#also please pay attention to the chess piece s:3

[raviollies]

I miss my girlboss wanted for several violations of the Geneva convention

[kimoralov3]

Let Me Buy You a Coffee

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 1861

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x mutant!fem!reader

Warnings: swearing

(Y/N)'s POV

"One medium black coffee and an extra large iced coffee." The barista called from the counter. I walked up and grabbed the coffee, thanking the barista then making my way back to the table where me and Alex were sitting.

"You keep drinking all that coffee and you're gonna have a heart attack." He said as I handed him his coffee. I chuckled as I sat down, throwing my balled up straw paper at him.

"Well, I haven't died yet and you only live once, so why not enjoy the life you have." I said as I took a sip of my coffee. "So, how's working at the school going for you?"

"About as well as working with elementary to high school aged kids could go. I know I'm probably not supposed to say this, but some of those kids would make the devil himself blush with their 'pranks'." 

"Damn, that bad?"

"(Y/N), if you think we were bad as kids, wait till you meet these ones. They're fucking ruthless."

"Maybe I should take back my application for student counselor." 

"No, those kids need someone like you to set them straight. Maybe then they'd stop putting hair dye in the coffee creamer." He groaned out as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Damn, these kids are ruthless."

----

Erik's POV

"Are you sure this is the coffee shop Alex always runs away to?" I asked Charles as we walked inside the small shop.

"Yes, he mentioned that he has started meeting an old friend of his a few weeks ago. What kind of coffee do you want?"

"Just get me a latte, I'll find us a table to sit at." Charles nodded and walked to the counter while I got us a table by the window. This place could use a thorough clean. Or two. Charles came back and sat down, setting up the chess set he brought along. "Do you really need to drag that around everywhere?"

"There's nothing wrong with having a game of chess at the ready. So, how do you like being a history teacher?" Charles asked as he made the first move. 

"It's going as well as it can go, I guess. I still can't believe that you decided to create a school for mutant children, but waste their time making them learn human history."

"No matter what they are now, they should still know their ancestors' history. Especially if it's still holding an effect on how they're treated now."

"I guess you're right. How's your search for a student counselor going?" I asked as Charles took one of my pieces. 

"So far only 2 people have applied. The first one I interviewed just didn't seem right, and the other one's interview is tomorrow evening." 

"Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"One latte and one green tea!" The barista called from the counter. While Charles went to get our drinks, I took the chance to get a good look at the place. Besides the obvious need for a clean, this place looked pretty nice. 

"Here you go." Charles handed me my coffee while he sat down. I muttered a thank you, looking across the room. Who is that with Alex? Charles followed my line of eyesight, chuckling when he saw what I was staring at. "That's Alex's friend I presume."

"Who knew that there could be anyone who could deal with Alex." I said as I took a sip of my coffee.

"You should go say hello to her." Charles suggested as he sipped his tea.

"What? No, that's insane. Why would I do that?"

"Because you think she's cute."

"What makes you say that?" I asked as I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I may be a telepath, Erik, but even a blind man could tell that your eyes sparkled when you saw her."

"You're delusional."

"Whatever you say."

----

(Y/N)'s POV

I walked down the hallways, searching for the principal's office. Why is this school so damn big? I'd been wandering around for about 15 minutes now, and if I didn't find his office soon I would be late for my interview. I should've asked Alex for directions yesterday.

"Do you need some help?" A voice called from behind me. I turned around to see a man - a very cute one at that - standing outside a classroom. 

"Yes please. I'm looking for the principal's office, could you point me in that direction?" I asked as I walked up to him. He towers over me. It would be intimidating if we were under different circumstances. 

"Leave it to Charles to forget to give people simple instructions. His office is down this way, 3rd door on the left. Would you like me to walk you there?" 

"Yes, thank you so much. What's your name by the way?" I asked as we started walking towards our destination.

"Erik. What's yours?"

"(Y/N). So, are you a teacher here?"

"Yes, I teach history. What made you decide to apply for student counselor?"

"Well my friend Alex is also a teacher here, and he told me that there was a new position opening up. I've always loved working with children, so this job seems like a perfect fit." I explained. 

"Well, you'll do great here. These kids may be a handful, but I have no doubt that you'll be able to handle them." He said as we came to a stop outside Charles' office. 

"Thank you. And thank you for helping me find his office. I hope to see you again soon."

"As do I. And I wish you the best of luck on your interview."

----

It's been a few weeks since I officially started working at the school, but I haven't seen Erik anywhere around lately. Maybe he's avoiding me. 

"Knock knock knock. Are you busy?" Alex asked as he knocked on my office door. I looked up from my paperwork, nodding my head. 

"Yeah, I have a lot of paperwork to fill out. Some kids got hurt earlier today, and I have to fill out reports for that. Then some other students have just been coming to me for advice for what to do after they graduate, so I'm looking up mutant friendly places that will be hiring around that time." 

"Sheesh. Seems like you'll be busy for the next few days. You want me to pick up some coffee from our favorite place?" He asked as he leaned against the door frame. 

"Yes please, I haven't had coffee in 3 days and I'm 5 minutes away from exploding." I said as I gave him the money for my coffee.

"Sounds like you'll need an extra large today. This will be the only time I encourage your addiction though, so don't get used to it." 

"Whatever you say, Summers."

----

Erik's POV

"The paper is due next Thursday, so that will give you plenty of time to research and revise whatever you need to. Class dismissed." I said as I wrote the instructions and due date for the paper on the chalkboard. 

"Wait Professor Lehnsherr, could I ask you a question?" Jean asked as she walked up to my desk. I nodded, sitting down at my desk. "Have you talked to the new student counselor?"

"Only once. Why?" I asked as I adjusted my glasses. 

"Oh, no reason. That's all I was wondering." She said before she hurried off. That's strange. I sighed, packing up my stuff before exiting the classroom. 

"Sounds like you'll need an extra large today. This will be the only time I encourage your addiction though, so don't get used to it." 

"Whatever you say, Summers."

Alex walked out of (Y/N)'s office, giving me a nod before continuing about his day. I haven't talked to (Y/N) since the day of her interview, I should probably go say hi. I walked into her office, knocking on the door frame. (Y/N) looked up, smiling and putting her work away when she saw me. 

"Hey Erik. What brings you here?" She asked as she sat up straight.

"I was just stopping by to talk to you. Sorry I didn't get a chance to stop by sooner."

"Well you're here now. Go ahead, sit down." She said as she gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. I smiled slightly, taking a seat in the seat positioned directly in front of her. 

"So, how have you been adjusting to working at the school?" I rested my chin in the palm of my hand, giving (Y/N) my full attention. She cleared her throat before speaking. 

"I've been getting along great. The rest of the faculty don't seem to mind me too much, and most of the students love me."

"Do you have any favorites?"

"Now now professor, you know we're not supposed to have favorites." (Y/N) joked as she leaned back in her chair. I chuckled, shaking my head.

"You can call me Erik. And there's no harm in having students you can bear more than others. You're telling me you don't have even one of those students?"

"Well I may have one or two." She finally confessed.

"Do tell."

"Jean Grey and Peter Maximoff. They both have very different personalities, but they're the most sincere kids at this school."

"How do you know?"

"Empathic abilities plus being able to tell when someone is lying. Comes in pretty handy sometimes."

"That's fascinating. I've never seen something quite like that."

"Why thank you."

"Well, I shouldn't keep you long. You seem to have a lot of work to fill out and I have a lot of papers to grade. I'll make sure to visit you soon, though." I said as I stood up, fixing my coat. (Y/N) nodded, walking me to the door.

"See you around, Erik."

----

(Y/N)'s POV

I pulled the door open, walking into the coffee shop and stopping for a second to take in the pleasant smell. The smell of coffee will always feel like home. 

"(Y/N)?" A voice called from the side of the shop. I turned around to see Erik seated at a table, briefcase spewing with papers. I smiled, walking over to him.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here. You having fun grading those papers?" I asked as I sat down in front of him. 

"As much fun as you can when your students don't know when to use a comma or a semicolon. Would you like a coffee?"

"Yeah, but I'll pay for it." I reached into my purse but my hand stopped midway. "Are you using your powers on me?"

"Maybe. Let me pay for your coffee. You're gonna have to sit here and listen to me complain about my students horrible grammar, the least I could do is provide you with some fuel."

"Are you asking me on a date?" I asked as I tilted my head to the side.

"Only if you want it to be. What do you say?"

I pretended to think about it for a moment before sighing. "Fine, but I'm buying the next round of coffee. Deal?"

"Deal."

[harmoni-me]

Hello! I’m not sure if your requests are still open but, if they are here you go! I wanted to ask if you could write me a request of Nagito Komaeda x a reader who is the ultimate Chess Master? I kinda wanted to imagine him falling in love or already dating his S/O who plays chess as a professional and is more on the kinder side when it comes to him. Good luck! 💖

Ooo! This is such a unique concept, and I absolutely love it! Writing it was an absolute joy! Thank you so much for the amazing request <3

Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Chess Master Reader!

The ultimate nurse, the ultimate swords-woman, the ultimate photographer…everyone in this class seemed to posses such interesting talents. It made you feel quite jealous, in some sort of way.

