#usually it'd be five times that number or even more

[hzdtrees]

Aloy, Burning Shores edition

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

-

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

-

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

-

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

-

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

[wayslidecool]

arabic numerals ranked from worst to best by their potential as the lens in new year's glasses

#10: Seven (7)

seven is a very awkward number for a lot of things, and new year's glasses are no exception. its weird angular shape leaves no opening to put a lens in, and unlike the next entry, it's too wide to comfortably squeeze between lens in the second and fourth digits. and the impressive thing about 7 is that this is a number with plenty of writing variations, and yet i can't think of a single one that makes it an efficient lens! sorry 7. i think you're the best number for a rating scale, but that's about it.

#9: One (1)

the 2010s were a rough time for new year's glasses, huh? coming off the high of the 1990s and 2000s, people were determined to make the 2010s work, but that's a tall fucking order. the saving grace of 1, and the reason it's above 7, is that it's skinny enough that you can slide it between numbers and use the fourth digit of the year as the lens, but the fact you have to resort to that is only further evidence of how much 1 sucks at being the lens.

#8: Two (2)

two is definitely a tier above the previous two entries. it's an interesting and versatile enough shape that you can mess with it to try and make a viable spot for a lens, what with the upper loop and lower angle, but i feel no matter what you try, you always gotta make some concessions. like, you have enough to work with that a talented enough designer can make something that works, but usually the result is more "functional" than "good".

#7: Four (4)

now we're getting into numbers that could actually make for passable lenses. i mean, check it out! we have a closed loop here and everything, that has GOT to count for something! what makes me put four relatively low on the list is that with its right-triangle shape, i can't imagine it being a very comfortable shape for a lens, especially with how much ends up sticking out and downwards. still, a vast improvement over the previous three entries, even if it's basically just a worse 9.

#6: Five (5)

i feel like depending on what you prioritize in new year's glasses, these next two entries could end up going below the previous one, but personally, i think the not-closed round loop feels like a more practical spot for a lens than 4's closed-but-angular loop, y'know? so what if the loop isn't closed, it still mostly surrounds your eye, and feels generally passable to me. this is a number that wouldn't inspire the idea for new year's glasses, but certainly works now that the idea has been established.

#5: Three (3)

three is basically the same thing as 5, and i could even see some people putting it below 5, since 5's loop is a bit closer to being closed than either of 3's loops. that being said, 3's dual-loop is ultimately what gives it the edge to me. it ends up feeling more versatile to me. i feel the bottom loop is generally the correct choice, but just having the option of the top loop as well really helps it out. either way, after suffering through the 2010s and 2020s, i expect the 2030s to be a welcome breath of fresh air.

#4: Nine (9)

now we're getting to the really good ones. i mean, the 1990s are when the trend of new year's glasses started! if this number was good enough to kickstart the trend, then clearly it's a good number to put the lens in. having a closed round loop really goes a long way, it turns out! what puts 9 below the next three entries is the tail. having that swoop down towards your face feels like it'd be a bit uncomfortable, and this issue doesn't crop up with the next three entries. still, 9 is a trailblazer and its place in the New Year's Glasses Metagame needs to be respected.

#3: Six (6)

if 9's only issue is the tail getting all up in your face, then what better way to solve that then just turning it upside-down? it might just be me, put having it brush up against your forehead feels much, much less intrusive than having it brush up against your face. and plus, it can give the impression of a raised eyebrow! bonus! the 2030s-2050s are going to be a refreshing breath of fresh air following the awful new year's glasses of the 2010s and 2020s, but the 2060s are going to be a true new year's glasses renaissance.

#2: Eight (8)

hey, so remember how i put 3 above 5 since i felt the double loop made it a bit more versatile? well now imagine that, but both loops are closed. 8 makes for such a good lens, it's a little surprising we didn't see new year's glasses in the 1980s (i'm guessing having two of the same number is more inspiring than two different numbers?) either way, eight isn't content to give you just one closed loop. it'll give you a second closed loop right above. (or below!) 8 is a versatile number with many options, and i hope i can live to see the day we see it in new year's glasses. a true stand out in its field.

#1: Zero (0)

still, even with all the good years ahead, it's hard to ignore the fact that the best years are sadly behind us, with the 2000s being the absolute pinnacle of new year's glasses design. i mean, come on. a single loop with no frills is basically what glasses designs default to already, so using the middle two zeroes as the lens for glasses? impeccable design. the 1990s were good enough to kickstart the trend, but the 2000s were good enough to make us want to brute force the 2010s and 2020s. if that's not the mark of a good design, i don't know what is.

sadly, it's likely we'll never see design this good again. the next year with the middle two digits being two zeroes is 3000, and while we might be able to execute double-zero designs at the turn of each century, they'll end up looking weirdly lopsided in the process. i believe humans are hubristic enough to try and brute-force bad decades, but multiple bad centuries? forget about it.

oh well. happy new year

[foodfightnovelization]

More Foodfight! Material DISCOVERED

That's right, I'm back. Just like I prophesized in my last post, yet another treasure trove of Foodfight! goodness has been uncovered, and this might be one of the strangest to date...that's right, official Foodfight! Cinnamon Sleuth Cereal was sold at Albertsons back in 2007, over five years before the movie finally came out!

Okay, not really, but I had you going for a second, right? So, this IS a proposed packaging design for actual Cinnamon Sleuth cereal, but it never went into production, it never made it to stores and there was certainly never any actual cereal to be eaten. This, among several other designs and a collection of behind the scenes material, was sent in recently by a Foodfight! crewmember, who explained they were mockups created to show off possible tie-in products. I'm not sure why they chose Albertsons for these mockups but it's likely they were in talks with them at the time and wanted to show off designs including their branding. In any case, I just had the Cinnamon Sleuth box printed because I thought it'd look cool next to my collection of Foodfight! merchandise, and I wanted to see if anyone would be convinced this really existed.

I've included all the designs above in case you want to print your own- there are several more including another cereal, brownie packaging and milk cartons. Curiously, the milk cartons have Farmland Dairy logos on them, with Farmland Milk actually appearing in the finished film at several points. I'd say this confirms my theory these mockups were created to show to companies they were already actively working on deals with, but I can't say for certain that was the case.

Equally curious are these character sheets from 2002, seemingly showing off almost every model created during early production. There are so many fascinating layers to this- Sunshine is still a human instead of a catgirl, showcasing a very different model to the one seen in the initial trailer, and Maximilius Moose is still a dog named Panzer Pup, both aspects that were changed once the decision was made to change Dex to a dog. However, it may be that Dex's human design was edited out and replaced after the fact, given Dex's model here appears to be the one from the finished film (you can tell by the weird hands). In any case, it's fascinating to get a closer look at all these characters- while the majority of the models for the main cast were found recently (see my last post for more on this), there are a bunch of side characters here we've only seen brief glimpses of before, including the Pringles man and the scantily-clad Cherry Waifer. The most fascinating to me however are the Red and Yellow M&Ms- I've read through their scene in the movie's script, I've seen multiple versions of the storyboard, even rough layout animation in the workprint, and it's only now I'm FINALLY getting to see their actual character models and how they would've looked in the Foodfight! artstyle. Sure, they more or less look exactly as they did in M&M commercials that aired around the same time, but it's still amazing to actually see these characters modelled and rendered after analyzing so many different iterations of the scene as it went through development.

The crewmember in question also sent a folder containing over a hundred stills which while at first glance appear to be from the finished movie, are actually subtly different in multiple ways- usually lighting, facial expressions, or background textures like the sky or color of a hill. A lot of these are labelled "fix" which makes me speculate if after the movie was completed, the crew went back and tried to touch up the animation to make it look more appealing before release. Is there a slightly better looking version of Foodfight! somewhere out there in the world? Who knows, but really it would've been like trying to polish a turd. The movie was already ruined by then, and I don't think any number small changes would've done much to salvage it. However, that does bring me to my next interesting point...

There are also storyboards dated May 2011, depicting an alternate opening to the movie giving a much more cinematic introduction to the main characters. It's crazy to think they were still working on storyboards so late in production, but there IS actually a reason for this. I unfortunately can't upload the entire sequence due to this site's image limit, but what you might notice are a lot of characters being described as "flying over the audience", "flying into the camera" or knocking things "into the audience", with some of the boards having "(3D)" written in parenthesis next to them. It's my belief that very late into production, Kasanoff wanted the movie to be 3D, made popular by the then-recent Avatar, and this new opening sequence full of flashy 3D effects was drawn up to show off what they could do with the technology. It's not clear if any of this was ever actually animated, but imagine going to see a movie that advertises itself as 3D but only the first minute contains any 3D elements. Of course, Kasanoff requesting this is only speculation on my part, but given how the movie was ruined by the crew having to cater to his whim of directing the whole thing with motion capture (made popular by the then-recent Polar Express) it's no stretch to assume the 3D opening sequence was a similar situation.

There's a ton more that was sent to us as well, so much so that I could never hope to talk about all of it. However, it should be on archive.org at the time of writing this if it isn't already, and you can now access everything Foodfight! related through the official Foodfight! collection on there!

That's right, so much Foodfight! material has been uploaded over the past year that the Internet Archive gave it its own archive, allowing you to find everything in one convenient place (including my scans of the novelization and Deluxe Sound Storybook). It'll also be updated periodically whenever something new is found, so it'll always be the home to all things Foodfight!. Whether you're wanting to take a look at some concept art shown in ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight, read through an early draft of the script, or check out something I've talked about on my blog, it's all here at your fingertips.

I don't think there's ever really going to be an end to the depth of the Foodfight! rabbithole. I thought I was done a year ago when I finished analyzing the novelization, and look at everything that's been found since then. Every time I think I'm out, this movie pulls me back in. So...in my next post I'll FINALLY show off my collection of Foodfight! merchandise and talk about what this movie means to me, but that doesn't mean it's the end for this blog. Whenever I say I'm done with Foodfight! I end up jinxing it, so if I try to conclude things now in a few months some CD will show up with a bunch of lost footage on it, I'll get mailed concept art of a bunch of characters we've never seen before, or it'll turn out Larry Kasanoff was actually D.B. Cooper the whole time. So as long as there's something new to discuss, as long as there's a Foodfight to be fought, I'll keep updating this blog from now until forever. You better duck when they launch the cream pies!

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Unpredictable Part 3-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: AAAH, thank you for all the support on this. I didn't think it'd be a series but I can't stop writing.

Warnings: toxic parents, body shaming, eating disorders, alcohol abuse, and swearing

Words: 7.7k

Series Masterlist

 “…and that’s how I knew that I was meant to do charity work,” the nasal redhead concluded.

That afternoon, the Si Chi house was packed with pledges in floral or puffy Selkie and Miss Selfridge sun dresses. A handful of servers circulated the foyer with trays of orange juice and mimosas. The combination of Prada Candy and Viktor Rolfe Flowerbomb made my head spin but I smiled through it as I nodded at different pledges’ stories. All of them were desperately trying to toe the line between interesting and bragging because one could never act too important for a potential house.

“That’s great news,” I glanced at her name tag, “Brenda since Si Chi regularly engages in philanthropic work.”

 Brenda smiled widely, making the hot pink blush on her cheeks even more prominent. “I know, that’s why I’m so interested in joining this---your house.”

“Well, we are glad that you took the time to visit us. Would you excuse me?”

As I weaved my way through the foyer, I plucked a mimosa from a passing server and started sipping. Exactly five seconds passed until I was surrounded by a new crop of bright-eyed freshmen.

“Oh my gosh, are you Y/N Y/L/N?” a willowy brunette asked.

“Guilty, and you are?”

“She’s Justine,” a shorter brunette interrupted.

Justine narrowed her eyes and thinly covered the glare with a smile. “I can introduce myself, thanks, Renee.”

Renee shrunk a little in her oversized light blue sundress and I glanced at Justine.

“So, why are you interested in our house?” I asked.

Justine straightened up and smiled like a pageant girl. “Well, I’m perfectly aligned with all the values of Si Chi: Sisterhood, respect, and intelligence. I am all about women empowerment and I respect people from all backgrounds----I’m exposed to a bunch of different people as an actress, anyway.”

“What about intelligence?”

“Well, I think there’s many different kinds of intelligence and, as an actress, I’m emotionally intelligent to the point where I’m exhausted by everyone else’s energy.”

“She really has to prioritize self-care,” Renee added.

“It’s great that you’re aware of that for yourself.”

She had to be one of the least self-aware people I ever encountered and that was a difficult fete. However, her socials had decent numbers and she had been in a few Vought Plus movies, which would help her win Sydney and Lydia, the vice president, over. The next two years with her and her friend would be irritating.

A softer expression slipped across Justine’s face, and she took a step towards me. “I just want to say that I think it’s so brave that you’ve been participating in all the rush events despite your traumatic experience. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to see Luke,” she paused and placed a hand on her chest, “kill himself.”

Though it had been a week since, it still felt like a bomb rolled off Justine’s tongue when she said it. The wave of emotions that I experienced in that time was hard to describe; Shetty said that grief was a rollercoaster, and the influx of emotions was normal.

“As impossible as it may seem, one day you will come to accept what happened,” she’d advised. “You may experience more anxiety but, with your network, I am sure you will be able to cope.”

The network she referred to was strained at best and destroyed at worst. My “sisters” were as supportive as they could be: Alina gave me a Lush self-care kit, Sasha was not nearly as antagonizing as usual, Lydia gave me grief book recommendations, and Sydney let me pick what workout classes we attended. Emma and Cate were the only non-Si Chi people I spoke to since it was way too difficult to speak to the others.

Justine placed her hand on my shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can count on me.”

“Thank you for the thought,” I replied, smiling tightly.

“You must be so grateful that Marie was there to stop him,” Renee quipped.

I sipped some more juice to keep the confusing feelings from bubbling up. Nothing could have prepared me for Marie and Andre being propped as the Guardians of Godolkin, which was arguably the dumbest name Vought could give them. The less I wanted to see them, the more I saw their promos and videos. It was horrible that the last time we spoke we had a fight but every time I saw her, I felt a weird wrench in my chest.

At the very least, Emma seemed happy for her.

Then, Coco Allen, a Si Chi junior, appeared from the crowd and squeezed between the freshmen. “There you are, Y/N, I have a crim freshman with a water manipulation ability who wants to pick your brain.”

“Sure. Will you excuse me?”

“Bye!” Renee called as Coco pulled me through the crowd.

When we got to the less populated living room, I exhaled a breath I did not know I was holding. Then, I turned to the beaming Coco.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. You know I hate entitled freshmen,” Coco mused.

Coco was the only other black girl in Si Chi and happened to be the first one to talk to me when I visited the house last year. She was a little shorter than me with deep mahogany skin that always glowed. She always wore her waist-length jet-black hair in tight curls and accessorized solely with gold jewelry. That day, she wore a fitted white sundress with espadrilles.

“Were there this many last year?” I asked.

Coco shook her head. “But there are a few more black girls so it’s promising.”

“That’s great! I hope I can find them before the event’s over.”

“That would be great.” Coco eyed me. “So, how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, the mimosas don’t hurt though.”

“They never do. You didn’t have to come today, you know, you could have taken more time, get out of here for a minute.”

I shook my head. “I needed this, it’s a nice distraction or, it has been. Besides, what would it look like if the secretary didn’t attend?”

