#not to mention how often these groups will respond to genuinely horrible things a man has done with

[area51-escapee]

It’s really interesting because I’ve been around tumblr since around 2011/2012, and started seeing more social justice related stuff around 2013/2014-2017 and during that time. Trying to explain how the general demonization of men on this site was harmful to multiple groups and not at all helpful to feminism would get you labeled a bad feminist at best and a hateful anti sjw alt right MRA type at worst. At that time I really only remember the anti sjw accounts being the ones to bring up the topic of how it was harmful to various groups and how yes, there are real problems that men face that people should care about, and I’ve noticed that has changed a lot in the past couple years, especially with people drawing attention to how a lot of “all men are inherently bad” posts are coming from terfs who aren’t just talking about men. I think it’s really genuinely very refreshing to see and I’ve never liked generalizing a whole group based on a thing they cannot control. A person’s actions are much more important that an aspect of themselves they were born with.

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 1)

Ben Drowned

You had promised, sworn on your very life, that you wouldn’t laugh. It was an oath. One to be taken very seriously.

“Using your hand to muffle the sound still counts as laughing.”

Part of you felt really bad but that made you snicker even harder. Your best friend, at the very least, did appear extremely shaken about the entire thing. She sat on the edge of the couch with her arms crossed. Dark bags had formed beneath her eyes and her attention seemed unable to stray from the Nintendo 64 that sat between you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But you have to understand how this sounds. You’re telling me that you’re being haunted by a literal video game.”

She pulled her legs to her chest. The amount of weight that she had lost recently couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Have you considered talking to a psychiatrist?” you offered. “Or perhaps selling this game?”

“He would kill me.”

You picked up the Nintendo 64 and stared at the main menu of the game. It looked pretty normal to you. You fiddled around with the settings to turn the music down. “I really think that talking to somebody about this would help.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” she said. “I want to stop playing. I want to speak to people but all that he wants is for me to continue trying to beat the game. There’s no way to win! The entire thing is rigged!”

“Have you looked up a guide?”

She groaned. “Nobody’s going to listen to me.”

An awkward silence fell over the room and you shifted around in your seat before offering some coffee. She accepted but the kettle had barely been boiling for a few seconds when her phone chimed happily.

“Oh look, he wants to play now,” she muttered. She thrust the device to you. “Take a look for yourself.”

The notification had come through an app called CleverBot. It was a very simple ‘hi’ message that didn’t really seem all too haunting. You opened it up and clicked around the app for a little. “Looks like just a chatroom,” you said. “Why’d you download this?”

“I didn’t. I just woke up the one day and it was on my phone.”

You closed the app and returned to the home screen. It immediately reopened and the same message popped up again. An identical thing happened the second time. And then again.

“This looks like a virus,” you said. “It’s probably best to uninstall.”

Clicking on the button made the icon disappear for a short while but it was quick to reappear. This time, when the chatroom opened itself, the message had changed to simply say ‘rude’.

You pursed your lips. That was suspicious enough for you to understand her potential worries. “I don’t think that it’s haunted but you should probably take it to a professional to have it wiped or something. And maybe consider less porn in the future?”

Your joke fell flat but it died when the chatbot began typing. Not too long after, another message had come through.

‘I don’t hang out in such places.’

“Can…” you trailed off. “No, there’s no way that they’ve hacked the microphone, right?”

‘Don’t need to hack in to hear what you’re saying.’

The colour drained from your face and you quickly glanced towards your friend. She didn’t seem panicked, even when you showed her the message. If anything, her expression was resigned as though this was a regular occurrence.

You didn’t get too much time to respond when a horrible static sound came through her phone. The screen began flashing and blurry images raced across it. A distorted version of the Majora’s Mask theme song started playing. It felt like your ears were bleeding. Scared, you threw the phone to the floor and, with a shattering crack, everything stopped.

For a while, you stared at it but then she said, “He’s going to be pissed with that.”

There was a chime from somewhere on your right. Your own phone’s screen lit up. Nervously, you reached over to check on it.

A single notification stood there, from an app called CleverBot.

‘You Shouldn’t Have Done That.”

Bloody Painter

The park was busy this time of day and filled with an awaiting audience – whether they were interested in watching the performance or not. Many seemed to appreciate it though, taking the flyers handed out by your group.

It was nearing midday when you ran out of pamphlets. You stretched and pushed your hair away from your face, relishing in the feeling of sun against skin.

Your gaze drifted across the park’s patrons before settling on one that you had been watching since the beginning of your performance. He didn’t look up much. A sketchpad sat on his lap and tousled brown hair hung over his face. You hadn’t caught his attention once but he had certainly kept yours.

“Can you hand me another lot of flyers?” you asked one of the other girls with her.

She handed them over and you put on your best grin before making your way to the tree he was sitting under.

He looked up when your shadow fell over his sketchbook. His work was considerably abstract and nothing that you could identify with ease. There weren’t too many colors though.

“Hello!” you greeted cheerily. “I don’t mean to bother but what did you think of the show?”

He blinked up at you. “I didn’t see it.”

The man was a master of deadpan but you didn’t allow your smile to drop. You lowered the flyer and sighed, “That’s a shame. It’s so rare that we have attractive people at our shows… you should consider coming to our actual performances sometime. Everybody loves musicals.”

He didn’t even react to the compliment. No smirk or even a blush. It was as though you hadn’t spoken one word.

“I’ve seen your face before,” he said. “You do this kind of thing quite often. Don’t you get tired of people staring at you?”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t be in this line of business if I was too self-conscious. When they stare for too long, I like to imagine that it’s because I’m the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen.” Running your fingers through your hair, you offered him your most dazzling smile. “And if you remember me, that’s a certain compliment.”

“You can take it whatever way you want but it doesn’t mean anything.”

It was tempting to give up. Flirting with cute boys was only entertaining when they responded with… something. This boy just stared.

“So you’re an artist, right? You’d have a good point of view on whether or not I’m actually pretty.”

“My opinions on people are rarely accurate.”

His response made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Something of a warning twisted in your stomach. A light had lit behind his eyes but it didn’t seem like something you wanted to tie yourself to.

It appeared it was time to give up your pursuit. “Well, I really should get going. Perhaps I’ll see you at the next performance.”

His eyes drifted to the pamphlet that you held. “Were you planning on giving me that?”

“Offering it but you don’t have to –“

“I’ll take it,” he said, putting down his pencil and holding out his hand. “Your show wasn’t too entertaining but I enjoyed watching the performance you just put on. Rather like a peacock strutting its feathers.”

So he wasn’t oblivious then… just teasing. You had no idea if it showed his genuine interest or if he was merely taunting now.

With a slight scowl, you passed it over. He tucked it into his sketchbook and then closed it, standing up. He was scrawnier than you had anticipated but he still had a considerable height – holding at least a few inches over you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He left without another word. You rolled your eyes and made a point to ignore any thoughts about him for the rest of the day. Perhaps you shouldn’t have given him your information… after all, that flyer had your full name and everything.

And you knew absolutely nothing about him.

Candy Pop

Hospitals were the worst places in the world.

They smelled too clean and looked too false. You generally avoided them as much as possible unless it was absolutely necessary. When a close family member found themselves locked within the walls, unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to stay away.

You wrinkled your nose as you walked into the room. The sterilized smell burnt you.

Most of it was what you had expected but the young, child-like scream made you jump and nearly drop every gift you were holding.

Your aunt jumped up from her chair beside the hospital bed. “What’s wrong?!” she asked, fussing over your cousin.

She was barely over eleven and had badly injured her leg during a biking competition. Your mom had told you that everybody in the family was going to visit her, encouraging you to go together in order to drop off some gifts.

“I’m sorry,” the little girl said quickly. “I don’t like balloons and I thought… it doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

You moved them behind you a little, trying to block her line of sight. “No, no, I should have asked first. You could have been allergic to latex or something and then I’d be feeling really bad about it.”

“She’s been particularly on edge thanks to these awful nightmares,” your aunt explained.

“Nightmares?” you asked.

The little girl seemed pale at its mention, pulling her blanket up to her nose and watching everybody wearily. “They’re just bad dreams,” she said. “You said that they couldn’t hurt me.”

Her mother hurriedly rubbed her shoulder and offered a warm smile. “They definitely can’t,” she reassured.

“Are they about the fall?” you asked.

“Sometimes.”

You settled down in one of the chairs as your own mother began speaking to her sister. They were able to discuss everything from the colour of grass to what they thought would be the best country to live in. You weren’t particularly interested in what they were saying and, after a while of trying to chirp in, you just let the lack of sleep catch up to you.

Your dreams came to you quickly, faster than usual and sharp in an uncomfortable sort of way.

You found yourself standing in a large field. The sky was grey and the grass tall enough to reach your knees. Everything felt bright. It hurt your eyes to stare at anything for too long.

Normally, dreams didn’t feel as such, but you were certain that this was one. There was no purpose to where you were. No inclination to walk in a specific direction or try to understand what was happening.

Just confusion.

You took a step forward and a soft wind wrapped around you. It brushed through the grass, dancing around the trees. Something was watching.

You turned and two, glowing lights floated above the ground.

Slowly, mist gathered around the two spots. As you stepped back, it began to solidify – quickly forming a more recognisable shape. The figure tilted its head to the side and a slight jingling sound filled the air. It stepped forward then and the glow faded from its eyes, revealing just what stood before you.

He was a jester, though certainly more modern than the old king’s versions. Blue hair hung around his shoulders and his entire outfit jingled with hundreds of bells. A smile graced his face and he stepped forward.

You moved away.

His smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. The mist appeared again and he vanished into it.

You looked around frantically. He was gone. The wind picked up unexpectedly, howling in your ears. You raised your hands to shield your face and something grabbed your wrist. Before you could turn to see, you hurdled away from the meadow and awoke spluttering for air.

“Are you alright?” your aunt asked.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a blue jester but, when you turned to look, he was gone. “Yeah,” you said, rubbing your chest. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Your made eye contact with your cousin and swallowed thickly. The look on her face said it all.

Clockwork

Every night, without fail, you saw her sitting there when you arrived home from work.

She always wore the same thing and, initially, you had thought that she would play on her phone for hours at a time. It didn’t appear that she had a phone, however, as you came to realise. Whatever she was holding was circular and fit perfectly within the palm of her hand.

You mentioned it to the building manager the second time she was there until like two in the morning. He had said that they thought she was homeless but, as far as they could tell, she wasn’t dangerous. You reassured him that your worries weren’t about her presence due to any perceived problem but he had just nodded.

She never moved while she was waiting. Not even to adjust her weight or brush the hair from her face.

A few of your neighbours used the very eloquent reasoning that she was merely crazy.

Occasionally, you heard children from the area parroting their parents. Rumours abound that she was a ghost who would attack anybody if they spoke to her. You scoffed each time it was said but many believed the stories.

You were arriving home late one night when you spotted her sitting in the usual spot. It was strange for you to feel anything beyond exhaustion on the nights when hospital jobs ran too long but this time, a strange anticipation settled itself in your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Are you okay?”

Her hair was dirty and her coat looked as though it hadn’t been washed for years. Now that you were close, you could make out what appeared to be dried blood on her shirt.

“Go away,” she said, shaking her head from side to side.

“I have medical experience,” you responded. “And I know some good places to stay in the area. I can –“

“Good for you,” she sneered. “Leave me alone. You’re going to make me miss it.”

The object she was holding was an old pocket watch. It looked like something you would find in an antique store and pay insane amounts of money for. Though, it didn’t appear to be working. The clock hands sat at a set time and didn’t move in the slightest.

“I want to help you if that’s okay,” you said.

She forced out a laugh that sounded as though it physically pained her. “You want to help me?!” she cackled, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Isn’t that sweet.”

You stumbled away from her and clasped a hand over your mouth. Her face…

Her mouth was torn to pieces, jagged cuts that ripped through the skin there and had been crudely stitched back together. But that wasn’t the worst. No, the worst part of it was her left eye that had a pocket watch shoved into the socket and forcefully stitched there. The injury flared red with infection and pain.

“What’s wrong little doctor?!” she cawed. “No longer feeling like saving the poor girl you found on the side of the road?”

You steeled your resolve and straightened. “I’m still willing to offer help if you need it,” you said in your strongest voice. “That injury is severe and needs attending to if you want to save the eye.”

The eye was definitely gone and she knew it as well, scoffing at your offer. “No chance of that. Why do you people like pretending that you care?”

“I do care.”

She responded with a mocking expression and stood unexpectedly. “Sure you do.” She tapped the front of the pocket watch with her nail. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get to work. I nearly missed it thanks to your nagging. I’ll see you tomorrow, doctor.”

And she marched off into the night.

Dark Link

The vase that you were holding was beautifully polished and almost brand new. As you lifted it, something rattled around within.

“Why are you selling this for such a low price?” you asked.

The woman was middle-aged with a falsely high voice and bright, darting eyes. “It was a gift,” she said. “But I decided against keeping it. I wasn’t sure how low the price should be but it’s not like I’m losing any money.”

You decided against buying it, thanking her and walking away quickly. While you were looking through a few pieces of jewelry, your arm was grabbed and a small object pushed into your chest.

“Here you go!” you friend chimed. “Consider it to be a late birthday present!”

You took the game cartridge and examined it closely. “Zelda, again?” you asked. “I’ve already tell you that –“

“Yes, yes, I know that they’re not your thing but if you haven’t tried all the games then how are you meant to know there isn’t just one that you like?”

Sighing, you took the game and dropped it into your purse. It was dirty and definitely well used. A bit of black paint flaked off on your fingers.

Another game for you to keep in your cupboard and not look at again until months later when you were asked about your opinion on it. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t have the console you needed and the simple answer of ‘just buy one for cheap’ wasn’t always available.

But in the coming weeks, you quickly realised that this wasn’t just another game.

At first, the things that went wrong were too minor to even pay attention to. Electronics started breaking frequently until the point where you had replaced your stereo twice in a week and no longer had a television. After that, you started feeling sickly and uncomfortable whenever you were in the house. A feeling of imposing nature settled upon your shoulders.

You spent more time away from home, staying away for as long as you could. When you tried to dogsit for your brother, the pup wouldn’t even enter the house.

It was late at night when you woke up in a cold sweat. Nausea coiled in your stomach and your heart was beating at the speed of light.

At first, you had no idea what had woken you.

And then you heard the rattling.

It was coming from the next room over. As though somebody had taken hold of your desk and was shaking it as roughly as they could.

You scrambled for your phone but it wasn’t there. It was sitting in your office.

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped from your bed. Your head felt fuzzy, as though you weren’t able to wake up properly. Every step was slow and lethargic.

Stumbling toward the door, you gingerly grabbed the handle. As you opened it, your mind caught up with your body and you remembered that you shouldn’t just burst in on a potential invader.

But it was too late.

The person, for it had to be a person, stood in the middle of the room. Its body was so dark that it blended in with the shadows surrounding it. Two bright red eyes shone, illuminating enough that it showed some of the creatures ashen features. It had sharp features that were definitely human. Though as you stared at it, you knew that it was anything but.

It smiled and began turning into small squares, pixelating into the air and disappearing into something behind it.

You flicked on the light as fast as you could but it was gone. Sitting in the middle of the desk, the black cartridge seemed to emit its own darkness.

Dr. Smiley

The building was beyond restoration, crumbling and derelict. You were sure that it hadn’t been occupied for at least a decade. Perhaps even longer.

For months now, you had been going through the motions to have everything approved and organised. You had gotten clearance, hired the workers, discussed things with any neighbours, and even paid extra for the best machinery to get everything done quicker.

And now they were refusing to do anything.

“I’m sorry, and I will compensate for the time wasted, but my men are saying no,” the on-site manager said. “I know you’re not from these parts but we’ve always known there’s something wrong with this building. Rumours and superstitions abound and I wouldn’t blame my men for not wanting to anger a ghost.”

“They’ll be pissing off something far worse than a ‘ghost’ if they continue refusing to even go in there,” you snapped.

He glanced towards his workers and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Once he left, you turned your attention to the house. Why anybody would have wanted a house in this location was beyond you but now that you had inherited it, you could see potential.

Although the entire place was probably crawling with all manners of disgusting flora.

Perhaps you could use that to get the health counsel to do the job for you.

They will still talking and you could see the weariness on their faces. Sighing, you stalked your way to the front door and pushed it open with one hand. It creaked with the effort.

You stood with your hands out towards the men. “I’m going to walk this entire house!” you called. “And if your ghost doesn’t accost me while I’m there, then I’m going to be expecting you to all get on with it, alright?”

Nothing immediately jumped at you when you entered. The door struggled to open and it swung shut on its own accord. If that was the haunting that they were talking about…

A roach skittered along the floor in front of you, darting under a derelict sofa stained with an unknown substance. Several of the windows had been broken so it wasn’t surprising to find that graffiti and markers had been used to etch various names into the walls.

You walked through a destroyed kitchen, passed a bedroom with a smashed crib, and even kicked open a door that led to a filthy storage room.

No ghost jumped out at you.

Problems started presenting themselves when you walked down one of the hallways and pushed open a bedroom door. The entire room felt set apart from the rest of the place with almost-new curtains that had been drawn shut. Blankets covered the bed, dirty but still there. You immediately thought somebody may be squatting there but your concerns changed when you noticed the wall.

Black mold. It crawled its way up the side, covering most of what had once been white wallpaper. You brought one hand up to shield your mouth and stepped out, slamming the door closed.

If there was an infestation then you had to get the health department immediately. This was –

Your thoughts were interrupted by something grabbing you. Panic filled your mind as a sharp weapon was pressed against your throat.

“Well now, I just know that you don’t have an appointment,” a voice said close to your ear. “I don’t like trespassers.”

Thinking on instinct, you threw your head backwards as hard as you could. There was a satisfying impact followed by a loud yelp of pain. The weapon around your throat moved away so you kicked the guy in the shin and bolted for it.

The house felt bigger while you were running but nobody came after you. You didn’t hear any footsteps or other sounds of a chase.

Bursting through the front door, you winced at the bright light. The house hadn’t seemed nearly that dark until compared to the outside.

You collided with one of the workers in your rush and nearly knocked everybody to the ground.

“What’s happened?”

“It was that ghost, I’m telling you.”

“We warned her, boss.”

You cleared your throat and straightened up, making eye contact with each man individually. “There is no ghost,” you said. “Only a squatter who I shall deal with using police force if needed. However, I do believe any construction will have to wait because I saw an excessive spread of black mold within the house.”

They all spoke amongst themselves, discussing options. You glanced back to the house and allowed your attention to find its way to the bedroom window. Though fleeting, a masked face peered out at you from within.

Eyeless Jack

In many ways, what happened that night was your boss’ fault.

Having just finished working a double shift that ended at almost 1 in the morning, you were exhausted upon returning home. You walked past the neighbouring apartment with only one thought on your mind – sleep.

It was then that you heard a thump coming from within the house, followed shortly by a muffled scream.

Tired, you had to pause to register what was happening and, by the time your brain caught up, your heart was in full-on panic mode. You slowly reached into your pocket and dialed the emergency number as slowly as you dared, whispering into the phone and being reassured that a police presence would be arriving shortly.

Your neighbour was a young man though, just out of rehab and beginning to make his way through life. The longer you stood and waited for the police, the guiltier you felt.

So you reached into the pot plant and pulled out his spare key. After a short while of building yourself up, you unlocked the door and crept inside.

It was dark with the outside world shrouded via heavy curtains. You could barely make your way through the unfamiliar apartment and you didn’t dare turn on the light. Damn, you were extremely tired.

Part of your brain suggested that you had imagined the whole thing. It was a byproduct of a sleep-addled mind or something. That would be embarrassing to explain to the police and to your neighbour. Would you get charged for breaking and entering or could you blame it on your tiredness?

Your doubts didn’t get much further than that because somebody grabbed you from within the room.

A horrible iron-filled scent attacked your senses as you took in the bedroom. It looked like your neighbour was tied to the bed though he wasn’t moving. Somebody stood behind you, their breathing heavy and their grip strong.

They pushed your wrist closer to your back, preventing you from wriggling free of their grip. A blade, small and yet sharp, pressed against the side of your throat.

“Trying to play the hero, are we?” snarled a voice. “Have you called the cops?”

The blade pressed against your skin and you quickly spat out a yes.

“Probably right before you came in, if not earlier… I’d have enough time to kill you but then you’d be an absolute waste. Nowhere to stash a body around here and they’d comb the entire area if you were missing…”

“I didn’t mean –“

You were shoved forward before you had a chance to react. In the dark, you couldn’t make anything out and you hit the wall unexpectedly. Now, far enough away, you turned and tried to make out the face of your assailant. He melded in with the shadows and you ran your fingers along the wall until you found a light switch.

The lights flickered on and you gasped.

He wore a dark blue mask, a black ooze dripping from the eye sockets and onto his hoodie. There was no reaction to the lights. Not even a blink.

“Don’t you want to beg for your life?” he asked. “The other one pleaded nearly constantly until I shut him up.”

“You killed him…”

“He isn’t dead, just unconscious,” the man scoffed. “I try to avoid killing them, if I’m able to.”

“The police will be here soon,” you warned.

“Oh I know. That’s the only reason that I’m leaving this very minute.” He made his way over to the window, never turning to stop facing you. The bedroom window slipped open without a sound and he began climbing out. “I’d keep my doors locked if I was you. Plenty of unsavory characters live in these parts.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Glitchy Red

Your younger cousin squealed excitedly, holding the game to her chest in joy. “I love it so much!” she said. “I can’t believe I used to think Pokémon was for babies. At first when the music randomly cut out, I did think it was super weird but I’ve gotten used to it now.”

“I don’t think it’s meant to do that,” you chuckled. “But cheap versions, you know?”

It was good to see that your last-minute gift hadn’t gone to waste. You had been worried that the present’s fun would be lost on your video game-hating cousin but she had actually decided to give the game a shot. Now you had somebody in the family to speak to which was extraordinarily exciting.

“What are you meant to say to Red when he asks you whether or not he’s a joke?” she aske unexpectedly. “I know that if you say no, he goes away, and I’ve been too scared to try the other option.”

You frowned. “I don’t actually remember that part of the game.”

“Really? But it happens so often.”

When she realised that you really hadn’t encountered anything like that in the game before, she told you to wait a minute and came back with her game.

“There was one around here,” she said, loading in. “Just give me a second and I’ll find it.”

You stayed much later than you had originally intended to that night. The two of you played through a lot of the game, waiting for the moment when Red would break the fourth wall and demand to know about your opinions on him.

It never came.

The game ran incredibly smoothly. It was quite odd. There weren’t any hiccups along the way nor horror-style glitches. The music didn’t even cut off which was apparently rare accourding to your cousin.

After a while, she sighed and handed it to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why it’s not breaking. I’ll go make us some food.”

You continued playing while she was gone, enjoying the memories that came with the game. It was as fun as you remembered until about five minutes after she left. The music just shut off unexpectedly and, no matter what you did, it refused to come back at all. Any other sound effects worked fine though.

“So you’re just programed to break when only one person’s in the room?” you joked.

Perhaps that was a bad choice.

Unexpectedly, a loud static erupted from the console, so ear-aching that it felt like your ears began to bleed. The game took on a horrible red tint and Red appeared on the screen, a dialogue box appearing beneath his blackened form.

AM I A JOKE TO YOU?

Horrified, you immediately shut down the game and threw the cartridge as far away from you as possible. You raced at full speed into the kitchen, nearly knocking several things over along the way.

“You have got to throw that game,” you wheezed.

“What? Why?” she asked.

“There is something really fucked up with that game…” you said. “That thing with Red is absolutely not meant to happen. It felt like he was staring into my soul. You have to throw it out the moment you can. I will buy you another one but do not keep that.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, seemingly confused but nowhere as shaken as you were.

A faint static came from the living room, sending shivers down your spine.

Hobo Heart

Tears flowed down your face despite your best attempts to remain composed. “I’ve known for a while now,” you managed to say.

Your ex-boyfriend seemed shocked, though not entirely upset about your admission. “How long –“

“Since last week,” you said. “Though I’ve heard it’s been going on for considerably longer.”

He shifted his weight and took a deep breath. You recognised this behavior from the past, already hearing the words you knew were coming. The apologies and the false regret, the promises about not doing it again, and then the eventual guilt-tripping. If you heard the latter, you weren’t sure your resolve would hold.

“Goodbye,” you said firmly.

“Wait!”

You ignored the calls, making your way home at a steady place. A few people offered you concerned looks so you rubbed away the tears and took a few deep breaths.

Several months of your life had been completely wasted. You had put so much time and energy into a person who didn’t care one ounce about you.