Now, of course you never thought of your talent as boring, useless, or unnecessary in the slightest! After all, you were the Ultimate Chess Master. You believed that everyone should try chess at least once before inflicting their nasty opinions on the strategic game. Unfortunately, that was already too late when it came to…basically your entire school life.

In Elementary, you would ask the kids on the playground to play a quick game of speed chess, because you thought it was a fun way to spend time with friends! But all you got in return were child-built insults, saying that chess was stupid and boring. It’s quite ridiculous to admit, but those comments still float around your mind sometimes. Kids were harsh, still are…

In Middle School, you had a few close friends, and when you asked one of them to try playing a game of chess with you, all they did was look at you weirdly, a look that only seemed to scream “uh, are you serious?”. This was when you started to question your liking for chess. Was it that weird? Am I the only one my age that thinks that chess is actually a fun game?

Now, you were sitting in class at Hope’s Peak Academy, a school full of the elite, yet…

This was the first time you felt truly, whole-heartily ashamed about your love for the game of chess.

“Are you kidding me? Chess? You got into this school for an old-people game like CHESS!? Pfft-!” A girl in twin blonde pony tails and an orange kimono let out a shrill of laughter.

“An…old people game….?” You muttered to yourself, steadily becoming a little closed off from the rest of the class.

You’re love for chess was parallel to how you played, which was almost unbeatable on a professional level, yet…

Why were these comments crushing your heart? Why did it make your love for the game waver?

Class continued like normal, just a little lecture to start off the rest of our high school lives. You honestly weren’t paying attention, your focus more attentive to your little chess notebook, filing it with strategies you wanted to try against high-level computer AI.

Though, it would be nice to have even a complete beginner to play with every once and awhile, though, you might be asking for too much.

Thump

Great, more harassment.

You turned around slightly in your seat, and looked down at the ground it see a crumpled piece of notebook paper that had hit you in the back. You picked it up, and looked around to try and figure out a potential culprit, but it seemed as if everyone was acting normal. No dice, then.

Unfolding the messy ball of paper as quietly as possible, you read what seemed to be words written on the inside.

Meet me in the library today after school, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to be seen with trash like me

The wording on the letter was…strange, but that didn’t stop you from feeling a tiny firework of joy in your heart. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel more nervous than joyous due to how the letter was written. It was surely vague, but it really seemed like the writer as quite the low self esteem.

You were suspicious, but honestly, what could go wrong? It had to be someone from the class that you were just introduced to, so at least it’s not like a blind date sort of thing…

The more you thought about it, the more it actually seemed like a blind date. Nice.

Time seemed to move incredibly slow for the whole rest of the school day, but eventually, the bell had rung, and you were out the door in a heartbeat.

After a little while of asking for directions to the school library, you finally reached your desired location: An absolutely humongous cavern of probably any book one could think of.

Only a couple of students were residing in this literal book mansion, and none of which you recognized.

“I guess they’re not here yet…” You mumbled, sitting yourself by a large, lit fireplace. As the warmth from the flames licked your skin, steadily causing you to naturally relax all of the tensed muscles that were stuck to your bones.

You pulled out your phone, and automatically started a game of online chess with a random opponent. The game was done in a mere ten minutes. The other player was no doubt new to the game, but that’s ok, you were there once too.

You suddenly heard a subtle clunk next to you, making your gaze wander to that direction. It was that boy from your class, the lucky boy. You remember him clearly because you thought his hair resembled a fluffy cloud. The two of you made eye contact, his foggy green eyes squinting a bit when he smiled at you, warming your heart a smidge.

“Y/N L/N, correct? I hope you don’t mind my presence, though it’s ok if you do, I would never blame you on something that’s not your fault.” The thin male crouched down to take a seat on the floor with you, sitting cross-legged.

“Yep, that’s me…and I actually kind of appreciate the meeting, honestly. Even if you just came for simple company, I think that’s very nice of you, especially since everyone in the class already thinks my talent is boring and all…Nagito Komaeda, right? I’m happy to meet you.” You shot a warm smile to the boy, causing him to reciprocate.

“You’re too kind to such untalented scum like myself, all I have is the Devil’s luck, after all! I can’t even control any of it! So I’m glad someone like me can be used as a stepping stone for you to be a beacon of hope!” Nagito chuckled, humored by his own self loathing.

You flipped your whole body to face the living incarnate of a four-leaf clover, “Well, um, on a personal note, I don’t think you’re scum. At all. I think your talent is anything but boring…I also think you’re…quite kind, for hanging out with someone like myself.” Fiddling with your uniform sleeves in nervousness. You just want him to feel better about himself.

The boy went quiet, his smile dwindling from your comment. Was he not used to compliments?

After a few moments in silence, Nagito gazed into your eyes, a new type of smile prettily stitched onto his features. It was almost like this expression was more…vulnerable, uncovering itself under layers upon layers of facades. His face almost made you breath out a sigh of relief at how comforting and relieving his genuine expression was.

“I would like to play with you. I-If you would let me, of course.” Nagito gestured his hands downwards to the chess set he had placed onto the ground since the very beginning. And how did you not notice that? It may or may not be the fact that the boy in front of you seemed to be way more intriguing.

You’re eyes widened as sudden happiness started to flow through every vein within your body. The excitement washed over your soul, rejuvenating it’s prior state of melancholy dreariness. Was…he was serious, right?

“Really…?” Was all that you managed to squeak, causing the lucky student to tilt his head in wonder.

“Hm? Well, of course…I don’t really know who else I would be aski-“

“C-Can we please play speed chess!?” You sputtered, the passion and the fireplace flames reflecting off of your eyes to reveal in an enticing glow.

“Speed Chess?” Questioned the frizzy-haired boy, though he did seem quite interested at your sudden burst of energy.

“Yeah! It’s also commonly referred to as Blitz Chess, and it’s like chess, but you have a very short amount of time to make your moves! It’s super duper fun, and if you want even more fun, then we could also play Bullet Chess! It’s even faster, and a game only takes roughly three minutes if you…keep up…the…pace…” Your words started to get quieter and more mumbled. God, you totally forgot the two of you were in a library, how embarrassing….

A hearty laugh spilled out of Nagito’s mouth, the corners of his lips turning upward to the ceiling. You looked down in pathetic nature. That was totally something to laugh at…

“Though I would consider myself a newbie when it come to chess, speed chess sounds lovely.” Nagito smiled, his pointer finger playing and twirling around the queen piece’s crown.

“Ah, a-alright, well, lets get started, shall we?” You stuttered, with joy obviously evident within your voice.

                                       .   .   .

Unsurprising to you, you had won all three games of speed chess against Nagito, though, it was surprising how close each game was. the more you thought about it, the more you realized his luck most likely aids him whenever he plays. Definitely one of the most interesting opponents you’ve been up against, whether it would be for casual online play, or in-person tournaments.

“Ah, bummer, I guess someone as useless as me shouldn’t even try to come close to beating you!” The boy ruffled his cloud-like locks, laughing at his loss.

“Hey! You had me worried for a few turns there, you were no pushover at all, Nagito!” You proclaimed, frustrated on why he would still think that, even thought the game results were all obviously pretty close.

“Also, please don’t say that your useless…it makes me really sad, because it’s not true at all.” You looked up at him with eyes that reflected something that had never burned so brightly before, and Nagito noticed.

Those eyes, previously clouded from the despair given from others, were now shining with a glimmering hope…and he drew that out from you…by simply playing a mere few games of chess.

For a moment, and only for a moment, he believed your words. Maybe he wasn’t so useless, he helped you find your smile and joy, right? Maybe…maybe…

“Oh yeah!” You shot up, causing Nagito to snap out of his thoughtful daze. You stuck your hand out to him, waiting for reciprocation.

“A handshake, to wish a good game among equals.” You encouraged the boy, wanting for him to fully indulge into what it was like to play the game in a professional, yet somewhat casual setting.

The boy looked at your hand, observing everything. Your nails, your fingertips, your knuckles, all the way down to your wrist. Equals, huh…

Nagito then slowly reached out to your hand, grasping onto it gently, yet it felt like it was the most comfortable fit he could’ve imagined. He wanted the warmth from your soft skin to seep into his cold hands, wanting that heat to slowly fill the rest of his frozen body, all the way up to his thawing heart. Though he didn’t linger any more on the handshake than he needed to, not wanting to make it uncomfortable for you.

But god, did he want to hold on forever.

[moosoobi]

Revelation

In the night: Chapter 1

T.Jeffy- Hamilton: the musical

Thomas’s interest in Y/N pulls him into a position he was previously blind to. They say every girl’s another mystery, but definitely not like this. Buckle your seatbelt Tommy, you’re in for a ride

Finally finished the first part of ITN (which is ironic since the moment I wrote this message I still haven’t finished it). I really hope I’m able to bring this story to life the way I want to and I hope y’all enjoy 😔💕. Here’s some stuff to expect:

Told from Thomas’s POV

Modern Au

College talk even though I’m literally in my second year of high school (so please bear with me) 

Ruh roh moments

Sorta weird POV/storytelling (I’m new to writing fics and stuff so this is definitely a learning opportunity) Also excuse my English errors: Though this is my only language, my school system seemed to fail in teaching me how to write

Word count: 6.7k (including separators) 

2 DISCLAIMERS:

TW: itty bitty angst, themes of injury/blood, etc. 

