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fearhims3lf · 3 months

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TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @loftylockjaw @fearhims3lf

SUMMARY: Mateo eagerly waits for both of his guests to arrive, and when he opens the door to expect Xóchitl there, he finds Wyatt instead. The two get to know each other much better.

WARNINGS: Small mention of grenades, but no actual detail

A-N-A-are-see-H-Y…!

Mateo bobbed his head along to the music in the background, sprinkling a few pinches of seasoning to the simmering pot. He lowered the heat and watched the bubbles settle before moving his attention to Angel, who was pestering him for some attention. “Oye mamacita, you’re gonna have to go to your room soon.” Angel groaned in response, and Mateo couldn’t help but shake his head with a chuckle. “It’ll be fine. Just a few hours. Besides,” He pointed to the window in the room, “You can literally just go out and have fun.”

There was a knock at the door and she huffed, her tendrils lightly caressing Mateo before she trudged her way back to her room. He rolled his eyes, though there was no real irritation in his expression. In fact, there was only fondness for the monstrous creature slinking its way into hiding while Mateo bopped his way to answer the door.

“Hey there, beauti…ful.” He quirked a brow at Wyatt and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not Xóchitl.” He snapped his fingers repeatedly and checked his watch, surprised to see that his girlfriend was running late. “Huh. Time flies, I guess. Well, come on in and have a seat.”

“Very astute of you,” Wyatt laughed, looking down his own front and giving a shrug. “Not since last I checked, anyway. Damn, did I really beat her here?” That was unusual, but then he supposed that her life had been a little unusual lately. To what degree he couldn’t be sure, and not just because she didn’t know how to explain it — his knowledge about things outside of shifters was terribly lacking. “Thanks for the compliment, though. I’ll cherish it always,” the lamia teased further as he followed Mateo back into the home.

As promised, he was carrying an insulated bag with him, which he set on the counter after joining Mateo in the kitchen. “Ooh, that smells good,” he remarked with a nod toward the stove, unzipping the bag and reaching inside. Out of it, he pulled a baking sheet with wax paper tied down to it by string, and next came a large glass container. Setting the sheet on the counter, he glanced around the space until he located the oven. “Gonna need to borrow that for about fifteen minutes, these fellas are only half baked. This, however, is good to go.” Popping off the top, he revealed the elote salad, which still needed to be dressed with the cotija cheese, but that would come after plating. “Beignets,” he explained, gesturing at the baking sheet. “I’m no baker, really, but I made a practice batch earlier n’ they fucked, so.”

There was an easy grin that tugged on the mare’s cheeks, and he patted Wyatt on the shoulder. “Well, we got a shit ton of food tonight, which Xóchitl will love. I went a little crazy and made frijoles rancheros. A bit of more work to make, but it’s always worth it.” Mateo stirred the pot and removed his gorditas from the oven to make room for Wyatt’s container. After, he quickly turned the music down and eyed the tv, which was also a little too loud for conversation. He almost forgot he was waiting to see his latest job on the screen.

“Uh, you mind turning down the volume for me? The remote’s right there.” His chin jutted toward it on the counter as he sorted the food on the island. “The oven is all yours now. It’s set at the lowest heat so it’ll just take a sec to get to whatever you put it at.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop and chuckled softly at the elote salad Wyatt had put together. “Man, there’s just something about white people and their ability to make a salad or casserole out of anything.” Mateo raised his hands to gesture there was no hostility toward the idea. “I ain’t complainin’, mind you,” He winked, “It definitely looks like it tastes good.”

Wyatt let out a laugh, somewhat floored by the very accurate observation. “I am but a simple country boy,” he drawled, hand splayed across his chest as the other reached for the remote as requested. “Anyway, she travels better like this! Gimme a break.” Snickering, he lowered the TV volume before setting the remote aside and permitting himself a better look at his company for the evening. Wyatt didn't think that Mateo had any idea he was the alligator he'd met in the woods, but there was only one way to change that.

“Hey, I got a question for you, before the lady gets here… where's a guy gotta go to get grenades ‘round here? I still got the one you gifted me, ain't found the perfect thing to blow up with it yet, but you awoke somethin’ in me, I think.” He was giving Mateo a knowing smirk, brows raising expectantly as he awaited a response, moving to the oven to adjust the temperature.

Mateo’s brows rose, almost immediately cinching together as Wyatt asked about grenades. He could count on one hand how many people he’d given grenades to. In fact, there was only one person. Felix hadn’t wanted to take the gift, going so far as to not even touch the thing in fear that it would explode right in front of them. That left only the alligator man that had rightfully complimented Mateo’s ass. Unless somehow the mare had forgotten he’d given Wyatt one, and he wouldn’t put it past himself.

The man had needed a lot of cheering up as of late, and men love explosions, but he would’ve remembered handing over such a powerful item. He decided to pry a little. “Uh…you sure I’m the one who gave that to you?” Mateo wet his lips and leaned on the island, scrubbing his face. “Do you even know how to handle that thing? Do you…” His eyes widened, “Do you have it on you right now?”

Wyatt scoffed, turning away from the oven to look at Mateo. “No, I don't have it on me now. It's safely tucked away at home. Come on… ‘course I'm sure you're the one that gave it to me. How could I forget such a spectacular ass that you made me compliment before you'd help me kill that fuckin’... whatever it was?” He folded his arms across his chest, looking terribly amused by the whole thing.

“Shockin’, I know. How can such a big, beautiful reptile fit into such a… comparatively small, less impressive human body? Easily, it turns out. Learned that trick when I was four or five.” He recalled Mateo having said something about how he wouldn't taste good, which could mean more than just ‘don't eat me please’, but Wyatt wouldn't press it. Yet. “Good thing I didn't eat you… woulda been awkward when I found out you were datin’ my best friend.” He smiled in spite of the grim statement. “Glad for it, even! That's new for me, congrats on breakin’ ground.”

A bewildered but impressed look skidded across Mateo’s features, and he had to stifle a chuckle of disbelief. Wyatt was the reptile that helped him kill the giant Godzilla thing a few weeks ago. They had blown that thing up into smithereens, and Mateo was miffed that he was none the wiser to what Wyatt truly was.

“You…you were that crocodile guy.” It sounded more like a question than a statement, but Mateo’s voice eventually settled into something much more grounded. Which was good because Mateo’s next question was an important one. “Does Xóchitl know?” He blinked several times, continuing to drum go fingers as his eyes grew distant in thought. “She doesn’t know what I am, to be clear. Been trying to find a way to bring it up, but it ain’t easy.”

Las Vegas celebutante found murdered in his home. Details to follow.

The screen took the mare’s attention for a blink, but he kept the conversation on topic. “Haven’t been this way since I was a kid like you, so it’s been weird. Didn’t even want a relationship, and well,” Clicking his tongue, Mateo idly stirred the salsa he made. “Here we are. At least playing friendly with you is gonna be even easier.”

“Mm… technically yes, but let’s not go callin’ every gecko n’ salamander we see a lizard… follow?” Unlikely. How was anyone supposed to be able to follow his train of thought when he could barely do it himself? “Alligator. And no, she doesn’t.” Wyatt’s gaze jumped after Mateo’s to the TV screen, but he didn’t think much of it. “Ah… right. You mentioned you were undead.” There had been something else, too, but Wyatt was having a hard time remembering it. He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowed, trying to recall the brief conversation they’d had after blowing that bitey bastard to bits. “You said somethin’ ‘bout… bein’ nightmarish.” A comment he’d thought nothing of, before, but now…? Now his eyes opened again and he gave Mateo an inquisitive stare.

“Don’t suppose that was literal, was it?” There was a sort of agonized strain in the lamia’s voice that appeared once he realized he was potentially speaking to someone of the same species as his tormentor… and maybe someone that could help.

It was a bit uncomfortable, the way Wyatt’s eyes developed so much emotion in them. Xóchitl had briefly mentioned what was plaguing him, how he needed her in his times of distress. Every small detail was familiar to Mateo, having been through it himself. There was a huge difference, though. While Mateo had asked for it, taking the nightmares as a trial and less as a torment, he knew the implications there’d be when he confirmed what he was.

That was just a leap he had to take, considering how ingrained Wyatt was to Xóchitl’s past. Mateo just hoped those nasty teeth—alligator teeth— wouldn’t need to immediately find something to chomp.

“Yeah.” He nodded, trying to look indifferent about his answer. More than ever, he wished it was just a bit closer to night so he could vanish into thin air if things went awry, but it appeared luck wasn’t on his side. Swallowing, Mateo figured he’d just have to settle for above average reflexes and the hidden weapons around the apartment. “Died after some…intense night terrors over several weeks, and here I am. Causing them to eat.” He clicked his tongue, “But I sure as hell have never tried anything on you, that’s for sure.”

Wyatt stared at Mateo quietly as he explained. His expression was hard to read, and he almost seemed to be making up his mind about something before saying the first words that came to him, which was unusual. The long pause following Mateo’s admission was both silent and deeply uncomfortable, stretching on and on until the oven beeped to signal that it was pre-heated. Wyatt relaxed his posture with a shrug.

“I figured. We’re good, by the way—I don’t got a problem with you. It’d be too hypocritical for even me to stomach if I gave you grief for that—I eat people. It’s whatever.” He frowned. “I just want to be left alone, is all. It’s fuckin’ me up. Been months of this shit. Can’t even fight right anymore.” He was losing control, yes, but not just of his decision-making abilities—he was starting to lose control of his shifting in general. Sometimes it took longer than he liked to make the shift happen in either direction. Sometimes it was only partial, even when he wanted it full. That was not sustainable, especially not in the Pit. It’d get him fucking killed in the ring. “Guy I know told me about usin’ salt… and somethin’ about a creature called a baku.” He shook his head. “I don’t… wanna do anythin’ that might… linger, you know?” Because I don’t want to accidentally fuck you up, was the part he left unspoken but likely still communicated to the other. “I just need real sleep.” He managed a somber smile, picking up the tray of beignets and sliding them into the oven. “Anyway. Help an idiot set a timer on this thing, would ya? Twelve minutes.”

Mateo listened, and though he knew that it was likely another mare hurting Wyatt, he had to do something. There was an unspoken rule that you didn’t mess with anyone’s meals, but there was also an unspoken rule that you helped your girlfriend’s friends. Mateo was caught in the middle, and he really didn’t like it.

“Okay.” He took a breath, taking out his phone and starting a timer to give himself a little more time to think, which was difficult when his latest kill was all over the tv screen. It was Mateo’s favorite pastime to watch as police had nothing on his victims, looking like idiots on the news, but that sadly had to wait. “Salt works, yeah. Put it around your bed. And-and really put it around. If you have it pressed against a wall, pull that shit away from it and make sure you close the circle.” He huffed, “For good measure, get the keyholes on your doors covered. Won’t allow them to get inside for sure.”

Setting his phone aside with the timer going, Mateo approached Wyatt and carefully put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. For all intents and purposes, he truly did feel for him. None of his victims asked to be fed on, but the major difference was that he didn’t know them. Mateo knew Wyatt, and he mattered to Xóchitl. That changed everything, which was why it was so easy to make an offer. “Hey,” Mateo’s voice was soft, his eyes matching. “Stay here tonight. Couch is comfy, but, uh…” He chuckled, “Bed is big enough too. I help Xóchitl get a good night’s rest with my nicer talents. Can do the same for you, and no creepies will get in your head when I’m around.”

That made sense, which made Wyatt feel a little stupid for not thinking of it. Of course the wall wouldn't be enough of a barrier for one side—granted he didn't know how mares worked, really… still. He'd be pulling his bed away from the wall as soon as he got home.

Which… sounded like it might not be tonight. The invitation was a little unexpected, in spite of the light flirting that had occurred online and Xó's assertions that Mateo would be open to that sort of thing. Unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. Wyatt felt a smile creeping over his lips once more as he glanced at Mateo, not overlooking that gentle tone and expression he wore. “Yeah?” he asked quietly. “I wanna hear more about these nicer talents, but… that sounds great.” And it would certainly be a development he knew Xó would be ecstatic over, eager as she was to convince the two men to get to know each other.

Waving some spirit fingers toward Wyatt, the mare booped the man’s nose and chuckled with a hint of endearment. “Can’t visit your place with those precautions, but like I said,” Mateo stepped a little closer, a breath away from Wyatt when he added, “Plenty room here.” He smiled, letting his lips brush against Wyatt’s cheek before he moved his attention toward the tv.

With the reveals and explanations mostly out of the way, Mateo could focus on the jabbering cops and be amused with how clean his getaway was. They were stumped, and they would stay that way. For all intents and purposes, Mateo Lara didn’t exist on any payroll, and any contact information under any false identities he had given were dead ends. Victory was his, and Mateo felt like he couldn’t lose at all that night. Which left him to wonder how much he could win. He grinned, and patted Wyatt’s bum just before he trotted his way to the sofa.

“Why don’t we talk about both our talents over some beer while we wait? Grab two from the fridge and meet me on the couch.”

That was fine… Wyatt didn’t really want anyone over at his cabin right now, anyway. It had seen better days, and he hadn’t had the time or energy to take care of all the shit he’d broken in his nightmare-fueled panics, not now that he was working triple shifts at the Pit.

A shiver ran up his spine at Mateo’s sudden proximity. If there’d been any shadow of doubt over his interpretation of the mare’s words, he was beyond it now. There was no misinterpreting that, and it was an arena that Wyatt was so well practiced in, he could do it in his sleep. … hah. He immediately felt more comfortable, slipping back into an old, familiar role as he watched Mateo’s attention shift again to the TV. What was that about? Having the news on to listen to stories about a murdered famous person was peculiar, but come to think of it, Mateo still hadn’t answered Wyatt’s question about where to get grenades. Not that he cared about the answer, but still… He gave the other a curious glance, wondering if… nah. That was silly.

Okay, so they were getting familiar quickly. Good. Wyatt preferred quick. He smirked, doing as he was told and getting said beers from the fridge before wandering his way back into the living room. Passing one to Mateo, the fighter sat beside him, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind him. “Talking about them sorta pales in comparison, don’t you think?” He knew Xóchitl would be arriving any moment now, but of course that would do little to deter him, all things considered. Anyway, he wasn’t sure how easily he could get through the shared meal if he was still wondering, and so before either of them could even crack open the drinks, Wyatt buttoned his question with proof of his point and let that free hand find a home on Mateo’s neck, pulling him closer as the shifter stole a hungry kiss.

“Well if I show you all my tricks, one’d leave you asleep on the couch, and I’m pretty sure you wanna be awake right now.” Mateo laughed a little easier then, taking the beer and tilting it up in a silent thank you. “I’m sure your transformation to that form of yours is pretty dope, though. Is that at will?” He glanced briefly at Wyatt’s hand and arched a brow. “How sharp are those claws?” And how often did he use them?

The man next to Mateo ate people, and had done so his entire life. Probably. At that point, it was speculation, but given that Wyatt has been whatever he is since he was born, the mare could only put two and two together. Mateo was just grateful that Xóchitl wasn’t on the menu, and likely never would be. She was well taken care of, and that’s all Mateo really wanted. She’d had enough grief as of late, looking like her sanity was on a tightrope most days, and it was thanks to Wyatt that she’d been able to cope.

So when he pulled the mare in for what felt like a ravenous kiss, Mateo complied easily, with his own type of hunger. A need that had been ingrained in him for as long as he could remember. Because for as evil as Mateo could be, he knew he had to be the one to take on that burden. Being wild and dangerous was fun, sure, but it took a lot out of him most days. It wasn’t easy to watch a man’s life spill from his skull and drip from Mateo’s weapon. That was the price, though. And he’d pay it, gladly, through gritted teeth, every time.

Especially when he could feel the sighs of relief against his lips. When a body’s tension detached away and sank into him instead. That’s what Mateo sought after for those he cared about, and he could see himself extending that to Wyatt, feeling it as he pulled him onto his lap.

“Yeah, at will.” At least it was supposed to be. It had always been, until after he’d murdered Samir in the ring. “And sharp enough to rip open just about anythin’,” Wyatt explained, more than a hint of pride in his voice. He’d shredded through all sorts of materials with his teeth and claws besides the obvious flesh, muscle, and bone. The design of his lineage was similar to that of the alligators that populated the bayous, but better. Stronger, hardier, more agile… crocodilian in every way that mattered, plus more.

Wyatt was aware of the situation he was getting himself into here, and honestly? It seemed pretty fucking sublime. The cherry on top would be the both of them being able to be honest with Xó about what they were, but that would come with time, he figured. For now he’d rather focus on the rewards to be reaped from fraternizing with both halves of a couple, the promise of attention he’d receive from such an arrangement almost more enticing than whatever magical influence Kieran was able to exert over him. It was neck and neck, really.

Speaking of necks, his hands braced on either side of Mateo’s, beer abandoned on the coffee table. Those claws they’d been discussing started to make an appearance, thankfully at Wyatt’s behest this time, the tips of his fingers transforming effortlessly into something scaly and green-hued. One hand fell to Mateo’s shoulder, nails digging in gently, only a whisper of a threat that would never be made good, but was instead here for play. He pulled back for a breath, huffing against Mateo’s lips with a grin as he felt the other’s hands grip him tight. “How late you think she’s gonna be, cher?”

The delicacy of the situation wasn’t lost on the mare. He was venturing towards not one, but two relationships, for as long as Mateo could remember, he said he never even wanted that idea near him in the first place. Xóchitl had shown him how wonderful it could be, that the monotony and comfort of a single person could be fulfilling in countless ways, and it had been. Mateo loved it, even. He felt into pace with it easily and found himself happier than he had been in a while.

But there were countless ways to be happy, weren’t there? No two were ever the same, and more than that, there was more than one way to have a relationship. Or rather, two. Or was it just one if they were all involved with each other? Or…was it? Mateo shook the thoughts away and shifted his focus elsewhere. Like the claws grazing his skin, but never quite digging in. He found that he liked that, and enjoyed more that Wyatt was being mindful of his flesh and of the time, but he was forgetting one thing.

“Late enough, I think.” Mateo chirped with a grin, “But uh…what about those beignets?”

“Fuck. See, this is why I don’t bake,” Wyatt laughed, returning himself to a fully human state as he poked his head up over the back of the couch. Right on cue, the timer on Mateo’s phone went off, and the shifter groaned while grinning. “Alright, okay… just... hold that thought. Hold it.” He pushed himself up and off of Mateo, grabbing the can he’d previously left on the table as he stood to go tend to the dessert and popping it open. He took a few steps toward the kitchen, paused and pointed a finger at Mateo, and raised his eyebrows. “Are you holding it? …. just makin’ sure.” God, it’d been a while since he’d felt comfortable enough to be his more relaxed, playful self. This was good. He didn’t know if it was the promise of a truly safe night of sleep or what, but he felt lighter than he had in months. It was something he hoped he could hold on to for a while.

The doorbell rang just as he was snatching up an oven mitt and pulling out the tray of pastries. Wyatt grinned in the direction of the front door, calling out a long-winded cajun-french greeting that Xochitl had heard countless times before, retrieving the honey and powdered sugar from his bag. “You’re just in time, babe!”

#wickedswriting #writings #nightmarescapes #wyatt and mateo #c: wyatt #french-mex

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nancypullen · 1 year

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It's Tuesday and I'm Tired

It's 8:22pm and I swear I'm fighting the urge to go to bed. I've done a lot today - cranked out earrings, mopped the floors, two loads of laundry, weeded and watered, stained the wood that Mickey will use to make earring displays for me, and so on. I made good use of my hours, but I'm whipped. I didn't use to get tired from busy days. Is it age or have I allowed myself to get lazy? Either way, it's not fun. BUT...tomorrow will be fun. We've got several errands to run in Easton, and I'll be in STORES.

Granted, one of the stores is Lowe's, so that doesn't really count, but I'll also be in Michael's and maybe even Target or Kohl's. It's like a vacation! Do I sound excited? Is that sad? Know what's not sad? I've made tons of progress with earring inventory! The Halloween batch is coming right along. I have my sister's approval on these polka dot sets. I ask her opinion when I'm not sure, and she gave these the green light.

And those ghosts have been glittered and glazed.

Speaking of my wonderful, kind, generous, and thoughtful sister...look what she sent to me!

Stacks and stacks of beautiful paper! I feel like I won the lottery. I'l explain. That scrapbooking paper is what I use to make my cards and I can't find it around here. The JoAnn's in Easton only sells fabric and limited craft supplies. Michael's in Easton has a sparse supply of paper that never changes and it's mostly baby shower and wedding stuff. They still have Valentine and Easter paper out from last spring. I could drive an hour to Hobby Lobby in Dover but I don't like Hobby Lobby, and if their website is correct there's not much paper in stock anyway. So I've had to order online and pay extra per sheet pus shipping. Not good. My sister popped into the JoAnn store nearest to her and scooped up all of this fabulous paper at ten sheets for $3. I have ten sheets of each pattern and I can make 4 cards from each sheet. SCORE!! Even better, she included the blue plastic storage bin! I can't tell you what a relief it is to have this in my supply cabinet. I can coast a long time on this oh-so-generous gift from my sister. I should have taken a prettier photo of this bounty, but I was so excited when I opened the box that I snapped that between happy dances. I'm thrilled to my toes! That's it from me tonight. I'm heading upstairs for a long soak and a hard sleep. I'll be taking this pretty girl with me.

This one, too. She just refuses to pose.

The girls and I wish you a lovely evening and the sweetest of dreams. Stay safe, stay well.

XOXO, Nancy

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popculturebuffet · 22 days

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Next up for Warner Bros Animation, favorite character from the first wave of shows they produced for Cartoon Network from 2001-06 (don't worry, the Kids WB half will be in another ask): Justice League, Baby Looney Tunes, 3-South (okay, that was made for MTV but gonna throw it in this batch anyway), Teen Titans, Duck Dodgers, Justice League Unlimited, Firehouse Tales, and Krypto the Superdog?

Fair enough. I woudln't mind doing mtv but since it was part of warner animation it gets thrown in here anyway...

Justice League: Martian Mahunter. I thought this would be hard, the big 7 are damn great in this series and the sequel.. but no. This is the series that made me love Jonn who despite, as i've realized being out of focus, is one of the most intresting characters, someone out of place in his new home but damn well ready to fight for it. A soft nurturing soul and the heart of the team. The Flash is a close second as it made me love wally west before I even knew who was under the mask or that there was more than one.

Justice League holds a special place in my heart. While I did watch the other dc shows as a kid, Justice League was one I followed week to week with rapt attention and the one I saw almost all of (still haven't seen starcrossed) and one I need to rewatch. It was my introduction to a lot of the dc universe, being the reason i'm a fan of Jonn Jones, John Stewart GL, metamorpho, lex luthor , and gorilla grodd. It took these characters and brought me in, had tons of creativity from a horrifying take on the justice society (so bad they had to change them to mildly original characters), to the sobering a new world two parter, to the chilling two pater with dr destiny, taking his more horrror tinged later self and putting him against the league. I cannot say enough good about the series. It's not AS consitant as say BTAS, but it's still something truly special. It's ont perfect in everything it brings forward from the comics, but what it brings itself is amazing.

Baby Looney Tunes: I'm not sure honestly, possibly Lola. But the show itself was adorable and a decently done spinoff babies. It's not really looney or tooney, but it is sweet and is really only shown up by the fact the new muppet babies show managed to do both this and keep the zany insanity of the muppets in there.

3-South: I thought I was wrong I thought I was right, I thought it better not to fight. The show itself I dont' have a faviorite for but I did enjoy. IT's creator would sadly make bordertown

But 3 south is a fun dumb show with some good voice acting, a killer theme song and a gag about what's the captial of thailand that stuck with me for some reason and took me years to find what mtv show it was from.

Teen Titans: 3 2 1 GO TEEN TITANS! Weird pick but i'm going with Cyborg. He's a nice mix of comic relief and a geninely compelling character who struggles with the normal life he can't have, the only titan who really.. misses being a normal person. He puts the anger of his comic self early on aside for instead just some sadness and had some of the best episodes of the show. Sasdly not the best arc but it at least gave us bumblbee and cyborg's hilarious version of the theme.

As for the show itself it's one I need to rewatch in full (I've only rewatched season 1) and easily one of the best dc cartoons, best warner cartoons and possibly best cartoons period. It's energetic, and like the DCAU that's come up a LOT (and will wrap up talking abou tshortly), it takes the key strategy of stripping away the continuity glut down to what makes these characters special, with it's versions often being better than the original: raven is still largely defined by her cartoon self and i'm okay with that.

The show wasn't perfect: Brother blood started well but petered out, the brotherhood of evil, while awesome didn't quite fit as the final foes and the last episode can eat my ass, but the show deftly ballanced comedy and action, had one of the best villians in all of animation who while not really that acurate to the comics , still fucking slaps (Who is slade indeed), and pitch perfect animation, with trouble in tokyo making a better finale than the actual final episode. A childhood faviorite that holds up well for the most part, this ones well worth checking out if you somehow haven't. TEEN TITANS.. GO!

