#walks into dictation wow I wish I studied this

[your-local-granny]

College is like *walks into class* wow I wish I had more time to dedicate to this class *walks into class* wow I wish I had more time to dedicate to this class *walks into class* wow I wish I had more time to dedicate to

[jwxei]

˗ˏˋ achilles' heel - chapter two ˎˊ˗

// eyes red, vast and volcanic //

You wish you could say the same thing when you struck up conversation with him. To say he was anything but a brute was naive of you, and the nagging voice in your mind was lecturing you for thinking that way. To be honest, you weren't really sure what to do when he lashed out at you so suddenly. All you were trying to do was get to your seat, nothing else. But the hot headed autocrat had other plans.

Apparently you were in his way. And after he had stated that fact he went off on a mini speech about how great he was and how everyone else wasn't.

"Out of my way extras," he would harshly declare, "If you're going to act so useless, at least be stones I can step off to reach my victory."

To you, he just sounded like an egotistical boy who takes pleasure in pushing others around. But surprisingly no one seemed to question his actions. As absurd as he was, it really seemed to affect most people. You could see the glinting fear in their eyes when he crouched to meet their gaze. When he gave that jagged smirk, satisfied with the dominance created. But what ticked you off most was the way he looked down on others. How he held his head slightly higher than everyone else's and loved to poke holes into every mistake made. There was a clear difference between confidence and arrogance, and he was an excellent example of what not to become.

The odd thing was that people still tried to befriend him, despite his threatening attitude. You could see an eccentric haired red-head approach him everyday, constantly wearing the same carefree expression. Without fail, he would flash him a welcoming smile and make his way over. It irritated you, to say the least. You couldn't see why anyone would ever want to befriend someone who was plain crude. But then again, you weren't someone who would go out of their way to desperately make friends. You enrolled to U.A for one purpose only; it wasn't going to change anytime soon.

But still, you couldn't help but observe as the energetic boy beamed at the proud dictator, polar opposites at their best. You could swear you saw rays coming from his smile. And the bright radiance he gave made you feel safe, comforted and soothed. For a while, you would find yourself to bask in his joyful tendencies, the whole atmosphere lightening up when he walked into the room. It puzzled you as to why someone so pure and great as him would want to stoop down to someone which no respect for anyone else but himself.

Bakugo didn't seem to appreciate the hospitality shown to him, though. Whenever the lively boy (who you now came to know as Eijiro Kirishima) would try to spark a conversation, all he would do is yank his head the opposite direction. The only responses given were silent glares that bore through you, or rough grunts if he was in a good mood. Another admirable trait of Kirishima was that he never faltered. Even when Bakugo gave him the harshest of glares, which would strike fear into most, the red-head did not feel threatened.

He was praiseworthy, you could give him that. Although, it didn't mean that he could escape the insults Bakugo carelessly threw around. Kirishima had coined the name 'Shitty Hair' from him because of his bright red tufts that were styled into spikes that shot above. However he didn't seem to take the nickname too heavily. And he snapped back with an offhand comment about how their hairstyles were similar. It impressed you. How he could put up with Bakugo's stand-off attitude. But then again, you lacked something Kirishima seemed to have an abundance of; patience.

You remember the first time that it happened. The ticking torment that Bakugo first released upon you. All you were trying to do was get to your seat. You didn't want any unnecessary attention, and he was more than you had bargained for at U.A. As you weaved your way through the maze of pristine desks, a rough grip caught you off balance and nearly yanked you to the ground. You whipped your head in fury to see who it was, only to meet a pair of blazing red eyes. They glowered at your form, you gladly returning the favour. A gruff voice, one that sounded like coarse asphalt, spit at you.

"The hell is a weakling like you doing here?" An athletically built boy had both his feet crossed onto his desk. His forest green pants sagged and hung loosely around his waist, revealing a peek of his-. No. You scolded yourself and tugged your mind out of the gutter. The frustration that brimmed inside you was more overpowering. How dare this obnoxious man speak to you like you were some sort of lesser specimen? A sever urge to wreck this man's ego and put him in his place highly tempted you. But unlike him, you weren't looking for a fight.

You tugged away from his grip and gave him a bitter glance. His lips curled into a cruel smirk in response before running his hands through ash blond locks. You knew you hated him the minute he flashed you that smile. Indulging in the fantasy of humbling him helped satisfy your need to square him right in his cocky, perfect face. Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself and bluffed an unbothered attitude.

"That is none of your business." You replied through gritted teeth. "Now I suggest you go bother someone else before I report you for harassment." You tilted your head innocently, and cracked a forced grin at him. Bakugo's sneer disappeared from view and he scoffed coldly. He faced away before going back to his own business. Taking it as a success, you made your way back to your desk, plopping down to take you study materials out.

A bubbly brunette to your right whispered to a frog-like classmate. Their hushed conversation consisted of panicked murmurs and what sounded to be a frog-like noise. You fiddled with the stationary placed upon your desk, twirling the mechanical pencil between your fingers seamlessly. You could pick up on their little discussion if it proved necessary, but didn't bother to. The last thing you needed was another headache. After a few more minutes, the brown-haired girl seen speaking before tapped your shoulder.

"You're L/N Y/N right?" You looked up, taken aback by the sudden interaction. She looked at you with wide eyes the shades of dark honey. She was so close to your face that you could see the black lines that traced in and out of her iris. Her frame was small, but not frail, and she had her arms crossed behind her. The frog girl had now returned to her previous business. She appeared uninterested in the topic but occasionally glanced back ever now and then. You answered the girl before you.

"Uh, yeah. That's me!" A smile shone from your features, this time it came naturally. She exhaled out a little before rubbing her hands together. The odd thing was that her fingers never touched.

"Wow! Well I gotta give it to you for holding your ground against that hot head over there!" She pointed her thumb in Bakugo's direction. You noticed how her fingertips had a slightly darker shade that appeared in a circular pattern. The boy subject to the attention caught her pointing, and gave her a teething snarl. You sheepishly laughed and thanked her. She also giggled with a playful tone before leaning in to whisper in your ear. "To be honest I thought that you were gonna get blown to pieces! We all thought a villain was in the making. Anyways, I'm Ochako Uraraka. Nice to meet you."

You laughed along with her, but this time it was more forced. It's not like she was wrong; there were aspects of Bakugo that could be seen as villainous. But something about him being a villain didn't sit right with you. It did not make sense to even yourself, as to why you would think that. Perhaps you thought he had potential to be better. Yeah, you mocked your own thought. Like that would happen anytime soon.

You only proved yourself right as the days went by. The relentless blonde showed great interest in afflicting annoyance and pain into you. For weeks on end, he would belittle you with insults and comparisons. Sometimes he would even take your things and hide them in the smallest and inconvenient places. One time, he had taken your whole backpack and swung it to the top of a tree to hang there overnight. Explaining to Aizawa Sensei why you didn't have your school supplies with you the next day was a complete nightmare, him staring you down with bloodshot eyes the whole time.

Granted, there were some days where he completely ignored you. When you would make eye contact in the hallways, he would always shove his gaze somewhere else and stuff his hands in his pockets. You were thankful for these times, if you were being honest, but they only came once in a blue moon. It was insufferable; trying to predict how he would treat you was maddening and drove you up the wall. Your patience was thinning fast, and every mishap that involved him only boiled your fiery blood even more.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

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[cadence-talle]

write livvy and della

hey, grace. how’re you doing?

Snapshots

Pairing: Della Vacker/Livvy Rothsdell

Wordcount: 2,875 

Other notes: Hopping on the Dellivvy train with this oddly-paced mess. It jumps around a bit, so be sure to read the headings before each scene! (I also have a timeline if you need it.)

Thirteen years after, thirty-one years before.

Della is married on a hot summer day, under a pearly arch. Her dress is spun lace, her flowers are delicate and white, and her fiance looks perfectly handsome. Della is so happy she could burst. 

Even the sudden outburst at the entrance to the garden, Dame Alina shouting about how she deserves Alden, can’t shake Della. She feels like she’s floating, like she could lift mountains right now without breaking a sweat. 

Alden takes her hands in his as the ceremony comes to a close, smiling at her. Over his shoulder, Della can’t help herself from glancing back at the audience, at the empty seat practically shouting at her. In the sea of tearfully smiling faces, it sticks out like a beacon. Something twists in her gut.

Della tears her attention away and focuses back on her new husband. This is what you want, she reminds herself. This is what you’ve always wanted. 

She pushes down the strange emotion building in her chest and pastes a smile on her face just in time to say, 

“I do.”

-/-

Six years after, thirty-eight years before. 

“Are you going to the Commencement Ball?” Della asks. It’s the biggest Foxfire event every year- a dance, for all those students moving up to the elite levels. She’s been excited for it for months. 

Livvy snorts from where she’s sprawled across Della’s bed, doing homework. “Can’t, remember? I’m not going into the Towers.”

“Oh, right.” Della flushes- she can’t believe she forgot. Livvy’s trying to hide it, but she’s upset she couldn’t go on to the Elite Levels, annoyed at herself for being Talentless. “Well, do you want to?”

“Does it matter?” Livvy asks. “I won’t be allowed to go either way.”

“You could come as my plus-one,” Della says before she can think. Livvy’s head snaps up, and she stares at Della. 

“For real? I thought you’d bring your boyfriend.” 

Della shrugs. “I think I’m going to break up with Caton, actually. And you’re more important anyway.”

“But-” Livvy sits up, waving a hand in the air. “Won’t people talk?”

“People will talk no matter what I do,” Della says. “Besides, it’s not even that incriminating. We’re just going as friends.”

“Friends,” Livvy echoes. “Right.” She offers a small smile. “All right. That sounds kinda fun, actually. I’ll go.”

Della grins. “Great.”

Two weeks later, they walk into Foxfire side by side. 

-/-

Ten years after, thirty-four years before. 

“Whoa.” 

Livvy glances around the large room, the tiny lights hanging on the walls reflecting in her eyes. She grins at Della, tiny name tag (Livvy Rothsdell, Guest) hanging off her dress. “This place looks awesome.” 

Della laughs, shrugging one shoulder up. “The gnomes did a great job. I’m still a little nervous, though.”

Livvy grabs her hand. “You’ll do fine. It’s just talking to people, right? You’ve been good at that your whole life.”

“I guess. I just- I wish I could do this later.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure your parents are going to blow a fuse if you push this off again. They’re already worried to death about your ‘prospects.’”

Della gives a tiny smile. Livvy holds up their entwined hands. “And I’m here, okay? I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Thank you,” Della whispers, and the doors swing open. 

Della makes her rounds of the room, greeting people and making small talk. Livvy’s always there, hovering on the edges of the conversation, ready to pull Della out if she starts panicking. It’s actually not as bad as Della was expecting- she knows almost everyone there.

 She’s met almost everyone in the room when a man comes up (Alden Falaichte, #256, the nametag supplies), and sweeps into a low bow, kissing her hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” Della says. Alden gives her a charming smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he responds. 

Looking back on it, that’s where everything went wrong. 

-/-

Fourteen years after, thirty years before. 

She’s surprised at how quickly Alvar arrives. They’ve been married barely six months before she gets pregnant, only a year when their son is born. Holding him is like looking into the sun- bright, warm, but somehow foreboding. 

Later, Della will know that it’s because that was the moment she knew she couldn’t get out. 

She keeps her soft smile and leans into Alden as the painter drags his brush across the canvas, memorializing this great feat. The three of them are a family now; a real one. One that will be looked up to, the newest branch of the great Vacker family. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says, looking at the finished painting on the wall later. The painter’s managed to capture all the details- the perfect color of Alden’s eyes, the tiny curls in Alvar’s hair, Della’s quirk at the corner of her mouth. It’s a picture-perfect family, an enclosed biosphere that will be put on a pedestal. Della’s been standing on that pedestal her entire life.

She asked Alden once, before they were married, if he was all right with all the attention. 

“It’s a lot,” she said, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “People are looking at you, talking about you, all the time. It can be exhausting sometimes. I understand if you don’t want-”

“Della.” Alden tilted her chin up slightly, smiling. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Della smiled. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she whispers, tracing the edges of the painting.

Somewhere, off in another room, Alvar starts to cry. 

-/-

Forty-one years after, three years before.

Della paces nervously back and forth across the carpeted floor of Fitz’s room, glancing back at the bed in which her son lies. He’s still unconscious, the venom slowly spiderwebbing its way across his chest. She shivers. 

The door flies open, and a tall woman in a gem-studded mask runs in. Della freezes. 

“Liv?” she whispers. It’s been years, but she’d recognize her old best friend anywhere. Even with a mask on. Livvy meets her eyes. 

“Hey,” she says sheepishly. “Heard you were here.”

“What are you doing here?” Della asks. “Since when are you a member of the Black Swan?”

Livvy shrugs, a gesture so familiar Della knows it like the back of her own hand. “I have been for a while, actually. Almost sixteen years.”

“Why didn’t I know?”

“We weren’t really talking when I joined.”

And that’s when it hits Della. She didn’t know Livvy had joined the Black Swan because she didn’t know Livvy anymore back then, still doesn’t know her anymore. She’s struck with a sense of longing, of missing what they used to have. 

But it wasn’t you, she thinks. It was Livvy. She broke things off, not you. “How’s Quinlin?” she asks as Livvy opens a bag and starts pulling out elixirs. 

“Oh, we filed a match fail,” Livvy says offhandedly. “Things didn’t work out.”

“I’m- sorry?” Della responds awkwardly. Livvy shrugs.

“Eh, you know. I only really married him because of you and Alden, you know? We didn’t really have much in common at the end of the day. I couldn’t talk to him, not like I can talk to you.” She pauses, tapping a fingernail against a glass bottle. “Could talk to you.”

Della flinches. “I think I’m going to wait outside,” she says, moving towards the exit. “Tell me if you need anything.”

“Goodbye,” Livvy murmurs, almost too low to hear. “I never got to say that.”

Della closes the door. 

-/-

Three years after, forty-one years before.

“And I swear, if one more person asks me how we became friends, I’m going to steal their kneecaps.”

Della laughs, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as they walk through the streets of Atlantis. They’re trying to find a gift for Livvy’s mom- it’s not going very well, though, since the only things Livvy can remember she likes are “music” and “those weird jam pastries” and neither of those things is very helpful. She peeks into another shop window as Livvy keeps talking. 

“Everyone’s just like, ‘oh, but you’re Talentless, how could someone like you be friends with a Vacker,’ and I’m like, ‘wow, I wasn’t aware that abilities dictated who you could be friends with.’” She groans. “Honestly. This would all be easier if I could just manifest already.”

“Hey,” Della says, grabbing her hand. “I don’t care that you’re Talentless, okay? You’re my best friend.”

“Well, duh,” Livvy says. “It would just stop the gossip mill.”

Della shrugs. She’s been around the gossip mill her whole life- if it’s not one thing, it’s another. Then she spots a tiny box in the storefront of a shop across the street. “Wait, what’s that?”

That, as it turns out, is a music player, a tiny instrument that plays the newest Song songs. Livvy takes one look at it and brings it up to the purchase counter. 

“My mom’s going to love it,” she says as they leave the store. “Thank you so much.”

“I just saw it in the window,” Della laughs. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Still.” Livvy leans over and gives Della a quick kiss on the cheek. A warmth and the scent of lilacs surround Della, gone as quickly as they’d come. “Thank you,” she says, stepping back. 

Della blinks, trying to quell the odd rising feeling in her chest. “You’re welcome,” she manages. “Um. Do you want to get butterblasts?”

Livvy’s face lights up, and Della reminds herself that this is normal. Friendship is normal. Livvy probably gives all her friends cheek kisses. 

“Yes,” Livvy says, hooking her arm through Della’s. “Let’s go.”

-/-

Seven years after, thirty-seven years before. 

Dear Livvy, 

I miss you. Everyone here is nice, sure, but they don’t have your humor or your looks. I have this constant feeling that everyone wants to be my friend because of my family, not because of me. You were never like that. 

Why were you never like that?

Anyways, my studies are going well. The Elite Levels are… harder, than normal Foxfire, but it’s fine. Not like I have much else to do. 

They were playing a song today in Advanced History, the one with all the birds; do you remember it used to be your favorite? You’d play it on loop, talking about how it “embodied nature” or whatever, until I had to tackle you to shut you up. 

Do you know how many times I almost kissed you last summer? How many times we were sitting so close it would have been easy to just lean forward? Because I do, and it’s a lot. 

How are you? How’s work? I heard you’re training to be a physician- that’s so cool! I hope that when I come home you can show me the stuff you’ve learned. 

I should go. Have a ton of work. 

I love miss you,

Della 

-/-

Thirty-one years after, thirteen years before.

Della and Alden don’t fight often. Della’s not one for fighting, honestly; if someone cares enough about a subject to actually come to blows about it, she usually assumes they’re right. Livvy always said that was a stupid mindset, but Della disagrees- in high society, it’s easier to just agree and move on than to argue. 

On this, however, she refuses to back down. 

“No,” she says, striding closer to Fitz and taking the six-year-old in her lap. “You are not sending our son to the Forbidden Cities.”

Alden sighs. “Honestly, Della, I’ve told you, it’s barely even illegal. And this is important-” 

“I don’t give a flying fizzleberry how important it is! He’s six years old, Alden! You can’t throw a six-year-old a melder and tell him to be careful. He’s going to get hurt.”

“I’m big!” Fitz objects. “I could do it.” He looks up at Della, eyes wide. “What am I doing again?”

Della glares at her husband. “See? He’s a little kid. He’s not going to be roped into your insane missions.”

“This is important-”

“Nothing is more important than our son!”

“Some things are.”

Della steps back, mouth hanging open as Alden scoops Fitz into his arms. He glances back up at her. “I’m trying to save the world, Della. You’ll understand when we find her.”

He heads towards the exit, and Della drops into a chair. Softly, she mutters, 

“I hope you never find that girl if this is what she’s being brought into.”

-/-

Forty-two years after, two years before.

Della marches into Alden’s office and slaps a pile of papers down on the desk. He looks up, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

“I’m filing a match fail.” Della says bluntly. “You just need to sign right there and I’ll ship it off.”

“And what happens if I don’t sign?” Alden asks. Della places another sheet of paper on the desk. 

“Then I bring the issue of domestic and child abuse to the Council, as well as telling them how long you were illegally going to the Fobidden Cities.” She smiles at him. “Your choice.”

Alden stares at her. “After everything I’ve done-” 

“Nope,” Della says. “You don’t get to do this right now. You don’t have the right. Just sign and get out of my house.”

“Your house?”

“It’s belonged to the Vacker family for generations,” Della informs him. “And you are no longer a Vacker.”

“Della-” Alden starts, but Della’s turning towards the door. 

“With all due respect,” she says, “I’ve had to put up with your bullshit for twenty-nine years. I’m done.”

And she exits the room. 

“Why did you want to meet me here?” Livvy asks an hour later. She’s sitting across from Della at a small coffee shop in Atlantis. This is, Della reflects, the first time they’ve seen each other- really seen each other- since she got married. 

“I filed a match fail against Alden,” she responds. “He’s leaving.”

Livvy’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s- big.”

Della shrugs. “It’s been a long time coming. I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh. I- okay.” Livvy’s quiet for a moment, absentmindedly ripping flakes off of a pastry. “Why?” she finally asks. 

Wordlessly, Della hands her a folded piece of paper. She’s been doing that a lot lately- writing down her thoughts so she doesn’t have to articulate them out loud. It’s helpful, sometimes. 

The paper she’s handed Livvy has only three words on it:

I love you. 

Livvy looks at her. “What-”

“I think,” Della admits, “I’ve been in love with you for a very long time. Since school, even. I was confused, back then. Scared, of what my family would say.” She exhales slowly. “I’m tired of being scared.” 

She glances up and Livvy. “So- if you’d be okay with it, I’d like to try something.”

Livvy blinks and nods, and Della kisses her. 

This is nothing like kissing Alden. This is warmth and security and the smell of lilacs, so much like that cheek kiss in Atlantis all those years ago. This is home- Livvy is home- and Della loves it. 

-/-

Then, forty-four years before.

“Oh!”

Della runs straight into someone, knocking herself to the ground. A girl, clad in the same black uniform as Della, is standing over her, dark jewel-scattered braids hanging around her face. She smiles at Della. 

“Hey, sorry about that,” she says, offering a hand and pulling Della to her feet. “I’m Livvy, by the way.”

“Della Vacker,” Della responds. “And I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Livvy laughs, flashing Della a bright smile. “Let’s just agree it was both our faults. Where are you headed?” 

“Elvin history,” Della says confidently. She’s had her schedule memorized since the day it arrived with the rest of her supplies. “You?”

“Uh,” Livvy bites her lip, rummaging through her pockets. “I’m not sure? It might be elementalism. Ooh, or ability detecting!” She shrugs. “I’ll figure it out. See you at lunch?”

Della blinks. “I- sure. That sounds good.”

Livvy flashes her a thumbs-up and takes off, calling behind her. 

“Great! Nice to meet you, Della Vacker!”

And Della, standing in the middle of the Level One hallway, has a sudden feeling that her life is about to change for the better. 

-/-

Forty-four years after, now. 

Della is married for the second time on a cool October afternoon, surrounded by her friends and family. Fitz is best man, Biana is maid of honor, and the rest of their friends are in the wedding party in one capacity or another. Keefe and Dex specifically requested to be flower boys. 

There are no interruptions this time, no shouting at the garden gates, no anger that they’re getting married. It’s just Livvy and Della, now Livvy-and-Della, and a lot of love. 

“I first fell for you when you fell for me, that first day in Foxfire,” Livvy laughs. “I looked at you and I thought, that’s her. That’s the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with.” She looks at Della. “That’s the girl I am spending the rest of my life with.”

Della takes her hands, twining their fingers together. “I love you,” she says simply. “I love you, and I’m never going to stop saying it.”

The priest drones on, the ceremony comes to a close, and Della says “I do,” for the second time in her life. 

This time, she really means it. 

[trickster-4]

Here’s a continuation of What Belos Fears.. It’s much less Crackish.. Sorry it’s what came out..

Emperor Belos had long since lost much of his humanity. The sense of taste was off to him at times. But here and now.. It was absolutely delectable. The smell of the cooked meat and the fried rice. He could definitely smell the special frijoles his mother usually made for him.. Just a small taste couldn’t hurt right?

*SMACK*

Henrietta Noceda was lightning fast at striking with her cane. She was fifty two years old and had her husband has been gone for a very long time.

Eda laughed at the sight while his ex employee Lilith smirked. His daughter Luz giggled along with her girlfriend Amity.. Willow and Gus on the other hand couldn’t contain themselves and began to laugh. Kikimora on the other hand gave them all a glare before giving her boss and annoyed stare.. His mother spoke to him with a stern no nonsense tone.. After all it didn’t matter if her son was six feet tall or ten he was still her son thus it fell to her discipline him for lack of manners..

“¡Nadie toca la comida hasta que estamos todos en la mesa!”

“Yes.. ma’am..” Belos brooded silently he turned to Kikimora who turned her away in a huff.. “I’m sorry..” He whispered..

“You were acting like the last fifty years of our lives never happened Belos..”

“I know… I’ll tell her it’s just..” He slumped before leaning to his assistant leaning towards her. “I’m trying to figure out how to stay in a friendship with Camilla.. I haven’t been with Luz for years.. I want to have a good relationship with my daughter..” Belos looked to Luz his daughter who had barged into the kingdom and shook it too it’s foundations.. “I want her to live on the isle for at least four years..”

“I see..” Kikimora’s eyes widened she was aware of how long it took to develop a magical bile sac.. And once it happened it was a permanent process. Though witches and demons experienced a number of benefits long lifespans, extreme durability, and magic. Yet there was a price to be paid so to speak..

““You wish to play the long game my liege?”

“Yes..”

A low magical environment played havoc on the senses of magical beings and they became sluggish, sickly overtime, and took more time to recover from casting intense spells until they returned to the demon realm. Contrary to his fears Witches wouldn’t lose their magic and could in fact produce more bile it just simply took time.. Luz was already changing Kikimora noted the slight imperceptible edge developing in her ears and nodded. “Very well my lord..”

Luz Noceda his baby girl wanted to learn magic. He couldn’t convince her to like him but perhaps he could quietly support her dream… And if the result of her studying for her dream meant she became a permanent resident of the demon realm and thus became closer to his sphere of influence well that’s just pleasant luck.

“Heheheheh..”

Luz moaned in annoyance and exhaustion at her father’s antics. Although this was actually par for course even before he discovered actual magic he tended to laugh maniacally whenever he was plotting stupid schemes.. Like the time her father cut the antennas of her mother’s brand new television in an attempt to improve it’s reception… That month Belos Noceda had flinch every-time Camilla walked around in chanclas.. Amity patted Luz’s back while letting her lean into her shoulder.

“Hijo, deja esas estupideces ...”

“Sorry Mama..” Belos replied with apologetic tone.. He then saw that Camilla had arrived sitting opposite of him.. He looked at her once more old feelings stirred affection, fondness, and delight. But the depth there was once for those emotions were gone.. He had moved on it was fifty years ago for him..

“So magic is real.. I’m happy for you but can you take off the creepy mask hijo?

“I.. It’s not pleasant to look at but fine..” Belos slowly removed the mask letting his face be seen. His face had become a greenish gray his eye’s sclera had long become black with the amount of bile his body produced now.. He wore a very masculine and attractive mustache..

Luz looked with amazement at the face that was often in her childhood dreams.. A gentle smile holding onto her finger.. Her eyes began to water softly as the memories began to come.. A single large hand came across the table as a finger caught the tear. She smiled softly but gently pushed the hand away not used to the affection and conflicted about who was trying to give it..

With his long black flowing hair and handsome face he was the epitome of nobility. His ears had become the same as his subjects. In the middle of his face was a slash sideways across his face.. He had long since gotten used to hiding such scars to portray an invincible man who could not be broken.. Though throughout all his enemies, Belos laughed, it was his daughter who had nearly take his eye..

“Wow I did not expect evil to look handsome..” Eda observed the tyrant king.. “So you were an electrican.. What’s that..”

“The equivalent of ward repair..” Belos angrily muttered in frustration and annoyance.. He hated his job as an electrician and would choose world conqueror over that any day..

“Ha!! That’s a Dead-end job though that’s hard to believe. I would have expected someone as smart as you to have gone higher in the human world..”

“Belos was always such a passionate boy about his dream.. He never felt an attraction to the sciences unless it pertained to his pursuit of the existence of magic..” As Henrietta spoke Belos took one of the tamales and began to unwrap it.. “He was convinced that magic was real and was determined to find it..”

“Yeesh..”

“He was also a huge D&D nerd..” Camilla noted with a look of annoyance.. Her entire experience with that one game she played was so horrible it completely made her give up on trying it anymore..

“Oh that’s not so bad..” Luz noted with a smile..

“He was a horribly difficult DM… Seriously a level twenty guard in the town you began at?”

“It’s not my fault the entire party was made of murder hobos yourself included!!”

“I was trying to have fun!!”

“Well D&D is also about strategy!!”

The two stood up and began to argue with one another.. It was a familiar occurrence one that Luz was starting to remember when a sad look grew in her eyes..

“I didn’t miss this..”

“Luz..”

*SMACK*

Camilla and Belos were both smacked in the head with a chancla so hard they were knocked back into their seats..

Luz sighed before face palming Amity was shocked at the sight of Luz’s grandmother knocking both Camilla and Belos into their seats.. Eda smiled and took another sip of her drink.. Lilith also smirked and reached for more of the wine to watch her former boss’s humiliation.. Willow and Gus were watching with interest and relaxed smiles..

Kikimora took a long gulp of her wine.. It was surreal what was happening before her eyes, but she already had her fill of it..

Henrietta slowly put the chancla onto her feet and then glared at them hard.. Luz was right there and she didn’t need to be seeing her parents at each other’s throats. There was a look of shame and fear in both parent’s eyes.

“Los niños no es así !! ¡No voy a permitir que discutas frente a tus amigos y familiares!

“Huh, your grandma seems to have good head on her shoulders plus she keeps him in check.”

“She really is amazing..”

“So Belos what’s this I’ve been hearing about you being a dictator on an island?” Henrietta eyed her son making him flinch in fear of her..

“I’ll answer that..” Luz spoke up with boldness in her voice. “For the last fifty years Emperor Belos ruled the boiling isle with an iron fist. He throws those who practice the wild ways of magic into prisons and forces a caste system…”

“Luz why?!” Belos suddenly felt like a shadow was being casted over his body.. “¡¿madre?!”

“Get in the kitchen..”

Emperor Belos sullenly stood up and followed his Elderly mother into the kitchen.. Luz and Amity flinched at the sound of Belos crying as Grandma Noceda disciplined her son… Lilith and Eda had a look of fear at the sound of the chancla.. Guz lowered his head in fear and Willow joined him not too soon after… Camilla took a sip of her wine and looking across seeing Kikimora’s glass was empty filled it up.. Incidentally she noticed the ring on her finger one that looked a lot like the one on Belos’s finger..

“How long?”

“Thirty five years..”

“I see excuse me…” Camilla smiled serenely she turned to a confused Luz and various guests.. “Luz sweetie please escort our guests to the guest room at the edge of the house.. We’ll be back in a moment..”

Later…

Camilla stood next to Belos helping him wash the dishes.. They were silently fulfilling their punishment for fighting in front of Luz and the guests after being reunited.. Grandma Noceda had forced Belos to release all of the residents from the Boiling isles from the Coven systems..

After several hours of conversation Belos was able to negotiate irrevocable terms of surrender with Lilith and Eda as leaders of the rebellion.. Continuing the war would have been devastating to the population.. So a compromise was reached Covens were voluntary and not mandatory with the option to transition to others there would also be no more more Coven Branding… Palismans would have more rights and legal defenses..

Belos would remain Emperor of the Boiling isles for two reasons the first was his supporters were powerful wealthy witches who could fuel the war for a long time…. The second was due to the religious factions being rather ardent in their devotion.. Still he would no longer hold total power..

A council would be formed between the leaders of the rebellions and Belos’s supporters.. Two thirds of that council would be from the rebellion.. Together they would decide new policies and laws and keep each other in check.. It would be a different government they would be making but one that would keep Belos’s supporters and the rebellion from killing each other..

“… I’m not moving back..” Belos spoke softly as he scrubbed the dish..

“I know Belos.. It’s been fifty years for you.. Life is not a novella I didn’t expect you to be waiting on a sea shore for that long..”

“.. I want Luz to move to the Boiling Isles..”

“..I wanted to her to spend time with you.. She deserves to know her father.. That said I don’t trust you to leave her in your care she may stay with Edalyn.. And you may visit her in a neutral location…”

“I understan-“

“Let me finish!” Camilla spoke with with vehemence. “I will also be living with Edalyn for the foreseeable future..”

Belos shivered at the thought of Camilla living so close by. But his daughter Luz would be living closely as well. He sighed and nodded that he understood.

Meanwhile in one of Grandma Noceda’s guest rooms…

“I can’t believe I forgot to tell mom that we’re dating…” Luz slammed her head in frustration against the wall.. She sighed in annoyance before lying down in the bed with Amity.. “This is gonna be soooo confusing…”

“It was a pretty tense day Luz..” Amity agreed with her girlfriend. “We’ll tell her when she moves in with Eda..”