I’m not the best story writer, so after reading this chapter you may have many questions. Please keep in mind that this is one chapter out of (about) 10. Things that you may not understand in this chapter will most likely be explained in future chapters.

-Now Playing: In The Night by The Weeknd-

My God, she’s perfect 

     The way the sunlight reflects off of her glass skin. The sincerity in every word, every letter that she writes with her only pencil. To be that flawless, it’s a mystery to me. She takes a glance at me. Did she feel me staring? I duck down my head in embarrassment. 

“Jefferson, you oughta put that scholarship to good use”

     Professor Washington boomed to the entire class. I hear a fragment of her giggle. Her laugh is soft and naïve. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her happiness.

     Washington is right, though. It's my first semester after I came back from my student exchange program over in France and I can already feel my sanity slipping. France was a beauty to visit, so many customs and cultures I wish I could be flourished in right now. 

     But there was one thing great about going to school in New York: I get to sit in a classroom with Y/N L/N. 

     I’ve never talked to her formally, at least not yet. She’s always sitting alone, never answers any questions, but Professor Washington makes the class acknowledge her perfect test scores and fascinating interpretations 

     As the bell rings I watch her stand swiftly. Is she in a rush? I can't help but watch as her hair is flung over her shoulder. She stuffs her notebooks and singular pencil into her burgundy-magenta backpack. Hey, at least she has good taste in color. 

I don’t think you understand

     She sits alone everyday during lunch, yet she never looks bothered. Her energy is so compelling to me. A feeling about her that I cannot comprehend, something that feels greater than my existence. I just got to know. 

“Thomas, you gotta work on staring at people less noticeable” James catches my attention by pointing his fork a little too close to my face. 

      I was staring? Again?

     I shake my head to snap back to reality

“The great Thomas Jefferson is interested in someone for longer than 30 seconds. I gonna be honest with you Thom, that’s impressing”

     I hear James laugh as he violently stabs a few pieces of pasta onto his fork. 

     James has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We went to the same middle and high school down in Virginia, and just coincidentally ended up going to the same college in New York. 

     We’re always there for each other. I remember cheering for him at a high school assembly after he won a story writing challenge, he’s such a nerd. Then again, he had to drive me home a couple of times after I failed multiple driving tests.

     Back in high school, James was the Chess Club Champion, a title he always shoved down my throat. It’s no secret why, though. He’s really good at thinking things through, While I on the other hand tend to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“Shut it James” I sarcastically retort, taking a sip of the expensive chocolate milk which my scholarship supposedly pays for 

Hey, can I sit here?

     I talked to her during class. Her voice is angelic: Now, I’m not one to be religious and all, but that voice could get me on my knees praying for forgiveness. My ego couldn’t get me anywhere at all, as if she already knew my tactics, she knew my flirts, and how? I guess it just adds to her mystery.

“C'mon! that one works every time!” I whine

“Don't be so full of yourself Jefferson, I’ve heard them all before” A smile danced across her face

     She did, however, laugh at some of my remarks. It's good to know that she has a sense of humor. My jokes of Professor Washington’s shiny, bald head. The jokes of Professor Washington’s assistant, John Adams, who’s suspiciously absent considering he signed up for this job.

     Heck, I would even make fun of myself if it meant I got to hear that graceful laugh one more time- actually, that might be a little too far.

     Many days of giggling in class came after that day. I can see her starting to open up to my friends and I, like she’s spreading her wings and showing us the greatness that lies behind the social wall that she put up years ago. Even when we got in trouble for a little too much giggling in the back of the class, I sacrificed my own pride so she didn’t have to. Yes, I, Thee Thomas Jefferson, did that. 

---

     Even though I could see the social wall she put up, I knew one day Y/n would fall for my charming pick up lines, or maybe I just happened to have a lucky day:

“Y/N I need some a some help with my math homework” 

     Y/N glances over to me in concern. I fake a scared expression.

“Quick!” I swiftly grab her shoulder and shake her “What’s your phone number?”

     She playfully smacks my arm

---

     Obtaining her number felt like a rite of passage, like I’m important to her, like she wants me in her life. I couldn’t stop smiling that day, and of course James just had to make a comment on it. 

“Thomas, if you keep smiling like that I’m going to start thinking that your sick or something”

      James said as he shut my laptop, tired of waiting for me to pack my things.

“Now that's REAL ironic coming from you, James” 

      I raised an eyebrow as my laugh begins to come up my throat. I take my closed laptop and shove it somewhere into my backpack.

“Okay, leaving for a month in sophomore year just because of a little fever doesn’t make ‘being sick’ as part of my trade mark” 

     James playfully smacked the back of my head. Thankfully, my curls serve as protection, not just to make me sinfully handsome. James and I walk out of the freezing lecture hall and were hit with the crisp-coldness of New York.

     To the right of me I catch a glimpse of that eye catching burgundy-magenta backpack as it’s thrown into the trunk of a shiny, expensive car. My feet keep its motion as my head turns to see Y/N standing at the door of the car. 

“Yo, is that Y/N?” I hear James whisper behind me “and who’s that?” 

     My attention is suddenly drawn to the tall man walking around the car to open her door. His curly hair is pulled into a small bun and the smile he had on his face broke apart the stubble on his jaw. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. 

“I’m just as clueless as you are”

     Keeping my glance on Y/N and the man, I watch as the man opens the door for her. My stomach turns as I watch Y/N smile back at him as she sits in the car. 

     For a split second, I swear I saw her shoot a soft glance at me. My feet almost stop in their tracks before I feel James’ hand yank me onto another pathway. 

“I’m all for you being head over heels, but we’re gonna be late to our study session with Angie” 

     Reality starts to set back into my head. 

“Right, lets dip.” 

---

“So little Tommy is Infatuated with this woman?”

     Angie’s eyes are piercing, and her luscious hair frames her face in a saintly manner. She slips off her baby pink coat to ease into her library seat. Her eyebrow raises as she takes a sip of her steaming coffee

     Of course James wouldn’t shut his mouth, especially around the notorious Angelica Schuyler.

     Angie’s pretty popular here, I find myself wondering why she has so many connections, yet it’s not just any reason(s) why she seems to be in the spotlight.

     1: She’s the oldest Schuyler. Her last name definitely got her places, not like I’m one to talk. Everyone seems to know her, not just at school, but all around New York City, and with her 5,000 Instagram followers, her first name’s starting to catch up with her last name in popularity

     2: Angie’s Daddy has money money. And that’s no secret when she decides to walk around campus with her designer handbags and shoes. I tend to think she always gets what she wants, but I know deep down, she’s never gonna be satisfied. Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth

     And finally,

     3: Miss Schuyler here is Bold. She’s never afraid to put both me and James in our place. It’s almost as if she can’t be touched by anyone’s thoughts of her, then again the gossip in NYC is terribly insidious. With such grace and respect, Angelica is not afraid to throw your opinion into the ground.

“Yeah I swear, Jefferson would’ve gotten run over if I didn’t pull him onto the pathway” James attempted to tone down his laugh so the librarian wouldn’t stab him with those old, sharp eyes

“She-...”

For the first time, I didn’t know how to recoil

 “..Just caught me off guard.”. In an attempt to change the topic, I flipped through the pages of his textbook. 

Angelica and James shared an astonished glance at Thomas before looking at each other. I could hear James shrug and flipping open his textbook. I lift my head as I hear Angelica dig through her bag

“Alright let’s get started” Angie claps her hands together with determination

—-

     It’s been 2 hours of studying in the ghostly library. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the talk forever.

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you invite her to our next study session?”

     Angelica smirked as she rudely shut my laptop. I desperately imagine the day where both James and Angelica leave me alone. I angrily glare up at her, but she has a good idea

“Actually, that’s not to bad of an idea” I ponder for a moment before retrieving my phone from my pocket

Thomas: Hey Y/N, u free this week?

     Hmm. Is this okay? Nah it’s too straight forward. I sigh as I deleted and retyped the message

Thomas: Greetings Ms. L/N, this is Mr. Jefferson from class. Would you delight me by partaking in a study session? 

What the heck Jefferson? I began to get frustrated from this nonsense. It’s just a text, why am I getting so anal over it?

Thomas: Hey Y/N, ds@insdas/19z7dnesdc-

     Angelica, who was watching me the entire time, snatched the phone from my hands. I attempted to protest, yet Angelica Schuyler knows how to hold her ground.

“Angie wh-” 

“I’ll do you a favor, Jefferson.” She said sternly. There was no way I was getting that phone back, heck, I would be lucky if I got it back in one piece

“Aaaaand sent!” I heard her squeal 

     Angelica suddenly tossed the phone to me and I fumbled it between my hands before I held it stably. I check to see the text that Angelica sent from my phone

Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?

Oh. It was that easy.

“Thanks Angie”

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Part of me was excited to have an excuse to text Y/N, yet I do wonder how awkward it would be if she rejected the offer. I mean, she already has the perfect grades, why would she need the extra help?

I start to rethink my decision.

—-

     It wasn’t until 11 pm at night until I got a reply from Y/N. Beforehand, I arrived at my apartment around 8 pm. As soon as my door shut, the room was filled with growls indicating my current problem: hunger. That could only be solved with one solution: microwavable mac and cheese. 