Coco nodded slowly but I could tell that the gears in her head were turning too much for her to be convinced. “You’re already Sydney and Lydia’s favorite and they might have let it slide.”

I cocked my head at her and she immediately started chuckling half-heartedly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. The hoops they make us jump through are ridiculous,” Coco reflected.

“It makes sense why you didn’t want to be an officer even though you’re poli sci,” I commented.

Coco grinned. “Hey, I’m making decent connections just by being in this house. This is just a steppingstone on my path to become the first black woman supe president.”

Even though the title was long, if anyone could do it, it was Coco. One time last year I sat in on one of her debates in class and she had a senior in tears and their debate partner ready to put their laser eyes to good use.

“Well, don’t forget little ole me when you’re a big shot,” I teased.

Coco frowned. “What do you mean ‘little’? You have done too much to talk like that.”

I shrugged. “Not that they’re not as important but my four-year plan is less impressive than yours.”

“Oh yeah, the plan where you basically end up a trophy wife? No shade but, I think you’d be way too bored in that role.”

“Hey, I would have a city contract too. Plus, it’s what I want and what I see for myself every time I look into the future. Every step I have taken up until this point puts me closer to that.”

My voice was much stronger than I thought it would be but Coco was always pushing me. Some days it was motivating and on others, it was infuriating.

“Like I said, I’m not trying to crush your dreams or your plan but is that really all you want for yourself? Especially thinking about all the good you’re already doing with your powers?” Coco questioned.

Her words plagued me for the rest of the event and bugged me when we gave our ratings of the pledges to Sydney and Lydia.

“Oh, and Y/N, don’t forget to send me that compilation with all the pledges’ socials,” Sydney requested as I was on my way out of the foyer.

“Of course, you’ll have it by the end of the day.”

Everything was much quieter underwater, except for my thoughts, but those were much clearer. Every time I thought about where I would be in five years, it was the same: smiling at a city event on the arm of some suit. I never saw the man’s face but I knew he had to be somewhat attractive. My eyes fluttered closed at the bottom of the pool and I focused on my future.

It was the same image, complete with flashing cameras and I was wearing a gorgeous rose pink Oscar de la Renta gown. My hair was piled on top of my head in Senegalese twists, and I was smiling widely. However, when I tried to look at whose arm I was on, it was like I could not turn my head. The harder I tried, the sorer the side of my neck got.

After a few more seconds of trying, I pushed myself up to the surface and sucked in the air. The sky was a mix of orange, purple, and blue. Sydney was blasting “My Head, My Heart”, which signaled that she was getting ready to go out with Eric Landon, the president of Sigma Kappa. It would be nice to be asked on a date, a proper one without the expectations of sex later.

My face warmed at the fact that I had never actually been asked out. People constantly told me how good looking I was but that did not translate into boys falling all over themselves for me. There were the occasional fun nights out but it would always end in that same venue. I didn’t think I asked for too much: flowers, good morning and good night texts, respect, intelligence, and ambition. Emma told me I watched too many movies once and while that could have been true, I also thought that it wasn’t too much to ask a guy to hold a door open.

It also did not help that Jordan was the last person I ever got close to being intimate with. I groaned at the thought and dove underwater, making my way to the other side of the pool.

An almost-kiss should mean absolutely nothing but I could not stop thinking about it, just like I could not stop thinking about how Jordan would throw me under the bus to save themselves. I would never do that to anyone, especially not someone I cared about.

But you already did, the voice in my head hissed.

Marie didn’t count, I didn’t mean to do that; Andre, Luke, Cate, and Jordan decided for me. I would have stayed if it was my choice but that didn’t matter to Marie or any of them.

I pushed myself from the side of the pool and butterfly stroked my way to the other side. Thankfully, the water was heated and soothed my aching muscles. As I was about to resurface, I noted a blurry tall blonde figure standing above me. When I pushed up, Cate stood over me, her eyes worried.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hi, can we talk?”

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, I was wrapped in a fluffy towel and standing across from Cate. Her eyes shifted around for a moment before she suggested we headed inside. When we got to my room, she immediately closed the door behind us.

“Is there any way someone would have listening devices in here?” Cate asked.

“No,” I said slowly.

“Are you sure? There’s shit out now where they put it in the tiniest crevices and you would never know,” Cate argued.

“I would have seen it or had a hint about it. What’s going on?”

Cate finally sat on my bed, and I opted to stand across from her. “Andre and I found some stuff that makes Luke and Brink’s deaths way more complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, they totally cleared out his room the day after he died and I mean everything.”

My eyes widened. “Even the…special drawer?”

“Yes, and at first, I thought it was protocol but what would they do with all those----”

“I get it, Cate, what else did you and Andre find?”

As Cate continued to speak, I could feel my stomach sink further and further, until I was sure it was somewhere in the house basement. Nothing Cate said meant anything positive for anyone. If there was some kind of lab under us, that meant anyone could become a part of it.

“Have you told anyone else?” I asked.

Cate huffed and leaned back on my bed. “Well, Jordan’s been spiraling about Marie and the rankings, so I can’t get a word in about anything else.”

“They’re spiraling?” I asked.

“You haven’t talked to them since Luke died?” Cate asked.

When she said it like that, it sounded like I committed a cardinal sin. After that day, there was nothing else for me to say to them. Even though I saw them in class occasionally, I never spoke to them and desperately tried to avoid eye contact.

“They could have reached out too,” I muttered.

“You’re such a younger sibling,” Cate commented.

“It’s true!” I whined.

“Well, they’ve been freaking out about the rankings since they fell down to number five and Andre’s number one.”

Being in the Top Five was like Jordan’s lifeline. They’d always shared a friendly rivalry with Luke but I knew they wanted to be number one eventually. They spent almost all their time making sure they stayed in a high position and to drop to bottom of the Top Five must have been devastating.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“Yeah, and your new best friend cracked the Top 100 and is Jordan’s new nemesis,” Cate added.

 I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a chocolate brown loungewear set. “Neither of them are my friends.”

Cate frowned. “Seriously, what is going on with you? The other night, you and Marie were inseparable, and you and Jordan were bantering. What happened?”

It must have been the fact that I was holding all my thoughts and feelings in because I burst.

“Marie and I can’t be friends since she thinks I’m a shallow bitch who would sacrifice her to save myself because I hang out with people who do. The funny part is that Jordan admitted they would backstab me if they could get ahead, which is definitely not something I would do to a friend or anyone I almost kissed!”

I was panting by the end and my chest felt a lot lighter. However, my nerves began to build when I noticed Cate’s mischievous grin.

“Who did you almost kiss?” Cate asked.

“That’s not the point,” I mumbled.

Cate stared at me for a second before lighting up. “It was Jordan, wasn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You hesitated which means I’m right. It could have easily been Marie though since you were all over her.”

“Why do people keep saying that? I was being nice!”

Cate held up her hands in a relaxed defense. “Chill, Y/N, it’s okay to like more than one person at once.”

“I don’t like either of them.”

“At all?” Cate quirked an eyebrow.

“No,” I pouted.

Cate looked unimpressed and I felt even more unimpressed since I knew that I liked Marie and Jordan platonically.

“Okay, we’ll save that for later but, I don’t think Jordan would tell you that they would backstab you and they would not think about it. They would do it to other people, but not you.”

“You’re just saying that because they’re your friend and you weren’t there.”

Cate cocked her head to the side. “Think, Y/N, did Jordan really say, ‘I would backstab you if it would save my ass’?”

As I recalled the memory, I slowly rocked back and forth on my heels. “They didn’t say that but, they didn’t answer me when I asked if they would.” “You probably caught them off guard,” Cate reasoned. “I’m sure if you talked to them, things would go okay.”

I hesitated and set my clothes on my bed. “Let’s say that I decided to speak to them, I don’t know what to say. Even if I did, my class tomorrow isn’t with them.

“You’re not going to the Think Brink gala tomorrow night?” Cate asked.

Earlier that day, Mom mentioned something about a gala on the phone but I was only half-listening. In my defense, there was only so much complaining about her clients and Dad that I could stand. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and “Go to Brink gala” was in bright letters on my calendar.

“I guess I am,” I concluded.

“Then, you have some time to figure it out. You might get lucky and not even have to say anything.” I nodded and messed with the charm on my phone. “But what about Marie?”

“You’ll figure that out too. Indira’s taking her to the gala so, you can get both your ‘friends’ back,” Cate said, putting “friends” in air quotes.

“Why did you do it like that? Don’t say it like that.”

“Just because you’re in denial doesn’t mean I am. Think about it, would you be this freaked out if we had a fight?”

The “yes” should have come immediately but it didn’t; it died in my throat, and I couldn’t look at Cate. Why were things different with Marie and Jordan? Why did I stress out about them when I tried to stop thinking about them?

“Can you just make me say the right thing?” I asked.

Cate mulled it over for a moment. “I think it’s best if you do it yourself. If you don’t have a vision about it, something will come to you.”

“Thanks, Cate. If you and Andre need any help snooping----”

“You will be the first person I text,” Cate assured.

“I was going to say that I’ll probably know before you.”

I narrowly avoided the pillow Cate tossed at me and laughed at her effort.

“Maybe you are getting a little too cocky, Y/N.” She stood and walked over to me. “And for the record, I would never betray you in any way, neither would Andre or Jordan. If either of them did, they would have to deal with me.”

“Thanks, I would hug you but I’m still soaking wet.”

“Yeah, that’s smart. I know this might be useless but try not to worry about everything.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You’re taking the meds from Indira?”

“Yes, Mom,” I teased.

“Just trying to help.”

Strangely, that was the first night since Luke’s death that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The trend was that I would strain myself to have premonitions until I was exhausted and tried again in the morning. For once, sleep found me quickly.

After sitting through a two-hour lecture on trauma’s impact on villains and heroes, I was more than happy to wander back to the Si Chi house and decompress. In a few hours, Talia, Mom’s assistant, would arrive with options for the gala. Then, the glam team would arrive and do their best to ignore Mom while they did their jobs.

I needed all the relaxation I could get.

 As I was mentally reviewing which movies I could watch, my phone kept buzzing in my back pocket. I thought it was another flurry of comments on the TikTok Coco and I made yesterday but it was from a strange number.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Y/N, pls come 2 my dorm, it’s an emergency.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Im srry we haven’t talked in a while but it’s important.

I frowned and typed back, ????

XXX-XXX-XXXX: It’s Marie. Emma’s in trouble.

My stomach dropped and I replied, B there soon.

As I raced around other people on campus, my thoughts moved faster at the possibility of what could have been going on with Emma. The last time I had spoken to her was two days ago and she was okay then. If anything, she may have been tense because Marie and I were not speaking but she had not said anything else.

I was halfway to their dorm when I ran into something solid.

“Watch where you’re going, Y/N,” Maverick sneered.

“If you put on some clothes, maybe I’d see you,” I shot back as I continued down the hall.

When I finally got to their dorm, I was panting and could barely knock. Marie pulled the door open, pulled me in, and closed the door behind me.

“Did you sprint here?” she asked.

I nodded. “You said…it was…an….emergency…Emma.”

In the middle of me grabbing my bearings, I noticed something tiny next to one of the supports on Emma’s bed. Slowly, I slid to my knees and crawled over to it. When I realized who it was, a choked gasp escaped my mouth.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“I don’t know. She was like that when I got here and I didn’t know what to do so I called you since you’ve known her the longest,” Marie rambled.

Her words barely registered in my brain as I went to one of Emma’s drawers, grabbed a small set of clothes, wrapped her in it, and carefully set her on her bed. Emma was barely breathing and was ghostly pale.

“Emma, I know you’re probably not going to like this but, you’re going to need to eat something.”

She didn’t reply and for a second, I wondered if she could.

I started rifling through all her stuff until I found a box of crackers. My hands trembled as I broke them into small pieces and kneeled in front of Emma. She never looked at me as she nibbled on each crumb I fed her.

Eventually, she grew back to her normal size. As soon as she was, she pulled her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry you saw me like that,” she muttered.

Slowly, I sat next to her and it was almost the same way zookeepers treated wild animals. If one moved calmly enough, they would not get attacked. Marie sat on her bed.

“It’s okay, I’m glad we were able to help,” I replied. “What happened?”

Emma sniffed. “I opened up to this girl in my class. We’re scene partners for a project and we were talking, and I guess I felt comfortable enough to tell her about how I get small. I thought it was just between us, but she posted this…this video on YouTube telling the whole world about it.”

“Who’s the girl?” Marie asked.

“How do you get small?” I uttered at the same time.

Emma froze for a moment and looked away from me. “I make myself…sick.”

When she said it, I suddenly remembered all those times she would go to the bathroom and then come out a miniature version of herself. However, all those times, it was for different commercials or other work-related events. Then again, there had to be times when she did it at home or at my house.

How did I never notice? “Emma, I’m so sorry. I wish you would’ve told me sooner,” I said.

Emma turned to me with a glare in her eyes. “Really? How would I work that into a conversation? ‘Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry to interrupt but, I make myself throw up to get small’?”.

“We’re friends, friends tell each other this kind of thing,” I insisted.

Emma scoffed. “Please, like you would get it if I told you. You’re perfect, you always have been. Your face, your hair, your body, your eyes, your life!”

“That’s not fair.”

“Emma, I think you need to get help,” Marie interrupted.

Emma’s gaze flickered to hers and I thought she might set Marie on fire. “I need to get help, that’s rich coming from you. You act like no one can see your scars.”

Marie flinched and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I do that for my powers, that’s different.”

Emma laughed callously. “Please, at least be honest. How about this: I’ll go to therapy when you admit to cutting.”

Emma’s voice had no tone and every word she said was like a hammer slamming into my chest. She wasn’t in the right headspace for any conversation and I kept reminding myself as I stood.

“We should talk later when we’ve all calmed down,” I suggested.

“I don’t want to speak to either of you again,” she hissed.

It took more effort than usual to swallow the lump in my throat as I let myself out of their dorm. Just as I was about to lean against the door and wallow, Marie slipped out behind me and shut the door. I took a step back, barely avoiding a pair of girls rushing past.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“It’s fine.”

Silence filled the space for a moment, and I had no idea how to fill it. Cate said I would know what to say but I was at a loss.

“I’m sorry about what I said…that day,” Marie delivered gently.

My eyes snapped up at her. “Oh.”

She sighed. “I was just angry, and I thought you were a part of it but, Emma kept saying that you would never do something like that. I just didn’t know how to reach out or say anything.”

I know the feeling.

“I accept your apology but I’m also sorry that no one came back for you. I guess it worked out, though?”

Marie sighed and leaned against her door. “Sort of. The perks are nice and I’m in crim now but I feel like everyone’s looking at me and expects something from me; almost like they’re waiting for me to fail.”

“Really? They had me convinced you’d be the black Starlight,” I teased.

Marie laughed half-heartedly. “I still want to be a hero, though, someone like her people can look up to.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Marie hesitated. “My little sister. We were both obsessed with heroes when we were younger, but I was the one who got Compound V. She always looked up to me and I want to be someone who would make her proud.”

“That’s a really admirable goal,” I complimented.

She smiled softly. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be my competition to be the black Starlight?”

My expression faltered and I looked down at my French acrylics. “No, I don’t think I have the showmanship you do. Besides, my goal isn’t to be in the Seven.”

“Really? What do you want to do?” Marie asked.

“So, I have this four year plan and if I follow the steps I am on to a T, I will graduate with a city contract and be engaged to an eligible supe.”