“Ugh..”

“Hey Luz you know we’re in this together right?” Amity asked with a small smile..

“Yeah..” Luz blushed goofily as her girlfriend hugged her..

[dreamsafterhours]

college boyfriend!markhyuk au series: III (donghyuk's pathway)

a universe in which roommates!markhyuk meet each other's s/o in class

markhyuk are roommates, my/n and dy/n are roommates, mark and dy/n take classes together and so do donghyuk and my/n — how will their fates intertwine?

genre: fluff pairings: mark+my/n (fem), donghyuk+dy/n (fem), platonic!mark+dy/n, platonic!donghyuk+my/n format: dotpoint AU universe: non idol, college bf warning: some swearing

masterlist

or click here to meet your soulmate, eng lit!mark!

II ⇤ | III | ⇥ IV

III: 별빛이 내린다 샤라랄라랄라라 (2+2=4)

the meeting of two souls: donghyuk & dy/n

welcome! back and to the next part

in which things actually happen! yay

so. up until this point

it’s been quite obvious i hope

that this is the one where The Soulmates Meet™

and this one right here is the one where donghyuk meets his future wifenew best (not) friend

dammit this is a set plot with SET relationships

yeah

major spoilers for future parts but hey :) y’all know it i know it let’s just.

let’s get to it!!

that day you accidentally sleep in after a late night and walk into your lecture looking pretty trashier than you would normally a few weeks into the first sem and you’re already tired it’s okay bby aww

and mark suggests skipping the next lecture and going for coffee instead

you’re like ok lmfao free coffee for me yay thanks marcus i owe you one

and to make up for the lecture he suggests he join you and your roommate with his own roommate in the library later that day to study the material you’d missed out on

so you’re like sweet study group hell yeah and apparently his roommate is also in biomed like your roommate? hey they might get along pretty well it’d be nice to have roommates in the same faculty hey

little do you know you little cutie you uwu

mark takes you to a cafe to buy you your favourite drink and a croissant bc you skipped breakfast again and he cares about his friends ok plus he was eyeing that donut next to the savoury menu in the glass cabinet and he would have felt bad if he got something to eat and you didn’t

you sit down, sipping your drink at the window seats and wishing your fatigue away

laughing with mark about what you slept so late for

my/n had been ranting about her love life again or perhaps lack thereof,,

don’t worry tho

after you’d gotten her to sleep, you’d gotten major feels for an essay question that you’d been tasked with due in a week but you hadn’t touched it until last night

staring at the prompt for at least half an hour trying to get your head around it and wondering what the hell you’d write about

but like they say

starting is half of it

so when you start spinning your words and getting into the writing mood

you accidentally wrote an entire draft without realising

albeit being full of loose ends and points you need to refine, etc., it was a decent body of work that you’d tackle for a few more nights before turning in

a skeleton, you’d called it

“a skeleton?”

“yeah. next thing i need to do is.. flesh it out”

“.. literally”

cue mark’s small pause

/inhale/

/MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

you know how mark’s laugh is very how do i put this into words hm dictated

you can HEAR each HA and they’re separate syllables yet sometimes they can vary in tone and length right it’s usually the more consistent HAs before he kinda loses it and starts throwing himself around

it was that laugh

honestly man finds everything funny his laughing threshold seems so low

and no matter how unfunny you are he WILL laugh at anything you say

and you’ve been doing it a lot lately

you could say literally any random thing and he’d already be ready to laugh (see Figure 1.1)

Figure 1.1

you: /snort/

mark, already giggling: “what”

you, still sniggering: /touches his elbow/ “arm knee”

mark: /inhale/ gotta live and breathe that oxygen

mark: HAHAHAHAhahAhaHAHAhahAhHa (decrescendo.. cRESCENDO)

^ that but looped, with intermittent slaps to your arm

anyways you never fail to make him fall out of his chair in laughter

but enough of that. dy/n is donghyuk’s y/n for a REASON ahEM

so after you finish up your breakfast at the cafe you go back to your dorm to take a power nap and recharge before your library session you were going to stay awake but mark forces you to take a nap and you’re like bro you just fed me caffeine now you want me to sleep??

then he tells you he ordered your drink decaf

you turn to him real slow

“.. you sick traitor. how dare you besmirch my name so. you scorn my forefathers and our dependence on the holy bean’s juices. betrayal runs rampant in your soul and mine stands at the mercy of your choices, them informed by the devil himself”

mark: /shrug/ “placebo effect yeet. hey, it worked for a bit. now you should really go home and get your sleep”

and he drags you back to your dorm and waves you off before going to his next class

you’re lowkey grateful for it tho when you take a shower and collapse onto your bed, falling asleep in what you think could be half the time you usually take

dreaming about losing your airpods and mark yelling at you to be more careful and then you two fighting bc you’d just lost your $300 bean sprouts but you could have sworn he took them

then police sirens went off out of nowhere and both of you were being arrested for assault and thievery

why you were the one being arrested, you had no idea but it’s a dream nothing follows the guidelines of hard reality anyway

just as you’re about to be handcuffed, you think to yourself, nope. i have a library session to attend. ain’t nobody got time for this shit

and you just

wake up

but the sirens are still continuing?? so you’re like ? is my building surrounded

they’ve come for me

even though you haven’t exactly broken any laws or have you

and you realise it was the alarm you’d set in time to get ready for your library session

so you grab your stuff and leave for the library, double checking with your roommate over text to make sure she was on her way

her lab class was taking longer than usual so she tells you she’ll be 10 or so minutes late

so you tell her you’ll be saving a seat for her and call mark to let him know you’re on your way to the library

“oh i’m already here lol. alright, i’m waiting for you outside”

and sure enough, you see him leaning on the wall of the entrance, eyes on his phone

you consider calling out to him but before you actually do, he glances up and spots you walking over tf do you have psychic spatial awareness mark

smiles and takes his corded earphones out

“you seriously need to upgrade those”

“they work fine”

“nop i’m getting you airpods for your birthday”

“dUdE thEy’RE tOo ExPEnSiVe. nO dUDE NoO”

“nOP. i’m GOING to buy you EXPENSIVE BEAN SPROUTS for your LIFE DEBUT ANNIVERSARY and you CAN’T STOP ME”

at this point i should just put /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/ and you should know what laugh i’m referring to

/MARK LEE’S MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

/MLML/ for short

nvm it’s fine it’s kinda fun to type /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

literally mark laughs in bolded italics i’m just sad i can’t underline it on tumblr unless it’s a link lmfao

n e ways

i digress

you shush him because you’re about to walk into the library

“qUIET DOWN marcus” turn that sh down for quiet new dawn

the library is almost full for the day but after a minute or two scouring the building you find an empty four seater in the middle of nowhere it’s CRAZY you can NEVER find a MIRACLE like this life couldn’t get better

i’m sorry

you speed walk to claim it even though there was no one else in your vicinity to threaten your territory

mark laughs at you trying to get to the table as fast as you could without all out running

getting out your things, you send a photo of your seat to your roommate and tell mark to send it to his roommate as well so they know where to find you

you start watching the lecture online while taking notes and since you’re not in the lecture theatre you can talk more audibly with mark not that you don’t talk in the actual lecture too,,

maybe you do text a lot,,, during class

mark usually says things like “.. implications of what now?? interpretation of huh?” to which you reply “i want cheese when i get home”

and he has to stifle his laughter while you keep your straight face and continue writing your notes he admires this ability ngl

and so while you’re watching it on your computer

you can say things like “fuck. i want pickles”

and mark will /throw himself back/ and cackle and probably say some shit like “DIDN’T YOU HATE PICKLES??” between his giggles

and you’re like “yeah. fuck pickles but like. fuck. pickles”

he almost falls off his chair at this point

but when he balances himself again he spots someone down the corridor and wave them over

“oii! over here dude”

you turn to glance at them to expect his roommate, but you see your own roommate talking to someone and wave her over as well

“heYY my/n”

you see the other person turn to your roommate and tell her something, , then she says something back

which is apparently shocking to them, because he glances over at mark and then at you

and then he looks again when your roommate points straight at you

to which you’re like ?? hi? y u look me

and then they both start laughing

you wonder if they were laughing at you or smth until mark’s like “tf is that idiot doing”

and u look at him like ? what idiot

“that idiot. the idiot roommate i told u about. the one who called u a homewrecker”

and you’re like

wait

[info clog]

wait

[error]

“wait”

“what”

“that’s your roommate?” u point at the boy next to my/n, who r both still laughing at something going all “wOW r u KIDDING” he has a loud voice

and mark’s like “? yeah”

and you go

“.. the girl next to him is my roommate”

mark: “wait what”

that’s what she said

at that point they’ve made their way over to the table, still trying to hold in their laughter

you start to introduce your roommate to mark, who’s still confused by the situation

you: “mark, this is my/n, my/n this is mark”

my/n: “nice to see you again mark”

you: “wait. again?”

mark: “yeah we’ve met. hi my/n”

you: “what”

mark: “yeah”

my/n: “yeah”

his roommate: “yeah”

you:

you: “i feeling like i’m missing something here”

turns out

surprise surprise

that one friend that my/n had made in her biology class was mark’s roommate oh my god they were roommates

whose name, you are told, is lee donghyuk

magical moment

us watching: heh 🤤

u can’t help but do a lil body scan from head to toe bc he a fine piece of cake we all know that

honey skin, oversized white t shirt, black pants, sneakers and lighter brown hair that looks fluffy the type of fluffy that makes u wanna touch it

yes he’s good looking. yes

yaaaaas

then mark tells him your name

“she’s the one i said reminded me of you”

“r u talking abt me behind my back marcus??”

donghyuk laughs and holds out a hand for you to shake

“what kinda coincidence is this?? i adopt your roommate, you’re dealing with mine”

“oh you’re gonna have to get in line to adopt her, i’m her legal guardian, sorry donghyuk”

to which he goes

“lmfao then we’ll both be her parents”

“k but i’ll keep her on the weekends. you see her on the weekdays”

then he wipes his smile off his face and he’s like “who said we’re split”

mark and my/n are doing the /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/ at this point

mark: “so ,, seriously what are the chances”

you: “this quartet,, it’s fate guys it’s fate there’s no way about it”

yes it is. yes. it is

even that four seater table was free because of fate

donghyuk: “this calls for drinks later. we all free? no 9am classes tmr?”

my/n: “we have a physics prac at 8:30 dingus”

donghyuk: “ah shit”

you barely got any notes for that lecture for at least an hour because you end up talking altogether throughout the session but once you remember you’re in a library to study you request a ceasefire and agree to study for a bit which,, you gotta admit ,, isn’t really productive because you’re so excited to meet someone new

but the best part about the day was when you notice how many times mark is glancing at your roommate while she’s reviewing her notes, completely oblivious

donghyuk complains that he’s hungry after another hour or two and you suggest you all have dinner together

donghyuk leans back in his chair in a stretch, his jumper lifting up a little over his jeans and showing a bit of his belly “ah i’m craving chinese”

you perk up, “mE TOO”

so you all go to your favourite chinese place just outside campus where you find out that mark and my/n have the same taste and so do you and donghyuk

he points and u and goes “oH?”

“jjAMPPONG? U TOO?”

“the ONLY DISH EVER”

mark and my/n: jjajang is fine : )

you and donghyuk: “JJAMPPONG IS SUPERIOR”

give him a bro five with the shoulder bump and everything

the boys walk you and my/n back to your dorm afterwards

donghyuk and my/n end up walking in a pair and mark walks alongside you

mark mentions how it’d be fun if you made a group chat together

you: “do it”

“i don’t have your roommate’s number tho”

you’re smiling wickedly at his reaction “?? ASK HER FOR IT”

“dude what?? no u make one and i’ll add donghyuk to it”

“bRO JUST ASK”

“wHAT NO U DO IT THEN”

so u go

bet

and you call out the two biomed kids walking in front of you

“hey donghyuk! give me your number i’ll make a group chat”

“sure lol” and you open up a new contact to let him type his number into your phone

he saves his name as hot boi hyuk ✌🏻

which you just leave bc you’re busy making the group chat

mark is still astounded that you asked donghyuk for his number so easily

you: hi hello good day

my/n 🌸: yeetus meetus

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: bow before me

you: here before me lie the beginnings of a new era

you: one born from blood and stone

my/n 🌸: tf is she saying

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: idk but lets go with it

you: together we rise from the rubble and sort through the debris

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: yas queen

my/n 🌸: i hate this gc already

you: and we WILL REBUILD THIS EMPIRE

read by marcus the fool 🤡 at 8:21 pm

safe to say you stay up for a good while talking on that group chat while mark just sits idle,,

you honestly don’t know if he’s consciously reading or not maybe he just left his phone on the chat

and thus our quartet is complete,,

and they all lived

happily ever after

but this isn’t the ending tho is it

wink wonk /waggles eyebrows/

this is but the epilogue to the prologue

that doesn’t make sense but n e ways

our quartet has not yet become two pairings

y’all just don’t know what the future has in store for you :)

click here to meet your soulmate, eng lit!mark!

II ⇤ | III | ⇥ IV

taglist: @lavellanfriendliness​ 

shoot me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

[kur0mimi]

Lights Out

—A High School AU of AKIRA, where Michiru decides to go home with Jin to avoid getting caught up in the intense rainfall. And their time spent together progressively gets more comfortable and tender. (pt. 1 of 2)

pairing - Michiru (my OC) and Jin (@neoghoulukaku OC)

genre - High School AU, tooth-rotting fluff, slice of life, comedy, smut (in pt. 2)

warnings - cursing, sexual undertones (progressively gets more smutty in the next part of this), and mentioning of eating disorders

a/n - hey! I have finally gotten around to post some of my new one shots that have been cracking up so much space, this one being more ✨spicy✨ anyways, I don’t have much to say but I hope you like this and stick around for part two because wow, it gets interesting 😌

The image of a strangler and a 14th century barbarian was in the vessel of a 21st century materialist who taught math class at the Eighteenth District high school. Hana Hayasaka was unfortunately Michiru’s dreaded cousin who continued her brutal onslaught of arithmetic torture on the students she was teaching. She was a modern day brutalist, walking on water like she was a contemporary dictator who danced to the song of her pupil’s groaning and moaning at the sight of a new equation being written on the board. This woman was no god, so where was Michiru’s? She didn’t have one. But a lover, perhaps?

He sat beside her, his onyx eyes narrowing incredulously at the quadratic equation being written on the board in front of him. Jin Takahashi had beautiful kaleidoscope eyes that were such a dark, mysterious colour as they peered off into the distance and into the hearts of his victims, or better known as the people that irked him on a regular basis.

Michiru was more than happy to sit beside her beloved boyfriend, as they had gone past the phase of stumbling over their words. She no longer needed to rationalize too much when thoughts were running through her mind as she held hands with him. And as far as she could tell, the only thing clutched in his hand was the pencil that was threatening to break with how irritated he was at the sadistic teacher.

‘That pencil is gonna break if he keeps squeezing it like that,’ The girl with the wavy black hair observed as she sipped orange juice from the small juice box she had snatched from the cafeteria not too long ago. She looked at her finished notes and sighed, squeezing the now empty carton between her slender fingers. Michiru knew her current situation was rather lacklustre, but comfortable. She wasn’t the type of person that would roll in mint leaves and cigarette smoke, waltzing out the back door to skip class and out to the moonlit streets of the urban nightmare they were all civilians of. She was a student who wanted to study political science and civics in order to achieve the position of a politician of Neo-Tokyo, and perhaps by then she would be able to fix the wretched neon jungle.

“Junko, my dear, can you tell us what another name for the slope is?” The female ruler’s voice rang throughout Michiru’s ears as the class grew silent, the only sound being the queen bee’s foolish stuttering.

“...Aren’t y-intercept and the slope the exact same thing? They both have a curve, right...?”

From the lonely bust of one of the female students came a muffled scream trapped beneath the marble and polished stone of her fake persona. Oh, Junko must’ve been livid, raging on the inside like her matriarchy as one of the most popular females had fallen. And it kind of did, but at least now there was less of a bullying issue and no more petty drama going around. Hana smirked mockingly as she sat on her desk, tapping the stub of chalk against the wooden surface of it as she eyed the young girl who had humiliated herself by stating the wrong answer.

“You’re wrong, darling,” Hana cooed gently as she stood up, wiping the white chalk dust from her pencil skirt. “Very wrong, in fact. Have you been paying attention? I don’t think bouncing on a boy’s me-“

“Mom, that’s enough. She got it wrong, just let someone else answer,” Ranze spoke up in a reasonable tone, trying to rationalize with her mother’s passive aggressiveness that broke the room in half with the amount of tension it created.

“Ah, of course!” The older woman backtracked as she turned to Nimura, sitting in between Setsuko and Aiko in the middle row of tables. “Hasegawa-san, give us another name for the slope.”

Nimura didn’t bat an eye as he looked up, meeting Hana’s gaze in a nonchalant manner that made some peer’s breaths hitch softly. “Delta y over delta x, Hayasaka-sensei.” He recited in an articulated and eloquent way of speaking, to which the teacher clapped her hands with delight.

“Such a smart boy! Junko-san, write down what he said as well as some other examples we’ll mention shortly.” Hana praised him as she patted him on the head, making the young prodigy cock his head in confusion while looking over at Ranze, who lifted her shoulders up into a shrug. “Michiru, darling, do you want to try?”

“y2 − y1 over x2 − x1 is another way of saying it, Hayasaka-sensei,” Michiru said gently as a faint smile ghosted her lips, a typical mannerism of her’s that made the girl so effortlessly irresistible.

“Correct once more! Highly expected of you two, anyways,” The totalitarian of a teacher turned around wrote down the two examples on the board, and it was there that Michiru could finally look back over at Jin, who seemed to have already been staring at her.

“I guess death doesn’t befit the ‘queen’,” Jin remarked with a quiet, almost stifled snicker as Junko was shaking in her anger, the person who reigned supreme in the school was now slowly descending to her death, which by she would be regarded as un paysan.

Michiru giggled, covering her mouth her hand to not draw attention to herself and Jin. “I don’t believe she deserved that title, anyway.” She responded gently as she tucked a strand of her ebony locks behind her ear.

“She’s building her own coffin, like the trash she fucking is,” The male teenager said bluntly as he sank back into his seat, looking at his paper with his eyelids dropping tiredly. Michiru couldn’t lie about not liking the way he looked when she saw him like this. So relaxed yet somehow still observant with his surroundings, and by looking at him, her various thoughts accumulated to the point where they hard to keep track of.

They were filling up her mouth and pouring out her eyes with her hesitant, soft glances. And they scraped the back of her throat and made her teeth start to rot with the sweetness they were filled with, but she could never make these feelings make sense. She could never make them come out in letters, only in affectionate touches, delicate eye contact, and hugging her pillow in the latest hours of the night.

She wasn’t intoxicated by any means, of course not. This was the feeling that made her dance in the rainy streets late at night to sweet songs about typical mediocre things. The water would pour onto her Prada shoes and frilled socks as she lived her life the she way she wanted to. She wanted to be alive, that was all.

While there was Ranze, the less innocent of the two and was a femme fatale in all her glory. A cigarette between her fingers while she curled up on the wooden deck chair that one time that they were alone, watching over the early city from the balcony of her apartment. Her sunglasses were almost on the tip of her nose. Her bare, boney legs pulled up to her chest. The mattress on the floor was unmade and two empty bottles of alcoholic substances were placed adjacent to it. And then the ravenette would leave every morning, putting on her shoes and buttoning up her uniform. Proceeding to travel the city like it was her own backyard.

Michiru wished she could have the confidence and intensity that her older relative did, perhaps if she did she would’ve been even more unstoppable. Her past was framed by white borders, overexposed metaphors tacked to a bulletin board. Hiding beauty behind cork, and behind her concentration for schoolwork was candidness and generosity—perhaps an accidental masterpiece? Many told the joyful girl that she looked too happy, but little did they know she was like that because her future was developing. And if she remained optimistic, would there be a reward waiting for her at the end?

The baleful lightning struck again from the outside as the rain pattered down aggressively, only for the bell to ring soon after. It was there last period for the day, physical education. Michiru stood up and packed her bags, placing her items in her leather satchel that had been adorned with pins of favourite shows and characters. She watched Jin stand up and place his items in his backpack, before snapping his gaze to the smaller girl, who had been watching him for a while at that point.

He smirked, his teeth shining through the small opened space of his mouth. “What are you looking at?” That rogue and badass visage made Michiru’s face flush red as she squeezed the empty juice box in her hands. “You kept looking at me for the entire duration of class. Do you need anything?”

Within plein-air, Michiru’s sensitive flesh felt foolishly exposed to drastic warmth as she walked beside him, exiting the classroom with a nod to the teacher. ‘Love proliferates like nettle down the throat,’ she thought as she moved closer to him, the side of her arm touching his with a brisk movement.

“Well... It’s been raining aggressively all day and I’m hesitant to go home alone,” Ah, they were truly pointless excuses. Jin could read through them so expertly and clearly, so what was the point of reciting pathetic inquiries? Was this all just to make her look less desperate in front of the others? Michiru didn’t even know what she wanted, but the seemingly innocent thought of spending more time with Jin was simply too good to be true. “I’ll just be honest with you, I simply wanted to know if I could come home with you and wait out the storm.”

She watched Jin’s eyes widen a bit, his eyebrows knitted together with astonishment as he looked into her large brown ones. He knew underneath those precious doe-like eyes were not perverse hidden secrets preserved within her intelligent mind. He would lament to believing she wanted such obscene things from him, morbidly, passionately, and pathetically.

“You want to come to my apartment?” Jin reiterated in disbelief as he ran a calloused hand through his spiky black hair. Any sort of unwarranted stirrings from either of the parties would create an imminent onslaught of awkwardness and stiffness for the both of them, an absolutely horrendous possibility neither of them wanted to look into. “You can, but it’s going to rain all night. Won’t your parents or Mamoru be worried if they didn’t see you come home before your curfew?”

Michiru pouted, looking down at the floor. Jin’s glare had softened when the smaller girl was around him, making his scowl (widely perceived as iniquitous) dissipate into a tranquil expression of well-hidden warmth and compassion for the girl he considered to be so important to him. “It’s Friday... So I could always say that I’m at Ranze’s, perhaps she would understand and play along...”

Jin didn’t know what Colonel Shikishima and Atsuko thought of him. Did they believe he was a ruthless, merciless depiction of a delinquent with an unquenchable thirst for sex and wanton attraction for their daughter? Perhaps a Beelzebub slathered against the odious death stare he had given his enemies.

That didn’t matter now, though. The older boy stopped in his tracks, reaching to cup her porcelain cheek—a fleeting yet fulfilling gesture that Michiru never grew tired of when he displayed that beautiful rarity of tenderness. His thumb lightly grazed over her skin gently as he eyed her carefully, his voice dipping down into a lower volume reserved for solely Michiru and Michiru only. “Ranze would be livid if she heard about you coming to my place. I don’t know how we could get away with it, she would do anything to catch us in a compromising position, Mimi.”

Michiru’s face flushed a deep vermillion as Jin backed off, a grin tugging at his lips as the beautiful girl stood like a deer in headlights after the sudden action. Her eyes of luminous glass glimmering with an innocence that was far too real. She exhaled a bated breath, her heart beating in a shallow and slow manner.

Bruised with verbatim, Michiru nodded with a sheepish smile. “I’m sure she isn’t always going to gate-keep what we’re going to do. I’ll ask her in the locker room and see how things pan out.”

Jin took a deep breath, slinging his bag over his shoulder while the other hand clasped his girlfriend’s hand. “I’ll leave the talking to you, then. And if anything goes wrong, I’ll talk to her. There’s no way she can get through me.” He scoffed as he opened the double doors to the gymnasium, followed by Shosaku cocking his eyebrow at the couple incredulously, appearing to have been listening in on on the couple haphazardly.

“Don’t fucking tell me he’s gonna bring you home now...” The promiscuous teenager with the bleached strand of hair remarked wryly, a foolish smile painted on his face that quickly dissipated when Jin glared at him viciously. “Heh... Jin, buddy, don’t look at me like that.”

The teenager rolled his eyes, ushering Michiru to go on ahead of them. “Babe, you go on ahead and get changed. Class is gonna start soon, anyways.”

“Okay, then!” She replied quickly and eagerly before whipping her head back around to look at Shosaku. “Shosaku-san... What do you mean by that?”

Shosaku lowered his voice to a mere whisper as he huddled closer to Michiru. “Well, Jin has had a record of being a playboy—“

“I said get going! Class fucking starts soon, so get a fucking move on, Sho!!” Jin’s voice boomed from behind them, making the two scarper within the blink of an eye.

2:15 pm

In the girl’s locker room...

Michiru’s heart yearned for what it had been robbed of for so long, a fulfilling life to live. Her soul yearned for the feeling of the crucifix the extremists had nailed into her mind and soul years ago to be pulled off of her. The blood had dried by the present day, congealed itself rotten for good. Ah, yes, the wound had finally crusted over. She was ready to commit herself to more important things than religion—schoolwork, her political aspirations, and her social life.

Inklings of her fellow female peers had started to re-emerge, traces of their idle conversation drifting into her ears, radiating a topic Michiru had been so uneducated in—oddly enough, she was smart and had a detailed analysis on everything, but this was different in many ways.

“Kira, is that a hickey? Offer us an explanation, please!” Mariko probed at her friend as she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her own revealing plethora of obscene marks that made Michiru nearly turn her head around to gawk at the sight—but she kept her distance, nonetheless.

“Yeah~ Ryuji and I went out at last night and he took me home. Then the rest is just history, I don’t even remember what we did!” Kira replied in her typically air-headed fashion, shrugging as she slipped her t-shirt over her head. “Sex with him is so good, anyways. I was seeing stars because of how hard he went.”

“Aww, does that mean I get to see him next? I haven’t had a good session since a couple months ago with Yusuke,” Makoto whined as she tied her basketball shoes, making the other girls erupt with their hideous cacophony of chortles.

Have these girls ever dreamed of having sex in a finer light? Had they ever dreamt of anything remotely respectable in the slightest? Definitely not. This was the divide between Michiru and her friends and Junko with her posse of idiots. Their reckless souls were so carelessly merged with what they were doing after hours, almost like they were yearning for even more attention...

“Mimi, you keep blanking out. Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?” Suddenly snapped the motherly voice of her older second cousin, Ranze, who placed a warm hand on the shoulder of the smaller girl in a reassuring light. Oh, this was just like home as well, a twisted home where the soul only revisits to feel that sweet burning sensation. To set itself aflame, to ignite.

“Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for asking...” Michiru murmured gently before slipping her shirt over her head, before combing her digits through her wavy black locks of hair. “By the way... Can I ask a favour of you, Ranze?”

“Hmm? Yeah, shoot.”

“Can you cover for me in front of my parents and brother? I’m going to Jin’s house for the night, that’s all—“

Ranze threw her gaze back to Michiru with great ferocity, looking at her with immense suspicion and thinly-veiled worry. “I’m imagining things, right? Have I gone entirely mad?” The older ravenette was speechless as she sat down onto the bench, pulling her hair back into a ponytail while the honour student shrugged carelessly.

“Can you do it? I promise, I’ll get you whatever you want afterwards. And you know Jin, he’s not going to hurt me in any way, shape, or form,” Michiru pleaded as she folded her hands together for extra effect, the precious twinkling in her eyes making Ranze grunt. “Don’t give me that. I’m not going to be the youngest forever... So please, just let me go with him!”

The femme fatale sighed, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I know I can’t play god and tell you both what to do... But goddamn, I’m really unsure of this, Mimi. Can you at least promise that you’ll call me every other hour to check in?”

“Ranze, you know I can’t keep track of that—“

“Do you want to go?”

“Okay, fine...! I’ll do what you want, just please don’t say anything to my mother and father. Especially Mamoru too,” Michiru wrapped her thin arms around the older girl, enveloping her in a sugary sweet embrace that made Ranze’s heart melt.

“I won’t. Your secret is safe with me, Mimi,” Ranze rubbed her relative’s head affectionately before rising to her feet and stretching. “Just please assure me I won’t have to swing by and bring you a spare change of clothes.”

2:46 pm

She looked in every direction and corner to spot Jin in that noisy gymnasium. She had spent the first twenty minutes of her exercise period skipping rope on her own. Her legs were already sore, a phantom of fatigue biting her limbs and beating heart as she bent over to catch her breath from the cardio. Although Michiru thrilled the anticipation of seeing Jin doing his own thing, the lovely sentiment of catching him lifting weights fuelled a fire inside of her. It was a thrill she couldn’t understand in any way. It was so strange as the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t leave, not even one bit.

She felt around for her water bottle before picking it up and taking a generous swig of water, then stood up and to walk to the weightlifting station where Jin resided—lifting what appeared to be a heavy set of weights, at least to Michiru it was. The curious girl sat down in from of him by the mirror, gnawing at the inside of her cheek as her clouded eyes watched him with such interest. Perhaps she was magnetized to him- that surely could’ve been the case.

But it was the loveliest just being able to pause her own exercises to check on her boyfriend, who’s eyes travelled down to the slender form of the beautiful girl who sat in front of him.

“You’ve come to...” Jin inhaled, curling the weights to his chest as his eyes remained steady on the person in front of him. “...check on me? How’d your workout go?”

“It went well. Skipping rope is fun but it gets repetitive after 20 consecutive minutes,” She replied cheerfully, her pupils wandering to the clique of degenerates that collected near the benches. “But better than not exercising at all, I suppose.”

The respect for those girls and boys had forsaken itself, but Michiru even wondered if she ever had it to begin with. How she even lose something she never had to begin with?

Even so, Michiru revered the sense of comfort that eased within her when she was around the overtly honest boy. It created a sense of comfort that made him feel like home. And if that were the case, would she feel homesick for him?

She watched the tendons and muscles in his arms flex each time he lifted the weights a final time before putting it back on the bar. Jin situated himself by the younger girl with the bright brown eyes, hissing slightly at the soreness in his muscles. What she had to face was a life to live despite her frail form. She only wanted him, he was her personal inferno in a sense.

Wait, what? Something like that sounded so strange to her, as she had never felt such an intensity of emotions when she was around Jin. It was strange... too strange if she were to put her finger on it. But what was she to do?

She tenderly wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her face into his nape as he chuckled quietly. She prayed for more tenderness, the tenderness that would rip her away from the cruelties of the world and from the melancholia. Tenderness, her ticket to euphoria.

“Ranze said she could cover for us,” Michiru muttered against the fabric of his shirt, to which Jin turned his head to look back at his significant other with disbelief in his eyes. “On one condition: she wants me to call her to check in at every other hour. But other than that, it’s all good.”

“I see...” Jin heaved out as he wrapped an arm around Michiru, situating his hand comfortably on her hip. This was her love language, the feeling of his firm yet tender touch across her skin made her shudder subconsciously, to which Jin tilted his head. “Are you cold?”

“No... Not at all, actually,” She was drowsy at the thought of him. Angels above, gods above had nothing on him. It was just strange how hypersensitive she was to all of the attention.

“Mhm... Right,” Jin regarded her words with a small nod before looking off into the distance, his eyes foggy with tiredness. “I’m surprised it didn’t take that much convincing. The two of us are frenemies, but it’s to the point where I can’t do any shit alone with you because she’s so suspicious.”