     My phone dinged while I was laying motionless on my bed. My apartment was right next to the street, and all I could hear was the busy streets of New York City.

     My eyes opened as I turned to my charging phone. 

Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way

     I was filled with joy, so much that I couldn’t wait another second to reply. 

Thomas: Alright, we meet at the library after our class. Can you make it? 

     Seeing the three dots jump melodically made my stomach feel as if two fairies were dancing throughout my body. Any second now, any second. ding!

Y/N: sounds good!

     I guess it’s settled, I get to hang out with the puzzling Y/N L/N, and maybe I’ll get to learn a bit more about her. But just because it’s a study session doesn’t mean I can’t show her what a southern gentleman looks like, and for the first time, I’m so excited to study

---

     James, Y/N, and I walk out of professor Washington’s class, laughing our asses off over some stupid joke. Everyone around us appears to be annoyed, especially with having to sit through almost two hours of my friends and I laughing in the back of the class, but it’s not like I care.

     Once we’re hit by the bitter cold of New York, my eyes are immediately drawn to that expensive car. So familiar and so faint in head, the memory of Y/N smiling as she hopped into his car replays in my brain.

“I’ll be back guys”

     Y/N excuses herself from the group before lightly jogging to the car. Her hair was graceful in the wind, and her burgundy-magenta backpack didn’t seem to weigh her down at all. For a split second, my brain acknowledges that mysterious man in the driver’s seat. There was a moment of awkward eye contact with him, his cold eyes pierced through me before my attention was drawn back to Y/N. She fixes her hair and jacket.

That was cute.

What?

     James and I watch Y/N before turning to each other. I suggest to James that we wait for her, show a little southern hospitality. Even though Y/N seems to be fond of this man, he gives off a mysterious vibe similar to Y/N’s, but I do not want to unravel that mystery at all.

     Seeing him throw a smirk at Y/N causes discomfort in my stomach. 

     Y/N comes prancing back to us, an embarrassed smile on her face. Behind her, that shiny, expensive car begins to drive away.

“My bad, I forgot to tell my roommate that I would be out late”

“That’s your roommate?” James asks, attempting to hide his curiosity and shock

“and he takes you home after class?” I interrupt briefly

Y/N nervously laughs before nodding “something like that, he just..”

     That pause was a little too long

“..doesn’t like me out of the house too late so he volunteers to drive me home all the time”

     I shrug it off before jumping at the feeling of James’ warm hands pulling Y/N and I to the direction of the library. Y/N and I look at him with confusion

“What? Angie doesn’t like when we’re late, remember?” James says, practically dragging us to the Library

—-

“Nice to meet you”

     Angelica and Y/N got along pretty well. I can tell Angie was happy to finally have a girl to hangout with rather than having to deal with me and James only. She’s already starting to resemble a sisterly figure to Y/N, then again, growing up with two sisters must’ve prepared Angie for this moment.

     I don’t hear much about the other Schuylers, but I am familiar with them. Angelica is the oldest, as we know. Her first sister, Eliza Sch- I’m pretty sure she got married, is the nicest person you’ll meet. Whoever won her surely must be worthy, because we all know people like me wouldn’t get anywhere near Eliza thanks to her older sister. Her youngest sister, Margarita Peggy Schuyler, is just like Angelica.

     Stubborn. As. Fuck.

     I’m confident that Angelica has taught her that philosophy since she was born. Anyway, Peggy is currently living her dreams in Southern California. Not sure what she does, but I’m sure she’s financially stable, she is a Schuyler after all.

     All of us struggle to not annoy the librarian, let alone the entire library. I watch as Y/N opens up, just a little more, to Angelica, James, and I.

     Hours pass as we clown around in the library. From actually completing class work to a small drawing competition between James and I, I was certainly having a good time, and so was everyone else.

     It was pleasing to see Y/N more laid back rather than how she acts in class. In front of Professor Washington she’s so ‘put together’ and organized, but surrounded by her friends she’s such an amazing person, her range in professionalism and humor is astounding.

     I can’t seem to ignore the fact that Angelica notices the way I look at Y/N. It’s definitely not in my strong suit to be ‘low key’, I’m known for dramatic entrances and stealing the spotlight. She smiles when I make eye contact with her, and I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of annoying me, but I can’t help the way I look at Y/N. She really is an angel sent down from heaven, disguised as a college student, and I’m just lucky enough to be her friend.

     I’m blind to her flaws. When I see her, I feel like a tourist glancing at the Mona Lisa, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders, and the way the library lighting reflects off of her glowing skin.

     What felt like a sledgehammer breaking a slab of fragile glass, I see Y/N’s phone light up. Even across the table I can read the word “Lafayette” off of her phone. I can’t lie, it surely sounds familiar.

     When she finally noticed her phone flash on, I feel her ease turn into worry, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by James, Angie, and I. She starts to pack away her books

“My bad guys, I really gotta go”

     Y/N said notably panicking. Her phone flashes once again, yet the only thing that seems to catch my eyes is the bold “7:30” spread across the top of her phone.

“Are you okay by yourself?” I asked, trying my best not to pry into her business

“Yeah, my roommates here to pick me up, I don’t want to make him wait” she tried to play it off, but I’m learning to see right through her

“Alright, see you next time Y/N” I shrug it off

     She sends my friends and I a quick smile before replying

“for sure”

     Angelica and James got back to work without saying a word, and I could tell they were waiting until she was gone to start teasing me. I eased back into my chair before flipping the pages of my notebook

     I watched as she shoved open the library door and disappeared into the darkness. She’s such a mystery, when I feel like she’s opening up, she just shuts the door and we’re back at square one. Though I do claim to love a good challenge, Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

—-

     And that’s when it started. It wasn’t just one time where 7:30 was Y/N magic number, oh no, it was oddly consistent. I’m convinced that Y/N is some variation of Cinderella; her polite attitude and the beautiful little things she does without acknowledging it all vanish when the clock strikes 8:00, but that’s just one of many theories made by James.

     Another study session with James and Angelica, and Y/N’s flashing screen still compelled Y/N to leave the library without a trace. On some occasions we don’t even notice her escape, we just turn to see her seat empty and feel the faint wind from outside as the library door slowly closes.

     One day Angie bought us all tickets to see the preview to the newest, scariest movie I’ve ever watched. I was accompanied by Y/N, James, and Angie, yet their presences made it worse. Halfway through the bucket of popcorn and the movie, Y/N suddenly stood up and left after saying those 5 words. Before she left, I felt the warmth of her hands leave the place on my arm.

I never knew how addicting her warmth would be until it was already gone.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go” The weak smile on her face instantly resonated feelings of sympathy and understanding.

     From then on, Y/N and I grew closer as friends. We’d fool around at a local park before heading to campus, obviously sparking a few observations and remarks from James. I’d invite her to fancy dinners, or maybe even a small festival down the road from my apartment, yet her response would always be proven false at the moment she’d leave me and my thoughts at 7:30.

     But that hasn’t stopped me from attempting to hang out with her. Even on the days I wouldn’t have class with her we’d go out and get ice cream, study at the park, I guess you can say we’ve gone on a few ‘dates’ since our initial study session.

     Whenever we’re apart, I can feel every second expanding to its maximum capacity of time. I wouldn’t see her for a day and it will already feel like years since I’ve seen her. The days I do see her, time seems to maneuver a little too fast. When I recall hanging out with Y/N, all I can imagine is the feeling of floating above the clouds every time she and I made physical contact. Like a rock being dropped into still water, ever touch ripples throughout my body, sending shivers down my spine.

Truly incredible.

—-

     She doesn’t like to talk about her personal life, and I find that quite odd. I’m usually one to continue rambling every detail of every trait of mine, yet I find myself yearning to learn more about her. 

     We text every now and then when we’re outside of class, a little more to be considered ‘just friends’. There’s always a story which unravels just a little more of Y/N’s past, and she’s left me on my own to connect the dots. I must say, she’s definitely an interesting gal, but I know there’s more to discover. 

     She’s a native New Yorker, born and raised, surviving by splitting an intense rent with her mysterious room mate. Y/N doesn’t talk much of her family, other than faint memories of her mother single handedly raising her and her little brother, who I’m fairly unaware of.

     Going into college undecided, Y/N describes her want to learn more about herself before she’s able to make any life determining choices. I’ve noticed that her schedule seems like a labyrinth avoiding life problems and obstacles, so perhaps being placed in the same class coincidentally was just fate playing its part.

     Y/N loves to explain her dream for workless weekends, moments in the week where she just gets to sit back, close her eyes, and breathe a little. With finals starting to appear from thin air, I can’t blame her for a dream so far from reality.

     Even with the knowledge I hold of her, something never seems to change: her disappearances at 7:30.

It’s always that damn 7:30.

     7:30--the cliffhanger your favorite show leaves you desiring for more

     the end of a fun night of laughter and glee, wishing it lasted just a little longer 

     the off-set energy in a room when those around you know something you don’t. 

     As days, weeks, and months pass since my first text proposal to hang out at the library, Y/N and I become a little closer than just friends. It’s been obvious, especially to James and Angie, that Y/N is more than capable of holding my attention.