Just great.

You turned onto your street and made your way to the house across from your own. The woman who lived there was always busy and she only came home to feed her dog before disappearing again. Thankfully, she trusted you to spend time with Bruno.

Bruno came racing over to the gate and jumped up for head scratches. He was a beautiful Afghan Hound with a dark coat and bright eyes.

“At least I know that you’ll always be by my side,” you said, running his fingers through the dog’s fur.

A tear slipped out and you quickly rubbed it away. You dug around in your bag and took out a couple treats, offering him.

A second bark brought your attention to the street.

Standing there, a small white dog with a scruffy coat stared up at you. It looked friendly enough and, after cautiously checking it out, you crouched down and gave it a treat.

“Hello,” you cooed. You gave the pup a few scratches and smiled. “How are you doing, hm? No collar? But you must have an owner because your coat is all groomed and soft. Did you get out or slip your leash?”

You looked around the streets to see if anybody. Nobody jumped out so you gave the dog another treat and brought it into the garden with Bruno to protect it from cars.

The two barked and played with little issue and you messages friends and family about the events of the day.

It was about half an hour later when the air was starting to get chilly. You stood and the small scruffy dog began barking excitedly. Its tail whipped through the air and it jumped up against the fence. A man wearing a white hoodie was standing down the street. You glanced at the dog, scooped it up and made your way to where he was.

“Excuse me,” you said. “I think that I found your dog.”

He turned to look at you and you startled slightly at his rather unusual face paint. A white skull was painted onto his face, similar to something you would see at a college convention.

He glanced down at the happy dog and sighed. “So that’s where he got to.”

“I’m sorry if you were looking for him. I took him off the street to protect him from any cars or anything.”

“It’s fine. He always shows up eventually,” the guy said. “You can just put him down. He’ll follow me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Then he turned and started walking away. You hurriedly put the dog down and it immediately bounded after him, falling into step directly beside him. They disappeared around a corner and you returned to your own house.

The day had gotten much warmer suddenly.

[solastia]

Love And Lies | 3

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x F!Reader

Summary: You are a simple maid. When your lady and dearest friend need help escaping an arranged marriage with King Seokjin so they might be together, you do the only thing you can - take her place. 

You followed behind the man who introduced himself as Chancellor Namjoon Kim, listening to him halfheartedly as he explained that while that was his official title, he was more of a Jack-of-all-trades and preferred calling himself the King's right-hand man.

You smooth your hands down your gown, hoping it was grand enough to disguise the commoner wearing it. You’d changed for supper, something that Eleanor had told you was common for people at court. According to her, depending on the person they might even change outfits as many as three or four times a day! The nobility were a ridiculous bunch, you sniffed derisively to yourself. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the maids that had to care for all that clothing and the laundresses that cleaned them. Two times a day - not counting your sleeping gown - was extravagant enough for the likes of you.

The ensemble that you had now made you feel like a fairy princess of legend. You were a shimmering cloud of pink and white as you glided along the stone floors. The dress was pink velvet lined with white silk, along with white ermine fur on the edges of the sleeves and bottom of the gown. The bust was embroidered with silver thread and decorated with glistening pearls. You were also very happy to note that the top was much more modest this time around, though not by much. Eleanor had let you pick the jewelry yourself, so you’d settled on a simple strand of pearls around your neck and tiny pearl earbobs. Your hair was left loose and free of any painful and tedious styling with the hot iron.

Truthfully, you rather liked this dress. The fabric was soft to the touch and very comfortable. You even liked the little slippers that matched. When you asked Eleanor why she was letting you wear something like this, she had told you that your previous ensemble had been to impress the King, and this one was to appeal to the man. It was an odd statement considering that your goal was to not appeal to him, and she’d seem rather conflicted saying such a thing. You wished you’d had the time to question her further, but the Chancellor had shown up before you could.

In the end, it wouldn’t matter if you looked rather pretty in your outfit because you knew that eventually, he’d move on to the other women. You had literally nothing of interest about you to keep royalty interested. After all, what could you speak to him about beyond stain removal techniques and how to haggle for the best prices at the market?

Chancellor Namjoon opens a door and ushers you inside, seeming to not notice or mind that you hadn’t even been listening to him talk this entire time.

“His Majesty will be with you in a moment.”

He nods and leaves briskly, closing the door behind him. You take the chance to look around, your mouth falling in awe as you take in the rows and rows of scrolls. So this was a library! You had heard of such things but had simply chalked it up to the fancies of nobles, but this was truly amazing. Beyond the scrolls, there were even parchment tied together filled with writing and little sketches. A few were even covered in decorated leather, something that boggled your mind. Books! You had never thought to see one in your life.

You adored the family you worked for, of course, but not a single one of them had any use for reading and writing. Eleanor could write a little, mostly her name and a list of things she needed that looked like badly designed inkblots. Jungkook was a little better but mostly relied on drawing things out. You remembered the departed Duchess had a slanting script that was like beautiful art to your young eyes. She’d taught you how to read and write before she’d passed, but you rarely got a chance to use that knowledge. You never had anyone to write to and the Duke saw no use for books.

Your hand trailed reverently across the hard leather of one of the bound pages, wishing you had the freedom to peer inside.

“Do you like to read?”

The voice startled you, and you gasped and turned with your hand on your chest.

“Goodness. I’m...sorry, Your Majesty.”

His smile was kind, but his eyes looked like he was laughing at you. “It’s quite alright. So, do you?”

“Hmm?” You hummed softly, distracted by the way his now silver tunic made him glow like an otherworldly being. “Oh, read?” You smile sheepishly, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation and not on his lips. “I don’t get to very often, but I like stories.”

He seemed pleased with your answer, gesturing towards the book. “We got this one from a visiting Monarch years ago. Livres des merveilles du monde. It’s about a merchant named Marco Polo who was an adventurer for a while and traveled through the Orient. I was certain I was going to grow up and conquer the world someday when I first read this.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Ah, the bane of my existence. Responsibilities,” he says dramatically, obviously trying to make you smile. “You may borrow it if you like. I’m not certain if it will be riveting enough for you, but you’re welcome to it. Or anything else here, during your stay.”

He picked up the book and handed it to you, his grin growing as he watched you cup it in your hands and stare at it in awe. A whole book!

You smile up at him genuinely for the first time, your smile wide and beaming with joy. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m not certain I’ll have time to finish it since I read so very slowly, but I thank you for the chance.”

He nods, his cheeks pinkened slightly. He gestures with a hand towards a table in the corner.

“I have some warm wine and honey pastries if you’d like to join me. I thought we might have a chance to get to know each other a little more before we have the pressure of an entire room watching our every move.”

“Oh...yes, that will be...tense” you gulp and sit as gracefully as you can in the highbacked wooden chair.

His smile is soft and kind as he pours you a drink. “I suppose despite your status you’re not quite used to court life. Your father mentioned you preferred staying home.”

“Yes,” you stuttered nervously. “I found I was more comfortable tutoring at home rather than being fostered out. I’m afraid the one time I tried, I found the group of ladies rather spiteful and begged Papa to come home after only three months.”

Which was a true story. Eleanor had been sent to the Duchesse Aline Villeneuve - the King’s very own aunt - to learn how to run a keep and other “women’s arts” not long after her mother had passed away from a sudden illness. According to Eleanor, she had been horribly bullied by the other ladies in the Duchesse’s care and she “hadn’t cared to make friends with such vain and heartless wenches, anyhow.”

Personally, you had rather fond memories of that summer, as with Eleanor away you’d had the freedom to do as you pleased and you’d even made a new friend for a few months - a village boy with the most annoying laugh you’d ever heard but had been sweet and fun. The two of you had been inseparable for the entire summer until one day he didn’t show up to the stream you often met at. You still thought of that boy from time to time and hoped he was doing well. You never did learn where he disappeared to.

King Seokjin nods in understanding. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to be much better here. Gossip is practically a form of currency, and whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter,” he rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair, bringing up a mug of steaming spiced wine to his lips. He gulps and sighs, setting the cup back on the table.

“And in your case, it will be twice as bad as you are...well…” he coughs lightly, his cheeks blushing once more. “A high contender to be Queen?”

You sputter on the drink of wine you’d just taken, trying to hastily wipe any spilled droplets before he sees them.

“Yes...err, I am...that.”

“So,” he says loudly, slapping his hands onto his thighs. “I mostly wanted to set aside some time right now so you can tell me things you like to do. I’m afraid I have to live my entire life by a set schedule, so if I had some ideas for my courting days with you that would help greatly.” “Oh,” you smile mischievously, “Yes, I imagine it must be difficult trying to balance so many suitors. Romantic sailing on Monday, serenading on Tuesday, kissing in a dark alcove on Wednesday...”

“You have no idea, “ he groans, only to still and gape at you in astonishment. “You’re making fun of me!”

“I would never, Your Majesty,” you drop your eyes to your lap, still smiling despite the way you were internally smacking yourself. This wasn’t home, you had to curb your tongue.

He squints at you suspiciously. “I have a feeling you would and will. You have some spirit hiding under that demure stance, don’t you Lady Eleanor?” He cocks his head and looks at you with an expression of pleased wonder.

“Perhaps, Your Majesty.”

“I think,” he begins softly, his tone making you lift your eyes to meet his. “In private settings like this, you may use my first name.”

Your eyes widen incredulously. “Oh, I couldn’t!”

“I can order you to if I must,” his smile is playful, even while his eyes are staring at you intensely.

“I...alright. Thank you...Seokjin,” you respond quietly and no doubt with crimson cheeks.

“There. That wasn’t so hard. And...I liked hearing it.”

He stands up and offers you his hand. “It’s time to head to supper. I can escort you as far as to the hall, but I have to go to the high table without anyone seeing you with me. Don’t want them to see you entering the dining hall on the King’s arm; that would make you a target for the harpies,” he winks, linking your arm in his. “You can send a list of activities we can do together later.”

The walk down the hall is too short, but you’d enjoyed the feeling of his strong arm encasing yours and the occasional sneaky peeks of his beautiful side profile. He releases you as soon as the noisy dining hall is close enough to hear.

“I must leave you here, but I look forward to speaking with you on the morrow. I’ll have someone bring the book to your room tonight.”

“Thank you, Your M…” you begin, only for him to raise an eyebrow at you daringly. You glance around you for eavesdropping servants and sigh. “Thank you, Seokjin.”

His beaming smile is worth your embarrassment. “Well done, lambkin. Be sure to try the custard tarts, they are the best!”

He waves and strides off, leaving you to find the waiting Jungkook and be escorted to your seat. Something pricked at the back of your mind, however. Lambkin? Why did that seem so familiar? Perhaps you were just overwhelmed. You shake your head and focus on the elegant supper in front of you as you find Jungkook waiting just inside the door, and he gestures for you to walk ahead of him. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched he’s dying to ask you about the meeting, but there is no way to subtly speak to him at the moment.

The dining hall was brimming with people and you praised Eleanor for being the sort of noble who kept to herself, since the chances of anyone knowing her here were incredibly low. Your seat is incredibly close to the high table - in fact, it was directly above you. A few more steps to your right and His Majesty would be getting crumbs and wine on your head.

You’re not brave enough to look at him yet, though, and decide to look around for your “competition.”

Your table seems to be where they are all located, judging by the way most of the women gathered around you meet your curious gaze with measuring looks of their own. Most of them turn away after a few seconds, obviously dismissing you as not a threat.

One girl that looks similar to Eleanor all the way down to her bouncing curls grins at you playfully and waves at you with the chicken leg in her hand. You nod in answer, adding a slight smile as you decided she seemed nice enough.

A regal brunette meets your eyes with a quirk of her eyebrow, blatantly looking you up and down. Her lips thin and she pointedly turns away with a sneer, clutching her silverware almost threateningly. Alright, she will not be someone you want to know.

Directly across from you is a redhead and you snort, coming to the realization that His Majesty literally has every color of the rainbow to pick from for his bride. Variety is the spice of life, you suppose. This woman seems very disinterested in everything around her, however, focusing on her meal and only interacting with servants to refill her goblet.

At the head of the table and directly at your elbow is the one that you can only assume is the Princess. She is incredibly pretty, you have to admit. Her dark black hair is mostly loose and cascading about her in waves. The sides have been pulled back and secured with a large golden hairpin the size of a dagger with little jeweled flowers adorning it. Her dress is strange yet beautiful. Silk or satin, if you had to guess. The top was lavender and embroidered with flowers and some sort of serpent that vaguely looked like a dragon. The bottom was nearly peach-colored and consisted of the same decorations. Her features were sharp and sculpted, with high cheekbones and a thin nose. She looked exotic and lovely, but it wasn’t until her smile blinded you that you realized she was beautiful. She met your eyes with a twinkle in hers, reaching her delicate hand up to point at herself.

“I am Hosook. You?”

“I am Lady Eleanor Rose D’Aily, Your Highness,” you answer slowly, assuming that the way she was squinting while you spoke was her concentrating on your words. Perhaps she was learning the language still.

“You for him too?” she asked with a wave behind her at the high table.

“Yes, I was brought here for the King. I’m sure you’re a much better choice.”

The Princess smiles her understanding and waves away your compliment. “Too...ugg,” she grunts, obviously failing to find the word she wanted. She chose instead to flap in the general direction of King Seokjin like she was shooing away a fly.

“You...aren’t attracted to His Majesty?” you ask in a hushed voice. How could anyone not find him the most beautiful being to ever walk this earth?

She sticks out her tongue, “Reminds me of Haraboji...uh...Grandfather?”

You sputter a laugh which you know is too loud, but you can’t help yourself as Princess Hosook giggles with you. You feel yourself being watched and glance up to lock eyes with the very man in question. The King looks down at you curiously, his lips tilted in an amused smile as you can’t stop your giggles. Suddenly, he winks at you and you look away quickly as your laughter dies down into a shy smile.

“Oh,” Princess Hosook says slyly, clucking and patting your hand with a grin. “I see now. You nice, make pretty Queen.”

“Goodness, it’s not like that at all. We just met,” you rush to explain, your excuses being waved away yet again.

“I like…” she waves between the King and you. “Nice together. Uh...need more words,” she grumbles quietly, biting her lip.

“I could help, if you like? I helped my Lad...err...my Ladies Maid learn how to read and write.”

Her smile was beaming as she nodded her head in agreement. “Yes. Need be better to deal with them,” she nods her head towards the gaggle of noblewomen surrounding them.

“I understand. I have to wait to hear which days I need to spend with the King, and then we’ll set aside some time for us!” You smile kindly at the Princess, who grins back and attends her meal with much more gusto now that she had something to look forward to. You sigh and quietly thank the powers that be for making some sort of friend to get you through this, and one that you were able to fall back into your natural state of submission with. It would be easier to explain any lapses in your behavior if you were just a mere Duke’s daughter shadowing a Princess, rather than being with the other women who were basically your equals and expected you to be just as much of a spoiled prat as they were.

The meal comes to a close (and you were amazed that you only caught yourself staring at His Majesty less than five times), and Jungkook is back at your elbow to escort you to your rooms. As you accept his helping hand, you feel someone tap on your shoulder. Princess Hosook flicks her eyes up and down Jungkook with an exaggerated waggled of her eyebrows. Her hand goes to her chest and she mouths something that you assume is complimentary. Jungkook’s eyes are huge as he tries to follow what’s happening.

You giggle and slap his arm. “She thinks you’re handsome.”

“TAKEN…” he squeaks, “I’m taken. Sorry..uh...lady...majesty…”

“Always pretty ones,” Princess Hosook sighs and waves goodbye with fluttering fingers, disappearing with her own small army of attendants.

You continue to laugh quietly as Jungkook begs you to stop. You pause just before leaving the hall and catch the King’s eye right before he leaves for his own apartments. He smiles and shallowly bows, and you watch him until his broad shoulders disappear from sight.

“Sis,” Jungkook mutters quietly as he herds you back to your hallway. “You can’t…” he sighs. “I’m sure you think he’s handsome and he seems to be nice to you, but you can’t be with him. You remember that, right? You’re not who he thinks you are and he’d find that out if you were to marry him. I am literally stealing a potential bride from him, and the moment he finds out, he can kill us all.”

“I know, Jungkook. I’m not an imbecile.”

“I know that, but you’ve never been courted before. I forgot about that and now I’m worried that you’re over your head.”

You sigh and loop your arm in his as you walk. “I suppose I forgot that he’d be trying to win me over as much as the rest, at least at first. I might have let the sweet words and smiles affect me, but I promise Jungkook, I’ll remember. Besides, I saw the other potential brides. I am no match for them. The novelty of someone new will fade in a few days, and I pray that we have the deed to the keep no later than a month. Then, I will tell him that I don’t think I’m a good match for the Kingdom and we can be on our merry way.”

He sighs wearily and tugs you close for a quick hug. “I know, I trust you and your judgment, I just got worried. If he does anything that makes you uncomfortable or makes you feel compromised, let me know. I don’t care if he’s the king, I’ll throw down my glove.”

“You’ll not duel the King, Jungkook. Go seek your bed, brother dear,” you say with a tiny smile, pushing him away from you once you reach your room. “Tell Eleanor when she comes back from the kitchens she can go straight to her room. I won’t bother her tonight because I’m so exhausted from all this excitement I’m going to fall asleep the moment my head hits the mattress.”

Jungkook grins, a look you really don’t want to identity lighting his eyes. “Will do. Sweet dreams, sis.” He stomps off and leaves you to close the door to your opulent apartments.

You yawn and observe the room as you undress, leaving the layers of clothing across a chair to be taken care of the next day. The room was spacious and absolutely gorgeous, decorated in lovely shades of robin’s egg blue, white, and gold. There was an entire room just for clothing, one for washing, and yet another whole room for your ladies maid - something that Eleanor had seemed suspiciously excited about. You worried that she was going to try yet again to seduce her love now that she had a new sort of freedom without her father about.

You crawl onto the giant golden bed and arrange the blankets over you as you fight off another yawn. A full belly and an overwhelming day full of excitement seemed to be all your poor body could handle. Another yawn and you drift off to sleep, visions of warm brown eyes and smiling lips filling your dreams.

A/N: 

1. Yes, that is Hoseok. He’s a pretty princess today. 

2. I don’t really like using the term “exotic” but since this is a historical and being done from the viewpoint of a person in the middle ages, it seemed fitting. 

3. Oh, look at that totally huge and obvious hint to the past. Hmmm....

[buckyodinson]

The First (Agent Whiskey x fem!Reader)

Request from anon: agent whiskey x reader w/ shy (forst tiem) valentine s e x and he lowkey likes it alot alot in the sense that homie is taller than her and she sexually frustrated him by teasing him without her meaning too? coz shes shy?? 🤝😳

Word Count: 5.4k (I don’t know where it all came from!)

 A/N: SMUT! I don’t claim to be a great writer when it comes to smut, so I hope this reads okay?

It was fair to say that you turned some heads at the Statesman agency. You were one of the youngest agents there, but you rose through the ranks quickly and became one of the most highly skilled agents they had. Within just a few months, you were already working with the likes of Tequila and Whiskey. They were both floored the first time you were sent on an assignment with them, and you kicked total ass on the field. It was a complete 180 from your usual demeanour. Usually, you were quite reserved and wouldn’t pipe up during meetings or briefs, and you mostly kept to yourself, but on assignments and recon missions, you were a whole other person. Both men flirted with you constantly, and you would blush and smile in response, too shy to respond to their comments.

Tequila’s infatuation with you was just that, it was a fleeting feeling, and soon he would just compliment you to see you blush, not actually wanting anything from it. Whiskey, however, found himself falling for you. He was a little baffled at first as it was a foreign feeling to him. It had been a long time since he’d truly felt that way about someone before, but it almost gave him whiplash when he realised he was actually falling in love with you.

He was completely enamoured with you. He loved your quiet nature, finding it adorable that you would often be found in your office reading a book if you had no paperwork to be filling out. You could speak your mind if needs be and had done on several occasions. Once, when Ginger was voted against on a promotion, you slammed your first on the table, muttering ‘this system is bullshit’ before storming out of the office. Naturally, you went and found Champ afterwards and apologised profusely for the way you acted, but Whiskey thought it was endearing how much you cared for your friends. Obviously, he found you to be incredibly attractive too, and he’d be lying if he said watching you out on the field didn’t do anything to him.

After a lot of assignments where you were paired or grouped together, Whiskey would go to his room and get off to the thoughts of you beating the shit out of whoever you’d been sent after. He’s a little embarrassed about how often his nights end in that way, but he just can’t help it. And even just around the headquarters too, he couldn’t get enough of you. On the odd occasion, you would come into work in a denim number (which he most definitely appreciated), most days you would be in smart clothes - a nice blouse tucked into either some tailored trousers or a pencil skirt, sometimes a cute dress. And Whiskey could not get enough of it. Hearing your little heels clicking down the hallway was one of his favourite things to hear.

He would never admit to it, but in some of the shared spaces in the headquarters, like the break room, he would purposefully put things on shelves a little bit taller than where you could reach, so he could swoop in and get them for you. You weren’t super short by any means, but they were shelves even he’d have to reach for. You’d always give it your best shot to get them yourself (and he did feel a little pervy enjoying the view sometimes), before ultimately turning around and, by some miracle, Whiskey was always there to help, giving you a wink and a “It’s no problem at all, sugar” type response to your thanks. Sometimes he felt a bit cruel for doing it in the first place, but there was no harm really.

He started laying the flirting on thick sometime just before Christmas, always grabbing you a drink on his way to the office in the morning or offering the buy you lunch or dinner while you were out on missions. Sometimes you’d come into your office to find a single flower laid on your desk, and you’d blush at the thought of Whiskey stopping by a florist that morning and asking for just the one flower.

You had fallen very quickly for Whiskey too. As you started working your way up the ranks of the Statesmen, some people warned you about Whiskey, calling him a womaniser, telling you he brought a new girl home every week and all sorts of similar tales. But when you finally made it to the senior agents’ team and met Whiskey, he was nothing like the rumours. He was a total sweetheart. Sure, he flirted with you a lot, but he certainly didn’t seem like he was taking girls home left, right and centre. You found him to be a very thoughtful man, always grabbing you a drink in the morning, or buying you a little pastry at lunch, reminding you to eat something while you work.

You were shy by nature, and you wished you could put yourself out there a little more and be a bit closer to Whiskey, but you were worried. He was a fair bit older than you, and while he did flirt with you and treat you often, you didn’t want to read too much into it, thinking he wouldn’t be interested in you romantically because you were so much younger. And, to be really honest with yourself, in your time working up to be a Statesman agent so young, you hadn’t really had time for any sexual exploits, so you were severely inexperienced. And because of that, you were a little worried about the rumours about him, worrying he’d think you were too immature for him and move on to the next attractive woman who walked into the distillery who’d gladly fuck him in a heartbeat.

Whiskey was an attractive man, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about being intimate with him, but having those thoughts would panic you a little because you know how painfully shy you are and how awkward you’d be, and it puts you off the whole thing. You couldn’t help but get a little hot under the collar during missions, seeing him effortlessly use his whip and lasso. You’d definitely thought about whether he’d use them in the bedroom or not, before blushing profusely and getting on with the mission, before excusing yourself as soon as you’d been debriefed, so you could go home and get off to the thought of it.

Whiskey’s flirting and your unintentional teasing had been going on for a while, and you were all at a bar celebrating a mission that ended successfully. People were chatting about their plans for Valentine’s Day in a few weeks, and you offhandedly mentioned you’d never been on a date for Valentines.

Whiskey’s eyebrows shot up, “That can’t be true, doll. You’re telling me nobody has ever taken you out for Valentines?”

You simply shook your head in reply as you took a sip of your drink.

“Well I’m not having that, sugar. How about I take you out, show you how a fine girl like you should be treated on Valentine’s Day?”

You laughed into your drink, “You really don’t have to, Jack. I’m sure I’m not missing out on much.”

“Come on, doll. Let me treat you? I’ll give you the whole Jack Daniels Valentine Experience!” You wondered how intimate a typical Valentines would get for Jack but the way he smiled softly at you made your heart melt, and who can say no to those puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, cowboy.” You rolled your eyes, but your heart was fluttering in your chest.

In that few weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day, you would find flowers, chocolates, balloons and sweet little handwritten notes in your office, and you would feel heat crawl up your neck every time you opened your office door and see what awaited you. The day before Valentines, you came into your office to find a box tied with a bow, that had a small note attached to it.

