#the stupid part is. id been waiting around for another player to come for like half an hour (exaggeration it was probably only a few minutes

[many-gay-magpies]

somebody needs to come play sky with me

[miyaniacs]

ignorance is a bliss pt.3

Atsumu angst  Pt.1 / Pt.2 

warnings: angst? mentioning of possible cheating and more angst?

a/n : Thank you for all the feedback!!! Sorry that I messed with your emotions haha - disclaimer : the promised fluff is just like one sentence... ups? 

masterlist

You can see him standing on the side walk. Why isn’t he moving? Why isn’t he seeing the car? Why can’t you move? Your legs won’t listen to you. Your whole body isn’t listening to you. You try to scream, to get his attention, but nothing works. The car gets closer and closer and  - 

You wake up while screaming Atsumu’s name. 

Wait. This was all a dream right? It was a dream. More like a nightmare. Why did it feel so real though? You warp your arms around your shaking body. Small tears run down your cheeks and instinctively you take your phone and call him. 

It rings and rings and rings. 

Fear rushes though your body, was it not only a dream? 

Just as you��re about to hang up you hear his voice from the other line. 

_______

Still sitting on the grass, next to the sidewalk, Atsumu tries to catch his breath. He jumped out of the way just in time, the car missed him only by a few centimeters.  He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, taking it out he stares at the caller ID. 

He was dreaming right? 

You can not possibly call him, just a few seconds after he heard your voice calling his name. 

He stares at the screen a few seconds longer until he finally decides to answer the call. 

“Hello?“ He breaths out. Form the other side he hears a few snobs. “Hey, y/n.. what’s wrong are you okay?“ Then there’s silence. He checks his phone just to see you hung up. 

“TODAYS MATCH IS MSBJ VS SENDAI FROGS“ the commentator announces, “The teams are currently warming up. Let’s talk a look! OHH WOW. Miya Atsumu, MSBJ’s setter seems to be in an excellent form today! LOOK AT THAT SPIKE! The frogs need to be carful!“ He continues commenting. 

Atsumu spikes ball after ball, giving perfect serves, even more on point than usual, yet his team feels the change. He’s almost robotic. Everything is perfect. Way too perfect. Nothing seems unplanned. No sarcastic comments from him. No annoying remarks towards Sakusa.

 Nothing.

 He’s completely focused on the game. On the ball. 

Bokuto and Sakusa look at each other worriedly. 

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t act as if all of this isn’t bothering him. 

He shut off all of his emotions, only focusing on Volleyball. 

It’s a wonder that his body is still working at this point, considering all the extra hours he stayed after training. 

But that is his only escape. That’s his only way to get you off his mind. Whenever he closes his eyes, he sees you - So he skipped on sleep the past days. Whenever he comes home, he sees a vision of you walking around - So he stayed over at Osamu’s. Probably the best thing he could do, that way, at least his brother looked after him, making sure that he ate one meal a day. 

“He shouldn’t be here.“ Sakusa looks at Atsumu. “I know… we all do… I can already see him breaking down, because he overworked himself.“ Bokuto worries. 

“OKAYYYYY THE MATCH IS ABOUT TO START !!!!! LET’S GIVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE TEAMS….“ 

_________

“WOW!!! The ball practically crushed through Tsukishima’s block. Seems like Miya decided to just score himself today! That was his seventh point until now!“ 

“OHH— It seems like Tsukishima hurt his hand!“ 

Atsumu stays unbothered, while Sakusa and Bokuto throw glances at their coach. 

After a few more minutes, Atsumu gets called to the coach, MSBJ’s other setter’s now playing. 

"Yes?“ he monotony says while walking towards his coach. 

"Go home.“ 

"What ?! WHY should I go home?! I already scored 7 points all by my self!“ Atsumu huffs, annoyed. 

"You’re not fully focused on the game. Atsumu. Bokuto told me what happened, they are all just worried about you. Go home and don’t lose this last opportunity.“ He says gently. 

"I am fully focused on the game.“ Atsumu rolls his eyes. 

"MIYA! GO NOW. The 10% you’re accepting of your brain Arte full of Volleyball yes, but the other 90%, which you’re blocking out, are full of her. So go now or stay, but don’t expect me to let you one the field anymore. I don’t need a player that risks to hut others.“ He says firmly and turns around, ignoring Atsumu. 

Atsumu stares at the ground in front of him. 

Was the Coach right? Well yes who is he playing right now? You occupy all of his thoughts. That’s what you do all the time the past days. He can’t get your face off his mind.. And your laugh. Your beautiful laugh and the way your eyes light up... yet it all gets interrupted by your crying. He heard you cry on the phone that night, but why? Have you been crying because of him? How could he forgive himself now? He promised to never make you cry. 

He wakes up from his thoughts by a hard smack on his head, followed by some small bumps on the ground next to him. His hand moves to the back of his where the volleyball hit him. 

“Yes it was an accident but get your ass out of here!” Sakusa mutters as he walks past him. 

Something inside of Atsumu snaps at those words. 

He shouldn’t be here - why is he still here? He should be at yours and his apartment, stopping you from going - from leaving his life. 

He shakes his head and his feet carry him out of the gym. 

The hall falls into mumbles, “IT SEEMS MIYA WONT PLAY ANYMORE TODAY?” 

Atsumu runs. 

He pushes people away. 

He runs as fast as he can. 

He prays that you’re still there, that he can see your face again. 

There’s so much he needs to tell you, to explain, to apologise. 

He has to see you again. 

He can’t let you leave him, thinking he cheated on you. 

Thinking that you meant nothing to him. 

“Okay so I’ll bring down your last jackets - should I wait in the car?” Your mother asks you while grabbing the bag in front of her. 

“Uhm.. yes sure.” You mumble lost in your toughs, as you place the key on the kitchen counter. 

Shaking her head your mother closes the door to leave you alone for a few minutes. 

You throw your head back and close your eyes. It’s so quiet in here. You can hear your blood pulsing through your veins, the cars on the street, the birds. 

You can still hear your mother asking you over and over again, if you really want to so this. If you really want to leave just like that. If you really want to cut him out of your life. And you can still hear yourself telling her over and over again, that this is what you want. That he deserved this. Reminding her or more yourself how badly he treated you. 

But what you can’t hear is the voice you crave to hear the second you arrived at the apartment today. 

You want to hear those magical words. 

You want to hear him saying you shouldn’t leave. 

That he loves you and wants you to stay. 

But who are you to think such a thing? 

You’re not in one of those Disney movies. He won’t come running down the street, stumping into the room and begging you to stay while he sings one of those cheesy love songs. Hell… if that’s a movie right now, you probably have to sing too. 

Shaking your head at the thought of Atsumu and you singing “Everyday“ from High School Musical, you start to laugh. 

„God I missed this sound.“

Your heart stops and you feel your lower lip shaking. Hot tears run down your cheek. The sound of his voice brings back all those memories you tried to burry in the back of your head. 

You want to turn around and look at the face of the man you love, yet you’re too weak. You don’t have the strength to move your body. Your legs get weak and you sink down on the floor. Supporting yourself with your arms, you leann forward and start to cry. 

Atsumu quickly hurries forward to comfort you, but then he stops just seconds away from finally touching you again. 

Is he allowed to touch you? 

Will it make things even worse now? 

You’re crying because of him, right? 

“Don’t. Come. Near. Me.“  That’s all you manage to say in between snobs. 

Looking like a kicked puppy Atsumu takes a few steps back. 

"Y/N.. I ..“ He begins. 

“YOU WHAT?! WHY ARE YOU HERE ATSUMU?! WHY?!“ You scream and finally find the strength to get up and turn around. 

Whipping away your tears you let out all the things that float in your head for the past weeks. 

"Why Atsumu. Why did you cheat on me? Why haven’t you been honest? WHY ME?! WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?! I supported you from the start. I EVEN SUPPORTED YOU WORKING WITH HER! Yet you just .. you just .. abused my trust. How can I trust you again? HOW am I supposed to trust anyone again?! You ruined me Atsumu. I hope she’s worth it. Or is she already fed up with your shit? Is this the reason you’re here? Things with her didn’t work out? And you thought WELL let’s go back to Y/N - she’s stupid or no DESPERATE enough to welcome me with open arms again? IS THIS THE REASON YOU’RE HERE AGAIN?! IS THIS WHY?”

You haven’t realised, that at some point  you stepped forward and started hitting his chest. “Why Atsumu. Am I such a horrible person that I deserved all of this?“ You whisper the last part and look up to him with glassy eyes. 

Atsumu wants to answer. He opens his mouth and closes it again and again and again.

What can he say now. 

There’s nothing he can do now to make up how he treated you the past weeks. 

Nothing he can say, nothing he can do. 

He fucked up. 

He takes a step to the side so he’s not blocking the door anymore. 

“I’m sorry. There’s so much I want to tell you… but you’re right. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve such a horrible person as your boyfriend. You deserve someone who will treat you right, who will show you his love every second of the day… I love you and I never cheated on you. That’s all I can say, but I have no right to stop you from leaving. I had my chance and I fucked up. I’m not that person who deserves to call you his. Who deserves you in his life.“ He sinks his head and turns around. 

Sucking in your breath you, take a step forward and another and another. Your hand takes the handle of the door. 

If you close this door now, there will be no turning back again. 

You take a deep breath and close the door. 

Atsumu’s heart breaks as he hears the door close. 

Tears start running down his face.

He was so stupid so incredibly stupid. 

You’ve been the best thing he had and he let you go. 

He didn’t even fight for you. 

But he hadn’t had the right to fight. 

How should he fight when there’s no fight left. 

He was too late and he lost you. 

Everything around him turns black now that he’s save that he lost you. 

You’ve been his light, his color. 

The person that made his heart feel heavy whenever he hears your name. 

The only person he could see himself buying a ring. 

The only one he could see himself growing old with. 

His only love.

His true love.

"But I want you to be that person.“  You say and wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face in his back. Atsumu takes your hands in his. 

"I promise that I’ll be that person for you.“ 

taglist :  dreaminginsteadliving , @xaestheticalien @nicolemelton @opulentix @nim-rose@justxanotherxshipper @mixxikoo  ushiwakaazzzzzz @pinknugget @glisteningeclipses @bellesowl @aaesuki@pharvhs @karlitabi-rrito @milkypompon @avatarkyoshithewarrior @fluuuuuuuft @dumplingzumispam @woo-youngs@atsunflower @seikamuzu @lovelykatsu @maramalademadara @strawhatshepard @vaginavigilante @cherriechurros @crescentbitch @fandomreposts @ryaaaax @spicyfoodboi @tsukkx @iamnotobsessed @princess-angel-sweetheart @shrimpypenis @whiteliesofmine @captain-janeway​  @mx-minxx​ @blueowl51

[toorusbaby]

second choice, pt. 5

everybody say, “thank you, oikawa” <3

summary: being in love with hajime iwaizumi is like riding a rollercoaster of emotions. it’s thrilling as it is exciting, but you feel a little lightheaded... because he doesn’t know how you feel. the worst part? he thinks you’re in love with his best friend.

warnings: just pure fluff, oikawa cockblocks, slow burn, slight angst if you squint real hard

word count: 2,832

part six here

The chuckling had quieted down, the only sounds coming from the pond and occasional breeze. Green eyes watched you as you stopped toying with the navy blue fabric. Placing your hand back at your side, you lifted your gaze to look around. As expected, it was just you and Iwaizumi, who stood quietly with a thoughtful expression. Without missing a beat, realization had struck you. 

You always told yourself that you’d never ‘schedule’ your confession to the wing spiker; thankfully, you kept that promise. After all, embarrassing as it was, you chose to follow the cliche ‘right timing’ tactic you read about in countless romance novels. Assuming that you’d simply know when the timing was right, you weren’t absolutely certain you’d be able to tell specifically when that was. It was simply hope that you clung onto for the past two years. 

Looking at Iwaizumi, whose eyes were crinkled in delight when he spotted a baby koi fish, you finally understood how the main character in a romance novel felt about timing. Just the two of you standing on the bridge with the sun about to set, everything about the situation seemed perfect. 

When green eyes turned to look at you, suddenly everything made sense. Somehow, you could tell that this was the right time. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. 

“Hajime,” Your voice sounded unfamiliar to your ears, especially when you used Iwaizumi’s first name. Regardless, you refused to back down.

The look in your eyes when you looked up at him was different than what Iwaizumi was used to seeing. Your eyes usually held a warm cheerfulness behind them, even though they’d waver at times. The spiky haired boy, being one of your good friends, didn’t have trouble reading your emotions most of the time. Sure, there were instances when you were able to conceal your true feelings (much more than he could ever begin to imagine), but he often saw through the facade. 

Looking at you now, Iwaizumi noticed that your eyes didn’t waver once under his gaze; it was almost as if there was a fire that had been ignited behind them. He found himself straightening his posture when he realized you used his first name, watching as you took a small step closer to him. 

The distance between you and Iwaizumi had gotten even smaller, forcing you to slightly crane your neck to meet his eyes. The feeling of your thankfully gloved nails gently clenching into your palms reminded you to relax your stiff shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak. Iwaizumi didn’t look away once. 

“Um… thanks for coming with me, even if it was last minute. You didn’t have to, but I’m really glad you did,” you started. Your mouth felt dry.

Harsher winds began to increase and you pushed your hair out of your face, Iwaizumi instinctively moving to help you tuck strands behind your ears. You blushed at the action, quickly mumbling gratitude to the boy. The small shy smile that formed on the quiet boy’s lips encouraged you to continue. 

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. Maybe when Oikawa showed up to the amusement park in those ridiculous plaid shorts,” you paused to giggle at the memory, Iwaizumi following suit. You cleared your throat. 

“But today was the most fun I’ve had in a while. And I’m happy that I was able to spend today with you.” The sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, your thoughts threatening to fall into shambles. Your nerves fought to take over, but there was no way you would back out now. You had to do this. It was for your own good. 

The sudden breeze did little to cool the burn of your cheeks much to your dismay, but your mouth didn’t stop moving. 

“You’ve always been there for me. I know I’m a lucky girl. Like… seriously. You’re an important person to me and you’re one of my favorite people. But as of right now, there’s something I want to— no, have to tell you.” 

Looking at Iwaizumi’s face, a person would have to be blind to not notice the red shade that dusted the ace’s cheeks. His pink tinted lips, a bit chapped from the cold, were slightly parted. It wasn’t only you who was a nervous wreck; Iwaizumi was anxiously anticipating your next words. 

Busy thinking of what to say next, you didn’t notice Iwaizumi gulp or the way his pupils dilated when he gazed at your small frame. The boy knew he was a bit clueless when it came to you, but he wasn’t stupid. Iwaizumi knew he could be wrong, but it sounded as if you had been preparing yourself for this very moment. Judging by the crimson shade of your cheeks and the way your hands fiddled with the ends of your sweater’s sleeves, a nervous habit of yours that Oikawa teased you about, Iwaizumi was utterly desperate for the possibility of a love confession to spill from your lips. 

The mere sight of his handsome face, the face you admired in both your dreams during the daytime and night, gave you the last small push you needed to reveal your feelings for the volleyball player. 

“Hajime,” you whispered his name once more, taking a deep breath. 

Your fingers stopped fiddling with your sweater. You stared Iwaizumi’s face, whose gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips. 

This was it. 

“Hajime, I’m in—”

The familiar instrumental tune of the Godzilla theme song suddenly blared, causing you to jolt and clutch at your chest in surprise. Iwaizumi himself had jumped in his spot before the vibrating in his back pocket brought him back to reality. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologized, eyebrows furrowing as he quickly pulled out his ringing phone that had interrupted the peaceful setting. A pang of disappointment flooded your chest at your confession being interrupted, but it couldn’t be helped. You simply nodded your head, clearing your throat when your jittery nerves began to relax.

Your confession had been cut off before you could even say the word love. With how Iwaizumi’s lips were parted however, you knew that the wing spiker had a gist of what you were going to say.

Iwaizumi was filled with embarrassment and guilt; whoever was calling him interrupted what you were going to tell him. Without looking at the caller ID, the blushing boy turned around and accepted the call. 

“H-Hello?”

“Iwa-chan, why didn’t you tell me you had plans with Y/N!? And why wasn’t I invited?” A very familiar shrill voice shouted into the spiker’s poor eardrums. 

Fury and annoyance had quickly bubbled in Iwaizumi’s chest; he could practically feel the vein sticking out of his forehead. 

“Why the fuck did you have to call me right now, dumbass? You’ve gotta be kidding... I was— no, we were in the middle of something. Your timing is shit!” Iwaizumi hissed into the phone and slapped his palm against his forehead in annoyance. The sound of your quiet giggles beside him had relaxed some of the ace’s built-up tension; it was as if the bulging vein disappeared from his head. Hearing Iwaizumi refer to the person as a ‘dumbass’, you were certain Oikawa was on the other end of the line.

Not caring about how hurt Oikawa claimed he was about missing out on ice cream with his best friends, Iwaizumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes in the process. Meanwhile, you leaned against the railing and smiled as you listened to the volleyball player speak to his best friend. 

“Oikawa, you are a goddamn pain in the ass. Fine, okay. We can get ice cream another day. Huh? Yeah, yeah, whatever. Shut up, moron. I’m hanging up now. Don’t call me again, seriously.” The green eyed boy hung up the phone and shoved it into his pocket, placing one hand on the back of his neck before turning his head to face you. Embarrassment filled him to the brim and the pink shade returned to his cheeks and ears. 

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ll beat his ass, I promise,” The spiky haired boy spoke and leaned beside you, secretly admiring the way his scarf adorned your neck. He wanted nothing more than to ask you to finish what you were going to say earlier, but refrained himself from doing so; it didn’t seem right. However, the boy had an inkling of what you were going to say… or confess. 

Love?, he wondered. I sure fucking hope so. 

There’s no other word that would make sense in that context, he thought. Iwaizumi didn’t know whether to feel upset at being interrupted by his best friend or elated at the possibility of you returning his feelings. If you even liked him, that was.

A genuine smile etched its way onto your face before resting your head on your palm. “Don’t worry about it, Iwa. It’s fine,” You chuckled and gazed at the water below, Iwaizumi doing the same, pouting at the koi fish. Fucking Oikawa, he clenched his jaw and sighed, shoulders sagging in the process. 

Judging by the way your focus was directed solely on the pond, Iwaizumi was certain you wouldn’t attempt to continue telling him what you wanted to say. Disappointment spread throughout the ace’s chest at the thought of you being embarrassed from the incident earlier. 

But for the first time in his life, maybe, just maybe, Iwaizumi would take the initiative and do something about it.  

༺♥༻

Minutes passed, the two of you engaging in conversation about the upcoming term next year. Both of you were visibly cold but neither of you said a word, secretly wanting to revel in the feeling of being with each other a bit longer. Iwaizumi had his head slightly tilted as he listened to you complain about upcoming final exams. Your side profile was strikingly beautiful to the volleyball player, even if your eyebrows were furrowed in annoyance at the mere thought of possibly failing the math exam. In the midst of your words however, the boy quickly turned his head and quietly sneezed before excusing himself. 

You yourself began to notice your cheeks going numb from the bitter cold of the November air. The sun, now hidden behind the clouds, was also on the verge of setting. Glancing at Iwaizumi’s now shivering frame, you realized the boy had given you his scarf and gloves. Guilt automatically consumed you. 

“Iwa, I think we should start heading back,��� you said, referring to the train station. “You’re gonna get sick and it’ll be my fault,” You stepped away from the railing to take the gloves off of your hands in order to put them back on his. Before you could slip the garments off, Iwaizumi gently swatted at your hands. 

“Y/N, I swear if you don’t keep them on... I’m fine, I promise.” He reassured and shoved his bare hands into the pockets of his jacket. Knowing how stubborn Iwaizumi could be and the fact that you both were going to turn into human popsicles if you didn’t leave for the train station soon, you didn’t argue. “Fine,” you huffed, accepting defeat. “But we have to speed walk because I don’t think I can feel my face anymore.” 

After taking one last glance at the koi fish, you and Iwaizumi made your way to the park’s exit and down the familiar street. Thankfully, the station was only about a fifteen minute walk from the park. The two of you chatted about a variety of things, both of your shoulders brushing against each other as you walked; it wasn’t as if neither of you minded. 

When the white lights of the street lamps flickered on, you watched the ace bring his hands to his lips, quietly blowing heat into his palms. The sight of Iwaizumi trying to keep warm while you wore his gloves and scarf caused your guilt to multiply. It was about five minutes before arriving at the station when you stopped in your steps.  

Iwaizumi stopped walking, confusion evident on his face. His eyebrow raised. 

“You okay, Y/N?” 

Taking off the glove, you turned to gently lift the volleyball player’s right hand, sliding the garment back on him. An instinctive sigh of relief escaped Iwaizumi at the feeling of warmth that enveloped his numb hand, his protest for you to keep the glove on halted. The bitter cold air struck your now bare hand, but you couldn’t imagine the discomfort Iwaizumi must have felt ever since he lent you his gloves. How was it not snowing yet?

“I’m fine, but you aren’t. You’re gonna get sick, Iwa,” you scolded before moving to slip the left glove off. 

Before you could take the fabric off, the feeling of something calloused, yet soft, was wrapped around your right hand. Looking down, you realized that Iwaizumi had placed his bare, cold hand on top of your own. With widened eyes, you stared when the boy took the initiative to suddenly intertwine his fingers with yours. 

“Keep the glove on, I’m fine like this.” The volleyball player spoke, resting your locked hands down at your sides. Even under the darkening sky, the red in his cheeks was visible; you didn’t look any different. You swallowed, your legs moving only when Iwaizumi began to lead the way. “Haji, why are we…” You trailed off, giving his hand a soft squeeze. You didn’t have to finish your question to get the question across. Although your left hand was the one wearing the glove, your right hand felt warmer. 

“The station might be busy,” Iwaizumi squeezed your hand back, his grip firm but gentle. “I just don’t want you getting lost or anything, that’s all,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. One thing he knew for a fact was that he couldn’t make eye contact with you, at least not in that moment. 

The train station appeared in your sight, the area nearly empty with only a few people scattered about. Much to your dismay, your mouth moved before you could think.

“Huh… it’s practically dead in here,” you noted. Immediately, you pursed your lips together in annoyance. You inwardly cursed at yourself.

Y/N, for the love of God, shut the hell up. Do you want him to let go of your fucking hand? 

Much to your surprise, Iwaizumi’s grip on your hand didn’t loosen. With his eyes locked on the boarding area for the train home, the green eyed boy simply squeezed your hand once more before letting out a hum to let you know that he heard you. 

After purchasing the tickets, the two of you boarded the train and sat side by side, comfortable silence in the air. Regardless of being on the train already, neither of you let go of the other’s hand. The sound of the train moving along the tracks was enough to cause your eyes to flutter with exhaustion, but you were determined to stay awake. 

It was only until Iwaizumi wordlessly lifted his gloved hand to gently lay your head on his shoulder much to your surprise, when you allowed your eyelids to fall. Nuzzling your nose into the pine-scented scarf, the feeling of Iwaizumi’s thumb softly rubbing against your warm hand interlocked with his was enough to lull you to sleep.  

༺♥༻

“If your mom gets upset with you for being out all day, I’ll personally apologize myself.” 

Folding both arms behind your back, you kicked a small pebble out of the path of the sidewalk. You and Iwaizumi were currently walking down the familiar streets of the town, the boy insisting on walking you home since it was dark out. The train ride was a bit longer than expected, but time flew by since you were sound asleep... on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

Even though you had a memory foam mattress, it couldn’t compare to sleeping against the boy you were smitten with. If you could replace your mattress with Hajime Iwaizumi, you most definitely would. 

Twinkling stars in the sky seemed to illuminate the way to your house, the windows of some houses lit up from their dining rooms. It was a bit late in the evening already; were your parents still awake? The thought fled your mind when Iwaizumi chuckled, using both hands to lift up the bag of boxed desserts he had purchased earlier that day. 

“I told you, Y/N. My mom won’t be able to resist these bad boys.” He triumphantly smirked, patting the top of the box.

You let out a laugh, gently shoving the tall boy with your shoulder. “You’re such a dork,” Iwaizumi turned with furrowed eyebrows to stare at you, but you held both hands up in mock surrender. “But it's fitting!” You finished off with a mockingly sweet grin. Iwaizumi only jokingly told you to shut up before looking up ahead once again. He hoped you couldn’t see the grin on his lips. 

The boy knew he was smitten with you… but he didn’t mind one bit.

🏷️ taglist: @webkinzfroggie​ @isseikawa​

feel free to ask, dm, or comment to let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! <3

[julemmaes]

Angel Like You - October 4th

 Fenrys Moonbeam x Asterin Blackbeak

Prompt requested by itsjustme on Ao3: “Could you please do a Fenrys and Asterin one with lots of fluff? <3″

A/N: I LOOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH, IF YOU EVER WROTE SOMETHING ABOUT THESE TWO, DM ME THE LINKS TO YOUR FICS CAUSE I LOVE YOU ALREADY

Word count: 2,378

It had been Asterin's birthday for more than eighteen hours and she still hadn't been able to see her boyfriend and finally celebrate with him her drinking age - not that Asterin hadn't had a drink before today, of course, but she imagined it would be nice to do it without having to use her fake ID.

During her lunch break she had walked into the university cafeteria like every other day, staring at her phone waiting for Fenrys to call. She had reached the food counter and started ordering distractedly, with music playing loudly in her ears without losing sight of the screen. That's why she hadn't noticed the balloons falling from the ceiling as soon as she walked through the door. And that's why she hadn't seen her entire group of friends waiting for her at their usual table while they shouted their best wishes.

Manon had gotten irritated and had ripped the headphones out of her ears, making her jump out of fear. Her annoyance hadn't lasted long when Asterin turned around and finally saw what they had put on to make her day just a little more special.

All the Thirteen - their dance group - and Dorian were present, plus a few friends from her classes. None of the guys were there, all away in one of the nearby cities for one of the most important games of the season, and along with them their girlfriends. Aelin, Elide and Lysandra were also part of the cheerleading team and could not afford to miss an important event. Asterin had made a scene when she found out she had an exam on the same exact day. Fenrys had reassured her that there were no problems and that her education was more important than a stupid game of his.

Although she had had fun for that hour with her friends, she missed Fenrys more than usual. And the feeling had worsened when he had sent her a message that he could not call her and that they had lost the game, because Lorcan had been hurt and their team's defense had shrunk dramatically. She immediately replied that she was sorry and that she would have liked to do something to make him feel better. He had seen the text and still hadn't answered, probably busy getting his ass kicked by coach Gavriel.

Now, at seven o'clock in the evening, she was starving to death and desperately wanted to call Fenrys, hear his voice, feel that he had blanched the anger and disappointment that followed a defeat.

She climbed the steps of her small house and saw the kitchen light on and lingered in her footsteps.

It was not possible that someone had broken into her house.

Before she became even more alarmed than she should have been, she approached the window and peered into the house.

"Fen!" she screamed excitedly. She had already snapped towards the entrance and was struggling against the lock, but she could still hear the boy's frightened scream. She laughed.

When she opened the door, she immediately saw Fenrys on the kitchen door with one hand on his chest and his eyes wide open. Asterin didn't even take his backpack off his shoulders before he jumped on his boyfriend.

Fenrys grabbed her, clutching her and resting his head on her shoulder, kissing her neck, "Happy birthday, my love," he whispered to her. They parted enough so that she could look at his face and she laughed, cupping his cheeks. "I missed you so much," he continued, brushing his lips against hers. He took two steps back, leaning against the table for more support.

Asterin smiled and then pushed herself against him, deepening the kiss. Fenrys sighed through the nose, squeezing her hips. He put her down slowly, while they were still kissing and when he pulled the backpack off her shoulders, Asterin also took off her jacket, immediately clutching onto him again, not wanting to be too far away.

Reluctantly, Fenrys pulled away slightly, their noses were still touching each other, "I think I should go back to cooking".

Asterin complained, but let him go anyway, pouting amusedly. Fenrys chuckled and turned towards the stove, where four pots and pans smelled deliciously inviting.

"Where did you find all the food?" she asked, curious, looking at the ingredients scattered on the table. A bottle of tomato puree, some potato skins, half a zucchini and some carrots.

Fenrys looked over his shoulder, "I stopped by the supermarket before I came here," he explained, "I couldn't go home with Con, he took it way worse than I did and I needed to distract myself, not talk about all the mistakes I made on the field today." he looked away when Asterin's expression became serious. She had forgotten the game in the euphoria of the moment.