     Though James is worried that Y/N will just become ‘another girl’ to me, concerning my tomcat nature in the past, he can see the potential I see in her. I find myself wishing I did spend more time with her, maybe I just need to make a better effort.

     I’ll prove James and Angie wrong. 

     Filled with determination and confidence, in the midst of my silent room, I whip out my phone and direct my attention towards forming a text message for Y/N

Thomas: let’s get coffee sometime?

     Jefferson charm, don’t fail me now.

---

     Before I knew it, Y/N and I were feasting on exotic cheeses and aged wine in my New York apartment. I hit play on a random romcom which helps to fill the emptiness in my apartment and ironically the thin space between Y/N and I. 

     I have no idea how to make my move. Though I’m not aware of my competition, I imagine if Y/N could attract someone of My caliber, I should be well aware of the things she’s capable of. Originally I planned to court her-- I know, I know, I’m a man of tradition--yet after James caught on to my recognizable frustration, He suggested I go for it. 

     This is surprising on multiple occasions, especially since James possesses the ‘brains’ between the both of us. Being the chess club champion, ‘talk’ won’t aid you when you're struggling in a chess match. Just like how he meticulously plays chess, he examines my situation and provides his Virginian insight, or so he prefers to call it, and they always proceed the way his scheme describes. 

     I’ve adhered his advice to my life ever since we were kids, and when I didn’t, he’d simply reply with: 

“I told you so” 

     His smug smirk accompanied with a finger pointing to his temple would soon transform from clever to annoying. 

     I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Well, of course it’s not Y/N texting so must I really answer it? I pull out my phone despite my doubts and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

James: 👍

Speak of the Devil.

     But enough about James. I understand that both Y/N and I are mature college students, yet I still fear the disruption in our friendship I can provoke just by making my move. I’ve gotten this far; If she wasn’t interesting I’m sure she would’ve rejected me sooner. 

     She’s different, she’s unique, something about her that I just can’t place, but also something missing. Anyway, this is probably my best chance at shooting my shot at Y/N, and it’s too late now to back down. 

     As my lips part in an attempt to speak and make a move, Y/N’s motionless phone (currently laying undisturbed on my coffee table) suddenly brightens with the most obnoxious ringtone I’ve ever heard. The words “It’s 7:30!” flash on her screen, almost as if it was warning her rather than reminding her. 

“Y/N—” my eyes follow her body as she swiftly stands up

“I gotta g—” I watch as she attempts to grab her purse, yet her body is limited when I firmly grab her arm. She looks back to me with tiredness in her eyes.

     Part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Cinderella here wouldn’t have a curfew. That I somehow would be the exemption to this consistent confusion . But you can only daydream so far into the day until you’re pulled back into your reality

     Her entire demeanor seems like it was reconstructed after her alarm went off. Moments ago she was just enjoying tasty cheese and cheesy movies, and the worst part is, I have no idea why.

“Let me speak, darlin’”

     I stand up to avoid the way her eyes look down on me. I can’t stand that pitiful glare; she looks at me as if I’m a child incapable of understanding her situation, but she’s too stubborn to let me know. I’d be wise to use this time to make a move on different circumstances.

“Now, you’re always leaving at seven thirty..”

     Her sigh is almost enough to interrupt me

“..why’s that? Talk to me.”

     I maintain my eye contact before it’s abruptly broken. She looks everywhere but my eyes, and I wonder where in my apartment she would find an excuse, yet still manages to dodge the question.

“..you wouldn’t understand..” she scoffs almost intentionally, honestly scratching a part of my ego. I hate to admit she’s right, I really don’t understand what’s going on.

     I cock my head to the side. Where’s this coming from?

“Darlin’, I’m sure I’m a very understanding person—”

“—I need to leave”

     I could tell by the look of her face that she wasn’t trying to argue, but it’s inevitable.

“Why can’t you just tell me?..” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat, but I’m not giving up yet. “We’ve been friends for a while and you’re always leavin’ at seven—”

“I know! I know..” she removes my hand from her arm, clearly refusing to look up at me.

“Let’s just say..I got a job..?”

     Oh. That’s what this is all about? A job? She couldn’t spare at least an explanation for a part time gig?

“See? That wasn’t so hard”

“It’s..really embarrassing..” The glance she takes around the room makes me wonder if she’s really telling the truth. it’s not really my place to speculate, there’s no going back from this.

“It’s alright, it’s just a job after all” I claim, trying to get this conversation back on track

“This is exactly what I meant but ‘you wouldn’t understand’”

Huh?

“You don’t know what it feels like to have your life rely on minimum wage—” she sounds like she’s holding something back.

“Y/N wher—”

“A-and here you are makin’ me late for work” her eyes appear on the verge of crying.

“darlin’ look..”

“God, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life!”

Silence.

     Both of us refuse to speak. Y/N phone, still on the table, chimes again. “7:35” it said on its bright screen.

“Is that really how you feel?..” I take a step back to give her space. She still refuses to look at me.

     There’s no way she’d cause all this chaos just because of a job. And even if she believes I’ve piggy backed off of my name for my entire life, why would it matter to her?

“I..I should leave” before I could process what just happened, she swiftly tosses her phone into her bag and heads for the door.

“Y’know, I had a nice time..” was all I heard before the harsh shutting of my apartment door.

     And that was the end of it.

     My first thought after the door shut wasn’t to whip out my phone and attempt to text her, it certainly wasn’t to call James and inform him of his miscalculation, but instead to attend to the matter at hand. This cheese and wine won’t clean itself.

     And the night continued normally, as if nothing had ever taken place. I couldn’t help but microwave another cup of Mac and cheese to cope with what Y/N said. Nothin’ like a good meal to divert your attention away from your problems. But even a good cup of cheese and pasta can’t stop me from thinking’: 

Is that all I am to her?

A southern snob incapable of functioning without their father’s last name?

     After an introspective shower, and a few episodes of a random Netflix show, I’m finally alone with my thoughts and feelings. I lie in darkness, tussling and turning at every occasion, unable to extract her words from my mind. 

     If there’s someone whose opinion I care about the most, it’s Y/N L/N. I consider texting her at this very moment, yet I’m sure that I’m the last person she wants to talk to. The weight of my actions falls heavily onto my shoulders every minute, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Give her space, Jefferson, and maybe you’ll be able to fix this tragedy. 

---

Knock! Knock! Knock!

     The knocks on my apartment door were enough to jerk my body back to consciousness. Sadly pulled from the warmth of my dreams, I’m hit with the cold, noisy reality of an average night here in New York.

Can my day get any worse?

     Coming straight from the depths of slumber, I take a few minutes to process reality. Maybe the knocks were in my head. Did I dream about someone knocking on my door? Perhaps it’s

The sun’s still not up yet, why am I?

     Groggily sitting up, I decide to check the time, yet it takes me multiple attempts to grab my phone in the dark before I catch a sight of the time.

2 am?!

     Who is so out of their minds so show up to my apartment at this time? Who do I know that would show up at this time?

James is too sensible for that,

Angie would never waste her time on me, for whatever reason,

And Y/N—

well.

I don’t know our circumstances right now.

     I debate whether or not I should answer the door. Perhaps it’s just rock that happened to hit the door of my apartment, and even if it is a person, I’m not aware of anyone so mad to show up in the middle of the night. it’s not worth my time.  

...

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

     So much for ‘Not worth my time’. A groan is all my body can respond with while I gradually stand from the comfort of my bed. I grab the nearest shirt, which was draped over my desk chair, and scramble to put it on. Passing my cramped kitchen, my hands subconsciously flip on the nearest light switches, while my eyes struggle to comprehend the sudden light. 

     Before I reach the door, I couldn’t help but attempt to fix my hair. Just because someone happens to show up outside unannounced doesn’t mean I can’t present my best rendition of a southern gentleman. 

     And finally, through my fatigue and irritation, I’m finally urged to grab the doorknob and twist it open in one motion. 

“Uh, it’s two a.m. so I hope--” 

     I nervously scratch the back of my head, attempting to add spice to this awkward encounter. It wasn’t until my eyes caught sight of the blood dripping down her glass skin and the meeting of our eyes did I have any words

“Y/N?!?”  

     Her cold, pale, and hurt body would’ve hit the concrete floor if I had answered the door any later.

--- 

     And there she layed half colorless on my bed. Her smile was full of embarrassment and gratitude as I sat beside her, tending to the evident cuts and Injured areas of her body. “I hope I’m being a great house guest” she joked, causing her to laugh, yet hurting herself in the process. 

“Hey, Hey, Take it easy..” Y/N’s presence usually fills me with carefreeness, or perhaps stability, but for the first time I can’t help but react seriously. Her demeanor changed as she saw my retaliation to her joke. 

“I guess…” she looked down to her fragile body, a sigh released, seeming to be an attempt to calm down. “...I owe you an explanation for earlier. And especially for showing up at your place at 2 in the damn morning. ” 

     Thomas’ hands, full of wipes and hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton balls, froze in their tracks before he looked up at her, eager to listen and visibly confused. Y/N visibly winced as the cotton balls stuck to her cuts for longer than they should’ve, yet with Thomas’ reflexes at their all-time-max, he pulled them away with a worried expression.

