#( i swear to god this is the last of my gatsby shit

[teddy06writes]

To Talk To A Crush

Requested by this anon: “Dream x fem reader but make it school AU Pog? And Idk why but at least somewhere in there, can I please get sapnap with his backpack on his chest instead of his back just plowing into someone and knocking them over. Thanks!” 

{Oh my god my brain went haywire, I love this idea- the visual of of Sapnap fucking sprinting down a hallway and just jumping into a crowd of people- holy shit my guy you are on to something}

Dream x fem!reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, slight spoilers for the Great Gatsby?? other than that nothing

Premise: high school AU, a retelling of various events from meeting your friend group freshman year to now, the last time you saw your best friend before graduation

{Also the project scene was an excuse for me to relive that one time I taught myself the Charleston without realizing it}

“blep” speaking

‘blep’ singing/music

Italics = Dream’s memories/flashbacks/whatever you call that

bold = your memories/flashbacks/whatever you call that

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

“YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” 

Dream watched in horror as Sapnap went running down the hallway packed with people, his backpack still strapped across his chest and not his back, running straight toward a specific target.

George slapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh as Sapnap slammed into you, knocking the books from yours arms and sending you clattering to the ground. 

Wilbur laughed openly as Eret and Bad shoved him forward, “Go help her you idiot!” 

Oh, this that could not have been worse. 

He’d mentioned wanting to talk to his crush once and then along came Sapnap, ready to do just about anything to force his best friend into talking to you. 

Taking a deep breath he made his way forward, shoving Sapnap out of the way, “Are you okay? I’m sorry, my friends an idiot.”

You smiled, letting out a giggle, and his heart melted a bit as you took his hand.

~~

“YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” 

You barley had time to look up to see someone running at you from the juncture of hallways, a backpack on his chest as he slammed into you. 

Your things spilled everywhere, and you hit the ground, Niki’s gasp sounding loudly from somewhere behind you. 

Great, this was just great. 

All you wanted was to not be bothered in the hallways, to just blend in and not be asked if your brother really was really the greatest football player the school had seen, and yeah that wasn’t how you were being bothered now, but still this was not what you meant.

You looked up to see a group of people practically pushing a cute blonde boy down the hallway, “Are you okay? I’m sorry, my friend is an idiot.” 

You glanced over at the kid who had run into you, who was beaming proudly, allowing yourself to giggle as you took his hand. 

~~

You chuckled, taking a sip of your water, “Man that day was weird.” 

The causal reminiscing hadn’t been planned, nor were either of you providing full details, but Dream made good company, even on what seemed like it could be one of the last times you ever saw your bestfriend. 

“Yeah, I think Sapnap did a good job though,” Dream glanced over at you, “If there's any random person he could knock down and then drag into our friend group I’m glad it was you- you and Niki.” 

You looked at him for a minute, “Well I think Niki got dragged in first. I was just brought along to that one party.” 

Dream groaned, “Oh god that party was so cringe. Sapnap and George kept trying to shove me and my crush into talking. And the worst part is they were actually subtle about it!” 

“I didn’t realize that was possible.” You murmured, trying not to continue on looking at him. 

~~ “If you don’t go over there and talk to her I will literally lock you two in a closet.”

The party had been strange, cramped and awkward. 

The first high school party Dream had been too; it was some party that one of Wilbur’s older friends was hosting, and they were the only group of Freshmen there. 

That what he had thought at least, until Niki arrived, with you in tow. 

George had imideaitly tried to get Dream to talk to you, but he was still hesitant. 

It wasn’t until that threat that he finally made a move, quietly moving across the crowded room, to where you were standing with Eret, Niki and Wilbur, “Hey guys.” 

He barley noticed the way Niki shot you a glance, too drown out by Eret laughing, “Did George and Sapnap kick you out of there little group over there?” 

“Something like that.” He’d chuckled nervously, heart swelling when you smiled at him reassuringly. 

~~ “It looks like he wants to talk to you- he might like you! (y/n) if you don’t go talk to him I’ll get Eret to lock you two in a closet.” 

This party wasn’t somewhere you had originally wanted to be, but Niki had insisted that you go with her. 

It was your first high school party, one that Niki had only been invited too because Wilbur had been invited by one of his older friends, Phil. 

You were wary about talking to anyone, but Eret and Niki, the only people you really knew, but then Dream had wandered over. 

You elbowed Niki at her comment, glancing over at Dream, George and Sapnap just as Dream had turned to look at you. 

The next thing you knew he was sidling up to your group, “Hey guys.” 

Niki looked at you, eyebrows raised a little and a small grin on her face.

Eret had laughed, though more about your misfortuane than the comment he made, “Did George And Sapnap kick you out of there little group over there?” 

“Something like that.” He chuckled, and you couldn’t help but smile, already feeling a bit better about the party.

~~

“Wait- did they end up getting you to talk to her?” You asked, looking over at him. 

Dream groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Uh- yeah. They- they did.”

“Who was it?” You asked, starting to laugh when he shook his head, “Come on dude your my bestfriend! You legally have to tell me!” 

“No!” He protested. 

“Why not?” 

He glared at you, “I am not telling you about some girl that I had a crush on freshman year!” 

You huffed, crossing your arms and faking a pout, “Well did you ask her to a dance or something?” 

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, sort of? I didn’t ask her, but we hung out some. It was that dance right before we got closer.” 

~~

‘oh oh! we’re halfway there! Oh living on a prayerr!’ 

Music blared through the gym, and Dream barley stifled a laugh as Sapnap kept trying to get George to dance with him, even as he screamed along to the lyrics. 

The entire friend group was clumped around the center of the gym, halfway mixed with the other people at the dance, though you were all certainly the most obnoxious people there. 

He looked over at you, dancing next to Niki near the edge of the group, looking amazing in the soft green dress you’d picked for the night. 

You looked over catching his eye and smiling. 

He grinned, and paused dancing long enough to point at his tie and then your dress, mouthing “We match”

You smiled, starting to look behind as the song change and both Sapnap and Quackity screamed, “It’s the cha cha fucking slide!!!”

~~

‘oh oh! we’re halfway there! oh living on a prayerr!’ 

The music throbbed through crowds of kids that filled the gym, seeming to make your head spin as Sapnap screamed to the lyrics, harrassing George while he was at it.

The kids you were now beginning to feel comfortable with enough to call them friends were all clumped in the center of the gym, dancing and singing along to the music loudly. 

You laughed, dancing along next to Niki, reveling in the way that your dress swished around your knees.

Niki bumped you, motioning to the side, and you turned, still smiling, to see Dream looking at you. 

He smiled back pointing to his green tie, and mouthing “we match”

Your smile grew, but your attention didn’t stay on him for long as the song changed and behind him someone, who you suspected with Quackity, screamed, “It’s the cha cha fucking slide!” 

~~

“oh- that was right before the group project right?” You asked, looking over at him. 

Dream chuckled, thankful you had dropped the crush thing, “Yeah, the group project from hell.” 

“It wasn’t hell! We killed that thing.” 

“You made me learn a dance to do when we presented it.” He said, looking at you critically. 

“And?” You grinned, “That was the literal only reason we got an A.” 

“And Karl recorded it and sent it to the group chat!” 

~~

“And the last set of partners will be Clay and (y/n)!” The teacher announced, “Everyone find your partners and get situated, I’ll be around with your topics shortly.” 

Dream sighed, grabbing his binder and pencil case before starting across the room toward you, sure he was glad to be spending extra time with you, but also the thought of having to be near you for so long scared him. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey yourself,” You smiled as he sat at the desk next to yours, “I’m glad I’m working with you and not someone I don’t know at all.” 

He nodded, “Me too.” 

Your teacher approached your desks, “And you’re decade is the 1920s, have fun!” 

Dream sighed, “I still don’t understand the point of a decade project.” 

“Well we’ve been reading books that are set in like, every decade from the 1860s to the 1970s, so it sort of makes sense,” You shrugged, opening your laptop, “Besides, the roaring 20s was epic.” 

“Gatsby dying wasn’t epic.” He grumbled. 

You chuckled, “Well I have an idea for extra stuff besides a bunch of slides of major events that we could do, and none of them involving being shot. You wanna come to mine on Saturday to work on it?”

He shrugged, and that's how a few days later he found himself in your basement after finishing most of the slides as you tried to convince him to learn some dance. 

“I’m not doing that!” 

“Yes you are! Our project is bland! This is how we get the grade!” 

He stared at you for a moment, “You seriously think we’re gonna fail if we don’t?” 

“Miss Mcall looked over the slides the other day. She didn’t seem impressed,” You nodded. 

Dream sighed, slowly getting up off the couch, setting his laptop aside, “Fine.” 

You grinned, “Yes!” 

~~

“And the last set of partners will be Clay and (y/n), find your partners and get situated, I’ll be around with your topics shortly.” Miss Mcall announced. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as Dream came over, sitting down, “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself. I’m glad I’m working with you and not someone I don’t know at all.” You smiled. 

He nodded, “Me too.” 

“And your decade is the 1920s!” You took the paper the teacher offered you, “Have fun!” 

“I still don’t understand the decade project.” 

You pulled out your laptop, looking to Dream, “Well we’ve been reading books that are set in like, every decade from the 1860s to the 1970s. Besides, the roaring 20s were epic.” 

His face seemed to squish, and you tried not to think of how cute he looked as he grumbled, “Well Gatsby dying wasn’t epic.” 

“Well I have an idea for some extra stuff besides a bunch of slides about major events, and none of them involve getting shot,” You chuckled, “You wanna come to mine on Saturday to work on it?” 

Dream shrugged, and that was how you found yourself in your basement a few days later, beginning him to learn the Charleston.

“I’m not doing that!” He insisted. 

“Yes you are!” You yelled, “Our project if bland! This is how we get the grade!” 

“You really think we’re gonna fail?” His stare bore into you for a moment. 

You sighed, “Miss Mcall looked over the slides the other day. She didn’t seem impressed.” 

Slowly Dream pushed the laptop to the side, standing up, “Fine.” 

You beamed, jumping up and down, “Yes!” 

~~

Dream still flushed at the thought of you trying to show him how to do the dance. 

“We did get an A.” He conceded. 

You spent the rest of the night reminiscing, until near 11 when the sudden weight of the fact that Dream would be leaving only a few days after graduation. 

“Dude- I just realized- your like leaving.” 

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled. 

“But collage doesn’t start till the fall. And I know your not taking summer classes.” 

He smiled, “I’m just gonna drive, see where I end up. Have a summer of freedom before for more years of school and a shit ton of student debt.” 

“Man.” You mumbled, trying to comprehend what it would be like without him, “Why didn’t I think of that?” 

Dream sighed, the thought of leaving you for who knows how long eating away at him, “I dunno man.” 

~~ The next day was graduation, and you found yourself taking your place in the student section next to Niki, both of you laughing at how silly you looked in your caps and gowns before the ceremony began. 

Your graduating class wasn’t huge, maybe a hundred people or so, so it didn’t take you long to have your name called, and you headed up to the stage to collect your diploma. 

You looked out over the crowd, meeting Dream’s eyes with a smile, he was grinning, clapping loudly as both Sapnap and George seemed to make fun of him.

Dream didn’t care that his bestfriends were berating him from either side, he still looked up at you, looking as beautiful as ever, trying to commit the moment to memory as you smiled back. 

And then the moment was over and you were heading off the stage to sit back down. 

Sometime later you found yourself moving around out on the school’s lawn, taking pictures with various friends and your parents, when you heard someone call your name. 

“(y/n)!” 

You turned, grinning, “Clay!” 

He practically tackled you in a hug, “We made it baby!” 

You could hear your mom taking a picture, as you laughed, “That we did!” 

~~ It was later, that night, you were sitting in your room, trying to take in the events of the day, and the fact that your bestfriend and crush was leaving the next day when your mom called up to your room, “(y/n)! Clay’s here!” 

You rushed down the stairs, not wanting to waste any of the time that you would have to say goodbye. 

Dream was standing in the doorway, his face full of anxiety as he saw you, but he swallowed the feeling, quickly wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to yours. 

You froze, hesitating barley a moment before kissing back, looking at him in confusion as he pulled away, you quickly blurted, “I don’t want you to leave.” 

“I don’t want to go where your not.” He said quickly. 

He pulled you into another hug, “Come with me. I- It’s you. Your the girl I like.” 

You chuckled into his neck, “Your the boy I like.” 

He pulled back, looking you in the eyes, repeating, “Come with me?” 

You grinned, “Of course.” 

[drum-cu-naluci]

I'm still not used to the new themes. I kinda want to ask you all of them.

Me neither, it's like my blog grew up and became mature over night and I wasn't ready for this

Anyway,

1. favourite place in your country?

I didn't visit much so I don't have a fancy tourist destination. I like any village that wasn't touched by the mania of villas. Ciolănești is a good example. Not perfect, but good.

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?

Here. Unless someone sponsors me for a trip to Italy but I want to see more of here.

3. does your country have access to sea?

The Black Sea, yes.

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

N0, I've tried, I rly did, but I just can't like our food. I can't eat it without feeling bad after anyway😭

5. favourite song in your native language?

MANY but try this

6. most hated song in your native language?

By me? Thank you very much for asking. I lost count on them. We really don't know how to make music. I can't pick one God damn song I hate because they're so many who sound the same, have the same motif and I can hardly tell the singers as they all look almost the fucking same.

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

Fă, cerdac, cișmea. I didn't even know I had a special affinity for these lol. They don't mean big thing but I like how they sound. The last to I mean the first is just Romanian Yo.

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?

Not really. Some took me for gypsy if that counts 😂😂

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

Ukraine lmao

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

FUTU-ȚI [blank] like Fuck your [something]

11. favourite native writer/poet?

I don't know I didn't read much of our literature it just didn't get to me. I mean, do song lyrics count as poetry because then Byron.

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem?

I could do it better if I knew more words.

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

It's red cross in the calendar? Don't clean don't bath don't sew don't do any work like this. It's Christmas? You mean Orthodox Midsommar for Ghiță. Mushrooms grew in straight line? Ielele danced there. [you weren't invited you're not cool enough]

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?

Hell yes, we're getting better especially at comedies

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

WE'RE NOT ALL THIEVES

We're a bit communist that's true.

17. are you interested in your country’s history?

Absolutely. I just can't remember shit.

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

Like accent? No😂 not this region, any other would have a loud accent in English as they have in Romanian

If that's what this one means.

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?

We need something on that plain ass flag. Make Romania fancy again. The national anthem is ok. We can do better.

20. which sport is The Sport in your country?

Football. Like the actual foot ball where the foot only interacts with the ball

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?

Iliescu and Arafat

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?

It's fucking awesome the more you learn about it but the mentality is still I don't want to talk about it, it gets me irrationally angry lol

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

Țuică în sus, țuică în jos, pălincă în stânga, bere în dreapta.

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country?

No one escapes us. You're all mocked here. Roasted like a chicken forgotten in the oven.

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?

Well, I mean, I don't make the rules. I take what I get.

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?

THAT ACCENT IS RUSSIAN AND MOLDAVIAN STOP MAKE ROMANIANS SPEAK WITH THAT ACCENT or any other. Also there's not enough credit for our magic and other rituals that could really make a good show.

27. favourite national celebrity?

I've never thought I'd have one lol I need to think this through. Cabral is fun. I can't go through these and not mention Marius Manole, the hell.

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites?

Oho, yes. I love the mountains I can see from Bucharest. I feel like some Gatsby looking over the lake at something so close yet too hard to reach. *dark academia moment*

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?

No we're all united against the Hungarians I think

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family?

By alliance I know of a Polish and a Hungarian.

That went well. Thank you 😂😂

[moonfox281]

Can you make a fic about John having his friend Jensen over to his house? Ya know, mobwife! Au? And John being so nervous while Dick and Jason try to embarrass him in front of his friend

“Can I get a friend over?”

John dropped the question right before dinner, right when the table was about to be ready.

“A friend?” Dick asked, then quickly gasped. “A girlfriend?!”

“No, what the fuck? I said friend. Jensen!”

“5 bucks, buddy.” Jason grabbed the swear jar and handed it over to John’s face. Dick’s customized “swear jar”, it was. It used to be just a real jar made off from an old jam jar, but since it was Jason and John living in the house, it soon turned into a whole casserole pot. Dick so far had contributed 12 dollars.

“And you want him over for…”

“Homework, what else can it be? I’ve got buttloads of homework and an exam next week and I’m not letting any douchebag in my class laugh at me again.”

“Just homework, huh?” Jason smirked.

“Ye...yeah? Can you make it sound less gay, or bi, or whatever? I have a thing for boobs and a girl I’ve crushed for over a year? He’s got no boobs and a dick.”

“Yeah, Dickie here used to be surrounded by boobs, and guess where he landed? Me. I have a dick too.”

Dick whacked Jason in the head with the kitchen towel and pushed the plates onto his hands. “Stop messing with him and get the table ready.” And then he slapped Jason’s hand off his butt.

“So can I have him like, over? Just aking, if you guys don’t want to we can go to a coffee-”

“No no no, have him over.” Dick put the clay pot down the middle of the table and suddenly froze. “On second thought, have him over the penthouse.”

“Good idea, have him over the penthouse so he can be the talk of the school the next day.”

“Pop!!!”

Dick whacked Jason in the head again. “Security first, remember?”

“It’s Jensen.”

“And we don’t want anything bad to happen to Jensen, do we?”

 Jason nodded. “You heard him.”

“But he’ll make fun of me!”

“I’ll make sure he gets something else to talk about other than the scale of our house.”

And Dick whacked Jason in the head with his palm, again.

“Okay, that’s it, I’ll just go to his house.”

“Stop worrying, Jason’s only joking. We’re not going to scare him away, he’s your only friend.”

“Yeah...wait, he’s not my only friend.” 

“Jefferson and Hank don’t count. Just because they slipped you into a bar behind my back and play football with you at the park every weekend, doesn’t make them your age-appropriate friends.”

“Dad took me into a bar too.”

“Oh did he?” Dick turned and glared at his husband, who cowardly held the plates and cutleries and ran away. 

_______________________________________________________

When Jensen got a text from John about the address, he thought he was hallucinating. Last time he checked, his best friend was living in Crime Alley, not rolling around on the floor on top of one of Gotham’s biggest skyscrapers penthouse. 

They even got their own elevator, and a hotline number down the reception desk. And that elevator even had a hand scan lock.

And that son of a bitch said he didn’t go to school by a limo!

The elevator music was Death of a Bachelor. Once Jensen got out, there was a lounge with a red velvet couch, glass table, dark wood furniture and Persian carpet. Not even meeting the owners yet and Jensen had already felt like leaving.

There was a door. He came to it, intended to knock when the door opened on its own.

“Hello there.”

It was Richard Grayson.

Oh fucking God. It was Richard Grayson. And Richard Grayson was the loudest pretty face Jensen had ever ever met.

He was so beautiful it felt like he was slapping people in the face with those soft kind eyes. 

“Nice to see you, again.”

Jensen stayed frozen on his feet, because that was what a sensible person did when facing Richard Grayson, right? He looked even more gorgeous up close. But of course, Jensen was more than just sensible, he was the cool action guy that got a lot more up their sleeves than what they flashed outside. He collected himself fast enough and leaned over with his forearm on the frame.

Okay, it looked way cooler in his head, which he kinda accidentally picture Richard Grayson was shorter than him, and in reality, he wasn’t.

“I...um...I’m Jesen, you probably...uh, don’t remember me.”

“Of course I remember you. You’re John’s friend.”

“Really?” Oh god, he was so sweet. And his teeth, they were so...white.

“And you’re the kid that got knocked out by a softball in the middle of PE. I held your head to stop your nosebleed.” 

Okay, Jensen was going home now.

“Dude!” 

John jumped out from behind his father’s back. It was just the start of last year that he was still the scrawny kid with a shady attitude and hid himself in the corner of the classroom like a bat in a cave. Look at him now, a reserve midfielder standing head to head with his dad with his bare arms out in that rolled up Queen tee and a big dick energy. He looked like one of those guys who used to tuck Jesen in the locker room, even though he was now the one scaring off those guys. 

Puberty hit him like a Superman punch. 

“Whatcha doing out there? Get in.”

John’s hot father smiled down at him and left the door. When John came over, he looked like he wanted to punch Jensen in the face.

“Quit it or I punch you in the face.”

He knew his best friend.

“Look, I’ve got enough straight people being bent like an elastic ruler by pop. And I kinda don’t want you on the list behind my dad’s gun...”

“Haha, that’s funny. Relax, he’s your dad.” Even when he was such a DILF.

“Okay. That wasn’t a joke though.”

He really got Jensen with the serious face he put on.

The house looked like it was scraped off from some lousy pages of Fifty Shades.  Shoes off wooden floor, lights everywhere, and a whole lot of windows. Half of the place was literally glass. The living room alone looked bigger than their school cafeteria. 

Great, his best friend turned out to live a Great Gatsby life behind his back and he couldn’t even let Jensen borrow his Xbox. 

“Dude, my room. Come one.”

Jensen quit staring and followed his friend’s feet. “Dude, last time I checked, your house was in Crime Alley.”

“No, it’s not. You checked it wrong.”

“The fuck? So you just round Crime Alley for fun then jump back to Diamond District?”

“No, I go to Crime Alley to sell drugs then fly my way back here with my own chopper parked on top of this building.”

“Really?”

“No, you fucking idiot!”

“I heard that!” John’s father's voice echoed back from somewhere in the house. Literally, this place was so massive Jensen couldn’t remember where he had passed through. There were so many doors, and everywhere was either white or wood cover walls, or full glass windows. And it was a particularly sunny day in Gotham, the lights just hit Jensen right in the face. 

“So, where’s your other dad?”

“He’s out shopping… Why do you care about my dad?”

Okay, if he had to admit to himself, Jensen must say John’s dad left a very striking impression to him the last time they met. 

“I like him.”

John burst out laughing. “Yeah, no shit. You won’t be liking him once you get to know him.” And then he muttered something else under his breath that Jensen couldn’t hear.

“What? He seems cool, but nice.” Way cooler than Jensen’s dad, to be frank. He had nothing against his dad, but his old man didn’t exactly sport a leather jacket and kicked off a Hummer bumper looking like he was cool with running over people and got away with it. 

His own dad was a lawyer and served his time and energy to people that got run over by people like John’s dad, and lost. 

“What’s he buying?”

