conspiracy theorist.” 

Final five, Peter’s ready for dinner. “Wanna hit up the dining hall after this?” 

“God yes, I need lo-mein noodles so bad right now.” 

—------------

The table was rowdy, everyone yelling over each other. If women thought men interrupting them was bad, they should see five men hanging out together. 

“Remember when Booker slapped me?” 

Paul dropped his fork, “no, what, when?”

Tarrent’s holding the edge of his plate to his mouth as he shovels rice in. “That’s hilarious.” 

Ethan sighs dreamily, “yeah, it was awesome.”

“Yes, Hasco. It happened like, three hours ago.” 

“Ah, fuck! I always miss the best shit, this is about to be Ally’s problem.” 

“I was stretching a cheerleader's hamstrings, I didn’t miss out on anything.” 

Ethan drops his fork to point at Tarrent, making sure Peter was paying attention. “He’s bragging, make him stop.” 

“Bakner, stop bragging, some of us are more lonely than others.” His words focused more on Paul, the guy that’s been with the same girl for six years. Like, everyone feels so bad he’s missing out on fights because he’s too busy being in love. 

It’s actually disgusting to Peter. 

“Don’t blame me, you guys are the ones against church girls.” 

Hasco sneers, “cause they try to convert us, I refuse to willingly be beneath another man.” 

Ethan loves riling him up, “hey, you never know, God may be a woman.” Hasco gives him a pathetic look, “c’mon man, not even you believe that.” Ethan nods his head like he’s got a point, Paul looks like he’s sick. 

“That is our lord you’re talking about, he died for us.” Paul’s a devoted christian… only when he felt the need to be. 

Peter taps his chin, “isn’t premarital sex one of the things he died for?” 

“What my girlfriend and I do behind closed doors is not the lord's business. Or yours.” 

The table ooed, Peter nods impressively, Ally’s given him a backbone. He pushes away from the table, he’s stuffed and needs to put his plates away. He also needs to piss. 

No one notices his descent, Peter looks over the dining hall, it’s always empty for dinner. Breakfast and lunch seemed impossible with seating, but for whatever reason dinner was always empty. 

Dropping his plates in a bin he politely nodded at a group of ladies before turning back for the bathroom, mumbling a song under his breath that was stuck in his head. “... Another bottle in the brain. Another girl, another fight,” Peter hit the door open with his shoulder, finishing his mumbling. “Another drive all night.” 

Peter had that weird feeling again, the one he felt when he saw that freshman. And fuck, he’s thinking about her again. 

She’s a witch, a real fucking witch. 

Peter moved his shoulders while he washed his hands, the song replaying over and over. Swinging the door open with this foot, he mumbled to himself again. “.. another bottle in the brain,” 

A voice speaks up, “another girl, another fight.” He jumps, his eyes fall to the left, perched at a high top was the witch. Her mouth wrapped around a spoon, a cup of fro-yo in her hand. Tarrent was wrong, he wasn’t noticing her. She kept showing up. 

“Hey,” he doesn’t like how winded he sounded. Who the fuck was she? 

“Hello, Peter.” 

His heart stopped, no one calls him Peter, no one. Since day one it’s been Parker, when he was recruited he was only addressed as Parker and it stuck. It’s weird she knew what his first name was, his suspicions are adding up. 

He wants to ask how she knew his name, but it’s cliche, and he really doesn’t care. If he guessed, it was probably Ally. It’s still a bold choice that she used it, it definitely separated her from the crowd. 

“And you are…” Waiting for her to fill in the blanks, if he could find out her name he can banish all traces of her in his mind, like a demon. 

A smirk wrapped around her plastic spoon, it scraped against her teeth as she removed it. 

“Happy to have a civil conversation with you?” She thinks she’s clever, she’s not. 

“I’m sure you planned it, considering how you keep showing up around me.” That seems to tick her off, “no, you keep showing up where I already am.” 

“Now you’re just lying.” 

She raised three fingers, “scouts honor.” Peter looks around, “where are your friends?” 

Why is he still talking to her? She must have him under her spell. 

The witch hums, “can’t a girl get fro-yo alone?” 

“It’s a free country, babe. Do you, girl power, smash the patriarchy, all that stuff.” 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly misogynistic?” 

Peter looks up at his brothers, it still seems like his absence hasn’t been noticed. Her eye contact is insane, it makes his knees weak like this morning. It’s gross, her powers have taken over his cerebrum. 

“Just one, I think she doesn’t know what misogyny is.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up, “you’re mansplaining now?” Peter’s eyes look at her mouth when she takes another spoonful. “Has anyone ever told you you’re slightly difficult?” It’s like his words egg her on, “just one, I don’t think he knows what difficult is yet.” 

“Yet? For a person with no name you’re bold.” Normally flirting doesn’t feel like this, he feels like he has to keep up with her. Peter hates that it feels like she always has the upper hand. 

She makes him feel like he could go all night.

The witch proves she’s difficult, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early class.” She jumps out of her seat, for the fourth time she’s left him thinking about her. 

“Have a goodnight, Peter.” 

“Yeah, you too.” He’s weary and doesn’t trust her. 

Her back turned on him as she walked away, his eyes dropped to her ass and tilted his head impressively. He can’t deny a nice sight. 

Too bad she’s a witch. 

When he makes it back to the table it’s unnoticed, except for Tarrent, he gives Peter the smallest hint of a smile.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

It was the day he’s been preparing for all week. The official start of the year, he wouldn’t be able to get too loose tonight, he’d be too busy kicking out anyone puking, fighting or excessively crying. 

He also had a lecture and a lab today. He hates himself. If he plans it right, he’d have time to take a nap, not that he would, but the idea of one made him feel better. Speaking of naps, he still needs to set up a bed for Harvey in the chapter room. 

Rolling over, Peter picked up his phone and went straight for twitter. It was his morning news, scrolling for a little until a headline caught his eye. 

‘Spider-Menace’s scheduled slump.’ He clicks the link, it opens and he rolls his eyes, he should’ve expected it. 

‘Spider-Menace is no longer patrolling the streets nightly, don’t worry criminals, you won’t be out of a job anymore. To the real heroes of the city, the citizens, we bid ado to the masked vigilante. For the second year, Spider-Menace picked up activity during the summer months, and has plans to become a rare sight during the months that follow. 

It’s unsure what our ‘friendly’ city destroyer is up to, but we do know the ones trained for their job, the NYPD, are prepared for any threat. For more on Spider-Menace, download our app to be the first to know exclusive news updates.’ 

Just like usual, the Daily Bugle was dumb as shit. 

Peter Parker had shit to do, a life to build. Spider-Man didn’t pay the bills, Peter did. It doesn’t mean choosing himself over a daunting responsibility was easy, the first year he stressed himself so thin he lost his abilities. 

No strength, no healing, no heightened listening. He needed glasses for the first time in years, and for a second he swore his asthma came back. 

Needless to say, it freaked him the fuck out. He’s always viewed Spider-Man as a thing he had to do, the great responsibility his uncle Ben reminded him of. And when he lost it, he realized how much he wrapped himself into his alter ego. 

When Peter lost Spider-Man, he lost himself. And he swore if he got his powers back, he’d build a life for Peter outside them. 

And he did. He has been. And no matter what his uncle told him, he knows he’d be damn proud of him for doing it.

Peter pulls at the chain around his neck and looks at the ring on it, it was Ben’s wedding ring. May gave it to him when he turned eighteen, she said he had a dream and needed him to have it. He’s worn it every day since then. 

Bored of twitter he makes the switch to instagram, opening his messages and responding to the videos he’s been sent. For whatever reason he thinks about the witch, he wonders if he could find her from Ally’s page. He probably could, but it feels like cheating. 

Starting his day the same way, he walks to his bathroom yawning and pulling his boxers off. Starting the shower and wasting the time waiting for it to heat up by brushing his teeth, tugging at the front of his hair with a grunt. 

He needs a haircut. 

He should get one before the party. 

He also needs to buy booze. 

And two fucking classes, that fucking guy really was a Spider-Menace. 

‘Half lab, Peter. Half lecture.’ He thanks his own mind for the gentle reminder. The shower feels nice, it always does. On his bad days, the days where everything is too much it’s his safe place. He could stay in the shower for hours, the rushing water calms him, even when it turns ice cold. 

They don’t happen often, but it’s debilitating when they do. He spends his day hiding, on one really bad day he was curled up on the floor of the shower with his hands pressing into his ears as hard as they could, trying his best to block everything out and it wasn’t working, nothing was working. He remembers sobbing, praying to any God that would listen to help him. No one heard him. 

But that was last year. He had an episode over the summer, and as much as she didn’t want to leave him alone, he begged May to leave. Her walking around, or even sitting on the couch was too much. He could hear the fabric move underneath her, he could even hear her breathe. 

