#everyones job at the school between classes is to run up to kids at fountains and fling them off their feet

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

the whole plot confuses me can someone please get a plumber out there

[quixotic-writer]

Lesson Plans and Challenges

Summary: Q thought it’d be funny to poke some fun at his girlfriend who works as a teacher. She makes him put his money where his mouth is and challenges him to work a day at her job.

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It started as him joking around about me organizing my lesson plans for the week saying ‘what are you stressed about? Coloring book page due?’ Then I challenged him to a day at my workplace. I went easy on him though, telling him he could come during a shift at the after school program I do for extra pay and he agreed. Here we are waiting for school to get out, classroom doors open with students looking outside at us with eager smiles.

“It can’t be that hard. I mean, you just spend these few hours outside and kids are constantly getting picked up so the population is always slowly lowering.”

“Coming from the man who doesn’t know how to talk to kids. Everyone knows this Bri. It’s very clearly shown on your little show you have.” I playfully banter with him.

“I have nieces and nephews, I know how to interact with kids.”

“Have you handled 38 at once?” His demeanor quickly drops the moment I give him a number and I start giggling, “It’s a whole grade level and it’s the largest group too. Did you not take that into account love?” He shakes his head and I see his nerves rise. “I’m sure you’ll make it out alive. The kids will find you hysterical. Just be sure to watch your foul mouth. PG settings on for today.”

“No promises that something won’t slip out.” I roll my eyes and the school bell rings and a flood of students make their way outside.

“Better clean up your act then because here they come.” I say with a smile and crack open the attendance book getting my pen ready with a wide smile as familiar faces run over to greet me.

“Ms. Sparkle! Ms. Sparkle! Look I have glasses now and I can see the board in class now!” One of the young ones jumped for joy as I marked him down as present in the attendance book.

“Well careful there Micah. Don’t want to break them right after you got them do you?” He shakes his head with a cheeky grin until his eyes dart over to Brian.

“Ms. Sparkle? Who the heck is this guy?” He points over to Brian and I try and stifle my laughter. “Who are you? Do you work here now? Most helpers are young and you’re too old to be here.” I couldn’t help but laugh audibly at that blow. Brian’s eyes went wide.

“And what makes you think i’m so old, kid?” He asks in a joking tone.

“Lots of gray hair and you have a huge beard.”

“Okay Micah, go take a seat and I'll dismiss you guys to play in a bit.” He smiles and trots away to go sit down against the wall and patiently waits for others to arrive. I shake my head and smile as I continue taking attendance. The wonders of working with kids. They just speak their honest mind and have no filter. It always makes for the most interesting conversations that I treasure.

“What’s with the ms. Sparkle thing?” Brian asks.

“Oh anyone that works in the afterschool program gets their own personalized nickname. I was dubbed Ms. Sparkle. Sami, another helper who works here, is called ms. raccoon because the kids said she looks like a human raccoon since she has dark bags under her eyes and the dark clothes she wears. Can’t wait to see what the kids come up with for you.” The line of kids continues as I check everyone off in the attendance book and they all line up on the sidewalk and talk amongst each other. Every student that comes and goes looks at Brian sideways before going off to the rest of the group. Some were more persistent with questions before I had to tell them that I'll be explaining shortly. Once everyone was accounted for, I turned to face the countless smiling faces. “Good afternoon guys, how was your day?” A mixed chorus of responses flood from all of them. Brian stands close to me and all their little eyes direct towards him. “So I have a special announcement to make for today guys.”

“Is that guy your boyfriend Ms. Sparkle?” My train of thought was quickly derailed as a student blurted out that question. A chorus of ‘ooh Ms. Sparkle has a boyfriend!’ comes from the students and Brian turns red and I snicker.

“This is Mr. Quinn, he’s my helper for today. We all remember how we treat others right?”

“The way we want to be treated!” They all respond. I smile and beam with pride.

“Awesome guys. You are all dismissed!” Just like that, the kids are quick to their feet and they all take off running to the playground. Both Brian and I stand together and watch as the kids congregate into their little groups and do their own things. Some were running around for a game of tag, some sat under the tree nearby with their toys and imaginations, and some sat near their bags with their noses in a book.

“So… What now?” Brian leans in and whispers to me.

“Well, make some rounds! Scope out the scene and keep an eye on them. Baseline rules are to be kind to each other, no bad language or toilet talk, no dangerous stunts on the playground.” I wave him off and with hands in his pockets he circles around the playground looking at all the kids unsure of how to start a conversation with any of them since they all seemed occupied with their own things. Around the corner pops in my usual helper, Sami. She gives a smile to me as she approaches and places her bag down. “You got an easy day today y’know.”

“Why’s that?” She asked as her eyes naturally darted around the playground making sure all the kids are in proper order and not getting into any mischief. I nod my head over to Brian who’s talking to a couple of boys off on the side of the playground.

“Brian came in to help for the day.” Sami snickers.

“Uh huh. And what do you mean by ‘help’?” She continues chuckling knowing all the stories I've told her about Brian’s history with kids. As I look up, I see kids climbing all over Brian like a jungle gym. One is riding on his back, two hanging and swinging off of each arm, and another connected to his leg like glue. He laughs as he tries to move about the playground with kids attached to him, each of them hollering out and laughing just as loud as he tries to shake them off. He seemed to be doing perfectly fine with the kids and something about that made my heart overflow with a river of love. Sami strolls off to give Brian a hand with the kids. With a few quick words the kids peeled off of Brian like water off a duck’s back, relief washes over him as he chuckles. My attention is quickly redirected to a few girls standing before me, the cute little clique of the sassy sweet ones.

“Hello girls, how was school today?”

“Ms. Sparkle, is Mr. Quinn your boyfriend?” Had a feeling this is what they’d be asking.

“Yeah! Do you like… Kiss and hold hands.” They all lean in with eager anticipation. I wasn’t sure how to answer this. I mean, it wasn’t a bad thing to tell the kids that I do have a boyfriend, but I wasn’t sure how far or how weird the questions were going to be. Kids just ask anything without a second thought.

“Mr. Quinn is my boyfriend. I love him very much.” Short, sweet, and to the point.

“Maybe you should date someone younger Ms. Sparkle. He has too much gray hair.”

“Well I like his gray hair. I think my boyfriend is very handsome as he is.” There he was with a bright smile on his face, talking away with a kid sitting on the rock wall.

“Gross.” And just like that, the girls were off to go and gossip elsewhere. I shake my head and laugh.

Time goes on and I watch with a smile as Brian starts warming up more and more to each of the kids as the hours pass. I didn’t interfere much or bother him because I wanted him to flourish by himself like I knew he could. He had a hard time keeping up with their more physically active demands such as games of tag, Brian being a human jungle gym, and showing off how strong he was by lifting kids with little to no effort. I’d occasionally see him hunched over catching his breath or scrunched down in attempts to take heaping gulps from the kid’s water fountain. It was funny seeing him, a fully grown man, crunching himself down a few sizes in desperation for some hydration.

He’d socialize with the kids too, answering some of their strange and unfiltered questions, telling stories about when he was a kid, and just listening to kids tell him all about their favorite things. Shockingly, it wasn’t all strictly firefighter stories like I expected it to be. Of course he did have a few of those stories to share, but instead he built off of what the kids were talking about and eased into the conversation rather than redirecting it entirely.

They dubbed him “Mr. Grizzly” because apparently reminded them of a bear. Very fitting in my opinion. My teddy bear.

Of course, there isn’t a day that goes by without a little bit of conflict. Part of me wished it was just a simple disagreement between two kids, a normal occurrence that’s easy to mediate and resolve. The wails of pain distinguished this as my other fear: an injured child. Immediately my head whips around to find where the cries are coming from and I see a circle of students right next to the walkway which told me exactly where the problem was. I quickly run over into the center of the circle to see Brian and Sami kneeling down with a kid that has a nasty gash on her knee from falling over. Tears were plentiful and cries of pain filled the silence. My heart broke as my adrenaline rose.

“Sami, grab a first aid kit, some paper towels both wet and dry.” Brian quickly took charge of the situation, as he tried calming down the student with calming words of ‘hey, it’s okay, i’m gonna fix you right up.’

“What happened?” I quickly asked.

“Seems Lily here took a nasty f–” the ‘f’ was dragged out. I knew exactly what he had been planning on saying, but he quickly switched up his words back to PG family friendly mode, “fall here on the sidewalk running.” Sami was quick to bring over everything Brian had asked for and he took them all in hand. “Thanks Sami. Now, let’s get to cleaning this up, okay?” He washed away all the blood, patting it with a wet then a dry paper towel. He dug through the first aid kit to grab some neosporin and a band aid and quickly patched Lily up.

“There… We… Go!” With a smile he leans away to take a look at his handiwork. His eyes look back up to Lily’s. She thankfully wasn’t crying anymore and he took another paper towel to carefully dry up her tears. “Does that feel better now?” She nods her head, still frowning a bit. “Oh now we can’t have a sad face on you anymore. I know what’ll help though!” He holds out his arms to her and she jumps right in with a smile as he wraps his arms tight around her and rocks her back and forth, “Mr. Grizzly bear hug!!” Lily was giggling and smiling as she was encased in his arms and I couldn’t help but smile and laugh along. Soon he released her and she was back to her old self and took off running to rejoin her friends.

“Look at you Mr. Grizzly.” I tease his new name and he smiles. “You handled that super well you know. I’m proud of you.” He lights up and if he were a dog, I just know his tail would be wagging like crazy.

“Well working in the FDNY has helped prepare me for times like these. No big deal.” Kids call to him and just like that, he was pulled back in to entertain the little ones.

The day flew by a lot quicker after that. No more incidents, no more sad faces, nothing but smiles and laughter came from the kids from then on. The day came to a close and the last kid finally went home, waving goodbye to me and fellow staff members they recognized before hopping into their car and riding off home. I place my binder away and file away everything from today that I needed to. I said goodbye to everyone and sent Sami on her way. Bri and I got into the car and he eased back into the seat of the car.

“What’s wrong honey bear? Did the coloring book page tire you out?”

“You too with the bear names?” He chuckles. “You know what, I see what you mean babe. That was tiring as hell. I almost slipped a few swear words here and there. I know for sure I'm gonna be feeling it tomorrow, felt like a human jungle gym. The kids were all over me. And you do this every day?”

“Mmm, I don’t do the after school thing every day. Just sometimes because I know the after school program is understaffed on certain days. It’s easier than actually teaching. That’s a horse of another color.”

“I bet. After this, I don’t think I can imagine that.”

“But you know, I love every moment of it. Good or bad. I wouldn’t trade this job for anything.”

“I would.” We both burst into laughter.

“Well you did great today Mr. Grizzly, you did everything just right.” With that we decided to head on home. I made my point today that my job wasn’t coloring books and glitter, but I also brought out a side of Brian that I never thought I would. One that actually does love kids despite him being too stubborn to say it.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 1: THE BEGGINING OF IT ALL

It was quite dark in my room. Unclear of what's happening... Of what's going on... But one thing is clear to me... Someone is calling me from somewhere. Tossing and turning doesn't help the anxiety building up at the pit of my stomach. Come to me I'm scared... Dont be scared. I would never hurt you Who are you? Fall... With me... I don't want to hear you anymore... We'll rule as one.... This is just a dream... Denying won't keep me... This is not real... We are one... I'm hearing things...

Tears pricked my eyes and I shot up trembling. As I thought all of those were just a dream. With what little time have I caught my breath. My alarm stared ringing 6 minutes after I woke up. D/N, my dog, nudged my hand and looked at me with his worried eyes. "I'm good boy... I'll be good. Today's the class trip... I have to be good." I ran down stairs to see my mom cooking breakfast. "Hey there sweetie. You excited for the trip~?" She sang. I reluctantly nodded. "Yeah..." As mom set D/N's bowl she turned to me with a worried look. "You sure? Your enthusiasm sure tells me how excited you are." "Will D/N be coming with me?" On cue my dad already in his suit came down and gave my head a kiss. "Of course sweetie. He's a support animal, they have no choice." He smiled. Taking a pancake from the plate, he didn't bother adding butter nor syrup and bit it like bread. "Anyways, I gotta go. Have fun at your trip. And I'll see you after work." He gave me and my mom a kiss then left. "Start eating. We have to make sure you don't miss your bus." ~ The bus was noisy. Everyone is screaming and laughing loudly. I sat at the very front with Mrs. Rudolph. She's my history teacher and our class adviser. She looks like a grumpy old witch lady who eats children, but her personality is far from that. Which seems to be not enough for my classmates as they're very bratty in her class. D/N was currently laid on Mrs Rudolph's lap as she gently pet him. "Are we close yet Mrs Rudolph?" I asked. She gave me a smile, "yes quite close. In fact, it reminds me to remind you kids something." Picking up D/N from her lap she gently placed him on mine and stood up. "Attention!!" She yelled immediately changing from her soft demeanor. They kids instantly settled down and kept quiet. "Good, now... Is everyone aware of where we'll be going?" "Yes Mrs Rudolph..." We all reply. "And where are we going?" No one answered. I could sense she was about to get mad so I answered on my own. "Metropolitan museum of art..." "Good job Y/N!" She smiled at me and glared at the others. "We'll, I'd like to remind you lot that we won't be touring alone. Another school will be joining us, Yancy Academy! Now I wouldn't be the one supervising the tour, it'll be Yancy Academy's Latin teacher, so we need to show them we are capable and proper. I'm putting Y/N L/N in charge of the group. Listen to what she says and do participate when asked." Whispers started coming once again. I've always been Mrs Rudolph's favorite. It's not like she has a choice, I'm the only proper one among her students after all. "Keep quiet!" In an instant the whispering died. "I will not hear anything from your mouths about Y/N being in charge! She'll have the same power as I! If you have a problem speak louder and say it to me! Understand?!" "Y-Yes Mrs Rudolph..." The bus then stopped moving. "Y/N..." Mrs Rudolph rested an arm on my shoulder. "Lead them." She smiled and went out. I cleared my throat. "E-Everybody file ou-out properly an-and orderly... P-please." Grumbles and mumbles came from them as they did what I said. Once everyone was out I got out. I had D/N in my arms. The first thing I did as I got out was examine everything. From the distance, you could see the students who I assume are from Yancy Academy. A particular group had caught my eyes. A redheaded girl was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in a guy's curly brown hair, his friend was clearly agitated by what's happening and had balled his fist. "Y/N L/N." Mrs Rudolph called snapping me out from the trance. "H-Here!" "Okay so everyone is here. Remember, Y/N L/N is in charge. Now go mix with the Yancy kids." Mrs Rudolph clapped and almost immediately everyone ran towards the group. She walked up to me and pointed at D/N. "Dogs aren't allowed inside sweetie I'm sorry. We tried telling them." A whimper came from my boy as he scoot closer to my chest. "It'll be fine boy. W-would you... Mind?" "Not at all. I was going to offer after all." She smiled and took D/N from me. "Now run along and make friends. He'll be with you by lunch." I turned to see my classmates only to see them instantly making friends with the strangers. I could never do that. Getting closer I searched curly brown haired guy and his friends. A man had called our attention by clearing his throat, not giving me the chance to find curly guy. It was a middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket. "Everybody file." I said which thankfully they followed. "Hello to everyone." He gave us a comforting smile. "I'm Mr. Brunner, Yancy Academy's Latin teacher. I was told Y/N L/N will be in charge of your group?" I stepped up and greeted him. "All right. Well, feel free to mix in with the group. We'll be staying for a while." He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was listening to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, only one kid had been trying to keep them quiet and he keeps getting glares from someone who looks like Mrs Rudolph every time. Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art. Finally, a snicker came from behind, and a kind of loud reply of, "Will you shut up?" Came. The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. The guy who had said shut up was the friend of curly. "Mr. Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "did you have a comment?" His face was totally red and he said, "No, sir." Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?" I looked at the carving, and back at the guy who looked relived. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?" "Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..." "Well... Kronos was the king god, and—" "God?" Mr. Brunner asked. "Oh uh..." He stammered. Obviously his one mistake got rid of all the information he remembered of the image. "Titan," I reminded him a little too loudly. They all had turned on me. "Ms L/N, care to help Mr Jackson?" "I-I, he knows... I don't..." I turned to Mr Jackson who looked at me as if he needed help. When he mouthed please I gulped. "H-He didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them..." As if he had a moment of epiphany, Mr Jackson looked at me and Mr Brunner. "Can you continue on Mr Jackson?" "Okay, Kronos's wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—" "Zeus fed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him puke his other five children, who were immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach." I interrupted... Oh god was that rude? "Eeew!" said one of the girls behind us. "—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," he continued, "and the gods won." "The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld." I continued. Some snickers from the group. Behind us, the red haired girl mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'" "And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?" "Busted," curly guy muttered. "Shut up," Ms Bobofit hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair. I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir." "I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "How about you Ms L/N?" I shook my head frantically not sure of what to say. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson, Ms L/n, You both did well. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, Mrs Rudolph, would you lead us back outside?" The class drifted off, the class still mixed with the other. "Want to join us for lunch?" Mr Jackson offered scratching his head. "Uhm..." My face was heating up I never had friends before. I was about to reply when I heard a loud whimper from outside. It was D/N's cry. "I'm sorry." I said and ran towards the sound. They were about to follow when Mr. Brunner called, "Mr. Jackson." Running outside I searched for D/N. "Hey boy, where are you?!" I called. Not long after I found him by the fountain alone. "Oh god, what are you doing here alone? Why were you crying? Weren't you with Mrs Rudolph?" I cradled him in my arms and lied on the grass. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Red hairedgirl was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Rudolph was with her look alike. "Hey," someone had looked down on me. "Sorry I ran. I heard D/N cry..." "Percy, Percy Jackson." He smiled. "Huh?" "I'm Grover Underwood." Curly beamed. "O-Oh... I'm Y/N L/N, this is D/N." He barked in response to the introduction. "Really?!" Grover looked at D/N in surprise. "Can I borrow him?! Please??" Me and Percy looked at him weirdly but I handed him D/N anyways. Grover sat on the edge of the fountain, and Percy and I close enough but not an earshot away. "Detention?" I asked. "Huh?" "Did you get left behind for detention?" I asked him. "Nah," he said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius. He thinks I know everything about Mythology and stuffs." "I think you are." I smiled at him. "You're pretty smart." "Yeah, well this genius is dyslexic." He smirked. "No way." "Way." "I am too!!" "What?" "Okay we're totally dyslexic twins now." I chuckled. "Totally." Being the awkward kid I am my stomach had to growl. "Want to have my apple?" I felt awkward and took his apple. "Thanks." We watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and had small talks about random stuffs, we ranged our topic from his past schools, to his mom, Nancy Bobofit the mean redhead, and Mrs Dodds his mathematics teacher. Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. Percy was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap where D/N sat. "Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos D/N tackled her down, not biting her but barking at her not letting her up. And Percy tried to held his laughter in. Nancy screamed at D/N and tried to hit him. When she had successfully hit him she glared at me then the dog. "This stupid dog!" She then kicked him. When his whimper came out. "Hey?! What do you think you're doing!?" I screamed. "You don't know how to control your stupid dog!" "You dumped your lunch on him he had every right to mount you!" Grover had D/N now cradled in his arms. My teeth were gritting at the sight of this redhead. I was about to lift my hand on her. I don't remember what happened clearly, but I was pretty sure the water grabbed her, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!" "No he didn't you liar!!" Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—" "—the water—" "—like it grabbed her—" I didn't care about the whispers. All I knew was that Percy was in trouble again. As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on Percy. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if he'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—" "He didn't do anything! Why are you punishing him?! Weren't you watching what was happening?!" I glared at her. Staring straight in her eyes. I don't know where I got this confidence and everything but I am starting down the teacher Percy is most scared of and winning. "I'd like to apologize for the bad conduct my student had affected yo---" "Nancy Bobofit is in the wrong not Percy! She. Hurt. My. Dog." I could hear the poison laced in my words. Mrs Rudolph came to me, "sweetie, let's go back in the bus. We have to leave." She took D/N from Grover and dragged me away from the scene. "But----" "Ms. L/N, we'll miss the schedule. Let's go." As if D/N knew he jumped off from Mrs Rudolph's hold and ran. "D/N!!" I didn't bother saying anything to Mrs Rudolph and ran after him. "Y/N!!" She tried calling after. I had lost D/N a few times and I found him. He was barking and growling at something. I went to check and saw Percy swing a sword at a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs... She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me. "Percy?" I called. His sword was gone and there was a ballpoint pen in his hand. His hands were still trembling. "W-Was th-that... D-did..." "Percy," I slowly walked up to him and pulled him to a comforting hug. "Calm down. Breathe. I... Also saw that. You're not imagining things alone." We went back outside. D/N leading us. It had started to rain. Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt." I said, "Who?" "Our teacher. Duh!" We blinked. "We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr." Percy said. He asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. We went over to Grover to ask where Mrs. Dodds was. He said, "Who?" But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at Percy, so we thought he was messing with us. "Not funny, man," he told him. "This is serious." "I am concerned as well..." Grover looked at me in surprise. "A-about what?" "About... Mrs Dodds? Percy and I saw something really disturbing." Thunder boomed overhead. Percy then let go of me and went over to Mr. Brunner who hasn't moved from his spot. I immediately followed after. He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson." Percy handed Mr. Brunner his pen. "Sir," he said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?" He stared at him blankly. "Who?" "The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher." I added. He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, Y/N, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?" "W-What?" "And Y/N, Mrs Rudolph is very worried about you. You just ran away all of a sudden. Your bus is about to leave." I turned to Percy reluctantly. "I'll walk you..." "This... Can't be a real..." I gasp. "Okay if this is real, then we'll never meet again and we were really just imagining things and this is a coincidence." "Agreed..." "Percy, I know what I saw. I know what I remember. We'll meet again, and when we do... I have a feeling it'll be weirder." "I'll look forward to it."

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[jeontaeh]

ONE¹

SPACE VOYAGE | VKOOK [LARRYVGL]

When 7 boys who barely know each other get stuck in a spaceship hurling through the galaxy for 6 months, things are bound to get messy

larryvgl © 2018

✫  ✬  ✭  ✬  ✫

Year 3418

"Oh yeah- oh yeah baby- keep going, aahh-" Jungkook moaned out, banging his fist against the steel wall of the storage closet while his head tipped back, eyes closed.

He felt warm lips around his cock, swirling a tongue around his length. Jungkook's cherry red hair fell into his eyes as he bucked his hips in a little, smirking.

"Yeah? Like that? Such a good girl for me," Jungkook smirked, as the girl sitting on her knees continued sucking him off.

The girl placed her hand on Jungkook's trousers- his stupid tight yet stretchy red pants he had to wear in this place. Jungkook bit his lip as he came into the girl's mouth, and she pulled off with a pop, making a slightly disgusted face.

"Wasn't that bad." Jungkook said, and the girl smiled back. "Sure wasn't, Jungkook." She whispered, and then Jungkook grabbed her waist and kissed her neck, and then reached for the door of the supply closet.

The girl scoffed. "Well? Aren't you going to get me off?" The girl snapped, and Jungkook sighed.

"Maybe next time." Jungkook winked at the orange haired girl, who looked pissed off as Jungkook walked out of the supply closet.

The supply closet was in the corner of the campus. The campus of University of Space Technology and Exploration. Jungkook was in his red clothes, a tight red shirt with a badge of the school's name on it, and tight red pants to match. Many people around, all holding their tablets while walking around with friends.

The university was in one of the Moons of planet Scora VZ2. See, many many years ago- the earth overpopulated and, like, everyone died.