“I’ll be honest with you, I’m starting to be irritated with it,” Michiru confessed, pressing her cheek up against his damp shirt. “But thankfully she’s starting to back off more recently, it’s just that I would really like it if she didn’t treat me like a child constantly...”

Jin looked away and toward the ticking clock on the wall in front of them. “She told me she’s at least happy that you’re content with me and that I’m content with you.. She knows I’ll take good care of you so she shouldn’t be too worried,” He muttered as he cracked his knuckles. “As for her treating you like a kid... I could why see you would be fed-up with it, but you’re younger than her and she sees you like a little sister. She just wants you to be out of harm’s way.”

A thunder encompassed the sky in that moment, the booming crackle of it making Michiru nearly jump out of shock to which Jin rubbed the small of her back in order to stabilize her. The dimmed lights above the students flickered unnaturally, some of them almost immediately giving out. The storm was going to drown them in its fiery onslaught, and it was only fifteen minutes before they could get out of that dumpster fire of a school.

“Don’t tell me I have to drive home in this weather!” Kaisuke complained as he fell back onto the gymnastics mats, to which Setsuko shrugged nonchalantly beside him.

“We can carpool, then,” The docile student offered, making the others look at her with anticipation. “I’m being picked up by Suzuya, so perhaps we can stop and drive you all home as well.”

Jin sighed as he looked over to the girl hugging his side, a soft figure with wavy hair like water from the flowing waves of the sea. His eyes were alight with hidden affection, as on the outside he had thick skin and wouldn’t show sweetness towards anyone except for her. Incandescence was rising between the rogue biker and the demure young lady as she enveloped him in her gentle warmth. “I’ll finish my final set and we can get going. How does that sound, babe?”

“Sure, that works,” She whispered, the volume of her voice not disguising how excited she was to spend more time with him. There was no divine plan she was following, perhaps she wanted to grow closer to him. Michiru didn’t have any divine figure that she was going to trust, she was only going to let things happen as the afternoon went by.

3:35 pm

At Jin’s apartment...

It was always a reoccurring thought to Michiru when it came to wondering what sort of environment Jin lived in. But as she stepped into the dormitory, she felt as though she had gotten around to experiencing some sort of paradise—not luxurious by any means, but still comfortable and safe, with him.

The dull, white tones of his room had been haunting her mind as she looked around, her wide eyes fixated on the various band posters, workout equipment, and other paraphernalia that decorated the living space. The way he kept his apartment was reflective of his personality and to Michiru it seemed to be everlastingly beautiful.

She removed her Mary Janes and placed them beside Jin’s sneakers, walking around the room aimlessly as she admired the various articles of decoration that made the room so unique. Whilst Jin placed his backpack on the kitchen counter, turning to flick the lights on but to no avail as the power had gone out.

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath as he rummaged through the cabinets to look for a flashlight or some sort of candle to illuminate just a sliver of the dark room. Michiru looked out the window, the divinely dark sky, the indigo flashes of lightning ripping at the sky, and the lush atmosphere she had been placed in. To her it was like peace personified, there was pure safety and security surrounding her briefly. And for a moment, she’d hadn’t realized the power had been blown out. “I’ll get some sort of flashlight or candle so we can actually see what we’re doing. You have a change of clothes for yourself, right?”

“Yes, I do. I have some for after gym class to go home in,” She responded as she took out the aforementioned article of clothing before looking around for a private place to change. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down there and to the right,” He replied as he pulled two candles from the cabinets under the sink.

Michiru nodded in acknowledgment, silently thanking him for his help as she quickly moved to the room, opening the door and shutting behind her, locking it. Carefully, she undid the buttons on her shirt and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall onto the tiled floor and pooling at her ankles.

Her ebony curls were damp and not as neat as they were when they were dried. And her lips, cheeks, and the tips of her ears were stained a fruit punch pink as she looked at herself in the mirror briefly. Her body curved and sloped like a mountain, gripping the slung juts of her waist as she looked down.

It didn’t seem that long ago when she wasn’t allowing herself to eat, as it only made up months and years of slow, albeit steady recovery. With the occasional relapse during her darker periods of loneliness. Michiru was still starting to grow to love herself just a little bit more, even if it was slow and there were rough patches, she had realized a fraction of what she couldn’t see while her eyes were filtered that pessimistic film. With the help of her close friends and family, she had time to recovery—even if she still suffered meagre remnants of it.

‘Ranze wouldn’t want to see me being insecure now. She just wants me to be happy,’ Michiru thought as she chuckled quietly when she slipped the white dress over her head. She gathered up her clothes and exited the washroom, putting the soggy uniform in her bag before looking over at Jin, who had already gotten changed into a black tank top and a grey sweatpants and was folding his gakuran. In that moment, he looked up at her and she could see his eyes widen a bit.

She was wearing a sleeveless white dress that reached just a little bit above her knees and had frilly accents on it. Perfectly dainty compared to the other themes of the room as the delinquent’s face flushed a deep crimson, clearing his throat as he looked away, a typical mannerism of his.

“Michiru...” He began, scratching the back of his neck as he sat on a chair adjacent to his bed that had one of his leather jackets thrown onto it. “You look really good...”

She sat down on the floor beside his bed, throwing her head back and smiling infectiously. “Thank you, Jin.. I appreciate it.”

Jin nodded silently, opening his mouth to add to what he had just spoken. “You don’t need to sit on the ground, you can sit on my bed if you’d like.” He offered as she looked at him, lips fresh and dewy with the remnants of her lip balm that she had purchased from the local drugstore. She gladly pulled herself onto the bed and sat down, breathing in the cold air slowly.

Her cheekbones were flushed pink as she looked up at the ceiling, as the feeling of the bed dipping under Jin’s weight when he laid down beside her. Michiru hummed in response as she threw her arms around him, running her slim fingers through his hair as he started to relax.

“I didn’t know you had a dartboard,” Michiru murmured sweetly as Jin wrapped his arms around her waist, his grip secure and safe. She dragged her pink nails across the skin of his back lightly as the brutally honest teen chuckled.

“Yeah, I do. I use it to vent out my anger sometimes,” He said as his dark eyes softened when he looked into her’s, a very faint smile tugging at his lips. “Why bring it up?”

“I was just curious. But now that I see how good your aim is, I’d really like to go up against you.”

“You really want to?” Jin’s smirk grew impossibly wider at the prospect of playing an innocent game of darts with his precious girlfriend.

“Of course! I do archery so I think you have some stiff competition here, Jin.” He could throw his head back and laugh, the streak of competitiveness in her making him amused.

‘She’s too fucking gentle for this world,’ He thought as he pulled away from her, going to the wall to pull the array of darts from the board for them to play.

[sweetcinnamcn]

Family Dinner || Self-Para

Summary - Ian and his three older siblings come home for a family dinner after which his mother gives him a talking to plus a little something something for the upcoming Bachelor Auction.

WC: 2,630

Without Tommy there to back him up, Ian slips into old habits too easily. It’s hard for him to not let his brothers’ joshing get to him, and each quip at his expense makes Ian’s smile that much more strained. Everything from “Hey Schoolboy!” to bets on how much cum he’s been guzzling seems to be on the table tonight, and since they’re drinking they’re a bit more abrasive about it too. Ian really doesn’t like being around his brothers when they’re drinking.

“Huh, buddy?” Ian had retreated inwards and completely zoned out of the conversation. It wasn’t until Harrison clapped him on the back that he even realized all three of his siblings were looking at him. His mouth falls agape as he tries to think of something—anything—to say, but Donovan’s snort beats him to the chase.

“Space cadet strikes again. How’s the view from the clouds Lieutenant Dumbass?” he chortles, both his brothers laughing boisterously now. Ian laughs along with obviously less zeal.

Annette only shakes her head, moderately eye-rolling at her brothers. “Please don’t mess with him like that. Ian’s no fun when he starts to turtle up.” While he’s sure she means well, comments like that only ever get his big brothers laughing at him harder. This is why Ian doesn’t enjoy family dinners without his younger in attendance.

“What’s wrong, Annie? Junior too busy to be his white knight so you’ve got to fill the vacancy?”

“Not that he needs it. He’s a grown man and we’re just kidding around. Ian knows it. Look at him! Life of the party!” Harrison points right to the smile glued to Ian’s face. That gets a smile out of Annette which she attempts to hide by taking a sip from her wine glass. Harrison and Donovan never hide when they’re laughing at him. This is why he needs his little brother. Ian always feels invisible, pushed aside, belittled, and a bunch of other things he’s not good at vocalizing whenever he’s at home. Tommy always knew how to save him.

“Have you guys spoken to him recently? I know he’s super busy, but I can’t ever get him on the phone anymore—”

“Time zones, buddy. We’ve been over this. England is a few hours ahead of us, so you can’t just call him whenever.” So what if Ian has to count on his fingers to get an idea of what time it is for Tommy, it’s not like he forgets he has to! Though … he doesn’t say anything to reject the implication about his understanding of time zones either.

“Nah, he’s been dodging me too! He goes and claims a princess and suddenly “His Highness” is too good for us.”

“His Grace. Tommy is only going to be a duke by marriage and—”

“Yeah ok, we get that you’re jealous of his royal assent, but seriously Annie couldn’t you at least try to not sound bitter whenever he comes up?”

That’s how things have always been between his siblings. They have a brash, witty sense of humor and even Annette’s found a way to navigate those waters effectively. She can take it and dish it out without sacrificing the austerity she places in her classification. Ian was never as good as her. All he could ever do was smile through it all. As they continue to bicker amongst themselves and Ian starts to wish that Mother let him at least have a glass of wine like Annette got, he sees his father come into the room. He can’t help his sigh of relief.

“Boys, mind the volume. Really, I don’t know why she lets you drink on empty stomachs. You both get so belligerent!” It’s only a gentle scolding on his part, no hints of genuine irritation are found on his face. His brothers know this as well and both take a large swallow of their beers in response. Walter McCallister, the perfect claim for a woman like Clarice, the perfect father to both wrangle and console the children she bore as they needed. Ian’s always felt closer to his father, and for more reasons than their shared classification. He was hoping to get a chance to speak with him privately at some point before dinner was over, but hasn’t gotten to yet. “Dinner is about to be served. Why don’t you all wash up and come take a seat? Your mother is hungry and she is not in a patient mood tonight,” Walter informs before Ian can get a chance to say something. All buzzed except Ian, the McCallister children file out of the room. Ian starts to perk up a bit after his father gives him a gentle shoulder pat on his way out.

Dinner was delicious, and in typical McCallister fashion, it ends as they always do. As soon as Clarice puts her utensil down, Ian, Annette, and Walter all get up from their spots to clear the table. The Dominants will continue to sit and chat for a while. They’ll drink and have fun waiting for the others to bring dessert and coffee if desired. Those three only get dessert as an occasional reward, so none for them tonight much to Ian’s disappointment. There’s a delicious-looking lemon cake in the kitchen just calling his name. He’s even so bold as to try and finger swipe some icing off of it, but Annette slaps his hand away before he gets a chance. Ian is mid pout when a single command makes him go rigid.

“Ian, darling,” Clarice calls out from the dining room. “I’ll be taking my dessert in my study. Be a dear and bring it up to me.” The tension in the kitchen is palpable. Annette and Walter keep cleaning, but even Ian knows they’ve each got a nervously watchful eye on him. Being alone with Mother in her study only means one thing: prepared to get chewed out. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he responds, dejectedly cutting a suitable piece of cake for Mother and bringing it up. He has to suffer the typical “Ooo you’re in trouble”’s from his lounging brothers as he walks by. It’s not like they’re kids anymore so he doesn’t understand why they get such a kick out of it, but much like when they were, Ian shrugs away from their scrutiny so hard that it looks like he’s trying to make his head disappear. ‘Turtling’ as Annette so aptly put it, warranting even more joshing at his expense while he hurries to Mother’s study.

A deep sigh at the door and then a knock, Ian’s typical ritual. He can’t remember a time in his life when he left this room feeling good. He enters once prompted and sets the cake down in front of her, then steps back from her desk and stands there, waiting patiently. This is a common routine and Ian’s had plenty of practice, though he does think that her having him watch her eat it is a bit much. It feels like a punishment. Then again, so have their last few chats.

“Mm! That was absolutely divine. I swear, your father’s skills in the kitchen have never once diminished over the years. I do wish you could’ve enjoyed some…” Her voice and expression are cheery, but her eyes seem very cold. Even the way Clarice cleans the fork intimidates Ian. She’s quite skilled at making him feel naked in a not-fun way. “…then again, you haven’t been a very good boy, have you?” 

“No Ma’am, I have not,” he says without hesitation. Confessing it out loud hurts so much. In a single sentence, weeks of “good boys” have been erased. Until he gets claimed, there’s only one Dominant who gets to dictate how well Ian’s behaving, and Clarice McCallister’s margins for grading are very clear.

“Huh,” is her only response, those cold eyes of hers repeating every scathing critique she’s voiced recently. There’s no need to rehash them, Ian knows full and well how he’s failed and why he’s failed. “Ian, I’ve been very patient with you. Men in our family attending Lowell has been a great honor for generations. You are the very first to turn that honor into an embarrassment. You should feel embarrassed by your inability to get claimed. It’s no one’s fault but your own.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I’d be able to reimburse myself for nine years of tuition.”

“I know. I’m—” A single quirk of Clarice’s eyebrow is all it takes for the words to die on Ian’s tongue. He looks down at his feet, unable to handle her disapproving gaze. He feels choked up like a hot coal is burning through his throat. The ground below starts to look blurry as well. Ian is doing his best not to cry. He knows Mother hates seeing that. “I’m trying really hard. I help out and I talk to a lot of Dominants. I have a lot of friends! But I … I don’t know why no Dominant wants me. I do everything you suggest and it—”

“Maybe you should spend less time screwing around with taken locals and put your energies towards getting serious about getting claimed.” He visibly winces at that interruption, because in his heart he knows there’s a lot of truth to it. “At this point, I’m not sure which is more humiliating. The fact that you’ve been there for nearly a decade, or the fact that your highest accolade is getting labeled as the school slut.” That one hurts even more, but he has a tool to use. Luckily, in his increasingly stressed frame of mind, he remembers to take it out of the toolbox his therapist has been helping him build.

“Dr. Addams says—”

“I’m the one paying for your little headcase pow wows with Dr. Addams. The last thing I want thrown in my face right now is whatever Freudian bullshit he told you to spout at me.”

“I-I just—”

“Would you quit mumbling like an idiot? Don’t slouch like that. Stand up straight, hold your head up high. If you have something to say, use your voice, Ian. How many times do I have to tell you this? Appearance is everything. Fix yourself, now!” He lifts his head but has to sniffle. Ian is full-on crying by the end of that and he just couldn’t hold his tears back any longer. Clarice’s eye-roll in response only makes him feel worse. “My sensitive little boy, what are we going to do with you?” she sighs, shaking her head. Ian stands perfectly still, trying to compose himself even though he knows he’s failing. The night has been a lot for him and he’s feeling raw from it all, but he knows what’s coming when Mother stands and walks around her desk. He’s thankful for it.

For all her talk about hating hysterics, she’s very good at dealing with Ian’s. She tenderly grasps the back of his head and brings his face into her neck, embracing her son. Ian wraps his large frame around her in turn, sobbing uncontrollably now that he’s been given the all-clear. He’s incoherent, inconsolable, but Clarice’s soothing touches calm Ian down. When she feels he’s gotten enough of it out of his system, she pushes him back gently by his shoulders. One hand goes to cup his pitiful face, stroking his cheek with her thumb as he whimpers out the last of his outpouring. “Ian, it’s just you. Even Tommy’s grown up and done it now. Not to mention he’s taken our ‘marrying up’ speeches seriously. I mean, he’s claimed into royalty! It’s bad for my image to have you still at Lowell with not even a prospect while all your other siblings have done so well. We need to change that, right?”

“Y-Yes Ma’am. I’ll try harder.” Eventually, she smiles and he smiles through his teary eyes in return. He must’ve finally said the right thing.

“Good boy.” There it is, the two words that uplift him more than everything else. A single phrase is capable of washing away all the cold pricklies and replacing them with warm fuzzies. He’s feeling better already. “But what am I always telling you?”

“My looks are my most important asset?” 

“Exactly!” she praises. “You’re such a beautiful boy. Though, you could probably benefit from shedding some weight. Did you have to get so bulky?” Ian’s used to criticism being attached to Mother’s compliments. Her standards are extremely high. “I don’t expect you to be able to come up with a solution, which is why I’m going to help you. When Harrison was at Lowell, I did something for him before the Bachelor Auction. I’ve decided I’m going to do the same for you.”

He starts to wipe his face and continues to compose himself when Clarice turns around to her desk. He can’t see what she’s scribbling out, but after hearing some paper tear he figures what she’s doing. “Now, I know I’ve expressed my hesitation about doing this before, but Ian the auction has only ever resulted in you being a glorified whore for a night. How many times were you purchased by someone who had actual intentions of claiming you?” Out of eight times, the answer is none, and the pause it takes for him to mull this over is long enough for the rhetorical nature of Clarice’s question to be apparent. “My point exactly. This year, you’re taking matters into your own hands.”

Ian looks at the check, amazed at the amount. He’s never held that much money in his life, and it means the world to him that Mother has faith in his ability to do this.

“But Ma’am—”

“No buts, just promise me you’ll spend it wisely. Don’t waste this opportunity. Choose a Dominant carefully, one you have a shot with. It’s okay to think of a game plan too. In fact, you should ask Annie for tips. I’ve never seen anyone wrap a Dominant around their finger quite like her.”

Ian nods, sniffling still but smiling nonetheless. “Thank you, Mother. I won’t let you down. I’m gonna get a great date and I’ll get claimed. This will be my last year at Lowell, I promise.” Clarice smiles and dismisses Ian with a nod. He holds the check to his chest, feeling like he’s living a dream. Mother is right, this year he’s not leaving anything to chance. He’s going to make the right choice and finally get claimed.

The next couple of days on campus, Ian tried to keep his ear to the ground and figure out who he’d focus his bidding efforts on. Annie gave him some tips for how to plan the date in a way that’ll keep a Dominant interested, but that doesn’t help him choose. It’s not until he gets some alone time in the game room that he makes up his mind. Feeling the green of the pool table reminds Ian of a memory he hasn’t visited recently, only because he failed to find the need. But now … it’s giving him inspiration. “It’s settled then. I know what I’m going to do,” he says to himself, resolute in a way that’s almost uncharacteristic. Ian isn’t sure if he’s going to be able to live up to his promises by going for who he’s thinking, but he’s sure that it’s the best option given his predicament. “The Bachelor Auction is just around the corner. I have to make sure I’m ready. I’m going to land a Dominant, bring him home, and Mother will be so proud she’ll call me a good boy a whole bunch. I’m sure of it.”

[lailababar]

Anger

You know how the power puff girls were made of sugar, spice and everything nice? I feel like I’m made of anger, hurt and disappointment. I am so capable of being happy even when I’m burning with rage, of laughing even when I’m being torn up inside by resentment, of working even when all I want to do is rail against the people who refuse to accept that I have a right to exist. And here’s the kicker, I seek out my anger, I consume media that makes me livid, I go looking for proof that the country I come from is as vile as I think it is. Sometimes I think I do it because I cannot believe that the people who raised me, who made me who I am, could actually be as evil as I remember them. Sometimes I do it because I’m a sadist and I want to feel the pain and hurt one feels when you know someone will hurt you but you keep going back. What a cliche, I bleed so I can feel alive, what am I? A thirteen year old girl just now discovering emotions? Maybe. 

I’ve been a vocal feminist for a few years now, before this I was a closeted one, and before that I was an ignorant one. I’ve had arguments with everyone in my life over my right to choose what I wish to do with my body. I’m not too close with too many people in my family but my Khala was always someone that I loved. Before my engagement I was at her house and we were talking about my upcoming marriage and she told me I should have a kid within a year- make the relationship solid, make sure he can’t leave. It made me furious. First of all why should anyone tell me when I should have a child, but more importantly why should I worry about forcing him to stay? So I told her I was not going to have kids for several year or maybe ever, and if he wants to leave he is welcome to it. I am not financially dependant on him, I do not intend to live in a country where being unmarried is considered the most heinous of all crimes. She got so angry with me and then told my mother that I was an ungrateful brat and ultimately did not attend my engagement or most of my wedding. We have not spoken since that day. This is how angry people get when you challenge the status quo. This woman who has loved me since I was born was willing to never speak to me again because I, a woman, said I do not need a man. 

When I saw that clip with Khalil ur Rahman my first thought was wow this feels so familiar. Over the years I’ve learnt to lower my voice and to leave arguments long before the protectors of the patriarchy get fully riled up. Say your bit, make it stick and then change the topic. It’s a technique I use every time I speak about topics concerning women rights. Always change the topic early, always say your bit but say it with an even tone, always acknowledge that you could be wrong. It’s something I learnt from a lifetime of my arguments being declared invalid because I was angry, because I was emotional. A lifetime of being labelled ‘babyish’ and ‘unaware of ground realities’. I am now a 27 year old married woman who is also a doctor at the end of her residency. How much more grown up do I need to be to have my arguments heard? What they meant was you’re too much of a woman, be a man and your voice will carry weight. 

If I were in Lahore today and this clip were circulating I know exactly how it would’ve unfolded. My brother would’ve made a joke about it, his friends would’ve said that Marvi deserved it. I would’ve gotten angry and said that women’s rights are not a joke. My mother would’ve stepped in and said ‘don’t take everything so seriously, they’re only playing devil’s advocate’ my brother would’ve pinched my cheeks lovingly or hugged me or kissed my head and said ‘my rugby always takes things so personally, it’s just a joke’ or the evergreen ‘why do you care? It’s not like she pays your bills’ and I know he would genuinely believe it was all a joke but at this point I would’ve had tears in my eyes which I would never have let out and I would have laughed and said okay topic change. I know so well that if this argument were at my Khala’s house she would’ve also added a line about how women were meant to be married young, and my mother would’ve lovingly added that my feminism was nice for university but didn’t make sense in the real world and everyone would’ve made me feel like an angry ogre who can’t take a joke and the man on tv who was railing against womankind would’ve been made out to be someone having an appropriate reaction to being irritated. In all of this I know I would’ve looked at my father and he would’ve squeezed my fingers nodded and then changed the topic so I do not have to hurt more. Because we both would’ve known what everyone who stands for women rights knows, that the other party is louder and has far more support than us. 

My entire life at home, and mind you it wasn’t very long because I spent a majority of my life in boarding school and hostel, was like this. My father and I quietly exchanging glances and support but never disrupting the status quo. Isn’t it ironic that my mother was the one maintaining the status quo? The one to tell me that I must never ever ever disobey my brother because older brothers have a right to dictate your lives. The one to teach me that you never bow in front of anyone except God and your husband. I was trained to be subservient to a man neither one of us had ever met. And I in turn had spent my entire life planning an escape. I studied even when I didn’t want to, started working towards a resume when I was 9, learn French, universities love when you are multilingual, play sports, universities love well rounded people, write plays, do social work, volunteer, read, get straight A’s. If someone said something would help my chances of getting into a good university, I did it. I had one aim and one aim only, to never need a man. To be able to walk away if I was feeling unheard and unhappy. I come from privilege, and that is the only reason this was a realistic possibility for me. And now I have, and every day I say thank you to my younger self. I can be angry and hurt and livid and pained and disappointed at these news clippings but I never have to talk to a man like that if I don’t want to. And for that I can never thank my self enough. Thank you for making a plan, thank you for sticking to it, thank you for this freedom, thank you, thank you, thank you. 

One day Pakistan will also see women walking the roads, wearing what they want, loving who they love, staying out late, laughing loud and speaking with enthusiasm, and men like Khalil ur Rahman will tell stories of the good old days, back when women had no voice and they could call us ghatya do takay ki auratein and be respected for it. And no one will want to be associated with him. One day we will be treated as equals and not like the children of a lesser god, and that one day will be because of the women that stayed in Pakistan, who created aurat march, who speak up, who do not back down. One day we i will feel an emotion other than anger. One day. 

[brittle-bone-gabe]

Two Opposites, But Two Losers: Chapter Two - Fancy Running Into You Here

Chapter One, Chapter Three, 

Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is a first-year medical student trying to start off on the right foot, but being up all night to study and pull through on his assignments increases his need for coffee; this is where he meets his “favorite” new barista, Richie Tozier: an art student with bad habits. (I will specify a possible trigger in the chapter titles if it calls for one).

Pairings: Eddie x Richie, Ben x Beverly, Stan x Patty, Bill x Audra, Bill x Mike

Read on Ao3: Here

Art History certainly wasn’t Richie’s top subject, in fact, if his graduation criteria wasn’t requiring it he would have skipped the class all together. The class had a test today, and Richie was sure that he had failed it for the sole reason he kept erasing and redoing almost all of his answers, even though in the end he usually kept the original answer he had in the first place. Words could not describe how frustrated that made Richie; did he make the right choices with his answers? Did he royally fuck up? Bev was right, he should’ve been studying instead of going out every night… Maybe he’d stay in all week to study. ...Right. Richie told himself that every week but never stuck with it.

You fucked up, why didn’t you just fucking study, you stupid fucking- Richie’s thoughts got cut off as soon as he looked up from the floor, noticing the familar figure walking across the t-hallway, not even glancing Richie’s way. Any and all negative thoughts Richie had were brushed aside, a huge smile on his face as he had a new goal at the moment. He needed to pick on Eddie again. Richie squirmed his way through the group of people in the hallway, racing to catch up to the shorter man, minding his own business, not aware that he was about to be bombarded by a trashmouth.

“Morning Bird!” Richie said loudly, causing everyone in the hallway to turn and look at him, not sure who he was referring to, but certainly gave him that you’re insane look.

Recognizing the voice made Eddie physically cringe, gripping his backpack strap so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He closed his eyes for just a moment, letting out a sigh before opening them again just as Richie managed to catch up with him.

“What’s up!” Richie said just as loudly as he did when he called for him.

Eddie couldn’t help himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose, he couldn’t believe how loud this man could possibly be. He was acting as if he had way too much coffee, which wouldn’t surprise Eddie considering the fact that Richie worked in a fucking coffee shop. He probably got too much free coffee to keep him awake for the entire day. Just spending the short amount of time with Richie this morning had exhausted Eddie, how in the hell did he manage to run into him here, in one of the hundreds of hallways on campus?

“On my way to class…” Eddie mumbled, he could physically feel people’s eyes on him and he didn’t like it at all. He hated having all the attention on him, he felt more inclined to fuck something up and trip over his own feet.

It’s as though Richie couldn’t pick up on how Eddie was feeling, as he continued the conversation as if nothing was awkward for him or anything.

“Oh yeah?” Richie started, “what class ya got, Morning Bird?”

“Behavioral Sciences… And would you stop calling me that? It’s almost two in the afternoon.”

Shit, was it really? Richie checked the smart-watch on his wrist. He couldn’t believe that, it felt like time was going by quickly today.

He laughed. “What else am I supposed to call you?”

God, was he annoying… It was as though he only had one volume setting on his voice.

Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his ridiculous question. “I dunno… my name?” As annoyed as Eddie was trying to act, he was lowkey trying to hold back his small smile. There was no way Richie would be able to remember his name from way back of this morning, especially how busy the Harvest usually got around eight in the morning. Just to hear him trip up would make Eddie’s day.

“Ah, okay, Eds.” Seeing Eddie frown at the nickname made Richie chuckle, he always had a natural talent for pissing people off just being twisting their names around. Well, in general he had a talent to piss people off, that was his favorite trait.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Aww, cheer up Ed-” even before Richie could finish his sentence, Eddie glared at him, giving him that choose my name carefully look. “Eddie,” Richie finished, a smile still on his face.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Nope! Y’know, I never asked… what’s your major?”

“I’m… actually in med school.”

Honestly? Richie was shocked to hear that. He had saw Eddie as someone who would be majoring in engineering. Maybe computer science, but med school? That was so fucking cool. Richie certainly couldn’t keep focus on schooling that long to become a doctor, but anyone who could was amazing.

“Oh… wow. That’s awesome!” Eddie looked up at Richie, shocked at his answer. “So you’re going to be a doctor or some shit?”

Eddie smiled and nodded, and as soon as he did, Richie started rambling away about how cool that was, how he could never do that, but it was awesome that Eddie was able to do it. Eddie wasn’t used to praise from anyone besides his professors about how he was doing in school, lord knows he barely had any support when choosing his major in high school. His mom hated the fact he wanted to become a doctor, in fact, when he had mentioned that med school was on his choice for majors she went insane. She had tried to do everything she could to try to convince him to pick literally anything else, going as far as to attempting to bribe him to switch by offering to pay for his entire schooling as long as he chose anything else. Just because she was a hypochondriac and turned Eddie into a hypochondriac his entire childhood didn’t mean she could dictate his entire life; but in high school, Eddie decided that he wanted to help people, to reassure people that everything would be okay and he could fix them. Anytime Eddie called home just to check up on his mother he wasn’t able to mention school at all, otherwise she would get extremely passive aggressive, turning the conversation into making sure Eddie was making the right choice for his future.  

“What about you?” Eddie asked Richie once he stopped his rambling, “What’s your major?”

Richie laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah… mine’s not as exciting as your thing.”

“I didn’t ask that, I asked what your major was.”

Well, Richie was taken aback by how snappy Eddie could be, it was cute though. He smiled at the smart ass remark, though.

“Graphic design, not sure what I want to do with it, but… eh…” he shrugged, readjusting the single strapped backpack that was around his torso. “Art’s my thing.” Eddie’s walk slowed to a stop in front of a classroom, causing Richie to smile even bigger. “Looks like I just walked you to your class.”

“Don’t make a habit of this, Richie.”  

“Uhhuh, uhhuh…. I’ll see ya later, Morning Bird!” Richie made sure to say it loudly so everyone already in the classroom would hear him, they turned their heads to see who was coming inside the classroom after that.

Eddie discreetly flipped him off as he made his way into the classroom, his face turning pink from the embarrassment of everyone looking at him. Well, that was going to make class more interesting. People on the other side of the earth could probably hear Richie and his big fucking mouth.

As Richie walked away, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket. As usual, the first thing he did whenever he unlocked his phone was go to his messaging app, texting Beverly. He texted her, asking her where she was and what she was doing right now, as he could never remember her schedule during the week or what classes she has going on. To be fair, most things go through one ear and out the other for Richie, it was something most people had to deal with when getting close to him, accepting that he will forget a lot of things.

He was about to lock his phone and put it back in his pocket, but Bev began texting back immediately, the three dots were underneath his text on the screen. Richie moved with his back against the brick wall, staying out of the way so others could walk past him in the hallway while he waited for a text back. He stared at it, waiting anxiously to see what she had to say.

-Layin’ down with ben, her text had said.

So she must’ve not had class today… That, or she skipped class to spend time with her boyfriend. Ben worked 3rd shift as a campus guard, Richie couldn’t understand why there needed to be a 3rd shift campus guard walking around the grounds at night, but whatever paid the bills…

-wanna get lunch of somethin’? i got some tea for ya.