It took hours, but when he was defeated and went from hearing the city to a low, constant ring he was ready to sleep. He’d be okay in the morning, sometimes that’s the only thing that gets him through it. He called May and apologized, and told her she could come back to her own home. She laughed at him and said ‘it’s your home too,’ and that made him feel better than a shower ever could. 

But today wasn’t one of those days. Today, he was making it a good day. 

—--------------

Peter’s good day took a small dip when he had to skip breakfast. And by skipping breakfast, he means all he had was a fat spoonful of peanut butter and an apple to go. He forgot to refill his water before leaving and nearly choked to death on the glue in his mouth. 

Every dog in the world had gained his sympathy. 

But, today was a good day. Especially when he was seated next to a smoking hot chick, he wasted no time in casually looking her over, committing details to think of rather than stare. A black skater skirt exposed a tattoo of Medusa that took up her entire thigh, a white shirt with a Vans logo in the center, it was obvious she cut the sleeves herself. 

She was wearing a black bralette underneath, she was flat chested and he didn’t mind one bit. They suited her, she seemed too cool for him. She looked like she would ruin his life and he’d love every minute of it. 

He wasn’t wasting any time, “first time here?” 

The girl winced, he did too the second he said it. 

“That’s your opening line, really? Are you proud of that?” 

Peter shook his head, “I regretted it the second I said it. Usually I’m way cooler, but pretty girls make me nervous.” 

The girl smiles, she has teeth to envy. “Smooth, did you plan that whole thing?” He didn’t, but if she believes it he’s not one to ruin dreams. 

“Maybe things are working out in my favor, like sitting next to you.” 

There’s a gleam in her eye, “you’re a flirter, and that makes you dangerous.” Peter might be laying it on thick here, but she may like it. “Hm, do you like danger?” Her eyebrow quirks, “do you?” 

Oh, he wants her. 

Peter extends his hand out, “Parker, nice to meet you.” The girl shakes his hand, it’s ultra soft. “Nice to meet you, Parker.” 

What the fuck is up with girls not sharing their names? What’s he supposed to do, call them babydoll? 

“Any plans tonight?” 

“Your party, what else would I be doing?” 

Peter’s celebrating on the inside, she’s just been booted to the top of the list. 

“Glad to hear it, if you’re okay with it I’d love to play a game of pong with you.” 

The girl holds a hand to her chest, jewelry covering her fingers and wrist. 

“I’d be okay with it, not sure my girlfriend would be.” 

Peter’s entire world collapses, he meets the girl of his dreams and he’s the furthest thing away from her type. She seems overjoyed to share the news, the defeat on his face is the highlight of her day. When he takes a good look at her he’s reminded of someone else. 

“Is your name…” They say at the same time, “Lily?” 

“I was waiting on that one, handsome. Rose told me all about you, I had to get two for oh.” 

He has to take that one on the chin, “you live up to the hype, Lily.” She’s happy with his words, “same to you, Parker.” 

Peter plays it cool when the lecture starts, he’s trying to make it a good day. But all he can think about are the witches' words. Maybe he really has lost his frat boy edge, so far his only prospects have been two lesbians and a freshman. 

And just like that he has a burnt taste in his mouth, because he somehow rounded his thoughts back to her. 

She’s fucking evil, and she’s a witch.

—--------------

Peter’s standing at the edge of the kitchen looking over the liquor on the counter. It’s an impressive haul, he doesn’t think they have enough coolers and fridges for all the beer. The island would be spread out with all the bottles, mixers, cups, and as tradition calls, jungle juice. 

Tarrent is running around like a mad man, screaming at everyone but Peter to ‘fucking do something!’ Hasco’s preparing in his room and no doubt Trent’s joined him. Paul’s coming late due to Ally, no one’s shocked. Leaving Booker and Nick to follow every command from Tarrent. 

Peter should help out, and he will later, but he’s got to take a shower. He got the haircut he needed and he can feel little hairs poking into his neck, plus, he’s not sure what the night could bring. 

“Give me ten minutes to shower and I’ll help you guys, where’s E?” Booker shrugs, Nick’s sweating like a whore in church and Tarrent pauses to point and laugh. 

“Ha! Parker’s about to go wash his balls.” 

Peter squints at him, “yeah, girls tend to like that.” 

“Yeah- sure, whatever you say, buddy.” Nick looks between everyone’s face while he slowly asks, like everyone is scared of the answer. 

“Do you… Do you not wash your balls?” 

“Showering is a scam made up by Dove soap. People say you only need to shower like, once a week.” 

Peter shakes his head, “no, that’s not… Tarrent you work out all the time, I can’t believe I need to tell you, but you gotta wash your sack. In general and especially before you hook up, imagine a cheerleader after four days of practice and no shower asking you to munch down on her.” 

Tarrent is a different breed, “that’s the difference between us, Parker. I enjoy the musk.” 

Peter gags, Booker says, “man, that’s nasty.” Nick’s actually gagging, he’s got the weakest stomach to exist. 

“That’s what separates you boys from us men.” 

Nick whines through another gag, “I don’t wanna be a man, Parker, don’t let him make me a man.”

—-------------

Peter’s quiet as he gets ready. 

His frat shirt looks good, he’s not one to fawn over his body, but he can’t help but nod impressively at his build. His shirts tighter this year, evidence of hard work. His haircut is nice, it’s a little shorter than he normally goes but he’s not sure when he’d get time to go again, so he wanted some wiggle room. 

Even if it was bad no one would see it, at this point he feels naked without his snapback. Peter tucked his necklace into his shirt, he hates when girls ask him about it. He understands they need an ice breaker but it’s the worst one to bring up. 

Brushing down his jeans and making sure his Nike’s were clean, he was ready for the night to start. He doesn’t know how he did it, but Tarrent had set up the entire kitchen by himself, snapping his fingers at Peter the second he saw him, requesting help for moving the couch. 

Peter’s hands gripped at the edge of the couch, nodding at Tarrent, “ready?” They lift it in one go, moving to set it against the wall, then do the same to the other one, and the chairs. All that was left was a giant open space, couches and chairs were free game, but it made more space for more bodies. 

“Make sure the keg fridge is working, I’m gonna go wash my balls.” 

At least he took the advice.

Peter heads to the garage with a plastic cup and pulls at the keg tap, it takes a second and foam rushes out, then ice cold miller light. It was a small gimmick Peter made when he was pledging and he swears to this day that’s what got him sworn in. 

He bought an old fridge off a grad student and emptied it out, threw a keg in and sawed a hole in the front to feed a tube and the tap. It was genius, everyone loved it. Peter chugs the beer and tosses the foam, they’ve got an hour until people start showing. 

Peter wonders when the witch will show up, will he be able to feel her presence before he sees her? It’d be a nice warning but he doesn’t have the best control at gaging people he doesn’t know that well yet. 

He needs to stop thinking about her, and fuck, he needs to make that bed for Harvey before Trent snaps his neck. Racing around for sheets and pillows, Peter opens the chapter door and sets up the pull out couch, he’s not a homemaker by any means but he’d be fine to sleep here. 

“Oh good, I was making sure you were doing your job.” 

Peter jumps, turning to look back at Trent. “I mean, not really my job, but sure.” 

“You’re testy this year, don’t challenge me in front of Harvey, I need his respect.” Wow, the first time Trent ever admitted he needed something. Even if Peter doesn’t like him, he can respect his dedication to proving he could truly run the frat. 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Peter salutes to his president, it makes him break his rough exterior, he’s nervous. 

“That’s more like it, Parker.” 

—----------------

“I think Harvey’s here.” 

Peter moved to stand next to Ethan on his balcony, looking down at a Mercedes pulling into the driveway. “Yeah, that’s him.” His best friend scoffs, “isn’t it shit how the richest kids don’t appreciate what they have the most?” 

“The fuck are you talking about, Kez? Don’t you have CFO daddy money?” 

Ethan’s sharp, “don’t you have dead parents money?” 

It went silent, both shocked he said it. Until they start laughing, if anyone else had said it, it would be in poor taste. When Ethan says it, he’s laughing with Peter, it’s like he shares the massive trauma with him. 

“And dead uncle, check cleared the second after I turned twenty one.” 

“That life insurance pays out, doesn’t it?” 

Peter nods, breaking from the joke for a second. At the time when Ben had created it and fed into it, it was rare to have such a good plan. 

“Oh yeah, he had awesome fucking benefits. My aunt still gets pension checks, he’s been dead for eight years.” 

“No shit? That’s pretty fucking sick.” 

“And not that they had any obligation to, but his company paid for the entire funeral.” 

Peter doesn’t open up much, but it’s casual with Ethan. Even so, he doesn’t like showing his cards, it was minor, but he’s said more than enough. 

“Hey! You, um…” Peter trails off when he relights the joint, the flame expanding before shrinking back down. His voice goes deep when he talks through an exhale, “got any plans with bio chick?” 

“Nah, I’m just gonna play it cool. We have the semester together, too much too fast and it’s a dumpster fire.” 