Duck Dodgers: IN THE 24TH AND 1/2 CENTURRRRYYYY. Look having tom jones sing your theme song feels like a cheat. Also the martian queen.. for.. reasons. Moving on.

Duck Dodgers is one I also need to rewatch but remember absolutely loving: funny, on point and a nice update of looney tunes taking a one off flash gordon parody and making an honestly fun flash gordon reboot out of it.

Justice League Unlimited; DUH DUH DUH DUH DUN DUN DUN DUNNNN WHOM WHOM WHOM WHOM WHOM WHOM wha wha wha wha wha shooom. Yeah that was embarassing but damn if it wasn't fun. So faviorite character is hard as Unlimited has a ton to choose from and unlike league wasn't as focused on a main cast. THe big 7 are still important, but others get the spotlight. Out of the new crop I'm ending up going with the question as while I like their ollie and a lot of their interprtations, jeffery combs stole the whole damn show before I even knew who that was, taking a forgetable character with an unfortgetable look and making him a fan faviorite overnight.

The show itself I only saw seasons 1 and 2 of (and like league proper need to rewatch) but it might just suprass the original. It exchanges a tight cast of 7 for a large cast that could be too large in theory but in practice get tons of focus and said focus still largely rests on a few key members: the big 7 (minus jonn who sadly gets bonked down to mission control and Diana who isn't as present), Green Arrow, Supergirl, and Question. But by expanding the league it also allows for bigger stories including a GIANT buffet of cameos from across dc history. The cartoon threw in dead man, had a whole episode for the seven soldiers of victory, stargirl and STRIPE , Wildcat. The series could easily double as a jsa cartoon and I welcome it.

The show's largely anchored by it's overarching plot: Cadamus, asking the question of SHOULD th eleague have all the poewr their amassing, with neither side being entirely right, all capped by an awesome finale and a solid epilogue.. then it kept going but apparently is still pretty good.

JLU is a glorious expansion of an already great show. it's not quite as consitant, but picks up for it by a sheer love for the dcu it gets to explore in earnest.. unless your a batman character. Godddamn bat embargo.

Firehouse Tales; I have no idea what this is

Krypto: KRYPTO THE SUPER DOG! And it's the dog stars. BARK FOR JUSTICE BOW WOW WOW. I loved them at the time for being fun, later for thinking they were a legion of superheroes fill in and now for finding out their actually their own obscure legion of superheroes knockoff the series expanded.

The show itself is unfairly forgotten: despite being aimed at younger kids, I dearly loved it, a fun campy take on a fun campy concept. It just has this energy to it that makes it work, this silver age give no fucks energy merged with great art and a spotlight on characters who probably won't get it again because that super pets movie looked like it missed the boat.

#krypto the superdog #justice league #justice league unlimited #baby looney tunes #looney tunes #duck dodgers #teen titans

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firaknight · 4 years

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@kirbyofthestars good morning!!!! The frogs are complete!!!!

#my art #frore time!!!#Wabungus (I had to look this up) is a puffer fish filled with air #and that is precisely what Wabungus is!!!#they’re really poofy and if you smush them they let out a weird ‘eeughheh’ noise before reinflating #Vitamin Gummy is squishy and slightly opaque like a gummy!!!#they also have a similar texture #Yo-yo is literally a yo-yo #they LOVE to be thrown around and 100% can and will do tricks #Fluff takes them out for walks and they just roll around at high speeds on their little string!!!!#Zooter is based on Zooter from Jungle Junction because I thought it’d be funny #they can go. stupid fast.#commonly found in Dusk Dunes or Frigid Fjords racing the other racers!!!#anyways this is the last batch!!!! I had a TON of fun making these and I hope you liked them all!!!!#if you ever plan to make any more tell me so I can craft them!!!!!!!

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whisperlullaby · 4 years

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Stuffed Full

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (AU)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY), breeding kink, language, adult themes, and a TON of really bad baking puns.

Words: 1162

Summary: Bucky finds his calling after his last tour, baking. It brings him to you and he can’t wait to start a family.

A/N: I cannot believe it is my wonderful cousin @buckyownsmylife’s birthday! This is a fic for her birthday challenge featuring breeding kink. I loved writing this it was SO MUCH FUN. I hope you love this my sweet cousin it is all for you! Please if you are under 18 do not read this fic. Thank you to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog and @river-soul for their beta work I appreciate you so much!

After Bucky got back from his last tour he was lost. Transitioning back to civilian life was harder than he thought and the trauma he endured followed him around like a shadow. Late one night, when the nightmares woke him up, he found himself pacing in the kitchen. Bucky pulled out his phone and started searching for ways to calm down. After passing several articles on meditation and mindfulness, he found a chocolate chip cookie recipe that was ‘perfect for a bad day.’ Pulling out the ingredients he started attentively following the directions. He felt such relief as he cracked the eggs and mixed the flour, creating some sad-looking cookies. After he took out the final batch he physically felt calmer.

He brought them to Steve to try and despite their unappetizing appearance, they were delicious. Bucky knew he had found a way to reintegrate back into civilian life with his baking. He spent months collecting recipes and testing out new ones, getting a little bit better each time he made something. His friend, Sam, even helped him set up an online store where people could order his various creations. That’s how he met you. You had placed an order for a birthday cake. He delivered the cake and when you opened the door his heart stopped. He almost dropped it right on the floor when you reached out to take the box from him, your fingers brushing over his.

“Thanks, nothing says happy birthday like eating an entire cake by yourself with a bottle of wine,” you chuckled humorlessly.

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched together. “You’re spending your birthday alone?”

You looked up at him with sad eyes. “I sure am but I have the best cake in town! Anyway, I’m sorry to keep you. You probably have a lot of deliveries to make.”

“You were actually my last stop.” Bucky took in a deep breath. “If you’re interested, I could take you out for your birthday? Get you some dinner before you eat the cake?”

Your mouth dropped open before it turned into a shy smile. “Um, sure why not. Can you give me a half-hour? I need to change.”

Bucky noticed for the first time that you were wearing pajamas and raked his hand over his face.

“Of course doll, I’ll wait out here.”

All it took was that one date for Bucky to fall head over heels for you. The way you laughed sent fireworks through his body, and all those cheesy jokes you told? He could listen to them for hours, especially if you kept doing that thing with your nose when you told them. Bucky could physically feel his heart skipping a beat each time you looked at him with those beautiful eyes. He spent months wooing you until you finally decided to move in with him. He figured it was because he kept you well supplied in various baked goods, but he knew you loved him just as much as he loved you.

You came home early one day and caught Bucky in the kitchen testing out new recipes. The mixture of smells was enough to make your stomach rumble.

“Hey love, what are you making?”

Bucky turned around and greeted you with a brilliant smile. “Hey doll just trying out a new cinnamon roll recipe, brownies are cooling, and I’m washing some jalapenos for some jalapeno cornbread.”

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s waist. “I’d like to get jalapeno pants.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh, he loved all of your corny jokes. “Sweetheart, are you this cream cheese frosting? Cause you’re on a cinnamon roll!”

You scoffed at the pun. “Bucky, my love, maybe stick to the baked goods and leave the puns to me.”

He turned around and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. “Baby I really knead you right now.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a handful of Bucky’s ass. “I just wanna take a bite out of your sweet buns.”

Bucky chuckled as he bent down to kiss you more passionately this time. Slowly he moved you back until you were pressed against the counter. His hands moved to the hem of your skirt pulling it up until it was bunched at your waist. He broke the kiss to spin you around and press you flat against the counter, the cool marble creating goosebumps on your skin. Bucky kneeled down, pulling your underwear down as he went. He brought his fingers to your clit, working slow circles over the bundle of nerves. Bucky laved his tongue over your core.

“Doll, you’re just like butter, I want you on everything.”

You laughed before Bucky continued his ministrations causing you to moan. “I always did say you were amazing in the kitchen.”

The vibration of Bucky’s low chuckle went straight to your core. He worked two fingers into you hitting your sweet spot with precision. Soon your orgasm washed through you and Bucky rose to pepper kisses on the back of your neck.

“Now sweetheart, let me get my sweet cream inside this creampuff.”

You burst out laughing as Bucky lined himself up. When he pushed in your laughs turned into a wanton moan. He placed a steadying hand in between your shoulders as his other grabbed your hips, setting a bruising pace. You could feel your orgasm building up again as Bucky’s thrusts got sloppier.

“I’m gonna put a bun in this oven,” he grunted. “Keep you full and round. Gonna look so beautiful walking around here growing my baby.”

“Buck, I’m gonna cum, fill me up. Wanna feel you cum inside me,” you mewled.

Your walls were milking Bucky’s cock as you came and after a few deep thrusts, he followed painting your walls with his spend. After a few minutes and sweet kisses he pulled out and helped clean you up.

“So, you want a baby?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and he blushed.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I want a family with you.” He gently ran his fingers across your cheek as you hummed in satisfaction.

You took in a deep breath and crinkled your eyebrows. “Bucky, did you put something in the oven?”

He gave a shy smirk, “Doll I thought that was obvious-”

You cut him off. “No Bucky, something's burning did you forget you put something in the oven?”

His eyes shot open as he ran to the stove and when he opened it puffs of black smoke billowed out. You doubled over laughing as he tossed the whole pan in the sink.

“Well, guess I know that leaving cinnamon rolls in the oven for that long burns them. Good to know.”

You placed a gentle kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “I can’t wait to start a family with you, but maybe we work on your attention to detail.”

Bucky gave a short laugh, “Our kids are gonna have one amazing mom that’s for sure.”

You grinned. “You butter believe it.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #baker!bucky #james barnes x reader #buckyownsmylife #happy birthday

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neo-shitty · 4 years

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checkmate — ot8

description. in which a group of friends played a realistic game of mafia where it was all fun in games until one of them goes missing.

pairings. (though not focused) han jisung x female!reader, bang chan x byun taehee (oc), seo changbin x jeon saeyeon (oc)

genre. mystery, thriller, mafia!au (*wink)

warnings. swearing, usage of weapons, character death/s

word count. 19.3k

notes. i finished writing this fic way back in november but i was torn between chopping this fic into chapters (the way it was written) or posting it the way it appears in my google docs (as one long ass file). i hope you’ll enjoy reading this as much as i had enjoyed conceptualizing it in the shower.

about checkmate. Here are a few things you need to know about this AU before proceeding: Stray Kids and the three other characters (you and the two other OCs) are in one big friend group and are in the same graduating class. And because they’re all from the same batch, I’ve aged down Chan and Lee Know to ‘99. Hence, the ‘99s are Chan, Minho, Changbin and Taehee (OC), the ‘00s are Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and you, and the ‘01s are Jeongin and Saeyeon.

i. night one.

High school had always seemed like a grey area in life. Maybe it was because of the sweet mix of innocence and corruption in the minds of everyone you got to interact with that made it seem like it was neutral. The halls were littered with people with various upbringings and influences of their own. No one was either good or bad yet—there was no way to tell which among you would make it in life or not. Just a bunch of angsty young adults torn between being worried with what the future held and making the most of the present.

In high school, people were bound to make friends that either lasted until graduation or the remainder of their respective lifetimes. There was no way to tell where their lots belonged but sometimes they wished it belonged in the latter. It had only been you and the two other girls until the eight boys took you under their wing in sophomore year—an unspoken rule the boys had with people who sat at the back row along with them.

2 school years and a shit ton of bickering later, you were all inseparable whenever together. God help the teachers that had all 11 of you in the same class together throughout high school. Thankfully, this academic year, it only happened once a week and all you could do was wish your homeroom teacher well.

The crew met at lunch everyday, another unspoken rule that was never decided but followed throughout the entirety of your high school days. It was impressive how two whole lunch tables were vacated the day Hyunjin cracked a height joke to Changbin which sparked a food fight in the middle of junior year. After that day, the whole gang set out to search for a new spot to eat lunch because according to Chan, staying together weighed more than eating conveniently at the cafeteria. Some of the kids disagreed with it but no one ever bothered to be vocal about it.

And this is how you all ended up eating lunch on the bleachers of the school gym for the remaining two years of high school.

Eating in the gym meant that you didn’t have to compete with the voices of the preps from the other table or the lunch lady whose patience had worn thin from the lunch rush. Which also meant that you didn’t have to keep your voices down whenever you played Mafia. The game never failed to be entertaining despite being played for roughly two years now. Anyone in the crew could even say they’d improved their own deducing skills as they cracked down the Mafia more easily with every round played.

All of you except Jisung anyway, who either got voted out of suspicion for being the Mafia or being killed by the Mafia themselves.

So when Lee Minho walks into the gym one day with a tempting offer in hand, Jisung is the first to say yes.

The hoverboard Minho is riding halts right by the bleachers before he picks it up. The other boys stop their game of basketball and gather round. Hoverboard in one hand and flyer in the other, he raises it up for everyone to see.

“What do you guys think?” he asks, watching everyone’s eyes skim over the flyer he’d picked up from the school bulletin board.

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“I think it’s pretty stupid.”

The voices come in unison, creating a rift in the decision of the crew in an instant. A bubble of laughter escapes out of one person's lips and the others follow. Jisung stands up from his seat on the bleachers, eyeing the smirking purple haired boy who was staring right back at him.

When the laughter dies down he finally speaks, “Do you have a problem?”

“What’s the point?” Seungmin answers, “You always lose anyway.”

Laughter fills the empty hall again, echoing off the walls in a seemingly mocking way that makes Jisung ball his fists. Chan purses his lips in annoyance, tracing the creases on his forehead before standing up to stall the fight threatening to happen at any given moment.

You watch as the tension between the two 00’s intensifies. When you catch a glimpse of Chan’s stressed face, you take it upon yourself to reign Jisung down. “Jisung, just sit down please.”

“Oh,” he turns to you, eyes wide in disbelief, “so you’re siding with them too? Fine.”

You wanted to argue but it’d only cause more ruckus. At least, even when he had his back turned to you, Jisung obliged to sit down. You let out a sigh and leave him alone.

Chan jumps down from the bleachers before taking the flyer from Minho, “If it isn’t clear to any of you yet, the flyer offers the most realistic Mafia game ever. All free. We just need to give them our names, show up at the address and we play.”

“Seems sketchy,” Taehee remarks.

“You doubt everything,” Changbin rebuts, to which the girl just shrugs.

Jeongin jumps down from the bleachers, taking the flyer from Chan to read it for himself. He turns to the awaiting crowd before him, “What could go wrong? It was posted on the school bulletin board after all.” Chan points in agreement before turning to see the reactions of the rest of the people there.

“It’s just a game of Mafia,” Felix finally says, “and we’re graduating so we might not get this opportunity again.”

Jisung finally turns around and faces everyone else, “I know right. I feel like this is going to be the best idea ever.”

“Yeah, best idea ever.”

Is the first thing Saeyeon says upon arriving at the designated address. The warehouse looming before you was illuminated by nothing but the lightbulb at the front. There were no streetlights leading up to the alleyway that led to the building and there were no signs indicating where to go.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Hyunjin asks, eyeing the building skeptically. Minho double checks the address on the flyer and his phone before nodding.

Before he could answer, someone else speaks. “Yes, this is the right place.”

Everyone turns to the direction of the voice. Around the corner of the warehouse was a door held open by a woman in a Vendetta mask that matched the one on the flyer. She gestures for the crew to follow and doesn’t bother waiting. There’s a fair exchange of confused expressions before someone leads the rest to follow the woman in.

You fall behind, along with the once enthusiastic Han Jisung. You watch as his eyes scan the surroundings nervously before he finally looks at you.

“I thought you were excited about this?” you tease, making Jisung pout.

“I am,” he answers, “it’s just a bit creepy.”

You got what he meant, feeling your own goosebumps make themselves evident on your skin. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Upon entering the warehouse, you were asked to sign your names in a log book. You eyed the staff by the entrance, analyzing the details of the worn out mask she was wearing. It catches you off guard when a metal bracelet is snapped unto your wrist.

“What’s this for?” you asked, feeling the weight of the metal band on your arm.

“It’s a part of the game,” another staff member answers. “Shall we?”

You are then led through a maze of crates. The warehouse was just like any other. Everywhere you looked, there were piled wooden cargo boxes and miscellaneous objects you’d normally find in storage places. Overhead, there were dangling lamps but they were all left off. Save for the one in the middle of the room.

In the middle of the room stood a wide round table. Half of the crew were already seated, chatting about how cool the venue seemed. You thought it was overrated, but you had to admit it made the whole game more thrilling.

Once everyone was seated, the organizers took their leave, leaving the eleven of you alone in the warehouse with nothing but the table and the dangling light overhead to accompany you.

“Welcome to Mafia 2020.”

The voice catches everyone off guard and the whole room falls silent in anticipation. The voice comes from the speakers, loud enough to echo the warehouse but not loud enough to cause a disturbance in the vicinity.

“For every night following the start of the game, you’re given one hour to deliberate who you think the Mafia may be. You are given the option to skip a night or vote someone suspicious out. Upon making your decision, you are asked to speak into the intercom the name of the person you wish to vote out. If you have any inquiries, you are welcome to speak into the intercom and we’ll respond as soon as we can. Before you leave the premises, you are required to write a name on the signature pad by the booth near the main exit. The member whose name is written by the Mafia will be eliminated and will no longer be allowed to attend the warehouse meetings. If one’s name is written by the Police, they will be investigated and their role in the game will be revealed. If written by the Doctor, they will be saved.”

“Just like the usual,” Changbin says and the others nod in agreement.

“The only rule we have is that you are not allowed to say the name of the person you wrote down. We will be monitoring you closely. Your one hour begins now.”

“Wait, the game already started?” Jeongin asks, eyes-wide just like everyone else’s. “But they haven’t given us our roles yet.”

The voice comes again, for the last time that night, “That’s for all of you to figure out as the game progresses. Good luck and have fun.”

And the line goes dead. The questions they uttered to the microphones mounted on the round table remained unresponded.

“Now what?” Felix inquires and Saeyeon just shrugs beside him.

Rational as he always is, Chan is the first to respond, “We could always skip the night.”

“Or we could vote Jisung off like we always do,” Seungmin answers from across the room, with a cheeky smile plastered on his lips. He earns the laughs from the others in the room.

Jisung’s chair rattles as he stands, “Why do you always pick on me, huh?”

“Your misfortune is my happiness.”

“Alright, everyone. It’s decided then. We’re voting Seungmin off,” Hyunjin stands from his seat, walking towards the main exit as if he were to cast his vote already and Seungmin runs off to catch up to him.

Laughter and applause erupts from the crew again with Jisung basking at the way the tables have turned so quickly. You could only laugh at how chaotic the ‘00s were.

Seungmin drags Hyunjin back to the center table in a tight grip but the latter still insisted, “I’m not kidding, we’re voting him off tonight.”

“Or we could always skip the night,” Jeongin says in agreement with the eldest.

“Yeah,” Taehee agrees, “we can skip the night and write Seungmin’s name on the pad and hope the Mafia gets him.”

“I like the way you’re thinking,” Changbin agrees, tipping the ‘99s scale of rationality in favor of being mischievous rather than mature for tonight. Minho spots the disappointment etched on Chan’s face but tries not to let his conscience waver. Jisung could not stop applauding at how he regained the upper hand without much effort.

Saeyeon speaks up to draw attention back to the game, seeing as the others have started getting distracted, “I agree with Chan, though. We can skip the night since nothing’s happened yet. No one’s suspicious yet and since we don’t know what roles we play either, there’s not much to work with.”

“Unless the Mafia makes a move, anyway,” Felix backs her up and the others nod in agreement.

“Right. So let’s drag this game out as long as we can. It’s not everyday we get to play real-time Mafia,” Minho says and it concludes tonight’s meeting.

Like earlier, you and Jisung are the last to exit the building. The others have gone ahead to the main street.

“So their element of ‘realistic’ is playing the game in real time?” Jisung asks, kicking an empty tin can lying on the walkway back to a pile of trash bags.

“Most probably,” you answer, just as unsure with what to expect from the game as Jisung was.

“What happens when people are voted out or killed by the Mafia?”

You eye someone in the crew. Something in the back of your mind tells you that unlike the rest of the players, the Mafia was told of their role, making the game a monopoly. But it was way too early to speculate anything, so you only shrug at Jisung’s question before you go separate ways.

ii. night two.

With the game on-going, you thought you might as well live together. At school the next day, you’ve talked of nothing but the possible Mafia. Only this time, it was a lot harder to figure out with the Mafia not knowing who they were themselves. Lunch was filled with baseless accusations thrown from one person to another that would end in fits of laughter. You had long stopped trying to mediate the quarrels of the ‘00 boys, knowing well there was no point in doing so when they’d get back to bickering in no time.

As much as you tried to dismiss the game throughout the day, your mind wouldn’t stop bugging you—paying attention to any possible move the Mafia could make. You’d thought of every person in the crew as a potential one, but no one acted any different than they would on other days. But you couldn’t help keep a watchful eye. Even more so now that you were all together for more hours than the usual.

Not only were you together for lunch but you spent after school together too—eating an early dinner at a local barbecue before heading to the warehouse after sundown. This time, you walked with the other girls, letting the boys fall behind them.

“Any guesses on who the Mafia may be? I have one, but I’m not quite sure yet,” you inquired to the two girls on either side of you.

“I really think it’s Seungmin,” Taehee answers with a serious look on her face, made clear by the single lightbulb as you passed the front of the warehouse.

Saeyeon elbows her side, “Is that why you wanted to eliminate him first thing yesterday?”

“‘Dunno, actually. Just instinct,” the other girl says, tapping her temple with a finger before wrenching the warehouse door open.

“I don’t think Seungmin is the Mafia this time, but I think it’s one of the boys too,” you say before slipping into the warehouse after the two of them.

Like the night before, the warehouse was dimly lit, with only the light over the table left on. None of the staff were around this time, but the equipment set up around made it feel like they were. Cameras at the corner posts followed you as you crossed the room, focusing at the center table as everyone took their respective places. The speakers were silent until you were all settled in.

“Good evening, players,” the same voice as yesterday booms through the speakers, hushing all of your conversations in an instant. “On the first night, both Mafias have written the same name.”

“Probably Seungmin’s,” you heard Felix mumble beneath his breath.

Jisung eyes Seungmin, “But he’s still here.”

“However,” the voice continued, “the Doctor has also written the same name, therefore saving that person’s life from the two Mafias.”

The room is a mix of astonished expressions and poker faces. You were one of the latter, seeing it as a predictable outcome of yesterday’s meeting.

“The Police, on the other hand, have uncovered a Mafia and a Citizen. With that, your one hour begins now. Good luck.”

“So, there are two Mafias?” Jeongin stated, arms crossed on top of each other on the round table.

Changbin straightened his stance, “Just like the usual, I tell you.”

“I think it’s safe to assume that both Mafias wrote Seungmin’s name down,” Hyunjin announced, “along with the doctor.”

“Mafia, ‘Eliminate Seungmin’ challenge: failed,” Jisung says, snapping his fingers in disappointment. Seungmin sticks his tongue out at Jisung childishly before smiling to himself, having survived the first night of the game.

Chan taps the microphone before him, pressing the button by the stand before proceeding to speak into it, “Are we allowed to ask who didn’t write Seungmin’s name without getting disqualified?” Shortly after, a ‘No’ comes through the speakers. “Alright then. If you didn’t write ‘Minnie’s name, there’s a possibility you may be one of the Police.”

“You seem so worked up on this, Chan,” Minho asked, eyeing the eldest almost skeptically. “You didn’t write Seungmin’s name did you?”

The overhead light powers down for a split second before gleaming in a bright red color that coats everyone in a scarlet filter, “I think I can’t answer that.”

“Are you assuming that you might be one of the Police?” you asked, shifting your gaze from the table to the eldest across you.

“Maybe,” Chan answered, “The possibility is there since the Mafias wrote Seungmin down. I’m giving Seungmin the benefit of the doubt that he may not be the Mafia, because why would anyone write their own name down in a game that’s unsure as this? Also, Seungmin can’t be both the Mafia and the Citizen at the same time. And those who haven’t written his name, could be one of the Police themselves.”

“And if the Mafias targets you next?” Taehee asks, a brow raised at the man sitting beside her.

“I’m assuming the Mafias don’t know they’re the Mafia yet, so I’d like not to think about it.”

Jeongin tinkers with the microphone on top of his side of the table, something he usually did when he was deep in thought, “The possibility of Seungmin being a Mafia is still there though. If one of the Police wrote his name down, we still aren’t sure whether he was the Citizen or the Mafia.”

Seungmin frowns but it makes him think too. This time, he isn’t thinking of himself as entirely innocent with the situation at hand. Come to think of it, above everyone in the room, the possibility of him being a Mafia was higher than everybody else.

“What if Seungmin’s the Mafia and he wrote himself?” Felix suggested, narrowing his eyes on Seungmin jokingly.

Hyunjin did the same, “Sus.”

“This is impossible,” Changbin leaned back on his seat in exasperation, “The first people to figure out their roles are the Mafias themselves. And if these two are smart enough they could vote out two people every night and win immediately.”