-👀 should we meet at harvest?

 Obviously it was a joke, but Richie still audibly groaned just thinking about hanging out there while not on the clock.

-😡 no we have to go somewhere with good food

-🖕

                                                          -----

There was an amazing sub shop that was just off campus that Richie and Bev had agreed to meet at. Of course, Richie was there first, he was anxious to tell Bev about how he “walked” Eddie to class. Besides that though, Richie wanted to spend time with his best friend. Well, no, Bev was more like his sister than his best friend and everyone knew that. They were those annoying best friends who posted each other on Snapchat and Instagram nonstop, but at the same time some people were like “I wish I had a friendship like that.” Nobody really knew what they’ve been through together that made them this close, and it was likely that nobody would ever know that side of Richie anyways.

The two have sat at a table, their food sitting in front of them, but Richie couldn’t focus on eating as he was busy readjusting the many bracelets on his wrists and bouncing his leg. That was the first sign to Bev that something was wrong with him. Although, she couldn’t tell if he was anxious or excited, as he acted the same for either or.

“What’s your problem?” Bev asked him before taking a bite into her sandwich.

“Hm?” Richie hummed, snapping out of his many, many thoughts. He had almost forgotten that he was the one who invited her out because he had some tea. “Oh, nothin’...”

“Bullshit. You know better than to lie to me, Trashmouth.” She grabbed a piece of lettuce that was on her tray, throwing it at him so it got stuck in his hair. Richie fished it out before throwing it back at her. “You said you had tea for me, I’m not hearing any tea.”

“Remember that guy that came in earlier?” Richie asked quickly, trying to contain the smile he wanted to let free.

“Many guys come in, Richie, and you have heart eyes for almost all of them.”

“Excuse me, I do not.” Bev didn’t say anything, she just rolled her eyes waiting for him to get to the point and be more specific. “No, I’m talking about the guy from waaay earlier in the morning.”

“The one you kept calling cute?”

“Yes!” He waved his fingers, pointing at her, “that one!”

“What about him?”

“I saw him after class and I walked him to his class.”

Bev groaned. “Did you walk him to his class or did you follow him?”

“He’s so cute, dude,” Richie said as he sat up, shaking both of his hands so the bracelets fell down to the base of his hands.

“You need a man.”

“I fucking knooooow. Morning Bird is in med school, Bev. Med school.”

“So he’s too smart for you, got it. Better luck trying to find something else.”

“Bitch, fuck you.”

They flipped each other off before sitting in silence once more. Richie didn’t know what else to say, from what he was implying Bev was telling him… she was right. There would be no fucking way Eddie would want to be with someone like him. Hell, the way he freaked out when he saw Richie smoking outside during his small break was evidence of that. Eddie thought smoking was gross, and he was right, even Richie thought smoking was gross, but no matter how many times he had tried to quit in the past it didn’t matter as he went right back to his old habits. They were scrolling through their phones now, but Bev couldn’t help but notice that Richie kept mindlessly itching his forearm that was covered by the long sleeve shirt underneath his t-shirt.

“So, how are things going, Rich?” Bev asked in complete seriousness.

Richie knew how serious she was being because that was the only time she called in Rich instead of Richie, or Trashmouth, or literally anything else.

He shook his head lightly, dropping his hands to the table, locking his phone screen. “‘m fine,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. He had to look back up to her when he felt that she was giving him that serious look she gave when she knew he wasn’t telling the complete truth. “I am! I’m fine!”

“Alright, alright!” She held her hands up to him, “I didn’t say anything. But… you know you can talk to me about-”

“I know. I appreciate it.”

Richie began anxiously fiddling with the phone in his hands, waiting for a specific notification to come through. He honestly didn’t want to have this conversation again, especially in a public place, it would just take one person overhearing it and Richie would refuse to ever show his face around campus again. Bev was a total sweetheart, she was there for Richie through thick and thin, as he was there for her too, but sometimes she asked about this specific problem too much. Not like Richie would ever tell her to stop trying to help, but it would clear he would be uncomfortable with the conversation.

The phone finally vibrated in Richie’s hand, causing his heart to do a flip in his chest as he sat up quickly, unlocking his phone to see a text message with no contact name with only a single character in the text box.

-?

“I gotta go,” Richie said quickly, standing up before Bev could even process what was going on.

“Where do you have to be that’s so damn important?” She asked as Richie was throwing his backpack strap over his torso, shoving his phone in his back pocket.

“Gotta meet up with my project partner,” he leaned down, kissing Bev’s cheek. That was something they’ve always done as best friends. “I’ll see ya later, Molly Ringwald.”

“Fuck you, Trahsmouth.”

Richie waved as he quickly left the sub shop, Bev watching sadly after him. She had a strong gut feeling that there was no project partner. She hated accusing and thinking that Richie was doing this shit again, but after what happened she couldn’t help it…

Bev unlocked her phone, opening up their next door neighbor, Stan’s, text messages.

- i think richies slipping again could you talk to him?

                                                       -----

Richie had walked across campus and then some just to meet up with his “project partner.” Yeah, that was such a good fucking cover up… Richie could tell that Bev didn’t really believe him or his lies and he felt like such an asshole for lying to her but he couldn’t help it anymore. He looked over his shoulder as he walked through the main parking lot where hundreds of cars were parked, but picking out which car he was looking for wasn’t that difficult of a task. In fact, Richie could recognize that crappy red car from anywhere as it was facing away from the campus building so nobody would make out who the driver was.

When Richie walked up to the car, he didn’t even knock on the window or anything to get the drivers attention, instead, he just opened the passengers side door and slid inside, closing the door behind him. In the driver's seat sat Henry Bowers; it was no secret that Henry and Richie fucking hated each others guts, but they needed each other so they would just suck it up for the time being. They had been partnered up for a project about a year ago, but stuck together, lowkey meeting up since Henry became Richie’s dealer; a known dealer at that, and Richie was his best customer.

“Did ya miss me?” Richie asked playfully, a smile on his face.

“Shut up, faggot.”

Richie shrugged the insult off. Henry had called him that so many times it lost any and all meaning.

“I want Pepsi,” Richie gave his overused, failed attempt at a joke. Henry only glared at him, looking like he was about ready to punch him in the jaw. “Get it? You’re supposed to say-”

“I get the fucking joke, Tozier. Especially since you make the joke every fucking time.”

Richie swung the backpack around, pulling out one-hundred dollars he kept at the bottom of all the junk in there. He dropped it on the center console so nobody who was possibly lurking around out in the parking lot could see them exchanging money. Normally, as his own rule, Henry would check everybody’s money, but since RIchie’s money was always good he didn’t feel the need to. From underneath his seat, Henry pulled out a brown paper lunch bag, handing it over to Richie underneath the view of the windshield who immediately shoved it into his backpack.

“So… got any plans later?” Richie only asked him because he knew it pissed him off.

“Get the fuck out of my car.”

“Right,” he said quickly, getting out of the car like he was instructed to do. He waved obnoxiously to Henry before making his way back to the apartment to get what he paid for.

[tivaholic4]

NCIS High School: Chapter Twelve

After they had all eaten their ice cream, they made small talk for about another hour or so. Tony turned to Ziva and smiled as he noticed she was still wearing his jacket. He looked at his watch and noticed that it was almost 9:30. He had seen the text from Rivka to Ziva and decided that it was about time to take her home.

“Hey Guys, it’s getting late and I need to get Ziva home. I don’t want Rivka upset with me.” Ziva chuckled.

“My mother loves you but yes I should get home. Thank you for inviting me. I had a fun time tonight. I have never had ice cream before so this was a first for me. Thank you.” Abby almost fell out of her chair.

“You’ve never had ice cream before?!” Ziva shook her head. She was never allowed ice cream. Another one of her father's unrealistic ideals for her life. Gibbs looked at her with wow in his eyes. Gibbs made a silent promise to protect this girl with everything that he had. Like Tony, he felt a pull towards her, not exactly like Tony, but more of a fatherly protector. She had been practically dictated her entire life and now she could finally live 18 years later. 18 years too late.

Everybody stood up from their chairs, all deciding that it was time to go home as it was getting late, and made their way to their respective cars. Tony opened the passenger side door for Ziva and she stepped in with a small on her face. He went around the car and hopped in on his side and started the engine. They made their way to Ziva’s house in silence. Neither sure what they should talk about. Tony turned to look at her and let out a small smirk when he noticed that Ziva was looking at him too. He looked back to the road and turned the radio up so they weren’t in complete silence.

They pulled into Ziva’s driveway, and just like before, Tony got out and went around to her door to open it. Ziva gave him a sly smile and looked into his beautiful green eyes that were even more beautiful in the night light. God, he was a sight to behold. He walked her up to her door and saw that the porch light was on. No doubt Rivka was waiting for her to get home. She turned to look at him just as they got to the car. He was standing closer to her than she expected and made a quick glance at his lips before looking into his eyes again. He couldn’t help but lean in a bit towards her. The temptation to kiss her was way stronger than it was earlier. They were mere inches from each other when the light in the living room inside the house turned on. Both sensing that Rivka was still up and waiting for her, they stepped apart. Wanting to put some distance between them. Tony gulped and went wide-eyed as he realized what he was about to do. He didn’t want to cross a line. Didn’t want to pressure her into anything. He didn’t want her to go back to her previous thoughts about him. That he was just trying to get into her pants.

Ziva saw his hesitation. Was there something wrong with her? Was he embarrassed or ashamed to kiss her? It was almost like he could read her thoughts. He placed his hand on the side of her cheek and looked her in the eye as he spoke.

“I want to. I really do…” He leaned in a little further, proving his point that she had a hold over him. She leaned in as well. They were millimeters apart when Tony pulled back again.

“Ziva…” All of a sudden, the front door opened to reveal Rivka on the other side with a small smirk on her face. Tony and Ziva looked her way with wide eyes. Tony gulped again and moved away from Ziva.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning for school. If you would like me too, that is.” Ziva gave him a slight nod, embarrassed that her mother caught them.

“I would like that.” She whispered. He smiled and nodded. He made his way back to his car and with a wave pulled out of the driveway and into the night.

Ziva turned to look at her mother, who she couldn’t help but notice the giant smile plastered on her face.

“What?” Ziva asked, already knowing what it was about.

“I used to be that way with your father. He used to look at me that way.” Immediately, Ziva went on the defensive.

“Tony is nothing like Abba, Ima.” Rivka nodded her head sadly.

“Your father was not always that way, Zivaleh. He used to be a good man.”

“I find that very hard to believe.” Ziva scoffed. After all he did to her, she was supposed to believe him to be a good man?

“Eli was never the same once he joined Mossad, neither was Ari.” Ziva looked at the lights that were illuminating the streets around them. Rivka kept speaking even though Ziva wished she would stop this conversation before it became too hurtful.

“Ziva. You are smitten with this boy and he you. Embrace it. Let him in. I can see that you want to.”

“Everyone who gets close always ends up dead. Eli, Ari, and now Tali. I can not afford to lose anyone else.” Rivka again looked away sadly.

“Zivaleh.” Ziva shook her head and stepped into the house, making her way up the stairs to her bedroom that was still littered with boxes. She moved over to one and pulled away at the top. What she saw inside made her cry. It was a picture of Ari, Tali, and herself when they were kids. Ari around the age of 12, Ziva around the age of 8, and Tali around the age of 4. They were so innocent, so childlike. What happened to the family that she used to know? Oh right, it was all taken away from her. From a hardcore father to death. Nothing about her family was even remotely normal.

Ziva looked around her room to see where she could place the photo. She settled on the empty spot on her dresser next to her grandmother’s jewelry box. She looked around her room once more. They had painted the day before and her room was now a beautiful shade of dark blue. Her bed having a white comforter, matched perfectly with the paint and was quite comfortable. She had a nightstand with a lamp on it next to her bed and a desk with binders and notebooks piled up on top of it next to it. Her dresser was a beautiful oak wood and fit perfectly in the space between her closet. She had her own bathroom too. Something she wasn’t even remotely used to.

She always had to share a bathroom with her siblings and other guests that came to their house. Now, she had this private bathroom where she could take long hot showers and stay in the bath for however long she wanted.

Ziva moved over to her desk and sat down in her chair. She pulled out her Chemistry notebook and pulled her homework out of the folder. She solved the first 5 problems fairly quickly and was about to move onto her next problem when her phone buzzed beside her. It was from Tony.

Tony: Hey. My family and I are having a BBQ tomorrow night. Would you want to come?

Ziva’s face scrunched up in confusion.

Ziva: What is a BBQ?

Tony: A Barbeque. Maybe there we can teach you some American slang.

Ziva smiled. He would never forget to fix her English.

Ziva: Great. What time?

Tony: Sweet! Around 7. Is that okay?

Ziva: Sounds good.

Tony: Hey Zi, can I ask you a question?

Ziva’s smile became bigger. Her heart beating rapidly.

Ziva: Of course.

Tony: Can I call you?

Ziva: Yes.

Her phone began ringing immediately. She laughed as there was no hesitation. She hit the answer button and was met with Tony’s voice.

“Hey Zi. I need your help with something if you’re willing to that is.”

“Ask away.” She could practically feel his smile on the other end of the line.

“So I was wondering about this math homework. Math’s never been good to me and I know you understand it a whole lot better than I do. Can you help me with a couple of problems?”

By this time, Ziva had already pulled out her math notebook and folder and was pulling out their math homework.

“What questions do you need help with?” This time there was some hesitation on his end.

“Uhh...like all of them. I think after someone explains the first three or so, I’ll be able to get the rest.”

“Okay. I am going to put you on speakerphone so I do not have to hold it. Be nice.” Ziva’s laugh rang through the phone and he followed soon after.

They worked on their problems together, Ziva showing him how to do them, and Tony listening intently to the information that she was providing. When Tony finally got it, they both worked on their homework together, Tony checking to make sure he was right, which he was. Tony finally understood what they were doing as of right now in this class. Math always kicked his ass no matter how hard he studied it. Not that he did much of that, but still, a total train wreck.

“Thank you for helping me. I think I'll get a better grade on that quiz tomorrow. Thanks, Zi.”

“No problem, Tony. Anytime.”

“Really?” His tone was mischievous and playful, something that made Ziva laugh again.

“Homework, Tony.” His laugh made butterflies appear in her stomach. Something that only he was able to do.

They talked about school and their other classes for about an hour and a half before Ziva noticed the clock on her nightstand.

“It is getting late, Tony. I should probably head to bed. I will see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah. See you in the morning...Sweetcheeks.” Ziva smiled. She liked this new nickname. Well only when it was just them. Not in front of everybody.

“Good night, Tony.”

“Night, Ziva.” Ziva pulled the phone from her ear and reluctantly hung up the phone. She could stay up all night and talk to him. Something she had never even thought of doing before. Everything was different now. And as she was drifting off to sleep under her warm comforter, she couldn’t believe how happy she was.

[btshogwartsauheadcanons]

The Constellation Effect | Chapter 1

Pairings: Taehyung x Yoongi; Yoongi x Y/N

Ratings: slow burn, angst, soulmate au, fluff

Summary:

It's Yoongi's last year in Hogwarts, his last year to wonder about what he really wants to do after graduating. He can't think of a worst possible year to start falling for someone who isn't even able to leave the Hogwarts castle than this one.

It's Taehyung's last year before the Sickness finally causes him to slip into that dreaded coma. If only the ghost of his past self could finally pass over so Taehyung could focus on other things: becoming a Dragon Tamer, and finding out who has the same constellation tattoo he has.

It's Y/N's last year, or at least she hopes so. Or maybe she doesn't. It's kind of difficult when you're a ghost and in love with your best friend who happens to be graduating soon.

Connecting all three of them is the Constellation Effect, a universal phenomenon that marks everyone with stars and constellations on their shoulders, connecting them through past lives and dictating who belongs with whom.

Featuring: NamJin's never-empty plates of food, VHope if you look closely, and JiKook if you stay tuned to the next chapter.

Word Count: 6k words

A/N: Omg I’m so sorry this is so laaaaate. I finished the chapter a few days ago but I only got to upload it now T^T. Anyway, here’s the first chapter finally and I just really hope that college doesn’t stress me out enough to delay the next chapter. Also, I hope you guys really enjoy my first attempt at making a BTS Hogwarts soulmate AU :)

Check this out for more info about the soulmate AU

Part 1 of ?

“I can’t believe they deemed you mature enough to be Head Boy for Gryffindor,” Yoongi muttered as he watched Seokjin polish the pin on his robes for what seemed to be the fifth time that morning.

“Hey! I’m mature when I want to be,” Seokjin protested indignantly. “But, if you’re looking at the pool of seventh-year Gryffindor boys to choose from, I’d say this is pretty reasonable,” he shrugged. “Plus, it does match my overall aesthetic of—”

“Big-headedness?” Namjoon interrupted, poking his head into their train compartment. Yoongi laughed at the reaction on Seokjin’s face.

“I am this close to breaking up with you,” Seokjin scowled.

“That’s what you said last time, babe,” Namjoon grinned, kissing his boyfriend on the forehead before sliding into the seat next to him. Meanwhile, Yoongi stretched his legs out completely across the seat that was all his. He never really felt bothered by being the third wheel around Seokjin and Namjoon, or NamJin as he liked to call them to save on syllables. If they loved each other who was he to stop them from showing it?

“So, last year for you guys, huh?” Namjoon said, looking at both Yoongi and Seokjin.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded, looking out the window at the students in the station who were either loading their trunks, saying goodbye to their parents, boarding the train, or just doing a bunch of those things at the same time. “I can’t believe it’s been seven years already. It all feels so fast…”

“Awww, Yoongi’s getting all emotional on us already,” Seokjin sighed.

“Hyung it’s only the start of the school year and I thought I was the dramatic one,” Namjoon added, grinning cheekily at him.

“Shut up,” Yoongi scowled.

“Oh by the way hyung, did you check out that thing I sent you?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, I have it with me right now,” Yoongi nodded, pulling out a folded-up flyer from his jeans pocket. ‘MUSIC PRODUCERS WANTED’ was written on the top in big, bold letters. Yoongi’s eyes were especially drawn to the ‘BigHit’ logo on the very top part of the flyer. Most of the music Namjoon and Jungkook recommended him and had grown to love listening to were made by artists and producers under that entertainment company. Yoongi practically died and rose again when he pulled the flyer out of the envelope Namjoon sent him over the summer.

“What do you think?” Namjoon grinned, raising his eyebrow.

“That would be perfect for you!” Seokjin exclaimed.

“Do you really think I can make it?” Yoongi frowned. “I mean, I only started producing a year ago and—”

“You’re an absolute genius at it,” Namjoon cut him off. “Trust me Yoongi, your music sounds like you’ve been producing for years,” he grinned.

“Even I like it,” Seokjin added, nodding his head. “And I don’t even listen to your kind of music that much.”

“Thanks guys,” Yoongi quirked his lips up in a smile. “I-I think I’ll go for it then. I mean, I haven’t even done any apprenticeship or training things yet anyway.” He knew that most of his fellow seventh-years often took the opportunity during summer break do join apprenticeships or special training classes in things that they wanted to do in the future like working with the Ministry or becoming an Auror.

“Didn’t you do Ministry work with your dad?” Seokjin frowned.

“That doesn’t count,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I was there for a week before I finally bought some Puking Pastilles and pretended to be sick for another week.”

“A true Slytherin genius,” Seokjin clapped his hands slowly. “Wish I thought of that before being hauled off by my mother to join all her stupid business meetings.”

“You didn’t get to take up Professor McGonagall’s offer on becoming a Teaching Assistant did you?” Namjoon said sadly, placing his hand on Seokjin’s knee. Yoongi pouted sympathetically. Seokjin was one of those rare seventh-years who wanted to be a professor after graduating from Hogwarts. He often joked about gracing the History of Magic class with a more handsome face once he was qualified to be a professor. Still, he was quite the serious student and an even more serious study buddy whenever exams came up. Yoongi knew Seokjin would make an amazing professor.

“Well, there’s always this year,” Seokjin flashed his signature carefree grin and put his feet up on the seat next to Yoongi who scowled and inched himself away.

“Idiot, you’re Head Boy this year. Say goodbye to your beauty sleep,” Yoongi reminded him.

“Way to ruin the vibe,” Seokjin groaned.

“You’re supposed to be checking on the other students too before the train leaves,” Namjoon added.

“That can wait,” Seokjin waved it off and leaned his head on Namjoon’s shoulder. Yoongi chuckled at the two of them and looked down at the flyer, smoothing it over on his lap.

“You still have plenty of time to work on your track,” Namjoon pointed out. “The deadline’s still in December.”

“It’s gotta be a damn good one if I’m trying to get into BigHit,” Yoongi muttered, feeling his fingers subconsciously tapping on his knee, already trying to figure out some kind of main melody for his track.

“If it’s in December, you could come over to my house too during Christmas break if you need to use some equipment,” Namjoon volunteered. “Just tell your parents you’re staying over at Hogwarts again or something.”

“R-really?” Yoongi looked up at him with wide eyes. “That would be great!”

“Wow, you’re inviting him over for the holidays instead of your own boyfriend,” Seokjin huffed.

“What’s the use? My mom’s already sending you a personal invitation,” Namjoon grinned, pinching his boyfriend’s cheek.

“I guess she’s relieved that Namjoon has a soulmate that will really take care of him,” Yoongi chuckled.

“It’s hard not being the Mom Friend when you’re in a group that has both Namjoon and Kim Tae—”

“Mom!” Taehyung yelled, sliding the door to the train compartment open. The three of them inside jumped in surprise at his sudden appearance. Taehyung was still wearing his regular Muggle clothes: jeans, and what appeared to be either his pajama top or another one of his weird ‘fashionista’ tops. He was clutching a roll of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other.

“And another year in Hogwarts has begun,” Seokjin sighed.

“You need to help me with this essay,” Taehyung pleaded, looking at Seokjin and Namjoon.

“Come in and sit down,” Yoongi offered, moving his legs so that there was room on the seat next to him. Taehyung looked at him in surprise, as if realizing he was just there, before finally sliding into the seat next to him.

“Wait, don’t tell me this is the essay for your apprenticeship application,” Seokjin frowned. Taehyung nodded.

“Taehyung, tomorrow morning’s the deadline isn’t it?” Namjoon sighed. Yoongi found himself chuckling at the three of them. There was no way he was going to deny the fact that Taehyung was actually Namjoon and Seokjin’s child.

“What are you planning to apprentice in?” Yoongi asked, sliding closer to Taehyung.

“A Dragon Tamer’s assistant!” he exclaimed, the worried look on his face instantly melting away as he grinned. “Drake Pendleton, the most famous Dragon Tamer in Wales. He’s so good he managed to lure a Hungarian Horntail in a cage with nothing but two chickens.”

“And at this rate you won’t be able to see him if you don’t send that essay,” Seokjin warned. “How much have you written so far?”

“Two paragraphs,” Taehyung bit his lip, showing the parchment wherein two paragraphs, very short ones, were written in his signature, barely-legible handwriting. “Its hard to think of what to say and then write it down…” he mumbled.

“Well, two paragraphs is not nothing. I’m sure you can finish it within the day,” Yoongi reassured him.

“You of all people know that feeling,” Namjoon joked. Yoongi smirked in response. He was always cramming whatever he had due on the day itself. But despite how bad that sounded, it did come in handy when there was way more requirements than usual and cramming was the only thing left to do.

“Well catch you later then,” Seokjin adjusted his robes and stood up.

“Wait, where are you going?” Taehyung pouted. “You have to help me here.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Seokjin winked at him. “And besides, I was supposed to be in the compartment with the Prefects five minutes ago.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Namjoon volunteered, not quite to either Yoongi’s or Taehyung’s surprise. “I’ll try to help you out later, okay Taehyung?” And with one last wave from him, the two of them left the train compartment.

“Sorry again for bothering you,” Taehyung rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I really thought Namjoon-hyung and Seokjin-hyung would have time today to help me out. I guess I’ll go do it on my own.”

“Alright,” Yoongi shrugged, handing Taehyung’s essay back to him. Among the maknaes, Yoongi realized that Taehyung was probably the person he hung out with the least. Jungkook was his housemate and practically his little brother. Jimin was in the Dueling Club so they saw each other quite often. But Taehyung… it was pretty much evident that the boy didn’t really have a regular schedule. He pretty much did what he felt like doing at the moment, and that could be anything.

What he did know about Taehyung though, ever since he was in first year when he and the maknaes joined his circle of friends, was that he had the Sleeping Sickness. Every knew about it. After all, it wasn’t something easy to hide and Yoongi himself had witnessed Taehyung’s fainting spells time and time again. It was something everyone in their friend group was concerned about. He couldn’t possibly imagine how that would feel: to be branded and seen by everyone as someone with the Sleeping Sickness.

‘It’s going to be his last year too,’ Yoongi realized. It kind of terrified him now that Taehyung, one of his friends and people he personally knew, could just slip into that coma and probably never wake up. But judging by the way Taehyung was practically stressing his eyeballs out over his essay, it looked as if he was still quite optimistic about his future. It was Kim Taehyung after all.

“I guess I’ll get going,” Taehyung sighed and stood up by the train compartment door. “Jimin promised he would help me write this essay too.”

“Good luck,” Yoongi smiled a tight smile and waved before Taehyung finally left.

Now that he was alone in the train compartment, Yoongi found himself settling into his normal sleeping position: curled up on his side with his two hands pressed tightly in-between his thighs. His friends always told him he looked weird when he was asleep but Yoongi couldn’t help it, he liked having his hands close to him.

But even in his favorite sleeping position, Yoongi couldn’t quite stop the rush of anticipation he felt as the train grew closer and closer to Hogwarts. After a few more futile attempts, Yoongi had to give in, knowing that there was no way he was going to have his nap anytime soon when he knew he was going to see Y/n in a few hours.

Y/n, L/n. The ghost girl who haunted the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts Castle. And most importantly, Yoongi’s best friend since he was a first year. He could still clearly remember how he came across her while figuring out a secret entrance from the Astronomy Tower to the Ravenclaw Tower without having to pass through the enchanted doorway. She liked the fact that Yoongi wasn’t scared or wary of her and he liked that she was an easy person to talk to. Eventually, it became an everyday thing for Yoongi to go and see her at least once a day, mostly at night.

‘She never gets tired of looking at the stars,’ Yoongi thought with a wistful smile on his face. And with that, he found himself finally drifting off to sleep.

…

“Back so soon?” Jimin looked up and frowned when he saw Taehyung enter the train compartment they shared not long after he left.

“He had to go join the Prefects now that he’s Head Boy,” Taehyung pouted and sat down on the seat right beside Hoseok, across Jimin and Jungkook.

“I’m guessing Namjoon joined him too,” Hoseok smirked.

“Those two are practically glued together,” Jungkook said.

“Speak for yourself,” Taehyung and Hoseok chorused. Jimin erupted laughing.

“Yoongi-hyung was there though…” Taehyung added softly, already feeling his face beginning to flush.

“Well you should have asked him for help!” Hoseok started, standing up on his feet. “Come on, let’s go back.”

“No, he seems busy,” Taehyung shook his head. “He looked like he had something on his mind.”

“He always does,” Jimin shrugged.

“If only Hoseok could just talk about what makes hyung tick so we can help Taehyung out here,” Jungkook glared at Hoseok. But because of his so-called ‘bunny features’, it didn’t look threatening at all.

“My lips are sealed,” Hoseok shook his head.

“I guess I’ll have to rely on you three to help me write this thing,” Taehyung waved his sheet of parchment in the air.

“How many questions have you finished?” Hoseok asked.

“…One. Now I’m on ‘What kind of previous experiences with magical creatures do you think will help you as an apprentice?’”

“That’s easy,” Jungkook shrugged and put his feet up on the seat next to Hoseok who grimaced and pushed them away. “Just talk about that time you visited the Acromantula cave for a week when one of them was injured.”

“But Acromantulas are different from dragons.”

“How about that time you hatched salamander eggs all by yourself in the Ravenclaw Common Room?” Jimin suggested. “Salamanders are kind of similar to dragons.”

“And I bet Filch has a record of that if you need anything to prove your story,” Hoseok nudged him. Taehyung grinned at the memory of him and his friends trying to hatch salamander eggs together in the Ravenclaw Common Room’s fireplace. Even Yoongi was there passing cool towels around for people to prevent them from overheating. A small fire did happen inside the room but nothing an Aguamenti charm couldn’t handle. Still, Taehyung was punished with detention for his recklessness.

“I think I’ll go with that,” Taehyung nodded, picking up his quill before starting to write about it in his essay.

“Man, being Pendleton’s apprentice is going to be amazing for you,” Jimin sighed with an excited grin on his face. “You’ll be able to go to his awesome laboratory and travel with him around the world…”

“You better get his autographs for us when you do,” Jungkook added.

“Hold on, hold on, I haven’t even sent this essay yet,” Taehyung laughed nervously in reaction to his friends’ excitement. “I mean, I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to get in…”

“I’m sure Pendleton will see that you have what it takes,” Hoseok placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re more experienced at magical creatures than anyone I know in Hogwarts, except maybe Hagrid. And even he says than you know more than the seventh-year students he has.”

“But, I have the Sickness too,” Taehyung finally blurted out. Instantly, the look of excitement on his friends’ faces disappeared, replaced by looks of sympathy. Taehyung felt regret form like a lump in his throat, his friends only wanted to be excited for him. But the fine line between supporting Taehyung’s future dreams and escaping the current reality he was in grew thinner and thinner every day. It was almost his fifteenth year.

Among all of them, it was Jungkook who broke the silence.

“Well, if Pendleton rejects your application because of your Sleeping Sickness, then he’s not as resourceful and adventurous as we thought,” he said.

“You really do know the right thing to say sometimes,” Jimin smiled proudly at him.

“It’s true though,” Hoseok shrugged. “And besides, I’m positive that you’ll be fixed up and Sleeping Sickness-free by the time the year ends,” he grinned reassuringly. 

“I really do hope that some huge plot twist in my life happens before the year ends,” Taehyung shrugged one shoulder.

“Does this plot twist involve someone really short, kinda grumpy, and very good at dueling?” Hoseok raised his eyebrows. Jimin and Jungkook quickly joined in on the teasing.

“Shut up,” Taehyung groaned despite the embarrassed smile that was quickly growing on his face. “I regret my life the minute I started telling you guys about my Yoongi crush.”

“Who said we were talking about Yoongi?” Jungkook said. “I thought Hoseok was talking about Professor Flitwick.” And with that, the entire compartment dissolved into fits of laughter.

“Ugh, you guys are the worst. I’m doing my essay somewhere else,” Taehyung made a face at them and stepped out of the train compartment, still holding the piece of parchment he was writing on.

And that’s when his vision began to swim.

Taehyung gripped the door of the compartment to steady himself, blinking rapidly in order to get his bearings back again even though he knew that rarely worked. ‘No, not now! I still have to finish this essay!’ he thought frantically. But his vision only grew worse with the same black spots he’s known all his life appearing at the edges of his sight.

“Taehyung? You okay?” he heard Hoseok call out to him but his voice sounded further away than normal.

“H-hyung…” Taehyung said weakly before finally letting his legs give way, feeling a pair of hands catching him before he fell.