“Dinner grocery- Okay, that’s it. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Dude, the father of my best friend is Richard Grayson, who secretly married an attractive mysterious man and now you’re living in a penthouse and your grandfather is Bruce Wayne. I may or may not about to fail PE but I'd be dumber than those football jocks to not be curious.”

“Dude, is this why you begged me to come over to my house? For this shit?”

“That’s Richard Grayson!” Jensen shouted back under his breath.

“That’s it. Get in.”

John shoved Jensen into his room and shouted “Don’t fucking get out!” before slamming the door shut. If Jensen wasn’t so distracted by his room, he would have probably shouted back something.

His room was probably bigger than Jensen’s family living room. No, not probably. Definitely. 

Ah, he knew John was the Patriot kind of guy. The number of blue posters in his room. He had a three monitors setup, which had looked so cool until Jensen turned on his feet and caught a bed full of clothes. 

Dude… 

He was no better than Jensen at all.

He was about to go look around, when there was a huffing sound coming from somewhere inside the room. He turned round and round on his feet, trying to work out what the hell was that sound, until he saw something came out from under the bed…

“UAaahhhhhhh!!!”

Jensen rammed headfirst on John’s dad when he zoomed across the hallway.

“Jensen! What’s wrong?”

“There’s a lion inside the house!”

“A what!?”

And just because his luck was shitty, the thing had run after him too. Jensen threw all his pride out of the window and jumped behind John’s father’s back. 

“That!” He pointed his finger on the furry thing.

“That? Oh, there you are.” John’s father laughed and knelt down on his knee, calling the thing over. “Have you slept in John’s room again, my cutie bear?”

The thing rubbed his head over John’s father’s hand. And for crap sake, it was even bigger than him.

“Jensen, this isn't a lion. This is Beast.”

“Beast?”

“Yes, our family’s dog. He’s a Tibetan Mastiff.”

“He doesn’t look like a dog.”

“What are you saying? He’s the cutest thing ever. Aren’t you boy?”

Okay, John’s dad was hotter than a Christmas turkey fresh out of the oven, but there was something seriously wrong with his eyes.

That thing he was petting, was a deadly creature of hell. 

The dog suddenly barked and ran off. Jensen swore a part of his soul had left his body.

“Oh, Jason’s home. Let’s go down.”

They went downstairs after the dog. Halfway down the staircase, Jensen saw him, finally. There was no leather jacket this time, only a long coat. If he had looked like a cool biker last time they met, then this time, he looked more like a businessman. More like someone’s farther. 

“Honey, John. I’m home.” He shouted while setting the grocery bags down the floor to pet the dog. 

He looked even bigger, up close. Jensen hurt his neck trying to take a good look at him. Slicked back hair, black and grey from head to toes, gold watch, and gloves. That was so unfair, not only did he look like an attractive killer, but he also dressed better than two-third of the people in this city.

“Hey, Jay.” John’s father went over and went on his tiptoes to kiss his...well, other father. Okay, now Jensen understood why John addressed his fathers by name sometimes, this got really confusing.

“This is Jensen.”

His father pulled off his gloves and smirked. “Hey, young man. You’re having fun?”

“Ye...yes sir.” Jensen blurted out of nowhere. Okay, he did not mean that! 

Both of them stared at Jensen like he had grown a second head. 

“Okay…” He glanced at his husband and pushed a bag onto his hands. “How about you help me bring this in the kitchen. Straight to the living room then turn right.”

That was a save. The last thing Jensen needed was embarrassing himself even more, so he dashed into the kitchen without looking back.

Surprise surprise, he found John there.

“Dude! I told you to stay in my fucking room!”

“Excuse me, asshead. There’s a fucking lion under your bed! And everyone is OKAY with it! What the hell is wrong with your family?!”

“First of all, Beast is a beauty, don’t you fucking dare insult him. Second, you’re the one that begged to come here. You think I want you drooling over my dad and then soon get a blood and bullet talk from my other dad?”

“Why… just, why do you always have to say it like your dad is a serial killer?! Just because I like your dad doesn't mean you have to act like he’s the fucking Red Hood.”

“Oh ho no, you fucking take that back.”

Outside the living room, Jason and Dick hid behind a wall poking their heads in watching the two boys screaming their necks at each other.

“Are they fighting in the kitchen?”

“They are fighting in the kitchen.”

“I have frozen berries and fishes to put away and they’re screaming and swearing in the kitchen.”

“At this point, the swear jar’s gonna earn John enough for a convertible.”

Dick shrugged. “Or two minivans.”

“Haha, right… You’re not gonna actually buy our son two minivans instead of a convertible, right?”

“It’s money from a swear jar. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

Jason looked back and gulped. “Babe, the fishes need to go now. Beast is sniffing through the bags.”

“Break them off then.”

“What am I supposed to do? Pretend the house is on fire?”

“We have an automatic fire distinguisher system. That’s not gonna work. Pretend you want to show him your gun collection, also, give him a talk about alcohol and drugs. You know kids this age.”

“Dick, I’m starting to think you want me to play the bad guy. Is it not enough with our alter egos?”

“What are you talking about? The JL loves you.”

Yeah, they loved Jason so bad they sprayed holy water after each step he took inside their facility. The Lanterns called them Hades and Persephone behind their backs, for Christ's sake.

“Honey, I think Beast took one of the fishes out. Beast, buddy, spit that out. Yours are in the freezer.”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Jason walked into the kitchen just in time when the boys had each other’s collar by their fists. Great, boys would be boys, they said. Well, boys would be animals if not educated, he said.

Nobody got to bleed in that kitchen except for Jason.

“Gym room, now.”

Jensen looked over John. “You guys have a gym room?”

“Oh just shut the fuck up.”

Jason pushed the swear jar at John’s face before hushing both of the boys out of the kitchen. On the way, he held Jensen’s head with both his hands just so the boy didn’t see how Dick sweet-talked Beast to give him back the fish in his mouth.

________________________________________

It wasn’t until all three of them stood frozen staring at each other in the gym room that Jason realized he had no idea how to handle this situation. 

Usually Dick was blessed in this category, and Jason’s best impression in loosening the knot was pulling out the gun and turning all attention on him.

“So um… you play anything, Jensen?”

The boy looked over John like he was begging for help before answering. “Overwatch and LOL...”

“He meant sport, dumbass.”

“Oh… not really...”

“Huh, so you’re the bullied kind.”

“Dad!”

“What? I’m just being honest. You looked like the type that gets squeezed in a locker or gets clothes stolen after PE.”

Okay, John wasn’t going to admit it aloud, but both of those had happened to Jensen before.

“Don’t get offended by it, okay? John used to lock himself in the bathroom for 30 minutes before he figured out the door opens the other way.”

“Oh.My.God. Dad!!!”

“What? It’s not even half as embarrassing as the time you got in the washing machine just because you saw 10 bucks in there and the door slammed shut so Dick had to get you out.”

“Okay now you’re doing this on purpose. Pop!!!”

Jason was pretty sure it was Dick John was calling on top of his lungs. And yep, it was Dick running at the door a few seconds later.

“Who died?” was the first thing he said. When nobody seemed to be dying, he put a hand over his chest and waved off them like they had jumped scared him. “God, it’s just you three? You made me think grandfather bought Walmart or something.”

All four of them stared at each other. And the first thing Jensen could think of when he turned over to his best friend, was pity.

“Dude, you’re gonna die a virgin.”

_________________________________________

Lunch was grilled tilapia on lemon, chicken salad, soybean paste soup and cold noodles, with a blueberry New York cheesecake for dessert. Okay, that was what John’s dad said. Jensen didn’t even know what the hell was a tilapia until he tasted it. 

One more thing Jensen learned today, rich people equal healthy home-cooked diets. Honestly, tofu had never tasted that great in his life until now.

“So, um, you’re a stay-at-home dad, Mr. Grayson?”

John’s dad smiled and took a sipped of his white wine. The way he drank oozed refinement of someone who lived on the top of the hierarchy. “It does seem like that, doesn’t it? No, actually I’m not. I’m on the board of advisory for Wayne Foundation.”

Wayne Foundation. Of course he was in Wayne Foundation. 

“Really? That’s so cool. My parents and I have come over the building sometimes. It’s always a change of sight in the urban area.”

“Well, it conveys its positioning even on the visual aspect. I only visit the office every now and then though, I mostly take care of things at home.”

“Wow, that’s so admirable. So, what do you do?” 

John’s other dad coughed a little when the question hit. Jensen wasn’t being rude, was he?

“Don’t choke on your food, honey.” Mr. Grayson gave his husband a smile that raised a little hair down the back of Jensen’s neck.

“Well, how do I explain… I take care of shipments and cargoes, in and out of this city and some others.”

“You mean, like, trade and logistics?”

“Yes, somewhat like that. I’m surprised, not a lot of kids your age know those terms of words.”

“Dad, he’s half Asian. Not knowing something is kinda insulting.”

“Yeah right, who am I kidding. He’s not you, I’m sure iGEM couldn’t be easier than separating red and white in a laundry batch, right?”

John turned beet red in a second. Jensen wasn’t sure how to react to that. But, because he was a good person with a kind heart and the will of a hero, he decided to save his best friend's ass.

“So, what do you take care of mostly?” And they were back on the game.

John’s dad coughed again, this time he relaxed himself by chunking down his glass. “Substance…. Medicines. All good things in life. I help the medical industry a lot. And also...adult...limited... equipment.”

Adult limited equipment? He didn’t mean sex toys, right?

This time it was Mr. Grayson choking in his drink. 

“Aaand also I run a liquor shop. That’s right, I have a liquor shop, a French restaurant, a motel, two garages and a newspaper booth. And also an instruction compan-Ouch!”

What the…

“Nothing. I just...bit on my own tongue...” He glanced over to Mr. Grayson, who calmly ate his food like he wasn’t even interested in the conversation. 

“...I thought you work in trade and logistics.”

“A man can multitask, young man.”

“That much?”

“Hey, nothing is impossible if you know how to dream big and work hard.”

“Wow, that’s so inspiring...Hold on, last time John told me you work in the supply sector.”

“Okay, who’s ready for dessert?”

__________________________________________

Lunch was a disaster. If grandpa suddenly visiting with an out of character announcement and a heart to heart talk was a third-degree disaster, this was a fifth-degree.

Now not only John was gonna die a virgin, he was gonna die a lonely virgin. 

Now that they found peace in John’s room and finally, finally, got to studying, a new problem arose.

Was it John or Jensen was being too cool with everything?

“Jensen,”

“Hold on, I’m wrestling with number 9 on Earth Science.”

“You already got to number 9?”

“Hey, I skipped 5 and 7.”

See, he was acting totally normal. And that got John’s pants all twisted. 

He thought about it, really. If he was Jensen, he would be taking this so easily like this. It was just the other day when he half-joked about wanting to visit one of the Wayne Towers… Well, now he had skipped all the steps and jumped his ass on the penthouse on top of one of those buildings. 

John was still fidgeting for his words when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Papa came in all dressed up with orange slices, ice creams and juices. “I hope you guys can catch a break.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grayson.”

“Don’t stress too much. John, if there’s anything too difficult, just call Aunt Babs or Uncle Tim, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jensen pulled John over and whispered in his ears. “By Uncle Tim, did he mean Timothy Drake? The ex W.E CEO?”

“Yeah, that’s my uncle.”

Papa went over to ruffle his head. “You and Dad take care of dinner tonight, roger? I forgot some papers at the penthouse so I have to go get them now. After that, I have a meeting at Wayne Tower until 7, so I’d probably be home late.”

“Okay.”

“You two have fun. And Jensen,”

“Yes?”

“You just tell my husband whenever you want to go home. He’ll send someone.”

He shut the door just in time for the two of them to hear him calling after Dad asking if the car had arrived. Next to John, Jensen’s eyes were glowing.

Ah, here they went again.

“He looks like he just walked off a runway.”

Okay, on his defense, Papa was a model every now and then.

“How many penthouses do you guys have?”

“Well, just this one and the one top of the Wayne Foundation buil...Hey, I know whatcha doing!”

“What I’m doing?”

“Yeah, that’s right motherfucker. You’ve been hiding it this whole time, but you’re secretly running through your head right. This and that and oh his dad is so handsome, his dog is so big and his other dad looks like the kind of guy who walks off an exploding car with a smoke in his mouth. Well listen here, you can snip those to Gotham Gazette or those Gotham Knight wannabes or whoever you want, my pop is a goddess and Beast is my boy, and my dad can parallel park his Hummer with his legs. Say whatever you want, I may be Princess Mia and you may be Lily, but you’re my Lily! You stick through this shit till the end, you hear me?”

John literally poured his heart out that his head was spinning a little. 

“Did you just refer us as The Princess Diaries?”

“You- you only got that?”

“Dude, you watch The Princess Diaries!?”

“Shut up! My dad made me!” He didn’t. Sorry, dad.

“Can you calm down first?”

“You calm down. I am calm!”

“Why are you yelling!”

And just when John was about to scream back, his dad stuck his head in by the door.

“I knocked, no one listened. You know I can hear you from across the hall, right?”

“Daaaaad!”

“Okay okay, geez.”

Once his dad left, they immediately forgot what to say. It was a break of flow, and John honestly didn’t know if it was a good thing or bad thing. So when Jensen picked up his Earth Science papers and fixed his throat, John knew they were back on the usual pace.

About an hour or two later, when John was biting his nails for a question, Jesen suddenly broke the silence.

“I don’t care, you know.”

John blinked. He almost thought he had heard it wrong . “What?”

“I don’t care about...well, all of this. I don’t have to come here to know you live a different world than mine. Your dad is a celebrity, J, and your other dad.... Well, whoever or whatever he does. I don’t care. You’re kind to me, and you’ve stayed kind even when you can have gone and become one of those guys at our school. But you didn’t, so if you don’t change, why should I?”

John lost his words. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jensen, it just that… this was a lot to take in. Not even including the vigilantes part, Papa being who he was, Dad being who he was, and them being together and taking John in and giving him all of...this. It sure felt like the universe coming all at once for him. It still put him at daze thinking this was his life from now on in some sleepless nights. 

So he didn’t expect much from his friend. He couldn’t have. 

Guess he must have thought too little of Jensen.

“By the way, your toilet looks more expensive than my healthcare.”

Okay, John took it back. 

“Does this mean you’re gonna forget about the 20 bucks?”

“Oh hey, you owe me 20 bucks, asshole.”

“Oh come one, you live in a castle on the sky, just forget about it.”

“That’s not even my money. My parents gave me that.”

“Right… Hey,”

“Yeah?”

“Did I ever tell you I went to iGEM last year?”

John snorted.

“What’s an iGEM?”

___________________________________

Jason washed his face and came back with a warm towel. Dick laid spread on the bed, heaving. Just one of those rare nights they went to patrol on peaceful streets and got off early. Well, they better spend the spare energy for some quality time before hitting the bed for real, right?

“Water?”

Dick sat up and leaned over the headboard. “Thank you.”

He drank with eagerness when Jason cleaned him. He had to change the sheet after this. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.”

“Still hot?” He swiped Dick’s hair back and checked his forehead.

“Not anymore.” Dick set the bottle down and suddenly grabbed on his arm, pulling him down. The dry towel he set on the table was snatched and flopped on his head. 

Jason knew this cue, so he slipped off the bed, hung Dick’s legs on his shoulders and kissed his thigh as Dick dried his hair. There was a hickey there, just on his calf, what a shame he had to wear pants.

“You slipped today, did you know?”

“Well, gotta give that kid something to think about on the way home.”

“You didn’t have too.” Oh, but the way Dick said it made Jason understand he was smiling mischievously behind his back.

“You know, he’s a very nice kid.”

“I know. The best our punk can have in that school. This is exactly what we wanted for John, you know. Having a nerd friend, crushing over girls, getting bullied and going on fistfights and growing up from all of that. He’s had enough when he was on the street, I wanted him to at least live like a kid for a time. Gotham Academy may sound fancy, but he doesn’t belong there, just like I never did, he’s not gonna get to be a child among those silver spoon licking pricks.”

Dick stopped his hands and touched his cheek, looking down from where he sat on the bed. “I was one of those pricks, you know? The children aren’t...wrong. They just never get to live their ages.”

“I guess being born with a million-dollar last name means you come out of the womb with a speech instead of crying.”

Dick wiggled his toes when he hummed an old Romanian lullaby, the one Jason never knew the name, but remembered every melody. He used to sing this song whenever it rained big enough outside for nightmares to creep in, now? Simply feeling the familiar warmth by his side, did the trick. 

“You know, I never liked the Academy.”

“Really?” That was surprising to know. All the kids at the school never shut up about him.

“Yeah, some kids there were mean, and their parents were even worse. They used to call names behind my back, Circus freak, Gypsy boy, Esmeralda...”

“I’m not even sure if Esmeralda is an insult.”

“You should have seen the Principal’s face when Bruce threatened to cut down financial support if he couldn’t get the situation handled. And things would look worse on papers, right? A billionaire filing a complaint about his son’s study, doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, it’ll be bad for the school. So of course, Bruce was being Bruce, and him doing that only made the situation worse.”

“So what did you do?”

Dick leaned down and kissed his hair. “Nothing. I changed, made friends, became one of them. I survived.” 

Jason took the towel off his shoulder and climbed over his husband. Dick’s stomach was warm, his muscle was decent, but not too hard. Jason’s personal body pillow, very good to heal the soul.

“I won’t let anything like that happen to our John.”

“I know. But when it comes, let it come. I want John to understand how this world works. The sooner he learns, the less painful it will get.”

“It’s like learning Superman is scared of rock.”

“Oh leave Clark out of this. He could be listening.”

“Yeah? Well, I have a better idea.” Jason opened the drawer and took out a condom. “Why don’t we, let’s say, scare him away?”

Dick huffed but he rested his naked leg on Jason’s shoulder. “So young, but that’s a debatable idea.”

The night was still young, just like they were too.

[thatwriterkei]

-Moment of Tangency-

Series Summary: When Y/N's favorite fictional characters come to life, a mystery ensues as a killer wreaks havoc in Bangor, Maine.

~

Chapter Summary: What started out as a sleepover with your best friend turned into a night of unexplainable events.

Warnings: cursing, underage pining if you squint, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Here's the first chapter of the big series I was talking about! I really hope you guys enjoy this, I've been working on this for about a month and it would mean the world to me if you have feedback and brought attention to this to those who would enjoy it too! I'm really excited to see how this goes.

~

Main Masterlist

MOT Masterlist

click here to be part of my taglist

_________________

Chapter One: The Beginning

"You will soon receive support from an unexpected source.." 

The red letters of your fortune stared back at you ominously.

"Hey, that's great timing huh?"

"Too soon, Marcus..Too soon."

A sheepish smile formed on his freckled face, "Sorry..Here, have another."

You shook your head, waving away the cookie. "I'll just stick to mine. I only have a little bit of room left for it." 

You took small bites, slowly indulging in the delicious treat, afraid of letting it go to waste with just two or three bites.

"I'm surprised your dad let me spend the night."

"Honestly, me too..I don't think he noticed that you're in the middle of transitioning."

"He probably just thinks I'm gay or something.."

You let out a choked laugh, "Maybe because you are."

"Hey, you can't tell me that Mr. Fisher isn't hot as fuck!"

"He isn't, oh my god!" You tried to finish the rest of your cookie without inhaling crumbs, suppressing the laughter building in your stomach.

"Have you seen his hands?! Y/N, I don't think you understand how much I adore him!"

"He's 20, Marcus!! Not to mention, he sucks at teaching physics."

"Hey, I didn't say my future man had to be smart."

"You're ridiculous."

"Yes, yes I am. Oh! Speaking of guys, any good gossip for the ship of a century?"

You could help but roll your eyes at his teasing, blood rushing to the apples of your cheeks.

"Kolby and I haven't spoken since last week. I don't think he likes me anyway. He's been talking to Heather more recently.." 

And, for some reason, you weren't too interested in him either. Yes, he was a nice looking, athletic guy but you just didn't care enough to go further than a 'hi, how're you?' with him.

"Well, his loss. You're a wonderful girl and it's a shame he's wasting your time with his boyish nonsense. Besides, he doesn't even wear watches like Mr. Fisher."

"I swear to god, if you mention him or watches one more time.."

"You're right, sorry," he held up his hands defensively before putting them down, "I just don't wanna see you get hurt, Y/N/N.."

"I know you're worried, Marcus, but I'm fine. It's our junior year, I don't think long-term relationships are supposed to happen for us until we're in like college."

"You never know..Anyway, what do you even see in him?"

You let out a sigh, sinking in the mounds of pillows and blankets that are laid astray on your bed.

"Umm..He's cute, without a doubt. His jokes are sometimes funny, depends on who he's around. He has a nice sense of style, I guess? I don't know..We've only known each other for a little over two months."

Marcus laid beside you, rolling to his side with a dopey grin plastered on his pale face. "And a lot could happen in two more months if you just talk to him. I promise, I won't even bother you in Algebra..Okay? Just trust me on this.."

You groaned but, nevertheless, agreed with a silent nod.

"Love shouldn't be this complicated.."

"Sometimes it is, sweetie..But only time can lead you to where you're supposed to be.."

"Yeah, I know...Since when did you become my therapist?" You let out a scoff.

"Since third grade! Now, c'mon, get off your lazy ass and let's do something cool!" 

He pulled at your limp arm once he stood up, dragging you to the floor and down the hallway towards the mini library your stepmom installed about a year ago; who has yet to use it.

"If you were looking for 'cool', you brought us to the wrong place." 

Your eyes scanned over the bookshelves, catching titles of famous works.

To Kill a Mockingbird

The Great Gatsby

War and Peace

Charlotte's Web

"You only have that perception because you hate her."

"Of course! Have you seen her?"

"Yeah, but this is still cool! You should take advantage of it while you can." 

Marcus released his hold from your ankle, scampering over to the section of the library where a red and white book was gleaming for attention.

"Oh my god! Miranda got the newest edition of IT?"

You stood up abruptly and made your way over. "She got what?!" 

"Holy shit, this is amazing! We haven't fangirled over this book since freshmen year."

"Oh yeah, our biggest obsession since One Direction." You laughed, taking the book out of his hands and running your finger over the textured title.

"Not gonna lie, the older cover looked better."

You rolled your eyes and ushered him over to the desk in the middle of the room. "Wait, let's see if they kept in that one part.."

"Which one? Does it have to do with Stanley? You had a major crush on his fictional ass." He teased, pulling up another chair beside yours.

"No no no, the one with Eddie and-Oh, I found it!"