“If the Police are smart enough, they could figure out that they’re the Police themselves too,” Saeyeon answered, tapping a pen on the table to a rhythm to keep herself from overthinking the game too much.

Minutes of debating possibilities only made everyone even more confused than you initially were. Suspicions towards other people in the group have arised and have been shut down—both on baseless accounts because they could only draw so many conclusions with the information revealed earlier.

“Okay,” Minho raised his voice enough to shut everyone’s arguing. “Fine, since you all don’t want to skip votes tonight. But I am telling you, we don’t have enough evidence to prove anything right or wrong at this point.”

“So when are we going to start guessing for potential Mafias, smartass?” you rebutted. “When there are 5 players left?”

The room falls silent as the tension grows more intense with every second you spent on the argument.

“This game is harder than we think, remember that. And as Jeongin said, the Mafias would be the first to figure out who they are. If they realize it, it’s over and they win,” Saeyeon said, trying to keep her sassy tone at bay despite the bottled up frustration built up by the exchanges from early on.

“And what do we say to that?” Chan asked, voice stern and laced with annoyance.

“Mafias never win.” Everyone says in unison. It’s something you’ve proved time and time again with every game you all played together.. Every time, the Mafia would only come close to winning and every time, they never succeed.

“Then that settles it. Who’s the most suspicious among us?” Felix inquires.

Taehee points from across the room, “Seungmin, duh. The possibility of him being the Mafia is slightly larger than everyone else’s.”

“Or I could be a Citizen,” Seungmin answered, trying his best to defend himself. “You’ve been picking on me since yesterday, it’s unfair.” This time, he’s at the receiving end of the mocking tongue out.

“Deserve,” Jisung remarked, earning a few snickers from those close to him.

“Alright,” Chan held his thumb up, taking it upon himself to be the moderator of the game. “We’ll vote out Seungmin in 3, 2, 1.”

Though not everyone’s thumb is facing down, the majority of them are, resulting to Seungmin’s eviction from the game. And no one is more glad to see the man leave than Han Jisung who, for the first time in a while, isn’t the first to be eliminated from the game.

“Seungmin out the building!” Jisung teased as the other boy walked past him on the way out. He flinches when Seungmin comes back, arm-raised and ready to hit him. But Seungmin doesn’t push through with the playful hit and instead finds his way out. He turns back one last time, pouting at everyone who just bid him farewell.

When the warehouse door shuts close again everyone turns their attention back to the center table.

“God, it’s the first time I haven’t been eliminated early. I don’t know how to play beyond this,” Jisung says, slumping down on the chair he was sitting on.

Changbin clicked his tongue, “Yeah, we should’ve voted you out instead.”

“2 Mafias remain. Your one hour is nearly over. Please cast your votes now and leave the premises immediately. Good night, players. ”

The voice goes as quickly as it came, stopping everyone in mid-conversation.

“What?” Hyunjin asks confusedly.

“Told you so,” Minho says to you before kicking himself off his seat and heading toward the main exit. You don’t bother acknowledging him.

You all slowly file out of the building watching the remaining light shut off as Chan shuts the warehouse door behind everyone. He lets everyone walk ahead but Taehee stays behind to wait for him.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she asks, catching the faint outline of Chan’s furrowed brows in the dark.

Chan sighs, “Maybe I was right that he was the citizen.”

“Or maybe he was the Doctor and wrote himself down to save himself.”

“That’s possible too. But he wasn’t the Mafia, unlike what someone kept on insisting earlier.”

Taehee halts and turns to look behind her. There, the dimpled boy stood still in the middle of the dark alleyway—hands tucked in his pockets, catching the girl’s irritated glare with a nonchalant expression.

“Okay.”

“I’m kidding!” Chan catches up to her, draping his arm over her shoulder before giving her a squeeze as they made their way out the alleyway.

The others wait for them by the main street. Chan does a headcount of everyone right as they met on the sidewalk, only to notice that someone was still missing.

He looks around, “Where’s Seungmin?”

The purple-haired boy was nowhere to be seen.

iii. night three.

Jeongin could only shrug when his call was once again left unanswered. He shoves his phone back into his back pocket before staring up at the house before them. Saeyeon figured it would be rude to just barge into the Kim's residence without giving them a heads up. But with their calls left on voicemail and their friend disappearing without a trace the night before, the pair didn’t have much of a choice.

Jeongin climbs up the fence of the residence to open the gate up for Saeyeon who waited by the entrance. Unlike most days when they’d pass by, the house was awfully silent and completely devoid of any ruckus that would normally be present. They walk up to the front porch. Their footsteps would have alerted anyone in the house by now but there’s still nothing but silence. Jeongin reaches out to knock on the wooden door. When it’s still left unanswered, he turns the door knob slowly only for it to click locked.

“They might’ve left for a trip again or something,” Jeongin concluded.

“Without notice?”

“Don’t they do that all the time to visit his older sister?”

They don’t, Saeyeon thought but at the time, they couldn’t conjure any other logical explanation behind Seungmin’s sudden disappearance. They get back on the road and continue walking to their high school instead.

Today, the walk is quiet. And though Jeongin attempted to make small talk, their conversation would fall back into dead ends. He figured they were both bothered by the same thought but no one dares to speak about it further. As much as Saeyeon used to wish that Seungmin would just vanish for once because he wouldn’t stop cracking jokes all the way to the school, in the silence she finds herself missing his antics. Jeongin wasn’t any different, just quietly sipping on his tetra pack with eyes glinting at every interesting thing that passes them by, but not bothering to say a word.

“Only the two of you?” Changbin says almost bitterly when they run into each other by the school entrance.

“Yeah, just us,” Saeyeon answers, lips pursing into a smile when she catches Changbin’s eye.

“Weird,” the boy says, “but maybe he’ll show up at lunch?”

He doesn’t and that’s the first time in a while that not all eleven of them showed up at the school gym. Unlike the other day where they were boisterously accusing one another, today they were quiet enough that a pin drop could be heard throughout the entire gymnasium. A bento box prepared by Felix sat in Seungmin’s place on the empty bleacher chair where he usually sat and no one dared to take it away. Saeyeon notices the expectant gazes they all would cast at the gym’s entrance throughout the whole hour.

But the break passes and they take their leave and Seungmin was still a no show.

“I’ll call you after class and we’ll go to the warehouse together, okay?” Jeongin says and Saeyeon only nods in response. “Ya, don’t think about it too much. I’m sure Seungmin is fine. Maybe it’s just a part of the game like Hyunjin said. See you later?” Jeongin ruffled her hair before leaving her at the gym’s front steps.

Later never comes.

It was getting late and it was nearly sundown, which meant they needed to meet at the warehouse soon. Saeyeon checks the time, he should’ve been done by now. The campus was nearly empty with only a few students passing by every now and then—all of which making their way to the exit.

“Just you, this time?” Changbin asks when she sees her sitting alone by the waiting area.

Saeyeon turned to the direction of the voice. The invoice playing through her phone speaker was still telling her that the number she dialled was unattended. She gives up on trying to call, smiling back sadly at the guy before her.

“Jeongin stood you up?” the boy asked.

“I think so,” she answered, trying to hide the disappointment in her tone.

Changbin sighs, “I haven’t seen Chan or the others the whole afternoon either. This Wednesday’s been kind of weird.” There’s a small pause before he continued, “Let’s get something to eat and head to the warehouse together? Sounds good?”

Saeyeon’s eyes glint at the suggestion, staring up at Changbin who was already munching on something, “But you’re already eating.”

“But you aren’t,” he answered, grabbing the girl’s outstretched hand that was pointing at the sandwich he was eating. “Let’s go.”

Surely, they’ve been around each other for the past few years because they were in the same friend group but there was still a tinge of awkwardness whenever they were left alone together. There had always been clear, but unspoken, divisions within the group and the awkward silence between them at the moment was living evidence of it.

“Thank you,” Saeyeon whispers, bowing her head slightly before proceeding to eat.

Thankfully, the whole meal isn’t spent in silence. Somewhere along the way, Changbin started talking about his suspicions. He pinpoints faults in their friends’ actions, noticing how some of them were more unnerved than others after Seungmin’s disappearance. Some of these, Saeyeon looked over earlier. As the sun sets slowly at the west and the sky starts to darken overhead, they set out and head for the warehouse.

The 00s are gathered outside of the perimeter fence, listening closely to whatever Hyunjin had to say—probably another theory as to who the Mafia might be. The others make space for the duo that had just arrived; an odd pairing, they think, but they let them off with only a few teases.

“Jeongin isn’t with you today?” Felix asks Saeyeon. To which she only shook her head. “Then I guess he’s with the 99s?”

But the 99s arrive and Jeongin isn’t there either. Taehee had a phone pressed up against her ear while Minho kept his eyes trained on the ground. Seconds pass and the girl shakes her head, tapping her phone a few times before pressing it to her ear again impatiently. Chan wasn’t with them too and it’s what makes everyone more baffled. Changbin specifically.

“Where have you been?” He asks, standing faster than the others when he sees the pair come into the alleyway, looking both pissed and worn out.

“No, where have you been?” Minho raised his voice back, “We’ve been looking all over for Chan. Bastard isn’t answering any of our calls.”

Saeyeon takes her place beside Changbin, eyeing the duo as they stopped at the front of the warehouse. “Jeongin isn’t answering his phone either. I thought he was out with you.” The pair shake their heads, the aura of the group shifting with their mood.

“Now that’s just fucking weird,” Felix says upon overhearing the conversation.

“No kidding,” you added, a hint of worry in your tone.

Everybody turns when the warehouse door is pried open by a staff member. “Everyone’s already here,” the staff says in a statement-like manner rather than a question. “You may proceed inside.”

“No, we’re still missing 3 people.” Hyunjin said, doing the headcount in Chan’s place as the tallest person around. “2 if we aren’t including Seungmin anymore.”

The staff member only turns to the group’s direction, whispering the word precisely before disappearing into the warehouse.

Today, the chairs around the table are a lot more spaced out. When everybody files in and fills every seat available, they finally notice the number of seats have been reduced. Not only by one, but by three. The same greeting comes through the speakers but there weren’t any conversations to hush this time around.

“On the second night, both Bang Chan and Yang Jeongin were killed off by the Mafias. The Doctor, unfortunately, saved the life of an unharmed citizen. The Police have uncovered a fellow Officer and a Citizen. With that, your one hour begins now. Good luck.”

“If you wrote either Chan or Jeongin, you’re a Mafia. Confirmed,” Hyunjin announced once the voice stopped speaking.

Saeyeon tried finding the blinking cameras around the warehouse, “So if the Mafias wrote two different names, two people are eliminated from the game?”

“I think so,” you answered.

“It’s really realistic, isn’t it?” Changbin spoke, breaking the silence at the 99s part of the table. “We can’t contact them at all when they’re out of the game.”

“I think that’ll go on for the rest of the game,” Minho adds.

“What if,” Felix says in a deeper tone, “it isn’t only for the duration of the game, but they’re actually killed for real?”

Hyunjin eyed him, “You’re scaring yourself, idiot.”

“Hey, goosebumps,” Jisung commented, rubbing his arms, “What if that’s what’s happening?”

You turned to the wide-eyed boy beside you, “You’ve got to be kidding me right now?”

A metal chair rattles when Taehee pushes herself up to get to the microphone in front of her. “Where do the eliminated slash voted out people disappear off to?” she said into the mic, but she gets nothing but static feedback. “Nothing?”

“Got any texts from Chan?” you asked her.

The girl only shook her head, “The minute he replies, I’m breaking up with him.”

“Can’t break up with him if you aren’t even together,” Jisung answered from across the room, earning a glare from the girl to which he just dismisses with two raised fingers as a white flag. “How about you,” he turned to Saeyeon, “heard anything from Jeongin yet?” Again, the response is the same.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes on the speakers, “What if the Mafias already know each other and they’re discussing who to get rid of next?”

Changbin let out a frustrated groan. “I can’t stand this. I feel like we’re losing to the Mafias. That’s never supposed to happen.”

“I still think the Police are pointless because they don’t even know they’re the Police,” Minho commented, “don’t know which person’s role is which, and don’t even know each other.”

“For real though,” Hyunjin cut the other off, “I think the Mafias know they’re Mafias by now,” Hyunjin continued, voicing out the hunch he’d been keeping to himself. Watchful eyes turned to him and he tried to pinpoint which among them seemed more nervous than the rest but he couldn’t.

“Why?” Saeyeon asked.

“Because the people going missing match the people they’re writing. By tomorrow, they’ll be sure as to who they are. The day Seungmin was voted was confusing, today’s results could seem like a coincidence, but by tomorrow they’ll be entirely sure.”

You leaned your head back, struggling to process the information handed to you, “It’s so complicated it’s making my head ache.”

“Blame it on Minho for dragging us into this,” Jisung said.

“You all agreed to it?” Minho countered defensively.

Changbin looked at him from two chairs away, “And when we find out that you set us up and you’re one of the Mafia?”

Minho stared back confusedly, “Why me?”

“You’re usually quiet,” Hyunjin says.

“I always am.”

“Exactly, but you’re so noisy today.” Felix backed them up. A few glares are exchanged among them but an argument doesn’t ensue.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “On the other hand, someone else had been a lot more quiet today than on most days,” he adds to his hunch. It was a bold move to be daring enough to be vocal of suspicions especially when the Mafia had the upper hand.

The room fell silent.

“Who?” you asked curiously.

“They know who they are,” Hyunjin answered. “If I’m eliminated tomorrow then my hunch is right.”

“Then tell us who it is then?” Minho asked, impatience evident in his tone.

The other boy shook his head, “I can’t.”

“You don’t know anything, do you?” Saeyeon asks, glaring at the blonde from where she sat.

All eyes trained on Hyunjin, everyone’s at the edge of their seats. For a second, it seemed as if the Mafias were on the brink of being uncovered. But Hyunjin’s serious face falters and he breaks into fits of laughter.

Felix groaned, “I hate you.”

“God, I miss Chan already,” Changbin says to the 99s beside him. “Stop me, I want to strangle someone.”

“You know neither of us would stop you, right? Go ahead,” Taehee answered, pointing her hand at Hyunjin’s general direction.

They pass the hour with senseless conversations, no longer bothering to figure out who the Mafias are because they’re still left with dead ends. It was hard to be in their group. Everyone was competitive when it came to the game, maybe it was the reason why the Mafias were so hard to pinpoint. Maybe the others were right, maybe the Mafias already knew who they were. Or maybe they didn’t.

“So who are we eliminating this time?” Jisung asks everyone after they were warned that they had 5 minutes left for the meeting.

“I think I’ll pass,” you say, slumping into your seat, frowning at another unproductive meeting—the thought of losing to the Mafia weighing on you. “This is stressing me out.”

“Are we trying to drag this out as long as we can?” Minho asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Felix turned to him with furrowed brows, “Why do you enjoy dragging this game out? It’s tiring.”

“Yeah, Minho?” Jisung narrowed his eyes, “Why?”

Minho only stares back at them, a smirk still playing at the corner of his lips but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s the first to stand and cast his vote at the booth.

“Sus,” Hyunjin whispered after discussing his suspicions with Jisung by the booth.

“Sus indeed.” Jisung repeats before he heads inside the booth to cast his vote.

There, he sees that his hand is still shaking and he tried his best to keep it still as he wrote a name down. He wishes the blonde didn’t notice.

iv. night four.

Nothing changes in the world beyond the game, which was off considering there were three vacant seats in the back row during Homeroom and nobody seemed to notice. There were no missing case files for Seungmin, even when it’s been over 24 hours since he disappeared. Chan’s and Jeongin’s apartment were yet to be checked but there was little to no hope they’d be there too.

No one seemed to care about their disappearances. Nobody except the people within your circle anyway.

Jisung tore his eyes away from the window and scanned the back row. The 3 vacant seats rendered the classroom silent. Besides their adviser discussing graduation matters up front, it was all silent. The usual white noise of hushed chitchats from the back was missing.

He watched as everyone moved in a calculated manner, startled by the smallest things and seemingly on edge throughout the entire period. Everyone observed one another with sharp eyes, as if they didn’t trust anyone else in the group but themselves. Or maybe it’s how it seemed to him.

You and the girls didn’t join them for lunch today and it ticked Jisung off. He never liked the idea of change and he despised it even more now with three of his friends vanishing in a span of two days and the thinning trust towards you had with one another. Though he tried to convince himself that it was all a part of the game, something in the back of his mind told him it wasn’t.

Above else, he thought it was all his fault.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin asked when the boy stopped in the middle of the hallway. Jisung only looked back at him apologetically before turning on his heel and heading to the other direction—away from the gym and hopefully, away from everything. He was thankful the boys didn't bother following him.

He stumbled into the quadrangle but even the open space wasn’t relieving to him anymore unlike it used to. Being outside the campus wasn’t any different either. The suffocating feeling, it’s just there, like someone had a hand wrapped around his neck throughout the entire day.

He didn’t return to school in the afternoon.

Instead, he headed downtown to the place that could possibly silence all his thoughts and convince himself that he had nothing to worry about. It wasn’t me, it was just a coincidence, he told himself but he found it so hard to believe. Not with the weight of his conscience and the piling evidence on his shoulder. The apartment was his last hope.

He punched the four digits that made up the door’s code. It beeps open but the apartment isn’t empty when he enters.

Two heads turn as soon as he walked in. “Jisung’s here,” Saeyeon says once she catches sight of the boy.

You find his eyes staring back at you and as if on cue, you put back the disk you were holding and walk over. “Didn’t think you’d follow us here but here you are.”

“I didn’t,” Jisung whispered, “I just wanted to check—”

Jisung doesn’t get to finish his sentence. “If Chan and Jeongin are really gone?” Taehee asked, walking into the central room of the apartment after rummaging through Chan’s room. “They are. But everything else is here.”

Jisung nodded at the confirmation, right as the last of his hope fizzled into nothing.

You noticed the blank look on the boy’s face, which was unusual considering he always had a positive outlook on things. Today, he looked numb and lifeless. “Hey, what’s bothering you?” you asked, grabbing Jisung’s arm when he attempted to turn and leave. “You want to go somewhere?”

The boy only mustered a nod in response. You turned back to the girls, mumbling a quick goodbye before leading Jisung out of the apartment. The hallway was empty when you exited the room but you waited until you’re in the elevator before you started talking.

“What really brought you here, Jisung?” you asked, less concerned and more inquisitive—suspicious.

Jisung frowned, feeling the distrust through your tone, “As I said I just wanted to check if they were really gone. I didn’t believe Jeongin when he said Seungmin was gone without a trace. Now he’s gone too.”

You turned to face him, “Why are you beating yourself up about it?”

He sighed, “Because I was excited for this and now my friends are going missing one by one. When everything turns back to normal, I think I don’t even want to play this game again.”

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes instead of the elevator floor. He blinked, eyes glossy and threatening to spill tears at any given moment. “If anyone should be beating themselves up for this, it should be Minho and not you. This was a collective decision. We all basically signed up for this and got exactly what we asked for.” Then, you slowly drew back your hands, “But I think you have something else in mind.”

Jisung stared at your retreating hands and then at the expression on your face.

“Perhaps,” you whispered, right as the elevator dings to let you know you’ve reached the ground floor, “you’re thinking you’re the Mafia?”

The sky darkened outside as seen from the window of Chan’s apartment. After a homemade dinner they managed to make out of the contents of Chan’s cupboards, all four of them headed to the warehouse together and found the others already waiting for them by the entrance. Changbin stood by the warehouse door, counting the members as they walked past him. He made it to 6 when he realized that yet another one had gone missing.

“You’re the last one?” Changbin asked and Jisung only nodded apologetically. “That means 7 left. This game’s going fast.”

For the first time since the game started, the center table has been replaced today. It was less wide compared to the previous one and resembled a dining table. Only 7 chairs remained today. The warehouse seemed more spacious with the narrowed table and Jisung couldn’t help but wonder what the place looked like when it was illuminated in the morning. Because at night it felt haunted and it sends a chill up his spine.

“Greetings, players,” the speakers blared. “It has come to our attention that the Mafia have killed off two players last night. First person to be eliminated is Hwang Hyunjin. However, the second person is safe. The second player, who also happened to be the game’s Doctor, saved themselves.”

“Now that Doctor is just amazing. First, they save Seungmin and now they save themselves from the Mafia?” Felix said with his jaw still left hanging from the announcement.

“On the other hand,” the voice continued, “one Police wrote their fellow Police and the other investigated a Citizen. Your one hour begins now.”

Minho crossed his arms over his chest, “Why would someone write themselves down?”

“To find out what role they’re playing perhaps?” Changbin answered. “If they wrote themselves and nothing happened, they’re just a Citizen. If it’s announced that a Police was discovered, or a Doctor healed themselves then it’s immediately them. Or, at least, the possibility is there. What a clever strategy.”

“And if you’re a Mafia?” Taehee asked.

“Then you end up killing yourself.”

“Isn’t it creepy though?” Felix uttered, straightening himself before leaning against the table. “How Hyunjin just said, I mean I’m not sure if he really was just kidding or not, that he knew something about the Mafia and then disappeared the next day. I think he really knew something and the Mafia or Mafias,” he emphasized, “silenced him.”

Saeyeon pursed her lips, “Sounds like real life to me.”

“We got so much more than we asked for with this game,” you commented. “It’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Taehee agreed, “so much more stress.”

Jisung played with his fingers before raising his hand up, “Question. Who among us already voted for themselves?”

Surprisingly, the overhead light doesn’t turn red at the question and two other hands are raised in reply to his query—Saeyeon’s and yours.

Taehee raised an eyebrow, “Great. Now, I feel dumb for not thinking of the same strategy.”

“So, one Mafia wrote Hyunjin and the other wrote either of these two,” Minho said, pointing at the two girls adjacent to him. “Who among you wrote their name last night?” But before anyone could answer, the light flickered red, “Well shit, we can’t ask that. Whoever you are, you’re the doctor.”

Saeyeon scooted over and asked into the microphone, “May we ask what the remaining roles are? Like how many Police are left?” But the answer to her question never comes.

“We can always take our chances and vote one person out and find out how many Mafias remain,” Changbin suggested.

“We can’t risk it,” Taehee countered, “There’s 7 of us left.”

You tapped your fingers on the table, “If we make a mistake and eliminate someone who isn’t a Mafia, the Mafias finish the game in 2 days time. I’m sure they already know who they are by now.” Your eyes wandered to a person in the room but your gaze doesn’t linger, careful to not get caught.

“What if this whole thing is a prank and the Mafias have already been eliminated and they’re just playing games with us?” Felix asked, pointing at the cameras. The idea made some of the people in the room chuckle and shake their heads while the others were unamused.

A frail silence fills the room shortly, right before Jisung speaks again. “We,” he stuttered, “we aren’t eliminating anyone tonight?”

Everyone exchanges skeptical gazes—each look lacking genuinity. They all have narrowed eyes at one another, untrusting and watchful. “God,” Taehee groaned, “I can’t even trust anyone anymore.”

The staring contest is broken when Changbin spoke, “I have a feeling one of the Mafias is certain as to who he is. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Hyunjin said that someone’s more quiet than usual.”

“Who?” Saeyeon asked.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how quiet he has been lately?” Changbin answered, forefinger pointing at the person directly across him—Jisung.

The room fell silent at the first real accusation of the game. It was something they always anticipated whenever they played. Knowing something and being vocal about it made you more susceptible to the Mafia. It was a risky move, knowing well that if they weren’t right, the Mafia could target them next for being capable of putting two and two together.

But he was Seo Changbin, the most observant of the eleven and it wasn’t the first time he was bold at exposing who the Mafia was.

“What if we eliminate Jisung?” Taehee suggested, finally seeing the Mafia flags in Jisung’s movements when Changbin mentioned it. Her hunch is further solidified when Jisung flinches instead of answering back like he normally does.

“He doesn’t seem like a Mafia.” The voice comes from you and they all turn to look at you, brows raised in disbelief.

Minho shook his head, “Wow, I’m having flashbacks.”

Taehee sat on the edge of her seat, “Remember that time you saw him vent while we played Among Us and you still didn’t tell us shit?”

The seriousness of the atmosphere shatters when you’re reminded of the memory. A laugh bubbles from Jisung’s lips which causes everyone else to erupt in laughter, leaving you with red-stained cheeks and resurfaced embarrassment.

Changbin is the last to stop laughing, “Love really is blind.”

You faltered when you first tried to speak again, a laugh escaping your mouth and sending everyone into a second wave of laughter. You thought it was the first time you had heard them laugh genuinely in the past few days. “The evidence,” you finally managed to say without giggling, “isn’t enough though.”

Minho raises both his arms in exasperation. “Okay, so now, you’re saying that?”

Wasting no more time, Taehee presses down on the microphone too hard when she finally says, “We wish to vote out Han Jisung.”

Jisung sighed, “You all pick on me too much.”

“It’s for our own safety,” Felix answered, hand-outstretched and ready to cast his vote.