‘Saw this and thought of you, doll. Maybe you could wear it tomorrow? X’

You opened the box to find a beautiful black dress. It was a very classic looking dress, with a white collar and little embroidered flowers along the sleeves and the hem, and it stopped just short of your knees. You were shocked when you saw it, expecting Jack to be the kind of man to buy a sexy, revealing dress for a woman to wear on a date, and it only made you fall for him more. He wasn’t pushing you into anything he knew you’d be uncomfortable with, and he genuinely seemed to know you well. At the bottom of the box, was a note saying that he’d pick you up from your apartment at 7, and to expect ‘the best date of your life’, which frankly wasn’t hard to beat. You’d only been on a few dates as a teenager which all ended horribly, and no matter how badly this date with Jack went, you were sure it’d be miles better than the others.

The day came and you were very nervous. You really liked Whiskey and you wanted to make a good impression. You knew it was silly, as he didn’t think of you that way, he was just doing this for you because he was sweet and wanted you to have a fun night. But you were still nervous and paced the hallway of your apartment once you were ready for the night. You had no idea what to expect from the night, and the butterflies in your stomach were raging, but you were excited at the same time.

At 7 on the dot, you heard your doorbell chime, and you took a deep breath before answering the door. You were met by Jack in a suit with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates in his hands. Cliché but you loved it anyway. You opened the door further and he stepped in, pulling you into an embrace and kissing you on the cheek. You blushed and giggled at his action and shut the door behind him, leading him to the kitchen so you could find a vase for the flowers before you left.

“You look amazing, Y/N. The dress looks beautiful on you.” He spoke softly, without his usual flirty tone.

“Thank you, Jack. You’ve cleaned up pretty well yourself, though it is a little odd seeing you without your hat.” You smiled up at him as you put the flowers in a vase and placed them on your windowsill.

“Only for you, darlin’. Nobody else is worth taking the Stetson off for,” He winked as he walked back to the front door, “You ready to go?”

You nodded and followed him out the door. You locked up and followed him out of his building to his car, where he opened the passenger door for you, holding your hand as you stepped into the car, before walking round to the driver’s side and climbing in.

“So, where are you taking me, Mr Daniels.” You smirked at him as he started to drive. The name caught him off guard and he blushed a little, getting the tiniest bit turned on by it.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, angel.”

He drove for about 20 minutes, singing softly to some songs that played on the radio, and chatting idly with you, before pulling up to a bookstore. You raised an eyebrow when he parked the car, and he just smiled at you, before jumping out and all but sprinting to your side of the car so he could help you out before you got out by yourself.

He walked you up to the store and when you walked in and he led you to a back corner of the store, it took your breath away. There were a few small tables in the corner, and you assumed they must have a little cafe set up in the daytime, but one table had been set up with candles and rose petals adorning the floor leading up to it. String lights also lit up the small corner, so the area was quite dimly lit.

“Jack… it’s beautiful.” You we’re at a loss for words, really, and couldn’t quite comprehend the gesture.

“I know you’re not the most extroverted girl out there, so I figured you’d enjoy this more than any fancy restaurant full of other couples.” He pulled out a chair and you sat down in it, not missing the fact that he said ‘other couples’, and definitely not missing the way your heart flipped at that comment.

Food was soon brought out to the pair of you, and you were shocked to see it was your favourite dish. You could’ve only mentioned it once before, but Jack clearly stored that away for future reference, and here it was sat in front of you. At one point he excused himself to go to the bathroom, and the waitress came to collect your plates and spoke to you while she tidied the table, “I must say, you’ve got a real catch. He’s been in and out of here the whole week planning this night, making sure it was perfect for you. I’ve never seen such a doting boyfriend before.” You smiled and she left you alone at the table once more. You pondered her comments for a while - why was Jack making such a big effort for a silly little date like this? But you had to push your thoughts back when Jack returned to the table.

“This is all too much, Jack. You really don’t know how much I appreciate this. Thank you.” You spoke once he returned.

“Not at all, darlin’. And it should be me thanking you for letting me take you out.” He reached across the table to take one of your hands in his, and you blushed.

“Don’t be silly, Jack. I’m sure any girl would throw themselves at your feet to be taken out and treated like this.”

“Maybe… but I wouldn’t care about them the way I care about you.” He looked down at his lap, and he seemed genuinely nervous, a word you’d never heard in the same sentence as Jack.

You didn’t know how to reply to his admission, so just simply squeezed his hand, and he leaned forward and took a deep breath, “I really like you Y/N, and I wanted this night to be perfect, because I wanted to prove that I’m not the guy everybody thinks I am. The guy I’m sure people have told you about may have been me a long time ago. But ever since you joined the agency, I’ve been in awe of you. And I honestly can’t believe I’m sat across from you right now. It feels like some kind of dream, doll. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, because even if you don’t, I’ll have still had this one perfect evening with you.” He spoke so quietly, and despite the fact that the smile on your face grew bigger as he spoke, he still looked terrified of your answer once he’d finished speaking.

“I feel the same, Jack. You’ve been an absolute gentleman to me ever since we met, and I’ve felt the same for a while now too.” You leaned forward and he captured your lips with his own, giving you a chaste kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours.

“I’ve waited so long to do that, angel.” He whispered sweetly and you both sat there like that for what seemed like an hour, smiling to yourselves like a pair of idiots.

“How would you feel about coming back to my place for a movie and a drink?” The invitation worried you a little, but you saw in his eyes he had no other intentions and it calmed you down.

“I think I’d like that.”

He drove you over to his place, and he told you to make yourself comfortable while he grabbed some drinks. You sat down on his sofa and took in the decor of the room. It was minimalist, but you could see little hints of Jack everywhere, a few photos littered the wall, and one particular photo caught your eye. You walked over to it, and saw it was a photo from the gala the Statesmen had at Christmas. You weren’t the biggest person for fancy parties, but you went to it, knowing Jack would be there, and you actually had a great time. The picture in front of you had you, Jack and Champ sat at your usual seats in the briefing room, but all in Santa hats and pulling ridiculous faces.

You smiled at the photo and jumped when Jack came up behind you and laid a hand on your back.

“Hope you don’t think it’s weird that I have that photo up, doll.”

“Not at all, it’s cute.”

He led you back over to the sofa, where he sat and you tucked yourself into his side, your head resting against his chest. He covered you both with a blanket and wrapped his arm around you, resting it on your thigh. Your hand was laid on his stomach and you absentmindedly rubbed your thumb against his shirt as you watched the move Jack put on. Jack was doing the same with the hand on your thigh, and you couldn’t help but focus on how nice the small movement felt, instead of watching the movie. Little did you realise, you were having the same effect on Jack, and he was getting more turned on by the minute. He could see a small tent forming in his pants and prayed to god you wouldn’t notice, not wanting to ruin a sweet moment like this.

But then you tucked yourself closer into his side and stretched your arm out slightly, and it grazed his crotch and he couldn’t quite catch the moan that left his lips at the fleeting touch. You gasped and sat up when you realised what had happened. You looked at him with wide eyes and saw his pupils were blown. The sight made you weak in the knees, but also scared you and when he leaned forward to capture your lips you quickly excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

Jack sat there confused for a minute before following you and knocking softly on the door.

“You okay in there, sugar?”

“…yeah, yeah I’m okay. I’ll… uh... I’ll be out in a sec.”

He decided to go back and wait for you, and after a few minutes you emerged again and sat next to him.

“What’s up, doll?” He lifted your chin to face him.

“It’s nothing, Jack.”

“Come on, you can tell me anything, angel.” His thumb rubbed light circles into your cheek.

“It’s just… I got a bit freaked out. I’ve never… I’m not very expe… I’m a virgin, Jack.” You spoke barely above a whisper, worried about his response.

“It’s okay, doll. I don’t want to rush you into anything. You just gotta be a little more careful where you’re putting your hand, is all, darling. I’m a red-blooded man, after all.” He laughed at himself to ease your anxiety, and you leaned into his hand in your cheek.

“The thing is… I want to. I’m just nervous… I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Nothing you could do would disappoint me, Y/N. Everyone’s nervous their first time. It’s natural.” His words eased you and you felt a sudden burst of courage and you lurched forward to kiss him.

Jack was shocked but instantly melted into the kiss, and he shifted you, so you were sat in his lap before pulling away, breathing heavily, “Are you sure about this, sugar? I can wait, honestly. There’s no rush at all.”

You only answered by pulling him towards you and attaching your lips to his again. He groaned into the kiss and pulled your body closer to his. You sighed and wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up and walked you to his bedroom. He placed you gently down onto his bed before stepping back and admiring your wide pupils and swollen lips.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked once again and you nodded in reply, “I need to hear you say it, doll.”

“Yes, Jack. I want this.” Your breathless voice turning him on further.

He reached for your hands and pulled you to stand. He kissed you again before stepping and walking behind you, and slowly unzipping your dress, attaching his lips to your neck while he did so. You sighed in response and turned your neck further, giving him better access, which he gladly accepted. Once the zip was completely down, Jack ghosted his hands over the skin of your back until they reached the collar of the dress and he pushed it slowly off of your shoulders and down your arms, leaving goosebumps behind where his fingers traced your skin. Once the dress reached your hips, he let go and it dropped to the floor. His touch remained on your hips for another minute or so while he continued to kiss and nip at your neck, before disappearing completely. You turned around slowly to see he had removed his shirt and was undoing his belt. When he noticed you’d turned around, he looked up at your face and smiled before his gaze dropped to your chest. You immediately became self-conscious and crossed your arms in front of your chest. He quickly took his trousers off and let them drop, stepping out of them and placing his hands on your hips.

“Darlin’, these are nothing to be embarrassed by. You haven’t gotta hide from me.” He pulled you flush against him and you felt the hard outline of his cock through his boxers, and you blushed but slowly reached your hand out to touch his now bare chest.

“That’s my good girl.” He drawled and you sighed as he rubbed small circles into your hips, before suddenly lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You squealed and he laughed into your skin as he left a mark on your neck.

He moved over to the bed and crawled on before laying you down softly into the sheets. He stayed there for what felt like an eternity just kissing along your jaw and neck before reaching behind you and unclasping your bra and flinging it somewhere across the room. You sighed as he left a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts and then let out a moan when he latched his mouth onto one of them, palming the other with his hand. You dig your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp and earning a delicious groan from the back of his throat. While he swaps to give your other breast some attention, his hand slips down to your clothed core. He simply runs a single finger lightly over the material of your underwear, and your hips jerk up in response, along with a soft sigh. One hand is fisted into the sheets underneath you, while the other tugs lightly on Jack’s hair, pulling grunts and sighs from him.

Jack slowly kisses his way further down your body, until he reaches your underwear. You think he’s going to pay some attention there, but he simply gives one kiss over the material, which makes your hips jerk again, before carrying on down one leg. He pays attention to your inner thighs, and his touch against the sensitive skin there has you reeling. As he continues further down your legs, he pulls your underwear along with them. Once they’re off, he crawls back up your body until he’s reached your core again. Your legs open wider involuntarily and Jack groans at the sight.

“You’re beautiful, darlin’,” He speaks lowly before reaching a finger out to press softly into your folds. This action pulls a moan from deep in your throat and the sound sends blood straight down to Jack’s already hard cock, “so wet for me already.”

He pulls his finger back and wraps his lips around it and hums, and the sight makes you weak. He settles between your thighs and licks a stripe straight up from your entrance to your hooded clit, and no dreams you’d ever had about Jack in the past could compare to the way his tongue actually felt against you. You felt the soft touch of his fingers moving through your folds, before his tongue finds your bud and gives it small licks before taking it completely into his mouth and sucking on it. You were seeing stars, and your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping the sheets. His dexterous tongue explores your folds and he hums, and the vibration shoots up your entire body, making you shiver. You gasp when he sinks a finger inside you, and you swear you stop breathing for a minute. You shoot a hand out to grab his hair, and when you tug on it, Jack let’s out a growl and adds another finger to you depths, stretching them apart within you and you feel a coil tighten deep within you.

“Jack…please… God” you sigh, and a lewd moan escapes your mouth, further spurring Jack on, making him double his efforts. He reaches a hand up to grab at your breasts, pinching one of your nipples, and you come completely undone, body tensing. You bring a hand to your mouth and bite down on it to stop from making too much noise, and you actually draw blood, but you’re in complete ecstasy so you don’t even notice. Jack, meanwhile, is still lapping up everything you have to offer him and once you come out of your high, he stops and slowly makes his way back up your body until he’s hovering over you, smirking. You blush and cover your face when you see his mouth and chin are glistening from your release.

“Doll, there’s no need to be embarrassed. That was amazing.” He grabs your hand and sees the blood on it, furrowing his brows “What happened here?”

“I must have bit down too hard on it.” You admitted, still breathing heavily.

“From now on, I don’t want you hiding the noises you make, sugar. They were like music to my ears.” He leans down to capture your lips once more, and you can taste yourself on his tongue, groaning at the sensation. He pulls away to say “There we go, good girl.” before diving in again.

With one hand in his hair, you run the other down his chest, and find the waistband off his boxers. Reaching your hand in slowly to grab his cock, he suddenly grabs your wrist and hovers above you once more, “Are you sure darlin?”

“Yes,” you breath out “I want you to feel good too.”

“This is all about you, not me. And trust me, angel, I’m okay if you want to stop.” He looked down at you so lovingly, and your heart almost stopped.

“Yes, Jack. Please… I want you.”

He gave you quick kiss on the lips before reaching for the cabinet next to the bed and rummaging around the drawer before pulling out a condom. He kicks his boxers off and rolls it on slowly, and you get your first real look at Jack in all his naked glory, and you’re biting your lip without realising it as you watch him. He’s big, and 20 minutes ago you’d be panicking, but you felt much calmer now, and knew Jack wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. He smirks up at you when he feels your gaze on him, “Enjoying the view, sugar?”

“Definitely.” You giggle and reach for him. He obliges and climbs over you again, dipping down to kiss you. He lines himself up with your entrance, and gives you one last chance to stop, and you roll your hips up to meet his, so the tip enters you and you both moan in pleasure. He slowly pushes the rest of the way in until he’s completely sheathed, and he drops his head to your shoulder, panting.

“God, doll. You’re so tight, it’s unreal.” He grunts but stays still, giving you time to adjust to his size, leaving kisses along your collarbone.

“I’m good, please move Jack.” You sigh and Jack starts to pull out slowly before burying himself back to the hilt again. It was painful at first, but soon, the pleasure outgrew the pain and you could feel another orgasm approaching. You wrapped your legs around Jack’s waist again and clawed at his back, “Faster, Jack… please.”

He starts to move a little faster, not being too rough with you though, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer, the way your pussy is clenching him, so he slides a hand between your bodies and starts circling your clit again, trying to get you to catch up with him. The sensation is too much, and you bite down on his shoulder, most definitely leaving a mark there.

“Come on, angel. Almost there. You’re being so good-such a good girl-fuck, I’m so close.” He stutters as his thrusts start to become sloppier, pressing harder against your clit.

You can’t even formulate a coherent reply, but you moan so loudly and it’s all the confirmation Jack needs to know you’re as close as he is, as well as the way you’re clamping down on him. He catches your lips again and after a few more thrusts, his hips stutter as he comes, but he carries on until you follow suit a few seconds later. You both ride out your highs, Jack’s thrusts becoming slower and slower until he comes to a complete stop, and the only sound in the room is your heavy breaths. Jack softens and pulls out of you and flops down next to you.

“That was something else, doll.” Jack speaks through his laboured breaths.

He gets up and throws the condom away in the bathroom and returns with a washcloth to clean you up, giving you wet kisses along your jaw and neck.

“I’m gonna get us a drink, make sure you use the bathroom.” He winks at you when he walks out, and you can’t help but stare at his ass, confirming it looks much nicer out of his jeans than in them.

You take his advice and go to the bathroom, smiling at yourself with how sweet he is, and how much he cares about you. When you’re done, you catch yourself in the mirror. Your hair is a mess, and your make-up is smudged, so you quickly wash your face while you’re there. When you re-emerge in the bedroom, Jack is still naked, sat on top of the sheets leaning against the headboard with two glasses of water in his hands. You quickly hop under the sheets next to him and he hands you one of the glasses. You take a sip and when you’re done, he takes them glasses and puts them on the cabinet beside the bed, before shuffling around until he was under the sheets, and he pulled you flush against him.

“You okay?”

“I’m great, a little sore if I’m honest, but it was definitely worth it.” You giggle and place a hand on his cheek, which he leans into.

“Thank you, Jack. I still can’t quite believe that just happened.” You grinned.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, doll. You deserved everything and more tonight. And I’m glad I’ve got you all to myself now.”

“I don’t know how you’re gonna top Valentine’s Day every year from now though. This one has been perfect.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a way, sugar. Don’t you worry about that…” he smirked down at you and you leaned up to kiss him.

You turned around in his arms, so your back was against his chest, and the pair of you fell asleep soon after. Both of you falling asleep to the thoughts that you can’t quite believe how lucky you are to be with the other.

[senacal]

Loved A Dance for Two! Was wondering if you’re open to another Erik Lehnsherr x FemReader? Something maybe about how Reader and Erik first meet or make eye contact? Maybe it’s her first day of training or joining the school? Thank you!

A Day To Remember

Request: Requested by anon

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x FemReader

Warnings: None, It’s pure fluff.

Author’s Note: Hello lovely anon, I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for your support with the first Erik x Reader fic ^.^ Sorry this one took so long Xx.

Requests are open!

(Gif not mine)

(Y/N) was extremely nervous and excited, for today was her first day at Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. (Y/N) knew it would be a day to remember and one that she would never forget. She could clearly remember the day Charles had contacted her with the offer to teach at the school. It was like any other day, (Y/N) was waiting for her cup of coffee from the little bistro near her old job. While she was waiting, a man had bumped into her, nearly knocking her over. At the time she had been annoyed, couldn't anyone watch where they were going? But then she had seen the kind eyes of Hank McCoy. He had lost his footing when he was assisting Charles into the bistro. Hank had apologized excessively for nearly knocking her over but once (Y/N) had noticed why he bumped her, she made sure to assure him it wasn't a problem. Accidents happened, right?

Instead of dropping the subject and continuing with their day, Charles had convinced her to join them for a little chat. (Y/N) wasn't one to accept offers from strange people, but there was something about these two men that seemed so genuine. Soon enough they were talking about their occupations and that's when she figured out who exactly Charles was. She had followed his work closely since she was in college, hell she had focused on that same concept in her undergrad year. That is until she found love in interpersonal communications. It was a class that the college had offered as a required course, so she signed up and was pleasantly surprised by the subject matter.

Once Charles and Hank had disclosed that information, (Y/N) had mentioned where her specialty relied on. Once they got her talking about her passion, it was clear to Charles and Hank how dedicated she was to her field. Not to mention they both knew she was a mutant, so she would feel safer working at Charles’s institute rather than her current job where she was forced to hide who she truly was. Charles knew instantly that she was a mutant when they entered the bistro, but he wasn’t going to out her like he did with Hank. He deeply regretted taking that away from Hank even though Hank kept telling him it wasn’t a problem. It was still hard to get over.

So in this instant, Charles knew what he had to do. He would bring up the subject to Hank and see if he agreed with Charles. It was rather hard on the young mutants at Charles’s school when it came to communication. Many of them had been mentally abused to believe they were freaks of nature, when it wasn’t true. Each of his students were beautifully unique and it hurt to see that many of them weren’t confident with themselves. Finding out that (Y/N) was a communications expert and had a keen interest in Interpersonal communications was one of the best outcomes from leaving the school.

It seemed as though Hank and Charles were having a mental conversation because they had shared a look together and it was rather quiet for an uncomfortable minute. (Y/N) was thankful to be sitting in a booth where she could easly escape without having to cause a scene if she needed to.

“(Y/N), I have a proposition for you, a job offer, if you’d like,” Charles started.

“Oh?” (Y/N) clutched her purse in her hands, getting ready to bolt.

“There’s no need to worry, love,” Charles cchuckled slightly, “I simply wanted to know if you’d be interested in teaching at my school? The school for gifted youngsters?”

At the time (Y/N) had been sceptical, but if the rumors were true, then the school wasn’t just some ordinary school.

“You’ll never have to hide who you are anymore. Please do consider my offer.”

(Y/N) visibly jumped in her seat when she heard Charles in her mind for the first time. “Holy shit.”

Soon enough, (Y/N) had quit her job and was eagerly awaiting the day when she’d be able to start at Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters, and that day was today.

(Y/N) packed up all of her necessities, everything she believed she’d need and had everything sent to her new home. She thankfully didn’t have to take the jet Charles was talking about because she was a couple miles out from the school. Instead, (Y/N) drove to the school in a few short hours. It was rather liberating too since she could sing as horribly as she wanted along with the radio. She wanted to keep up her mood, so obnoxious singing was the obvious thing to do.

Once (Y/N) had arrived to the school, she met Hank by the gates. He instructed her where to park and where to meet him once she was settled. He first had her pull up to the entrance where they could help her unload her things. She felt slightly guilty at having them unload her things, but Hank and Alex had assured her that it wasn’t an issue. It didn’t help ease her guilt, but it did get her to continue to the garage and park. She had rushed back to the two in order to help them. Once she arrived, however, they had already finished lugging her things to her new room.

“You guys really didn’t need to do this by yourselves.” (Y/N) she apologized once again.

“It’s no problem, really,” Alex brushed off.

“Ready to see Charles?” Hank asked with a kind smile.

(Y/N) nodded and followed them to Charles’s office.

“Professor?” Hank called out as he knocked and opened the door. To the surprise of Hank and Alex, there was someone speaking with Charles.

“Erik?” Hank frowned slightly when he saw who it was. He understood that Erik would always be Charles’s best friend, but it was rather odd to see the man after the Cuba incident.

“Hank, it’s nice to see you too.” Erik smirked slightly. He nodded at Alex and then his gaze landed on the girl behind them.

(Y/N) could feel her heart beating rather quickly once Erik’s blue eyes met her (Eye color) eyes. Erik was breathtakingly handsome. She felt herself smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen someone so attractive.

“(Y/N)?” Charles called once again.

(Y/N) snapped to attention when she finally heard her name, “Yes?”

Charles was laughing slightly, he obviously knew why she was so distracted. “I was just asking if you were ready for the tour?”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks heating up, no doubt she was flushed, “Uh, yes, yeah I’m ready.”

“Excelent! Erik, would you like to join us? I know you’ve been here often enough, but I do believe there are some additions you have yet to see.” Charles nudged his friend next to him.

“Uh, yeah, Of course,” Erik responded absently.

“Very well, Let’s get started shall we?” Charles manuvered around his desk and led everyone down the corridor.

(Y/N) lingered in the back of the small group, taking in her surroundings. She knew Charles and Hank had said the school was rather large, but this was magnificent. It was more like a castle than a school. (Y/N) was caught up in her surroundings that she hadn’t noticed Erik falling back to join her.

Erik cleared his throat to gain her attention. He smiled when their eyes met once again, “Enjoying the sights?”

“I  am actually, it’s very beautiful here,” She looked around them once again.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what kind of mutation do you have?” Erik asked curiously.

“Oh, uh, I’m not used to people knowing,” (Y/N)’s steps stuttered at the unexpected question, “I can manipulate water, freeze it, heat it, blast it, you name it.” She shrugged, “Nothing too special, not like Charles’s or Hank’s.”

“Don’t be modest, that’s amazing,” Erik met her gaze and shared a wide smile with her, “You’re amazing.”

(Y/N) couldn’t remember a time she had blushed this much before, “What about you? Do you, are you?”

“Yes, I am. I can manipulate metal,” He shrugged.

“Wow, that’s pretty cool,” (Y/N) mentally slapped herself. ‘That’s cool? Really?’

“I suppose,” Erik laughed, “So, I was wondering. Are you busy later tonight?”

(Y/N) was surprised by the sudden question, “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Would you maybe want to have dinner with me?” Erik asked hesitantly.

“I would love that,” (Y/N) earnestly agreed.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” Erik winked and broke off from the group with a wave.

Yes, (Y/N) would never forget her first day at Charles Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters.