Usually, when I told someone my four year plan, my chest swelled and my shoulders rolled back unconsciously. This time, it felt like I was a toddler showing my mom a drawing I made in school.

“Is that it?” Marie asked.

“I know it’s more traditional and maybe even a little lame but, it’s what I want,” I maintained.

Marie nodded slowly.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just imagined you doing something in, like, criminal AI or stopping criminals from re-offending.”

“Both are great, they’re just not me.”

“Which is fine,” Marie insisted.

She sounded a little too eager but I let it go as we started walking down the hallway.

“What should we do about Emma?” Marie asked.

“I’ve never seen her like that before but she’ll need time to cool off.”

“Sounds good, I just have nowhere to go until the gala tonight.”

“You could come to Si Chi for a bit. I can’t promise they won’t try to initiate you, though.”

Marie laughed. “Me, in a sorority?”

“Hey, we’re getting more black girls this year so you never know!”

“Whatever but, yeah, I’d like to hang out with you…at your house.”

Even though Marie rushed the last part, a smile quirked on the corners of my mouth. It would be nice to have a new friend over and it was even nicer that there was no more tension between us.

“You know, Emma never told us the name of that girl,” Marie pondered once we got outside.

“Oh, that’s easy.” I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I reached the right one.

Shelby answered on the first ring. “Y/N, hi!” “Hey, are you on your way to class?” I asked.

“Yeah, if I’m late one more time, Professor Elix is going to make me do an improv one-woman show!” she panted.

“Well, I don’t want to slow you down but, you have class with Emma Meyer, right?”

“Oh yeah, Intro to Stage, why?”

“Cool. She told me her stage partner has an incredible Insta aesthetic, but she never told me her name and I need new inspo.”

“Oh, that’s Justine. I don’t know her last name but I’m sure you’ll find her.”

“Thanks, Shelby. Have fun in class.”

“Thanks!”

I hung up and turned to Marie, whose eyebrows were raised. “What?”

“What was that voice?” Marie asked.

“It was my voice. Haven’t you heard of code-switching?”

“Fine. Did you get the name?”

“Yes, Justine and I’ve met her.”

“What? How?”

“She’s rushing Si Chi.” I couldn’t keep the devilish smile from working its way into my mouth.

“What does that look mean?” Marie asked.

“It means that there are many more perks to being in a top house besides living in it.”

For some reason, everyone thinks that white girls have a monopoly on passive aggression and relational aggression. That was not the case at all; black girls simply are more inclined towards active aggression but we’re capable of both. I proved as much during Brink’s gala.

The ballroom was packed with board members, trustees, alumni, and the wealthiest GOD U students, the latter being my target of interest. They were all easy to approach since I had met them at some function or another.

“Y/N,” Bianca Peterson gushed as she hugged me.

Her Gucci Guilty perfume tickled my nose and I willed myself not to sneeze as I politely pulled away from her. “Bianca, it’s been too long. I think the last time I saw you was at Beta Ro’s Brunch for Boy Scouts.”

Bianca nodded, light auburn curls bouncing around her sculpted features. “Yes, we bonded over jewelry.”

“And you still have fantastic taste,” I mentioned, gesturing to the gold buckle around her wrist.

“Thank you, it was a present from Theo but I gave him a few hints,” she bragged lightly.

“How is rush going?” I asked.

“Pretty well, our pledges are shaping up nicely this year, not that they don’t every year,” she quickly added the last part.

“Of course. Do you have a lot of girls from Counting?”

“We’re interested in a couple, why? Are you trying to poach?”

I shook my head. “Not at all, I just wasn’t sure if you heard what Layla from Zeta Nu discovered.”

Bianca raised a microbladed brow. “No, I don’t think I have.”

I took a deep inhale and slowly shook my head in disbelief. “Oh, well, I should let it come from her then.”

A moment later, Bianca glanced across the room at Layla Ruthers, the president of Zeta Nu, who was smiling politely at a pair of hunched-over old men.

“In case I don’t have a chance to talk to her, what happened?” Bianca asked.

I glanced around us for a moment before leaning closer. “Apparently, a freshman posted a video about another girl’s eating disorder.”

“Really?” Bianca’s eyes widened.

I nodded. “Layla was insulted for the other girl and banned the pledge from rushing Zeta Nu. She even said that no respectable house would accept someone so low-class.”

“Oh,” Bianca uttered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up all your time. I should go mingle.”

I made it about two steps before Bianca gently grabbed one of my arms.

“Wait, Y/N. Did Layla say the name of the pledge?”

My eyes wandered around the twinkling lights of the room for a second. “Justine something, I think.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure!”

The rest of my conversations followed that pattern. Each girl I spoke to was shocked and horrified by my words. Plus, none of them would dare speak to the other; that would mean another house had better information than them. My final target was easily the most important one: Sydney.

In her ice-blue mermaid dress and intricate updo, she looked more like Cinderella than a gala attendee. She was standing at a table, nodding her head at something a shorter guy was saying.

“Excuse me,” I politely interrupted, “I need to borrow Sydney for a second.”

The guy deflated slightly. “Sure.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Sydney huffed a sigh of relief as soon as we were out of earshot. “Thank you, I don’t know what he was even talking about.”

“Anytime,” I replied.

She snatched a champagne flute from a passing server and downed half of it. “I can’t wait for this night to be over.”

I nodded. “It is morbid despite their attempt to dress it up.”

“Yeah, and my parents won’t stop bugging me about my future. I can only apply to so many internships and not everyone is looking for a telekinetic,” she griped. “Sorry, how are you?”

“I’m alright. Ironically, I think he’d hate the name they picked but I didn’t know him super well,” I admitted.

“Right.”

Here it goes.

“So, I think the event the other day was a success,” I commented.

“Definitely. The house was packed. It’s too bad we can’t accept them all.”

Sydney smiled as she spoke.

“I know. It’s great that there’s so much interest.” I paused for a second. “But, I wanted to tell you that something came up with one of the pledges.”

Sydney gestured for me to continue.

“Even though my social media deep dive on the pledges was thorough, something came up today that I thought you should know when considering the pledges,” I explained.

“Okay.”

“Today, Justine posted a video exposing another girl’s eating disorder. Several of the girls were upset when they saw it.”

“That’s awful,” Sydney responded.

“It’s also so disappointing since I met Justine during that event, and she was saying how women empowerment is important to her. I know that women empowerment is a huge passion for you and a foundation for Si Chi and to imagine a pledge so willing to tear down another woman infiltrating the safe space you building is horrifying.”

Despite the liquor, I could tell Sydney was processing my words quicker than any computer. Her expression shifted from shock to anger to coldness. Then, she finished the last of her champagne and set it on the table closest to us. “Thank you for telling me, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

As she walked away, I grinned widely at the response. Bid Day was going to be even more fun and interesting than last year. To celebrate, I grabbed myself a flute of champagne and sipped it as I started to wander the room.

“Y/N!”

My body froze at the masculine voice and my mind raced with what to say or do. Finally, I decided to face Jordan. They were in their masculine form and standing at a table by themselves. Though they looked fantastic in their navy suit, they looked like they hadn’t slept in days.

“Hello.”

I practically sang it and prayed for someone to make the floor swallow me.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Um, sure.” I walked closer to their table and rested my forearms on it.

 “It’s good to see you,” he started. “Outside of class, I mean.”

“You too.”

Jordan nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s good.” He paused. “I’m sorry about everything.”

I looked up from tapping my nails on the tablecloth. “Wh---”

“Please, let me finish. That day…I don’t know why I didn’t just tell you that I wouldn’t throw you under the bus but I wouldn’t even think about it. How could I do that to my little freshman?”

For the first time ever, my chest warmed at the nickname. However, I tried to bite back the smile that was worming its way onto my face.

I glanced away for a moment, crossing my arms over my purple sleeveless satin gown. “Well, I guess I forgive you,” I playfully grumbled before turning back to him. “But you still did it pretty easily to Marie.”

Jordan’s expression faltered and he sipped some champagne. “Don’t mention her.”

“Why not? She’s my friend and we did a very mean thing,” I argued.

“Look, I protected myself and you that night, I won’t apologize for that. Besides, she’s still here and she’s doing great,” he spat.

“I know you’re pissed about the rankings but, those can change, especially with how hard you work and how powerful you are.”

Jordan scoffed. “That’s how it should work but no one wants to back a bigender Asian.”

His words made me stop for a second. In all the time I knew them, Jordan seemed invincible to punches, laser beams, electric shocks, and words. They made succeeding at Godolkin look so easy but it must have been anything but. Plus, Luke and Brink’s death must have impacted everything else.

“We’ll see about that,” I challenged. “There’s about thirty trustees and every board member in this room. There will have to be a few who will like you.”

Jordan hesitated. “I’m not really in the mood to promote myself.”

“Then let me talk,” I offered.

He eyed me for a while before crossing over to my side of the table and looping one of his arms with mine. “Don’t make me look bad, freshie.”

“I think that’s impossible.”

The first target was easy: a thirtysomething white guy with floppy light brown hair and an oversized gray suit. I focused on him for a moment, gathering as much information as I could.

“Trevor Emerson, GOD U alum and old money beneficiary,” I muttered to Jordan.

“Isn’t he supposed to hate me?” Jordan hissed back.

“He’s overcome by white guilt since his recent discovery that all the black and brown people who built and managed his family’s manor were not salaried employees,” I explained. “He’s dying to look as much of an ally as possible.”

Jordan straightened up. “Good job, freshie.”

“I haven’t even gotten started.” I painted a polite smile on my face. “Mr. Emerson, it’s so nice to meet you, can we bother you for a moment?”

Two guilty and three haughty donors later, Jordan and I found ourselves at a different table. It was the first time that I saw him smile that night.

“You were amazing out there,” Jordan exclaimed.

“Thank you but you also made my job a little easier being talented and whatever,” I joked.

“Seriously.” Jordan grabbed my hand. “You might have saved my ass.”

I tried to ignore the tingle that shot up from my hand into the side of my neck. “It’s okay, I’m happy to help.”

When they announced that the video was about to start Jordan sulked again. “I can’t believe they’re making us sit through this shit.”

“Me neither.” I rest my hand on top of his. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner but, are you okay?”

Jordan laughed humorlessly. “No but schmoozing with you did help a little. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

When we parted our separate ways, I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress skirt and approached my table. Fortunately, Mom and Dad had not burned down the ballroom with their arguing. In fact, when I got to their table, Mom was on her phone and Dad was rhythmically tapping his fingers against the tablecloth, looking anywhere but her.

“Hi, were you bored with me gone?” I asked, giving Dad a side hug.

“Not at all. I met a few board members and sold a few pictures,” he responded.

I nodded and slowly took the middle seat between them. The video was equal parts patronizing and infuriating. However, my parents’ whispers kept me from focusing too much on the video.

“Y/M/N, can you get off the phone for one second? They’re playing the video,” Dad hissed.

“I am about to cut the biggest deal of this quarter. They can send it,” Mom hissed back, waving a manicured hand for emphasis.

“Mom, people are starting to stare,” I quietly interjected.

“Let them stare. This is what’s paying for you to be here.”

“Don’t act like I don’t contribute!” Their words used to make me flinch but I forced myself to sit up straighter and breathe.

“I’m grateful for it, for both of you, really. You both paid to be here and I thought you would not want to miss the man they’re honoring,” I whispered.

Those words made Mom slowly mutter something into the phone before placing it face down on the table and leaning forward. At that same time, they flashed a picture of Brink and me across the screen. He had been meeting with my small group when the photographer appeared.

Dad squeezed an arm around my shoulder and I softly leaned into his touch.

“Thank God you lost that baby fat,” Mom commented.

“Y/M/N,” Dad said quietly.

“You know it’s true, Y/D/N,” Mom hissed back.

Suddenly, Dad’s arm felt like a boa constrictor, and I gracefully slipped out of its grasp. When the video ended, I drank a fresh flute of champagne. The bubbles instantly went to my head as I giggled at Dean Shetty introducing Marie.

She looked really pretty even though she was nervous.

“Do you know her?” Mom asked over the applause.

“We’re friends,” I replied.

“So why is she a guardian and not you?”

“She was more involved in stopping Luke than me,” I lied.

 When Dean Shetty cued everyone to return to socializing, Mom turned to me.

“Your grades are fantastic and your standing in your house is good,” Mom began. “But eligible bachelors will not notice you unless you stand out like her.”

“Y/M/N, leave her alone. Anyone who doesn’t notice Y/N isn’t worthy of being in our family anyway,” Dad defended.

Mom ignored him. “That girl, Marie Moreau, is not your friend, she is your competition. You are in the prime setting to have everything you’ve ever wanted but she could snatch it from you. You’re supposed to be able to see things like this coming, Y/N.”

“I do see things coming and I know Marie wouldn’t do that to me,” I quipped.

At that moment, Mom’s eyes bore so deep into me that I didn’t think that anyone could claw them out. Her eyes looked like they were going to bug out of her head at any moment and I could feel my breathing pick up.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out,” I promised.

It felt like forever until she leaned back in her seat and grabbed her phone.

“Make sure it doesn’t ‘slip out’ again. Now go socialize.”

“I need a minute, Mom, I’ve been socializing since we got here.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “This again.”

“What?”

“Y/M/N, please.”

“No, no, Y/D/N, she is constantly using, what, anxiety to get out of speaking to people. You are always too soft on her and make me look like the bad guy. I’m the one helping her be normal,” Mom snapped. “Anxiety didn’t exist when we were her age, we just did what we had to do, and look where we are now.”

I wondered if Emma ever felt as small as I did in that moment. Then, I wondered if she ever made herself small to hide from people, even her mom. Wordlessly, I left the table and tried to avoid any cameras as the tears burned in the corners of my eyes.

I tried to take deep breaths to calm my trembling chest and keep my throat busy. My chest shifted from trembling to heavy and I started looking around the room.

“I hear one piano…feel two fingers…smell three different alcohols…and see---”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Cate’s voice broke me out of my rhythm and I glanced to see her sitting with Marie and Jordan, who was in their feminine form.

My chest felt much lighter and I quickly wiped away my tears. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Jordan called gently.

Cate pulled me into a hug and had me sit between her and Marie. “What happened?”

“My parents, well, my mom mostly. I guess I got too anxious for her, and she yelled at me,” I rambled.

Cate smiled softly. “Then you came at the perfect time. We were just talking about our horrible parents.”

My ears perked up. “Really?”

“Well, mine are dead,” Marie commented.

I turned to her and placed my hands on top of hers. “What? I’m so sorry. How did it…”

“I accidentally killed them with my powers,” Marie explained.

“That must have been horrible.”

Marie barely nodded and I squeezed her hands. “I just told my little brother to go away during a camping trip. He never came back and my mom pretty much locked me away,” Cate confessed. “I was seven.”

 “What?” I whispered.

“I killed my grandpa with my powers,” Jordan interjected.

We all turned to her and I cocked my head to the side.

“No, you didn’t,” Cate countered.

Jordan smiled. “You’re right, I was feeling left out.”

I didn’t think that I could laugh the way I did but it felt so nice. At least I had friends again.

When I started sipping on the whiskey Cate stole, I saw a brief image flash before my eyes. There was a guy with curly brown hair covered in dirt running away from several bloody bodies. He paused for a moment and opened his hand, revealing a tiny sleeping Emma. When the vision left, Andre was standing in front of us.