She approached him, circling his hips from behind and resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. She felt Fenrys hand resting on hers, "I'm so sorry." she kissed him on the neck, tiptoeing, "You shouldn't have done all that. I could have prepared something for us." she murmured against his sweatshirt. She only realized at that moment that he was wearing a chef's apron. She snickered.

"I told you, I wanted to get distracted and cooking relaxes me," he repeated.

Asterin nodded slightly, "I know, I know." she peered over his shoulder to see what he was making, "What is that?"

Fenrys smiled at her, turning the ladle in one of the open pans and taking some of what was supposed to be vegetables and handing it to her, "Chicken and vegetables," he confirmed. Asterin tasted it directly from his hand and closed her eyes while moaning as good as it was. If she had tried to make that dish it surely would have sucked, the chicken would have come out dry and the vegetables would have had no taste at all. Instead the food Fenrys prepared for her was always so tasty and juicy and Asterin always felt how much love the boy poured into it.

"God," she moaned again, "This world doesn't deserve an angel like you."

Fenrys was looking at her with his mouth slightly open and his eyes focused on her lips. He cleared his voice and went back to stirring something else. Asterin pointed at him, "What about that?"

"That's the dressing for our pasta. I bought spaghetti." he smiled at her and caressed her cheek, moving a lock of hair. Spaghetti was definitely her favorite kind of pasta.

"I love you so fucking much." she mumbled to him. Fenrys giggled, with his stupid little grin on his lips, "Me too."

Asterin started cleaning the table, throwing out the scraps and setting the table for the two of them. When Fenrys noticed he whined, "I had to clean it up." he had a guilty look on his face, almost as if he was sorry she was doing him a favor.

The girl watched him closely, "I'm just helping you, Fen."

"Yes, I know, but-" he stopped, cutting the sentence.

Asterin looked him in the eyes and when he looked away, flexing his jaw, she asked, "What is it?"

He remained silent for a while and Asterin gave him time to decide what to say. She knew that he didn't have to push him and he knew that Fenrys had trouble talking about the things that were bothering him, unlike her.

"It's just that I screwed up on the field today. A fuckup that could have been avoided if I had done my job and I need to make it up somehow and treat you like a queen for tonight wouldn't solve everything, but it could at least improve this fucking bad mood of mine." he put his hand in his hair, before he crossed his arms on his chest and turned towards her.

Asterin didn't look at him, continuing to cut the loaf of bread he had bought, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Fenrys grunted, "It's just that I'm sure if I told you what happened, you'd tell me some bullshit of yours to make me feel better and I know I just said the opposite, but I think I deserve to feel like shit."

This time she gave him a stern look, "Why don't you let me judge whether you deserve to feel like shit or not?"

He snorted, "Alright," he mumbled. He said nothing and continued to cook while frowning for a few minutes. Asterin sat down, nibbling on carrots and staring at the muscles in his back that tightened every time he moved. She scowled, "Does it have something to do with Lorcan?"

Fenrys stiffened, "Yes," he simply replied.

"You know, if you don't tell me what happened, I can't just guess?" she asked him jokingly.

He turned towards her, turning off the stove and putting the pan with the chicken in the middle of the table. Asterin was used to seeing him cooking, being that he was practically at her place every night, but it was always nice to see him being the man of the house and making these little gestures for her. Even when his day had been shitty.

He turned to the stove once again, took the pot of pasta and drained it, "I told you he was hurt, didn't I?" she nodded, assenting, "A guy from Velaris broke his anterior cruciate ligament. He jumped on his knee with both feet."

Asterin swallowed noisily, bringing one hand to her mouth. She hadn't realized it was so bad. With such damage he couldn't play for the rest of the season. All this if he did well and if the doctors were able to fix it.

"Fen-" he ignored her, pouring the seasoning on the pasta and starting to serve it.

"It was my fault." he didn't look her in the face, but she had never seen him so distressed in her life. "I saw the piece of shit go up against him and he was charging him like a..." he stopped, shaking his head, "You don't charge another player like that, he looked like a fucking bull trying to kill the matador, I don't know." he sat down after serving both of them. He covered his eyes with his hands, "I should have called him. Warning him that he was about to be tackled."

Asterin was quite upset, she wanted to call Elide, but would have thought about it later. Now she had to concentrate on Fenrys.

"Honey listen to me, these things always happen in football. It's not your fault," she said, extending one hand on the table and taking his hand.

He shook his head, tightening his shoulders, "No, it's different this time." he explained, looking at her finally, "After the game one of his teammates came, the captain, and apologized." he said shocked, "There is no apology in football, Rin. It's not something you do."

Asterin had seen enough games in her life to know that the players were ruthless beasts and that the feeling of belonging to your team was so strong that you felt the need to protect it with your life. Beating someone on the other team was not as strange as it could be considered in other less violent sports. Bullshit, in her opinion.

"They benched him and probably suspended him," continued Fenrys. Asterin understood that he was talking about the player of the other team. She nodded, gritting her teeth.

"You don't think Lorcan blames you, do you?" she asked cautiously, starting to eat when he gestured for her to taste the food. The first bite of pasta was ecstatic. If they weren't in the middle of such a serious conversation she would have praised him and kissed him until they ran out of oxygen.

Fenrys moved the pasta into the dish, "No. I have already spoken to him. Elide also came to me after we left him at the hospital to assure me that it wasn't my fault." Asterin promised herself to text her later.

"Listen," she began, Fenrys looked at her exasperatedly, "Listen to me," she said in a harder tone, "these things cannot be avoided. It wasn't your fault and Lorcan doesn't think it is. I'm sure you'll do everything you can to help him on this path and I'm sure he'll appreciate every little gesture you make, even if he won't show it." they both grinned, knowing full well that Lorcan would never show an ounce of feeling for anyone other than Elide.

When Fenrys did not answer immediately, continuing to eat in silence, Asterin squeezed his fingers still wrapped around hers, "I'm sorry, however, that this happened."

He looked at her, his expression pained, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. It's your birthday and now you're sad."

Asterin snorted, "Stupid, I don't care if it's my birthday. If you're feeling bad, I want to talk about it and make you feel better."

His eyes softened a little, then he whispered, "I love you, very much." Fenrys seemed to remember something important at that moment, "I've brought you presents," he announced as he stood up. Asterin stiffened, leaning forward to his now empty place, confused, "Gifts? S meaning, more than one?"

The boy returned with four packages in his hand, all poorly wrapped. He had a half smile on his face and Asterin would have been satisfied with that little bit of happiness for today.

She thanked him silently when he put them in her lap, leaving a soft kiss on her lips. She opened them one by one and when she took the biggest one, she realized it was fluffy. She opened it curious to find out which sweatshirt of his he had given her, but it was not a sweatshirt. It was a rectangular pillow with a picture of his ass printed on it. They laughed until they cried and then moved into the living room after finishing dinner.

They spent the rest of the evening talking and kissing and when it got late they went to bed, where Fenrys seemed to forget all about Lorcan and the lost game, while he showed her exactly just how much he loved her.

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@tottenhamboys20 @maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn​

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Part 3.

Summary. Iwazuimi thinks up an awful idea to help Kentarou get his anger out.

Warnings. Vomit, chipped tooth, blood. Sad boi Kentarou

Kentarou walked with you still in his grip till you were off school grounds. The cold air stung your legs and all you wanted to do was lay down.. and check what that cracking noise was. Kentarou dropped his grip on you and your hand went straight to your mouth to rub at your cheek in little circles, fuck it hurt..

After a minute you decided to just reach in and see if anything was broken, your jaw ached from having to open up so wide but you ignored it. Kentarou watched you with a tilted head and twitching eyebrow. Oh please, he thought. As if you broke any..-

When he watched you pull out a chipped tooth his fingers reached out to you for a minute making the veins in his hands dance around against his skin. The wince your body did when you pulled it out sent a chill up his spine. Oh shit, oh fuck. Why. Dammit. The look you gave him was fake, he knew it. He could see it in your eyes you wanted to break down right there.

You waved your other hand around assuring him it was fine, unsure if you should talk or not. You needed to get home though, and fast.. Kentarou watched you limp for a few steps till you almost fell. He caught you and pulled your arm over his shoulders and grabbed your side with his free one helping you steady.

“Just tell me where your damn house is” was all he said too you.

You felt relieved slightly but.. everything still hurt. You guided Kentarou to your home and you had to make up some story for your parents when they saw the state you were in; swollen cheeks, ripped knee high and holding your stomach. You told them some thug tried to rob you and Kentarou saved you. They believed you and before they could thank him he already left.

•••

Kentarou was already down the street far away from you, hurting you. God damn it this was not helping his anger. If anything it made it worse. He pulled his phone from his pocket dialing , when Iwazuimi answered he punched a brick wall. “This isint working. I chipped her god damn tooth .” He growled leaning into the cold hard building staring at his now bloody knuckles watching the blood trickle down the lines in his fingers dripping down to his wrist slithering to his elbow. “I was so angry ..seeing her in those fucking thigh highs. I know everyone was looking at her” he rolled facing the brick wall running his nails along it waiting for Iwazuimi to say something.

Iwazuimi was quiet while his friend unloaded on him. Yeah, this was a awful idea why did he come up with this Iwa-Kun you dunce. They would be in real hot water if you told anyone but you really seemed like you wouldint do that. “Kentarou, i need to tell you something about her.” There was a long pause on both ends if you dont count Kentarous endless heavy huffing and puffing. After a long thinking session Iwa-Kun spoke up .

Kentarou grabbed his side, he felt very hot all of a sudden, his head heavy and his throat felt like it had a heavy piece of food in it. He heaved a few times trying to steady his breathing but it was no use. He was down on his knees staring at the vomit on the ground in front of him , his phone on his lap. He coughed a few times and leaned forward grabbing his phone , his free arm above his head his fingers in his buzz cut. He felt like total shit and now his stomach was aching hard from rejecting his lunch. A few tears fell from his eyes down his cheeks . “She likes watching.. me play..”

Iwazuimi had to go fetch Kentarou himself because he really could not get home himself right now. Seeing his friend in such a state. The Mad Dog as Oikawa called him, was on his knees hunched over his own vomit crying into the cold cement unable to pull himself together. The fact that you enjoyed watching him play made him sick to his stomach. You enjoyed someone as mean as him, as pushy.. as abusive as him. You were not a chew toy. You were a gift . A god damn gift.

Iwazuimi pulled his friend up handing him some water that he sipped and spit back out to freshen his mouth for the time being. He leaned on the third year all the way home not saying anything at all. He wasint gonna talk and Iwazuimi was not going to force him. The whole walk home he tried to think about what to do to make this up to you .. if he even could.

Iwazuimi took the time to reflect on this whole event that he caused. You were so innocent and shy, not a bruise to be seen on your body, should he tell Kentarou that youve been wanting to approach him? Maybe. But now was not the right time, and it might mean more if you say it yourself. He got Kentarou home safe and sound and Iwazuimi went home himself. Both boys thought long and hard about this whole situation.

•

The next day you were in so much pain all over; your stomach was on fire and you had a bruise on your left knee and right cheek. You wanted to wear thigh highs but it was probably not a good idea.. You did though use make up to cover up your purple cheek. You fixed your hair and left for school , heart beating fast. The whole night you were awake thinking about what happened. The look he had on his face when he saw you stumble along looked pained and shocked as of he was thinking “i caused that.” Was he okay? Was he sad…

Kentarou avoided you all day; dodging you whenever he saw you or giving you an angry look whenever you locked eyes. You were limping and everytime you tried to walk towards him he just took off in the other direction blending in with the crowd of other teens. He was no where to be found at lunch either, not at his usual spot with his team eating a melon bun. He would be at practice though. And you were gonna ask him if he was okay.

After school you walked slowly towards the gym holding your stomach rubbing tbe giant bruise you had on it. You were in so much pain but you had to ignore it for now. You were almost there.

When you did arrive Oikawa was coming up behind you passing you with a smile on his face and a slightly purple nose. He dipped down to your height grinning at you. “Y/n chan! How can i help you?”

“Kawa.. is..” god you needed to sit down.. “Kentarou here..”

Oikawa tilted his head looking over his shoulder raising his voice. “Iwa-kuuuuun!!!!”

“Dont call me that!!!!!!!” He yelled from the gym.

“ is Mad Dog -Chan in there?”

“He went home sick!!!”

Oikawa looked back at you and rubbed your head. “He went home sick y/n chan.”

“O..ok..” you swayed.

“Hes a little mean though, id pick another favorite player , im available.” He smiled at you.

You fainted in his arms and Oikawa almost didint catch you. He cursed yelling into the gym and everyone ran out , Iwazuimi picked you up in his arms and the Coach told him to bring you to the infirmary.

•

You woke up to see Iwazuimi leaning iver the bed with his hands in his hair . You reached out touching his arm and within a second he looked up sighing with relief. He grabbed your hand with both of his apologizing over and over.

“Uhm. .. Iwa..Kun..”

“Y/n i am so..-“

“Is .. he really sick..”

“He threw up his lunch , he was eating too fast but…..”

“Iwa..?”

Iwazuimi told you about last night, he left out Kentarou crying but he told you about him vomiting and needing him to help the poor guy home.

“Will.. will he be okay for the game?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“He avoided me all day..”

“I know y/n. He mostly hung around with me today.”

“I dont.. regret any of this.”

Iwazuimi lowered his head into his arms, still holding your hand. “You think you can change him”

“I can try.”

“Hes a good person.. its just stuck under his tough exterior.”

You rubbed his hand with your thumb. “I know, ill find it”

•

Your parents had come to pick you up and you were given heavy medicine and ordered to lay in bed all day and tomorrow. The game was the day after tomorrow and you prayed you would be okay to go. You would not be at school tomorrow either…

Slowly you pulled your phone from the night stand opening it up to see no messages. Should you..? You opened up your contacts staring at his name for a long few minutes, you were shaking a little. It was just a text. Thats all. Its not like you would see him soon anyway. You took in a deep sigh sending out a text.

🎾i wont be at school tomorrow. But i will see you at the game, i hope your doing okay.

Kentarou was in bed staring at the celing. Watching you limp around the damn school broke his heart into tiny pieces. The fact that he caused such pain to you, someone that enjoyed watching him play. Someone who always had a smile on their face when they asked how his day was… He rolled over squeezing his pillow in disgust. He hated himself, who he was, what he put you through. His phone buzzed and it was Iwazuimi texting him telling him what happened today which broke him even more. God damn it, and Oikawa of all people . He didint reply but he did get another text, from you this time.

His body sunk down and felt very heavy, after everything he put you though, giving you stupid rules, ripping your thigh highs, shoving you into the wall, making you faint at school from kicking your stomach. And chipping your god damn tooth.. you still wanted to make sure he was okay. ..

The text he sent you made you cry instantly, why.. why.. you wanted to be near him, hear him out. Make him feel better..

😡Stay away from me.

•

@squeaky-ducky

[brianandthemays]

Paper Rings (Ben Hardy x reader)

Hello!!! First of all: Thank you to @queen-irl-af for beta reading and helping me out!! Love ya! Second! I used the song Paper Rings by Taylor Swift as the main inspiration so give it a listen

Third: There will be a second part coming out soonish!!!!!

and as always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG, SEND AN ASK, COMMENT, AND LIKE! YOU’RE YOUR FEEDBACK MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!

Warnings: There is slight smut so 18+ only, please. If I find out you’re underage I will have to block you! Also fluff, angst, and fluff. It’s kinda cute

Word Count: 5.8K

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The house was foggy with smoke. When your friend invited you to this party you didn’t realize that people would basically just be smoking weed the whole time. Now you were stuck sitting in the corner with a drink in your hand, watching as your friend, and ride, climb high enough to cloud nine. You swiped out your phone and groaned when you realized it was dead. Taking the final sip of your drink you stood to pour yourself another one. You grabbed a drink and started to pour when you glanced outside. There was a guy out there, smoking what looked like a cigarette and just looking up at the sky. You grabbed your drink and walked towards him. When you opened the door, he glanced back at you nodding in acknowledgment. You shot him a smile and wrapped your arms around yourself, it was colder than you’d thought I’d be.

           “Cold in’nit,” he commented, bringing his cigarette to his mouth.

           “Yeah.” You shivered and glanced up at the sky. “Moon looks nice.”

He shrugged and blew out some smoke. You gave him a sideways glance before walking over to one of the patio chairs to sit down. The smoke from his cigarette was nauseating but not as bad as the pungent smell of the weed inside. You took a moment to take him in. Up close you could tell he was quite attractive. His eyes were a unique color of green and he had blonde hair with a few curls in it. You could tell he was fit under his clothes and you felt drawn to him.

           “Not your scene?” he asked, nodding inside. You glanced up at him, breaking out of your observation.

You shook your head. “Smoking anything usually makes me sick.”

           “Go home,” he suggested.

           “My ride is high as a kite right now,” you explained with a chuckle. “So, I guess I’m stuck here.” He put out his cigarette and threw it in the trashcan outside. “What about you?”

           “My vice is cigarettes. I’ll get high every now and then but not nearly as often,” he replied. “I’m Ben Jones by the way.”

You looked up at him; he was holding out his hand to you, so you took it. “(Y/N).”

His hand was slightly calloused and brushed your hand the right way, sending a shock down your arm. You swallowed thickly looked at his emerald eyes. He let go and cleared his throat.

           “I’m friends with Rog,” he explained. “My flatmate first year.”

           “Cheryl’s my friend,” you offered. “I think she’s got a thing for Rog.”

           “Is she the chick with blonde highlights?” he questioned looking through the glass door.

You furrowed your eyebrows standing up to stand next to him. There in Roger’s lap was Cheryl practically eating his face off. His hand was on her breast as they swallowed each other and you groaned, officially coming to terms with your fate.

           “That’s her,” you conceded, putting your face in your hands. He laughed and brought a hand to your shoulder in comfort. The shock was back, sending electricity down your back. You looked over at him, a smile on your lips and a lip between your teeth. He licked his lips and smirked at you. Boy, the smirk was really doing something to you. He turned towards you, shortening the distance between the two o fup. 

           “You live far?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face.Your heart was pounding as you shook your head, staring up at him through your eyelashes and he continued. “Maybe I can take you home.”

You raised an eyebrow and he copied, as if challenging you to resist him. Of course, how could you say no to the magnetic pull that was taking force on you?

           “Please,” you answered, your own playful smirk on your face. “Take me home.”

His smirk turned into a smile and he reached won to grab your hand. You gasped and almost spilt your drink as he tugged you inside.

           “Slow down!” you shouted, trying not to laugh.

           “Shit, sorry,” he apologized, coming to a stop.

You gulped down the rest of your drink and threw your cup onto the counter. “Okay, let’s go.”

The two of you run out of the house to his car. The second you shut your door you reach over and grab his shirt bringing him to your lips. He brought his hand to the back of your head, roughly smashing you further into him.  You bit his bottom lip and pulled back slightly.

           “Take me home.”

The second you got to his house, he had you against the wall. His lips touching every inch of exposed skin. Every kiss left fire in it’s wake and you felt like you would burn down. He pulled back enough to pull your shirt over your head but then immediately latched his lips back to your throat. His hands reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, letting it fall down your arms to the floor.

           “God, you’re so beautiful,” He sighed, pulling back to look at you. You felt so adored under his gaze; the way he looked at you was so adoring it made your breath catch in your throat.

He brought his lips down to your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let a moan out of your mouth tangling your fingers in his hair. You found you hips bucking forward, looking for some kind of friction. Ben slotted a leg between yours allowing you to grind against his thigh as he suckled on your breast. He moved his lips right above your nipples and suck a mark into your skin, causing you to whimper. He pressed one more kiss to it before moving up to kiss your lips again.

           “Please just fuck me,” you groaned against his lips.

He smirked and pulled you away from the wall. “That can be arranged.”

The rest of the night was a blur of pleasure. But the whole time, it felt so different from your other hookups. He was so loving and delicate. Every step of the way making sure you were okay and comfortable. When it was done, he made sure to clean up and take care of you before collapsing next to you.  You laid awake starring at the ceiling, breathless. Who was this guy? Ben… Ben who? You needed to get up and charge your phone so you could get out of here.

You glanced over at the man next to you satisfied that he was truly asleep before getting up and wandering around the room. Next to his bed you found and out lit with a plug in it and plugged your phone in. He mumbled in his sleep on the bed but didn’t stir as you waited for your phone to turn back on. Eventually, it lit up in the dark and you glanced over at Ben to make sure he didn’t wake up. So far you were in the clear. Once your phone loaded up, you went to google maps to see how far your house was. It wasn’t far, the lyft wouldn’t be too much. 

The closest lyft was 10 minutes away, so you had some time. Now, who was this guy? He said his name was Ben… but Ben what? You looked over at him to make sure he was still passed out before crawling to look at his wallet. Broke, not that you were going to take his money. There was his ID. Ben Jones. Ben Jones was the name of the incredibly attractive man snoring loudly on the bed next to you.

Then your phone dinged, letting you know your lyft was close. You felt kinda bad, but you couldn’t stay there. Instead, you wrote a note. Grabbing a pen from his kitchen you scribbled a note on a piece of paper.

           Thanks for the great night, maybe see you around.

                          X (Y/N)

The next morning, you woke up with a headache. You groaned and looked over at the clock; it was noon. You furrowed your eyebrows and put a hand to your forehead. Then in through the door came Cheryl.

           “Where the fuck were you last night?” she screeched, glaring at you.

           “Shut up! Shut up!” you grumbled at her, your head pounding.

She came over to the side of the bed and sat down.

“You ditched me!” she continued loudly. You rolled over and put your pillow on your head to block her out. “Where did you go?”

Then it came back to you. Going outside, leaving with that guy, oh my god. Ben. Ben Jones. The amazingly attractive man you had sex with last night. You sat up and looked over at Cheryl.

           “What?”

           “What do you know about Ben Jones?” you asked hesitantly.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped.

           “You didn’t…” she gasped. You buried your face in your hands and she squealed causing you to cringe again.  “Ben Jones? As in rugby playing actor Ben Jones?” You reached over and grabbed your phone, ow at 100%, you opened Instagram. “I almost got with Roger, but he forgot my name. Called me Charlotte or something.”

She kept talking but you tuned her out, looking up “Ben Jones” on Instagram. He popped up quickly, pictures of him playing rugby and ads for shows he was in littered his feed. He was, without a doubt, quite attractive. But there was also something childish in his eyes. A goofy look in his smile. You found yourself smiling to yourself.

           “Are you even listening to me?” Cheryl humphed. You mumbled an apology before throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. “Where are you going?”

           “We’re out of milk!” you called back to her. Really you just had to get out of the house. You had to get some fresh air and call Joe.

           “If you’re going to the store, can you get some cheese too? I need to make my quiche!”

You headed out into the London air. The first thing you did was call Joe. Joe had been your friend since you were little. Your best friend to be exact.

           “Joe!” you shouted when he answered.

           “Dear God, don’t shout into the phone,” he retorted. “What’s going on?”

You told him everything. The party and everything that happened after. The intimate moments with Ben that were delicate and careful. The way his touch sent flames down your spine. Finding out he was a rugby player and, most importantly, how his stupid goofy smile wouldn’t leave your mind.

           “Damn, you’ve been in London for one semester and you’re already fitting in!” he commented.

           “Shut up, totally not the right thing to be focusing on right now!” you hissed. “The problem is I left this morning and now I don’t have any way to find him.”

           “Did you—”

           “Yes, I stalked him on the internet,” you interrupted. “He’s a certified hottie.”

           “Well chica, maybe message him,” Joe suggested.

You cringed, walking into the supermarket. “Not exactly subtle, Joe.”

Joe scoffed over the phone and you made your way to the cheese aisle. Cheryl’s cheese choices were very specific and had to be a certain brand or she’d make you go back, and that was not your ideal day.

           “Are you going for subtly?” he asked. 

You grunted, grabbing the cheese you know she likes before heading to the dairy section. As you turned the corner, and froze, turning right back into the aisle.

           “Joe, omigod, he’s right there,” you growled into the phone. “what do I do?”

Joe laughed loudly and you frowned. “Okay, don’t worry, just don’t give him a cold shoulder, that’ll make your situation even worse. Maybe say something, did he see you?”

You peaked around the corner again and he was still looking at some bottles of wine. Lord, his eyes were almost as green as the wine bottles. You pulled back into the aisle, smiling at an elderly woman as she walked back.

           “I don’t think so,” you told him.

           “Okay here’s what you’re gonna do,” Joe started. “You’re gonna walk up to him and casually tell him that you want him to wreck you every night for the rest of your life.”

           “JOE!” you whisper shouted.

           “Am I wrong?” he defended. “Now go and call me back later.”

Then he hung up and you cursed under your breath. Then you sucked a large breath and walk out of the aisle. You approached him and he looked up. His eyes flashed with recognition, and a smirk started to come over his lips. Flashes of the night before hitting you hard. His lips on your chest, on your stomach, on your thighs, on your... oh lord. And you panicked. And instead of walking towards him, you walked right past him, feeling his eyes follow you past him. You mentally slapped your forehead and turned around, but he was gone.

           “Fuck.”

You didn’t see him again for a few weeks, maybe a month when Cheryl invited you to another party. You were hesitant to go, not wanting a repeat of last time but she wore you down. And again you found yourself standing by yourself in a corner. You took out your phone and you swore it was déjà vu. Your damn phone was almost dead, again.

           “You need a charger?” a deep voice behind offered. You turned and saw him, and those deep eyes. You nodded, suddenly finding your voice gone. “Ah, so you do remember me.”

You scrunched your mouth into a smile. “Ben… right.”

           “That’s right, (Y/N),” he chuckled. The way he said your name sent a shiver down your back. “Thought you might’ve been too drunk to remember.”

You frowned, that was rude. “I had only had one drink,” You defended.

           “Oh, was that rude?” He raised his eyebrows, a playful look in his eyes. “I was confused because I saw you in the supermarket, the next day. And you gave me a cold shoulder.”

Fuck. He had you on a line and you took the bait. He held out a charger to you and you took it, deliberately brushing your fingers against his, trying not to show the effect he was having on you. You turned from him and started searching for a plug.

           “Nothing to say to that?” he prompted, hoping to reel you in.

           “What can I say?” you returned over your shoulder. “Sorry I hurt your feelings.”

He let out a huff of air, smiling at you. Two could play at this game. The only question was who would cave first. But who knew if he’d been thinking about you like you’d been thinking about him? All you could do was hope and pray you didn’t make a fool out of yourself again. You finally found a plug and got your phone charging before turning back to Ben, who had been following you around.

           “What brings you back out to the party?” he asks, leaning against the wall.

You smiled coyly at him. “Something in air, I guess. And you?”

           “Call it intuition,” he replied, a smirk pasted on his face.

God you wanted him. You wanted to feel the same passion you had last time. You wanted to feel his hands roam your body, sending flames spiraling around your body. That couldn’t have been the same feeling you had every time you hooked up with someone. But you couldn’t let it be that easy no matter how much you wanted it. And you could feel his want too, it was practically radiating off of him. But the longer you made him wait, the better it would feel.

           “Wow, great minds… huh,” you quipped.

           “Suppose so,” he answered.

There was silence between you. An eye game. His eyes were darting between your eyes and your lips and your body. Yours stayed put on his eyes, watching him as he looked you over. God you wanted him. His lips were so perfect and you wanted to feel them all over your body.

           “So, do you want to…” He motioned with his hand towards the door. You had him right where you wanted him, and you knew what you had to do, no matter how much your body was telling you to do the opposite.

           “Actually, no… I don’t think so,” you replied simply.

His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Oh?”

           “Yeah, I promised Cheryl that I wouldn’t leave this time,” you explained, the smirk not leaving your face.

           “I see… I see…” He raised his hands in submission. And though you could tell he was trying to act nonchalant, there was a hint of disappointment behind his eyes. That made you hesitant but you couldn’t go back now.  “Well, I guess I’ll head out then, see you around?”

           “Maybe,” you lipped, smiling at him.

           “I like maybe…” His green eyes flickered with playfulness, the disappointment leaving slightly. “But let me tell you, I will see you again.”

And with that he was gone, and the second he was, you took a breath for the first time in, what felt like, an hour. It took everything you had not to let him have you again, but you made it. You hoped that he would keep up on his promise and you would see him soon, but you didn’t see him for another month.

You were studying for winter finals at the library. It had been a frustrating study session. You’d been in there all afternoon and still couldn’t wrap your head around the subject. Across from you the chair pulled out and someone sat down. At first you didn’t pay much attention to them but then they slide a muffin and a steamy drink across the table to you. You looked up and it was Ben. Your eyes widened and he smirked.