[nctzendreamz]

get you :: mark lee

who would’ve thought I’d get you?

magic. that was the one word Mark decided to use to describe your relationship. pure magic.

growing up, Mark Lee was a shy boy. he often only spoke when spoken to, and truth be told, music was the only thing that had the power to bring out the extrovert buried deep inside him. even with his church background, the idea of being too social scared him. what was the point of building connections, when they were just going to be ruined? this was his motto, whether it was correct thinking or not.

this didn’t change when he went to Korea to follow his dreams. to follow the one thing that made him feel whole. he still thinks about the fact that the few friends he chose to have thought he was dead because he left without warning. that was the kind of guy Mark Lee was. he didn’t walk to beat of someone else’s drum, only his own. he didn’t need permission to do what he needed to do, and he was certain that the day somebody came and loved him would be the same day that hell froze over.

you’re too difficult, Mark.

it was a phrase he heard too often, so much so, that he knew he was destined to be alone forever. not because he didn’t want love, but because he was too difficult. Mark was weird. he said weird things, random things. he was spontaneous. one minute he could be laying in bed watching a movie, and then ten minutes later stuffing his face in a restaurant all by himself. he couldn’t help it. as mentioned, he did what he wanted.

but then he met you.

it wasn’t anything too dramatic. he was backstage doing mark things, which included fiddling with the mini guitar that he found in nct’s dressing room. he had no idea where the rest of the members were, but he assumed there was girls around. he had tried so hard to be like his hyungs, who had no problem getting girls. they could have a different one every night if they wanted. not him though. girls saw him as too shy, or “not their type”, whatever that meant.

he was in deep thought before he heard the door open, and he was shocked to say the least when he saw you. he knew you. your group was pretty popular, and he had recently seen your face in particular quite a bit. it hadn’t dawned on him that you had no business being in his dressing room, but with how pretty you looked right now he couldn’t manage to open his mouth.

your eyes were glued to your phone, clearly reading something stimulating.

“um...excuse me.” his voice trembled. “i..i think you’re in the wrong room.”

your head shot up quickly, eyes looking as if they could pop out of your head as you made eye contact with him.

“oh my goodness.” you sighed, slapping a hand on your forehead and leaning back on the now closed door. “this is so embarrassing.”

“eh, not really. I’ve seen worse.” he commented nonchantly, going back to his guitar.

“mark, right?” you spoke up. if he was being honest, he would’ve thought you left at this point.

“yeah.” he replied, not looking up at you. in reality he wasn’t purposely being rude, but his motto. you weren’t here to make a friend anyway. this was pure inconvience.

“are you always this nice?”

“sorry.” he apologized, putting the guitar down on the ground, and looking at you once more. “i’m honestly not used to people wanting to talk to me for this long.”

“i find that hard to believe.” you said in an unbelieving tone, taking a seat in a stylist chair nearby. “you’re Mark Lee.”

he had never heard someone speak of him in such a way that wasn’t a fan. “so you do know me?”

“how could I not? it’s hard not to keep track of the good ones.”

“the good ones? what does that mean?” he was heavily intrigued now.

“this may seem very childish,” you smirked to yourself, “but I have a list. a list of all the guys who are gross, and a list of all the guys who aren’t.”

“so I’m not on the gross list?”

“you’re actually number one on my not gross list.” you beamed.

inside, Mark felt his heartbeat getting faster and faster, but he would never let you see that your smile had that effect on him.

“i’m honored.” he smiled, his dimple coming out with pride. “you know, you’re...” he wanted so badly to thank you. thank you for seeing him for who he is, and noticing what others seemed to ignore. he wanted to tell you that you had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, and your mere giggle had made his day, but no. “you’re really nice too.” was what he decided to finish off with.

“yeah? well I’m glad you think so. maybe we can start talking more? i’m in desperate need of friends.”

“you? in desperate need of friends? you’re so popular though.”

“yeah. until people meet me and realize I’m too good.”

“too good?”

“some people can’t handle people like us, Mark.” you got up from the chair, squatting down in between his legs. “us good people. and I don’t mean the people who are only good when they want to be, or when it’s the wave,” you grabbed the mini guitar that laid beside mark’s leg, and began to play the chorus of a familiar tune. get you, by daniel caesar. “i mean people who are genuinely good all the time. we love all the time. they don’t like it.”

“you ever feel like it’s you?”

“all the time.” you dragged. “you give someone the world, and it’s still not enough for them to treat you with some respect.”

“yes.” he sighed, leaning his head back in relief.

“but you don’t say say anything when you’re angry, because they always say the same bullshit.” you smirked.

“you’re too difficult.” you both said in unison. suddenly, you couldn’t help but to burst into laughter. your squatting position turned into sitting on the floor right across from a hysterical mark. he didn’t know why this was all so funny, but it was.

“i think mine may be me though.” he breathed out once he finally calmed down.

“and why is that?”

“i don’t know. maybe I push people away? i am a little...different from people here.”

“how so? do you like marshmallows?” you eyed him dangerously.

“absolutely not.” he said with a look of disgust, “more like, I’m just random.”

“what’s weird about that?”

“well, to me nothing. but to girls...”

“don’t tell me an i.o.i girl curved you too.” you sighed playfully, putting a hand on his knee.

he couldn’t hold in his laugh. “no, that’s not what happened. it goes all the way back to Canada.” he sighed. “i just...I don’t know...never had the best luck. i guess they just don’t see me as the boyfriend type.”

“well, I’ll be the first to tell you, you are indeed the boyfriend type. the prototype, might I add.”

he had never had someone flirt with him so directly before, and he didn’t know what to do. all he knew was that his cheeks were flamed. “thank you.” he finally managed to escape from his throat. you were suddenly handing your phone to him, a new contact awaiting your device.

“you don’t have to put it in.” you smiled with a head tilt. “it wouldn’t be the first time i didn’t get what I wanted.”

he barely knew you, but he wanted to give you everything you wanted and more. he typed in his number with shaky hands, and sent a text to himself before handing you your phone back. he watched as you stood up, stretching your needed body parts.

“well, I should probably get back to my group before I get completely punished. but it was nice taking to you, Mark. i hope we can talk more.” you winked before walking out of the room, leaving mark to himself, but also a complete wreck.

the best kind of wreck.

the kind of wreck that starts from the deepest parts of your soul. he remembers it as if it was yesterday. after that, he couldn’t get you off his mind. he usually had a habit of daydreaming, but it had intensified by 1000.

he remembered everything.

“you know, you don’t have to be nervous.” you whispered as you released mark’s lips from yours. he swallowed deeply, trying his hardest to steady his breathing from all the emotions he was currently going through.

“i know. you’re just so...perfect.” he breathed out, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“says mr. perfection himself.”

“are you sure you’re okay with this?” he questioned frantically.

all you could do was respond to him with a deep kiss, allowing your tounge to graze against his, giving him permission to fully explore your mouth. suddenly, the two of you were smiling as you leaned him over.

..........

“you okay?” a warm voice spoke to him as he stood on the balcony in search of some answers. your arms wrapped around his waist from behind, comforting him in ways you didn’t understand.

“just got a lot on my mind.” was all he could muster.

“super m stuff?”

“super m stuff.”

“there’s nothing I can tell you to make you less stressed, because traveling is stressful.” you sighed, kissing the back of his neck gently. “but what I can do is tell you to enjoy it. even though you’re exhausted, enjoy it. it’s the easiest way.”

“but I hate this. i hate how much I don’t see you. i need you, baby.”

“i know. i need you too.”

..........

“you say you need me, but you’re not acting like it!” your broken voice screamed. “you keep pushing me away and it’s not fair!”

“how is it not fair? is it not my problem?”

“how can you even say that? how dare you say something like that when you see how much we’ve worked on trusting eachother. we used to tell eachother everything, good or bad. now look at us. lying.”

“baby...”

“no. when you’re ready to trust me again, then we can talk. but until then, you can keep your problems to yourself without taking to me.”

................

“you ready?” his voice whispered, holding you as tight as possible.

“as ready as I ever will be.” you sighed.

it was only a matter of time before your dating news would be dropped. but man did you feel invincible with mark beside you, and little did you know he felt like Superman right now.

“till the end of time, Mark?”

“till the end of time.”

..........

mark felt horrible. what was supposed to be a 2 hours studio session turnt into something much more intense, and he hadn’t even realized your sleeping state until he had closed up for the night. he couldn’t wake you up. he refused.

he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you sleep peacefully. he also couldn’t help but to join you on the couch, cuddling you into his chest as he whispered sweet nothings into your currently deaf ears.

...........

“where is he?” your said in a frantic voice, following Chenle and Jisung as they led you to your boyfriend, who apparently was in a horrible state.

the second you opened the door, your heart broke. he was sobbing in his knees with a cry you had never heard before.

“oh baby, come here.” you whispered. “you have to breathe.”

“i can’t!” he whispered.

“yes you can. just focus on my voice.”

“please don’t let go, y/n!” he cried.

“i never will.” you spoke as you cradled him in your arms.

..........

“so that’s how you play that!” you said in realization.

mark couldn’t answer, as his focus was on how cute you truly were.

“what?”

“nothing. i just love you.” was all he said before kissing your nose.

.

“busy?” you questioned as you knocked on the door.

you watched as your boyfriend took a deep breath, placing his pen down on his notepad. “everything okay?”

“gotcha.” was all you said, giving him a quick peck before leaving. you understood his code for, “i need alone time.

.............

“you know, sometimes I want to quit.” you whispered to him.

“me too.” he responded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“but then I remember, we have to feed our kids.”

“kids?” he choked.

“what? do you not want kids with me?”

“i...of course I do. i just didn’t think you wanted that with me.”

“what do you think this is, Mark? a rental?” you laughed as you peppered kisses all over his face.

............

“let’s get married.”

“okay.” he said, continuing to iron his clothes.

“Mark, i’m not kidding.”

“i’m not either.”

............

“you’re nervous.” you teased him from behind the wall where you could only hear him, but not see him.

“damn right.” was all he could say, his familiar tremble bringing you off comfort.

“you don’t regret that right?”

“never.”

..........

the two of you swayed back and forth on the dance floor, as if there wasn’t anyone else watching.

“y/n.” his voice whispered in your ear.

“hm?”

“thank you.”

“for what?”

“for loving me. for getting me. for never letting me live a day on this earth without reminding me that I have you, but also how special I am.

“thank you Mark. you showed me that love is real, and that no matter what, it wins. and now you have me forever. and then some more.”

“I couldn’t have asked for anything more.” his voice crumbled, and without care he let his tears flow into your shoulder, and the two of you sobbed together.

...............

you loved him. you truly loved him. and he truly loved you. and it was a beautiful thing. it wasn’t difficult as the two of you had been labeled so often.

now, as he watched you half asleep on his chest, and the sight of your band resting on your finger, and your daughter, that looked just like you sleeping in her crib only inches away, it all came full circle. thank God for you, and bless the heavens for sending him someone who understood him. someone who loved him. someone who...got him.

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

i turn to paths that lead home; viii

Chapter 8: who do you think you are?

rating: its a gen fic for The Umbrella Academy

words:1.6k

chapter:8/?

warnings: nothing atypical for the umbrella academy, spoilers for season 2

AO3

a/n:  many many many thanks to my discord friends who were a big help with creating and editing this @NightingaleComics @viridescentshade @cbuugdrama9 on ao3 @boardwalk-absurdist​ @3ternalslumber on tumblr

Summary:  Luther held Vanya a little tighter, refusing to let her go. It changed the game and made all the difference.

First || Previous

summary: enter diego, stage left

After they had signed all the paperwork, Vanya and Luther were shown to a bland room. It contained only a table and three chairs plus the guard that showed them in.

It was minutes later that the man was shoved through the door. He was turned toward the new guard, the one that escorted him in, and hadn’t yet seen them.

“Fuck you. When I get out of here, I'm coming for you. I’m-”

“Shut up or I'll put you in solitary.” The man finally turned around and the look on his face was...angry. There were other nuances to it but anger was the one most present.

“Son of a bitch. You two?”

“So you know us?” The words slipped out of Vanya’s mouth before she could stop them and it startled the man. He jerked back into his seat but the menace coming from him slowed.

“What do you mean?”

Vanya and Luther shared a look but eventually responded to the man, “We were in an accident over a year ago. Head trauma. We’re slowly gaining memories back but we still don’t know a lot.”

“You knew me.”

“We recognized you. One of the earliest memories we got back was of seven of us in a circle on a stage.”

“Seven?”

“The three of us, a young boy in a school uniform, a woman in a leather jacket, a man with tattooed palms, and a blue man.”

“Yeah, that’s all of- A blue man?”

“He was wearing a leather jacket and pants but he was see-through and blue. Sometimes he has tentacles.”

“Ben?”

“His name is Ben?”

“A man with tentacles coming out of his stomach? Yeah, that’s Ben.”

“And you?”

He paused thoughtfully, peering at them through hard eyes, but he nodded and introduced himself, “Diego Hargreeves. Number Two.”

“Number Two? Did he name us based on our age or something?”

Diego went to respond but slowed his words and whistled slightly through his teeth when he caught sight of the guards in the corner of the room.

“Something like that. Listen, we don’t have much time left. But I’m gonna get out soon.”

“We can give you our number? So you can call us when you get out.”

“You somewhere safe, then?”

“On a farm.”

A shocked laugh burst out of Diego’s chest but it cut off when he saw their faces, “oh you weren’t joking were you?”

“Nope.”

“Ok — give me the number and I’ll call you. My first evaluation is coming up — and I’ll pass it.”

Vanya didn’t think it would be that easy but the look in his eyes told her Diego would pass. She and Luther stood up after Diego repeated the farm’s phone number back to them. She didn’t know if she should go for a hug or not so she just watched Diego strut out of the room.

She didn’t know what to think about Diego and based on the complicated look on Luther’s face, he thought the same.

~~

It was as they were on their way home when Vanya realized that they never got the other names.

~~

Diego hit the wall harshly. He was expecting it but he still bit his lip when he impacted. He knew the tone he had taken with the guards would come back to bite him but it still hurt. As the door slammed shut, Diego slid to the ground and stretched out his legs.

Luther and Vanya, huh.  He didn’t know what to think about that. It sounded like — from their story — that they landed in the same alley he had but a year earlier. And his landing was better. At least he didn’t land and lose his memories. It was his actions that led Diego to be in this place.

He didn’t want to believe them but he felt like he had too. The way they interacted with each other? It was completely different. There was love and care between them. Before their foray into the past, Luther had been scared of Vanya and of what she could do, determined to follow dad’s lead and lock her up. Hell, the last time Luther and Vanya were alone together, Luther locked Vanya up and she decided to blow up the moon.

Granted, Diego felt like doing the same thing because of how often Luther brought it and his mission up. But now? Neither of them apparently remembered anything and they came for him for help.

He didn’t necessarily know what to do about that — the mighty Number One and the resident Family Traitor...only they didn’t remember those facts.

“Fuck.”

Diego wished he had had a couple of more minutes to talk to them. He didn’t get a chance to actually question them — but now he had some time to think of some questions. He had to come up with some that would prompt a reaction from one of them. Something that would break through their act — if they were lying. Diego knew that he could question Luther about his mutated body or their father. Those were topics that would break Luther’s silence. He didn’t know what type of topics to get Vanya with but based on what he saw back in the mansion on that last day — Diego might ask her about Pogo and what he had done to be killed in such a way.

Diego didn’t know what happened with either of those situations for them but he had seen the aftermath of even mentioning it so that was going to be his best bet on shocking them into dropping the act.

And in the unlikely occasion that they truly didn’t remember, Diego needed to know what memories they did have.

~~

It had taken longer then Diego thought it would have, but a month after he first entered the hospital, Diego passed his evaluation and was able to call his siblings. During that month Diego had repeated the number to himself over and over again, both not wanting to forget it and as a reminder to himself about why he was putting genuine effort in talking it out with the doctors and staff.

He had spun a story about trying to find his siblings to explain the stalking behavior and semi-created a horrible ex for Vanya to explain why he had lied at first. Between those facts and the effort Diego showed in both group sessions and personal sessions, he passed the eval with flying colors. He had even seen some nurses drying their eyes — so amazed at the effort he was putting in to protect his family.

Diego hid the eye roll. Whatever got him out of here. He was told that he had a couple of minutes to make a phone call but after that, he had to vacate the premises. Letting the phone ring, Diego was making vague plans upon plans.

“Hello?” Diego was pleased that it was Vanya that answered the phone, not whoever they were living with.

“Vanya? It's Diego. I passed my eval and am being released from the hospital today. Do you-”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I can come and get you? That is - if you want to stay with us?”

Diego swore to himself, in his head. He could see Vanya’s face, even over the phone. Big sad eyes, a hopeful smile that she was trying to stifle, shoulders hunched up, and she was probably curled up a little — making herself a smaller target for any sort of scorn or ridicule. He had seen that look a thousand times growing up, and it was even more effective now than they were adults. Diego swore it was the height difference. They might have been close to the same size growing up but now Diego towered over her.

He knew that even if he hadn’t planned on staying with them, he would have to now. Damn those stupid puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah. That would be nice — would it be possible for someone to get me tonight? I’ve only got a couple of minutes on the phone before they chase me out the door.”

“Of course! If I remember right there’s a little bookstore a couple of blocks from the hospital. I could meet you there? It would only take me about an hour to get there.”

“That sounds like a plan. You’ll be here in around an hour?” Diego wanted to be certain of Vanya’s arrival.

“Yup! Did you want me to bring you anything from the farm? I don’t think we have clothes that would fit you but I can bring some cash and we can stop somewhere.”

“I have the clothes I was wearing when I was admitted.” Diego didn’t want to go shopping with his sister — he remembered Allison and the many malls she dragged them to after their missions. He wasn’t doing that again.

“Oh...ok. You’re sure you don’t need anything?”

Damn those puppy dog eyes.

“...But I guess I could use a change. And maybe something to eat?”

“Oh! Oh yeah! I can bring some sandwiches and such!” Vanya sounded excited and Diego heaved a sigh, seeing his future. It involved shopping and talking about his feelings.

The things he did for his family.

“No provolone or mayonnaise. I’ll be in the bookstone. One hour.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

They hung up, then Diego completed the check out routine, getting back his uniform and harness but not his knives. He gave the guards the side eye he’d learnt from Five when they were preteens but knew he wasn’t going to be getting them back.

He was just walking out when he heard the doctors talking with the head guard, “Yeah we’re moving the new inmate in tonight — one miss Lila Pitts.”

[itsblosseybitch]

It’s Never About Disney Tickets

About a year ago, I went to Disney with my brother, sister, and her boyfriend. Before we left the house, it came up that one of us didn’t have a ticket. More specifically, that person was my brother. Despite the fact that my brother is 34, he has never learned to master his finances. Like my 56-year old father, he’s notorious for borrowing money left and right, and rarely paying it back. These are things the family discusses when neither gentleman is around. From people who have, more than once, let these fiscally irresponsible men borrow their money and then bitterly complain about getting screwed. 

So, the idea was that my brother would borrow money from someone for a Disney ticket. I don’t go to Disney often, and I don’t know the exact price, but tickets are in the $150 range. That’s a lot of money to let someone borrow, regardless of how financially savvy they are. And somehow, everyone else in the room (my sister, her boyfriend, mom, and stepdad) decided that that person was going to be me. 

Why? I’m not sure. 

Knowing his track record, and the fact that he’s shown no improvement in this area, I refused. So my brother offers, with no sense of irony, to pay me back in Chick-Fil-A. Now I’ve told this portion of the story before with people completely floored by this part. Yet this is 100% in character for my brother, and this didn’t surprise me. I still said no. 

I thought I made a wise and fiscally responsible decision. But everyone else in the room didn’t seem to think so. 

Both my mom and sister brought up my savings account, which I was working hard to reach towards a certain number (and did, shortly after this incident). They brought up how I had more than enough to spare (which I did), and should just give to him. I still said no.

I finally pointed out to my sister, “He’s not good at paying people back.” And knowing that my brother was financially in the red and that my mom and sister let him borrow money recently, I asked her point-blank: “Did he pay you  back?”

After a pause, she angrily replied: “Jordan, I’m not taking you. I’m not even kidding!”

I ended up leaving the living room and going out to the car. After a few minutes, my sister emerged and said that they “handled it,” though I can’t remember if she elaborated on that or not. She then berated me for “not listening to Reason.” I mentioned how he offered to pay back $150 in Chick-Fil-A, but I don’t remember that giving her pause. Regardless, I went to Disney that day, with my bank account intact. 

A few weeks ago, I had one of those arguments with my mom and sister where a bunch of past grievances came up, and my sister brought up this incident. My mother said that it was “hurtful” that I called out my brother’s lack of fiscal responsibility in front of everyone, and she kept insisting that it was hurtful even after I pointed out that this was a fact everyone in the room at that time knew about. I’m not a Ben Shapiro fan by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s right: facts don’t care about your feelings. 

My sister was continuing to give me shit about it, when I pointed out he offered to pay me back in Chick-Fil-A. 

This time, it gave her pause. But then she angrily replied: “Well, you should have just given him the money anyway, because you had so much of it.” 

I walked away from that argument completely baffled by my mom and sister’s twisted logic. There’s no way  they thought that letting him borrow money was a genuinely good decision. Their pauses told me I had a point. So why did they keep insisting that I should have done it anyway?

I was still baffled about this last night when I was watching a YouTube video about gaslighting. I posted in the comments section, “I don’t know if this is gaslighting and don’t use that phrase lightly...” and launched into my story. 

Almost immediately, I got a reply from another user, who said:

“They probably wanted something that you giving him the money depended on. It’s not quite gaslighting, it’s more like turning butthurt and throwing insults at someone that does not give you what you want. Immature and childish, using the appearance of hurt feelings to gain control over you. A grown man should have more pride in his money. Maybe the money was for something other than a Disney ticket.”

I replied back with a simple: “Now that I think about it, it probably was.” 

The more I’ve thought about it today, the more I’m almost certain it was. 

On its face, this situation makes absolutely no sense. Even if we went with the narrative that my mom and my sister are the dumbest people to have ever lived on Earth (which they aren’t), their reactions to this situation still  make no sense.

But if you add the possibility that the money wasn’t  for a Disney ticket, then things start adding up.

As I’ve already established, my brother was financially in the red at this point. More than usual. I knew he was on some sort of plan to borrow money from my mom and stepdad, and to pay them back. As far as I know, this plan had mixed success. I also knew my sister let him borrow money. 

I sat around at dinner conversations where all three of them complained that he hadn’t paid them back. Surprise, surprise. 

I remember a few years ago, when my dad had an explosive breakup with his ex-fiancee, how he moved in with my eldest sister (not the one already mentioned) and her then-husband and daughter. My eldest sister was letting him borrow so much money, that she was borrowing from my mom and stepdad to let him borrow money. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. After a point, my mom and stepdad put a stop to it, and my eldest sister had to tell my dad that she could no longer let him borrow money. My eldest sister at one point complained about how our father reveled in “how good it felt to buy stuff again” and how she just nodded along, obviously full of suppressed resentment. To my understanding, my mom and stepdad gave her this money, knowing what the situation was. I guess that’s just what family is for. When I was with my siblings, I made the radical suggestion that we shouldn’t let our father borrow money from us. I can’t remember if this was explicitly stated, but the attitude towards my suggestion was that it was heartless. It hasn’t happened (yet), but I’ve had my “no speech” rehearsed for when my dad asks for me to lend him money since this time period (7-8 years). 

Now that I look back, there was no moment where we all went around the room and decided who was going to give my brother money. The idea that that the person was going to be me was more implied, almost as if it was decided beforehand.

Call it what you will. Conspiracy, intervention, or collusion. My immediate family also has a history of coordinated group effort, usually spearheaded by one or both of my sisters and my mom being the accomplice. 

Almost exactly ten years ago, I was the center of one of these group efforts. In a sleazy condo rented out by my dad’s adoptive mother (now deceased), both of my sisters and my now former brother-in-law told me that we wouldn’t leave the condo unless I told them everything I did with my on-and-off boyfriend at the time. This was the summer, and one of our “off” periods, and I was reeling from what would be the first of many of our micro-breakups. Even though I was 13 at the time, we had unprotected oral sex. It was irresponsible, and I was too young to be doing that, but thankfully I got no STDs from it. I should add that this was consensual. I felt horrible about being forced to give very intimate details about what I did with a boy I was crazy about at the time and still thinking about despite our “off” period. 

I begged them not to tell my mom, which they said they wouldn’t. Not only did they tell her, but they told her before  that night in the condo. They already knew everything from the detailed journals I kept. I don’t remember exactly how I found this out, but it was months later in the car with the sister I’ve mentioned most frequently, and by that point my then-boyfriend and I were back to business as usual. When I brought up that they forced me to tell them really private stuff, my sister said “we didn’t force it out of you.” I’m pretty sure I pointed out the part where our eldest sister said “We’re not leaving unless you tell us what you did.” I don’t remember my other sister directly or indirectly responding to that. 