“Seriously?” I complained before he even spoke.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

On the topic of tiny Legacy-

Consider- a litter of even teenier lil Legacies. Like smaller than kitten-sized moths. Easy to take handful of bb mothmen.

Woe moth be upon ye >:3

it'd be like reaching into a bag of cotton balls... my goodness...

there is always at least one tiny moth in the room with you at all times, either sitting on your head or shoulder or watching from some nook or cranny in the room. you can hold out your hand, facing up, and moments later something fuzzy snuggles itself against your palm, purrs sounding more like light buzzing. if you sit down anywhere for more than five minutes you'll soon attract the attention of all the Legacies, tiny claws skittering across the floor as they hop onto your lap and settle into a fluffy pile of fur and little glittering wings, looking up at you and cheeping happily. they all want to be the one you're petting, nibbling your fingers and hanging off of your hands, their little talons barely even making a dent on your skin, and when you have to stand it's as if they become a waterfall of tiny moths as they all jump off and cluster around your feet to follow wherever you go

this also makes it easier to take them with you when you do chores!! or, well, some of them. even though the Legacies are tiny, there's still a good number of them, so you normally invite only a few to accompany you. and Archons, they absolutely adore it- usually they'll burrow in your hair, or if it's cold, your scarf or the collar of your coat, peeking out and chittering at the world and the people around you. there's almost always a little argument as one of the fuzzy Abyssal fluffballs peers too far out and is promptly yanked back by another, chastised in a flurry of high-pitched trills. they like helping you pick out fruit most of all, proudly holding up singular grapes and strawberries for you to take and munching on any snacks you might've already bought- don't worry, they don't eat very fast. there will be plenty left over for you and the other Legacies at home

[ebongawk]

oooh hellcheer hc is that eddie goes into fully nurse mode whenever chrissy’s sick. she has a cold? he’s fussing over her, making soup from scratch thank you very much bc he’s actually a great cook. cramps? he buys out her favorite chocolate from the corner store, he’s got three different types of heat packs ready, he’ll massage her belly for hours if that’s what it takes to make her feel better

Here's the thing: Chrissy was never home when Eddie got out of the studio on Wednesdays.

Wednesdays were their short days. The band's self-proclaimed 'recharge' days. The midweek break they all pretended to need that they'd written into their contracts so the fucking producer wouldn't throw a fit when Jeff dipped out at eleven to go meet his girlfriend at the train station, because Marie was in Boston Saturday night through Wednesday morning for work.

Eddie usually wandered in after a fast food lunch and a grocery run around one o'clock. Chrissy wasn't even off most days until four. So when he walked in the front door and was greeted with the curdling scream of horror queen Janet Leigh on the tube?

Yeah, Eddie about had a heart attack. Like full-on hand-over-the-heart terror.

"Sorry," Chrissy croaked from the couch as she frantically turned the volume of her vintage horror flick down. Psycho. Classic. Eddie hadn't even noticed her, she was so bundled up in blankets. A Chrissy burrito that could've passed for a rumpled throw blanket. "Sorry, sorry. You came in at the worst part."

Shit, she sounded awful.

"That's my specialty," Eddie breathed, dropping the excess number of grocery bags in the foyer and tripping over his own feet to make it to her side. "What's up, buttercup? How come you're home so early?"

Shit, she looked awful. All curled up and shivering despite the throw around her shoulders and the duvet she'd dragged in from their bedroom. Eddie automatically put a hand on her forehead, hissing at the burn beneath his palm.

"Think I caught the bug that's been going around on the publishing floor," Chrissy said, covering her mouth with the throw as she talked. Trying to breathe on him as little as possible. But her sinuses were so full, he doubted she could take in any air from her nose. "Editors were next, I knew it, but everyone insisted it'd stay quarantined upstairs."

"Morons," Eddie huffed, eyes raking over her face. Her blotchy, feverish cheeks; her bloodshot eyes ringed in the purple bruises of exhaustion. Her lips were dry, and Eddie sighed, hopping up and pressing a kiss to her forehead that she protested.

"You're gonna get infected," she grumbled. Eddie just shrugged, more firmly wrapping her up in her blankets.

"Did you take anything?"

"Grabbed some cold medicine from the pharmacy that's next to the office," she said, still covering her mouth. Exhaling a couple of rough coughs into the fabric. "Probably should've eaten something, but nothing sounds good."

Her sentences were choppy and slurred, which was how Eddie knew that this was serious. Having majored in English at BU, Chrissy's articulation refined to a fucking knife's point over the years. Ready to stab anyone who looked at her with a modicum of doubt when she explained what she did for a living.

His poor little Supervising Editor.

"Alright," Eddie said, hopping to his feet and pressing another kiss to her crown – this one not quite as protested as the first – before he rounded the couch to collect the grocery haul he'd bought that was entirely inadequate for a sick Chrissy. "Lemme get some water in the kettle, yeah? I'll make you some ginger tea and run to the bodega for soup supplies."

"Love, really, I'm fine––"

"Don't you I'm fine me, Cunningham," he called from the kitchen. Even though her last name had been Munson for damn near five years now. He loved the dopey little smile she still got when he reprimanded her with her maiden name. The eye roll. The huff of, That's Munson to you, Mister.

The huff never came this time. She was too tired to argue, he knew.

He started some prep work for what they had on hand while the water heated up. Mincing up a metric fuckton of garlic, grabbing some chicken breast from the fridge, grating most of a knob of ginger. They had some frozen chicken wing tips, but Eddie wasn't sure he had the time or patience to make broth from scratch. He mentally added store bought shit to his list, along with spinach and carrots.

Once her tea was ready, Eddie departed after stealing another kiss – this one to her cheek, which she yelled at him for as well as she was able and which he laughed at when her voice broke.

Another forty-five minutes later, after hauling ass to the store and back, Eddie had soup simmering on the stove, orange juice in the fridge, and three other types of medicine lined up along the coffee table to be taken after she'd eaten.

"I should go to the bedroom," Chrissy sighed as Eddie exchanged her empty mug of tea for a glass of juice. "Give you veg space so I don't get you sick."

Eddie scoffed. He'd grabbed The Two Towers from their nightstand, carefully depositing it on the arm of the couch before gently easing Chrissy's juice from her hands. He crouched down in front of her, leveling her with as withering a stare as he could muster around the worry he could feel lining his face.

"What kind of husband do you think I am, sweetness? To abandon his queen in her most desperate times of need?" She rolled her eyes, cheeks turned up in a slight smile. Eddie grinned, reaching up to pinch her cheek. Broadening her smile as much as she was able. "My fair lady needs her noble knight's assistance now more than ever! I ain't just gonna abandon you to squalor, baby. You know better than that."

She made a little noise of distress, and Eddie knew it was because she was terrified of getting him sick. Even though he played backup to Jeff, fucking his vocals could fuck the whole timeline for their next album.

He couldn't have given less of a fuck.

Tucking the blanket more firmly around her, Eddie carefully wedged his arms under her slight body, hoisting her up with a cracked little squeal from her raw throat before settling himself lengthwise on the couch, Chrissy in his lap.

"Eddie––"

"Shh, baby," he said, grabbing the book behind him and opening up to the bookmark. Picking up where they'd left off the last time he lulled her to sleep, just the night before, when she'd still been perfectly healthy. Harboring this bit of sick down deep enough that her body was still attempting to fight it off.

His voice, she'd told him once, was her favorite lullaby.

"So it was," he began to read, "that in the light of a fair morning, King Theoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again on green grass beside the Deeping-stream."

An hour later, Chrissy was out like a light. Breathing deeply through her mouth, with a little dribble of drool spilling onto his shirt and making him chuckle. He leaned down, kissing her hair and brushing it back over her ear.

"My poor little peach," he murmured, pressing the words into her scalp. The scent of ginger and garlic wafted through the air, and Eddie knew he should extricate himself from her embrace. Slip into the kitchen and turn the stove off.

But Chrissy let out this scratchy little snore, and Eddie figured he could give her another half hour.

"Love you, sweet," he said. And by the way she hummed in her slumber, snuggling even closer against his chest until her ear was pressed right up against her heart, Eddie thought, fuck, maybe she'd heard him.

(inspo ask)

[sassylegshayne]

marry me, idiot. - chapter five

holy shit this chapter is nuts and kinda long but we have a lot to get through so I'm sorry?? idek what I'm apologizing for but whatever lmfao 🫶💓 enjoy!! mwah xx 3.1k words!!

series masterlist

Everyone noticed it the next day. You and Spencer worked beside each other in complete silence. Josh felt on edge as he sat at his desk across from the two of you, the lack of chatter in the background of his editing was very weird.

You decided to give Spencer space, he would tell you how he felt whenever he was ready to. You respected his boundaries, and he respected yours, and that was the problem.

Kiana wanted to tear her hair out by the end of the week because the two of you still hadn't fucking talked about everything. She's been stuck listening to both of you complain about just how much you miss each other and couldn't bring herself to do anything about it.

Jackie's hopeless romantic heart couldn't take it, she's was right under Kiana for your number two supporter. Jackie and Kiana had planned a brainstorming lunch in Friday, determined to help you two get together.

The hope was that you two would admit your feelings, fall even more in love, and live happily ever after, but if you're just friends again, it'll do.

Jackie had presented an idea that made the woman across from her squeal in excitement. Kiana quickly set up a reservation as Jackie planned out just how she'd word her texts to you.

As soon as you had arrived home and parked, a message rang through your phone, the notification causing you to panic momentarily, your silence so suddenly interrupted for the first time in a while.

You didn't expect to be this lonely without Spencer. You had expected something, but you didn't think it would be this bad. You hadn't realized just how much time you spent with him until you were without it.

"hey, Ki's been super busy and I really wanna throw her a surprise b-day dinner at Buca's tn at seven if you can make it!"

Kiana and Jackie sat in their respective apartments, chewing their nails in anticipation for responses as Spencer received the same message as you.

The girls' facetime call felt silent as Jackie watched the both of you begin typing simultaneously, an eye roll well deserved before you both agreed, causing the women to cheer in excitement.

You rubbed your face, groaning as you agreed. Spence and you could put things aside for Kiana, it wouldn't be fair to her if your declined just because Spencer would be there.

Of course he would be there. It'd almost be weirder if he wasn't there. Honestly, if he didn't show up a piece of your group would be missing.

You took a deep breath before heading inside and getting yourself ready, pushing thoughts of Spencer to the side. Kiana was your priority tonight.

You'd been so wrapped up in all of this mess that your best friends birthday had slipped your mind, usually it was your forte to plan the gatherings, but it completely slipped your mind.

Ki's birthday was three days away, but Monday's are always packed for everyone, so dinner tonight, and you would bring her a cake and do a whole thing at work. Plenty of time to plan.

Spencer adjusted his grip on the steering wheel once more as he pulled into the last empty parking spot, letting his forehead rest against the wheel as soon as he shifted into park. His palms had been sweaty and shaky since he'd texted back Jackie earlier.

His nerves were set on high alert as soon as he'd finished reading. He has to be there for Kiana, no matter what was going on between the two of you.

He'd almost reached out and asked your for a truce on the night, but he's not even sure what he'd be calling a truce for. Both of you having long forgotten why you weren't speaking, but both of you were too nervous to break it.

It seemed like the universe wanted to give you a little nudge when you look up from your phone, your eyes meeting Spencer's across from you.

A smile splays across his lips and quickly disappears, replaced with a tight-lipped smile as he offers you a curt wave, getting out of his car quickly.

Your grip on the door handle tightens as you exit your own vehicle, trying your best to bite your tongue, afraid of what you might say.

Your former best friend.. former? Current? Who fucking knows anymore?

Spencer falls in stride silently beside you, your head tilted toward the ground, eyes watching as your feet fall into a rhythm, steps synchronized. It was hard to separate yourself from someone when they become that intertwined into your life.

Your hands brush ever so slightly as you approach the host stand, a small smile across your lips.

"Hi, we have a reservation under Jackie Uweh." Spencer offers, his smile matches yours as he fidgets with his hands, mindlessly picking at his cuticles with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

He didn't know what to do in this situation. His hands are normally on your hips, or his fingers intertwined with yours, so the air between the two of you sat awkwardly, uncharted territory for the both of you.

You're quickly led to the table, your brows furrowed in confusion as the hostess grabs two menus, throwing your look over your shoulder at Spencer out of habit as he mirrors your look. The two of you sit with quiet thank you's as the menus are placed before you, the table clearly not big enough for anyone but the pair of you.

Realization sets in as you adjust yourself in the booth a bit more than necessary, your heart racing as you avoid Spencer's eyes as long as you could.

But eventually, you find yourself looking up from the menu, your eyes finding his glowing blue eyes already gazing upon you, drinking in every detail.

Spencer thought he might tell you everything he's ever wanted to, until your waiter gives a bubbly introduction, noting the recent engagement between the two of you.

Your cheeks burn as you bashfully thank her, your fingers fidgeting with the simple band on your finger, a habit you'd recently noticed. Yot quick to order, throwing on the appetizer you and Spence normally split as well, a smile tugging at his lips.

You settle your hands into your lap, smiling brightly as Spencer chews his lip, his voice barely audible.

"Hey."

"Hi." You smile, a weight lifting from your shoulders as you slump into the seat, sighing in relief. Spencer laughs a bit, fiddling with the napkin in his hands as he finds himself relaxing. Your laughter mixing with his like music to his ears.

He missed this so much, every part of it. He missed his lips pressed lightly to your skin, the softness of your skin as you brushed hair out of his eyes, the blush on your cheeks each time he looked at you.

Spencer knew he couldn't make it through this dinner without teling you everything, now he just had to accept that.

It was time to throw everything he had at you, no longer concerned with holding back if he was going to confess. So he shook himself a bit before reaching across the table, taking your hands into his.

Your eyes trailed from your hands, up Spencer's arms, detailing every tattoo you wished you could trace until you meet his eyes. You were glad to be seated, worried your legs would buckle under your weight right now.

You were always flustered by Spencer, but this was on a whole new level. Butterflies danced about your stomach as your heart raced, you felt like you could pass out from sheer excitement as you squeeze his hands gently.

"I can't go without you for that long again, that sucked ass." You laughed softly, smiling as Spencer nodded in agreement.

"I never realized how little talk to anyone else, my phone hasn't died at work once, either." You grinned, ducking your head down in embarrassment. You had a bad habit of sending Spencer tons of stuff while seated next to him, rapidly draining his battery.

"I don't want it any other way, Y/N, don't worry." He was quick to soothe you, knowing that you might mistake his admiration for anger. He thought it was the cutest shit ever.

"Spencer, I don't wanna go another day without talking so can you please tell me what was wrong the other day?" You bargained, brows furrowed as you tilted your head at him.

Spencer stiffened, his hands leaving yours as your drinks and appetizer arrived, the relatively slow night allowing for quick service.

You smile as you slide a small plate in front of Spencer. Your waitress is quickly behind, happily taking your entree orders before disappearing back into the kitchen.

The moment was lost as you two grabbed bites of spicy shrimp and fried calamari, but the tension remained clear. Your hands brushed a few times as you made small talk, unaware of when the next interruption should come.

"Okay," Spencer began, noting your waiter preparing to take the order of a large party, taking his opportunity when he could. "Listen, I'm sorry didn't tell you sooner, I want you to know that I really regret that."

You nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue as you sipped your wate, unsure as to where this could lead.

"You're my best friend' Spencer grinned, sighing softly as you reddened once more, his heart racing as he wiped his palms on his pants. "You know that. You mean the absolute world to me, Y/N. You're the person I really do wanna spend the rest of my life with."

"Tve spent years by your side now and wouldn't trade it for the world. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." He took a deep breath, smiling softly as his heart pounded in his chest.

Being in love with you has been the easiest thing in his life, it just feels so right, so perfect. Now all he could do was hope that you felt the same.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N." Spence spoke, biting his lip, eagerly awaiting your response. He felt like rything in his life had brought him to this point, even with the gentle push, or shove, from his friends.

You open you mouth to speak, your eyes wide and mind still reeling as your best friend sat before you. This wasn't a day you'd ever expected to see, and Spencer seemed so calm about it.

"It's all cool if you don't feel the same, I promise, dude." Spence spoke right as you were about to begin, causing you to chuckle nervously.

Spencer felt like there was a spear in his heart as you laughed, he was prepared for rejection but that was brutal.

You lean across the small booth, placing your hands lightly on Spencer's cheeks as your lips meet his.

The kiss is short and sweet, but the years of sparks were there. Everything you had ever wanted and more.

You're caught off guard by quick movements behind Spencer. A server rounds the corner, your own following behind with a soft smile.

Please don't walk this way... fuck.

You settle back down, smiling softly as Spencer meets your eyes with a dopey grin, slumped back into his seat. You kick his foot gently beneath the table, laughing as your waiter approached.

Spencer's mind was left in shambles, as was his heart. You didn't say it back, but you kissed him. You fucking kissed him. He had never been more confused and thrilled in his life.

As you open your mouth to speak, a plate is set before you, a smile whine leaving you as your face falls. You didn't want to wait, you wanted to say it back, but doing so over a view of your server's arms wasn't the right time.

The both of you were polite yet curt as you assured the server that you two would be okay, no refills, no cheese, thank you so much, oh my gosh will she ever leave?

Spencer was honestly still very surprised with the set up from Kiana and Jackie; pulling one over on the both of you deserved recognition. Granted, you were both extremely focused on each other, the outside world in a fog.

"You talk too much but I'm in love with you, too, Spencer." You grinned, the words tumbling from you as soon as your privacy had returned, your heart racing as you stared at him.

Spencer froze like a deer in headlights as he looked up to you, fork and knife resting upon his lasagna, prepared to take a bite. He was quick to set down his utensils, shufling a bit in his seat as he coughed a bit.

This was the best case scenario that he still didn't see coming. Spencer had assumed for so long that you loved him, just not in the same way. It was throwing him off to even think that you could.

"You do?" Your brows furrowed, laughing softly as Spencer questioned you.

"Yes, I do. I love you so much, dude." He grinned as you spoke, his eyes sparkling. "I love everything about you and have for a really, really long time."

Spencer nods, the grin unable to leave him as he takes his time to process everything. You've loved him for a long time, so what are the odds that you two fell in love around the same time?

If he could go back in time and kick his own ass, he would. There's no telling where you'd be right now, if only he'd told you sooner.

You felt like you could run for days with all of the excitement and nervousness coursing through your body. Everything was tingly as your hand met Spencer's, fingers intertwining as your heart raced.

"Okay:" Spencer chuckled, nodding as he finally spoke, unsure of where to go from here.

"Yeah," You nod back, laughing as you began to eat. "I'm happy."

The awkwardness was something new. Everything between the two of you before had been natural and felt fine, but there was a new, different air of tension hanging between the two of you.

The dinner continued on with lots of giggling and blushing, your small touches that had gone previously dismissed where now front and center in your mind.

Spencer was touching you every chance he got; his hand holding yours, brushing your hair out of your face, his knees endlessly bumping into yours beneath the table.

It felt like the first time all over again, Spencer knew he's set himself up to fall in love with you all over again. Everything felt different, everything felt new.

"So," You began as you dug your spoon into your shared chocolate cake, mentally comparing it to Josh's. "Do we tell everyone or do we keep this a secret?"

A grin immediately spread across Spencer's face and you could practically see the lightbulb going off above his head.

"Let's keep it a secret until the wedding." You set your fork down, slowly nodding as you finished your bite.

"Well, that certainly is an idea, Spence." You chuckled, covering your mouth. Definitely doesn't hold a flame to Josh's.

"I actually think that could be fun, but if we fold, we fold, okay?" You placed your elbow on the tabletop, pinky poised as you stared down your... boyfriend? Undecided.

Spencer nodded eagerly, grinning as he wrapped his pinky with yours. "We can be friends, at least, right?"

"Yes, obviously we can go back to normal but I guess.. yanno, couple stuff can stay in private." You laughed as you spoke, your cheeks burning brightly as your eyes darted everywhere. You quickly dug for another bite as a way to keep yourself quiet.

It was a strange territory for both of you. Neither of you had ever expected to be here, especially with the circumstances surrounding it, so navigating it was difficult.

"Okay, so we are a couple." Spencer stated, though it sounded more like a question. He took his turn at blushing as you nodded eagerly, a grin across your face.

"Yeah, we're pretending to be engaged, actually engaged, and secretly dating. I think it's pretty simple." You laughed, as Spencer nodded.

"I'm sorry, that's on me." He held his hands up in defense as you two dug back into the cake.

The office seemed to have a strange air when you arrived the next morning. Saturday's were normally pretty empty, most shoots wrapped earlier in the week, and videos prepped well ahead of the weekends.

The usual small group of cast and crews were there; Josh sat at his desk, headphones in as he edited an upcoming video for the Games' channel featuring Shayne and Spencer.

You smiled as you settled into your seat, your eyes glancing to the clock. It was second nature for you to be early. It was far less stressful than being late.

Spencer, on the other hand, strolled in fifteen minutes late, two coffees in hand as he sat beside you. You finished editing the audio of a particularly loud scream of Shayne's, thankful for the excuse to remove your headphones.

You sighed, setting them aside as you smiled at your boyfriend. Your best friend. Spencer. Holy shit, your best friend is your boyfriend, holy fuck.

It was obviously going to take you quite a while to get over all of the butterflies, if you ever do. Finally getting what you've yearned for for so long was definitely weird, but you could get used to it.

He grinned at you, leaning in as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, setting your cup before you.

"Hi, love" You smiled, taking a sip as Spencer chuckled softly. As you turned to him, you caught sight of Jackie strolling very, very slowly past the open office door.

Jackie waved, grinning brightly. The two of you reluctantly wave back, you tried your best to hide your giggles.

You shot her a playful glare as she froze for a moment. Spencer turned to look over his shoulder, a disappointed look across his face.

She raised her brows, offering two thumbs up. You finaly broke, laughing as you nodded your head, mirroring her pose. You glance to Spencer to find him shaking his head with a furrowed brow.

You shove his shoulder softly, laughing as he turns back to you, a grin across his face.

"I think she got the message."

[remuswriting]

AND HOW THE STARS SHINE; MIYA OSAMU

When Sugawara has to retire from being a camp counselor after getting a teaching position, Y/N meets his new co-counselor Miya Osamu.

WORD COUNT: 3,581 words

TAGS: Camp Counselor AU; First Meetings; Pre-Relationship; Fluff

NOTES: To be honest, I want to write a longer camp counselor au because I think it'd be really fun, but we have this instead. Also, I attended summer camp for like 5 years as a kid, but idk a lot about everything camp counselors do. So if there's anything they do that's not accurate, then pretend it is. We're here for the vibes.

Y/N’s summers growing up had always consisted of summer camp.  He went away for a week, lived in a cabin, swam in the lake, did arts and crafts, sang corny songs, and became friends with everyone he met.  Most people came back every summer like he did, so he always knew someone after his first summer.  It had been something he looked forward to and absolutely loved.  Core happy childhood memories.

When he learned his old summer camp was hiring camp counselors, he applied and got accepted the summer before his second year at university.  With university being more stressful than he expected, he missed the happy atmosphere and memories he got every summer as a kid.  There aren’t any summer camps for university students—or none that he knows of—so why not become a camp counselor and hope it’s just as fun as being a camper.

Sugawara trained him his first summer.  They already knew each other from when they were younger, so it was easy to reconnect.  By the end of the first summer, it felt more like best friends going to camp together instead of being camp counselors.  Maybe it was because Y/N has gone there for years and already understood the basics of most things.  The next summer, they’re paired up again, and things are just as fun.  But then Sugawara leaves because he’s graduated and got a teaching position, so he no longer has the time during the summer to be a camp counselor.

Administration decides Y/N is ready to train someone after only two years of being there, even though they usually wait until someone has been there for four years.  It’s just that anyone with eyes knows he can train someone since he and Sugawara always divided responsibilities evenly, sometimes switching who did what.  He’ll never say he can do it alone, because he can’t, but he wouldn’t be completely helpless if left alone.

Kousaka, the camp director, sent out emails about things people needed to bring and who was being paired up with who.  They’re getting five new camp counselors, which is a little lower than normal. (Their average is 10 new ones every year, so it’s not too much lower.) Y/N doesn’t know if the slight drop is because summer camps may not be popular anymore or people don’t know about it.  Whatever it is, it’s fine because they have enough counselors for the number of campers they’ll have.

The beginning of assignments happens about the moment you get to the lodge with your things.  Cabin assignments change every year, even though he wishes they didn’t.  His first year as a counselor he had cabin five, which is near the pool, where there are actual toilets, but the next year they put him near the lodge (that he can’t break into to use the bathroom).  He crossed his fingers and silently prayed that he’d get the cabin five again, even though he doubts it a little.

He opens one of the side doors to the lodge and walks in.  Not all the tables have been put out.  Only two, probably for people to do paperwork if the line gets too long.  However, about no one is in there right now.  He adjusts his duffle bag over his shoulder and looks for Kousaka.

“L/N-kun!” Kousaka calls out, and he looks over at the staircase leading to her room.  Her, her daughter, and the nurse are the only ones who stay in the lodge.  They really only use the building for inside activities, the cafeteria, and the nurse’s office, which became fairly big after a flu outbreak several years ago. (Thankfully, Y/N hadn’t been there for that.)

He hurries over to her, knowing she has roughly 40 other people to talk to and so much more to do. “Kousaka-san, how are you?” he asks, and she smiles.  She had pulled her black hair into a bun, but it’s slowly graying with gentle streaks.  She doesn’t look old, though.  There’s not a single wrinkle on her face.

“I’m doing well.  A bit stressed, but you know how it is the first couple days of training,” she says, and he chuckles.

“As well as every day of training and camp.”

She laughs a little, her smile fond. “I have everything where I usually do, so if you’ll follow me.”

The process of getting everything sorted out isn’t hard.  He’ll fill out a couple of things, go to the nurse for a physical, and then get his cabin key.  Later on, there will be rosters of all his campers and anything else that isn’t important enough to happen from the beginning.

Kousaka hands him a couple of forms to fill out, shooing him off to a table to do so, and then gives him a key when he gets back. “It’s Cabin 16, which you know where that is,” she says, and he nods, internally groaning since that’s the farthest cabin from the lodge. “And you’ll be training someone this year, which I told you over email.  His name is Miya Osamu.”

“That name sounds familiar,” Y/N says as he fidgets with the cabin key.

“He went here for two summers when he was really young,” she says, and Y/N nods.  Most likely knew him from then, but only having a name doesn’t mean he’ll remember. “He’s really sweet, but seems to be a bit quiet.”

“Is he already here?”

“Yes.  He’s with the nurse, doing his physical, which you need done as well,” Kousaka says, pulling out another form for him.  It was just the physical form. “Have him wait for you and you can bring your forms up together.”

Y/N nods. “Alright.  Will do,” he says before picking his duffle bag off the ground and heading to the nurse’s office.

For once, there isn’t anyone waiting in the hall.  He either got here really early this year or “late.”  He assumes early since Kousaka still has so many counselor folders out.  The nurse’s office is in the basement at the end of a never-ending hallway.  Several twists and turns in order to get there.  If he hadn’t been here before, he would’ve gotten lost with the number of rooms there were.  Some used to be dorm rooms, but after kids kept sneaking out and breaking into the kitchen, they stopped letting them dorm there.

The guy who walks out of the nurse’s office is tall and his shoulders are broad.  His hair is black and messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.  His outfit is normal for summer camp—khaki shorts and T-shirt, but his shirt has a volleyball reference on it.  He’ll probably love the volleyball competition they have by the lake and in the pool.

“Hey,” Y/N says when he was close enough he doesn’t need to scream.  The guy looks up from his phone at him. “Are you Miya-san?”

He nods with a small smile, as if he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t meant to. “Yeah.  I’m Miya Osamu, but everyone calls me Osamu.”

Y/N nods. “I’m L/N Y/N.” He stops walking once they were near each other. “Everyone calls me L/N.”

Osamu chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s kinda a habit since I’m a twin,” he said, and Y/N smiled a little. “People tend to think I’m just really friendly.”

“Are you not friendly?” Y/N teases, and while some would panic slightly, Osamu doesn’t.  He just chuckles.  He’s probably used to any form of teasing if he’s a twin. “Also, I’ve never met a twin before, which I bet you hear that a lot.”

“Ya’ve got no idea,” Osamu says.  It’s easy talking to Osamu, which Y/N isn’t surprised by.  He finds talking to people to be easy.  This is just different.  Osamu turns his head, looking over his shoulder, and points at the nurse’s office with his thumb. “Do ya need to get your physical done?”

Y/N nods. “Yeah.  Kousaka-san asked for you to wait with me so we can go back up there together.”

Osamu nods. “Sounds good to me.”

Y/N goes to set his stuff down before looking at Osamu. “Is it alright if I put my stuff here while I’m in there?”

“Course,” Osamu says with an amused smile. “I’ll guard it with my life.”

Y/N rolls his eyes, but he smiles with him. “You don’t need to go that far, but thanks.”

Osamu motions for him to hurry. “Hurry, I wanna check out our cabin.”

It’s easy being paired with Osamu.  Y/N doesn’t have an issue talking to him, and it seems like they’re always on the same page.  They’ve already planned several pranks they’re going to pull on their campers.  Something Sugawara never let Y/N do, even though he wanted to as well.  They probably never did it because Sugawara doesn’t know how to be subtle with the majority of things and would’ve taken it just a little too far.

Y/N likes hanging out with Osamu.  He never finds himself getting annoyed and having to wander the woods to cool off. (Which only happened once with Sugawara after a long, extremely hot day where no one was in a good mood.  But still, it happened.) He’s really happy that Osamu is his co-counselor.

There are three days until the campers show up, meaning they’ve known each other for almost two weeks now.  They’re in their team building group when Osamu sits next to Y/N, scooting his chair closer to Y/N.  He’s said it’s to make sure everyone knows they’re friends, which Y/N finds endearing.  He just hopes that Osamu means that and it’s not just a joke.

“Alright, everyone has had time to get to know their co-counselors,” Kousaka says as she stands in the middle of the chair circle. “I’ve got some worksheets for bonding questions.  Nothing intense.  Just asking each other some questions, writing their answers, and bringing it here tomorrow.  It’s not a grade.  I just need to see you’ve done them.”