…

Yoongi found himself feeling antsy and restless throughout the entire Hogwarts opening feast. Was it just him, or were there at least a dozen more First-years in the new batch? Or maybe the Sorting Hat was taking a longer time than usual sorting the new students.

Sitting beside Namjoon and Seokjin seemed to make matters worse. Seokjin constantly refilled his plate while Namjoon practically had two bites of food for every ten minutes because he was reading another book so the sight of their full plates made it seem like time was barely passing at all. It drove Yoongi crazy. If there weren’t professors constantly keeping an eye on the Great Hall doors, Yoongi would have left in a heartbeat. Even though it was his last year of Hogwarts, and therefore his last Great Feast, Yoongi knew he wanted to spend it elsewhere.

‘She must be restless already,’ Yoongi thought, remembering that time when Y/N practically floated straight through him, probably her own way of clamoring him, the minute he stepped through the door. That was last year.

“Hey, has anyone see those three around?” Seokjin frowned, looking around the Great Hall. Yoongi joined in, glad that there was something to put his mind off the waiting. By ‘those three’, Seokjin always meant the maknaes. Just then, Yoongi spotted Hoseok – quite easily considering the fact that he always seemed to make his Hufflepuff robes seem more majestic than usual – stand up and walk over to their table.

“Finally got tired of them?” Yoongi smirked at him as he sat down.

“Aish, I’ll never get tired of my teammates,” Hoseok denied. “Well, maybe a little,” he added.

“You’re in a safe, quiet space,” Seokjin patted his back and handed him a plate of dinner rolls. “Come on, I don’t think you were able to eat properly around all that noise.”

“Thanks,” Hoseok flashed a tired smile and grabbed a few of the rolls.

“Hey, do you know where those three are? We haven’t seen them all night,” Namjoon asked, finally marking the page he was reading in his book and setting it down.

“Oh,” Hoseok’s face fell slightly and Yoongi could quickly guessed what he was going to say next. “It’s Taehyung.”

“Again?” Namjoon frowned worriedly. The joking, happy demeanor the four of them had earlier vanished. Even Seokjin stopped eating. “The last time that happened was like what, a week ago?”

“3 days,” Yoongi shook his head. “Jungkook wrote to me. Taehyung was sleeping over at his at that time.”

“Its supposed to be his final year already,” Hoseok added softly. “And he’s still signing up for Pendleton’s apprenticeship, something that he most definitely deserves to have and something he’ll undoubtedly get if it weren’t…”

“For the Sleeping Sickness,” Yoongi finished, nodding slowly.

“It just really sucks,” Hoseok shook his head.

“Well, its amazing that he’s still quite optimistic,” Namjoon smiled. “I mean, compared to other people I’ve met who have it. Taehyung really is amazing.”

‘You can think of it that way…’ Yoongi thought to himself but chose not to say it out loud anyway. Instead, he felt his hand reach instinctively to touch the tattoo on his shoulder. He couldn’t tell if it was just him, but he felt a sudden itch. Just then, a hush fell upon the Great Hall as Headmistress McGonagall approached the podium in front of the professors’ table.

“Students of Hogwarts,” she greeted. “Another Great Feast is approaching its end. For some of you, there are many, many more to come and for others, this will be one of your last few ones.”

“Why does she make it sound so ominous?” Seokjin shivered. Yoongi chuckled at him.

“Before letting you go to your dormitories,” Yoongi perked up slightly when he heard that, “I would like to make a special announcement.”

“I knew it! They’re finally adding an amphitheater!” Namjoon grinned and high-fived Yoongi.

“I guess we finally got through to McGonagall,” he cheered.

“This year,” McGonagall continued. Yoongi strained his ears to listen. “We’re going to have… a Yule Ball!”

“NO!” Yoongi and Namjoon groaned simultaneously.

“You tried,” Seokjin sighed, patting Namjoon on the back.

“The Yule Ball, often held during the now-illegal TriWizard Tournament, will happen at the end of the year and will be used as a fundraiser for a new amphitheater in school,” McGonagall finally finished. The Great Hall erupted into cheers.

“No way!” a grin broke out on Namjoon’s face again.

“Hey, won’t it be done by the end of the year? Like, when I’m about to leave?” Yoongi frowned. “Ah! Not fair!” he groaned.

“You can come back maybe?” Hoseok suggested.

“It’s not going to be the same,” Yoongi pouted.

“Information about the Yule Ball will be released later during the year,” McGonagall added. “But for now, everyone is invited to join dance lessons after school every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Hey, let’s join that!” Seokjin elbowed Namjoon.

“Fine. But only because its your last your last year,” Namjoon smiled at his boyfriend. Yoongi wouldn’t deny that sometimes he did feel uncomfortable around Seokjin and Namjoon. Not because he felt jealous or disgusted, but because seeing their feelings for each other overwhelmed him. Their wistful smiles, the soft hand-touches, the way their heads and bodies automatically leaned towards each other when they were together, all of them echoing with ‘I love you and I’m glad I’m with you.’

It scared Yoongi.

He thought again about Y/n, his best friend, the ghost of the girl who died too quickly, never tasting the kind of love that Seokjin and Namjoon had, and ended up haunting the Astronomy Tower because of that lack.

Love was dangerous. And Yoongi didn’t know if he wanted to be a part of that.

…

“One hour…” Y/N whispered. You were sitting on the windowsill with your knees pulled up to your chest, watching the last thin trail of sands run down the hourglass. Gently, you picked it up and turned it over again. ‘Professor McGonagall must have some new big announcement this year,’ you wondered. The last Great Hall feast, the year when Yoongi entered to start his sixth year, just lasted for about two and a half hours. This one was already one hour over that time.

Of course, that was nothing compared to the entire summer break. Not only was she unable to see Yoongi, but write letters to him as well. Pranking Filch with Peeves and chatting with the Gray Lady occupied some of her time, but not a great big portion of it. Not enough to ignore the fact that Yoongi wasn’t there and that after this year, he won’t be coming back for a long time.

Were you in love with him? Undeniably so. And knowing that only made it passing on even harder. You felt sorry for whoever was occupying her next body but that even that couldn’t stop her feelings.

‘Maybe I’ll vanish too, after he leaves Hogwarts,’ you wondered. But based on what the other Hogwarts ghosts said, ghosts who had lived in the castle for centuries, passing on was difficult. Even more so if you’ve been around for quite some time.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening startled you out of your thoughts. You smiled at the familiar sight: Yoongi, with his inky black hair, worn-out but expensive clothes, and, you dared to think it, that glint in his eyes whenever he saw you.

“Yoongi!”

“Sorry I’m late Y/N,” Yoongi panted. It was clear that he probably ran up the stairs to the tower. “The feast took forever.”

“You should be enjoying it,” you grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

Yoongi’s reply was already on his face and Y/N quickly looked away, wishing you hadn’t brought it up too early on in your meet-up. But Yoongi didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked towards you and picked up the hourglass.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” he smiled slightly, looking down at it.

“Of course, a decent Yoongi gift is pretty rare,” you laughed.

“Hey! I only gave you a rock five times,” he protested.

“Five times out of six!”

“Fair enough,” Yoongi sighed, clearly knowing he lost. You smiled at the hourglass still in his hands. It was made of carved red oak, polished and varnished until it shone. Inside the glass were grains of sand that magically changed color whenever you turned the hourglass.

“It makes up for all of those rock gifts though,” you chuckled, putting your feet down and scooching over closer to him. “Well, almost.”

“My company itself is the gift,” Yoongi joked.

“As if!”

“I guess the normal topic of conversation right now would be ‘What did you do over the summer?’ but I doubt that’s going to be more of a one-side conversation,” Yoongi looked up at you. His bangs fell over his forehead in a wave and you resisted the urge to push them back. You could only touch objects, not people. If you tried to, all Yoongi could feel would be ice on his brow.

“You know how much I love one-side conversations,” you grinned at him instead, pulling your knees up to your chest again and resting your chin on top.

“Alright then,” Yoongi grinned, adjusting his position so he was leaning against the window frame before proceeding to talk about his summer. You always liked watching Yoongi talk for lengths at time. He rarely talked at length with people, except his friends, but when he did, it was often at length. It sometimes amazed you that he had all of those thoughts stored up inside him. No wonder his rap lyrics were often so good.

“I think you should definitely go for submitting to BigHit,” you said. “It sounds like something you want to do. And don’t you want to see how good your music is out in the Muggle world?”

“I know but…” Yoongi pouted slightly. “It means I’ll have to be gone during Christmas break to work on it. I won’t—”

“A few weeks of Christmas break is way shorter than two whole months of summer,” you waved him off. “And if you miss this kind of opportunity, I’ll haunt you every night starting at two in the morning,” you warned.

“Aish, you’re really evil,” Yoongi groaned but smiled nonetheless. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here?”

‘I’ll miss you… terribly,’ you thought but again, held it back. “As long as you give more presents,” you grinned cheekily.

“Fine, more rocks it is then,” he laughed.

“Get out of here!”

Yoongi laughed even louder at that and you couldn’t help but join in. He always made you laugh.

But all the while, you kept wondering how it was possible for your chest to hurt even if you didn’t have a body.

…

“Come on, its three in the morning already. Filch will give you hell for this,” Y/N urged Yoongi again, gesturing at the hourglass beside them which had completed another hour.

“Don’t lie, you sent Peeves after him again, didn’t you?” Yoongi pointed.

“How dare you accuse me of such a crime!” Y/N gasped before finally laughing and nodding. “Yeah, I did.”

“I knew it,” Yoongi smirked and leaned back against the wall as he looked at Y/N again. It was obvious that she wouldn’t change over the summer. Same hair, same height, same long, white, nightgown. Sometimes Yoongi wondered how she would change over the years as a normal Hogwarts student. Maybe she’d wear more make-up or fix her hair differently, or change up her clothing style. But then thinking about all of that made him feel undeniably sad. No, Y/N was never going to change. Only disappear, if she ever did.

“Come on,” Y/N urged him again. “You need to wake up bright and early for your first seventh-year class!”

“Fine…” Yoongi finally gave in and stood up. “But I’m telling you, I really don’t do bright and early.” Y/N smiled up at him. He couldn’t tell if it was the moonlight shining but somehow, she seemed to be glowing quite brightly. A puzzled look came up on her face and Yoongi quickly looked away when he remembered he was staring.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and making his way to the door.

“See you tomorrow, Yoongi,” Y/N called after him before he finally left the room. Once outside, Yoongi pulled out his wand and cast a Lumos charm before going down the winding steps of the Astronomy Tower. Once he reached the bottom landing where the upper floor hallway was, Yoongi headed off to the left, passing the Ravenclaw Tower and towards where the stairs were. Suddenly, he heard a small voice call out to him.

“Yoongi-hyung!”

“AHHH!” Yoongi dropped his wand in surprise and whirled around to find Taehyung sitting on the ground, near the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower.

“Scared you?” Taehyung grinned cheekily, picking up Yoongi’s wand and handing it back to him.

“W-why aren’t you in bed?” Yoongi stammered.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Taehyung returned the question.

“Answer my question first!”

“Fine, fine,” Taehyung gave in. “I was working on my essay,” he answered, pulling out a piece of parchment from his pocket.

“In the dark?”

“Glow-in-the-dark pen!” Taehyung grinned, showing off a pen, not unlike the one Namjoon used. “I bought it at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. The ink glows in the dark but only in the hands of its user. Under regular light, it just looks like plain ink.”

“That’s pretty nifty,” Yoongi raised his eyebrows in appreciation.

“So, why are you out at night, hyung?” Taehyung asked.

“I was just stargazing,” Yoongi lied effortlessly.

“Ooh, I never knew you liked doing that too,” Taehyung grinned. “Tell me when you go next time so we can watch together!”

“Sure,” Yoongi smiled and ruffled his hair, even though he had to reach up a bit since Taehyung was already two inches taller than him. And without even fully considering it, he said “Need any more help with your essay?”

“Um…” Taehyung looked down at his parchment. “It’s kind of late and—”

“Come on, two heads are better than one,” Yoongi shrugged and sat down on the floor where Taehyung was earlier. Reluctantly, Taehyung joined him, unfolding his essay on the floor between them.

“Hmm… it’s going to be even harder working in this lighting,” Taehyung muttered. “Hold on…” Yoongi watched silently as Taehyung took off his shoe and with a wave and a tap of his wand, transfigured it into an oil lamp. Yoongi whistled in surprise.

“Once again, your Transfiguration skills are amazing,” he praised him.

“Thanks,” Taehyung grinned. “I haven’t seen Filch around so this should be okay.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be coming anytime soon,” Yoongi chuckled. “Oh, maybe you should mention your Transfiguration skills in your essay.”

“Good idea!” Taehyung grinned, bending over as he scribbled some more stuff on the parchment. “I kind of lost time by fainting earlier but at this rate, I should be done with this by morning.”

“That’s the spirit!” Yoongi patted him on the back.

“Man, I really hope I get accepted into this apprenticeship,” Taehyung sighed. “If I see him taming a dragon in real life I’ll probably faint. But like, just because of that.” Yoongi burst out laughing which made Taehyung laugh too.

“That… that might not be such a good idea,” Yoongi said in between catching his breath from laughing too hard.

“I’m glad you laughed,” Taehyung grinned. “When I joke about it around my friends I usually just get a look of concern on their face.”

“Hmm, I wonder why?”

After an hour more of exchanging ideas, and some jokes, Taehyung finally finished his essay. Yoongi patiently waited for him to finish rewriting it on a fresh piece of parchment before leaving. Even though it was four in the morning, Yoongi didn’t feel in the least bit tired. In fact, he felt quite excited for Taehyung. ‘I don’t care if he has the Sleeping Sickness or not and ends up fainting while riding a dragon or something, I hope Taehyung gets this apprenticeship.’

“You really were a big help hyung, I owe you three pranks,” Taehyung grinned, looking up at him over his essay.

“I’ll take note of that,” Yoongi grinned.

“Have you tried signing up for apprenticeships yet?” Taehyung asked.

“Not really an apprenticeship,” Yoongi shook his head. “It’s… more of a Muggle internship.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded-up flyer that was still there and handed it to Taehyung.

“Whoa, this was the one Namjoon-hyung was raving about,” he said. “Hyung, you should really join this!”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Yoongi shrugged one shoulder. “There’s a high chance that I’ll be rejected due to my inexperience but I still think that it could be worth a shot. Right now, not doing anything scares me even more.”

“Hmmm… me too,” Taehyung smiled sadly and leaned back against the wall. “It’s… it’s weird that I’m trying for this apprenticeship even though it is supposed to be my last year but I can’t help it.”

“You must really believe that your previous ghost reincarnation is going to pass on,” Yoongi remarked.

“It’s not that,” Taehyung shook his head. “I… I don’t really have a lot of hope for that. I’d rather take things into my own hands and try to make the best out of things before I, you know, slip into that coma. Of course I still hope that I wake up and all…”

“I hope that too,” Yoongi nodded. “Hoseok will cry for months and bother me if you don’t. Actually, everyone will.”

“How about you hyung?” Taehyung mock-pouted. “Aren’t you going to cry?”

“I’ll probably be busy handing everyone tissues,” Yoongi grinned cheekily and stood up. “Well, I guess my work here is done. Make sure you write the right address on the envelope.”

“Thanks again hyung!” Taehyung grinned. “See you around.”

And with that, Yoongi resumed walking back to his dormitory. Once he reached the end of the hallway, he couldn’t help but turn around to look at Taehyung sitting on the floor with his knees curled up to his chest as he wrote; the lamp in front of him cast everything in a warm light. Yoongi’s mind brought up the image of Y/N from earlier, right when he entered the Astronomy Tower, sitting with her knees curled up to her chest as well as she watched the hourglass; the moonlight from the window bathing her in cool, white light. 

[neothebard]

My time here is done.

Most anyone reading this that just stumbled upon it don’t know who I am, but those that do know me that got this link know me very well.

Hi, I’m known on Moon Guard as Neo Starstrider, Void Elf Hunter (High Elf Paladin in a previous life) though in the past I have gone by ‘The Doctor’ Andalian Morrison, Human Chronomancer and Illusionist best known for his time in Pyrebird Sodality. As well as Cillvia ‘The Fox’ Morrison, Human Rogue who climbed the ranks of the Melrony Crime Family to become its Underboss before stabbing Selvetore Melrony in the back (both IC and OOC, get to that in a bit.) and leaving to form her own company, Morrison Shipping and Trade, aka The Morrisons. But before that, I was simply Neo, a Human Paladin from Sargeras that raided and posted penis macros in trade chat.

Why am I writing all of this? Well, I’ve come to a turning point in my life where I have to start doing things a bit differently. And the thing I need to do different is cancel my WoW Subscription.

This is going to be a long story. So if you wish to keep reading, go ahead. If you wanna skip it and go straight to my reasoning for leaving, just go until you get to the break.

I was first introduced to WoW when I was in High School. I was having a get together at my house with some friends when one of them found my computer and began to download the game onto it. I asked him what that was and he said “This is World of Warcraft.” He let me create an Undead Warrior to play with for a bit. I enjoyed it quite a bit. But it wasn’t until that summer that I really got hooked onto that game.

Another friend of mine got me to play with him. This time I played a Night Elf Druid and boy oh boy was that a fun experience leveling. I only got him to level 12 before I stopped for a few months but it was still tons of fun! After a short break, I came back and made a Human Paladin on Sargeras known as Neotar. That same friend that was playing with me before made a Night Elf Hunter named Adremmalech and we both decided that we were going to get to max level with these characters no matter what.

We leveled and leveled and we both hit level 40 the day Burning Crusade was released. To celebrate our accomplishment, we ran our level 40 mounts all the way to the Exodar from Stormwind to check out the new Alliance city. Needless to say, it was super dope! But we weren’t done. We continued the Vanilla grind to level 60, stepped through the Dark Portal for the first time and were in absolute awe. What an experience it was to see that giant pit lord standing at the bottom of the stairs. The musical score blasting in our headphones. So much fun and great memories.

We blasted up to level 70 and soon got our first taste of gearing up to raid. I had some shortcomings being a Paladin as I didn’t want to only be a healer. Luckily, Prot was developing into something fun and challenging so I took it! Our entire time in BC was spent mostly in Karazahn, Gruul’s Lair, Mag’s Lair, and Zul’Aman. He went on to raid with a group that got into Hyjal and Black Temple on a regular basis while I stayed behind (mostly due to time restraints due to school.) But it was one of the most fun times I had playing this game.

When Wrath came out, we transferred servers to Drak’theron and met a guy that to this day is one of the nicest and kindest person I’ve ever met and am proud to call my friend (he also DM’s my weekly D&D games). We became members of his guild and went all the way to ICC 11/12 Heroic with him. A lot of accomplishments made with that guy and it was a lot of fun.

But that was the peak of my raiding experience as I stopped raiding when Cataclysm came out. I still wanted to play the game but didn’t know what else to do. So I gave RP a shot. I looked up an excellent guide on wowpedia, made a mage on Moon Guard, and went to town! I walked into the Cathedral district for the first time and was genuinely amazed by all the people there, acting out their characters.

I was hooked instantly.

I quickly leveled up this mage, known as Andalian Morrison, and joined a guild that I believe was called Kingdom of Arathor. I learned so much about Arathi Highland lore being in that guild (mostly research I had done) and decided to make my mage be from Arathi. Eventually I made him an entire family: 3 older brothers and 1 older sister. Cerious, Nethran, Cillvia, and Edrayne. I eventually made Cillvia into a rogue I had and transferred her to the server where I then was approached by Selvetore Melrony to join the Melrony Crime Family.

Crime RP was a new experience for me (much like all RP was) and I learned quick that RP Fighting was full of a lot of drama if you didn’t communicate effectively. But the stories told were fun and I had fun. Though like a lot of things, this RP came with a lot of OOC drama and for better or for worse, I let it get to me and run how my RP was. Rather than talk things out with Selvetore, I plotted with his other officers and we all left and made our own guild, The Morrisons.

I can’t say if I had just left on my own if things would be different but the whole experience taught me that talking things out with your guild mates might end in someone leaving but it’s better than essentially ruining someones day through shady means.

Running the Morrisons was challenging. We didn’t know exactly what we wanted to be. Half of us wanted to be crime RPers, the other half just wanted to be entertainers. Either way, we did our best. I ended up disbanding due to time restraints IRL but eventually I came back around on Andalian and joined up with the Pyrebird Sodality, the GM being Kenny.

Kenny was a lot of fun to be around and still is a very creative person. I learned a lot about RP from her as well (even though I had well over a couple years of experience at that point). She taught me a lot about running a guild as well. I stuck by that guild until time ran out for it and switched then to my paladin, Neo Starstrider, freshly transferred from Sargeras.

I used my raiding experience as his backstory and eventually landed on him being a devout Champion of the Argent Crusade, joining up with House Ravenshield in the process. I never let OOC dictate my actions with this character as IC was my only driving force.

Eventually Neo cut ties with the Crusade due to their inability to do anything about Sylvanas and her plague. He joined up with Elizabeth Embershield and the Embershield Protectorate and that’s pretty much where his story is concluding. He will be retiring from active service to take care of himself and his kids (if Telriah so wishes it.)

I will say this about Embershield: It is the best guild I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of. 

Telriah is an amazing world builder and a great friend. I love him to death and I hope he continues to run this guild well after I leave. It’s been a pleasure to work with him in building the guild up and I loved every minute of it.

Linaly, Teanuu, Ainsling, Talen, Dubz, Keak, Garion, Nesara, Elbert, Kamarill, Trisana, Walorian and even you Moonsworn, I love you all so very much and I hope you continue to be the amazing people you are.

So if you read all of that, I congratulate you on getting this far. If you skipped to this part that’s cool too. But as I said before, my time in wow has come to an end.

My reasons for quitting are as follows:

1: WoW is just not fun for me anymore. Not even RP can keep me playing this game, sadly enough. I’ve played this game for over 13 years. I had so much fun raiding and jumping into RP. But the current iteration of this game is just not appealing to me anymore. I don’t like world quests, I don’t like the rep grinds, I don’t like the raiding or the PVP. I could go on and on with a lot of the things I don’t like (and to be honest they’re probably things you read or hear about on a daily basis) but it’s just plain and simple: Wow isn’t fun for me anymore.

2: I’m studying to become an Computer Tech and all of the things that follow that path. I am also wanting to start up my YouTube/Twitch project once more and don’t want WoW to be pulling me down.

3: In July 2017, I met the woman that I want to marry. At the time that I write this, we’ve been together for 15 months. She’s moved in with me, she’s decorated the apartment, we put up a Christmas Tree (the first one I’ve ever put up since living on my own). We have a cat, I buy her roses every chance I get, I love her family and she loves mine. It’s as simple as this: Every time I’ve had a choice between wow and spending time with her, I chose her.

Well, there’s that. I hope everyone reading this enjoyed my story and enjoyed the things I had to say. If you want to keep tabs on me, I’ll still be on Discord. My Twitter, Twitch, and YouTube Handles are SgtMajorCool. I believe they’re in my profile as well if you take a gander. But that’s that.

[eternium-complex-blog]

Eternium Basement: Robot Rock

   The cramped one roomed apartment echoed with the ending theme of the "Robo-Hero" animated series. Davis quietly hums along. On his desk, next to his small monitor, lays an unfinished model of the "Dragon-Rex". Legacy edition; the gold and black version. When not watching, studying, or designing his own mecha; Davis enjoys collecting and assembling various model kits of his favorite me has. His room is a shrine to this passion.

"The show is simple, but it's a classic. Robo-Hero is the standard of all mecha heroes." He's in the middle of a lecture given to no one. Inside his head he is a professor, but outside he’s as quiet of a student you can get besides not being in class at all. "Nowadays the shows focus more on the drama of the pilots. Which allows for more interesting stories and giving credit to the pilots finally. Robo-Hero had like four and hardly anyone even knew... But nothing is going to beat Robo-Hero fighting a new monster of the week while giving insightful wisdom."

   He walks from his apartment building to the college. It's a short walk. Saves him a fortune not having to get a car. It's always colder in the mornings than the rest of the day. However, weather rarely dictated his wardrobe. He always wore his replica mecha pilot jacket. It bore some of the patches of his favorite mecha pilots like DinoCzar, Ace, Overlord, and of course an old Robo-Hero patch.

"The culture changed. People wanted less aliens and giant monsters, and more realism and internal struggle. Of course this wasn't just happening to mecha shows, but all facets of media. Though I think if you want realistic mecha fights you should just watch the actual mecha league tournaments. The shows are just there to promote toys and Saturday morning entertainment. The point I'm trying to make is... leave my cartoons alone."

   Davis arrives on campus. What follows is a montage of sitting in classes, listening to professors, walking to classes, and completing homework as it's being turned in. His first class is Art Theory. They are currently going over character design and how to tell a story through a character's appearance. The teacher, harmlessly joking, points out Davis and how him always wearing the pilots jacket shows his commitment and passion. Davis nervously chuckles along not knowing how to respond. The other students also playfully laugh, but then begin analyzing themselves on what they wore.

"Take someone like the classic Robo-hero." The professor continues her lecture. "Just looking at him and you get everything you need to know about him. Broad shoulders, big arms and legs, and of course his cape. Waving heroically behind him. Now look at the current champion, Overlord. Much more intricate with spikes and more accurate proportions, and horns resembling a crown. He also has a cape, but his silhouette is much more foreboding isn't it. This fits his character. The contrast to the classical heroes of before. This will be important for all you future mecha designers and engineers." She looks again to Davis.

    It is a small class, so she always singled out students. Davis liked the class and her, but hated being used as an example. The next class after this is an advanced math course. A mandatory for engineer majors.

    After the class Davis has a waiting period of 40 minutes. So he goes to the commons.

"The show actually gets the colors wrong on Robo-Hero. He has a more orange coloring to him. Where as the show gave him a red paint job to appeal more to kids." Davis imagines himself saying back in his art class. He wishes he could be quick witted and able to say something whenever he's put on the spot. When he's with friends he's sharp, but around strangers and in public he shuts off.

    His internal lecture is interrupted by the empty seat across from him becoming inhabited.

"Hey you finish the homework?" His best friend, Matt, asks hopeful. Hoping to copy off of him.

"Yeah... before I turned it in." Davis responds.

"Shit you turned it in?" Matt asks desperately.

"Yes. I have the class before you. What you expect me to not turn in my work just so you can copy?"

"Yeah..."

"No, screw you. Don't make me your last chance to get your work done. Hell I was barely finishing it when I was turning it in."

    They both laugh and continue talking to eachother over their typical topics; mechas, shows, people they don't like, and classes. The two of them have been friends since middle school. They shared the passion for mechas and both agreed to follow their dreams together.

    Their passion however stemmed from slightly different motives. Davis saw them as real life heroes, and desperately desired to be just like them. Matt however was slightly less noble. Matt puts it simply; "chicks dig giant robots."

"Anyways, there's this bonfire party thing on the beach tonight. We should go. It should be fun. Get us out for a bit. Maybe find you a girl." Matt hops his eyebrows up and down.

"Ehh... I don't know." Davis thought about it. Parties really weren't his scene. "Besides, Uncle Mac is making sloppy Joes tonight."

    The man they were referring to isn't actually their uncle, but the overseer of their apartment building. Since most of the residence there are students who can't or for some reason refuse to live directly on campus; he took it upon himself to look after all of them. Wether it be simply feeding them, or waiving certain fees the students couldn't afford.

    The two of them debate about it. Their need for free food greatly out weightes their need for a social life. Despite this however, Matt came up with a compromise.

"Well the thing is like all night. We can go check it out after we eat."

    They both agree on the plan and go their separate ways when classes resume. They only share one class through out the whole day, Mecha engineering. Since Davis started earlier than Matt, his day ends sooner. He's back at the apartment by 3 o'clock. He stops by the community kitchen in the building on his way to his room. Uncle Mac is already in there slow cooking the pork. Another resident is also in the kitchen talking to Uncle Mac, Tai.

    Uncle Mac notices Davis and greets him.

"Ayy, Davy! How was your day?"

"Good." Davis never really knew how to answer that question. Even if he did have a bad day, he felt it easier and better to just say "good" anyways. Not mix anyone in his problems. "Matt told me about this bon fire party thing. So I guess we're going to that later."

"So you tellin me I made all this food for nutin?" Uncle Mac responds with fake agitation.

"Oh no. Believe me there isn't much that we'd miss your food for. Nah, we decided we'd check it out after we eat."

"Yeah you best not be skippin out on my meals." He laughs to himself as he goes back to stirring some gravy in a pan. "Tai you going to this party too?"

"No, no. I... i don't party." Davis could be quiet and shy when around new people or put on the spot, but this was nothing compared to Tai all the time.

"Boy what you mean you don't party? You too cool to party?" Uncle Mac begins to shimmy to music only he can hear. "Everybody party's. When I was your age you'd only find me at a party." Uncle Mac and Davis laugh together as he begins to show them how he would party. Within the confined space of the kitchen. Even Tai got a kick out of it.

"I just have a lot of homework and studying. Can't really party." Tai responds.

"Yeah no, that's important. Keep it up... I'm just saying don't be afraid to let loose a little. Shack em bones of yours. You're young use that energy.

    Davis remembers that he too has homework he has to get done before heading to the party. He takes his leave and heads for his room. He sits down at his desk and begins to work. He tells himself not to turn on the TV, listen to music, or use his phone until he at least finishes 2 assignments.

    Once he feels as though he's done enough to not feel guilty. He turns on his TV and starts work on his "Dragon-Rex" model, hoping to finish it finally. After awhile he checks his phone and sees a message telling him that food is ready. He heads downstairs to the kitchen and gets his plate. They eat outside in front of the building. This was their typical dinning area since they don't have one inside. Matt shows up a bit later and starts eating with them.

    Once they finished eating, Matt and Davis left for the beach. As they approach they could the various sounds of the party going on. They finally arrive and it goes about how they expected. The two of them off to the side together complaining about everything and making fun of everyone. Matt occasionally breaking off to get a drink or talk to someone.

    Things start to pick up when a "rival" of theirs, Gary a fellow mecha engineer major, showed up in a small mecha he "built himself".

"Wow look, Gary brought his own walker." Davis remarks enthusiastically.

"Yeah it's be impressive if it could the one thing you know... walk." Matt responds sharply.

    It is true the self-made monstrosity could barely work. Anytime it actually tried to walk it struggled and a loud grinding noise could be heard.

"Like why go bi-pedal if you don't know how to properly install hydraulics? Go treads and save yourself the embarrassment. I'm surprised he even got the balancing right." Davis comments taking a sip of his drink that he only filled once.

"You think Gary knows the meaning of 'embarassment'? Nah, he'd eat a bowl of shit if you told him it was gourmet." They both laugh and watch on.

"If you guys know so much why don't you go and tell him something." The voice caught them by surprise.

"What-?" They both respond turning their heads to the left where the voice came from.

    Instead of a formal response they are answered with the flash of a camera. Temporarily blinding them for a brief moment. The person holding the camera is a girl, taking a picture of the scene in front of them. Gary pathetically piloting his mecha with a crowd of drunk college students cheering him on. The girl lowers her camera and reveals her face. Her hair is a medium length and green with a cynical face.

"Why don't you guys go and show him up if you know so much? Or are your majors in talking shit and drinking?"