However, scientists found various other galaxies and smaller planets for humans to reside in. Of course, the aliens were one thing (and perhaps we can just skip over the colonisation as it was FRIENDLY) but the food and oxygen and gravitational levels were normal, like in Earth.

This University was known to be one of the best. It brings out the best Galactic Navy in the galaxy. Not to mention, their planet is connected to all the other ones, having higher technology and better advancements than the 3rd world planets.

So, easy to say, Jungkook knew just being in this University meant he'd get an easy job. See, this University has four branches you can study.

MEDICAL. Medical students learn how to aid those during space outings and give medicine to those in need. They wear blue uniforms. 

COMMUNICATIONS. Now, the students learning Communications usually know more languages than just the Earth tongue. They can contact other planets and aliens and know how to spot life sources in various planets and how to communicate to them. They wear green uniforms.

ENGINEERING. Engineering students know everything about spaceships. They either built the structure or the mechanics of it. Very vital to be on board a spaceship. They wear yellow uniforms. 

And lastly, SPACE EXPLORATION. These guys know the ins and outs of how to explore, navigate, find life sources and interact with them. How to find if a planet is habitable or not. How to find if a planet has resources or not. They wear red uniforms.

So yeah, Jungkook studied Space Exploration. He was only in his first year, but honestly- it's not that hard. All they need to do is NOT die.

Okay, so it's VERY hard and Jungkook has, like, a 63% survival rate when he does his job. But that's not that bad, right???

"Yugyeom!" Jungkook called, seeing his brunette friend in the green uniform talking to some girl. The girl Yugyeom was talking to was giggling, until she saw Jungkook and her cheeks turned red.

"H-hi Jungkook." She said, and Jungkook just gave her a little smirk. Yugyeom turned to Jungkook, and groaned.

"Will you fuck off?" Yugyeom snapped, and Jungkook started laughing. He slung his arm around Yugyeom's shoulder, waving the girl goodbye and walking away with him.

"Anyways- you all ready for the big exam?" Jungkook asked, and Yugyeom sighed.

"Fell asleep during the practice class. Not at all. So much shit could go wrong. Dude- I'm not even completely fluent in Marsian. I'm so failing this." Yugyeom mumbled, and Jungkook snickered.

"Eh. I'll just have to manage the controls and yell 'Aliens! Ah!' and it'll be all fine." Jungkook said, and Yugyeom rolled his eyes.

"Anyways. Saw that chick you were hooking up with walk out looking pissed. Doesn't she have a boyfriend?" Yugyeom asked, and Jungkook snickered.

"Dude- has that ever stopped me before?" Jungkook asked, and Yugyeom sighed again. "Fair enough."

Jungkook laughed at his comment, but then bumped into someone, like head first bumped into someone.

Jungkook fell back a little and then looked up and saw a guy with silver hair and dark grey eyes who he bumped into. He was also in a red uniform.

"Watch it!" Jungkook snapped, and the guy just gave Jungkook an annoyed look and kept walking, some guy beside him.

"You watch it, red." The guy snapped back, and Jungkook rolled his eyes and kept walking with Yugyeom.

  ✭

"Watch it!" Some dude with bright pink-red hair in a red uniform snapped, and Taehyung just gave him an annoyed look.

"You watch it, red." Taehyung snapped back, seeing as the boy rolled his eyes and continued walking. The boy beside Taehyung huffed.

"Nice comeback."

"Shut up, Bambam." Taehyung mumbled.

"Relax. You're in space exploration. You have the easiest job. It's just a fake test." Bambam said, and Taehyung scoffed.

"Relax? You want me to relax?! They'll put us in a fake spaceship with six other strangers I don't know and we'll have to figure that shit out! I've been pulling all nighters for two weeks studying over this." Taehyung said, and Bambam raised an eyebrow.

"No you haven't."

"Okay, I haven't. But still! I stayed up till like, 11. And you know if I do shit my dad will kill me." Taehyung said, and Bambam just rolled his eyes.

"You're gonna ace this, Tae. Now come on- let's go get some food." Bambam said, and Taehyung nodded- and then accidentally bumped into someone.

"Ah shit- sorry," Taehyung said, and saw a boy with pink hair and glittery eyes dressed in green, who just nodded and walked away, his eyes looking a bit teary.

✭

"Ah shit- sorry," A boy with silver hair said, and Jimin just sniffled like a loser and nodded and rushed away instantly.

Don't cry Don't cry Don't cry- Jimin chanted in his mind, biting down on his lip as he walked in a fast pace, walking towards an orange haired girl who was standing nearby a water fountain.

"H-hi Lisa." Jimin squeaked, and the orange haired girl turned around, and Jimin instantly noticed how her hair was a bit disheveled and her lips were plump and redder than usual.

"Oh. Hey Jimin." Lisa said, almost looking a little.. annoyed? Jimin was confused, but he just gave her a smile, and took her hand in his.

"Hey.. listen- I know I've been so busy this last week stressing over this stupid exam. I didn't, I-"

"You didn't mean to tell me you rather study than spend time with me?" Lisa snapped, and Jimin gulped.

"I-"

"Just- ugh, fuck off Jimin." Lisa mumbled, and Jimin frowned to himself- but then just grabbed Lisa's arm again.

"Hey, I'm-I'm your boyfriend. Just talk to me-"

"Shut up, Park!" Lisa snapped, and Jimin stilled. "And stop touching me, it's fucking annoying. Why don't you just go study, since that's all you do?" Lisa grumbled, pulling her hand back.

Jimin felt like crying, and ohmygod he felt like such a pussy. "I-I-"

"I said Go. Away." Lisa growled- and Jimin nodded- feeling ever more angry with himself at how he flinched when she raised her voice.

"Yes girl! You show him! Girl powerrr," One of Lisa's friends giggled, and Jimin just turned around and walked away quickly- tears gathering in his eyes again.

She's just standing up for herself, Jimin. It's nothing. Respect her, Jimin told himself, feeling his eyes watery as he walked past some black haired guy, accidentally bumping shoulders with him- but not bothering to reply.

✭

"So then I said- you're not my mom! Turns out, it was a guy from the planet Fuurus dressed like my mom! I swear those goddamn aliens-" Jin started, and then felt a shoulder bump against his.

He turned and saw a pink haired boy walking away really fast, and just hummed and turned back towards his friends. His friends all laughed- and Jin just grinned.

"God Jin- you're so fucking funny." One girl said, and some other guys nodded in agreement. Jin nodded. "I know. Anyways, bye- I need to go study." Jin said quickly, and then rushed away.

"You're seriously going to study? Mr. Popular Kid is actually going to study?" A voice asked, and Jin turned towards Mark and rolled his eyes.

"Not all of us are geniuses, Mark. Learning medicine is hard, okay?" Jin said, and Mark scoffed. "You called yourself a genius every day!"

"That's true. Anyways- did you hear that weird nerdy guy's trying to be Captain? I overheard him talking to some dweeb outside the academy. No one this young can be captain." Jin snickered, and Mark laughed.

Namjoon, walking past Jin- and also overhearing everything he said- just sighed, ducking his head and walked faster. He knows he's young and he knows he's not 'mature enough' to be captain- but he knows he can be! So what if he's young! So what if he's... technically studying Engineering and isn't supposed to 'technically' run for Captain for another two years. He'll show 'em.

Anyways, for now- he needs to go study for that goddamn exam.

"What exam is everyone talking about, exactly?" Yoongi asked his friend, who scoffed.

"Dude, seriously? You need to stop drinking that weird alien alcohol stuff." Jaebum said, and Yoongi- having a flask tightened in his hand- just hummed and tipped the flask back between his lips, alcohol smoothening down his throat.

"Eh, whatever. You don't wanna see me sober, Jaebum." Yoongi said, and Jaebum sighed- because truly, he doesn't.

"Well, it's the exam everyone has to take. You get put in a group with six other students chosen at random, and you're put into a made up spaceship for an hour or two. They give us simulated problems and shit we need to face- and it'll show how 'worthy' we are of being in the Galactic Navy or whatever." Jaebum said, and Yoongi sighed, smoothening his green fabric down with his hand.

"Awesome. I get to scream in alien language for an hour. Honestly fuck this. Let's go get high." Yoongi said, and Jaebum laughed.

"Before the exam? Yeah, no. Not happening."

"Oh come on! We always got high before exams- how is this any different?" Yoongi said, and Jaebum pursed his lips.

"It's the official exam that shows our worth as something we've been studying for a year or four, Yoongi. For once, just be sober and do this properly." Jaebum said, and Yoongi just rolled his eyes, walking back from him.

"You do you, JB. I'm gonna go snort a line of co-"

Yoongi bumped into someone- and then turned around, a little annoyed. He saw a boy with orange hair, dressed in his yellow uniform- eyes big.

"Woah there. Watch where you're going." The guy chuckled, a warmth in his voice as he gripped Yoongi's side to save him from falling.

Yoongi gulped and nodded dumbly- seeing the boy just grin at him and then walk away- disappearing into the group of people.

"You okay?" Jaebum asked, and Yoongi cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Yeah! Just- um. Blanked out for a second there." Yoongi mumbled, and then turned around and took another swig of his flask.

Hoseok grinned at the black haired pale boy with eyes a little doey, and then turned around and kept walking- assuming he's never going to see him again.

"Dude- the list is out!" Jackson said- grabbing Hoseok's arm. "What list?"

"The list of people who we're working with for the exam tomorrow. The timings of when we have to go and everything. They sent it to us on our tablets. Just check." Jackson said- and Hoseok nodded.

He took out the little tablet, clicking on it and opening up the notifications to see the EXAM SCHEDULE. He saw all the lists, all with seven people in it. He scrolled down and down all the lists of names and groups and frowned.

"What the fuck?" Hoseok mumbled to himself- and then kept scrolling, until he reached the ast list.

GROUP : 103

TIMING: 7 pm - 8:30 pm

NAMES:

Kim Namjoon

Kim Seokjin

Min Yoongi

Jung Hoseok

Park Jimin

Kim Taehyung

Jeon Jungkook

Hoseok groaned, looking at Jackson. "Are you kidding me? I'm in the last group!"

Yoongi scoffed, sitting with his back to a wall as he saw the tablet. "I'm in the 103rd group to go! The groups in the end always do shit." Yoongi mumbled.

Jin let out a yell, throwing his tablet onto his bed. "Man! I'll miss dinner because of this goddamn exam." Jin said, and Mark laughed, sitting on his bed in their dorm.

Jimin was crouched on his bed, and then sighed when he looked at the tablet. "..I don't know any of them." Jimin mumbled to himself.

Taehyung laughed sarcastically, throwing his tablet at Bambam. "This couldn't be any fucking better! I'm the last group to go! At night! With a bunch of guys I've never met! Fucking great." Taehyung groaned, and then kicked the wall.

Jungkook looked at his tablet, and then turned it off and placed it back on the table. "Eh- it's not like I give a shit anyway." Jungkook snickered to Yugyeom, who just rolled his eyes.

Namjoon huffed, placing the tablet onto his table in the library, placing his head in his hands. "I'm in a group with a bunch of idiots."

Little did they know all the shit that this stupid exam would bring. These bunch of idiots were fucked.

  ✫  ✬  ✭  ✬  ✫

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647225793724989440/two%C2%B2

[marvxlousqueen]

Warren Worthington- Tease

requested by anon: Hi!! , i was wondering if you could write something where the reader can read minds and she can hear that warren has a massive crush on her, so she always act confident in front of him. And maybe some smut with sub warren??

word count: 1.8K

A/N: this took forever i am so sorry! also i didn’t have time for the smut :( but pls enjoy

Monday, September 16th. 7:42 am

(Y/n)’s eyes were half closed as she looked over her calculus quiz. Getting a pop quiz was never fun, but having a pop quiz during your first period? Well, that’s just the definition of hell. 

She was supposed to be solving for a geometric limit (something she had studied for), but her brain hadn’t woken up yet. Instead, she turned to her mutation for answers. She looked towards Kurt who was seated in front of her. (Y/n) focused on him, trying to get into his head.

“As x approaches b? Vhat does that even mean?”

Kurt’s thoughts were no help, he seemed just as lost as she was. She moved to focus on Scott, who was seated a few chairs over from her. (Y/n) eyes flicked towards him, trying to not be noticed by the teacher. 

(Y/n) finally got into his mind, just to be suddenly overwhelmed by noise. 

“It’s the EYE OF THE TIGER! IT’S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT-”

Scott was too busy singing Survivor’s newest hit to himself to share answers. 

(Y/n) let out a long sigh, looking around at the other students. She didn’t trust most of the kids enough to steal answers from them, but she figured she didn’t have many options either way. 

Looking around to find someone smart, (Y/n)’s eyes were caught by the stark white of Warren’s wings. They looked so pristine under the florescent lighting, making him truly look like an angel.

Wonder what he’s thinking about, she thought to herself.  

Despite liking him for so long, (Y/n) had managed to refrain from peeking into his mind, afraid he might find out and be upset with her (and also possibly afraid that she might hear that he likes someone else). 

Before (Y/n) knew what was happening, she was inside Warren’s mind. She could hear his breath roaring in her ears. 

“She’s not writing anything either- that’s a good sign. If she fails this quiz too, I won’t look stupid in front of her. Or maybe I should try and impress her. Or would I just look like a douche?”

Warren’s head was filled with thoughts surrounding a certain “she”. (Y/n) could only guess that he was talking about Ororo, who was only a few chairs in front of him. The two were very close, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if he liked her (although she tried to push those thoughts away). 

And that’s why you don’t spy on crushes, you only get hurt, she thought. 

(Y/n) tried to make herself shut him out, but part of her wouldn’t let go. She was holding onto his words, somehow enjoying his nervous tone. It made her feel closer to him, having never seen that side of Warren. He was usually quiet, but it seemed like in his own head he tended to ramble on nervously. It was cute. 

“Maybe she could tutor me- no what if she thinks I’m dumb, she wouldn’t date a dumb dude. But also we’d get to spend time together.”

Warren was running through pros and cons of asking the girl to tutor him, and he was being quite thorough, which (Y/n) thought was sweet. He really cared for this mystery girl (probably Ororo, but still not 100% sure.) and despite (Y/n)’s heart being crushed, she was happy he was happy. 

“Plus (Y/n) has the same study hall as me so it could work out great! I guess I need to actually ask her- oh fuck I need to actually ask her.”

(Y/n) felt her jaw drop, her head whipping from the front of the room to face Warren. As she turned, she caught him staring at her. His faced turned red and he looked down at his quiz quickly. 

Me? Holy fuck! He likes me!

(Y/n) quickly tuned into Warren’s thoughts once again, hearing him scold himself.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit- she saw me. It’s fine, you’re fine, Warren. Just play it cool. Keep it cool.”

(Y/n) bit down on her lip to repress her smile. 

He. Likes. Me.

She turned to look back at Warren. His face was buried in his hands, his quiz pushed to the other side of the desk. It seemed he had given up on it.

Maybe I should ask if he wants tutoring, she thought. 

(Y/n) figured Warren wouldn’t make the first move, so she planned to ask him during lunch that day. 

She went through the rest of her morning classes like she was floating. Having her crush like her back was something that had never happened to her before. It was amazing.

Now the only thing was to somehow get Warren to ask her out. Although (Y/n) already knew how he felt, she didn’t want to make that move. She knew him well enough to know that he got embarrassed when girls did the “boy’s” job (toxic masculinity in the 80s, am i right?). 

If she just acted a bit more confident and up front, he’d be sure to ask her out in no time. 

As fourth period came to a close, (Y/n) went over what she wanted to say to Warren in her head. She wanted to offer tutoring help, but not accidentally make him feel dumb or act like she was better than him. (She was probably overthinking this, but she tended to do that around him).

The bell rang and she swung her bag over her shoulder, rushing down the stairs to get in line before it got too long. Looking ahead in line, she saw Warren near the front. Her breathing started to pick up and she went over her words once again. 

After getting her food, she walked towards Warren’s table where he sat with Peter, Kurt, and Scott.

“Hey, Warren! And, uh, everyone else I guess.. Anyway! I was wondering if you wanted to study for math in the library after school some time? This unit is pretty hard and the test is next week so.. yeah.”

“Y-yeah! I mean uh, yes. I would like that, yeah. Today? Can we do today? I’m free after school.” His face was red and the words spilled out, unable to stop himself from totally embarrassing himself.

“Sure, yeah! I’m down. I’ll see you then,” she said as she walked away.

Warren nodded, licking his dry lips, “O-okay!”

Peter burst into laughter once (Y/n) was out of earshot, “God, that was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What? Shut up! I was cool.”

“You were definitely not cool. You need to relax around her. Just chill.”

“Or,” Scott said in between bites of his pizza, “Just ask her out already and see what happens.”

“I can’t do that! It’s way to early for that! She’ll- she’ll say no and I can’t take that.”

Scott shrugged, “Fine. You’re suffering, not mine. Do what you wish.”

Warren huffed, returning to his food before the lunch period ended. 

At 3:00 after his last class he pushed his way through the hallway and towards the library, wanting to beat (Y/n) there so he could get set up and look sophisticated. He opened the door, taking a seat at a table towards the back for privacy. 

(Y/n) joined him about 5 minutes later, lips stretched into a smile. “Hey! Sorry, had to run upstairs to get my textbook.” 

She sat down next to him, plopping the textbook on the table.

“Okay, so! Should we start with algebraic limits? I’m better with those.”

Warren nodded, cheeks red as (Y/n) stared at him, waiting for an answer. She flipped open the book and moved to pull out her notebook. As she was moving her hand brushed Warren’s, making him turn even redder. 

He tried to follow Peter’s advice, but wasn’t any good at keeping his “chill” around the girl of his dreams.

She touched my hand! 

(Y/n) laughed a little when she heard his inner voice. To mess with him further, she placed her hand on his arm while explaining the first practice problem.

She’s- She’s touching me! Oh god, she’s so pretty.

Her face heated up from Warren’s internal comments. (Y/n) flipped the page, reading out loud about the limit definition formula. Her right hand was flipping pages as her left fell to Warren’s thigh.

“So as x approaches h, you can use the same power rule to avoid solving for h and f...”

Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. I- what the fuck. 

Suddenly Warren coughed, his head whipping down and back up quickly, but (Y/n) continued reading as if she didn’t notice.

Oh god, will she notice I have a boner? Oh fuck, I’m awful!

(Y/n) suddenly choked on her words, looking at Warren quickly.

“Wh- I mean, uh, which problem should we start with?”

Warren shrugged, face bright red, “U-uhm, any is fine.”

They studied for the next hour and half, (Y/n)’s hand occasionally hitting Warren just to see his reaction.

After their studying session, (Y/n) returned to her dorm room, frustrated that Warren hadn’t asked her out when she was being so obvious that she liked him! 

“I guess I need to do a little bit more,” she thought to herself.

The next day in their training period, she had decided to partner up with Warren (who of course immediately said yes). Raven was teaching about how to throw an opponent off balance by kicking out their legs from under them and pin them down.

Oh great, so I’ll be spending today on top of (Y/n), Warren thought. His face burned at the idea of (Y/n) pinning him down.

(Y/n) smiled, loving the way he blushed so easily. She spent the next half an hour repeatedly pinning him to the ground, smiling at him from above.

“Gotcha!”

Warren laughed, “S-sure do.”

By the end of training, Warren felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Not because he was tired, but because (Y/n) always made him breathless.

She approached him where he was drinking from the water fountain. “You’re cute when you blush, by the way.” 

Warren spun around to face her, “T-thanks? Thanks. So, uh, so are you. Not- not just when you blush, I mean- like-”

“Thank you,” she cut off his rambling.

Ask me out! Ask me out! Please!, she thought.

Warren nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

You know what? Fuck this!, (Y/n) thought.

“I know you like me.”

“W-what?” he sputtered out. “I- I don’t, I don’t like you! W-where did you hear that?”

“Well, sorta heard it from you. I really didn’t mean to look into your head, it just kind of happened.”

Warren gulped, eyes wide, “O-oh. O-okay, sorry.”

“What, no don’t be sorry! I like you too!”

Warren let out a long breath, “Why didn’t you lead with that?!”

“Just wanted to tease you a bit more.”

“That’s evil!”

“Oh, you love it.”

taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @thoughtlesspace @chxrrymoons@babebenhardy@rexorangecouny@cyndagoaway@killcomet@mcrmarvelloki@queen-turtle-boiii@hardlylo@ziggymay@jacqueline1916@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ixchel-9275@queen-baelin @radiob-l-a-hblah@kurt-nightcrawler@kellypenac@disaster-rose

hmu to be added!^

[jamielea81]

Back to School

Chapter 1

Pairing: Professor Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Some cursing

Description: After taking years off of school, you finally decide to go back and finish up that degree.

Word Count: Approximately 1,800

A/N: Welcome to my new series Back to School! This is a professor AU with a twist. This series will be on the shorter side (no more than 10 chapters) and will be updated weekly. I’ve tagged those that have asked to be tagged before, if you would like to be removed just let me know. 

*Italics are internal thoughts.

Sticking out like a sore thumb wasn’t your idea of a good first day back to school. It was like high school all over again, but instead of wearing cheap clothes from the clearance rack while the other girls in school wore designer jeans, you wore business attire. Black pencil skirt, blouse, heels, makeup done up, that was your staple most days at the office. Students hanging around campus and in your first class were dressed in pajama pants, jeans, gym shorts and t-shirts. You were vastly over dressed, but it wasn’t your fault, you had to go back to work after your second class.

You had taken a few years off of school. Who were you kidding? You took 13 years off. It was always your intention to go back to college and finish up that degree, but life got in the way.

During senior year, you had gotten sick. It started out simple enough with pains in your stomach, but no amount of pain killers and rest could cure it. Once it was apparent you weren’t getting better, you made numerous trips to the health center on campus. They in turn referred you to the regional hospital that diagnosed you with an ovarian cyst. It was already quite large and your doctor recommended surgery as soon as possible. Two weeks later, you had the surgery to remove it. Because of the recovery time and the days you missed being ill, you had no choice but to take incompletes for all your classes that semester. Your job on campus was also terminated because you were no longer enrolled in classes.  

Life back at home with your parents wasn’t a breeze. After being away for nearly four years, it was quite the adjustment living under their roof once again. They encouraged you to take classes at the nearby University which you did, but you struggled. Driving into the city was a pain and finding parking was even harder. You stuck with one of the two classes you enrolled in and managed to finish it leaving eight credits to go.

You found a job fairly quickly after a friend working in a call center gave you the heads up about an opening. It started as a fulltime position that summer, and you planned on going part time in the fall so that you could take a couple of classes to complete your degree. You ended up moving in with said friend at the end of summer. The money was rolling in as you turned out to be quite the sales woman. Deciding to take one more semester off to put some money in the bank, turned into a year off. Student loan bills started to arrive in your mailbox since you weren’t enrolled in classes. That one year turned into two. You moved out on your own. Took a new sales job with great benefits and a 401K. Two years turned into five. A job in middle management became available and you took it. Even though you were great at sales, you didn’t particular love it. Motivating others and knowing how to manage a team was more your forte. At that point you were doing quite well for yourself that school went on the back burner. Before you knew it, you were in your mid 30s worrying about a fifteen-page paper due at the end of the semester.

The campus is nice, as far as colleges go. It was also conveniently located thirty minutes from your home and office. Lush green lawns, loads of maple trees, benches and tables scattered along the wide walk ways. There’s a coffee shop in the student union, but you found a coffee cart located outside near a row of benches that faced a large water fountain in the center of the campus.