           “Hi,” you greeted, giving him a small wave.

           “Hey, love, how are you?” he asked, looking down at your book then up at you.

You frowned, pushing the book away. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile before leaning back in his chair. You were more than surprised to see him there. It realized you went to the same school as him, but you’d never run into him before. And he’d spent his money on you.  You pulled the drink and muffin towards yourself.

           “It’s hot chocolate and a chocolate chip muffin,” he told you. “Chocolate always helps me relax so I thought—”

           “No, Ben it’s great, thank you so much,” you replied genuinely.

           “I also heard orgasms help with stress.”

You almost spit out your sip of hot chocolate, getting some drops of your drinks on your notes. You sputtered, trying to think of a reply, desperately cleaning your notes up. But when you looked back up at him he was laughing heartily at you.

           “I’m joking, love,” he chuckled. “Mainly… unless you want to…”

           “Not at the moment,” you growled, a hint of amusement making its way into your voice. “But ask me tomorrow.”

He smiled, his stupid dorky smile when he got something he wanted. He leaned on his forearms, bringing himself closer to you. You continued to look at him as you brought the hot chocolate back to your mouth. You slowly bring your book back to yourself trying to subtly go back to studying.

           “Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just be here,” he told you, motioning for you to continue studying.

You narrowed your eyes at him, slightly confused as to why he would just want to sit there and watch you study but he looked perfectly happy. So, you continued studying; picking at your muffin and flipping through the pages. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense and you realized, Ben’s presence was calming. He just sat there scrolling on his phone, looking up at you every now and then. But still, he was like a white noise, keeping you focused. Eventually, you felt content with your studying and closed your book.

           “So, what can I do to pay you back for the sustenance?” you asked, grabbing you back to pull out your purse.

“Be my date.” He answered almost immediately. “To Roger’s party this weekend I mean.” Your mouth dropped and you found yourself at a loss for words. “I mean, please? I feel like we always end up together anyway.”

You found yourself in a staring contest with him. You couldn’t deny the want you felt whenever you were around him. It felt like a magnet pulling you towards him and you wanted to be on his arm the whole night. Laughing with him, drinking with him, falling asleep on his arm. So, what was the harm? He was asking you.

           “Okay.”

The day of the party came a lot quicker than you expected. Your finals were over, your bags were packed and all you had left was this party. Not that you weren’t excited to go, you always loved a party and now you had Ben as your so-called ‘date’, so what could go wrong. You just wore some jeans and a nice sweater you had. Ben was at your apartment at 7 ready to take you to Roger’s house.

           “Wow, you look great,” he complimented you. You felt your cheeks heat up and you turned around to avoid letting him see. “Will Cheryl be there?”

           “No, she’s already headed home for the winter. Left last night,” you informed him. This left the house empty in the case that something may happen with you and Ben. You planned this, and Cheryl was ecstatic.

           “Oh, so house is empty?” he asked.

           “Yup.”

           “Ah.”

Silence. Then he held out his hand to you and you took it. He held you close as you walked through the London night. It was freezing. Snow covered the ground from an earlier flurry and the roads were barren save for ice. Ben was bundled up nicely while you found your sweater failing you, causing you to shiver in the cold.

           “Oh, love,” he chuckled, pulling his jacket off his shoulders to drape over your shoulders. You thanked him softly, pulling the jacket closer around yourself. It smelt good. Like warmth with an undertone of cigarettes. It smelt like him.

Not much later you arrived at Roger’s house. Ben dragged you inside, waving and high fiving people along the way, but keeping his hand in yours the whole time. Eventually, you found your way to a free couch where Ben dropped you off.

           “You want a drink?” he asked, standing in front of you.

           “Sure,” you replied. He smiled at you and walked off to find you a drink. You felt happy. It was weird to think that a guy you hooked up with once a few months ago was now playing a game of cat and mouse with you. But you were ready to be done playing. And maybe tonight you’d be lucky.

A few other kids from school came and sat around you, smiling politely. You returned the smile and shifting to find a comfortable position.

           “So, you’re here with Ben?” one of them asked. It was one of the boys. You just nodded. “He’s dope.”

           “What’s your name?” a girl to your left asked.

           “(Y/N),” you told her. She seemed nice enough, but you still wished Ben were nearby.

           “Oh, you’re Cheryl’s roommate, right?” she exclaimed

You nodded again. “Yeah!”

Then Ben returned, carrying two drinks. He hoped over the couch, sliding his arm around you as he sat down.

           “Hey Rach! How are you,” he asked politely, handing you your drink. You moved into his side more and you didn’t see it, but that made him smile.

           “I’m good! Stephen and I were just introducing yourself to your date.” She gave you a look, moving her shoulder in a cheeky fashion. 

           “Is Kelvin here?” Ben asked.

She shook her head no, letting Stephen answer. “He still has a final tomorrow morning.”

           “Sucks to suck I guess,” Ben joked, causing them to laugh. You smiled, watching their interaction. He was so natural with other people. Everyone felt at ease around him and you could understand why. Rachel and Stephen took their leave of you, leaving you and Ben sitting on the couch together. He looked down at you as you looked around the party.

           “You look lost, love,” he told you.  

           “Sorry, I’ve just never been in the thick of a party before,” you admitted. “I’m usually with Cheryl and she usually abandons me, and I end up—”

           “In the backyard with a stranger?” he finished; his eyes playful.

           “Exactly,” you answered.

He laughed, reverberating in his chest and you could feel it. You let a blush come over your face as he took a sip of his drink. He hummed, letting you know he had something he wanted to say.

           “What do you do?” he asked.

           “Huh?”         

           “Like, other than come to parties, study and go to the supermarket, I don’t really know anything about you,” he pointed out.

           “Oh, uh… I mean I’m a Journalism major with a minor in Film and Art,” you told him. “I’m from the States… New York actually. That’s where my friend Joe lives…” He nodded for you to continue. “Um… I grew up in Albany, which is the capital of New York. But my family moved to the city after my brother moved out?

           “How old is your brother?” he asked.

           “25 now. He’s an Engineer. Runs some engineering firm in Philadelphia,” you explained. “He’s very smart. Smarter than I am.”

           “Hey, don’t say that,” Ben interrupted.

           “It’s just the truth.” You shrugged. “It’s fine. But I had to get away from my parents. Who have no trouble telling me how much better he is than me.” You blushed again. “Sorry, that was too much info.”

           “No, it wasn’t, you can keep telling me everything,” Ben encouraged.

You looked at him, no hint of insincerity. And you did want to tell him everything. But just as you were, Roger rushed into the room.

           “EVERYONE IN THE POOL!” he shouted before racing outside.

           “He’s joking, right? Its freezing outside,” you cried. But as you were talking, Ben pulled you up and started dragging you outside. “No! BEN NO!

He laughed and let go walking back towards the pool. “Let go, love. Let’s live a little tonight!”

And with that, he slipped off his sweater, and you struggled not to let your eyes bug out. He tucked his feet into a cannonball landing with a splash. You watched with wide eyes as he reemerged, shouting at the cold, but motioned for you to join him. You turned away, closing your eyes, silently battling yourself. But then you turned back around and saw him again. Him and his silly smile and his green eyes. And you couldn’t help yourself. Off you ran. And with a great jump, you splashed in after him. As soon as you hit the cold, you felt your whole body freeze up. Your clothes clung to your body and you felt the warmth leaving you.

           You breached the surface, gasping for breath. “Oh my God!” You shouted, looking for something to grab onto; to provide warmth.

           “Love, love, calm down, c’mere.” Ben’s voice washed over you and you found yourself grabbing onto him. He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you into his chest. His chest wasn’t much warmer, but you still felt yourself heating up. More people came crashing into the pool, but you found yourself unable to see them. Just Ben and his eyes. He put his chin on top of your head, holding you tightly, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

           “This isn’t safe,” you chattered, your teeth shaking. Ben just laughed and reached down to grab your legs, carrying you to the side of the pool. He sat you down on the top step resting his hands on either side of your hips.

           “I’ll let you borrow my sweater,” he told you. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to you. You shivered, your whole body shaking. “Oh, love, you’re turning blue.”

You glared at him, moving to rest your head on his chest.  His heartbeat was strong and steady, allowing you to focus on something other than the cold. He pulled you back slightly and grabbed your hand, starting to leave the pool.

           “Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” he murmured, pulling you up and out of the water. He picked up his sweater and found you a towel, pulling it around your arms.

Once you were dried off, you found yourself in Ben’s white sweater sitting in a hallway across from Ben. He still had a towel around his bare body, his sweater currently being used by yourself.

           “Thank you, Ben,” you said, smiling. “Tonight, has been surprisingly fun.”

           “Oh, the fun is just beginning,” he teased, poking your toe with his. The music in the main room was dully playing in the background. You blushed, looking down into your lap. “What’s wrong, love?”

You looked up at him, his green eyes shining with concern. And you really couldn’t take it anymore. You crawled towards him on all fours, his eyes widening with surprise, you settled yourself on his thighs, straddling his waist. He hands came to rest on your hips, cocking his head. It was a question and he wanted you to answer first. To let him know this was okay. So, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. This kiss was different from the frantic, horny kiss that you had in the car the first time you met him. This was slower, more languid than before. His lips moved slowly against yours, one of his hands coming up to push back some of your hair.

You slide your hands up his chest, leaning into him more. You moaned when he started to move his lips down your jaw, sucking a mark into the space right behind your ear. You brought your hands up to tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a moan from him. You felt your breathing start to pick up and Ben moved his hands under your sweater. You moved your hands down to pull them up to your bra, giving him the permission he needed. But he still pulled back and looked at you.

           “Are you sure this is okay?” he assured. His eyes were blown open and his lips were swollen. But he was still checking on you.

           “Yes.”

And he went back in, this time the lust returned. It was heated and full of passion. He pulled your breasts out of your bra, massaging them slowly. You threw your head back, whimpering and panting heavily. Ben latched his lips to your collar, now exposed to him. The feeling of his thumbs brushing over your tits and his fingers digging into the flesh, along with his lips suck and nipping at the most sensitive areas on your neck left you weak. You let yourself go all but limp in his arms, letting him do what he wanted, letting the amazing feelings wash over you.

Soon, you found yourself in the same place you were two months ago. Laying in bed, now your bed, next to Ben. But this time you weren’t hurried to leave. Ben was lying next to you, one hand behind his head the other holding his phone. You were on your side, watching him, eyes furrowed in thought.

           “What?” Ben asked, not looking over at you.

           “Huh?”

           “You’re looking at me.”

           “Oh, I um…”

           “(Y/N).” He put down his phone a looked over at you.

You looked down, tracing your finger in your sheets. “You didn’t…” You sighed, feeling stupid. “You didn’t just ask me to Roger’s party cause you wanted to have sex with me, right?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and turned on his side. “I mean, that was part of it.” And with that you felt your heart breaking a little. Fuck. He didn’t actually like you. He just wanted to fuck you. “But not all of it. Actually, most of it is because I couldn’t get you out of my mind.” Your mouth parted slightly. “Your face, your voice, your laugh, for some reason, you were stuck. And then I saw you the next day and you… ya know.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, covering your face with your hand. 

“I’m an idiot, I hope you know that,” you told him, peaking through one of your fingers. “I saw you and wanted to talk to you but I panicked!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s okay, I wasn’t going to let you get away.” He continued. “But I knew I wanted to see you again. And I saw you at that other party. Then I kinda was just looking for sex… but I was hoping you’d stay that time, and I’d make you breakfast and get to know you.” He blushed. “But you had Cheryl, so I knew I had to get you to come with me. As my date, somewhere. “So when Rog told me about this party, I knew I had to take you and the rest is history.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to lay down on his chest. 

You snuggled into his side, looping your leg with his. “Well, maybe we can make breakfast together tomorrow morning.”

“You won’t leave me again?” he asked, looking down at you. 

You crawled up to him and connected your lips in a soft, heartfelt kiss. When you pulled back, Ben kept his eyes closed, a smile gracing his features. 

“Never.”

______________________________________________

Tagging people I think would enjoy/people I’d like to read: @redspecialty @sweet-ladyy @strangeandwonderfulconcepts @leah-halliwell92 @angiefangirlworld-2

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-03-12

I have been told only a few things about the upd8 that just landed, over Discord by two people:

upd19 feat. 4,901,157 read it. now. note: the featuring note is accurate if in a different base than what you might be expecting

What the fuck does that even mean.

Okay Pretty good chapter.

...from another friend who VERY dislikes HS^2?  Oh shit.

I also glimpsed a post that may or may not have been about Homestuck at all at the top of my Tumblr feed for an instant that said “YES YES YES YES YES” in huge bold print.  I have no idea whether to be excited or nervous.

Okay, it’s not a Bonus update... let me comb through from an earlier page to be careful not to get a spoilerlook at the pagecount...

...huh.  That seems... like a conversation that would be up my alley, but not necessarily unique so far or worth all this crowing about.  I thought we were about to get Dirk-aliens with a full Horschestra backing... are we getting something else?

> CHAPTER 6. A Conversation Regarding Relevance

Hmmmmmmmm.  With the contrast between their reactions and this ominous buildup, there’s got to be a serious fun-twist coming.  Right?  --I’ll stop with that talk for the moment though.

space is vast. an unproductive statement, almost a tautology. [...]

Alright, that and the starry background are riffing the fuck off Star Trek.  Nice homage to Andrew’s roots.

the lives of the many are far too volatile and instinct-driven

Alt!Callie what the fuck are you doing.  This is intentional now.  You can’t play this off as “what’s a Star Trek”.

tautologies are, in general, reserved for stories. for narrative device. for finding new and inventive ways to tell an audience that which they already know.

God damnit she’s still doing it

neither of us ever able to convince the other of the righteousness of our stance. we were never meant to agree. it isn’t in our blood.

Blah blah overanalyzing classpect blah

when they scoff at my tautology ‘space is vast’, what do they really know? nothing. as far as any of them have experienced, space does not exist.

It’s still nice to see some real personality leak through on Alt!Callie.  We definitely know from her other self that she can develop quite a relatable and colorful one.  Have the years helped?

> ==>

dramantic pouse... ........

Also,

-look at that collar.  Damn, Callie, that is a collar

very few have stood and looked into the abyss, the true gulf of nothingness that spreads out around the single point of consciousness adrift in a constellation. all the combined weight of sentient endeavour would quail underneath that sheer, irresistible truth. the realization that they are so small, that the universe cares about their puny lives so very little. sitting in the glowing light of the stars this becomes even more apparent

In the official aspect quiz I never took the time to analyze, the aspects were put on a wheel where Space was a neighbor to Void, if I recall correctly.  I wonder how much those aspects engender feelings of goddamnit I’m doing it again aren’t I

...

are we out of orange juice?

Yesss let more personality Alt!Callie bleed through, more of it~

Wait, does Alt!Callie even taste through Jade?  Isn’t this remote control?  Is she vicariously drawing pleasure from Jade’s not-just-meat-or-candy mostly-human taste buds or?

> ==>

JADE: are you talking to me? JADE: because if you are i would like to remind you that i hate!! orange juice!!

OH FUCK YES!!! SHE’S IN THERE AND AWAKE!!! SHE STILL HAS AT LEAST ENOUGH AGENCY TO BE PRESENT AND ARGUE WITH CALLIE! YESSSSSS

no you don’t.

JADE: well i guess i never really had a strong opinion on it before JADE: but now i cant stand it!! JADE: its all you drink!

i like the pulp.

QUIT INADVERTANTLY FORCING SHIT ON JADE WITH NARRATIVESPEAK GIVE HER A BIT OF LEEWAY ALT!CALLIE YOU CONTROLLING--

JADE: its my body and i dont want orange juice! JADE: i hate pulp, and i didnt just make that up to spite you JADE: who wants strings in their juice?

i do.

JADE: ughhhhhhhhh

I have had friends hopefully fantasize about and/or therapeutically roleplay this exact situation with Jade breaking through and arguing with Alt!Callie’s control to make this all a fair bit more palatable but I didn’t dare to hope we’d get even THIS much

Maybe the HS^2 authors DO care about not leaving us wallowing in hopeless witness to the characters’ constant torture and existential turbosuffering!!!! :#D

i realize that jade’s situation is less than ideal from a characterization perspective, but i still politely point out that nobody likes a whiner.

Fuck you, this isn’t CALIBORN you’re trying to repress you asshole!  Leave Jade some AGENCY!!!!!  She deserves it!!

JADE: fuck you rude calliope inside my head!

YES EXACTLY

JADE: why dont you try being possessed by the spirit of some other version of a good friend of yours, and floated around a spaceship full of people you love JADE: unable to affect anything or say hello to anyone! JADE: then tell me about whiners!

i killed my brother and consumed him.

JADE: sounds like a you problem

Compromise and give her some agency finally come on compromise and give her some agency you red-text twatwaffle

i suggest to the witch that i have spent untold eons in the void between universes, waiting for the moment i would be needed to prevent the dissipation of reality as we know it. her appeals to emotion will not help her. i will remain unmoved.

Oh god damnit.

JADE: well i had to watch my boyfriend and my brother die in front of me on a tiny scaled version of a world that i shrunk for them! JADE: and then spend the next three years talking to myself, wracked with guilt that id killed them!

Oh. God. Damnit.  This had better not be where the Suicide trigger warning was coming from.  Are there going to be any characters left who DIDN’T emerge from this mess feeling suicidal?!?  (I mean if there were any understandable case it would be three years alone on the golden ship Jade but-- I mean COME ON, we have to discuss that in our FIRST GLIMPSE at her since the epilogues?!?)

> ==>

i remind the witch that my time was in the void, which is far darker and lonelier [...]

Oh fuck you don’t compare suffering as an excuse to COMPLETELY body-enslave and squash the agency of someone when you probably don’t have to.  You’re just doing what’s COMFORTABLE alt!Callie admit it.  There’s a way you could give her some leeway, I’m almost positive.

JADE: even if i had the powers of a first guardian, my brain still worked in modules of human pattern recognition! JADE: three years is a long time for a human teenager, i dont care how many of her molecules are made of a god!

(i love it when jade talks smart, that bit of the epilogues was a treat too, plz reveal more of the big brain on jade)

It seems Jade can’t see or quite understand the full import of there being a “narrative”.  Or THINKS she cant, because she still says:

JADE: your voice is impossible to read and i cant see your face

If she’s “reading” alt!Callie’s remarks, that means she’s breaking through to understand the narrative to SOME extent.  She might be one of the ones who learns to do that a little more and better in the future, especially with alt!Callie almost unintentionally training her to see it.

> ==>

Oh, good.  So A!C’s not above being considerate.  That’s a step in the right direction.

> ==>

D’aww, Jade conceding and trying to empathize like her usual self.  I appreciate it.  :)  --but Alt!Callie’s definitely in the wrong here.

JADE: but i think it is a very natural thing to be silly when you are used to being able to control your own body, but now cant

i will allow that, yes.

Thanks.  Learn some damned reason.

jade smiles. dave and karkat will always be a source of pain for her, a low ache somewhere in her center of gravity, but she is happy for them. she knows that there is really no other alternative for how to be. they chose each other over her, and they always will. they are the two people who matter to her the most in every universe, and that will not change, no matter how much she wishes it would, no matter how--

JADE: do you actually know that?

pardon me?

Oh, shit.

JADE: do you actually know that im doomed to pine over dave and karkat across every iteration of reality? JADE: like, can you actually see that? JADE: because youre a space player, like i am. JADE: i know that you are more powerful than me, but i dont think you can see other timelines any better than i can JADE: so i think you are just being dramatic JADE: for the “audience”, whatever the heck that means

i experience a moment of unease as jade looks at me. keeping her out of my thoughts is proving to be more difficult than i had first assumed it would be.

That’s a damned interesting question.  I was giving the narrative the benefit of the doubt, but given everything the Epilogues warned us about when it came to the narrators and alt!Callie’s occasional slips into her own bias, I really should have known better.

i had begun confident that i could keep her consciousness sleeping peacefully inside the shell of her body, tamed and quiescent, but she has proved to be more irascible than i initially gave her credit for.

JADE: heheh JADE: i have never been particularly tamable, and my consciousness is huge!

This might end up playing out more like my friend’s Jade-breaks-out roleplays than I initially assumed.  (What does she mean “huge consciousness” though?  Superpowered due to part-First-Guardian, like she alluded earlier in the conversation?  That never got much play before, so it’s great to see that potential realized here a bit...)

> ==>

...I’m a fucking idiot.  Of COURSE “huge consciousness” and the whole line around it was just an unsubtle double-entendre.  A small part of me actually wondered if it was and dismissed it as a clumsy reading in an instant.  How stupid am I?  Jade is the best.

If only this sort of thing worked on Cherubs.

> ==>

Yeah.  It really doesn’t.

...Alt!Callie, you are a fucking war-criminal for bottling all these double-entendres up where none of the others can appreciate them.

> ==>

JADE: you are a pretty tough crowd, evil callie JADE: but yes, i can hear most of what you are thinking to yourself JADE: it took a little while to separate it from my own thoughts, just like it did with dirk JADE: because thats what he was doing the whole time, wasnt it? JADE: controlling our thoughts JADE: making us believe things we never would, things he thought we SHOULD believe

Fucking excellent.  She’s definitely training herself on this shit.  The more people who have a harder time getting fooled by this nonsense the better.

jade knows all of this, i don’t have to tell her. she is a very bright girl, and even if she didn’t have partial access to my thoughts, she is good at compiling data and using it to fill in gaps. as she herself had rather licentiously mentioned, her brain is quite large.

C:

and all of these reasons are why i know i can count on her to be reasonable and realistic about her situation. i need a body to continue interfacing with this timeline, and her body is the only one that will do.

Dammit.  Trying to get her to logic her way back into keeping Alt!Callie in complete control.  That’s a tactic that will probably work.  :(

what about [kanaya], jade? she is a space player, it is true, but her powers are nothing compared to yours. for one, she isn’t god tier, and for two, she is dead. a living dead, but dead nonetheless.

Hm.  Are you saying she maybe has less relevance, less of an effect on her surroundings because she spent some of her “cred” on unconventional partial resurrection?  To the extent where she’d make a less influential vessel?  Hmm.

For that to even matter, you have to be planning to use Jade’s Space powers too.  Taking a far more active role in things than narrative beacon.

and a sylph’s specializations lie on a different end of the spectrum from my own. a witch is a far closer match.

!!!!!

Sounds like details of the classpect system that we don’t know will have relevance in HS^2, and we’re indeed gonna possibly get some actual new, clearer details about the system Andrew invented unlike the dearth of new info the Epilogues brought us.  That is... promising.

no, jade understands and sympathizes with my assurance that her body, and her body alone, will do for my purposes.

JADE: um...no i dont!

YES.  Jade is now officially immune to absolute command! :D :D :D

she does. after all, she would not wish this sort of state of being on anyone else, and especially not on one of her friends. jade may have undergone a lopsided number of narrative hardships in her life, but at least she is used to them. why spread that suffering to another?

What the fucking shit???  You’re using that on her?  You think it’ll WORK?!

jade understands and accepts her place in the story, which has always been to enable events to play out around her, just as it has been mine.

..........yeah Jade’s gonna bust the fuck out on the very next page, isn’t she.

What the fuck is Alt!Callie thinking, here?  Wasn’t the other Calliope the one to let us know that the Witch is one of the most active classes there is??  ...what exactly does a Witch officially do anyway, for Alt!Callie to think saying such a thing wasn’t dead wrong?  This sounds MUCH more like the sort of statement someone might make after breezing through Homestuck and confusing the old Jade (cough) for the person she grew up into.

And the fact that you’re phrasing this as a narrative command to try and make her forcibly THINK this way deserves you a smack in the non-literal depictive face.  Let’s see if you get one:

> ==>

Oh wow, no smack yet?!  That’s some restraint!

because what is a story, truly? nothing but a series of misadventures and connections, actions spurring reactions, tumbling into one another, over and over and over. with so many competing interests, clearly the story cannot account for all perspectives, for all threads? it would be laughable, childish, even selfish, to demand that they do.

in other words, not everyone will achieve a happy ending. this is a truth that jade had come to grips with a long time ago.

JADE: wait. JADE: stop. JADE: why are you saying all of this?

Ohh.  Because she still had even MORE smackworthy stuff left to say, to make the smack even SMACKIER, didn’t she.  Alt!Callie you asshole.  If this gets you kicked out of her almost entirely and jeopardizes the crew as Jade struggles to combat Dirk’s narrative influence on her OWN, then I’m fucking blaming YOU!  Do you realize how horrible it’ll be if Dirk gets to almost singlehandedly write the whole story around her and the others for the first section of HS^2 with only one or two characters aware and trying to mentally avert it??  We already TRIED that in the Epilogues!  It was awful!

jade’s body is my vessel, and it is through this realization that she will understand her true role in the story. her true relevance.

Go fuck yourself, Alt!Callie.  Read the audience a bit!

if i released my hold on her consciousness, there would be no guarantee that i would be allowed in again. therefore i cannot permit her the control of herself that she so desperately craves, and she understands that.

THAT’S your reasoning your used-to-surpressing-Caliborn ignorant--!??

JADE: wait. so...you could give me my body back, and then just hop back in when you need to?

in theory, yes.

JADE: then what the hell callie!

because i don’t trust you to cooperate when the time comes.

MotherfuckerTheMusical.mp4

(or real existing equivalent that’s just off the top of my head)

JADE: why not? JADE: i thought you said i was a reasonable girl with a huge brain!

you are, to an extent.

she is. but the truth of the matter remains that humans are capricious and emotional. and even jade herself can admit that she hasn’t been the most...committed example of her species in the last few years.

Oh my fucking god.  I know they’re trying to make this more satisfying when she actually DOES take control in a few panels, but, Alt!Callie, seriously, get more on your other self’s level!!!

> ==>

Yes, please >:O some more

moving from lover to lover, job to job, interest to interest. over the last few years jade had found herself listless, unable to settle and unwilling to commit to anything or anyone. she knows there’s nothing wrong with that on a moral level, but on a personal level she’s always believed that she could be more, could do better. be better. and now, because of this, she realizes that sacrifices must be made.

and that she, as a space player, is uniquely built for sacrifice.

JADE: yeah JADE: i guess youre right JADE: i have been such a silly little slut! JADE: hey callie

yes, jade?

JADE: oh my god, whats that!!!!

You are so fucking screwed Alt!Callie.

this space is utterly under my control. jade could control it too, if she had any access to her own powers. but with my grip around her cortex, there is no chance of that.

(Wait, there’s an extent to which this space is “real” and not imaginary?  Or does holding her space powers in check also mean keeping her imaginary space powers in check?)

Anyway, here comes the smack.  And, though Alt!Callie deserves this, I hope Dirk isn’t let in too often amidst the others as a result.

> ==>

Yup, poising to pounce...

> ==>

I thought there was a weird infinity symbol underneath them but it’s just two spotlights and a shadow cast by her head.

and here i make my first mistake.

No you made your first mistakes WAAAY earlier in this conversation.  And what you did to Jade in general.  She’s a hero/player for a reason, she doesn’t take stuff lying down forever.

but bringing her into a place where we can both physically manifest has left me, foolishly, vulnerable.

First, physically manifest?  This isn’t pure imaginationspace?  And second, she’s going to blame her polite concession to Jade for this and hold on even tighter the next time, isn’t she.  God damnit, not looking forward to that.  Alt!Callie won’t learn her lesson til the end, will she?  :(

her fingers tear at my throat, trying to find purchase. she won’t be able to kill me here, but it is certainly unpleasant, and not to mention slightly repetitive. we just saw this in the previous chapter, although this particular fight will not end as amorously as the last one did. so don’t get your hopes up.

JADE: who! JADE: are you talking to!

I really hope Jade ends up with full narrative powerOOOOOHHHH FUCK THEY COULD GO FOR THAT HUH

Dirk was able to become an Ultimate Self in his own body because it was the uniting of an irrepressible “self” that he always unbreakably represented.  The others had more trouble.

But Jade

has a BIG PART-GOD BRAIN as reinforced in the narrative repeatedly!!

Meaning that later, SHE could Ultimate Self without ANY PHYSICAL CONSEQUENCE.  :D

I was hoping Jade would end up with full narrative-dictating-and-reading power when she wants to use it, at some point, but I might’ve been aiming too low! :D :D :D

Yaaaaaaaaaaaay

Now all the playfully-horny omnipotent Jade fanfics are true, what that totally isn’t part of why I love this go ahead and admit she doesn’t deserve it

> ==>

Yesss flashy gif struggle against control!  (Though, not as elegant as one of Andrew’s might’ve been. Gotta say.)