True fucking that. Obsessed Olivia ruined the first half of his second year, after that, he swore he wouldn’t hook up with a classmate before a two week period. (Unless he counts the lesbians, and he does not, because it’s not happening.) 

“That’s so real, you’re so real for that.” 

“I’ve been enlightened, I went to a sweat lodge retreat this summer and my third eye has been opened.” 

Peter feels sick, “that’s the most rich kid shit I’ve ever heard.” Ethan smacks his arm, “I know how busy you are in the summer, otherwise I would’ve invited you.” Sometimes he feels like Ethan gives him a wink, wink, nudge, nudge look, but he’s also slightly paranoid and Ethan’s usually high. 

“Oh. Damn. So sad I missed that.” It was monotone, and Ethan waves him off. “Sure, make fun of me now, but next year you’re coming and you’ll love it.” 

“No, I need water. I’ll die.” 

“I mean, you get water, dude. They just suck all of it out of you first and push you to the brink of death and delusion until you give into your ego and admit defeat because you’d do anything for a drop of water.” 

Peter stares at him in horror. 

“It’s awesome, dude.” 

The boys turn their heads at a footstep on the deck, Harvey Gyun in his Burberry glory. He pushes aviators up to his hair, arms open wide in greeting, like he was about to tackle them. 

“What’s up, you short dicks?” 

Harvey’s a cool guy. It’s pretty surface level with him, he’s a rich asshole, only because he doesn’t know any better. But he still treats you well. 

Peter could put up with him snapping at a waitress if it meant he was getting a free two hundred dollar meal, and he has. Several times. 

Peter shouts out, “the king is back!” Harvey nods to the clapping, “that he is, that he is. How about you princesses bow for me?” 

He's an alum. You do what they say, kidding or not. 

The chapter officers bow at his request, Harvey giggles and rubs his hands together. “I forgot I have that power now, I’m gonna fuck with Simpson so hard. Be honest, how freaked out was he about me coming?” 

As much as he didn’t like Trent he promised him he’d make him look good. 

“Not bad, he was actually pretty chill.” Ethan doesn’t need to understand the bluff to back it, it’s his job as best friend. 

“More excited to show you he’s ready for this, you did good at preparing him last year.” 

Harvey can smell bullshit a mile away, but knowing the officers were dedicated to their president speaks volumes. The frat will be just fine without him. 

“Good backing, boys. Daddy taught you well. Finish that,” he points at the joint, “and meet me downstairs. We need a toast before the year starts.” 

Harvey Gyun has a kind of energy Peter’s never seen before. “Yes, sir.” Harvey kisses his teeth, rubbing at his lawline, Peter clocks his watch. It’s sixty grand. 

“Such good boys.” 

When the coast is clear, Ethan turns to Peter with a bit lip and a whimper. “I hate how much I loved that.” It’s not Peter’s preferred voice, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what he means. 

“Yeah, good boy makes a man feral.” Peter passes the joint Ethan’s way, “kill it.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good boy.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

—--------------------

Peter looks around the room at his small group of brothers. When everyone else joined in, it’d be a blended family. But no one could ever be as close as these six guys, they’ve been through it all together. 

He’s proud of himself and everybody in the room. 

Three years. They’ve made it three years and as dumb as he’s always thought it was, even with all their minor grievances, he’s made friends for life. Even if they fall out of touch for a few years, he'll be at the wedding and the funeral. 

“I won’t lie, it feels weird not hosting freshman Friday this year. But you fuckers have made it three years in and I couldn’t be prouder in my choice of men to recruit. Tonight, we party, we mistake, we regret and we have fun. And- I think Simpson’s the best president you could have.” 

Trent visibly relaxes, everything he’s been praying for came to fruition. Harvey must have known he wouldn’t be able to do any of those things if he was paranoid of being watched all night. Harvey raised his shot glass and everyone did the same, taking a second to clap Trent’s shoulder before addressing the group.

The group chanted as one, “Sig Nu!” 

Shot glasses double tapped on the counter, tequila was a bold choice. It was just the thing he needed for the night to start. Ethan’s eyes on the clock, he nudges Tarrent. 

“Booker, Nick, collectors fee.” 

They leave to stand guard outside the door, nodding at a forming line. Trent leaves with Harvey, Tarrent goes to set up the music that Hasco will take over once he’s done getting a fix. Ethan’s yelling at Hasco through the bathroom door about ‘not getting too coked up’ and Hasco biting back with a ‘fuck you!’ 

Peter shakes his shoulders and takes a step, Tarrent stops him with a hand on his chest. His voice lowered, looking around so no one would hear. 

“Talk to the freshman. I mean it, Parker.” 

It always circles back to her.

Witch, witch, witch, witch. 

“You’re delusional.” 

“Maybe I am, or maybe you trust me and talk to the girl.” 

Peter wants to correct him, inform him she’s a witch because he can’t get her out of his mind. But the real reason she was a witch was because she made Peter want to talk to her more. 

And that’s not who he is. 

So, she has to be a witch. 

Right?

YOUR FIRST WEEK.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH

It may have been the first day of the year, but the cafeteria was buzzing. 

Breakfast in the food hall didn’t feel this busy on a normal school week. It seemed like everyone was sitting with their friends sharing a breakfast burrito or an orange, catching up from summer break. You were entertaining your friend group talking about a summer vacation and part time job you took up to save up spending cash for the school year. 

(And leaving out the real source of cash- it’s cheating and you have to hide your eyes from Noa.)

Five people were at your table. 

Ally Storm, dating Matt Paul of Sig Nu, second and third year roommate. 

Sarah Adams, nursing student and never around.

Prince Otto, three years in and major undeclared. 

Natalie Fieldman, roommate your freshman year, art major. 

And Noa Carter, computer science superfreak. 

The group talked over each other, then quieted down when nine hit. Everyone except you, Ally and Prince went to class. Leaning in when she spoke, you and Prince strained to hear, unaware she’d be spilling secrets.

“All that talk about this summer and you don’t even bring up Harvey?” 

Harvey was the best well kept secret you had, he graduated last year and was an official alumni of Sigma Nu. You’d kept hooking up all summer, before parting ways when you moved back for college, keeping the door open so when he visited there was always an option. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Harvey Gyun? I need when, where, why and what, right now.” 

Holding up a hand you raise a finger at each point, “like three weeks before he graduated, my dorm or his room at a party, to have fun with zero commitment, and Ally would’ve never known if Matt didn’t see me sneaking out of his room at like, five am.” 

Prince sucked his teeth, “he’s a prick, he said he was only sleeping with me.” 

“Oh, what the fuck.” 

Prince was seeing him too? Ally slammed her hand over her mouth, it’s how you felt. 

“Double dipping bitch.” 

You shrug, “you gotta respect a man’s hustle sometimes, Prince.” 

Ally reached a hand out on the table, silently demanding attention. “You know who’s hustling will earn my respect?” A hand patted your shoulder, “our friend here, and it’s currently recruiting season at the frat house, thirty two new boys introduced.” 

Your eyes bug out, “thirty two, what the fuck? How are they keeping count this year?” You could be an actress if you tried.

“Apparently, twelve will be cut by the second week. Then hazing starts, so we’ll scope it out next week and make our bets.” 

“Prince, please pick a winner this year.” 

Green hair swayed when he shook his head, arms crossed. “Nope, I got a thing for the underdog.” 

Ally grinned up at her boyfriend when he took a seat next to her, three breakfast burritos on a plate. Your eyes flashed up for the rest of the frat, scanning the food lines you counted heads. Aaron, Keznek, Hasco, Bakner. Trying not to let the disappointment show you looked back at Ally, talking quicker than lightning to her boyfriend, who definitely wasn’t listening as he scarfed burritos down. 

Looking at the time you frown, you had an appointment with your class advisor and a shitload of books to rent and buy. Standing, you look over to the coffee bar, having enough time you grab another cup and go. 

You rattle your paper cup as show and hitch a near empty bag over your shoulder. “Meeting with my advisor, have a lovely first day my friends.”  Matt gave an extra loud goodbye as you walked off, sending him a middle finger behind your back. Saying quick ‘excuse me’s’ as you passed through the crowd, doing your best to avoid shoulders. 

Approaching the small, self-serve coffee cart you open your cup, then see a ‘please use a new cup each time!’ sign and followed instructions, grabbing a piping hot pot of coffee, full of caffeine and loaded up.

Steam billowed over your fingers as you filled the cup up, peering over the assortment of milk and sugar you grin at your pick of the litter. 

Looking over to your left when someone stands next to you, you feel your heart race. Swiping his card at checkout and sharing conversation with the line worker, you’ve never seen anything more attractive. You allow yourself to imagine him handing his card to a waiter at dinner, a dinner he asked you out to. 

Even more handsome than the last time you saw him, a secret crush. 

Last year he had broken up a fight between some twins that were later kicked out the frat, watching him tear them apart and slam the bigger one to the ground as the other was held back by Keznek, made something click in your brain and suddenly you had your eye out for Peter Parker everywhere you went. 