You acquired yourself a cup with two shots of vanilla. Grabbing a few capsules of cream and adding them to your cup, you planted yourself on an empty bench. You reached into your briefcase to grab out the syllabus from your first class, Economics in the Modern Age. There was no point in acquiring a backpack when you had only two classes and you had to get to work right after your second one. An hour between classes was more than enough time to look over your notes and get a cup of coffee.

“Can’t believe classes have started up again.” A deep voice in front of you said.

Looking up, the sun partially blinds your view. You put your hand up to shield the sun to get a better look at him.

“Sorry.” He says, moving about a foot to the right to block the brightness from your view.

And what a new view it was. Broad shoulders, dark blonde hair, nicely groomed beard, and those eyes. A poet could write several books about those eyes. He looked to be about your age, which was refreshing. Dressed in dark blue jeans, buttoned down checkered shirt and a brown sport coat over it. You were starring. Once you realized it, you looked down and quickly took a sip from your cup and nodded.

He stuck out his hand and you quickly set your cup down next to you on the bench. “Steve Rogers. History.”

“Ah, um, Y/N Y/L/N. Business administration.” You said, shaking his hand. His fingers fit nicely against yours. You really hoped he didn’t notice the blush.

“Do you mind?” He asked, gesturing toward the empty space beside you.

“Not at all.”

Be cool Y/L/N. Just because the hot guy wants to sit next to you, it does not mean he’s interested.

Going slow was never easy for you, which is why you were single. Your mind had a hard time differentiating between guys who were being friendly and guys who were interested. One would think with age and time, those kinds of problems would be sorted.

“Beautiful day.” You offered. Not really knowing what to say.

He hummed in response. “I’m looking forward to the cooler weather. I hate always feeling over dressed this time of year.”

You nodded. Giving him a small smile. “Same.” You said, gesturing to your long-sleeved blouse. At least you had opted to go bare legged. “It’s not so bad in the shade.”

This small talk is killing me.

Steve nodded his head. “How’s your schedule this semester?” He asked.

“Only two courses. Think I’ll manage.”

“Nice. I’ve got four, but two are twice a week.”

“Ouch. I’ve always hated those.” You replied.

He smiled. Eyes crinkly as he looked at you. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“I’m new here.” You said, shrugging one shoulder.

“Well, you can count me as your official welcoming party.”

You laughed. “I give you my thanks then.”

A small alarm sounded in your briefcase. Reaching in you pulled out your phone seeing you had twenty minutes until your next class. Not knowing where all the buildings were, you wanted to give yourself plenty of time to get there and hopefully find a seat in the back.

“I better get going.” You said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “It was nice to meet you Steve Rogers, History.”

He stood up as well, laughing hard, throwing his head back slightly. “You as well Y/N. I hope to see you around campus more.”

Your face flushed and you hoped he didn’t notice. “Hopefully.”

You quickly turned your back to him heading in any direction to get away from the handsome man. Not that you really wanted to run away, but you didn’t want to ruin something that hadn’t even started by saying something stupid.

After walking aimlessly for ten minutes, you consulted the campus map on your phone and started walking in the correct direction. You reached the History building with a few minutes to spare. The room wasn’t far down the hall and all rooms were numbered legibly. Finding the door was still open, you felt relieved. The room was a large lecture hall with stadium seating. Stepping inside you felt a small wave of panic as most seats were occupied with only a few open ones in the front rows and a couple single seats scattered in the middle.

Next week I am so getting here a half hour earlier.

You begrudgingly walked down the staircase, dodging careless backpacks left in your path. Sure, you wore heels daily to the office, but that was mainly at your desk or in a conference room, not down a large staircase with legs stretched out, ready to catch a victim not paying attention.

As you made your way down the steps to the mostly open first row, you couldn’t help but notice eyes on you. Instantly you felt self-conscious, thinking perhaps you had something on your face or coffee down your blouse. You took your seat and the eyes drifted away, back to their phones or conversations with the people they were sitting with.

They thought I was the teacher. That’s it, I’m changing at the office from now on.

You dug out a notebook and pen. Blue ink, not black of course. We all have our habits. You scribbled “History Beyond the Walls” on the front cover of the notebook. You picked the course randomly as you only needed a 200 level history class to complete the requirement for your degree.

The door in the back closed with a loud bang. A muttered sorry was heard and you, much like everyone else, turned around to see what caused the disturbance.

Whoa. Steve’s in this class.

You silently prayed that he’d take the seat next to you. Just for the camaraderie of adults going back to school, nothing more. Right? You continued to watch him descend the staircase hoping he’d see you. You subtly move your eyes to his left hand to check for a ring since you didn’t do so earlier. It’s naked which makes you smile. I suppose he could have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.  

Shaking your head slightly to get out of your own mind, you go back to the intense eye contact that pays off as Steve sees you. His face is a mix of surprise and confusion. A small smile graces his face but it quickly fades. His eyes crinkle and small lines appear on his forehead. Head tilting to the side you hear a muttered “Y/N?” You give him a slight wave as he walks completely past you, setting his bag on the desk at the front of the classroom. Now it’s your turn to be confused.

Steve turns around and looks at you briefly before scanning the rest of the room.

“I’m Professor Rogers. Welcome to History Beyond the Walls.”

Well, shit.

Tagging: @thefanficfaerie @humandasaster @violetadefebrero @estillion14 @xxloki81xx @lookwhatyoumademequeue @thefandomzoneisdangerous @tanelle83 @symonlyjen5 @niaese @lilypalmer1987 @unlcvings @linkingdolans @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @allaboutthebooz @joannie95 @chita0027

[moneyshvt]

☆ . · . simay barlas, twenty-two, female, she / her . · . ☆ AYLA CLEARWATER lives in that huge mansion over there! no, not that one. look for THE LARGE NATURAL STONE FOUNTAIN and that’ll be it. the SPORTS PHOTOGRAPHER has offered occasional glimpses of LIGHT GREEN walls and an impressive collection of EMPTY PICTURE FRAMES in the background of social media posts, but all of that is nothing compared to seeing the opulence in person. they’ve remained CLEVER as ever since moving to tercet court one year ago, but it seems like they might’ve gotten a little more of NARCISSISTIC too. maybe that’s why they’re rumored to have such a FRIENDLY relationship with everyone else who lives on this street. ☆ . · . ooc info: ollie, they/them, 21, est . · . ☆

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

— she was adopted when she was just under two years old from turkey, so the clearwaters have always felt like her family to her. she knew the greater part of growing up that she was adopted, it just never was an issue for her. it was a fact, but it really wasn’t an important fact. she has no desire to try to find her birth parents or family, though she has visited turkey.

—  the clearwaters are a triple threat in sports : her grandfather retired mlb player and coach, her father a retired prominent defenseman in the nhl and current dartmouth men’s hockey coach, and her older brother ( 26 ) is making a splash in his third year in the nfl as a wide receiver.  however, her parents made sure she and her brother had a ( fairly ) average “middle class” bringing up, though they had their fair share of money in the bank. didn’t have to struggle, really, but didn’t get everything she wanted either. had a summer job scooping ice cream for two years in high school.

— grew up in norwich, vt, real big on nature and hiking and all that jazz and lowkey misses it in the heart of la.

— when she was ten she got one of those kid’s polaroid cameras ( u know the ones where the film is only a little bigger than a postage stamp ) and she was obsessed. she worked her way up through cameras over the years, having a natural eye for it.

— one of the first games she ever shot was one of her brother’s high school football games which sounds sweet but it was actually because she was so bored out of her mind and wanted something to do. needless to say, though, that was the start of it. some might say it was kind of inevitable she gravitated toward sports somehow — she was a clearwater at heart. since then she has gained a lot of knowledge and respect for all different kinds of sports.

— for college she was torn between dartmouth and nyu. she ultimately chose nyu because it was somewhere new.

— she went to nyu for advertising and photography, shooting various nyu sports teams while she was there and throughout her years, managed to shoot a few rangers, knicks, and yankees games as well. she held two summer internships with the yankees ( on her own merits or because of her family name, she may never truly know ) and ultimately graduated from nyu a year early.

— she then spent the better part of a year after graduation road tripping as you do and ended up in california. it’s all about who you know, and in picking up a favor for a friend in cali she stumbled into the perfect opportunity. from there she landed a role on the company that handles the photography for staples center and other notable teams, most notably the kings, lakers, and dodgers ( photography company based on this irl one ).

— she moved into tercet court not long after she knew she would be in la for much of the time being. it’s definitely not her house, considering she makes just enough to live on. it’s a family home, purchased initially by her father who’d wanted to sink some money into tangible assets instead of the stock market and to have a west-coast home available for the family. hey, worked out pretty well for her.

— she has predominately been tasked with shooting the kings the past year or so, though she started with shooting dodgers games last summer and is doing so this summer as well. she’s also shot a handful of lakers’ games when a friend needs someone to cover. three of her photos so far have been used in large ads and banners in the city ( including most recently her current MONEY SHOT of the game winning goal in a come back win ) --- very cool moment for her. several others have been used by local publications and websites.

— she does a little freelance work as well ; mostly for friends or friends of friends, though she’s been considering lately trying to make her skills and business available in a more professional manner. she does do a lot of photographing for herself --- a lot of candids ; she thinks they capture the true spirit of a person moreso than when they’re posing or prepared for a photo. but not in a creepy way --- she’s been the victim of the paps enough times by association with her family to know the correct boundaries and limits.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

— lowkey loves playing games with the paps, though she’s probably the only one that finds it funny. as a photographer herself she has a good eye for where they’re hiding and will also snap photos of them in turn just for her own amusement.

— she hopes someday to be the team photographer for a team, hopefully in one of the “big four” ( nfl, nhl, nba, mlb )

— she played field hockey and lacrosse through high school.

— ayla thinks she’s better at shooting people. part of what she loves about being a sports photographer is how active and unpredictable it is to shoot a game. she’s had to learn a lot to try to predict what she can.

— very much a morning person. has never had a problem waking up in the morning. who’s jealous bc i am. goes for a run at sunrise, and has showered, gotten ready for the day, and is at a local cafe shop editing photos / making graphics and drinking an iced mocha by 8. truly couldn’t be me...

— so desperately wants to be that girl with tons of cute aesthetic plants in her apartment but tragically plants always die in her care no matter what she does. probably has gotten one of those tiny tabletop sand zen gardens to make herself feel better tho she still keeps trying with plants. so far the only ones that have lived any length of time are the air plants.

— she really wants a greyhound but is afraid to make the commitment to actually adopting one.

— her personal insta ( the non-sports one ) has a modest following. a few thousand, probs.

— she has struggled a bit with people who think her opportunities have only arisen because of her family pedigree ( which some have gone so far to tell her they’re “not her family” --- which, don’t even go there, lads... ), and that has made ayla work all that much harder to prove that she’d gotten where she has on her own merits.

— she has a rule ( and in the case of the nhl there is a rule enforced by a signed contract ) about not getting involved with anyone she shoots ; it’s considered a conflict of interest. i imagine she has a really good relationship with the players though --- probably doesn’t hurt that she is pretty. at least one of them have hired her to shoot their wedding this summer even though she is wildly under qualified.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

alya is a chill and laidback person at heart. her approach to the fame attached to her due to her father and brother has been to laugh it off good-naturedly. she’s generally well liked, with a hint of sass and humor. she comes across as a bit of an air-head at times, but that’s part due to a persona she put on from a young age. she has an observant eye that drew to her photography in the first place and will often allow her to draw certain conclusions about people. she’s well versed in all the sports she shoots, something that tends to surprise a lot of people, but how is she supposed to be good at her job if she isn’t ? if she gets bothered during games she typically shuts people down with wide eyes and some obscure bit of knowledge in her cute, raspy lil voice. dareisay... elle woods, what like it’s hard ? energy ??

a few of her downfalls include her narcissism and need to be liked. she looks to look and feel pretty, by her own standards, and is a queen of the self-timer and remote self photography : has two instas because of it -- one for her sports photography and one that’s a “personal” and mostly just pictures of herself. her need to be liked is something she doesn’t even realize. she likes to be seen in a positive light.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

alya stands at 5′4″ with a slim but athletic build. her hair is naturally brown, but is dyed to have blonde highlights. she does not need glasses or contacts and has no tattoos.

she’s almost always wearing the same pair of beat up timberland’s she’s owned since freshman year of college. she likes to be able to move easily ( bc homegirl absolutely cannot walk in heels at all ). despite what the tabloids like to call her unfortunate choice in footwear, she likes to look cute, often pairing them with short, flowy sundresses or skirts + crop tops. when she shoots games, however, she’s dressed rather practically in skinny jeans, a crop top, and a cardigan. her hair is often kept down and loose, or in a messy bun.

𝐎𝐎𝐂

it me. ollie again. i also play fitz ( miguel bernardeau fc ). yes the overlap between fitz and ayla is not great but i truly only know one thing that that one thing is hockey asldfalsdjf sO. if y’all seeing me rping with myself on the dash bc i think it’d be fun to bounce fitz and ayla off each other mind ur own business...

[crowdedimagines]

Experiences - David Dobrik

word count: 1733 an// david has said several times that he loves to experience things with someone for the first time and see peoples reactions to things for the first time. this is going several different experiences between david and y/n. --ITALICS ARE DAVID--

“You’re kidding me, Y/n!” David says, absolutely shocked turning his camera to face me.

“What?” I ask with a laugh, I can feel my face getting a little red right now with everyone’s attention.

“You’ve never been to Vegas? How is that possible? We live in L.A!” David continues pestering me about my lack of traveling.

“I made the move to L.A, that was pretty much it.” I say with a shrug.

“Natalie.” He turns his camera towards her, “Get some tickets now.”

“What? No! We can’t just leave like that.” I laugh, assuming he’s joking. Something about the unwavering look on his face tells me that I’m wrong.

“We can just leave like that, that’s the beauty of out jobs.”

Magically with David’s charming personality he got me along with several of our friends on a plane to Vegas. I can’t believe this is happening, I’ve lived in L.A for a while and I haven’t left other than going home. I’ve only been friends with the vlog squad for a couple of months.

“Are you excited?” David asks, I can tell he’s extremely excited by the grin he has.

“I actually really am. I’ve never been anywhere like it.”

We get to Vegas and the first place our Uber takes us to is the Bellagio fountains. David said it was a must see. He couldn’t have been more right.

As soon as I see the smile on Y/n’s face I know that this has to be the best idea I’ve ever had. She looks so amazed and happy with the sight in front of her, but I can’t tear my eyes from her. I know that her view isn’t even close to mine if were comparing beauty.

The next trip that David drags me along for was a few months after our Vegas trip. I still think about that trip and the pure spontaneity of it. This next trip is planned. David asked me to come home to Chicago with him. Natalie, Jason, and Jeff are all coming with too. He wants so show us all of where he grew up.

All day we’ve been driving around Vernon Hills. He showed us his old high school, where he used to play tennis, and more spots from when he grew up. We even went to his old house, we all met his family who are easily some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Sara and Ester both told me that they’ve been watching my videos longer than David, which he denied.

“This is where we used to light off fireworks.” David pulls over and points to a small empty field.

“No way.” I say with a laugh, of course they got caught. Residential houses are literally right next to it.

“Yeah, I almost lost an eye here.” David laughs again, “And I have a surprise.”

David gets out of the car and walks around to the trunk.

“Well, this isn’t going to end well.” Jason mutters as he gets out of the backseat with everyone else.

I get out too and wrap my arms tightly around myself to fight off the cold wind. Natalie huddles next to me, we both laugh while shivering.

“David you didn’t.” Jason grumbles, getting nervous.

“Don’t worry. I only got the big ones for show.”

David walks far away from all of us and sets off a big box of fireworks. He runs back over to stand by us.

“Jesus, I did not think it would be this cold.” He shivers.

I hold my arm open to join in an embrace on my other side that isn’t holding Natalie. He leans in closer and settles his arm around my waist. We all jump when there’s a scream of a firework as it climbs higher and higher into the sky. It bursts into a wild speckle of bright color.

“Oh my god.” I can’t fight the laughter as firework after firework goes off. Each one is better than the last. The keep getting bigger and brighter.

“You know, it’s pretty hard to watch the fireworks when your staring at me.” I comment without passing a glance to David. It wasn’t hard to figure out he stopped looking up at the sky.

“I kinda like this view.”

I cut him a look this time. Now I can see the proud smirk on his face. I roll my eyes and shake my head slightly before turning away. I pray he doesn’t notice the smile I’m trying to wipe off my face.

Damn, even when she rolls her eyes at me she looks so good. I would make all the annoying cheesy comments in the world if that meant she was going to smile like that. She’s the reason I’m here right now. I brought other friends with so it wasn’t as obvious, but in actuality I just wanted to bring her home.

It didn’t take much time after our trip to Chicago to get together. We kept flirting back and forth and finally when Natalie called David out on it, we went on a real date. Ever since, we have been growing more and more close.

“Babe.” David calls loudly from the living room.

“What?” I shout back.

“C’mere!”

I reluctantly get up from David’s bed and walk out to the living room where he’s seated on the couch.

“What’s up?” I take a seat next to him, he shuts his laptop and pushes it away. This shows me I have his full attention for whatever he needed.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smirks.

“Oh no.” I groan, throwing myself backwards on the couch.

“Hey, who said it’s a bad surprise!” He grins. He climbs on top of me to pull my hands away from hiding my face.

“Your past David track record is what says it’s a bad surprise.” I laugh, lightly smacking his chest. “You didn’t think that surprising me in my apartment with a python was a good surprise, did you?”

“That was before we were dating! Now you’re my girlfriend.” He leans down to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Ooh, so there are benefits to dating David Dobrik. No more evil pranks?”

“I’d like to think there are several benefits to dating David Dobrik.” He smirks proudly. I roll my eyes and manage to push him off of me.

“One sec!” He quickly rushes off the couch and runs to the kitchen. He comes back with an envelope in his hands.

“Here.” He hands it to me.

“You’re not filming?” I ask, suddenly realizing the absence of his camera. He doesn’t really do surprises without filming.

“This one is just for us.”

“Awe, baby.” I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. “That was the cutest-”

“Alright alright, just open it.” He cuts me off, getting embarrassed. I press one last kiss to his pink-tinted cheeks.

I rip open the envelope to find two find two first class plane tickets to South Carolina. He knows that I’ve never been, but I’ve always wanted to go. It has the perfect mix of beach, city, and mountains.

“Oh my god, you didn’t!” I cheer, getting loud.

“We leave tomorrow.” He grins, I think he’s just as excited as me now.

“Tomorrow? You’re lucky I don’t have anything going on.” I slap his shoulder with the tickets.

“I know, I already checked with your manager. That’s why you have nothing going on for the next week.”

Our flight creeps up on both of us between getting everything together and packing. The first few days of the trip are amazing. We spend the first day going on a hike and finding a few different lookouts. The second day we do some touristy things in the city. Today is our beach day.

“Babe, you don’t like the ocean.” I hesitantly take off my shirt, leaving my in only my swimsuit.

“Says who?” He tries to argue.

“You. I know that the ocean freaks you out. Lets just chill on the beach!” I press a hand on his chest to stop him from continuing towards the water.

“No, I wanna go in.” He pushes past me, but takes my hand in his.

“Are you sure?” The water just barely grazes over our feet. I can tell he’s nervous. He won’t even look at me, too focused on the water and what could be in it. I lightly grab his head in my hands and turn it so he’s looking at me.

“I love you, Y/n.”

“What?” I ask, shocked why this is coming out now, we haven’t exchanged this words in out few months together.

“I love you. I mean that one hundred percent. I want to swim in the ocean because I know it would make you happy. I love you because I know that you would never ask me to do something like this. You always put me first and I will always try my hardest to put you first.”

He interrupts himself to press a kiss to my lips.

“I love you too.” I can feel my smile grow even wider. I pull him in for yet another kiss. This one continues for a while. Or at least until a strong wave comes and hits us high on our legs with cold water. This causes both of us to pull away and scream with shock.

“Oh my god.” I laugh, goosebumps raising on my skin despite the warm sun shining down.

David takes this as an opportunity to splash me. He kicks water up with his foot, it manages to soak me.

“This is war.”

She’s the one. I know it in this exact moment. Her laughter is like music as we playfully fight back and forth. I love that she thinks her face is intimidating right now. Her nose is scrunched up, but her eyes are shining. I am in the ocean, absolutely soaked to the bone and I don’t want to be anywhere else. I would face all of my fears for this girl any day of the week.

second part?

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars

read the full story on Ao3...

iv. if i was a man, then i’d be the man

I’m so sick of running as fast as I can,

wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man.

And I’m so sick of them coming at me again, 

‘cause if I was a man, then I’d be the man

-Taylor Swift, “The Man”

“The Falcon is en route,” The bodyguard reported.

Daenerys despised her code name. Falcon. Compared to the other code names of the family, Dragon, Eagle, Swan, and Raven, Falcon was terribly underwhelming. The falcon was a bird people trained to hunt for them. It was a bird for enjoyment, not a bird that commanded respect.

Stepping through the automatic airport doors, her eyes and ears were assaulted. The flash of cameras and the shouts of the paparazzi were much louder than she remembered. After six years in Essos, she supposed she’d lost her resistance to them. 

As the car door shut behind her, the security detail fell in line. Sir Jorah sat in the backseat beside her, with another in the passenger seat and an armed chauffeur. The sirens on the police cars started up and they pulled away from King’s Landing International Airport and into the busy streets.

The airport was located in the new city. An entrancing view of sleek and modern high rise buildings. Business headquarters, vegan restaurants, and clothing stores advertised themselves in the clear windows. The sun was absent, leaving room for the rainstorms that heralded her arrival. 

As they entered the old city, Dany remembered why she wanted to leave so bad. The air still smelled terrible and people crowded the streets. When Dany applied to the esteemed Braavos University, they were more than ecstatic to accept a member of the Westerosi royal family. Dany was just as excited to leave King’s Landing.

Studying overseas was the best decision. People cared less about what was going on in Westeros and weren’t phased when Dany and her security officers were out and about. Granted, there were still a few paps waiting outside her apartment but it was a much needed reprieve from her life in Westeros.

People stopped and gawked at the heavy vehicles maneuvering the narrow streets. Did they know Dany was back, or were they waiting on an official announcement from the crown? She missed being able to smile at people as she passed them and take in the sun, instead she was hidden away under an armored hood and tinted windows. 

She tore her gaze away from the saturated image of the world around her and looked at herself in the rear view. The bags under her eyes hadn’t improved and her skin was dry from the airplane air. She was in no shape to see her family again. They expected a perfect princess and the best she could give them was a tired college student. 

“Everything alright, Your Highness?”

The voice of Sir Jorah brought her back to reality.

“Nothing,” she assured Jorah, “It just feels weird to be back.”

“I know what you mean. A few years of people not giving you a second glance and now everyone’s on your arse.”

The chauffeur coughed to show his distaste for Jorah’s language, to which he muttered an apology. Dany chuckled. They had grown too relaxed while in Essos, too comfortable with each other. That would have to change.

Of course it hadn’t always been like that. When Jorah was first assigned to Dany, he took his duties with extreme seriousness, as they were drilled into him by years of experience. But when she had a breakdown while studying for her Essos Political Science class, he broke protocol and offered her solace. An odd friendship grew between them and soon enough she had Jorah trying to drink her under the table at college parties.

Despite people in Braavos not caring about Westerosi politics, they hesitated to befriend a royal. Probably afraid of the customs and rules that came with it. There was one girl in her Valyrian Studies class that managed to get over that fear, Missandei from Naath. Dany wished Missandei was with her. 