I think there’s two types of naivety. There’s personal naivety, when you’re not good at reading another person’s character. And then there’s social naivety, when you’re not good at reading a situation for what it is. I think I’m good at judging a person’s character, but I’m not always great at reading a situation. My emotional intelligence scores seem to think so, as well. The EQ tests I took measure emotional intelligence in four different areas: self awareness, self management, social awareness, and relationship management. I’ve taken this test twice, over a year apart. Even though all my scores have improved, the pattern remains the same: my highest skill is self awareness, and my lowest is social awareness. Now’s a good time to mention that I have Asperger’s, and was even diagnosed as having moderate-to-severe Autism as an infant. 

I’ve spent weeks, months, sometimes years fixating on social situations that absolutely baffled me, and I’ve realized that I took most of those baffling situations at face value. I never looked at these situations with nuance until it was usually too late. Once, I was completely baffled as to why the best friend of my high school crush would try and call me at 4 AM. What kind of person calls at 4 AM?  Three weeks later, it dawned on me that those were Peak Booty Call Hours. Thinking about my social life sometimes feels like the equivalent of watching The Office, and realizing you’re Michael Scott.

Now I realize that every time someone tried to manipulate me, whether it was for sex, money, or information, my lack of social awareness was usually the thing they were preying on. Consciously or unconsciously, they were banking on me to not recognize the subtext of a situation. And if this attempt on their part was unsuccessful, it was usually because I found a minor plot hole. 

It was never about the Disney ticket, I’m sure now. I don’t know exactly what it was about, but I’m bound to find out sooner or later. I always do. The Disney ticket was just a fairy tale that was made up to convince me to do something that I wouldn’t have agreed to in a million years. 

I’m sure the writers of this fairy tale thought that I loved food so much to the point that I would risk parting with a significant amount of money just to get Chick-Fil-A. Hell, my brother probably wouldn’t have been timely on those payments, either.

 I’m sure they thought that guilt-tripping me would work, even though none of us were raised Catholic. I’m sure they thought that making me feel like I’m crazy and stupid (and saying as much) would spur me to action, but they’ve used that plot point so many times that I’ve learned to turn it on its head. 

My only question now is why they couldn’t be honest with me.

[blakelywintersfield]

what do you think about cancel culture?

So it took me a while to answer this ask ‘cause I have... a lot to say about the subject.

There’s a lot to unpack when it comes to cancel culture. Its roots I like to believe are well intended -- a means to alert vulnerable groups about individuals that have a history of hurting them. But people have taken it... way too far.

I think it’s important to hold people accountable for their actions. There’s a lot of people who get away with horrible things, simply because they produce likeable material (makeup, music, movies, entertainment, etc.). People like Jeffree Star, PewDiePie, and Kat Von D have gotten away with their horrific treatment of others for years because people enjoy their content -- and two out of three of them still are wildly successful. What pushes people over the limit? Often times it’s a matter of what white people take major issue in. In Kat’s case, being anti-vax. Is being anti-vax bad? Hell yeah it is. As someone who’s immuno-compromised it literally could lead to an early, painful, slow death for me. And don’t get me wrong, I wanna die, but not from something that takes months of suffering. But people blatantly ignored her other awful acts -- such as her antisemitic actions (telling her former boss to “burn in hell jewbag” (sic) in the form of writing on a photo she left for him and drawing a Nazi symbol on it), complacency in victim blaming (her neo-Nazi husband blames his daughter’s rape on his daughter), denying and viciously responding to criticisms about her pedophilic makeup names (”Underage Red”, “Lolita”, second not in reference to the Japanese style but the book), and actively killing her pets (she killed one cat by leaving a house full of burning candles -- cat knocked down the candles, house went up in flames, cat died; she also was found forcing a vegan diet onto her cats -- I’m unsure if this has continued but I believe one of her cats died from it). All of these are huge reasons to “cancel” her -- to boycott her products. But people didn’t actively hate her until she came out as anti-vax, something that effects the majority. And that’s part of the issue with cancel culture: people pick and choose what’s acceptable depending on how badly it effects them personally.

Let’s focus on the other two mentioned: Jeffree and Felix. Jeffree has a very, very, veryyyyy long past of being a racist piece of shit. Not even lowkey ignorant white person racist (i.e. ”I didn’t know making fun of AAE and viewing dreadlocks as trashy was racist”). I’m talking straight up using the n-slur, with the hard -er too, towards a black woman. And this was recent, too. There just haven’t been any physical references beforehand, only personal accounts. But people have defended him -- and still defend him -- on these actions, because he apologized. But then he’ll do it again a month later. And there’ll be definitive proof of it. He’ll keep doing it over, and over, and over again. And people will continue to excuse him because he keeps apologizing! That’s not how apologies work! As someone who’s been abused, apologies mean nothing if you don’t actively work on fixing what you’re apologizing for!! My abusers would apologize and then do the exact same thing again so many times that I lost count long ago! And of course, Shane Dawson hasn’t helped because he’s head over heels for the guy, so he’s been using his popularity to try and clear his name -- which is ironic, considering he’s been under fire for being racist in the past too. The only difference is he actually cleaned his act up, until now, of course. Because now, instead of creating racist content himself, he’s defending a chronically racist shitbag. And people continue to defend him, because his shitty actions effects mainly black women -- a minority in comparison to the amount of white people in the states. Jeffree continues to be wildly successful because his problematic behavior only effects a minority, and that’s... not okay.

Felix has a very similar history to Jeffree, but with antisemitism, and in my opinion he’s even worse because he’ll apologize then do something nice like donate to a charity. And that would be fantastic if he wouldn’t continue to do antisemitic things like actively support white supremacists. People continue to defend him because he does charitable things, but I constantly remind people that abusive people aren’t abusive 24/7 -- that’s literally how they get away with abuse. They abuse, then take you out for a fancy date, kiss you gently and tell you how beautiful you are. Then they do something abusive. It’s an endless cycle. And that’s honestly what Felix does. Apologize, do something really fucking nice, and then repeat his shitty action. And he has other extremely influential people defend him -- it’s why I had to stop following JackSepticEye and Markiplier. They continuously vouched for him. They continuously defended him. And they did it in the form of saying “he’s a really good person, I know him personally, he’s really fucking sweet and nice”. That’s what people say about the partner of someone really close to me! Their friends defend them all the time, but they’ve never seen how they treat my friend. They don’t know about how they are in a relationship. And that’s all we ever hear about abusers. No one wants to accept that their longtime friend is shitty. But Mark and Sean contribute to the toxic ideology of “defend your friends to the end”. And it disenfranchises those effected because 1) they’re not Jewish, they have absolutely no say in the matter, and 2) they’re abusing their popularity to keep their friend from being properly criticized. I don’t think either of them are shitty people, per se, but they’re being extremely toxic by not letting their friend see that they’re a repeat offender and need to either work on their shit or face the music. Mark and Sean both have the power to make Felix change if they just give him the ultimatum of “us or this”.

But I digress. The main issue highlighted here is that people who actually do bad things and continue to do bad things aren’t being held accountable because people don’t care to acknowledge what doesn’t directly effect them. This is the first main issue with cancel culture.

Let’s focus on another man under scrutiny: John Lennon. Now, let me put out there for disclaimer purposes that this man is far from perfect and has problematic parts to him as well. He’s done some shitty things. But cancel culture looooooooves to dig at this man. To put it crudely, they really enjoy beating this dead... man. And mainly over one really bad thing he did, which was hit his wife. However, people love to 1) over-exaggerate it, and 2) completely ignore how he handled the aftermath. Cancel culture often refers to him as a “wife beater”, as though this were a chronic habit or that he severely brutalized his wife. But they conveniently ignore that he apologized, both to her and publicly, taught himself about domestic abuse and spoke up for women’s rights, and even wrote multiple songs about how he fucked up and he shouldn’t be excuse for what he did. And, most importantly, his wife forgave him. The victim in this situation forgave him, and people still dig into this one thing and use it as their reason to hate him and his band to this day. Genuine criticism of him and what he’s done have gone to the wayside because of this one fact with no context, and it’s a huge phenomena because people, for whatever reason, love to hate popular things. Like I said, he’s done shitty things! He wasn’t perfect! But to use one issue that was literally resolved to hate him is just a lazy excuse to hate what’s popular, and that comes to our second issue with cancel culture: people want to hate what’s popular and will go to any lengths to excuse their hatred, even if issues that have been resolved.

The last main issue I have is that cancel culture is often set up in very black and white terms. Person does bad thing, they’re bad, end of discussion. But that’s... not how life works. Not at all. I know religion isn’t universal, especially Christianity, but there’s one point in Christianity that is universal: humans are flawed. No human being to have ever existed is perfect. And with the rise of technology and social media, a lot of mistakes have a permanent proof out there. Be it through tweets, tumblr or Facebook posts, Instagram or Snapchat stories, whatever it is, there is proof. And people like to take it way too far.

For example... well, I’ll use myself. There’s good things to not being tumblr famous, and I’m blessed with that, because I used to be a major shithead. Well. Okay, I still am, but I was bigoted, uninformed, and had a lot of internalized issues. For anyone that doesn’t know, I was raised in a conservative Christian household where my father was Southern Baptist and my mother had been raised Catholic (her personal religious views are much more lax though, thankfully). Both came from small towns in Illinois and Missouri respectively, and their parents, the same. I was aggressively homophobic and transphobic (ironic, eh?), covertly racist and sexist, and just overall a really shitty person. And while I didn’t join tumblr until after I’d finally started to grow, a lot of people on here are younger -- some even lying about their age and joining before they’re 13. And like me, many of these kids are in close-minded households. And for the longest time I refused to listen to other people because of the good ol’ backfire effect, but once I began to accept I was wrong, I learned. Of course I still have learning to do -- I always do. I always will. And that’s okay. But if I were 12 year old me on tumblr today, I would, well. I would’ve probably killed myself by now, because of all the bullying and hate for being a shithead child. A shithead, yes. But a child. Someone that’s going to be ignorant to a lot of things because they haven’t been alive for as long. And not everyone has informed parents that make it a point to teach them. Adults are a little harder to forgive, I’ll admit, but children have a lot more potential to learn and grow, and we often treat them just like adults.

The final issue with cancel culture is that it gives no room for improvement and no assumption of someone’s innocence. While it hurts to be on the victim end, we as a whole are obligated to correct the issue. I personally would like it to be those not effected doing that (i.e. someone making a transphobic comment having other cis people explain why it’s transphobic and isn’t okay), but regardless, we need to assume innocent until guilty with these kinds of things. It’s not easy, sure, but if I had been on tumblr while I was a shitty kid parroting my dad’s awful world views, cancel culture would’ve labeled me a piece of shit with no chance of redemption, and if I didn’t kill myself there’s no fucking way in hell I would’ve learned, because that kind of treatment would’ve stuck with me and made it harder for me to listen to the other side’s reasoning, even if they were right. We need to approach people in a manner of calm education, instead of ready to kill. In no way am I saying this is an easy thing to do, but unless they’ve refused to open themselves up in any way whatsoever, immediately chalking someone up as a lost cause is just... counter-productive. We have to acknowledge that people are flawed, and can learn and grow. We need to give people space to improve. It’s not all or nothing.

All in all, cancel culture has a good base, but its execution has become irrational and a means to justify hating those that really don’t deserve it, while turning a blind eye to those that actually are problematic. There’s a lot to be improved on.

[travllingbunny]

The 100 rewatch: 2x10 Survival of the Fittest

This episode has 4 different storylines with 4 very different character pairings, but I believe is known to many as the mutant gorilla episode. :D But as ridiculous the mutant gorilla is (and as bad the CGI is), it’s kind of… ridiculous in an almost charming way? Like something that comes from another show takes itself less seriously. So it doesn’t really bother me, unlike many other things in the show – instances of stupidly written storylines that seem dead serious. There’s also one of those Octavia storylines that don’t make sense to me but that make some sense to Octavia. But the storyline with Bellamy and Lincoln trying to infiltrate Mount Weather is really good, and the last scene is what I mostly remembered this episode by. The interactions between Jaha and Murphy (now this is an interesting new dynamic I doubt anyone saw coming before it happened) are also really interesting and well-written.

Rating: 6.5/10

My favorite part of the episode is Bellamy’s and Lincoln’s journey to and attempt to infiltrate Mount Weather. This is the most extensive interaction between those two in the show, and they have come a long way since their first meeting, when Bellamy thought of Lincoln as his sister’s kidnapper and tortured him for enemy secrets. By the season 2 finale, he had accepted Lincoln as his brother-in-law and was OK with Octavia going off with him, and in season 2 he was helping Octavia save him, but this is the first time we see them interacting one-on-one. I was never a fan of how season 1 portrayed the beginning of the Linctavia relationship (I’ve never been into the Romeo-and-Juliet type insta-romance), and Lincoln didn’t get enough characterization in season 1, but season 2 fixed that and gave him a lot more depth. He had several of the best lines in the show, and he has some really good ones in this episode. When Bellamy tells him: “You are good for her, you made her strong”, Lincoln replies: “She was already strong”. Which explains why he was drawn to her, and is also a good point that is often lost on people, that strength of character is not about fighting skills.  We also learn Lincoln’s very interesting backstory (which is also generally interesting as additional backstory for the people of the Ark), when Bellamy asks him what made him want to help Octavia at the time he didn’t know her yet: as a child, he found a ship with an injured man who had fallen from the sky. Bellamy recognized that as an instance of “suicide by Earth”, which was an unconfirmed urban legend on the Ark. Lincoln wanted to help the man but didn’t speak his language at the time, so he told his father, who made him kill the man. “The world has been trying to turn me into a monster since I remember.”  A line that is crucial for Lincoln’s arc in season 2. Bellamy has himself struggled with the idea t that he’s a monster (in 1x08, struggling with his feelings of guilt over indirectly causing the culling, he told Clarke “I am a monster”).

But the scene I most remember this episode by is the cliffhanger in which Bellamy’s plan to infiltrate Mount Weather with Lincoln’s help goes wrong because Lincoln wasn’t able to resist his addiction to the “red” when he saw it right in front of him, so the result was Lincoln apparently falling back into his old role as a Reaper, and Bellamy in the MW, but in the role of a “Grounder” prisoner to be harvested. I really like the fact that the show acknowledged that addiction is incredibly difficult to overcome, no matter how strong or ethical a person you may be. At least it did it in this episode, though this storyline will later get a rather quick resolution a couple of episodes later.

The other really good storyline was a very unexpected pairing of Jaha and Murphy, which works wonderfully. After Murphy ended up in a cell for a minor altercation with a Grounder who was blaming him for being there with Finn during the massacre (while the Grounder law and custom seems to be that it’s only the leader or whoever is perceived as the leader or main perpetrator who must be punished, people probably don’t quite feel that way in practice), he and Jaha ended up sharing a cell (do they have more than one cell in the camp at this point?) and having very interesting conversations that would have never happened on the Ark, where the class system was strict, and where a leader and a member of the lower class would have never interacted like this. This finally gives Murphy some really good dialogue and a role that’s not just being the nuisance in the background that other characters must begrudgingly tolerate (occasionally telling him “Shut up, Murphy”). And it also gave Jaha more interesting moments than he’s had since…ever? I really disliked Jaha on my first watch, and was bored and annoyed with most of his scenes, until season 4 when I started finding him more interesting. I still have the same, mostly negative opinions about his leadership and morality, but now I feel I understand him better and find him a bit more sympathetic. I also wasn’t a big fan of Murphy at this point, either, though I didn’t hate him anymore as I did in season 1. I enjoy his snarky lines, especially when he was telling Jaha some hard truths, but I just roll my eyes when he is whining that he’s still treated like trash in spite of being pardoned for his crimes. Well, duh, Murphy, what do you expect? Who would think that people will hold a grudge because they gave you a second chance and you went on to murder two of their friends, nearly murdered another one and crippled another, not to mention wasted ammunition and weakened the group’s defenses against an army trying to kill them. Especially when you just expect them to forgive and accept you back, and you haven’t even really said “I’m sorry”. I only fully got on board with Murphy’s redemption in season 4, when he started genuinely apologizing for his actions and trying to do better.

But it’s fun to watch a clash between Murphy’s sarcasm and pessimism and Jaha’s hopeful, messianic preaching. You kind of see how Jaha managed to get elected Chancellor – he can give good, convincing speeches. Even if, this time, he only managed to convince Murphy and 11 other people to go with him. Some of the lines he uses this time are: “Good can come out of the darkest things” “Everyone deserves a second chance”, and one that’s more worrying: “Sometimes you have to sacrifice the few to save the many” (this message will be shown just as dark as it is later in the season, when Jaha murders one of his companions in cold blood). A part of Murphy’s motivation to agree to the trip through the desert towards the mythical City of Light is that he feels like a complete outcast, but, even if he won’t admit it, he does have a desire for something better in life. “Let me show you there’s much more for you than this”, says Jaha. The City of Light thing will turn out horribly, of course, but Jaha’s promise will kind of come true: on the trip, Murphy is soon to meet Emori, who will change his life.

Also add this episode to the list of references that Wells used to exist as a main character for 3 episodes – Jaha asks Murphy to take him to his son’s grave and learns all the details about his death.

My least favorite storyline out of 4 is Octavia’s. I don’t get Octavia’s “I’m a Grounder” thing or her desire to assimilate herself into their culture, even though they are clearly not interested. But at least Octavia isn’t portrayed as being on the same level of skill as life-long Grounder warriors, after her 10 days (?) of training with Lincoln. She decides to do the Jake La Motta thing and prove herself to Indra by getting beaten up badly and still not giving up, because impressing a woman she’s met a week ago and who’s so far only shown her hostility and wanted to kill her and all her people, is apparently her main goal in life. Maybe she just really wants a mother figure. But it works, and Indra makes Octavia her “second”, telling her that the first rule is to never question her. Grounders have a very strict hierarchical society. Obviously a perfect fit for Octavia, who is constantly trying to rebel against something or someone.

Some backstory: in an awkward joint Arker/Grounder training session, where Kane is trying to be the perfect host, we learn that the reason Grounders don’t use gun is that they have a deep fear of them, due to the way the Mountain Men had discouraged them from using them, by destroying entire villages as punishment if anyone did it. Grounders also mention that they’ve lost thousands of people to Mountain Men, but we don’t know exactly how many.

Finally, the Clarke/Lexa storyline is a mixed bag and has some interesting and important interactions between those two, but also involves really bad CGI, and the only appearance of possibly the most annoying and hypocritical minor character in the entire show. The latter is a Trikru general called Quint, who’s going overboard with the Grounder habit of constantly yelling, acting irrational and ranting at the Sky people over the fact that they dared defend themselves when Trikru attacked them and tried to kill them all. At the strategic meeting about attacking Mount Weather, where Clarke was explaining Bellamy’s mission, he instead gets in her face and yells about how she’s burned his brother in a ring of fire. Clarke responds by getting into his face and making the obvious point: “He shouldn’t have attacked my ship”, which pisses him off even more, since he’s obviously used to being good at intimidating people. I guess he’s not used to losing wars his side has started, and the fact that the people he and other Grounders keep calling “weak” every episode not only defended themselves, but kicked their asses. He makes himself feel better by saying Clarke is only brave due to the Commander’s protection, and then tries to kill her as she’s walking in the woods by her own, yelling “Not so brave now, Sky girl?” Look at me, I’m a big muscular dude with a sword, stalking an unarmed teenage girl half my size, and I’m mocking her and talking about courage? Is this guy for real? Clarke runs away, sees her Arker bodyguard Major Byrne, whose arm has been apparently cut off (actually ripped off) fall dead, gets rescued by Lexa and her guard, and then hesitates to kill Quint when Lexa gives her a sword to do it. But then it all becomes irrelevant as Byrne’s actual killer appears: yep, it’s the mutant gorilla!

Then we get some action scenes of Clarke and Lexa trying to escape the gorilla while arguing over what it means to be strong. Lexa continues with her “lessons” to Clarke, which are in line with the Grounder mentality – ruthlessness is strength, compassion is weakness, etc. Clarke was at this point just as fed up with them as I was, so she mocks Lexa at one point and snaps at her when Lexa says: “To lead, you must make tough decisions” and Clarke replies ‘You’re telling me that?” – one of the only two times post-2x09 that she’s referred to her mercy-kill of Finn. A part of Lexa’s leadership philosophy is that people are expendable, and in that vein, she tells Clarke that she shouldn’t save her. Clarke calls her heartless but smart and says she needs her because things would be awful if one of her generals became the Commander. Which is true, but Clarke doesn’t know at this point that this is not how Commanders are made.

And this is where we get our first info on that, and on the Grounder religion: Lexa says that “death is not the end” and that her “spirit will choose more wisely than that” – which makes Clarke conclude that it’s reincarnation. It is actually not, but Clarke wouldn’t know that at this point. I’m not sure the writers did either, because the Flame thing has been retconed at least 3 times. I have no idea how exactly the previous Commander’s spirit is choosing anything, when the Conclave is decided by candidates killing each other?

In the end, Clarke saves Lexa from the mutant gorilla… which is kind of funny since season 3 gave Lexa’s fighting skills a huge upgrade and we learned that she basically had superpowers due to Nightblood, but she barely ever got to fight in season 2. (And IMO, she was far more interesting before the show made her into another “badass chick with a sword who is a Strong Female Character because she can fight well”). And Lexa changes her mind and admits she was wrong about Clarke: “You heart shows no weakness”. Clarke’s emotions give her strength. And you can see in that exact moment that Lexa has fallen for Clarke – she’s suddenly giving her big heart-eyes. For a moment, it seems like Clarke may be noticing that there’s some chemistry there, but then her mind goes back to the same place it is constantly going to throughout season 2: her people in Mount Weather and a plan how to save them – Bellamy will disable the acid fog and free the Grounders trapped in Mount Weather, who will be their army inside. (This was a great plan. Too bad that Lexa threw it all away in 2x15.) Since Clarke was later taken by surprise when Lexa kissed her in 2x14, she clearly didn’t notice Lexa’s interest in her – which is in character for her. She didn’t even notice in early season 1 how much Finn was hitting on her since the first time they met on the dropship, and she seemed convinced he only gave in to his emotions at the end of 1x04 – and Finn was really, really obvious with his flirting and trying to impress. That’s because Clarke is usually too distracted by other concerns, like survival and saving people. Lexa, however, can multitask and is pretty perceptive, and you can now see a tinge of jealousy as she notes how much faith Clarke puts in Bellamy (which Clarke confirms, giving another one of her many “Bellamy is so awesome” season 2 speeches, her second one just in this episode).

Timeline: The walk from Tondc (aka Washington DC) to Mount Weather on foot is 8 hours, according to the next episode, so that’s how much time passes from the end of 2x09 to the end of 2x10.

Body count: Byrne, Quint, Lexa’s unnamed guard – all killed by the mutant gorilla. I can’t say I felt very sorry – we didn’t know the guard, and my feelings on the deaths of the former two characters was “good riddance”.

[mangled-dreams]

Dealings with a Devil (Part 20)

Dealings with a Devil (Part 20)

Reader X Darkiplier

You, Reader, have made a deal with what you believed to be a fantasized version of your favorite YouTuber’s alter ego, Darkiplier after he’d visited you in a dream. You believed Darkiplier to only exist in your dreams and on Markiplier’s YouTube channel, but by some impossible way he’s real and he intends on collecting on your debt to him.  

((Just as an FIY, Sean’s “fiance” is someone I made up and for the sake of the story he still lives in Ireland. I’m trying to stay mostly true to real life but it’s hard sometimes, especially when it doesn’t cross your mind to actually look up facts. lol.))

“So, how was your flight? I heard there was a storm over the Atlantic earlier. Worried you’d be caught up in it.” Sean says gathering the few bags you brought with you to Ireland. You try to make polite conversation and stay engaged with Sean and his fiancée, but it’s hard when Dark and Anti just left you on the plane by yourself without any kind of explanation.

“We hit turbulence and the pilot had to put the fasten seat belt sign on for a while, but other than that it was fine. Is the storm supposed to come inland?” you respond giving a polite and convincing smile. You wonder if Dark will show up by the evening. He already knows he can’t be with you while you and Sean are visiting and working, but he can still lie in your bed and cuddle you.

But you suppose he doesn’t have to keep an eye out for Anti considering he already made his presence known on the plane. What that green goblin is thinking you’ll never know. It’s not his antics that scare you anymore, although you do admit the plan thing was scary—it’s his motives that have you worried. If he plans to kill you then he should do it out right instead of turning you.

If he even did that properly. You have no special powers not even a dark form. The whole telepathy thing with Dark was kind of already there and you’d already been mostly tuned to when Dark is in the same room with you. Climbing into the back seat of the small coupe you continue with the pleasantries all the way to Sean’s house.