The comedic irony being you’ve never spoken to him, fairly sure he doesn’t even know you exist. Flying under his radar for two years, last year boosting you with confidence with your hookup partners, you promised this was the year of going after what you want. 

And you wanted Peter Parker. 

Snapping the lid you turn to leave, sliding sideways between two tables. About to cross by the table you were just sitting at, you look down at your shoe, losing balance and shoulder checking the person next to you, quickly apologizing. 

“So sorry!” 

The universe had your back, who else did you bump into other than your crush himself? 

Brown hair hidden under a snapback, a heather gray t-shirt with red details, his fraternity logo on the corner of his chest and a full piece on the back. Brown eyes with a honey ring looked at you, for a moment you felt your chest tighten. Peter Parker was about to talk to you, it felt like your tongue went thick, until his eyes hardened and looked at you with disgust. 

A sneer, “fucking freshman.” 

What a prick, it was a tap and you apologized. He wasn’t the person you’d hoped he’d be, it was a shame he was too cute.  “I hope you fucking choke.” You bark at him, words spilling before you could think, then bolting.

Peter’s eyes go wide at your statement, whizzing by a table and up the steps you leave the dining hall. Stomping away, like your harsh steps could be proof for the discontent you felt. It felt somewhat satisfying, because you felt him watching you all the way out. 

It may have not been what you liked, but there was no way Peter Parker wouldn’t know who you are after today. 

—-----------------------

Shaking your leg and tapping the heel of your foot on the linoleum you look around, arms crossed as you rope over your future. The easy years are over, it’s all about focusing on your major now. 

Your advisor is nowhere to be seen, you can’t imagine how many people she’s seeing this week. Eyes catching the inspirational posters in her office, they’re cheesy at best, but damn if they don’t make you feel slightly proud of yourself for getting this far. 

Gripping your coffee cup, you look at the cafeteria logo and grimace. 

Your meet cute was more like a meet ugly, but maybe he was having a bad day? It’s not like you were all sunshine and roses, the start of the school year sucked, and if you knew anything about last night, he was probably hungover. Unlike you, because you knew the consequences of your actions, you chose to stay in no matter how hard Ally had begged. 

‘C’mon, please?’ she dragged out her ‘e’ and gave you puppy dog eyes. 

‘Tempting, but no.’ your bed was extremely comfortable underneath you. 

‘Please? I don’t wanna go alone.’ if you didn’t know Ally as well as you do you might have given in, but you knew she was full of bullshit. 

‘I’m not getting out of bed, dressing, and going to sit in a loud ass frat house while you practice making babies with your boyfriend.’ 

Argument proved right the next day when she arrived back at the dorm at six in the morning, makeup smeared and a memory of a wild night. The only thing shared before she fell into her bed and passed out for the next two hours was, ‘why did you let me do that? You suck.’ 

Blinking out of the fog when the door opens, you’re greeted by the same advisor you’ve had for the last two years. “Halfway there, kiddo.” Grinning at her words, scared, but prepared for the next step. Mrs. Caliban swayed her hips as she walked to her desk, sitting in her chair and pushing her glasses to her hair. 

“Let’s figure out what books you really need, hm?” 

Settling into your seat and crossing your legs, holding your knee in place with your palms. 

“I’m ready for some of that Mrs. Caliban magic.” 

Watching her look over your classes you appreciate how hard she’s working, crunching numbers and using her knowledge as proof of purchase she tsks as she looks over your requirements log. 

“Half of these you won’t use, my advice? Friend up with a sucker who buys one and use theirs on the rare or off chance you actually need it.” 

Your heart soaring when she gives you your new sheet, initialing on her copy and stopping yourself from bouncing in your seat. You’re getting her a care package, you don’t care what she says. She’s your guardian angel that just saved you six hundred bucks and secured your ski tip this December. 

“Mrs. Caliban, you just did wonders for me, you have no idea.” 

You can’t tell if she’s blushing but her response makes you think she is. 

“The miracles are why I do it, kiddo. Now, if you don’t mind, I have thirty seven others to make today.” 

You caught the hint, scrambling from your seat and hooking an empty bag around your shoulder, prepared to be filled with less books than you were prepared for. How crazy. 

Mrs. Caliban’s voice called out your last name before you could open the door, “I have a good feeling about you, I think it’ll be your year. I’m proud of you.”

And damn if that doesn’t make your eyes water. 

“I’m counting on it now, Mrs. Caliban. Don’t be wrong.” 

Her face tells you you have nothing to worry about, it’s an unamused expression. 

“Tell me, baby. When have I ever been wrong?” 

You can’t think of one. 

—--------------

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face, thumbs moving as quickly as possible across your keyboard. It was already planned for, and it was going to happen no matter what, but what your advisor just did for you tied the bow. And gave you some fun money.

‘Guess who just saved $600 and is DEFINITELY going on the ski trip?’ 

Ally’s response was immediate.

‘telling matt rn so he can secure the spot. SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS!!!!’ 

Butting your hip against the bar doorknob, you swung the door outwards and stepped outside, your eyes adjusting to the light. Blinking quickly, you peered up and took a wide step towards the right, heading to the bookstore. 

‘Dude, you have no idea. Mrs. Caliban is a fucking hero.’ 

‘i will give her my life for making it possible for this to happen.’ 

‘you have no idea, i was about to be so miserable with no other girls there.’ 

‘Prince is close enough.’ 

Suddenly, he has something to say. The group chat was his idea but it’s really just you and Ally talking to each other while Prince reads it and randomly jumps in. Peeking up and approaching the line for the bookstore, which wrapped around the building you looked back down at your messages. 

‘Hey, popping in to say a few choice words.’ 

‘Fuck you.’ 

You heart reacted his message, biting your lip in a silent giggle. Ally laugh reacted, which made Prince follow up with a middle finger emoji. Forgetting how close you were to the line, and lost in the excitement of saving money and going on a ski trip you lose focus and crash into the person in front of you. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you and I’m sorry!” 

And, oh fuck, you recognize that shirt. It was ingrained in your mind that morning. If you thought he wasn’t going to forget you earlier then you’ve just signed it into law, he’d never forget you now. 

It’s proven when he hits you with the same insult from earlier, you don’t know why it annoys you so much, maybe it’s the assumption. Or maybe it’s because it should be obvious that you weren’t a freshman. 

“Want a tip? Look where you’re walking.” He says it with a bitter laugh, like he’s just so funny. 

Peter Parker seemed like a nice guy. You didn’t know him, sure, but when you watched him at parties he seemed nice and respectful. And sure, you get his discomfort but only to a certain level. You did break his personal space twice, but him berating you and making you feel like shit just because you weren’t paying attention was a dick move.

It was an accident, both times. And you apologized profusely, at this point it’s on him to not accept the apology and be bitter. It says nothing about you and everything about him. So, it’s only fair if you call him out on his bullshit and state the obvious, he was a dick that spewed too many pet names. 

It reeked of condescending and you didn’t have time for it. Maturely, you spun your back on him and redirected your attention on your phone. 

Immaturely, Peter asked if you backed down, thinking you couldn’t win in a pissing contest with him. 

You kept reminding yourself it spoke more about him than yourself, until you really didn’t understand the anger so you just have to ask. 

This message was sent privately. 

‘What the fuck is Parker’s problem and who hurt him?’

‘sig nu parker? i dunno, why?’ 

‘He’s a dick. Is he normally a dick or has he singled me out to be his hate train?’ 

‘why is parker picking on you?? no, he’s very nice. what did u do?’ 

‘I bumped into him twice and he keeps calling me freshman :(‘ 

‘well… u better kiss and makeup cause you guys are airplane buddies on the trip.’ 

You stare at your screen with an open jaw, Mrs. Caliban was wrong, it was a terrible year and it literally just started. 

‘Oh you’re fucking with me, right?’ 

��... right, Ally?’ 

‘😶 ummmm i would lie, but there’s no point.’ 

‘Oh my god, take one for the team and just sit with me. You’ll survive without Matt for four hours.’ 

‘i would. i swear i would, but we already bought the seats, speaking of… i was praying for a miracle and pre-bought your seat soooo. 😬’ 

‘And Prince wasn’t a good enough option????????????????????’ 

‘ok, princess. to be FAIR we didn’t know you hated each other so…’ 

‘plenty of time to kiss and makeup tho!!!’ 

Feeling safe enough to turn around, you ease when he’s got his focus on his own phone. Safely avoiding each other, you can breathe better. 

‘Just so you know my current situation, he’s actively hating me so you kiss and makeup that.’ 

Until your shoes hit his, and he hits you with a cocky grin that sends your heart skipping. It’s unfair he’s so attractive, he can’t be mean and hot, they cancel out. Unless it’s on him, because then it’s down right tempting and frustrating. 

“This one’s on me, sweetheart.” 

Knowing you’ll have to keep the peace for at least three months makes it doable, and if you can keep it cool, then you could avoid each other peacefully. Until a five hour flight; with him, you’re rounding up. 