The motorcade came to the front gates of the Red Palace. It had once been a great keep built of red stone that looked over the whole city, but Dany’s ancestors had a great love for the grand mansions in Essos and had the Red Keep destroyed and replaced with a sprawling palace in red marble. It looked even more imposing than the original. Although Dany had only seen portraits of the old keep, she knew the pinkish stone couldn’t have put fear into the hearts of those that would steal it. 

Her ancestors knew what they were doing because the sight of it filled Dany with dread. Years of lessons and protocol, always in the shadow of her older brothers. She tasted freedom in Essos and was now expected to give all of it up to fit the family mold. She took a deep breath in an attempt to control the increasing speed of her heart.

The iron gate opened with the grace and opulence it commanded, allowing the princess through. The cars took their usual arc around the enormous fountain in the front courtyard. A silver scene of three dragons breathing water instead of fire. Come to think of it, Dany hated that fountain too. 

She slid out of the car, trying to move quickly so the paparazzi outside the gates couldn’t capture her dressed in leggings and athletic sneakers. Varys would have her head if even an inch of her body got published in something so casual. She added the dress code to her list of grievances. 

Petyr Baelish met her inside the doors, matching her brisk pace through the cavernous entry hall. Their footfalls echoed in the space, a haunting sound.

“Princess Daenerys, it is so good to see you again.”

“Wish I could say the same to you,” she deadpanned.

Baelish was never her friend and Dany was more than willing to take out her frustrations on him. 

He sighed and continued, “As I’m sure you know, the annual charity gala is tonight. The seamstress has already prepared selections for you to choose from and is waiting in your room. I suggest you hurry there.”

Dany rolled her eyes.

“It would also be in your best interest to know that the King of the North, Eddard Stark, and three of his children will be in attendance tonight,” Baelish reported.

“The King of the North?”

“Yes. And his three children. Crowned Prince Jon, Prince Robb, and Princess Sansa.”

“What are they doing down here?”

The North was an independent country. When Aegon the Conqueror sailed from Valyria he respected Torren Stark’s refusal to kneel, leaving them independent from the United Kingdoms of Westeros, but not without repercussions. The North was cut off from the rest of Westeros, no access to trade or military support. Members of the royal family hadn’t traveled south since the last long winter a hundred years ago.

As far as Dany was concerned they were a boring lot. Their names were rarely mentioned in the tabloids and they never did press interviews. They never appeared on TV and the paparazzi seemed uninterested. The complete opposite of the Targaryen family, whose faces were plastered on every magazine cover and nightly news editorial, who existed to be seen.

“The charity represented tonight is the champion cause of His Majesty, Eddard Stark. The palace extended an invitation to them and they accepted,” Baelish explained.

Dany hummed in acceptance of his statement, but she had the suspicion there was something deeper going on. Rhaegar learned from their ancestors to always have an ulterior motive, to never allow a stranger into your home unless the stranger had something to offer. That philosophy was one Dany lived by, although she employed it specifically for romantic partners.

Another set of footsteps entered the hall. The excited patter of little feet made Dany’s heart lurch. 

“Auntie Dee! You’re home.” 

Her niece and nephew, Rhaenys and Aegon, sprinted through the corridor. She bent down to hug them, giving them kisses on their foreheads. She didn’t want to let them go. The ache in her chest reminded her of just how much she missed them.

“How long are you going to be home this time, Dany?” Rhaenys asked, hope in her dark eyes.

“I don’t know yet, Your Royal Highness,”

“Longer than a day right?” Aegon begged.

“I think I can manage that.”

The children’s governess appeared from around the corner, red faced and out of breath.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness, they saw your car pull through the front gates and took off. I told them that you’d want to be alone, but it appears they no longer listen to me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dany assured the woman.

“Do we have to go back to lessons?” whined Aegon.

“We’d much rather spend time with you!”

Dany laughed, “I’m afraid your lessons are more important than me. How else can you become the greatest Queen and Prince there ever was?”

The kids groaned, but didn’t protest when Dany took their hands and led them back up the stairs. The whole way back Rhaenys and Aegon filled her in on how well regular school was going and all of the friends they made. And she praised them for their wonderful jobs and promised to see them as soon as she could before handing them off to the governess.

As soon as she turned around, there was Baelish, looking rather upset at the distraction. 

“Your Highness, if you would please pick up the pace. Or you’ll go to the gala half dressed and Gods know we do not need another headline like yesterday.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Of course, she did know. Maybe drinking Red Priestess vodka all night was a terrible idea, but in her defense, she wasn’t buying the drinks. Braavosi custom dictated that it was rude to refuse a drink when someone else was buying. 

“I see. And the naked sunbathing incident with the Khal off the coast of the Summer Isles? That wasn’t you either?”

“What are you implying?”

“Your Highness, your exploits in Essos are not lost on Westeros. People talk and what they have to say isn’t nice.”

Dany rolled her eyes, “So what? Dragons don’t care about the opinions of sheep. Besides Baelish, if there was an issue here Rhaegar would’ve told me.”

She lied straight through her teeth. Of course Rhaegar said something about her behavior. And she was confident Baelish knew too. 

“Of course, Your Highness. Whatever you say.”

Baelish made a gesture for her to walk ahead of him as they approached her apartments. 

They hadn’t changed since her graduation from secondary school. She ran her hand over the painted walls. Scenes of courtyards, gardens, and ancient castles painted like they were straight from a medieval manuscript. She tapped her finger on the nose of a princess engaged in a dance with a prince, as she did every time she passed. The princess was supposed to be the fair Alysanne but there was a surprising lack of a dragon anywhere near.

The plush bed looked inviting and Dany could feel the exhaustion under her eyes. She had too much to think about and doubted sleep would come easily. When she turned the corner she laid eyes on Elia Martell, resting on the ottoman in the closet through another set of archways. She stood and opened her arms.

Dany ran to her sister-in-law, crushing her in a hug. Elia squeezed back and rubbed Dany’s back reassuringly. 

“I’m sure you know all about it,” Dany sighed into Elia’s chest. 

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she warned, “but Rhaegar was very upset.”

“I figured.”

“Dany, how did this happen?”

“Elia, I don’t know! I wasn’t even drunk.”

The in-house seamstress was well prepared for Dany’s arrival. A rack of red gowns waited for her. Red was Dany’s favorite and she always wore it to important functions, much to the dismay of Varys. He claimed the color was too bold and harsh for a young, unmarried princess.

“Either way, there’s a stinking mess and it’s stressing Rhaegar out. If his hair wasn’t already so light, it would be turning grey. And who was that man you were leaning on?”

Dany ran her hand over the expensive fabrics. Velvets and silks, embroidered with silver and detailed in black. They were perfect for an evening amongst high born and elite.

“Daario Naharis.”

Dany selected the first dress and held it up to her frame. Dark red knit with a shimmer. Shape hugging with a slit up the back and low cut neckline. She stepped behind the privacy screen to try it on, slipping out of her regular clothing.

“You mean the Tyroshi tech millionaire?”

“His father’s the millionaire. Daario will just inherit all of it,” Dany called from behind the screen.

“Why do Rhaenys and Aegon have lessons? It’s summer.”

“I wanted to make sure it was just you and I today.”

The seamstress zipped up the dress and Dany stepped out and onto the fitting platform. As she turned about, her many reflections mimicked her and the sparkling dress she wore.

“What do you think?” she stuck out her right leg to accentuate the slit.

“It’s a little plain,” a voice said from the doorway.

Dany whipped her head around to see her best friend all the way from Essos.

“Missy!”

She hiked the skirt away from her feet and charged at her friend, wrapping her arms around the girl’s slim frame.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had a family emergency in Naath,” Dany questioned.

“That’s just where my flight connected. Elia called me a few days ago and told me I should be here.”

Elia gave Dany a playful glance.

“Well, it’s good you’re here. I need someone to agree with me on everything.”

The seamstress coughed and Dany left her best friend’s arms to try on the next option. A crimson A-line piece in chiffon, dark and flowy.

“Are you sure you don’t need someone to make sure your boobs stay in your dress?”

Elia snickered but Dany rolled her eyes.

“We get it! I made a bad decision and it came back to bite me in the ass. Add it to the list.”

Dany let out a strangled breath as the seamstress pulled the ties tight around her. The dress was supposed to flow, why did it need to be so tight? She stepped back up to the platform.

“I like that one,” Elia offered.

“Too sweet,” Missy and Dany said at the same time.

She stepped down and back behind the screen, the seamstress undressing her again.

The last time she tried on that many dresses was for Rhaegar’s coronation. They were still mourning for King Aerys so everyone was dressed in black. Dany remembered the dress she chose. Strapless, black a-line, covered in dark flowers that turned silver at the bottom. She remembered standing in the front row of the Sept, weighed down with silver jewelry and watching Rhaegar ascend the steps. And all she could think of at that moment was their father and how gaudy and disrespectful it all felt.

The seamstress pulled the ties of the next dress painfully tight and sent her off. The soft red satin pleated around her chest in structured pleats like a seashell. It hugged her hip and gathered into a burst, fanning around her feet. Dany did a few turns and twists, her many reflections copying her.

“That’s the one,” Missy praised.

Elia hummed in agreement.

On her way to change Dany said, “We can figure out the jewels later. We need to discuss my fall from grace.”

She wrapped a black silk robe around herself and walked straight onto the settee at the end of her bed, turned, and let herself fall. The thick duvet and memory foam mattress broke her fall. Missandei crawled up beside her and stroked her silver hair.

“Remember at Galazza’s lecture when she said that there’s no such thing as bad publicity?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way for royalty. We try to keep our names out of the papers these days,” Elia stated as she appeared at Dany’s side. “The more invisible we appear, the more the public likes us. Although they seem to love when we dress up and spend time among them.”

Her dark hair fell over her shoulder. They used to have girls’ nights where they would watch sappy movies, eat popcorn, and braid each other's hair. They always watched a dated Dornish film about a Rhoynish prince disguised as a Meereenese pit fighter. Dany would always gush about the leading man and Elia said she went to school with him and they dated for a brief time. She wondered what Elia’s life would be like if it weren’t for the arranged marriage between her and Rhaegar. 

“I need a drink,” Dany pouted, sitting up.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Missy asked, the tone in her voice made it clear what she was referencing.

“If I’m going to get through this evening of ass kissers and sticks-in-the-mud, I’m going to need something stiff.”

“I think alcohol is the last thing you need,” Elia said sternly. 

“This is so unfair. If I were a man and that picture got out, this wouldn’t be an issue-”

“Dany,” Elia warned.

“-but because I’m a woman my boob is deemed offensive and-”

“Dany!” 

She looked to Elia, who never snapped at her, with wounded eyes.

“I know you’re upset and that’s understandable. But it’s our lives. So please, do me a favor, and deal with it.”

Missandei watched Elia with enraptured interest. She’d never seen someone put Dany in her place before. But then again, Dany was usually in the right. 

“How long am I going to be stuck here?”

“What?” Missy asked.

“We called Dany home because she needed a time out,” Elia explained to Missandei before turning her attention back on Dany, “And that’s indefinite for right now. You need to tell me more about this Daario.”

“We’ve been hooking up for a year and he wants to make it official.”

“Well I hope you told him no,” Elia gasped.

“Don’t worry about it Elia, he won’t be coming to Westeros anytime soon. And Rheagar would never let me formally date a Tyrohsi.”

“Why?” Missandei asked.

“The monarchy is already in a delicate position because we represent an outdated establishment. Allowing Dany to seriously entertain a foreign millionaire would make us seem unpatriotic.” Elia stroked Dany’s hair and tucked it behind her ear.

“Your Majesty, the hairdresser has arrived,” Elia’s assistant reported.

She sighed and got up, brushing the wrinkles out of her pants.

“I’ll see you two at the gala.”

Dany groaned and Missandei giggled, “You still have to find me a dress.”

[internaljiujitsu]

Negrito: Race In The Latino Community

I had lots of nicknames growing up. Bolita (little ball) when I was a toddler because I was round. Jun (short for Junior), because I share a name with my dad. But the monikers I heard most from my mom and extended family were Negro (black), Negrito (little black) or Negrolo (black something or other). Notice a pattern?

As the darkest person in my Puerto Rican family, that’s how my loved ones would address me. It’s a common practice in Latino cultures. Identifying someone by their color, frowned upon in politically correct, modern society, has morphed into a term of endearment among racially diverse Latinos. Or so it seems.

Despite the wide range of hues within Latino culture that would suggest an evolved view of skin color, these societies are just as racist as any dusty mid western town full of red cap wearing “Americans.”

When a black South African, Zonzibini Tunzi, beat out Ms. Puerto Rico for the ridiculous Ms. Universe crown, the supervisor for the Island’s Education Department called the winner, “La prima de Shaka Zulu.” It means Shaka Zulu’s cousin. You know, the legendary African military leader.

In case you were wondering, there is no relation.

In 1937, Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo had forty thousand Hatitian migrants massacred to “whiten” the population of the Caribbean nation. Sixty years later, every Dominican in the world hailed the dark skinned Sammy Sosa as one of their own when he chased Babe Ruth’s legendary home run record.

And now — twenty years after that — Sammy Sosa is white.

In the eighties, my friends and family referred to African American people as “Morenos” (Dark Skinned) or “Cocolos” (a term originating with a dark skin group of people in The Dominican Republic.) We were all living in the same impoverished, dilapidated neighborhood together, but never felt the same. There was always an us against them attitude. We often felt as if we needed to fight for respect within our own neighborhood while buying into media perceptions of what it meant to be black and brown. And what we saw around us everyday did little to give us faith in ourselves or our darker brethren.

But I could blend in anywhere — while feeling comfortable nowhere. I belonged to a light skinned (except for me and my dad) Puerto Rican family growing up in a black neighborhood but I found myself relating more to white culture. While the Cosby Show was number one, I watched Family Ties. While kids were listening to Chuck D or KRS 1, I was head banging to Guns and Roses. I hated baggy clothes, preferring tight jeans and t-shirts. But I didn’t feel like I was rebelling - I just liked what I liked, and got plenty of shit for it.

To me, the Cosby show was bullshit. That’s not how it was for the black and brown people I knew. It was fantasy. Family Ties I had seen play out before my own eyes at white friends’ homes with cookie cutter lives that seemed perfect (spoiler alert: they weren’t). I wanted what they had so badly — peace of mind and enthusiasm for the future — and I wasn’t finding it where I lived.

I also hated my brother at the time (who I love to death) and wanted to be the opposite of him. He was a thug who always gave my parents headaches. He set a terrible example for his little brother while constantly asserting the fact that he was six years older and wiser. Once I stopped idolizing him, I detested everything he stood for. He has long since proven me and the old neighborhood wrong.

It took me years to become as secure as I am, but even now I get shit from people in my life. I’ve embraced my heritage and have ensured that my five year old daughter does the same. But when my parents hear my daughter speak proper Spanish without a Puerto Rican accent, they make fun of us. She’s been attending a Spanish speaking school since she was two. Her mother and I have attempted to be consistent with the dialect we use with her. That means she actually rolls her r’s and doesn’t sound like she’s gonna hock a loogie when she says “carro” or “perro.” My family thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

But it’s not just family. In a recent conversion with an old friend who had just retired from the police department, he called me an “Oreo.” Black on the outside and white on the inside. This guy is in his fifties. I chuckled when he said it, but haven’t returned his calls since.

The thing is, I know he was just fucking around. He himself is of mixed race and sounds like an Irish American with a Brooklyn accent, but looks Japanese. But there is something about police perception of dark skin people, how we are supposed to sound, that bugged me about what he said.

There’s too much chuckling that goes on. Too much nodding. A former close friend of mine, who is half Puerto Rican and married to a dark skinned Dominican woman, once complained that a guy he knew had “niggered up” his car ( because he added shiny rims, window tint and other bells and whistles). It wasn’t the first time I heard him use the word. Each time it turned my stomach. I didn’t get it — I was his friend. Both me and his wife would have been denied access to white bathrooms and water fountains. Just because we did not identify with black culture didn’t mean we wouldn’t be exposed to the same bigotry and hatred. What the fuck? It was too much for me to overlook. We haven’t spoken in years.

There was an ugly song I remember from the old neighborhood back in the day. There were two versions:

“A fight, a fight, a nigger and a white, the black don’t win, we all jump in.”

Or,

“A fight, a fight, a nigger and a white, the white don’t win, we all jump in.”

Which one you sang depended on who you were with. Which “us” against which “them?”

I remember, as a teenager, going to the Sunset Park pool in Brooklyn with a bunch of Latino boys. On the way home, there was a group of black kids walking ahead of us. The group I was with, only one of whom was my close friend, started taunting them. They hurled racial epitaphs and threats at the black kids for being in their neighborhood. I was silent and utterly confused.

As a kid, it was actually my one close white friend, Jesse, who was the least racist kid I knew. He might have been the most genuine friend I ever had. I stopped returning his calls because I didn’t trust his friendship. Not because of anything he did — My negative view of myself kept me from believing that he really wanted to be my friend. Why would he? He was from a great family that lived in a beautiful house and valued the things that mattered to me but weren’t for me.

When I hung out with Jesse’s friends, the chip on my shoulder was always ready to bash someone over the head. At a party in some kid’s basement, someone spilled a drink. The host, an Italian kid that I didn’t know, asked me to help clean it up. I told him to go fuck himself. Then he asked me, “What are you?”

The party ended when I dragged him down a staircase and started beating him down before being pulled off and barely escaping the awaiting mob. I am my brother’s brother, after all.

So even though I felt like a Martian in my own neighborhood and knew I wanted better, I didn’t think I belonged on the other side either. I was stuck in this bizarre place where the only role models I had were Roberto Clemente, Eric Estrada and Slater. I never knew anyone else successful that looked like me. At the same time it seemed everyone around me was determined to make sure I never forgot where I belonged.

When I was twelve years old, I refused to attend my zone school because it had a reputation for being the worst in the city. It wasn’t my parents that refused, it was me. I told my mom and dad I would not go to junior high unless they transferred me. What if I hadn’t done that?

As it turns out, the school I ended up going to (because my dad used a friend’s address) was in a good part of town and was the best public education I ever experienced. The work was so advanced that I went from being one of the smartest kids in class to struggling. I actually had to study — something I never had to do much of and found excruciatingly boring. At that new school, I felt like the bad boy. The outcast. The kid that didn’t quite belong and couldn’t keep up.

My grades suffered that year, and when I transferred to a another school, I wasn’t placed in the gifted program for the first time in my scholastic career. I petitioned the principal and pleaded my case, explaining the difficult circumstances of the previous year and promising that I would shine in his “7SP“ class, which got to skip the eight grade and go straight to “9SP” in the fall. Like when I refused to go to that war zone of a school, I once again stood up for my own education. I was thirteen years old.

The work that year was far easier than what I had learned at the other school. I breezed through. The kind of disparity that existed between the two public middle schools I attended is indicative of the subpar education that children of color receive within what is supposed to be one school system. Kids in bad schools aren’t exposed to the same world that their crosstown rivals are and are ill prepared for the reality that awaits — be it a college admissions exam or the job market. Those who do not take it upon themselves to find opportunities for advancement can’t rely on working parents with little time or education to advocate for them. They are left with shitty choices and no one to champion their cause.

The scourge of poverty and racism is further sullied by the structural hierarchy of “shade” in communities of color. In the Autobiography of Frederick Douglass, the trailblazing abolitionist and former slave writes of the preferential treatment lighter slaves received, even among the others in bondage. Proximity to whiteness, then and now, is proximity to power and privilege.

In the late 1700’s, Spain instituted the process of gracias al sacar. Mixed race people could purchase a decree that converted them to white. One such royal decree granted to Cuban Manuel Baez in 1760 says that it erased “the defect that you suffer from birth and leave you able and capable as if you did not have it.” Ain’t that some shit.

Alice Walker coined the term “colorism” in her book, “In Search of Our Mother’s Garden”. She describes “prejudicial or preferential treatment of same-race people based solely on color.” Research has shown that skin tone affects the outcome of job interviews, court cases and elections. This is not a secret among people of color. They grow up believing that the whiter they look, the easier they’ll have it.

How does that make a kid feel who wants so badly to get ahead in life but has the mirror, the media and the world outside his window saying he doesn’t stand a chance? As if even after you do all the work and get to the finish line, the tape will be pulled back another few feet each time you stretch to get across. The life you want will be just out of reach, no matter how long or how fast you run.

There has been a delusion among some that because we’ve had a black president, hip hope rules the world and the Rock is the world’s biggest movie star, racism doesn’t exist anymore. There are people of color in positions of power and prestige, but they are few and far between. There just hasn’t been enough time for all the seeds of opportunity that were only planted a generation or two or three ago to compete with those who have seemingly inherited an eternity of racial privilege. Just because so many people fought for and finally earned some basic human rights doesn’t mean the playing field has been leveled.

The destruction of the long standing racial hierarchy is a challenging ongoing project that the world must decide to address together. The perpetuation of negative stereotypes of black and brown people is not only meant to strike fear in every suburban household, but to reinforce in the mind of the oppressed their role in society. Centuries of subjugation have purposefully convinced young men and women of color that they are born with an inherent disadvantage. Then, once their will to fight was clear, the oppressors barked that those they once lorded over should be grateful to simply be out of their chains.

It is up to people of color, whether African American, Latino, West Indian, or any other subdivision of “black” that may exist, to burn down the old models. The carefully calculated lie that “whiteness” is more attractive, desirable or indicative of ability must be deleted from our main frame. We must believe we are just as capable, because we obviously are. We must know that we have the opportunities, even if we have to work harder for them. And we cannot fight among ourselves, to the delight of those that would sooner see us dead, in jail or all together erased from the annals of history.

With dog whistles long having been discarded in favor of bull horns, the paper thin veil has been lifted from our union. In a country already in pieces, further division because of infighting is not something people of color, no matter their shade, can afford.

[morningfears]

Stacks

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18!

Summary: College!AU. Calum is usually into being watched but tonight, he wants to try something different. Ft. Voyeurism and public sex.

Word Count: 3.5k

The library is quiet around you, completely still and devoid of life. It’s the middle of June and though you’d rather be anywhere else, you’re thankful for the air conditioning and the lack of usual library inhabitants as you stare blankly at the history textbook lying open on the table in front of you. It’s barely nine at night, far too early to call it quits but late enough to feel tempted, and you force yourself to bite back a sigh as you lift your head to glance at the blonde sitting across from you.

Luke looks just as miserable as you feel as he stares at his literature textbook. His eyes lack the usual spark and his curls are unruly from the constant movement of his hand running through them. He checked out nearly an hour ago and, if you’re being honest, you’re ready to join him.

You quietly stare at him for another long moment before you sigh and lean back in your seat. “Honestly,” you begin, a little too loudly for the library, “I’m over this semester and it’s barely started. Who the fuck decided that summer classes should be a thing?”

“The same person that decided tuition should be a thing, probably,” Luke offers with a shrug as he continues to stare, bored beyond belief, at the open book lying on the table in front of him. He hasn’t turned a page in close to fifteen minutes and, normally, you’d call him out. However, this time, you’re in much the same position.

You nod thoughtfully at Luke’s assertion and move to rest your elbows on the table. “The university complex is ridiculous and overrated. We’re spending eons in classes, re-learning bullshit we were supposed to learn in high school, and we’re not even guaranteed to get a job at the end of it. What are we guaranteed? A piece of paper in a fancy cardboard holder and a year’s free membership to the Alumni Association, if we’re lucky. That’s a bullshit trade-off if I’ve ever seen one,” you huff as you return the cap to your highlighter and toss the yellow marker onto the table. “I need coffee.”

“Or sex,” Luke hums, his tone never changing as he grabs your discarded highlighter and begins to twirl it between his fingers. “Speaking of, where’s Cal? Wasn’t he supposed to meet us here?”