Man, he had hated it when Richie called him Eds…but he had sort of liked it, too. It was something….like a secret name. A secret identity. A way to be people that had nothing to do with their parents’ fears, hopes, constant demands. Richie couldn’t do his beloved Voices for shit, but maybe he did know how important it was to creeps like them to sometimes be different people.

"Oh, I absolutely love this part..It's just, mwah, beautiful. Stephen King certainly knew what he was doing.."

"C'mon, let's go back to my room and reminisce." You took his arm and pulled him back to your bedroom.

~

You internally screamed at Marcus's onslaught recollection of memories.

"Oh, and that one time when you had a major attraction for-"

"Okay okay, that's enough reminiscing!!" You tossed the book at him.

"Aww, what? Feelin' embarrassed, sweetie?" He barely dodged the book, letting it bounce off your bed and onto the ground with a dull thud.

"Shut up.." You grabbed the nearest pillow and slightly smothered yourself with it.

The memories he continued to bring up brought back some nostalgia but looking back at it now made you cringe. You were practically grown up now, not 15 years old. 

"Okay, I'm sorry. But wouldn't it be cool if the losers club was real? Like actually around, in real life? Derry was based off of Bangor so it's more than likely you could find your own Stanley Uris." 

You cracked a smile at that and threw the pillow at him, situating yourself underneath the covers of your bed. "Yeah, yeah. I wish."

Marcus promptly pulled out his phone and checked the time, turning it over towards you  and flashing the bright light in your face. "Well, it's almost 11:11..Make a wish!"

"Seriously?" You deadpanned.

"C'mon, it wouldn't hurt!"

You sighed, sitting up on your elbows and closing your eyes. "Tell me when. You wish it too, okay?"

"Okay," some time passed, "now."

I wish the losers club was real..The entire gang. Every single one of them.

I wish I could blow Bill Denbrough.

You opened your eyes after you recited your wish a couple of times, sighing. You raised an eyebrow at Marcus, seeing him struggle to contain his laughter though the crimson red covering every inch of his face gave it away.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I wished that I could blow Bill."

"Goddamnit, Marc."

~

It took about a half hour before the two of you could fully relax into a deep sleep but once you guys did, Marcus took up most of the bed. 

A heavy gush of wind pushed open your window, the cool air from outside blowing into your room. You snuggled a little more under the covers, face being buried into someone's back. They smelled so nice, a light hazelnut scent and freshly washed hair that reminded you of late night drives with your older cousin when you were younger; Just absolute nostalgia exuded from them. You felt your entire body relax against theirs, the warmth overtaking your slightly exposed skin from the nippy air coming through the window.

You hear a quiet groan from the opposite side of you, the noise causing you to stir from whatever you were dreaming about prior; It was a bit fuzzy.

"What the fuck? Dumbass window.." It was just Marcus.

You felt the weight from the bed disappear, his dull footsteps moving around the carpeted room as he shuts the window.

He turns around and gives one look over the room, his eyes partially open. He sees a couple of people in the room, the sight confusing him in his drowsy state.

"What the..?"

A mix of someone screaming bloody murder and a smoke alarm going off floods the room, echoing off the walls and throughout the house. Even Marcus wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors heard him too.

It takes just a few seconds before your sleeping mind can process the screeching, thus causing you to flip over to your other side and turning on the lamp. Your eyes are piercing with annoyance, though you were still a little concerned about your astonished friend across the room.

"Marc, what the hell?! What's wrong? What happened?"

You cast a glance around your room, trying to pick the oddball out.

"What the hell?!" You hear from behind you, the sudden noise alarming you and making you jump off the bed towards the ground. 

Your head whipped around so quickly you were sure it was the dizziness that made your imagination run wild from the sight. There laid a guy, around your age, with very curly light brown hair that just looked absolutely divine to twirl your fingers around.

Underneath you comes a strangled groan, almost upon impact. Looking below, you find a girl with fiery red hair in a bob style. You push yourself off of her and scoot away until your back hits Marcus's legs.

"Who the fuck is yelling-Oh, holy shit..!" You hear another slightly deep voice exclaim. 

Turning to your right sat five other guys with drastically different appearances, one after another coming to the realization that they had no fucking clue where they were.

The room grew quiet, fear growing in your eyes as you try to find a person to focus on but the thought only made you even more dizzy than before.

_________________

Let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters!! 💖

-Moment of Tangency- tags: @beauregard-s @demoniclust @deepestofwaters @grapesauze @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @soulwillower @19tozier @phrogtheguitarist @kindofokayimagines @stenbrozier @stenbrozier @brxken-heartsclub @fucking-greywater @theliterarymess

[nostalgic-pancakes]

Watching the starlings as autumn draws in

Summary: Tommy and his friends try on some skirts, and he reflects a bit on how they all got here. (It's a happy story) Title from September by Sparky Deathcap

Pairings: None! Platonic everyone (esp in irl fics_)

Read on AO3 (preferred place to read)

Word count: 2570

Warnings: None, except for surface-level references to the exile/prison arcs, but not much.

Other notes: I wrote this in a fit of madness last night in like three hours at 2 am, so i’ll probably edit it honestly but for now, enjoy! (If the CC’s ever display discomfort with this type of fic I will take it down)

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"WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM, BOYS!" Tommy exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he starts rapid-fire answering questions about the stream, and the stream title from chat. It's funny, how over time, Tommy's come to see Chat as this one entity- an old friend. The nervousness of answering questions as a fifteen year old with nothing but a big personality, a twitch account and a copy of Minecraft is all but gone now, nineteen years old and happier than he's ever been.

Dreadfulzombie19: what are u doin this stream

"THANK YOU FOR ASKING, Dreadfulzombie19, today is gonna be a bit different, innit Tubbo?" Tommy raises his voice a bit at the end of his sentence, just loud enough for one of his flatmates to hear him. When Tubbo yells back an affirmative, Tommy turns back to his setup. Chat's gone a bit wild again, even though he, Tubbo and Ranboo have been living together for over a year now.

"Okay, okay, calm down chat- so recently I was at university, as usual right? And I had an eight AM class again, and… yeah I can see you all can relate."

"BUT! BUT! On my way back to the flat, I saw something really cool." Tommy hesitates in his speech to take a sip of coke again- his blood pressure's been acting up lately and watches Chat to wild again, asking him what he saw.

"Okay, so there was a shop- new place, which doesn't happen often this is fucking Brighton- and they sold skirts and dresses and stuff with adjustments for AMAB sizes!" Chat goes a bit bonkers, but Tommy's mod team- a little smaller than it used to be, now that he isn't the centre of YouTube or Twitch attention anymore, none of them are- are handling it, and pretty well.

"So I had to go, right? As many of you probably know, last year, I made the astounding discovery that gender-based stereotypes and expectations are, in fact, fake and I should not give a SHIT. And so I go in and look through the stuff- it's a really poggers shop by the way, and I find the perfect thing- it was the most poggers skirts and shit, okay? So, today's stream is going to have me wearing this pogchamp shit and wearing it right, with the help of…" Tommy ends his monologue by picking up the joke shaker-things that Phil had gotten him as a housewarming gift last year and indicates for his first two helpers to enter the office.

In walks his mother, face obscured from view as always, waving to the camera, and Wilbur, also wearing one of his only skirts for this occasion. Eret had taught him, on a phonecall in the skirt shop that week about the different types of skirts with a handy diagram. Wilbur's was a pleated circle skirt, brown to offset the bright yellow of his sweater and beanie, the same colour as his hair. It's very swoosh-y, so he's wearing black leggings with his regular shoes too. Motherinnit's also wearing her favourite skirt, a baby blue prairie skirt, Tommy thinks, and it's one he's seen fairly often.

Wilbur ducks down in order to show his face to Chat, and ruffles Tommy's hair while he's at it. Tommy's taller, but not by much, so Wilbur still fucking makes short jokes, That fucker.

Chat is now going so fast that he simply cannot read anything but some of the all caps messages and can barely make out some of the emotes.

"Okay, OKAY, CALM DOWN CHAT! WE HAVE TO GET TO FUCKING BUSINESS!" Tommy yells into the mix, like he did when he was sixteen and used the 'many people find me annoying at first' intro. Nowadays he just lets the content speak for itself. Anyone who wants to be here already is, by now.

Wilbur laughs a bit, and that hasn't changed at all. "Tommy, how is chat supposed to calm down if you're not calm?"

"I am their god!! They will obey via sheer digital willpower!" Tommy replies back, pretty zealously (What? An English Literature class is mandatory for his film degree, and The Great Gatsby by Zelda Fitzgerald is a good book, as are most of the other assigned ones. He's had entire conversations with Techno with just lit quotes and it drives everyone insane. Tommy loves it.) Chat seemingly has listened to his godlike abilities, with a few OG's spotting his half-quotation of one of Dream's last lines in the Dream SMP. The rest are spamming 'MOTHERINNIT'.

"If having a shitty magic trick book from a washed-up politician makes you a god, then what does that make me?" Wilbur replies, with one of Foolish's lines and swatting his hand at Tommy. Tommy swats back.

"Bitch" "Arsehole" "Shithead" "Fuckface" Wilbur finishes cheerily, as if this happens all the time. It does. Chat's used their antics now, four years of consistently making content together will do that for you.

Eventually Motherinnit reminds them both to get back on Topic, and Tommy goes back to facing the camera, addressing Chat directly.

"Today, my beloved mother, and my idiot brother-" "hey!" "And maybe my flatmates will be joining me to show off some cool as SHIT skirts! And a dress or two. We all have our selections, right?" Everyone nods in affirmative, even Tubbo and Ranboo. Though the camera can't see them. Ranboo's just come home from his final class, then. He should probably take the first hour back off, and judging by how Tubbo is forcefully judging Ranboo to the shower, he probably gets it. Tommy signs an affirmative to both of them, and gets back to the camera, where Wilbur's showing off all of his (very poggers) very stupid brown or yellow skirts. Tommy's are in cool colours, for fuck's sake.

"Oh yeah, Puffy just confirmed she'll be on stream! She'll be here in about twenty minutes, accounting for fucking traffic, and Niki' going to get onto VC after her own stream, what game is it this time?"

"GRIS." Wilbur answers.

"Poggers- she is the SHIT and will join us soon! So expect some QUALITY QUALITY content this stream!! Remember to not spam her chat to finish faster." Exclaims Tommy, even if it ends up as a light warning, as he picks up his own very poggers skirts from the extra armchair in his office to show the camera.

One is the classic red and white, mostly white but with bright red on the waist (elastic) and the bottom, and it reached to about Tommy's knee, if worn at the hip. It had no pleats, but the red bits were a very nice velvet texture, and while the skirt was heavy, it still had very much swoosh value, and pockets!! Big ones!! He slips the skirt on top of his jeans before entering camera view, the skirt visible in all its classic Tommyinnit glory, as he takes his place right next to Wilbur, who just took. a quick spin at the behest of several dono's., Skirt spying out from his lower shins all the way to his knee, making visible one of his (many) petticoats. ("What? It's cold all the fucking time here, Toms.") Tommy also makes a quick little spin, skirt flying outward, not upward, so it looks like he's hula hooping for a moment there. Lastly, Motherinnit spins around too, and while her skirts do not swoosh, she looks opulent, like she was about to go to waltz with the enemy, for whom she has a dagger in the back of her dress for. (He finished Anna Karenina and the Six of Crows duology within the same week and has not yet recovered. Jack Edwards is laughing at him as he thinks in his English Lit Graduate glory.)

It's fun, trying on different skirts- he and Wilbur accidentally bought the same dress at one point, which they paired up to wear, darting off into their respective changing rooms while giggling like idiots with their checkered blouses and the grindl skirts that Niki had sent over when she heard of this stream idea, laughing the whole time. Tubbo enters as dramatically as possible with Puffy, and while Tubbo looks really fucking good in his handkerchief skirt with embroidered bees and plain white shirt, it's Puffy who steals the show with an exact, real life version of her red banquet dress.

Fans from way back in the SMP, before Tommy had started branching out start going insane and are bringing back emotes Tommy wasn't sure were still available, but she is fucking stunning- deep shades of red and crimson, with slits on either side of her waist and all the detailing. She'd gotten the contact for her dressmaker through Bernadette Banner, Tommy recalls- she was so fucking cool when she streamed with him once, and gotten him to swear less and supplant those world's with bigger ones to intimidate instead. While he still curses like a sailor as part of his persona, it's less so and he does way less in real life these days, unless the situation calls for it. It's also just rude, especially in uni libraries, where he spends too much time these days wondering why he didn't read more as a kid.

Puffy's stolen his audience for a WHILE, and Niki coming on hasn't helped any, so Tommy exits camera view for a while to hug Ranboo really quickly- he's had midterms and has basically been dying all month.

Everyone on this stream- Tommy, Wilbur, Motherinnit, Tubbo, Puffy, Niki and Ranboo enter the camera frame after entering their dressing rooms for the last time on this particular stream, Puffy with full in-character wigs and makeup, Tommy in an Edwardian-Gothic reminiscent black and red dress, Ranboo in something he bought when he gap-yeared in Japan, punk lolita or something, Niki flaunting her pink in a Marie Antoinette style show of finery, Tubbo dressing in all green this time, something like a very deranged biology teacher who hasn't slept in days (Tubbo hasn't-Tommy has to get into that), Wilbur like a forest-nymph, all earthy tones and swishy fabrics and nature highlights, and finally Motherinnit, who hasn't changed but is here to take pictures as they all lean in together to fit into frame, as drastic as their height difference is. Niki is going to be edited in later, and everyone on the 'Dream SMP but nobody does Dream SMP and we're all fucking nerds' discord server is going to get a copy.

The stream wraps up there, after about two hours, and it's only about six in the evening- a far cry from the late nights and long hours from the beginning of Tommy's career, so everyone runs to their changing areas for the last time, into pajamas now, and packs away all of the clothes they wore, properly, as to not incense Karolina Zebrowska, and Jemma, Dan's wife, who would look at them disappointedly and nobody wants a sad Jemma because that means no cooing at their son. Also it just feels shitty.

Everyone huddles in Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo's living room, and they out on UP for like, the millionth fucking time (they still cry when Ellie dies), and Tommy is leaning into Wilbur's side and feeling his mum play with the hair in his very small, stubby ponytail he's developed by being in Uni as he and Tubbo intertwine their legs together and Ranboo rests his head in the tangle of limbs, playing with his fidget cube. Puffy stays on Wilbur's side, intently texting someone and smiling the whole while, and Tommy takes a moment to reflect (something he's been getting better at doing) on how the actual hell they all got here.

The Dream SMP was always going to end- everyone knew it, if course, they were the fucking writers. But by the time they did, not only were their respective brands too closely intertwined to just… sever that quickly, but they'd become too close to even want to. So the SMP discord never shut, even though Dream and George had planned it months ago, and they continued supporting each other with their interests. Wilbur made a lot more music solo, with his band and even just random ass streams where he practiced guitar for an hour. He kept playing Minecraft, but it wasn't his main focus. A bunch of people left. More stayed. YouTube left him alone.

Dream, George and Sapnap are still Minecraft streamers, but their YouTube channels are mostly blogs of them being poor excuses of adults with other former SMP members joining in sometimes. Tommy and the Dream Team were closer than ever, even though the seeds of their friendship had been sowed when they used to linger after heavy streams together, reassuring each other that none of that was true and that nothing like… that would happen in real life, because Dream had used real abuse tactics, and those still hurt unless immediately taken care of. So they were. It was a running joke that Dream was stuck at 99 million subscribers since nobody really wanted the face reveal anymore. The other Dream team members were doing peachy.

Phil and Techno were also still primarily Minecraft streamers, but they also released things like advice videos and mental health stuff, especially for relationships. They had a new scripted series where Tommy was a minor character. The dadza jokes were still as real, and yes, outside of streaming, both of them were lovely people and responsible adults (mostly). They collaborated with DanTDM and co a lot more now.

Puffy and Niki kept doing games, but did lots of different ones, testing point and clickers to triple A titles, and making it all fucking hilarious while they were at it.

So where had that left Tommy?

After the Dream SMP, he'd kind of had no idea what to do, and he was going to University for the first time, so he just… did whatever he thought would be fun. He learned about vintage fashion from the queens themselves- Mina Le, Bernadette Banner and Karolina Zebrowska and had fun learning how to sew for the first time, fixing and making his own clothes for the first time, clunky as they were, Wilbur had cried, genuinely, when he saw the Lovejoy shirts that Tommy had made for the band. He'd found a genuine love for literature in university, so Tommy started talking to booktubers and studytubers like Jack Edwards and Noelle Stevenson. Tubbo and Ranboo had joined him, fucking around in any YouTube niche they found even remotely interesting. Eventually, they all found a happy medium- a bit of everything.

Some people obviously weren't happy with that but Tommy was happy as he was, making what he liked with his best friend's, living together close enough to most of their friends (family) to have fun and drop in on one another at ass-o-clock in the morning to comfort, to laugh. His sub count hasn't gone up in a while- most of his audience is static, with about 80-90k online on a stream at any time.p

It was a nice feeling, to have carved out a space for himself and the people he loves, and be is so, so glad that he got this chance.

Looking at his mostly asleep family, Tommy thinks 'yeah. Life is good.' as the last thought before he sleeps.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

I’m really thirsting for a sneak peek of that 10k fic rn like I NEED IT, I swear im not obsessed but like I’m definitely in too deep

You ask, I deliver. I swear I can’t say no to you! Here are 1500 of my favourite words, it’s all you get you fiend.

When seven o’clock rolls around you’re standing outside the biggest mansion you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Its white pillars taunt you, each one large enough to hide your body. Twice. You’re alone, spare the people around you milling in and out of the large doors. Your mother had dropped you in front while her and your father went to park the car. Never before in your life has a house made you feel this small. This alone. You pull your shawl, a sheer black number, around your shoulders and shrink slightly.

A hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, spinning around quickly only to be greeted with Lily, whose face is twisted from the laughter pouring out of her. She clutches her stomach from the force, wrinkling the red satin dress she’s wearing. You take a moment to admire how much it suits her. It’s a little bold for your tastes but she wears it like no one else could. Her hair is twisted on the top of her head, a few curls falling to frame her face. She looks amazing, not that you had any doubts.

You lightly smack her shoulder, finally letting a few giggles loose, “you scared me you idiot!” You turn your eyes back to the mansion, swallowing the lump of nerves growing in your throat, “take a look at this place, will you. It’s huge! Have you ever seen a house this big? What could someone possibly need a house this big for?”

“Yeah it’s something alright,” her eyes drag down the hulking facade before meeting yours once more, a naughty smirk now on her red lips, “and I’m sure the inside is even nicer! Let’s go!”

She grabs your hand, all but dragging you over the threshold. Light pours over you, catching the sequins on your dress and making it sparkle delicately, something that would usually make you squeal however your attention is currently elsewhere. That elsewhere is the dual grand staircase in the center of the room. It’s encased in pillars, the feature leaking in from the exterior of the mansion. It’s bronze railings are strung up with thousands of twinkling lights. The staircase is easily the focal point of the foyer. 

But not because of the lights. 

Lily digs her nails into your hand, pulling you to a screeching halt, “are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

Her eyes are glued to the same place that yours are, dragging up and down the staircase with little care to whoever might be watching her little show. You choose a less outright form of gawking, opting to look all around the room while still making little glances at your main focus.

“Yeah, Lil, I think I am,” you gulp, your eyes training on three sinfully gorgeous men, “mama said they were handsome but this,” you let the end of your sentence drop, not having nearly the vocabulary to explain the Mikaelsons.

In total, there are five people on the staircase. Four men and a woman. Each one is gorgeous in their own right. You mull over the woman first. If you thought that you looked nice before you left, that’s pretty much gone now. She’s absolutely stunning. Her blonde hair lays in a sheet over her shoulders, winding almost to her base of her spine. She wears an emerald gown, one fitted to every dip and curve of her body like it was spun by Aphrodite herself. You have to look away, she’s the kind of pretty that makes you feel like you’re not worthy of seeing it.

Your eyes travel to the man next to her and your mouth goes dry. He’s tall. That’s the first thing you notice. If you were next to him he would easily tower over you. Not just because of his height, though. You shift your focus to his arms and the way the sleeves of his tux hug them tightly. You have no doubts this man could rip you in two if he wanted to. He stands at ease, his eyes wandering the faces of those closest to him as he lifts a hand to smooth over his brown hair. At least he doesn’t look to be in the killing mood.

Behind him is a man with blonde hair. Even from across the room it looks softer than silk and your palms itch to run through it. He leans against the railing, a glass of champagne loose in his fingers. His eyes are on the others but he has the appearance of a man who is a thousand miles away. Your heart hurts at the thought but you brush past it. You don’t know him and you’re most likely wrong. Still you give him another brush over, wishing slightly that he would crack even a hint of a smile.

You shake your head, moving to the man at the top of the stairs. He’s alive with something fiery, speaking to the others with animated hands and laughing hard. You can’t hear him over the crowd around you but, gods, you wish you could. It’s probably nothing important but, by the looks of him, he could make anything sound special. He throws his head back laughing, his brown hair flopping wildly. You can’t look at him for long either but not for the same reason you couldn’t look at the woman. No, you can’t look at him because you’re afraid if you look any longer than you’ll be sucked in forever.

When you look at the last man you shiver. It’s not the kind of shiver that makes you feel exhilarated though, it’s the opposite. Your blood runs cold when you look at him and, when his eyes meet yours, you look away instantly. You can feel his eyes burning into your back for a few moments after and you hate it. Unlike the rest of them, this man makes you feel ice cold.

You tug on your best friend’s hand, desperate to get away from the man, “come on, Lil, let’s go find the champagne.” 

Lily’s eyes light up at the thought, instantly taking the lead on this new expedition, “girl you read my mind!” 

You take one last glance towards the staircase as she pulls you into another you, momentarily catching three pairs of brown eyes before scampering around the corner. Your cheeks are hot when you’re finally out of their vicinity. You hadn’t realized how heavy the air around them had been. Now that you can’t see them your bones feel marginally lighter. Something nags at you though, a loss of sorts. You rub a hand over your chest, massaging the ache away.

Lily pushes a cool glass into your hand, lifting her own to her lips. You follow suit, breathing in the sugary scent before letting the sweet bubbles flow down your throat. It soothes your flaming chest.

“Shit,” Lily breathes, “everything about this screams money. The invitations, the house, this damn champagne. What’s next? A pool of synchronised swimmers?” Her eyes wander the room, her fingers tight around the glass, “I’m not used to this Great Gatsby level of wealth. It’s making my head spin a little. This is my parent’s scene, not mine.”