> ==>

Blinky-eyes about to resolve normal-Jade-colored....!

> ==>

Wait, what?  I thought Jade was about to snap in and--

during the ship’s trip through space, there have been numerous experiments; modifications to the nutrition output of the various machines designed to create sustenance for the various species on board. i myself have been content with orange juice and synthetic proteins, but dave and roxy have both expressed longing for various ‘earth snacks’, and so the trials and errors began.

What the fuck?  I don’t even know where this is going if it’s punways.

Is there like a dog treat somewhere that’s gonna push her over the edge?  Where is this headed even.

> ==>

Wh...

WHa??????

the results were mixed. as roxy told us in a previous chapter, alchemized food all sort of tastes the same, although the visuals really help to bring about the flavor. and at the end of the day, isn’t it the journey that is more important than the destination? the stories you tell as you create the strangely flavored nutritional paste?

JADE: ????????????

Um??  What’s even going on.

so far, everyone’s favorite attempt has been a vaguely peanut-butter and chocolate flavored creation called "Rices'". nobody eats them really. they just sit in a bowl on the counter.

i’m not actually sure what the witch is trying to accomplish here.

Is Jade trying to humorously gross Alt!Callie out of her body with a candy she doesn’t like or?  But, “suicide threat”? Why joke--

JADE: you dont? JADE: really?

i don’t know what she is trying to accomplish, because surely she would not be doing what it appears she is trying to do. making such a meaningless threat.

JADE: meaningless? JADE: do you even know anything about the body you stole? JADE: shouldnt you have run some sort of psychic physical before you possessed it? JADE: its definitely what i would have done!

Oh SHIT.  You mean Jade has the same peanut allergy JOHN does?!?

> ==>

jade must know that i am well-aware of her family-wide peanut allergy. a story thread that has been extremely important and weighed in on in multiple parts of the narrative. how could i have forgotten such a key detail?

...yes, she totally forgot, but more than that.

I’m betting John is the ONLY one with a peanut allergy.  That Jade is USING that fact to bluff like hell.  :D

(Allergies aren’t usually inherited that way you alien!)

there is nothing remotely just or heroic about dying from self-imposed anaphylactic shock in the throes of a childish tantrum. at the most i’ll get a relaxing few minutes of sleep.

Is Alt!Callie bluffing now?  Even a resurrecting death could throw her off.

> ==>

FUCK YES JADE.

JADE: do you really want to risk it?

what are you talking about, jade? i just said--

FUCK YES JADE, BE A HUGE WITCH

(i say in the most witch-connotatively and non-classpect-related way)

JADE: i dont know, callie JADE: ive never really understood the rules that govern the death of a god tier, have you? JADE: it seems pretty arbitrary from where im standing JADE: who makes the decision whether or not something is heroic or just?

...that’s unclear. but it certainly isn’t you.

JADE: right, of course not JADE: but are you so confident that youre a good guy? JADE: are you sure that the alpha timeline WANTS you to be here?

...what.

JADE: youve done some stuff, callie JADE: im only saying you shouldnt be so quick to assume that me killing you wouldnt be just JADE: and that taking my own life to do it wouldnt be heroic

Even with JUST this one fucking situation Alt!Callie put her in, throwing off her control forever by dying would be shortsighted but HELLA JUST.  What Alt!Callie is doing to her is a crime.

Oh shit!?!?

> [S] ==>

What is this, HTML5?  *clicks play*

...for a second, I thought this was gonna launch into a huge thing with that clock ticking song from the Felt album.

Having Rose and Dirk’s colors competing here really reinforces that... Prospit vs Derse vibe that was feeding the whole this-is-the-basis-for-the-game’s-structure-and-the-birth-of-Paradox-Space theory more earlier.

> ==>

i don’t let the witch manipulate me. i refuse to falter in the face of her whispers. without my careful planning and swift action, the prince would have taken full control over this timeline. none of my friends could even begin to imagine the turmoil.

In the end, you’re ignoring what’s right and brave in this instance to instead do something EXPEDIENT, to the exclusion of trust and compassion when things COULD work out just as well without taking the worst actions -- which is textbook villainous.

> ==>

JADE: they arent your friends!! JADE: you took them from me!

Now isn’t THAT a way to put it. :D :D :D

Alt!Callie is sinning almost as badly as Dirk, here.  Viewing everyone else as characters in a story, the only way she’s ever viewed “friends”, and her as the not-so-humble narrator doing what’s best for all of them.  If she’s going to win against Dirk -- or if that victory is going to MEAN anything -- she will HAVE to realize that she needs to be different.

JADE: you keep saying that youre doing all of this for my own good, but youre just lonely! JADE: i know you are, because so am i!

Ouch.

Will Alt!Callie force her to swallow it?

JADE: you said that being a space player is all about sacrifice JADE: well

> ==>

JADE: bet

...I guess she really might have an allergy.

> ==>

Aaaand the candy drops.  A W A K E ! ! ! !

Yaaaaay Jade is BACK and we’ll get to see even more of her!!!

...please tell me on the next page she grabs the candy, noms it, and mentions she doesn’t have a peanut allergy after all.  That would be sweet.

> ==>

...

Nope, you just leave us on a sad.  Dammit, why do you gotta be all adult and showin’ us both sides in a moment of triumph, HS^2.  Shucks.

Anyway, YAY JADE!  C:

I am happy by this, if slightly too emotionally-rollercoastered by the past 24-hours to give this the full-rejoicing it deserves.  That, and worried about the openings Dirk will get because of this... joy now for potential frustration later, even if Jade tries her best to let Alt!Callie back in in-time.

See y’all next time!  And, uhm.  I guess I’ll comment on whatever other asks I promised to comment on another less-eventful day.  Keep reminding me and holding me to it though!

[oh-theatre]

Teach Me

A/N: I have no idea where this came from, also yes I like Moceit don't judge they're precious bbys. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and I'm a big sorry. Also, I apologize for the shortness, it didn't have much. Basically, I like to think my boi ™ can dance and my other boi ™ wanted to learn. 

summary: Patton can't sleep, he needs to do something so he goes to Deceit for help, help dancing that is

words: 1134

warnings: Pretty sure its just fluff but maybe swearing. oh and sympathetic Deceit

Ao3 Link

@jessibbb id like to formally apologize but here's the random idea I had kinda fledged out??

Patton should've stayed in bed. But oh no, his mind was racing, flooding his every try with thoughts. Thought, singular, to be precise. The thought of opening his door, marching softly mind you, down the hall to...his room. Patton should have stayed lying on his bed, staring absently at the dull roof. But instead, Patton jumped out of his bed and decided to go down the hall, the blank hall. Passing Logan's quiet room, Romans bursting one, Virgil's mysterious one and whatever Remus’s was and mark his spot right outside of Deceits room.

“Dee?” He whispers softly through the crack of the door, he hears light shuffling before the door opens wide. Patton might melt, the sophisticated side looked adorable. Wrapped in a yellow blanket, his hair recovering from the hat he constantly wears, and his eyes shining with tired adoration.

“Good morning Patton, can I help you?” He questions groggily. Patton stifles a soft chuckle.

“It's the middle of the night” Patton informs, Deceit sighs nodding, an ‘Ah’ of realization escaping his mouth.  “And...nevermind” Patton shakes his head, bouncing on his heels. He goes to leave but feels warm arms take his own. He faces Deceit once more.

“Patton, is everything alright?” Deceit inquires carefully. Patton nods, waving him off.

“Of course, oh no everythings fine it's just…” he fails to meet Deceit's eyes “Oh this is so stupid. I just had...a teensy weensy request” He barely whispers. Deceit sighs, waiting.

“Patton... “ He moans, not maliciously, never...not for...not for Patton. He's just exhausted, it had, in all honesty, been a very long day. He had starred in yet another ‘Sanders Sides’ video and it had been...less than ideal. It wasn't anyone's fault in particular, sure the others...contributed but Deceit just couldn't seem to get his point across. Logan had been a competent debate partner, Roman was just so… much, Remus was...whatever he was, and Virgil still had his reservations about the so-called dark side. Funnily enough, Patton was the only one willing to listen.

“Will you teach me to dance?” He finally asks. Deceit lets go laughing, he's not sure if it's genuinely funny or if he's delusionally tired. “Don't laugh at me! Y-you mentioned earlier today that you liked dancing, and had been practicing and I was just-” he rambles but Deceit holds up a finger.

“I'm not laughing at you, I promise. And...you...you remembered that?” He smirks coyly, he honestly hadn't assumed anyone was listening or cared when he mentioned his growing passion for the art.

“Mmhm” Patton hums in response, Deceit stops, he smiles, genuinely for the first time that day. “It's stupid I know…”

“No, no, I would…” Deceit begins “I'd like to teach you, but I must warn you I'm not the best yet” Deceit advises gesturing for the moral side to enter his room. Patton does so without any qualms. Deceit feels an exciting churn in his stomach as he quietly closes the door.

“I'm sure you're wonderful Dee!” Patton chimes, examining the room. “It's very nice in here, warm...and aesthetically pleasing” Patton decides, Deceit smiles politely furiously trying to stop his blush.

“Thank you Patton” He manages, he removes his blanket revealing his even cuter pajamas. Patton's not sure how much more he can handle. “Shall we begin?” Patton nods excitedly, Deceit extends his hand. Patton takes it hoping his nervousness isn't noticeable. “Ok...so you're going to…” Deceit sighs trying to remember, he had it perfectly before but can't for the life of him remember now.

“Do I do..this?” Patton wonders wrapping a delicate hand around Deceit's waist. Oh damn, Deceit thinks as his face only increases in a deep crimson.

“Yes...you do that and I…” He takes a deep breath, placing his own hand where Patton's arm rest “Do that” he hopes, he didn't realize he would be this nervous. “Maybe we should have music...like really quiet” He offers, Patton smiles taking a step back. Whether he knew it or not, giving Deceit a moment to breathe. He goes over to his old style record player, placing a soft melody on. Patton swoons almost tripping over his pajama pants.

“Oh, I love this!” He exclaims delighted, Deceit exhales softly. He can do this…

“Since the male typically leads, I will do the male part” Deceit explains, it sounds stupid but that's just how it works. Patton nods. “Okay so...I'll place my hand here” He shows by placing one on Patton's waist this time, a tickle runs down Patton. He's just ticklish, it's not his fault. “And...may I have your hand again?” He requests, Patton giggles.

“I don't know Dee, I think I might need that part of my body” Patton jokes, Deceit debates whether to sigh or laugh. “Sorry” He rushes, taking Deceit's hand in his own “Now what?”

“Now you place your hand on my shoulder” Patton does just that. “Ok...ready?” Patton nods “Alright follow me” He tells, slowly Deceit begins to dance. Patton does his best to follow but he's quite tired and not nearly as graceful as Deceit. “You're doing great” Deceit lies, and Patton can tell.

“I'm not but thank you” Patton takes it anyway, Deceit chuckles repeating the same few steps hoping Patton will catch on. After a moment he does and Deceit moves on to the next combination. Soon enough it becomes it's on beautiful routine, Patton does everything just right and the two literally dance around the room. As if the pieces fit, they follow the song, the music blend perfectly together. Sure, Patton slips up a few times and Deceit does too but that's the fun. Tripping over each other, laughing at their mistakes, and adding their own creative twist.

Never in a million years did Deceit think this, out of all things, would become a routine he would come to look forward too. Sharing the moment late in the night with the sweet moral side, dancing around his room, both trying to hide their inevitable blushes. Don't think it did not transfer into their everyday life. To the point where the two would end up giggling uncontrollably at the breakfast table, much to the confusion of the others.

Patton should've stayed in bed, but he's immensely glad he neglected a few hours of sleep for many nights of endless wonderment and fun. Patton shouldn't have walked down the hall past every possible side, settling on Deceit, but he's glad he did. He's glad he landed outside of his door that night. Because now, every night, on the dot, the pair...in their pajamas would dance around for hours before promptly collapsing on the bed and spending the rest of the night just...enjoying one another's company.

[loserholland]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝟎𝟎𝟒 ➺ 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

Pairing ➺ Peter Parker x Reader

Warning ➺ bold text (peter’s thoughts) italics (reader’s thoughts) peter being smol when trying to introduce himself to Vivian.

Word Count ➺ 2,759

Summary ➺ She always thought he felt the same way, yet I guess she was wrong.

A/N ➺ So sorry for the late update, I’ve had a writers block and been very busy with Stuco! enjoy chapter 4

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand@taronxfiction @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou@babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @caro0512 @thewinchesterchronicles @cporter003 @kisses-holland @spideysnugget @cryszus @sunflowerharrystyles @peterunderoos @jessybellsworld @spider-mendes

@themarvelmaniacsworld

@ivegotparticulartaste

@yulisaangelica

@oyoke

@buckloveshisplums

@spideysimpossiblegirl

Song

☞  Masterlist  ☜

𝘞𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦

(Y/N) blinked a few times, Peter was standing right in front of her. She shut the door in panic moving to stand in the middle of the room, “Wake up.” she mumbled shutting her eyes tightly. Peter stood there for a moment taking in what just happened. He didn’t dare to move though, he stood there shifting his weight from one foot to another.

She moved back to open the door taking in Peter’s appearance. Was this real? Or was this another stupid dream? Another dream that gave her a reason to stop hoping? She lifted her hand slightly wanting to touch his arm, to just feel that this was reality. That he was actually here. 

“Hi.”

"What are you doing here Peter?”

He felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. (Y/N) didn’t realize she said it so harshly, really she didn’t. There was just so much happening. Alex would show up at any minute, Peter shows up unannounced and who know’s when Vivian would get back. 

“I-”

Before Peter could finish his sentence he could see in his peripheral vision someone walking towards them with a box a chocolates and flowers in hand. Maybe this guy was just passing by to get to another dorm, but he noticed how (Y/N) was dressed. 

“Hey, am I interrupting?”

Yes you are, now leave please.

“Uh no no, Alex this is Peter. Peter, Alex.”

(Y/N) awkwardly took the box of chocolates and flowers from Alex moving to place it on her desk and grabbed her purse. Alex extended his hand, Peter gave him a firm grip with an small smile.

Look’s like a football player.

“Peter you can um, wait here for now. We’ll talk when I get back.”

Peter moved into the dorm watching as the door closed, he waited a few seconds before getting up to look out into the hallway watching as the two walked away. 

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺

He shut the door lightly leaning against it before he sunk down to the floor.

See? You ignored your feelings. You let her walk away. Now? She found someone new.

Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket, hastily unlocking it to call May. The line began to ring, he ran his fingers through his brunette locks tugging on them lightly. 

“Hey Peter how i-”

“May.” Peter whispered leaning his head against the dorm door shutting his eye tightly.

May silently ushered him on, she could hear the hurt in his voice. She didn’t need to see him to see how sad he was.

“I-I think she found someone new... but why does it hurt? We never dated. Why does it feel like my heart is being torn into two?”

She knew how much he loved her, pretty sure everyone did. Beside him and (Y/N). She showed her love as much as she possibly could, in hopes that he’d return it. Peter, even with his ‘Peter tingles’ was beyond clueless and blind. 

"Peter, just think about this. That feeling? Of your heart being torn into two? (Y/N) felt that for nearly a year and a half.”

𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺

Peter didn’t realize he ended up sleeping on (Y/N) bed, what gave it away that it was her bed? Well the same bear he had given her for her sixteenth birthday sat in the corner. After talking to May he had moved over to her bed and allowed sleep to consume him. 

Vivian had just gotten home, and without needing any need of ID or a birth certificate she knew who he was. (Y/N) hadn’t texted her or anything. But from the many pictures (Y/N) had with him, she knew who he was. 

He had this feeling, that feeling when someone is watching you. She watched him stir around the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Peter’s eyes widened at the person who was standing at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest and a brow raised.

“H-hi I’m P-”

Vivian raised her hand up causing Peter to stop mid sentence, “I know who you are Peter Parker. Now what bring’s you to the city of Angels?”

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line looking down at his lap for a second.

Because I love (Y/N).

I want to make things right between us, the fact that I let her walk out of my life all because she had feelings for me?

I’m an idiot for letting her go like that, my life has been so incomplete. I never really knew the reason why till I came across the watch she had given me when during Christmas. 

I miss being able to talk to her, text her, just being with her. 

Vivian sniffled softly looking away from Peter, he looked up in confusion did he just say everything out loud?

“You know Peter, it sucked. It sucked to see (Y/N) so sad. When I first met her she was crying over this-” she moved to pick up the photo that rested on her desk the Christmas photo. 

“-when I first met her Peter. There were nights when she just laid there and stared at her phone smiling only to end up crying. Why now Peter? Why now is it that you finally realized that you love her as much as she loves you?”

That was a good question, Vivian didn’t mean to come off so aggressive. (Y/N) was finally moving on, letting the past go. At least that’s what (Y/N) tried to convince her of, she could see that she didn’t want to move on just yet. But she was also hurting herself and holding on to every last strand of hope. 

She has seen her fair share of her friends going through this similar situation, in which she learned why. Why it takes boys so long to finally come to the truth with their feelings. 

"You’re afraid.”

Peter looked up in confusion, why would he be afraid of someone he’s know for almost five years? 

“You think she’ll break your heart. That’s exactly why you’re afraid of her. She could make you happy. And you know being happy is the most terrifying thing in the universe. Once you’re happy it can be taken from you.”

And there it was. 

He was afraid of the fact that, if he messed up. If he made the slightest mistake, his happiness could be taken from him. When he and Mj had broken up, he didn’t feel as sad as he thought he would. Because he knew they’d still be friends. But when him and (Y/N) stopped talking, it was as if he was stabbed a thousand times.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺

“So, are you and Peter?” 

(Y/N) tensed at the question looking down at the floor on the Santa Monica Pier boardwalk, “You and Peter?” huh never thought she’d get that type of question before. 

“He’s my best friend,” 

Use to be.

“He’s visiting for the weekend.”

Is he though?

“Cool, cool. Wanna go on the west coaster?”

(Y/N) nodded following where ever he was going, Santa Monica was beautiful. It’s like when you see it in movies, and when you finally get to see it for yourself it makes it even beautiful. 

She heard her phone ringing, reaching into her purse to see Vivian was calling her. 

I hope you didn’t forget your keys.

“Hey, did you forge-”

“So Peter Parker is here, and you still go on a date with Alex?”

(Y/N) shut her eyes lightly, “I didn’t think you’d be back any time soon.”

“Well I wasn’t going to be rude and cancel at the last minute!”

Vivian scoffed lightly, yes I know at first Vivian was not on #TeamPeter but. But after their conversation there was a slight change in who she was rooting for.

“Didn’t you also say and I quote ‘Fuck Peter! Alex will treat you better!’?”

She got her there, silence moved over the call before Vivian responded “I’ve had a change of heart.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes lightly “Yeah yeah, talk later.” she ended the call putting her phone on vibrate before sliding into the roller-coaster seat.

Just enjoy the moment.

𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳? 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳? 𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳

The last ride of the night was the ferris wheel, infamous for couple’s who are dating or on their first date to have their first kiss. I know so cliche, but it was also cute.

(Y/N) looked peeked over to see how high up they had gotten, nothing she wasn’t use to. Night’s when her and Peter would sit on the edge of the building letting their legs dangle and talk about anything and everything.

The sound of the waves washing over the sand was calming, the smell of sea salt mixing with the freshly popped popcorn. It was an odd combination, yet it was calming.

“You look beautiful.” Alex spoke over the sound of the roller-coaster roaring past filled with scream and laughter.

“Thank you, you look great.” (Y/N) answered awkwardly, brushing the hair that flew in her face as the breeze continued to pass on by.

𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘐'𝘮 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦

Alex draped his hand over her shoulder sliding a little closer to her, this was all part of the cliché kiss on the ferris wheel. (Y/N) turned her head slightly to see how close Alex was, this was the chance.

Kiss him.

She could feel his breath fanning over her lips, one slight movement and there lips would touch. Just one slight movement.

Kiss him!

There was a bit of hesitation though, the devil on her shoulder urged her to kiss him chanting “Lean in!” or “Do it!”. Her mind told her to just kiss him, to not think about Peter. 

But the angel told her “It won’t feel right, don’t do it.” Her heart begged her to not kiss him, if she kissed him she would be hurting Peter. If she kissed him, that doesn’t mean her feelings for Peter would disappear. 

“Sorry.” (Y/N) mumbled pulling away from Alex fixing her gaze on her lap.

Now I look like a bitch.

“No, no I should be the one to apologize.” Alex mumbled burying his face into his hands.

No no no! Dammit!

“Alex no please you shouldn’t apologize.”

He looked up at her, he knew she had feelings for Peter. The entire evening she seemed to be so distant or deep in thought, he didn’t blame her though. She didn’t feel the same way, doesn’t mean he should force her to. You should never force someone to do something they don’t want to do.

“You have feelings for Peter..”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak yet nothing came out, Alex sighed lightly before continuing.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, I won’t force you to feel the same way as I do for you. But we can continue to be friends, I enjoy your company.”

She smiled lightly leaning forward to give him a big hug catching him a bit off guard and for the pod to rock back and forth lightly. She wished she had told Peter that, if she had told him that maybe they’d still be friends and going to MIT. 

His brows furrowed in confusion as worry began to run through his veins when he heard her sniffle, “What’s wrong?” he questioned pulling away to brush the freshly fallen tears. 

(Y/N) smiled “Thank you for tonight and for understanding Alex.” he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, “If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here.”

𝘍𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘨, 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘨 𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶?

By the time they had gotten back to campus it was nearly eleven, Alex had walked her to her dorm and bid her a good night before leaving to go to his dorm. (Y/N) unlocked her dorm to see Vivian was fast asleep while Peter was looking over her psychology text book. 

Peter fumbled around with the book shutting it close and placing it back on her desk, (Y/N) blinked a few times before letting out a small laugh “You could read it.” she locked the door behind her placing her purse onto her desk and kicked off her shoes. 

“I-I sorry I wasn’t going through your things!” 

(Y/N) hummed looking at the clock on her night stand, “Do you have your web-shooter?” Peter tugged at the cuff of his sweater holding it up in her direction “Wanna go stargazing?” 

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺

It wasn’t really stargazing, it was more of staring at the city lights of Los Angeles. The lights reminded her of New York, how so many buildings could outline the city. It was beautiful. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” (Y/N) mumbled taking in the fresh air, it was cool and crisp. Light chatter could be heard from below, student’s scurrying to their dorm before curfew or those sneaky out for the night.

“Reminds me of New York.” Peter responded placing his forearm against the top of the building taking in all the lights that lit up the night.

They stood there in silence taking in the night air and just being in each other’s company. Something they hadn’t done it such a long while. It felt good, to just stand there and be next to one another.

“I’m sorry.” Peter mumbled 

“I’m so sorry I pushed you away.”

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳? 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳?

“Peter-”

“Please, let me apologize?”

(Y/N) turned to look at him silently allowing him to continue on with his apology.

“The moment you left earlier, I called May. I told her that if felt as if my heart was being torn into two. And when she told me, to think about that feeling. To think about how you felt your heart being torn into two when you found out about Mj and I. At that time I was being-”

Selfish.

“-selfish. Nor was I a good friend, instead I ignored you for a year. It kills me that you wish you could take back what you told me. I should be the one wishing I could’ve told you that night that I love you. Yet, I lied to myself, telling myself that I had feelings for Mj. At least I thought I did.”

“Peter.” (Y/N) mumbled tears slowly began to blur her vision, she clutched onto the sweater she had thrown over.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us, for our friendship. For my love for you. I’m sorry for just ignoring you after being such an ass. I’m sorry I’m only now realizing that I love you. I always have, it’s just. I was to blind to see it. I hurt you so much, if I had a time machine I’d go back to undo it all.”

He took in a deep breath, pulling himself together for what he finally would apologize for.

“Finally, Vivian basically called me out on why I ignored you.. I’m sorry for being afraid.”

(Y/N) brows pinched in confusion, afraid? Of her?

“I’m sorry for being afraid to let you love me. It’s just, I don’t want to lose you. One day, we may never know my identity will be revealed and everyone will know who Spider-man is. All my enemies will go for the people I love. They’ll come for you. You (Y/N) (Y/L/N), make me so happy that I’m afraid it will be ripped out of my hands.”

Sooner or later everyone will know who hides under the mask of their friendly neighborhood Spider-man. And when that day comes, all his enemies will come for the people he loved most. The people he was afraid of loosing. 

“I’m afraid that if I’ll loose you forever. It scares me shitless (Y/N).”

Peter sobbed lightly hanging his head down low for her not to see the freshly fallen tears, she didn’t care she wrapped her arms around him squeezing him lightly.

“I’m right here, no one will take me away from you okay? I’m right here.” (Y/N) cooed as Peter wrapped his arms around her holding her as if there was no tomorrow. It felt good, it felt right.

“I forgive you Peter.”

𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳

[nationalhoranleague]

Two | Tomorrow

≫ Everly - Monday, October 26, 2015 ≪

"Casey!" Lillian screeched, tossing a green bean at my brother's face, hitting him smack-dab in the nose. "Don't be stupid!"

I glanced up at my father who sat with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at my two older siblings with a disapproving look. My mother sat next to him, her dainty hand trying to hide her smile. I always got a kick out of my parents, they were complete opposites, but they got along so well. You would think that after being with someone for thirty-three years that you would get tired of their antics, but my mother claimed to fall more and more in love with my father each day. I aimed for a relationship like theirs.

"How about you both stop being stupid?" My mother and I giggled as Casey and Lillian instantly stopped arguing to look at my father. Lillian settled back into her seat next to me while Casey wiped at his nose.

My father sighed and everyone was quiet for a moment, all of us eating, the only sound in the room was the clanking of silverware and the clock on the wall behind me ticking.

"Everly Grace," My mother addressed me, tapping on my plate with her fork. I swallowed and looked up at her. "How was practice today?"

I shrugged, now pushing chicken around on my plate. "Not great, I couldn't quite get out of my head today."

She sighed but shrugged her shoulders. "It's fine, it was only one practice, right?"

She had a point, it was only one practice. One bad practice is not the end of the world.

"You're always too hard on yourself, Ev," My dad chimed in. I looked up from my plate to see everyone's eyes on me. "Plus, you just had knee surgery in February, relax a little."

I felt my shoulders relax. My parents always knew how to find the right words to comfort me.

"Are the Penguins still practicing there?" Casey asked suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. It was almost like he knew that I had done nothing all day but replay my practice and seeing Sidney again in my head.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," I responded, keeping my eyes downcast on my plate. "I don't think our practices overlap, though."

"Really? I read somewhere that Crosby likes to come to practice extra early, usually around the time you finish up." Did he already know? Had a straggling member of the media seen the two of us together?

I coughed, attempting to clear my throat. "Interesting, I'll have to keep an eye out for him."

I glanced up at Casey, who seemed to not know a thing about me seeing Sidney today. I exhaled and allowed my eyes to search for everyone's eyes at the table. Everyone had their view downcast on their food, except for my dad who was wiggling his eyebrows at me, a suggestive look on his face.

Oh, boy.

Because my mom made dinner, my dad had to wash the dishes. I offered to help him as Lillian and Casey made excuses about how much work they needed to do, or how they needed to call their out-of-town fiancées.

It was quiet between us for a while, my hands dunked in soapy water as he dried the plates I handed him. He cleared his throat after he heard my mom turn on a recorded episode of Chicago Fire.

"You're a bad liar you know? You have a tell." He teased, nudging his elbow into my ribs, as he looked over at me with a smirk.

"I do not have a tell!" I argued out, my voice still in a whisper.

My dad laughed, his laugh was hearty and warm and always made me feel safe. "You look at the ceiling,"

I groaned and refused to look over at my dad. A pregnant pause hung in the air. "We've met before," I started. "In Raleigh, Eric Staal introduced us a few years ago."

I looked up to gauge the look on his face. His graying eyebrows were knitted together. "Sidney?"

I nodded, making a piece of hair fall into my eyes. I attempted to blow it back into place. "Crosby," I confirmed.

"So, you saw him again today?" He asked, trying to keep his voice low and calm. My dad was born and raised in Pittsburgh and had been a Penguins fan for as long as he could remember. He absolutely adored Sidney, as a fan of the game, of course.

"Yeah, we met again," I confessed. "He's a really nice guy, you know?" He nodded.

"Yeah, I've heard," He agreed, as I handed him the last clean plate to dry and put away.