Peter’s offer makes you question his character. He went from hating you in a second to.. dare you say flirt? Yet again insinuating you’re a freshman, you were about to correct him but stopped. No use, he’d figure it out soon enough. He’d also find out his flight partner soon enough, and if you thought you were unhappy with the news, you couldn’t wait to see him blow up. 

You could see a backup plan written on his face. His attitude flipped in a second, he went from displeased to charming quicker than you’ve ever seen. 

It’s not right how much you wanted to give in, but you wouldn’t be so easy, especially after he’s been so mean. 

Calling him out on his bullshit, you could see he was humbled a bit. Not expecting his play to be announced step by step. What made it better was gaining the upper hand on him, this time you sent him away second guessing himself. 

Smirking, you pull your phone back out. 

‘Nvm, thought it over, Parker seems fun.’ 

‘oh. so he flirted with you.’ 

‘Now, why would you even say that?’ 

‘cause i know you, lol. also, he’s a tough guy to hate. it’s something about him.’ 

Well, you’ll just have to figure that out yourself. 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH

The science building smelt like chemicals, a faint mixture of formaldehyde and bleach. It was oddly comforting and felt homey. Even if you felt like everyone around you was smarter than you, it didn’t feel intimidating. Everyone supported everyone in this hall. 

Your feet subconsciously match to the beat of the music flowing through your earphones, smiling at a person sharing the hallway when you curve around the corner. You liked biology just fine, so much so you’re minoring in it. 

But you could also admit that this particular semester was going to drag on. Field botany just wasn’t your thing. Plants were incredibly boring to you, they always have been. Save the planet, produce more trees, stop cutting them down, produce more oxygen, all those things. 

At the end of the day, learning about plants sucked the life out of you and you were feeling very neutral about the class. You followed a classmate through the door, grazing over the mostly empty room. It was smaller than you expected, you had the pick of the litter. 

Middle, middle row was the superior spot. Close enough to pay attention, but far enough to not gain it. Sitting in the center left you throw your bag in the seat next to you and start to set things up, pulling out your laptop, the class syllabus and a pen. 

Putting your headphones away and sitting straighter, you focus on the whiteboard, in rainbow bubble letters is your professor's name, ‘Dr. Thatcher.’ It’s cute, you grin at the small hint of personality. Watching students slowly fill in the back rows you sit straighter knowing your row would be next, hopeful your neighbors would be friendly. 

Your head turns when the seat next to you is filled, it’s a frat boy. 

“God, I am so fucking excited for this term, how about you?”

It’s Ethan Keznek. You never studied him, you knew who he was but you never actually noticed him, but looking into his eyes all you could think of was how long his eyelashes were. It seems like he’s noticing you too, he’s sly with it but he’s looking you up and down. 

“Plants aren’t my thing, but I’m assuming they’re yours?” 

A toothy smile, you can immediately tell he’s had braces before. He releases a breath before exploding, “god, they’re amazing, aren’t they? Self sustaining, self producing, they literally give us the air we breathe. How could you not find plants extraordinary?” 

Ethan’s eyes have a twinkle, it shows passion. You tilt your chin at him, “please tell me you’re majoring in botany, the world needs a lorax.” He breaks into a laugh, it’s charming and contagious, you smile with him. 

“Lucky guess, what’s yours?” 

You shift in your seat to face him better, “biology’s actually my minor, I’m majoring in english.” Ethan whistles, “big reader?” You nod, “if you ever need some recommendations, I’m your girl.” 

Ethan tilts his head and sticks his hand out, “Ethan Keznek, nice to meet you.” You stick your hand in his and shake it, it’s strikingly soft. You introduce yourself and his smile grows, “well,” he says your name and pauses, both of your eyes looking to the front when your new professor enters. 

He talks softly, “I will make it my personal mission to make you enjoy plants this semester.” You turn to focus on the front but talk out the corner of your mouth, “unless someone like you cares a whole lot…” 

You bite back a grin when you catch him laughing silently, both of you sitting in quiet when your teacher starts to introduce herself. She’s young and a redhead, everything about her seems symmetrical. Something tells you the semester wouldn’t be so bad. 

The class was an hour, followed by an hour lab. Class wasn’t bad, the first day was always easy, mostly introductions to the class, the work and the expectations. You stood and stretched before slowly repacking your belongings, Ethan working at the same speed, you assume to keep up with you. 

As he zipped his backpack, Ethan cleared his throat and looked at you. You raised your eyebrows and waited, “I know it’s the first day, but would you want to be my lab partner?” It’s the first time you’ve truly met him, but you feel nothing but comfortable around him, he’s kind. 

“It would be my honor.” 

—---------

Peter Parker was handsome, and pretty, and captivating and slightly mean. You couldn’t stay away from him, but his attitude was enough to make you question if he’s worth the frustration. 

You swore to yourself you’d go after him this year, you promised you’d get him into bed. But you can’t deny how good Ethan looked in a lab coat; even safety goggles couldn’t dim those green-brown eyes. 

“God I missed this, I was separated from test tubes and pipettes all summer.” 

You breathe out your nose as a laugh, “you’re one of those kids that lost his shit over getting a chemistry set for christmas, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, mouthing numbers as he counts his drops, looking at you and the sheet in front of you, bouncing back and forth until you catch the hint. 

“Oh!” You scribble the reaction, smiling when he corrects you. “It was a botany kit.” 

Looking over at him you can feel a tiny tug on your stomach, it felt like you were losing the plot from Peter. You wanted it to work with Peter, you didn’t really know him outside of surface value, but it felt like you did, and you know that sounds weird, but when he’s around you feel a bit more like yourself. 

But Ethan’s easy. “Of course it was.” Ethan’s back to measurements, “you doing anything Friday?” You nibble at your cheek, you know what he’s about to ask. “Nope, you?” He nods, “the frat’s doing freshman Friday,” Ethan looks over his shoulder to ask you, “planning on coming?” 

Peter may have asked you first, and you promised you’d be committed to the task, but if he viewed you as a backup plan, you should have one too. Not that Ethan was a second choice, he was just another option at this point. 

“Are you kidding? The Sig Nu freshman welcome is famous for a reason, you think I’d miss it?” Ethan diverted his attention to the PH chart on the page resting between you. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He cleared his throat and nodded at a test tube, “that’s a solid four, don’t you think?” You hold your hands up in surrender, “you’re the plant expert, lorax.” 

Your pencil is plucked from your hand, he writes his fours odd. He can’t stop making you smile, “well, unless someone like me cares a whole lot…” 

—---------------

The entire group was at your dorm. By the entire group you mean Ally, Matt, Prince, and Natalie. A pack of forgotten cards scattered on the floor, everyone focused on their red cups and speaking over each other. Sarah was unable to join in person, but she’s on a facetime call and jumping in when she can.

“On god, I’m gonna fuck my atonamy professor this year.”  You choked at Sarah’s comment, Natalie immediately cheering, “who is it?” Sarah bit her lip explaining, “just the hottest hunk of ass to exist. Dr. Youge, and trust me, I wanna go rogue, if you know what I mean.”

“Can confirm, he’s sexy.” 

Matt breaks from his twelve minute makeout with Ally, “Prince, you think everyone’s sexy.” He’s nodding accordingly, “because they are.” 

“Is this a good time to say Nate and I made it official?” The group overlaps in exclaims, Natalie in the hot seat for a second, her cheeks on fire. 

“When?!” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“What?!” 

Natalie pushes her hair behind her ears, gold jewelry on display. “Um, well, basically he said he didn’t picture himself settling down but the idea of someone being able to swoop me up made him sick.” 

You and Ally form a chorus, Prince joins in halfway through while Matt claps his hands over his ears, “awwww.” He can’t stand the squealing, “yeah, yeah, yeah…” Matt kicks your knee, “did you know Harvey's coming on friday?” 

Interest piqued, you hadn’t known, but the promise of the night ending in sex was in your cards and it makes everything about the first week of school better. A reward, if you will. 

In two days you have three prospects, Mrs. Caliban was right, this was your year. “I didn’t but…” your eyes shoot to Prince’s, you’d claim dibs because he was yours first, but you didn’t want a hookup to cause a friendship to rift.

“Oh please, I was sloppy seconds. He’s yours.” You stick out your tongue, “why else would he come?” 

“The frat. To help the frat kick off the start of the year, because he's an alum. Of the frat.” 

Natalie scoffs, “Ally, tell your boyfriend he’s stupid. Harvey’s obviously coming for girly and girly alone. Your frat is just a cover up.” It wasn’t, but Matt was gullible and hell bent on proving you wrong. 

“No, it’s tradition. All the old chapter presidents come back after their first graduation. It’s a hello and goodbye thing, like a, um… what am I thinking of, babe?” Ally fixes a piece of his hair sticking straight up, “passing of the torch?” Matt’s thick hand squeezed her bum sending Prince gagging and Natalie blushing. “So fuckin’ smart, I love when you know what I’m thinking.” 