You nod lightly, her words everything you’ve been dying to say. It’s magnificent but you’ve never felt more out of place. Not even the founders day balls are like this. At least Mrs. Lockwood has the good sense to cater to the modesty of the town. Before you can answer, however, a voice joins your conversation.

“My apologies, my brothers like to go overboard when throwing parties. It’s not quite my taste either, a little too stuffy if you ask me.” 

You spin around to the sight of the woman from the stairs and your heart pounds hard in your chest. She’s even more beautiful up close, like a Van Gogh masterpiece. Her voice is accented and smooth, impossibly so. You feel like a peasant in her presence but her smile is light and it helps soothe your nerves a touch. When you look at Lily, though, her cheeks are beet red and her eyes are wide. 

“Oh my, I am so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would hear me besides,” she nudges you lightly, the smile she’s plastered on her face sheepish, “this one here. It really is gorgeous. Perhaps university has lowered my standards.”

You watch Lily fumble her words and you don’t blame her. This girl seems like she was made to insite insecurity and you mean that in the very best of ways. Despite her slight enthusiasm, though, Lily’s eyes flow over the woman slowly. You can tell she’s interested. By the way her stares are being reciprocated, you would say she isn’t the only one. You smile at that, 

The woman laughs, her eyes filled with mirth, “your standards aren’t low, this party is just a nightmare. I’m Rebekah, one of the many Mikaelsons you will surely encounter tonight,” she looks over her shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, “and it looks as though you’re going to get the immersive experience.”

[indigosandviolets]

Yooo I just saw that ur writing for IB!! That’s amazing lol, not a lot of people do Could you write headcanons about what it’s like to live with the basterds after the war? (Maybe Stiglitz and/or Wicki? They are soooo underrated)

‘Course I can! I’m just gonna do Stiglitz and Wicki because I already have an after the war/serious relationship thing for Donny! I hope you enjoy!

you guys got married about a year after the war ended

not because you felt a need to wait, but it was because it took a little while for your parents to get used to Stiglitz being ... Stiglitz

“Hi, mom, dad, this is my boyfriend Hugo.”

“How did you two meet?”

“The war.”

“What do you do, Hugo?”

“I killed 13 Gestapo.”

NOT THE BEST INTERACTION TO START WITH

after the wedding, you and Hugo move to Maine

why? well, it’s quiet, and nice, very different but similar to Germany, and he’s also kinda fascinated with lighthouses

i don’t know why i see that, but i think that he thinks they’re neat :)

you two also went for a week for your honeymoon and he just wouldn’t stop thinking about it

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk about Maine again?”

“Hugo, baby, it sounds like you wanna move.”

AND THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID

you two work and run a General Store and i swear to god it’s the cutest shit to ever exist

especially considering no one would’ve taken Stiglitz to be a guy to run a General Store

but it’s really nice

you two bought it from an older couple who couldn’t run it the way they wanted to anymore

so you guys were more than happy to take it off their hands

he’s very threatening to real estate agents

when you two were buying your house, you wanted a nice backyard and Hugo made sure you got it

but the store is short drive from where you live

across the street there’s a movie theatre, and every friday you two lock up early and go see whatever’s playing

Hugo, alone, loves loves loves Westerns

usually the General Store has a Western radio show on at all times (spare for a couple Sinatra and Ink Spots songs)

one day you ask him about it

“Hugo, why do you love cowboys so much?”

“Because they are like me. They fight for justice and who they love even when they’re unsure of themselves.”

you might’ve cried that night but that’s beside the point

you have three kids together : twin boys named Benjamin and Leon who look absolutely NOTHING alike and then a daughter named Margret who looks just like Hugo

you really made the General Store a mom and pop shop lmao

you and Wicki move in together after the war to Chicago

he’s actually a really city type guy, which you’re not really sure why he is but hey, it works for you

you go back to school after the war for literature and teaching and he gets a job as a translator

you live in a two bedroom apartment in the middle of the city and it has a little balcony where you have an herb garden

you guys have a shit ton of plants

Wicki just seems like a plant guy to me and i cannot tell you why

but you guys mainly grow herbs because while Wicki didn’t always cook the best food during the war, it was because he had HORRIBLE things to work with

he makes this point clear anytime he waters the plants

“And if I just had one spring of Basil everything would’ve been so much better!”

“I understand that, dear.”

you guys get married four years after the war

you didn’t really feel a rush to get married until your parents kinda made you (cause you got pregnant and they were NOT about that but shhhhh it’s okay)

you two have a son named Stefan and he’s a problem child

because he behaves EXACTLY LIKE YOU

what does this mean? it means he is a crackhead. and you are a crackhead. and Wicki wonders how the hell he managed to go through an entire war with your shenanigans.

buts it’s okay, ‘cause he gets to hear you read to Stefan every night before he goes to bed

sometimes Wicki makes you read to him too

“No, no, we already read that part last night, darling.”

“Wilhelm, we’ve read this book seven times.”

“So?”

he just loves hearing your reading voice

despite you being an avid reader and now an almost college-grade teacher and having a wide variety of books in the house, he usually only wanted to read three books

Of Mice and Men, Murder on the Orient Express, and The Great Gatsby

Stefan can and WILL crawl into your bed and in between you and Wicki

Wicki only realizes how much his son is actually like him once he starts doing this

because after the war, every night, he needs to hold you at some point to make sure you’re not going anywhere

and Stefan is the same way

[what-the--curtains]

Braving the Elements

Chapter 8: Tonys Party

Tw: Alcohol consumption, swearing , bad writing???

Authors note: we about to get a lil soft and a lil angsty babyyyy

(The balcony)

(The next morning in the kitchen)

Honestly both songs r like how I envision they’re relationship ANYWAYS HERE WE GOOO

“So, just how fancy are these parties?” you ask Nat and Wanda who are currently lying on your bed.

“Think Jay Gatsby meets James Bond.” Nat responds

“Shit, don’t think I have anything that nice.” you say skimming through your clothes which had finally found their way onto hangers. You had a lot of nice pieces, but nothing suitable enough for a black tie event. You had left most of your more exquisite garments back at your old apartment.

“No worries we have plenty, you can borrow something from us.” Wanda says closing her phone, before declaring that you should all get ready so you won’t be late. Nat and Wanda leave, then re-enter, your room carrying various dresses.

The dress you end up choosing is a midnight blue satin number. The top has a deep v on either side, exposing your back and a good portion of your cleavage. The top is tight to your body and gathers at your natural waistline before flaring out into a structured A-line skirt. You twist your hair up and pin it, pulling a few curls down to frame your face. Nat’s settled on an off the shoulder black, skin tight dress with a slit going all the way up her thigh. Her red hair clipped to one side giving it a wind-swept look. Wanda emerges in a long sleeve, scoop necked, mermaid style, maroon dress, opting to keep her hair loose for the evening. Pulling on your heels, Wanda shuffles you both out the door in the name of getting to the venue on time.

You wind up talking to Clint for a while and after ensuring he knows that you were not joking when you had asked him to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow, you decide to go talk to Nat who's just been left by Wanda whose now at the bar talking to Vision and the rest of the boys.

“Well they all clean up nice” you say to Nat and she turns her head to face you.

“You know,” Nat says “ I think Wanda may like Vision.”

“Right!” you exclaim a touch too loud, realizing that you were slightly tipsy already. “We should set that up.” You stress to Nat who whole heartedly agrees. As the two of you make your way to the bar you can’t help but notice the small group of beautiful women who had gathered around Bucky. You couldn’t blame them, he’d slicked his hair back exposing his perfect jawline and the navy blue suit he was wearing brought out those eyes you liked so much.

You reach the bar and say “Someone’s popular tonight” nodding your head in Bucky’s direction

“Oh he always is, it’s the eyes,” says Steve

“and the hair” Sam chimes in

“20$ says it’s the arm, I know a few girls with a metal kink” you joke, causing Sam and Nat to burst out laughing and Steve to turn a lovely shade of red. The four of you talk for a while politely making conversation with anyone who came up for a chat.

“Jesus how stuffy can this party get.” you say while fanning yourself. Half falling off your chair you slur out an “ I gotta pee.” to the rest of the group before heading off to the bathroom. Exiting the restroom you manage to catch the tail end of a conversation between two smug, older, looking business men.

“I can’t believe Tony Stark is slumming it with mutants nowadays, what would his father think? I thought the commie soldier was bad, but this? Bringing in freaks of nature it’s too much who knows what they're capable of.” one of them says “Very well put, wouldn’t mind fucking her though she’s got a great ass.” the other one says looking right at you, almost as if he wanted to make sure you had heard him.

You bunch up the skirt of your dress in your hands and swiftly make a beeline to the nearest balcony. You can feel your chest tighten and your eyes start to well up. Stop it, you will yourself. Stop it right now. Don’t let them see you cry. You swing open the balcony's doors and finding no one there you exhale, resting your elbows down onto the banister, and dabbing away the few tears that had gathered in your eyes. Staring out into the lights of the city you focus on your breathing tuning out to the clatter of the party behind you.

You weren’t the only one to hear the man’s cruel words. Bucky had been standing nearby and overheard it as well. After seeing you practically run outside, he pulls himself away from the girl he’s been with all night promising to be right back, suddenly finding that the only thing he could think about was you.

A familiar voice breaks your silence and the noise from the party seeps back into your auditory field. “Hey, I said are you okay” the voice asks again.

Wiping away a tear and composing yourself before turning to face Bucky you smile brightly

“Never better, besides I’ve heard worse. I mean they said they’d fuck me, god what a compliment!” you scoff leaning back onto the railing. He rests his forearms on the banister and looks at you. “Well they did get one thing right”

“Ya, you're right, my ass is pretty great.” you say absentmindedly, causing him to laugh.

“No well , I mean yes, but bringing me in was definitely a bad move.”

“Oh, well that was a given” you quip back pushing yourself off the banister and straightening your dress.

Between the dress you had on and the way the loose strands of your hair were blowing gently in the fall breeze Bucky couldn’t help himself. Moving off of the banister he places his non-metal thumb under your chin drawing your gaze to him. He wants to kiss you right there, but not wanting to look like a fool, he waits for you to make the next move.

You meet his gaze and for a second you think you can see his eyes dart down to your lips. Figuring that the multiple glasses of champagne had got you imagining things, you turn your head away.

“You should get back in there I bet the girls are missing you.” you say, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze before walking back into the party. God if there was ever gonna be a moment it was then and you just blew it. You compartmentalize your mistake by ensuring yourself that your mind was simply playing tricks on you. He had tons of lovely women wanting to leave with him, why would he want to waste his time with you.

“Stupid” Bucky mutters to himself watching you leave. He was stupid to think you’d want to be with him. He just thought after that night in the kitchen that you felt something for him. He knew he felt something for you. Feeling upset by the rejection he decides to keep his promise and return to the girl from the party.

You walk back to Nat and Wanda making up some kind of excuse for taking so long.

After a while It was just the three of you. Sam and Bucky had left earlier with a couple of the girls and Steve and Vision had offered to help Tony clean up a bit. You convince Wanda and Nat to stay a bit longer, not wanting to run into, or hear, Bucky and his date in the room next door.

“God we have to have an actual night out” says Nat “not enough booze here and not enough dancing!”

“You know I think I know the perfect place,” you slur , “next time we go out your gonna see the underground of New York”

“Alright drunky,” Wanda says” let’s get you home.”

10 A.M., the next morning

You wake up with a dry mouth, feeling like shit, and regretting drinking so much last night. You cover your face with your hands and drag them down realizing that you had passed up on an opportunity to have a night of fun with Bucky. Before you can get too caught up in your thoughts you feel spit gathering in your mouth and you know you have to get to the toilet ASAP rocky. You make it to the toilet just in time before spilling your guts into the porcelain toilet. You have just enough time to fashion the belt of your dressing gown into a makeshift hair tie before vomiting again.

“Death!” you shout dramatically causing a distraught Sam to run into your room

“Whose death? Where?” he shouts jumping from side to side

“MINE!” you yell “I think I just threw up the equivalent of a human being.” You groan while crawling out of the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt, open nightgown and recently repurposed belt wrapped in your hair. The ridiculousness of your outfit causes Sam to erupt in laughter.

“Don’t move! I GOTTA get a picture of this” he exclaims with glee before running out of your room

“Samuel, don’t you dare!” You shriek chasing out after him passing by Bucky and the gorgeous brunette from the night before, and running into the kitchen.

“ Oh my god.” says Wanda stifling a laugh.

“Hey I think I look pretty good for a dead bitch!” you exclaim before striking a pose causing them both to laugh as Sam snaps a pic

After politely escorting the woman to the door, Bucky turns around just in time to see you running after Sam.

Following you into the kitchen he laughs at the line. He was amazed how different you were from the girl who had jumped through a moving cars window a few days earlier. You seemed lighter, happier. He knew he wanted to spend more time with you but didn’t want to ask you outright, especially after you had rejected him last night.

“Send me a copy of that will ya bird boy?” he says pouring out a cup of coffee

“So lover boy how was she?” Sam asks

“I don’t kiss and tell” he responds

“So that what the kids are calling sex nowadays” Wanda says with a smirk “huh who knew!”

You laugh along with the others, but you can’t stop yourself from feeling upset at the thought of him with someone else, still not fully understanding why

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x10 - Spinnin’ round and round... (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to – The secret facility, Edward’s cell which, unlike Matt’s, is quite luxurious. He is lying on his bed, sedated, having flashbacks from his past. 

Cut to- 3 years ago, the Powell’s NYC mansion.

TAMARA: Moy malen’kiy geroy, I’m happy you are home; I was getting worried.

EDWARD: Oh, come on mom, I was only gone for a couple of hours.

TAMARA: Come, sit with me, have some wine. (Pours him a glass) So, how did she take it?

EDWARD: Not very well, but that had more to do with her ego than her feelings.

TAMARA: You made the right decision, I never liked her.

EDWARD: I know, you made that quite clear any time she was around.

TAMARA: Well, I tried my best to behave but I just couldn’t stand seeing you with someone that didn’t deserve you; let alone a Luxford. What else did you expect, my dear?

EDWARD: (Smiles in complicity) That’s true. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I thought she might be different given that she actually studied a dignified career, instead of being just another socialite.

TAMARA: Oh, my dear, you can be so naive sometimes. The only reason she got into Harvard medical is because of who her father is, nothing more. Now, let’s forget about her and move on to you. Have you thought about your father’s proposal?

EDWARD: Mother, how can you even ask me that after everything he has put us through? Especially you…

TAMARA: I know, and I will hate him for the rest of my life for what he has done to us, but this is not about him, it’s about the order, and your god-given right to be at the top of that pyramid.

EDWARD: I don’t know if I want that… is it even worth it? I mean, for the price one has to pay… I really don’t think it is.

TAMARA: If I didn’t know what they were capable of, I would agree with you, but unfortunately, whether you like it or not, you were born into this, and there is no escaping that.

EDWARD: You managed to get away from him…

TAMARA: Oh, my dear boy, you have it all wrong. I might have been able to get him away from us, but by no means have I escaped him. Just like you, whether I like it or not, I married into this and there is no way out… except death, of course.

EDWARD: Don’t say that, god, mother, you can be so dark sometimes!

TAMARA: I’m sorry, moy malen'kiy geroy, I didn’t mean to upset you. Why don’t we change the subject and lighten the mood. How about we start planning for Anthony’s surprise birthday party, it’s coming soon, and we need to start preparing.

EDWARD: That, I can get on board with.

TAMARA: How about a Gatsby theme? He loves Fitzgerald.

EDWARD: That’s perfect!

TAMARA: The Madame arrives tomorrow; we can ask her to help; she has so many memorabilia from the ’20s, it will come in handy.

EDWARD: If anyone knows how to throw a party, it’s her.

TAMARA: Tell me about it! Wildest days of my life have been with her (they laugh). Alright, my love, it’s getting late and I need my beauty sleep. We’ll get into the planning details tomorrow.

EDWARD: I’m going to stay for a bit longer.

TAMARA: Okay, but don’t stay up too late, sleep is important. (Kisses his cheek) I love you.

EDWARD: I love you too, have a good rest.

Cut to – Akumal, Mexico. Bonnie, Damon, Stefan, and Caroline are at a beautiful cenote, getting ready to scuba dive.

BONNIE: Wow, Care, I have to say, I’m so proud of you! Just a few days ago you wouldn’t even get near the ocean, and now you are suiting up to explore the deep waters!

CAROLINE: I know! I’m a changed woman, that’s for sure! Also, Alfredo (their dive instructor) said there are no sharks in these waters…

ALFREDO: That’s right, nothing to worry about. Now, if you see a pair of red-eyes shine… let me know.

CAROLINE: What!!!!!

ALFREDO: (Laughs) Just kidding! It’s fine, only thing you might see, if you are lucky, is some fish. Now, everyone, ready?

DAMON: (All suited up) Let’s do this!!

ALFREDO: Remember what I taught you, and stay close. It can get very dark at some points inside the caves, so don’t let go of the lifeline.

STEFAN: I think I’m regretting this decision…  

BONNIE: Oh, come on, Stefan, you love the dark.

STEFAN: But not underwater…

CAROLINE: Let’s give it a try, if we don’t like it, we can abort mission (turns to Alfredo), right?

ALFREDO: Of course, you know the signal, so if you want out, let me know and I’ll bring you right back up; no worries. 

STEFAN: What the hell, let’s do it!

ALFREDO: Excellent, my friend! You won’t regret it.  Okay, on the count of three, we’ll jump in. One… two… three!

Cut to – The Salvatore school, Alaric’s study. After many unsuccessful tries, Radka, Alaric, Lexi and Tyler are still trying to figure out how to undo the body switch spell. Katherine is getting desperate; the student seems to be enjoying this new body, just a tad much…

 KATHERINE: (Catches the student touching his boobs) Hey!!! Hands off perv!!!

THE STUDENT: I’m sorry Miss Pierce! I swear it won’t happen again; I was just curious.

KATHERINE: Oh yes, I’m sure that’s what that was! I have my eye on you! (Turns to Lexi and Tyler who can’t stop laughing) And you two... I swear, I’ll get you back!

TYLER: Oh, come on, Katherine, have a little sense of humor. You have to see the irony in all of this.

KATHERINE: Not when my body smells like a testosterone-filled locker room and I have a thing hanging between my legs!!

LEXI: (Mocking) As long as it’s not stiff…

KATHERINE: Shut up, Lexi!! (Throws the couch pillow at her face, Lexi catches it with her vamp reflexes).

ALARIC: (With a grin, trying to contain the laughter) Relax, Katherine, I’m sure we’ll find a way to revert this… at some point.  

RADKA: (Scrolling through different spellbooks) Well, even if we do, we’ll need to find a different witch to do the spell, an experienced one, Ivan (the traveler student) or any other witch student won’t be able to pull it off without guidance. And, Margo (the witchcraft teacher) is on sick leave, and Bonnie on vacation, so it might take more time than we had hoped.

KATHERINE: Are you kidding me??! I can’t be trapped in this body any longer!! Look at me!! I’m hideous and hormonal!!!

LEXI: (Looking at her package, smirking) And excited, I see...

KATHERINE: Oh, damn!! 

(Looking at Alaric, Tyler, and Ivan) How do you live like this??!! It’s disgusting! (Gets up to go to the bathroom, as she walks out, they all crack up).

Cut to- Munich Medical Lab, inside an old operating theatre; first day of the program. Sam, Elena, Alex and Sage, along with the rest of the students, are waiting for the program’s sponsor to arrive for the welcoming speech. After an hour, he finally arrives; absolutely no rush or apology for his tardiness.

PIETRO: Welcome everyone. If you are here you are one of the chosen, and you better be very grateful for that. From this point on, your life is about to change. Those who survive the program will be transformed, from pathetic wannabes to legends. Good luck (He leaves).

ELENA: That’s it? That’s what we waited an hour for? Speech didn’t even last a minute! No introduction, nothing! How rude!

SAGE: You really are lost, aren’t you? Don’t you know who that is? We should be thankful he even gave us 30 seconds of his time.

SAM: Drop it, Sage. She doesn’t have to know who he is. And you give him too much credit, he’s just an asshole with a shit load of money, that’s all.  

SAGE: Are you serious, Sam?! God, going small-town really affected you… the old Sam would have been fanboying at the mere glimpse of him.

ALEX:  Oh, please, Sage, just stop. The only reason you worship him is because he’s powerful, and “supposedly” a far relative of yours; which I doubt.

SAGE: No, the only reason I worship him is because he is a true legend, far more than Grayson was. And we are related.

ELENA: Wow, your are a bitch...

SAGE: I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I am being a bitch...Sorry about that, I get very defensive when it comes to him, I’m a huge fan. I’ll stop, I swear. I really am sorry for saying that. Truce?

ELENA: Just keep my father’s name out of your mouth, and we’ll be fine.

SAGE: Done.

SAM: Okay… let’s head to our first course before this gets even more uncomfortable.

ELENA: (As they are heading out) So, what’s the big shots name?

SAM: Pietro Salvatore (Elena holds him back; Sage and Alex keep walking).

ELENA: Salvatore… 

SAM: I know, what a coincidence! Seems like you can’t escape that name…(Teasing) Good thing this one is much older, I mean, in real-time, so I have nothing to worry about.

ELENA: As for him, or any other Salvatore in the world, you don’t; but if your “friend” keeps up with her snarky commentary, you will have something to be worried about.

SAM: I’m sorry, she can be a hand full, but that’s not who she really is. She puts up this tough bitchy exterior as a defense mechanism; but once she puts her guard down, she’s a completely different person; trust me.

ELENA: I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because I love you. But if she doesn’t stop, she’ll know just how bitchy I can be too.

SAM: I’ll keep her in line, I swear.

ELENA: Good.

SAM: Just to be sure, there is no way Damon and Stefan are related to him, right? You told me they were the last ones in their bloodline.

ELENA: They are; the last remaining Salvatore, Sara, was killed by Damon.

SAM: Seriously? Wow, your ex is really fucked up.  

ELENA: Well, he was under some siren’s psychic mind control thing, so it wasn’t his fault.

SAM: I know it’s your home an all, but I’m glad we got away.

ELENA: Me too. Although, I really miss my friends.

SAM: I know (kisses her), let’s hope they come visit soon.

 Cut to – The Powell mansion. Anthony knocks on The Madame’s bedroom door.