“Explanation? You said you got a job, and I’m sorry for not respecting it..” I continued to clean her up, consensually of course, how could I call myself a gentleman if I were to act upon improper motives? 

“Again..” I utter quietly “..I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m ashamed you feel that way” 

     I attach an ivory-colored band aid to her glass skin, careful not to damage it any further. I look up to her watching, pitiful eyes. “You were saying?” I reciprocate the attention to her, awaiting a so-called answer to come out of her mouth 

“I didn’t know where else to run to..” she attempted to sit up, lifting her weight off of my satin-covered sheets, yet quickly stopped when being hit with a wave of pain from her right shoulder 

     Though my first thought would’ve been ‘Damn it, my darn sheets are ruined’, it was quickly drawn to Y/N and her current problem 

“Y’know, I think an apology and explanation can wait, Y/N. you need a little sleep, it’s already three in the mornin’ for god’s sake” a small laugh erupts from her

    I sent her an assuring smile, trying to remind her that everything is always going to be okay in a Jefferson household. And surprisingly I received a smile in return, a smile of trust and security that I’ve never felt so glad to see. Of course, I wish I could’ve seen that smile under different circumstances, but I’ll work with what I got. 

     I stood from my beautiful satin sheets and reached for a hoodie on my swivel chair. (everything but your closet is a closet, change my mind) I braced for a cold night on my apartment couch while Y/N enjoys the warmth of my bed, but Y/N had other plans. 

“Wait- Thomas.” She said firmly 

     I turned tiredly to her direction, my arm already extended for the door, yet frozen in place as I awaited a response 

“Can you just..” she scoot herself over, as much as possible with her frail body “..hold me?” She watches me anxiously 

“I mean— you don’t have to b—” I didn’t hesitate at all to gently slide under the sheets of the bed. As soon as I turn to her direction, I can’t help but feel scared to touch her in fear of hurting her; my hands don’t know where to reside. “Where do I..” I’m truly perplexed 

     She giggled at my confusion and shyly grabbed my hand “I’m not so fragile you know” 

     She brought my hand up to the side of her head, and all I could process was the texture of the bandages under my fingertips. I don’t know what's going on, but I couldn’t just leave her out there. 

“..Right..” I wait for her eyes to close before I can even think about closing mine, and soon the texture of the bandages seem to melt onto my fingertips as I’m finally able to return to my slumber. 

“See you in the mornin’..” 

---

     I didn’t wake up until I felt the sun rays kissing my back through my so-called ‘blackout curtains’. Such a scam. The room seemed a little too quiet; I gently turned onto my other side just to find an empty bed. I consider the possibility of last night’s encounter with Y/N was all just some messed up dream, but when I saw the faint stains of blood on my sheets, I knew I was far from dreaming. 

     My body doesn’t want to move, and I’m stuck sitting up in my bed for another ten minutes. What the heck is going on? One minute she yells at me, then next thing I know she’s outside my apartment at 2 am. 

And that explanation. 

     I guess I was such a fool to think she wouldn’t continue to run away from this matter. My thoughts are interrupted by my buzzing phone. I know for sure that it’s not Y/N hittin up my phone right about now. 

James: Let’s try that new coffee place a few blocks from your apartment? 

     He really read my mind, or maybe it’s a response made from calculating my failure yesterday. But a distraction sounds tremendous. 

Thomas: bet. 

     I throw on a cleaner, more professional jacket, if such a thing exists, and swiftly get my feet out the door. Everything seems the same, as if nothing had taken place last night. The world still spins and I’m expected to spin with it. 

I don’t think I’m anywhere near capable of unraveling your mystery. 

Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

[clawedghouls]

Every man in a youtube horror ARG about slenderman know only 3 thing; Have weird relationship with environments, be awkward on camera, and LIE

It has been a while since I’ve actively done a Text Post on this blog over idly reblogging things, which is a good way to interact with the hell site do not let me discourage you, but I have been watching marble hornets and want to talk about the idea of spatial influence and character drive/motives. 

Before, here are some good pieces of text about the internet that help form my opinions on the matter, some as refreshers and some as set dressing. I will not tell you which. (each numeral has a link, please click)

1.  The American Room by Paul Ford, 2014

2.  Attention K-Mart Shoppers submitted to The Internet Archive by Mark Davis, recordings from 1980′s-1994. 

3. Lambertville Highschool (before demolition), Abandonednj.com, post 2012.

4.  Enter The Marble Hornets' Nest by Kasey Hullett, 2015

5. This House Has People In It, WHAMCITY COMEDY, published by Adult Swim, 2016

Not included is the book : Folklore, Horror Stories, and the Slender Man The Development of an Internet Mythology by Shira Chess, Eric Newsom. which you can find online on Amazon. It informs this somewhat, but as you know I am not king and I hold no bounds. (spoilers ahead)

I spent a decent amount of hours watching MH, and I can immediately see the influence to other videos of its kind. The quality is expected for its age, and influences what it’s saying to the viewer. 

For this, I am going to take EverymanHYBRID as its opposition force, given how it started a year after MH and is related to its universe. EMH, and MH both are the same sort of series- they have the slenderman myths, the same air of mystery, violence, and ARG tendencies- but one uses them in a more symbolic fashion.

MH, which focuses on the at-one-point collaborative and then later outright hostile relationship between Alex and Jay, plays with alot of intriguing concepts that become really prone in every series that it influences. Corruption of self, guilt, destructive and violent relationships that invoke creeping diseases on each individual. The tapes act as markers in the advancement of that sense of foreboding, especially with Jay having to recount 7 months or more of missing memories while walking about in a daze- his thought process both being charming and at once entirely frustrating. Slowly, the characters begin to spiral into something that revolves around chaotic violence and the unbalanced power play between them, Alex, and The Operator.

And that the whole bit really, that they are being withdrawn from the outside world to the point that outside interactions become another extension of their push and pull with each other. The hotel that Jay has been for several months not having to worry about paying for, or even having interactions with housekeeping, become the place where he is swallowed hole by either memories or forces beyond his control. The places, the spaces, become vehicles for the story itself- The hotel does not matter as it is a vessel to hold both him and Jessica. When Alex kills a man who is not even related to the original social bubble who knows what kind of person he is, it becomes a symbol of how irrational the situation has become- especially given how The Operator takes the body away with zero fanfare. The operator is akin to seeing hives bloom across the body, as it is not the cause but the symptom. 

In comparison, EMH lives in a totally seperate rhythm. Its places, and their environment’s stories, are key to why these characters do the things that they do. Every room that is shown, every place they interact with, reacts to them. in the narrative they show with this with long cuts, positioning of selves or props, and in something that MH does fairly well: footage that shows remixed or morphing images/videos of characters and covert messages. A few scenes immediately come to mind about EMH, but the best reflection would be in Jeff’s house and in relation to his little brother. 

At the start, each of the trifecta’s houses are alive. Alive not in the sense of human interaction, but in actively breathing, moving, changing, and its destructive ways. The Operator/Slenderman/That Horrible Thing, enters into the home through crawlspaces, behind closed and out of sight rooms, and even through windows. When Jeff finds a rip in the universe within a closet crawl space that leads him to abandoned places, they close up again when he returns. The same way with his brother, who disappears behind a closed door. Their environments become actively dangerous, the rooms are hungry, they are devouring them whole- the scene in which Evan looks directly into a surveillance camera after being attacked- the back of the cabin at the end of the world where Vinny has to kill his friend in the thick of the PA woods- where Jeff is drowned in a pool or comes walking out of the dark covered in blood- that is a spatial existence which is hostile. 

However, MH is the total opposite. It is not the Rosswood park that is dangerous, it is the fact that Alex is in there. It is not the house you should be afraid to enter, its the people in it, the house is only a witness. Even Alex’s apartment has nothing much to offer the viewer, it is only a place to store tapes and sleep, with so many boxes within. The scene that I thought of the most, especially when drafting this, is in the middle of the Entries, where Jay (the fool) breaks into Alex’s apartment. Jay gets found out almost instantly by Alex, and while trying to escape gets into an altercation with him, who yells that he brought ‘it’ back to his apartment. Jay looks at Alex and screams, realizing that the Operator is right behind him, and runs away- stealing the front door key on his way out. We are not told what happened to Alex after that specific point, and the next entry continues on. 

To Jay, The Operator is a real threat, but to Alex he cannot even see him. In conversations about this, my friend Cirice described it ‘like having a terminal illness and not seeking treatment.’ Alex’s perception can become the reality he is in- and his personal feelings become facts. To him, the reality is that Jay, Jessica, anyone he’s interacted with, is a threat. In the same way The Operator is a threat to Jay and the rest- the way the coughing and their bodies being slowly broken apart is a threat- but Alex holds the power in the relationships when the spatial existence is passive. The Operator acts as a device to move forward the narrative, but the relationships drive it to its conclusions. It doesn't matter the places that MH is located, they’re interchangeable. This is untrue for EMH, where NJ (the area it takes place in) holds like an oppressive cloud over the group. 

To place into a direct metaphor, The Operator in MH is blowing bubbles into the world that interact with only each other and effectively destroy only themselves (or those unfortunate to interact), where as in EMH the metaphor is of a house that’s collapsing on purpose to kill those trashing its insides. 