Your mind wonders as you stare out into the foggy green hills. Ireland seems much more powerful now that you’re actually here. Maybe you’ll see a ghostie goo or two while you’re visiting. You hope you’ll see your demon at some point again.

“You fallin’ asleep back there?” Sean asks looking through the rearview mirror at you. The corners of his eyes are crinkling as he smiles.

“Kind of, it was a bit of a adrenaline rush on the plane ride.” You respond back smiling at Sean. You genuinely like being in his company. Between him and Mark you hadn’t felt lonely or without entertainment. Honestly it’s like seeing an old friend again.

“I bet. The rides over the big pond are never very fun when there’s a storm brewin’.”  Sean responds as a heard of sheep slowly cross the road way. The young man escorting the group tries to hurry the sheep across to allow the vehicle to pass by. You laugh a little and notice a few small babies the group and coo.

“Like them little ladies, do ya?” Marline asks turning to look back at you.

“I think they’re adorable. From afar. My grandad on my mother’s side had a little farm and some of his goats were meaner than a snake. I tried feeding some of the kids and this really old, grumpy goat ran up and head butted my hip.  Damn thing nearly broke it according to my doctor. Grandpa kept him closed up whenever my brothers and I came to visit.” You say shivering at the thought of Ol’ Prescott.

“Wow, what a mean ol’ fella. “ Marline laughs.

When you finally arrive at the house, Sean and Marline show you to your room. You have your own bathroom with a small shower off to the right of your bed. You smile and thank them before being left to your own to put your clothes away. You’ll be with Sean and Marline for a few days then they’re taking you into London so that you can say to visited England and Scotland.

“Top if the morning to ya laddies! My name’s Jacksepticeye and I’m here with a special guest! Say hello to everybody!” Sean bellows as you look at the camera Sean set up to the left of his usual camera to get a good view of you.

“Hello! Mangled Dreams here once again. I’m stepping out of the nightmares to spend some time with our awesome man, Jack!”  You say smiling big. You and Mark had come up with that little intro after a few bad attempts. Looking to Sean you wonder if it’s too much for his channel. “Is that no good?” you ask a little worried. It shows on your face.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing! Yer a natural!” Sean shouts holding his palm out to you and you smack it instantly. “Hell ya! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Any who! Today we’re going to be playing some demo versions of some games coming out later this year!” Sean says making quick work of loading up the first demo game.

You’d been practicing playing games on the computer for a while now in your spare time to make the videos with Mark and Sean a little bit more like their usual. As long as it’s not a horror game you have pretty good confidence in your skills. You’d found horror games, depending of their quality or amount of gore have a good way of taking away any confidence.

The whole process was once again intriguing and very enlightening. You’d found Sean is just as hands on, if not more so than Mark in the making and editing of his videos. By the end of it you’re wiped. You didn’t think it’d be so taxing to make a video with Sean, but he’s so high energy and so loud and animated it’s hard not to put just as much energy and enthusiasm as he does.

Flopping down on the queen sized bed with a hand made quilt after a delicious home cooked dinner you fight against sleep. You still need to shower and comb your hair our before getting under the covers. Sean’s house is warm but you can feel the Irish cold settling in through the windows.

Struggling you stand up, get out your small bag of toiletries, and head into the bathroom. You start the water to the shower and wait a few minutes as the temperature changes before stepping into the small one person shower.

You shower in peace, well… as much peace as your mind will allow. Dark still hasn’t shown up or even reach out to you. You worry at your bottom lip as you slowly wash your hair. What if he and Anti really got into a fight and one or both is seriously injured?

Silently you cures your inability to visit the Void of your own free will. You curse Dark for being so stubborn. You curse Anti for being such a prick. But in this moment you cures your shampoo for dripping into your eyes!

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Sean gawks at your drawing. He’d given you a small space of your own in his studio to set up your computer and tablet. Like Mark, Sean is going to showcase your art. Today you decided to do an original for Sean featuring his floating eye buddy, Sam.

“Why, thank you. I’m glad you like it.” You respond as you stretch your drawing hand to keep it from cramping. It’s not often you can bust out something so quickly and with such detail. “Do you think your followers will like it?” you ask looking up at Sean and freeze for a moment.

For the briefest of moments you swear Anti’s black eyes looked back at you. You quickly swallow a bit of saliva to wet your suddenly dry throat before Sean looks at you again with a huge, un-Anti looking smile.

“Are you kiddin’? They’ll love it!!” Sean reassures you happily. You can’t help but smile back at the adorable Irishman. Whatever Anti has in plan you know Sean has no part in it. Just like Mark, both are oblivious to their alter-ego’s plots and lives.

“You sure know how to make a girl blush.” You tease batting your hand at Sean as he chuckles.

“Are you ready to hit London?” Marline asks as you ride the ferry to England. Four days later and you still haven’t heard from Dark or Anti… at lease you think you haven’t. There’ve been a few questionable sightings out of the corner of your eyes when it’s just you and Sean recording/playing in his studio.

Sean hasn’t done anything Anti-ish, but it still puts you on edge. Looking to Marline you nod your head. Despite the confusion and worry about your favorite Demon, you’re still looking towards going to London and Scotland. You only have a few days left of your vacation and you want to make the most of them.

“You have no idea.” You respond unable to help the slight, if not horribly done, Irish accent. You groan, Sean has been teasing that you’re picking up his accent after being in Ireland only four days. You strongly denied his accusations, but then… you catch yourself as you’re talking and half to stop and hang your head.

“You’ve been in Ireland too long.” Marline jokes at your expense. To be honest you could probably live your life happily in Ireland. The people, the land, the.. everything is just so perfect.

“I dunno, Marline. I think Ireland is just what I need. It’s so pretty and peaceful. Not to mention the lore and legends.  Oh, it’s a thing of beauty.” You gush watching the coast of Ireland slowly disappear into the mist that always seems to be hanging around.

Your family had been wrong. Coming to Ireland in the fall is perfect.  You’re going to miss Ireland far more than you had California. After all it’s not completely different than living in Washington where it’s green and wet just about year round. Oh yes, you’ll miss Ireland.

Sean grins from ear to ear at your confession. “You’re always welcome in our home. Don’na worry about hotels if you come back to visit. We got cha covered.” Sean reassures you earning a soft chuckle from you.

“I might have to take you up on that offer if the longing for Ireland gets to bad. Just be prepared for me to stay longer than a few days.” You respond high fiving Sean at his prompting.

“You got cha!” he responds in kind.

Part 21

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Oh Boy(s)

Anon Request: Is there by any chance you do Harrison? If so, could you do an Imagine where Haz is drunk and he is singing Shape Of You. You may let your imagination loose on the rest, surprise us readers with the out come 😊

A/N: So while writing this I kind of let my imagination loose a little too  much and decided to turn this request into the idea I mentioned months ago, so hopefully this works out. Possibly another part to add.

Warnings: jealous!harrison, jealous!tom, alcohol use, harrison and tom being drunk jerks, sexual implications

A/N: Also, I just want to point out that, judging by this picture, Tom (and Jacob if they’re playing teams) is horrible at beer pong.

Young and hopeful, (Y/N) decided to be a volunteer at the 2016 Comic Con, however she could not have imagined how far this act of civil service would take her. From working backstage at panels and manning the photo-op lines, she managed to find an ‘in’ with some of the celebrities her age that attended the con. When (Y/N ) learned her volunteer position received the perk of getting a behind the scenes photo-op with any actor or actors of her choice, she eagerly chose the Spider-Man: Homecoming cast. At the end of the day, when her chance came, she even managed to hit it off with a few of the actors, namely Jacob and Tony.

A few months later, after stewing in anticipation, (Y/N) received an email from Tony saying she was chosen to be a PA on the set of Spider-Man: Far From Home. During this time she had grown to be incredibly close to all of the main actors, but the person she bonded with most had to be the other PA their age, Tom’s best friend, Harrison.

When the actors were running lines and perfecting takes, Harrison and (Y/N) were doing whatever needed to be done, whether it be helpful work or coffee runs, they did it together. They roasted Tom, told jokes, distracted their actor friends one too many times, and frequently hung out outside of work as well. With how much time they spent with one another, Tom, Jacob, Zendaya, Tony, and Laura all assumed that Harrison and (Y/N) were already an item. It wasn’t until their last day in Atlanta that the rest of the group figured out that their relationship was still considered ‘platonic.’

Months rolled by and the group remained in contact with one another, but Harrison and (Y/N) remained closer than the rest, with the exception Harrison and Tom. About a month before Tom’s upcoming birthday, Harrison sent a message in the group chat that hadn’t been used in half a year, with the exclusion of Tom.

HazO🇬🇧: Trying to have a surprise birthday bash for Tom at my place. Who’s in?

JB🌺Aloha: in london?

Tony⚡: I’m in

HazO🇬🇧: Yes in LONDON!

Z✊🏾: ON his bday?

HazO🇬🇧: No in December

 Z✊🏾: Did I ask for your negativity?🙅🏽 

La-La-Laura👑: I can make it :)

Tater🍠: I can try

JB🌺Aloha: who TF is tater?

Z✊🏾: can’t be Tom. He has a quackson emoji 😂

Tater🍠: It’s (Y/N) -.- you nuke a sweet potato around Haz and Tom ONE TIME and you’re scarred for life 

JB🌺Aloha: Ohh, I forgot about the tater name.

Tater🍠: I wish everyone would...

HazO🇬🇧: So everyone’s coming??? cool!

A month and a lot of convincing later, (Y/N) managed to work out a way so that she could afford the plane ticket out of the country for Tom’s birthday. Jacob, Tony, Laura, Zendaya, and (Y/N) all stood outside Harrison’s home in the warmth of the London sun, waiting for Tom to stroll into the backyard alongside Harrison. The group lingered around a cooler, each sipping on cold beer or hard cider, chatting about their time in Atlanta, and catching up on what had been going on in one another’s lives.

Slowly, the back doors opened to reveal Tom and Harrison, bare chested and obviously buzzed, sauntering toward the group. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TOM” they called as he approached. Jacob passed Tom a beer and smiled.

“First legal one with all of us according to your home away from home,” he said as Tom twisted off the top of the bottle. (Y/N) continued to linger around the outside of the group and sip her drink. She had always felt slightly different from everyone else. Even though Harrison wasn’t one of the stars, he was still an actor and shared the extroverted tendencies of the rest of the group; not only that, he had known Tom and his family for years before meeting the rest of the group. (Y/N) was the newest member to join the team, and often felt as if she didn’t belong there, and so she lingered in the background and isolated herself unless she was around Harrison, Tony, or Jacob. 

Even today, (Y/N) sat along the side of the pool and kicked her legs back and forth in the water as the icy alcoholic apple taste slid down her throat. She leaned back and tried to relax as the sounds of Tony’s playlist circulated throughout the stereo system. Slowly heard faint footsteps grew closer to her and (Y/N) opened her eyes to see Tom had made his way toward where she sat alone at the edge of the pool.

“You came!” he smiled as he sat down beside her.

“You think I’d miss this?” she questioned with a laugh as Tom clinked his bottle against hers.

“I bet Harrison is excited to see you,” he said softly in a deep tone under his breath

“Why? Are you not excited to see me?” she teased and offered Tom a small smile.

“All I meant is that you and him are close, right?” Tom returned with apprehensive eyes. “He’s been blabbing about (Y/N) since we left Atlanta.” Curiosity overcame (Y/N) as she realized Tom was unaware of who he was speaking with.

“Yeah sure,” (Y/N) sighed as she pounded back the rest of her drink, and quickly noticing Tom’s level of intoxication. His eyelids looked heavy when he blinked, and (Y/N) could almost hear the fuzziness of his brain like the static of a television channel that isn’t responding. “Are you already drunk?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Tom said with a chuckle in his voice and holding a finger to his lips, signaling for her to keep quiet about it. “I mean, it’s my birthday!” Suddenly, his lighthearted tone fluctuated to irritation. “It’s my birthday and I have to watch my best friend try and get it on.” 

“It doesn’t look like he’s hitting on anyone,” (Y/N) attempted to reassure Tom as she gazed over her shoulder toward Harrison who stood beside Zendaya and Tony. 

“Not yet,” he said while finishing his drink. “Look, just...don’t tell him I was talking to you,” he rushed to add while slurring his words. “Harrison doesn’t want anyone to know that he likes (Y/N).”

“Then why did he tell you?” she asked sneakily, feeling guilty for taking advantage of Tom’s inebriation. 

“He thought I wasn’t interested.” With that he slipped into the pool and swam, underwater, to the opposite end where Jacob and Laura were practicing underwater handstands.

Since Tom was drunk, (Y/N) chose not to give their conversation much thought, but she couldn’t help remember her interactions with Harrison and Tom in Atlanta and even before that at the convention when she first befriended the group. When she first met everyone, she immediately threw herself into a roasting battle and got caught in the crossfires, inevitably being on the receiving end of Tom’s banter. As the day went on, she and Tom continued their roasts even when the others had stopped, and soon their banter was interpreted as annoyance and bickering. Harrison was convinced Tom wasn’t interested in the random girl they had just met; after all, his breakup was still moderately fresh, fame was on the horizon, and when Tom shows and interest in girls it’s normally through jokingly showing off and being kind, not by what Harrison was interpreting as him being blatantly rude to the new company.

(Y/N) always had a hunch that Harrison liked her. He would occasionally bring her favorite candy to set for a snack, he’d use his own money to buy her coffee when they went on Starbucks runs, and always seemed slightly shier around her than with anyone else. She had begun to rely on Harrison’s kindness to get her through the relentless teasing from Tom that had, in reality, been a continuation of their banter from when they first met. She didn’t have anything against Tom and knew that he could be a genuinely nice person, but he was never that way when anyone else was around. He was always standoffish and on defense when (Y/N) was involved in the group’s activities, but since the first night that Harrison disclosed to Tom that he may like (Y/N), Tom set roasting as his default when (Y/N) was around. He had to keep himself from indulging in whatever could have been for the sake of his best friend, and if being an ass is what would see Harrison happy with (Y/N), then being an ass is what he would have to do.

The sun faded behind the earth long ago. Since arriving, the group had run out of alcohol and was quickly replenished when Harry and Sam arrived at the party. Pizza fueled the young adults’ day and turned into a life source once night fell upon them. (Y/N) was pretty sure that, between Harrison and Tony, the local pizza joint had to have been called at least four times, and Harry and Sam didn’t make the food overload any better when the brought frozen, prepackaged hamburger patties to the party.

Despite trying to ignore any inclinations of either Harrison or Tom trying to make a move on her, it was nearly impossible for (Y/N) to keep her mind off of the thing causing her the most anxiety. Everything seemed to be a sign, whether it be through the chicken fights or their water rugby/basketball game, everything pointed in a million different directions. When the group decided to play chicken, Harrison chose (Y/N) to be on his team, one of the twins took Zendaya, the other chose Laura, and Tom and Jacob were a team while Tony continued to man the music. Harrison’s logic was to keep (Y/N) as close to him as possible so that, if the time was right, he could tell her how he felt. Having her on his shoulders was about as close as they could get. Tom’s logic was to be as physical as he could: fighting her would fulfill this. She was caught between support and competition as Harrison held her above the water and Tom tried to drag her off Haz’s shoulders and into the water with him.

When the sun began to set, the game changed when Tony threw a rugby ball into the pool. Z and Laura drew the line at dangerous sports, but (Y/N) had grown up playing watermelon ball with her family every summer since she was fourteen. The object of the game was very similar to the one proposed in this game: teams were divided and the object was to get the ball from one end of the pool to the other; the only difference is that when (Y/N) played it back home, a watermelon was used instead of a ball, which made the game much more difficult. Again, she was paired with Harrison, per his request. Competing alongside them was Tony and Harry while Jacob, Tom, and Sam became their opponents.

As soon as Laura threw the ball into the pool, (Y/N) took off. She dove into the water and grasped at the ball, careful not to bump heads with the other players, and swam to the bottom of the pool. Her plan was to skim the bottom, completely unnoticed until she reached the opposite end of the pool. When she finally reached the edge, she hurriedly kicked her feet only to have a pair of hands come from behind her and latch onto her hips. Frantically, she looked at the swimming trunks around her and tossed the ball toward the white shorts with blue stripes: Harrison. She turned underwater and looked for the person who had grabbed her, but they had already swam away. Once (Y/N) resurfaced, she found that her team had a turnover and Tom now had the ball. She went back under and quickly used her feet as leverage while she grabbed his ankles and pulled him back. As expected, he face planted into the water and dropped the ball, giving Harry just enough time to swoop in and rush toward their scoring end. 

Just as quickly as (Y/N) had pulled Tom, she shoved him away and swam toward their scoring end to receive Harry’s pass and dunk the ball through the small basketball hoop. From there, the physical interaction among players only escalated. Guys were able to avoid groin kicks to one another but they were really grabby with the ball and forgot one member of their competition was female until they accidentally grabbed a boob. Used to the similar physical interaction in watermelon ball, and being too incredibly competitive to let it bother her, (Y/N) took advantage of the guys perceived awkward moment after accidentally grabbing her and scored against them. It wasn’t until the end of their fourth round that (Y/N) began to notice the looks on both Harrison’s and Tom’s faces. Both exhibited excitement but while Harrison’s showed pride, Tom’s displayed thrill--the thrill of the chase. The two didn’t square off on one another until Tom forced (Y/N) under water and Harrison hurried toward them and shoved Tom under, allowing (Y/N) to swim away throw the ball to Tony and their team to score the winning point.

After the sun was completely absent from the sky, the group decided to settle down from the roughness of their afternoon, eat dinner, and play a little beer pong. Harrison and (Y/N) stood side by side as they each took their turn throwing ping-pong balls at the red solo cups that floated opposite them.  As the songs transitioned into those of Ed Sheeran’s latest album, Harrison’s excitement and confidence boosted. Without coordinating anything, Harrison and (Y/N) began to sing ‘Shape of You.’ She laughed as he hurried his drunk slurs to hit all the right words and notes during the verses, but once the chorus came on, it was like he was at a concert, screaming to hear himself over the roar of the crowd and pounding speakers.

“I’m in love with the shape of you; we push and pull like a magnet do. Although heart is falling too, I’m in love with your body. Last night you were in my room and now my bed sheets smell like you. Every day discovering something brand new; I'm in love with your body. I'm in love with your body; every day discovering something brand new. I'm in love with the shape of you!” Laughing, he took her hands and spun her around in an attempt to dance, only to find the resistance of the water to make it much more difficult than expected. Thankfully, almost everyone had joined in with Harrison’s charade, and (Y/N) was able to deny that he was doing any of this seriously rather than to be funny or because he was taken away by the heat of the moment or the liquor in their systems.

Harrison had definitely crossed her mind in the romantic way but part of her continued to debate against taking their relationship from friendship to romance. He was nice and kind and loving and she would love to be able to see where their relationship could go, but she was more than terrified of losing the friendship she had with him. It had been ages since she had someone like Harrison in her life, and being friendless was something she was too horrified to return to that she couldn’t imagine risking what she has to maybe have something else. She wasn’t greedy, she was thankful for how things were and didn’t see a need to try and have more.

“Get it, Haz!” Zendaya and Jacob laughed. (Y/N) let out a small chuckle as the faces and voices faded in and out of her buzzed analysis of the situation. She focused on their actions rather than the implications and hurried to take her turn, inevitably missing the cup and accidentally hitting Tom in the chest.

“(Y/N), quit staring at Harrison and get your head in the game,” Tom grumbled as he rubbed water over the stinging welt on his chest. Harrison rolled his eyes and gently put his hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder in a reassuring and also possessive manner. She partially melted in his touch--ready to surrender her opposing argument and be in favor of a romantic relationship--however, the other half of her felt nothing more than a platonic, if not brotherly, protection. In hopes to drown her thoughts, (Y/N) chugged one of the cups in front of her and felt a buzz return to her head.

“Come on, mate! Don’t take your anger out on her just because you suck at beer pong,” Harrison chuckled.

“She pegged me!” Tom protested.

“I’m sorry!” (Y/N) quickly interjected with a small laugh on her lips, assuming the back and forth between Harrison and Tom was playful, friendly banter.

“Let’s go Holland!” Harrison called while slipping his arms around (Y/N)’s waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. Hesitant, her heart started to flutter against her chest in both excitement and apprehension; even if she wasn’t certain on if she wanted to start a relationship with Harrison, she at least knew she wouldn’t want something to start on the account of alcohol. Tom rolled his eyes and tried to shoot at one of the four cups he and Sam had left. After missing, he huffed as Harrison leapt back, lifted (Y/N) and spun her around in the water--her back against his chest--in a drunken, victorious jest. Tom walked to the edge of the pool, hoisted himself up, and grabbed his towel.

“Is he okay?” (Y/N) asked Harrison who shrugged in return. Her eyes then flashed toward Sam who also exchanged a look of confusion. Both of the guys she was trying to get information from were even more inebriated than she was, so she swam to the edge of the pool, got out quickly, dried off, and then picked up her phone and followed Tom’s path into Harrison’s home. Slowly, she raised her hand to the door of the room the boys used to change: Harrison’s room. As she pushed the door out of it’s closed position, (Y/N) entered to see Tom hunched over on the side of the bed staring aimlessly at his phone as his thumb scrolled against the glass screen. “Tom, are you coming back out?”

“In a minute,” he grumbled. As (Y/N) closed the door and made her way closer toward him, she could see that he was staring at a now blank screen and the reflection of his face didn’t look very happy.

“Is something wrong?” she gently asked, only to have Tom rise and face her with frustration in his eyes.

“Yeah, I don’t need you to come and check up on me when I’m just trying to cool off.” (Y/N)’s nose scrunched at his words and she turned as he tried to pass her.

“Why do you try so hard to be an asshole to me?” she called him out. Tom bit anxiously at his cheek, and turned to face (Y/N) with his eyes locked on hers.

“For Harrison’s sake,” he stated firmly as he gazed intently at her. When (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Tom continued to explain in an exasperated voice, “I’m always acting like I don’t like you so Harrison doesn’t see that I actually do like you.”

“What’s the big deal with pretending not to be my friend? Harrison is your best friend and he’s one of my closet friends. He should be glad we get along!”

“Never mind,” Tom sighed while walking away. “You’re not getting it.”

“What am I not getting? You’r paranoid about Harrison knowing you’re my friend so you act like you can’t stand me! Just tell him you actually like me and that you don’t hate me, and maybe he’ll stop trying to drown you in water rugby.”

“I can’t do that to him,” Tom stated.

“Why not?” (Y/N) asked as her frustration continued to soar. Tom let out an aggravated groan and cupped (Y/N)’s face in his hands before allowing his lips to crash onto hers. Stumbling backward from the force of their bodies colliding, the pair fell on the bed, Tom’s bare chest pressed against (Y/N)’s now chillingly wet bikini top. Subconsciously, her lips opened against his, asking for more. The fluttering in her chest that rose when Harrison put her arms around her was increased to tenfold as Tom’s mouth pressed against hers. The hesitation and confusion over Harrison disappeared and everything seemed not to exist except for the moment shared between her and Tom. 

She could smell the beer on his breath as it trailed her neck but didn’t protest his touch. Even when he tugged at the strings of her top to unlace it, it was as if the rest of the world was gone. The sloppy kisses, fluttering hearts and various other products of the moment swept her away into a realm where reality ceased to exist and what was to follow seemed like a dream.

Continued Reading

[alysharichardss]

Before You Speak.

      As children we are taught to think before we speak. However, as. many of us age we disregard what it is we say, how we say it and who we say it to. This is evident in use of microaggressions. The StJohnsNow “Microaggressions” video shares the stories of numerous students and their experiences with  microaggressions. St. John's students define it as intentional or unintentional discriminatory insults directed towards and individual (0:10). These insults are frequently made against minorities based on racial and ethnic identities. microaggresions are problematic because they are insults passed off as casual that often play into the idea that the minority is less than the majority in terms of worth.

    The power of language and influence of discriminatory insults were not out of the ordinary to me. When I was six, my mom signed me up for a camp called ‘fun for kids.’ Like many other children I was amused by the sandboxes, slides, the life-size dollhouses they had, and the bright chalk waiting for me on the pavement. More than anything I wanted to play. I’m always told that children don’t see color, and to be honest six year old me had no idea what it meant to be black. What I did know was that every person looked different. I knew my hair was unlike most, and I didn’t think much of it, until my first day of camp.