ANTHONY: Madame, I am sorry to disturb you at this hour, but Mr. Powell did not come home last night, and he still hasn’t arrived. I am becoming concerned. Do you happen to know where he might be?

THE MADAME: Anthony, love. I think we both know where, or rather who he is with. Trouble is, Augustus has some very annoying tech thta is blocking my ability to track Edward. I’ve been trying to get a reach on him, but nothing.

ANTHONY: I knew this was a mistake, I warned you both.

THE MADAME: I know. I thought we had it under control, was not expecting Augustus’ toys getting in the way.  

ANTHONY: You were sworn to protect him, and if I must say, you are not doing a good job.

THE MADAME: Anthony, as much as I respect and appreciate you, be careful with your words. We wouldn’t want this situation escalating…

ANTHONY: Am I supposed to take that as a threat?

THE MADAME: Not at all. I would never hurt you. Just take it as advice to be more empathetic to those that love Edward, just as much as you do. And, FYI, you also failed to protect him, so if there is blood, it will be on both of our hands.

ANTHONY: Pardon me, Madame. I understand what you are saying; and you speak the truth. I’m just desperate, and very scared for him.

THE MADAME: As am I. I’ve dealt with all sorts of supernatural things for years, but I have never been faced with this kind of enemy, mostly because I can’t really comprehend it; I despise technology. But you have my word, I will not rest until I find him and bring him home safely.

ANTHONY: Thank you, Madame. And, once again, I do apologize for my behavior, I was out of line.

THE MADAME: You were being a father, I understand.

ANTHONY: And you, a mother.

THE MADAME: We will find him, I promise.

ANTHONY: I’ll leave you to your duties, Madame. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.

THE MADAME: I will, Anthony. Have a goodnight.

ANTHONY: You too, Madame.

 Cut to – New Orleans, a downtown bar. Klaus and Danae are having a drink. A familiar face walks in.

 KLAUS: (His eyes light up as if they were on fire) Are my eyes deceiving me again?

ABBY: They’re not.

KLAUS: You returned…

ABBY: (Smirks) I told you I would …

TVD 9x10 (part 2) coming soon! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

[apprenticenerd]

"Anyone can send me an ask with one of the titles and I’ll post a snippet or talk about that WIP!" The Acropolis, Tacet, Checklist, A Tiny Galaxy, Hearsay, Going Back, Ella Disenchanted, Making Peace, The Slashed Circle, Wake Up, Tenno, Midnight, Heliotropism, Arrhythmia, the one about Among Us, the one about Library of Ruina, the one that’s a D&D world concept. Yes, all of them. I know you wanna talk about all of them. So go, go forth and do it!

Hoooo boy, this is gonna be a long post. Lots and lots of writing snippets under the cut to avoid dash stretch!

The Acropolis - original - length uncertain - 1.4k and counting

im not ready for this im not i thought it would be yrs i thought id at least get an english degree first

omg sal whats goin on

fuckin hell whyd it have to be now i have a chem lab tomorrow

sally-tate macpherson. u never swear. ever. wtf is goin on.

ok. jess. i need u to listen really really carefully. understand?

answer the goddamn question ur scarin me

shut up and listen and this will go a lot better

fine but u need to tell me wtf is happnenig

ok. im going to tell you a bunch of stuff. not giving u advice, thats not allowed, but im gonna tell u stuff it seems like itd be impossible for me to know.

?????????????

i said shut up this is really important dont question how i know it. just go with it and figure out what to do. and dont die. bc no matter how crazy stuff seems, if u die, ur dead. here and everywhere. ok?

This is an original story coming straight from a @/writing-prompt-s prompt about a crack in a kid’s hardwood floor that they fantasized was a portal actually being one. I originally intended to write the entire thing like this, as a conversation over text, but that may not be feasible given a certain world-building detail at the other end of the portal (and the limits of my creativity lmao).

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Tacet - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 3.2k and counting

She closed her eyes again, and there it was. Hallucination? Some new science trick with electromagnetic radiation off the visible spectrum? Evidence that she was actually going insane? Whatever it was, it burned behind her eyelids in bright, incontrovertible red - and was completely invisible when she opened her eyes again. There was just the usual mess of club posters and one big one about someone’s exceedingly dumb-looking lost cat.

Eyes open, there was only Sargent Snuggles. Eyes closed, there was the normal darkness and then three lines of text where the poster had been, wavering like scarlet fire:

JOIN TBC JOIN TBC JOIN TBC

TBC? What the fuck was that? She’d never heard of any group with that acronym before. Hardly aware of the flurry of weird looks from half the other people in the hallway, she crossed the hall to examine the lost cat poster more closely. It felt like perfectly normal paper when she touched it, and there wasn’t even a hint of red with her eyes open, unless you counted the cat’s tacky pink sweater. How the hell was this even possible?

“You’re finally cracking, Bri,” she groaned under her breath, then headed for her locker. She did have to get home. Add another big fat entry to the weird shit list.

A backstory one-shot for my Blackout Club OC Briar, telling the story of how she got into the club in the first place. I’ve been stuck in the same spot for a while now, after Briar’s friend Dani explains the club to her, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the scene’s over as is. Of course, writing the next one is the tough part.

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Checklist - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 1.7k and counting

8. You still have a headache. Shouldn’t you go back to sleep and try to do this in the morning?

9. (wake up)

10. Nah, you’ve always been a night owl, and school starts criminally early, too early to get much done beforehand. It’s quiet, except for Dad snoring. Your parents are asleep already. You can stay up until this is done, and they’ll be none the wiser.

11. Your head hurts worse. It’s getting harder to think. At only 9 pm? 9:30? Whatever. You should sleep.

12. (wake UP)

13. What are you thinking? You have to read at least a little of this chapter, or there’s no way you’ll be able to bullshit your way through class tomorrow. Besides, all of a sudden, the silence feels...strange. Heavier? You can’t describe it.

14. You need to sleep. You need a drink of water or something. You need to finish this damn homework. You need to sleep. You need to sleep.

15. Stare at The Great Gatsby. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

16. Realize what’s up with the silence. Dad’s not snoring anymore. You aren’t feeling like yourself. You need to sleep.

17. Something’s weird.

18. (WAKE UP) 

19. ...No. Something’s wrong.

Another Blackout Club story and another Interface Screw, as it were, this time in the form of a (very long) checklist. None of the characters have names (yet). It describes another way a kid could find themself running around at night with the Blackout Club, this time by fighting off the Song just enough to run into a club member who could wake them up the rest of the way. As with Tacet, I still need to write the suspenseful part.

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A Tiny Galaxy - Warframe - 4 chapters planned, 1 complete, 1 in progress - 7.8k and counting

Try it if you don’t believe me, the kid in the vent had said.

It was impossible. It was physically impossible. All of this was impossible. Had the Void...? Could the Void...?

The ship was at a standstill. Her mother had tried to kill her, and something had happened. She’d made something happen. There had been no holoprojector in that kid’s hand. Nothing was impossible anymore.

Jhia took a deep breath. How the heck was she supposed to do this? Was she supposed to feel something, some internal guide? Blue Hair hadn’t said. Feeling incredibly stupid, she did a quick mental checkup on herself. Nothing felt wrong, or different - but now that she thought about it…

Afterward, she would try many times to explain it, and fail every time. The best she could come up with was that once she found the Void, calling on it was as easy and as natural as breathing. She opened her hands in front of her, concentrated on that force like an extension of herself, reopened her eyes, and there it was: a riotous little ball of energy, wisps and motes of light and not-quite-light like a tiny galaxy, the Tau system in the palm of her hand, raging.

More OC backstory time! This one’s for my Tenno, a nerdy fourteen-year-old (at the time of this story, anyway) by the name of Jhia, going through the hell that is the Zariman Ten-Zero and what happened on it. This is possibly the first part of the story I actually wrote: the roll-credits moment when Jhia realizes the Void’s changed her more already than she thought.

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Hearsay - Lobotomy Corporation/Library of Ruina - one-shot - 1k and counting

"Oh? Did they investigate further?"

"They tried. Found a few fingerprints, but they didn't match anyone in the database."

"What's the update, then?"

"Reports from elsewhere in the district of someone not in uniform carrying a Zwei sword. They're slippery, good at avoiding us, which would suggest Syndicate operative to me and HQ. Except that in every one of the descriptions we managed to get, our sword thief is a child."

"What? How?!"

"You tell me, Iona. You're the one who went to the crime scene."

"Right... Jeez, if it's a kid, I guess that'd explain why Petrov thought they weren't a threat..."

"My thoughts exactly. HQ has a fair amount of hearsay to go on, but nobody can quite agree on how old the child is, or whether or not she's with a Syndicate. Most agree that she appears to be a girl, tall for a child, auburn hair, clothes and demeanor typical of a Backstreets native."

"We got a name?"

"They've heard Yeri, Kali, Redbird, Suma, Aelfin... No one knows which is her real one, or if it's even any of them at all."

"Damn. ...Say, are you going to drink that entire pot of coffee?"

"Help yourself."

This is one of those stories that turned into an accidental AU when more of canon came out. The idea behind it is that it’s Kali’s backstory told entirely in conversations in which she did not participate, showcasing the fact that a Fixer’s fame is their livelihood and Kali was about as famous as they come, before the whole L Corp thing happened. Of course, the vast majority of the headcanons here got invalidated with a certain Ruina update, so my motivation’s kinda down on this one.

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Going Back has already been talked about here!

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Ella Disenchanted - The Blackout Club - one-shot (maybe two-shot??) - 1.4k and counting

She woke. Her stomach went through a series of panicked flip-flops as she thought something strange had done it, Dad or a little-kid-nightmares shadow beast had made noise, but no - why had she fallen asleep in the first place? Her butt and shoulder were sore where they’d been leaning on the bottom and side of the windowsill, presumably all night, since the sun was full up over the trees on Old Growth Hill. 

All night. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall asleep, but she did anyway. God dammit.

As she unfolded herself from her cramped ball, though, she froze. Under the comforter she’d pulled around her shoulders for warmth, she was wearing her gray jacket, a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers getting dried mud all over the carpet. 

Last she remembered, she’d been in her pajamas.

In which a Blackout Club kid’s little sister wonders where he’s gone when he runs away to the boxcar, and tries to get to the bottom of the mystery herself. Usually she’d be too young for the club to recruit, but her investigations and an incident involving SAO are more than enough extenuating circumstance. Unlike most of my other WIPs, there’s a whole outline at the end of my doc for this one.

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Making Peace - Warframe - multi-chapter - 1.5k and counting

“I…” Iksoh finally said. “Sorna, I hope you realize. I’m not into this. I never - I’m not doing this. Whatever you’re doing, I can’t.”

“I know,” Sorna said softly. The decision tore at her heart again and she almost backed out of the vent, but no. She had to go. She wouldn’t see another innocent crumple in her rifle sights. “I hope you realize. I’m not coming back.”

Behind her, Iksoh let out a long, shaky breath. “It’s taking all I’ve got not to report you right now. Sorna… the Queens’ll have my head for this. Please, please, let it be worth it. Go. Don’t let them take yours.”

“I won’t,” Sorna promised, and meant it.

Later, after her last fight for her freedom was done, on the Steel Meridian ship headed for Kronia Relay, Sorna looked out at the planet retreating behind her and thought of Iksoh. She’d just learned a new word from a Meridian soldier: vaykor tal, the defector’s spirit. Iksoh had let her go, at risk of their own life. They’d had a bit of the vaykor tal themself, even if they hadn’t known it, even if they’d thought it was just some weakness that was bound to get them killed.

“Ranre treri, duf krun,” she whispered into space, a Grineer well-wishing passed down from sergeant to tube-fresh lancer since time immemorial. May your hands be steady, and may life be kind.

This is an AU born of me and some friends wondering why in the heck Perrin and the Meridian hate each other so much in game. It’s about a group of Kavor - Grineer defectors distinguished from other Meridian members by their pacifism - who get to a Relay and start wondering the same thing. Besides Sorna (and, later in the story, Iksoh as well), there would have been Chakh, Beket, and Sydon, plus at least four of the syndicate leaders and a bunch of side-character OCs, all caught up somehow in what turns out to be a surprisingly far-reaching web of intrigue.

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The Slashed Circle - Warframe - one-shot, probably - 429 and counting

In addition to their written and spoken language, the Grineer have a full language of hand signs. It has its quirks, as all languages do - be careful of confusing it with the Corpus sign language, in which the sign for “to pay” roughly approximates the Grineer sign for...a certain portion of the male anatomy. Among these is the common Grineer sentiment against those who defect from their ranks, baked into the sign just as much as their spoken words. 

The sign of the slashed circle, the sedashkur - a finger drawn in a circle on the chest, followed by a diagonal line - is the highest of taboos to any loyal Grineer. It shows support for such scum as the Kavor and Steel Meridian, enough so that it forms the basis for the Meridian’s battle standard. To sign the sedashkur is to betray your siblings, commit a grave insult to your superiors, paint a near-indelible target on your back. It is an object of hatred and fear throughout the ranks.

She fears it, yes, but she does not hate it, for all her life and into her death as well. It shouldn’t trouble her now, though. It is easy to hide a language, and she burned her journals before she was called to the fortress.

This is a fic about Jhia and her one (1) converted Kuva Lich, namely about the process of said Lich’s defeat and defection, that kinda never got off the ground. Contrary to this snippet, I think most of it would have been written in what are essentially space emails back and forth between Lich and Tenno? I definitely got as far as Jhia sending an audio recording of a bass-boosted dog fart, anyhow.

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Wake Up, Tenno - Warframe - one-shot - 950 and counting

“Wake up, Tenno.”

She wakes. She is - she is Tenno, right? She is a Tenno? Her mind is confused, so full of fog and dead ends - how long was she asleep?

The voice that woke her seems familiar. She might have loved the speaker, in her scrambled past life, the woman in the purple helmet, the one called Lotus in her HUD vision. Her surroundings are a ruin of some sort. Her body is—

...what?

She can move just fine. Her fingers and arms and legs respond with suspicious ease, given how long she must have slept to be this scattered upon waking up, and yet there’s some fundamental disconnect. This is her Warframe, her body, but it’s not her body somehow.

...wait, where did the term “Warframe” come from?

A Tenno, unnamed but intended to be Jhia on my end, wakes up on Earth at the very beginning of the in-game storyline. Since the tutorial has gotten an overhaul in recent months, I may have to modify even what little I have on this a lot.

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Midnight - Iconoclasts - poem - 280 and counting

been anything smaller than been anything

never been anything smaller than

“good morning, how’s miss grump doing today? i heard about that last mission...if you didn’t sleep well i can call you in sick, it’s alright-” “oh, shut up, grey”

there has never been anything

“oh, shut up, grey” “love you too”

smaller

“love you too”

than

me

A very fragmented, stream-of-consciousness-y poem meant to represent Agent Black’s failing sanity near the end of the game. The words of her famous one-liner (“there has never been anything smaller than me”) are interspersed, out of order until the end, with poetic descriptions of other characters and bits and pieces of a flashback involving Agent Grey.

---

Heliotropism - Iconoclasts - one-shot - 1.1k and counting

Lily, though she’s superstitious, will have none of these self-important truths, none of these semblances of certainty when really all it is is wishing on Ivory and hoping for the best. She calls for Miss Andress instead. 

A stout but severe woman with ten grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way, Miss Andress is perhaps the quintessential matriarch: nurturing, selfless, brutally honest. She is the one the people of 17 trust when they feel they can trust no one else. Lily needs the kind of reassurance only she can give, with the authority of ninety-one years and the wisdom of two sons, one daughter, and some five dogs raised under her care.

When Miss Andress visits House 4, she asks Polro and Lily to each bring an object they cherish the most. For Polro it’s his largest wrench, pitted with use but still polished to a brassy shine; Lily surprises everyone by pulling out a tiny, unloaded stun-gun, and surprises them more by not explaining it at all. Miss Andress doesn’t question it. She just turns the two tools over and over in her hands, head bowed, squinting at them as if trying to read the secrets of the universe in the scratches carved into them by time.

Finally she straightens up and sighs, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her forehead is slick with sweat, though the night is cool outside. “I don’t know what she’ll do,” the wise woman says, heavily, as if delivering bad news. “I just know she’ll change the world.”

Can you tell I like backstory fic? This one is for Robin, with one short anecdote for each year of her life, up to age 17 and the events of the game. It’s also an excuse to world-build a bunch, lol.

---

Arrhythmia - Crypt of the NecroDancer - one-shot(?) - 4k and counting

The creature didn’t say anything, just beckoned to the shadows. Before I could move, two other creatures came for me, sending the other humans - former humans? - scrambling away in panic. One landed a hard blow on the back of my head that sent me to my hands and knees, seeing sparks; the other said “Freeze!” and I could only watch as ice sprouted from the leaf litter, cementing me to the ground.

The one who’d hit me produced a dagger from the inside of its cloak. I tried to pull myself up, to do anything at all to keep myself from getting shanked, but it was no good. There must have been a secondary effect on that spell; my limbs wouldn’t respond. I felt the dagger tear cloth in the region of my back, and prepared for the pain.

It didn’t come. The creature cut a slit in the back of my tunic, then another. Neither one touched the skin at all. I can’t really describe what happened next - my brain was having trouble computing how my arms were in front of me, visible, unable to move, but it felt like the creature was pulling them through the gashes in my tunic, but that was wrong, they didn’t feel like arms at all.

“Holy fuck,” I heard someone say.

The ice holding me down melted into nothing as the spell wore off. I jumped back up, head spinning a little, ready for another fight, only to spot two flicks of scarlet in my peripheral vision. I spun around, but they moved with me.

I think I already knew what they were. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.

You’ve already seen this one, Nick, though I’m pretty sure it was well over two years ago. It’s a pile of old headcanons, some of them now outdated I’m pretty sure, about how Nocturna ended up a vampire in the first place and a little bit about how vampire society works. According to Google Docs, I’ve been stuck on this one since March 2018. Whoops.

---

untitled (working title “adult citra meets an impostor bc what is self-control”) - Among Us - one-shot - 572 and counting

“I know. You’re stuck, aren’t you?” Having well and truly gotten their full attention, Citra continues, “God, I can barely imagine. Having to take a weird-ass host whose biology might even be toxic to you, I don’t know. Needing to get to a whole other galaxy, feeling like the only way to do that is by deception and death.” “How…?”

She sighs. “I told you, this isn’t my first rodeo. One of your kind saved my life when I was a kid. Since he’d killed Mom and Dad had been out of the picture long before, he stayed here and helped raise me afterward. It’s how I learned to pronounce...a few of your words, at least.”

“You missed the ‘H’ sound.”

“Isn’t that the one that’s literally impossible to do right with Terran anatomy?”

“Maybe. You think I know Terran anatomy all that well?”

Citra chuckles. “Fair point. You let us find your buddy and fix the ship, I’ll raise Xai when we get comms back and he can try and help you get home. Deal?”

I found an Among Us comic on Tumblr, absolutely ran into left field with it to make a couple of OCs, and then made AUs of those OCs because of course I did. This one is from a future scenario in which Citra (typically orange) meets someone rather familiar on a mission with the crew of the Skeld.

---

untitled (working title “library of ruina but they adopt half the guests”) - Library of Ruina - length uncertain - 1k and counting

“And what happened to not caring about others because it’s a waste of time and heartache?”

Now it’s Roland’s turn to sigh. “I don’t care about him. I just don’t want the guilt of killing - look at him, he can’t be older than eighteen or nineteen!”

Raised eyebrow. “Finn will be twenty years old in fifteen days’ time. He is a legal adult. I fail to see why this should matter to either of us.”

“He’s fresh off his first Fixer license! I have years of experience! He had no idea what he was getting into when he signed that invitation and you know it!”

Angela fixes him with a glare that turns his stomach, his freshly remade body reacting to the memory of its sudden, and extremely painful, dismemberment. “I could quite literally hold your soul in my hands if I wanted,” she reminds him in an undertone of steel. “I must do the same for him, following the invitation’s guidance, or my entire plan will be lost, my coworkers’ sacrifices all for naught. Do not disappoint me or ask any more impertinent questions. You know what to do, and what will happen if you do not.” 

Look, some of the people you fight in this game deserved so much better, okay? I came up with an AU concept where if a guest willingly concedes the fight and agrees to stick around, you can get their book without killing them. Finn doesn’t die; neither do Tomerry or Shi Association; all the former employees realize exactly what’s going on with Philip after the Wedge Office fight and manage to calm him down, avoiding the whole Crying Children situation. (And then Gebura makes him collect his jaw off the floor by revealing herself as the Red Mist.)

---

The one that’s a D&D world concept doesn’t have anything concrete written for it yet. (Don’t read this bit if you might want to play in my campaign at some point!) Instead of your typical Forgotten Realms planar setup, the world at large would be called the Seven Spheres, each of them different in terms of climate, geography, native species and magic, etc. The First Sphere would be the most “generic” one (to our way of thinking) and the main setting of the campaign; it would also be the smallest of the Seven, its primary continent home to a former empire of dragons that spanned most of the Sphere until its mysterious fall a thousand years ago.

Now, since the empire fell, the dragons and their children have slowly been dying out. Best estimates are that there’s only a thousand or two left in the entire First Sphere, with fewer eggs hatched every decade. The player characters enter a world with pretty typical low-level quests to start with, but every so often, especially if they engage with optional story stuff (this would be a more roleplay-focused than combat-focused campaign), they get wind of changes in the air - a failed harvest here, an unusually hot and stormy summer there, a trade war once they start hitting mid-levels.

It mimics real-world climate change in all but cause. As coastal cities struggle to contend with rising seas and, more alarmingly, wizards all over the Sphere start to notice their magic falter and wane, the PCs’ goal becomes getting to the bottom of this. And what’s at the bottom is...your typical Nerd fusion of science with fantasy settings.

The Seven Spheres are not planes of existence in the normal D&D sense, but seven planets in the same solar system, each with its own ancient god far more powerful than any god in any mortal pantheon; the First Sphere is so named because it’s closest to the sun. These planetary gods are incredibly large and incredibly alien, thinking in geologic time and concepts far too broad and slow for most sapient beings to comprehend. A thousand years ago, the fall of the dragon empire was caused by an ill-advised ritual meddling with the god of the First Sphere’s natural process of rebirth, causing said god to die without a replacement.