Saeyeon took it upon herself to lead the votation, “Vote out Jisung in 3, 2, 1.”

And by the Mafia Lord’s grace, the votes are split exactly in two. The 99’s all had their thumbs down, while Saeyeon, Lia and Felix didn’t.

“Han Jisung is safe,” a voice announced through the speakers and Jisung shot out of his seat in triumph.

“The fuck, you two?” Minho asked, eyes-wide and furious.

“______ was right,” Saeyeon dismissed, “evidence isn’t enough.”

“And if Changbin’s gone tomorrow?” Taehee asked.

Changbin narrowed his eyes, remembering that you and Saeyeon—who both voted for Jisung’s stay—have all skipped lunch and arrived together with the suspected Mafia at the warehouse today.

The three others only shrugged. Han Jisung smirked, glaring at the 99s before he says, “I won’t let you forget this.”

v. night five.

The uncertainty of being the Mafia follows him into his dreams.

He was sitting on the bleachers opposite to the group. All ten people across him were smiling, something he hasn’t seen them do for a while now. Someone had cracked a joke that left everyone holding back their laughter. For the first few moments, it was as if they didn't notice he was there at all until Seungmin turned in his direction. The mop of purple hair smiled and he couldn’t help but do the same. The boy raised a hand and waved him to come over.

He nodded, getting up on his feet before hopping his way down the bleachers. He nearly misses a step when he hears a voice speak—loud and clear in his mind, “Who did you write down?”

He froze on his tracks. The next time he glimpsed at the group in front of him, there were only six people left. The group’s laughter had died down into hushed whispers and their faces were devoid of the emotions they had earlier. All six people were hunched over together but were never really present. Their eyes stared at empty spaces in the gymnasium and their minds seemed to wander further.

The voice asked the same question again, the same way it did before.

He shifts his view and he finds that he was no longer at the school gym. Instead, he’s back at the alleyway leading up to the warehouse. The owner of the voice catches up—his blonde hair being the only thing visible in the darkness of the alleyway. For the third time that night, Hyunjin repeats the same question.

The other boy doesn’t say anything. In fact, he couldn’t say anything at all. Not when he felt the tingle of the metal bracelet against his wrist. Not when he saw someone in the back, pressing their forefinger over the lips of their Vendetta mask. Not when the name he’d written was the name of the boy who asked him the question. Not when the same boy disappeared the next day, the same way the other people he wrote down did.

Jisung woke up with a start. He could still hear Hyunjin’s voice in his head, asking him the same question over and over again. His heart thumps rapidly in his ribcage and his breathing was heavy. He shakes his head, willing himself to calm down. He recalls the conversation he had with you the day before.

“Perhaps, you’re thinking you’re the Mafia?”

For a moment, Jisung freezes right as the elevator opens. The bracelet on his wrist warms as he grows nervous. The both of you are forced into the busy lobby of the apartment complex. Everyone else seemed to mind their own business but Jisung couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that someone was still watching you. He eyes a recently vacated couch and leads the way there. Your eyes automatically scanned the surroundings, like how you’ve accustomed to whenever they started talking about the game.

Jisung sighs but right as he was about to reply, you opened your mouth to speak, “I’m here to tell you that you aren’t. Or at least that’s what I think.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Jisung turn in your direction. For a moment, you hesitate looking back at him but you end up doing so anyway. In his eyes, you could see the fear he hadn’t been doing such a good job in hiding. His eyes were glossy with tears threatening to slip but they don’t. Then he blinked and his eyes seemed more confused now than the former.

“Look,” you started, “I know this is hard to understand but I think I know what role I’m playing in the game and if I’m right, then you aren’t the Mafia.”

Jisung raised a brow, “What makes you so sure?”

You eyed a familiar stranger from the lobby’s window and Jisung’s gaze followed. The man was walking on the opposite side of the road, looking over his shoulder every now and then as if he was being followed. Then, he disappeared into the alleyway.

When the man was completely out of sight, you finally spoke. “The Mafias never show themselves that easily.” The sound that left Jisung’s lips is the first genuine chuckle he’d had today. “Seriously, Jisung, 9 times out of 10 the Mafia is usually someone we don’t suspect at all.”

“And what if this is the one time that the Mafia’s actually someone you already suspected?” Jisung countered.

“Then we’re fucked,” you answered, a light laugh leaving your lips. “But what a good last game that would be? The Mafias winning and all that.”

You both fall silent as you think of the possibility. It wasn’t far from becoming reality with all of you falling on dead ends with your suspicions and the Mafias having no slip-ups in this game so far. While you thought of your possible reaction when you finally find out who the Mafias are, Jisung’s mind wandered over to different things.

“If you don’t trust yourself, write a random name tonight. If they’re still around by tomorrow night,” you say in a comforting manner, patting Jisung’s knee in a steady pace before standing up, “then you’re not one of the Mafia. I’m hoping that would ease you at least. You’ve been looking worried all day.”

“And if they disappear?” Jisung asked, following behind you as you walked back to the elevator.

“I have some hope that they won’t.”

“What happens if—”

The question died on his lips as he felt the metal bracelet heat up against his wrist again. He bites his tongue, holding back the scream threatening to leave his lips due to the searing pain. He felt his fingertips dig deep into his balled fists as the burn is engraved on his wrist. As he calms down, the metal bracelet cools.

“Are you alright? You seem pale,” you asked from inside the elevator, holding the doors open as you patiently waited for Jisung to come in. “I’m serious, you aren’t the Mafia. The game can’t be that easy.”

Little do you know that being the Mafia isn’t the worst of Jisung’s worries.

It was the knowledge of being aware that there was something else beyond the game of finding Mafias and building suspicions on each other. It was the lack of assurance that their friends were truly okay when all evidence (or the lack of it) seemed to point that they weren’t. It was the crippling anxiety of other people seemingly knowing what he was thinking—evident in the burn on his wrist and further cultivated by the memory of the girl in the Vendetta mask seemingly telling him to keep his mouth shut.

He knew there was something off with the game. He was just hoping that someone else besides him had noticed.

Felix notices an oddity in the way everyone else around them moved.

He’s unsure where the suspicion started. Sure, he wasn’t as observant as Changbin was, but he didn’t need to be that smart to notice that some things changed ever since the game started. It wasn’t something he intentionally wondered about, he just felt that something was off. While everyone was busy trying to figure out who was who in the game, he was busy trying to put a finger on what felt different.

“I still don’t get how they still haven’t noticed anything at all.”

His voice came in the form of a whisper to the group. Everyone else had nodded in agreement as they walked down the cemented paths of the campus leading up to the exit. The 00s, along with Saeyeon, had after-school club meetings together on Friday afternoons. Today, as they left the room, they remember that they lacked two people which should’ve been, at the very least, noticeable in the 20-member club.

“Hey,” Saeyeon waved at a fellow member who passed by, “have you seen Hyunjin?”

The other girl took a second to think, “No, I haven’t seen him today. Isn’t he supposed to be with you?” Saeyeon only shook her head before turning her attention back to the group.

“I think if you looked at it from another person’s perspective, it seems normal that they’re absent,” Jisung says to which you only nod in agreement.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Felix says as he catches the eyes of a few juniors that seemed to wander in their direction.

It’s in that moment that he figured that maybe it was the other way around. Maybe it wasn’t the others who didn’t notice anything, maybe it was their group. He notices that the people around them moved in an eerily robotic manner that would pass off as natural if you didn’t look hard enough—the same way people outside of the main characters of a dream would act. It only adds into his list of speculations about the game. Where the voted off members go. Why the metal bracelet wrapped around his wrist burned his skin whenever he was thinking of the game from an outsider’s perspective. Why he felt like their group were holograms in the real world—present, but not entirely there either.

Something in the back of his mind tells him that there was so much more to this game than figuring out who the Mafias were and he figures it’s about time he told the others about it.

They skip dinner today, considering they were already a little late because of their club meeting and sundown would be in minutes. They take a shortcut on their way there, making it in half the time than it normally did. And when they arrive, only two people are waiting for them.

Minho’s eyes scan the four people when they emerge from the alleyway. Felix does the same and he falls quiet upon realizing that there should’ve been one more person around.

“Taehee, this time?” you asked as you filed into the warehouse.

Changbin sighs before he speaks, “Went to the bathroom and never came back.”

“At least the Mafia didn’t eliminate two right?” Jisung says to Felix but the latter doesn’t reply.

The table had been changed once again. The room’s centerpiece stood in strong contrast to its dim surroundings. The white marble thing shined elegantly beneath the only light source in the room and imprinted in its center was an empty chessboard with a few misplaced pieces. Nobody takes an interest in it, thinking the thing might have just been another prop the staff must’ve put to set the vibe.

Tonight’s announcement passes like it normally does and their one hour of deliberation begins. Suspicions are laid out on the table again but Felix is barely listening. He was up all night the previous night—not used to the silence of the apartment he shared with Hyunjin. Maybe it really was all a part of the game and he wanted to praise the game organizers for doing a great job for making the whole thing convincing.

But the camera resting on Hyunjin’s bed told him otherwise. He knew that Hyunjin wouldn’t go anywhere without it. But there weren’t any signs of forced entry in their apartment. Almost as if Hyunjin had just vanished in midair.

For the entire day, he’d been trying to open up the topic to everyone but the searing pain emanating from the metal band on his wrist made his words fall dead on his lips. But he was desperate to know what really happens to those who got killed off or eliminated; knowing well that if he spent another night in that empty apartment that he’d be haunted with the same thoughts again. He needed answers and he needed them now.

Even just by thinking about it, the metal bracelet starts to heat up on his wrist. “God, every time I get the urge to tell you guys anything this bracelet starts making me feel jittery,” Felix complained in frustration.

All heads turn in his direction and the previous conversation is abruptly halted. Their eyes then wander to the metal bands on each of their wrists.

“Yeah, the bracelets. I still wonder what they’re for,” you wondered as you lifted your arm to feel the weight of the metal band.

Felix opens his mouth to say something—feeling the band burn against his skin, growing hotter with every passing second.

“Don’t,” Jisung whispered subtly beside him. Felix turned to him but the other boy just looked back as if he hadn’t said a word—completely unaware of the other pair of eyes staring in their direction.

“Why?” Saeyeon asked, “What are you trying to tell us?”

Felix still had his gaze on Jisung. And though the latter seemed like his usual jolly self, his eyes were etched with worry. Confused, Felix turns his attention back to the center of the circle. The burning sensation on his wrist is still there but more tolerable now. “It’s the truth about the game.”

Minho groaned, he hated talking about it more than anything. “Here we go again.”

“No, listen,” Felix says as he tries to keep a straight face as he feels the metal band warm again.

“I’m telling you, Felix,” Minho says sternly, “this is nothing but a game and you’re taking this too seriously.”

“And I’m telling you that it isn’t. Have you ever looked at everyone else besides us long enough that they start seeming more like robots than humans? I only noticed that when the game started.”

While the others contemplated on Felix’ words, Minho wasn’t having any of it. “Who the hell stares at people long enough to notice that? You’re just being a fucking kill joy again.”

“It’s called being observant. I’ve been thinking about it. I know I joke a lot about it but we’re never really sure what’s happening to our friends. We just collectively decided that they’re just being kept hidden because that’s what makes the game realistic. Well, what if they aren’t safe? What if something bad happens to them whenever they’re voted out?” His voice is loud enough that it echoes off the walls of the warehouse. He ignores the way the bracelet had probably burned beyond his skin already. If he wasn’t going to speak up now, then when?

“Felix, calm down. I think you’re overthinking,” Changbin says from across him.

“Yeah, maybe. But with the others going missing without a trace? Right under our noses? Maybe I really should be overthinking. It’s baffling why nobody else is as worried as I am.”

“If you want to find out what’s happening to them so bad then get out.”

Felix turns in Minho’s direction, finding the other’s eyes locked on him with a tinge of annoyance that made the younger boy scream at how ignorant the other boy was being.

“Minho, stop that. He’s just telling us what he thinks,” you say in an equally annoyed tone.

“I know, but he’s just thinking too much over something so simple. This is just a fucking game. With the cameras they have around, I’m thinking they’re documenting all this to show the world how the first realistic game of Mafia went. I’m sure they have our friends. We signed up for this and we’re chickening out when things get realistic when that’s exactly what we wanted in the first place?”

The room falls silent at the exchange of opinions and everyone is left torn. A part of them believed that everything was just a part of the game but Felix’ words made them think twice about it.

After a few more moments in silence, Felix finally speaks, “Can a player quit without getting voted out?” he asks into the intercom and a ‘No’ comes through the speakers shortly after. “Fine. Vote me out then.”

“Felix,” Jisung says from beside him.

“No, I want to see what really happens just so I could prove him wrong. Go ahead, vote me out.”

“Vote out Felix,” Minho says, being the first to raise his thumb up while glaring at the younger boy. Others debate whether wasting a vote on someone who wasn’t even subject to being the Mafia was worth it. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

When a unanimous decision is reached with only Jisung having his thumb down, Felix ups and heads out of the warehouse. Jisung rises from his seat, catching up to Felix before he gets the chance to leave.

“Why’d you do that?” Jisung grabbed Felix' arms right before he reached the exit. “We could’ve talked about what we both knew.”

“Not with these things burning our wrists.” Felix answers, raising his left arm where the band was frying the skin on his wrist.

Jisung purses his lips before he speaks. “Tell me what happens out there. Send me some sort of sign, anything if you can.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me, but I’ll try,” Felix says, taking Jisung’s hand off his arm before he shuts the warehouse door behind him.

“One Mafia remains.”

Everyone is stunned at the announcement; some jaws drop open while Minho just raises a brow at it.

“No way,” you say in disbelief. “There’s one left? Was the other one Felix?”

“He’d always been so good at playing Mafia. I didn’t even think that it could possibly be him,” Saeyeon commented.

“We can’t be sure though,” Changbin uttered skeptically. “When did we last get an update with the amount of Mafias around? The night Seungmin was voted out?”

“But the night Hyunjin was killed off by one Mafia, the other killed off the Doctor and didn’t succeed, so there were still two Mafias at the time,” you answered, narrowing the Mafia’s elimination day down to today only.

Minho shrugged, “Either Taehee or Felix then.”

“What if Taehee voted herself out after finding out you two voted yourselves?” Changbin says, pointing at you and Saeyeon.

“Yeah, she did mention that,” you agreed.

Saeyeon furrowed her brows, “Sounds like something she’d do on a normal day but not something she’d do as a Mafia. She would’ve known she was one of the Mafia by then.”

“What if Hyunjin was the other Mafia who voted the Doctor off and the remaining Mafia voted off Hyunjin?” Jisung asked.

“Possible,” Minho replied, “but you haven’t been voted off. If he was a Mafia, you would’ve been gone the first night.”

Jisung scoffed, “What if you’re the other Mafia and targeted him that night because you’re still pissed over him calling you when we played Mario Kart?”

“I’m not that shallow,” Minho says but Jisung doesn’t believe him and neither did anyone else in the room who was listening to their exchange.

A few moments pass before someone speaks again, “I think the Mafias knew they were Mafias but they didn’t know each other,” Changbin says tapping a pen on the table as the gears in his mind turned.

“Or maybe the remaining Mafia knew the other but wanted to win this thing solo,” Jisung concluded/

“You’re noisy again today. Feeling confident you aren’t the Mafia, Jisung?” Minho calls him out.

Jisung turns, feeling rather irritated with the constant pestering of the older boy. “Because I’m really not the Mafia.”

“The way you acted yesterday didn’t seem like it.”

“That was yesterday,” Jisung says in exasperation. Being defensive didn’t help his case at all. “Today is different.”

You clear your throat before another endless quarrel sparks between the two, “At this point, everyone has a fair chance of being the Mafia.”

“The Citizens are at an advantage though. There’s only one Mafia left,” Saeyeon points out, eyeing everyone in the room to see some sort of slip up but there’s none.

“Plot twist, even at that advantage, we lose and the Mafia wins,” Jisung says jokingly.

Minho leans back on his chair, arms tucked and eyeing everyone skeptically, “Mafias never win.”

“And in the case that they do, how do they even do it?” Saeyeon asks.

Changbin stops tapping the table, the entire warehouse falling silent before he speaks, “By putting the blame on someone else.”

The overhead light flashes red, signalling the end of their meeting for the day. A huge sense of relief fills them, knowing there’s only one more person to go. For the first time since the game started, things were looking up for them.

Or at least, that’s how it seemed.

“Your one hour is nearly over. Please cast your votes now and leave the premises immediately. Good night, players.”

When Felix is out of the warehouse, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Instead it just felt eerie, walking out of the dark alleyway alone for the first time. But then he reaches the sidewalk and he’s unsure why everyone had their eyes on him—seemingly hyper aware of his presence like the juniors in school were but this time, they don’t look away.

Felix soons discovers that maybe they weren’t looking at him but at whoever was behind him. He freezes, feeling something cold pressed up to the back of his head. He wonders why no one around him is reacting the way normal people would when they’d come across a scene like this.

That’s all he thinks about before everything goes dark and quiet.

vi. night six.

“Death of Seoul Mayor—Park Jaejin—marred with controversy.

SEOUL — Thousands continued to mourn the death of former Seoul Mayor Park Jaejin on Wednesday, but the somber mood was disrupted by controversy over his unquestioned death.

Park, who was serving his second term as mayor of the capital, was found dead at a prairie in Seoul early Saturday, However, no investigations regarding his death were made due to the assumption that his death was “self-inflicted”.

A conservative group filed for an injunction Tuesday against acting Mayor Seo In-yeop, who assumed office after Park’s death, in an attempt to stop the five-day funeral service. Seo In-yeop, first vice mayor for administrative affairs, will serve as mayor until an election is held next year.”

The first news about their friends’ disappearance is announced on the morning news the next day.

Saeyeon was eating breakfast when the news anchor laid out the details of the missing case files of all six students. She stills at the sight of her six friends smiling in what seemed to be their ID photos on the screen. There, she realizes that they’ve only been missing for a few days but things have changed so drastically that it felt like she hadn’t seen them for a long time. An interview of their homeroom adviser is aired in which she appears to be distressed over the disappearances but Saeyeon thought the woman cared more about her reputation than the disappearing students themselves.

When she finishes her meal, she heads out and starts her daily walk to school and like the past few days, she’s alone again.. She still hasn’t gotten used to the silence but she tells herself the game would be over soon and everything would be back to normal. Or at least she hoped it would.

But she walks into the campus and notices that everyone’s eyes lingered on her much longer than they normally would. And that’s when she knew that things have taken a turn for the worse. She tries to feign ignorance as she walks past a hallway full of people who’s loud chattering hushes into quiet whispers the minute they see her at the end of the corridor.

“Secret’s out,” a voice whispers from behind her and she flinches for a moment. “Where are the two boys you always came with?”

Saeyeon doesn’t bother to answer and walks past everyone. She couldn’t wait for lunch time. Being in a separate class from the rest of her friends, especially now that Jeongin was no longer around to accompany her was taking a toll on her. There was something with the way that everyone was staring that made her more conscious of her every move.

She couldn’t wait for lunch time, even if it meant that she needed to face whoever was responsible for everything that was happening. For now, she just had to pretend that the earphones plugged in her ear blared music until she reached her classroom at the end of the hallway.

Saeyeon didn’t know which she hated more: the lunch crowd when they were loud and rowdy or the lunch crowd masked in this eerie silence. It was the same as earlier—hushed whispers and judging gazes. However, faking ignorance was no longer an option when someone blocked her way before she managed to reach the stairwell.

“So, where are they?” The boy who’d blocked her way stares down at her with a brow-raised in anticipation. She looked up to him before taking a careful look around and seeing everyone watching them from where they stood.

She swallows the lump in her throat, “I don’t know either.”

A low chuckle leaves the boy’s mouth, “You can lie all you want. It’s impossible that you don’t know your own friends' whereabouts.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” Saeyeon replies honestly but it was clear that the other party didn’t want to believe in anything unless it was the answer he wanted to hear. “If I knew anything, they wouldn’t be reported missing.”

She stumbles back when the boy takes a step forward before bending to meet her eye. “Or maybe you know something,” he taunted, “and if you told anyone about it, one of your friends would come and get you next. Is that it?”

Before Saeyeon could come up with some kind of retort, a voice came from the platform below them.

“If I were you, I’d shut up.” They both turn their heads to the boy standing at the foot of the steps. For a moment, Changbin looks up to meet their glances before he walks up the stairs and past the boys blocking Saeyeon’s way. “Let’s go,” he says, reaching out for Saeyeon to take his hand.

But his hand is slapped away by the arrogant boy, “And what are you gonna do about it, shortcake?”

Saeyeon shakes her head, taking Changbin’s hand and attempting to steer him away from the fight that was threatening to start at any given moment. “Changbin, he’s not worth it,” she whispers but the reminder falls short when another remark is thrown in their direction.

“That’s right, freak. Walk away. I can’t believe this school would risk it’s reputation just to get the son of the mayor in.” Boisterous laughter echoes the hallway upon the mention. Saeyeon feels Changbin tense beside her, unsure if it was from anger or from sheer embarrassment. He never liked it when anyone mentioned his background, even more so after the incident last July. “Seo Changbin-ah, mind telling us where Park Jaejin went too?”

Saeyeon turns to them, “We all know that was a suicide.”

“No, that’s what his father’s minions said. Can’t believe that fucker would kill just to get a higher position. Don’t you think Changbin’s following his own dad’s tracks?”

Slipping out of Saeyeon’s grasp, Changbin’s mind goes blank.

Changbin watches as the nurse’s eyes glances momentarily at his school ID laid on the table and back to the computer screen. She inputs a few more things before she finally returns the card. She says a few more remarks about picking fights and injuries that Changbin didn’t like listening to. Then, she finally dismissed him.

The hallways were, once again, devoid of people. The emptiness was much more comforting as opposed to earlier. If there was anything he hated in the world, it was being watched and that was what everyone was doing throughout the entire morning. It made him glad that he was being sent home. But he catches sight of a familiar mop of curly brown hair sitting on a bench by the quadrangle outside of the school clinic and he feels the obligation to approach.

“Lunch is over, you need to get going,” Changbin says when he’s right in front of the girl.

Saeyeon looks up from her phone, wide-eyed and unexpecting. It takes her a moment to fully internalize that it was—finally, after nearly an hour of waiting—Changbin standing before her. She shakes her head, “I don’t want to. Let me see it.”

She reaches to grab Changbin’s hand but the boy flinches upon contact and hides his hand deep in his hoodie’s pocket. “It’s just a bruised knuckle, I’ll be fine. Besides, I was sent home.”

“So, you’re leaving?” Saeyeon says as she rises off the bench, “Can I come with you?”

“Saeyeon, no,” Changbin shakes his head.

But she doesn’t listen. Instead she stands in front of him to block his way, which was ironic considering it was the exact same thing the arrogant guy did to get Changbin in trouble. “But I don’t trust anyone else in the game anymore. Besides you, anyway. And I’m thinking about what’s happening to our friends. And the way people won’t stop staring at us as if it’s really our fault even if it isn’t. Well, I think it isn’t. But I’m not entirely sure either. Do you think it’s—”

All of Saeyeon’s rambles fall silent when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her, enclosing her in a hug—something she desperately needed since the day started but never got the chance to ask for as she was unsure of who to ask it from too. But here she was, wrapped in Changbin’s embrace—feeling the first inkling of peace in a long while. And for a moment, she felt safe and she felt her thoughts slowly dwindle into nothing with every passing second.

A chuckle leaves Changbin’s lips, “You’re overthinking again. There’s a chance that they’re fine,” he says reassuringly, tracing circles on the girl’s back in an attempt to comfort her. “Little, as of today, but the possibility is always there. And we’ll figure it out once the game’s over.”

“If we’re both still here when the game’s over,” Saeyeon answers, breaking away from the boy’s embrace before flashing him a half-hearted smile.

The boy smiles, “We will be. Trust me. Get going already, you’re running late.”

He ruffled her hair, like he always does, before watching the girl trace her steps back to the building. Once she was out of sight, he eyes his knuckle—unsure how someone could put so much trust in himself when he isn’t even sure if he trusts himself.

“No one got eliminated?” Jisung’s eyes widen as he sees Changbin walk into the alleyway at sundown.

The rest were already up and ready to enter right as the boy approached. They all file into the warehouse when he’s finally with the rest of them. There’s a tinge of distrust in the air, evident in the way everyone’s oddly spaced out from each other today compared to most days.

“Funny how no one vanishes after the world finds out about it. It’s like they’re setting us up,” Changbin comments, pulling the warehouse door open before slipping in.

“You know what, the sooner we finish the game, the sooner they’ll be back and the sooner our names will be cleared. Now move, let’s get this over with,” you say impatiently, waiting for the rest to file in before you shut the door behind you.

The table in the middle of the room was the smallest it had been since the game started. The round thing seemed more like a fun-sized casino table now. The chessboard on the center table remained, only this time a bronze circle circumferenced it. The circle was divided into five with each division directly in line with one of the five chairs around the table.