Y/N knows they’re only doing this because there are counselors not getting along.  He has his suspicions, but he’s not 100 percent certain of who, though.  He’ll have to ask Akaashi later since Akaashi seems to always know everything.  He literally writes things down in his notes app so he doesn’t forget.

They pass papers around, and they get through the rest of the group talking about scenarios of what to do when campers aren’t getting along.  Then they’re sent back to their cabins to get ready for dinner and night meetings after.  The bonding exercise worksheet sits comfortably in a folder in his backpack, along with Osamu’s.  Osamu forgot to pack his folder before lunch, meaning Y/N got to carry around the paperwork.

“Didja look at what was on the worksheet?” Osamu asks as they trek past everyone.  Y/N really hates that their cabin is the farthest away from the lodge.

“Nope.  We can look at it when we get to the cabin or after night activities,” Y/N says, and he grips the straps of his backpack. “I imagine it’s nothing intense.  Probably get to know me questions, like favorite color.”

Osamu chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right.” It’s quiet for a second. “Who do ya think is why we’re doin’ it?”

Y/N looks at him. “Okay, so I’m planning on asking Akaashi-san later, but I have a feeling it may be Kageyama-san and Oikawa-san.  They’ve been at each other’s throats.  I don’t know why they’ve not been assigned to different counselors.”

“Thank, God. I thought I was just imaginin’ the tension,” Osamu says, and Y/N shakes his head with a small laugh.

“No, it’s definitely there, and it’s suffocating.”

“How many more bonding exercises are we gonna have ‘cause of them?”

Y/N looks back at the path ahead of them. “Too many.”

It’s late once they’ve gotten back to their cabin, and Y/N is ready to just belly flop on his bed and sleep until his alarm goes off at 6 A. M., but he doesn’t get that privilege since they have several things they need to fill out before meetings tomorrow.  So, he plops down on his bed, the wooden frame creaking a little.

“Me too,” Osamu says, and he’s not sat down yet.  He’s putting his stuff up first, which is apparently because his twin—Atsumu—isn’t necessarily messy, but he’s driven Osamu to become organized. “But we’ve gotta get things done first.”

“Wanna do everything for me?” Y/N asks, and Osamu rolls his eyes with a laugh.

“And suffer?  No thanks.”

Osamu pulls his folder out of his bag.  (It was the first thing he grabbed before they left for dinner earlier.) Then he’s pulling out pencils and pens.  Y/N doesn’t even want to open his bag.  He doesn’t want to do anything but sleep.  But he slowly opens his bag, though, only because of Osamu.

“Wanna do the bonding exercise worksheet first?” Osamu asks, and he’s pulling it out of his folder. “It says we’ve gotta be somewhere we both feel comfortable, though.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. “Do you think Kageyama-san and Oikawa-san are at the volleyball net at the lake?”

Osamu looks at him, and he has that smile that says exactly what Y/N is thinking.  They should go see.  This is the only time that Y/N likes that they’re in this cabin, since it’s closest to the lake.  The only issue with going to check is that the lake is at the bottom of a steep hill that’s terrible to walk up and down in the daylight. (Kageyama and Oikawa are probably down there anyway because they’re both ridiculous.)

Y/N is shoving his folder back into his bag and getting up while Osamu just grabs two pens and his folder to put in his bag.  Then they’re out of the cabin, hurrying over there.  From the top of the hill, they see several lights on, meaning someone is definitely down there.  Y/N can’t hear anything, though.  If they walk down the hill with their flashlights, they’ll definitely get caught.  There’s no way in hell either of them will walk down the hill without a flashlight.

After a minute, he hears what sounds like a ball hitting the ground. “I thought you weren’t going to use that serve!” a voice yells, and Y/N is pretty sure it’s Kageyama.  Yeah, they’re down there.

“Wanna go down there?” Osamu asks, and Y/N looks at him.  His face is barely illuminated by their flashlights pointed at the ground. “Or do ya want to go over to the amphitheater?”

“Amphitheater,” Y/N says without a second thought. “I need to see what talent you’ll bring to the talent show this year.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna blow yer socks off.”

The walk isn’t long, but it’s done in silence.  It’s mainly because the path can be so difficult to see so they want to focus on making it without getting hurt.  There’s also the fact that they’re out past curfew.  Maybe if they say it’s because of the bonding exercise worksheet, Kousaka would let it pass.  Also, it’s not like Y/N minds the silence.  He just finds it nice being able to do this with Osamu—hang out.  It’s funny because he never thought sneaking around would appeal to him.

“We’re here,” Osamu says, and the amphitheater is poorly lit from the one light pole there.  There aren’t many around the camp, but there’s one here because of how many kids apparently kept getting hurt from being there in the dark. “Let’s get to bonding.”

Y/N grimaces a little. “Please don’t say it like that.”

“I’ll say it however I want,” Osamu says, and Y/N rolls his eyes as they find somewhere to sit. “Alright, question one: What do ya wanna do with your life?”

“Damn, that’s a heavy question,” Y/N says with a slight laugh. “What do I want to do with my life?” He looks over into the darkness for a moment. “Travel.  I have a friend traveling the world right now, and he’s never been happier.”

“Good answer,” Osamu says as he writes it down, his handwriting sloppy from not being able to hold the paper down.

Y/N takes the flashlight from Osamu, shining it down on the paper for him. “What about you?”

Osamu looks up at him, and his face is fully illuminated now.  His gray eyes are such a stark difference from his black hair right now. “I wanna open a restaurant.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, because he wasn’t expecting that answer.  He’s not sure what he thought Osamu would say.  He has a vibe about him that makes it hard to pin down exactly who he is.

“What kind?” Y/N asks, and Osamu takes the flashlight from him so he can write.

“Onigiri.  Maybe other stuff in the future, but right now, that’s what I wanna make,” he says, and Y/N can’t look at him while the flashlight is shining at him because it’ll hurt his eyes.  He wants to look at him.  He finds that he never grows tired of looking at Osamu.

“You’ll have to cook for me sometime,” Y/N says with a smile, and Osamu chuckles.

“Come to Osaka, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Y/N looks down at the next question. “Why did you decide to apply?  Make sure to give at least two sentences.” He lowers the flashlight a little, and Y/N looks up at Osamu. “You got an answer?”

From what Y/N can see behind the bright light, Osamu looks embarrassed—shy?  It’s a strange look on him.  He’s not sure if there’s a reason that’ll call for embarrassment.

“I… I was lonely,” Osamu says, and Y/N is quiet.  What is he supposed to say to that?  Question him on why or remind him he needs two sentences? “I’ve told ya how Atsumu went pro this last year, and I thought it’d be fine, but we weren’t talkin’ as much as we used to.  And then I saw a photo of us when we were kids here and thought ‘might as well’…” Osamu falls quiet. “I thought comin’ here would help me not feel so lonely.”

“Did it?” Y/N asks, not writing anything down. “Make you not feel lonely?”

Osamu nods a little. “Yeah.  It did.”

It’s quiet for a moment, crickets chirping around them and the flashlight no longer being pointed at anyone but instead pointed at the ground.  Y/N knows if he looks up, the stars will be vibrant, even with the shitty light pole that actually needs to be replaced, but won’t since they don’t have the money.

“What about you?” Osamu asks, and Y/N can merely only see the outline of his currently. “Why'd Ya come to camp?”

There’s the reason Y/N tells himself that he missed it, which is true.  It’s a valid reason, but it’s not the reason he supposes.

“Life is really fast paced,” Y/N says, and Osamu just stares at him. “I got really burned out two years ago, and everything was just tiring.  Then I came across a picture of Suga and me from camp when we were kids, and I remember being tired back then, but it was a fun tired.” He pauses. “I think I just wanted to experience that tiredness again.”

“Do ya think everyone’s reasons are as sappy as ours?” Osamu asks, and Y/N chuckles a little.

“No, but I imagine we’re not the only ones.”

The crickets chirp around them, and Y/N likes it.  He likes the nighttime atmosphere.  He likes that he gets to share it with Osamu, who hasn’t written Y/N’s answer down, just like Y/N hasn’t written his answer.

“So, what’re we gonna write down?” Osamu asks.

“I wanted a change in scenery, which camp brings me,” Y/N says as he takes the flashlight from Osamu to shine it on his paper. “Just make it two sentences.”

“I dunno how,” Osamu says after he’s tried writing the beginning of the sentence three times. “Uh.  Life got chaotic and overwhelming, so he looked back on the past at camp.  He thought that chaos would be better.”

“Works for me,” Y/N says, and Osamu takes the flashlight from him. “How about I write: He missed camp and all the friends it brought him.  So he came back to make more?”

Osamu laughs a little. “Terrible, but great.”

Y/N pouts slightly as he writes. “I’m trying to not give away all your secrets, Osamu.”

Osamu doesn’t respond at first before he quietly says, “Yeah, I know.  Thank you.”

“Okay, now, question three.  Will it ask us to share childhood trauma?” Y/N looks at question three. “What are your hobbies?”

Osamu laughs a little, and Y/N joins in with him.  It’s funny how that’s the question after two vulnerable questions.  After a few minutes, their laughter dies down as they breathe.  Osamu looks at him.

“Wanna head back to the cabin?” he asks, and Y/N looks around them for a moment.  He looks at the wooden benches that make up the amphitheater, the shitty lamp post that needs a better light, and the “stage” that’s only the ground itself but is the focal point.

He looks back at Osamu with a soft smile. “Sure, but you better have the coolest hobbies ever.”

He sees Osamu’s smile, the same one he had whenever he said he’d protect Y/N’s duffle bag with his life. “I’m gonna blow ya away with my hobbies. Just ya wait.”

[callmewrinkles3]

Choices

October 2023

Em hadn't realised how tired being thirty weeks pregnant would make her. She was constantly sore and had run out of room for Lulu to grow but grow their daughter did. Even going up stairs was starting to wear her out. Pregnancy was tough.

But she'd held Dan's hand the whole day when they were at the Spurs Stadium, smiling as they appeared on screen at the Bills game. Her life was, yet again, fucking surreal, because she was sitting next to Hailee Steinfeld, the two talking about dating athletes and some of the ridiculousness that entailed. But she was there with Blake and Dan, laughing at Dan's antics and excitement at seeing Josh. The icing on the cake for Dan was being handed a Bills onesie for Lulu with Josh's number on it, as well as a tutu outfit. But finally they were back home before the race started.

There was a basket of clean clothes on the coffee table, Em folding them every few moments through the race. Lulu's stuff was going into a different basket, to go into a vacuum sealed bag and into the drawers in the nursery to keep them clean and dust free. But every single time she looked up she got even more worried for the drivers on track.

She knew it was bad and she didn't need to be a genius to know that, it was obvious to her. Between the heat and the tyre issue that had happened it was a weird weekend, but this seemed worse. The last time they were in Qatar was the end of November and that was bad. This seemed so much hotter. Every time Dan put another driver's camera on she could see how exhausted they were, the moment of seeing visors cracked slightly to get a breath of wind.

Her husband was watching in absolute silence, his good hand gripping hers. Usually he'd commentate on what was happening and how Max and Yuki were doing, but instead he was just watching, his left hand moving with the flow of the wheel in the drivers hands.

Blake was silent too, his phone glued to his hand as he was texting Cal and probably filling Charlie's texts for when she woke up. They were both worried, and the moment Logan came over the radio and she heard James tell him to let them look after him. She watched him barely get the car back to the pits, Dan putting the cameras for the drivers they were closest to on the screen as they watched in silence. She thanked whatever was out there that Dan wasn't driving as she watched her friends need help getting out of their cars. She squeezed Dan's hand before texting Chloe, asking for her to tell them how Lance was as soon as she heard.

Once she put the phone down it hit her. Dan had used his hand completely normally all day. There was no swelling, no pain, even his scar was healed up and looked nearly normal. He'd been folding the tiny clothes with her. He'd even caught a football in his left hand.

"You could have driven this week, couldn't you?" It was barely more than a whisper, not wanting Blake to hear it.

"Maybe." It wasn't the word that mattered, but Dan's oh I got caught face was clear. He was staring down at the sleepsuit he'd picked up to fold, too nervous about her reaction to even look at his wife's face. "I was ninety, ninety five percent there. But with only one practice and Liam hasn't driven there before it was a risk. I didn't want to risk it. I figured it'd be bad, just not this bad. It wasn't worth it for me to risk it and it wasn't worth you worrying."

It was the easy explanation. He wasn't totally there, it was a sprint, and Austin had the announcement anyway. But she knew how huge this was for Dan. He desperately wanted to be in the car, he wanted to be driving and was so excited before the crash. But he gave up a potential weekend of racing to make sure she wasn't stressed. He spent it at a football game with her and putting tiny baby clothes away so when they left for the US in a few days everything was ready for when Em and Lulu arrived back in London. He did all of that. He loved them that much.

"I love you." Em curled into his side as much as she could, sighing with relief as her phone went off with a text from Chloe confirming Lance would be ok and showing it to Dan. Then she let her husband hold her while she revelled in the luxury that he was right there with her.

[resowrites]

On Hold - oneshot.

Summary: Phone sex between Henry and his girlfriend goes awry…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only, light smut (mention of f masturbation)/innuendo, dialogue heavy, banter/British humour, fluff, language, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 1170

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

On Hold - oneshot.

"Oh, yes, good evening. Er, before we get started, can I just check the rates per minute?" She laughed.

"For the third time this week, you’ve got the wrong number. Now, piss off."

"Wait! This was the number advertised!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. In a phone box about twenty minutes from here." Henry could practically hear her pursing her lips, annoyed.

"Well try ringing from there cos you’re blocked on this number."

"Wait, I don't need long, just tell me what you’re wearing…" She grinned into her screen.

"Hang on… are you that knobhead who plays Superman? Can’t you find some actresses to bring back to your hotel?"

"Nah, they think I’m too old."

"Aww, have you told them how much you're worth?" He roared with laughter.

"Are you gunna touch yourself for me or what?"

"You’re an hour late darling, sorry."

"What d'ya mean? Did I wake you? I thought you sounded sleepy."

"No, I'm just laying in bed."

"At 9 pm? What you been up to?"

"Oh I didn’t tell you did I… got a new wand delivered. Great fun. Submersible too." There was a slight pause.

"Well, careful… don’t electrocute yourself." She smirked.

"Don’t worry, it’s rechargeable."

"Wow, and it lasted that long?"

"Longer than you." Henry snickered.

"Well you haven’t broken up with me yet, so it can’t be that good…"

"I was waiting till I got my strength back," he scoffed, "I’m not joking, I still can’t move my legs."

"Hang on, let me lie back for this," she giggled, "well you can hardly blame me! It’s been days since I’ve seen my beloved. She won’t even send me any pictures…" She rolled her eyes.

"Does she know you’re calling me right now?"

"Oh stop it, one bloody woman’s enough. Now take ‘em off."

"Take what off?"

"You know fine well."

"I really don’t."

"Yes you do. Off, now. Or are they still on the bathroom floor?"

"Says the man who probably took his off in the lift." Henry scoffed again.

"Christ, I’ve never known a woman make me work this hard for it from hundreds of miles away," she yawned followed by a long pause, "hello?"

"Sorry, if the line goes dead again it means I’ve fallen asleep." He giggled.

"That’s it, I wanna speak to someone else."

"What, like a manager?"

"D'ya know what I’ll just hang up and dial again shall I?! I might get through to someone nicer!"

"Sorry, it’s only me and Big Sandy tonight."