It’s taken this long for the First Sphere to feel the effects because, again, geologic time - a thousand years is a blink of an eye in this kind of time scale. But now the ancient earth-magic that had kept the Sphere’s climate temperate and its magicians in business is failing. The dragons, as beings of magic intrinsically, have been failing all along. And now it’s up to the PCs, up at level 17-20 if not higher by that point, to figure out how to fix the situation and find a new planetary god for the First Sphere before the whole Sphere burns to death.

[mtemplex]

Little Baby Faulkner

# 1

My girlfriend Sashi used to hate it when film crews used her neighborhood to film. She hated it because her neighborhood was quiet—and then come all these film people noising it up, blocking roads, leaving colored tape everywhere. But mostly she hated that she was the insider, and they were the outsiders, and shooting a film was their pass to become tourist in her neighborhood, where she was a native.

Also: Sashi went to film school. And somehow that figured into her hatred of film crews.

I went to film school too. Sashi’s was in New York. Mine was in LA. She studied lighting. She liked to be on crew. I studied directing. If I never pick up another light or calculate line voltages in my head it will be too soon. I think Sashi held it against me that I liked the heady work while she preferred the grunt work. Sashi was smart enough to direct. To write. She considered it more pure to haul cord, to respond to the cinematographer bark orders. When she worked on a movie, she *preferred* not to read the script. She and her fellow crew members would go to Starbucks after filming and talk philosophy—not the casual kind that most people talk, but real philosophy, the kind that to keep up with you had to be read up on every last work by Derrida. They didn’t *want* to know anything about the movie: Their way of filmmaking was *pure*. The less they knew the better.

This story I’m about to tell you took place over one weekend in September (or maybe October). It was senior thesis week and as a director I didn’t have any interest in helping out some classmate by holding the boom microphone—which is what I liked to do when I was required to be on someone else’s set. Much for the same reasons Sashi worked lights: I could be there and not be there. Just get the mic in the right place and my brain could wander to infinite places other than *here*.

I lived right up the street from my school. Three blocks. And right between block two and block three was a restaurant with no name (as is popular in LA). It had a black door and a red carpet and I had never been inside but I had walked past it every day for a year and on Sunday and Thursday the red carpet was rolled out. If I got drunk my apartment was one block up the hill. I could walk there and see the homeless man sleeping on a couch someone had literally thrown out their window. Hollywood is like that: Lamborghinis and rich people live on the same street as homeless ones. There is no plan to help the homeless ones. They wander, move, die.

I had seen people enter the restaurant with no name. In couples or quads, guys and girls, all dressed up. And disappear behind the door into relative blackness.

Now I stand here, ready to knock—realizing what a silly gesture that is—and I’m not dressed up, instead wearing my brown cargo pants that I used to swear by as a film person (due to the extra—the third—side pocket almost to the cuff at the bottom of the pants). I’ve never seen that pocket before or since. Only on the ones sold in a surplus shop on Hollywood B.

I pull open the door, walk a few steps in. I almost leave because no one is in there. The tables are stood on top of each other like they stand when a restaurant crew closes for the night. There was a bar—no one at it, no one behind it. I look around the place:

I see a bar with nine stools. An area in the back with a stained-glass skylight. Tiles on the floor underneath that: Forming the structure of a wave, patterns never lost on me. I think about texting my film school buddy but decide I want to be alone. At the top of the Ave is the Alto Nido building, where I live. Sashi lived with me for a while. Then I threw my phone across the room, shattering it, glass everywhere. Then I kicked her out. I feel bad about it but me throwing that phone was the last in a line of incidents tracing us from Arizona to Ohio and then to LA. I have never met anyone who made me as mad as that girl.

Other than the skylight, there were no windows in this place. The ceiling was packed with cinema lighting, stage lighting. Even underneath the floor, which was glass block, a parade of colors went by as though I was standing on a river.

I went and sat at the bar, put my laptop bag on the floor, leaning against my stool. Maybe there was an underground chamber and *that’s* where everyone who comes through that door went to..some *Alice in Wonderland* in the basement or sub basement where all the kids in Hollywood (not the students, not the ones without money) would go to dance and hook up and go home and fuck and come back next Sunday or Thursday and ignore everyone they had taken home before.

“Excuse me”—that was the bartender.

I smile in a familiar way, as though we know each other.

“Is this place open?”

“We open at seven, actually.”

“Do you have a kitchen?”

“Yes,” he says deeply. “I’ll get you a menu.”

“That’s ok,” I say. “Do you have a ribeye?”

“Yes sir we do.”

“I’d like a rib eye. Extra rare. With blue cheese crumbles on top.”

“Sure thing,” he says.

“Also? Could I have serrano peppers and two eggs over easy on top of that blue cheese?”

“Sure thing? You want a drink?”

“Yes, a glass of Syrah if you have it.”

“We have it! Totally. We have it. I guess it’s ok if you sit here. There’s a party later.”

“I’ll be out of here by then,” I say (having no intention to leave).

The bartender pours me a generous glass of wine in a glass with a thin lip (important if you’re me). He goes into the kitchen.

I flip through my phone book. Almost all the way to the end. I pretend to consider each name, each number, but really I’m looking for a certain name all along: Roberts, my fuck buddy from Ohio. Don’t ask my *why* I picked Roberts. It may have had something to do with my having tried cocaine for the first time a few days ago, and something in me knew that Roberts had done it, or could help me with her sexy words. My sex with her was the best ever—she said our sex was amazing. After our second bout of soap-suds squishy sex on the floor of my apartment in Ohio, she said, “It’s not that our sex is amazing. I just always wanted to know what it was like to have sex with a genius.”

I refrained from asking her what that was like.

Now in LA, in my empty restaurant, I called her.

“Well look who it is,” she says.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“So what’s going on?”

“I’m on a coke binge and I need a break.”

“So you called me! Ha ha.”

“Have you ever done it?”

“Matt. You will not believe your synchronicity with me and my house right now! We—me and my roomie Hannah—we just got this house. To rent. And we are breaking it in with a whole weekend of coke. The whole weekend. You know what I think would be great?”

“If I fly to Dayton and participate in your coke weekend?”

Silence.

Then Roberts’ voice: “Would you?”

“Umm..”

“Oh please! *Could* you?”

“Ahh..”

“Oh my god we could do coke and have sex all weekend!”

“Ok!” I say. “Tell me about this house.”

“I will,” she says. “Hannah and I live here—the lease is in our name. My grandmom lives here. And Hannah’s boyfriend name of Rambuncto is getting out of jail on Saturday.”

“They let people out of jail on Saturday?”

“You’re my smart boy. As in: Anyone else would have asked me *What is he in for?* but you ask *Will they let him out on Saturday?*

“Well: What is he in for?”

“Assault. On a stranger in a Walmart.”

“Is he guilty? I mean: Did he do it?”

Roberts’ laugh gets two steps louder.

“I’m pretty sure he’s guilty, yeah.”

“Is he gonna be there this weekend?”

A pause from Roberts.

“Matthew, don’t worry about it. Rambuncto may talk some shit but he’s harmless.”

“Not to the person in Walmart.”

“Don’t worry about it, Matthew. You spend so much of your head worrying it’s a miracle you’re not losing brain celluloid whenever you wake up. Come over. Can you afford it? I can send you money if you can’t afford it.”

“I can afford it.”

“Ok, good. ‘Cause I can’t really afford it.”

We both laugh.

“And I have enough money for coke.”

“Ok, this is what I think we should start with: an eight ball,” Roberts says. Then we can get more eight balls when we run out. I don’t know if you remember, but I always wanted to get a Snoop doggy dog and—guess what?—I have one. Do you want me to tell you his name?”

“Hold up. Before that. Is Rambuncto—? Is Hannah—? I mean, are they ok?”

“You’ve *met* Hannah before.”

“Did she go to Colonel White?”

“She went to Stivers. She’s fine. Don’t worry! The house is cool, ok? Say *The house is cool*.”

“I just wanna—“

“SAY THE HOUSE IS COOL!!”

“Ok. It’s cool. The house is cool.”

“We’re gonna have so much fun when you get here, Matt. We’ll fuck *all weekend*. I know you like that slippy little soap suds fucking we do. Look. I gotta go.”

“Can you pick me up from the airport?”

“Guess what my dog’s name is. Just text me the details. What’s my dog’s name? Baby hurry ‘cause I gotta go.”

“I don’t know. What’s its name?”

“Faulkner.” She lays it out like carpet.

“Why did you name him that? Have you ever *read* any Faulkner?”

“I gotta go, my wayward king! Hannah says we have a dead-ish baby in the crib room.”

“Alright, girl—“ I say, but the line goes dead.

Just then the bartender returns with my steak. It is cooked extra rare. With two eggs, blue cheese, and jalapeño peppers instead of serranos. I decide to eat it anyway.

# 2

Roberts and I had a history. From the first I saw her practicing color guard with the school’s JROTC program—her face so smooth, her hair: an angels!—to the time I followed her across the gym floor during a science exploration—projects everywhere, and none more important to me—I tracked her down and we spoke and she did seem kinda dumb to me. But I liked her anyway, and over the years we’d become fuck buddies. From that time watching *The Great Gatsby* (Robert Redford version) sitting in the dark of the basement where her apartment was, her dog outside listening. And Roberts and I moved deliberately to a lying down position and kissed in the dark—and all we did was kiss—but the seed was sewn, and it wasn’t till a couple years since *The Great Gatsby* that we hooked up in my place on Second Street in Dayton Ohio (with the help of a bottle of Aftershock) that we finally took it all the way.

Fucking Roberts had become an exalted experience. Full of imagination and the fulfillment of imagination. Her puss was so red and so tight..it was unimaginable. Truly, the best sex of my life, right there. Soap suds—the works. Tight as a flower mate by a honeybee, the bee shaking his tail feathers to get in there. Before we had stood in the light of a street lamp visible five floors below..and when it turned red we stopped touching each other and when it turned green we started again.

My friend Julian was mad at me when I told him Roberts and I had fucked. He asked me to describe her vagina, which I did. Red. Redder than the purest red in a box of Crayons, a set of oil paints. Tight as a honeybee. Wet and snug and so tight she made me cum in her after five strokes, even after she asked me not to cut. We never used a condom. Kept it clear and functioning. Lord of the *Flies*. The next morning she jacked me off with two hands while she waited for her mother to pick her up. Then it was off and on, whenever one of us happened to call the other. And it never seemed off-limits, even when one of us was in relationship—it was never cheating, with us.

This is the girl I was flying from LA to Dayton to meet. This is the girl when I showed her picture to my film school buddy, he said:

“You fucked *that*?”

To which I said, “Yep.”

And that was the end of the conversation. The end of Mike’s constant pestering me about getting a girlfriend, about everything he pestered me about, right down to the bottom of why I took showers instead of baths. Right down to the end of who my Christmas present was: A girl who I woke up in my LA bed to see. A girl I fucked during film school: brown hair, lovely petite, screaming sex in her chokers and all blackness and pink panties you could see above her back. Her back hurt. She needed relief. Any way I could provide it, I was willing. Fucked that girl in the equipment room, just, like, that.

I don’t remember that film school girl’s name—believe that? I don’t remember my Christmas present’s name. She was a costume girl for Adam Sandler. And the fact that I didn’t remember her name isn’t really an act of pathological sport fucking—more an act of casualty that we all engage in. Fuck one girl, forget her name. Forget her phone number and wake up the next morning with more unknowns in your address book: “Molly, 323.818.9544”—total unknown. Don’t remember a Molly—don’t remember anyone. No one new, no one old. A real bright way of living, there.

But on that night Roberts and I decided to invite each other to spend a coke weekend at her house in Ohio..on the night I invited myself into this anonymous dance and supper club, on that night I stayed sober enough to remember two cute girls a few years older than me who danced and opened up their world to me.

“Do you wanna dance with us?”

These women were formally dressed and I with my six-pocket cargo pants they grabbed me me by the hands and took me to the place under the skylight and they freak-danced me, holding me in the envelope of light where each of them plus the skylight made a triangle of importable lust, striking jealousy in the eyes of the boys more normal to this party. Soon they picked me out as the threat, the tall nail which is inevitably hammered down, and the girls were saying goodbye and the bartenders and bouncers were telling me goodbye and the street lamp having just come on was guiding my home across the street with the intersection of the homeless man sleeping in a couch that had been thrown out the window and my school was far behind me and I let myself into the Alto Nido—it’s the building shown in the opening shot of *Sunset Boulevard*—and I took the stairs (down) and I struggled with the lock and soon was in the wood-flooring studio apartment where I had the pages of an entire screenplay (one I was writing) placed end to end across the floor.

This and some squirrel puzzles (dubbed thee by my friend Michael). They were stacked on the writing desk with a bunch of cocaine stacked next to them. I was reaching for a result and I thought coke could help. It seemed to speed up my thinking, but no result came. These were some mathematical puzzles that had been puzzling me and I didn’t know whether it was more in the problem-solving *vein* to take them to Dayton on my Roberts weekend or to leave them here and take a break.

I thought of the dead man out there on the sidewalk—he seemed dead to me. I had never used enough drugs to make myself actually *homeless*. I didn’t have sympathy for that man. This was what happened when you couldn’t control your addiction. When you lost your job and lost your wife and lost your nerve to walk into a job interview on LSD or walk into a job interview on meth and coke—if you couldn’t make that work, then you couldn’t *make it work*—period.

The idea that there were people out there who had never tried drugs was empty to me: I did not understand how that could be. My cousin divorced her husband after he 1) had back surgery 2) was prescribed opiates 3) became addicted to those opiates and 4) went to rehab to end his addiction. To me that seemed like the best-case scenario, minus the divorce. But, I mean, how in this first world of ours could anyone live for long without coming into contact with drugs. We live on them, can’t function without them. Anyone who has tried alcohol knows that if this drug was introduced today that it would be illegal. Same with cigs. The most dangerous drugs are on the street, legal to get. And a couple of the most transformative drugs are listed as the most restricted in our world. The real problem is you have people walking around with no general knowledge of drugs and their actual dangers and benefits.

I set up a line of coke, snarfed it.

I set up another line, banged it.

Mmm. Salad wenches of lines spreading before me the remnants of ecstasy flying, colliding. Rummaging in my mind tailwinds of stories I had yet to tell. Yardley dangers of Pluto, planets banging across each other to form craters, my jizz the center of the galaxy, girlfriend gone, somewhere at a Starbucks sitting out front talking with a homeless man, treating him better than she treats me (I have seen this) and her going home to some weekly hotel where she barely makes the rent, has to eat off the employee shelf—all she had to do was not wake me up at night, not engage me in impossible swirls of arguments that never end, there is never a truce, never a peace of the day, but me waking up with her kneeling over my body *yelling* at me. Never stopping. One who wants not to live together, not to love each other, but to be one end of a debate course, for us to work it all out *and for her to be right*! I could not take anymore of that.

I punched up my ticket—laptop, coke—making sure I got the flight times, origins and destinations, correct. Making sure I had the times correct. Enough room for changes to and from Dayton Ohio. I’d pack my bag tomorrow. I called Roberts.

“Hi y’all” (said in an English accent) “I hope you have been following my YouTube channel as of late where myself and my house mouse—we will call her ‘H’—move into a *fabulous* house in East Dayton. This weekend we have a guest, my old friend Matt from Colonel White. Anyway—*any who*—he’s coming for a visit. A sortie. An exportage. If you will. I” (sound of a smooch) “you, fuck boy! I smooch you I smooch you I smoooch you!!”

# 3

Listening to Roberts’ voicemail prompts were always like this: spinning in infinity, telling a tale. You could get a glimpse of her, through this medium, that gave you information you could only get in this way. If you saw her grandmother die and then asked Roberts if it saddened her, Roberts would say nothing. Then you’d listen to her voicemail and hang up before leaving a message, she would say the truth right there: she was sad.

Boarding the plane high on coke scared me. I had done a lot of coke before taking a cab to the airport, and I spent the whole ride there wiping down the corners of my bag, licking clean my normal coke holder and burying it in the bottom of my clothes. LAX is a trip within itself, messages of the white zone and the orange zone. I passed through the white zone thinking of all the white I had done, hoping those drug-sensing chemicals wouldn’t expose me—all to everyone. I took off my shoes and put my laptop in its own bin and walked through that fucking machine with the facial expression of the Dalai Lama and the shluffing feet of a would-be LA party goer—I would be a party goer except after that first impression I came across like a kid just broke into a candy store. I had the all the nerve but none of the money: real LA party people had rich parents and bottomless trusts and multiple parts in small movies.

They were the chosen ones. I was the nothing one.

I got through security. Got through the boarding process. Sat with my carry-on beneath my seat, leaned my head against a window, and I’m sure snored all the way through the flight.

During my sleep, I dreamt I was on a bicycle touring a school that was close to. There were a hundred black people in a small gymnasium watching a basketball game that was in cable—only—not on regular TV. I ride through that room and back outside, nodding to a guy who is riding *his* bike and he has crystal meth on him and while my nod means nothing to me, it means that I want some crystal, to him. Soon enough I’m riding my bike, high on crystal, around this park and some people hold a phone out to me:

“This is Paula Abdul. She wants to talk to you.”

I stop my bike and talk on speakerphone.

“Hey Paula!”

“Hey, my bro. How are you doing over there? Where is *over there* for you, anyway?”

“Over there? I think I’m in a poor neighborhood, traveling like a flashlight across the country by air, and my shadow casts a spot over poor neighborhoods across the country. Whatever the plane’s shadow touches, I am there. We’re somewhere in the Midwest now. That’s all I know.”

Paula Abdul continued the dream:

“Look there on your TV. There I am—see? Now tell me what to do.”

I looked at the TV in front of these hundred poor kids here to watch the game. It was an old-fashioned one, SONY, with no inputs but for one—the antennae—and skipping past the part where I wondered how they could see *anything*, I told Paula Abdul to make a heart shape with her hands and fingers and as soon as I said that, she did it!

Paula Abdul, right there on TV—right there for me.

I rode out of the gym and saw the meth guy again and I remembered (in the dream) something that seemed at the time to be a remembrance of another meth experience but which seemed at the time to be a remembrance of *another dream*, or a remembrance of dream—just created!—a memory of a memory, the second memory created *at the time!* to *seem* like a waking-life memory *of* another dream—I don’t know how I seem to you but this tangle tripped me solidly upon waking and it was a few minutes more before I took this dream within a dream to consist of another waking-life dream accessed by myself from within this secondary dream. It’s confusing, I know.

Somewhere in there was a stop to change planes. I stooped around this large airport sitting in a circular intersection of hallways, desperately checking that my carry on was beside me.

I sat down, removed my laptop. It had some of the snail puzzles on it—plus the code to generate them. I tapped this way and tapped thus, there was nowhere else to go with them. I had spent a lifetime (it seemed) in Tucson in front of a white board deducing what originally seemed a system of *two* states and *two* rules to what seemed now to be a system of *four* states with two rules. I could generate, with my new set of pieces, the table of 16 binary Boolean operators just by *copying* them with your hands, with visual pattern matching (and that’s what made this second rule set superior) but I could not generate the actual snail puzzles from them.

This concerned me as I sat alone in—which airport I can’t remember—working out the pattern matching, the visual copying of four rules which allowed *computation* to be known as simple creation and unfolding of patterns. They didn’t even have to be visual!—They could be calculated by a blind person—Even a person with no senses could *sense* this, deep in their brain, I had determined.

That and nervously picking at my coke pill: silver with a keychain and a screw-tight lid. I had carried it with me since I first started doing coke. It came from Amazon. In the airport I unscrewed it and tried tapping its (hopefully non-empty) contents onto my laptop cover. You’ve never lived until you’ve done coke off your MacBook. I was hoping to do some here but the silver pill box had nothing to offer. If you could somehow get your coke over the security points, doing coke in airports would be ideal: it would be a safe environment, no one would imagine you had coke on you and you could tap out lines in clear sight of everyone and they would go: *What? Is that what I just saw?* and they would say *Naw* and keep going.

I had a dangerously long layover—one could say a dangerous hangover—during which I could easily have exited the airport and ended up in Nashville, or Atlanta, or whatever city I was in. I could have easily met up with party people in an airport bar and from there gone off on some other adventure, something far more dastardly than the one I was on. Filled up my coke reserves and re-filled my silver pill box.

On the second leg of the flight I wasn’t fortunate enough to have a window seat. I was in the aisle and this meant there were duplicate waitresses-cum-stewardesses rubbing on my super-sensitive sides. Everyone seemed like they were on coke and everyone seemed like they could sell it to me.

I had a panicky moment wherein I doubted my entire goal: sleeping with Roberts was doubtable, unlikely: she had gained weight and had a child before our last meeting and I had been telling myself this time would be different: she would have lost weight (at least to her high school level) and the child wouldn’t be with her (that was a London baby that Roberts and her boyfriend had given to adoption)—when she had that baby and given her up, Roberts had suckered me into listening to her whole sob story, how they named her London and they *insisted* to the adopting couple that they keep her name and the adopting couple said *Sure, sure* and they obviously were going to change the baby’s name—*obviously*.

Roberts told me that story while I was pinned to the bar stool in a Dayton Thai place. Roberts always did that: kept you on the phone too long, long past when *anyone* would insist the conversation must end! She did it to everyone—I was one of the only people who would still talk to her (listen to her) and so my punishment grew. From a virgin boy who wanted to have sex with her to an experienced man who had sex with her and a lot of people, Roberts was always wasting my time. Always making a two-minute conversation into a ten-minute one. Always driving me crazy with superfluous monologues, over-emphasizing small points which Roberts claimed were big ones!

Years after this trip, several moves from city to city for me, Roberts found my number on Facebook and called it. I was on my last few minutes of cell time and that wasn’t even a factory when I finally said to her, “Stop. Roberts, stop. You always call me and dangle all this bullshit in front of my face, how your kids are doing and how this new man in your life is finally the perfect one..but then there is this unmatched thread where you introduce that he’s a wife beater or a drug addict or a crazy Christian. And you never get to it! You’re dragging me on for years with a story that could be told in a minute! Just stop, Roberts—please, stop. This is the last time we talk together. I have seen you for the last time. Don’t find me on Facebook. Don’t call this number—in a minute it will change. I love you—in a way. Were a high school thing. That turned into a fuck buddy thing. I had fun and I truly like you and I will always remember you well. You blew my mind—truly. And I appreciate that Dallas and Caycee have me as their godfather. That was nice if you—more than nice. But I’m not your children’s godfather. I’ll never see them. I’ll never see them, Roberts, as few or many years as you and I and they will pass. I will never see you, Roberts—never again.”

# 4

[rivengard]

1-60!