“He had to help with orientation today. Represent the frat at the information session,” you sigh as you shove your history textbook back into your backpack. “He texted me, like, twenty minutes ago, though. The freshmen they’re hosting at the house are apparently all lightweights and have mostly passed out so he’s on his way. Wants to go over math notes or something with you.”

Luke frowns at this and shakes his head. “Why does everyone come to me for help with math?” Luke questions as he copies your actions and shoves his own textbook into his backpack. 

“Your mom’s a math teacher, Luke,” Calum reminds him as he emerges from between two shelves, a carrier full of coffee in hand and a grin on his lips, “and you did so well on your exams that you got to skip math. Not all of us are fucking nerds.” Luke makes an indignant noise at this while Calum turns to you with a smile and presses a kiss to your forehead before he takes a seat in the open chair beside you. “And not all of us chose majors that require the most basic math class and nothing harder,” he teases as he glances at you.

“Not my fault you want to do something with your life,” you shrug as you grab the cup from his outstretched hand, “I’m getting a liberal arts degree that’s going to keep me in debt and jobless for the rest of my life. But at least I sorta like my classes.”

Luke whines at this and shakes his head once more. “Can we stop talking about class and the future?” Luke questions as he takes his own coffee from Calum. “It’s depressing and I don’t want to have a mental breakdown in the library. Remember that one kid freshman year?” When you and Calum nod, Luke continues, “People still bring it up and tease him about it. And he’s, like, a super senior.”

“Fuck this bullshit,” you grumble as you nudge your coffee cup to the side and drop your head to the table with a ‘thump’. “I give up. I’m going to become a stripper. Did you know that was an actual goal of mine for, like, ten minutes when I was a kid?” you mumble, your voice muffled by the table. “Wanted to be a stripper or a Playboy Bunny. Couldn’t decide. Thought about both. Maybe a Suicide Girl.”

Calum makes a thoughtful noise beside you before he reaches out to stroke your back gently. “If you want to test any, or all, of those fantasies, see if you’d be any good at them, I’m more than happy to help judge,” Calum offers with a grin. When you reach out to swat at him half-heartedly, he grabs your arm and tugs you into his side with a laugh. “I’m kidding,” he assures you, a grin still present on his lips, “academia is for you. You’re just tired. You guys have been here for hours.” He pauses for a moment, looks you and Luke over, before he continues, “Seriously, you should take a break. Say fuck the reading, both of you. Let’s go run through the fountain naked or something.”

“Honestly, I love you, but fuck off,” you sigh as you prop your head on your arms and glance over at Calum. “I don’t feel like going streaking at the moment. I’m tired. And hungry. And also horny. It’s the worst combination of negative emotions and I’m actually going to combust if I don’t get out of this library. My soul is becoming one with these walls.”

Calum is quiet for a moment as he watches Luke draw haphazard circles on the table with the capped end of the highlighter while you stare blankly at your coffee cup. He wants to break the two of you out of your school-induced haze and, the longer he thinks about it, the clearer the perfect idea becomes. You’d mentioned it once, early in your relationship and under the influence of far too much weed, but Calum remembers clearly that you’d had a thing for Luke before the two of you got together. And Luke, God love him, doesn’t have a filter and has mentioned on several different occasions just how attractive he finds you.

Calum had admitted to you during a late night conversation after a few orgasms and in desperate need of sleep that he’d like to watch you with someone else. It was a fantasy he never though he’d have, he prefers to be watched, but the idea hit him and he hasn’t been able to shake it. That night, you’d been on board after a moment’s hesitation and Calum is thinking that now might be time to act. Especially, he rationalizes to himself, here in the deserted third floor stacks.

He knows that there’ll never be another opportunity like this. The library is nearly empty, quiet and devoid of life. The campus itself is empty, most students have gone home for the summer, and is running on a skeleton crew. Even if you were to get caught, which Calum highly doubts, it’ll likely be by someone who isn’t paid enough to care.

With that, and yours’ and Luke’s desperate need for a study break, in mind, Calum decides to propose his solution to the two of you. He breaks the lengthy stretch of silence with a quiet hum of, “I think I might have another idea. You guys trust me?”

Calum expects a moment of hesitation but without missing a beat, you nod. “Of course,” you assure him, lifting your head slightly to glance over at him, “you know I do.”

“Not in the slightest but I’m dying of boredom so I’ll bite,” Luke shrugs, although both of you know that he trusts Calum with his life.

Calum rolls his eyes at Luke’s response before he leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates for a moment, almost unsure of himself, before he steels his resolve, stands from his seat, and begins walking toward the back of the room. He’s heading for the back row of shelves, out of view of the cameras, and you frown as you watch him. When he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him, he glances over his shoulder at you and Luke. “You guys coming?” he calls over his shoulder, grinning when you and Luke share a wary glance before you both stand and hurry after him.

“Okay, not that I don’t fully trust you,” you begin as Calum leads you and Luke into a corner illuminated by the streetlight outside the window, “I just don’t get it. What are we doing in the dustiest corner of the library?”

The lights aren’t as harsh in this area, the florescent bulbs are blocked by the high shelves, but there’s still enough light pouring in that you can see the dust covered shelves and cobwebs. You can also see Calum and Luke clearly enough to notice that Calum has a mischievous glint in his eyes while Luke looks just as confused as you feel.

“You remember what we talked about a few weeks ago?” Calum asks you as he steps closer and reaches out to place his hands on your hips. When you stare blankly at him, he sighs. “We talked about things we wanted to try. I said I wanted to watch.”

It takes a moment but when Calum sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes, he grins. “Wait, what?” you laugh, “Here? Now? With Luke?”

“What are we doing here, now, and with Luke?” Luke questions, his eyebrows furrowing further with confusion. “What are you trying? What are you watching? I feel so lost right now.”

“Shut up for a second, Luke,” you mumble, glancing over Calum’s shoulder at him. He holds his hands up in surrender and turns his attention to the dusty, broken spines of old books as you turn yours to Calum. “Are you serious? Why here, why now?”

“I’m serious,” Calum nods as he squeezes your hips gently. “Here because it’s quiet and empty, now because the two of you need a break. Do you still want to?”

“I mean, yeah,” you nod, certain that sleeping with Luke is something you want, “but are you sure you’re okay with it? I don’t want to say you’re possessive but…”

“You’re possessive,” Luke chimes in, his attention still on the bookshelf and back still turned to the two of you. When you’re silent for a moment, he shrugs. “You’re right there, I can’t help but hear you.”

Calum rolls his eyes at this before he returns his full attention to you. “I’m okay with it,” he nods. “If I don’t like it, at least we’ll know and I can go back to being possessive,” he shrugs, adding the last few words with a grumble as he cuts his eyes to Luke (who you’re certain has a grin on his lips).

“Okay but that doesn’t mean Luke wants to,” you sigh as you glance over Calum’s shoulder once more.

“Luke definitely wants to,” Calum nods. He’s certain that Luke will say yes. He knows that this is something Luke has wanted for a while and will jump at the opportunity.

“If you two would stop talking about me like you think I can’t hear you, I’d tell you if I was in or not,” Luke huffs as he turns to face you and Calum. “What do I definitely want to do?” he directs to Calum as soon as Calum turns to face him.

“You definitely want to fuck my girlfriend.”

Luke stands there, frozen with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open, for a long moment before he shakes his head. “What? No, I don’t. What gave you that idea?” When he glances at you and sees your raised eyebrows, he backtracks. “I mean, I do. I find you very attractive and great and would love to but you’re with Calum! And I would never…” Luke trails off when he realizes you and Calum are both smiling at him. He’s slightly confused and doesn’t understand what’s happening as he grumbles, “Stop laughing at me. I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Just say yes,” you encourage him with a grin. “Cal and I were talking about it. He’s always had a thing for being watched but now he wants to try the reverse, watching someone else.”

“Why me?” Luke asks, eyes still wide and a blush creeping up his neck.

“Because she wants you just as bad as you want her,” Calum shrugs as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and grins at Luke. “Either take it or leave it, Luke. This is the only time I’m going to play nice and share.”

Luke glances between you and Calum for a long moment. He wants to be certain that you’re both serious, that you’re not playing a practical joke on him, but he knows that neither of you would do anything that cruel to him. He knows that you’re both serious and, although he’s somewhat nervous, he doesn’t want to let this opportunity pass him by.

“Okay,” he nods, “yeah. I want to do this.”

Calum grins at this and nods before he releases your shoulders and brings his hands to your cheeks. He pulls you in for a quick, passionate kiss before he releases you and steps back. “I don’t think anyone will check back here but remember we’re in public. Keep quiet, baby,” he reminds you with a grin. After he nudges you toward Luke, Calum leans against one of the stacks, settling into a space where he can still see your face, and nods. “Go for it.”

Both you and Calum know that Luke won’t take the lead in this scenario. You know that he’s afraid to cross any lines or upset Calum so you make the first move. The moment Calum nudges you forward, you close the open space between you and Luke and pause before you touch him. “Is this okay?” you ask, wanting to be sure, “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” Luke nods, “it’s more than okay. Fuck.”

You grin at his excitement as you wrap your arms around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair. You know that, even though the library is mostly empty, you’re still in public and need to be mindful of how long you take. However, you want to savor the first few moments. So you’re slow, soft and gentle, as you rake through the curls. “You can touch me, Luke,” you smiles, granting him permission, “I promise, Cal won’t be mad.”

Calum nods his agreement when Luke glances over at him but otherwise remains quiet as he watches Luke place his hands on your hips. Luke attempts to tune Calum’s presence out as you gently pull him down to press a soft kiss to his lips. Luke is somewhat rigid against you but the moment your fingers gently tug at his hair, he’s melting against you.

Calum watches as you lead the kiss. He watches Luke’s fingers dig into your hips, your fingers tug at his hair, your lips working seamlessly together. Calum shifts to get a better look as you crowd closer to Luke, your chest pressed against his as you release his hair and drop your hands to his shoulders. Luke breathes a sigh of content as he moves his hands to your ass. Calum grins at this, happier than he thought he would be at Luke finally playing along, and adjusts himself in his jeans as he watches your hands move down Luke’s chest.

“You can touch me, Lu,” you mumble against the column of his throat as you pull away to catch your breath.

“You should touch her,” Calum reminds him. “I’m enjoying this but we’re in public.”

Luke blinks as if he’s only just remembered this fact and nods. “Public,” he mumbles, his hands squeezing your ass before they move to the button of your shorts, “right.”

With the thought that the two of you are on a timer, Luke gains the motivation he needs to begin moving uninhibited. Calum is mildly impressed as he watches Luke dip his hand beneath your skirt and nudge your panties to the side. You feel your knees buckle as Luke’s fingers find your clit and he grins into the kiss as he wraps his arm around your waist to hold you up. As you focus on the feeling of Luke’s fingers rubbing at your clit, brushing your slit and attempting to open you up, you follow his lead and unbutton his jeans.

Calum steps just a little closer as Luke turns you and presses you against the window. Luke has his lips back on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth as he bunches your skirt up. He slips two fingers into your heat, working to prepare you, as he uses his free hand to nudge his jeans down just enough to free his cock. He feels something against his arm and pulls away from you, confused, only to find Calum holding a condom out to him. “Thanks,” he mumbles as takes the foil from Calum.

Calum nods his acknowledgment before he steps back and allows Luke to continue. Luke doesn’t want to rush this, he wants to savor the moment, but he knows that the two of you need to hurry. So as you press kisses to the column of his throat, he rolls the latex onto his length.

As Luke brushes his length down your slit, you meet Calum’s eyes over his shoulder. His eyes are dark with lust and his bottom lip is swollen from biting it. His arms are folded over his chest but you can see the bulge in his jeans and you know that he’s likely aching to be touched. You know that your night is far from over, you can tell by the smirk on his lips, and the thought makes you moan as you return your fingers to Luke’s hair. “Come on, Luke,” you groan as you tug at his curls, “fuck me, please.”

Luke groans at the feeling of your lips on his neck, of your hands in his hair, and nods as he places his cock at your entrance. He sinks in slowly, wanting to savor the moment, but as soon as he’s buried inside of you, his thoughts all vanish into nothing but how tight and warm you are around him. He remains still for a moment, breathing deeply as he attempts to control himself, before he sets a moderate pace.

His fingers are on your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves quickly, as he fucks into you. Your free hand is splayed on the glass as you wrap your leg around his waist and attempt to hold yourself steady. You can feel the glass vibrating behind you, can feel the exhilaration as you think that anyone passing by might be able to see, and it all overwhelms your senses as you meet Calum’s eyes once more.

You keep your eyes on Calum’s as you cum and he has to bite back a groan as he watches you. He wants to step in, kiss you and hold you tight to his chest, but he remains in his position as he watches Luke chase his own orgasm. It only takes another moment, not long after your release, for Luke to join you in the afterglow of an orgasm. He’s still for a moment, quiet, before he pulls out.

The two of you are quiet as you adjust your clothes and Luke moves to step away but before he can, you pull him in and press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Lu,” you mumble against his lips before you gently pat his cheek and step around him to reach out for Calum. Before you can speak, Calum pulls you into a heated kiss. His hands are against your cheeks, holding you in place, as he leaves you breathless.

“I liked it,” he mumbles against your lips in response to your unspoken question. “I really fucking liked it,” he breathes as he grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge in his jeans.

“I think I’m done studying for the night,” you breathe as you gently squeeze him, “we should go back to my place. My roommates are gone.”

“Or we could go to mine,” Calum breathes, “I don’t think my roommate will mind. He might even join us.”

The both of you glance at Luke who looks mildly surprised but nods just as quickly. “Fuck yeah,” he breathes as he grabs the hand you’re holding out to him, “I don’t mind at all.”

Author’s Note: I started this, like, ages ago for a request. And I just now finished it. If whoever requested this initially is still around, I’m sorry and I hope you liked it.

[moonblssm]

a little cliche throwback 50s!jaehyun au for my bby @injuwun!

it’s pretty cliche and you knew it

you were the new kid, the one who scored a job at the local diner everyone hung around right when you came to town

it wasn’t long before you learned how to deal with the certain types of cliques around this town

and learned who was who

no one was ever really rude to you,,,it’s just some people didn’t fully appreciate the servers at the diner

nonetheless you didn’t care, you were just here to get some extra money so you could buy yourself a new pair of converse

but there was one person who always made sure you felt appreciated

jung jaehyun was always hanging around with a small number of his large group of friends from the only high school everyone went to

you knew a few of them too: doyoung was in your art class, mark had zoology with you, haechan was the underclassmen whose locker was next to yours

they greeted you often and shared smiles whenever you would make eye contact

but jaehyun was the one who always made sure to talk to you as he waited for his order, the one who would help you close up the restaurant when you were working your night shift

you were thankful of course, but didn’t think much of it

because why would he choose you out of all the girls that would swoon over him?

with his bright smile, fluffy hair that always looked right,,,,his perfect skin and his pretty deep laugh

and his button ups over a t-shirt and his shoulders always bearing a sports jacket

he was a member of leadership and was an officer for two clubs at your school

he was the type of person who had girls confessing to him at least once every two weeks, gently rejecting them and kindly telling them that he wasn’t interested with a sweet smile

he was popular, that’s for sure, but he didn’t think he was

his humbleness just added to his charms that would affect everyone, including much of the customers that you would serve

you were fully aware of his reputation and were just sure that his kindness towards you was a natural act

little did you know that you had caught his eye and he didn’t do this to nearly anyone else

one night was particularly busy

it was the night of the homecoming game at the high school and everyone was at the diner for a pregame meal

staff was short today because the two employees that were supposed to be working with you were either sick or at the field covering the game for their class

your manager wasn’t even there

so it was just you, a chef, and one of haechan’s friends chenle that you have grown to baby

many times, your patience was tested by the rudeness of the group of middle schoolers no one liked when they sent back the correct burger,,,,they just wanted to make everything harder than it already was

or the several times someone spilled their drink that night,,,,,one of them being a strawberry milkshake

and even the family from out of town with an infant and a six-year-old who took forever to order

but there was nothing you could do about it as you weren’t about to walk out or just leave chenle and the chef to do all the work

no other than jaehyun was there that night with sicheng, doyoung, johnny, and yuta, watching as you dealt with customers as patiently as possible

not even complaining even when you got to the kitchen to take plates that were ready

eventually, everyone started clearing out as game time drew closer and you could finally get of your feet

there was only one more table still present in the diner so you told your coworkers to go take a break,,,you woukd handle it until they left

chenle: you’re an actual angel *kisses your cheek*

cleaning all the tables, you collapsed into the high chair at the counter after wiping the surface clean

huffing and blowing some stray hairs out of your face as you buried your head into your arm

the drink fountain turned on and you assumed it was one of the other employees until you heard a cup being placed in front of you and the seat next to you being taken

you were surprised when you sat up and looked at the person in front of you

it was jaehyun, wearing a smile that was enough to take at least some of your tiredness away

“drink some water. you look kind of dehydrated.”

that was all he could say before you heard the last customer calling for you

you started to get up, but jaehyun placed a hand on your shoulder to prevent you from getting up and stood up himself

still in shock, you could only watch as he walked away to the table and start conversing with them

“hi, i’m jaehyun. y/n went on her break, so i’ll be taking care of you if you need anything for the rest of the night.”

mentally praising him, you finally picked up the glass and took a sip of water,,,,closing your eyes feeling the refreshing cold liquid run down your throat

you proceeded to gulp the rest down not knowing how long it had been since you consumed anything

when you opened your eyes, you see jaehyun standing in front of you

when he saw your wide eyes he laughed, smoothly taking the check from your apron then making his way back to the table

and then back to you

“we’re closing in a few minutes, but thank you,” you quietly said. “you don’t have to stay any longer, you’re missing a lot of the game right now.”

he shrugged and sat down in the seat next to you. “i’m more of a baseball fan anyway. besides, i always help you close don’t i?”

he gave you another one of his smiles and you didn’t know what else to do but smile back

after a moment of the two of you just looking at each other, the two of you started to clean up after he told chenle and the chef to go home early; he would help you clean up, he didn’t mind

you didnt either

he flipped the sign and the two of you got to work, making small talk as you cleaned

“so jaehyun you like baseball better than football?”

“hmm.”

“good, it’s my favorite sport.”

but then, right as the two of you were walking out, he said something that caught you off guard

“hey, do you wanna go watch the new movie with me?”

stunned, you nearly ran into the door of the diner

“you don’t have to be home yet do you?” he asked without waiting for your answer

you shook your head and that’s all it took for him to grab your hand after locking the diner door

pulling you into his car, he dropped the keys of the diner back into your hand and drove off in the direction of the drive ins

apparently, you still looked stunned because he had to say

“relax, i don’t want you to be freaked out on our first date.”

date?! he said date, freaking you out even more

pulling into the parking lot, jaehyun just laughed before turning the radio to the audio of the movie

even when you were still wearing your clothes from work, a white button up tucked into some red and white checkered pants

your hair half up in a subtle barrette

you still looked more beautiful than anyone had ever seen

the way you worked so hard even when you were already exhausted at the diner, making the customers feel as comfortable as possible

the way a blush rose to your cheeks whenever he smiled at you

you thought he didn’t notice but he did

they way your hands still looked so soft even after all the dishes you had to do and all the plates you had to carry

he had only known you for a few months but there was nothing he wanted more than to take you out and be able to be yours

you were so much more different than all the girls that confessed to him

you were shy, but your facial expression always exposed you

jaehyun knew he was supposed to be watching the movie but he couldn’t focus because all he kept thinking about was whether or not he should hold your hand

“are you okay, jaehyun? your ears are turning red.”

his hands shot up to cover his ears as a sheepish smile showed on his face. he assured you he was fine and you turned your attention back to the screen

he couldn’t help it

you felt a warm hand grab yours and interlace your fingers

your cheeks turned red as you looked at him but the both of you just shyly smiled at each other

letting him hold your hand, you tried to focus back on the movie but you could feel his gaze on you

after a minute or two, you looked back at jaehyun and what you saw made you feel small in your seat

he locked his eyes with yours, looking at you lovingly before dipping his face down to meet yours

as he closed the gap between your lips, your eyes fluttered closed and you felt him bring his left hand up to your neck to tilt your face closer to his

jaehyun started to feel like this was a complete mistake, he shouldn’t have just kissed you so suddenly

until he felt you smile and kiss him back before pulling back

the both of you turned your smiles to your windows, both embarrassed but happy as the two of you finished the movie

outside your house, after he had driven you home, the two of you stood facing each other with your fingers linked

thanking him, you reached up and kissed the corner of his mouth, telling him to take you out on a date again soon

and walked into your house leaving him in shock

because even though you were always hospitable to all the customers, he never expected you to have a sudden burst of confidence

especially when he was already very very flustered by how soft your lips were LOL

❀ posted 190225.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Nine Nails in a Coffin (ch2)

Summary: Logan was hired to kill Patton Hart, and happens to find one of his past marks (who he’s certain he killed) is Patton’s roommate. To solve this issue, he decides to blow up their apartment.  Word Count: 5149

Pairings: Eventual Logicality and Prinxiety 

Multichapter fic say whattttt

Read on AO3 || Ch1 The most distressing thing about Patton having walked away that day alive was that Logan had to spend and extra few days in the city. His entire schedule had to be rearranged because of it: bus tickets cancelled, money withdrawn from his account to pay for the extra nights in the hotel he hadn’t been planning on coming back to, a redraft of his materials, and too many hours of planning straight.

With Virgil Storm added into the mix, with Virgil Storm recognizing Logan, things were...complicated. Logan felt that the turn of events was distasteful but he had no faulty notions that he couldn’t surmount them. He was, after all, the best assassin money could buy. He had surpassed both his parents and painted his own reputation from the spilt blood of his own conquerings.

After he died, however and whenever that was, Logan’s name would be remembered, revered, haunted. His name would be whispered between parents and their kids as an incentive for them to be good, a taboo between business partners that made the air tense in meetings, an icon for other people in his line of work.

He had worked so hard for this, too hard for it to all go to waste now.

So he watched and he waited. Like a snake in the grass.

He had known a little of Patton’s daily schedule before his first attempt at killing the man. He was simple, too simple, in Logan’s opinion. His routine offered nothing of excitement, nothing of value: He left his apartment around six in the morning, alternating between rushing because he was late and dancing down the hall because he was early with no in between. He said good morning to every person he saw on the street--including Logan several times when his preferred surveillance spot at the coffee shop near the apartments intercepted with Patton’s path on his way to the subway. He worked for a preschool on the other side of town, and spent all day with routy little kids willingly.

Logan thought it was a waste. Children were nothing short of a headache and financial burden. Kids, normal kids, spent their days fighting and yelling and crying and screaming. They got sick or did stupid things that would inevitably end up with them bleeding and a trip to the emergency room. There was no pay off for the parents in most cases--with Logan being one of the rare few who had amassed a profit in his career to have paid back every cent his parents had originally paid to bring him into this world, teach him the tool he needed to survive it, and then the ones needed to overcome it.

He remembered the swell of relief in his chest when he had sent the final payment to them, when he had reached into his pocket and removed the paper his father had inscribed the cost on and finally, finally, watched the numbers hit zero.

Of course, Logan still owed a monthly amount to his parents, after all of it. Because they had brought him into the world and raised him. He was their investment and it was only right that he owed them portions of whatever he made from his kills.

Sometimes Logan wondered why they had bothered ever giving birth to him. Had Logan any other attitude, he might have grown up to be more trouble than he was figuratively worth. What would they have done if he had refused to take up the family business? If he had decided to do something else with his life, such as work in a preschool teaching snot-nosed brats basic colors?

Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He had a week to get this job done, specified by the unknown customer. Patton Hart had to be dead this week, or the payment Logan was waiting on would be nullified. Unfortunately for him, the construction site he had chosen to shoot from was being worked on the rest of the week and therefore was compromised. He didn’t have enough time to pick and secure another location with a quick and easy exit.

But luckily Logan’s parents knew what they were doing when they trained him to the best killer in the world. If a gunshot to the neck, heart, and head, wasn’t possible, Logan had other methods of killing people from a distance.

After his first attempt at exterminating the pest known as Patton Hart, Logan resolved himself to keep a closer watch on the male. And his friends. Specifically, Virgil Storm. For the life of himself Logan could figure out how he missed such an important factor in the game. Virgil was by Patton’s side constantly, like a shadow to Patton’s peppy optimism. Virgil was the hand that pulled Patton back before he blindly walked into traffic, the muscle that stood behind Patton with a threatening glare to anyone who got too close, the common sense that prevented Patton was stalling too long in crowded areas.

He was hypervigilant when they were out together, which Logan had realized was all the time now. Virgil had spotted him twice from a distance and had taken Patton by the hand and disappeared in a crowd.

Logan found it interesting that Virgil hadn’t told Patton the truth. Part of him suggested that maybe Virgil didn’t know Logan had been trying to kill the two of them, but at the same time it also seemed illogical. The way that Virgil had looked at him was too terrified for a normal person. He had to know what Logan was, one way or another.

(Which was another series of problems. How did he know? Who told him? How did he survive to be told? Logan wasn’t looking forward to the process of finding out.)

He liked the challenge it brought about, however. This wasn’t like the rest of his jobs where no one knew he was coming. Virgil’s awareness of his presence made it almost like a game: Could Logan outsmart the purple haired man and claim his life a second time?

The answer was yes, of course. Because Logan was the smartest person he knew, trained in the art of death bringing, while Virgil was (at least a year ago at the time of his previous death) an art school dropout who survived by drawing comics for the weekly newspaper and running an online art blog that criticized the nearby galleries.

With a quick check online, Logan confirmed that Virgil still kept up with both of his jobs. And, most frustratingly, there hadn’t seemed to be a break at all. Logan had gotten paid on a Friday for the kill of Virgil Storm, and the next day Virgil Storm’s blog had a new post. The quality, the diction, everything about that post was the same as the previous ones. Logan didn’t know how but Virgil had made that post while his grey matter was being scrubbed off the stone tiles of the public fountain square.

Logan didn’t believe in ghost stories.

Once he had begun looking for Patton and Virgil, he had noticed all the signs of Patton having a roommate, housemate--whatever Virgil was to him (Was it possible Patton was in a courtship with Virgil? There was nothing in his file about that! According to his employee contract at the preschool where he taught, he was unmarried, but that didn’t mean that Patton wasn’t seeking intimacy with the other man).

Logan wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much.

It wasn’t like he had never killed a spouse before. Half of the time he was being paid to take out one half was a cheating parting because high paying customers don’t like to be blackmailed, or jealousy had manifested in the cruelest of outcomes. It seemed that though Logan’s parents might have done a few things wrong when raising him, they at least taught him well enough to know communication was a key factor in any business arrangement.

Patton talked about Virgil to the people he saw everyday, and they noticed when Virgil wasn’t by his side. He bought groceries for an extra person, the TV played loudly when Patton wasn’t home, and Virgil owned a purple Mongoose BMX bike that was chained to the bike rack outside their building three different ways.

Logan assumed his sloppy investigation work was purely because Virgil rarely left the house--a status that immediately changed after they had come face-to-face that fateful day. Now Virgil was the first to leave the house, first to enter the Subway, and leave the subway, and enter the house. Logan had even watched him snatch a mailed package out of Patton’s hands and throw it out the window as if it were some type of bomb. Patton had scolded him for nearly ruining the new books he had ordered for his preschool class.

So there would be no sneaking of a bomb into the house, not that Logan was that savage. Bombs were messy and difficult to handle in the the steadiest of hands. They were better for huge collateral damage projects but in this case he didn’t want to kill the who building, he just wanted to get rid of one room.

He took up a place at a nearby cafe, ordered a coffee, and pulled out his book. He sat comfortably in the metal chair hoarding two cups of coffee black, wishing that he was anywhere but in the city again. The skin under his wrist watch itched uncomfortably as the cafe filled with other early risers. Too many people, too early in the day, too close together. His preferred spot in the cafe had been taken up by a rather distressed college student with oversized headphones so Logan was forced to change seats: the only thing separating him and the mindless pedestrians was a black iron fence bolted into the sidewalk covered in a garland of fake spring flowers whose petals occasionally were torn off in the winter winds.

His back was to the apartment where Virgil and Patton lived, but he didn’t fret it; there was less of a chance of Virgil recognizing the back of his head. Also Patton’s daily walk to the subway led him right by this very seat. It was impossible to miss him, seeing as whenever he walked anywhere he made a point to hollar a greeting to the anyone and everyone: the workers in the cafe, the underpaid interns on their first coffee run of the day, the street performers who were taking up too much of the sidewalk with their theatrics. Patton knew most of them by name, which Logan had to admit was slightly impressive. Logan had spent years training his mind to remember finer details, but Patton seemed to do it effortlessly.

He seemed to do most things effortlessly. Effortlessly kind, effortlessly thoughtful, effortlessly annoying as hell--did he know his voice carried as far as it did with every greeting? Did he care? Logan was sure if he had been a normal businessman, he wouldn’t have the ability to come out here daily if it meant hearing the same conversation every single day. He had only been here three times and Logan was counting down the seconds until he could leave.

Oh, the thought of his bus ticket out of the city tonight made his chest ache. Oh, he could spend a whole week off in the woods somewhere, far beyond the reaches of cell service and miles away from other humans. He could listen to the wilderness, and watch the stars, and draw the plant life without any deadline to be met.

He just had to take care of one last thing.

Patton left his building on time today, dressed in a pastel blue polo, tailored pants, and that gray cardigan that he tied unprofessionally over his shoulders. He had an pink cherry blossom umbrella with him, although Logan noted that the forecast showed no sign of any rain today. His loud laugh was tell-tale of his approaching.

“Good Morning, Valorie!” Patton’s voice yelled from just a few feet behind Logan, nearly startling him into spilling his mug of coffee. Dear Newton, why was he so loud?

“Oh!” Patton said, his shadow falling right over Logan’s shoulder, “Sorry there, kiddo!”

Logan jerked his head up to see that Patton was indeed talking to him (and internally cursed the college student who had stolen his usual spot).

“I didn’t mean to startle you!” The freckled man smiled that type of toothy grin that should have come with a warning sign. He was a personification of the sun come down to earth, and it was far too early to be dealing with that even if he weren’t the target Logan was going to kill.

“What’s your book about?”

Logan blinked. “Pardon?”

Logan had read the same forty pages in his book three times and still hadn’t retained any of it. Surely at one point it had caught his eye enough for him to want to purchase it. When had that been again? One year ago? Two? Logan’s job kept him mobile and busy and left very little time for him to just sit around an do pleasure reading.

“I- uh--” He stuttered uncharacteristically, when he realized that Patton was still looking for an answer to his question.

Patton leaned on the iron fence that just barely separated them, his umbrella resting on his shoulder with the straps to his school bag. “You look familiar…” Patton snapped his fingers and brighten more. “Oh! You’re the one Virgil stumbled into yesterday, poor kiddo! I didn’t get much a of a chance to apologize to you!”

Logan’s eyes flickered to his placemat where his complimentary butterknife was positioned perfectly parallel to his fork. It would take a significant amount of force to break skin with that type of weapon, more than he could get in such a public place with a fence dividing them. His fingers tightened around his mug.

Patton of course, had absolutely not way of knowing exactly what Logan was thinking about. He cheerfully took up the conversation despite Logan’s lack of appropriate responses. “I’m Patton! Are you new to town? I can show you around later if you are! I know all the--”

“Patton!” Virgil’s unabashedly horrified tone sliced through the air before Patton could finish. Seconds later the other man can’t thundering up to them, yanking Patton back from the fence by his waist. “Patton! The subway! Work! You’re going to be late!”

Logan straightened in his seat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge at the sudden appearance of Patton’s glorified shadow. He could feel his skin tighten at the proximity of them to each other, the air tensing with an invisible electrical storm when they made eye contact.

“Don’t be silly, Virgil!” Patton laughed, “We have plenty of time!”

“Nope!” Virgil said, dragging him further away, this time by his shoulders so he couldn’t fight it even if he was actively trying, “You didn’t take anything from him right? He didn’t offer anything?”

“You’re taking this stranger danger thing a bit far, V!” Patton said pleasantly. “We were just talking!” He tried to turn to face Logan and but Virgil held fast and pushed him forward.

Virgil hissed like that was worse than if Logan had given him a stick of dynamite to hold. Part of him was righteously offended. He wasn’t some amateur serial killer who craved the attention and fear of those around him: Logan had class. If he was going to poison Patton he most certainly wasn’t going to do it right there in the middle a throng of closely watching cafe customers who could identify him later.

Logan sipped his coffee watching the two of them scurry down the street, Patton’s daily greetings ringing over the lull of traffic and conversation. He pressed his glass up the bridge of his nose with a flicker of a smile on the corner of his lips when he could no longer see or hear either of them. He tossed his bookmark in the page he was on and waved to the waitress impatiently.

It appeared that he wouldn’t finish his book on this job either. Such a shame.

Once he had paid for his coffee-- in exact cash with an average tip for the waitress Valorie who was nothing but polite-- Logan took a deep breath and scooped up his bag. He hesitated at the opening to the cafe, wincing at the flow of people moving one way or another. In an ideal world Logan figured he’d have a physical bubble surrounding him that kept everyone else at least three feet away from him. His knuckles tightened on the strap of his bag and he launched himself into the foot traffic.

Several minutes later he peeled out of it again to carefully climb the steps to the apartment building where Patton and Virgil lived. Virgil’s bike was sitting outside, triple chained, and no helmet in sight. Logan considered the pros and cons of slashing the tires, but ultimately decided it was a spiteful thing.

He couldn’t risk Virgil noticing it before they entered their apartment and pulling some delaying act. In addition he didn’t want to draw any new attention to them and the mysterious circumstances of their deaths before Logan was out of the city.

The building had a gated door that prevented just anyone from walking up and murdering the tenants. Guests were supposed to ring a buzzer and the people living there could allow them in. The plates were grungy and dirty and most of them missing as a sign that either people didn’t live there or maintenance was unacceptably poor. Logan didn’t think he could ever live in a place live this.

The mundaneness alone would kill him. Not to mention the dirt.

He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to press the buzzer for one of the names long faded but still readable. For a long moment Logan stood there his insides twisting unpleasantly in a way he hated.

“H-hello?”

Logan allowed himself a flicker of a smile, “Salutations! Mrs. Patty! It’s Logan! I live a floor down from you and I appear to have locked myself out again.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Logan, Ma’am.” Logan said, “I was just in such a rush to get out that I forgot my keys--”

“Oh are you that boy that lives with Patton?”

Logan hesitated for less than a second, “Yes Ma’am!”

“Oh, none of that Ma’am stuff young man! You go on up! Tell Patton thank you for that pie recipe. It worked wonderfully!”

The buzzer beeped one last time and gated door unlocked. Logan wondered if his job had ever really been hard, or if he had just gotten better at doing it. Or perhaps people hadn’t been taught to be as untrusting as Logan had been.

According to the personal file Logan had received along with the assignment, Patton lived on the second floor, although since it had no mention of Virgil in it Logan was inclined to double check his information. He didn’t need to, once he had skirted up the creaking wooden stairs and slipped down the hall, he found Patton’s door very easily.

There was a welcome mat outside of it that read “Wipe Your Paws!” with a cartoon of a dog wagging its tail. The door itself was decorated with easy peel off stickers of cats and dogs and a few birds. Only someone as childish as Patton would have his door decorated in such a sophomoric manner.

Logan glanced down the hall, making sure there were no lingering eyes who could identify him to the authorities, before he swiped his lockpick set from the side pocket of his bag. Memories of past jobs filtered through his head as he inserted his tools. It took him longer than he could have liked--because Logan was good at many things but not everything-- but he managed to set the pins before anyone came wandering down the hall. The lock popped open and Logan let himself into Patton’s apartment.

It wasn’t the worst place Logan had ever been in, and truthfully it was better than Logan’s current hotel. The curtains were drawn back and sunlight filtered into the living room through light crystals that colored the walls in rainbows. There was a couch with neatly folded handmade quilts tossed over the back and several pillows fluffed on the seats. The TV was off but the coffee table was littered with stacks of DVDs for TV shows that Logan had caught only bits and fragments of.

Before Logan could see much more than that, another sound caught his attention: a yelp. Logan tensed, one hand on the door knob, the other flexing his fingers for a potential palm attack should he need it. Logan had already missed noting that Virgil lived with Patton, but the idea that there was another person who lived there? It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge, his throat dry up and his stomach clench in an uneasy mass. He was supposed to be the best. He was the best!

There was another yelp, and then Logan realized it was far worse than another person living in the apartment with Virgil and Patton. Nails danced on the wooden floor, followed by a bark.

Patton had a dog.

And it was small and fast and loud.

Logan didn’t know a lot about dogs--practically nothing if he was being honest. But he knew that Patton was allergic to them and there shouldn’t have been one in the apartment to begin with! It was the tiniest thing Logan had ever witness and it raced around Logan’s legs in a blur of tan and white occasionally leaping up with its forepaws only to barely catch Logan’s knees.

What was he supposed to do with a Dog??

It wasn’t growling, which Logan supposed was a good thing. It didn’t seem to think he was a threat. Perhaps it believed he was some type of new friend? Logan didn’t believe in luck, but he thought it might be rather good fortune that it wasn’t trying to bite him.

He offered it a cautious hand, sniffing distastefully when the animal slobbered all over his hand. He cursed under his breath, wiping it off as fast as he could, because, for lack of a better term, “ewwww!”. Of course, it left discolored streaks on his dress pants which only serve to sour his mood more.

The animal barked again when Logan brushed it off and strolled down the hall to do what he needed to do.

It only took him a moment to find the kitchen, dancing between the three rooms that connected to the living area: He paused long enough to ensure the window in the room was closed tightly, and then peeked into Patton’s room which left the door open and a tiny bed next to his neatly made bed. The other door was closed, but Logan opened it just enough to see the purple mess of a bedspread and assumed it was Virgil’s. The kitchen was tidy, for the most part. A few dishes in the sink, a loaf of bread on the counter, piles of paper recipes taped on the fridge and a coffee pot with an inch of coffee left in it, still slightly warm. Several coffee mugs with the titles “#1 DAD!” and “Dunder Mifflin, Inc” sat around the machine like some sort of shrine to caffeine.

Logan narrowly avoided stepping on the dog as he made his way to the stove. He hissed at the animal, but it merely yelped again and splayed on the ground as if it were waiting for something. It jumped up once again when Logan moved past it with a whine. The assassin ignored it.

Logan had done his research on Patton’s building. For example, he had noticed that the building he had chosen to live in used gas stoves. Which wasn’t an issue by itself, because many places used gas stoves. However, theoretically, if there was a mishap with the production of the gas stove, and it just so happened that the Flame Failure Device-- which stopped the build up of the flammable gases-- was damaged...well, it wouldn’t be completely obvious at first glance upon entering the apartment. And, theoretically, if the occupants of the apartment were not aware of the build up of said flammable gases as they barely had any scent, even the flick of a light switch would be enough to, theoretically blow up an entire apartment.

Completely theoretically of course, Logan thought as he pulled his switchblade from his bag and proceeded to take apart the gas stove. It took him a little more than thirty minutes to find the Flame Failure Device and cut through it, and slightly longer to remember how to put a stove back together. All the while the dog danced around him, rubbing up on his legs with its pale fur that undoubtedly would ruin Logan’s pants.

He tried to shoo it away but every time the dog just sprawled on the wooden floor with its stomach open legs curled at strange angles. Logan wasn’t sure what it wanted at all, and it was slightly frustrating. One thing he didn’t have as a child, was a pet. Not that he had ever wanted one. They were more work than they were worth, and merely served to take up time and energy and money that Logan didn’t have to waste.

He placed the frame back on the stove and pressed until it clicked back into place. Then he turned around and eyed the dimensions of the room, and the connecting living room. After a second he slipped from the kitchen and into Patton’s room. He grabbed two of the cardigans from the closest, shut the door to the room and wedged the fabrics under the door frame. It wouldn’t stop the gases from slipping through, but it would slow it enough for most of them to congregate in the kitchen and living room. He turned off all the lights, and then he checked that window again. Then he turned on all four burners and watched as no flame appeared.

In roughly nine hours when Virgil and Patton arrived back here, they’d turn on the lights, and everything would explode. No more Patton, no more Virgil, and Logan would be trillions of dollars richer.

He reached down to grab his bag right as the dog leapt over it and gave another delighted bark. It’s pink tongue lolled out of its mouth and it stared at Logan with deep warm eyes.

Was he seriously going to kill a dog?

Logan hesitated. Was he?

He was by no means a good person. He had killed enough people that the idea of death no longer bothered him. But the death of this...animal? It was stupid, incredibly stupid, considering that Logan was a stranger who had entered it’s house and instead of alerting anyone it had merely decided to roll around on the floor and slobber on Logan’s shoes. It wasn’t aware that Logan had created this elaborate scheme to kill its owner and, by extension it.

Because there was no way Logan could take it. What would he even do with a dog? He didn’t even like pets!

...he could take it to the closest animal center right? If he took off the collar and claimed he found it in the streets, then no one would question it. Someone else might come along and see this stupid animal and it would get adopted to a happy family.

What was he thinking? That was a waste of his time and energy. He had things to do! Like figure out what cabin in the woods he wanted to vacation in once he left the city and what job he would pick after he got back from his vacation.

The dog walked him to the door, and gave a little whine when Logan told it to stay. Logan closed the door behind him.

He made it to the bottom of the stairs before he identified the knot in his stomach as being guilt. He hadn’t felt that in a very long time. He growled at nothing and stormed back up the stairs cursing Patton in every language he knew.

He was a murderer, an assassin, the best money could buy! He stuffed the pastel purple collar in his bag, and slammed the door to the apartment closed. He was supposed to be heartless.

He dropped the dog off at the animal shelter and was gone before the employee could ask him any more than “who’s this little guy?” in the most obnoxious voice Logan had ever heard.

Logan went back to the cafe, bought himself lunch, and started researching cabins in the woods far, far away from the city.

*****

Roman rapped his knuckles on the table, “I assume you know what happened next?”

The detective sighed deeply, “Why don’t you enlighten me, anyway.”

The reporter leaned forward in his chair lowering his voice as if this was some type of secret, “Well Logan can predict a lot of things, but he had no way of knowing that the exterminator would be coming through the building that day on account of a complaint several months prior. He shows up at the door at the same time as Patton and Virgil are coming back, a towering, huge man. And by a stroke of luck, Patton lets him enter his apartment first.

“The man flicks on the light switch on the entire apartment goes up in flames. The explosion knocks the man backwards into the other two and crushes them against the opposite wall. Two of Patton’s ribs break, and Virgil miraculously survives uninjured enough to call for an ambulance. The exterminator was dead before they arrived on the scene.” Roman eyes darken.

“So,” Roman says after another beat, “Logan fails a second time.”

The detective thinks it over for a second, before nodding, “Alright, fine, assume I believe all of this.” He waves a hand, “What happens next? Hart was in the hospital for the entire next day. There was no way Codex could have slipped through security there.”

Roman laughed unkindly, “My dear detective, surely you don’t really believe that. The man calculated the exact time that it would take volatile gases to fill an apartment and explode. Do you really think your dime-a-dozen cops would have been a challenge for him?”

The other man hesitates.

Roman gives him a smug look, “Now can I continue my story? I like this next part.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I accidentally save Patton from dying it in.”

Ch3

Taglist:

@just-another-rainbowblog @sandersfandersblog @jemthebookworm @growingupisscary @no-no-no-no-6

Let me know if I missed anyone/you want to be added

[timeclonemike]

Delta Rune Speculation

So it’s been two weeks, and there’s already 200 plus fics on AO3 and dozens of remixes and arrangements of the soundtrack on YouTube. That’s not even touching on the theories that are coming together. I recently saw one theory that double downed on the whole discarded classroom with toys thing, with the Darkners basically being a “Toy Story” scenario and the Spade King trying to pull a “Small Soldiers” scenario.

And while the parallels between the Darkners and assorted toys, and the layout of the Dark World and the Classroom, are all too much of an overlap to ignore, I suspect that there’s something more to the whole game than simply toys coming to life and wanting revenge for not being played with. I had some thoughts that I contributed in my reblog of that person’s theory, but this post is a little bit more meta, and concerns itself primarily with the tone of the final game, if and when it gets completed. But first, we need to talk a little bit about Undertale. I’ll make it quick, I promise.

Simply put, the big thing that made Undertale stand out was how your choices distinctly affected the world you were in, and the way people responded to you based on those choices. The sheer difference in tone and content between True Pacifist and Genocide is about as different and distinct as you can get in any game that features multiple endings, especially when many games opted to make the multiple endings contingent on last second choices (Deus Ex instantly comes to mind) rather than being something that you had to commit to. Not only that, but even the small choices in the sense of dialog, the order in which characters were spoken to, and even the use and contents of your inventory meant that the game had more “immersion” in the sense of responding dynamically to player choice than a lot of Triple A games with hyper-realistic graphics engines.

The way Undertale responded to different choices was a twist, then attraction, and finally a statement about how people saw the world and interacted with it. Especially those who thought that actions taken in this isolated digital environment had no consequences beyond that environment. It was a game about how people acted when they had tremendous power to influence the world.

Therefore, I think that the meaning of Delta Rune’s “your choices don’t matter” and “nobody can choose who they are in this world” is that the game will be about how people respond when confronted by circumstances they can’t control.

For more of my rambling, click the link below.

I’ll be addressing three main points: The nature of the Dark World and the Fountains of Darkness, the Dichotomy between how choice is handled in the Light and Dark Worlds, and the few clues that we have about W D Gaster and his influence.

1. The Nature of the Dark World.

The playing card themed enemies, the puzzle pieces, the chess board and the crowned checker piece, plus some of the hints about Ralsei’s nature and origin, all indicate that the Darkners have some connection with the toys in the unused classroom and probably the materials and objects in the supply closet as well. (I still do not know what those things were in the opening area of the Dark World that shot bullets at Kris, or the significance of all that black gooey dark stuff apparently coming out of the eye shaped structures.) Susie is not the type of person to let her guard down and just skip class with Kris while playing make believe all day... at least not at the start of the game... so the events of Chapter One had some foundation in reality.

This brings us to the fountains and the legend Ralsei shares. Everything hinges on a classic balance between opposing forces, in this case Light and Dark. Too much of one or the other will break the world in some way, and in this instance, there is an excess of Darkness. Under the direction of the mysterious Knight, and the Queen that only Jevil mentions if you kick his ass, the Spade King is seeking to upset the balance by increasing the Darkness. Assuming that Kris, Susie, and Ralsei don’t stop these fountains, then the same force at work in the Dark World that drew Susie and Kris into it will spread beyond the school, and into the rest of the town.