Natalie jumps up after looking at her cracked phone screen, “and I’m thinking Nate’s wondering where I am cause I forgot we had a date tonight.” Ally hissed in through her teeth, “play the ‘helped a crying friend’ card, say Matt and I got in a fight.” 

Matt stage whispers, “we didn’t have a fight, right?” His girlfriend shakes her head, patting at the tuft of hair sticking up from his scalp, “no, honey.” A grin cracks, “good-” Ally interrupts, “unless Nate asks, then we got in a fight and you made me cry.” 

“A total mess, she was weeping all over the floor. Natalie had to help me get her into bed.” Prince jumps in, “I was also there, and crying in support of the Matt strike.” 

“So, call you guys if I need to bury a body? Got it.” You speak over the group laugh, “yeah, right. Call Noa, she’d have that shit taken care of in an hour.” 

“No, but that’s actually so true.” 

“She’s scary but in a sexy way.” Matt groans, “again with the sexy, Prince, good lord.” 

“Everyone’s sexy! We’ve been over this!” 

Natalie slowly gathers her things, giving you and Ally a silent salute at the door, Prince and Matt bickering back and forth. Looking back at your laptop you shrug, Sarah’s made another silent escape. You wave to your friend watching the door creak open, Natalie doesn’t feel bad for missing out. Neither does Sarah, apparently. “Okay, have fun, byeee.” The door slamming made the boys stop, blinking aware and immediately forgetting why they were debating. 

The main squad together at last, you bring the real topics to the table. Clearing your throat and pouring a new drink, you look at the group. “So, Paul, what’s the inside scoop with the pledges and how do I make money out of this?” (As if you didn’t already know.)

Ally and Prince start speaking over each other. “Nope!” 

“Not happening!” 

“There’s a reason Matt doesn’t vote! He’s biased!” Matt plows right through, “thou shall not steal, it’s a commandment, babe.” You snort, “and what would I be stealing?” 

The blonde shrugs, “my knowledge.” 

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH

Sleep was tasting good today, you planned on sleeping in as long as you could. The type of sleeping where you get tired of sleeping and open your eyes wide awake and well rested. 

The keyword was planned, it’s been a nice summer off from Ally and Matt, because you forgot how they were early risers and were dependent on you for their enjoyment. 

“Hey, get up.” You politely ignore the request, it’s already too bright, Ally ripped the curtains apart so you’re hidden under your pillow. 

“Oh roomie, please rise.” Even when a pillow slams down on your butt you don’t move, you even attempt to hold your breath, hopeful they’d think you were dead and let your body decompose into your mattress. You wheeze for air and try to scramble from the bed when Matt throws himself on top of you, bouncing and pushing all his weight into you, rattling your name off like an impatient toddler. 

“I miss the days when Ally slept at the house,” you try and yell it out, it comes out in squeaks when Ally mounts Matt, “it’s my day off and I’m getting dogpiled!” 

“Get up! There’s belgian waffles at the dining hall!” You had the entire day to nap, there were waffles to be eaten. You wriggle around until the bodies on you disappear and you’re heaving for air. Throwing the blanket off and standing you give your friends a staredown before ripping your shirt off. Matt throws his hands over his eyes and screams, “thou shall not commit adultery, thou shall not commit adultery!”

“If you sleep here you see my boobs, Ally knows the rules!” Matt’s screaming at his girlfriend, “it’s a sin! Adultery is a sin!” Ally pushes his side, “you screamed sin before you saw nipple!” You’re changing clothes as fast as you can, if anything Matt would be scarred and keep Ally with him at his place, then you might be able to get some real sleep. 

“Sorry, Matt, but, uh… maybe if you sleep at your house you won’t see my boobs?” Ally gives you a glare from God himself, “Matty, this is what she wants. Next time, you better stare right at them.” Her boyfriend cries out, “no!” You roll your eyes, “all covered, you sinner. I’m ready for waffles.” 

Matt can’t even look at you in the eyes, a weary finger is pointed at your chest. “Temptation lives in you.”

—----------------

 If there wasn’t butter coating each small square in your waffle, there wasn’t enough butter. Noa Carter slides into a seat next to you, wiping syrup from your chin, you smile and take another bite. 

“Pledge secured?” Your eyes shoot around, looking for Ally and Matt, it eases your racing heart when they’re still in line loading up. 

“I’m meeting with Trent tomorrow night.” You feel gross, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do. “Do you think anyone’s gonna find out?” Noa chews on the straw from her ice coffee, “if Trent lets it slip to anyone else then Matt finds out, if he finds out Ally does, and once she knows, everyone knows.” 

“Fuck, I know. He can’t say anything, we- I mean, I have leverage.” 

“You think he can’t buy his way into school again?” You shake your head, speaking while you chew, “not without everyone knowing.” Noa tilts her head, she’s saying ‘fair point,’ with her motion. You grab her hand, “hey, thanks again. For the help, and keeping it between us.” 

Noa was nice, but not kind. She was a valuable resource for the group but made it clear she was into friendships for the transactional side. Noa could keep a secret, and she knew people in places you didn’t know existed, but if you used those talents she’d need yours in return. A deal with the devil each time you talk to her. 

“You’re indebted to me, you know that, right?” She was serious too, not fucking around while trying to get the last bit of coffee through the ice. You nod stiffly, it could be today or twenty years, but when she calls in that favor you have to abide. 

“Hey, Noa!” Ally’s always nice, Matt barely looks at her before shoving the corner of a waffle in his mouth. Noa looks at him in disgust and taps her knuckles on the table, “I'm out, see you later.” Ally pouts, “bye, Noa!” She smiles politely, “goodbye, Ally.” 

You thank her again with your eyes, “you coming to the party tomorrow?” Noa rotates her hand back and forth, giving you a so-so response. “We’ll see.” Watching Noa walk off you can understand how people find her both mesmerizing and scary, she carries herself in a way that screams she’s the smartest in the room and you believe it. 

“What are you wearing tomorrow?” You face Ally and watch her chew on a strawberry, “dunno yet, wanna dress me?” Her face lights up, nodding quickly she swallows, “I got this top over the summer and it’s gonna look so good on you!” Matt speaks staring at his phone, a gameplay blasting through his speakers. “Will Harvey Guyn find it hot?” 

If you could reach across the table you’d smack him, instead you finish your waffle. “Does he even have a room there, cause fucking on a twin is torture,” you look at your roommate, “unless we put the beds together…” 

Ally raises her hand to cover her mouth while she eats, “I’ll be sleeping with Matty at the house, when I come back Saturday afternoon, and the room is how it was when I left and my sheets are clean… I’ll be none the wiser to what happened.” 

You slide your plate away and reach your fork over the table to steal a banana slice, “I was joking but it’s nice to know you’re so-” you chew and stare at Matt while he rubs at his nose and wipes it on his pants; you look back at Ally and grimace. “-kind.”

“Harvey’s crashing in the chapter room, so unless you like a pull-out couch I recommend staying at yours.” You look at Ally, “what’s the chapter room?” You’ve never heard of it, or seen it. And you’re positive that besides the top floor where the members slept, you’ve been in every room of the house. 

“A secret room that no one but chapter officers are allowed to be in. I’ve seen it but I’ve never been inside. I tried one time and Matt told me to leave.” Eesh, if Matt kicked Ally out that means it’s a cardinal rule. “So even if I wanted to, I couldn’t sleep in there?” 

Matt nods, “correct.” Ally leans into her boyfriend and grabs his elbow, he keeps his focus on his phone while she whispers in his ear. Taking some time to look around the dining hall you recognized a few faces, waving at a girl you shared a few classes with last year. 

When you looked up to the upper level, you locked eyes with Peter. You were being sucked in and couldn’t stop. It was like he was telling you to come closer, come talk to him, like he’s inviting you to his table. The chatter in the room fizzled away, time stood still. It felt like your hearts were in sync, it felt like he was looking into you, it felt like you had a crush. 

It felt stupid to think anyone could come close to him. 

Peter wasn’t looking away, instead analyzing you the same way. He wasn’t sneering, he was curious. You never knew brown eyes could be so captivating, you wonder if he knew how dangerous he was. 

Forced to break away when Ally noticed, “who are we looking at?” You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want anyone to know. You stop her from turning, “I thought I saw someone I went to high school with,” you look back up, Peter disappeared. 

“False alarm.” 

-----

It was just you and Spider-Man in your room. 

His plush body laid across your chest, your arms wrapped tight around had flattened him. You spent your day watching Netflix, but after hours it became boring and you switched to scrolling through your phone, hopping between apps before you ended on instagram. 

You clutched Spider-Man tighter when you hit the search tab, his name popping up first. He never used his main account, three posts from the past two years. You found his burner account, it was set to private. You wanted nothing more than to push that request to follow, but he didn’t know you like that just yet. 