1. selfie I'm not sure if I posted this one but fuck it lool

2. what would you name your future kids? something Elvish for sure

3. do you miss anyone? nahh

4. what are you looking forward to? my erasmus programme

5. is there anyone who can always make you smile? idk not always

6. is it hard for you to get over someone? it's not, I'm actually really good at controlling my feelings and such

7. what was your life like last year? i was a bit unhappy bc of my choices in life but I also had good times, good relationships, ups and downs like the usual..

8. have you ever cried because you were so annoyed? oh boy hell yea I did

9. who did you last see in person? couple of friends

10. are you good at hiding your feelings? lol yea

11. are you listening to music right now? no

12. what is something you want right now? we ain't going there mate xD joking aside it would be nice to have someone to talk, hangout all night and make out

13. how do you feel right now? I feel pretty emotional due to the finale of oitnb

14. when was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you? two days ago

15. personality description umm a self-destructive bitch, realistic enough to believe in fantasy worlds, sarcastic and full of stupid puns I'd say (I have a good sense of humour I swear)

16. have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t? I mean yeah, like everyone at some point

17. opinion on insecurities. OH I HAVE MANY WHERE SHOULD I BEGIN..to be honest everyone has them, we should either accept them or make a change if there's an option and if it'll make us feel better in the end

18. do you miss how thing were a year ago? not at all

19. have you ever been to New York? noO I WISH

20. what is your favourite song at the moment? I can't choose just one :( there are too many

21. age and birthday? I'll be 20 on Nov. 11

22. description of crush. I don't have one :(

23. fear(s) not achieving anything, ending up all alone and also FUCK clowns

24. height 5'7 or 5'8

25. role model I don't think I have one..

26. idol(s) idk

27. things i hate racist people, abusers in any kind, my relatives, the country I live in, being broke...

28. i’ll love you if… you buy me swords, ohh and make me laugh lots

29. favourite film(s) lotr, the great gatsby, the wolf of the wall street, the departed, pride and prejudice, hobbit, leòn the professional, django, colette, spider-man into the spiderverse, coraline, a nightmare on elm street...I have too many ffs

30. favourite tv show(s) black sails, sense8, sherlock, good omens, lost, b99, poldark..

31. 3 random facts I recently quit my job due to health issues, I started rewatching Doctor Who and I love Leonardo DiCaprio a lot

32. are your friends mainly girls or guys?equal

33. something you want to learn lots of languages tbh

34. most embarrassing moment Idk I can't think anything

35. favourite subject art, english and literature related

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill? graduating from uni, moving abroad and be covered in tattoos

37. favourite actor/actress Leonardo DiCaprio, Benedict Cumberbatch, Johnny Depp, Jack Nicholson, Michael B. Jordan, Lily Collins, Keira Knightley..

38. favourite comedian(s) Ricky Gervais and Stephen Colbert

39. favourite sport(s) basketball and working out in general

40. favourite memory this would take a long ass time to write tbh

41. relationship status single

42. favourite book(s) the silmarillion, lotr, fahrenheit 451 and currently reading the great gatsby I'm pretty sure this will be one of my faves too

43. favourite song ever I CAN'T CHOOSE

44. age you get mistaken for 12 lol jk most ppl tell me I look younger

45. how you found out about your idol I didn't I guess

46. what my last text message says "lmao same"

47. turn ons it's 4.46am and my brain stopped functioning idk, neck kissing, being kind, good humour, loving lotr, kinkyness...

48. turn offs rude assholes..

49. where i want to be right now ENGLAND

50. favourite picture of your idol I really should choose an idol right..okay let's say it's Leo

51. starsign horny one lol (if that's not clear enough it's scorpio)

52. something i’m talented at I used to think I'm talented at drawing but now idk

53. 5 things that make me happy My cat loki, finally being able to workout properly after injury, making playlists and listening to them, shopping (shocking because I'm broke yet I insist on being a stupid hoe) and hanging out w my best friend

54. something thats worrying me at the moment how am I suppose to wake up and go to gym, I can't sleep n it's basically 5am so...

55. tumblr friends @celiacelestial @wonderinghobbit @all-together-run-for-cover @asylumsammet @kingsmill and you! (i most likely forgot lots of ppl I'M SORRY YOU GUYS)

56. favourite food(s) zucchini noodles, baked mushrooms, pizza and spicy foods in general I guess

57. favourite animal(s) cats, dogs, rabbits, wolves..I love em all tbh

58. description of my best friend she's an actual hobbit, cutest bean, would kill for Freddie Mercury and Benedict Cumberbatch, stans way too many shit which makes our conversations even more enjoyable, a great listener and she has a great sense of humour lol

59. why i joined tumblr about 7 years ago I heard it from my cousin and was curious about it lmao thank god it helped me improve my English, humor, variety of interests...as well as making me spend countless hours of reblogging :::))))

Thank youuu!💕

[a-secondhand-sorrow]

take my hand and let it spin

So this is... quite different from what I usually write.

This will be a series of around 10 (ish? we’ll see) kind of standalone pieces, although they make much more sense when read in order.

title from “temporary love” by Ben platt

prompt found here

***

Tally marks were a blessing and a curse.

From the earliest ages, you learned about the tally marks. As a child, you’d gaze at the wrists of your teachers or parents, wondering what the stories were behind each red line, trying to figure out if the black tallies were anyone you’d known, or staring with a kind of quiet apprehension at the thin, white scars few carried.

So it starts like this; Evan’s father gets a new tally mark.

For Evan, tally marks were... complicated. He’d used to love tracing the marks on his parents’ wrists; Heidi had two red tally marks that had linked themselves in his mind, almost like twins, standing before the deeper, black tally that she shared with his father. And his father’s tallies were more complicated; there were more of them, a few red and a few black, one white scar standing out starkly amongst them, before the final black tally mark he shared with Heidi. Falls in love quickly, Evan could swear he remembered Heidi saying with a smile or a laugh, but this time it’s lasted.

It didn’t, really. It lasted for longer than his other loves, sure, but when Evan was six years old he saw the edge of a new red tally mark peeking out from his father’s sleeve, and after his seventh birthday, he could tell it had turned black. Shortly afterwards, Heidi saw it, and a few weeks later—mid-February, most likely—the U-HAUL truck pulled into his driveway, and then out, taking his father and his new black tally mark with him.

Tally marks never held the same meaning for him after that.

Through most of middle and high school, things stayed the same. Tally marks were rare, that young. Of course, a few started cropping up around fourteen or fifteen, but they were almost taboo; love at such a young age was almost laughable. Unlike a lot of adults, who wore their hearts on their sleeves-literally-and let their marks show, many of them would cover up their tally wrists as much as possible.

(Around freshman year, Jared started to wear more long sleeves. Evan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jared’s wrist. He’d wanted to ask him about it, but even though they’d been friends for forever, really, asking about someone’s tallies was touchy, and Evan didn’t want to disturb their familiar peace.)

(Heidi, too, covered up her tallies: it had started right after Evan’s father left, and he suspected that it was too painful for her to be reminded of her past loves.)

Evan didn’t care much for tallies. His wrist was clear, just like most fifteen year olds, and he’d soured to the idea after his father’s new tally.

But at the end of sophomore year, indigo-streaked-hair freshman Zoe Murphy took stage with the jazz band at their end-of-school concert. Evan had never really noticed jazz band, but Zoe-the confident set of her shoulders, her slightly more nervous grip on her guitar, and the small, sweet smile that took hold of her features when she relaxed into the song-drew his attention and sent his heart racing. He started noticing her more after that—dancing her heart out at a school dance, head bent over a table in the library while studying, a flash of her hair in the hallway as she ran to get to her friends. And nothing else came of it, since he was too afraid to talk to her; he was left with a fluttering heart and her smile filling his dreams, and nothing more.

Summer came and went. Jared found out about his crush and teased him accordingly. The school year rolled back around, and Evan resigned himself to a stressful, empty junior year.

Until Zoe came up to him, barely a week into school.

“Hey-it’s Evan, right?”

Startled-partially by anyone speaking to him, partially because he was becoming very flustered because holy shit she’s even prettier up close-Evan only said “Evan?” which came out more as a question than anything else.

Her brows furrowed, and he could practically feel the apology radiating off of her. “That’s...your name? Shit, I’m sorry if I’m wrong-”

“No, no-Evan. Hansen. Evan Hansen, that’s me, God I’m sorry, that’s so annoying.”

“What is?” The indigo had faded from her hair over the summer; all that was left was a few vaguely purple strands.

“Oh, well, sorry, I just repeated my name when you asked me if that was my name and that’s so annoying when people do that, so I’m sorry-”

“You say sorry a lot,” she noted, a twinkle of humor in her eyes.

He’d never noticed how pretty her eyes were before, different flecks of gold in their warm brown depths.

“Uh-sorry.”

At that she actually laughed. Evan didn’t think he’d ever heard anything as beautiful as her laugh-it was warm and genuine, filling the slightly-awkward air around them with a sweeter feeling.

He was a little taken aback when he realized he’d do anything to hear that laugh again.

“I’m Zoe. Murphy,” she added, almost as an afterthought, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

He never learned the exact reason Zoe had come up to him that day, but when she’d departed with a “you’re not too bad, Evan Hansen,” he was left with a stupid grin on his face and a rapidly beating heart.

That hadn’t been the end of it. The next Monday, he’d been waiting for Jared to arrive at their normal lunch spot when a familiar person slid across from him at the table.

“Hey, Evan Hansen.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he returned her eye contact with a too-broad smile. “Hey, Zoe Murphy.”

“So, what’re you up to waiting here? Plotting world domination?” She cracked open a water bottle as she said this, fixing him with a look that she may have actually given him if she thought he was considering world domination

“Waiting for Jared, mostly.”

“I see. Keep your secrets, then,” she joked, a small smile on her face.

It was easier to talk with Zoe than he expected.

“Ugh,” she started, stabbing at a noodle from a tupperware, “my English teacher-did you have Howard last year?” After securing a nod from Evan, along with a sympathetic groan, she continued, “yeah, he’s already assigned an essay. Eight hundred words on the diction and possible motifs appearing in The Great Gatsby, even though we’re only like, ten pages in.”

“Howard is... a tough teacher. His creative writing unit is better, though, even though it’s at the end of the year. He expects less from it.”

“I don’t even want to know what the rest of the year is gonna be like.”

“I wish I could tell you it was gonna get better, but...”

Zoe merely grimaced, stabbing at another noodle. “Yikes. You said the creative writing was better, though, right? Do you like writing?”

Evan shrugged, ignoring how his cheeks began to color. “I like it better than most of English.”

“Are you good? I’ve tried my hand at writing, but it always turns out like a first grader’s journal.”

Evan laughed a little at this and shrugged, fidgeting hands returning to the table. “Not really. I’m okay.”

“Tree Boy’s being modest,” a new voice said, and as Evan turned he could see Jared approaching the table. Slapping his tray down on the table, Jared added, “Charles Dickens’ ghost would probably weep with joy if he could see Evan’s writing.”

Zoe smiled at this new development, even as Evan started with “oh, no, I’m really not that good-”

“Hey, trust your slightly-assholic-friend.” Zoe interjected.

“I reject the notion,” Jared retorted, “that I am at all an asshole.”

“You were in jazz band in middle school, right? Sat behind the guitars?” Zoe’s smile had dropped, and she was staring Jared down.

He seemed taken aback. “Uh...yes?”

“So you’d remember the incident with Cindy Rivera and the jar of tomato sauce?”

Jared stared at her blankly for a moment. “How the fuck did you remember that?”

Evan was truly lost. “What-”

“Oh, I remember everything,” Zoe said brightly once again, turning back to Evan. She bumped her hand lightly against his, still holding the fork. “Maybe I could see your writing sometime?”

Evan’s heart felt like it could burst.

That became their new normal, over the coming days and weeks. Lunches were spent together, jokes were formed, the occasional car ride was shared. And if Evan’s feelings grew to the point where he could barely think of anything but Zoe? He did his best to hide it.

So no, it actually started like this: Evan gets a red tally mark and never dreams it could turn black.

That is, until it does.

He awoke one morning, still junior year, and caught sight, on his formerly bare wrist, of one lone, red tally mark, staring up at him.

He started freaking out almost immediately. He was only sixteen; how could he be in love? What if Zoe hated him for it? What if she didn’t feel remotely the same way?

And his father’s tally marks stood out in his mind. They were an image that scared him more than anything. Would Evan turn out to be just like him-falling in love too easily, never knowing who he could hurt?

So it’s long sleeves and dodging one-on-one time with Zoe for the rest of the year.

No matter how much he tries to hide it, or suppress it, Evan can’t stop the somersaults his stomach does when Zoe smiles at him (which she does a lot) or how his heart flutters when he makes her laugh (which only happens slightly less) or how sometimes, he can barely breathe when he’s kept up at night thinking about her (which he does more than he would care to admit.)

He still can’t help but feel bad for pulling back so much, when he can tell it hurts her, sometimes.

(Is everything okay? she asks, and Evan can’t help the sharp intake of breath he takes when she turns to him, genuine concern written on her features.

Instead he says Oh yeah, I’m fine, why?

She bites her bottom lip, a habit he’s noticed her doing when she’s nervous or upset. Nothing, it’s just-you’ve seemed more withdrawn lately, and I wasn’t sure if it was something I did.

And it takes everything in him, right then and there, to not blurt out the whole story. Anything to stop her from looking so sad. But he takes a deep breath, and starts over. What? No, no, it’s not-look, I promise you, there’s nothing you could do that would-it’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. It’s just me, he wants to say. It’s all my fault, for falling in love with you when I know you’ll never fall in love with me.

She looks up at him, still chewing on her bottom lip. He can’t quite read the expression on her face. Okay, she says. Okay.)

One day, Jared’s parents force him on a last-minute Family Bonding trip, so it’s just him and Zoe are hanging out in her basement, both in beanbags in the floor. Parks and Rec is on, even though they’ve both seen it a million times, and Connor had even hung out with them for a little while before retreating back into his room.

Suddenly Zoe said, “oh my God, you need to see this,” and leaned over onto Evan’s beanbag, holding her phone up to his face. On it was the world’s tiniest hedgehog wearing an even tinier sweater with a tree embroidered on it and damn, if that wasn’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen. (It’s not, though; as he snuck a glance at Zoe’s face when he was sure she’s focused on the hedgehog, he thought that expression of pure joy on her was even cuter.)

She broke her gaze away to look at him, still grinning dopily in a way that only a post-hedgehog endorphin rush can cause (even though that smile wasn’t meant for him, his lungs still constricted and he had to fight to keep an identical one from spreading to his face), she said “he’s your brother, Ev’. He loves trees too.”

And then Evan did smile, trying to think up some reply other than do you know how pretty your smile is or something similar because dammit, Evan, she’ll never like you like that, don’t ruin what you have.

(The tally mark on his wrist seemed to burn through his sleeve, and he suddenly felt self conscious.)

They were still looking at each other, but something felt different, then. The air was charged with a kind of unfelt electricity, a tangible feeling that was just playing at the top of his tongue.

And he noticed, once again, the gold flakes in Zoe’s eyes, the deep layers of brown and lighter gray in them, just how striking they were staring into his own, almost like she can see every thought he has. He hopes he wasn’t mistaken, because he could swear he saw those eyes darting down every few seconds towards his lips, and he knew he was doing he same thing, no matter how he tried to stop.

The world was frozen, but they leaned almost imperceptibly closer to each other, and the moment was suspended in time as a what if-

Until Leslie and Ann’s fight cut through the air suddenly, their drunken shouting draining whatever charge there had been to the air, and even though there was still distance between them they spring back onto their beanbags, desperate to pretend that whatever the hell that was hadn’t happened.

And that’s the end of it, until it isn’t.

It (re)starts like this; Evan wakes up at the beginning of senior year, and the tally mark was black instead of red (did it just turn or had it been like that for a long time?), and he thinks he might actually burst.

Instead, he took a sip of water and attempted to clear his head, which might have worked if not for the text that lit up his phone shortly after he got his bearings.

It was from Zoe.

so-we should probably talk, right?

And so it really starts like-no, that’s not the start.

It’s one step on a road for them, but it’s far from the start.

It continues where Evan meets Zoe in Ellison Park, and there’s a kind of nervousness hanging around them both, but then Zoe caught his eye and smiled and everything inside of him stilled, because if Zoe’s there to smile at him then everything will be okay.

She always made him quiet, in the best way.

Zoe stood, and Evan noticed that she was biting her lip again, something so quintessentially Zoe that he could barely repress a shout that builds its way through his throat that says I love her and she loves me! But luckily he managed it, since that’s effectively what they’re there to talk about.

Evan barely walked up to her and managed a breathless hey before Zoe grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down slightly to kiss him.

He actually thought he had died and gone to heaven for that first second, before he regained his memory and could actually process holy shit Zoe Murphy is kissing me I’m kissing Zoe Murphy we’re kissing holy shit.

Far too soon, Zoe pulled back and lets go of his shirt, stepping away a little. Her cheeks were colored red and she quickly ran a hand over her face, across the freckles he came to love so much. She smiled that unbelievable smile, but she paused for a moment, starting to-apologize? “I’m really sorry, I know we came her to talk, but I’ve wanted to do that for so long and I-”

Evan cut her off by closing the distance between them, cupping her cheek, and pressing his lips to hers again.

She wraps her arms around his neck almost immediately, melting into the kiss, and Evan wrapped his other arm around her lower back. He pulled away for another moment, but this time only to whisper “I love you”-which, in a world where love wasn’t visible, may seem too soon, but here became the most natural progression-and smile so hard he wondered if he’d ever stop smiling when she whispered back “I love you too.”

Tracing a thumb over her cheek, mapping the freckles like stars, Evan took a moment just to appreciate where he was right then, finally with the girl he loved above all else, before swooping in for another kiss.

It started like this; Evan believed in love again.

[kinghoranshit]

This is Love (LT) Ch 2

Word Count: 1,635

I bit into a slice of cheese pizza, thinking about the last stop we made before coming back to the apartment. It was the post office; I hoped my letter safely reached Louis. I'd never been let down and I didn't want that to happen now.

I sat on the black futon that Katie slept on. Katie's clothes were folded and stuffed in boxes underneath it. Our living situation wasn't luxurious by any means, but we didn't want the boys paying for anything. We wanted to do it on our own and have the life we should after coming out of four stressful college years.

Katie had been saving up to buy her little coffee shop for years, pretty much every penny she got in high school went towards it and then she saved what she could during college. Of course, though, Niall still gave her an early college graduation present; the shop. So, everything she had went into renovating it and making it her's.

Katie came out of the bathroom and plopped down beside me with a tired-filled sigh. She picked out a slice of pizza and took a bite. "Couldn't wait for me?"

"No." I smiled. "I was hungry."

"I can see that," she remarked, and suddenly, I tensed. Did she know? Crap, did I remove the test from the bathroom earlier?

"So, have any tests coming up?" Katie casually asked.

I couldn't help snapping, "What do you mean by that?"

She cocked a brow, looking at me curiously. "I mean, are you giving any tests soon. Like to your students."

"Oh..." I breathed. "Yeah, this Friday. We're doing one on The Great Gatsby."

"Will it be something long or short?"

I shrugged. "Haven't decided yet."

Katie snorted. "Procrastination still does not fail us."

All I did was laugh before taking another bite of my slice.

"So, have you taken any tests lately?"

I about choked on my bite. I grabbed a napkin, coughing, and the piece fell onto it. I knew I forgot.

I let out a low, deep, breath. "Uhm... Katie... I'm pregnant."

"No shit, I saw the A plus in the bathroom," she retorted with a small laugh, but then it faded. "What're you going to do? Is that what's been bothering you?"

I nodded, silently, then shrugged. "I don't know... I refuse abortion."

Katie's face scrunched up. "You're gonna have to give birth. Maddy, that's not gonna be pain free."

"I know that." I rolled my eyes. "I'm just waiting until Louis knows and we'll talk about it."

"Damn, media is going to chew this up and spit it out," Katie mumbled, mindlessly, before taking a sip of water.

I looked down at the slice of pizza. I wasn't hungry anymore. I set it down on the cardboard box that had the red hat 'Pizza Hut' logo on it and took a drink of my tea.

Without a word, and catching me off guard, Katie pulled me into a hug. "It's going to be okay. Whatever you decide. And I'm going to be here one hundred percent."

"Thanks, Katie," I cried, holding onto her for dear life.

***

"Do I need to repeat the rules and guidelines for taking a test?" I asked, as I counted the amount needed for each row and handed it to the person sitting in the first seat.

They all mumbled their no's and I smiled.  "Okay. If you finish early, you may leave to have more time for lunch. Hope you enjoy your weekend and remember to make good choices. Good luck!"

My red heels clicked lightly as I walked back over to the desk and sat down. I pulled my most recent read out and opened it to where I had last stopped. I found myself getting lost in the words of the story. Every once and awhile I'd pull back to check on the students.

There was a sudden commotion out in the hallway and, of course, my curiosity got the best of me. I bookmarked my page and stood to go see.

"Is everything okay, Ms. Lewis?" Carly, one of the girls, asked.

I looked over at her and then everyone. I announced, "I'm going to see what is going on. I trust that all of you will continue to work on the test by yourselves."

I realized that I had so much faith in my students, but they were all phenominal kids.

I pushed the door open a crack so I could slip out, then I shut it behind me.

"You can't be in this hallway, sir," a voice stated, sternly.

"I just need to go see my girlfriend, it's a serious matter," I heard his light British voice reply.

"Louis," I breathed, turning to look in the direction of the voices. There he stood, his brunette hair all over the place and circles underneath his blue eyes.

I was doing something between a walk and limp down the hallway before I ambushed him in a hug. His lean, comfortable arms encased me and he lifted me off the ground.

"I've missed you," my voice cracked.

His hand rested firmly on the back of my head, keeping me even closer. "I've missed you too, love."

Eventually, we pulled away and I gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. I looked over at Mr. Engest. "We'll go talk outside."

"No, we won't," Louis scoffed lightly. "You're not wearing a coat. I think we can speak in here."

"Louis..." I sighed, not sure how to convince him. Mr. Engest was correct. Unauthorized visitors couldn't be in the hallways. Why hadn't Louis just gone to the office to get a pass? Wow... There's an idea. Though, I was almost done for the day.

"Class will be done in thirty minutes. Can you wait until then?"

Louis looked deeply into my eyes. "It's been more than thirty days since I last saw you, Mads... Another minute could kill me."