TLDR;

Marble Hornets: “You want to fuck me so bad it makes you stupid” Alex & Jay, Character driven stories about how power imbalances will kill you, the creeping disease of cruelty and how perception leads you to a fucked up rock climbing wall looking for DVD cassettes you funky little detective. 

EverymanHYBRID: “Hostile Geometry” Spatial horror and your environments will change you in such a way you are unrecognizable to yourself now in the mirror, the house is alive, the house is hungry, and its consuming you whole- and has been for generations.

also, whats up with killing women in both of these series?

[zoequeenz]

Compulsion (Part 1)

A/N: SO, a little bit of this chapter and all of the pilot is a bit different from how I have written some of the newer chapters. It is a bit funky but I like to say I have changed it and now have a better writing style. I would also like to mention there is a flashback at the beginning that is why the first part is a little odd. Enjoy :)

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER 

(TRIGGER WARNING: mentions sexual assault)

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Previously on Criminal Minds…

‘Anyone recognize these faces?’

‘Victims of the footpath killer”

“That’s what Virginia newspapers are calling him.”

“We refer to him at the “unknown subject” or “Unsub.”

“I told Virginia P.D., they’re looking for a white male in his 20’s, who owns an american-made truck, works a menial job.”

“I told ‘em when you find him, don’t be surprised to hear him speak with a severe stutter.”

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(Jason Gideon’s POV) (Still in flashback)

I had just finished paying for my gas and I knew I had caught him.

“Have a n-i-nice day.” stuttered the Footpath Killer.

I then walk out, only to be followed.

“The gun.”

“T-ta-take out the gun.” he demands in a non-threatening voice. But I do.

“Th-throw it.” he says.

“Any particular direction?” I ask. He then hits the back of my knee sending me to the floor. He takes me inside then slams me up against a wall.

“Who-who are y-”

“Who are you?”

Who are you?” he asks over and over.

“FBI.” I admit.

“T-t-t”

“Take out your w- your w-wallet.” he demands and I do.

“Wh-what- what do you kn-.”

“What do you know?” he asked.

“About you?” I question.

“Or about the people you’ve murdered?”

“I know a lot about you. I know how you do it. I know you can’t stop. And I know something that no one’s ever been able to tell you… I know why you stutter.”

(Back in the Office)

“Weren’t you a little bit worried he might just shoot you?” a trainee asks.

“I was a lot worried.” I tell her.

“But how did you find him?” another asks.

“I was just stopping for gas.” I say.

“I walked into that store, and saw pieces of a profile that I’d given to Virginia P.D. almost a year ago. Truck in disrepair, a devilish young man, severe stutter.” I say.

“James Reese once said, “there are certain clues at a crime scene which, by their very nature, do not lend themselves to being collected or examined.” I tell them.

“How does one collect love, rage, hatred, fear?” I asks.

“These are things that we’re trained to look for.” I state.

“So anyone else would have just seen a guy who stutters, but you saw the footpath killer.” the third trainee says.

‘Right. But sometimes these guys are still found by just dumb luck.” I say.

“Berkowitz was caught because of a parking ticket.”

“Except the cop wasn’t staring down a shotgun like you were.” Elle says.

“This is true. This is also good time to stop.” I tell them.

“Thank you sir.” a trainee says.

“Thank you.” I say.

“Okay, I’m curious. Why did he stutter?” Elle asks.

“You’re on your way to becoming part of the behavior analysis team now, Elle. You tell me.” I tell her.

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Persephone Chase’s POV

“Spencer this is boring, chess is not a fun game.” I tell him as I watch from the desk across from the genius boy.

“Percy, it passes time quicker and builds my logic skill.” he replies.

“Like you need to build on that.” I say sassily.

“Check. Checkmate 3 moves.” Gideon says moving a piece off the board. I laugh.

“What…” Spencer says confused.

“You know you’ll beat him when you start learning.” Derek says making me laugh harder, which also leads Spencer to make this weird face.

“Learning what?” he asks.

“To think outside the box.” Derek tells him.

He looks at me and all I can do is give him a sympathetic look.

“Hey, you can still beat everyone else on the team.” I say.

“Yeah, except Gideon.” Spencer sighs in defeat.

“Question for you.” Elle says walking in.

“Shoot.” Derek says.

“The footpath killer, why did he stutter?” she asks.

“Come on Elle, we’ve all asked him, and he won’t say.” Derek tells the brunette.

“Yeah, even our favorite genius doesn’t know.” I say mocking Spencer.

“He wants us to figure it out.” I continue.

“Okay. I’m up for a challenge.” she speaks confidently.

“Good, because these go to you.” JJ says putting down a plethora of files.

“Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you like.” JJ says introducing herself.

“Elle…”

“Greenaway-highest number of solved cases in Seattle 3 years running, specialty in sex offender cases.” JJ says.

“Not bad.” Elle comments in a surprised tone.

“Well, I’m the unit liaison. My specialty is untangling bureaucratic knots. You’ll probably be talking to me a lot. My door’s always open, mostly because I’m never in my office, so just call me on my cell, okay? We’ll talk.” JJ explained.

“Did you watch?” she asks Hotch how hastily replied “Yeah.”

“Think everybody should see it.”

“BAU team, can you meet me in the conference room, please? I need to show you something.” Hotch more like tells instead of asks.

We all walk to the conference room, of course like always I sit next to my best friend.

“This is from the Phoenix office, Bradshaw College in Tempe, 6 fires in 7 months.” Hotch tells us.

“Who recorded it?” Gideon asks.

“A student with a digital camcorder.He was watching a fire in the building across from their dorm. The other person you’ll see is his roommate, 20 year old Matthew Rowland.” JJ says.

(VIDEO)= Underlined

“This is crazy. Hey, Matt, get over here. You gotta see this. The buildings on fire.” one of the students said.

“Bro, you getting this?” Matt asked in amazement.

“Is that the kid?” Gideon asks. “Yeah, that’s him.” Hotch answers.

“Relax man. There’s always fires during rush week.” the unnamed student says.

“Yeah, but that’s pretty big.” another student says.

“Dude, over here. Check this out. What is it?” Matt asks.

“I don’t know, but it’s coming underneath the door.” the camera kid says.

“Is someone in the hallway?” Matthew asks.

“Hey, someone’s trying to get in.” Matthew continues.

“Hey, man, you should get away from there.” the cameraman says.

“Oh, my god! It smells like gas.” Matthew said,

“Oh, god! God! Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” both boys said as Matthew went up in flames.

“Put me out! Oh, my god! Oh, god! Help.” exclaimed Matthew.

“Einstein once said:”Imagination is more important than knowledge.Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”

“There are two common stressors for a serial arsonist.” Spencer says as he plays chess.

“Loss of job, loss of love.” I say engrossed in his game.

“When was the first fire set?” Derek asks.

“March, Uh, the next one was May, and the third one wasn’t ‘till September, then 2 weeks there were 3 in one night.” Hotch answers.

“He’s speeding up. Fire’s are closer together.” Gideon says.

“Hey, Reid, you got a statistic on arsonists?” Derek asks.

“Derek what do you think.” I say mocking him earning an eye roll from Derek.

“What do you got Reid?” Derek asks annoyed.

“82%, are white males between 17 and 27. Female arsonists are far less likely, their motive typically being revenge.” Spencer informs us, and I can’t help but fall for my partner even more. I guess scrawny genius nerds are my type.

“Sounds like our boy’s a student.” Derek concludes.

“Don’t be so sure.” Gideon says out of the blue.

He continues “You rely too much on precedent, you never allow for the unexpected...if he went from setting one fire to three in two weeks time…”

“Rapid escalation.” Hotch said for him.

“He’s gone from the power to damage a building to something far more satisfying...the power over life and death.” Gideon says.

Derek sits down to a pamphlet about about the school whilst Gideon and Hotch continue on.

“Who we talking to first?” Gideon asks.

“Dean of students, Helen Turner.” Hotch answers.

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We have landed and made it to the college. Everyone gets out but I hesitate, I hated college. I didn’t hate the learning no. I hated the people. Mostly my boyfriend and his stupid frat brothers. I of course being the dumb freshman fell in love with the most popular guy there. Wrong choice!! He ended up drugging me at a party, he and his friends ended up taking advantage of me whilst I was vulnerable. Even worse was that was my first time too. I was mortified when I found out but like most people I was too scared to bring him to court and never did, I ended up switching colleges. I have yet to tell anyone besides Derek who I know shares a similar past. That is why I am scared to get out of this car. It's like a safe haven at the moment.

“Hey, where is Chase?” Hotch asks.

“Still in the car.” Reid says.

“Well tell her to get out we have a case.” Hotch says annoyed.

“I’ll get her.” Morgan says.

“But I-” Reid begins.

“Trust me pretty boy, I need to handle this one.” Derek says walking to my car door.

“Hey little one, you need to come out.” he tries coaxing me out.

“Derek please, I can’t...you know what happened.” I plead.

“Hun I know but you’ve got to put on that facade and help with the case it’s your job.”

“Besides, no one is gonna hurt you anymore. You’ve got Reid and I to protect you.” He tells me.

“Fine.” I say and take a deep breath.