"He, uh," I pulled the drain stop from the sink and shook my hands, watching the droplets of water fly from my fingertips and onto the window in front of me. I looked over at my father as I dried my hands, his eyes looked like they were ready to pop out of his head. "He's giving us tickets for tomorrow's game."

"Us?" My dad could barely get the word out.

"Yes, us," I responded, hanging up the dish towel to dry. "Me, you, and mom," I confirmed, causing a wide smile to come across his face.

"Can I meet him?" He was so quiet I almost didn't hear him over the dishes he was putting away clanking together.

I smiled. "I'm sure we can work something out." My dad nodded his head, clearly trying to keep calm. "But, we keep this a secret, between the three of us, deal?"

My dad continued to nod his head eagerly. "Of course." He pulled me into his arms for a hug and I got a strong whiff of his Tim McGraw cologne that he's been using since my mother bought it for him in 2008. "Have I ever told you-you're my favorite daughter?" I laughed but, nodded regardless. It was no secret.

I had just begun to doze off when my phone lit up on my bedside table next to me, the vibration against the wood startling me.

SC

It was so nice meeting you for real today!

Hey! Thanks again for the tickets, Sid!

Anytime. They'll be at will call under my name, they'll ask for your ID, but other than that, you should be all set.

:) We're all so excited! Can't wait to see you tomorrow!

Speaking of which, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to meet for lunch tomorrow before the game?

I would love to! Keep me updated on a time, I can meet you wherever and whenever I'm just unpacking my boxes tomorrow.

Meet me at the Iceoplex around 11?

That's great! See you tomorrow!

See you tomorrow, Ev.

I went to sleep with a grin on my face.

≫ Tuesday, October 27, 2015 ≪

I was shaking as I turned into the Iceoplex parking lot. I had to pee and my nerves in preparation to see Sidney were running high. I was parked there for a minute, just staring at the huge sign in front of the building that read 'Official Training Center of the Pittsburgh Penguins and Olympian Everly Cassius', before I forced myself out of the car and into the cold building. A small part of me wanted to run back to my car and forget about my plans with Sidney all together, but another part of me, a larger, more confident part, wanted to see Sidney. The confident Everly carried me to the front desk of the Iceoplex.

A larger woman behind the desk looked up at me as I propped my arms onto the counter. "Oh, Everly!" She all but screeched before standing up and rushing to hug me.

"It's good to see you too, Rita," I said with a laugh, as she pulled away from me. Rita had been working at the Iceoplex for as long as I could remember, in fact, she taught one of my skating lessons when I was younger. "How are you?" I asked as she walked back around to the other side of the desk and sat down.

"I'm lovely, how are you? How does it feel to be back in the city?" Rita asked me before she quickly turned behind her to look through the window that opened to the ice.

"I'm missing the warm North Carolina weather, but there's no place like home, right? Feels so good to be back." I explained to her as I gazed onto the ice myself. Her eyes followed mine, and she chuckled slightly.

"It's not an open practice today, but I think I'll allow you to be an exception. They're nearly done anyway." Rita said as she tapped a pen on the desk twice before pointing at the entrance to the ice with it.

I smiled, offered a wave, and then walked past her desk and through the door into the spectator area of the rink. I walked down along the front side of the bleachers until I reached what was aligned with center ice and then climbed about four rows up.

There were three men standing on the ice, laughing rather loudly, as they spoke inaudible words to each other. Eventually, after a couple of minutes, they all settled down and slowly began to leave the ice one-by-one. The average-sized guy left the ice first, barely glancing at me as he passed by. Shortly thereafter came the tallest player who stopped just beside the set of bleachers I was perched upon and looked up at me.

"Here for Sid?" I narrowed my eyes but offered a small smile.

"Yeah," He grinned and tilted his head in the direction of the only person still on the ice.

"If he not done in twenty minutes, go get him." The second half of the 'Two-Headed Monster' grinned devilishly before winking at me and making his way down towards where I knew the Penguins' dressing room to be.

I turned my attention back to the scarred ice in front of me and watched as Sidney pushed around some pucks, shooting all but one into the back of the net. The rink was nearly silent, the only sound was of Sidney's skates rushing back and forth across the ice and the occasional puck hitting a pipe. I watched him for a bit, not paying attention to how long I'd been watching until I realized it was a quarter till noon. I hopped down the rows of bleachers and walked towards the goal he was shooting at.

"Hey!" I shouted, knocking on the glass between a set of his powerful shots. His head snapped up and he caught my eyes with his. "Wanna get some food?" He placed a grin on his face as he nodded and then motioned for me to meet him over by the bench door that would allow him to come off of the ice.

Sidney skated over to the bench door and came to a hockey stop, nearly snowing my legs. He pulled his helmet from his head and shook the sweat out of his hair. "Hey, hey, pretty lady." I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks. "How's your day going?"

I cleared my throat. "I can see it getting better,"

Sidney grinned like a three-year-old on Christmas morning. "Let me go get showered and changed and then we'll head out. Twenty minutes tops."

"But, you have to choose." Sidney all but whined, before popping a piece of his waffle into his mouth.

"I think Brendan Gallagher would be entertaining." I offered before taking a sip of my iced tea, which was definitely not sweet.

Sidney nodded, swallowing his bite of waffle. "Not bad, but I was thinking Tyler Seguin."

I laughed and shook my head. "He has some growing up to do first, plus, I don't really think he's looking to give up the bachelor life at the moment," I concluded with a nod of my head, making Sidney crack a smile at me. "We've gotta get a nice guy."

Sidney sat for a moment, watching his fork push his waffle around, sopping up the last bit of syrup on his plate. "Olli,"

"The little blonde Finnish kid? Number three?" Sidney nodded, before taking the last bite of his third waffle.

"He's the nicest guy, has a great back story. He'd be an amazing bachelor." Sidney decided and I nodded, agreeing with him. Bachelors with a backstory tend to be the best kind of bachelors.

"So, it's decided." I declared and Sidney nodded his head. "Do you have a favorite teammate?" The past hour and a half had gone just like this, barely finishing one conversation before starting another.

Sidney laughed and shook his head before pointing his fork at me. "Do you have a favorite sibling?"

I tilted my head and smirked. "Yes, my sister," I answered almost immediately.

Sidney snorted, and then widened his eyes and covered his mouth like he couldn't believe that he had just snorted. "Geno," He spoke, finally, muffing his answer with his hand.

I smiled, now pointing at him with my fork. "That was my guess,"

Sidney was standing on the opposite side of my car door with his arms crossed over one another on my rolled-down window, his sweatshirt hood pulled tightly over his ears. "So, I'll see you tonight?" He asked, grinning widely.

"For sure," I confirmed with a grin.

Sidney smiled at me. "I would like to meet your parents tonight if that's okay with you?"

I laughed, of course, it was okay with me. "Sid, they idolize you, they would love that. Thank you." He grinned, dropping his chin down onto his arms and looking up at me through his incredibly long eyelashes.

"Anytime." Sidney smiled and nonchalantly reached a hand inside my car to play with the buttons on my door, forcing my back windows to roll up and down. "I'm good with parents, you know?" He asked, lightly, making my cheeks flush even darker than before.

"Sidney, you could insult these people and they would thank you." I teased, causing Sidney to fall into a fit of laughter.

He shook his head and stood up straight as he finished laughing with me. "I-I need to get going, but I'll see you tonight." I nodded and he winked at me as he began to walk backward toward his car.

"Good luck, Captain," I called as I turned the key in the ignition and felt my engine turn over.

"Hey, with your beauty in the stands distracting me, I might just need it."

My cheeks were redder than a bunch of cherries, yet again.

Read Change on the Fly here!

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[smoochcal]

numb without you (part two)

a/n: this is part two (2/???) of numb without you!! please refer to part one to follow the timeline correctly. I really haven’t written something along the lines of this in a very long time, so I am very thankful for every single one of you that have read, liked and reblogged this series already. feel free to message me about any blurbs you want me to write or talk about on here :) with that being said please enjoy part two of numb without you

pairing: readerxluke (and calum lmao)

word count: 2.3k

summary: three months down the road from the night you spent with luke and calum at the club and you have to figure out what to do / movie night with luke

playlist: numb without you by the maine & intoxicated by the cab

rating: PG-13

warnings: swearing, mention of a hookup, mention of blood

----------------------

Y/N’s POV:

You inhale and exhale slowly, trying to focus on everything but what you are currently buying at the drug store around the corner from your place. This is the absolute last place you wanted to be. Nothing against the drug store, you have spent many late nights grabbing last minute snacks and groceries you had either forgotten at the store previously or things here and there that were more convenient to pick up there. You feel your cheeks get warm the minute you put your item on the counter. The elder woman checking you out gives you a look of disappointment that you try not to take to heart considering that she probably had kids at an age much younger than you are right now. You give her the money for the box and head back home to take the test.

As you sit on the floor of your bathroom with the door locked you sigh trying to remember exactly how you got here. It’s been about three months since your drunken hookup with Calum occurred and since then you have missed your period twice. This normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but you are always regular like down to the hour and you thought skipping one was abnormal let alone two. And if we’re being honest, you were scared shitless. You’re hardly 22, you can’t be a mom. You aren’t ready for that responsibility; you killed your last goldfish within the span of a week last year.

But maybe you don’t have to worry about this all just yet. The timer on your phone reads that you have a minute and a half left until you can check the pregnancy test that is resting on your bathroom counter next to the sink. Maybe you’re just under a lot of stress and that is what is causing your periods to be extremely late. I mean you have been under a lot of stress at your job. You have had about fifteen manuscripts sitting on your desk at work since the beginning of this week. You have been busting your ass to get them done in time, working late every day hoping that you wouldn’t have to take any of them home with you for the weekend so your edits can be done and on your boss’s desk bright and early Monday morning. It’s Thursday evening now and the thought of trying to get things done is sitting heavily on your shoulders. Just as your mind starts to drift off to other things the timer on your phone goes off indicating that it is time to check the test.

Positive.

You blink a couple times, quickly trying to keep the tears forming in the brim of your eyes away from your line of sight. You’re pregnant. You can’t even begin to comprehend the little lines staring back at you. There are two other tests in the box. You quickly unwrap them and go to take them both. This can’t be happening. It has to be a false positive. Those happen, right? What are you going to tell your mom? She already thinks it’s a bad idea for you to be living in a small apartment in the middle of LA by yourself. You can’t expect her to be overjoyed that you are going to have a baby out of wedlock. You set the timer on your phone again, which is a seemingly difficult task considering you are now shaking.

You wait the few minutes until both tests are ready. This wait seems longer than the last, fear boiling inside of you causing you to worry ten times more than you previously were. This can’t be happening. It was one night, one mistake.

The timer goes off for a second time and you slowly get up off your bathroom floor and check the other two tests.

Positive.

Positive.

Fuck.

What are you going to do?

-------------------------------------------

{three hours later}

Your phone rings. You hate yourself for picking “Intoxicated” by The Cab as your ringtone as you glance at the Caller ID. Quickly you wipe your tears and clear your throat and answer the phone.

“Hello?” you choke out, your emotions not doing the best job at hiding themselves in your tone.

“Y/N, what’s up? Why do you sound like you’ve been crying?” Luke asks concerningly.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you respond quickly, hoping he would change the subject before more tears spill out.

“If you say so…anyway I was calling to ask if you wanted to have a movie night tonight, but if it’s a bad time I can let you go…” he replies tentatively.

“No no you can come over it’s fine,” you say hoping this conversation will end sooner than it started.

“Okay, I’ll be there in 10,” he says quickly before hanging up.

You sigh the second he hangs up. You don’t want anything to seem out of the ordinary, so you quickly compose yourself. A few deep breaths seem to do the trick for the time being. You grab the tests from your bathroom counter and throw them away in the trash can, putting some toilet paper in the bin to cover them up. As you finally exit the bathroom you take another deep breath, holding back the tears that are threatening to spill onto your cheeks purely because of the stress you are now under.

You tidy up your place as fast as you can, knowing Luke could knock on your door at any minute. You don’t worry about what movie you will watch or how he is going to try to pry this secret out of you, you only focus on the then and now in order to keep your composure. Just as you fold the last blanket and set it on top of the couch, you hear a knock on your front door. You know it is Luke by the way he knocks, softly 3 times, and you open the door without even looking at who is behind it. Luke smiles as soon as he lays his soft blue eyes on you. He follows you to the kitchen where you went to find some snacks to make when he picks you up and spins you around throwing you over his shoulder.

“Luke!” you exclaim, laughing ever so slightly, “put me downnnnn.”

“Fine, but only because you asked OH so nicely,” Luke responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he puts you down, plopping on the nearest chair as he watches you move about the kitchen.

You look through your cupboards and refrigerator and finally decide on making some nachos for the two of you to share. You grab the ingredients and all the things you know he likes on his nachos; I mean the two of you are best friends after all, and you throw your masterpiece into the microwave to heat up. Luke seems to have a careful eye on you particularly tonight and you can’t tell if it is due to the conversation the two of you had on the phone earlier or if it was because of something else. Maybe he has always looked at you this way, but now you are extra paranoid because of the new information you found out in the bathroom a few hours prior to his arrival.

When the nachos are ready you grab the plate and a couple of napkins and sit on the couch as Luke paws through your extensive movie collection. You swear he is taking his sweet time picking a movie when he finally decides on one of your favorite comedic dramas, Life as We Know It. He puts the DVD into the DVD player, grabs the remotes and finds a blanket before sitting next to you. He covers both of your legs with the blanket and presses play while grabbing a nacho from the plate in your hands. And if everything hadn’t crashed and burned earlier today, all would seem right in the world.

About an hour into the movie Luke asks you to pause it because he has to use the bathroom, you think nothing of it knowing he has a tiny bladder and a short attention span and normally can’t sit through a two hour movie without asking you to stop it at least one. You finish the last of the nachos and get up to put the dish in the sink and grab a water for you and your apparently already overhydrated friend. You and Luke both get back to the couch at the same time and you get settled back where you were. Just as you are about to press play on the remote, Luke looks at you quizzically, causing you to wonder what is on his mind.

“Well are you going to say something or are you just going to give me that dumbass look you wear so well?” you ask as he continues to stare at you.

Luke sighs before speaking, “I mean… do you want to tell me why I found this empty box of pregnancy tests on the floor next to the toilet?”

You look at him like a deer caught in headlights. How could you be so stupid as to leaving the box in the bathroom? What are you going to tell him, the truth? That you had sex with his best friend over three months ago and now you’re 99% positive that you are pregnant with said friend’s child? This is too much for just another movie night.

You begin to form the words you want to say when Luke goes on, “Not to mention the three positive pregnancy tests in your trash poorly hidden under some wadded-up toilet paper. I knew you were hiding something but this? This is a lot, Y/N. When did this happen? Why did this happen? Who’s the father? Does he know yet? Does your mom know yet? What are you going to do?”

“Well,” you start taking a deep breath knowing you don’t have a lot of the answers he’s looking for, “if you’re asking what’s up, apparently I’m pregnant which I only found out a few hours ago. I didn’t necessarily want to hide it from you, but I barely have an explanation for all of this myself let alone an explanation for someone else. I’m assuming this happened a few months ago. Fun fact I haven’t been bleeding like I’m supposed to, and I know you hate when I mention all that girlie stuff but it’s true. I was drunk when this hookup happened and you’re going to hate me even more when I tell you all the details. The father does not know yet and neither does my mother. Honestly you’re the only one besides myself that knows right now and I’m scared out of my fucking mind.”

Luke opens his mouth lie he is about to say something then closes it as he continues to think. You take this opportunity to just bite the bullet and tell him what really happened.

“Remember that night where we all went out to that club you like? Me, you, the guys, their girlfriends and the few strays they must have conjured up along the way? I really didn’t want to go out that night, but I owed you one, so I went. The club was not my scene at all. Too loud, too many people, not enough air circulating around the dancefloor. I stepped out to catch my breath and found Calum smoking outside. We got to talking, and you know how much he gets under my skin sometimes. This time was different though, it was more playful, which made it easier to have a real conversation with him. We talked and one thing led to another and I woke up the next morning with only his ratty drop-dead t-shirt on while sleeping in a unfamiliar yet familiar enough bed. And all I can say now is that I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, Luke. I know he is one of your best friends and I’m one of your best friends. I wasn’t thinking and I lied to you saying I took an uber home and got there not even twenty minutes after stepping out of the club. God, I’m so sorry.” You burst into tears towards the last sentence you spoke, knowing this is the worst you have ever hurt him.

“How could you?” He softly asked as he slowly got up from the couch grabbing his wallet, phone and keys heading out of your apartment. You could tell how broken he was, finally comprehending the madness.

The minute he walked out of your apartment it was like a bomb just exploded in your own living room. The blanket only covering half of your body, the remotes sprawled out on the cushion where he was sitting just a moment ago. Your life is slowly falling apart right before your own two eyes and there is nothing you can do about it except cry. The tears flow and flow, creating a damp spot on the blanket below you. Your sobs echoing throughout the otherwise silent apartment. You want to call Luke; you want to call your best friend and ask him to come back just to hold you and tell you everything is okay. But you shouldn’t and you won’t. You have hurt him enough for today. Instead you allow the sobs to take over your body, feeling completely and utterly lost.

And just when you think you could not cry another tear, Intoxicated plays quietly from your phone perched on the other end of the couch. You grab it quickly praying that it was Luke calling to say he is outside your door waiting to come back in and be there for you. You check the caller ID and see that it is not who you expected it to be, not in the slightest. Your phone read one name that hurt so much you could hardly stand it.

Calum.

[howsit-going-toend]

Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) Pt. 7

A Kwon Jiyong x Reader AU series featuring Kim Jiwon and Choi Seunghyun

Genre: Crime/Mafia/ANGST

Word count: 4,700+

Summary: You joined the police force years ago to help clean up the streets of Seoul and rid the city of organized crime. You’ve seen some shit. You’re surely prepared for anything…but how are you supposed to feel when the big bad crime boss you’ve been after turns out to be a familiar (to say the least) face?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

(A/N: WOW it’s been a while. Buckle up because this one’s a doozie. Doosie?...Duzey? Anyway, this part finally breaks down the past and lays it all out there. I’m truly happy with this and I hope you all understand why it took so long to finally post/write. As always, enjoy!)

Eleven Years Ago

“And his laugh! Oh my god, don’t get me started about that damn laugh.” You groaned, taking a sip of wine before imitating a laugh that sounded a little too much like Tommy Wiseau.

Jiyong covered his mouth with the back of his hand, chuckling uncontrollably at the impression of your now-ex boyfriend.

“See, THAT’s genuine laughter! You know why? Because I’m hilarious god damnit.” You took another frustrated sip.

“Y/N, I know you’re kind of worked up, but maybe slow it down there.” Jiyong suggested between his giggles.

It was your nineteenth birthday; the day you were finally of legal drinking age and the same day that you decided to break up with your most recent boyfriend. The two of you dated for just a little over three months. To you, it was three months that you hardly paid attention to, focusing more on yourself and finishing your first year of university and feeling as though texting him back was more of an obligation than a joy. You decided to break things off before getting too serious. But evidently, to him, the last three months were nothing short of incredible.

You assumed your words would be met with immediate acceptance; the end that was inevitable from the beginning. But no. He was devastated. And after he drove away, and you immediately felt like garbage, you took a quick trip to pick up a bottle of wine and call your best friend over.

It was the first time Jiyong had seen your apartment, since the two of you got accepted to different universities. Here he was after gladly tossing aside his own deadlines and driving the two and a half hours it took to reach you. His parents always said “Jiyong would cross oceans for Y/N at any hour of the day or night,” and they knew you would do the same in a heartbeat.

You’d known each other since you were children, so it didn’t surprise you when Jiyong made a comment on you drinking that reverted back to more of an older brother mentality.

“Hey, uh, how about maybe you don’t tell me what to do?” You replied with your sassiest expression.

“My bad, I forgot who I was talking to.” He smiled, taking a sip from his own glass. “So why’d you do it today anyway?”

You groaned. “Because he was planning to take me to some wine and food festival tomorrow that was probably going to be super expensive. And knowing how long I’ve been debating on breaking up with him, I knew it had to be today. But I didn’t expect him to bring me gifts too! I tried to emphasize to him so many times that I don’t like presents and yet he brought some up tonight.”

Jiyong smirked. “Wow he wanted to buy you gifts. He sounds awful. Good riddance!”

“Ji, I swear t-.”

“I’m kidding! You shouldn’t be expected to reciprocate feelings just because the guy buys you things. What did he try to give you?”

You winced thinking back to just a few hours prior to this. “A pair of slippers, some fancy candles, and this foot scrub because ‘you always said your feet hurt.’ But he gave it all to me after I broke up with him so of course, he said that to me with his head down like I just kicked a puppy. Also just putting it out there that I’ve literally never said that to him about my feet.”  

You paused to let out a frustrated exhale and drink a little more. “But the worst was honestly the cupcake. I was pacing in my room before he got here, trying not to lose my nerve because I felt so bad already. Then he emerges from his car and walks towards my door with a stupid cupcake. One with a single lit candle that he was holding his hand up around to keep the air from blowing it out. When he got to me, I said ‘oh no, you didn’t have to do that.’ And he laughed and said ‘yes!’ Then I basically leaned over, blew the candle out and said ‘No really, you shouldn’t have done that. Listen, I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“Y/N!” Jiyong laughed out loud, failing to cover it up with his hand once again in attempts not to ridicule this poor boy. “That’s borderline cruel. You said it before he could even get inside?”

“I had to! It’s my birthday and I needed to.” You stated and took a long last sip of your glass.

“No, I know. I know. But you know what I’m going to say.” He smirked.

You stuck your index finger out at him. “Don’t. Don’t say it.” You got up to get a refill and shouted once you reached the kitchen. “I mean it!”

“Ok… how about I call you heartbreaker instead?” He squeezed his eyes shut, silencing a chuckle, knowing the look you were about to give him once you returned to the couch.

You didn’t disappoint. You blew around the corner, almost spilling your new glass just to stare him down. “Oh you want to throw that word around? If anyone deserves that nickname it’s you and you know it!”

“Wow, didn’t even bother to ask if I needed a refill.” He pouted.

“Yeah, well too bad. Don’t avoid that title!”

He chuckled, knowing he hadn’t lost his touch with successfully pushing all the right buttons. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sprang up from the couch to reach the wine.

“Of course you don’t… What about that girl you were telling me about a while back? You haven’t said a word about her since you’ve been here. You already broke up with her, didn’t you! Let’s point the right fingers here.”

“All right, yeah, I did.” He uttered from the kitchen over the sound of his glass filling.

“Ha!”

“On her birthday.”

You nearly choked on your own drink. “Ji, what the hell!”

“Kidding! Stop taking everything I say so seriously. Who are you?” He returned to the couch with a plop, gracefully avoiding spilling anything. “It was Valentine’s Day.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I hate you sometimes.”

You bantered back and forth for a couple more hours, polishing off the bottle of wine before making a quick on-foot journey to get another. It finally being your nineteenth birthday created a nice change to you and Jiyong’s usual strategy involving you entering a store separately; you purchasing snacks while he dilly dallies around the alcohol aisle, waiting for you to leave. Tonight, the two of you could blissfully waltz up and down the place without a worry.

You were all too eager to show your ID to the cashier when it was time to pay. “Bam!” You stated before the man could even finish asking you for it, making Jiyong smack his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“Do you think he knows?” You whispered as he held the door open for you, referencing your slight drunkenness in the least stealthy way possible.

“Well, I’m sure he does now.” He laughed.  

The two of you walked back to your apartment, giddy from the wine you’d already consumed meanwhile anticipating the next bottle and arsenal of snacks that you were about to. You were blissfully drunk, with a full stomach, before you knew it. All along, you both babbled on with random life updates littered among childhood memories. There was no birthday celebration that could compare to this.

“Oh hey, you brought up the record player!” Jiyong exclaimed, having made his way to the corner of your living room; where you stored all the hand-me-down vinyls you’d both grown up listening to.  

“Nope that’s a new one actually. My aunt bought it for me before I moved out. She actually said ‘you can’t have mine but this one looks like it, ok?’”

You both laughed. “I actually saw her last weekend when I visited my parents.” Jiyong said as he ran his index finger along the edges of every vinyl.

“Awh, you did? God she was probably so happy to see you. When I visit, I just get scolded for not calling enough.” You rolled your eyes in fake annoyance.

“Listen, it’s the same thing when I see my parents. If you visit them, they’re both so cheery, especially my mom.” Jiyong laughed.

You beamed. “I love your mom! Does she ask about me?”

“Literally every time I’m home. She and Dami always ask when we’re getting married.”

“My aunt does the same thing!” You started laughing in hysteric unison. Your families always wanted you to end up together and they’d brought it up for years; always giving the two of you something to laugh about.

Jiyong shook his head and smiled as he pulled out a record, having finally decided to put some music on. “All right. We’ve got to play this throwback.”

“You know: Technically they’re all throwbacks. Neither of us were alive when any of thes-.” You stopped and laughed drunkenly at the look he turned to give you for the stupid remark.

“Oh wait wait!” You announced when a certain record got your attention. “I think we should put this one on and reliv-.”

“Nooo no!” He brushed your hand away from reaching for The Temptations’ “My Girl.”

“Oh come on, Ji. I’m the only one here. Please! Just do the dance, you don’t have to sing!” You begged.

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside. “Fine. You better not record this though.” He held out his pinky to you with narrowed eyes; what might as well be a binding contract with how you both treasured it in the past. You hooked your pinky around his and used your other hand to place your phone down. “Promise.”

He took to a position that offered the most open space while you dropped the needle on the outside of the record. As the song began, you crossed your arms and stared at him with a huge smile as he reluctantly began to step back and forth.

I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day

When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May…

It was a performance perfectly reenacted from when you were kids; you were five and he was hardly seven. It was one of his mom’s most cherished home movies; little Jiyong performing his heart out at a family party, winning the hearts of all those around as he danced this adorable doo wop routine while gesturing to you with a bright smile.

Tonight was only a little different; that bright smile being replaced with one of red cheeked embarrassment as he extended an arm to you on each “My girl!” line. You snapped your fingers along, amused at how he remembered just about every step. When the song came to an end, you cheered and clapped proudly.

“All right, all right. We’re done with that!” He exclaimed, diving back into the rows of vinyl.

You both agreed to assemble a playlist; taking turns stacking your favorite singles out beside the turntable, one on top of the other, ready to be played in that order. Each one had a different memory attached to it that would light both of your faces with nostalgia within their first few seconds.

“Ah, ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough!’” You exclaimed as Jiyong’s next choice began to play. “Your mom used to play this when she took us to school in the morning, right?”

His smile expanded as he started to lipsync along.

Listen baby,

Ain’t no mountain high, ain’t no valley low

Ain’t no river wide enough, baby

You started to snap your fingers back and forth before you joined in on your part.

If you need me, call me

No matter where you are, no matter how far

Jiyong extended an arm out to you dramatically: Don’t worry baby

You grabbed his hand and spun into his arms just in time for the chorus. Giggles escaped your chest, preventing either of you from continuing to sing along. This closeness was nothing out of the ordinary for you two. You’d danced together like that for as long as you can remember. Your fingers intertwined with smiles so wide they’d hurt if you weren’t a little intoxicated; it was harmless.

When the song came to an end and your next choice was readied, you naturally returned to each other’s arms. This time was a slow song, but neither of you missed a beat.

Put your head on my shoulder

You smiled at each other once more before obeying the opening lyric. You lowered your head to rest comfortably above his collarbone while the two of you swayed back and forth. “God, what a song.” You grinned.

“I know. This song’s helped me put the moves on someone at least three different times.”

You lightly smacked his chest, making him laugh. “Shut up.” You sighed back into him and closed your eyes. “I swear though, wine and slow dancing go together too well. And this is the best song for it.”

“Really? Better than Elvis? I don’t think you really believe that.” He argued. You lifted your head to see him holding his index finger up towards you, silently telling you to wait a second. He scurried back to the collection. He found what he was looking for in seconds, grinning widely at you over his shoulder before interrupting Paul Anka.

You smiled sadly at him as the gentle acoustic guitar came in and he pulled you closer once again. “Aw, Ji you’re gonna make me cry.”

Love me tender, love me sweet

Never let me go

It was your favorite record. And he knew this better than anyone. You’d fallen in love with it ever since your aunt showed you your parents’ wedding reception video. Their first dance as one being to none other than Elvis Presley.