It is my position that Darkness in this case, represents Imagination, and its ability to create worlds symbolically. Keeping a balance between the physically real and the mentally real is important; too much of the physical and you end up in an All Work And No Play Makes Jack A Dull Boy scenario. The other way around, you spend too much time daydreaming - or consumed by anxiety - to deal with the actual problems in front of you. And just by talking to the people in Hometown after school, we can find all sorts of stuff that bothers people. Toriel and Asgore’s estrangement, Noelle’s father and her worries about him, Alphys being lonely, and so on. In a Dark World where people’s thoughts and ideas take on physical forms, these everyday worries become living nightmares. It is THAT scenario that the Fun Gang will have to prevent or reverse from Chapter Two onward.

2. In Which World Do Choices Not Matter?

No matter which way you play Delta Rune, you leave the Dark World at the end. In that sense, none of the choices you made matter. Only if you did a pacifist run, you have the chance to go back and say goodbye to a number of characters you encountered before. Sort of an Undertale Epilogue Lite. If you went to town on everybody, you get chased back to the Light World instead. So in a way, your choices DID matter.

On the other hand, no matter what you do in the Light World, you’re still Kris, the token human in a monster town, with estranged parents and an older brother that probably outshines the heck out of you if all those trophies and award certificates mean anything. You can’t help smooth things over between Toriel and Asgore, you can’t even hint at Undyne and Alphys getting together, and no matter what you tell Noelle, she’s still got a one track mind regarding Susie and is concerned that you are pranking her again. About all you can do is choose to be mean or nice to Onionsan; everyone else still thinks you’re some weird creepy human kid with a history of pranking, whose main redeeming feature as a person is apparently some skill at the piano. Nothing you do can change that, even if being more talkative than normal is out of character enough for folks to notice.

But then again, in the Light World, nobody can choose who they are. Choices don’t matter because so much of Kris’s life is defined by everyone else. And even those lives are more defined by primal fears like Toriel’s loneliness and deep seated resentment, Asgore’s pushover-ness, Mr. Holiday’s health, Alphys’ anxiety, and so on and so forth.

As the Dark World starts to influence the rest of town, and imagination and thought starts to overwrite physical reality, the Fun Gang’s choices will suddenly carry more weight. Maybe not enough to change everything once the Fountains are sealed, but enough to make a difference. Such as the difference between Noelle being totally inconsolable over the loss of her father, and Noelle having the opportunity for closure. Or Toriel at least agreeing to be civil towards Asgore, even if they still never get back together. Or Burgie being able to find a much better job. :P

Or Kris being seen not as “the human” or “Asriel’s brother” but as Kris, a person in town with more depth than just a history of pranks and a creepy disposition.

3. Oh Gaster, Where Art Thou?

The announcement for the Demo, the “character / vessel creation” process at the beginning, the music playing during the vessel creation sequence, the Man who gives Kris an Egg if he is found, the Entry 17 Sound FX from the cell phone in the Dark World, and the slowed down version of the same sound playing around that Mysterious Bunker south of town all point towards Gaster’s involvement in the events of Delta Rune, one way or another. Given the limited information available so far, it’s not entirely clear if he’s working towards increasing the amount of Darkness, towards stabilizing the imbalance, if he’s simply observing events with no regard for the outcome, or if for some reason he requires US as observers for the events of Delta Rune, whatever they are.

But using what little we know, we can make a few educated guesses.

First, the Egg Kris can get from the Man behind the tree, who cannot be seen and will vanish if the Egg is not accepted, is the ONLY item from the Dark World that stays the same back in the Light World. The swords become pencils, and all the other stuff accumulated in the Dark World becomes the Ball of Junk that Kris does not want to throw away, but the Egg is still an Egg. Sort of. It can be put into Asgore’s Fridge, but if this is done, somehow it turns the pickle jar into another Egg. Which raises a number of questions. Unless you hold onto it for later in the full game, or throw it away, this is the only thing you can do with the Egg as far as I know. Almost as if the only reason it exists in the world is so that Asgore can have something to eat besides pickles.

Second, Jevil’s misanthropy follows his interaction with a visitor to the kingdom, and I do not remember if this visitor was specifically stated to be the Knight mentioned by Jevil or the Spade King. The way he treats the entire world like a game fits the same meta as Flowey’s attitude after being stuck in a Determination fueled time loop for ages in Undertale, but it also aligns with the Darkner world’s toy theme. And of course Seam drops the “darker yet darker” line on us regarding his view of the world after dealing with Jevil... but at the same time, this is a literal Dark World. Kris and Susie noticed that the light was getting low in the school hallway before they even stepped inside the supply closet, so it’s not out of the question that Gaster’s experiment, whatever it was, involved discovering the Dark World.

And, while this is purely me stacking conjecture on top of conjecture here, keep in mind what I said earlier about the Dark World being a world where the power of Imagination can literally create a world. Then consider one of the lines of the Gaster Followers from Undertale: Gaster fell into his own creation. As Gaster was the Royal Scientist, it seemed logical to infer that his creation was some sort of machine or technology, such as the CORE or whatever is under the sheet in Sans’ workshop in Snowdin Town. But maybe what he fell into was a completely different reality... possibly one of his own design.

(Note to self: Undertale / Secret Of Evermore Crossover Fic. Add it to the list.)

Third, the vessel we are asked to create at the start of Delta Rune has the word Goner as part of the filenames of the assets. Its appearance also matches that of the other Gaster Followers in Undertale; greyscale, uncanny valley, and just different enough from the character we end up seeing in the game (Kris) to make the similarities stand out. Keeping in mind we still don’t know what the significance is of the Gaster Followers or Goners is in Undertale, or how exactly they relate to Gaster himself. In the completed game, though, we may have the opportunity to find out... behind the bunker doors south of town, where the slowed down Entry 17 sound is playing. (It’s also location 17, so there’s a definite number element going on here.) The thing about bunkers if that they are almost always made to protect something inside them. So unless this is a fallout or storm shelter for the folks in town (and we can’t read Gerson’s book in game so we have no idea what the political climate is between humans and monsters is in this world, though if they were really bad then somebody would probably mention it in dialog) then it’s probably intended to keep the people of the town from finding something. Like an experiment that went wrong. Or went right, for that matter.

Or, maybe the bunker is one of those less common cases where it protects everything outside it by locking something inside, for any of the reasons already stated. Either way, there might be a real True Lab situation down there.

Finally... has anyone else besides me noticed that the graphics in the background during the Vessel Creation Sequence look almost exactly the same as the background of the Fountain of Darkness that Kris and Susie use to go home, just without the playing card suites? Where exactly is that taking place?

One last thing that brings my whole post full circle; regarding the ending cutscene before the credits and Don’t Forget song, I wonder if the entire thing isn’t just Kris’s nightmare; the body rips out the Soul that used to be inside and locks it up, and is free to do who knows what after that. If Kris is aware that the player is influencing them in any way, that whole sequence could be brought on by their fears about losing autonomy, either partially or entirely.

Which brings us back to the whole “your choices don’t matter” thing.

[sunflowerstrays]

we’ll make it work // kim yugyeom au // pt 2

kim yugyeom x reader.

words: 2k.

genre: fluff, hybrid au.

(pt 1)

---

This morning you received a call from work, asking if you could come in for a sudden emergency meeting. Given that you work in a publishing company the only emergency that you can imagine is that the filing cabinet fell over and paper wasn't stapled, but seeing as it was your first few weeks on the job you thought it was best not to offend your managers like that.

“I've got to go into work this morning,” you explain to Yugyeom as you pin your hair up in the mirror, his eyes following every move of your hands. “I should be home around lunch, then we've got the rest of the day to kill. How does that sound?”

“Great!” Yugyeom chirps, but his tail lifts and tells you before his words even do. “I'm thinking of going for a run this morning. I'll make sure to be back by then.”

You smile and wish him goodbye as you leave for your office, already dreading what mess of paperwork you'll be walking in to this morning. Whatever you walk into can’t be worse than what you are imagining.

Thankfully your office hasn’t caught fire overnight, and all of your hard, hand written paperwork is exactly where you expected it to be at your desk. The meeting was about rather the treatment of the break room, which you never used anyway, leaving you annoyed about having to trek all the way across the city to attend a meeting about the water fountain.

You collect some more paperwork that you intend to fill in at home this afternoon before leaving the office and deciding to catch the bus back home. It cuts your journey time in half and means that you can spend more time with Yugyeom this afternoon, building the bridges that had started on such rocky foundations.

However just as you were approaching the bus stop you heard a cry for help from a nearby alleyway, followed by the sound of something metal and big being pushed over. You run down the alleyway, heading towards the two attackers and call for their attention.

“Oh look, a little girl has come to a puppy's aid,” the shorter of the pair approaches you first, his voice taunting and cruel. The second that he's within arm’s reach you twist up and punch him hard in the nose, before kicking him into the nearby wall and pressing your arm against the back of his head. He swears at you, trying to reach back only to have you dig your elbow in his shoulder and let him drop to the floor.

The second guy is on you before you have time to turn around, but you knock him out cold in a solid three blows to the skull. Before you can check to see that either of them are actually out cold you dart over to the boy sat on the floor, only to find out it was your roommate.

“Yugyeom?” You say, pressing a tissue in your blazer pocket to the big cut on his eyebrow and touching his swollen face with your other hand. “What on earth happened?”

He explains through broken speech because of his swollen mouth that he had been jumped when he went for a run, and was dragged into this alley. He'd only been here for a few minutes before you had shown up and knocked out both men cold.

“How did you do that?”

“My parents forced me to take self defence classes during school. Guess it came in use eventually,” you say, trying to carry as much of his weight on your shoulders as possible. Every step that he takes has him wincing more, and you grow more panicked that he might have actually suffered an injury worse than what you originally thought.

When you get back to the bus stop your bus has just shown up, and you pull him on despite his reluctance and the odd look that the pair of you are getting. You sit him down first and hunt through your bag to find anything inside it that you can use to clean the blood off of his lip, or eyebrow, or just about anywhere on his face.

“Dear me Yugyeom,” you say as you find an almost empty packet of wipes wedged between the bottom of the papers. He doesn’t say anything as the two of you sit at the back of the bus, avoiding everyone’s stares. Instead he just sits slumped against the window, face tight with pain, and eyes watching you and only you.

You can’t help but blush under his intense, confusing stare.

You manage to wipe the worst of the blood away from his lip and eyebrow, but have a horrible feeling he is going to need stitches on his eyebrow because of the mess that has been made. When you say this to him though he just shakes his head, and explains that being a hybrid means that your body heals much faster than a normal human.

The bus hits a bump in the road and jogs Yugyeom from the uncomfortable position he had been; it’s extremely hard to find a comfortable position on the bus when you are six foot tall apparently. He winces in pain as he settles back, tears in his eyes and you have the worst feeling that something worse has happened to his ribcage that he isn’t telling you about.

“Come on,” you say, lifting your bag and helping Yugyeom to his feet as the bus stops a few metres away from your house. His puppy ears brush the ceiling of the bus as you walk down the aisle, trying your best to carry him again but knowing that you aren’t nearly as strong enough to support his weight, and he can’t carry himself with his damaged torso.

Thankfully the elevator was deciding to work in your apartment today, so you let Yugyeom lean against the wall in there as you press the button and re-adjust your heavy bag. He watches you in the mirror fussing with the paperwork, unknowing that he is admiring you from a distance and feeling the coldness between the two of you disappear with every second.

Eventually the elevator stops and the two of you can hobble down the hallway together, where you open the door and Yugyeom stumbles across the room to collapse on the couch. You run into your bedroom and change into shorts and a cardigan before grabbing the first aid box and returning. When you do, Yugyeom has his shirt off, dumped on the floor, and is assessing the damage to his ribs.

It isn’t a pretty site; the left side is littered in purpling bruises, all of them big and dark. One of his ribs also looks pretty out of place and you wonder if he has broken one of them as a result. You frown at the mess as you sit crossed legged on the sofa beside him, letting him sit there shirtless as you finish attending to the wounds on his face.

Treating the injury on his eyebrow is easy, and like he said it has begun to heal since the bus journey home, meaning that all you have to do is put a small plaster over it to save for infection. Treating his bloody lip proves more difficult, and you hate how close you have to sit to make sure you are actually cleaning what you need to be.

“Why do you look so panicked?” Yugyeom asks as you rock back on your legs, brushing your hair out of your eyes and swapping one dirty cotton bud for another. You hadn’t noticed the light pink spread across your cheeks, or the shakiness of your hands, but Yugyeom found it absolutely adorable.

And was more concerned that you’d notice how fast he heart was beating as you leant close to his lip.

“I’m worried about you,” you lie easily, pressing the clean cotton bud to his lip again and finally notice how much you were shaking. With a deep breath you get the nervousness under control before finally sitting back and making Yugyeom lift his arms so you can assess the damage to his ribs.

“They’ll be fine,” Yugyeom says as the blush on your cheeks grows with the time that you spend trying not to stare at his chest. The dodgy looking rib has already begun to correct itself since he took his shirt off, but the bruising looks awful now, and the muscle there is all swollen.

“Do you want me to get some ice for that?” You ask, packing away the first aid kid and standing up. Yugyeom catches your wrist and stops you from running away from him and his half naked figure.

“No,” he says, nervously chewing his lip now. You hadn’t expected to see him look so nervous, his ears drooping and eyes unable to meet yours. “Just stay with me. Let’s do something together.”

You fall back into the seat beside him, pressing your lips together and leaning towards him ever so slightly. He asks how your meeting had gone as he turns on the television, having a strong need to just keep you beside him. The two of you settle for a movie whilst you recall your day until the alleyway, and as the movie starts, he wraps his arm around you and brings you closer to his bare chest as you tug a blanket over the both of you.

It’s been so long since you’ve been cuddled like this that you can’t help but crave his attention even more, and therefore make as few movements as possible. At some point your head drops on to his shoulder, and his on top of yours, leaving his long ears brushing your hair softly and making you smile.

Halfway through the movie the two of you decide to order some food, and Yugyeom only lets go of you to go grab the food from the delivery man at the entrance to the apartment. When you return his shirt has returned to his body and he has brought the coffee table closer to the chair the two of you had been sitting on, a goofy smile on his face.

The two of you sit and chat rather than continue the movie whilst you eat, and that’s when you break the news of the dance class to him that you had intended to take him to.

“I figured that you could do with expelling some energy and seeing as running clearly isn’t working for you, my friend Jackson runs a dance studio and I think you’d get on really well in there.”

“You thought and arranged all of that for me?” He asks his turn to blush now rather than you. You smile at him, chicken stuck between your teeth that makes him laugh. “Oh y/n that’s so cute of you. I don’t deserve a friend or roommate like you.”

“Who else would clean you all up after you got into these fights?” You joke, pushing the chicken from your teeth and putting down your finish plate. Yugyeom rolls his eyes, shifting in his seat to look at you face on.

“Not many people,” he admits, smiling at you softly. “Thank you, y/n. I really mean it.”

Your heart flutters at the vulnerability in his voice, the warmth in your body spreading all through your body from your head to your toes. Giving him a smile, you fall back in his arms, letting him wrap both arms around you this time as the two of you lay and finish the movie.

When the film ends, Yugyeom stares at the top of your head for a long time, waiting for you to move. It isn’t until that you let out a gentle laugh and soft breath that he realises you are actually asleep in his arms, which just makes him freak out. The fact that you felt comfortable enough around him to fall asleep almost makes him squeal with happiness.

It had been only a few weeks that the two of you had known each other and in that time you had hated each other so much, yet here he was, literally sobbing over how adorable you was.

Yugyeom couldn’t deny the crush he had on you any longer; he was crushing on you so hard it was starting to wear him out just thinking of it.

---

sorry that pt 2 took about 18 years to come out :))))

requests are open <3

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Reunion

Summary: Three friends – Belle, Ruby and Emma – attend their ten-year high school reunion, each wondering if her life has taken the course that she was expecting it to take after she graduated. Throughout the evening friendships are strengthened, and relationships are tentatively kindled. One thing is for certain – this reunion will be far from boring… Rumbelle, Red Warrior, Mad Swan.

This fic was started a very, very long time ago – mid-season 2. I’ve updated it to reflect the characters better, IE introducing Mulan and Zelena, for example, but there are still a few small discrepancies that date it, the main one being Neal. At the time this was originally written we’d not had the Neal-is-Bae reveal, so for the purposes of this fic, Neal and Bae are two separate people.

Rated: T

Content warning: Flashback to sexual harassment and attempted assault.

=====

Reunion

Belle turned the card over and over between her fingers, looking at but not reading the words printed thereon. They were already indelibly burned onto her brain.

Belle French is cordially invited to the Storybrooke High School class of 2008 ten-year reunion.

She was in two minds about it. On the one hand, she was very much looking forward to seeing where everyone had gone after school, what everyone had been doing, whether or not the yearbook predictions had come true. On the other hand, when she remembered her final moments at the school, all she wanted to do was to run a hundred miles in the opposite direction. Presently the phone rang, jerking her out of her reverie. She put the card under the issue desk with her handbag and picked up the receiver.

“Storybrooke Lending Library, Belle speaking, how may I help?”

“Have you got one too?”

“Hello to you too, Emma.”

“Hello. Well? Have you?”

“I take it we’re talking about high school reunion invitations,” Belle said dryly.

“What else would it be?” Emma replied. “I highly doubt that some anonymous benefactor’s started sending out million-dollar cheques.”

“You never know,” Belle said. “But to answer your question, yes, I have received an invitation.”

“This is a major crisis,” Emma said bluntly. “We need a plan of action for surviving this. We need to talk to Ruby. Granny’s, half an hour.”

“I don’t go on lunch till one o’clock,” Belle pointed out.

“Granny’s at one then,” Emma said. “Belle, this is a catastrophe waiting to happen and I know just who’s behind this.”

“Emma, the last time I looked, planning a high school reunion wasn’t against the law.”

“Huh.” Emma did not sound at all convinced. “We shall see.”

X

By the time Belle arrived at Granny’s diner, Emma was already there, and Ruby was hovering by their usual booth, waiting to take their order and then join them on her own lunch break. Of all their graduating year, Belle, Emma and Ruby were amongst the minority in staying in Storybrooke and staying in touch. They had come together by accident in school, three loners seeking company in other misfits, but they had fast become close friends, and so they had remained.

Belle had been the archetypical bookworm, liked enough, but nowhere near popular and privately seen as a boring good girl. Ruby had been the opposite, hanging around with the gaggle of biker boys known as the ‘wolf pack’, in trouble every other week and a force to be reckoned with. Emma on the other hand was different again. Although Belle could never recall an occasion on which she had spoken about it in school, everyone knew Emma as ‘that foster kid’. She’d only started at Storybrooke High halfway through junior year when the cliques had already been established. It was clear to all that Emma wasn’t interested in trying to fit in, and so no-one had tried to accommodate her.

The three girls had first met in detention one evening. Belle had been late too many times in one week thanks to getting engrossed in a book at the breakfast table. Emma had given Sidney Glass a black eye for calling her an unloved dustbin baby and Ruby had had detention so many times that she couldn’t remember what that particular one was for. They’d been practically inseparable since then, and the notion of ‘Granny’s, half an hour’ to solve all their problems remained.

“It’s Zelena West,” Emma said, once all three were seated. “This is her doing, I swear.” She jabbed the piled of invitations on the table in front of them. “She was so tired of coming second to everyone in high school that she’s decided to get us all back together to show us how mediocre we are compared to her now. I heard she’s some corporate lawyer hotshot now. And what are we doing? A librarian, a waitress, and a small-town sheriff only got the job after her predecessor died and no-one else wanted it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a librarian, a waitress or a small-town sheriff,” Belle protested. “And who did Zelena come second to in high school anyway? She was always the queen bee as far as I can remember.”

“Mary Margaret Blanchard was crowned prom queen instead of her,” Ruby said. “Ashley Boyd was made flyer on the cheer squad instead of her.”

“Well, that’s because she was the smallest,” Belle said. “Zelena could never be the flyer, she’s too tall.”

“Belle, I know that seeing the best in everyone is normally a good trait,” Emma said, her voice exasperated, “but don’t forget that she gave you evils for a week when you graduated top in English lit.”

“She dipped Tara Punzel’s ponytail in glue after she won her scholarship to the beauty college. Tara had to cut off two feet of her hair,” Ruby said absently. “And Zelena was only valedictorian because Regina Mills mysteriously got food poisoning on graduation day.” She wrinkled her nose. “She’s determined to make our lives a misery again, I know it.”

“We won’t go then,” Belle said, trying to bring some common sense to the table. “If you’re that upset about it, I’m not going to let Zelena make you any more miserable, so we’ll have a nice night in at mine instead.”

“No!” Ruby exclaimed. “I want to go! I want to show the bitch she doesn’t own me. By not going, all we’re doing is letting her win.”

“We’ve got two weeks to make up our minds and RSVP and then another three weeks to change our minds back again,” Belle said. “Has anyone been online to see where it’s being held?”

“The Palace Hotel,” Emma said.

Belle’s heart sank.

“The same place as senior prom,” she said. Emma nodded, and Belle bit her lip. None of the women said anything, but it was plain to see that they were all thinking the same thing. Belle’s memories of the senior prom were somewhat sour.

She pulled up all her courage. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

“I say we go,” she said. “It’ll be nice to see everyone again; and if Zelena wants to try and make us feel bad about ourselves, well, we won’t let her. We are all perfectly respectable human beings and we have a right to be proud of what we have achieved.”

Emma thought for a moment and finally gave a slow nod.

“Ok, I’m in. But if Sidney Glass or anyone from the cheerleading clique makes a comment about me being an unwanted foster kid, I will deck them one, and you are providing me with an alibi.”

The three friends linked hands across the table.

“Agreed.”

X

It was the eve of the reunion, and Belle couldn’t sleep. She’d spent the entire day leading up to this moment painfully reliving everything that had happened during her senior year, and now, the catalogue was culminating in the prom. She didn’t want to think about it, but her mind was in freefall and there was no stopping her now.

She’d been surprised when Gaston Chevalier had asked her to the prom. She had been perfectly happy to go on her own, take a book and find a quiet corner, chat to anyone who happened to pass. Belle wasn’t the life and soul of the party, anyone could tell that. But still, Gaston had asked her, and he was cute even if he was an arrogant jerk at times. Well, who on the football team wasn’t an arrogant jerk at times?

So, she’d said yes, and he’d been the perfect gentleman, picking her up from her dad’s house, giving her a corsage, getting her punch once they arrived. But now, he’d suggested they get some fresh air, away from the crush in the ballroom, and Belle was beginning to feel ever so slightly uneasy.

“Gaston, where are we going?”

“Oh, I just thought it would be nice to get away from everyone. Get some time to ourselves. Get to know each other a bit better.”

They were in the hotel gardens, separated off from the building by wide hedges, and Gaston brought them to the stop in front of a spluttering fountain, pulling her down onto a bench next to him.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” Gaston said, inching closer to her. “Just the two of us.”

“Lovely,” Belle replied coolly. She looked around for signs of anyone else from the prom, but all she could see was the flicker of a cigarette end outside the entrance to the hotel kitchens. She shivered involuntarily. “Can we go back now, Gaston? I’m getting cold.”

“I’ll warm you up, babydoll” He put his arm around her and Belle’s jaw clenched. Of all the epithets she had heard the jocks call their dates, ‘babydoll’ was the one that grated the most. She was eighteen, an adult, and she deserved to be respected as one, and she was not a doll, an ornament made to look pretty, stay silent and be dressed up and stripped off as the whim arose. But before she could ask Gaston not to call her that please, she had a name she’d appreciate him using, his mouth was pressing insistently against hers, his tongue forcing its way between her lips.

Belle froze. She had not expected her first kiss to be quite like this. Her books had always spoken of a soft meeting of lips, something warm and delicate, seeking permission to go further rather than assuming. But then again, her books were fiction, and maybe this was fact.