A signature pad rested on each of the five divisions along with the special pen it came with which was used to scribble on the matte surface. In the middle of the chessboard sat a compass whose hand would occasionally steer from side to side, illuminating whichever division it pointed to.

“Good evening, players. On the previous night, a citizen was targeted by the Mafia. Thankfully, the doctor was there to save them. Congratulations on making it into the Last 5. Since the number of players have been narrowed down, we have also shortened your time of deliberation from 1 hour to 30 minutes. 10 minutes before the time is consumed, you will be asked to input the name of the person you wish to eliminate on the pad before you.

“From now on, we will no longer be allowing skips. Lastly, the booth is no longer available but the same mechanic applies. In the last 5 minutes of the meeting, you are obligated to write another name on the pad and determine that person’s fate for the remainder of the game—of course, depending on your role. Good luck and have fun, players!”

There’s a mixture of reactions from the remaining players; half were thinking the citizen would’ve been better off dead so they’d be able to at least narrow down the list of suspected Mafias while the other half thought they were thankful they had extra manpower to solve the case.

“Was Saeyeon the only one who got those stares from everyone?” Jisung asks and when he sees everyone else shake their heads he continues, “No? I guess we all had a rough day then.”

“Mafia, whoever the fuck you are, step up. Imagine how tired we all are. They’re looking at us like we’re fugitives and we’re officially prime suspects of our own friends’ disappearances. We can’t have that now, can we?” The exhaustion in Saeyeon’s voice is evident as she spoke.

A muffled whisper from Minho is overheard by Changbin, resulting in the latter to get off his seat in disbelief. “What do you mean by simulation?! Are you kidding me? Minho, our friends have been reported missing on national news. Why the fuck do you still think this is a simulation?”

“Lee Minho,” Saeyeon’s voice calls out from directly across Minho and he turns his head away from Changbin to stare at her. “What’s the real reason you want this game to keep going?”

The boy takes a second to reply. “As I said, just to make the most out of it.”

“Now, with our friends officially recorded missing, do you still want to make the most out of this game?” Saeyeon asks, a brow raised at the boy who only stared back blankly—he doesn’t reply. “Thought so. Then what’s stopping you from admitting you’re the Mafia?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Minho’s lips, “The fact that I’m not the Mafia.”

“You’re shaking,” Jisung points out.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Changbin raises his voice, catching everyone else’s attention. “Why didn’t you have the slightest doubt when our friends were disappearing? Why did you just shrug it off like you were sure they were alright?”

Minho stands up from his seat, the metal thing clattering behind him, “I still think that they might be alright.”

“Who the fuck would file a missing case report if they were fine?” Saeyeon asks, a hand raised in exasperation at the man.

Changbin looks up to meet his glare, “Why were you so sure? Is it because the organizers, whoever the fuck they are, told you what happened to our friends when they got removed because you are the Mafia?”

“They didn’t tell me anything because I have never talked to any of them. Why are you so insistent in putting the blame on me?!” Minho shouts back furiously.

“I saw you that day.” The voice calls from across the table. Your whisper was a head turner. Now, everyone had their eyes on you. “The day Hyunjin disappeared? What were you doing at that alleyway across the apartment complex Chan lived in?”

Jisung’s eyes widened upon realizing that the man they’d been looking at that day had been Minho all along.

“We were at Chan’s to check out if he really was gone and Jisung and I saw Minho from where we were sitting in the lobby. What were you doing there?” you asked again and the boy in question could only stare back at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“That same alleyway leads back here,” Changbin whispers, “to the warehouse.”

The entire warehouse falls silent at the revelation. Everyone had the same look of disbelief plastered on their faces. They’ve never had evidence this strong since the start of the game, or it had always been there from the start, on the day he showed them the flyer, and they were just too oblivious to notice anything. They’ve mistaken Minho’s enthusiasm to keep the game going as his own skeptic, arrogant behavior and assumed his unusual disappearances from class were due to his own mischievous ways. They all think it was stupid that they never bothered thinking outside the box and never questioned what role he might possibly be playing in the game. But that was everyone’s mistake. They’re all glad they figured it out before it was too late.

“You’re the Mafia aren’t you?” Changbin asked, staring at the older boy’s eyes

Minho mumbles something beneath his breath but says nothing else, pulls his chair back and sits quietly. The last few minutes are spent in silence. No one dared to speak until they heard the 10-minute mark announcement blare through the speakers. The signature pad’s light flickers open shortly after. Once they’re all through with the votation, the overhead light dims.

The needle inside the compass starts spinning, lighting up each division on the table as it goes. Everyone waits in anticipation for it to slow down, even when everyone’s sure where it would end up pointing. A minute passes and the needle finally drifts into Minho’s direction before finally stopping.

“Lee Minho has been eliminated from the game.”

From where Saeyeon was, she could see the way Minho clenched his jaw before acknowledging the announcement.

“Minho,” Jisung calls out to him but the former doesn’t bother replying. Instead he wordlessly stands up and heads for the warehouse exit.

Instead of feeling relieved that the Mafia had been caught, Saeyeon felt her heart sink at the sight of Minho walking out the door. After the heated argument earlier, she doubted if the boy would even want to hang out with them in the next few days. She couldn’t help but think that the game brought them further apart than closer. It was the last thought that crossed her mind as Minho shut the door behind him, leaving them in the silence of the empty warehouse.

“Noticed something?” Changbin asked, pushing himself up and off the chair and taking his bag with him. “No announcement.”

You nodded, “Right, they usually announce something when a Mafia remains.”

“So, that’s it?” Saeyeon asks as she follows the others on their way out the warehouse. “The game’s over?”

“That was anticlimactic.” Jisung commented, “But maybe there’s an award waiting for us outside?”

Jisung had barely touched the warehouse door when an alarm went off, startling everyone. Red blaring lights illuminate the empty warehouse and it only falls silent again once they’re all far away from the door.

Through the speakers mounted on the wall, a voice says, “Please write a name before you leave.”

vii. night seven.

Sleep doesn’t come easy for you that night.

There’s an uncertainty settling in the back of you mind telling you that the game wasn’t really over yet. Half of your mind is betting on the possibility that the organizers are only prolonging the game even when there were no Mafias left behind, yet a part of you still thought one Mafia was still around due to the lack of an announcement both in confirming if a Mafia did remain or didn’t.

But you had to wait until tomorrow morning to find out which among your hunches was right.

You drifted in and out of sleep endlessly throughout the night and finally settled in your awakened state when the sun started to rise. Nothing’s changed when you arrived at school that morning. At the gate of your campus stood the other three people in the game—your own friends that felt more like strangers than people you spent your years in high school with. Once you reached them, you headed in together.

Everyone side-eyed the group as you all walked by but you couldn’t care less of their judgmental stares anymore. All you wanted was to get the game over and done with. Even if it meant saying things that hurt to admit out loud.

You only snap back to reality when you hear the faucet running. “You keep spacing out lately, _____? Is something bothering you?” Saeyeon asks, rubbing her hands together beneath the running water.

You just shake your head, turning around and disappearing into a cubicle—like you initially planned to. You admit you’ve been an airhead the past few days, probably due to the lack of sleep from overthinking the game through. Or maybe it was because Jisung hasn’t spoken a word to you since the night you defended him from their friends’ accusations.

Which you thought, finally—after thinking it through the past two days—might have been a wrong move.

If you looked at it now, Jisung seemed less suspicious now compared to a few days ago. The boy has gone from being the most boisterous one in the group, to the least and then somewhere in between throughout the past week and something about the sudden shifting throws you off. From your perspective, he started seeming more controlled.

Or maybe he’d just become a lot better in pretending he wasn’t the Mafia. Or maybe he wasn’t even the Mafia at all. You weren’t so sure anymore.

You sighed once you finished your business, “It’s just I think I know who the Mafia is. God, I just hate having to admit this out loud.”

You were left unanswered but you figured Saeyeon just didn’t know how to react.

“Saeyeon?” you called out again.

You pushed the cubicle door open and stepped out. The comfort room is empty and you feel your heart drop to your stomach, standing frozen in the middle of the tiled room. It was still too early for anything to happen but things always came when you least expect it.

The faucet was still running, yet there was no trace of Saeyeon anywhere.

You met the boys outside of the gym at lunch time and filled them in with the details. Hearing your own words, you were finding your own testimony hard to believe. But you swear you were telling them the truth to the best of your ability but the look on the boys’ faces made it clear that they doubted you. Changbin had his jaw clenched, unconsciously gritting his teeth in utter frustration while Jisung on the other hand seemed numb and apologetic—almost uncaring.

The pain-staking reality of your situation stills all of you and you feel chills run up your spine even when you were bathing beneath the brutal rays of the midday sun. You could tell by the look on each of their faces that each of their minds were churning in their own accord, solidifying each speculation with the laid out evidence before them. Your own thoughts start ringing in your mind—how could I let that happen, how did she disappear right under my nose.

You refuse to say another word, heaving a breath in before walking off in the opposite direction—unsure of what to think, what to believe in and who to trust.

You all arrived separately that night—keeping a respectful distance from one another even as you filed into the warehouse.

2 of the 5 chairs were removed, leaving 3 seats that were in line with the 3 divisions of the bronze table. Finally, the chessboard started making sense to you. At first sight, one would assume it was nothing but an unfinished game of chess. But if one were to take into context the game of Mafia they were playing, it would seem more like a miniature representation of the events that took place.

Eleven pieces were on the board—as opposed to the 32 pieces each game of chess should supposedly contain. The remaining pieces were nowhere to be seen. All pieces on the board were white save for two, a toppled queen and a king. Two knights were on either side of the king and alongside the fallen queen were 6 toppled pawns and a bishop.

“The Doctor has been eliminated from the game,” a voice says through the speakers and it’s the only words spoken for the first five minutes of the supposed deliberation.

You kept both of your elbows on the table, hands clasped together while you rested your face against it. Your eyes panned between the two boys before you. You could tell by the silence that you’re all having speculations with one another. Funny how the game was supposed to better your bond as friends but you don’t trust a single person in the room with you. Not anymore, at least.

“Han Jisung,” you called out and it’s the first time the boy laid his eyes on you since that night. His eyes are devoid of any light emotion—the glint of happiness in them was long gone. “How does it feel like playing the game this long?”

Jisung doesn’t answer the question. Instead he chuckles half-heartedly, letting only a twinge of emotion escape through his lips before reverting back to his emotionless state. Your heart sinks.

“How could I be so stupid?” Jisung mumbled beneath his breath, “You told me you knew what role you played that night. Who else could figure out their roles on the fourth night besides the Mafia?”

It’s the look of doubt mixed with hurt and skepticism that pains you the most. It explains why he’d been acting off lately. He’d either excuse himself from a conversation that included you or ignored you altogether. At least now, you know the reason why.

When you didn’t react, Jisung continued, “And now you tell us Saeyeon disappeared without a trace? Really? How could she disappear without you even noticing?”

You sighed, this was something you feared would happen. You bit your tongue, regretting that you said anything in the first place. You thought things would have fared better had the boys only found out about Saeyeon’s disappearance when she doesn’t show up at the warehouse at sundown, rather than hearing it from you. Your attempt at being honest seemed more like you were digging your own grave.

“As I said earlier, I was in the cubicle and couldn’t see anything outside. And I promise you that I’m telling the truth,” But the look on the boys’ faces made it clear that they didn’t believe a word you said.

Changbin cleared his throat, “It’s your word against the circumstances, ______,”

You leaned back on your chair, feeling no need to stay in the game any longer, “Fine, vote me out and let the Mafia win, I don’t care anymore. Either way, whether I’m the Mafia or not, the game ends and we’re all done with this.”

You don’t argue any further, feeling too exhausted and drained from the past week to even defend herself. Why would you bother, anyway? There was no point explaining if their ears were deaf to whatever you had to say. You were all tired and the game would still end regardless of who they voted off.

Besides, you knew to yourself that you weren’t the Mafia.

So, who is it?

Your mind starts to wander and you let it, reviewing the events of the past week in your mind and paying heed to every detail you might’ve missed out. You recall how the game started, how every speculation of yours blossomed from the little actions of your friends that seemed out of the ordinary. You’d always been a hidden wildcard even when your friends always accused you of being biased whenever it came to Jisung. You always picked up the details that seemed to go unnoticed—like the instance you caught Minho at that alleyway when Jisung didn’t.

This game was a bit different. You’d peered off your rose-colored glasses for this one and strived at being a more competitive player this round. Maybe that’s how you noticed Jisung was off right off the bat. You noticed his eyes scanned your group of friends every time you’d gather outside the warehouse before the meetings at sundown—as if frantically checking if the person he’d written down made it or not. And it happened everyday leading up to today. And you thought the only reason Jisung was turning on you now was to keep his own identity as Mafia covered.

However, what baffles you the most is how Changbin was just seemingly playing along with whoever the majority suspected as the Mafia like he wasn’t the first person to make an accusation. On most Mafia games, he’d target a suspicious person and stick to accusing them until they eventually get voted off. But he wasn’t doing that now, almost as if he’d been feigning ignorance just to let the Mafia win on purpose.

Unless...

It’s not Changbin now, is it?

Funny how a single change in perspective made everything finally make sense. Your eyes pan to the boy to your right. Seo Changbin sat there with furrowed brows and pursed lips. He was everyone’s first bet at being the reliable one whenever you played a game of Mafia. The first to always crack the case, the first to point a finger, the one who always figured it out.

No wonder they’d all been thrown off the Mafia’s trail right from the start. Maybe it was because the Mafia threw them off himself.

Finally, you understood the importance of planting an idea inside a person’s mind. It was manipulation in the most subtle way and Changbin was maximizing his use of it throughout the entire game. He was a clever one and you were sure that Jisung’s actions the first few days didn’t escape his eye. Maybe that’s why he chose the latter as the person to cover his tracks—throwing the first accusation at Jisung and subconsciously tricking everyone else into seeing what he wanted everyone else to see. He is the Mafia, it isn’t me.

Anyone else could be the Mafia but it isn’t him.

His trick worked; no one bothered speculating him. Maybe because everyone viewed him as some kind of hero, being the first person to seemingly steer the game into the Citizen’s favor. Or that was what everyone thought.

Minutes pass and an announcement comes through the speakers, signalling the 10-minute mark before the deliberation ends. The lights from the signature pad before you flicker brightly and you pick up the pen to write your vote.

A conversation from a few days ago replayed in the back of your mind.

“Mafias never win,” you recalled what Minho said—feeling a tad bit guilty for securing his elimination from the night before. You should’ve known.

Saeyeon shuffled on her seat before sitting erectly then asking, “And in the case that they do, how do they even do it?”

At the other side of the room, Changbin stops tapping the table with his pen before speaking, “By putting the blame on someone else.”

And that’s exactly what Changbin was doing all this time. Everyone else had just been too oblivious to notice.

viii. endgame.

endgame. the part of the game where the King should come out and fight (with fewer pieces left on the board); the ending phase of chess.

“__________ has been eliminated from the game.”

The announcement echoes in Changbin’s head in a never ending loop. Etched along with it was the look on your face right as you exited the warehouse, seeming as if you finally caught on to what he had been doing all this time but figured it out a little too late.

To say he was proud of himself for technically winning the game would be an understatement. But the feeling of proudness doesn’t come at all. Instead, he feels a wave of exhaustion after being on edge for hours on end in the past 7 days. A gentle reminder surfaces in his mind and tells him that there was no way in hell he was playing a damn Mafia game again.

“Did we win?” Jisung asked with his eyes wide in anticipation. The boy looks around for any sort of indication that they’d won the game but there was nothing but the emptiness of the warehouse around them.

Guilt settled in Changbin’s chest and he wills himself to look away from the enthusiastic boy, giving him nothing but a shrug in reply.

Another announcement comes through the speakers, this time telling them they still needed to write a name down unto the signature pad. Jisung could only oblige, despite no longer feeling the need to do so. On the other hand, Changbin knew it was the last thing he needed to do to win the game.

“Bracelet can’t heat up now when it’s obvious who I’m writing down,” Jisung says, chuckling as he finishes writing the other boy’s name down on the signature pad.

Changbin lets out a nervous laugh. He never knew what truly happened to the people he wrote down. They just disappeared. A funny thought crosses his mind, Jisung just vanishing right before his eyes. This game was all sorts of weird right from the start. The disappearing friends, the dangerous metal bracelets and the weird way everyone around them moved. He figured that he wouldn’t even be shocked anymore if Jisung disappeared in front of him.

When he finishes scribbling Jisung’s name, the compass starts spinning. Changbin stares at the chess pieces around it, finally taking notice that the only remaining pieces were a white knight and a black king. As a player himself, he was quick to catch on that the pieces represented the players in the Mafia game. It was his way of keeping track of which roles the remaining players played. Pawns were Citizens, the Bishop was the Doctor and the two Knights were the Police who both should’ve caught on by now.

The needle of the compass lands idly on Jisung and he stares at it with furrowed brows.

A voice comes out of nowhere, startling the daylights out of them both, “The Police have uncovered the Mafia.”

“We’re still playing?” The already confused look on Jisung’s face contorts into a further confused one.

Changbin couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, “Jisung, I’m the Mafia.”

The other boy’s eyes widened at the confession, jaw-dropping in disbelief. The expression on his face shifts a few more times, as if replaying the past week in his mind—trying to pinpoint any slip up the older boy possibly made that would arouse any sort of suspicion. There were none.

“No wonder you won,” Jisung says, nodding upon realizing.

He was about to say something else, another remark at how good Changbin was as a Mafia when he heard footsteps approach him from behind.

Jisung’s worst mistake was to turn around.

Changbin stares up at the masked woman who was walking up to Jisung but he never thought ill of it. He only assumed she’d escort Jisung outside. But she drew something from her belt and Changbin wasn’t sure what it was until he heard a click, right before a gunshot echoed across the room.

“Seo Changbin,”

Changbin heard a voice call out and he turned his head. The voice is faint, as if calling from the depths of his mind. Behind him, there’s nothing but the grey walls of the voting booth. When he turns his attention back to the front he sees himself sitting before the signature pad he needed to write on and the digital clock that told him the date.

The date was from 7 days ago—the Monday they started playing the game. He watched as the traces of Seungmin’s name slowly disappeared from the pad as the vote was taken in by the system.

“Can I leave now?” the other Changbin asks into empty air.

When his question is left unanswered he doesn’t bother waiting any longer and helps himself out. Changbin follows himself through the door. Unlike what he expected, he wasn’t met by the darkness of the warehouse. Instead, he’s met by the noisy hallway of their high school. Behind him, where the voting booth was supposed to be, was the men’s comfort room. The shift in environment leaves him disoriented.

From the corner of his eye, he sees himself pass by, following a girl into a classroom before shutting the door behind him. The girl pulls a chair from the back row and Changbin does the same, sitting opposite to her. Peeking through the window of the classroom, Changbin recognizes that the girl his past self was talking to was Taehee. For a moment the girl’s gaze lingers on him, as if she actually saw him standing outside. But it turned out she was only on the look out for anyone possibly following them.

“You’re one of the Mafia, aren’t you?” he hears himself say and the girl stills at the confrontation.

But even when she was fazed, Taehee shakes her head, “I don’t know.”

“But you think you are,” Changbin cuts her off, lowering his head in an attempt to meet the girl��s gaze. “I know you. You can’t stop worrying about Chan.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she raises a brow, “We’re in the same friend group.”

Changbin leans back on his seat, “In the same friend group or you wrote his name the other night and he actually ended up missing?”

Taehee’s eyes snap upward in an instant, eyebrows furrowed before retorting, “If this is your way of getting me to admit that I’m the Mafia, you’re stupid.” She leans forwards, hand pressed against the armchair of the seat she was sitting on to push herself up. Changbin raises a hand, attempting to stop her from standing.

“What if I tell you I’m the other Mafia and we can win this thing?” a playful smirk tugs at the corner of his lips and Taehee’s face contorts further. “Imagine winning as Mafias. We’ve always planned this back in junior year.”

At first, the offer seems tempting. Remembering a memory in the past where they’ve been picked as Mafias of the game—the only time the Mafias came close to winning the game together. But Taehee is reminded of the absence of their friends again. “You’re fucked in the head. You do realize that our friends are going missing?”

“I’m sure they’re doing fine. It’s a realistic game of Mafia. They’re supposed to be gone.”

The girl rolls her eyes, “I know, I know. But I have a bad feeling about it.”

“You’re thinking too much,” Changbin replies, “They told us it’s just a game.”

“Easy for you to say,” Taehee says through gritted teeth, slapping Changbin’s hand away and standing from where she was sitting. “If Saeyeon disappears out of nowhere, how would you feel? No texts, no calls, nothing.” The tension in the room rises as she holds his gaze, her fists clenched beside her, “Win this game by yourself. I’m going to find Chan. For fuck’s sake, write my name tonight if you want to.”

Changbin watches the Taehee walk past his past self, heading straight for the door and slamming it behind her. His gaze follows her as she walks by and he notices his surroundings changed, taking him to a different hallway—one that overlooked the quadrangle where he seems himself hugging Saeyeon; the last concrete memory he had with the girl.

Of all the names he’d written down throughout the game, her’s was the hardest. He’d contemplated it the moment he watched her walk away that day. He thinks eliminating her now would be better than ending the game with the both of them being the last players and having her slowly realize the Mafia had been him the whole time.

And besides that, it made him momentarily think the game was real—it wasn’t or at least he tried to remember that it wasn’t. He clears his mind, recalling the memory of being sedated and hooked unto the dream machine—the warehouse and their circle of friends; all smiley yet nervous with what they were getting themselves into. Changbin remembers this was nothing but a simulation.

Just a simulation.

He’s unsure why no one else noticed how the weekdays looped when they were supposed to have a weekend two days ago. How their actions affected everyone else’s in a way that seemed like everything revolved around them. But he figures that not everyone was observant as he was.

It’s just a dream, he reminds himself. As bad as it gets, it isn’t real.

Or is it?

“Seo Changbin,” the voice calls again and this time, it comes clearer.

Changbin opens his eyes and comes face to face with a woman in a Vendetta mask. His body still felt numb and his back hurt from sitting erectly for so long. The woman moves, removing the needle buried into his arm with one swift move. He looks around him and finds himself in a warehouse—the same warehouse they held their meetings in. He tried to move but his body still felt heavy, feeling his head throb and his muscles aching.

“Congratulations on winning the game, Seo Changbin,” the woman with the mask says in a calm tone which didn’t make Changbin feel that his win was worth celebrating. “Remembering you were sedated, huh? That was a good strategy to stay sane.”

Changbin mumbles a thank you before he shifts on the seat, “How long were we out?”

“Just 10 hours,” the woman answers.

“7 days in the dream was just 10 hours in real time?” he asks before he sees the streaks of sunlight peering in through the cracks on the warehouse windows, indicating that it was morning. “You seem to be packing up. Going somewhere?”

“Game’s over. What do we need to stay for?” the woman asks this time around.

“I don’t know? Other people who want to try this game out.”

The woman sighs, “It was just a trial and obviously we failed.”

“Failed?” Changbin asks, an eyebrow perking up in confusion. “The game was ridiculously realistic. Even my friends thought it was real throughout the game. Right, everyone?” Changbin turns to look around and only then does he notice that none of his friends were awakened yet. “Shouldn’t they be awake?”

The woman stares at him through the mask, “Oh, Changbin. Don’t you remember what happens when you die in a dream?”

“You wake up,” he answers.

“On regular circumstances, you do,” the woman walks away from Changbin, heading to the boy nearest to him. She raises Jisung’s arm, removing the needle out his arm too harshly and letting his body fall on the table with a loud thud, “But when you’re heavily sedated, you don’t.”

All color drains from Changbin's face. It takes him a moment before he turns his head and takes a good look around. Around him, his friends were all positioned in different manners but they all shared a common denominator—they were all lifeless.

“An eye for an eye, kid. Send your father my regards,” Changbin’s eyes return back to the woman standing at the warehouse’s entrance. Only then does he realize why the voice of the woman sounded too familiar.

She removes the mask and Changbin catches the eerie similarity the girl shared with her father—the previous mayor whose death hasn’t been investigated any further due to the new administration seated.

“Your family messed with the wrong people, Changbin. I would start running if I were you,” she says shutting the warehouse door behind her—leaving Changbin in the dark with nothing but the thoughts inside his head and the corpses of his friends.

"Reporting live from Seoul, we are at the Ilkyeong Warehouse that has recently been turned into a crime scene. Earlier today, workers from a nearby construction site discovered ten bodies seated around a round table in the middle of the warehouse. These bodies were identified to be the ten missing students from Seoul School of Arts. Initial investigations believe that the group participated in the usage of the now-illegal PASIV or the Portable Automated Somnacin IntraVenous Device. This device, once attached with a powerful sedative, allows dream-sharing between two or more people. Made known in the 1900s and early 2000s, it has been banned for use due to the occurrence of similar tragedies where people have never woken up from their dreams after taking the heavy sedatives.