Love me tender, love me true

All my dreams fulfilled

You removed your hands from Jiyong’s and instead wrapped your arms around his neck. He moved his own arms to hold you just barely above the waist, bringing you even closer together. You nestled your head into his shoulder once again, allowing the song to run away with your emotions. He hummed along to each line, creating a soothing vibration against your cheek

“Are you crying yet?” He whispered.

“No.” You whispered back. “I’m smiling.”

He chuckled softly. “Me too.”

Love me tender, love me dear

Tell me you are mine

As your favorite lyric soon began to close out the song, you lifted your head to look at him. Maybe it was the wine, or the late hour, or just the sheer romance of Elvis’ voice, but you really looked at him.

It felt like the first time you had ever seen just how dark his hair was. Or how many different shades of brown made up his eyes, and how well his brows complimented them. Stubble lightly dusted across his cupid’s bow and cupped around his chin, making you wonder if you’d ever actually seen him with facial hair before. His full lips made you smile wider, remembering the awkward dinner moment when you’d met his first girlfriend, and she’d said Jiyong and you have the same lips. His were pulled perfectly from either end, making the smile you’ve known the best all these years.

You realized he was analyzing your features as well, making you giggle in embarrassment.

“What are we doing?” You whispered.

Without missing a beat, keeping perfectly in line with the last few guitar chords, Jiyong and you both made a move that neither of you had ever expected to make. Somehow in that millisecond of silence, your minds came to the same conclusion. Quickly, but softly, your lips met.

The only remaining sound in the room was the low muffle of the turntable, serving to amplify just how exhilarating of a moment this was. You’d never pictured yourself kissing Jiyong before, and your present self couldn’t possibly imagine why.

His lips moved with yours in perfect synchronicity, gentle and warm but also eager to take lead and set a perfect pace, like the dance you’d just finished. Beads of sweat began to form at your hairline as you felt one of his hands cup your cheek, before tracing just below your ear and firmly hold the back of your neck.

You were swooning, entirely enthralled in him. Whatever this feeling was, it was completely alien to you. You didn’t even care that it was Jiyong. You were honestly impressed. As your best friend, and the person who knows you the best in this world, just how the fuck did he know you’ve always wanted to be kissed this way? All this made you smile into the kiss. You felt him smile back before reforming his lips to yours, taking shapes that felt all too natural.

To both of your dismay, it didn’t last forever. You returned to Earth after one or two last pecks, ending it with your foreheads pressed together. You lifted your gazes to meet one another, giving an identical look of wonder.

As you stared at him, he lowered his lips to yours once more. This time was just a simple, soft peck. You both kept your eyes open; joined in awe that this moment was real.

And that’s how it happened. There wasn’t anything remotely awkward about it. The following morning, when the booze had completely worn off and all of your senses restored, the two of you simply laughed, before holding each other tight. There was never any talk of “so, now what?” or “what does this make us?” You both just knew.

And it was the easiest thing that your hearts had ever accepted.

It was your little secret for a few months; keeping the official beginning just between the two of you to ensure it really was what you both wanted. After everything was settled, you had your fun slowly sharing the news with your family and friends. Jiyong would playfully argue that you might have had a little too much fun with it. But their looks of surprise and heart bursting excitement would stick with you forever.

You’d take turns joking about how stupid you were to never realize it sooner: being together just made sense. Your friends and family always knew. (Your exes most definitely always knew.) As cliché as it seemed, you both had just been looking for love everywhere but right in front of you.

You both soon finished out your undergraduate degrees. You were this close to finishing the same semester as him, but in true Jiyong fashion: he beat you to it and finished early. Following your graduations you bought a puppy (a gift from you to him; he immediately named him Gaho) and moved in to an apartment together; something that surprisingly took very little convincing from Jiyong’s parents. (He’d claim there wouldn’t have been a damn chance if it was anyone but you) You were allowed to live in sin so long as you both moved back to Seoul and entered solid internships.

All along you treated each other better than any partner either of you had ever had; demonstrating incredible patience as you learned and grew together in ways you’d never imagined. Family members would boast about the two of you proudly, while close friends would fight the urge to scowl jealously. It was borderline sickening just how natural and blissful everything truly was. They made up some of the best four years of your life.

And never, in your wildest nightmares, did you ever think they would end.

“I’m home!” You announced.

You hummed to yourself as you slipped off your shoes and hung up your coat. The law firm had finally granted you an easy Friday workload, and you had all intentions of using the next couple of days to celebrate.

“Ji, are you here?” You spoke up as you made your way to the kitchen so that, if there, he could hear you from the bedroom. You hadn’t heard from him all day, but that was nothing out of the ordinary; lately his own internship had been especially demanding of his time. He was probably still at the office. You sighed sympathetically and decided some soup would be a nice surprise for him.

“Gaho!” You called, assuming the wrinkly monster was sound asleep in the other room. You reached for the notepad and pen attached to the fridge and began thinking of just how much you would need to pick up before Jiyong got home.

You tapped the pen on the notepad as you looked around the kitchen. You opened cupboard after cupboard, noticing just how much needed to be replenished. “Aish, did he make stew for the whole building today?” You rolled your eyes before writing down each missing ingredient.

“Gaho! Come here!” You repeated, knowing he usually slept as heavily as Jiyong. Shaking his food usually does the trick. You thought to yourself with a smile.

But as you walked over to its usual location you stopped. “Oh come on, we can’t be out of his food too. I swear we just bought some.” You put your hands on your hips out of frustration. “Awh, Gaho, I’m sorry. I hope you have at least something left in your bowl.” You muttered to yourself as you turned the corner out of the kitchen to check.

“Ok, this is weird.” Your brows furrowed. His bowls were gone. You checked the sink and saw no sign of them. Your pulse quickened as you speed walked to the bedroom.

“Gaho?” You called, hoping to see a pile of wrinkles on his bed or hear the sound of his little nails tapping on the hardwood floor. But as you stood in the doorway, his bed was nowhere in sight.

Your chest began to hurt as tears budded beneath your eyes. Gaho had spent weekends at Jiyong’s parents’ house before and even with your aunt. But you knew this weekend was never discussed to be one of them. And even if it was, they had bowls and a bed for him there. Something must have happened. You frantically reached for your phone and dialed Jiyong.

No answer.

“Ji. Ji, please call me. I don’t know where Gaho is. Please tell me you know.” Your voice shook as you left the message. There wasn’t a single sign of a break-in either. Or at least none that you were aware of.

You started pacing in the living room, thinking of all the possible scenarios. Whoever took him must have taken all that food too. You wouldn’t expect burglars to steal vegetables and bean paste, and leave behind the flatscreen, but it was the only explanation. You sped to the bedroom closet, fearing for your and Jiyong’s safes.

As you illuminated the walk-in space, the sight before you brought you to your knees. Everything on your side remained unruffled and unbothered. Nothing was even close to being out of place. Even your safe and few pieces of jewelry. But on Jiyong’s side, every last item was gone.

Every suit, every pair of pants and shoes, and even every fucking hanger was missing. As you gazed at the storage space above his side, and saw no sign of his luggage either, you collapsed.

“What the fuck.” You cried out, shaking and sobbing from uncertainty. You reached a trembling hand for your phone and tried calling him once again.

No answer.

You threw it to the side and somehow managed to pull yourself to your feet. You walked slowly to the bathroom, silently repeating “No, no, no…” to yourself. You closed your eyes as you turned the light on, nowhere near ready for what was there.

Every product, every personal hygiene tool, even his toothbrush, everything that was his: gone. And once again, whatever was yours, remained untouched. You gasped out loud and covered your mouth as sobs pulled themselves out of you. This had to be some kind of sick joke. It just had to be.

As you turned back to face the bedroom you saw through cloudy eyes the very last thing that you didn’t want to see. The item that debunked the miniscule shred of hope you were clinging to; that someone just had to have broken in so cleanly and so precisely, cleaning out everything that belonged to Jiyong, including Gaho and all of his belongings as well. You could have hung onto that ridiculous scenario for just a little while longer if you didn’t see it. There on the bed laying perfectly, and all too intentionally, was a folded piece of paper.

This time, when your body crumbled to the floor, it stayed there for nearly half an hour. You couldn’t stop crying. And for the life of you, you couldn’t move a muscle. When you finally found the strength to, you crawled to your phone. Before illuminating the screen, you begged the universe to grant you at least one text message from him.

Nothing.

You spent the next couple of hours there on the floor, endlessly sobbing and making phone call after phone call; each one feeling more useless than the last.

When you finally got a hold of yourself, you instead called a friend that lived nearby and begged her to come over. You spent that night, and the following week, at her place. It took that long for you to even walk back into that apartment. And it took even longer for you to finally read that letter.

“I love you too much to allow you to be put through what I’m going to put you through. I’m so fucking sorry. Take care of yourself and  please: be the person you want to be. -Jiyong”

You ripped it into shreds on the spot. That was it. That was the only glimpse of an explanation that he ever granted you. Just like that, he left.

And you were never the same.

His disappearance came just as much of a shock to everyone else. No one could make sense of it. Not his parents, or even his best friends. They were all furious with him and could hardly speak about it. No one could give you answers.

And that’s all you tried to obtain for the next year: just some fucking answers. You were desperate and angry, lonely and above all you were ungodly depressed. When you couldn’t find him yourself you waited. You waited for so long. You lived each day as if it would be the one that he’d come back through the front door and back into your life.

But it never came.

You became self-destructive, going through every stage of grief at least three separate times. All along you begged the universe to show you even just one reason. Anything that could have shown what the fuck you did that was so wrong. Just come back and tell me why. You mumbled this phrase to yourself a million times, and when family and friends grew worried you mumbled it to psychiatrists a million times more.

It was some of the worst and most confusing pain you’d ever experienced. You endured it for nearly two years, until one cathartic appointment allowed you to finally accept it. You were done waiting. You couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. But you had to get your life back.

You met Jiwon the following week. It was the very same week that you decided to change your focus back to your childhood dreams. You didn’t want to be a lawyer. (Though you ended up marrying one) You wanted to be a badass detective.

You now thought deeply about everything that had changed in just seven years.

You stared at Jiyong through the one way mirror completely stone faced, trying your hardest not to laugh at the fucked up irony. Even though you didn’t know it until that night in the warehouse, when he’d reignited that deep emotional pain with a matching physical pain at the hand of his crony you realized: you’d never truly stopped looking for him.

And now, seeing him sitting there before you, wanting your superior’s attention and wishing to make a deal with your boss…your rage was unfathomable.

[feynites]

could you do a story where a whole bunch of people get trapped inside an mmorpg, rescue never comes so that they eventually forget their trapped there as generations of people are born, and when you die, it is unknown if that is the final ending or if you reincarnate into a new player, also in this one you can flip between gender anytime you want, the economy in the world is steady, the government is ok, id also like this story to take place from the perspective of a kid born into the world

Well it… didn’t really come out entirely as requested, I must admit. And it’s more of a ‘part one’, but…. I hope you like it anyway!

I am an Enpisci.

So were my progenitors, and so is everyone else in my village.

Willowbranch. It’s a tiny settlement at the edge of the Black Forest. Bartlie says that in ancient times, Pleers would come to Willowbranch from all over the world to fight monsters. In droves and droves they would fight beasts of all measure, leaving legends of their deeds in the tavern. I suppose that was back before everyone realized the hard truth.

Monsters cannot be beaten.

They can be fought. But never beaten. Because of the respawn. Wait long enough, and every monster comes back. They are, in that way, the only true immortals of the realm. Legend says a Pleer cannot die unless killed. And a monster cannot die even when killed.

The day the gates to the heavens closed, and the gods forsook their children in Ethenria, the Pleers stopped coming. The tavern records became static, stale. An Enpsici cannot leave their home unless commanded by the gods, and in Willowbranch, we stopped hearing the voices of the gods long ago. Though most of the town still prays at the temple. It has been a long time since the altars lit up - even my progenitors could not recall such a thing ever happening in their Service Span.

Willowbranch’s temple isn’t far from its tavern, which sees a lot more traffic these days.

I let out a sigh, and nod my thanks to Bartlie as I take my evening drink over to one of the tavern tables. Pleers and monsters might have their pact with the gods, but we Enpisci are mere mortals, in the end. There are some of us who have made it into the legends of old, of course. But most of us just live quiet lives, in Service, until the life wheel resets. And then the next generation takes over. Some of the village has been getting on me to settle down. Find a partner, raise two children. But, I’m not in any hurry. There’s a lot of time yet before my Span is up, and I still don’t know if I have anything worthy to teach the next generation.

Besides, my brother’s heirs are just small, and deserve to be doted on exclusively for a while. There are a lot of little ones in the village right now for them to play with, too.

No rush.

I think about it, though. Bartlie’s been making noises about it, as well, and bartending is good Service. A food provider always has a lot of sway. A lot of recipes, a central location. Why he’d consider me for a partner is more of a mystery. My progenitors were both Guides, and Willowbranch hasn’t really needed a Guide since the days when Pleers still came to town. Oh, I still work to help the community, of course. Do my part. Mostly maintaining the barricades near to where monsters spawn. The temple basement and the abandoned house nearest to the wood. And I help redraw the maps. No one has left Willowbranch in an age, because of the monsters on the road, but Guides still have knowledge of the surrounding region. Keeping track of it all at least offers us warning if any new monsters might appear too close to the village, or wander near the borders.

Guides can tell where they spawn.

But still, it’s not prestigious work. Not anymore. Sometimes my brother waxes poetic about the ‘olden days’, when our Service was needed. I don’t see much point to it, though. We never even saw those times. We don’t really know if it was better or not.

I’m musing over things, one eye still on Bartlie, when it happens. The tavern door opens with a bang, and Young Farmer runs in. I blink up from my drink, while Bartlie calls out to them.

“Here, now, the drinks’ll keep, Farmer. What are you runnin’ for?” he asks.

“There’s a－” Farmer begins, before stopping for a minute to catch their breath. They point out behind themselves, through the open door. Evening is settling into night. The distant wolf call heralds it, as the sun sets over the mountains. “There’s a figure. A figure coming down the road.”

A murmur starts up from the other tavern patrons. I still in surprise, but Bartlie just scowls.

“What do you mean, a Shambler?” he asks. The current of disbelief eases some. Shamblers look like people, especially at a distance. But they’re monsters. They don’t usually come close enough to town to be seen, but Farmer sometimes wanders out a bit. Despite the cautionary tales and worry. The fields haven’t been safe for three generations, but Farmer’s the curious kind, the same way my brother is.

“Not a Shambler,” Farmer refutes. “It wasn’t even barely dusk when I saw it, and it was walking straight down the road. I came running as soon as I realized. Someone’s coming. From out of town!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Bartlie snaps. “Who would be coming here? Risking Dire Bears and Shamblers and… and, what else?”

He turns to me. I shrug.

“Vampires. Ghost Wolves.” I point to the map hanging up behind the tavern wall, next to the old Pleer legends. The spawn points are marked for as far as my knowledge has them. “Hag Ravens. Would depend on the time of day, too, of course. This hour would be the busiest for all of them.”

“But I definitely saw-” Farmer starts.

They’re interrupted by an ear-splitting shriek.

Everyone in the tavern freezes. And then, by some mutual, unspoken urge, we all get up, and hurry outside. Farmer in the lead, Bartlie pausing just long enough to fetch his nail bat from underneath the counter. A few other doors open in the village. People looking out, wide-eyed and worried. My brother’s husband pulls the children inside, and I suddenly realize just how close their house is to the main road. He sees me. I nod at him.

If something happens, I’ll help them.

The air feels dangerous, in a way that makes all the hairs on the back on my neck, and makes those kinds of thoughts seem necessary.

The main road is long, with the forest like a dark wall of trees beside it. A hill blocks off some of the view, but even though I have never heard it before in my life, I recognize the sounds of the distant shrieking.

“Those are Hag Raven cries,” I say.

Bartlie tightens his grip on his nail bat, and some of the villagers shy back towards the tavern. The Mayor heads over at a brisk jog. Coming straight for me.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “A Hag Raven? Are they inside the borders?”

I frown, and concentrate for a minute. On my Service, and the knowledge it gives me.

“The boundaries for the village haven’t been breached…” I say, before my brother, in turn, comes running up.

“They haven’t,” he agrees. “Have you seen Sam and the kids?”

“They’re inside,” I assure him, nodding towards his house. He hesitates, just a moment. Frowning. Seeing what I had seen, and suddenly taking issue with it.

“It’s too close to the main gate,” he murmurs.

“Take them to the village hall,” I suggest.

He hesitates just a little, but at a nod of permission from The Mayor, goes and runs off to do just that. His family and all the others too close to the road, too. The Mayor gives me a worried look. I remember the old mayor - it’s a Service that brings a lot of worries with it. Always fretting, always trying to keep things in order. The Hag Raven shrieks again, and I wonder if we’re all feeling the same fear.

And then there’s a dying wail.

Silence.

I don’t think the village has ever been so quiet before.

The sound of distant footsteps feels almost like a crack of thunder, for all that it’s too quiet to be anything like it. We watch, half of the village standing outside of the tavern, and just beyond the main gate, as a figure slowly rounds the hill. Not a Hag Raven, although in one hand, they clutch a set of large wings. As they walk, they make an odd gesture, and the wings vanish.

My heart leaps into my throat at the casual display of magic.

“Can’t be,” Bartlie murmurs.

We’re all thinking it, though. The closer the figure gets, the louder the thought becomes.

A Pleer.

Tall and broad, dressed in a long leather coat. Blood is beginning to fade from the wide-cuffed sleeves, with each slow, steady step. A sword hangs from an embroidered belt. The only swords I’ve seen before are collecting dust on the walls of the old Weapons Shop. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person so tall before, either. Their ears are rounded, and their jaw is square, and a jagged scar stretches from their eyebrow to their chin.

The stranger walks and walks, and makes their way straight past us. We move aside for them, without even thinking about it. They barely look at us as they make their way into the tavern. The chair scrapes along the floor before they slouch down into it behind a central table.

“I need a drink, and information,” they say, in a low, unhappy voice.

We all look at one another. Hesitating. Shocked by this sudden turn of events.

The Pleer bangs a fist down on the tabletop hard enough to make us all jump.

“What the fucking hell are you fucks just standing around for?!” they demand. “I just walked up here from Bayerwood, and this is the third fucking time I’ve had to deal with you Enpissies gawking at me like you’re glitched. I want a damn drink, and I want some fucking information, and then I want a bed. And not a single one of you is going to ask me a stupid question until all that’s been seen to, unless you want a sword through your guts.”

A cold fear runs down my spine at the threat. I suddenly know, with breathtaking certainty, that this stranger could kill us. That the sword in their hand could slice through any of us. If I were to take my knife and, for some reason, try and stab Bartlie, it would just bounce off. Enpisci cannot take one another’s lives, the gods forbade it. But Pleers… I never knew before that it was different for them.

But I know now.

“They could do it,” I say, to The Mayor and Bartlie.

Bartlie’s hands shake a little. The Mayor swallows, but despite her anxious nature, recovers first.

“Well, get our guest a drink, would you, Bartender?” she says, and makes her way over. Clasping her hands behind her back to hide her own shaking. “Wel… uh, wel-welcome to Willowbranch, traveller. It has been many years since-”

“Yeah, yeah, many years since you saw the likes of me. Does this village have a prostitute?” the Pleer asks.

“N…no,” The Mayor informs them, nervously. “We have food, though, and there is a room above the tavern…”

Bartlie heads for the bar, and I keep a few of the more curious villagers from coming back into the tavern. Motioning that it’s unsafe, as the Pleer scoffs, and Bartlie brings them their drink. Other patrons’ drinks are still abandoned at their tables. The whole thing feels utterly surreal, as the Pleer chugs their ale, and leans so heavily on their chair that it creaks, and then closes their eyes for a moment.

A very tense moment. The Mayor looks like she’s about to ask a question, but she stops herself. Probably rolling the Pleer’s threat over in her mind.

And then the stranger speaks again.

“So you haven’t seen anyone like me in years,” they say. “No one else has passed through? An elven woman, maybe?”

“No, no one else,” The Mayor confirms, easily.

The Pleer curses some more, before kicking the chair next to theirs. It skids across the tavern floor.

“Well, fuck,” they say. “That just leaves Bainbridge. Where’s your map?”

I go and get it, to spare Bartlie having to deal with the stranger going over to the bar. There are a lot of breakable things on it, and it usually takes a long while for glasses to replace themselves. I pull down my latest map, and bring it over to the Pleer’s table.

They snatch it from my hands. Take a knife from their coat, and, before I can protest, stab it through the parchment. Pinning it to the table, before hunching over it.

“This the best you have?” they ask.

“Yes,” I confirm, because it easily is. And if it gets any more damaged, I’ll have to redraw the whole thing by hand again. The Pleer’s gaze turns towards me, then. There’s something… off about it. Something unsettling. Like some part of them hates me, or hates everything about me, even though this is the first time we’ve met.

I’m relieved when they look back at the map.

Bainbridge is on it. So is Bayerwood. I’ve never seen either, but I know where they are. Bayerwood is further down the road the Pleer came up by, which fits with their story. Willowbranch is the village nearest to the forest, while Bainbridge is the last village I have any knowledge of. It’s near to a desert. I don’t know anything about the desert, except that it exists. It’s a void - a wall. The road to Bainbridge is even more perilous than the one up from Bayerwood. A Lich King spawns along it, and the closer one gets to the bridge which leads to Bainbridge village, the denser the spawn points for Skeleton Knights and Wyverns and Harpies become.

The Pleer looks at the map for a long while. And then they demand that we all leave the tavern, in so many words. ‘Fuck off out of here and don’t come back until morning’, mainly. I go and find my brother and his family, still waiting in the village hall. The Mayor holds an emergency meeting. But no one really knows what to do or say. No one alive remembers the last time a Pleer came to Willowbranch. Some Enpisci know that their Services should be performed differently for that, though, and so as the night unfolds, and the village children sleep in a campout in the main hall, the Weapon Shop is dusted and the Market Stalls are rearranged, goods put out onto displays, and signs hung up and the temple doors flung wide open.

Some of the villagers even start to get excited about it. Elisno has some shop records, passed down from her progenitors, of the last sale that the Weapons Shop ever made. A Greatsword of Frost, sold to a Pleer named Javie.

“It would be something if some of the records got updated,” she enthuses. “Maybe something’s changed. Maybe more Pleers will start coming again.”

High Priestess is also hopeful. A Pleer coming, she says, is a promising sign. The gods have changed the world many times over, after all. Maybe the days of condemnation are done. Maybe one of them has come to find their lost children, to open the gates to heaven and gather the Pleers to end the eternity of monsters. Maybe this is the start of a new beginning.

I doubt it, myself.

If anything, seeing this Pleer makes me understand why the gods might forsake them all.

That’s a harsh thought, though. My brother cautions against it. He’s tentatively hopeful, although he and Sam still keep their children in the main hall, rather than taking them home.

“It must be hard, fighting monsters to get up along the roads,” he says. “Maybe the Pleer was injured.”

“They didn’t ask for healing,” I point out. “The temple doors are open. And you didn’t hear them talk.”

He shrugs.

“I’m not saying they were pleasant,” he insists. “I’m just saying, no one’s at their best after nearly getting killed by a Hag Raven. If that happened to me, I’d need a drink, too. Maybe we just shouldn’t assume that how they were last night is how they always are.”

I leave the matter be, even though something in me doubts that the light of day will bring a more pleasant Pleer along with it.

I don’t want to be right.

But I am.

It’s closer to noon when the Pleer emerges from the tavern. Wearing their long leather coat, armed with glinting weapons. I wonder if they slept in all that. If they slept at all. Do Pleers sleep? I have no idea. The stranger walks out into the town square, and glances towards the market stalls and the shops, before heading to the temple. Ignoring High Priestess’ greeting, they head for the Altar to Umara, and dip their hands into the waters.

A chime rings out. The windows of the temple seem to shine, and to my astonishment, the water glows. High Priestess freezes, and gets an indescribable look on her face. I remember when we were children, playing together in the temple yard, and how we would try and explain the growing feelings our Service brought to us. She had always been so sure that the temple was missing light. Not like torchlight, but something harder to describe. Something that would have happened all the time, before the gates of heaven closed.

If nothing else, I’m glad she gets to witness this. Because I’m sure this is what she meant. The Pleers might be forsaken, but it seems that the gods still answer a few of their prayers anyway. As they leave the temple, the light seems to stick to the Pleer a little. Not bright enough to glow, exactly, but enough to make it seem like a sunbeam has fixed itself to them.

They head for the Potions Shop next. Coming out just a few minutes later with an armful of parcels, that vanish with a gesture. Just like the Hag Raven wings. Where the parcels go, or why someone should buy everything only to banish it an instant later, I can’t say.

The Pleer doesn’t bother with the Weapons Shop.

They head towards the hall next. Or that’s what I think, and I want them to stay away from the children - even as curious as the children are to see them. But before they get to the gate, they detour. And come to stop in front of me, instead.

“I need a guide,” they say. “I’ll be taking the map, but the spawn points could change while I’m out there. Some of that shit’s high level. I’m not risking a Lich King ambush because I set up camp too close to his spawn point. You’re coming with me.”

I freeze in shock. So does everyone else nearby. The words seem incomprehensible - coming with them? Out of the village? They wave a hand, and I feel… something. Like a request, pushing at the back of my mind. A divine compulsion, maybe. The Pleers come from heaven, after all. They are cut from the cloth of the gods. It’s the obligation of Enpisci to serve, but…

No.

I don’t want to go anywhere with this stranger. They are not a friendly person, and it wouldn’t be safe. Even if another opportunity like this never presents itself.

The Pleer grits his teeth, and reaches for his sword.

“I’ll take you.”

We both turn. My heart sinks into my stomach at the sight of my brother, standing behind the Pleer. His expression is determined, but I know that body language. His shoulders are tensed and he’s holding his hands in fists so that they don’t tremble. Jaw slightly clenched for the same reason - he’s frightened.

“I’m a guide, too. I’ll take you where you want to go.”

I shake my head.

The Pleer’s eyes narrow.

“You’re ineligible,” they say. “You have children?”

My brother swallows.

“I… yes, I do,” he says. “That means I can’t go?”

“Well, not with living children around,” the Pleer tells him. Then they glance back to me, and very slowly, draw the sword from their belt. The metal is dark. It gleams, and seems to project an unpleasant aura. There’s something almost red to it, even though I can’t actually see the colour. It makes me vaguely nauseous - nothing like the weapons on the shop racks. “Though I could solve that.”

It takes me a moment to even comprehend their meaning. My brother pales, and when I do I lift up my hands. Horrified. The Pleer doesn’t even step towards the hall, but I feel suddenly, powerfully afraid that they will.

“I’ll go!” I say, at once. “Just don’t… don’t… I’ll go with you!”

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my skull. My brother looks like he’s going to be sick, and I feel like I am, too. My eyes fix onto the weapon in the Pleer’s hands. At least until they put it away again. They laugh when they do, amused by something. Or maybe just pleased with my acquiescence. Maybe Pleers don’t laugh for the same reasons Enpisci do.

“Oh, good. No more wasting time,” they say.

I feel it again, then. Pressing at the back of my mind, the… request.

My stomach is full of rocks. I look at my brother, though.

Yes.

Suddenly, then, I know a whole host of things about the Pleer. Things that I didn’t before, and that he definitely hasn’t told me out loud. I know he has a name. Brandon. I know he has titles. Slayer of the Poisoned Queen and Conqueror of the Wailing Swamplands. I know he’s powerful.

He gestures, and a beige satchel appears in his hand. He thrusts it at me, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Something inside clinks.

“Take those,” he says. “if you get injured and manage not to die right away, down one. I have plenty, but don’t waste them. Now let’s go.”

He starts walking towards the village gates.

I hesitate. That’s it? Just ‘let’s go’? I’ve never left the village before in my life. I haven’t said goodbye to anyone, haven’t hugged my brother, or Sam, or kissed the children goodbye, or told Bartlie…

But, even as my mind reels, my feet move. Once the Pleer gets a certain distance away, my feet follow of their own accord. It’s a strange and unsettling feeling. I hold the satchel and awkwardly chase after him, looking back as my brother calls out, as High Priestess and a few others join in and give a brief chase.

“Wait!” The Mayor calls. “Wait, please, Pleer!”

“You don’t have to do this!” my brother says. “We have other maps you can take, if you just - you can stay until the spawn points reset again, and then leave straight after! There wouldn’t be time for them to change once more, you could make it to Bainbridge before that happened!”

The Pleer ignores them.

And I just… follow. Numbly. Stupidly. Not even managing to get the satchel on, stunned as we clear the village gates. As we head off down the west road, which no one ever uses even a little, for fear of the monsters that spawn out in this direction. My brother chases after us the longest, with increasing distress.