We walk over to the team.

“Sorry, I got side tracked.” I announce.

“Tell me later Chase.” Hotch says and I nod.

“No badges. I don’t want to satisfy the unsub’s need for attention by letting him know he got the FBI here. Try not to look official.” Gideon says while we walk into the school.

We stop at the steps and he turns then looks at us then says…

“Try to look less official.”

I giggle. Derek, Elle, and Hotch are in formal clothing and here is Spencer and I in what I would call casual clothing. He brings Ellen out and we being to speak with her while walking.

“Obviously, I’d rather be meeting you under different circumstances.” she says.

“This is fire inspector Zhang.”  she adds on leaning her head towards an asian man.

“This morning the chemistry department reported several bottles of highly flammable chemicals missing.” he informed us.

“I’m prepared to evacuate this campus.” she tells us adding on a “Thank you.” to Gideon and Hotch for opening the doors.

“That brings with it its own problems.” Hotch says.

“You might evacuate the arsonist as well.” Gideon adds.

“Then the case goes unsolved.” I say.

“The campus is reopened, but the fires start up again.” Elle finishes for me.

“Hotch, Gideon hold on a second.” Derek says.

“You said the chemicals went missing today.” he asked the fire inspector.

“Uh huh.” Zhang answered.

“It says here that one of the previous fires was set with diesel fuel that disappeared from the grounds keeping facility.” Derek stated.

“How long after it disappeared was the fire set?”

“One day.” Helen answered.

“If he’s holding to a pattern…”Gideon says walking away with Hotch.

“Who’s to says the next fire won’t be today?” Hotch finishes.

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We then get to the crime scene. It actually wasn’t that bad. Of course there are clear signs that a fire was here but it wasn’t burnt beyond recognition.

“Door was locked.” Hotch says.

“Matthew Rowland and his roommate watched as the door knob turned against the lock.” Spencer adds.

“But the unsub couldn’t get in.” I say.

“So he pours the accelerant into the room from the hallway.” Spencer adds.

“Which means he couldn’t see the fire.” Hotch says with a confused expression.

“ But he could hear Matthew Rowland screaming.” Spencer adds.

“Yeah, but not for long.” I say.

“He would have left quickly.” Hotch says.

“Yeah, to avoid being spotted.” Spencer states.

“It doesn’t make sense.” I say.

“Pyromania as a mental disorder may just be a simple myth, but we know from precedent that serial arsonists derive pleasure from pathological firesetting.” Spencer informs us.

It makes my knees grow weak for a second. This boy is gonna kill me before I am even close to death. I still have no idea why I like when he says random facts.

“Sex and power.” Hotch adds.

“But a serial arsonists wouldn’t just set a fire and walk away.” I state.

“He needs to experience it.” Hotch tells us.

“So why would he set a fire he couldn’t watch?” Spencer asks.

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“He turned the water off just before the fire.”  Zhang says while opening a box with a phone, a flashlight, and another item inside.

“The last three were set with these. Two devices, simultaneous ignition.”

“There was no device used on Matthew Rowland.” Gideon says.

“Unsub set that one manually?”

“He wanted to be there to enjoy the kid’s death.” Derek says.

“Not necessarily.” Hotch argues.

“Well, if the target was Matthew Rowland, then why set the other two fires?” Elle asks.

“The motives for arson are relatively simple.” Spencer says.

“There’s vandalism, crime concealment, political statement, profit…”

“And revenge.” Hotch says finishing Spencer’s sentence.

“We interviewed Matthew Rowland’s roommate. No reason for revenge.” Zhang tells us.

“What about vandalism?” Ellen asks.

“No. The fires are too sophisticated, and if he’s trying to make a political statement, he’s not being too clear about it.” Elle says.

“There’s an underlying strategy in this case.” I add.

“Matthew, firefighters, injured victims.” Gideon begins.

“To the unsub, they’re not people. They’re…”

“They’re objects.”  Hotch finishes.

“More like, uh…” Gideon beings only to be cut off by Spencer.

“Chess pieces.”

“Exactly.” Gideon says throwing a burnt MP3 player back on the table.  

NEXT CHAPTER 

[punkahudsonia]

Happy Candlenights, y’all! I participated in the @thecandlenightszone exchange this year and I’m really excited to finally be able to share this with someone besides myself :3 

@lupsbro was my recipient and she requested Lup and Taako content with fluff, warm & fuzzy feelings, and their first Candlenights together after S&S so I hope this hits those spots!

Things are good in Taako's world. He's got a gorgeous boyfriend, he's once again famous and beloved (and hey, not wanted for murder!). He's got friends he can trust and a family he can actually remember and as of last weekend? He's got a twin sister who's got her body back. It's a godsdamned Candlenights Miracle.

Taako's never been one to leave Miracle shit to just happen on its own, though. Not when he can improve upon it, which he almost definitely can.

Example: it's Lup's first Candlenights in a decade. She's able to touch and taste things again. Taako's gonna make the biggest, most lavish feast of delicacies Faerun's ever seen. He's gonna go all out. Perfect preparation, flawless presentation, that certain Sizzle It Up je nes c'est quoi. It's gonna be perfect.

As soon as his dumb sister starts cooperating.

"Fantasy lutefisk." Lup says, flicking to the next page of her magazine. She's laying draped over the couch in Taako's living room, feet hooked over the armrest, barely even looking up. Taako knows she's trying to bug him. 

Problem is it's working. "I'm not bringing fish slime into my house."

"Celery aspic." Another flick of the wrist, another page. Lup sounds entirely too cheerful.

"You're a monster. Try again."

"Vinegar pie. Like Auntie used to make." Lup grins with all her teeth. It's extremely off-putting.

Taako narrows his eyes and jabs a finger at her. "That's gross, you're gross, and I hate that you're like this."

"Lies." Lup sticks out her tongue and goes back to her magazine. "Beef Wellington with homemade puff pastry."

Taako relaxes a tiny bit. Okay, now they're getting some --

"I want the pastry to be Flamin’ Hot Fantasy Cheeto flavored."

Gods. Dammit. Taako grabs the brim of his hat in both hands and squeezes until it crumples, waiting for the understandable urge to throttle his sister to pass. "Lup. Darling sister. Light of my life, moon to my sun, heart of my own heart. Will you please. Take this seriously?"

"Absolutely bonkers of you to assume you're the sun in this relationship." Lup tosses the copy of Better Castles and Caverns over the back of the couch. At least that means she's paying attention, sort of. "You know what I want for Candlenights dinner already, you goober."

Taako resists the urge to grind his teeth. "I obviously don't, because I'm asking."

"You do, though." His sister folds her arms over her chest and stares at him, no hints in her expression. Damn it. 

"Don't."

"Do."

"Don't." This is stupid. They're gonna be here until it's actually Candlenights at this rate. "You want me to guess? Is that what this is?"

Lup's forehead creases just a tiny bit. "What? No." She rolls fluidly to her feet, suddenly actually serious. "Hold up. Is this whole thing not a goof? Are you actually not screwing with me?"

"What?" Taako feels momentarily disoriented. Dizzy like voidfish ichor shifting all the puzzle pieces in his head around until they click.

"Damn. You're really not, huh." Lup crosses the space between them in two long strides and yanks him into a hug. She squeezes him too tight, her dumb too-bony shoulder jabs him in the collarbone, and it's perfect just like always. Taako leans into it.

"I want to make you the perfect thing." He says, hugging her back now, mumbling into her shoulder. 

"But you don't know what that is? Really?" Lup sounds doubtful. 

Which is maybe fair because . . . Okay because yes, he does know all her favorite things and exactly what she loves most for special occasions. But also . . . but also for ten whole years he didn't know any of those things. Is it really realistic to think they filled back in perfectly and he can just trust himself to nail it?

Lup can tell what he's thinking. Of course she can. She squeezes him until the breath huffs out of his lungs. "You know what I want most, Koko. Don't be a dumbass and overthink it."

Taako takes a second and tries to take a deep breath past the crushing hug. Closes his eyes and thinks about the best parts of every Candlenights meal going back the two-hundred-odd years they've been siblings. 

Then he grins because hey, look at that. All of a sudden he does know exactly what she wants. His sister is right.

It's a Candlenights Miracle.

***

Barry pokes his head cautiously into the kitchen. He and Kravitz have each been banned from helping for different reasons.

("You reanimate one turkey carcass . . ."

"You make one jello salad!")

Taako and Lup have it on lockdown, though. They're moving like the parts of a specialized machine, making space for one another as they prep and saute and laugh and joke. Taako tosses a spice jar high in the air and Lup snatches it without missing a beat. Lup nudges Taako with her hip and Taako smirks at her, hands still busily in motion dicing pancetta. 

They're whole again, relaxed and together, and Barry grins and closes the kitchen door silently.

Kravitz looks up from the chess set on the living room coffee table. "Everything okay?"

Barry nods and settles back into his place across from Kravitz (this is their third game and Krav is losing. Badly. Again. Turns out Barry's new supervisor, contrary to popular belief, is absolutely awful at this game).

"Yeah," Barry says as he picks up a pawn, smiling as his wife's laugh rings out from the kitchen, the sound of somebody who's finally gotten something she really, really wanted.

"Yeah. They're all good in there."