    Davis and Matt just stared at her for a second. Both trying to think of something witty to say. Davis is mostly taken back by her beauty.

"It's a minor." Matt finally spoke. Davis thought of the same thing but a second too late.

"How long have you been standing there?" Davis asks.

"Long enough to pick up your guys characters."

"Oh... so you're some edgy sociology major huh?" Matt asks defensively to someone proclaiming of knowing him.

"Maybe..." she takes another picture. Blinding Matt again. Davis saw it coming and closes his eyes in preparation.

    Davis sees his chance and wishes to talk more to her. She's the first girl he's talked to at the party and the first in months. However, he isn't quiet sure how to do so. He doesn't want to ask something stupid and scare her off.

"Umm... you want a drink?" He nervously asks her.

"Yours?"

"Wha-No, no someone else's." Davis quickly realizes his mistake and tries to correct himself. "I mean like another. Like a drink that hasn't been drink."

"Drunk, and sure." She gives an almost unnoticeable glance up and down. Checking out Davis.

    Matt seeing his friend trying to make a move takes his leave.

"You know what, you've inspired me camera girl. I'm going to go over there and apply my expertise to Gary's monstrosity." Matt steps forward out of their side-by-side line they formed. "Ayy Gary, looks like you could use some help..." Matt's voice trails off as he walks toward Gary and the crowd.

"Oh so what drink you want?" Davis asks.

"Oh, I really didn't want a drink... but I'll walk with you to go get you one."

"Okay," Davis looks at his drink. It's still halfway full. Davis not wanting to blow any chance he has begins chugging down all of it. He finishes and tries to hold in a burn, but it comes out as he speaks. "...let's go."

    The two of them walk and talk. Devils refilling his drink, but not taking anymore sips. As they continue to walk, she reveals that her name is Sora. Named after her parents favorite vid3o game character. Unfortunately Sora did end up having the same hair color as the protagonist. Prompting her to continuously dye it.

"It's actually suppose to be red." Sora adds.

"Well it still looks good. Green really looks good on you." Davis compliments her. Nervous about every word he says, but steadily becoming more comfortable. He enjoys her company.

"Thanks." Sora smiles at him.

"How come you don't just change your name?"

"Well... I don't want to spoil their fun. I think the dying is defiance enough. How about you? How are you with your parents, if you don't mind me asking?"

    Davis takes a moment to think. He didn't have some tragic background or interesting quirk about him. His family worked and never had to worry about money too often, and both his parents were alive and happily married.

"Umm, strict but supportive. When I told them I wanted to be s pilot, they said "go ahead, but be smart. Get a degree in something you can make money from" so... mecha engineer. One day maybe though, I'll have my own, but..." Davis stops. He doesn't know what else to say. The more he talks about his future the scarier it seems. A dream that's getting further away.

"Well that explains the jacket." Sora pinches the sleeve of his jacket. "But why settle for engineer? Why not just try to be a pilot?" The question strikes Davis harder than Sora intended.

"It-if... there isn't a lot of money. Only if I somehow become super successful. At least with engineering I have something to fall back on." Davis isn't even sure if he believes that. Part of him didn't want to admit that he was just scared to try.

"Yeah, but isn't it the same kind of risk? Being a successful engines for pilot. You're always going to risk something. So why not have it be on a dream?"

"What if a fail?" Davis asks trying not to show his cowardice.

"That's going to have to be up to." She responds sympathetically. She understands how he feels. She too feared the consequences of following a dream. An English major betting everything on being an author. The only difference being she had the tenacity to follow through. "Better to die trying, than to live having never tried at all" she tells herself everyday. "You have to start eventually... a mech isn't going to fall out of the sky for you."

"Mecha." Davis corrects.

    He takes a moment to digest everything they've disgust thus far. He looks around and realizes how far away they had walked from the party. Almost to end of the beach. To their right, away from the water, is a Forrest like area. It connects to a park not too far away. Davis remembers a shack inside the woods that he and Matt frequent months ago.

"Hey there's this totally awesome shack nearby, want to check it out?" Davis asks hoping to change the mood.

"I-is that like code for something?" Sora responds hesitant.

"No, it's just this random, abandoned shack out here that me and Matt would always check out."

"'Matt and I', and sure..."

    Davis leads her through the trees towards the shack. Sora begins to ask questions about it.

"What's so cool about this shack?"

"There's just always random stuff appearing in it. A couple of months ago me an-Matt and I were strapped for cash, so we started selling stuff we found in there."

"It ever occurs to you that it might be someone's storage?"

"Of course, but we never saw anything being moved and no one else seemed to know about it. Hey it saved our weekend."

    Sora laughs at how ridiculous the story sounds. They get closer to the clearing where the shack is. Though they are met with a surprise. Seemingly as if dropped on top of the shack, laid a mecha.

    At least 50ft tall, a white and blue paint job with red markings on the face plate. Most striking though about it, is it's figure. It looks very feminine in its design. Davis just stands in awe of seeing it. Easily the coolest thing to appear at the shack. Sora walks up next to Davis with her camera ready.

"You recognize it?" Sora asks him. He nods no unable to fully speak. He starts to walk towards it and Sora lifts up her camera ready to snap a photo.

    As she does however, the flash suddenly seems to activate the mecha somehow. It's massive body convulsing, like a person struggling to breath. This startles Davis and causes him to drop his drink. He starts to back pedal but stops. The mecha's arms flail around and knock what's left of the shack down. It starts to grab at it's face plate. Attempting to raise it up. After a brief struggle it finally retracts up and the mecha's true face is revealed. Pale white skin, with sharp blue eyes and no nose. It's mouth, a simple slit with no lips, but what appear to be uniform teeth hiden in its mouth. It looks around terrified and scans it's current location. As it does, it locks eyes with Davis.

[artifficialsweetener-blog]

Inveniam viam

Note: my first fanfic of Touken. sorry for the bad english and misuse of words. i write from touka’s perspective, first person view. thank u for reading. 

Sometimes I wondered if life was just a hallucination made of dream dust, occurring in an alternate inner timeline of my own universe. I dived down, coursing myself through all the patches and stitches of possible moiras; my story, my choice, and my characters blend in together in a nonchalant way, seamlessly, tonally, as if nonexistent.

But here I was, pouring each cup of coffee with a sense of dread that they could just barged in and caught us all off-guard, as I drip all the powerless potion into the grainy floor.

The CCG. They could come in any moment, and I was too aware of this that I felt like diving myself much further into the intoxicating train of thoughts of a poor high school girl- trapped between reality and her most feeble desire.

As visitors came and go, so did my conscience. As I got older and learn more about the world, as invigorating as the experience could be at times, but when it’s a Monday, the start of a hectic morning, I wonder if I could went through the same ordeal over and over again.

Two guys chimed in, ringing the door bell above the heavy wooden door, taking a seat near the centre of the room. I stood across them, over the kitchen-counter that visitors could freely roam across it if they were interested in the process of making their favorite sip of coffees. A young man who sat beneath the counter looked at me. I wanted to tell him off, but Yoshimura would not let me off the hook if I did it again, like yesterday.

The two guys seated on the centre exchanging conversation so playfully and freely that they bring me Yoriko to mind, the only classmate I had that coincidentally the only friend I have within the entire school. I hate to admit the fact that I almost rendered to a lethargic of social intercourse, but it was not always easy to start a brand new relationship with strangers. With Yoriko, our first meeting was coincidental, and if it were to be filmed, you would not really believe how fate could seem like making itself too clear that it triggered your soul because of the cliché it embarked on.

“So who’s da chick you want me to see, Kaneki?” The blondie guy who almost always had a smirk at the edge of his lip whispered to the black hair guy named Kaneki, who looked like an innocent high school boy my age.

“C-can’t you be louder than this? The entire people here could almost hear you!!” He whined, biting his lips with a panicked and embarrassed looked on his face.

“Well, whatever. Oh-“ The blond guy stopped as soon as I arrived on their table.

“Wow, Kaneki! What a shot! Is this the girl you’re aiming for?” He grabbed me by shoulder, bouncing it like it was his first gained trophy, exuberant and cheerful, while keep on knocking on my patient.

“What’s your name, Miss?” He suddenly turned to me again, just inches away from my face that I could feel his warmth and breath.

I became mortified at the intimate distance and his collective awareness of his excavating persona that I gasped and tried to fence off an answer, just to make myself more calm, if possible.

“Kirishima Touka.”

“Ah, Touka-chan the name! You’re cute! Kaneki does know his way, after all!” He widened his smirk, and he chuckled when Kaneki’s face was red from the ridiculous situation he must be in.

“Hide, stop it! Well, s-she’s cute, but not the one I’m talking about!”

I already ran off from their table, trying to camouflage myself with the metallic wall behind the kitchen counter, hoping they wouldn’t have to involve me in more languish interaction that took me off blushes and further embarrassment.

A defined body, like hourglass, of a glass-wearing girl, with her purple hair shied away from the stream of air conditioner, entered the coffee shop, carrying a book on her right hand.

Kaneki gasped, swallowed off his saliva, jaw-dropped.

Hide shook his head in a grim mood. “Oh no. No, Kaneki. Not her.”

Kaneki didn’t answer, his gleaming intensified as he followed her way through the seat in which she headed.

I sighed. Not her.

***

That was our first meeting. Me, and my… husband.

Sometimes I wish that we were not living for just everyone. This was my one sided wish. I once believed that I could live for myself and for whom I cherished, just for me and them. I really wanted to feed on this belief that I inherited from my uncle, Yomo. I remembered how compulsive and complicated I felt when Yomo revealed it to me, the fact he had always been my maternal uncle, trying to protect ourselves while distancing himself from us by pretending to be an outsider that we care about, because we’ve been through a lot, and mostly, facing it together. Ayato as usual, as jerky as he had ever been, gave him a menacing stare, trying to sustain the suppressed feeling he had contained for centuries, but he looked at me and gave a melancholy smile, without doubt, without being pretentious. He wouldn’t look at Yomo, but he let himself opened the tip of the mask he’s wearing, the fragile part of his rockabout façade to me.

I felt that by having a brother like Ayato, I also have learned bit by bit, the compelling layers of his personality, Kaneki.

I felt that with him, I had to be in the middle of anything. Not too dictating, but also not letting him decide everything on his own. Because he still had that bitter memories carved petulantly on his mind, without his will, affecting the way his thought progress, almost always self-inflicting.

I wanted to protect him. But in the middle of this red abyss, my mind withered away with the luscious amount of streaming red liquid down the dark tunnel in front of me.

What could’ve lie in there?

What if… Kaneki became them? What if he was back to the dark again? What if he followed my father’s footstep? He lied to himself. Or he became a new Yomo. He trying to protect his loved ones while ignoring his own needs of acknowledgement, affection that he never fully realized until late. And what if he became a complete version of Ayato? The one who showed his bitter stance against mostly everyone, and probably more, to his loved ones, as his means of protecting them at all cost.

BLOB…BLOB…BLOB…

I gasped. The sound was coming behind me. A big wave, again, in red, appeared before me crashing unto me.

“ARRRGHHHHHH!”

My screams then reduced to a mute, as I drowned into the wave, all red, and I started to be blinded and retorted from all the unity of colors no matter how they differed from each other.

I let myself carried away by the stream of waves, when eventually it stopped. I found myself castaway on again a red path. I stood up.

“Kaneki!”

I keep on calling him.

“Tell me, Kaneki! Where are you?”

All the pain started to ditch in like needles. I grasped my belly, trying to converge the pain inwards, like nothing had happened.

“Kaneki!”

I dived into the endless dark tunnel, nothing seemed to change much, just blood and red flesh scattered everywhere, vanishing into the dark when my vision started to decrease.

I stopped right before what seem like a giant tangling of spiderwebs, and inside of it seemed like a bulk of dark stature.

“K-Kaneki!” I etched, trying to give a sense of confirmation from that shade lying on the spiderwebs.

No answer.

I tried to walk closer to the spiderwebs.

I tried to tear off all the webs that was crowded and latched into a spiraling conclusion. It was sticky, hot and clammy. I bashed away the thought of weird things, like it was a noodle or something, and quickly finished tearing it off and grab the dark stature.

“Kaneki!” I cried.

I hugged him. He was wet and warm. I clung to him and burying my face deep beneath his shoulder.

I soaked. “I-I thought I’m gonna lose you, you idiot!” Even at times as sparse like this, I couldn’t stop my habit of cursing him.

I studied his face. He was sleeping like baby. I could feel his belly churned up and down.

He’s alive. My husband is alive.

I couldn’t contain all the feelings and hugged him again. And this time, even tighter.

[artificialzeezee]

Satire Sexuality: Cocktails and resolutions.

Summary: Cis!girl bitney - University brings out things never expected within people. The truth, the lies, the worst of the best and everything in-between. There’s the pressure of first time independence along with finding yourself, and the dread of loneliness that needs to find time in your schedule. Drinking, smoking, sex and studying; life has to keep going. Couples meet, lovers clash and it all happens while becoming an adult, what could go wrong?

Happy New Year! Alix makes an appointment, Danny consoles his best friend, and everyone plays drinking games.

Warning: LGBT+ issues (such as homophobia, transphobia and the conflict of coming out), many sexual references, alcohol and drug mentions and violence. (not always relevant to each chapter but to be expected) - Mostly original characters minus girl!Bianca and girl!Courtney

[A lot of in depth conversation about transition, and an outsiders feelings that may come off as offensive but aren’t intended. It’s not really trigger worthy but better to put a warning than not!] 

[P.s. a pretty long chapter- as in 30 pages long. I didn’t want to split it up and have a two parter again so I just left it to be really long! Enjoy!<33]

PART FIFTEEN: “First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.”

-

There wasn’t a chemical difference that festered in the air- burnt on bare skin to accompany the knowledge that it was a new year, people just knew and celebrated that the beginning was back. A freshness caught in the fruitful, buoyant space of their lungs. New years was a time for new starts and plans of action.

Bianca decided she wanted to be back in Wandsworth for New Years. Despite Kendra’s protests, Bianca insisted she’d already taken up too much space in her mother’s apartment and she just wanted to be alone. Truthfully, Bianca couldn’t bare watching Kendra so happy with her parents, not being able to experience the same thing. She couldn’t bare being around her best friend after her small break down, as the embarrassment weighed down like dark entities, and she needed to be away. Back in the flat, alone, pitying herself. 

“I feel good with you. Really good, and I woke up missing you.”

She hasn’t been able to forget her conversation with Courtney, and how stale it felt. The broken barriers between them, Bianca felt herself slowly and surely fixing them, in order to never let herself get so hurt by the blonde bombshell again. The whole train ride home, Bianca finds her chest lunging for someone that’s not there, and her hands ache to touch the curves she knows will bring her to tears. Her head pounds, never taking a break from the dawning thoughts that soon she’ll be reunited with Courtney, and she’s nervous about it. Terribly nervous, that every so often, if she pounders too long about it, she feels deathly nauseous and dizzy.

That’s why when she arrives back at the apartment, she wastes as little to no time there. She throws her suitcase in her room and calls Zara.

“Well well well, if it isn’t my favourite yank.”

“You having a party tonight, Z?”

“What do you think? Of fucking course! I thought you were out of town though-”

“I need to get wasted, and I need to get laid. Are you going to help me achieve these goals?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me. Get your ass here at 8 o’clock, and bring a bottle of something. Preferably vodka.”

She puts on all her best makeup. Slick wings, feathery fake lashes, and the cherry on top of the cake that has become a signature of Bianca’s, the luscious plump red lips. Desirable, exquisite, and she can’t wait to smother the colour across someone’s pink lips later, in a drunken wonderment of lust. She straightens her hair, long and luxurious, shimmering in the pink sun set, as it peaks through Bianca’s open window. She puts on waist high jeans with a small yellow smiley face stitched into the flare, and an orange flimsy shirt tied in the middle. Admiring her reflection, she notes the bumps of her body and sighs with dissatisfaction.

Courtney was beautiful - she could wear this same outfit, and be a beckon of allure, and Bianca is nothing but a lump of disinterest. Her chest isn’t supple and delicate for the low cut collar, her hips aren’t perfectly chiseled to hide the truth of her stretch marks, and her presence isn’t flawless, effortless sex appeal that “little miss perfect” could do without even breaking a sweat. Bianca envied her, for her slender frame, her baby face, and her precious, wide innocent eyes that made everyone fall at her feet like slaves.

Bianca didn’t like to admit it, but she was self conscious. Sometimes she liked how she looked, sometimes she didn’t care, but more than likely she found herself wishful for a reflection that didn’t make her skin crawl. Looking at herself, and seeing how her curves didn’t look womanly, but rather just made her look bloated and lumpy, she envied those around her. Courtney’s stick-like legs, Kendra’s keen jaw line, Zara’s extensive height giving her the appearance of a rake. Bianca was surrounded by slim women who barely lifted a finger to gain attraction. 

And Bianca just wasn’t one of them. 

She had a cup size bigger than her face, and she had a wide ass, and thighs that chaffed when she walked. She had a double chin looking down at her phone, and sometimes she stressed that sleeveless outfits made her arms look fat.  Looking at herself, her heart fluttered nervously, thinking people would laugh at her. She tugged her trousers up a little, tossed her long hair over her back and turned to her side to see her bum. 

“Least that aint so bad.” She chuckled. She shook her head, deciding despite her self confidence being dust under her high heels, she’d put on a brave face and go out in the outfit regardless. Her brother told her she looked “fish” when he bought it for her, and usually he was a better judge of fashion than she was. She grabbed her phone off the counter and her keys and rushed out her room.

As she made her way to the kitchen, she was startled at an unexpected figure drinking a beer while sat on the kitchen counter. Matt, in only his running shorts and his hair slicked back with sweat. She gasped, holding her chest as she regained her breath. He tittered, but as she approached closer, pouring herself a shot of tequila, his eyes began to wander over her body. 

“Wow, Del Rio. You’re looking fucking fit tonight.” He growled, practically drooling when she turned to face him and his eyes landed on her cleavage. Despite needing an ego boost, Bianca found herself more disgusted than flattered by Matt’s comment.

“You know how to charm a girl, don’t you, Matt?” She threw the tequila down and cringed, licking salt of her hand and then burying her teeth into a juicy lemon wedge. The sour stung her throat, contradictory as it soothed the burn trickling down to her stomach. She flailed her arms out and let out a brawled shout, then she turned to face Matt and his eyes were still a little too seductive for her liking. To think I ever fancied men, she thought to herself as he practically drooled over her chest. 

“Where are you off to then, Del Rio, dressed like that?” a guttural tone coloured his words dirty, and made her skin crawl. She poured out another shot, knowing she’d need to hurry up and get tipsy if she was to withstand a conversation with him.

“A party.”

“That’s all the information you’re giving me?”

“Don’t want you showing up and crashing it.”

“I would never. Although, an excuse to get drunk and get laid would be appreciated.”

Bianca wanted to throw up, thinking she’d said something scarily similar to his words. She threw back her third shot, twitching her head as the shiver took over her nerves and the sudden dreary lightness of drinking began to infect her blood. Enough shots, she dictated to herself, grabbing her vodka from her cupboard and pouring herself a vodka and cranberry drink: double.

“So, no address? C’mon, help a man out.”

“No fucking way. None of the girls there are gonna like you away.”

“Oh. They all rug munchers too?”

She cocked her jaw, as flashing images of punching him hard, blackening his eye delighted her anger. “That’s exactly why you’re not coming,” she chugged her drink as fast as possible, grabbing her vodka and walking to the front door, “Because you’re a cunt.”

She slammed the door behind her and resisted the urge to punch the wall. Matt was intolerable. She wished that when moving into a flat in England she could have ended up with three perfectly respectful roommates she’d adore, not two and an asshole they saw once in a blue moon. At least he was only there on the odd occasion, when he wasn’t busy blindly intoxicated or drugged up on too much weed and horse tranquillisers, or playing football with a group of guys as annoying as he was. They rarely had to endure his crude behaviour, and even then, Kendra was usually able to escape it. Trevor was always the butt of his jokes, and Bianca was the toy he liked to play with.

“Fucking dick.” she muttered to herself as she walked outside the complex and into the uber she’d ordered. 

Zara’s house was thriving with life, the walls practically colliding with each other as the music blared out remixes and dubstep. Bianca sheepishly walked in, clutching her vodka close to her hip. Zara and Harriet lived in a rather large house, decorated lavishly and usually kept rather clean. It was unexpected to see such pristine care for the home of two girls in their 20′s, and to live somewhere that seemed like a pipe dream to a struggling student like Bianca was inspiring. Currently, however, the house was littered with other guests in their 20s, grinding against each other and slurring messy terms of endearments toward one another. The yellowish creamy colours of their interior decorations had been transformed into dreamy waves as the sunset flushed the room and the dim lights gave everyone a lusting twinkle deep in their iris’. Bianca stepped through the crowds of people, attempting to find a familiar face.

In the kitchen she found Harriet talking to a cute blonde, with a bob hair cut and dark skin, and a body that Bianca tried not to stare at. She was going to slyly introduce herself into the conversation, but Harriet spotted her and squealed in delight, rushing over and wrapping her arms around Bianca. She squeezed tight, resembling an anaconda, and Bianca grunted as her bones practically popped.

“Bianca! You’re here, I’m so happy to see you!” Harriet swung as they embraced, laughing sweetly between each breath. She was especially adorable tonight, wearing a red plaid skirt high on her hips and an off the shoulders black tight top, accentuating the rigid lines of her collar bones and the small crack of her cleavage. Her hair was long and kinked down her back, shimmering dark in the little light that brightened the room. Harriet was the kind of girl with a picture perfect face - strong cheekbones, rotund pink lips, the sort of eyes that a person could spend years swimming in without ever finding an unruly wave. Bianca appreciated Harriet majorly, and if she didn’t know any better she’d have made a pass at her long before. 

“Hay, Harriet.” Bianca wriggled free, eyes flipping between her and the stranger. “Where uh, is Zara?”

“Oh, somewhere, who knows! Probably galavanting with some girl as per usual.” Harriet shrugged, reaching behind herself to pick up her drink. “Don’t worry, she’ll save you a dance. Oh my God she’d going to be so excited you came!”

“She will?”

“Well...whatever passes for excitement when it’s Zara.” She chuckles, turning to face her friend and then gasps. “Oh would you look at me, I’m so rude! Bianca, this is my friend, Ebele. We work together.”

Bianca smirked, nodding at the girl. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Ebele’s voice was silvery, dripping like gold acid down her purple lips, and Bianca found herself completely wrapped up in whatever this girl might have to say - the stories covered in luxurious rich jewels, oozing grace and importance, and edge. Her dark, mesmerising eyes, like the ageing colours of a grand opera house, sparkling too. She took the straw in her can of pimms and sucked it slowly, staring at Bianca the whole time, as a smile crept at the side of her mouth devilishly.

Courtney who? Bianca thought, trying even harder not to stare at the stunning girl giving her ‘fuck-me’ eyes. “So, got any cups, Harriet?” Bianca asked, holding her vodka up. Harriet jumped off to grab her a generic red cup - like the ones Bianca’s brother would buy for beer pong - and she poured herself a generous amount of vodka to mix. 

She stayed with Ebele and Harriet for a few more minutes, talking about their christmas’ and some guy at their work that keeps asking Harriet out, and then she excused herself. She decided to be the lone wolf in a gang of dogs in heat, watching closely: wisely. She put her foot against the wall and sipped on her drink, admiring the chaos of young adults pretending everything was fine, as long as they were too drunk to think about their problems. 

A girl dressed up casual, in baggy jeans and a checkered shirt, with a snapback on and her long black hair almost reaching her bum. She stood with two boys, laughing obnoxiously as they downed their beers, every so often nodding out of time to the music. The two boys, dressed similarly to her, laughing with half the energy and checking over their shoulders every few seconds to meet the eyes of other guests. In the corner are two girls, cuddling on the arm chair, completely electrified by the other person and under their spell that to even try and blink would be sinful. Both gorgeous, skinny and brunette, merely inches away from kissing one another. A few steps away from them are a group of guys, joshing around and making crude hand gestures as they looked over at the two girls. Bianca didn’t expect anything less from a group of guys. 

Standing alone, she was able to gather all the translucent thoughts scattering the web of her mind. Bianca didn’t like being left alone with her thoughts for too long, and had gotten into the habit off finding meaningless distractions as soon as her brain wandered out of the bonds of comfortability. 

Too much pressure to excel. 

Relying on drinking. 

Afraid of what awaits her in America.

Homophobia. 

Body image issues.

Courtney.

Homesick. 

Courtney.

Typical poor student.

Courtney.

Courtney Act.

Courtney fucking Act.

She couldn’t seem to shake herself off the damn, disastrous tease, despite being surrounded by dozens of drop dead gorgeous women. Her thoughts kept coming back to the thin legs, and the Australian accent, and the blonde hair- the God damn blonde hair, sweeping across Courtney’s face, caught in Bianca’s fingers, frail but shinning, caught in Courtney’s mouth, spread over her pillow-

That damn blonde hair. Bianca despised being under the spell of someone else. A control freak, just like her father, and just like her grandmother, and just like her brother. Bianca’s blood ran with the same desire to keep control no matter what should try disrupt the balance of her efforts. A damn blonde, kissing her when she’s drunk on depression, tearing out her heart, toying with it, crushing it, tapping it back together. Bianca was done being Courtney’s confusing phase.

Even if she wasn’t the first.

“Could you look anymore depressed if you tried?” Bianca’s head whipped round beside her, and there stood Zara, looking as enticing as fire. A red bra underneath a netted vest top and tight, torn black skinny jeans, accompanied by dock martins. Even with her heels, Zara still managed to tower over Bianca, resting her forearm on the wall above Bianca’s head. Her black hair like a clear winters night, and she smelled like apple cider and a friend’s bed; too familiar yet foreign enough to get lost in the comfort. 

She straightened up, wiping any trace of her moment from her face with a witty smirk. “I mean, I could give it a try.”

“You shouldn’t. You look better when you smile.”

Bianca softly laughs. “Sure.” She downs the rest of her drink and whistles, opening her eyes as wide as possible while the adrenaline washes down her body like a waterfall, and the crashing in her stomach rippled through her blood. 

That’s where it began. Bianca let go and was alone, drunk and vulnerable. She had more vodka, laughing with Zara as they cuddled together like old friends, and made pals with a couple of broad shouldered boys, doing shots as a group. She danced on a table, she acquired a denim jacket 3 sizes too big, and she stopped thinking about Courtney long enough to take a breath. No more choking, she was able to feel her lungs expand, because being drunk gave her something Courtney couldn’t: freedom.

The rush kept her heart pumping, and nothing else mattered. Bianca hadn’t let go in so long, the muscles that were bound together had finally loosened and her aches caramelised sweetly against the will of her bubbling ego. She liked getting drunk, she loved how it made her feel carefree and ambitious and confident, as if she could be anyone and do anything. Letting per pressure determine the friendships and decisions she made that night, Bianca became a version of herself she imaged she was at 16 - when she only knew the outlines of her big plan, and didn’t worry about her labels, and was invincible behind a crowd that protected her. Drink after drink, she began to forget the stress that had consumed her life. Who cares that she broke Vivianne’s heart? Who cares that Courtney was breaking her own? Who cares about anything! All that seemed to matter at that very moment in time, was Zara’s body against hers as they danced, with Ebele close by, and a couple dozen other girls giggling. All that mattered was the false sense of happiness that she found herself drunk on.

“I told you you were better when you smiled!” Zara admired, eyes fluttering suggestively as she took Bianca’s hand and spun her around playfully. Bianca scoffed, grabbing Zara by the hips and pulling her against her body.

“Baby, I can show you so much better than a stupid smile.”

Zara cackled, falling against Bianca and using her body for support. The lean girl, like a grand weeping willow, dead weight against Bianca’s intoxicated self - she was struggling to keep herself standing let alone someone else.

Zara was drop dead gorgeous. She was the kind of girl Bianca couldn’t even imagine touching in her wildest dreams, given she had all the qualities of a perfect galaxy wrapped up in the security of a beautiful young woman. Shimmering, breath taking, whimsical - she was that of a great natural attraction, or a natural disaster, rolled into one. She was cocky, but endearing, and careful. Bianca needed careful. Really, she needed someone like Zara, and if she listened to her gut feeling, she’d be going after Zara without consideration as to what her heart wanted. Both lesbians, both single, and both deeply attracted to the idea of lust.

She pushed Zara up to stand for herself, and stroked her thumb down her cheek, staring deeply into the dark brown crystal shine of her eyes. Her skin was taunt and smooth, the light feel of silky foundation pressed against Bianca’s skin, and Zara purred in response, watching Bianca with a fiendish admiration that seemed foreign to the other girl.

“What is it you want?” Zara whispered, the honeyed tone making Bianca’s stomach twinge. Her hands began to feel clammy as they were grabbed and her body slammed into Zara’s. Her breasts pushed up and the cleavage she usually hides available and at the prying eyes of Zara’s desires. She bites her lip, eyes hidden under her lids as she stares at the rotund flesh that is barely contained in Bianca’s shirt. 

Bianca is dry of any coherent thought. All she has are hot, wet wants, seeping through her pours, echoing in the space of her gut, fuelled by the alcohol she’s poured down her throat. Her hands are clinging to Zara’s back, eager to hold her closer, and the heat flowing between them feels like a thousand hands caressing her more sensitive parts, loving her, needing her. She lets out a husky snicker...

Then she blinks. 

Next thing she knows, through the blurred daze that’s swept her off her feet, Bianca ends up up the stairs with Zara. She ends up in her bedroom with the other girl on the mattress as she lays beside her, grinning. 

The dull thudding still coming through the floors as life continues downstairs. Bianca’s mind, is just broken webs, floating in the breeze. She closes her eyes for a second and lets the hollow air smooth her over. She was forgetting all the unimportant worries clogging her up.

“I really miss you, B.”

Bianca was forgetting Courtney’s accent.

“Do you miss me?”

Bianca was forgetting Courtney’s smile.

“I’m smiley, and you’re grumpy, and I feel like we work!”

Bianca was forgetting how she felt about Courtney.

“I’ve never met someone like you before, B-”

Bianca was forgetting how to feel calm.

“-and I’ve never felt so much love for someone so quickly”

Bianca was forgetting how to breath-

“SHIT!” She screamed, suddenly jolting up in a panicked state, grabbing her chest as paranoid thoughts of her heart hanging out of a crudely cut hole in her skin filled her mind. Cold anxiety flushed her body, and she began heaving a nausea lacing her throat. She gripped the sheets of the bed, trying to make sense of the sudden attack that had shocked her. 

Zara sat up softly, putting an arm around her and shushed her gently, kissing her cheek and down her neck, unbothered by the clean panic attack Bianca was battling. Her eyes wide with fear, focused on the spot on the chest of drawers ahead of her, and she tried to reason with the hectic hysteria as it coursed her body, uninvited and unexpected. Tender kisses pressed against her red hot skin, and hands now trapping her to the bed that she once felt so comfortable to lay in. What was happening, why was she so panicked all of a sudden? Why, for the first time being with a girl and the one time it really mattered, did she care so much?