“Please, mercy, stranger!” he begs.

“Oh, shut up, you whiny little bitch,” the Pleer finally snaps back.

I shake my head. Thinking of that grim, nauseating sword. My brother and I lock eyes, until he hits the boundaries of the village. And then his legs root in spot. And eventually, I have to tear my gaze away, in order to keep following the Pleer in front of me. In order to keep walking past a point I have never before crossed, and never before expected to.

The road is dusty.

It smells different, somehow. Even though it doesn’t really look different from anything I’ve seen before. I walk along. Staring alternately at the backs of Brandon’s shoulders, and the trees, and the sight of the forest I have always seen eventually turning into mountainous rock. It seems to happen all too quickly, though, that the path becomes unfamiliar. Large stone boulders crop up around it. Things I have glimpsed at a distance, but never closely enough to realize that there are carvings on them. I want to stop and look at them all. But the Pleer keeps going, at a pace just fast enough that sometimes I have to jog to keep up.

Eventually, I regain enough wit to sling the satchel strap over my shoulder. Then I look inside, and find half a dozen blue potions in it.

Those are Wendru’s best.

I’ve never even tasted one before. Once, though, a werewolf managed to break out of the temple basement, when I was very young. Everyone who helped fight it off ended up needing a blue potion. That was back when Wendru’s progenitor was the Potion Seller. I remember watching both of mine sip theirs, resting in the big bedroom. How the bleeding wounds on their arms and legs had closed; how they’d needed to take silver potions after, to make certain they didn’t become werewolves themselves.

I can’t help but wonder what they would both make of this.

The boulders turn to sheer rock, framing the path. And I remember enough of what they taught me to start mentally tracking the spawning points. Pebbles bounce away from the Pleer’s boots, and bite into my own soft shoes.

Eventually, I muster up the nerve to ask a question.

“Why do you need to go to Bainbridge?” I ask.

He ignores me.

I swallow, and lick my lips.

“Brandon?” I try.

That makes his steps falter, just a little. He looks at me, eyes wide, before he seems to realize something. And then he just snorts.

“I forgot about that,” he mutters. “Don’t call me that. Call me ‘my lord’.”

He turns away, then, and starts walking faster. I fall silent. Part of me - the part that’s not terribly sensible - wants to call him anything but ‘my lord’. Something more along the lines of ‘asshole’, maybe. Bastard. Jackass. Intolerable fuckweasel. But I know that if I address him, now, the only thing that will actually come out of my mouth will be ‘my lord’.

The powers of the divine - even the forsaken divine - are terrifying. I never really imagined it this way before, but they are brutal in their reality.

A few birds fly over head. There are spawn points up on the rocks, and paths that lead that way. My shoulders tense at the thought of what could be lurking up above. Watching us traverse the narrow road, deeper and deeper into the mountains. Bainbridge is on the other side of a gorge, which then becomes the desert. At my walking pace, it would take three days to get there on foot. Accounting for necessary breaks, and assuming no time-consuming disturbances are to happen.

Like fighting monsters.

We walk, and walk. A few times I hear unfamiliar bird cries. After a while, I do my best to pay more attention to the carvings on the rocks. I can read Common, Dwarvish, and Elvish, as part of my Service, but I don’t know this language. Maybe it’s not a language, though. Maybe it’s art? My Service tells me nothing about it. Eventually the symbols disappear as the surface of the rock changes textures, and we come to points where water runs down striking mountain walls. A Dwarvish sign tells us that Bainbreach Gorge is ahead, and warns of necromancy in the region.

My legs are straining with exhaustion by then. My chest heaving with my breaths, and my skin heated from the sun. Sweat beads on my brow.

The Pleer stops for a moment to stare at the sign.

And then he lets out an irritated sound, and marches over, and takes a seat at the rocks next to it. He waves a hand, and throws and parcel at me. I don’t catch it. It bounces off my chest and to the ground, and I start at it dumbly for a moment, before stooping to pick it up.

“You’re Level One,” he tells me.

I swallow, and am horribly relieved to find the parcel he threw at me contains a water skin and some bread. I move closer to the sign - not really wanting to be near to the Pleer, but not wanting to stay on the open road alone, either. Sitting next to the Dwarvish writing at least helps me feel like other people might be around, as I drink eagerly.

When I’m no longer completely parched, I hazard a reply.

“I don’t know what that means,” I say.

The Pleer snorts.

“Everyone starts at Level One,” he tells me. “The more experience you get, the higher your level becomes. Your whole life, living your shitty little Enpee-see existence in that town, you’ve never leveled up. You’re a random villager with no experience. But for reference - I’m Level Two-Hundred and Ninety.”

I swallow, and take a bite of bread to keep from having to admit that I still don’t understand. There are ‘levels’ on the old legend lists in the tavern, but they seemed to refer to parts of the forest. The numbers didn’t go up very high anyway, only to twelve. And while I might not have left the village before, I definitely have ‘experience’ with some things.

Just not these things. Not things that haven’t happened to anyone in Willowbranch for generations.

The Pleer stares at me.

“That means that everything out here can kill you, really easily,” he says.

“I know that,” I say. Because I do.

“Good. Then you know to hide if something comes at us,” he tells me. “If you die, I’m going to go back to your stupid little village, and get the other guy. And you know what that means.”

I swallow the bread. It tastes like ash.

“They’re just children,” I say. Willot and Esme. They like playing hide-and-seek and throwing seeds to the birds and making mud pies. Esme’s going to be a Guide, like me and my brother. Willot’s going to be a Mason, like Sam. My brother never smiled so big or cried so hard as on the days he went up into the nursery and found their cribs there.

The Pleer snorts.

“They’re fake,” he tells me. “Just like you’re fake. Every fucking thing in this godforsaken world is fake, except for me. And except for the woman I’m looking for. Don’t pull that sob story shit on me. You’re lucky I let off steam in Bayerwood before I got here.”

He leans forward. I look at his eyes again. I’ve seen monsters without those kinds of eyes, without that kind of hatred in them. It freezes me in place. Nauseating, terrifying - like the sickly aura off of his sword.

“I killed every Enpee-see in Bayerwood,” he tells me. “Because they pissed me off. And if you piss me off, I’ll do the same to your shitty little village, too. Just keep that in mind.”

Every…?

I can’t fathom it. But somehow I know that what he’s saying is true. Everyone in Bayerwood is dead. The village is a ghost town, then. Empty buildings, empty houses. I look away, as my hands shake and the bread in crumples into crusty crumbs. My eyes sting, and blur, but more than anything I just feel afraid. Afraid of dying out here. And not just for myself, now, but for what it would mean if the Pleer has to go back to Willowbranch to get my brother.

It takes me a minute.

But I manage to fight off the tears, and drink the rest of the my water. You’ll need it, I think. The water and the energy. I choke down the rest of the bread, too. I’ll have to keep my wits about me. Have to be able to run and hide, to get out of the way, and have a sharp eye out for danger.

I can’t let the Pleer go back to Willowbranch.

My mind shies away from the thought, as I lean against the dwarvish sign.

We don’t talk again until the Pleer finishes his own rations, and then gets up, and starts our trek once more. Stomping his boots, and letting out a frustrated sound when a light rain kicks in. He puts a hood up on his coat. I don’t have a coat. But I don’t mind the rain too much, either. It makes the rocks around us look glossy and oddly beautiful. Deepens the mist coming up from the places where water tumbles down the sides of the road.

The first attack comes, as I’d feared, from above.

There’s a shriek. Like that of the Hag Raven, but different, too. Harpy. All the birds flying overhead before, casting their shadows, almost had me complacent to the sound of flapping wings and things moving above the road. But this is big, and as the cry comes, my heart stills. I reel backwards. Slipping on the rain-slick rocks, as a monster with four wings and clawed legs, and the face and breasts of a human, drops from the sky.

The Pleer, though, seems read for it.

The air around him bursts, like a lightning strike. He lifts one hand up, as the harpy extends its claws towards him, and grabs it around the leg. And then he dashes the creature against the nearest outcropping of rocks. Like a child swinging a toy club. Black feathers explode everywhere. The Harpy’s shriek takes on a different tone. I rush further back, plastering myself up against the opposite stone wall, watching in wide-eyed shocked as the Pleer yanks the creature back. Heedless of the way its talons tear at his coat, as he smashes it against the rocks again.

That seems to daze it. It crumples, still shrieking but also obviously reeling, as the big warrior draws his sword and plunges it into the monster’s chest. Blood sprays onto him. My breaths are loud in my ears, the rocks hard at my back. The rain soaks through me.

The Pleer shifts his grip on his sword, and then in another, smooth gesture, cuts the head from the Harpy.

Its blood steams as it pours onto the road.

Its body twitches.

I watch as every part of it slowly dissolves. It turns to bones, and then motes, except for the wings. The Pleer looks up at the sky for a moment, before picking up the wings, and doing his strange gesture. They vanish. And nothing is left of the monster - just some fading bloodstains.

“Where’s the Harpy spawn point?” he asks me.

I can’t answer.

I want to. My mouth moves, but nothing comes out. I don’t even know the answer, at the moment. I feel strange. Tingling, a little - from the shock? But I can’t keep a thought straight. Everything in my head just buzzes, horrified by the sight of the Harpy’s death.

The Pleer rounds on me, sword still in hand. The panic does nothing to help my focus, but it forces words from me anyway. Gods, he really wasn’t lying. He could kill a whole village. He’d killed that monster so easily. Without any barricades or ranged attacks or anything at all, even. It’d taken half my village to bring down one werewolf from the other side of a row of topple and fortified temple pews, and people had still been badly injured.

The Pleer’s coat doesn’t even stay damaged. The rips on it close, as the bloodstains fade.

“I, I, there - they’re up, on the - in the -”

“Fucking useless,” he growls, and turns. And I am struck by the blind fear that he is turning back towards Willowbranch.

I point. Regaining my wits, through sheer force of desperation.

“It’s that way,” I say, and as I do, I see the large nest situated near to the road. Just at the top of the rocky mountainside.

The Pleer looks, and narrows his eyes.

After a moment, he lets out a breath.

“How many?” he asks.

I swallow.

“Just one, at that point,” I say. “There’s another nest further along, though, and that has three.”

He tilts his head, and keeps his sword at hand.

“Okay,” he says. “Three is going to be a problem for you. Don’t run away, they’ll just pick you off. Stay right behind me.”

I nod, more automatically than anything. His words don’t actually sink in until he starts walking again, and then I scramble to follow. How close is ‘right behind’, I wonder? He seems to swing around a lot when he fights. I keep one eye on the sky, and one eye on him, and shiver as the rain falls harder.

There are shapes, up on the sides of the mountain pass.

Not rocks.

It’s a strange experience, seeing the Harpies at their perches. I wonder if they just… stay there, all the time. Watching the road. It must have been ages since anyone has come down it. Sometimes, when I check the barricades in the village, I think about the monsters behind them. Wondering if they missed the days of the Pleers, too, in some way. The old stories say that monsters are the work of the Dark Gods. Made to sow chaos, to bring violence and discord.

In a way, it’s almost their Service to fight.

But unlike Enpisci, they don’t seem to have much beyond it.

We walk down the path. The Pleer keeps his sword ready. But the Harpies don’t move, not even when we’ve gone past them.

“Huh,” says the Pleer.

“They’re not attacking?” I ask, when I can stop holding my breath. “Why?”

I realize my error a moment later. But to my relief, the Pleer doesn’t seem annoyed by the question. When the Harpies are out of sight, he sheaths his weapon.

“Must be glitched,” he says. “I’ve seen it before. Once walked through an entire pack of Shamblers for ten minutes straight, and they weren’t low-level ones either.”

“…Low-level?” I venture, tentatively.

He shrugs.

“If a monster is too much weaker than you, there’s a chance it won’t attack,” he explains.

“That Harpy seemed a lot weaker than you…”

“Level Two Hundred,” the Pleer replies. “Not weak enough that they should be ignoring me, but that might be the glitch.”

I decide I’ve pressed my luck enough with the questions, as his mood seems to sour then. His expression twists, and his eyes darken. I keep quiet, and focus on the spawn points instead. There are a few more Harpies. I mention them, but they all just silently watch as we make our way along. There would be more if we followed the diverging pathways, but we don’t. And after a while, the rain stops. The mountain walls get lower, and break away into boulders again. We take our second break beside them.

My feet are killing me, and my head is pounding as I drink more water, and eat more bread. The Pleer doesn’t seem tired. Just lost in thought, as he stares up at the sky.

“This is a godforsaken place,” he mutters.

I glance towards him uncertainly.

“…Yes?” I say. The sky is blue, the rocks are grey, and the gods shut the gates of heaven and abandoned us all here. ‘Forsaken’ is just an apt description of it all.

Though I suppose, for a Pleer, the blow might be harder to take.

I wonder…

Well.

I don’t want to piss him off, but I’m probably never going to get another chance to ask. And we’re some distance away from the village, now. It’d be inconvenient, if nothing else, for him to turn all the way back to go get my brother. Maybe I can risk a little annoyance - just a little.

“What were the heavens like?” I wonder. “Before the gates shut?”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

The Pleer’s expression shuts down, closing off, and he gives me that look again.

“Fuck off,” he says.

I don’t ask twice.

My feet are still aching when we start walking again. Trapped in stony silence. The boulders give way, and the path turns from the mountains to the gorge. I don’t mean to stop, but when we clear the rocks enough to see the view beyond them, I do anyway.

Beyond the mountain pass, there is an open field, shrouded in waist-high mists. But in the distance, I can see the gorge, and the statues that mark the bridge that leads to the village. The statues are two ancient figures, with arms raised towards the sun. One of them is missing an arm, by the looks of it. Past them, there is the horizon. Distant mountains, coloured differently from the ones I know, and structures, and the sun settling against clouds that swirl like cream in tea.

I have never seen the likes of it before.

I gawk, until the Pleer gets far enough away that my legs start moving on their own again.

There’s so much space. I knew the world beyond the village was big, that it was bigger than my Service could let me know, that there were things beyond the boundaries of my maps. But I had never imagined what it was really like. How much of it there really could be. The gorge is massive, and the mountains and structures in the distance look tiny, and there is… there is so much of it. It defies me to explain the vastness of it all compared to the village I know. The familiar horizons of my life.

A new, different sort of fear comes over me. Or maybe ‘fear’ is the wrong word. I don’t know how to rightly describe it. Awe? Is this what awe feels like?

Even the details of this region are strange. The dirt beneath my feet is pale, and seems to sparkle in some places. Little green and grey plants grow in spirals from the dirt, and tiny black spiders scuttle between them. The stones that mark the road are pale blue. There are no trees, but there are some tall boulders.

The Pleer stops at the first blue stone road marker, and pulls out the map. Its corner is still torn from where he stuck his knife in it.

“Has anything reset yet?” he wonders.

“No,” I assure him. It can be hard to predict when the spawn points will change, but I always know it.

After a few minutes more of examining the map, he puts it away, and starts down the road. And I follow. Because I don’t have any choice.

Distant shapes move in the mist. Nothing should be spawning right where we are, but sometimes monsters wander. Especially when given the time to, with nothing to kill them or no reset to force them back to their original points. I keep as close to the Pleer as I dare. There are no birds out here. Something does fly overhead. Something big, that makes the Pleer stop and draw his weapon again. I look up, but all I can see is a dark shape against the glare of the sun. Either very large and far away, or smaller but closer by.

A harpy?

No, the shape isn’t right.

A wyvern, maybe. The roar seems to match, as it echoes down towards the gorge. But the beast doesn’t swoop in on us. And again, we keep going after several minutes of tension.

Eventually, we come to a gate at the road. It doesn’t seem to serve much purpose, and is really more of an archway. But dwarvish writing announces Bainbreach Gorge’s location. And there are fountains affixed to the sides of it, and twisting vines growing across it. As we draw near the vines seem to glow, a little.

My feet stop aching.

I hurry over to the fountains to refill my water skin, and to drink from them. The water is clear and refreshing, like the water from the temple back home. I love the gate, I decide. It feels safe. The Pleer drinks, too, though he seems less enamored with the place. He settles down next to it for our break, though. The mist parts around most of the gate, and I feel secure enough to put some distance between us, as I find a bench on the opposite side. Looking out towards that distant view.

Finally, I take a moment to just look at it all, without distractions.

What my brother wouldn’t give to see this.

You know what he wouldn’t give, I think. Sobered by the reminder.

I sit on the bench, and am overcome by the feeling that I am never going to see Willowbranch again. Another sobering thought, as I look out at the unfamiliar terrain set before me. The vastness of the world. The thought of the Pleer heading back to my village is horrifying. And I doubt he will stay in Bainbridge. But maybe if he finds this elven woman he’s looking for, his mood will improve enough for pity to settle in. For him to… to find some way to get me back home. I try and console myself.

Maybe if we make it to Bainbridge… well.

At least we’ll have made it. I have no idea what the other village is like. But I know that Enpisci used to make trips often, in the days when Pleers travelled the lands and fought monsters. Pleers could escort us from one place to the next. Families could be spread out among multiple villages, could offer compensation to Pleers for taking them to see friends or relatives elsewhere. It always sounded so amazing to me.

Now I wonder how many were just dragged around against their will. How many interactions were not what they might seem. In the village records, if you go back far enough in my line of progenitors, you will find the name of a Pleer. Marriage records, for a Guide Enpisci and a ‘Paladin’ Pleer. One child, who grew up and became a Guide themselves, after their progenitor died. No records on what became of the Pleer. Their name was in the legends on the tavern wall, though. Kessardian. They killed a lot of ghouls.

They probably came out this way, at least at some point, I realize. They probably saw much more of the world than any Enpisci.

Did they ever kill a whole village full of people?

I can’t imagine it. They had a child with an Enpisci. Surely they must have loved them, right? To have married and settled down and raised a child. But then… their spouse would have died, eventually. When their Span was done. And their child, too. And all the monsters they had slain would have returned, all their efforts to clear their forest or even just the temple basement for naught. When their gods forsook them…

Maybe the Pleers used to be good, once. Used to care about Enpisci. Maybe even Brandon was, before the weight of immortality became too much to bear.

I look over at him.

Would he know the name Kessardian?

But I can’t find much pity for a man who killed an entire village. Nor much hope in his better nature. I remember the hatred in his eyes, and I look away again. And keep my thoughts to myself.

After a while, the Pleer calls me over.

“Enpee-see,” he says, with a wave.

“My Lord?” I reply, and walk towards him.

He points down the long road towards the statues that mark the bridge.

“I’m not camping in the middle of that,” he says. “So we’re setting up here for the night. Pitch a tent, make us some food, and don’t bother me.” He summons up another bag of things, and thrusts it at me - hard enough to knock away my breath again - before he goes back to glowering at the clouds.

Luckily, part of my Service is knowing how to pitch a tent, even though I’ve never done it before. I set it up, along with a cooking fire. The ingredients in the bag don’t match any of the recipes I know, though. So I simply roast them. Trying not to think about Bartlie, and his many, many recipes, and blaming the water in my eyes on the smoke.

As the sun sets, the mist starts to glow.

The shapes in it become harder to ignore, too. The nightly wolf’s howl sends a chill down my spine, like it never has before.

Night changes the look of the whole place.

The gorge turns pitch black. The blue road markers seem to suck up the moonlight, and glow. The distant spawn points for Skeleton Knights will call them into being, now. And Lich Kings, too, though those are still far off. I set the tent up as near to the gate as I can, right in the middle of the archway, even though some part of me balks at ‘blocking the road’.

No other travelers will be coming, unless High Priestess was right, and things really are changing.

The Pleer eats, and produces a bottle of alcohol from thin air. It makes me wonder why he was so set on getting ale from the tavern the other day. He drinks, and tosses me a bedroll. And it’s then that I realize, of course, that the tent is just for him.

I look out towards the moving mist, and doubt I’ll get much sleep.

But the Pleer doesn’t seem to be in a great hurry to make use of his accommodations either. He polishes off a second bottle, and glares into the fire pit I made. And then dashes the glass against it, sending jagged pieces everywhere, and provoking a spray of flames.

“Wants to know what heaven’s like,” he mutters. Though he isn’t looking at me, and barely seems to be speaking to me, except perhaps by default. His tone is mocking. His mouth twists into a sneer. “Fucking bullshit. Stuck in a fucking desert hole with liches and a virgin Enpisci, chasing that fucking-!”

He gets up. I watch, heart in my throat, as he conjures up something else in his hand, and hurdles it down the darkened road.

“FUCK YOU, BITCH!” he shouts. “UNGRATEFUL CUNT! SLUT! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME?!”

The shouting turns to screaming, in short order. Just, incoherent wailing, out into the dark. I stare, eyes wide, utterly petrified at what the noise and chaos might summon. The gate might feel safe but it’s only a tiny outpost. How safe is it, really? And how good is the Pleer at fighting while he’s drunk and screaming, too?

“Hey,” I say, gently as I can manage.

The Pleer wheels around, and throws something at me. A rock, I think. It hits the ground, and I freeze. Overcome by the impression that I was just bare inches from death. The fire sputters, and the hatred is back in the Pleer eyes.

He levels a finger at me.

“You,” he says.

I start looking for a possible avenue of escape. Even though I know there isn’t really one. I’d never make it back through the Harpies, even if I ran. After a few seconds, I give up, and raise my hands in what I hope is a placating gesture.

“Please,” I say. “I just don’t want any monsters attacking the camp.”

The Pleer sneers. But he stops shouting, too. And after a moment, he comes back and slumps down beside the fire again. His breath reeks of strong wine.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “They can’t cross the boundary here. Most they could do would be to line up along it. And then ‘poof’ - gone by daybreak.”

I swallow. The prospect of sleeping out in the open with a bunch of Skeleton Knights leering down at me, halted only by an invisible barrier, still seems like… not an experience I would want to have. At all. Particularly not for the sake of some incoherent raging.

“But those Harpies didn’t attack,” I point out. “That was a ‘glitch’. What if the boundary makes a glitch, too?”

The Pleer pauses.

Then he lets out a gusty breath.

“Fine,” he says. “Fucking shit cowards. That’s all your type is, you know?”

I clench a fist in the ground. Fear keeps me from arguing - so maybe he does have a point.

“I certainly don’t want to die, my lord,” I say, instead.

The Pleer glares into the fire.

“You sound like that one,” he says, after a long minute. The smoke is getting in my eyes again. I move back a little, and wonder if I should keep responding. If that would lower or increase the odds of him screaming into the dark again.

“Who, may I ask?” I venture, at length.

“I’m not saying its name,” the Pleer replies, with another sneer. “The fucking dwarf. That’ll do. It’s the Fucking Dwarf. Fucking queer ass piece of shit en-pee-see. Not like you, though. Level Three-Fucking Hundred. We let it into our party. Desperation, that’s what if fucking was. We never should have left Itreloth.”

“Itreloth… that’s in the legends,” I realize. “It’s a city.”

“The Grey City,” the Pleer mutters. “Even after The Cut-Off, it was full of players. The trains connected it to the eight other cities. Until our station went down.”

He lets out a long sigh.

“Fucking glitches. The first party went out, didn’t come back. Second party went out - didn’t come back. Third party, no prizes for guessing that one. We figured they were either dying or finding somewhere better and just holing up there. Shit. I never even wanted to play this game. Damn fucking ‘pee see’ piece of crap, shoving its bullshit down everyone’s throats all the time. Oh look, it’s a fucking… fucking gay nanogender vegan orc. And now I’m trapped here. For eternity. The only fucking reason I came here is because of that friendzoning bitch, and what does she do? She drags me out of the city, out into the goddamn mines, trying to follow the train tracks with the Fucking Dwarf, and then she leaves me. She leaves me. When it’s her fucking fault I’m even here to begin with!”

 I can’t imagine why, I think.

I’m smart enough not to say it, though. My mind is reeling a little, trying to make sense of everything the Pleer is saying. He has so much knowledge. If only he wasn’t… well. A crazed murderer, really.

“What… ‘game’?” I ask. Maybe he means like in the legends, where the gods sometimes refer to life as The Game? But in that case, does that mean the Pleers all chose to live among mortals?

“Fucking bitch,” the Pleer ignores me, just muttering to himself.

I shift in place a little, and persist. I might not get another chance, and it seems to at least be keeping the screaming to a minimum.

“Okay, I know of some mines,” I say, thinking. Because I do - they’re at the other edge of the boundaries of my knowledge, past Bayerwood. “So you came out of them, and now you’re trying to find this other Pleer? And an Enpisci dwarf?”

“The Fucking Dwarf,” he corrects, in a low mutter. “She left me for the Fucking Dwarf. She’s an idiot. It’s not real. You’re not real, it’s not real, fucking nothing here is real except for us.”

“My lord, I am real,” I feel compelled to say, before I can think the better of it. He glares at me, and I close my mouth with an audible ‘click’. The fire burns between us, and seems to reflect in his eyes. And for a moment, I am horribly, terribly afraid that he is just going to kill me. One of his hands moves to his belts. The sneer on his face is ugly. It makes his scar ripple, and in the dark beyond the firelight, he seems to get even bigger, somehow. Meaner. An old and frightful creature, as dangerous as any monster.

Except that if he died, he wouldn’t come back.

Which would be comforting - if there was any chance of me killing him.

I know I’m desperate enough that I would try. There’s a sharp stick in the fire, close enough that I might be able to reach it before he cut my head off. Maybe I could blind him. Maybe I could run, and run, and just keep running. Maybe my chances would be better with the monsters.

But then he just spits on the ground, and looks away.

“Your fucking kind,” he swears. “You don’t even know what ‘real’ is. You don’t matter. Fucking algorithms and shit. Ay-eye. It’s your fault, your kind’s fault. I’d kill every last one of you if I could, for what you’ve done to us. You fucking trapped us here.”

What?

What is that even supposed to mean? How could Enpisci ‘trap’ the Pleers here? They’re the ones with divine power.

“How?” I ask. Pointing out the obvious fallacy just seems liable to make the man angry.

The Pleer gets up. Wavering in place for a moment, before he just turns, and staggers towards his ten.

“That’s the fucking question,” he mutters, as he goes. “That’s the fucking question. How you did it. Fucking Ay-eye.”

The tent flap closes.

I am left alone in the dark, with a flickering campfire, and a lot of broken glass. And a bedroll, and glowing mist. And distant sounds of something creaking. And drawing closer, and closer, along with something like the sound of wind wheezing through an old bag. I douse the fire, and move nearer to the tent. Watching with the moonlight, as three bone-white figures in aged armour begin to move along the boundaries of the gate.

The hollows of their eye sockets stare back at me.

I don’t sleep.

[filthy-reckless-rp]

Congratulations Beth! Blair Waldorf is all yours. We love the way you see her character, the way you really know her, and it’s clear the group will be better with you in it. As Serena’s player I have to say I’m over the MOON about how you see the relationship between the two, and I’m sure Paige feels the same about Blair and Nate’s relationship. Just based on your para sample I can already tell you know her inside and out. Can’t wait to start roleplaying with you!

Please send your account in within 24 hrs. If you need more time just let us know! Remember to open your ask and submit. We also have a Whatsapp group for members; if you would like to be added just let us know. Finally, we currently have an event going on. All the information can be found here if you would like Blair to participate!

*FC change to Danielle Camp has been accepted*

—Admin C

Name: Beth

Age: 25

Pronouns: she/her

Timezone: EST

Do you have any triggers?: RFP

How active are you? (Please describe in words): Right now, I’m a barista, and I run one roleplay, and that is the limit of my commitments. I’m on tumblr 99% of the time and usually log in every other day at least, if not every day for replies.

How did you find out about us?: some of your homies aka Paige and Katy <3

What made you apply?: I love Blair! She’s one of my favorite characters of all time, so powerful and strong and intelligent, yet so misguided in how she uses that. The show was so fun and full of ups and downs, and I’d love to be able to explore that world in my own writing.

Canon Application:

Character Name: Blair Cornelia Waldorf

Why do you want this character?: Blair Waldorf and I go way back. Before the show was even a thought in the minds of network execs, I was reading the old school Gossip Girl books, becoming well acquainted with this demon of a lady. I related to Blair in many ways; the one that really struck a chord was the relationship she had with Serena. Always coming in second place, which left her in a tough spot: loving the stuffing out of her best friend, but being fed up with never getting where or what she wanted. The more I read about Blair, the more I understood her and empathized. I rooted for her, and I took to the parts of her that I understood best. Those I didn’t, I adopted into my own personality until I did. I was ecstatic when the show came around, and couldn’t have been more pleased with Leighton Meester and her golden portrayal of the character who had become one of my best friends. I fell away from the show during season two, when that teacher gave Blair a B and then cut her dream of Yale into little pieces (it was way too painful to watch my girl suffer like that, y’all!), but eventually went back and finished. Although the books and the show went different ways, the essence of Blair always remained, as has my love of her. BASICALLY I just love Blair and miss having her in my life. <3

Any changes? (If you wish to change an FC please discuss it with us, off anon, beforehand): I’d love to use Danielle Campbell if that’s okay!