“Seo Changbin, son of current Seoul mayor, Seo Inyeop, who was said to be a part of the circle of friends, remains missing and is the prime suspect of the case. There are currently no clues as to where his whereabouts may be. Citizens are advised to keep watch and stay vigilant. On the screen are the numbers you can contact if you happen to have any information that could possibly aid the authorities in any way. Lee Sojeong, Seoul."

#kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #stayhavennet #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #jisung x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids fics #skz fics #stayracha #toff.writes

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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Hello again! Im the tinfoil hat anon with the long ass asks and I finally had the time to read your response. Thank you, it makes my day reading your answers. I honestly just enjoyed them over a cup of coffee like a good book.

Now, the gun pointing scene I mentioned was in fact the one from the droid fight facility like the other anon suggested. But I really liked that you covered the boat scene too, I haven’t thought of it much myself and now I definitely have!

I also would like to mention I love your “candy bar” choice analogy and I 100% agree Hunter’s “invitation” to join back wasn’t welcoming in the slightest. It is very likely just an obligation as you said. Sort of “you gave us a chance, we owe you a chance too”.

And the problem with it is now I am struggling to figure out how the batch members might change their attitude toward Crosshair going forward, especially Hunter. As of right now Crosshair’s best relationship is not with his brothers but with Omega(as surprising as this is). And I think he does realize now she cared about him the most out of all of them during the short time they interacted(both 1st and last episodes). Even between themselves(not counting Omega) I find most of the bad batch members to be cold and distant to each other. They feel less like a family than Rebels for example. And they aren’t even a “found family”(a trope everyone loves) but an actual one! And I get that they’re soldiers and supposed to be tough, I don’t expect them to share all “the feels”. I just can’t put my finger on it but something feels off. I agree with your previous post, the show doesn’t do a very good job showing or even telling they love each other.

Will Hunter and co only start caring about their brother again only after he leaves the empire?(assuming he does at some point). What about Disney’s prevailing theme and message that “family always love and care for each other no matter what”? I guess it’s “family always love and care for each other but only if you’re good guys making right choices”. There is no room for mistakes or wrong decisions. In the last episode everyone form the batch seemed to have given up on Crosshair(besides Omega). For now their attitude seems to be just “you’re not our enemy” and that’s that.

I realize Crosshair is a “bad guy” and consciously made his choice(and we know it’s the wrong one) but to me it felt like he thought he didn’t even had a choice or rather became so lost and confused he actually thought he chose the empire as “the lesser evil”(as in the less shitty choice out of all the other bad ones). We as audience have the benefit to know exactly how atrocious the empire really is but maybe Crosshair still doesn’t realize that.

So what exactly must Crosshair do to get back “in their good graces” as you say? Start saving “the good guys”? Save the bad batch multiple times? There is a popular opinion on how Crosshair can redeem himself. That he eventually heroically sacrifices himself to save them. I personally REALLY hope it’s NOT what’s going to happen but I heard so many people speculating his story is set up to be redemption=death. I know you mentioned you don’t want “Vader style redemption” either. Personally I think it would be a waste of a character who has a lot of potential. And I just think that the batch kind of don’t really deserve his sacrifice(maybe save for Omega) after how they never tried to save him themselves and how they treated him overall. Maybe he will risk his life to save Omega at some point and that will “prove” to Hunter he cares? Although he has already shown he cares by saving her(even if in Crosshair’s own words it’s just so they’re “even”). And the thing is, he doesn’t need to prove that he loves them, he already did that in episode 15 and made it clear he does care. He actually went to extreme by shooting his squad to prove his loyalty. What were the moments the batch demonstrated they care about him? Hunter saying “you never were our enemy” and taking his unconscious body to safety? To me Hunter “not leaving him behind” during bombardment felt more like guilt about the last time it happened and an obligation to Crosshair for helping them with droids, rather than them showing care. And I kinda of think if that was any random civilian(or anyone other than an enemy or a threat) they would carry them out too just because that’s what good guys do and not because it’s their brother. You also mentioned that minutes later Hunter snaps at him with “if you want to stay here and die, that’s your choice” which I agree can be interpreted in different ways. And I think it’s one more point to it being an obligation that in Hunter’s eyes is fulfilled now. He corrected his mistake of leaving a brother behind and saved him this time, now his guilt won’t burden him any longer.

Anyway, I can’t wait for season 2 and I appreciate you and all the anons sharing the tinfoil hat, interacting and speculating together. Those discussions have been a lot of fun!

TLDR: How do your think the relationship between the brothers will mend or evolve in the next season? Do you think S2 will improve in portraying the batch more as a family rather than a group of mercs doing missions together? What are your thoughts on the popular idea of Crosshair’s redemption by ultimate sacrifice? As in, how likely do you think this scenario is?

Anon, that is just wonderfully hilarious to me. Ah yes, the sunrise, a good cup o' joe, and the overly long character analysis of a snarky, fictional sniper. Exactly what everyone needs in the morning! 😆

You know, TBB is far from the first show I've watched where there's an obvious, emotional conclusion the creator wants the audience to come to—the squad all love each other Very Much—yet that conclusion isn't always well supported by the text. It creates this horribly awkward situation where you're going, "Yes, I'm fully aware of what the show wanted to do, but this reading, arguably, did not end up in the story itself. So what are we talking about here? The intention, or the execution?" It's like Schrödinger's Bad Batch where the group is simultaneously Very Loving and Very Distant depending on how much meta-aspects are influencing your reading: those authorial intentions, understanding of how found family tropes should work, fluff focused fics/fan art that color our understanding of the characters, etc. And, of course, whether someone saw TCW before they watched TBB. I personally wouldn't go quite so far as to say they're "cold" towards one another—with Crosshair as an exception now—but there wasn't the level of bonding among the squad that I expected of a show called The Bad Batch. Especially compared to their arc in TCW. The other night I re-watched the season seven premiere and was struck not just by how much more the squad interacted with each other back then, but how those interactions added depth to their characters too. For example, Crosshair is the mean one, right? He's the one picking fights with the Regs? Well yeah... but it's also Wrecker. While they're trying to decide what to do with Cody injured, Jesse calls out Crosshair on his attitude—"You can't talk to Captain Rex like that!"—and Wrecker's immediate response is, "Says who?" and he hefts Jesse into the air. And then he just holds him there, clearly using his superior strength to do as he pleases, until Hunter (sounding pretty angry) tells him to put Jesse down. If Wrecker had put him into a more classically understood bullying position, like pinning him to the ground, it would probably read as less funny—less "Haha strong clone lifts Jesse up in the air!" and more "Oh shit, strong clone can do whatever the hell he wants to the Regs and few are able to stop him." It's such a quick moment, but it tells us a ton about Wrecker. That he's going to stick up for his brothers, no matter the context (Crosshair deserves to be called out). That he will gleefully assist Crosshair in bothering the Regs (something that is reinforced when he later throws the trays in the mess hall, after Hunter has already deescalated the situation). That he's likely been hurt by awful treatment from the Regs too. That he'll only listen to Hunter when it comes to backing off. Little of this work—that interplay among the squad that shows us new sides to them other than basic things like "Wrecker is the nice, happy brother"—exists in TBB.

Or, at least, little exists after Omega becomes an official member of the squad.

Because, as said previously, she becomes the focus. I don't mean that as a total criticism. As established, I love Omega. But if we're talking about why the squad can feel so distant from each other, I think she's the root cause, simply because the story became all about her relationships with the Batch, rather than the Batch's relationships with each other. Having dived headfirst into reading and writing fic, it occurred to me just how many of the bonding moments we love, the sort of stuff we'll see repeated in fics because we understand that this is where the story's emotional center is, are given to Omega in canon:

Someone is hurt and in need of comfort. Omega's emotional state is the focus + moments like her being worried over Hunter getting shot.

Someone needs to learn a new skill. Echo teaches Omega how to use her bow.

Someone reveals a skill they never knew they had before. Omega is a strategic genius and plays her last game with Hunter.

Someone is in serious danger and in need of rescue. Omega rescues the group from the slavers + is the most vocal about rescuing Hunter. (Which, again, is a pretty sharp contrast to the whole Crosshair situation.) Omega, in turn, needs rescuing from things like the decommission conveyor belt.

Similarly, someone is kidnapped and in need of rescue. Omega is kidnapped twice by bounty hunters and the Batch goes after her.

Someone saves another's life. Omega saves Crosshair from drowning.

Someone does something super sweet for another. Wrecker gives Omega her room. Omega gives Wrecker Lula.

A cute tradition is established between characters. Wrecker has his popcorn-esque candy sharing with Omega.

Someone hurts someone else and has to ask forgiveness. Wrecker is upset about nearly shooting Omega and they have that sweet moment together.

Note that most of these examples could have occurred between other Batch members, but didn't. Someone could have created a space for Echo on the ship too. Wrecker also could have apologized to Tech for choking him, etc. It's not that those moments shouldn't happen with Omega, just that there should be more of a balance across the whole season, especially for a show supposedly focused on the original squad. Additionally, it's not that cute bonding moments between the rest of the Batch don't exist. I love Hunter selling Echo off as a droid. I love Wrecker and Tech bickering while fixing the ship. I love the tug-of-war to save Wrecker from the sea monster. Yes, we do have moments... it's just that comparatively it feels pretty skewed in Omega's direction.

So, as a VERY long-winded way of answering your question, I think we need to fix the above in order to tackle Crosshair's redemption in season two. Now that we've had a full season focused on Omega, we need to strike a better balance among the rest of the squad moving forward. We need to re-established the "obvious" conclusion that the rest of the Batch loves Crosshair and that's done (in part) by establishing their love for one another too. To my mind, both goals go hand-in-hand, especially since you can develop their relationship with Crosshair and their relationships with each other simultaneously. Imagine if instead of just having Wrecker somewhat comically admit that he misses Crosshair (like he's dead and they can't go get him??), he and Tech had a serious conversation about why they can't get him back yet, despite very much wanting to. Imagine if Echo, the one who was rescued against all odds, got to scream at Hunter to go get Crosshair like Omega screamed at them to go back for Hunter. Imagine if we'd gotten more than a tiny arc in TCW to establish the Batch's dynamic with each other, providing a foundation for how they would each react to Crosshair's absence. Instead, what little we've got in TBB about Crosshair's relationship with his brothers is filtered through Omega: Omega's embarrassment that she knocked over Crosshair's case, Omega treating Crosshair's comm link like a toy, Omega's quest to save Hunter that just happened to involve Crosshair along the way.

Obviously, at this point we can't fix how the first season did things, but I think we can start patching over these issues in season two. It would be jarring—we'd still be 100% correct to ask where this "Brothers love you, support you, and will endlessly fight for you" theme was for Crosshair's entire time under the Empire's thumb... but I'd take an about-face into something better than not getting any improvement at all. It is frustrating though, especially for a show that I otherwise really, really enjoyed. For me, the issue isn't so much that the show made a mistake (since no show is perfect), but that the mistake is attached to such a foundational part of the franchise. Not just in terms of "SW is about hope and forgiveness" but the specific relationship most clones have with each other: a willingness to go above and beyond for their brothers. The focus on Omega aside, it's hard to believe in the family dynamic when one member of the family was so quickly and easily dismissed. I couldn't get invested in Hunter's rescue as much as I should have because rather than going, "Yes!! Save your brother!!!" my brain just kept going, "Lol where was this energy for Crosshair?" It messes with your reading of the whole story, so in order to fix that mistake going forward, we need to start seeing the bonds that only sometimes exist in season one. Show the guys expressing love for one another more consistently (in whatever way that might be—as you say, soldiers don't have to be all touchy-feely. Give us more moments like Wrecker supporting his brothers' bad habits) and then extend that to Crosshair. Which brother is going to demand that they fight for him? Which brother is going to acknowledge that they never tried to save him? Which brother is going to question this iffy statement about the chip? In order to buy into the family theme, Omega can't be the only one doing that emotional work.

Ideally, I wouldn't want Crosshair to go out of his way to prove that he's a good guy now. I mean, I obviously want him to stop helping the Empire and such, duh lol, but I'm personally not looking for a bunch of Extra Good Things directed at the Batch as a requirement for forgiveness. Simply because that would reinforce the idea that they're 100% Crosshair's victims, Crosshair is 100% the bad guy, and he's the only one who needs to do any work to fix this situation. Crosshair needs to stop doing bad things (working for Empire). But the Batch needs to start doing good things too (reaching out to him). Especially since Crosshair made a good play already, only to be met with glares and distrust. He saved Omega! And AZI! And none of them cared. So am I (is Crosshair) supposed to believe that saving one of their lives again will result in a different reaction? That doesn't make much sense. And no, his own life wasn't at risk when he did that, but does every antagonist need to die/nearly die to prove they're worth fighting for? As you say, he's already shown that he loves them, far more than they've shown the reverse. Every time Crosshair hurt them (attacking) it was while he was under the chip's influence. In contrast, the group has no "I was being controlled" excuse for when they hurt him (abandonment). Season two needs to acknowledge the Batch's responsibility in all this—and acknowledge that they're all victims of the Empire—in order to figure out an appropriate arc for Crosshair's redemption.

Right now, the issue is not Crosshair loving his brothers, the issue is how Crosshair chooses to express that love: trying to keep them safe and giving them a purpose in life by joining the organization that's clearly going to dominate the galaxy. The only way to fix that, now that his offer has been rejected, is for him to realize that a life on the run from the Empire, together, is a better option for everyone. And the only way for that to happen is for the Batch to seriously offer him a place with them again. They need to make the first move here. They need to fight for him. And yeah, I totally get that a lot of people don't like that because it's not "fair." He's the bad guy. He's with the fascist allegory. He's killed people and has therefore lost any right to compassion and effort from the good guys... but if that's the case, then we just have to accept that (within the story-world, not from a writing perspective) Crosshair is unlikely to ever come back from this. When people reach that kind of low, they rarely pull themselves out on their own. They need other people to help them do that. Help them a lot. But with the exception of Omega's reminder—which Crosshair can't believe due to how everyone else has treated him—they leave him alone and seem to expect him to fix himself first, then he gets their support. It needs to be the other way around. Support is what would allow him to become a good guy again, not "Well, you'll get our love when you're good again, not before." That's unlikely to occur and, as discussed, it doesn't take into account things like this bad guy life being forced on Crosshair at the start. If the story really wanted this to be a matter of ideological differences... then make it about ideological differences. Let Crosshair leave of his own free will, right at the start. Don't enslave him for half the season, have him realize he was abandoned, imply all that brainwashing, give him no realistic way out, and then punish him for not doing the right thing. This isn't a situation where someone went bad for the hell of it—the story isn't asking us to feel compassion for, say, the Admiral—it's a situation where Crosshair was controlled and now can't see a way out. That context allows for the Batch, the good guys, to fight for him without the audience thinking the show is just excusing that behavior. They should have been fighting from the start, but since they didn't, I hope we at least start seeing that in season two.

Ultimately though... I don't really expect all of the above. The more balanced dynamics and having the Batch fight for Crosshair rather than Crosshair going it alone... I wouldn't want to bet any money on us getting it, just because these are things that should have been established in season one and would have been more easy to pull off in season one. (If the Batch wouldn't fight for Crosshair while he was literally under the Empire's control, why would they fight now when he's supposedly acting of his own free will? It's backwards in terms of the emotional effort involved.) But again, it could happen! I'd be very pleased if it did happen, despite the jarring change. I don't want to make it sound like I think they're going to write off Crosshair entirely. Far from it, I think there are too many details like his sad looks for that, to say nothing of Omega's compassion. But the execution of getting him on Team Good Guys again might be preeeetty bumpy. I expect it to revolve around Crosshair's sins and Crosshair's redemption, even if what I would like is balancing that with Crosshair's loss of agency, the Batch's mistakes, and their own redemption towards him.

Honestly though, I just hope that whatever happens happens soon. It's a personal preference, absolutely, but after a season of Crosshair as the antagonist, I'm ready for him to be back with the group, making the Empire (and bounty hunters) the primary enemy. Whether his return happens through a mutual acknowledgement of mistakes, or through Crosshair being depicted as the only one in the wrong who has to do something big to be forgiven... just get him back with the squad lol. Because if the writing isn't going to delve into that nuance, then the longer he remains unforgiven, the longer some of us have to watch a series while going, "Wait, wait, wait, I really don't agree with how you're painting this picture."

#TBB #The Bad Batch #SW #Star Wars #mymetas #long post

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psychedaleka · 4 years

Text

all my stumbling phrases

an angbang @officialtolkiensecretsanta 2020 gift fic for @celebbun :) hope you enjoy!

Rating: T | No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Melkor/Mairon Characters: Melkor, Mairon Word count: 2.7k

Summary: A winter day in Utumno, an outdoor excursion, and a conversation.

---

“You want to do what?” Mairon levels a flat stare at Melkor, who’s looking at him with an expression that would be unreadable to anyone else.

To Mairon, it’s the I-have-an-idea-and-it-just-might-end-in-a-disaster look.

“Strap knives to our feet and glide on ice,” Melkor says, matter of fact, as though it’s something that anyone would think to do.

read the rest on ao3! or below the cut

Mairon sets down his quill and closes the inventory records. The cover slams shut with a bang. He can feel a headache building. No—not a headache. Not exactly. But it’s an ache of some sort, something he can’t put into words. The feeling he keeps getting whenever he’s in the same room as Melkor but like he doesn’t know what he should do, what he should say.

Like he’s flustered.

Mairon has never been flustered in his life.

“You need a break,” Melkor says. “You’ve been staring at that for how long now, a week?”

“Less than a day, for this particular record,” Mairon corrects. “I have been auditing your storerooms for a week.”

“Exactly!” Melkor says. “Does it matter if we have 3400 or 3401 shields?”

“Yes,” Mairon says, but doesn’t bother to offer more explanation.

He wants to double check and cross reference the math, because it’s simple, and straightforward, and if there’s something he doesn’t recognize, there’s inevitably a solution.

It distracts him, too, from staring at Melkor too much, from watching everything he does. It is probably, Mairon tells himself, that Melkor is a Valar, and he commands attention. There’s no other possible explanation as to why Mairon might lose track of everything else when he’s around.

“Listen,” Melkor says, shifting tactics, “the inventories will keep for another day. Just give an order that whichever storeroom you’re investigating shouldn’t be touched, and come back to it later. It isn’t as though the shields will run away.”

Mairon considers it.

“Fine,” he says.

“Excellent!” Melkor says. “Now, I have some ideas about how we could achieve this—”

Of course, those ideas happen to be Melkor describing what he wants to achieve, and Mairon scrambling to find a way to realize it. It’s very typical, and Mairon’s used to it now.

Melkor’s a big picture thinker, and that was what drew Mairon to him in the beginning. Mairon can’t really complain about that now. Even if Melkor occasionally shows up to dump a pile of half formed plans and ideas on him, leaving him to drop what he’s doing and piece together the scraps and trace Melkor’s—often disjointed—logic.

Even so, Mairon’s quite pleased with the end result—ice skates, they’ll probably be called. The blade is separate from the shoe, with a platform that attaches to the sheo by two leather straps. The blade is not as sharp as the knives Mairon prefers, no, but it will glide across ice and support the wearer’s weight.

It will help with icy expeditions and complaints that frozen lakes are impossible to cross.

“All that’s left to do is test them,” Mairon tells Melkor, who’s been sitting on a bench in his—no, the forge, Mairon can’t forget that it technically doesn’t belong to him. Melkor’s presence has surprised and scared quite a few of the other maiar and a not insignificant number of orcs. “I’m certain I’ll be able to find a few orcs willing to volunteer—”

“No, no,” Melkor says. “Let’s go test them.”

Mairon opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“I have work to do,” he says, a weak excuse.

“Get someone else to do it,” he says. “Surely, counting can’t be so difficult a task that you need to attend to it?”

“No one will organize the storerooms in the optimal configuration,” Mairon says.

“Optimal configuration, you say,” Melkor says, and Mairon knows he’s laughing at him, but he doesn’t say anything. “It can be just the two of us.”

Mairon tries to parse the implications of that sentence.

“Besides, I’m bored,” Melkor continues.

Mairon remembers the last time Melkor had been bored. It involved several explosions, a near incomprehensible scoreboard, and half a year to clean up. Mairon considers it, and looks up at Melkor—who seems to know exactly what he’s doing.

“Fine,” Mairon says. Productivity in the forges has been down, anyways, since Melkor first started watching him work on the ice skates. His normally competent assistants have ruined a batch of swords, broken three hammers, and nearly dropped a ton of molten iron on the ground. He needs to get Melkor out of here before his presence causes a larger disaster.

“I knew you would agree eventually.”

There are underground lakes and rivers beneath the foundation of Utumno, used for the drinking and other miscellaneous needs of the fortress’ inhabitants. It’s liquid year round, even in the middle of winter, insulated from the aboveground temperature by layers of rock. The paths to this reservoir are many, but it’s not there that they head for, and for that, Mairon is secretly glad. The last thing he needs is to field panicked reports of the plumbing not working because Melkor had frozen the whole thing. Even if he had designed and tested it himself.

Some distance from Utumno is a lake, nestled between mountain peaks. Fed by rainwater and melting snow from the mountains, it had formed when the Lamps were destroyed.

It was also where Mairon had landed, when he came to Utumno permanently.

It’s there that Melkor leads him, now, some distance away from straying gazes and open ears.

The surface of the lake is frozen over, in a layer of clear ice.

“Will the ice hold?” Mairon asks.

“One way to find out,” Melkor says, and Mairon fights the urge to tell him that there absolutely are more ways to find out. “You first.”

Mairon’s already come this far. He might as well—and if he falls over, well, there’s no one around to see except Melkor, and he doesn’t care if he embarasses himself in front of Melkor.

That’s a lie. He cares very much of what Melkor thinks about him.

Mairon straps the skates to his shoes with cold fingers. He should have brought gloves.

It isn’t difficult to balance on solid ground, but the moment Mairon steps onto the ice, he slips and falls. He can hear Melkor’s muffled laughter.

Well, he thinks, at least Melkor has the awareness to muffle his laughter—as though that’s any better.

His cheeks flush red, and it’s not just because of the cold.

He pushes himself up from the ice. His fingers are cold. This time, Mairon manages to stay upright for a few more seconds, but when he starts trying to move, he’s wobbly and falls soon after. He scrambles for a few seconds, trying to push himself up again, before Melkor interjects.

“Need some help?” Melkor asks, gliding on the second pair of skates as though this isn’t his first time skating. Melkor offers an arm, and Mairon clings to it, dragging himself up.

“Thanks,” Mairon says.

“Here, hold my hands,” Melkor says. “You won’t fall over as much.”

“Perhaps it’s a design flaw,” Mairon says, trying to concentrate on something other than how close Melkor is. “How much balance is needed to effectively operate them, I mean.”

“I don’t think so,” Melkor says. “All you need is some practice.”

Melkor starts skating backwards, slowly—the showoff—and he takes Mairon with him. Mairon glides, pulled along by Melkor, inexorably drawn by his trajectory, trusting him not to lead Mairon to a fall.

“See, it isn’t so hard,” Melkor says. “Why don’t you try?”

Mairon lets go of Melkor’s hands—reluctantly, and he doesn’t want to think of the implications of that. He wobbles along, for a short while—he’s getting better, he thinks—and falls. Again.

Melkor muffles his laughter, again, as Mairon drags himself up.

“Not all of us have your sense of balance,” Mairon says, annoyed.

“Oh, yes, I’m very well aware,” Melkor says, not bothering to hide his grin.

Mairon glares at him.

“Here, we can keep holding hands,” Melkor says. “Let’s go around the lake.”

Mairon casts a glance at the other shore of the lake, barely lit by starlight filtering through a thick layer of clouds.

“Are you sure the ice will hold?” Mairon asks.

“Oh, yes,” Melkor says. “There shouldn’t be any issues.”

A few hours later, Mairon is chilled to the bone and decently competent at skating.

“That was fun,” Melkor says.

“More importantly, the skates are tested,” Mairon says.

Melkor stares at him, for a long moment.

“What?” Mairon asks.

“Did you really think this was about testing skates?” Melkor asks.

“Yes?” Mairon says. “What else?”

“You and I, spending some time together,” Melkor says.

“We spend plenty of time together,” Mairon says. “When you come and watch me work, when I report to you about the status of Utumno—”

“No,” Melkor says. “Not about work. On a personal basis.”

Mairon blinks.

On a personal basis? What could Melkor want from him ‘on a personal basis?’

He asks as much, but Melkor doesn’t answer that question.

“You were unhappy in Almaren,” Melkor says, a statement more than a question. “That was easy to tell. But harder, I think, to tell if you’re happy here.”

A pause.

“Mairon, are you happy?”

“Yes?” Mairon answers. He doesn’t know why Melkor would ask him this.

“I mean it,” Melkor says. “If there’s anything you dislike—if there’s anything that you want to be different, don’t hesitate to change it.”