"And is she busy?"

"Well she’s only got two hands." Henry snorted.

"Fucking hell, why me Lord?"

"Oh darling, are you having trouble? You might wanna take something…"

"Well it'd be bloody wasted on you!"

"You’re telling me, fuck that wand is good."

"… How many times?"

"Six." He frowned.

"Yeah, right."

"What? That’s only six more than you’ve given me."

"Well it’s not my fault I can't vibrate! What do I do? Stick a battery up my arse?!"

"Tsk, typical man, always putting his needs first." Henry cackled.

"Did you even think of me at all?"

"No more than usual."

"Oh, I see. Still got the hots for the new weatherman on channel five then?"

"You mean the one who looks like you ten years ago but with a straighter nose?" He harrumphed.

"You know you're lucky I'm not there right now, you’d be getting a smacked arse."

"You wish."

"I do! You’re going over my knee the minute I get back."

"Only if you make it past the porch…" Henry smiled fondly.

"Christ I remember that time, how long had I been away?"

"Six weeks. You even tripped over a parcel." He laughed.

"… God I miss you."

"You’ve only got one more week, soppy bollocks."

"Way too long… please come visit me. You’re missing out big time on the food here."

"Darling you know how busy I am with work. How are the interviews going?"

"Awful, thanks."

"You poor sod, I know how much you hate talking about yourself…" Henry smirked.

"Oh fuck off, there’s only so many times you can answer: ‘so what’s the hardest thing about playing Sherlock Holmes?’”

"And what do you say? The accent?" He almost choked on the drink he'd been sipping.

"You know, all things considered… you're not in a very good mood."

"Can’t smile wide enough, thanks. I’m just knackered."

"Oh sorry darling. Do you want me to let you go?"

"No, it’s alright… gotta wait for it to recharge anyway."

"Oh, well then you better rest up for tomorrow."

"Hmm, think I’ll aim for ten." Henry sniffed sharply.

"Yeah well, enjoy it while you can cos the thing's going out the bloody window when I get back."

"Well there’s no rush…"

"Oh yes there is. I'm gunna drown you in how much I've missed you."

"Right, I'm hanging up. At least I don’t have to talk to the wand."

"Wait!"

"What?"

"What position you lying in?" There was a short pause.

"On my side, why?"

"… Which tit’s pressed into the mattress?"

"You’re a perv."

"Tell me!"

"Hang on, let me check…" He laughed, exasperated.

"For fuck's sake, why can’t we just have phone sex like a normal couple?"

"Cos you’re a pillock." Henry smiled.

"You love me though."

"Eh… you’re alright."

"Say it!"

"Ugh, don’t make me."

"Say it, or I’ll call you every hour on the hour until you do," she gave a heavy sigh, "oooh."

"What?"

"… Make that noise again." She tutted.

"Definitely not."

"Oh go on, you know I need you."

"Why, what happened to your hand?" He bellowed with laughter for what felt like the hundredth time since the call began.

"I love you darling."

"Me too. Seven times, in fact." Henry's eyebrows shot up.

"I thought it was only six?"

"It was but then my phone rang and it startled me." He started laughing so hard she could hear his headboard shaking.

"It wasn’t the weatherman by any chance?"

"I wish. Oh wait a minute, you work in entertainment. Try and get his number for me."

"If I do it’ll be to warn him."

"Mmmm you should have seen him today, talk about a warm southern front." Henry sighed.

"Why aren’t you like this when I’m around?" She bit back a laugh.

"I dunno, it’s like some terrible weight’s been lifted."

"Right well then I’ll bid you goodnight, shall I?! Tuck yourself up warm okay? And kiss our boy for me."

"Will do. Oh and be sure to rinse that shower floor, wouldn’t want you slipping tomorrow morning." She could almost hear him grinning.

"I mean it, I love you darling." There was another brief pause.

"Love you too."

"See! that wasn’t so hard, was it?"

"Either way, I’m disappointed in myself." Henry chuckled.

"Night-night wagon."

"Night, buggerlugs."

It was just as she hung up that a thought crossed her mind. He meanwhile sighed and switched on the tv. A few minutes later his phone pinged and he beamed once he opened the message.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@marytudorbrandon @luclittlepond

[yellowhollyhock]

standing up to bullies, Nightwatcher again (march for Raph has made me (re)realize how much I love the 07 turtles)

Raph woke up a bit earlier in the evening than usual. Something was burning, which probably explained the frantic voices he could hear overlapping each other.

Sure didn't make him want to get out of bed.

He hoisted himself up with a groan. Splinter wouldn't be pleased if he missed dinner again, and he couldn't exactly show up for food after pretending to sleep through all this commotion.

He slammed his bedroom door open, as if he could intimidate himself into waking up, and found chaos.

Master Splinter and Mikey were tripping over each other in the kitchen, trying to clean something off the ceiling and floor. A mess of partially-melted styrofoam and leftover noodles sat on the counter right by the stove. They pointed and muttered to try to get each other the broom, the stepstool, turn the water on or off.

The voice was mostly Donnie's, and whoever was screaming so loud into his headset that Raph could hear it.

"Yes, I understand your frustration."

"Are we out of bleach?"

"I need your verification number in order to--"

"Michelangelo, do not leave the rag on the stove."

"But it's off now."

"If you can tell me a valid email address, I'll resend the code."

"It is still hot."

"There's no other counter space!"

Raph took some uncertain steps towards the kitchen. It looked like the contents of what had once been under the sink were taking up their counter space. As he got closer he could smell the musty cardboard and see that the cabinet was open. There must've been a leak.

"Yes, sir, I realize--no, I--we will need a valid email address in order to send the code. I don't have an option to text it to you."

He hesitated to walk in and start moving things--Mikey and Splinter were already on top of each other. In all these years of five of them trying to live here, why hadn't they gotten a bigger kitchen?

Anyway, it'd be stupid to change now that there were less of them. Not that Leo had really used the kitchen, but still.

"Donatello. Okay, you can do that, but we'll still need to set up a valid email address in order to--"

The incoherent yelling got louder, making Donnie wince and pull one side of his headset slightly away from his ear. The small gap made the hollered insults a little more clear, and grated on Raph's nerves.

He stomped over and snatched the headset, slamming it over his own head. He ignored Donnie's startled protest.

"If you came into our physical establishment acting this way we could call the cops," he roared without preamble.

"--stupid, useless--now who is this?"

"Are you gonna let us help you set up your email, or should I just hang up now?"

An indignant huff. "I would like to speak to your manager."

"I am the manager. And next time I catch you talking that way to one of my agents, your number will be blocked at every tech company in the country."

Donnie pressed something on his keyboard, and the line went quiet. For a very brief moment, Raph took in the wide-eyed expressions of his watching family. Were they shocked, afraid? Mostly they just looked exhausted.

He set the headset on the desk and scowled at Donnie.

"You can't just let people walk all over you like that."

"Actually, Raph," his brother drawled in an obnoxious long-suffering tone far too reminiscent of Leo, "That's exactly what my job is."

And you clearly wouldn't last a day went unspoken. Raph scoffed and turned away.

"Mikey, don't leave the rag on the stove," he snapped, feeling stupid even as he heard himself say it. He needed to get out of here.

"I'll go pick us up some food."

Maybe Donnie didn't appreciate it; that was fine. Most of the people he helped these days wouldn't ever appreciate it. That didn't matter. Somebody had to deal directly and immediately with those kinds of people.

Raph couldn't stand bullies.

[keii-starz]

answer any or all I wanna know more about you 👁️👁️

Do you have freckles? 

 Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it? 

What was the last song you listened to? 

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? 

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? 

Do you prefer drawing or writing? 

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with? 

What’s your favorite band/artist? 

When is your birthday? 

How tall are you? 

What color are your eyes? 

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? 

Fears? 

What’s your favorite color? 

What’s your favorite season? 

Want any tattoos? What of? 

Want any piercings? Where? 

Who is the last person you texted? 

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends? 

What/who do you miss? 

How was your day today? 

How much sleep did you get last night? 

Do you believe in aliens? 

When was the last time you cried? Why? 

What’s your favorite decade? 

What are some seemingly childish things you like? 

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? 

How are you, really? 

Does it take you a long time to make decisions? 

What are you looking forward to in the near future? 

What are you looking forward to in the distant future? 

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? 

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? 

What’s your favorite flower? 

Do you currently have a squish? 

Do you like your middle name? 

Do you prefer dogs or cats? 

Do you have any phobias? 

Do you stay up late?

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? 

What’s your favorite cartoon? 

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs

Do you have siblings? How many? 

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? 

Is there anyone you would die for? 

What do you need when you’re sad? 

Have you memorized your phone number? 

Who’s someone you can trust with your life? 

What does your last text say? 

Wild Card. Any question, ask away. 

1. I wish (no) 😔

2. I drink both!!! but I don't drink coffee that often, and when I do, it's only if it has milk and sugar in it! when I drink tea, I usually drink milk tea, or I add milk to my matcha tea, but sometimes I just drink regular tea!

3. DAYDREAM by HIGHLIGHT!!!

4. I sleep on my back, but I actually prefer sleeping on my side!! I just dont sleep on my side most of the time because I sleep with headphones on, and its kinda uncomfortable sleeping on my side with headphones on

5. yes!! my little teddy bear that I got from my bestie!!! I named him lucy

6. hmm I love both a lot, but I'd say drawing!

7. ummm it doesn't really matter for me but I'll say teo because of my blanket I've had since childhood (its too small to cover me now so ofc I have to use another blanket)

8. hmm for band, it'd be LUCY!!! (K-band) I think the violin in their music makes their songs sound even nicer! but my fav part is obv sangyeop's soft voice :3

but for artists in general...hmm there's quite a few, so I'll name them by language! 1. CRAVITY (korean boy group), ZICO (korean soloist, k-hiphop), COLDE (korean soloist, k-r&b), 2. yoh kamiyama (japanese), TUYU (japanese band), 3. jeremy zucker, suggi (english)

9. february 11!

14. sage green!!

15. autumn! not too cold or hot, and not as much bugs!

19. I do! we've been friends since 4th grade!

21. it was great!!! I had so much fun and got to eat a lot of good food!!

24. sometime last week, I think tuesday..I think it had smth to do with my insecurities or like. how I keep getting the feeling I'm not wanted

28. my mental and physical states both suck a ton, but since I've returned home for spring break, im trying to convince myself to not worry about anything and just think of this as a lil vacation just until this is over

31. im definitely looking forward to moving out of my mom's house or just not staying with my family in general...I want to get an apartment where I feel relaxed at when I turn into an adult

32. if I could go anywhere right now...I would probably go to my aunt's house in florida..tbh, I wouldn't say her cooking's (sorry auntie 😔) the best, but I'd probably feel way...calmer? there and less likely to cry so often

34. my favorite flower is the star of bethlehem!!! it's really really pretty!!! im pretty sure it's a poisonous flower tho lol

39. all the time 😊

42. I prefer cloudy days! sunny days are nice, but I don't like getting the sun in my eyes very much, plus the sky is prettier with clouds :3

44. 5 of my fav blogs: @azulashengrottospiano @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @alexisomnias @l7k-a

45. I have 2 siblings! an older brother and younger sister, who is the youngest, but if I didn't tell u this and you met us both irl, you'd probably think shes the older one based on height and personality lol

47. I would die for any of my friends in a heartbeat

48. music!!! I CANNOT go without my music I tell u!!!

49. nope!!! you see, my phone doesn't tell me my phone number, so I always have to ask other people what it is 😐 (my other phone did tho)

50. uhhh hmmm this one is really hard bcuz I don't think I know anyone irl who I can trust with my life but probably...no one..?

[chronotsr]

Pre-G1 Modules, part 4B - The Judge's Guild Roundup Completed

Oh. Oh we're still doing this? It won't end? Gods. At least we made it to 1978. Anyway, happy eclipse to every. Reminder: the people who run Judge's Guild now are full-on nazis, do not buy their books. Go hug your loved ones instead.

The Thieves of Fortress Badabaskor (1978)

Maybe I was too hard on the Prince Valiant-ass artstyle. It looks very proud for a bandit fortress, don't you think? The full color version that comes out later is even nicer -- it's the one you find on google images first. Anyway. Fort Badboybaskaur was founded by ''The Emperor of Glorious Doomfire''. It truly was the era of so-bad-its-good naming! The fort was built so that if raiding happened, the many small villages could congregate there for safety. Only, it turns out there was a red dragon underneath. And then that got resealed. And then an evil demigod took over. And then bandits took that over.

I read this section like five times and for the life of me I cannot find a prophesy here. They just kind of say it because it sounds cool. The prose in this hand out is, really really rough, it's a lot of proper nouns and moral history tropes -- empire becoming successful and spawning evil religion yada yada yada. The proper noun addiction is strong with this one, we get quite a few undefined proper nouns here. He's another classic: "Zanaaphic the All-King of the Spirit Universe". I have so many questions! None of which will be answered. "Angall of the Perpetual Void" Wow! Those are some neat nouns! The net effect, however, is there was a really skilled evil wizard who got confronted by a god, beat him, and by defeating him became a four-armed dragon-skinned bat-winged magical null. He does up to 16 pips of damage with his silly flails!

So the cover image is lying a little bit about the fortress. In both of the presented maps, there is no cool rampart that you have to slowly siege, there are mountains both in front and behind the fortress, and there are way more than three turrets. I am actually a little fond of this keep layout-wise, it's less cramped than the Keep on the Borderlands is. Naturally, it sits at the foot of Mount Deception.

It's a nice little fortress, no? I would recommend getting a modern copy of the map if it wasn't for the ownership sucking ass in an extreme way. Plus, having dungeons under your keep on the borderlands seems like a great idea, actually. Or, shit, having a rival keep on a rival borderlands sounds kinda rad. Anyway, the room by room is pretty rote. The exterior rooms are mostly just services you'd give to anyone walking in, but the real juicy stuff is all kept inside the mountain walls. We've got your usual suspects. Guard captain, bossman, bossman's terrible wife (and the wife is legally required to be evil because male writers), pawnbroker, human trafficker, tavernsssssss, gemcutter, blacksmith, et c. Some of the names are okay, "Hole in the Hill Inn" run by ogres was really funny to me, I would change them to hill giants to complete the joke.

The dungeon has an interesting conceit where there are some generic "alternate rooms" in the back of the book that come with a blank room number that you can swap if you dislike the default room contents. I'm really in favor of this mindset. I have thought for a while that it'd be kind of nice for adventure books to be shipped in some sort of editable capacity? Like if I wanna do open heart surgery on a floor of a dungeon, but I like the other 4 floors, it'd be nice to keep it in the original format instead of having the adventure book and then some loose-leaf with the changes penciled in. Tragically, the alt rooms are overwhelmingly just monsters in a room, with the outlier being a wererats with a little kidnapping scheme.

Underneath the fortress there are five levels, one is actually above ground level and in the cliff face behind the keep, and the third level leads to the surface via caves. Neat! I'm kind of imagining Gerudo Fortress here on a lot of levels. Here's a quick skim of the best contents:

There appears to be a little rat treasure hoard where the rats have to pay their dues to their little rat kings? What's going on here is kind of unclear to me, but I can't help but imagine one of the guards trained the rats to hide money in the walls for him and the ten rats with silver formation are a kind of animal-passcode.