Wanted connections?: I’m open to anything and everything! I believe Serena and Nate are an item now in the rp, so I’d love to chat with their players and get a feel for where her relationships with them stand before I move forward with everyone else. But outside of that, I’m good with anything! (Even if Blair isn’t lol. ALL THE MORE FUN!!!)

Character’s birthday: November 15 (WHICH IS ALSO MINE!!!!)

3 virtues and 3 flaws, explaining each:

+ ambitious: Once Blair Waldorf sets her eyes on something, she’s bound to get it. Why? Not through luck or crossed fingers. No, Blair Waldorf works hard for what she wants. The concept might be laughable to those who don’t know her well. After all, Blair is privileged, both financially and socially. While the upper hand she was born with does have its perks, Blair is well aware that she won’t be guaranteed anything. She’s not the only one with privilege galore, and sometimes, that means finding another way to stand out. That means fierce determination, and using the gifts she was given to spin her own web.

- manipulative: One of the many gifts Blair has been given is her ability to manipulate. It’s not her greatest gift, nor is it the most helpful, but it’s one that comes to her most easily. Lying, scheming, twisting circumstance in her direction— Blair’s capable of pulling off all of the above, and with gold stars as rewards for just how well she does them. Most of the time, though, her efforts end up backfiring in her face. Blair might have learned that hard work is key, but next will (hopefully) come the lesson of channeling that hard work into the right place. For now— Well, what would Gossip Girl have to talk about if it wasn’t for Blair’s scheming, anyway?

+ independent: Although there are moments that Blair resents her mother for the affection she seems to show every important thing in her life but her own daughter, she’s at least grateful for the important trait it gave her: independence. The Upper East Side might be posh and glamorous, filled to the brim with people who are well taken care of by others – whether it be their parents, their spouses, or their ancestors – but money and power only go so far if you don’t know how to use them. Her mother might not be as present as Blair likes, but those long years of keeping herself on top of her homework assignments and planning grocery lists for Dorota have at least resulted in a self-sufficient girl who’s ready to head out into the world.

- insecure: Just because Blair is confident in her ability to get by doesn’t mean she’s confident in everything. The lower layers of Maslow’s hierarchy might have been easy to master, but she struggles about halfway up (although what teenager doesn’t?) She’s independent, sure, but what about her is so wrong that her mother can’t be bothered to check in every now and again? If Serena’s got the power to captivate her mother (and Nate, and Gossip girl, and everyone else), then clearly Blair’s missing something, isn’t she? What if Yale’s looking for that special x factor she’s never been able to find? What if—

+ loving: *EATING DISORDER CW* Blair knows too well how terrible it is to be made to feel like a C-lister by the people most important to you. She tries to never do that to those close to her—at least, not if they don’t deserve it. To her inner circle, Blair is supportive and consoling. She’s never missed one of Nate’s lacrosse games, and even when Serena is commanding more attention from him than Blair can stand, she’s there with a pint of ice cream and the ingredients to whatever Serena’s favorite cocktail recipe is that week if she’s having a hard time (she’s even so kind as to wait until she gets home to purge her share). If you’re on her good side, you’re practically guaranteed copious amounts of love and support from Blair. At least until she deems you unworthy of it.

- jealous: Blair puts her loved ones so high up on a pedestal (though they do come falling down quite often), and she expects the same. When she isn’t given the same amount of attention, affection, or support she shows another person, she takes this as a heavy blow—especially when there are others getting the love she deserves. In Blair’s eyes, no one works as hard as she does. No one cares as much as she does. And if that’s true, then who deserves more attention or recognition than her? No one, that’s who.

If you don’t get this character, who would be your second choice?: I’d be down for just about anyone. SEND ME YOUR RECS!

Para Sample: *def not hc-ing this as having happened or god-moding or anything; just thought it would be a fun way to explore her insecurities with Serena! so sorry if Serena is OOC in this D:*

Blair had gotten her first fake ID when she was fourteen years old.

She still remembered the thickness of the plastic between her fingers, down to the millimeter. It was different than the card they’d given her at Constance Billard; she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign, or a bad one. Would that be something the bouncers would look for? Would it be a red flag? She remembered looking nervously at her picture, tiny and bright with blush and lipstick that she’d caked on to look older. While Serena had fluttered around her closet, deciding on an outfit for the big night, Blair had frowned at her clownish looking picture, nervousness caking the lining of her veins like cholesterol as the hour drew closer. If she didn’t have a panic attack by the time they got into the club opening, she would absolutely have a heart attack instead.

The line went on forever, rounding the corner to the next block. Great. She could already hear her heart beating in her ears, thunderously loud. By the time they made it to the front of the line, it would drown out the music inside.

“Oh, no, We’re not waiting in this!” Blair thought that confusion was almost worst, at least until they came face to face with one of the three bouncers and she realized what Serena was doing. She quickly narrowed her eyes and tried to put on a brave face, but she thought she saw one of the bouncers watching her knees quake together. “Excuse me, sir, but—”

“Twenty-one and up,” the bouncer smirked. Serena presented her ID proudly. All three of the bouncers had crowded together at this point—more so to get a look at Serena rather than her flamboyantly falsified identity. “Alright. You can go on in.” The crowd behind them groaned as the second bouncer allowed Serena through the velvet rope ahead of them. “But you—”

“I look just as old as she does!” It was a stupid thing to say, possibly the stupidest, but Blair couldn’t take it back. Instead, she shoved her ID under the bouncer’s nose. “Twenty-two.”

The bouncer opened his mouth again without even looking at the card—

“She’s with me,” Serena said, grabbing Blair by the wrist and pulling her past the rope before anyone could argue. “Someone’s got to make sure I get home in time for Philosophy 300. Thanks, guys!”

As Blair sipped on her martini at the very same bar Serena had slipped her into all those years ago, her frown was far more sour than the drink. She tried to remember the last time Serena had given her something rather than taken it away— But as she thought about it, that was all she could come up with. Her mother, her friends, Nate— Blair pushed her martini back and swung her purse over her shoulder. She’d taken this place, too: she’d tainted it with her memory. What would be next? Yale?

“Taxi!” Blurs of yellow bullets sped past her on the shockingly empty New York street. Blair pounded her heel into the cement and screeched. “TAXI!” One halted in front of her immediately. Pleased with herself, Blair bounced into the backseat of the car, high on a newfound independence. How silly it was to think she needed Serena to get what she needed.

She was Blair Waldorf, after all. She just had to remember that.

[dougmeet]

Time! Let's log off, Becky, and get out of here. Hey, I got eight hits on that last batch of "help wanted" ads. I was right in the middle of chatting with Stuart, the clown from Pittsburg who thinks we're going to get married. Did he get that check you sent him last week to help with the wedding expenses? Yeah. Just give it a few days, let the money show up in his account, and Bam! I'll get him to send it right back to me. You know, I'll make up some emergency expense that suddenly came up that I had to cover. Fool won't know what hit him. What did you tell this one? Oh, this one? I told him that I am putting myself through nursing school, modeling underwear for catalogues. That one's almost too easy. The guy probably had never had a real date in his life. Yeah, but he's still going to wonder why I bailed on him in the chat. You know the rules. Never stay wired for more than thirty minutes. I've already sniffed another open network near the motel. We can log on there later and finish up. OK, but I still want to call him. I don't want him to start getting suspicious or something before I've hit him up for the green. But use the prepaid phone and keep it short. I don't want him to have anything to connect back to us. Chill, Abs. I know the drill. Well don't screw up. I'm like Paris baby. Orange ain't my color. So, who are you supposed to be today, Niece? I'm a sixty-three-year-old woman named Brenda, recently retired from school teaching, and I've settled in New Mexico. Yeah? I can see that. You already got the divorce and the cat. That could totally be you in about thirty years. That's cute, Lang. I wonder what that says about you, though. You play better females than I do. She's got a point, Howie. Remember that mope from Nigeria last month? I think he was in love with you. Any leads on our "work at home" scams out west? Yeah. There's several new job listings on one of the resume websites this morning. It's the usual pitch. "Wanted: international company seeks payment processor." These guys claim they're from Ireland, and they need someone to process payments to avoid making customs fees. You thinking it's our "coffee shop bandits?" Fits their "M.O." The "coffee shop bandits"….that's what we've been calling them for weeks now. We've tracked them to a series of coffee shops, hotels, laundromats, and other locations in the Southwest. They use public wi-fi hotspots to connect to the internet wirelessly. Their scams cover a whole range of internet fraud with one common link - they all depend on counterfeit checks and money orders. The payment processing clerk con is one of their favorites. They target people who want or need to work from home - retirees, single moms with kids, even people with disabilities. Once the person accepts the job as a payment processor, they're asked to open a checking account for the overseas business. In a few days a series of checks arrive from their customers. The new employee is told to deposit these checks, and once they've cleared, to wire ninety percent of the money to their employer. The clerk is told they can keep ten percent of the payments as their salary. When they check their available balance, the money is there. But actually it can take weeks for a check to clear or be discovered as counterfeit. But the ATM said that the funds were available. Yes, it did. At the time it was in there but in five or six days… If the person withdraws money during this period, then they become responsible for covering the bank's loss. But I've spent some of the money… We've seen victims lose tens of thousands of dollars on this type of scam. This job posting is nearly identical to the one we saw last week. Hey, if it's working, why change? There are thousands of new people who look at these "help wanted" postings every day. Where did you tell him you lived? Truth or Consequences. Priceless. OK, so what else we got on these guys, Derek? Well, first of all, they're not guys. Remember that last trace that we ran? An inspector went to the scene. Ran into a dead end. They got their room with a stolen credit card…fake names on the registration. But he spotted an ATM across the street, and we managed to get these photos. But these photos, they don't give us a whole lot to go on. You underestimate me. Another phone was used at three of the bandit’s locations. And this phone, it's not a prepaid cell phone. It's registered to a Becky Meyers of Key Largo, Florida. NCIC says she got a list of arrests for all kinds of petty stuff - everything from shoplifting to bad checks. OK, I'm impressed. Any idea who her friend is, Sherlock? Hey, man, I had to leave something for you guys to do, right? You're not calling one of the punks on that phone, are you? No, dope. I'm calling Mikey. I need to get some refills on those checks. Your boyfriend gives me the creeps. Whatever. You don't like any of my men. Besides, he's better than anybody we know with Photoshop. Look how legit these things look. I told you to stop flashing those! You're going to blow this whole deal! I'm going to blow this whole deal? There wouldn't be a deal if it wasn't for me! This sweet ride…my deal! Hardly! You and your boyfriend would still be passing bad checks for beer money at the Piggly Wiggly if it wasn't for me! Still, you've got to admit, Mikey's got good hands…and mad skills on that printer. So what did you turn up on Becky Meyers? Hey, I'll check you a little later. Thanks. According to her parole officer, her printer is a local loser named Michael Friedman. They've been an item since high school. He spends most of his time playing those multi-player games online, printing counterfeit checks, just as a way for him to keep the lights on. So who's playing "Thelma" to her "Louise?" Our best bet is another high school friend, Abbey Seals. She was a computer science major at FSU until she dropped out last year. Miami cops busted her on a DUI a few months back, Becky Meyers in the car. Almost violated her parole, but the judge cut her a break. So this Abbey Seals may have helped take their bad check racket high-tech? Looks like it. Trouble is, her PO says she's skipped. Hasn't check in in three months. That fits the timeline to our scams. But we stills can't actually connect them to any of the frauds, or any of the victims' wire transfers. Which brings us back to Brenda, from Truth or Consequences. Alright, do it. I'm on it. Oh, damn it! Stupid freaking woman! God! What is it? It's that woman from New Mexico, the teacher. Now she can't figure out how to send a simple wire transfer. She deposited those checks like two weeks ago. If she doesn't send the money soon, the bank's going to tip her off, and the whole thing is going to fall apart. How can one woman be so dense? Did she email you? No, we're chatting on IM. Oh wait, get this. She didn’t trust the guy at the wire service. Good god! Stupid broad took the money out in cash! Well, how much? Ninety percent. Almost thirty thousand dollars. You're kidding. Now what? Well, she's wants to meet in person so she can deliver it. Doesn't she think the company is located in Ireland? Yes, but remember? She thinks we have an office in Forth Worth. Yeah, OK, OK. No way in hell do we ever meet anyone in person. That's the rule, remember? Yes. Well we have to think of something else. Are you kidding me? Stupid hag could barely open the account. She's never going to brainstorm a wire transfer. And besides, the bank is going to call her any day now and tip her off. The money's going to walk. Then it walks. We never meet anyone in person. Time! What? Bull! Log off. No, No! What am I going to tell her? Come on. It's thirty grand! Tell her you'll call her later. Now log off, Becky. I mean it! They just logged off. She said she was going to call me on the phone. Do you think they bought it? I don't know. They've been playing it really safe. They might now be willing to risk a meeting in person. We better hope that they're getting greedy. If they keep using these web-based email services to open networks, limiting their access time, we're never going to be able to connect them to any of these "work at home" scams. Come on. Yeah. UC phone. Hold on, hold on, hold on. Caller ID says, "unknown." It's her. Yeah, trace that call. OK? Go. Hello? Hi there, Brenda? Oh, hello, dear. Hey listen, I was thinking that you really shouldn't come all the way to Forth Worth, especially carrying all that cash on you. We're concerned about our liability, because our insurance wouldn't cover it if anything happened to you. Oh, I just don't trust those wire services, dear. My father tried to wire money to my Uncle Benjamin once when he was having twin girls. And he tried to wire it to Tulsa, Oklahoma, but it went to another Benjamin in Kansas City. They didn't even have the same last name. Kansas City is nowhere near Tulsa. Yeah, I know where Tulsa is, Brenda. Hey, listen, my partner and I, we're going to be in your area. We're going to be looking at some land that we're considering. Why don't you at least let us meet you halfway there, you know, to save you some trouble. Oh, it's no problem, dear, to drive to Fort Worth. I have a half sister in Irving. I've been dying to see her miniatures collection. No, no, no, Brenda, really, I insist. Listen, Friday, let's meet at… You know what? Why don't we meet at Alamogordo. Do you know where Alamogordo is? Oh, certainly, dear. Everyone knows where Alamogordo is. That's where they tested the first atomic bombs in the 1940's. It was part of the Manhattan Project. That's a funny name, actually, as it was here in New Mexico and nowhere near New York. Well, that was really fascinating, Brenda. Well, listen, OK, Friday it is. I'll call you on your cell phone when we get there, like right around lunchtime. Of course, I'll bring you a receipt. Alright, well listen, Friday it is. I've got to go, Brenda. OK? Alright. Bye bye. Harmless. We'll meet her in the middle of nowhere, in and out, ten minutes, we're done. Less if I could get her to shut up for five seconds. Cake. I still don't like it. What if she's a cop? I swear, you must think I'm mental. Listen, I'll go in there, and I'll talk to her. You wait, out in the car. If something smells funny, we'll walk. Can't tie us to the phone calls, or the checks. Thank you. Did you get it? Yep. It's the same signature as the phone used to call the other victims. I'd like to see their lawyer explain that one. We're still going to need them to show up for the transfer in order to pick them up. I mean, by the time they do this trace, they could be a hundred miles from here. No problem, we'll pick them up on Friday. Aren't you kind of forgetting something? What? They're expecting a sixty-three-year-old named Brenda. It's after one. Look sharp, everyone. Possible suspect vehicle - white Ford Mustang, late model. We couldn't make the tags off the ATM photo. Location two, clear. Niece, they called you again? No, it's been forty-five minutes. She said they were running late. They'll be here. Our suspect is approaching, east side of the street. No sign of her partner. Bingo. Becky, dear. Brenda, I wasn't sure that was you. Sorry we're running late. It took a little longer to tour the property. Oh, that's fine, dear. I've just been sitting here enjoying my tea, and reading up on the history of this wonderful little town. Did you know that Robert Oppenheimer was almost convicted of being a traitor and a spy? Can you imagine? You look a lot younger than I expected. Oh, you're sweet, dear. OK, OK, Thelma's getting nervous. I don't think she's buying Niece's makeup. Find Louise, fast! I got her. She's parked just down from the war wagon - white Mustang in that alley. I'm on it, Lang. Watch my back. Everyone else cover Niece. Wait for my signal. I have the money right here. I put it in this bag. I didn't want to attract attention, you know. It's under my needle point. No, that's OK, Granny. You keep it. I'm giving you a raise. Federal Agent! You're under arrest! No! No, no, no! This is complete crap! It didn't touch that money. Police! Police! Freeze! Hands up! Hands up! Clear the door, folks, please clear the door. Thank you. Listen, everybody, thanks for your help. I need everybody outside. There's nothing else to see here. Thank you very much. Get up. Howie, she's all yours. Have a nice day. Did you have any trouble with her friend? Nah. She's already trying to pin the entire scam on Becky and her boyfriend. Yeah, she didn't take the bait. She's got several phony checks in her purse. Well, we're still going through the car, but so far, we've got lots of fake checks, prepaid cell phones, and your little friend Derek is going to have a field day with the laptops. Oh yeah, we got a whole lot of love letters from Mikey the printer. Can't wait to send in the Miami team. Did you recover any of the victims' moneys? Not a whole lot. About eight grand on them. Whole lot of neat toys and shwag from the shopping sprees though. Yeah, well at least they're off the street. Yeah, this time they're all looking at ten to twenty for mail fraud. You know, I've got to tell you. You look…ridiculous. I told you you weren't going to pass for sixty-three. What's the matter with you? Thanks to some solid police work and the efforts of the Technical Services Division, these two high-tech crooks are behind bars. Unfortunately, there are hundreds more of them out there, operating these scams from around the world. Remember, on the internet, these crooks can pretend to be anyone that they want. Often, they construct elaborate fronts to make them seem legitimate - fake websites, phony pictures, even references that can vouch for them. We refer to this as "the anonymity of the internet." But don't be fooled. There are very few legitimate jobs that allow you to work from your home, and none that involve processing checks or money orders. To avoid falling into these traps, remember these important tips. Number one: Never accept a check or money order for payment for any items if the check is greater than the amount owed to you. These so-called "overpayment scams" seem like a ticket to easy money, but usually leave the victim with an overdrawn account and empty pockets. Number two: Just because your ATM or bank statement says "funds available" doesn't mean that the check has actually cleared. By law, banks must make funds available to you in a few days. After that you can access the funds, but the check may not clear for weeks. Until the check does clear, you're legally responsible for the deposit, as well as any funds that you withdraw. Number three: Many lottery or sweepstakes frauds involve counterfeit checks. You receive a check for a portion of your winnings and are told to deposit it. You're then instructed to use a portion of these moneys to pay for taxes or fees, with a promise of even bigger winnings to come. Don't buy it. It may seem like easy money, but it will cost you big in the end. And lastly, don't forget your good common sense. If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. There are no "get rich quick" schemes, and you can be sure that no one needs your help to transfer millions of dollars into or out of their country. Cops call these types of scams "419 fraud." They've been around for years, only now they've been updated for the information age. Play it safe, and log off on these fake check scams. For more information on how to avoid counterfeit check fraud, visit our website at www.fakechecks.org.

External Link: Behind the Badge: The U.S. Postal Inspection Service,   Transcripción en español

[sending-the-message]

Why I stopped hacking. For good. Part 2. by Menmaro

Allow me to preface this second part by thanking those who read my first part and enjoyed it. I would like to apologise for any poor grammar/spelling or formatting as I am writing this on my on my phone so formatting is extremely difficult. My laptop is in another country at the moment so when I return home I will format these stories and future ones properly. Please bear with me and enjoy part 2.

I would also like to add that this tale is of an encounter of a friend of mine. I did not experience this first hand and thus I have to make up what his thoughts were (some are his exact thoughts) to what I would have expected him to feel from knowing him. This story is how he told me so as far as I know it is true. He has stopped hacking and spends most of his time gaming and working.

Continued.

I stood frozen in horror. Panic swept over my body and thoughts flooded my mind. What happened to my mother? Is she OK? What is this son of a bitch doing with her phone? I knew I had to calm down, something didn't seem right. I picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. It just said mum, no number. Fuck, how could I be so stupid, he was just masking his caller ID, must be to throw me off balance. I'll play along, there must be something I'm missing.

"Wh.. What are you doing with my mum's phone? Where is she? Is she OK?"

A laugh came from the other end, a deep, disgusting laugh. I decided to record the call, maybe I can play around with the recording and find this caller’s real voice. It may not be much, but this asshole knows where I live and probably who my parents are. He starts talking.

"Danni, Danni, Danni. The safety of your mother depends on the outcome of our little game. I told you one's life is on the line but, I should have elaborated and said it shouldn't necessarily be the player's life. So, are you ready to play?"

At this point I had a thought; How can James see me? I have no cameras connected to the WiFi, my desktop camera is disconnected and I ripped out my laptop camera when I got the damn thing. Another option would be he broke into my apartment and installed cameras when I was out. But why would he risk getting caught like that. I may have cameras at home and catch him doing it. No he must be using one of my devices.

“Doesn't seem like I have a choice James. Let's fucking play.”

I braced myself for what he would say. We’ve all watched those horror movies, these games weren’t exactly Mario Kart sort of level. Suddenly I knew, I wanted to throw myself from my apartment for how stupid I'd been. In my hand I held the single device that had a camera and was connected to my WiFi. My fucking phone. I didn't want to jump to the conclusion that that was the only camera that was being used, so I decided to test it. Before I do anything though, he begins to speak.

“Well well Danni, I must say, you’ve got balls. Most guys would have started to cry or beg me to stop. This will most certainly be fun.”

I've had enough of this shit. I start to test my theory. I started googling shit like “how to track a phone call”, and “how to find cameras in a house”. I wanted to see if he could see my screen and sure enough the confirmation came through.

“Oh Danni, it’s cute you’re still trying to fight back. But I can assure you, you will not be able to track this call and you will not find out how I can see you.”

Challenge accepted dickhead. I angle my phone away from my bag and take out a USB dongle. If this asshole is on my WiFi I'm gonna make him think he's controlling all of my devices. I look for my laptop whilst trying to make as little noise as possible and again, angling the phone away from what I am doing. I find my laptop, boot it up and plug my dongle into it.

“Yeah well, I'm one tough son of a bitch… so when we playing James? And do go over the rules properly yeah? I'd like to whoop your ass playing by your rules dipshit.”

My strategy was to show no fear. In truth, I was terrified. But I knew the instant he smelled fear, he would have total control over me, and I'd fuck up and forget basic stuff like I had when this shit show first started. My laptop finished booting up. Excellent. I knew this fucker was using my network somehow. So I decided to hack my own network and see how he got in. Maybe he left something behind.

“The rules are simple Danni. You wanted to play judge, jury and executioner. We are going to go through your history of white knight justice, and see just how much of a hero you really are.”

Hero… huh… there was a time when I thought I was a hero… maybe it was when I made that child molestor end his own life. I told myself I was a hero because he wouldn't hurt another child. In truth, was I a murderer? Was this my past coming to haunt me? No time to think about this. It isn't just my life on the line here, everyone I care about is in danger and there's no time to be selfish.

“Ha… hero… that’s cute James, but I’ve always known I was the devil. A necessary evil. But sure, let's take a walk down memory lane. Maybe that will remind you who the fuck you’re dealing with.”

My attempts were bringing up nothing. I managed to break into my own network many times but I couldn't find a trace of another device, not a trace of information transfer. Wait… information transfer. Outgoing and incoming traffic. Fuck I'm stupid. He can see a stream of my screen which means I have outgoing traffic somewhere right? I start monitoring my outgoing traffic. Encrypted of course but there was still an address. A server that this information was going through. I find the address of the server and decide to do something extremely stupid and might sentence myself to prison or worse, no access to a computer. But I decide that is a small price to pay for the safety of my family.

“Well well Danni, watch your screen as the images pop up. Leeeeets roll the tape ladies and gentlemen.”

What a fucking psycho, I don't pay much attention to the tone of his voice as I set up my botnet for a distributed denial of service attack. My hope is that if I bring down the server for a bit, I'll be able to see where the requests are coming from and track it from there. It is a long shot but it might work. As I'm doing this I also stop recording the call and send the recording over to my laptop. All the while I’m angling my phone away from my laptop, and since he hasn't spoken of it, my theory that the only camera being my phone turns out to be correct. I finally feel like I'm making the right moves in this twisted game of chess, I'm just hoping I'll be the one to say checkmate at the end though.

“Victim number one; Brock. 16 years old. You destroyed his relationship and got him kicked out of his home. He spent 3 years on the streets before overdosing on heroine. That wasn’t a nice thing to do Danni.”

A picture of 16 year old Brock pops up. He died? Fuck, he was an asshole but didn't deserve to die. I went to far… I went to far… but I couldn't admit it. Not to this psycho. I had to show him that I had no heart.

“Well life sucks, survival of the fittest and all that shit. Maybe he should have been careful with whom he messed with.”

Another disgusting laugh. James is enjoying himself… should I be? No time for that right now. I put the phone on loudspeaker and placed it on my desk, weary that the front camera may be used I kept it well out of my sight and put an earphone into my left ear. Time to tweak around with this recording and “unmodulate” this voice.

“Danni, this isn't gonna end up well if you show no remorse. Now the fun begins. Remember his girlfriend? It’s confession time Danniiiii.”

As if it were alive, my PC opened up Skype and auto signed in. Fuck I'm so stupid, was I really that lazy? A number is entered into it and it starts dialling. Ring ring…

“What do you want me to do James? Tell her the online babe was me and Brock wasn't a cheating dickhead? What's that going to change?”

My botnet was ready and I started my attack on the server address instantly. I then watched my incoming and outgoing traffic closely. All I needed was a hiccup, something that will lead me to James. In that moment it was like the entire world grinded to a halt. In that moment, it wouldn't matter to me if the moon was crashing down onto the Earth to end all life as we knew it. All that mattered was this stream of information. Tick tock tick tock tick tock. I could hear the second hand on my watch ticking…

There! A clue… phew, was starting to lose hope. I start work on it, did James notice? I'd imagine his connection to my network might have dropped since I saw a request ping but nothing going back. Was he too busy trying to guilt trip me that he got too cocky and didn't notice? My Skype was still ringing was she going to pick up?

“Hello?” A girl's voice. She sounds kinda cute actually, is James hooking us up? Wrong time for jokes there.

James speaks to me “Go on Danni, answer her. Tell her your name and what you did to Brock.”

I decide to play along, true he didn't call me from my mum’s number, but that doesn't mean he still can't hurt her.

“Liz? It’s Daniel Kurt. We went to school together with Brock.”

There was a pause, I can't imagine how awkward this must be for her. I didn't have time to care though, I ran a search on the address and whilst that was going on, I continued tweaking with the recording.

“Danni? That loony kid that used to get beaten up all the time?”

Ahhh what a bitch. Hooking us up my ass. I had to fight back the urge to shout and educate her ignorant ass on what autism was. Whatever though, not my concern. At least breaking this news to here won't be as painful to me as I thought.

“Yeah that's me, the loony kid.” I laughed and I could swear I heard James laughing too. Asshole. “So listen, don't suppose you remember Brock Leland? You kinda slept with him at that time.” Maybe not the best choice of words.

“Yeah I remember him, I heard he died from drug overdose, makes me feel horrible breaking up with him…” another pause, “why?”

Fuck. How do I say this? This is a confession, if she takes this to the police I'm fucking screwed. Fuck any chance I have of getting away with this. I was 16 though, does it matter? I read somewhere that crimes committed before 18 aren't dealt with anymore. I was just a kid? Damn it. To hell with this, I need to stop this madness before he makes me call a victim of an attack I committed after 18.

“Yeah well, it’s my fault he did this. He made my life shit for when I was at school. So I decided to fight back. He never cheated on you, I made it look like he was.”

A really long pause. Gives me time to work on this recording. Nothing remotely human yet. Still searching that address, why is it taking forever?

“Danni.” Her voice was extremely soft. I was expecting something else. An angrier tone would have made more sense.

“Yeah...?”

“I know.”