There is. There is that maddeningly incomprehensible feeling he gets when he’s around Melkor, but that’s not something he can articulate, let alone make concrete plans for.

“I hadn’t thought my personal wellbeing mattered to you,” Mairon says, instead.

“Why would it not?”

“Because—well, because you’re you, and I’m me,” Mairon answers.

“That’s not an answer.”

“As though you haven’t been giving me non answers the whole day.”

“Like for what question?”

“What do you want from me on a personal basis?”

Melkor—for probably the first time in his very long life—thinks about what he says before he says it.

“The work you have done for me is commendable,” Melkor says. “The structure, organizational, and technological improvements have been greatly beneficial to my forces, and I—would not have been able to achieve these changes without you. But what you could do for me was not the only reason I wanted you to be mine.”

What other reason could there be, Mairon thinks, but doesn’t ask.

“I—” Melkor glances around, as though someone could be eavesdropping on their conversation— “I love you.”

Mairon stands there, frozen, not just because of the cold.

He opens his mouth, and closes it.

“You—what?” Mairon asks, finally, when the implications of what Melkor just said hits him. “I—what?”

Melkor turns sharply, skates grinding across the ice. There’s tension in his shoulders.

“Forget it,” he says. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, I—” Mairon falls silent. He doesn’t know how to proceed.

“We ought to return,” Melkor says.

The thing is: Mairon doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to go back to his inventories and reports. He wants to stay out here, even though he’s freezing cold, because—because—because—

Because Melkor is here, with him. With only him.

But Melkor is skating towards the opposite end of the lake, and Mairon rushes to follow.

Only—he shifts his weight, and there’s a cracking noise, and before Mairon can realize what’s happened, the ice breaks beneath him, swallowing him beneath the icy water.

Mairon is a Maia, and he doesn’t need anything as paltry as oxygen, but he’s exhausted from his week of auditing, and trying to ensure the forges don’t fall to chaos as he and Melkor design the ice skates, and the cold air while he skated, and the love confession, and the icy shock.

Mairon is a Maia, but his nature is that of fire and stone, and he doesn’t do well with cold water.

He slips into unconsciousness.

The next thing Mairon is aware of is a heavy weight on his body, and the fact that he is lying on something soft. He blinks his way to wakefulness, slowly, slowly, and the world around him sharpens in degrees.

He’s lying on a bed—a feather bed, with stuffed pillows, underneath several layers of thick blankets. The bed frame is carved dark wood, and the richly embroidered curtains are half closed, giving him a faint view of the room outside. There’s a roaring fire opposite him, with the faint smell of wood smoke, and tapestries hanging on the stone walls.

This isn’t his room, with his sparse cot and makeshift blankets that he had chosen over a proper bed.

Mairon sits upright, too quickly.

The room is empty. He had hoped it wouldn’t be.

Mairon tries, desperately, to parse what happened.

Melkor had said he loved him. He loved him.

Mairon had thought—this was impossible, not because Aule had implied Melkor was incapable of love, but because Mairon was a Maia, and Melkor’s subordinate, and—

He had rejected that possibility, and his own feelings, because he never thought it would be possible.

But it isn’t impossible. It isn’t even improbable.

It happened. Melkor had said he loved him.

And Mairon had—he flops back down onto the bed. Mairon had frozen, entirely.

He lies there, for a few more minutes, before making up his mind. He needs to do something about this.

He pushes himself out of bed—maybe too fast, because the world swoops around him.

A hand catches his arm, pulls him upright.

“Careful there,” Melkor says, standing right next to Mairon. He’s watching Mairon, with an expression that is utterly unreadable to Mairon.

Mairon doesn’t like it.

“What happened?”

“You fell into the lake,” Melkor says, and Mairon thinks Melkor should be amused, he should find it funny that Mairon actually fell into the lake after worrying that he would, but Melkor isn’t laughing.

He looks dead serious.

“I thought you said the ice would hold,” Mairon says, because he doesn’t like this. He wants Melkor to be making fun of him.

“If you’re implying that I deliberately made you fall in—”

“Did you?”

“No!” Melkor snaps.

Is he angry? Mairon doesn’t know. He sits down—and something in him says, this is improper, you shouldn’t be sitting when he isn’t, but Mairon’s passed improper hours ago.

“It was very cold,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Melkor doesn’t respond. “Where am I?”

“My rooms,” Melkor says. “Yours were hardly sufficient. You don’t even have a bed.”

He sounds—annoyed? Angry on Mairon’s behalf? Mairon isn’t sure why, except—the words I love you rings in his mind, and Mairon wonders, then, if Melkor cares about him beyond the way a lord should for his servant.

But of course, Mairon chides himself.

“Perhaps I should start stealing your bed,” Mairon says, after far too long a silence.

Melkor doesn’t respond to that.

“I should go,” Mairon says, but he makes no move to leave.

But Melkor doesn’t make him leave.

“I love you too,” Mairon blurts out. He should be leaving. He should really, really be leaving. But when he makes for the door, Melkor stops him with a firm grip on his arm.

“Don’t say that just because you feel obligated to,” Melkor says.

“I’m not,” Mairon says, feeling the room grow several degrees warmer. Or maybe it’s just his face. “I don’t—feel obligated to—I just. Wanted to tell you how I felt. Feel. Still do.”

Melkor brushes a thumb across Mairon’s cheekbone.

Then Melkor kisses him.

After an eternity, and too short a time, they pull away from each other.

“You can steal my bed anytime you’d like,” Melkor says, with a wink.

Mairon, flustered, is speechless.

“My auditing,” Mairon says.

“Forget about it,” Melkor says. “You can easily go back to it tomorrow. Stay here. With me.”

With him.

“Sure,” Mairon says. “What do you want to do?”

Melkor’s watching Mairon with his I-have-an-idea look. But this time, it just might not end in a disaster.

#angbang #silmarillion #melkor #mairon #sauron #morgoth #tolkien #fluff #tss2020 #my writing

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batfam-all-the-way · 5 years

Text

Batfamily cooking Headcannons

The family has a Butler so they’d very rarely cook so I think it’s safe to assume they wouldn’t be great at it

It’s public knowledge the Wayne Family are bad cooks

A while ago Alfred was sick and they had to make their own breakfast

Dick took it upon himself to cook for them- he cooks for himself a bit (though that's mostly packaged things with like 3 instructions)

Anyways so Damian comes down and decides he wants pancakes

Everyones like no Dick its fine we can have cereal or order food but he’s determined so he finds a recipe and gets cooking

Which is how the photo of Dick Grayson holding a frying pan on fire with Damian yelling behind him went viral

Curtesy of Steph’s instagram

They decided just to order after that

Stephanie decides one day she wants to bake cookies so she tells Cass they’re gonna have a ‘girl’s day’ and Barbara comes over and they invite Harper

Between the 4 of them they manage to make a semi-reasonable batter

Somehow they end up with more chocolate chips in it than actual cookie but who's complaining

They make 2 batches and the first one they forget about until Alfred comes to tell them off for burning stuff in his kitchen

The second batch somehow turns out ok?? They don’t test great but it’s the best they’ve done

Come Christmas and Steph learns that neither Cass Jason or Damian have ever made gingerbread cookies and is outraged

Damian thinks that ‘the League of Assassins weren’t big on cookies’ is a fair excuse but Steph won't have it

luckily she gets Alfred to make the dough

truthfully he wasn't letting them cook again

He made ALOT of dough and Jason, Cass, Damian and Steph roll and cut all the gingerbread men

Alfred bakes them and Steph invites everyone over to ice and decorate them

Surprisingly Damian is pretty good and he ices a robin gingerbread man

This sparks a competition, judged by Alfred, of who can ice the best gingerbread version of their alter ego

Dick’s Nightwing gets last place, being a blob of black icing with a wonky blue stripe piped across

Tim’s isn't much better but at least he spread the icing

Cass wins but to much dispute-her costume is just a full black outfit with some yellow

Duke comes second and then Damian, who is outraged

Barbara’ batgirl got voted best hair due to the red liquorice stuck to the head

Harper’s was good but she got bored and bit it’s hand off and was eliminated

Steph posts plenty of gingerbread cookie photos and they had tons of fun

But the mess was hell, icing everywhere, lollies covering the floor

Steph ended up with purple icing rubbed through her hair

#dc #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #Jason todd #barbara gordon #duke thomas #mine #Damian wayne #Tim drake #cassandra cain #Stephanie brown #HCs #headcannons

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years

Text

Three Days ~ 58

~*~Sebastian~*~

The video call with Emma's family had been good until the last sentence. I wasn't sure if Andrea was legitimately saying she hoped we'd be together or questioning if we would. From the look on Emma's face, she was going with option two. Now I was slightly suspicious Eli's dislike for them wasn't unfounded.

It wasn't late when Emma called. I put my script on the table and stretched out on the couch before connecting the call. I stopped before a word left my mouth.

Emma said, "Hey."

"This is not the same happy face I saw less than two hours ago." She looked exhausted. While her puffy red eyes could be from the pool, I doubted it was chlorine. She'd been crying. A knot formed in my stomach. I spoke quietly, "What's going on, baby?"

What followed was a strange story of her parents ignoring her to talk to Amy then telling Emma she should pretend her life sucks so her sister won't do drugs. Oversimplified, but accurate.

Dammit, Eli was right.

Emma went back and forth between angry and sad. I honestly don’t know which was worse, but I didn't like either of them. A wave of protectiveness washed over me and I wanted to jump on a plane to go get her. She didn't need saving now any more than she did in the bar after the volleyball tournament. The difference was either I was there just in case she needed me at the bar or possibly my feelings for her were stronger now. Or both.

At the end of the story, she said, "It's not always this bad. Most of the time it's fine, besides the walking on eggshells. I didn't say anything because I try to be optimistic. If I come down here thinking the worst, I’m reading into everything and paranoid about everything I say. It only makes things worse. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad."

I double blinked, "Mad? I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed as hell at them. Your best friend kind of hates them. Your sister's a heroin addict and your parents signed over custody of you to a rock star who lived on the other side of the country. I never thought this was a vacation. You said I didn't need to worry, but I did anyway. I am going to need Eli's phone number so I can apologize for thinking he was an ass about your parents."

I felt better when she smiled, "He'll enjoy that and never let you forget."

"Never letting you forget stupid shit is the basis of most male friendships." I switched back to serious for a second, "Do you wanna leave? Say the word and I'll book the flight and talk to you until the Uber gets there. Meet you at the airport here and we'll lock ourselves in my apartment until we have to leave Sunday. Hell, you can just stay here and hideout. Maybe rearrange some more of my drawers."

"As wonderful as it sounds, no. Not tonight anyway. Amy and I will have a good time tomorrow. I'd feel bad running off. Sunday there will be family buffers. Monday, I don't know. Mom will be doing exams Tuesday while I'm with the girls." She shook her head, "I already severely limit my time here."

"Em, it's ok to not want to be around people who make you feel bad. Even if they're family. It's shitty, but it's your choice."

"Visit when my guilt about not visiting outweighs the potential bad time when I visit."

"I don't recommend guilt." I looked at her thinking what a shit situation this was.

"I don't want to fight to just be myself. Shouldn't be this difficult. I can understand them wanting to protect Amy, but I feel like they don't want to hear about me."

I couldn't fix this as much as I wanted to. "Last night when you knew I'd been upset did you feel incredibly helpless? Even though talking to me while I could see you was enough."

"Yep." She yawned. "I was out by the lake. I came back where it was light and we could see each other. We have good phone calls."

I agreed. Phone calls, even video calls, can feel distant or impersonal. Not for us. I'm used to keeping friendships going over the phone. If I couldn't have real conversations on the phone, I wouldn't be sane. "You’re tired."

"I don't want to hang up."

"Not going to. What was your favorite bedtime story when you were little?"

She looked at me like I was a little crazy. Not inaccurate. "Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree."

"I want you to go upstairs and get into bed. While you’re doing that, I’m going to find Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree. Then I'm going to read to you until you fall asleep."

“You’re going to read me a bedtime story?”

I most definitely was. I nodded with a smile.

“Best boyfriend ever.”

“Trying.” I could tell she was getting up. “I’m going to be quiet so you can sneak in.”

“My parents are awake in the family room. I have to walk through.”

“Just pretend you're sneaking me to your bedroom after a date. Put me in your pocket.”

She laughed and then the screen went dark. I could hear muffled voices. “I’m going to bed.”

“Amy said to be ready to leave at ten.”

“Sounds good. Night.”

“Sleep well. We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Hmmm. Her voice didn’t hold the warmth those words should have. Not the way I’d want to hear them.

Less than a minute later I was out of her pocket. “I need the bathroom. I’m going to let you hang out in bed.” She was quiet, but I could see she was concentrating on something. “Enjoy.”

Emma dropped the phone on the bed and I was staring at the ceiling when my text notification went off. Oh . . . the naked on a pool float picture. Peachless. Also, bikini bottomless. I was still smiling when the real girl came back on camera. “Nice ass.”

She crawled under the covers and propped her phone against the pillow next to her. “Remarkably self-conscious.”

“Then why’d you send it?” From the drinking game, I knew she’d sent nudes to someone before.

“Wasn’t self-conscious until after I sent. At the time it was fun and flirty. I knew you’d like it. After I hit send I thought I should make sure.”

“No, you were right I like it. A lot. Want a picture of my ass?”

“Your naked is ass is online and on film.”

“Bonus for you! Everything will be soon enough.” I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Really? Full frontal?”

“Not sure how full, but frontal. The movie I shot in Greece. Talk about self-conscious.”

“I tell you what. When your full-frontal comes out, I’ll send you full-frontal. We’ll be even.”

“Now I’m looking forward to the release.” A dirty smile formed on my face, “Do I get to take it?”

“I don’t know who else would.”

I scrunched up my face because that hurt in all the good ways. I’m supposed to be reading a bedtime story not getting a hard-on. Guess where gonna see if I can do both at the same time. “Time for sleep.”

She smiled and tucked her hands under her pillow. I like seeing her relaxed like this even better than the naked pool picture. “You look so pretty curled up.”

“Did you remember to turn on the screenshot function?”

“I did.” I took one right now. “I’ll go sleep to that.”

Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws and began to think. First of all he said to himself: “That buzzing-noise means something. You don’t get a buzzing-noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, without its meaning something. If there’s a buzzing-noise, somebody’s making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is because you’re a bee.”

Then he thought another long time, and said: “And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.”

And then he got up, and said: “And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.” So he began to climb the tree.

I kept reading until I was sure she was asleep. Instead of hanging up, I hit mute and put my phone on the arm of the chair where I could see her while I worked. I kept watch until she changed positions and knocked the phone onto the screen.

First thing in the morning, before heading to the gym, I sent her one of the pictures I took of her sleeping.

Sebastian ~ Hope your day is as peaceful as you look here.

Emma ~ Thank you. For everything. Listening, talking, bedtime story.

Sebastian ~ Confession. Didn't know Pooh before last night.

Emma ~ We can watch next time we're together.

Sebastian ~ Cuddled up watching Winnie the Pooh sounds good. Have fun today.

Emma ~ Have fun with the guys tonight.

The next time I checked my phone, after working out, I had half a dozen text messages. All from Evans.

Chris ~ Yo!

Chris ~ Wake up

Chris ~ Lazy fucker

Chris ~ Are you home?

Chris ~ I’m in NYC

Chris ~ Let me know

Sebastian ~ Ass. I was at the gym. Chace is in town too. Meeting for drinks about five. Dinner. More drinks. You should come. I'd love to see you.

Chris ~ Sounds great. Tell me where.

I sent him the address and was more excited about my night. Will, Chace, and now Chris were doing before dinner drinks then we'd meet up with the others. I'd made a ton of progress with the new role. After my shower I made some more notes, alternating with checking Instagram when I got a notification Emma had posted. A group walking down a dock pulling a couple of coolers was labeled, "Load in." A shot all of them on the boat. Emma was wearing the same bikini from yesterday with a pair of cutoffs. A couple of hours later she posted multiple pictures of them tubing, people sitting around laughing, others in the water, and a couple of them laying out on the deck. None of those had my girl. The next batch did. Same sort of pictures, but with her in.

This was much better than last night. She looked like she was having fun. The last one before I headed to meet the guys was her, Amy, and who I assume was Amy's boyfriend. He was in the middle. Emma's caption read, "Someone is missing."

I commented, "Miss you too."

I ran into Chace right outside the bar. We hugged and gave each other shit about our matching beards. We kept up the teasing and laughing all the way to the table. Will and Chris were already seated and had ordered beers. Chris downed half his beer in one drink, "Seb, man, you stood me up. I mean, I get helping your parents move."

Will laughed. Chace cocked his head to the side and smiled. Chris looked at them before turning his attention back to me, "What have you done?"

I put my beer down slowly. "Yeah, about that. I may have left out a bit. I was helping my parents move, but that's not why I stayed."

Chris put his hand on my shoulder, "You met a girl."

"I met a girl. We'd had a great first date and I wasn't ready to leave. I wanted to get to know her better."

Chris looked up like he was thinking, "I'm good with that." His eyes came back, "Still seeing her?"

I couldn't have stopped my smile if I'd tried. "Yeah. Emma."

Chris smiled, "Nice."

Chace looked at Will, "You knew this and didn't bust him in our group chat?"

Will shrugged, "Trust me, it's more fun this way." He shifted his eyes to me for a second before looking back to Chace with a smirked, "You've met her."

Chace pointed to himself, "I’ve met her?"

Will continued, "At Kirk's wedding she was with the singer from Boone's band and his wife."

I watched him search his memory, "Didn't I hit on her?"

"Why did you say that out loud?

Chace snickered, "To see him make that face."

Not sure what face I was making, but I changed it.

"I thought they were in a throuple."

I rolled my eyes, "Not a throuple."

"How is that even a word?" Chris screwed up his face.

Will handed Chace his phone, "This is her Instagram Emma_plays_90"

Unless Emma had updated the first was another throuple.

"Sister?"

"Twin."

Both smirked, "Nice."

Chace asked, "Which is yours?"

"Polka dot bikini."

They scrolled back in her timeline, turning the phone toward me when they got to the peach one.

Chris raised one eyebrow, "Please, tell me you have the uncensored version."

I nodded. Smiling again.

Chace handed Will his phone back, "You have better on your phone. Hand it over."

I knew this would happen and had left the naked one in my texts. I had to stand up to dig my phone out of my pocket. I had it unlocked and the folder full of her open when I got a text.

Emma ~ Tell Chris hi and nice to meet him.

I looked up. Chris was on his phone. "What did you do?"

Chris did a shit job of pretending to look innocent. "Does Instagram notify someone if you follow them?"

"If their account is set to private and they have to approve you, yes, it does." Another text.

Emma ~ And Chace...

I glared at him. He shrugged, "0oops."

"Now she knows we're talking about her." No idea why I said that. Of course, she knows we're talking about her.

Will looked exasperated, "She already knew."

Chace chuckled, "She DM’d me. Hope your pick-up lines have improved." He sat there saying each word as he replied, "I'd like to say they have, but probably not."

Will smacked the back of Chace's head, "Stop it. You know how he gets."

One of the side effects of insecurity is jealousy. I get jealous. And in an all-time dick move I don't like it when girlfriends get jealous. I think that falls under the topic of commitment issues. I shook my head at Will, "Not jealous. It's this combination of annoyed that I could have met her a year ago and relief I didn't because things would have gone very differently. I was not ready for Emma a year ago."

"How'd you get ready?"

One of the things Chris and I have in common is relationship and commitment issues. I had no trouble answering, "Years of therapy finally came together. I managed to step outside my walls and she ... she has this way of working around my anxiety. Makes it ok."

I handed over my phone, scrolled back to the beginning with the fish.

Chace winked at Chris, "Told ya the good ones were on his phone."

They scrolled through, stopping to look at each other before turning the phone around to me. It was on the deck at her place. She was sitting at the table, her leg pulled up with her foot on the seat, smiling at me. She'd looked beautiful in the fading light. The smile, the look on her face, still made my heart skip a beat. Any man would love to have a woman look at him the way she was looking at me. That was day four. It’s even better now.

Chris turned the phone back toward them, "You should have led with you'd blown me off because you met a beautiful woman who looks at you like you hung the fucking moon."

I shook my head, "I met a very kind and amazing woman who just happens to be beautiful."

Chace asked, "How'd you meet?"

"She thought I was a drug addict getting snacks before checking into the rehab place up the road. She

helped me find chocolate chips for mom to make fudge."

Chris looked surprised then smiled, "That's a good story."

"Nice, but makes questionable choices." Chris grabbed Chace’s hand to turn the phone back around.

Chace kept scrolling, "This hers? She have a kid?"

Not sure why the pictures are out of order. "No, one of her students. She teaches first grade."

Chris started laughing, his hand went to his chest, "This is perfect. I couldn't do this better."

I was lost, "What are you talking about?"

Chris waved his hand around, "Issues aside and knowing you're not always the good guy in the relationship. The Seb I know," He pointed to Chace and Will, “we know, is kind, sensitive, and has a big ole soft heart. Every time you date someone, I get scared. Legit terrified. I’m afraid every girl is going to break you, change you, and you won’t be sweet Seb anymore. When I think of a teacher, especially a first-grade teacher, I think patient, kind, empathetic, flexible but firm. If I was setting you up on a blind date, I'd look for those qualities. This could be perfect."

"Emma is all those things. And accepting. I had a panic attack the other night. She didn't bitch about me not waking her, or ask a million questions, she just asked what I needed to be ok. I needed a run. I came back and she was upside down on my couch and had switched my sock and underwear drawers. She took none of it on, just took care of me."

"Refreshing," Chris said and the others agreed.

"I took care of her after she got to her parents."

Will winced, "Eli right to hate them?"

My eyes went wide, "They ignored her to talk about Amy's boyfriend, and told her to pretend her life sucks so Amy won't do drugs and relapse."

Will grimaced, "Yeah, Eli is right."

I filled in the holes for Chace and Chris.

Chace frowned, "You’re supposed to go to rehab for cocaine?"

Chris put his hand over his mouth and pretended to look surprised, "Oops."

Chace again, "I picture a first-grade teacher as sweet and innocent. No cursing, drinking, and kinda shy with sex."

I lifted an eyebrow. The same side of my mouth curving up. "I get that, but no." I pulled my eyebrows down, pursed my lips, and shook my head. "I do like Monday mornings when she comes down looking like a first-grade teacher."

Chace leaned forward, "Are you in love with her?" He started to smile.

I hesitated and Will spoke up, "If you say anything besides yes you're a worse liar than you are an actor."

"That's harsh." I rubbed my hand over my beard. "Falling in love, yes. Haven't quite been pushed

over the edge."

"How long have you known her?" From Chace.

"Three weeks."

Chris was shaking his head," You don't need months to know what's right for you. Don't overthink it. If she's ticking all your boxes, your heart flutters when you see here, and her smile takes your breath away, it's long enough. Don't waste a second. Falling in love is the best feeling in the world, just fucking enjoy.”

Chace held his hand out, palm up, waving from Chris to me. "For the record, I wasn't going to give you shit. I was just curious."

The conversation changed to what had been going on with them. Chace was doing some anti-superhero Amazon series. Chris was signed on for an Amazon series too. Apparently, the future is Amazon. The beers kept coming and we were lit when Chris asked our servers to take a picture. He texted it to the three of us and we posted it to Instagram at the same time. Complete with a countdown. Because drunk boys.

We wove our way the block to the restaurant. Our group more than doubled in size. Dinner sobered us up. It was a good time. We were loud for no other reason than talking across a long table. Ok, we were a little loud anyway. Next was another bar. We got even louder there. The value of a night out with the guys should never be underrated. Being idiots and taking the piss out of each other was good for the soul, and bad for the liver. We closed the bar down, loading into cabs in groups heading in the same direction.

I barely remember getting home. The next morning, I woke up with a raging headache. First order of the day was Advil and a bottle of water. Second was checking in on Emma. After the bar, the first one, I hadn't checked my phone again. She knew how to reach me if she needed me. I'd figured she was having fun like I was. From the pictures and videos on Instagram plus the ones she'd texted me, I was right. They’d gone back to her parents after the boat and had a pool party.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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27emailsicantsend · 5 years

Text

Christmas Eve: A Rina Fic

Author’s Note: Literally no one asked for this, I just wanted to write it. 😂 I’m also in the process of making a part two to this fic for New Year’s Eve, so I’ll link it when I’m finished!

“Both of my parents are working...” Ej sighed.

“Ok, well- moving on!” Miss Jenn said awkwardly as she looked over at Carlos. “What will you be doing for Christmas?”

Carlos smiled at Seb and placed a hand on his desk. “We’ll be singing Christmas Carols door to door”.

“Oh how wonderful! Please make sure to send me copies,” Miss Jenn requested.

Carlos gave her a look of disbelief, “what kind of co-captain would I be if I didn’t send my leading lady a copy? Of course, you will get one”.

Miss Jenn gave an amused giggle. She brought her composure back. “Ricky? How about you? And your dad? Right? You’ll be with your dad Christmas Eve? He shouldn’t have to be alone”.