     It was hot, no… it was sweltering but the heat wasn’t bothersome to me. I couldn’t wait a second longer to play with the other kids. My twin sister Alyssa and I skipped and galloped towards the dollhouses. My skipping came to a halt as we were both greeted by an unfriendly expression. “Hi!” I exclaimed. I asked the girl staring back at me if we could join her in the playhouse, to which she responded with a swift “no.” I was confused. She continued, “I only play with people who have straight hair.” I watched numerous girls walk in after me to play, but she let them enter because their hair was straight. 

     Her comment upset me, I didn’t understand what my hair had to do with anything. I found myself sitting on a bench staring at every girl who walked in and out of the dollhouse. I compared myself to them. I wanted to look like them because if I looked like them I’d be able to play.  I remember believing that somehow they were above me. Her comment was the root of my self-hate as a child. My curls became undesirable to me and I believed they were something that needed to be “fixed.”

      In Hilton Als’ “GWTW”an African American writer sheds light on his experiences as a black man in our society. Als describes feeling “watched” because of his skin color (Als 3). He goes on and describes being at parties with white people they say “We’d know you anywhere. You’re so big so distinctive”(ibid.)! Als states, “when they mean something else all together… you are: big and black.”(ibid.). Als describes negative racially motivated insults that are passed off as casual, which are microaggressions. Als’ experience is problematic because those that made the comments were oblivious to the fact that their words had implied something negative, and racially stereotypical. This is one of the biggest problems with microaggresions people don’t know what they are, how offensive they are, or how commonly they are used in conversation regularly. 

     The situation above was the first of many microaggressions I would experience growing up. discriminatory and stereotypical insults were expressed to me by my teachers and my peers. Frankly, I had no idea how to deal with it. “Why did your mom let you come to school with your hair like that…let me fix it,” said my after school program teacher Ms. Diamond. “Are you sure you didn’t steal Julia’s homework?”  Mrs. Herman asked me. “You talk white,” said my best friend Dina. “Why are you black girls so loud?” Said another.”  These comments often insinuated different things, all of them hurtful. Was something wrong with my hair? Did other black students not doing their work mean I stole my white peers because she didn’t do hers? Did I laugh loudly because a joke was funny? Or was it because I’m black? These comments made me feel “less than” those who they came from. They pointed out things about myself that I couldn’t change. As I’ve grown, my personal experiences with microaggressions have lessened. Until the other night. 

     I have just started my freshman year in college. It hasn’t been too hard for me to adjust here socially. I’ve made two friends, both of whom are of Dominican descent. When I look at them I see them simply for who they are. What has never crossed my mind is what they think when they see me. A few nights ago, after an extremely draining day, I joined a group FaceTime call with my friends Logan, Camrin, Amy, Rayonea, and Sierra. I haven’t seen them in what has started to feel like ages we all attend different universities. 

     While catching up we laughed together as we did at home as we began discussing friendships that we made. Logan mentioned that there are two “types” of black people at UCONN. What he said brought me discomfort. There was a silence. “You know what I mean… there are the athletes and there are thugs.” 

     I’ve been friends with Logan for four years he is Japanese and Italian. He often takes pleasure in playing Devil's advocate when it comes to racial issues, so the fact that this comment came from him was not surprising. However, it was extremely unsettling to me that he genuinely did not find any issue with what he said. His statement dehumanized an entire race and it enraged me. My friends asked him what he meant, and he said: “You know, the ghetto ones or the basketball players.” I told him to stop, as his reasoning was not any better than his first statement “Athletes and Thugs.” I wondered if this was how everyone viewed African American youth, not as a person but as one of two things, ghetto or a basketball player. I laughed the comment off, which is a horrible habit I possess when I am angry or uncomfortable. We started discussing something else, and shortly thereafter we all hung up. Like many instances of prejudice in the world today, his comment was ignored and swept under the rug. Unfortunately, his thoughts and words are not only limited to the conversation I had. Nor are they limited to his university. 

    Microaggressions are widespread and numerous students at St. John’s University have experienced them. There is a portion in the StJohnsNow video when an African American student recalls people's attitudes towards him when he states he is attending St. John’s University (a division one school). The replies are often, “You must be playing ball up there”(1:34). He continues, “but when I tell them I got there on scholarship they’re shocked, they’re like oh wow really, you” (1:46)? The judgment that this young man faced is similar to the judgment that Logan passed. Most often people jump to conclusions and assume young black male students are athletes,  and only athletes based on stereotypes. Another young man was placed into a box based on his race because of a misconception. These statements that are presented as casual are in fact offensive. They are microaggressions. 

     Microaggressions are dangerous. They embody everything that racism stood for, from prejudice to discrimination. Next time you speak to an individual I encourage you to consider what your words mean and what they may imply. Discriminatory and prejudice comments are harmful to any individual who experiences them. Be mindful of your use microaggressions, because words are forever.

[gutter-guy-100]

And There Were Daffodils in Her Eyes

Read chapter 5 here on AO3

Summary:  Asigiri Minori is going to change.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

I would like to thank you all so much for the overwhelming support I’ve recived while writing this fic, I’d also like to bring attention to some fantastic artists who have created fanart for the series: teruki-terugay, hybridshadzart, ilee-font, And malengold made two pieces! (If you make a piece tag it with 'And There Were Daffodils in Her Eyes' so I don't miss it!)

Thank you again, you can read under the cut or at Ao3!

Days turned into weeks and weeks quickly turned into a month. An entire month Minori had spent at Salt Middle School. Though time didn’t move fast for Minori. Her days started with her rolling out of bed in the morning from sleepless nights and ended with sweat and tears after long training sessions with Teru. In Between were tiring classes and failed attempts to have any sort of casual conversation with Mob.

Lunch had quickly become one of the only nice parts of Minori’s day. Everyday Minori ate lunch with Mezato in either the newspaper club’s room or the courtyard. Mezato was great to be around. She was chatty and knew everyone in the school, she was nice and was genuinely interested in things Minori had to say. It felt strange, having a real friend, someone who didn’t know about her wealth, or that was using her for her popularity, or that was just plain terrified of her.

Thanks to Mezato she had been able to meet other students too. Emi was one, a sweet, if not shy, girl with brown hair and a lovely smile. She hung around the newspaper club room often to try and get her short stories published. Mezato always argued that the school’s newspaper wasn’t for works of fiction. Minori had offered to read Emi’s novels and she thought they were pretty great.

Minori also had the honor of meeting Tsubomi, a girl who Mezato had described as “Salt Middle School’s idol”. It was obvious why, Tsubomi was beautiful and sweet and friendly. And she was so damn nice. Tsubomi is everything Minori could have been. Tsubomi had rose to popularity because of her own kindness, not because she was rich or manipulative, she was popular because she was nice and pretty and everything Minori could never be. Still, Minori couldn’t even hate her because she was just so damn perfect . It made Minori sick .

Minori had learned that a lot of things made her sick now. Bad dreams and big tests and large groups of people and sometimes when she saw a stray cats walking alleys she could feel her stomach twist. She wasn’t always like this, in fact it was all very new, she just figured it was a side effect of her new powers or a reminder of her past self. She did know that she wanted it to stop.

She wanted to be anywhere but here, On her hands and knees in a restroom stall staring down at the toilet water. What had triggered it this time, she doesn't know. Was it the volume of the classroom? The fact that she had a math test today that she had skipped out on studying for? It could have been the way Mob had looked at her when she had said good morning to him, a vacant stare and a monotone ‘hello’ that once again reminded Minori that just maybe, this was a horrible idea, and just maybe, he doesn’t give a shit about her.

Whatever the cause, it didn’t matter right now. Because right now she felt her stomach lurch and her throat grow hot and the taste of acid spread through her mouth. Her hands pulled her hair back tight as her entire body contracted. Chunks of her lunch and breakfast from the day hit the water, some splashing back and hitting her cheeks. She retched until there was nothing left in her but dark green bile and spit. With the vomit came tears that streamed down her face and dropped into the toilet bowl with all of the garbage that had just left her body. She clutched her stomach and heaved one more time before hugging her knees to her chest and leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall.

She felt low. Lower than ever. Nothing but her now-stifled sobs echoed through the air.

A loud knock on the bathroom stall interrupted her. She let out a quiet gasp when she turned to see someone's shoes from under the crack of the bathroom stall. If she hadn’t just emptied her stomach she probably would have thrown up again.

"Um," it was a boy’s voice, "Doing okay in there? You know this is the boys bathroom, right?"

An almost silent "oh my god," left Minori's lips. She didn't even think to look at which bathroom she was entering before she ran in.

She reaches her hand to flush the toilet and grips the toilet paper dispenser to help her stand to her feet. "S-sorry. I didn't realize." She wipes her mouth with the palm of her hand and then wipes the spit and acidic residue off on her skirt. It leaves a gross green stain behind that won’t be fun to wash out later.

She opened the stall door to be greeted by a taller, brown haired boy. He wore an unreadable expression that almost reminded her of Mob. Her face flushed red with embarrassment and she focused her gaze to the floor. She sidesteps past the boy and goes to the sink to wash her hands and face. She wished that she had a toothbrush or a mint or anything that could mask the stench of vomit on her breath.

"I think you should go to the nurse."

"I'm fine, re-"

"No, seriously." She’s almost taken aback by how serious the boy’s tone is, "You should go to the nurse. I'll take you."

Minori decides that it's best not to argue with him. She agrees with an almost silent, "Okay."

With that the boy turned to exit the bathroom. Minori followed closely behind him, peaking her head out of the bathroom door nervously and checking the hallway for other students.

The boy looked back at her, "No one is in the hallway, don't worry."

The two walked down the hallway together in silence. Minori stared at the back of the boy’s head as they walked. She wasn’t sure if she had ever seen the boy on campus, he didn’t look too familiar. There was something that felt off about him though. The closer Minori was to him, the more she felt the familiar warmth of an aura that she had only found in other espers, 'Is he...?'

The boy stopped so suddenly the she almost ran right into his back. "This is the nurse’s office."

"Oh, thank you so much, um..."

"Takenaka."

Minori twitched into a small smile, "Thank you, Takenaka-kun."

Takenaka turns to meet her eyes, his gaze concentrated. For just a moment, the air feels almost a little too uncomfortable for Minori. When he finally responds, it's somewhat quiet, "You shouldn't overwork yourself."

"What... what do you mean by that?"

Takenaka let's out a sigh and shrugs, "You just looked like you needed to hear that." Minori isn't sure how to take that, but he isn't exactly wrong. "Anyway, feel better."

Minori watched the boy walk down the hallway until he disappeared behind the corner. 'Ah, I forgot to tell him my name,' she thinks. She hopes that she'll catch him in the halls someday so she can properly introduce herself.

She turned to look at the door to the nurse's office and for a split second contemplated turning around and going back to class. The angry growl her stomach made swayed her decision.

~~~~~

The nurse had insisted that she go home early. Her father, in his usual overly dramatic fashion, called off the rest of his meetings for the day so he could pick her up himself. Minori was glad that she had insisted on making her father let her take the train to and from school. The sleek black car with tinted windows that pulled up to the school gates really did seem to stick out against the ordinary atmosphere of Seasoning City. The driver’s side window opened and Minori locked eyes with her father’s chauffeur. ‘He could have just driven himself,’ she thinks as the chauffeur opens the backseat door for her. She slides into her seat and smiles at her father who’s sitting in the seat next to her.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Worried was plastered all of her poor father’s face.

“I think I’m okay.” she leaned back  and rested her knees on the back of the empty passenger seat, “It might have just been something I ate.”

“Alright, as long as you’re feeling better now.” He rests a hand on her shoulder, “I’m proud of you, Minori. Transferring to a new school, making good friends, doing well in your classes, I feel like you’ve grown up so much.” Minori can hear her father’s voice beginning to choke up, “You’re doing great.”

Minori smiled, “I’m just doing my best.”

“And how’s that Kageyama boy doing?”

“He’s… fine. He’s a really nice boy.” Minori avoided her father’s questioning gaze and turned her attention to her cracked fingernails.

“I’m sure he is. The next time you see him, I want you to tell him and that master of his that we still owe them the world for what they did for us.”

Minori’s brows furrowed as she looked back at her father, “Master…?”

“Yes, I haven’t been able to contact him since back then, but Kageyama was brought to the exorcism by another man. Some self-proclaimed psychic.” Her father let out a soft chuckle, “I wouldn’t just invite a kid to preform exorcism, I’m no madman!”

Minori doesn’t ever remember seeing a ‘master’ with Mob, she’s not even sure that he’s ever mentioned having a master. He has mentioned having a job before though. A part of her wants to think that maybe, just maybe, she could get Mob to take her to meet his master so she can meet him. The other part of her thinks that it is a horrible idea that will only bring more friction between her and Mob.

“I’ll stop by his workplace tomorrow after school and thank him.”

When they get home Minori makes sure to take some medication to soothe her stomach pains and nausea. Her father tried to convince her to see the doctor, but she reassured him that she just needed to sleep it off. And that’s exactly what she did. When she wraps herself up tight under the fluffy blue covers of her bed she’s asleep almost the moment she hit the pillow.

It doesn’t feel like long though, before she’s woken up by the sound of incessant ringing. In a groggy state, she groped her sheets to try and find her phone that had gotten lost between blankets and pillows. By the time she finally has it in hand the ringing had stopped. She clicks the home button and squints her eyes as they adjust to the brightness. ‘4 missed calls from Teruki Hanazawa’

“Shit!” Minori shoots up from her bundle of blankets and pillows, ‘I didn’t tell him,’ She thinks as she quickly scrolls through her contacts, ‘he’s going to be pissed.’

The phone only rings once before Teru picks up. “Where are you?”

“Teru-san! I’m so, so sorry! I got sick at school and I forgot to tell you that I wasn’t coming today. I’m so sorry, I-”

“It’s fine.” The tone of his voice indicated that it was absolutely not fine. “Tomorrow we’ll just train twice as hard.”

Minori swalled hard, “Um, actually… I’m doing something after school tomorrow, so I…” She trails off her sentence when she hears an exasperated sigh come from the other end of the line.

“Asigiri-san, I’m starting to think that maybe you don’t take this as seriously as I once thought. I’m not going to waste mine time on you if-”

“No, Teru-san! I am taking it seriously, I’m sorry. Friday we’ll train three times as hard, I’ll try to lift the building of you want me to!”

She hears a breathy laugh coming from Teru, “No need for that. I have something special planned for you, don’t worry. Now, if you're sick then you should get some rest.”

“Thank you, Teru-san. And once again, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, just remember to let me know ahead of time. I’ll let you go now, tell Kageyama-kun that I said hi.”

“I will.” Minori lets out a sigh of relief as she ends the call and drops the phone back onto her bed. She was half expecting Teru to be a lot harder on her. Teru was a little scary, to say the least. He worked Minori until she was on the verge of tears sometimes. Having her lift and throw things and levitating herself and testing every boundary of her powers. It was paying off at least, Minori finally had a pretty good grip on reeling in her powers, no more accidentally exploding objects or floating her bed up two feet in the air every time she had a nightmare.

Minori laid back down in her mess of pillows and blankets and closed her eyes.  In her head she rehearsed what she would say to Mob tomorrow until she drifted back to sleep.

~~~~~

Mob had kept his distance from Minori since the day he took her to train with Teru. To him, he had done his job in helping her and saw no need to offer her any further assistance. It was impossible to completely avoid her though, especially when she was in the same class as him and had started making friends with the people he knew. No one is completely avoidable. But he had kept his distance.

That's why when she had suddenly approached him near the school gates at the end of the day, he was not-so-pleasantly surprised.

“Mob-kun!” Mob turned around to see Minori jogging over to him, waving her hand excitably on the air to catch his attention. She slowed her pace and smiled as she approached  him, “Hey! I um, I wanted to ask you something,” Mob gave her a slight nod before she continued, “I know this seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I’d like to meet your master.”

Mob answers Minori with a confused look, furrowing him brows and curling his lips together, “Um. Why?”

“I just,” Minori reached into her schoolbag that was hanging off of her shoulder. She dug around for a moment and then pulled out an envelope, perfectly white with a wax seal holding it shut, “My father wrote this thank you letter, I wanted to hand it to him directly. I have a lot to thank him for.”

Minori didn’t know what answer she was expecting, but she was pleasantly surprised when she heard Mob mutter a quiet “Okay,” and started to walk.

Minori followed close behind Mob. After a month of attending school in Seasoning City it doesn’t feel like such a foreign place anymore. She recognized buildings and streets and could probably navigate her way around town by herself now.

Minori tried to break the uncomfortable silence that had grown between the two, “So, what exactly do you do at your job?”

“Exorcise spirits, give consultations, things like that. Master Reigen does most of the work, really.”

“Wow, are there really that many spirits out there?”

“Well, there are a lot of dead people, so.”

Minori felt her face flush, she made a mental note to not ask anymore dumb questions. “I haven’t seen any spirits yet, do you even think I have the ability to?”

“All espers do.” Mob slowed his pace as they approached a building, a large sign hanging from the side read “Spirits and Such Consultation Office”. They make their way up four flights of stairs before they reach an office door with a small plaque next to it reading the same Spirits and Such name that was on the sign outside.

Mob opened up the office door and flicked on the lights. The office was small and had an almost a homey feeling. The smell of incense and lavender fill the air as Minori walked inside. Mob headed over to the desk and started shuffling through papers and folders that were strewn all across the wooden surface. "Master Reigen is probably out right now, you can go ahead and sit down while you wait for him." He motions over to two chairs that sat adjacent to each other in the corner of the room. She walks over to one of the chairs and goes to sit down, but she jumps back when she sees someone was already there. Something between a gasp and a yell gets stuck in her throat, and she can only make a distressed sound as she practically scrambles backwards.

"M-Mob-kun! There's someone in here!"

Mob doesn't even look up from the desk he was organizing, "It's just Suzuki-kun. He's a friend."

"Oh, okay..." Minori looks down at the boy, curled up like a cat on the small chair. The way he was curled up, practically contracting his entire body, looks painful to Minori, but he seems to be in a pleasantly deep sleep. He almost look a little too eccentric to be a friend of Mob’s. Bright red messy hair, a face dusted with freckles, and a warm aura that Minori could feel from where she was standing.

Mob walked over to the chair and gently nudged the boy, "Suzuki-kun, its late in the afternoon. You should get up."

There's a moment before the boy starts stirring. He let out a loud yawn and stretches out his body across the small loveseat. "Hmm, thanks for waking me Shige." The boy sits up and stretches his arms over his head, letting out one last yawn before he finally notices Minori. “Oh, hey. Sorry Shige, I didn’t realise you had a client in right now.”

“She’s not a client she’s a… friend. She’s here to meet Master Reigen.”

“Hi,” Minori extends a polite hand towards the boy, “I’m Asigiri Minori, it’s nice to meet you.”

The redhead stands up and grabs Minor’s hand, shaking it a little too enthusiastically, “Suzuki Shou, nice to meet you too!” Minori can’t help but to smile, the energy Shou gives off is almost refreshing. He looks past Minori’s shoulder and over to Mob, “Reigen is out meeting someone, but he left a while ago so I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Alright, thank you Suzuki-kun.”

“No problem,” Shou made his way over to the open window behind the desk, “Well, I’m out, I’ll see you later, Shige.” He flashed a smile to Minori, “Nice meeting you, Asisgiri!” And with a wave of his hand, he climps up and jumps out the window.

Minori watches in horror and slight confusion,“Why didn't he just use the door?! We’re four stories up!”

Mob shrugs, “That’s just the way Suzuki-kun is.” Mob makes his way back over to the desk, “Um, I could make you some  tea, If you’d like that.”

A smile blooms across Minori's face, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

[ylla]

Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 2

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu, koichi/yukako (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: au where theyre famous, modern au, pining, recreational drug use (smoking that wacky tabaccy) Rating: M (eventually there will be sex, so that rating will keep climbing)

AO3 link

haha! i’m dying! (actually i’m starting to feel better) but at least i have these dorks to carry me on through this trying time.

remember to kudos the fic, comment on the fic, and bookmark the fic if you wanna see more of the same content

The second time they meet, it’s at some hoity-toity Hollywood party a few weeks later. Josuke had been invited with no intention on going, but when Koichi not-so-subtly dropped hints that the members of Arrowhead would be there, Josuke personally called the party planner and let them know that he had changed his mind and would DEFINITELY be attending. And since the party in question was at famed producer Bruno Bucciarati's house, Josuke knew it was bound to be mostly chill. Which was good, because the last thing he needed was to make drunken fool of himself. Josuke was in the middle of the monumental task of getting ready when his phone rang. "Hey mom," he answered in greeting, "I gotcha on speaker phone" Tomoko Higashikata came in loud and clear, "Hi honey, what are you doing tonight?" His hair was taking a lot of concentration, "Oh you know, got some party Koichi conned me into going to. I'm in the middle of getting ready." Tomoko tsked, "It won't hurt you to go out, you're in that house by yourself too much." She wasn't wrong. When Tomoko first returned to New York City, Josuke partied for a couple of years like the world was ending, but eventually he got bored of that, and became more or less a homebody (or hermit, as she put it). He guessed turning 24 did that to you. "Yeah, yeah, don't nag me." "I just worry about you, dear. Anyways," he heard her shuffling around, "Is that boy going to be there?" It was probably a mistake that he mentioned his harmless crush to her, but another side effect of being so far away from her was that he just spilled his guts to her every time he opened his mouth. Josuke groaned, not really wanting to talk about it, "He's supposed to be." "Is that how Koichi got you to go?" "Maybe?" Tomoko snorted, "Well, have fun. And don't forget to get his number this time." "Thanks for reminding me of my failures, mom." She chuckled, "I'm just teasing--" she was cut off by someone talking to her, "I'm talking to Josuke, do you wanna say hi? Josuke," her attention returned to their call, "your grandpa wants to say hi." The phone fumbled for a minute before Ryohei spoke, "Hey kiddo." Josuke smiled as he finished his hair. Looking good. "Hey gramps, how you feelin'?" "I'm feeling just fine. Doctor cleared me to run that marathon, so I’ve been preparing all week.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Josuke warned, struggling to get his pants on, “Don’t need you keeling over on me, old man.” He sounded flippant to downplay his anxiety over his grandfather’s health.

The bark-like laugh Ryohei made Josuke feel a little better, “You don’t have to worry about me, Josuke. Your mom keeps me in check.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to.”

Ryohei laughed again, “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hi and wish you luck in your hunt tonight.”

Josuke could hear the sparkles in his grandfather’s eyes. He hated it. “Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, old man.”

He got an exaggerated sigh for his trouble, “I’m going, I’m going. You nag me as much as your mother does. I love you, don’t get arrested.”

“Thanks gramps, love you too. Give the phone back to mom.”

A few seconds later, Tomoko came back, “I’m going let you go, you have fun at your party—“

“I will—“

“Don’t total Koichi’s car again—“

Josuke scowled, “I won’t—“

“And remember to practice safe sex—“

“MOTHER—“

Tomoko was snickering, “Just making sure!”

“I’m hanging up. Love you.”

“Love you too! Call me later!”

Josuke ended the call, sat his iPhone carefully on his sink counter, put his face in his hands and screamed. Those two will be the death of him.

Koichi arrived at 8 o’clock sharp, looking like a man who was about to walk to the gallows, “Let’s get this over with.”

Once in the car, Josuke took one look at his friend’s sullen face. “Okay, so if you didn’t wanna go, why did you keep saying, ‘Oh hey Josuke, you should go to this party at Bruno’s with me because there might be some people there you wanna see and possible get their number from’???”

“Because Josuke, I’m a good friend,” Koichi responded, eyes forward as they cruised to Bruno’s house, “That Okuyasu guy is supposed to be there, and you’ve been sulking over not getting his number long enough—”

 “I HAVE NOT—“

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Josuke was genuinely touched. Koichi was such a good person, so willing to sacrifice his own comfort for someone he called a friend. He—

“Wait a minute…” Josuke narrowed his eyes, “How do you know he’s gonna be there?”

“…A little bird told me?”

“It was that Yukako chick wasn’t it?” Josuke rolled his eyes so hard, he was surprised they didn’t pop out of his skull, “Dude, you don’t need me to wingman, she’s obviously into you.”

“Yeah, I know! A little too into me!” Koichi shivered, “She invited me and I hedged on going, tried to make up some excuse using you, and then she mentioned that her bandmate would be there, and I…thought you would wanna go, so I said I would be there…” he finished sheepishly.

“God. Okay.” Josuke pinched the bridge of his nose as they pulled into a substantial driveway, “I appreciate you looking out for me. You’re a good, sweet boy, Koichi.”