The second you were allowed to follow Peter Parker’s finsta, you’d plow through all one hundred and twelve posts, analyzing each one. You chew your lip for a moment and go to Ally’s page, searching through her followers you see his account, you debate on getting her phone and stalk that way, but it feels like cheating. 

It’s eight pm and you think nothing other than frozen yogurt would stop your obsession, so you grabbed your keycard and left Spider-Man to keep your spot warm. 

You had an early class the next day and a party with three people you could talk to, one of them being someone that would forsure be in your bed. If only Peter would have you in his bed first. If you were being honest, you’d love to see Peter fight for you. 

It’s only slightly exhausting being delusional. 

The food hall was dead and you went from mildly hungry to starving the second you smelled food, detoring for a quick sandwich you stuffed it in your bag before crossing the floor for your sweet treat. A prickle on the back of your neck told you to look to your left, at a table with his brothers, was Peter Parker. 

It felt like a gravitational pull, you manifested him being in your life since last year and it’s finally happening. The next time you and Prince go out you’re pulling him into a psychic’s shop for a reading. You were caught by who you think was Tarrent, if you remember correctly, he hooked up with Natalie your freshman year. 

Blue eyes met yours, just the smallest hint of a smile. It sent you turning your head and stepping behind the bathroom wall for a breather, hiding in embarrassment. You counted to thirty before peeking your head from around the corner, Tarrent kept your secret, no one was looking at you. 

This time, watching yourself, you don’t bump into anyone in line for frozen yogurt. You’d hate for another lesson in spatial awareness, unless it’s coming from Peter, in that case you’d take any kind of conversation. 

Even when he’s berating you he’s pretty. 

Leaving with your cup of dessert you watch Peter walk right by you, hearing his mumbles of a Beastie Boys song. You couldn’t help yourself, a chance at hello. It was an opportunity to have a normal conversation, maybe more of his shining character would come through. Taking a seat at a hightop near the bathrooms you wait until your target comes out. 

Humming at the taste of sugar hitting your tongue you look over to his table, you notice Ethan and you hope he doesn’t notice you too. To put it bluntly, you didn’t want Peter thinking he had competition. You don’t even consider Harvey Guyn as competition, he was just a good fuck. He didn’t get dinner with you or take you on dates, and you didn’t want that. At least not from him. 

Harvey’s conversations were dry and always built around impressing the people around him. He had great successes for someone his age, but daddy’s money didn’t impress you much.

You sit straighter when you hear the bathroom door open, listening to Peter mumble rap a chorus you jumped in, “another girl, another fight.” He jumped slightly, surprised to see you sitting right next to him. Taking another bite you stare in his eyes while you wrap your tongue around the spoon, Peter sounds breathless when he speaks. 

“Hey.” 

“Hello, Peter.” 

The look on his face told you if he didn’t notice you before, he did now. Did you just stand out from the crowd with one word? You think so. Peter clears his throat lightly, “and you are…” he wants you to fill in the blank, you find some joy in being mysterious, even if it’s just for another night. You pluck your spoon from your mouth, a wide smirk paints on your lips. 

“Happy to have a civil conversation with you?” It mildly annoyed him and it made your stomach tug, something about his expression made you happy to bother him. Until he called your bluff, you might have planned this one interaction but everywhere else he just seems to notice you. You’ve always had a wandering eye for him but he’s just now catching on. 

Giving him a scouts honor, you promise you haven’t been following him, because you haven’t. It’s that universal pull, each time you’re around him it’s like you’re tasting air while also being breathless. He’s pretty, too pretty for his own good. 

Peter’s tempting even when he’s slightly misogynistic, you think he likes your attitude. If there’s one thing you learned, it’s that a man likes it when he has to do a little chasing. You have an early class and Spider-Man at home. 

Sliding from your seat, your shoes squeak on the linoleum. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early class.” Dare you boldly claim he looked a little disappointed? It seemed like he was. You wish him a goodnight and he returns it, you can’t stop your satisfied smile when you feel him watching you leave. 

Quickly stomping up the stairs you look back at Peter’s table, you escaped with only one person looking back at you. Tarrent shoots you a wink, it wasn’t one that was directed at you, but directed at your actions. He knows nothing of you but you have his support, it makes you curious at best, cautious at worst. You stare at the floor until you reach the door, pushing out and taking in the fresh air. 

It didn’t feel as refreshing as when you were with Peter. You shrug it off, you already had someone waiting back at home. 

Spider-Man’s just as dependent on you as you are him.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

Morning classes sucked because they were in the morning. Morning classes were awesome because you felt like you focused better, and there was a better student to teacher ratio. Ally whined when your alarm went off, you stood with her in solidarity, because fuck waking up to a slow steady build of music. 

“Sorry, roomie.” 

Her hand poked from a blanket, waving you off from across the room. You weren’t sure if it was in annoyance or understanding. She had another hour before her class and she was planning to crush thirty of those minutes by hitting snooze. 

You moved quickly and quietly, only packing what was needed, and opting for an oversized university hoodie sans your bra. You believed in one thing, casual friday; and you honor it every week. Silently shutting your dorm door you cruise down the hallway, taking in the deep silence and empty scene. 

You weren’t a morning person at all, you preferred to wake up slowly and on your own terms, most times hitting snooze way too many times. But you loved the slow calm of the morning, watching the sun fully rise, hearing birds scream the earth awake, feeling empathy for every person with tired, puffy eyes. 

Morning’s were gentle, and sometimes you really enjoyed gentle. Friday was your creative writing class and you think it’ll be your favorite for the next year. 

Your hypothesis proved true because your professor was the hottest silver fox you’ve ever seen. Every fantasy of being bent over your teachers desk was racing through your mind, you didn’t know how you could ever pay attention. 

When he talks, his words curl around your ears, a stubble buzz in your stomach makes you focus in on his lips, watching them pout around ‘S’s. “Hey,” she was late, but Noa was there. “Hey,” you whisper back. 

Her smirk is devilish, “talk to Trent yet?” It’d be a punishment until you finished your plan, then she’d let it die. It’s something to do with making her efforts worth it, and making you owe her a favor. You almost regret asking her, but the payoff is worth the narcissism. 

Since freshman year, you, Ally, Prince and Natalie made a bet on one person rushing to make it into full recruitment. Sarah joined last year but backed out this year, she’d be too busy in her nursing classes, she made it pretty clear she’d be absent this year. 

When it started everyone pitched in a hundred bucks, Natalie won. Last year everyone pitched in five hundred, Ally won. You love your friends, but it left a sour taste in your mouth that people who didn’t need the extra pocket money won. 

You weren’t lying when you had a summer job, but it was quickly drained with class and book payments. None of your friends had to worry about that. So, when you found out that your high school friend's ex-boyfriend's little brother was rushing for Sigma Nu, a plan formed. 

You upped the stakes this year, big time. Tripling the honey pot by three, fifteen hundred each. That was half of your summer job money, but the payoff was worth the temporary loss. You had an in at the frat and you knew how much the competition games meant, being number one fraternity was the most important thing for Sig Nu, especially after losing it last year to Alpha Delta. 

Next step was getting someone to secure the information, enter Noa. She had cracked into every frat on campus and gotten the files, printed them out and completed the job with a pretty folder. It was Noa’s idea to get dirt on Trent, you commended her for her smarts, she claimed she just really hated him. 

The real plan was making sure your pledge made it in and no other friends won so you wouldn’t have to share the honey pot. It was skeevy and made you feel slightly dirty, but sometimes you have to play in the mud so you can eat dinner for the year. 

As long as no one found out, you’d be okay. Although, deep in your heart you know that while your friends would feel betrayed at first, they’d understand and come around. Mostly because Matt would use some christian wisdom on them and smite them into forgiveness. 

“Tonight.” Noa nods, “you impress me, friend. You really, really do.” You give a nervous smile at your new professor when he calls you out for talking, with his wise smirk, you believe Peter Parker may have some competition. 

—----------------

At fifteen past four, you got the message you’ve been waiting on, you bit your lip and opened the text, the contact saved as Harvey G. 

‘You’re coming to the party tonight, right?’ 

‘Just for you 😊’ 

‘I love when you lie to me, it really gets me going.’ 

‘You know what gets me going? Fucking you on a twin XL.’ 

‘Dirty talk, that’s my girl.’ 

‘Wear something pretty for me and I’ll let you call me daddy tonight.’ 

‘You wish.’ 

You’d be wearing something pretty tonight, but not for Harvey. You were dressing up for the pure intention of catching Peter Parker’s eye. It was a personal mission to turn you from a backup plan to number one, worse comes to worse, you’d pull out the best friend card and use Ethan as a pawn. Harvey was a set hookup, you didn’t need to impress him with anything. You’ve never even slept in the same bed, and you didn’t care to. He looked like a snorer. 

Sending a quick text to Ally to try and figure out the game plan, she responds with a very general answer, so you text Prince to come over and entertain you. He responded with a salute emoji, ‘prepare to be entertained.’ 