I huffed lightly, straggling for any ideas, and looked at Mr. Engest. "Please, don't tell anyone else he's here. We'll go back to the classroom I'm in and then wait until everyone is at lunch to leave. Please?"

Mr. Engest opened his mouth, then closed it and he nodded. "Don't be comin' here without a pass ever again."

Louis nodded. "Duly noted, mate."

Mr. Engest went back into his current classroom as Louis and I walked, hand in hand, to my classroom. Suddenly, my eyes went wide at the realization of how many students loved his band. We'd been together for nearly four years and I still forgot that he's in a famous boy band; not the little boy from Doncaster I met on a trip.

I held up a finger to tell Louis to wait. I slipped back into the classroom and cleared my throat to get everyone's attention. "Students, I have a visitor. I would love it very much if you could keep the level to a minimum when he walks in, and get straight back to your tests."

I opened the door, letting Louis walk in, and he shut the door behind him. Smart boy.

Squeals sounded and there was this thumping sound. My eyes went wide at the sight of a girl who passed out. I scrambled to get to her and fanned her face, hoping to God she'd wake up soon.

I heard Louis laughing under his breath and I turned to give him the wrath of my glare. "This isn't funny, Tommo! This is serious."

"It's just a fangirl faint. She'll be up in a few," he replied cooley. In my time of working here, I'd never had a student faint before. I was not going to have a student out cold on my watch. I continued to fan her until her eyes cracked open.

"Are you okay, Chantal?" I asked, desperate for her to say yes. God, if I couldn't handle having a teenage girl fainting, how could I take care of a baby?

"You're pregnant, Ms. Lewis?" Erik asked. He sat behind Chantal.

I deadpanned. "I said that aloud?"

They all nodded their heads and I muttered words under my breath. I waited until Chantal was stable enough before helping her to her desk.

I straightened the skirt part of my white dress. "Yes, I am."

"Ohmigod!" Carly squealed. "My English teacher is pregnant by Louis Tomlinson!"

"Ssh!" I put a finger to my lips. "You can't tell anyone. That especially means the media."

"We're keeping it on the down low," Louis added. I looked over at him and tried not to look surprised. We had yet to discuss anything. I knew the conversation was inevitable, but I still felt sick to my stomach. It was sort of like an pending doom.

I cleared my throat as a way to hide the gagging sensation in my throat. "Class... Get ba... Ba-" I set a hand over my mouth, taking a deep breath. Nope.

I scurried to the trash can before the breakfast biscuits I had came right up. I was glad I opted to put my hair back in a bun today. That had proved to be a good decision.

"Ms. Lewis, should we finish the test Monday?" I heard Erik ask cautiously.

I grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk and wiped my mouth as I straightened up. I shook my head. "No, continue... I'm fine."

I took tentative steps to my bag to get a piece of spearmint gum.

Louis came to my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to bring me into him, and placed a kiss on my temple. "I promise that all of this will be okay. I swear to you, my love."

All I could manage was a small smile and I leaned more into him.  

Next: Ch 3

[Masterlist]

[thissickswift]

MY REPUTATION RECTION SONG BY SONG

...Ready For It?: Perfect start to the album. Iconic. It really sets the tone for at least the first part of the album. Playful/don't take me completely seriously/I would cut your hand off and I will cut your heart our

End Game: I legit spit out my water when Ed started singing. This is such a jam. I HIT YOU LIKE BANG. MY REPUTATION PRECEDES. I SWEAR I DONT LOVE THE DRAMA THE DRAMA LOVES ME

I Did Something Bad: SHIT. SHE AAID SHIT. The way she sings "could" omg. It's like Blank Space 2.0 but darker and more asdfghjkl. THEY'RE BURNING ALL THE WITCHES EVEN IF YOU AREN'T ONE. LIGHT ME UP. OMG.

Don't Blame Me: I love the beat of this one. LOVE MADE ME CRAZY. MY DRUG IS MY BABY. This song is sexy as fuck. THE BRIDGE OMGJEKWLWJDKEWK. THE ECHOS. HIGH NOTE. The last 15 seconds. Enough said.

Delicate: track five. oh god. The little "delicate" I can't. WHEN THE BEAT PICKS UP. "Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine all the damn time" Taylor Ripping Out My Heart Counter: 1

Look What You Made Me Do: it's a classic at this point. I did get up and do the dance though and now I'm out of breathe.

So It Goes...: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE. "IM NOT A BAD GIRL BUT I DO BAD THINGS WITH YOU" OH MY GOD. This is definitely the turning point song for the relationship though so it is half hot as hell and half cute as hell. The bridge is so clever oh my god. The 1 2 3 whisper.

Getaway Car: "we never had a shotgun shot in the dark" omg. This is definitely a different tone than the first half. It feels a lot more honest. Is this the sequel to better man??? "X marks the spot where we fell apart" "us traitors never win" vs "you'll add my name to your long list of traitors who don't understand" in dear John don't touch me

Gorgeous: MY JAM. The "whiskey on ice" and "ocean blue eyes" lines still get me every damn time

King of My Heart: "I'm better off being alone" omg tay no "YOU ARE THE ONE I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR" ISNEKWKABSJDKWLQNWJWHKSKWWKJWJE the guitar in the chorus wow?!!!??? "You fancy me not fancy stuff" so damn cute wow Taylor you did good

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: this is my favorite one yet wow. "I'm a mess but I'm the mess that you wanted" ASDFGHJKLL "swaying as the room burned down" "if I can dance with you again" THE HOLY GROUND PARALLELS GUYS

Dress: I literally had to pause my music before I started this to emotionally prepare myself for what apparently made Mama Swift leave the room. The chorus flows so beautifully wow. "I ONLY BOUGHT THIS DRESS SO YOU COULD TAKE IT OFF" "I DONT WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND" HOLY SHIT. This has very unpure subject matter but a very pure theme and I love it.

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: again, I need to emotionally prepare myself. "Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year" TAYLOR GREAT REFERENCE. This whole song just makes me think of *face palm*. Also, WHO DID THIS TO TAYLOR ILL THROW FISTS. "I CANT EVEN SAY IT WITH A STRAIGHT FACE" MS. TAYLOR AREN'T YOU ICONIC.

Call It What You Want: I've listened to this song 50 times and I still cry. That's all I need to say about this song.

New Year's Day: PIANO. "I want your midnights but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day" Taylor, wow *slow clap* I'm legit bawling my eyes out. "HOLD ON TO THE MEMORIES THEY WILL HOLD ON TO YOU" JDKGKEJWKALEKDKDEJ this is my favorite one. I could write an essay on this song and I might later. I literally could not dream of a more perfect ending to this album. "Please don't become a stranger who's laugh I could recognize anywhere" I'm emotional

[starryfictionalgirl]

Partners in (Fighting) Crime Chapter 3: Young and Beautiful

Masterlist Partner’s in (Fighting) Crime

Relationships: Peter Parker x fem!hero!reader(romantic), Michelle x reader (best friends)

Warnings: Light violence, swearing and an occasional dirty joke.

Summary: You and Peter team up to fight crime in the city!

A/N: I’m super excited for this chapter! I got inspired for this part by Lana Del Rey’s song Young and Beautiful from Great Gatsby (awesome movie and book btw). There’s a lot of emotion and feeling in this chapter! I hope you all like it! 

Seriously listen to this while you read! It’ll really help you get the feel of the story I think! If not then that’s fine too!

You flew over the city. You adored moments like these more than anything else in the world. It was so inspiring and beautiful, getting to watch the sun get close to setting behind the skyscrapers of the city. Ever time you were amazed that you could ever reach such heights. For the longest time before you got your wings you had felt trapped, alone, worthless, and scared. But now you knew what freedom felt like and you wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything in the world. You decided to take a risk and lift your mask up off your face so you could feel the sun on it. You smiled as you embraced the warmth and decided to hover for a moment and let the glowing light bathe your skin and rejuvenate you.

You looked down at your suit. Well if you could even call it that. You liked to refer to it as battle armor, even though none of it was actually metal. Perhaps that spider boy was right? Maybe you should consider an upgrade. Maybe you could see if Peter or one of his friends had some metal scraps lying around that you could borrow for a “project” and craft yourself some better armor. You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard some commotion below you. There was some sort of crime going on. You put your mask back on and flew down closer to see what was going on. Another massive robbery. Of course. It seems as if those are a daily occurrence nowadays. As you got closer you noticed a familiar boy in a red and blue suit swinging around, taking down the gang members that were fighting with each other. Well you weren't going to let him have all of the fun. A whole other gang suddenly came charging at Spider-Man to take him down. Those gangs must all be working together for this heist. Using your super speed flight you flew down to them and one by one punched and kicked them, knocking them out before they could make their way to the Spider-Man. But you didn’t notice one of his webs was slowly making it’s way towards you and the next thing you knew you were trapped in the sticky substance and slammed against a brick wall.

“Oh shit I’m so sorry Dragonfly!” Peter called to you. “I didn’t see you fly in.” He nervously laughs. You smiled under your mask. You had to admit, you found his nervousness quite adorable. But then some gang members started coming towards you and you struggled against the restraining web more.

He started shooting the gang members with his webs, trapping them on the ground, and away from you. “Get me out of this thing!” You yell to Peter and groan and struggle against the web.

“Yeah uh about that....” He says nervously and rubs the back of his head. A habit that was the same as someone else you knew. “I can’t...It takes about two hours to dissolve.” He says quickly.

“What!?!” You scream and struggle more. “You asshole I can’t stay stuck here like this!”

“I know I know I’m sorry I just, oh God why do I always mess up when it comes to women!” He exclaims and bangs his head on a wall. He pulled back and held his forehead. “Ow....”

“Can you grab my sword?” You ask him.

“Why?” He asks.

“It could cut the webbing.” You tell him.

“Really? My webs are made out of pretty strong stuff.” He asks and his robotic eyes widen. “What’s your sword made out of?”

“That’s a secret.” You tell him, and you wish he could see you smile underneath your mask. But you were thankful he couldn’t see your blush as his hand trailed down your side and gripped the handle and pulled it out. He sawed it against the webs and soon you were out. You shook your wings quickly, making the the rest of the sticky substance fly off.

“Thanks for helping me out back there.” He tells you. “Although I really didn’t need you. I could have fought those guys off myself.” He says and flexes and stretches a bit in an attempt to impress you.

“Alright well if you’re so confident then I’ll just leave you to fight off those 40 guys with guns that are coming towards us.” You tell him and fly off.

They start shooting at him and Peter jumps around, the bullets hitting near his feet making him squeal a bit. You sat on top of a building and watched him, head in your hands and legs swinging over the side. He webbed a lamp post and swung over them, launching a web grenade and trapping some of them but they cut themselves loose.

“Shit!” He exclaims and swings again. “How’d they get out so fast?” He shot more webs but these guys had some sort of metal blades that were cutting through them like butter. “On second thought I think I could use some help Dragonfly!” Peter calls out to you as he starts fighting them hand to hand instead and taking them down. You smirk under your mask.  

You unsheathed your sword and swooped down at a normal speed. “Take her down!” Some men called out and started shooting, but you blocked their bullets with your sword and disarmed them, breaking their guns so they were unusable. They tried to attack you with hand to hand combat but you were too skilled and with your super strength you basically just flipped them over your shoulders. A few of the men with blades came towards you and you got your sword ready. The clangs of metal against metal caught the spiderling’s attention and he gawked at how skilled you were. You easily parried their blades and even did a backflip over one and knocked his sword out of his hand as you did it. He noticed not all the men had blades so shot a web at another lamp post and swung over the battlefield, launching web grenades at the men who didn’t have the special blades. They were effectively trapped and now you had less people to fight. Peter let go of the web, leaving a rope hanging in the middle of the street.

“Hey Dragonfly!” Peter called to you. You took another man down with a roundhouse kick and turned to him. “You’re pretty savvy with that sword but what else have you got?” He asks and you smile and look at the hanging web rope. Challenge accepted.

You ran up to the web rope and used your wings to give you a lift to get higher up on it and you jumped onto the rope and grabbed it with both hands, legs raised in between the rope and as you swung away from the men still left standing a bit you wrapped one of your legs around the rope for stability and then let yourself hang upside down and you slashed your sword left and right, giving non-lethal cuts and disarming the men that tried to attack you. You pulled yourself upright again and released your leg and held onto the rope with one hand and spun it around, allowing you to take down a whole circle of bad guys with a roundhouse kick. You laughed and played around on the rope like you were in a gymnastics class or something, each time taking down one or two men who tried to attack you. You took out the last guy with a hard punch and stayed there on the rope, looking up at Spider-Man. Another web shot out of his shooter and splattered on the ground below you. 

“I take it you like what you saw?” You ask in a suggestive tone and you laugh as the hero in a skin tight suit gets all flustered. 

“No no no no not like that!” He immediately says trying to act like that didn’t turn him on. “I mean I loved it, you were like wow amazing! But that was just another malfunction I’m not actually-” He stood up and you saw his erection. that suit was so tight it wasn’t that easy to hide. When he heard you gasp he looked down and quickly covered his crotch. He couldn’t help it, seeing how flexible and powerful you were swinging around on one of his web ropes, it turned him on.

“She knows you have an erection Peter.” Karen says. 

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious Karen.” Peter tells the voice in his suit. “Is there by any chance something this suit can do to help me get it down?” 

“I could send an electric shock to the area to stun the muscles to make it go flaccid?” Karen suggests. 

“Uh how big is the shock?” Peter asks and then lets out a high pitched cry and you wince when you see him fall over, holding his crotch. You immediately flew over to him and placed a hand on his shoulders. 

“Dude did you just shock yourself in the nuts so I wouldn’t have to see your hard-on?” You ask him and he lets out a high pitched yes. 

“I thought it would scare you off.” Peter says. 

“On the contrary.” You tell him and his robotic eyes fly wide open. “I mean you seem like a pretty well built guy, I have to admit I was a little curious to get a glimpse of what you’ve got packing under that suit.” You bit your lip but he couldn’t see that. That comment seemed to have given his ego a boost. 

“Oh well I can assure you...” He leans against the wall and tries to say in a smooth tone. “In that department I’m way above average.” He winks. 

“Actually according to a survey of the average length of male genitalia it appears that your penis is not as impressive as you-” Karen says then Peter hits the side of his head to shut her up.

“What was that?” You ask him, confused as to why he just hit himself in the head. 

“Oh Karen was just being annoying.” Peter says. You tilted your head confused. “I’m not crazy!” He says quickly and explains. “She’s an AI that Mr. Stark programed into my suit to help me out during missions and stuff.” 

“Oh I see...” You say. This certainly was an interesting boy. And he sounded around your age. He reminded you of someone else you had met recently at school. After an awkward silence the two of you just laughed it off. “You really need to get that web shooter fixed.” You tell him and he looks at it. 

“Yeah. Then maybe the majority of our conversations won’t revolve around my dick.” He says and you laugh. 

“Good because I don’t want that to be the only thing we talk about.” You tell him. 

“Well I mean it is a pretty big deal.” He jokes and you start playfully punching him in the arm. You both laugh and you stop hitting him. You hear the police sirens drawing nearer. 

“I think they can handle this from here.” Peter says. “That’s our cue to leave then Dragonfly.” He prepares to shoot a web to swing away but you stop him. 

“Wait!” You tell him and he turns to you. “What do you say we get out of here together?” You ask. To be honest you weren’t even sure why you asked that but for some reason you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him. It was strange, Peter was the only other person you felt so drawn to. Why were you so drawn to both of these guys? 

“Y-you mean you want to hang out?” Peter asks and his eyes widen. 

“Y-yeah.” You answer and hover before him awkwardly unsure if you should have asked. “I mean there’s probably more crime going on right? We should go help some people.” You say and he runs over to you. 

“Yeah lets go!” He says excitedly and runs off of the building. You gasped, thinking he would fall but he stuck to the wall instead. “Whoops. Good thing I stick to walls I guess.” He says and laughs. You smile at him and fly behind him, hooking your ams under his and whispering into his ear “Hang on tight Spider-boy.” 

“It’s Spider-MAN!” He screams as he’s suddenly being carried off into the air by you. His robotic eyes widened in surprise as he saw how beautiful the city looked from up here. “Wow. You get to see this all the time?” He asks and you giggle. 

“Yep. Every day.” You tell him and smile. 

“This is incredible...” He says and you blush from how sweet he was being to you. 

“Hey there’s something going on down there!” He says and points below him. You quickly fly down there with him and let him go and he shoots a web at a building and swings over the street, you flying after him. “Stop it right there!” He says landing in front of a guy who was making off with a purse. The guy tried to move around him but Peter punched him and grabbed the bag. He didn't need your help so you just hovered in the air and watched him. “Hey is this anyone’s bag?” He calls out and asks and you laugh, finding it incredibly cute how he solved these problems. A young woman came running up to him to reclaim her bag. 

“Oh thank you so much!” She says and Peter smiles. 

“You’re very welcome ma’am.” Peter says in a tone that could be considered slightly flirtatious. And for some reason you didn’t like that. Your fists clenched and your wings fluttered a bit harder. She bit her lip and smiled at him. 

“Hey you flirting with my girl?” Some angry guy asks and comes to stand beside the woman. 

“Uh...no of course not.” Peter stammers nervously. God was this boy bad at lying. 

“Yeah sure.” He says and pounds his fist in his hand. “You’re gonna regret flirting with her spider boy.” 

“He’s Spider-Man!” You tell the guy as you swoop down and kick him, knocking him into the building next to the sidewalk. Peter was squirming with happiness and excitement at the fact that you just defended him. “Sorry for hurting your boyfriend.” You tell the woman. 

“No it’s okay.” She says. “He was way out of line there. I should probably dump him and go for a real man like you.” She tells Peter and his ego got stoked even more. You crossed your arms over your chest and fluttered your wings angrily, making the woman flinch. “Geez looks like I’m not the only jealous one around here.” She says and turns and walks away. You pick up Peter and fly off with him before anyone else tries to flirt with him. 

“Well it looks like somebody was a little jealous.” Peter teases and opens and closes his robotic eyes as if he was wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I was not, that woman was in her twenties she was too old for you.” You tell him. 

“How do you know how old I am you haven’t even seen me!” He argues. 

“I can tell by how you act and your voice.” You say simply. 

“Hey I could be thirty years old for all you know!” He argues.

“Are you?” You ask. 

“No.” He replies and hangs his head. You giggle a bit. 

“But you totally dig me don’t you?” He asks and you laugh. 

“I hardly know you!” You tell him. 

“Well then take off your mask maybe I’ve seen you around.” He says. You shake your head and laugh. 

“I’ll take off mine when you take off yours spider-boy.” You tell him. 

“Spider-Man.” He whines.

“It’s just a nickname, let it go dude.” You tell him. 

“It’s embarrassing it makes me sound like a little kid! I can’t let it go!” He argues. 

“True but I can.” You say and start to loosen your grip on Peter and he starts slipping. He freaks out and grabs your shoulders in a death grip. 

“Okay okay I’m sorry you can call me whatever you want I’ll be puddy in your hands just don’t drop me pretty please!” He begs and you giggle and readjust your grip on him so he’s more secure. 

“Did you really think I was going to drop you?” You ask him. 

“Would you ever drop me?” He asks. 

“I don't plan on it anytime soon.” You tell him and he smiles. 

The two of you stopped a few more petty crimes that afternoon. It turned into a competition of sorts. Whoever could stop the most crime in a day won. At one point when it looked like you would win, Peter shot a web at you, trapping you. 

“Spider-boy!” You yelled angrily at him. 

“Call me Spider-Man and I’ll let you go!” He calls after you as he swings away. 

“Never!” You yell back at him. Luckily this time you had your sword out to cut yourself free. There was a robbery in progress. 

“Hey guys.” Peter says and they all look at him. Suddenly he’s picked up and thrown off somewhere. 

“Hey boys.” You say and land on the ground where Peter was moments ago and you took down the now confused criminals. 

At the end of the day you and Peter sat on a fire escape tallying your heroic efforts. “I won! Whoo!” Peter shouts and does a victory swing around the building with his webs. You sit there with your arms crossed and a blush on your face as he comes back around and lands right in front of your face. 

“You only won because you cheated!” You argue. 

“Well hey you did too!” He argues back and sits back down next to you. 

“I guess you have a point.” You say. “And in the end, it doesn’t matter who stops the most crime. The most important thing is that they’re being stopped.” You tell him and he smiles. 

“You’re right.” Peter says. “You know I had a lot of fun hanging out with you today.” 

“Really?” You ask him and he nods. 

“Yeah I mean you’re an awesome girl! You can fly, you’re super badass and you’re really sweet and nice, not to mention really pretty.” He gushes, jumping up to balance on the rail of the fire escape. Your eyelashes fluttered and your heart leapt. 

“You really think all of that?” You ask him. He nods. 

“Why is that so surprising?” He asks. 

“It’s just that I never thought a guy would find a girl who could kick his ass at any moment and has bug wings attractive.” You say and Peter shakes his head. 

“Are you kidding! Dragonfly you gave me a boner remember!” He points out to make you laugh. “You’re incredible. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And I would be honored to have my ass kicked by you. It would be the highlight of my week!” 

“Be careful spider-boy I might hold you to that.” You tell him. “What if I wasn’t as pretty as you’d think under this mask?” You ask him. “Would you still want to hang out with me even if I wasn’t beautiful?” You ask him. 

“Only if you would still hang out with me after seeing what a loser I really am.” He says. 

“You’re not a loser!” You say quickly. “You’re amazing! Never let anyone tell you you’re not.” Your faces were getting closer. There was a tense silence between the two of you. 

“Now’s your chance Peter.” Karen tells him. “Take off the mask, show her who you really are, then kiss her.” Peter’s hand slowly reached up to his neck to take off his mask. And when you saw what he was doing you reached your hand up to do the same. Suddenly a phone ringing went off and both of your hands went back down. 

“Is that yours?” You ask him and he nods. He pulls out his phone and looks at it. It was his Aunt. 

“I’ve got to go.” He says and stands up. “I’ll see you around Dragonfly.” He says and winks as he swings off. 

“See you around Spider-boy!” You call after him. 

“Spider-MAN!” He yells back at you making you laugh. 

Gosh that boy was really something. But then you realized you had a dilemma. You were starting to get feelings for Spider-Man but you also were getting them for Peter. How were you going to choose? And little did you know he was thinking the same thing about you right now. 

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Part 4 will come soon! I would love to have some comments on this so I know I’m writing a good story!