A chest trapped with some sort of reverse truth serum -- it removes your ability to speak, see, or hear for a week if you open it without permission. Naturally, the chest is decorated with the three wise monkeys 🙈🙉🙊 (and a mysterious fourth monkey the text implies nothing about, maybe it's Sezaru? Curse of erectile dysfunction!)

The alarm system seems to be gong-based

Oh, I don't like this beholder at all. Ewwww! But also, why is this drawing here? There's no beholders in here? Is this some kind of silly trap for snooping players? In fact, most of the monster illustrations are…kind of just random monsters.

The treasury is booby-trapped to hell and back. We have a standard guillotine trap disarmed with a tile puzzle on the wall, a hell-hound guard dog, and the most prominent magical item is a necklace of strangulation. Rough break! Just go ahead and put all of the treasure on pressure plates with flame jets at that point.

A reverse gravity pit-trap -- you pull a book, you fall through a hole in the ceiling and then it traps you in the ceiling. It's just a pit trap at the end of the day, but way vivid!

A chair made of a dragon's arms and horn that will animate and attack you if you try to pry gems off it or attack anyone

Two wizards are having a battle over who gets to own a trained lizard that can sing and carry heavy loads. I understand guys. That lizard is worth it.

Under a sarcophagus is written "If you can read this, you're too close", as well as some explosive runes

The treasure hoard of a lost king, if you attempt to steal it, will turn into a treasure construct shaped like the king. Awesome!

"A similar cabinet on the north wall is labeled "For Future Imperialists". In the top drawer is a Gem of Brightness, the second is a pair of Bracers of Defenselessness, and in the bottom drawer is a pouch of Dust of Sneezing and Choking." I would fully lean in, make it a Cursed Gem of Brightness that you can't turn off, and put the Bracers in the top drawer if the goal is to prank an evil character into hurting themselves.

A reverse-vampire giant lizardfolk that consumes the unlife from undead. So, Tomb of the Lizard King got beat to the vampire-lizardfolk punch, I guess?

Large swaths of this dungeon genuinely feel randomly generated. The worst parts are about half of floor 2, 3, and about half of floors 4 and 5. It just feels like padding to me. And in true Judge's Guild fashion, there are treasure stores in the temple that are "instantly max your character" amounts of loot. Now I get that shares are a thing and you gotta pay your hirelings, but still, 1.5M gold represents like, even if you're a party of 10 you're still looking at instantly maxing a thief, shooting a fighter to level 8, and shooting a wizard to level 9. And there's no way you were at 0xp when you smuggled that statue out, that's going to be an instant max for just about anyone. The big reveal that I…guess you could conceivably puzzle out? Is that the dragons were nearby because they were minions of a dragon-king entombed under this fortress before it was built. A cool idea, that desperately needs more foreshadowing. The love clearly went into making those tombs cool, so if I was going to rip anything off from this module that'd probably be my second port of call.

Gen Con IX Dungeons (1978)

What a name, right? How come Tsojconth got a name and these dungeons didn't? Blatant favoritism. Well actually one of the two dungeons may as well be called the Halls of Grsk. And, wow, everything about the design notes are ominous. "Simplicity would be the prime requisite". So….does that mean this adventure is boring on purpose, Bob?

The adventure is split into two bits, the player-side info and the gm-side info, which…okay. Sure. The titular dungeon is set in the "Celtic mythos", whatever the fuck that means (Bob, the Celtic cultures covered almost all of Europe and parts of Asia. That phrase is meaningless!). TL;DR the old king's wizard went evil and killed the king, left no one to rule, and then went nuts and much later summoned a bunch of demons to protect his loot now that he's old and dying. The local wizard, Framschamsnaggle (seriously?) bullies you into raiding his tomb to get a staff back. There's a dragon in there and you were handed a teleportation amulet that will zip you out as soon as you get your hands on the staff.

Oh. Oh that's not good. That's a very not good dungeon layout. That's a very bad dungeon layout. And the contents are, as bad. I wonder if it was considered bad at the con itself? I couldn't find a single remarkable thing in this whole dungeon. It is neither weird, nor funny, nor clever, nor interesting. It's 30 random dungeon rooms in a row, with a rare trap that is practically randomized also.

The sole joy I can find in this module is this illustration, which looks like a shitpost.

The second round of the tournament (1st round eliminates) is set in a completely different place, which is more properly called the Halls of Grsk. Almost all of this area is also just, save or suck traps and monsters. There is one trap that's kind of classic and okay -- picking up the giant ruby locks all exits, many red herrings, room starts heating up like an oven. The solution is to smash the ruby, which instantly kills the heating element. It's not amazing (how are you supposed to guess it's a ruby? It behaves like a pressure plate trap but the ruby itself is contact-activated) but it's the least bad thing in here. The portal-that-eats-you prank in particular grinds my gears, the game communicates every possible thing to say it kills you, and by blind faith you go through and is the best solution. Picking up the fake secret item instantly kills you, because fuck you. The fakeout trap's sole hint is "why are there two normal doors on the north wall?" which, it's a points-based dungeon, they're going to assume it's for extra points. Also, the whole dungeon is a massive straight line in disguise. It's a wreck.

Actually, the whole scenario feels like a worse "Tomb of the Lizard King" in a lot of ways, down to the silly rhyme on the last page that gives you a critical clue about how to kill the undead baddie. In a sense it's also like Tomb of Horrors in that way, I guess, but the vibes are a lot more like Tomb of the Lizard King.

Damn it Bob, you made it boring on purpose.

Citadel of Fire (1978)

This is truly one of the dungeon covers of all time.

Is… is that The Golem? I hope Rabbi Loew is available. Or, maybe it's good that he's not in the module, because obviously this construct's creator is going to be evil in this module.

This is the least least imaginative of the Judge's Guild modules in this series. It is, simply a wizard's tower. If you have ever in your life read a wizard's tower module, you've read this one. The JG staples of constant slavery mentions continues with slave girls being in every single damn room of the towers. There's, not really much plot to go on either. There are wizards, the hill is good for magic, they are aligned with the goblins, go chop 'em up.

Sigh. Here's the memorable bits.

Nearly out the gate, we get one of those paragraphs that you would hope would be so obviously bad to the writers that they would second guess the decision. Why the actual hell did you stat out some 200 nearly identical goblins manually?

What is that and when do I get a bestiary entry for them? That's not a joke, the module never mentions what this is and now I want this Weresalazzle in my adventures.

The vague allusion to "Shabast", which are apparently a species of people who are intelligent clouds? But only sometimes.

A variety of pens for animals the wizards are working on, which include an Irish deer, a jackalwere, a baby lammasu, a giant slug named Skippy, some orcs, man-eating apes, an elephant, and a hydra

For…some reason there's a tavern on the 2nd floor of a dungeon. In the lightest defense of the module, at least the 2F has a surface access and no pre-programmed encounters between here and the tavern (random monsters thoooo). The owner sleeps with a new person every night, highly critical detail.

?????????????????????

OK so many rooms later there's a pyrohydra with a toothache. Mystery solved, that's why there's a magical dentist!

I hesitate to complain, but after multiple dungeons with 100k+ gold rewards, this dungeon's treasury having roughly 11,000 gold in it feels like an anticlimax. The fact that it's protected by that pyrohydra and electrified locks adds insult to injury.

This is a joke, right? That's your final floor? Anyway, this is just The Demon Floor. There is more treasure here than upstairs, which is a little strange given that the demon serves the wizard and not the other way around.

So on the whole, deeply shit. In conclusion, Early Judge's Guild leaves a lot to be desired. Next time we will -- wait, am I free? There's no more pre-G1 modules? I get to finally do TSR shit and leave this mire?

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS (edit: I was half-right -- there was one more pre-G1 module, but it was TSR!)

[lupunsus]

Since dog hybrids are the most common, I thought I'd write about masters who use these companions to their fullest potential

By giving them jobs.

Hybrid au based on the writings made by @cinnamonest

Gn Farm/Hunting Dog Hybrids

Warning: mention of heats/ruts and how you shouldn't fuck your hunting dog hybrid until they trust you. Idk if it counts, but I thought I should still mention it, even if it isn't described in detail.

I can confidently say that a good number of people see hybrids as glorified sex toys because I said so. (And also cinnamonest did too, im pretty sure.)

As mentioned previously, dog hybrids are common, with already domesticated breeds being easier to obtain even if you look like someone with low income and living in their parents' basement. But they can't really stop you if you prove that you will take care of them, and even if you do live in your parent's basement, they'll be lumped into taking care of the hybrid anyway so it should be fine.

However, there are some cases when a specific set of people who normally use dogs for tasks decide on using hybrids. Why? Mainly because of their ability to communicate. While dogs have no problem barking your ear off, hybrids can learn to talk, allowing them to convey issues and warnings, or just be someone to talk to.

These hybrids are mainly breeds that were bred for hunting or to herd farm animals.

At first, the adoption centers had little to no dogs qualified for hunting, nor were they used to farm life, but as time progressed, there became facilities that housed these special breeds. Of course, employees needed to have a good hand and experience with normal dogs, as the hybrid counterparts are more demanding. It works out in the end. The adopter gets a hybrid, and the hybrid receives a good amount of freedom to do whatever, as long as they do their job.

Because of how free and open farms can be, however, while it isn't required for the hybrids to wear clothes, they must have on a collar with a tag at all times. It's rare for a farm dog hybrid to wander too far from the animals it's supposed to look after and protect, though. The rule is more for the hunting dog hybrids. Usually, their collar has some sort of identity tag that lets humans be aware and cautious around it unless they're prepared to lose a finger or five. Seasoned hunters sometimes help the hybrids back to their owners if they appear to be injured or stuck.

As for farming dog hybrids, they're definitely much more friendlier, but they require lots of exercise. So anyone can have them, although it's recommended for those who get out and move a lot. Keeping one cooped up inside for too long can make it feel restless and irritated, and it'll soon start becoming aggressive and trash the place to release the pent-up energy it has. So make sure to give your energetic hybrids lots of outdoor time! Having a backyard they can play in is ideal, but even just bringing it along to run errands will work. Just make sure they're properly trained to behave or have them on a harness, as they can get bursts of energy and run all over the place.

Everyone should be wary of hunting dog hybrids! While tamed, they're still as dangerous as wild hybrids if around anyone that isn't their master and shouldn't be taken in by someone who thinks it'd be cool to have one.

As for hybrids who actually work on a farm, it's basically the same as what normal dogs do. Except it may be difficult to cozy to them in that way unless their heat/rut comes around that time. Farm owners usually let their hybrids take those seasons off for breaks until they feel better. Of course, you could always help them and receive a heartfelt: "Thank you, Master!" along with many other praises they can list under the sun for being with them during such a vulnerable point of time during their life.

For hunting dog hybrids, though, they won't let you help them with their spring seasons unless you earn their trust. But hey, they say that slow and steady wins the race. Plus, you should be more worried about hunting and not fucking your companion.

There's definitely a lot more jobs dog hybrids can have, but I'll save that for another post this time.

[danvolodar]

On the sense of scale, in 40k not least of all

The one fictional trope I strongly dislike is "one planet - one location". It is as lazy as it is omnipresent: consider all the "ice planets", "desert planets", "jungle planets" and samesuch that you know. The recent new major update for Factorio suffers from it just as well, but really, it's so internalised I've seen passages like "they moved from the desert to the jungle, and couldn't quite believe they're on the same planet any more" in sci-fi. But just by opening a climate zone map of the Earth, it is trivial to see that a single planet can fit everything from icecaps to deserts and jungles quite comfortably. But this is simply a sign of our sense of scale failing for objects large enough, and this works to suspend disbelief in a surprising number of settings.

Let's turn to Warhammer 40k, then.

To be fair, it doesn't aim to be realistic, per se, but it is a setting about perpetual war, so at least war logistics have to make the very minimum of sense, I feel.

And then there are Imperial hive worlds, with population in billions if not dozens of billions, time and time again shown as conquered by laughably small contingents of warriors - even singular Space Marine chapters! A chapter is notionally a thousand warriors strong. Even if we suppose vehicle and space craft crews are exempt from the number, same as the marines in the Armoury; even if we pad the number with ten times as many chapter serfs as there are marines, it is still many orders of magnitude from making sense.

Industrial societies (which hive worlds are) can easily mobilise some 15% of their population. You'd expect it'd be more for the Imperium, where "there are no civilians in the battle for survival", but let's leave it at that. Actually, let's suppose the number is lower, due to the unbalanced nature of hive world economies - even with 10% recruitable population, a hive world can muster armies numbering in hundreds of millions, if not billions.

These guys are supposed to take on armies numbering in many millions. Literally, that's the entirety of them.

The thought of a man fighting and winning alone against a million opponents is immediately laughable, but once instead of a single man we have "many" - say, a thousand space marines, - this disbelief mechanism turns off - and a chapter, or even a few companies, operating successfully in planetary-grade battles, appears believable.

Now, for the Imperial Guard regiments, the numbers of soldiers in each vary wildly. However, they're regiments, not divisions or army corps, and they've been said to possess up to "tens of thousands" of people. For simplicity's sake, let's suppose a regiment is a hundred thousand soldiers, as an upper estimate. Then to fight an entire hive world head on, the Imperial Guard would need tens of thousands of such regiments deployed. Alright, we can generously suggest that once hive cities start falling under their assault, the invasion force can start recruiting from the locals - but there still needs to be a reasonably strong initial strike force to capture the initial hives, particularly minding that in a lot of cases, hive worlds are said to only have but a handful of these.

A Universe Class - this ship is 12 kilometers long and transports half a million men!

A Universe Class Mass Conveyor is said to be able to transport half a million troops in its holds (and I believe it's the largest transport that exists in any numbers - the runner-up, Cetaceus Class, is at least five times smaller). Even if we suppose these troops come with their whole vehicle and weaponry loadout, there still need to be hundreds of Universe Class ships in orbit to ensure the initial invasion. More will be needed to supply the ground effort, until hives can be conquered to handle some of that burden with the local resources. Meanwhile, in any Warhammer writing, transporting armies across planetary systems and supplying them is usually done in fleets of single digit, perhaps dozens of vessels at most, and these not of the titanic Universe Class, either.

The Devourer Dropship carries five thousand men from orbit to the ground.

What is even worse, there's no canon info on how all of these people and resources are getting into gravity wells. The normal large landing vessels mentioned a few times are the Tetrarch Heavy Lander and the Agantyr-Class Dropship, these carry about three hundred men each from orbit to the ground. That means that deploying the contents of even a single Universe Class would take literally thousands of runs (that is, hundreds of thousands of landings to deploy the first invasion wave alone). If Devourer Dropships, the largest vessels available, are considered, their capacity is about five thousand soldiers (plus vehicles), so it's hundreds of runs per each Universe Class, and tens of thousands for the first wave altogether.

So it's plain to see, I think, that 40k breaks very easily as soon as the scale of what's happening is considered, even with its signature gigantism taken into account. If even the cursory, orders-of-magnitude issues of logistics are handled believably, it becomes a rather different setting, with hundreds or thousands of spaceships needed to constantly run operations to supply a single Imperial Guard planetary campaign. And then the whole issue of unreliable faster-than-light travel (riding cathedrals through hell) very much comes to the fore: it's one thing if a handful vessels has to do it once in a while, but quite another when hundreds of capital ships have to shuttle into and out of a system all the time to support a single planetary invasion.