“No, Zara-” Bianca pushed her off, her breathing still erratic but she was starting to gain control. The older girl watched her, confused and somewhat amused to Bianca’s annoyance. “I can’t do this.” Bianca says, probably a little more stentorian in tone than she expected. She pushes herself off the bed and balances herself on the chest of drawers opposite, gripping the wood, wondering how hard she’d have to claw her nails into the wood till it chipped. Zara stayed quiet, watching, a brow raised.

“I’m a fucking mess.” Bianca breathed, pushing back her hair that had fallen around her face. She turns to face Zara, looking distressed. “I’m sorry, Z. I want to, I really want to, but I-”

“Yeah I get it, yanky. You’re still hooked on little miss perfect, right?” Zara stands up and struts toward Bianca, with an expression that could only be explained within the pages of a sweaty, unfiltered erotica. Bianca gulps, lets the girl lean her body against her as she traps her between her slim frame and the wood, and Zara smells sweet and fresh that Bianca is soaring higher and higher through the thick clouds blocking the cluttered spaces of her thoughts. Zara’s face is but a few inches from hers, and her lips are soft and dark, contoured in the hot shades of the dim room. “But for a minute, why don’t you just be happy?” She persuades, pressing her lips against the edge of her jaw line, kissing delicately. “This isn’t serious, and no one needs to ever know about this. Let’s just,” Zara gently pushes Bianca down to lay on her back, and straddles her lap. Bianca’s hands instinctively hold her hips, and she bites her lip when Zara pulls her top off over her head, revealing the tiny, womanly figure and the lacy bra that is thin enough Zara’s nipples protrude the material. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves right now. Stop thinking about that straight girl, and focus on me.”

Bianca swallows down the anxious knot tied around her voice box and nods, trying to push back the messy dread that had swarmed her but moments ago. A sly grin snakes across Zara’s face, and she leans down, cups Bianca’s face and kisses her tenderly, letting out a satisfied sigh when Bianca’s lips press back. 

It’s something. Coated in desire and frustration, and better intentions for that of another, on both parties side. Bianca knows that Zara is trying to convince everyone else before herself that she’s happy being single, and Bianca somewhat wonders if by being the interest of her drunken lust that she will become a regular distraction, but it doesn’t matter in the moment. Bianca holds Zara’s slim body, kisses her chest, squeezes her ass, and eventually she’s lost in the serenity of sex. Hot and heavy sex that only two friends pretending could truly admire and perfect. 

Bianca moans, Zara chuckles, there’s a mixture of deliciously delirious noises that stick to the sheets like the sweat dripping of their bodies. The party down stairs stays lively, but the two girls forget that anyone else even exists in the world let alone under the same roof they share...

-

Alix was going to start taking testosterone. He was actually transitioning, 100% committed and running with the bull.

As soon as he came back from Christmas, he had an appointment booked on the 3rd of January with his GP in Wandsworth. He explained he was transgender and wanted to start his transition. She’d recommended Alix go to a Gender Identity Clinic about 40 minutes away by train in London to talk through his options and what he really wanted. Alix was certain he was ready to transition and knew what he wanted, but he went never the less. It seemed he had to go if he was ever going to become truly who he was.

The experience was serial. He stepped through the automatic doors into a creamy yellow scene of clean, and that’s where he was faced with people like himself. Transgender people, who wanted to take the next step. He walked into the building and waited for his appointment beside a woman with skull tattoos covering her arms and gorgeous red hair that sat at her lower back. Opposite him, a guy with a pencil beard and long lashes, and then a women that almost looked like Courtney but with dyed white hair, strutting past to look at the leaflets not far from where he was sat. It looked like a GP surgery, but it was different.

He was one of them too, one of the people that was different to the eye. Some of these people had transitioned, others were in the middle of transitioning. The people around him were just like him, but at different stages of his goal.

Finally, a woman comes out with a cherry blossom smile and calls Alix into an office that is a collection of calm colours of yellow, blue and pink. It’s not like his GP’s office with diagrams of the human body or important health alerts on the walls that always attract eyes to read, but rather it’s plain and official. More dull, but less intense to sit in. The women, Mrs McLaughlin, with her short black bob and thin glasses perched on the end of her nose. She sits at the desk across from where Alix assumes is where he sits, and she smiles as if she knows him.

“You’re lucky we had a cancelation, usually it can take weeks or months to get an appointment here.” She laughs, pulling out her notebook and a fluffy top blue pen that distracts Alix’s eyes. “So, name?”

“Alix Williamson.” He answers, and she writes it down, delicately, but then he notices- “Oh, no, with an i, not an e. A, L, I, X.” She nods, correcting her mistake.

“Don’t think I’ve ever come across that spelling before. Is that the name you were given at birth?”

Alix shakes his head. “No. No, my name was Jodie.”

“Ah I see. So how long have people been calling you Alix?”

“About 5 years, I think? I mean, some people called me Alix, and now everyone calls me Alix. Does that count?”

“If you had anyone refer to you by your preferred name, then yes, it counts.” She smiles and then crosses her arms on the desk. “So you’ve been living as a male for a number of years already. Why have you never come to a GIC before?”

“I was scared. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to be…you know.” He run a hand through his hair and chuckled awkwardly. “I mean, I’ve been Alix since I was like 14 and I’ve been going by he the same amount of time. When I first told my mam, she wasn’t so supportive and that put me off. I guess now I’m living on my own, I feel confident doing this.”

Mrs McLaughlin noted down something he couldn’t quite make out, before nonchalantly asking, “Do you bind? If so, how long?”

“Um…” 

“There’s no need to feel uncomfortable. I know these may be some very personal questions you’re not use to discussing but I promise you, everything is confidential. This is a safe place.” She smiles sincerely.

Alix was never usually aware of his binder on his body unless brought up. After so long it just felt normal to wear, not constricting like in the beginning. Suddenly he could feel the stretchy material rubbing against his skin. “Yeah, I’d say almost 4 years…but, almost everyday binding 2 years. Does that make sense?”

“Yes it does.” The sound of her pen scribbling again. “What about the hair? Lovely colour by the way.”

“Thank you. I only shaved it before I came to university in August. Even then, it was longer,” he waved his hand over the left of his face, “this side. My friend gave it a decent trim before Christmas.”

“And before that, you had long hair?”

“Yeah, to keep my mam happy. I had it tied back most of the time, or in a hat.” He smiled tossing his head as if the long strands were still there and would wave by. “I never liked having long hair anyway. It was always in the way and it was hot in the summer!”

She writes it all down as if her life depends on the end of her pen, and Alix watches her careful cursive as she makes no mistake. It’s a girls handwriting - pretty and delicate with every letter looking sharp, and then his eyes lift to her face. She’s a pointed woman, like if she was put in a room of balloons they would pop at just her gaze, and her bones peak beneath the frail colour of her skin, but she’s almost beautiful. Maybe for someone who likes thin, secure women, but not enough for Alix. Her ears are pixie like, and she wears small cheap gold earrings that Alix didn’t think anyone over the age of 17 would wear. McLaughlin - a pristine, persist woman of strict elegance.

“Tell me, Alix,” she sets her pen down on her notebook and looks at him with an adult smile, “What are you intentions with coming here? With transitioning, what is it you want?” She crosses her legs and places her hands on her pointy knee. “GIC has the aim of helping people who are transexual to start loving themselves, and start the road toward the life they want to live. What is it you want us to help you with?”

Initially, Alix thinks ‘I want a dick and a beard’ and then holds back his tongue from blurting out the crude answer. Truthfully, he does want those things. He wants rid of his feminine attributes so that he can look at himself without doubt and feel like the person he’s been trying to convince everyone else he is. He wonders why it’s even a question - doesn’t every trans person want the whole package?

“I…want to be a boy.” He replies, oh-so matter of factually, with a dumbfounded smile that she does’t take. Mrs McLaughlin raises a brow and hums, putting her elbow on the table and resting against her hand as if he’s supposed to carry on. Alix finds himself racking his brain for a logically answer- the answer she expects, before shrugging. “I mean, I’m here for the obvious, right? I want to be a guy, completely. I-I don’t want breasts, and I don’t want a girly face, and I don’t want anyone to mistake my gender. I want to be a boy, 100%.”

“So you want to transition completely?”

“Well…doesn’t everyone? Why would you come here if you didn’t want to transition?”

Mrs McLaughlin takes a deep breath. “Everyone’s different. Some people want to have top surgery but not bottom surgery, and some people aren’t initially comfortable with taking medication for whatever reason. We help people to understand exactly what they want with their transition. Some people are comfortable with their bodies but just need emotional guidance. You however,” her smile slides almost with a certain cockiness that puzzles Alix. “You know what you want, by the sounds of things. Medication, surgery and therapy.”

“Therapy? I don’t need-“

“It’s not a bad thing. It’s to help you cope as your body changes. You need to understand, Alix, that the influx of testosterone that will enter your body due to medication will have a massive effect on your emotions let alone your physical state. A lot of transgender men struggle with sudden and irrational anger that they’re not use to, and it’s not something that lasts forever but it may be very difficult to deal with in the beginning, especially if you’re under a lot of stress.”

Alix almost found the idea humorous - that he could possibly hold anymore anger in his body. He jolts one of his shoulders. “I’m fine though. I mean, if it gets me closer to what I want then fairs, I’ll do what I gotta do but uh...I’m all good up here.” He taps the side of his head and chuckles. 

She doesn’t laugh back. She hums, and scribbles something messily that Alix finds gives him a sense of dread. The dagger stuck in his back that holds him back from the whole process, dictated by the ink and paper. He holds a breath in his chest and prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that this was a mistake. Alix wants this, more than anything any one of his friends has ever wanted let alone himself. 

“I need to be Alix.” His statement comes out like a plead, and she lifts her eyes to see his worry, stopping in her tracks of writing. He licks his dry lips and takes a steady breath. “Since I was a little kid, I have always felt different to all the other kids in my class or on my street. All the girls would play dress up and they liked playing the mum at lunch time games, but I didn’t. I figured it was nothing, there were girls I knew that had action men and liked trucks, and my friend Danny even owned a tutu that he refused to take off for a week straight, but...he did take it off. They could all take off the unimportant kiddy games and turn off, and I couldn’t. I hated wearing dresses and having pigtails because I hated looking like my sister and every other girl I knew. I hated not being allowed to play rugby with the guys, and I hated how boys wouldn’t take me seriously about video games when I’d been playing them since I was 6 with my dad. I just want to finally be the person on the outside that I know I am on the inside. I want to prove to everyone that it wasn’t a phase. I didn’t grow out of some ‘tom boy stage all little girls go through’, because I’m a boy. I need to be Alix on the outside, because everyone assumes I’m Jodie, when all I have ever been, is Alix...nothing else.”

Mrs McLaughlin grins, and it steadies Alix’s frazzles heart. She scribbles something on her paper before pulling out a pamphlet from her desk, sliding it across the table for Alix to look at. “Well then, how about we plan your transition.”

Alix has never felt so happy before. This is it, the beginning of his life.

-

Courtney ox: Guess who’s bought you back wine? Australian Durif to be persist.

Danny xo: It better be you! Otherwise you’ll be very sorry to get my hopes up!

Courtney ox: Uh oh.

Danny xo: Get your butt in my room right now missy! Unless that “uh oh” was serious, cause in that case I want you to march to the nearest corner shop and buy wine, you tease!

There comes a knock at Danny’s door a few seconds later, and there stands a glowing Courtney, with the bottle of wine she had mentioned. She waves it in front of Danny, and he is hypnotised by the allure like a dog to a bone. He snatches the bottle from her hands then tugs her through, throwing her onto the bed and locking his dorm door. She giggles, pushing her hair out of her face and watching as he takes two red cups from the stack on his desk and pours more than plenty enough wine for them both. 

“Right then. Come on,” He offers her one of the cups and sits beside her on the bed, crossing his legs like a woman. “Tell me the gossip. What happened in Australia?”

Courtney sipped her drink. “What makes you think anything happened?” and before she can even make up a lie, Danny gives her a knowing smirk, his eyes glistening with the best intent but devils interest.

“Are you an honest to god naive bombshell, or do you just pretend to be an idiot at times?” He snickers, putting his cup on his side table and crossing his arms. “Bitchy Del Rio told Kendra, who told Trevor about what you got up to back home. You made out with a girl?”

What came over Courtney was a sudden mixture of all the worst - shock, anger, nausea, the intense desire to run frantically for nothing in particular. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t going to tell Danny everything that happened, but the fact that Bianca had told Trevor about it all hurt her. She confined in the other girl thinking she could trust her, unload the troubles of her mind with an honest secrecy between them. What had happened confused Courtney majorly, she needed to try detangle it, and she had hoped that Bianca would help her with that. Knowing now, that she had betrayed her trust and had told people about Courtney’s adventure, infuriated her. 

She swallows around the cluster of emotions building in her throat and cleanses it with the sweet smooth feeling of wine. After swallowing, she shrugs her shoulder and laughs. “It really wasn’t that big a deal. I made out with a girl and almost had a threesome. Replace girl with guy and that would have been one of your regular Saturday’s back in the day.”

Danny rolled his eyes, leaning on the bed and propping himself up with his elbow. “Considering how freaked out you were when it came to kissing Bianca, I’m shocked you made out with another girl so casually while you were home.” Danny arched his brow, trying to break through the shield she held up. “And the fact you told the person who is completely and utterly hung up on you-”

“Bianca isn’t-”

“I know you’re not that naive, Courtney.” Danny says, sternly. He takes another drink of his wine, watching as the worry lines settle on her forehead. Danny is fine to be Courtney’s shoulder to cry on, he’s taken that roll on with pride and dignity, as he always has with his friends. However, the frustration of watching her not only lie to herself but to him is something he’s never experienced before, and the wire of his patience is starting to fray. “Why are you so afraid to admit the truth? Especially to me of all people!”

“Maybe because you and your boyfriend have a pair of big mouths who can’t seem to keep a secret secret!”

“Don’t even drag Trevor into this, because you know I’ll defend him in a heartbeat. He’s had a hard christmas and he’s worried about one of his closest friends. Everyone else can see it except you.”

“There is nothing to see, Danny!”

“Courtney, I’m gay! Of all the people, why don’t you trust me with the truth? What am I going to say-”

“For God sake, maybe I don’t want to talk about it! Why are you so fucking persistent?” She slams her wine down on the table, standing up over him as he frowns at her. They’re both frowning at one another. “You all want to get involved when the truth is, none of you have the right! I’ve known you barely half a year, and Bianca’s roommates even less than that! You all think you can just tell me what I should be because you’re all so happy with yourselves and you’ve figured it out- well guess what? Not everyone has done that! I’m still figuring myself out! You’re gay, Trevor’s bi, Alix is transitioning...you all know!”

“Oh, so what, we all have it so easy?!”

“Not what I said! But at least you have a clue. You know where you’re all going and what to do if it gets tough. I don’t know what I am, where I’m going, or who will be there along the way!”

“That’s why you talk about it, instead of bottling it up-”

“I’m good at bottling it up. I’ve learnt how to perfect bottling it up, and I’ll stick to it. All you’ve done, Danny, is judge me! You judged Steven, you judge Bianca- you don’t have my best interest at heart, you’re just a damn gossip!”

Danny gasps, cocking his jaw and standing to square up to her, hover inches above where their heights differ. “You know what, Court? I’m done catering to your feelings.” He points his long index finger at her face, still scowling, and she starts to retreat in her anger. “You’re gay, Courtney! You, are, gay! And it’s not a scary thing! Everyone is gay these days, and most of your friends are gay, and you are smitten with a lesbian! Admit it, you’re gay!”

“I’m not gay-”

“No, admit it.”

‘Danny, you’re being-”

“Admit that you’re gay.”

“I’m starting to get so-”

“Just admit it!”

“FINE!” Courtney screams, making him cower back. Her whole body changes in a flash- shoulders tensed, fists clenched, her teeth gritted and eroding her pearly whites as she heaves on thick breaths. Her eyes hurt from how intense she glares at him. “I have liked girls, okay?! I like girls- I think women can be just as attractive as men and maybe, just maybe, I like Bianca! There, you fucking happy?!” She starts to well up, but tries to keep her raged demeanour. Danny stops being angry when he sees the water balling up in the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know for sure what I want, or who I like, but if you’re so desperate to break me down then here you go! I’m broken! I once dated a girl back in Australia and I kissed her when I went home, and you know why I called Bianca? Because I felt fucking guilty! Because I didn’t want to kiss anyone else or be with anyone else, and I didn’t want her to find out through anyone else, because all of you are so fucking nosey and spread shit like wildfire! So there, I told her because God damn it, I respect her and I really fucking LIKE HER!”

Courtney practically screams the last part, and the tears begin falling from her eyes, but she doesn’t retract her rage. She stands with the strength of 10 men, and the height of a giant, and she wills a hole to burn through Danny. There he stands, with sorrow in his eyes, and she wants him to leave her alone and plead her forgiveness at the same time. She hasn’t felt so angry in years, but it feels sweet to release all the pent up frustration- illusively delicious, like she could spend up all of her anxiety and cash out for the explosive rage every time things feel even a little bad. 

But as the quiet settles, and his eyes grow more with a pathetic pity, she suddenly feels the punch of her words hit her in the gut. Courtney said it out loud, the terrifying admission she’d been trying to squeeze down, now out in the open for all to bare and discuss like they had any right to. Danny, her best friend, now knew for sure...

“Danny, I-”

“I’m sorry, babe. I never should have pushed you to say anything.”

“No, I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things to you. I didn’t...I just, all of this is so...I never meant you guys have it easy, of course I didn’t!”

“I know.” He gently puts his arms around her, pulling her into his chest and hugging her tight. As soon as she’s against his warm chest, hearing the soothing patter of his heartbeat, she releases the floodgates and sobs against his hold. Danny strokes her back, shushing her, trying to console her troubled mind. 

“Courtney, you are my best friend. I don’t care how long I’ve known you, I care so much about you. If you don’t want me to tell anyone, including Trevor, then I won’t.” He laces his fingers in the hair down her back, brushing it. Her cries begin to quiet and all she’s left with are soft sniffles and old tears. Danny hates that he made her explode so disastrously, but to some degree he’s relieved she had let it out now than later. “But listen,” he softly pushes her back, crouching down to meet her at eye level, “This isn’t a bad thing. You know she’s crazy about you to! Why don’t you just tell her?”

“No.” She bluntly responds, furrowing her brows. “No, I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because...I don’t want to. I don’t know exactly what I want. I just...I don’t want to feel this confused.” She tugged at his denim shirt, tugging him closer to her again as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to deny anymore tears. Danny kept her close, resuming stroking her back and hoping there would be a resolution soon, to stop her sadness. 

“Coming out is hard, Courtney, but it’s not always as scary as people think. Your parents are accepting and obviously so are your friends! You just have to be brave and make the jump. Yes, me, Trevor and Alix are all out in whatever way that may be, but you think it’s all picking daisies and sunshine?” Danny let her go, tugging her down to sit back on the bed and wiping a tear from under her eye. His smile had returned to the usual goofy, loveable way it was. “God no! Alix’s sister still doesn’t accept him, Trevor’s whole family are unsupportive of him, and you think kids on my block just accepted me with open arms? The thing is, we just stick with those who do accept us. Why focus too long on the negative!” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rested his hand on her cheek. She focused on him with divine interest. “You, my beautiful girl, have too big of a heart to feel so sad. Be yourself, Courtney. Please.”

Courtney dabbed the corners of her eyes, taking a calm breath, and let her eyes look anywhere other than Danny’s. She wasn’t ready- it was that simple. She knew Bianca’s track record when it came to girls and to be one of a long list would be too hard to handle. After so much time of denial, even when it was most obvious, it wasn’t worth it in her opinion to come out when she didn’t feel like it would be a definite thing. She wasn’t going to risk compromising the biggest secret she’d held so close to her, just to watch it shatter into a million pieces. For Courtney, if she couldn’t have being out and date Bianca as a duo deal, then she wouldn’t do it.

Danny’s face however, was so caring. To say no to him, would be difficult...not impossible though. She shook her head and forced a large grin to spread over her face, eyes brightening along with the chipper expression. She took her wine and downed the rest, leaning over and taking the bottle to refill her cup.

“I’m not ready yet, Danny. But, I’ll say it to you, and that’s enough for now.” She raised her cup in the air, biting her lip with glee and waiting. He chuckled, rolling his eyes but nevertheless holding his cup up to meet hers. “Here’s to being somewhat, maybe gay.”

“There aint no maybe with me, baby. But...I’ll take it, for now.” They clink cups and drink. 

-

A party at Johnson’s was the plan, and it was a night to ensure high spirits and drunken shenanigans. With more than enough supervision and organisation from Alix, the two had decided that since everyone was home from Christmas break they may as well wrangle everyone together and throw a small house party. 

Johnson lived in a small house with 3 other roommates, all girls, all in relationships with big, brutish footballers. There was Kayla, the half Mexican, half Italian Psychology student, who dated a boy that seemed to only have the same amount of brain cells one could count using their hands alone. She liked to be alone more often than not, but when she was around she was rather talkative and brought interesting conversation to the table, and Johnson didn’t mind when she came down in the morning in her booty shorts and crop top. Next there was Tilly, a petit, bubbly extrovert who was rather plump but adored every aspect about herself regardless what any drunk punters might tell her. She reminded them off a chubbier bubbles from Power Puff Girls. She dated a guy who was captain of the football, rugby and cricket team at his university, but was deeply ashamed to have a geek obsession with Doctor Who and the video game Dead Rising. Finally, there was Edana. She was the one Johnson got on with the most and more than often spent long nights going into the morning just talking to her. She had long red hair, all the way down to the small of her back, and freckles dusting over her nose as if they had infected her. A true celtic girl from her appearance down to the way she could hold a drink. She did language studies at the same university as Trevor and Kendra, along with her boyfriend, who played nothing but American baseball and talked about American food. Johnson wasn’t dying to date her, but he did envy that a half wit like her boyfriend ever landed someone as amazing as Edana.

It was a pleasant place to call home, especially since Alix was there more than half the time, eating Johnson’s food and making them watch Storage Hunters. He wouldn’t dare have it any other way though. He wouldn’t want to give up being in the company of his best friend for anything, because being with Alix was amazing. Johnson loved just being around him, he’d never been able to connect to someone so quickly before, and he truly felt like he could trust Alix with anything he worried about. The house felt too quiet and lonesome without him there. Even if they were both just sitting in silence, Johnson would still be grateful for merely being in his company.

As soon as Alix finishes at the clinic, he rushes home, showers, and runs to Johnson’s to set up and tell him all about it. 

“So, what will the hormones do?” Johnson asks after the extensive explanation Alix had given him about the appointment, mid way mixing a couple of drinks to make a punch. 

“Make me a man.”

“Okay, more specifically?”

“It does’t matter what they do specifically, as long as they do what they’re supposed to I’m happy!”

“Okay,” Johnson screws the lid on one of the drinks, thinking for a second, “Are they safe?”

“Yeah. I mean, you know, there’s risks and shit like with any medication, and I might have symptoms and stuff but it’s all good really.”

“Symptoms?”

Alix takes a vodka bottle and pours it into the bowl, watching the orange coloured liquid splash. “I don’t know, throwing up, headaches, mood swings- shit like that. Realx Jonny! It’s all fine in the long run.” He hands the bottle back to Johnson and smiles. “Aren’t you happy for me?”

Johnson was ecstatic for Alix if it meant him being happy finally. He was over the moon delighted at the idea of his best friend being comfortable with himself after too long wallowing in the depression of no identity, but he felt an odd sense of edge that made him nervous. He couldn’t put his finger on why exactly he was apprehensive toward Alix’s transition, but there was something small deep inside him that wanted to protest against it. Was it because it was so foreign to him? A whole new world he’d never experienced or researched before, being very real in the life of his friend. It was hard to understand, but Johnson tried to focus more on the part of him that was happy. The more important part that would keep Alix happy with his decision.

“Of course bud. If this is what you want, why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Alix clicks his fingers as he walks out the room, getting his cans of beer from his backpack to put in the fridge. “True that. I’m so happy. I just want to get on with it already, you know? Agh, I feel so genuinely happy now! The happiest I’ve been in months!”

Johnson watched as Alix beamed with dreamy wonderment and pride, practically bouncing as he walked, and it made his heart flutter ever so slightly. The infectious sunny exterior brightened his own mood, he wished this moment could last forever. As Alix put the beers in the fridge, Johnson started setting up a table for beer pong, but kept watching his friend closely, with intrigue. 

Alix wasn’t feminine, he made sure to cover up any trace there may be, but...was he going to be completely unrecognisable after a few months on testosterone? Was his personality going to shift? Was everything going to change with the passing months providing more confidence in his friend? He knew he shouldn’t care so much, because none of it really effected him, but the nagging thoughts popped up every so often to irritate him. Alix was going to become more himself while simultaneously straying from himself, and Johnson didn’t know what he’d do in a few months time. 

He had never hit it off with someone so quickly like he had with Alix, and the idea he may lose him terrified him. He knew that if Alix got on with his life, happily and comfortable, Johnson could learn to be happy, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t cautious. 

Alix won’t change, he told himself repeatedly. Alix will still be Alix, just with a new body and more confidence. Alix won’t change. He can’t change.

“Shall we do a tequila shot while we wait for people to show?” Alix asks, holding up shot glasses and smirking mischievously.

Johnson sighs, falling into a worn out smile. “Definitely.”

-

Bianca couldn’t go alone. She refused to see Courtney without back up close by.

Kendra was one thing- fiery, gorgeous, and the toughest girl she’d ever had the pleasure to befriend, but she wasn’t enough in this case. She needed someone that would make Courtney green with envy. She needs to be seen basking in the joy of new romance, freshly baked in red hot kisses and smelling of animalistic sex. It’s her personalised middle finger, sugar coated in pettiness. Courtney would see Bianca happily hooked on someone else, and she’d feel the same soul crushing sensation she had.

Zara, wearing skinny low rider jeans and a Nirvana crop top, her hair glossed and silky, flowing freely down her back, and her heated daggers pierced anyone who dared to set their sights on her flawless appearance. She was elegant and desirable like a tall glass of wine, and Bianca knew that being in her company would drive Courtney insane. Harriet on the other side of Zara, her curled hair in a high ponytail, bright pink lipstick and a skirt to match. She was like a babydoll dressed by a hooker, but she wore it with such refined confidence no one could touch her. Then of course there was Kendra, arm linked with Bianca’s as they strutted toward the house.

“It was nice of you to invite us along, Bianca!” Harriet said as they approached the door, knocking. She messed around with the rim of her boob-tube, her cleavage heavy and bouncing. “I hope I’m not over dressed.”

“Oh, you are, but you look fucking amazing, babe.” Zara reassured, putting her arm around Harriet’s shoulder and kissing her on the temple. Harriet’s face lit up as her dimples professed their glee, and she started playing with her ponytail in a fuss to look utterly perfect. 

“So,” Kendra nudged Bianca, “What’s your master plan then? Make out with Zara to get back at Courtney?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Bianca scoffed. “I’m going to make out with Zara because she’s fucking hot. And, if Courtney sees, it’s just a coincidence, you know?”

Kendra gave her a concerned look, crossing her arms, but Zara shrugged, laughing. “I’m honoured to be apart of this devious plan. Bianca’s a good kisser, so what’s wrong with indulging in a little fun in the name of...you know, making someone jealous?”

Bianca cackled, shoving Zara playfully. Before Kendra could interject her disapproval again, the door opened and there stood a pleasantly drunk Alix cheering, holding a plastic cup of presumably what was beer. His hair was an erratic tousled mess and he had panda eyes where he’d smudged his eyeliner, but there wasn’t a trace of care on his face. His face was glowing, and he grabbed Bianca’s hand and dragged her in.

“You cunt, where the fuck have y’all been?!” He laughed, turning to the other three girls and giving them all tight hugs as he squealed in delight. “Come on, go to the kitchen and do a shot, you need to catch up!”

They definitely did. When they entered the scene there was about a dozen 20 something year old students lounging around, laughing obnoxiously loud or dancing out of time with the music. Danny was currently smoking a joint with some black haired goth girl while Trevor lay beside him, stroking a ginger cat that must have belonged to one of the girls that lived there. A collection of preppy girls were gathered on the sofa, giggling along with something Johnson was saying, competing between one another for his attention. Bianca walked through a scene of students playing ring of fire to get to the kitchen, and poured out four shots. 

Each girl held a glass in the air, ready to do the shot in solidarity to one another. “Let’s get fucking wasted.” Bianca announced, to which they all cheered, clinking their tiny glasses and downing the fiery drink. They all cringed as a reaction, but laughed all the same. 

“I’m doing another.” Zara said, grabbing the tequila bottle and pouring herself another shot. She waved the glass at the other three, and to her surprise they all said yes. “Nice, I like girls that can drink hard.” 

It didn’t take long for the girls to start spilling tipsy stories over one another, giggling and drinking as fast as possible despite the gagging sensation tickling the back of their throat. Harriet was sat on the kitchen counter top, swinging her legs as she laughed uncontrollably at something Kendra said, and Zara and Bianca were leaning out the back door smoking, somehow deep in a serious conversation.

“Your folks kicked you out?” Bianca said in shock, mouth wide as the other girl nodded, smiling despite the statement. 

“I mean, they took me back a week later and apologised, but yeah. My father was islamic so for him it was too much to have a lesbian for a daughter, you know? He’d been taught that homosexuality was a sin, and his first instinct was to kick me out. My mum was just afraid of going up against him, but she came to her senses as did he, and the rest is history.”

“Still.” Bianca took a drag of her cigarette, holding in the fizzling burn that festered at the pit of her lungs, and blew the smoke out above her head before finishing her thought. “That’s gotta suck.”

“Yeah, well obviously! I went to live with Harriet though so it wasn’t all bad. Her mum was really cool.” Zara tapped her cigarette against her finger, putting it back to her mouth and inhaling. “What about you?” She asked, smoke pouring from her lips. “What are you horror stories with coming out?”

“Oh, not much.” Bianca smirked, throwing her burnt out fag on the floor and crossing her arms. “Mom and dad were kind of shocked but totally cool. My brother’s gay so he pretty much softened the blow for when I came out.”

“Lucky.”

“Yeah. My family were totally accepting. My friends, not so much.”

Zara raised her brow. “Oh?”

Bianca pondered on the memories for a second, looking into Zara’s dark, ebullient eyes, and saw a generosity of genuine curiosity she hadn’t found before. Someone who wanted to know, so they could care and relate. “Yeah, I don’t know why exa-”

“BIANCA!” A sudden girlish squeal shattered the bound they shared. She looked round to find the voice, and there was the person who made her heart seize in a fright. Courtney, smiling vivaciously as she skipped over and threw her open arms at Bianca. She squeezed her tight, still making childish excited noises while Bianca tried to keep her balance and composure having seen the one person she’d dreaded seeing. Zara caught Bianca’s panicked eyes and gave her an annoyed look before walking away and joining Harriet. “Oh my God, Bianca, I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m friends with Alix too.” She pulled out of the hug and stood back from Courtney, trying not to look too happy to see her. Courtney was positively ecstatic to see Bianca, unable to stop moving, and her smile stretched like elastic from cheek to cheek. 