Ricky grimaced uncomfortably. He didn’t mind Miss Jenn liking his dad, or even them dating, but she asks about him... a LOT. And the last time she asked, she asked if he wore the skinny jeans she bought him for Christmas. Apparently it “outlined” his figure nicely.

“Yes, Miss Jenn,” Ricky said, slightly through his teeth. “It’ll just be my dad and I”. She looked hopeful- Ricky crushed that quickly. “But we were probably going over to Nini’s to help her, her mom’s, Kourtney and her family bake cookies. They give them to the homeless shelter every year”. Ricky hesitated over every part of his remark, especially the part about Nini.

He had spent all of his time with Gina before she moved, then when he thought she wasn’t coming back, he kissed Nini. He liked Nini, right? And they dated and now she finally liked him, so what was the problem? Well... it’s Gina. She moved back and ever since things have been... weird between them. They smile awkwardly at each other in the hallway, almost hugged opening night during the last scene but decided against it, and one time they almost had a conversation more than five sentences when Gina asked Ricky about the missed science homework. But then Big Red came in and saved the day himself. Gina gave a gracious thank you and eye roll and walked away.

Gina’s head was eyeing the marks on her desk, so Ricky couldn’t tell if she was upset or not at the mention of Nini. She traced the writings on the wood with her finger as Miss Jenn asked everyone else in the cast circle about their holiday plans.

Big Red was going to play video games and seemed saltier than usual that Ricky was bailing on their annual video game plans to spend time with Nini, Ashlyn invited EJ to fly down with her family since her sister was in college and ended up not being able to make the family trip in time. EJ had the money to cover the costs and gave a delighted, “yes!”

All eyes shifted to Gina, who was last to be asked. “Oh, you know, we’ll be doing all sorts of fun plans. Decorating the tree, making treats, watching movies... Christmas is... great”. Ricky knew Gina was lying.

The bell gave a sharp ring. Carlos was in the background yelling, “ok everyone! Pre-order for mine and Seb’s Christmas CD is on the piano! 40% off if you order now!... Red! Phone numbers ONLY please. Stop drawing that!...”

Ricky tried to run up and stop Gina, but she was about two steps ahead of him. Just as he began to speak, Gina bolted out and he felt an arm on his shoulder. Miss Jenn.

“Rickyyy!!!”

“H-h-hey, Miss Jenn,” Ricky said, avoiding eye contact.

She placed a firm arm around his shoulders as she walked him to the door, speaking without taking a breath. “Listen, I know you’re going to be busy with Nini and I’m sure your dad doesn’t have any plans, so if your dad wants I won’t be doing anything. I would love to have some company that night. My mom got me this ham, but I don’t really want to eat it all by myself- oh! And then you two can have leftovers and I’m sure you guys needs ham leftovers, right? Well, if he wants to hang out with me or something like I said I won’t be busy so he can just let me know,” Miss Jenn pushed Ricky out the auditorium door. “Ok bye now!” She shut it enthusiastically as Ricky shook his head trying to make sense of what happened.

Ricky looked around the semi-crowded hallway as students made their way to their classes. Gina was long gone.

***********

Miss Jenn breathed a quick sigh from behind the door, perked up, flattened her skirt, and swiftly made her way to the piano to pick up some extra sheet music.

“Miss Jenn?” She heard a soft voice come from opposite stage.

“Gina?” Miss Jenn’s face crumpled as she double checked the closed door. “I thought? I saw?... you leave that way?...”

“There’s a door on that side of the stage too”.

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“Anyway...” Gina gritted her teeth awkwardly, “want some help?”

“Umm... sure, Gina”. Miss Jenn smiled delightfully. “There’s some chairs that need to be stacked”.

Gina made her way over to the chairs. She stacked two in silence and began the third by asking, “so you don’t have plans for Christmas Eve?”

Miss Jenn froze. “What?! No! I have tons of them. Family, friends... so many wonderful people-“

Gina cut her off. “I heard you tell Ricky you didn’t”.

Miss Jenn lowered her head while she meekly straightened her papers on the piano top.

“It’s ok, Miss Jenn. I don’t have any either”.

“Well, that’s interesting Gina, considering you told the entire class you did,” Miss Jenn shot back defensively.

Gina threw her hands up, surrendering, “ok, ok, I’m caught. I just didn’t want anyone worrying about me. My mom is my only family around, but she’s working. So yeah, it’s just me. But... I was planning on just watching YouTube tutorials on how to make eclairs and build puzzles that day anyway... and I think those are activities you can do with two people”.

Miss Jenn finally made eye contact with Gina, “...do you like ham?”

Gina grinned, “love it”.

*************************************************

Christmas Eve

Nini was pulling the last batch of sugar cookies out of the oven while Ricky and Kourtney were slapping on globs of green, blue and red frosting on the cooled ones.

“Oh no...” Dana, Nini’s mom, said scrolling through her phone.

“What?” Nini asked as she started sliding cookies onto the cooling rack.

“The weather... it looks like a bad storm is rolling in tonight. The homeless shelter will be incredibly hard to get to with traffic and this storm. I don’t know, Nini, I don’t think we should go”.

“But mom, we do this every year!” Nini protested. “And what would we do with all of these?!”

Ricky used his finger to take some frosting off of his chin and eat it. Nini glared at him as if her eyes were to say “not the time”.

“Oh. Sorry,” Ricky set down his currently half frosted cookie and knife.

Kourtney got up and gave Nini a side hug as she rested her head on Nini’s shoulder.

“There’s got to be something we can do”. Ricky’s dad, Mike, interjected.

“Well, It’s not the exact same, but we could give them to some people around the area. And we can always make cookies again for New Years or something and bring them then,” Carol suggested.

“That works,” Nini looked disappointed, but accepting considering the circumstance.

**************

Gina was adjusting the fork next to the paper plate at her small table. It wasn’t much, but Gina really tried to make the place nice for her special guest. She turned on her fireplace, hung up two socks with duct tape, set out some holiday paper plates and plastic ware, and even cut and taped a bunch of paper snowflakes all over the house. She had strung some lights and put up the few Christmas decorations she found in a small box in her attic. She didn’t have a tree, so she put up a faux one on her tv screen from a channel that showed it with Christmas music playing in the background. It wasn’t much, but it made Gina giddy.

Gina heard her doorbell ring. She swung the door open fast and immediately her eyes fixated on Miss Jenn’s arms. In one she was carrying her cooked ham and the other had a small gift bag and her purse. Gina couldn’t afford to get Miss Jenn anything and immediately felt horrible.

“Uh... um... come on in,” Gina stammered.

Miss Jenn looked around as she placed the items on the kitchen counter. “Gina, it’s beautiful”.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Gina said sheepishly.

Miss Jenn set a gentle hand on Gina’s shoulder. “Really, it looks great”.

Gina bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well, how about that ham?”

“Oh yes! I have just the thing for it!” Miss Jenn zipped open her purse and pulled out a plastic handle with a cover. When she slid the cover off it revealed a giant knife- to which Gina’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Uhm... you don’t carry that around with you... all the time... do you miss Jenn?”

“Oh no, of course not silly,” Miss Jenn said as she made the first carve into the ham. “I can’t carry it at airports,” she said as she winked playfully at Gina.

Right when Gina was about to say Christmas was cancelled, she heard the doorbell ring again.

“Weird. I didn’t invite anyone else,” Gina thought outloud.

“Nini? Ricky?” Gina said, her face puzzled. She heard the knife clud! in the background and Miss Jenn scurry to the front door. “Mike?!” She said, enthusiastically.

Nini, Ricky, Mike, and Kourtney were all standing in the doorway holding a giant plate of cookies.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We brought cookies!” Ricky said as he tried to present them with a fancy hand gesture.

Kourtney, unable to keep her mouth shut, piped in, “No offense, but Miss Jenn what are you doing here?”

Nini shot Kourtney a look.

“Celebrating Christmas?” Miss Jenn said with a strained smile.

“Come on in”. Gina has to force the words out of her mouth. As soon as she turned around, she rolled her eyes and mouthed “whyyyyy”.

The gang let themselves in. The teens put the cookies on one of them empty counters in the kitchen and Mike made his way over to the ham. “Hey, Jenn, did you carve this?”

Jenn perked up, “yes, why?” She said with a confident smile.

“Well... uh... it’s great... it’s just you carved into the bone and that might break the knife”. Jenn’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

“It’s ok! You did great”. Mike tried to save himself.

“No, I actually don’t know how to carve a ham”. Miss Jenn got a calculated look in her eyes. “But maybe you could teach me?”

Mike looked at the kids, knowing they had more stops to go. “Would you guys be alright if I helped Miss Jenn with this ham?”

Everyone said yes, minus Nini who said no, but when she realized she was the only one, quickly changed her answer to yes.

Gina heard the doorbell ring again.

“What the-?” She asked outloud. She opened up her door and “The First Day of Christmas” was belted in her face by none other than Carlos and Seb. They barely got through the first day before Gina hushed them and stepped onto her small porch.

“What are you guys doing here?!”

“Caroling!” Carlos chimed, before noticing everyone else in the window. “What are they doing here?!” He asked offended. “Are you having an official cast party without me?! Gina! How could you? I thought we were frie-“.

Gina cut him off, slightly annoyed. “Will you be quiet? It’s not! I lied. Ok? I didn’t have anyone coming over for Christmas so I invited Miss Jenn and then the Three Musketeers and their father randomly showed up and they’re the last people I want here”.

“Gina, the more the merrier. Seb and I’s families can wait. Let’s make sure you get a Christmas to remember”.

Carlos then pushed past Gina and went into her house. “Hellooooo everyone!” He greeted. The other three ran over and gave him and Seb enthusiastic hugs.

Gina accepted her fate and walked back inside.

About fifteen minutes later, she was showing Kourtney how she found her “tree channel” on the TV when another knock came on the door.

Gina opened it up, now officially confused. “Red? What on Earth could you be doing here?”

He was carrying a small Christmas bag. “Well, I heard there was a party here-“

“Carlos?”

“Yeah,” Gina perched her lips, “anyway, Ricky also left this at my house and I heard he was here so I made sure to bring it with me. I also brought video games!”

Red let himself in and that was when Gina noticed the giant black backpack stuffed to the brim hanging from his back.

Gina yelled out to the empty street, “anyone else want to join? Apparently there’s a party at my house!”

And as if, on cue, Gina saw two more figures appear. Ashlyn and EJ. “Hellloooo! We heard there was a party here!” Ashlyn hollered carrying a giant pack of soda’s and EJ with chips and other treats in his arms.

“You two are supposed to be in Denver!”

“We were,” stated Ashlyn, “but my flight was with my sister- which EJ took- and it ended up being cancelled because of the storm. My whole family is there so we’re stuck here”.

“Storm? What storm?” Gina asked puzzled.

“Dude, you didn’t hear?” EJ asked.

“No, dude,” Gina retorted in a salty tone, “I didn’t”.

“Well, it’s massive. People are being told that after 6- so like fifteen minutes from now- we need to stay indoors. It’s supposed to be icy and snow like fifteen inches. It’s crazy. So we decided to come here, hopefully beating the storm. Besides, when Carlos declares a party, we have to be there”.

Gina sighed as she gave up. She should have expected a Carlos-party at her house sometime, might as well be now. She let the two, now shivering, in.

She called her mom and explained the situation. Her mom was surprisingly ok with all of the people there, mostly because there was adult supervision. Unfortunately, because of the storm, her mom wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. The office was requesting people stay to be safe, so the entire city was basically on lockdown at this point.

Gina made her way back to the kitchen. Everyone was scattered and chatting throughout her house. She found Miss Jenn and Mike finishing up the ham. She gently tapped Miss Jenn on the shoulder. “Um... Miss Jenn... some more people showed up”.

Miss Jenn must have really been in her own thoughts because she jumped back into Mike’s arms when she noticed all the new people that had arrived since Mike. They awkwardly pushed away from each other and brushed their clothes off.

“Oh... I’m going to need more ham”.

Gina saw Ricky approaching her and tried to push past Red and Ashlyn having a rousing conversation about dinosaurs.

“Hey, Gina!” She heard him call. She pretended not to hear him as she pushed through Red and Ashlyn. Ricky shook his head in frustration and returned back to Nini.

“Everything ok?” Nini asked cautiously.

“Yup. Just fine. Can we please just get back to... whatever we were doing?”

“We were just talking Ricky”.

“Yeah um, never mind. I’m going to get a drink,” Ricky said as he made his way to a canned Dr. Pepper.

About twenty minutes later, Carlos saw Gina sitting alone in her home office. She was sitting in a giant, faded swivel chair- her back to the doorframe, staring somberly out the window.

Carlos sighed dramatically. “OOOhhhh”. This caused Gina to jump, swivel around quickly, and glare at him.

He sighed even more dramatically as he fell against the doorway, palm to his forward, “OOOOHHHHHHH”.

“Yes, Carlos?” Gina asked, unamused.

“Well,” Carlos said, sauntering to a chair, his antics still high. He fell dramatically in the chair as he whimpered, “I’m just so. bored. at this amazing party you threw”.

Nothing.

“So I was thinking we should play a game”.

“Carlos, I own like, no board games”.

“Oh that’s fine!” Carlos perked up. “Charades doesn’t need board games,” he said with a wink. He popped up and held out his hand fashionably toward her.

Gina smiled and shook her head as she took his hand and they ran out to the living room. She noticed they were all already sitting around, a bag with paper strips sat neatly in the center of her coffee table. “Attention! Attention! We are ALL playing charades. No one gets a choice. Pick a teammate,” Carlos demanded royally.

Carlos ran over and grabbed Seb’s hand. Ashlyn and Red looked at each other and shrugged. Jenn scooted closer to Mike in the kitchen. Which left Nini, EJ, Ricky, and Kourtney sitting on the couches and Gina awkwardly standing in the corner.

“I call Gina,” Ricky said without hesitation. Both Nini and Gina gave him weird looks.

“Well then...” Carlos said apparently discomfited, “ I guess that leaves Nini, EJ, and Kourtney on the other team. That’s fine. Throuples are fun!” Carlos didn’t even hesitate with his last statement, but it made the entire room incredibly tense.

“Well go on!” Carlos pushed Gina in Ricky’s direction. “Go sit by your teammate”. Gina sat down next to Ricky, who was now perfectly settled in between her and Nini on the two seater couch.

“We’ll go first!” Miss Jenn volunteered. The game was fun, but Jenn was incredibly competitive and rubbed the fact she and Mike were winning in everyone’s face. Red and Ashlyn cheated the entire time which made Carlos annoyed. And Nini was barely giving any spirit to her team. Gina and Ricky cooperatively played together- at first it was awkward, but about two turns in they were already high-fiving and celebrating their victories and secretly celebrating their opponents losses.

It was the fourth round and it became Gina and Ricky’s turn again. She reached in the grocery bag and pulled out a little white paper with Seb’s handwriting poorly written on it. It read “Gabriella”. She got horrible flashbacks of seeing Ricky and Gina kiss during the show and after the show. Behind stage. Where they still don’t know she saw them.

“Uhh... umm...” she made an elephant trunk draping her arm from her nose and flailing her hand.

“Elephant!” Ricky yelled gleefully.

“Yeah, sure,” Gina said and then swiftly exited the room.

“That’s weird...,”Seb said under his breath. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t put elephant in there...”

Ashlyn chimed in, “let’s keep going,” which was perfect, because it broke the tension. Red ran over to Gina who was walking quickly to her bedroom. “Are you still playing?”

“Umm... no... I’m gonna take a break. Games wear me out,” she said as she let out a half-hearted laugh. “Just have Nini be Ricky’s partner or something”.

“Ok...” Red said as he awkwardly exited the room, slightly tripping on her bedroom frame.

Gina grabbed the small box filled with thick string and began braiding an intricate design on a bracelet she had been working on the past week.

She heard a small tap on the door and looked up from her bracelet.

“Hey Nini, what’s up?”

“Are you alright?” Nini asked, approaching and slowly sitting on the edge of Gina’s bed.

Gina sat up from laying on her stomach and let her back fall into her pillows. She began fumbling with her bracelet again.

“I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well... you left the game kind of... abruptly?”

Gina shrugged.

“Alright, I’m just going to ask. I don’t want to beat around the bush. Is this about Ricky and me?”

Gina scoffed. “Hah! No. Why would it be? Why would I care if the guy I got close to and hung out with for weeks turned around and found someone else right after I left? We were just friends. No big. It’s chill or whatever..”

This stung Nini a little- because it’s what she did to Ricky.

Nini let out a breath. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say next.

“Ricky liked you too”.

Gina dropped the bracelet.

“What?! I- I- mean... what?!! I never said I liked him”.

“It’s ok, Gina. It was obvious you did. I couldn’t blame you. I was pretty jealous. And yes, Ricky and I are together, but things haven’t been the same since. He never said he liked you, but he talks about you non-stop. And he’s the one who suggested we bring you cookies tonight- honestly, I tried to stop him. I don’t think he ever stopped liking you”.

Gina didn’t understand.

“W-why are you telling me this? You said you’re together with him”.

“Because I think I’m realizing what I realized before I got back with him the second time. I don’t want someone who’s only half-in. I deserve to have someone who wants me completely and so do you”.

“Are... you saying you want me to be with Ricky?”

“I’m saying, let’s see where things go”. Nini gently touched Gina’s hand. “But please don’t let some boy come in between our friendship and this party. I thought we were starting to become friends again before you moved”.

Gina laughed thinking of Thanksgiving and almost getting to have a sleepover. “We were, weren’t we?”

“So come just enjoy Christmas with your friends, ok? No matter what happens, we’re all family and that’s what matters”.

Gina smiled. Nini grabbed her hand and they walked downstairs. Everyone was eating ham and smiling and joking around. Gina was glad Nini came when she did. She would have been bummed to miss out on everything.

“Hey Gina! Glad to see you join us again!” Jenn said with a big grin.

“There’s some ham left on the stove!” Mike piped in, standing next to her.

Gina made herself a plate and walked quietly around the room. She saw an empty seat next to Ricky.

“May I sit here?” She said with a soft smile.

Ricky’s face beamed. “All yours”.

Nini glanced over at them and smiled. She went and sat at the small table with Kourtney and Ashlyn.

Red, Carlos, Seb, Gina, and Ricky sat and laughed and cracked jokes about the play and things that went wrong that none of the audience would have noticed. Gina couldn’t help but feel right at home with them. She and Ricky exchanged a small glance and she blushed as she looked away.

“Hey, do you want to play the switch, Ricky?” Red asked.

“It wouldn’t be a normal Christmas Eve without it”.

The night passed with video games, the girls doing each other’s hair, a lot of snacks, a small living room karaoke session, and a wild game of sardines. People had began to fall asleep in random places throughout Gina’s house. Some on the floor, couches, her mom’s bed and even Jenn had an emergency blow up mattress in her car she brought in.

Red and Ricky were the only other two up still playing video games at about 3 am. Gina decided to turn in and go to sleep.

Ricky jumped up and ran over to her while Red pretended not to listen.

“Hey Gina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting us stay here. It was really nice of you guys.”

“Well, we didn’t really have a choice,” Gina giggled. “It was over -45 outside. You would’ve frozen immediately”.

“True,” Ricky smiled.

They stood in silence for a moment.

“Good night, Ricky”.

“Good night, Gina. Merry Christmas”.

Gina began to walk to the staircase, laid her hand on it, turned around and gave a soft smile to Ricky, and then walked back up the stairs.

The next morning, Gina went into her hall closet and got out the emergency stash of tooth brushes her mom keeps. Because they have times when they frequently run low on money, her mom keeps a large collection of necessaries handy (when she does get paid), for emergencies. Things like soap, shampoo, tooth paste, and tooth brushes that are long lasting are among the stored parts.

She placed a tooth brush and mini tooth paste from previous dentist visits next to each person, so when they woke up at least they could brush their teeth.

She then went into the kitchen and got out a frozen loaf of toast to thaw and the filled carton of eggs. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it could tide everyone over until the city was cleared to be on the roads again. Nini and Mike were among the first to wake up, with Jenn and Red the last. (Red also woke up in his own drool puddle, but no one was surprised. Ricky was just thankful he didn’t bring any of his “sleeping gear”).

Everyone sat around and ate breakfast, called families, and watched Elf. During Elf, Gina noticed Nini lay her head on Ricky’s shoulder, feeling like their conversation last night was too good to be true. But she could have sworn she caught Ricky giving her a couple glances...

The morning was quickly dissembling when Gina watched Nini and Ricky walk off to another room after the movie finished while everyone else helped clean up decorations and garbage from the day before.

Seb was on his phone when he screeched, “FINALLY. WE CAN GO HOME”.

Carlos looked at him, concerned. “Seb, honey, you ok?”

“I WAS GOING CRAZY. I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE BUT I HATE ENCLOSED SPACES. I CANT BREATHE AND I WANT TO GO HOME. THIS STORM IS OVER- thanks again, Gina- BUT LET’S GOOOO”.

Carlos just shook his head and giggled. They were definitely the first to leave. Red, Ashlyn and EJ were next. Mike walked Miss Jenn to her car, while Nini and Kourtney were in Gina’s room talking. Gina was watching Mike give Jenn a hug when she heard Ricky’s voice behind her.

“You think she’s going to be my new mom?”

“I don’t know. Would you be upset if she was?”

Ricky smiled. “I don’t know”.

Gina watched them talk a few more seconds and then turned around. “Listen, Ricky, about last night...”

“It’s no worries. I get it’s been a little weird between us...”

“A little?!-“

“-ok a lot-”

“-We’ve hardly talked! I mean I get you’re in a relationship and all-“

“What relationship?”

“... with Nini?” Gina asked confused.

“Yeah... I think we decided during Elf to put the breaks on that”.

“Is that why you left?”

“Yeah... Nini feels like she needs to find herself without someone.... whatever that means”.

Gina felt a little tingle swirl in her stomach. She repressed the smile that was beginning to take over her face.

“Well... that’s just a big bummer then”. The statement came out a lot more sarcastic than Gina intended, but luckily Ricky didn’t notice because he giggled back.

“Yeah, a real bummer”.

Nini and Kourtney came down the stairs.

“Ready to go?” She smiled at Ricky.

“Sure,” he smiled back politely.

“Thank you so much,” said Kourtney to Gina.

“Yes, thank you. We owe you. You sure you’re going to be ok? I don’t want to leave you alone on Christmas,” echoed Nini.

“I promise, I’m good. My mom will be home in like, an hour, tops. You guys go enjoy your missed time with your families. They need it too,” Gina reassures them.

“Ok, well, Merry Christmas,” Nini said.

The others copied this sentiment with some goodbye’s and a giant group hug before they headed out the door.

Nini smiled as she locked the door behind them and went over to the kitchen counter. The gifts! They had been so wrapped up in the fun, they never opened the gifts. Gina hurried and look at the tags to see who they belonged to so she could return the presents to their rightful owners.

The one from Miss Jenn was definitely for her so she decided not to make that call... but who’s was Red’s for? Gina looked at the tag.

To: Gina

From: Ricky

Gina set both presents down at the table and slowly pulled the paper maché from the gift bag from Miss Jenn. She had given Gina a handmade ornament that looked like a little cartoon version of herself with a small name plaque that read “Taylor”. Gina smiled as she stared at the detailing on the little figurine. It was so thoughtful and she appreciated Miss Jenn coming over in the first place. Regardless of what actually happened last night, Gina couldn’t help but appreciate how much fun she would have had with Miss Jenn alone. She really was an amazing teacher.

Then she pulled the other little bag towards her and carefully pulled the paper out of it. Inside was a knitted scarf. There were multiple colors in no particular pattern and parts of it had looser seams than others. Gina wrapped the scarf around her neck- it smelt like Ricky. It smelt like home.

Just then she heard the door bell ring. She stood up to answer it, but then realized her scarf was still on. She fought it like a snake wrapped around her neck. When it was finally done suffocating her, she ran to the door.

She swung it open and Ricky bolted in, slamming the door behind him.

“I forgot to give you your present!!!”

Gina giggled, “no you didn’t.” She nodded toward her table.

Ricky giggled. “It’s so bad. I’m so sorry. I was just trying to do this really nice thing-“

“Ricky, stop,” Gina said as she laid a hand on his shoulder. “I love it”.

Ricky blushed as he hung his for a second.

He began to walk back towards the door but as he reached for the handle, he dropped his hand. “Oh and Gina?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant what I said about how nice it was that you let us stay here. I don’t even think I realized how much I appreciated it when I said it”.

He then leaned over and gave Gina a soft peck on the cheek, making her entire body relax with this one small moment.

“Merry Christmas, Gina”.

She smiled and said, “Merry Christmas,” softly as he closed the door behind him.

Gina then walked over, wrapped her colorful scarf around her neck, put her little ornament up to her cheek, and did a small happy dance. This happy dance broke into full on spins. And as she moved and hummed throughout the bottom half of her house, she promised to herself that she would not forget about her best Christmas ever.

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