Koichi crinkled his nose, “I think that’s the exact same thing my mom says to me. Besides, you’ll have fun. Trust me.” Every time Koichi has said any variation of ‘Trust me’ before Josuke was about to do something he didn’t wanna do, it never ended well. He must have seen the look of trepidation on Josuke’s face, because he followed up with, “Keep an open mind. And if anything, you’ll have something new to tease me about.”

“I do love teasing you…” Josuke sighed, “Alright, let’s get this shit show on the road.”

Just like how Josuke was expecting the party to be like, the house was crowded with people, but the atmosphere was incredibly chill, save for some godawful piano playing and wailing going on in the next room.

“—YOU GOOOOT WHAT I NEEEEEEEED! BUT YOU SAY I’M JUST A FRIEND, YOU SAY I’M JUST A FRIEND—“

The host Bruno, and his cohort(? Boyfriend? Husband? Josuke wasn’t sure and never asked) Leone Abbachio were found in the foyer, with Bruno looking remarkably calm about the caterwauling in the next room and Abbachio drinking deeply from a half-empty wine bottle.

“Heeey guys, uh—“ Josuke rubbed the back of his head, “Nice party?”

“Good to see you Josuke,” Bruno shook his hand, then Koichi’s, not even flinching at the sound of a horribly off-key chorus.

“Uhm, who is playing—“ Koichi kind of gestured to the living room.

“You get one guess.” Abbachio replied, looking grim.

Josuke and Koichi both cocked their heads to the side to listen to the yowling.

“—OH BABY YOUUUU—“

They looked at each other before answering simultaneously, “Narancia.”

Abbachio nodded, “Un-fucking-fortunately.” He took a swig from his wine bottle to punctuate his statement.

“Is he drunk…?” asked Koichi, eyeing the entryway into the living room.

Bruno sipped his champagne, “Sober as a judge.”

Josuke left the trio when their conversation turned towards some boring ass label bullshit. He wandered into the next room, greeted by the sight of a woman lying on top of a baby grand piano with three completely sober dudes banging away on the keys while singing off-key. The other guests either ignored them completely, or stared at the group like they were a car set on fire.

“Josuke!” Trish Una hopped off the piano and rushed over to give him a hug. She had been discovered by Bruno, but didn’t get a lot of attention until her and Josuke did a duet. Sudden fame had come as a shock to her, and Josuke more or less took her under his wing.

He returned the hug, “Hey girl, I see that you guys are doing…something…here.”

“IT’S CALLED ART, HIGASHIKATA,” Narancia hollered, “MAYBE YOU’VE HEARD OF IT.” If you took a good look at Narancia Ghirga, you’d never expect the guy to be a rapper, but perhaps because it seemed so out of left field, that Josuke couldn’t help but think that’s why he was so popular.

“I think it’s called a mess, but you do you.”

Narancia made a face at Josuke as the two guys flanking him got up. “Sup,” greeted Mista, while Fugo waved. Mista Guido was the bassist of Passione, but that all went pear-shaped when he left the band due to, quote, ‘unrepentant dickery’, end quote. Pannacotta Fugo was one of the best choreographers Josuke had ever had the privilege of working with, and they collaborated often. They all used to go clubbing together, and it’s been a minute since Josuke has seen all of them in person.

Trish let go of Josuke to go wrap an arm around Mista’s shoulders, while he snaked an arm around her waist (Josuke had no idea what was going on there either, and honestly he didn’t want to). “Surprised to see you here! I’m glad though, I feel like it’s been forever since we were at a party together.”

“Yeah,” Fugo snorted, leaning against the piano, “Thought you’d decide to hang it all up to become the local hermit.”

“Fuck off, Fugo,” Josuke scowled.

“You wouldn’t like it, I’d just lay there and ask if it’s in yet.”

Before Josuke could retort or smack him, Narancia climbed up on the piano, mashing keys down with his feet as he struggled up, “If Josuke’s here, that means something special is happening tonight!” Narancia laid on his stomach, face propped up in his hands. He would be angelic and innocent if he didn’t have an impish look on his face, “You’re here for some hot piece of ass, ain’tcha?” That question was somehow made even worse by Narancia waggling his eyebrows.

Josuke was very aware of the amount of eyes on them, “Oh my god. Why can’t I just come hangout with it having some ulterior motive??”

Mista pointed at Josuke, “Do not lie to me in this house, Higashikata. We know better.”

“I’m not!”

“That sounds like something a liar would say.”

Josuke huffed, “You know what? I’m going outside—“

The four of them started howling with laughter, telling him not to go; Narancia’s quickly turning into whines as Abbachio stalked into the room, demanding he get his gremlin ass off of his piano, or so help him.

Taking that as his cue, Josuke escaped into the backyard. Thank god, no one else was out there. Josuke sat down on a patch of grass near the edge of Bruno’s backyard that overlooked the city. Damn bastard lucked out with the view. He lit a cigarette, then fired off a quick text to Koichi:

Josuke: I’m knocking Trish’s, Mista’s, Fugo’s, and Narancia’s heads together until they stop

Koi Boi: Stop what?

Josuke: Everything

Josuke: Also I’m out back in case inquiring minds want to know

Koi Boi: They aren’t here yet, but I’ll pass along the message.

So there he sat, looking like the aloof, cool guy he always wanted to be as a kid, but in reality, felt like a fucking imbecile. Sitting out there by himself with nothing, but dumb youtube videos to keep him company. After about an hour and two cigarettes later, Josuke realized that Okuyasu was never showing up and that he was moron for even assuming he would. He rubbed his right eye, this is what he gets for listening to Koichi. Josuke lit up one last cigarette; after he finished this, he was gonna tell Koichi that he was headed home for the night to go watch tv and be a lonely, miserable fuck.

“Uhm, is this seat taken?”

Josuke’s heart stopped and he inhaled too much cigarette smoke, causing him to cough. He whipped around to see who scared the ever-loving shit out of him, and was greeted to a contrite looking Okuyasu. He had his glasses on, hair pulled back into a ponytail, held two water bottles and also Josuke’s heart. I’m gonna die, he’s so hot.

“S-sorry dude, didn’t mean to surprise you you—“

“No, it’s okay,” Josuke struggled to get his coughing under control, “Sit down, ain’t no one out here but me.”

Okuyasu did as instructed, handing Josuke one of the water bottles he was holding, “You’ve been out here for a while, figured you might be thirsty.”

Grateful, Josuke took a sip of water, “You been here awhile?”

“Maybe 20 minutes at the most,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking mildly embarrassed, “I would’ve said hi sooner, but you looked like you were on the phone, or wanted to be alone—Which if that’s the case, I can go back inside—“

“No dude, it’s cool.” Josuke snubbed out the rest of his cigarette, “I don’t really do parties that much anymore, so I needed a break from all those people,” that statement wasn’t untrue, “You’re cool though, don’t sweat it.”

Okuyasu looked relieved, “Okay, cool.” They sat in comfortable silence for a little bit, looking out over Los Angeles.

“So,” Josuke had to get him talking, “How do you know Bruno?”

“Him and Eggplant produced our last album.”

Josuke had made the mistake of taking another sip of water when Okuyasu called Abbachio ‘Eggplant’, spewing water everywhere, “Eggplant??” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, that thing he wears on his head makes him look like an eggplant. S’what me and Yuuya got to calling him.”

Unable to help himself, Josuke threw his head back and laughed, “Oh man, I’ll have to remember to call him that.”

They made small talk for a while, before Okuyasu made to get up, “Hey uhm,” he rubbed the back of his neck again, “Do you wanna like, get out of here and go smoke a joint. I know Bruno is super straightlaced about that kinda thing—“

Josuke was up before he could even finish his sentence, speaking quickly, “Yes please, let’s fuck off. We can go back to my place if you want.”

Okuyasu’s lips curled up into this sunny smile; Josuke’s heart stuttered painfully, “Yeah dude, should I ride with you or—“

Not wanting to talk about his driving record, Josuke cut him off, “Koichi was my ride, I’ll just navigate.”

When they got back inside, Okuyasu went off to let Tonio know what he was doing (His reasoning for this was ‘He worries, plus I came with him and Yukako, so it’d be kinda fucked if I didn’t let one of ‘em know what was up.’) Josuke was too giddy to even realize that sharks out for blood had surrounded him. He was pulled down by arms around his shoulders, finding himself head to head with Trish and Narancia.

“Oooh, who’s that??”

“I KNEW YOU WERE HERE TO GET LAID, YOU FILTHY LYIN’ FUCK.”

“I didn’t! I just wanted to hang out!” Josuke tried to straighten up in vain; both of them were surprisingly strong and kept him bent over.

“Mhm,” Trish rolled her eyes before leaning in close, whispering conspiratorially, “That guy came in and asked me if I had seen you. I told him you were outside pouting like a big baby, and he stood at the door and watched you for like 15 minutes! Narancia convinced him to go out there, so you owe him one.”

Narancia puffed out his chest, “Damn straight he does, you can pay me back by giving me the nitty-gritty details tomorrow,” he finished with an obnoxious wink.

“Yeah, you’ll text us in the morning right??”

Josuke didn’t dignify either of them with a response, peeling them off of him before heading over to Koichi. Poor, sweet Koichi was sitting on a couch with an overly affectionate Yukako draped over his lap; he was looking uncomfortable, and she glared at Josuke as he approached. “I’m heading out with Okuyasu, I’ll catch ya later.”

Koichi looked mildly terrified, “Are you su—“

Yukako cut him off, cold as ice, “Good. Now leave us,” She waved him off. Josuke sneered, but the desperate look on Koichi’s face caused him to bite off his retort.

“Yo,” Okuyasu reappeared beside him, “Ready to go?”

Josuke ignored the smirk on Yukako’s face, “Yep, let’s roll.”

Thankful to be free from the party, Josuke followed Okuyasu outside to a midnight blue Dodge Challenger, “Nice.” Josuke clucked appreciatively.

“Thanks,” Okuyasu unlocked the car, with a grin reminiscent of a kid in a candy store, “First thing I bought when we started making that cash money.”

When Okuyasu turned his car on, Josuke was surprised his ear drums didn’t immediately burst from how loud his music was. “Jesus dude, you’ll get tinnitus if you ain’t careful.”

“Haha, oops? Sorry.” Okuyasu turned down the volume to a more acceptable level, ears red from embarrassment. Josuke thought it was so endearing. “You can have control over the music, as long as ya keep your comments about my music taste to yourself,” Okuyasu handed Josuke a beat up iPod, “Password is 6492.”

One of the more surprising things about Okuyasu was that he was an incredibly cautious driver. Despite driving a nice sports car, he refused to pull out of the driveway until he saw that Josuke was wearing his seatbelt, and insisted on doing the speed limit as they drove to Josuke’s house. Josuke scrolled through his music, pretending to be super interested in it, but stole glances when he could. Okuyasu drove with his right hand, resting his left elbow on the door and leaning against his hand. Oh god, he looked so cool and casual. Josuke knew he looked like a love-sick school girl, but he didn’t care.

Before he could get caught staring, he turned his attention to the iPod in earnest. Another surprising thing about Okuyasu was his very broad taste in tunes: some rap, r&b, pop, electronica, and a lot of rock bands Josuke didn’t recognize, even some classical music. A little bit of everything. “I dunno why you think I’d make fun of your taste in music, you got a lot of good shit on this.”

Okuyasu’s face broke out into a quietly pleased smile, “You can make a playlist if you want. Everyone who rides with me does.”

Josuke took a look at his playlists: a few were clearly named Keicho, Yukako, Yuuya, and Tonio, with one named Hazamada, whoever that was; there were some with names like ‘hot damn this is my jam’, ‘get buff motherfucker’, ‘chill out dumbass’, and ‘go the fuck to sleep’. It seemed like he had a playlist for everything, except getting laid. Or at least, there wasn’t anything obviously defined as a sex playlist. Not for long, Josuke thought to himself.

Firmly turning away from that thought process, Josuke started a new playlist he dubbed “Jojo’s Bizarre Mix”. He scrolled through the songs, adding as he went. When he saw his and Trish’s duet pop up, his curiosity got the better of him. He typed his name into the search bar, and let out a small, strangled noise when he discovered his entire discography.

“Woah dude, you okay?” Okuyasu took his eyes off the road to get a good look at him.

Josuke didn’t respond, only pressing play on one of his albums at random, staring right back at him. The expression on Okuyasu’s face went from confused to flustered when Josuke’s voice filtered through the speakers.

Okuyasu seemed deeply embarrassed, turning his attention back to the road, “Uhm. I can explain.”

A grin slowly spread across Josuke’s face, “You like my music?”

“Do I need to turn right or left up here?” Okuyasu asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Left, also you didn’t answer my question.”

They stopped at a traffic light, Okuyasu looking anywhere that wasn’t Josuke, “Yeah, I do.”

Josuke was pleased as punch, “Really?? I’m super touched—“

“Don’t make fun of me, dude,” Okuyasu sounded wounded.

“I’m not, I’m just surprised! But in a good way, I think that’s so cool that you like my shit.” Okuyasu gave him a pained look; Josuke reached over and squeezed his arm in a way he hoped came across as comforting, “I’m really not trying to sound like I’m mocking you. I think it’s great you like my stuff, because you’re awesome and have good taste.” When Okuyasu relaxed and continued on their way down the road, Josuke couldn’t help but ask, “So, how long you been a fan??”

A few beats of silence passed before Okuyasu sighed, defeated, “Since your first album—“

“You’re shitting me, for that long??”

Okuyasu pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yeah, that long. Keicho used to get pissed whenever your songs came on the radio because I wore those CDs out, so he had to hear it all the time.”

That explains why he looks at me like I killed his dog in front of him, Jouske sighed inwardly. “Why though?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like my music that much?”

Okuyasu looked offended, “That’s dumb ass question, Josuke. You need to leave the stupid questions to me, a professional idiot.”

Josuke pointed a finger at him, “Okay, first of all, you’re not an idiot so don’t say that about yourself, and secondly, that didn’t answer my question. Also, go straight and keep going until you hit the top of the hill, that’ll be my house.”

They reached Josuke’s gate; Okuyasu rolled up to a keypad, “What’s the code.”

“4206969”

Okuyasu threw his head back and started braying like a donkey, “What the fuck, dude?”

“I didn’t choose it!”

“Then who did?? That’s not some randomly generated number, that’s on purpose.”

Josuke sighed through his nose, “Koichi’s bitch boy, Tamami. He’s an assistant, and takes care of shit I need done on top of whatever he does for Koichi. When I had this installed, he oversaw everything and picked that code to fuck with me.”

Okuyasu was still wheezing when he punched in the code and drove up to the garage. Josuke rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, keep laughing you windy asshole.” Being called a windy asshole just made Okuyasu laugh even harder.

When they got inside, Okuyasu whistled, “This is the nicest house I’ve ever been in.” He was looking around like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Josuke was turning on lights as he walked towards the kitchen, “Thanks, you want anything to drink? I got—“ he waltzed into the kitchen and opened the fridge, “beer, pepsi, water, what I think is cherry kool-aid—“

“Pepsi’s good. Where’s your toilet dude, I gotta piss like you wouldn’t believe.”

“There’s one upstairs, second door on the right. Come outside when you’re done.” Okuyasu trudged upstairs while Josuke threw his keys, wallet, and cell phone on the counter, grabbed two pepsis, and headed outside.

Josuke’s backyard had a privacy fence around it, so no amazing view, but he did have a massive, lit pool with an in-ground hot tub. He pulled off his socks, rolled up his jeans, and sat down to dangle his legs over the edge of the pool.

“DUDE,” Okuyasu gasped as he walked outside, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A POOL.” He enthusiastically followed suit and sat beside Josuke with a huge grin on his face.

“Not like it ever came up. You got the stuff?”

“Yeah yeah.” Okuyasu fished a cigarette case and lighter out of his zip-up hoodie, “You should feel special, these are rolled by yours truly.” He cracked open the case and pulled a joint out; he passed over it and a lighter over, “You get green.”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” Josuke lit it, inhaled, and passed it. On the exhale, he coughed a little, “You never did answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Why you liked my music so much.”

Clearly, this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, but Okuyasu answered anyways, “I just like your voice. S’pretty.” He knocked a bit of ash off the end of the joint and handed it back, pink cheeked.

Josuke’s heart did a weird, fluttery thing, “You mean that?”

“Yeah dude, I wouldn’t lie about anything like that.” Okuyasu turned to look at him, face sincere.

It was Josuke’s turn to get red and flustered, “Thanks.” He took a drag, “If it makes you feel any less awkward, I’ve listened to all your albums.”

“Didn’t peg you as the type to like anything like Arrowhead.”

Josuke passed the joint back, “I’m not.”

”Then why listen to it?”

“Got curious after we met, ended up digging how you sing. You’re talented.”

Okuyasu took a puff and looked at him, dead serious, “I don’t believe that.”

Josuke shrugged, “You don’t gotta, I guess. It’s the truth though.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes while they finished smoking. After snubbing out the cinders, Okuyasu spoke, his voice soft, “Thanks dude, that means a lot to me.”

Josuke patted Okuyasu’s shoulder, and laid down on his back, “Don’t mention it.” He was feeling incredibly comfortable and hazy, “Is it just me, or do the stars look even prettier tonight?”

Once again, Okuyasu followed suit and laid on the ground beside him, “S’probably the weed.”

“Probably.”

They laid there in comfortable silence; the only thing breaking it was the water churning around Okuyasu’s legs as he kicked his feet.

Josuke closed his eyes, he was so relaxed. He could’ve fallen asleep if Okuyasu didn’t suddenly speak, “Do you live here by yourself?” His voice sounded raspier than normal, and it gave Josuke goosebumps.

“Yeah. My mom used to live with me, but after my grandpa had a heart attack a few years ago, she moved back home to look after him.”

“Shit, I’m sorry dude.”

Josuke waved his hand, “Don’t be. He’s fine now, he just refuses to move out here like a stubborn asshole.”

“Still though, that sucks,” Okuyasu turned his head to look at Josuke, “’specially you livin’ in this big ass house by yourself. It’s gotta be lonely.”

Josuke was never one to reveal deep, inner feelings, but he opened his mouth anyways, “It is, but I’m more or less used to it now.”

That seemed to really bother Okuyasu, “Well, now that we’re friends and I know where you live, I’ll come over and bug you all the time, so you won’t be lonely anymore.”

It took a lot of effort, but Josuke managed to swallow around the lump in his throat, “I’d like that.”

The rest of the conversation continued along the vein of revealing deep, personal shit.

Josuke learned that Okuyasu grew up dirt poor in Oakland. Lost his mom at the age of 10 (he lifted up his shirt and showed Josuke a tattoo of a ribcage covered in flowering vines on his right side, ‘this is for her’); had an asshole dad, got into a car wreck at the age of 15 that caused his scars when he went through the windshield, his dad suffered a stroke and had to be put into a nursing home, having lost his ability to speak, move, or take care of himself. Him and Keicho lived on the floor of Yuuya’s apartment until they started making enough money to get their own place.

“Oh yeah, and our old lead singer/guitarist tried to stab me when he learned that Tonio wanted me to replace him on the mic. Keicho pushed me out of the way, and got a knife in his side for his trouble.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. After he got all stitched up, he told me I owed him shots for life.”

Okuyasu lived by himself in an apartment that was bigger than the house he grew up in combined with the apartment he shared with Keicho, Yuuya, Akira the asshole that tried to stab him, Hazamada the roadie/merchandise guy/bitch boy, and a few rotating girlfriends of Keicho or Yuuya. He visited his dad often (‘Gave him this stray cat I found off the street to give ‘em some company when I ain’t there, it’s helped a lot’), ate at the same diner he used to work at, and still felt like being famous was some kind of fever dream he would eventually awaken from.

Josuke talked about how the three years had been incredibly lonely after his mom moved away, how fucking anxiety ridden he gets about his grandpa who helped raise him, and the fact that the only people who really knew him were on the other side of the country and Koichi.

“Weren’t you pretty friendly with those people at the party?”

“Trish and all them? Yeah, but we aren’t like super close. I’ve never talked to them about any of this.”

He also mentioned his father. “You ever heard of Joseph Joestar?”

“Ain’t that the real estate guy who’s got them really annoying commercials about his reality show?”

“Yep.”

“What about him?”

“He had a fling with my mom, and I’m the product of it. He didn’t know I existed until I was like, 12.”

Okuyasu rolled onto his side to look at him, “Damn dude, that’s rough.”

Josuke shrugged, “It sucks, and it’s awkward when I visit. I don’t even call him dad, because he’s never been much of a father. The rest of my family is really cool though and makes up for it. Like my sister? She’s really nice, and I have a nephew that’s like, 35 years old with a husband and kid. I also got a cousin that streams videogames and I try to catch them when I can.”

“It’s good they’re nice to you. What about his wife?”

“She passed away from cancer a few years ago. We got along, surprisingly enough. She never blamed me for what happened, since it wasn’t my fault. I sang at her funeral and everything.”

Josuke sat up, “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever actually talked about this to anyone before.”

“Same here dude.”

When Okuyasu sat up, Josuke gave him a little punch in the shoulder, “Guess that makes us best bros.”

Okuyasu gave him a grin that was brighter than the stars, “Hell yeah we are.” He got up and padded over to the pile of his shoes, socks, and various other items, “What time is it?” Okuyasu clicked his phone’s screen on, light bouncing off of his glasses, “Damn! It’s like 3 o’clock in the morning. How fuckin’ long have we been out here??”

“At least four hours.” Josuke got up and stretched, “Do you wanna stay the night?” Josuke turned around to look at the house, not wanting to look Okuyasu in the face in case his offer was rejected, “It’s pretty late, we could watch a movie in my room until—”

His statement gets cut off when Okuyasu spears him into the pool.

When he emerges, he’s met with Okuyasu’s hysterical laughter, “I’m sorry,” he choked out, holding his gut, “I couldn’t help myself. I’m down to stay, but I’m gonna need a change of—REEEEE.”

Josuke flailed over to him and dunked Okuyasu underwater, “You absolute motherFUCKER.”

Okuyasu reemerged with a gasp, and started splashing Josuke in an attempt to get away. They wrestled around in the pool, insulting each other until they were out of breath. “Okay,” Josuke breathed, chest heaving from a mix of laughter and exertion, “I’m wore out. Let’s go watch a movie or something.”

Being a gracious host, Josuke let Okuyasu use his shower first while he set out an extra toothbrush, basketball shorts, and a tank top that was emblazoned with ‘I want ABSolutely all the pasta and breadsticks’ on the sink for him. Josuke turned on his PS4, scrolling through movies while he waited for his turn. He was debating between two terrible comedies when Okuyasu came out of the bathroom, tank top in hand.

“Dude, this tank top is amazing, who got this for you?”

Josuke couldn’t answer him, because he was too busy staring at his chest; Okuyasu was fucking jacked. It was taking all of his willpower to not reach out and try to touch his abs.

Okuyasu whistled, waving his hand in front of his face, “Hello, Earth to Josuke. You still on the planet?”

“Oh shit—Sorry, zoned out there for a minute. Uh, my personal trainer got me that for Christmas last year. He’s got a knack for finding wacky shit like that.”

“He’s got some good taste,” Okuyasu chuckled while pulling the tank top on.

Josuke got up to head to the shower to mask both his disappointment and boner, throwing the controller to Okuyasu, “Pick something out, I can’t decide.”

One quick, cold shower and vigorous toothbrushing later, Josuke crawled under the covers with Okuyasu, watching some awful movie.

“Hey, Josuke.”

“Mh?”

Okuyasu hesitated, “You’re not gonna care if I like, fall asleep in your bed right?”

“Nah dude, it’s cool. You can sleep in here with me.”

A small, shy smile spread across Okuyasu’s face, and every part of Josuke screamed KISS HIM, KISS HIM RIGHT NOW.

He didn’t. He was too much of a bitch boy. Instead, when Okuyasu fell asleep halfway through the movie, Josuke opted to watch him. When the movie ended, he put Oku’s lopsided glasses on the nightstand, turned off the tv, and settled down beside him.

Josuke didn’t expect to fall asleep so fast when the object of his affections was literally laying right beside him, but the sound of Okuysau snoring gently lulled him to sleep.

When Josuke woke up the next morning, he was pleased to find a snoozing Okuyasu beside him. Last night had been wonderful, and the first time he had fun in ages. He wondered if Koichi’s night went just as well—

Oh shit, Koichi! He forgot!

Josuke scrambled for his phone and shot off a text:

Josuke: making sure you ain’t dead. text me back when you get this

A few minutes later, he got a snap from Koichi.

The picture was of him shirtless, half of his face was deadpan while a mass of black hair covered the other half. The caption read, “I’m sore. She rides hard.”

Josuke hollered so loudly he woke Okuyasu up.