Courtney felt bubbly, standing in front of Bianca after so long without seeing her. She’d missed the dimples, and her pillowy lips, and her curvy hips. She looked just as beautiful tonight as she always did, and maybe it was after her chat with Danny or it was the multiple jager bombs she’d done when walking into the house, but she felt delightfully light in her presence. She could reach forward and fly into the heavens with Bianca, hand in hand, heart to heart. 

“I really missed you, B.” Courtney admits, leaning against the door and unapologetically fluttering her heart eyes. “A lot. How was your Christmas?”

Could have been better given you called me up like a dick teasing cunt and told me some bullshit. How about we talk about the floozy you made out with that you had no shame in telling me all about, huh? 

Of course, she didn’t say any of that. Bianca gritted her teeth in protest to her thought, and shrugged. “It was okay. Yeah.” She looked over to Zara, seeing her smiling with Harriet, pushing her hair behind her ear and somehow always able to come across effortlessly free spirited, even in the most mundane moment. Bianca couldn’t help but look at her like she was a great piece of art work, needing only the upmost, focused attention, and she craved to feel the paint of her soul wet on her skin. It was a purely lustrous desire, clean of any romance or dedication, and dripping with sensuality. 

When she looked back at Courtney, she felt deep within her bones it was so much more than what she felt for Zara. She felt a pain that was as addictive as heroine, and tasted like gold, and she was completely, whole heartedly obsessed with the feeling that all she craved was relief. Courtney’s snowy face, her humble eyes, her pink lips- everything made Bianca quiver with such maddening need. It was going to kill her in the end, she knew it, like everyone else knew, but to pretend like she could stay away from her was comical.

Courtney was as present in Bianca as the oxygen in her lungs. 

“Did you have fun in Australia?” She asked, dreading the answer, regretting wasting her breath on the question. Courtney nodded enthusiastically, reaching into the fridge beside Bianca and taking out a cold cider. 

“It was pretty good,” She took the bottle cap of the counter, popping open the bottle. “I liked seeing all my friends, course they haven’t changed! My friends, Willam and Violet, decided to take me to a gay bar for New Years Eve that was like an hour away! We stayed at this totally run down motel and Violet threw up in the already disgusting pool they had, but it was so fun! I didn’t even realise I missed them so much until I saw them all, you know?”

Bianca couldn’t say she did, but nevertheless she nodded. Bianca didn’t have any friends she missed in America, or at least none she knew would be happy to see her if she went home. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

Courtney smiled, taking a sip of her cider before offering Bianca a swig. She accepted, drinking more than Courtney had but remembering not to be too cheeky with her generosity. When she handed the bottle back, Courtney accidentally caught her hand, and as her finger tips grazed the bumps of Bianca’s knuckles, a singing spark ignited between them. Blazing forrest fires mercifully devoted to destroying innocence, bravely caught between the skin on skin contact they held. Courtney’s eyes lifted in time to Bianca’s, and they looked at each other like this was the first time they’d ever met; completely struck on the beat of hope, but Bianca’s with less wishful thinking. Courtney’s gorgeous eyes, like an ocean, slowly killing Bianca the same slow, painful way drowning does. 

“Sorry.” Bianca pulled her hand away, playing with her hair and avoiding eye contact. This is too hard, she thought, suddenly overwhelmed with a sickly feeling. She wanted to be around Courtney, but she couldn’t. It was too fucking hard, seeing her all smiles and no remorse. “I have to go ask Zara something.”

“Oh.” Courtney was still all smiles, looking over at the girl in question. “Yeah, of course. I’ll catch you in a bit!”

Bianca didn’t waste another second pining over her. She practically fell at Zara in her haste, catching onto her arm as she regained her balance. Zara stumbled slightly, but laughed nevertheless as she helped the girl get back on her feet, and then laughed a little more at the deer caught in head lights expression Bianca held. 

“Woah there, Bambi.” She put her arm around Bianca’s waist, pulling her close and handing her a poured out drink of vodka coke. “Get this down you, fast!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll need it. I saw how little miss perfect made your skin itch. A whole night of close calls will require a lot of liquid confidence.”

Bianca looked at the drink before downing it as fast as possible, cringing as her reflexes kicked in, and she was gagging over the strength. She scrunched her eyes as tight as possible till all she could see was stars, and everything in that moment felt infinite; the worst sickness in a single second stretching over the mirage of forever. 

Zara ran her hand up and down Bianca’s back, watching her as she cringed and collected her composure. She shakes away the shudder coming over her spine and hops from foot to foot, and Zara finds it ever so endearing. Cheeks flushed, eyes blank and shrunken, face full of new found wonderment.

“Okay, that was strong. Fuck, get me another.” Bianca demands, grinning mischievously, and Zara wastes no time in grabbing her another cup and drink. She was hoping, with a little persuasion and a lot seductive drunken dancing, she’d end up in the same situation with Bianca as she had a few days ago.

-

It wasn’t a raging house party, by any measure. Not the type that gets over thrown with rowdy teenagers and fights, but rather it’s a “gathering” in which everyone attending gets incredibly drunk in the company of good friends. There’s a few unfamiliar faces but no one outrageous, and everyone is in high spirits. 

Bianca, Kendra and Trevor take themselves upstairs to Johnson’s bedroom, as he gives Kendra a hoodie to warm up in and the other two coo over them, embracing each other dramatically and laughing as they slow dance together. Johnson and Kendra laugh along, a little more lost in each other than the mocking of their friends. Danny and Alix drag them back downstairs eventually to play a game. Everyone sits in a circle on the living room floor, and there’s an empty bottle in the middle of them all. As Bianca sits beside Zara, she’s bombarded by Courtney’s arms around her neck and then spinning to sit the other side, still wide eyed and delightfully sunny. Bianca, now significantly drunker and looser, smiled back warmly, biting her lip and batting Courtney’s ponytail playfully, making her giggle.

“Please tell me this isn’t spin the bottle.” Kendra laughs, watching as Alix sits down with his Absolute vodka and cranberry juice beside him, smirking devilishly at her. 

“Truth or dare, yeah. Don’t be a pussy about it, Kendra.”

She widened her eyes, cocking her jaw and laughing as he gave her a challenging look. “You’re on, Joker. I’ll do anything thrown my way.”

Alix snickered, grabbing the empty bottle and spinning it. “We’ll see about that.”

The glass bottle span, slightly tittering out of its spot, and soon the sound of the glass scrapping the floor came to a stop and the neck landed on Danny. He looked up at Alix and jerked his brows, clicking his tongue before cockily saying “Dare. Hit me with the worst you got.”

It started with Danny having to give someone a strip tease - “Not Trevor, that would be too easy!” - he chose Courtney, who squealed almost the whole time with her hands unsure where to stay, but Danny threw himself around without an ounce of shame. Next was Alix, in which he was dared to call someone randomly on his phone and talk dirty to them. Of course it had to end up being Sarah, the girl who was madly in love with him. Trevor is next and ops for Truth. 

“How far have you and Danny gone?”

He turns bright red and nervously answers “Uh, not very. We’ve made out, and, like, almost done stuff, but...” Danny pulls him in to his chest, kissing his temple and winking at Alix who had asked, consoling his embarrassed boyfriend. Then Kendra was dared to swap her clothes with someone, and taking the opportunity as it arose, she picked Johnson to strip off and reveal all before squeezing into her glittery purple sheet top and booty shorts. She sat in his torn skinny jeans and red flannel shirt, winking at him as he grinned devilishly toward her, letting her hair down and fall around her face.

Everyone was having a ball, laughing wildly and drinking way more than their livers could probably handle. Then the bottle landed on Courtney, and the girl Lavender, one of Johnson’s roommates friends, watched her as Courtney chewed over her two options. 

“Go on, I’ll do a dare.”

Courtney figured it would be nothing less than taking off her top and running around the neighborhood screaming, or downing a disgusting drink that would probably make her throw up. She didn’t care what it was, she was already flying away on the ride that was her ecstatic intoxicated high, awaiting her fait from the random girl she didn’t know.

“Um, okay. I dare you to...kiss, the most attractive person?”

Everyone laughed a little, looking between one another, but Courtney took the order like an instinct and every nerve ending in her body alighted as she turned to Bianca, holding the side of her face as she pressed her lips tenderly against the other girls. She could feel the tense knots in Bianca from just her lips, but she was too far gone. The world around them had gone quiet and all her senses had shut down other than the will to kiss and the need to feel it in return. 

Bianca was shocked, but she had missed this feeling like she was missing a lung. The fireworks in her head, or the melting of her veins, where every feeling became one and all she knew was to kiss. She took the back of Courtney’s head, wanting her to fall into her arms and beg for her, tell her how much she needed Bianca. Her thin lips felt so soft, and she wanted to memorise that feeling, store it away forever and never let it slip away, in fear that she’d never be granted the greatest feeling ever again. 

Courtney pulled away, staring into Bianca’s eyes. The blown up black of her chocolaty eyes, twinkling with shock, all Courtney had to do was whisper how she felt and Bianca would be putty in her hand. All she had to do was kiss her again and tell her everything she was hiding away, and there’d be no more heartache and fake smiles...

She laughed instead, falling against Bianca’s shoulder. She could feel the other girl’s body stiff with nerves, but she lay long enough to let the horror of the false pretence fall, so she could look at her again without feeling her chest hurt. Everyone started laughing around them, and soon all Bianca could do was laugh, if not to hide her real emotions but to save herself. 

Courtney pushed herself up, baring her pearly teeth at Bianca. “Of course you’re the most attractive person, B. Your sense of humour with that hair, how could anyone resist?”

Bianca nodded shyly, turning away as fast as possible to grab her drink and sipped it, facing Zara. There, the only face in the room not amused at all but more irritated if anything, glaring at Courtney before meeting Bianca’s eyes and letting her expression fade into something resembling pity. 

“Well,” Alix looked around before stumbling to his feet, “this feels like a perfect time for tequila shots.”

Everyone cheered and stood up, apart from Bianca. She found herself slowing down as time sped past, feeling like she could physically feel the seconds cut up her skin and infect her blood. She hated this feeling, the pining for a girl who either was ridiculously naive or playing the game of beating her heart to a pulp, because which ever result it was ended the same way. Bianca alone, frustrated, and overly emotional. She sat in the middle of the room, eyes glued to the spot of dust under the sofa, and threatened herself to keep it together, for the sake of her sanity and reputation.

Not now, Del Rio. You didn’t let Jinxy get to you, you didn’t let Vivianne break you, so you won’t let Courtney hurt you either. Keep it together. This is just life. Growing up, sweat the small stuff and move on. You’re going to get up, get a drink, and pretend you’re not-

“Bianca.” A soft call shook her out of her state, and Bianca’s head whipped round to face the delicate features of Harriet, smiling and holding a glass of clear liquid. “Here, I got you some water. You look kind of sick?”

“Oh, jeeze, I’m fine.” She staggered to her feet, leaning on Harriet for support. “That’s nice of you though.”

Harriet shrugged. “I just didn’t want you to throw up.” She clears her throat, looking around awkwardly before continuing. “You know, I don’t want to meddle, but I think Zara really likes you.”

Bianca’s throat went dry, eyes shooting open. “Really? I mean, that’s cool. She’s a cool chick.”

Harriet nibbled her bottom lip, looking behind herself to see Zara talking to Kendra and Trevor. “Yeah. But uh, I hope it’s okay to ask...but, you uh, you’re not into her, are you?”

“Well, I like her. I do, I...I really love her company-”

“But you’re in love with Courtney?”

Bianca stood still as the words shot her spine like lightening. The stutters of her mind seemed stuck on her tongue, tying her words around each other. “No, I don’t love her.” She ground down on her teeth, sighing as the pressure clung to her chest. “It’s complicated. But trust, me and her, are never going to happen.” She honestly believed it, despite how much it hurt to admit. 

“Yeah, sure, sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“No, Harriet. It’s fine. You’re just looking out for your friend.” Bianca rubs her arm affectionately, smiling thankfully. “I like Zara, I do. I wouldn’t want to hurt her, but I don’t think either of us are looking for anything serious.”

Harriet tilts her head, humming. “All I’ll say is I’ve never seen her put in this much effort for someone. Zara usually gets in, gets out. But you...” Harriet, shrugs, “it’s food for thought, is all. I’m sorry.”

Bianca nods, a little dizzy from the whiplash of emotions. “No, it’s okay.” Before she could say anymore, Zara bounces over with Kendra and Trevor, handing Bianca another drink and teasing Harriet for insinuating anyone needed water. 

Everyone resumes their normal mood, dancing and laughing like 20 something year olds are programmed to do, but Bianca doesn’t feel the same. She’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the scattered fragments that might make up coherent thoughts, and she can’t seem to focus her attention on anything other than what her heart is trying to convey to her mind.

She blinks rapidly, about to walk out the room for some space and maybe fresh air, when suddenly she’s spun back into the action and as if sent by God himself to further send her in a spiral of confusion, it’s Courtney. The blonde bombshell dancing seductively, innocently, just wanting Bianca’s attention and devotion in this drunken moment. Bianca is able to muster up a smile, swaying her hips to the beat and keep Courtney content for the moment that is killing her slowly. This girl, face pale and shimmering in the glow of no cares, with her lips still a little swollen from their kiss, unintentionally mocking Bianca’s feelings with her lack of understanding. 

Then Courtney turns around and presses her body close to Bianca’s, holding her hair over her shoulder and moving in time with the music and her lustful wonders. It was unexpected, and as dramatic as it was, it felt deadly to the intoxicated self that was Bianca’s unrequited soul.

Bianca watched with wide eyes, feeling the literal hearts form in her pupils as the girl of her hottest desires pushed against her front, bending down and wiggling her bum against Bianca. Courtney giggled, with flushed innocence as the music took her away, but Bianca’s blood rushed feverishly through her veins as she felt her body hit by a heat wave.

She wanted to grab her by the hips and dance to the rhythm of Courtney’s body, but it was too risky. She knew her instincts, she knew her feelings, and she knew how far she’d take it. This wasn’t just some random girl who’d had too much to drink- this was Courtney, naively playing a dangerous game that everyone was well aware off. Bianca shuffled backward, still dancing and laughing to keep a cool attitude, then when Courtney sprung up straight, throwing her hair back, she took the girls hand and laughed harder.

“You need water, bitch. You’re totally wasted!”

“Of course.” Courtney pulled Bianca in, holding her secure by the small of her back as her eyes fell to her lips. “Aren’t we all?”

Bianca never felt so sober in her life. Her heart racing like a cheetah as she tried to maintain herself. Courtney’s bubble eyes growing close to popping, Bianca seemed to always fall into the perpetual pining of her desires that Courtney seemed to toy with too much. Was she really so naive she had blocked out everything from before? Their first, wild kiss in the dark of the club, or the sensual touches in her bed, or every longing gaze they both pretended meant nothing? Here she was, with Courtney unintentionally ogling her cleavage, and despite what her pained needs craved, she wanted nothing more than to be out of the situation. She couldn’t keep dealing with her emotions flailing around like a rag doll.

Before anything further could happen, Kendra jumped in and linked her arm with Bianca’s, and Danny wrapped his arms around Courtney’s waist, separating the two girls. Courtney was none the wiser, twirling around Danny still giggling. Bianca however was confused, detangling from Kendra when they got to the kitchen.

“You need something?” She asked, a slight laugh in her tone as she stared at her quizzically. Kendra crossed her arms, shaking her head.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Del Rio, and you know it.”

“Hay, I wasn’t doing anything. She was all over me! I was trying to get away!” Kendra cocked her brow, unbelieving. Bianca scoffed. “I was!”

“Alright. What the hell is she doing then? Why is she all over you like a hot rash?”

“I haven’t a fucking clue. I mean, I guess we’re usually kind of flirty-”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

“But I don’t know, last time she was like this was when we were drunk. Maybe it’s a drinking thing.” Bianca shrugged, turning to the kitchen counter and pouring herself another drink. “This isn’t easy, you know, resisting that bitchy tease.”

“For someone so fond of her, you sure do like to pick insulting nicknames.”

Bianca smirked, sipping her drink. She looked out into the living room and there was Courtney, now with her arms around both Danny and Alix as she sang obnoxiously. Bianca huffed. “What am I supposed to do, Kendra? We’re friends, I like her, both as a friend and as more. I can’t ignore her.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bianca.”

Bianca rolled her eyes, shoving Kendra playfully. “Don’t be such a fucking pussy. I’m fine. You know me, I’m like a cat, I always land on my feet and I’ve got like nine lives!”

“Yeah? Well you’re running out, Catwoman. Courtney’s going to break your heart if you’re not careful.” Kendra warned, giving Bianca a knowing look before walking out the room.

Bianca took a deep breath, before letting out a loud grunt of frustration, and slapped her forehead repeatedly. She wished Kendra wasn’t right, just once she wished she could laugh in her face and strut about victorious. 

This time, Bianca practically ran through the living room and up the stairs, letting out a relieved sigh when she found Johnson’s bedroom and the door was shut off from the rest of civilisation downstairs. She stood with her back pressed against the door for a few seconds, before falling to the man’s bed and letting her stress leave her body.

Recap: Bianca was undeniably, shamefully obsessed with Courtney and doing everything in her will power to forget the fact she wanted her so bad, while Courtney was denying there was ever anything between them all the while shamelessly teasing her like there was a chance. Then there was Zara, a totally sexy tattooist who was too cool for words and too punk to function, that for some unknown reason was really into Bianca, and they had hooked up drunkenly at a party that no one knew about. 

“Fuck.” Bianca cursed, her hands covering her face as the facts began to pour down upon her like lashing rain. She threw her arms either side her. They smacked the mattress harder than expected, the weight lost in the fog of too much alcohol, and Bianca was left with the heaviness in her wrists splitting open her veins.

She felt vulnerable, and for Bianca, that was the worst imaginable scenario. It had become all too familiar lately, and she was growing tired of welcoming it with open arms. She was fed up of thinking about how nice it felt to kiss Courtney. She was fed up of thinking about how her heart skipped a beat with every hello they exchanged. She was fed up of waiting around for the confused girl who was never going to give in to how she felt. Bianca had gone through those awkward years of being unsure, she didn’t want to add on more just for the sake of it.

So, what was it she wanted? On an obvious level, it was Courtney. There was no point ignoring the elephant of her thoughts, but that elephant’s gold was peeling off to reveal a snake. The other side had an open door with Zara holding the door, freeing and available, and that idea was somewhat of a comfort. 

Courtney had lied to her too. She had been with a girl- or, she had history with a girl, a stranger in Bianca’s world. When they met at Roobux, when all the complications began, Courtney had lied and told her she had no interest in women. Bianca had been tortured herself with the humiliation of falling for a straight girl, when maybe she hadn’t. Zara had never lied. Zara was a lesbian, and she’d taken care of Bianca when she needed her most; so why was it all so complicated even in theory?

The colours of Johnson’s room became blurred, with the lines intertwining and becoming merely another dull inevitable, closing Bianca’s lines of communication with peace and frustration. She was left in the silence, with just her heartbeat to comfort her, unsuccessfully. 

“H-hay Bianca?” A mousey voice crept through, breaking Bianca’s aura. She sat up and saw Courtney, timidly entering the room and staying stuck with her back to the door. Bianca resisted the urge to groan in annoyance.

“What’s up, blondie?”

Something had switched dramatically since a few minutes ago. The outrageous kid that was living in her prime, was now hunched in on herself, nervously avoiding any eye contact. Bianca quizzically watched how Courtney shyly sat on the edge of the bed, looking as if she might throw up.

“I need to say that I’m sorry.” She stopped, finally looking up to meet Bianca’s eyes and taking a deep breath. “I am so sorry for what I did over Christmas. Calling you and interrupting your good time.”

“What?” Bianca laughed. “It’s not a problem-”

“No, it is. I can’t avoid it. I won’t do that to you again, because last time it almost killed me to avoid you.” Courtney tucked her bottom lip in-between her teeth and took another deep breath, as if she was constantly on the verge of running dry. Bianca was suddenly struck with a gloomy ambience, feeling her heart be squeezed by the presence of Courtney, visibly distressed, because of her.

“I don’t understand where this is all coming from, Court. You were fine 5 minutes ago-”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m here now, telling you I’m sorry. I need you to know, Adore doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Bianca’s face fell, deadpan. She didn’t speak, she just sat silent, listening.

“She use to mean so much to me, yes. I still care about her deeply and I want to make up for all the shit I did to her some day, but...I don’t like her anymore, not like that...not romantically.” Courtney stuttered, sniffing back the tears that were slowly creeping though. Bianca moved her hand to rest on Courtney’s knee, but her face didn’t even twitch.

“Courtney...”

“I’ve probably fucked you off too many times, and you keep forgiving me for some unknown reason. I...I don’t mean to be such a disaster. But, the thing is Bianca. I...” She looked deep into Bianca’s eyes, and everything she wanted to say suddenly dissolved; she was drunk on the diluted colours of Bianca’s dark glimmering eye. Bianca stared back just as hard, awaiting the words she knew would never come. She held onto the speck of hope like it would revive her after death, and took the life from Courtney’s open mouth. What was happening? Why was Courtney saying any of this? The two sat in the quiet, gazing upon the lost ambition of what they both kept hidden from the light of day.

Courtney swallowed, a tear finally falling down her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you or ruin your Christmas or-”

“Hay,” Bianca finally smiled warmly, holding Courtney’s cheeks and brushing away the rogue tear. “Please don’t apologise for that. It wasn’t a problem, really. You were probably still a little drunk and just, telling your friend the shit that went down. We’ve all been there.” She lied, hoping her smile was convincing enough to denying that hearing about Courtney kiss another girl didn’t break her heart a little. “You’re such a messy drunk, blondie. Look at you,” Bianca sat back, chucking, “how many times have I had to console you after a few too many drinks, huh?”

Courtney sniffed, snickering lightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no more tears, for fuck sake. No more sorry’s either, okay? You’re just being emotional because your drunk. I’m not mad at you for anything.”

Courtney sighed, knowing Bianca was lying, but nodded nevertheless. She wasn’t going to win this, and she was fine with it. As long as Bianca knew she meant no harm. “You mean so much to me, you know that?” Courtney told her, as the corner of her lip finally lifted. “If I ever piss you off, just tell me, okay?”

Bianca knew she couldn’t keep that promise. She knew that this charade was going to continue for a long time, despite what they both wanted: peace. How was she supposed to tell Courtney she was annoyed at her for kissing another girl when they were both so adamant on pretending everything was completely fine between them? She couldn’t muster up the strength to tear her apart, tell her how much it pained her not to kiss her, because to go through the days without Courtney was a life she didn’t want. She wanted to feel the agonising twisting in her gut if it meant she got to just talk to Courtney. She was caught in a catch 22, but sometimes that’s just life.

Bianca had been through the waves of distress, she could do it again.

“Of course. Come here.” She took Courtney in for a hug and all the agony sprang to life in a single second, taking every nerve in her body like a prisoner. She held on Courtney with everything she had, remembering the smell of her perfume, the feel of her skin, hoping it would all sink into her bones and she’d have her apart of her forever. Courtney is so soft, Bianca thought, burying her face in her shoulder and letting the moment overwhelm her own drunken emotions. 

Courtney wanted to tell Bianca everything, but she couldn’t. All she could do was hold her, and hope the fire would die out soon.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.”

“Okay...sorry.”

Bianca laughed. That’s all she could do anymore, otherwise she might go insane. Keep laughing and the world keeps turning.

[gcdean-novel]

Erythro - chapter 2

Chapter 1 here

(about 23 years later)

A drop of water hit Perin in the face. He blinked and stared up into the darkness. Another drop came. Annoyed, he sat up and moved over. It must have rained a few days ago, he thought.

The darkness was all around him. He had not seen light in quite a while. How long exactly, he did not know. Days. Maybe a week. A month? It is difficult to keep time when it is constantly dark. He knew where he was – a dungeon, located beneath the city of Pons. The dungeon was enormous, stretching for forty feet straight down and a mile wide. It was supported by ancient limestone caves that had been carved by rain water flowing out into the ocean. When the prisons in Pons had gotten too full, they moved the worst prisoners underground.

Perin’s cell was a small square with an angled ceiling. A normal sized man would have difficulty standing, but Perin was quite short and could at least sit up with no problems. Filling in the spaces around the original cave walls was stone, which was covered in mud and clay. The cells had unique shapes. Each cell had a solid metal door. Because it was underground, there was never any light. Even when the guards brought food, they slid it through a small opening at the bottom of the door so that no light got inside. The prisoners could not even see each other. All they had was the darkness. Sometimes, if Pons got a lot of rain, the cells would flood. Prisoners had drowned in the dungeon. Some had starved. Some had killed themselves. No one ever checked.

Perin moved backward until his back hit the wall and he leaned against the dirt, trying to sleep again. Now that the cell was getting wet, he could smell wet dirt. The cell probably smelled like other things as well, but he had been there so long that he didn’t notice it anymore. He wished that he was more tired. If he were tired he could sleep and not stare at the darkness and smell the dirt. He heard a small noise that made him jump. The rain drops were still falling and making a splash noise as they hit the bottom of his cell. Perin shook his head. I’ve been down here so long that rain is starting to scare me.

Perin sighed and rubbed his eyes. He did not know exactly why he was in the dungeon, but he did not expect to be there for so long. A man named Jerek Tyler was the dictator of Pons. Every so often Tyler would throw his associates into the dungeon to teach them a lesson, but he would pull them back after a few days. Perin expected that he had done something to make Tyler angry, but he was not being pulled out. Whatever happened, it must have been severe.

The dark and the quiet were supposed to affect the mind, to cause the unruly soldier to come crawling out, begging Tyler to let him return to the surface. But Perin knew something that Tyler did not. The same caves that supported the dungeon served as a hiding place for about a hundred women. Several years earlier, Tyler had decided that women were only good for producing children, and so encouraged his men to treat them very badly. In Tyler’s opinion, women had to be “put in their place”. A woman could not do anything without consent from an army officer or from Tyler directly. Those who chose not to produce children for the army were punished in Tyler’s torture rooms. Sometimes, just speaking was punishable by death.

A few of the women decided to protect themselves by going underground. Nico had come up with the plan, and Perin had helped to save them. They would pretend to take women into a whore house, doing their patriotic duty. Instead the women were shown to their new home through secret tunnels in the floor. No one ever asked where the women went, and as long as there were not too many disappearing at a time, no one would care. Of course, a few actually were whores, but most chose a life underground. The women that Perin had saved had not forgotten that kindness. When they had found out that Perin was in their caves, they had come to keep him company.

Maybe that is what Tyler is angry about, he thought. Maybe he discovered that the women are missing and he knows that I have something to do with it. No, if that were the case, then they wouldn’t be visiting him. They would be more concerned with protecting their own. They are probably safe. The women had tried to convince him to go underground with them, but he had refused. If Tyler came looking for him, and he was suddenly gone, it would put all of them in jeopardy.

Perin stuck his fingers into the moist dirt below him. Years of prisoners had formed a shallow layer of dirt and grime. He had no idea what was in that dirt, and for once he was glad that he could not see it.

There was not anyone up there who would notice that he was gone. Tyler might notice, but he would not care. No one else would dare to try to help Perin. Well, Nico might, if he were in his right mind. Perin had no family and very few friends. Nothing to think about.

Somehow his thoughts always came back to Nico. Nico had cared for Perin after his family had died. He did not know how they had been killed. It had something to do with Tyler’s conquering of Pons, but other than that, Perin knew nothing. Nico, who was nearly thirteen years older than Perin, had taken the young Perin as a brother. They had joined Tyler’s army together. Perin did everything with Nico. Approximately ten years earlier, Nico had changed. Something very bad happened to him. He started drinking far too much alcohol, and then he became violent and withdrawn. One day Perin found him lying in the street. Perin dragged Nico back home and watched over him all night. In the morning Nico left without saying a word to Perin, and the next night Perin found him on the same street. Again, Perin tried to help him, but Nico shoved him away. Nico told Perin to leave him alone, and when Perin refused, Nico had punched him in the face, breaking his jaw. That was the last interaction he had with his brother.

He heard a scraping sound – the door was being opened, and a small light appeared through the darkness. A guard entered his cell and shackled Perin’s wrists and ankles. He could tell that there were two guards, one who was shackling him and one who was holding the light, but he could not see who they were. The light was still blinding him too much for him to see properly. One of the guards pulled roughly on his wrists, forcing Perin to move. Finally, he was being taken out of the dungeon. Perin was pulled up several flights of grungy stairs, all the way outside onto the streets of Pons.

The sunlight blinded him further, and he stumbled along for quite some time before he was able to see. The warm air rushed into his lungs. He was thankful to not be smelling dirt anymore, but some of the smells of Pons were worse. As they walked, he caught a glimpse of himself in a very shiny window. His dark hair fell over his ears and stuck to his head from the humidity of the dungeon cell. Perin was a small man with a small face, although his eyes were a bit too large for it and made him look like he was constantly surprised. All over, he looked like a child that had simply stopped growing. He squinted at the image of himself. Wow, he thought. You look like hell.

Pons was a large city. The streets were interwoven in an odd pattern that sometimes confused even the city’s oldest occupants. The city was a giant circle, and dead center was the tower, a monumental black stone building that loomed over everything else. Underneath the tower was the dungeon, and Perin had surfaced from a small door in the ground.

Perin looked again at the man dragging him along. In the sunlight he could see the man better. Bomzie, that was his name, or at least what everyone called him. Perin remembered Bomzie when he had first joined the Pons army. He was younger than Perin, but much larger and nowhere near as intelligent, so Bomzie was only assigned duties that required physical strength, not mental strength. Like pulling people out of dungeons.

Three other people were being herded along, two older men and a young girl. The men had graying hair and wrinkles, and their clothes were torn so much that they were barely wearing anything at all. The girl was in a perfectly clean, plain brown dress, although her face was dirty. She had evidently not been in the dungeon with them. She would have looked worse if she had been. The dungeon had a strong effect on anyone put into its depths, more so if that person were a child. Perin knew all about the dungeon and its occupants – he had put more than his fair share of people into it.

He realized where they were going. The city was enclosed by a high stone wall for about three quarters of the circle, and by the sea for the other quarter. They were heading for the wall. He looked at the people being punished along with him. He was not sure what any of them had done to deserve this, especially the girl. The men, well, they had probably done something against whatever law happened to be in effect at that time. He had long ago lost sympathy for the victims of Tyler’s laws. One cannot function as a law enforcing soldier while at the same time feeling sorry for the law breakers. But, what had the girl done? She was so young. He felt pain in his heart for her. She had probably spilt something, or spoke when she should not have, and she was being used as an example. He studied her for a second. Perin had seen her once, when she was younger. He blinked several times. After spending so much time alone in the darkness, his thoughts were very blurry.

When they got to the wall of the city, they were poked and prodded up to the top edge. Jerek Tyler was waiting for them. He was a tall, thin man with blonde hair and very straight teeth. He watched them climb, a broad, menacing smile on his face. That smile was always the most haunting part about Tyler. He would smile as he killed you, he would laugh as you struggled, and if you begged him for mercy, he would smile as he told you that there is no such animal. To anyone who did not know Tyler, the smile gave them a false sense of hope. But Perin knew Tyler well. The smile meant that they were about to die, and Tyler was going to enjoy every second of it.