—--------

You and Prince are tilting your head at the same angle, you’re trying to make sense of what you were seeing but the proportions weren’t adding up. It didn’t seem natural, you block out the exaggerated moaning and follow in tilting your head the opposite way when the camera switches positions. 

“I mean… that couldn’t… feel good… right?” Prince is looking for your opinion, you nod with him. “Yeah, I don’t… this can’t be real, right?” It’s like you've been heard, the camera angle changes and you’re staring at a man’s asshole as he piledrives into his female co-star. Prince gasps with you, “oh my god! How is she doing that?!” You whistle low, “drugs, Prince. Lots and lots of drugs.” Suddenly, Prince becomes interested. 

“You know, sometimes I forget how much the female body amazes me.” You narrow your eyes, “call me a female again, I dare you.” Prince’s voice squeaks, “no thank you, you powerful, beautiful woman.” You pat his green hair, “good boy.” 

For once, Ally entered into your dorm without Matt following behind. Prince clapped and told her he was proud she could walk inside all by herself. Her response was, “aw, you’re so cute when you’re lonely.” Prince pretended to bite her.

“So,” Ally opened her tote bag and pulled out a paper bag filled with Sammi’s Sandwiches. “Wanna eat and get ready?” Prince starts bowing, you follow suit.

 “All hail queen Ally.” 

“Damn right, bitches.” 

The second you took your last bite Ally had you in front of your closet mirror while she stood behind you with two shirts on hangers, alternating to hold up each one over your torso. 

“Ugh, I wanted you in the green but I think the black would be better.��� “Yeah, I think if I hang around Prince it’ll be too much green, ya know?” Prince coughed and breadcrumbs spewed. “I’m sorry, you think you’ll be hanging out with me instead of Harvey?” 

“I can’t exactly go in there, grab him, and get out, can I?” Your roommate nods while she fixes your hair, “you absolutely can, I do it with Matty all the time.” You roll your eyes at her in the mirror, “that’s different, you guys are like… common law married at this point.” 

Prince is sitting sideways in a chair letting the blood rush to his head, he sits up slightly and slips out a possibility while you adjust your bra strap. “What are the chances Harvey gets so plastered tonight you won’t hookup?” 

The elastic snaps on your shoulder when you give him a cold glare, “don’t even try to be funny.” He grins wickedly and presses his thumbs to his middle fingers, “not funny, babe. Manifesting.” 

Ally has to hold you back when you lurch at him. 

—--------------

You’re lucky you have Prince to keep Ally occupied, you’re a little too lost in your thoughts as you all walk towards frat row. Keeping your arms to your chest you conserve heat, it’s starting to get chilly at night. The first thing you wanted to do was get Trent out of the way, then you’d chat with Ethan while you scope the scene for Peter. Oh god, Harvey. You had too many men to entertain tonight, it would be near impossible to keep them from bumping into each other outside your revolving door. 

You just had to play calm and make a game plan. Number one would be Trent, number two would be Harvey, so you could make plans for after the party, number three would be Ethan and certainly not least, you’d be keeping an eye on Peter Parker. Your palms feel clammy thinking about your secret with Trent, you push each plan back by one. The first step would be getting some liquid courage. Brought back to life by gentle bantering, your opinion is needed. 

“I could totally ice Matt out, right?” 

“Bro, I have two hundred on it right now.” 

“You think I can’t live without him?” You butt in, “no, but you can’t let him think you’re mad at him. Even when you’re fighting you tell him you’re not mad at him. It’s gross.” Prince nods while Ally gasps in offense, “I’d love to see it, I think he’d have a mental breakdown.” 

“Is it so terrible of me that I don’t like making my boyfriend sad?” 

You hang an arm around Ally’s neck and pull her in, “it makes you a better girlfriend than I could ever be.” She giggles and hangs onto you, “I think frat boys like that, maybe it’s time you start sleeping with a member and not alumni.” 

You’re not hiding anything out of spite, but because you felt like you wanted to figure it out on your own. And she’s a little pushy, if you were to spill on Peter before ready she’d try everything possible to get Matt involved. Sometimes Ally’s wingmanning ruined potential hookups, and by sometimes, it’s every time. “Ha. Good one.” 

Prince steps in to hand his arm around your neck, you three of you stumbling in unison. “Don’t worry, friend. You’ll have your pick on the ski trip.” You flashed a smile, following a crowd of bodies across the crosswalk.

Letting each other go when you hit the first frat house you fix your shirt. Ally was right, it looked really good on you.

There were at least forty kids waiting to get in, only two members on door duty. Following freshmen up the steps you smile at a brother, Prince pays his entrance fee while you hold hands with Ally. 

You take a deep breath, and release it when you step in the house.

Welcome to the start of the year.

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Higurashi Month 2023, Day 13: Reflect

Higurashi Month prompts archive: AO3 

Shion was something of a connoisseur when it came to punishments that might be considered barbaric by modern society.

People always talked about the fancy weird cultism that surrounded Hinamizawa, whispering around the edges of their hands whenever she (not Shion, not then at least, but she) had accompanied Oni-Baba to the rare meeting outside Okinomiya itself. It had only been once or twice, but Shion had immediately been conscious of the way her family wore their kimonos, the dulled glimmer of gilt threads in the brocade worn dim by years of use, the fabric heavy and smooth like cream, compared to the flashier, brighter, lighter modern kimonos –and more often, suits– their meeting partners had worn.

Little-her had never seen so much Western clothing in a formal meeting between families. In Hinamizawa, people still wore the clothing passed down for generations, and they wore it with pride.

Modern families, Oni-Baba had said, distaste sharp in her voice, and nouveau riche, the foreign syllables sliding over her tongue like the clatter of mahjong tiles or the jangling chime of a pocketful of coins. Hinamizawans were better. They had their pride. They had their ancestry.

Machine-made and modern silk, Oni-Baba had explained the newer kimonos, telling Shion about the greedy fools who wanted the status symbols that they had sold off to make ends meet. Maybe the kimonos were custom-ordered, beautifully made and unfathomably expensive in a child's eyes, but they were as nothing compared to the weight of luxury in Shion's (it had been Mion's then, and was Mion's still, but Shion no longer owned that name) garments.

Of course, the other side of that coin was being seen as stick-in-the-mud conservative rural nobodies. Within Hinamizawa, Oni-Baba and the Sonozaki family were absolute rulers: outside it, they were a bunch of yokels. The most prestigious locals that this backwater part of the prefecture could offer, but yokels nonetheless. A forgotten pebble picked out of Japan's shoe and flung by the wayside, which was really all that had allowed them to keep their trappings of nobility.

If St. Lucia's was good for one thing, Shion observed with a humorless snort as she lay back on the hard bench with her hands folded behind her head, staring up at the ceiling, it was their library. These nuns collected an awful lot of exotic literature on their shelves, albeit occasionally in English or some other European language.

She'd found an interesting book talking about Gothic horror: its roots, its patterns, its traditions, what made the foundation of its horror. Gothic horror talked about transgression, how the breaching of boundaries between the Old World and the New displaced and disoriented. The Gothic came in fragments, weaving in bits of forgotten past or presented as epistolary novels, displaced in time and haunting the narrative with fractured roles and changing dynamics. It was the shifting of previously-held convictions in a place where the unknown wilderness held more power than mere modernity.

She felt that Hinamizawa was very familiar, in that sense.

The book had talked about how the effect of such horror came from that moment of hesitation, like a cool breath on the back of one's neck, when you heard an old story, a folktale, an urban legend, and wondered what if this is actually true?

Shion had been stuffed to the ears with such tales as a child, listening to her family and others recount the glorious brawling tapestry of their village and its legends. Hinamizawa was the very picture of the book's example of the Gothic-typical dialogue between the skeptical, rational, urban, and modern and the irrational, superstitious, premodern rural, and she a small microcosm of it. Raised on the ancient and storied past of her remote village, sent here to a smart modern school in the city, resenting both and suffering under their shared influences.

Of course, Shion had no intention of becoming a Gothic heroine.

But part of Hinamizawa's old ways was their isolation, and part of their isolation –because of their isolation– they could get away with much that would have had the government crashing down on her family's head if they had lived in Tokyo or the suburbs. Tattooing a child, for one thing, to say nothing of how Oni-Baba ruled the family with a will of iron.

So yeah. Throwing Shion in an underground cell to "reflect on her actions" for showing some stuffy teacher a bit more lip than usual?

Shion rolled her eyes.

Cute. Really, she was so utterly devastated and inconsolable by this punishment. She needed to pull out a lacy kerchief and dab her eyes, bedewed as they were by her poor maidenly tears!

These uppity nuns ought to see what Shion's family kept in their second basement.

AN: The book Shion references here is Gothic: An Illustrated History by Roger Luckhurst, an absolutely fascinating read that I recommend to anyone interested in how horror (mainly Gothic horror as the title says, but it dives into a lot of tangents) actually works.