She felt Gaston’s hand on her thigh, moving higher and bunching up the skirt of her golden gown. She pulled away from him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, wishing her voice didn’t sound so wobbly. A quavering voice could be a sign of lust or fear and she knew that Gaston would take it the wrong way. He just raised an eyebrow and squeezed her thigh. Belle knew what he was doing, of course she knew.

“Move your hand, please,” she said, more firmly this time.

Gaston just snaked his hand further up her thigh. Belle gritted her teeth.

“That’s not what I meant.” She picked up his wrist with thumb and forefinger and moved it off her thigh, standing up quickly, but Gaston grabbed a handful of skirt and pulled her back down.

“I know you want to really,” he purred in her ear. She tried to push him away, but Belle was the little class bookworm, and Gaston was a fullback on the football team. “You wouldn’t have said yes when I asked you out if you didn’t.”

“I thought it might be nice to have a date for the night,” she said. “Get off, Gaston!”

“But everyone knows what happens on prom night.”

“Gaston, I don’t want to, let go of me!”

Gaston narrowed his eyes, and his hold on her tightened.

“You’re not a lesbian, are you? Or are you one of those who’s ‘saving herself’? Come on Belle, it’ll be fun.”

Belle scrabbled at him. “Get off! Get away from me!” She was almost pinned flat on the bench, and she could taste blood in her mouth where she’d bitten her lip in the struggle. There was only one thing for it. She brought her knees up and kicked him in the crotch as hard as she could.

That had the desired effect, and she kicked him off and got off the bench.

“Bitch!” Gaston roared. He grabbed the beaded drop shoulder of her dress to pull her back, yanking so hard that the fabric broke. “Frigid bitch!”

“She told you no!”

There was a waft of cigarette smoke and a fist made contact with the side of Gaston’s head. Belle, mute with fear, looked at her saviour. He was too old to be one of the boys from the school, and the name badge on his lapel showed that he was hotel staff. She only saw his face for a moment before he ducked to avoid Gaston returning the punch. “Go,” the man mouthed, and Belle turned on her heel and ran back towards the hotel without a second glance over her shoulder. She had to get out, go home, but she’d come in Gaston’s car. Hopefully Ruby could help her.

“Ruby!” she called, pushing through the crowds in the ballroom. She knew she must look a sight, her dress torn, her makeup running and her hair a passable bird’s nest, but she didn’t care. “Ruby!”

Ruby’s red-streaked head jerked up from where it had been resting on Peter’s shoulder during the slow dance.

“Cripes, Belle, what happened?”

“Gaston,” Belle choked out. Thankfully, Ruby didn’t need any further explanation.

“Come on sweetie, let’s get you home.”

Peter had driven them home and waited in his car whilst Ruby got Belle cleaned up and tucked up in her pyjamas. Her friend had offered to stay, but Belle had declined, wanting to be alone with her thoughts. Her dad had threatened to go out there and then and take his secateurs to Gaston’s nether regions, and Belle had almost taken him up on the offer.

Ten years later, Belle blinked back tears. A decade later and it still cut like a knife. How could she have been so stupid? Of course Gaston had just wanted to get in her knickers. She’d been so naïve, so trusting… She knew it wasn’t her fault, but it had made her guarded and wary around men for a long time afterwards.

She picked up the phone and dialled Emma’s number.

“Belle! I was just about to ring you.”

“Emma, what if Gaston’s there tomorrow?” she asked, at the same time as Emma continued.

“Belle, what if Neal’s there tomorrow?”

X

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Emma knew that they were both thinking almost exactly the same thing.

Emma’s experiences with Neal were not the same as Belle’s with Gaston, in fact, they were pretty polarised – and they hadn’t waited till prom night. Emma had been ready to lose her virginity. What Emma hadn’t been ready for was finding out she was pregnant two weeks after graduation. What Emma really hadn’t been ready for was Neal vanishing into the ether before she could tell him that she was pregnant. She’d always known that he wanted to get out of Storybrooke as soon as he could, but she hadn’t anticipated it being quite so soon.

In hindsight she wasn’t really all that surprised. She had known that she and Neal were never going to be together forever. Emma had never really held with the idea of marrying your high school sweetheart straight out of school and having a bunch of kids with them, a picture-perfect life that involved growing up far too fast and not having any chance to find out who you really are. She couldn’t really blame Neal for taking off so quickly, wanting to get away from the town he had always found so stifling. Whenever he had talked of his plans, Emma had never really featured in them, her involvement was always more nebulous. Even before he left, it had been clear to Emma that he would have been leaving, with or without her, no matter what.

She could have tracked him down if she’d had the inclination, but in the end, she knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Their relationship would not have survived. She liked to think that Neal would have been receptive to the idea of fatherhood, but she didn’t want to take that risk. She knew how important Neal’s future was to him, and she didn’t want to run the risk of him discovering that he was going to be a father and then still thinking that his future was more important. She would far rather that he never knew, than that he knew and was resentful and bitter about the fact.

Having been through everything that she had been through in the foster system, Emma had known that she was going to have to make a difficult choice when it came to her child. She really didn’t want to put him through what she had been through herself, but as she had no experience of anything that could be constituted as proper parenthood and family life, she had been terrified of doing something wrong.

“We’ll get through it,” she said to Belle on the other end of the phone, aware that she was caught up in her own reminiscences and not actually speaking. “We’ve got this far in our lives without them, and we’ve both come out stronger in the end. They don’t have any claim over our happiness anymore.”

She got up from her bed where she had been sitting stewing over the reunion the next day and made her way through the apartment to Henry’s room, risking a peep inside. He was ten years old now, but she still liked to check in on him when he was sleeping and see him looking so peaceful, just as much as when he had been a baby.

“Yeah,” Belle said on the other end of the phone, her words enveloped in a heavy sigh. “Yeah. But all the same, I can’t help fearing that if I see him, I’m just going to go back ten years and I’ll be frozen to the spot. I’ve done so much healing and growing up since then, and I don’t want it all to just fade when faced with him.”

Emma closed Henry’s door again and returned to her own room.

“We’ll be strong for each other,” she said. “We’ve got each other’s backs, and Ruby has our backs as well. I mean, Neal’s probably not even going to be there, I don’t think that anyone kept in touch with him after he left Storybrooke and I don’t think that Zelena would have gone to such great lengths to track him down.”

“Yeah, same for Gaston,” Belle said. “That incident did put a bit of a cloud over his college football career. But you’re right. We’ve got each other. We’ll get through this.” There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Belle. We’re going to kick this reunion’s ass.”

Belle laughed, and they said their goodbyes. Emma lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and knowing that she wasn’t going to get to sleep any time soon.

She could never regret Henry. She had been in two minds about whether or not to give him up for adoption throughout her pregnancy, and she had almost been set upon it up until the moment of his birth. She was only eighteen, she didn’t have any college prospects and she was stuck in a low-paying waitressing job in a backwater Maine town; there was no way that she could give her child the life that he or she deserved.

But then she had held her son for the first time, and she knew deep down that she didn’t really want to let go of him. She wanted to give him his best chance, but she knew from experience just how the foster system could be, and she did not want to give him that. She might not be able to give him a fantastic life with every luxury that a child could dream of, but she knew that she could give him the love that she herself had never experienced.

She’d called him Henry after the obstetrician who’d delivered him, and they’d been inseparable ever since. Emma would never change her relationship with Henry for the world, and although there were many things in her life that she wished she could have done differently, her son was not one of them. No matter what anyone else at the reunion might say about her career path or the turn that her life had taken after she had graduated, Emma was fiercely proud of her son and she wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her.

And if Neal was there at the reunion, and if the news of his fatherhood was broken to him then, then so be it. Emma was a proud single mother and whilst she might not have been the best at raising her child, she had done her best, and that was all anyone could ask of her. She’d put up with a lot throughout her school years, and she was not going to let anyone taint the years that had come since, the years with Henry that were, despite all the trials and tribulations that she had gone through, the best years of her life.

She just hoped that she would still have the same mindset when she actually got to the reunion the next day.

X

“God, I hate high school reunions.”

Gold looked up from the stock lists to find Cara Mallory sitting at the bar. Actually, slumped on the bar would be a better description. The Palace Hotel catering manager gave an emphatic groan and lifted her head an inch or so off the polished wood to speak.

“I need a triple vodka and tonic.”

Gold merely raised an eyebrow in response and continued ticking off stock, something that really should not have been his job. Something that had not been his job for fifteen years, ever since he had risen to the role of bar manager. Someone was going to have to explain to him how he kept hiring bartenders with such lousy timekeeping and stock-taking skills. Sometimes he was of a mind to fire the lot of them and run the entire show himself.  

Cara lifted her head a couple more inches and fixed him with a glare. “Now, Gold!”

Gold rolled his eyes, put down his pen and leaned on the bar opposite Cara.

“What’s the magic word, dearie?”

Cara gave him a withering look.

“Gold, please get me a triple vodka and tonic before I expire.”

“Just for you, Cara.”

He hooked his cane over the bar and mixed Cara her drink. “Now tell me, Miss Mallory, why do you loathe high school reunions so much?”

“Because they’re just an excuse for a hundred people to come together and try to one up each other for a couple of hours. You can almost taste the sense of failure, depression and smugness. It cloys on the tongue.”

“Now now, Mal, it’s not all bad.” Jefferson came in and perched on a bar stool beside Cara, patting her shoulder. “At least you weren’t working at the Palace when the Storybrooke High class of 2008 had their first grand gathering here like some of us were, right Gold?”

Gold narrowed his eyes.

“You weren’t, you pipsqueak. You were barely out of short trousers. I, on the other hand, do not need reminding that I am, as you so delicately put it the other day, ‘getting on a bit’.”

“You must admit, Mr Gold, that you are not as young as you used to be.”

“Oh, go and event co-ordinate, Mr Events Co-ordinator,” Gold said. “You’ve got a hundred guests about to arrive to be thoroughly depressed, and there’s the woman who’s about to depress them.”

He nodded over Jefferson’s shoulder through the ballroom doors towards the main entrance of the hotel, where Zelena West had just walked in.

“Oh crumbs. I’d better get moving.”

Jefferson hopped off his bar stool and went to greet the reunion’s host. Cara just groaned and downed her drink.

“Wake up and smell the misery.” She paused and looked at Gold a little blearily. “That was way more than a triple.” Gold shrugged, and Cara continued to speak. “Must be interesting for you, seeing how they’ve all grown up.”

“Cara, I have seen so many proms and reunions in this ballroom, I lose track.”

He put down the stock lists and checked his watch. “We’ve got an hour for my errant bar staff to turn up, or they’re all fired. I’m going for a smoke. You’re welcome to join me.”

Cara declined and returned to the kitchens, and Gold left the ballroom, limping through the hotel grounds to find his favourite haunt. His hands were shaking as he lit up and took a long drag to calm his nerves. The problem was, he did remember the Storybrooke High 2008 prom.

He looked down at the cigarette between his fingers. If it hadn’t been for his vice he wouldn’t have got involved at all; it would have blended in with all the others. He looked out over the gardens towards the fountain and the benches there. He’d been in this exact same position ten years prior when he’d seen her, so beautiful and innocent in her golden gown, smiling and laughing.

She’d been with her date of course, and he’d assumed he was her boyfriend. He wouldn’t have stayed out there watching them – Gold knew only too well what happened on prom nights. He remembered his own. But something about her had made him stay, because she didn’t seem comfortable. Events had happened rather quickly after that. He remembered running as fast as his ankle could carry him, he remembered the resounding thump with which he had landed the blow against her lecherous date; he remembered the grim satisfaction with which he had thrown the boy out of the hotel.  

He hadn’t seen her again after that. Working the long hours that he did at the hotel, he didn’t really get out and about in Storybrooke all that much, and he was certain that someone as bright and lovely as she was would have got out of the town as quickly as she could. It was a dead end for most people, and she had definitely had potential.

All the same, he still couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her after that night, and whether she was all right after her ordeal. He wondered whether he would see her again tonight, or whether she had decided not to return to the scene of what had occurred. He wondered whether he would even recognise her, all these years later. Ten years had passed in the blink of an eye, but Gold knew from his own growing son just how much people could change over the course of a decade.

He finished his cigarette and tossed the butt aside, blowing out the last lungful of calming smoke and looking at his reflection in the glass of the kitchen door. He’d changed a lot himself in the last ten years, and he hadn’t exactly been young when he had first seen her. It wasn’t good for him to be standing out here wondering about a girl so much younger than him. Whatever happened, there was a gap between them and it was something that could not be bridged or ignored.

Gold sighed. Whether she was here tonight or not, whether he recognised her or not, there was no hope that she would recognise him. Their eyes had met for all of a second before she had fled the gardens, and there was a lot on her mind. For now, he would be content just to see that she was all right and had moved on from the events of that fateful night in the garden. That was all he could hope for, and to ask for more would be folly.

He took a deep breath and went back inside the hotel, making his way back towards the ballroom ready for service to begin. A couple of the bar staff had turned up, and he wasted no time in letting them know his ire at their tardiness, but it was still clear that he was going to have to get stuck in to serving as well if they were going to keep the bar running at peak capacity and avoid long and unruly queues for drinks. Gold sighed. He really needed a new job, one that didn’t require him to do a bunch of other people’s jobs as well, and one that allowed him more time at home with Bae, but there was something in the back of his mind that had always kept him here.

He knew what it was, and he didn’t want to admit to it.

Guests started arriving in dribs and drabs, with Zelena greeting them all cordially, but with barely disguised glee as she caught up with their lives for the past decade and realised that she was doing far better than all the rest of them were. Gold just watched her antics with a practised eye; he had seen it happen all before and he could quite understand Cara’s sentiment of hating high school reunions. With someone people, bitchiness wasn’t something that was outgrown, it was simply something that was tamped down and kept simmering in the background until it was given the chance to rage into life once more.

Zelena was definitely one of those people, and Gold was quite glad that he was not among the reunion guests tonight. He had to give a little laugh as he thought of the poor sods that she was talking to; he had every sympathy for them but at the same time, it was morbidly entertaining to watch, and at least it made for very good bar trade, with everyone needing some kind of alcoholic refreshment to get them through an evening of veiled insults and white lies regarding how perfect their lives were now. For all the downsides to his job, he really couldn’t fault the opportunities for people-watching.

He was very thankful that he’d never been to his own school reunion.

Gold didn’t see her the moment that she walked in. It wasn’t an instant recognition by any manner or means. He’d registered that she was there, just as he registered whenever someone walked into the ballroom. He could see it filling up, and he was interested to see the new faces. She’d come in with a couple of friends, and he had thought nothing of it. Blue eyes, chestnut brown hair curling around her face. There hadn’t been anything familiar about her at first sight. It was only when she came over the bar that something in the back of Gold’s mind began setting off fireworks and alarm bells, telling him that this was someone whom he really should remember.

“I’ll have a glass of Pinot Blush, please,” she said, and it was the accent that did it. And accent you wouldn’t soon forget. For a moment, Gold was back ten years in the gardens, and he could definitely see the young woman whom she had been in her features now. She glanced over her shoulder to see Zelena approaching her, and she wrinkled her nose as she turned back to the bar. “Better make that a large one.”

Gold couldn’t help a laugh as he gave her the wine, and she looked at him for a moment, her brow furrowing. Could it be that she recognised him from a decade ago as well?

The moment was gone, and she left the bar, visibly steeling herself to go and speak to Zelena, and Gold continued to watch her for a few seconds until one of her friends came over to order a drink. She seemed to be happy and flourishing, and that was all he needed to know.

X

Ruby had been prepared for quite a lot of things to happen at this high school reunion, but she was beginning to think that the reunions shown on TV and in films were highly fictionalised and not at all indicative of reality. She had been prepared for thrown drinks and food fights, for real fights and hair-pulling. She had been prepared for terrific revelations that would send the entire room reeling into silence. She had been prepared for everyone in the class’s dirty laundry being aired, including her own. She had been prepared for pretty much every cliched scenario that could have happened at this reunion, but she was absolutely not prepared for sheer boredom.

It was clear that everyone was on their best behaviour, and that there were no chances of any catfights on the horizon despite the utter loathing with which everyone was looking at everyone else. Neither Neal nor Gaston were at the reunion; either they hadn’t come, or they hadn’t been invited. There was no need for her to stay on her guard to possibly sweep in and rescue either of her friends from uncomfortable situations, and so Ruby had found herself at a loss.

The problem was that despite being a naturally outgoing and sociable person who enjoyed talking to everyone who crossed her path in the diner, Ruby didn’t actually want to talk to anyone at that moment. She was very aware that of all the people here in the ballroom, she had probably made the least progress in her life, and despite her usual attitude, and the attitude that had carried her all the way through her school years, she really didn’t want anyone to know that.

Up until she had received the invitation to the reunion, Ruby had been happy with her lot. She had always had vague ambitions of travelling the world and seeing new things, they’d all had those, but she’d accepted that it wasn’t going to be possible. With Granny as her only remaining family, she knew that she had to stay close to help her out. The diner wouldn’t run itself, and Granny wasn’t going to get any younger. Just as Belle had stayed in Storybrooke to help out her father, and Emma had stayed in Storybrooke because of Henry, Ruby had stayed because of her family, and she could never bring herself to regret that. Granny had supported her through some difficult times, and Ruby had caused more than enough trouble to make her grandmother’s hair prematurely grey. After she’d graduated it was time to give back, and Ruby was happy with how she was giving back and what she was doing with her grandmother. There would be time for adventures in the great wide somewhere later.

It was just that sitting here at the bar looking at all these wildly successful people that she’d gone to school with, Ruby couldn’t help feeling distinctly inferior, and at the same time bitter that they’d had all the opportunities that simply hadn’t been open to her. She didn’t have the money for college, she didn’t have the money to move out of Storybrooke and start fresh somewhere, and a small fiery part of her was angry that everyone else seemed to have had it so much better in their lives.

She ordered another rum and coke, staring at it glumly so as to avoid having to look at everyone else in the ballroom.

“Hey.”

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like the ballroom was going to leave her alone. She turned minutely to see Mulan taking a seat at the bar beside her. Despite the years, she looked almost no different to how she had looked in high school, and that fact made Ruby smile.

“It took a long time to track you down, you know,” Mulan said. “I was certain that I’d said hello to everyone except you, and I was certain that I’d seen you come in with Belle and Emma, but I was beginning to think that maybe I’d imagined you.”

Ruby laughed and shook her head. “No, I’ve just been hiding.”

“Yeah, can’t say that I blame you.” Mulan took a sip of her own drink. “Why did we come here again?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Ruby said. “Because we felt that we had something to prove? Or because we thought we had nothing to prove? I don’t know. Maybe I’ve had too much rum on too few canapes.”

“I think it’s morbid fascination in part,” Mulan mused. “We really want to see if anything weird and wonderful has happened to our former classmates. Maybe someone’s become a world-renowned scuba diver or something like that.”

Ruby snorted. “Are you a world-renowned scuba diver?”

“No, I’m a gym teacher. But I’ve always wanted to try scuba diving. What about you? Any hidden talents that have emerged since we last saw each other?”

Ruby shook her head. “No. Still just waitressing at Granny’s, so I think I probably win the award for least successful person here.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Mulan shrugged. “There are different measures of success. If you’re happy, then that’s what matters. Don’t think yourself as any lesser than anyone else. What you do is valuable, no matter what anyone else might say.”

Ruby scoffed.

“No, I mean it.” Ruby looked over at her, but Mulan was completely in earnest, and she had to wonder at the vehement defence.

They had always been on each other’s periphery during high school; Mulan was an aloof loner in much the same way as Emma had been, with just a small group of friends around her. She was an odd one out because she was athletic, and sports had always been the domain of the boys, meaning most of the girls shunned her. Whilst Mulan could definitely be described as tomboyish, she was never ‘one of the boys’. She’d never lost her femininity despite the cattier girls being determined to take it from her.

Although Mulan had never been in with Ruby’s more trouble-making crowd, they’d definitely been on each other’s radars until graduation had happened and people started drifting away. Now, it seemed that they were back on each other’s radars again. Mulan had certainly not forgotten her, and the thought made Ruby smile.

The desire to talk to people had returned, and she shuffled her bar stool a little closer to Mulan’s.

“So, what have you been up to since high school then?”

X

Emma could tell that something was troubling Belle. She kept glancing over at the man behind the bar who had served them when they had first come into the reunion. He wasn’t serving now, he appeared to be berating the other two bartenders for reasons still unknown. He was obviously their boss, and she wondered how come he had become seconded into helping serve. Probably for the same reason he was now having serious words with them.

Belle was still staring intently at him as Emma approached her, and she only shook herself and looked away when she heard Emma’s voice.

“Are you all right? You seem kind of spaced out.”

“Yeah, just got a weird sense of déjà vu, that’s all.”

Emma laughed. “Well, we’re in a room with a bunch of people who we were at school with and we’re all doing our best to hide the fact that we still hate each other with a passion; I would say that was a memory of any normal day from your teenage years.”

Belle shook her head, the quip falling completely flat.

“No, it’s not that. It’s that guy behind the bar. I feel like I ought to know him from somewhere. He looks really familiar. It’s like there’s a hole that he fits perfectly in my memory, but I don’t know where it’s from.”

Emma looked over at the man again; there was nothing about him that was touching any chords in her own memory.

“Well, if he works here at the hotel then he’s probably local to Storybrooke,” she said. “Maybe you’ve just been standing behind him in line at the drugstore or something, or you see him on your morning running route.”

“Yeah.” Belle didn’t seem particularly convinced by that explanation, but Emma didn’t have another one to offer her. She pulled out of her little daydream and sighed again. “I’m going over to say hi to Regina, I think she’s the only person whom I haven’t said hello to and even though we never saw eye to eye, you can bet that if I miss someone out then it’ll be all over social media once everything’s over.”

“Belle, we’re hardly linked to any of the old school crowd on social media. That’s why it’s been so alien coming here and seeing people again. The only friends from school I have on Facebook are Mary Margaret and Aurora and that’s because they’re just too nice not to be friends with. Unfriending them would be like kicking a puppy.”

“I know that, but I still feel like I ought to make an effort. I’ll see you in a bit, provided Zelena doesn’t collar me again to tell me all about her world travels.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “That’s in very poor taste.”

“I know. I told her that I never went travelling because I needed to look after my dad after my mum died, but I honestly think it went in one ear and out of the other.”

“No, no, I think she understood perfectly, she’s just that kind of a person.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I think I do always see the good in people too much.”

Belle left her then, and Emma was left looking down at her empty glass. She’d got through that whiskey remarkably quickly and she wondered if her going up again to get another one would be noticed.

“Emma Swan.”

Emma would recognise that voice anywhere. Although Zelena West was the orchestrator of this entire event, Ashley Boyd - well, Ashley Herman now - was definitely the other person whom Emma had not been looking forward to meeting here.

On the face of it, she and Ashley should have got on very well. They’d both been pregnant straight out of high school, after all, and one would have thought that young mothers would have stuck together in the face of the trials and tribulations that were coming their way. Unfortunately, things had not worked out in quite the same way. Whilst Neal had disappeared, Sean had stuck around - forcibly, some might say. And whilst Emma had stayed in Storybrooke, a windfall from Mr Herman Senior had allowed Ashley to get out of the town and not look back - and when she did look back, it was with that sweet and insincere smile that said look how lucky I am, my children have a father and we live in a beautiful house off millions made in the canned fish industry, what do you do, Emma?

“Hello Ashley.”

“I’m sure you remember Sean, of course.”

“Of course. How are you, Sean?”

“Can’t complain. Business is doing well.”

“So how have you been keeping, Emma?  How’s your son? He’d be in the same year as our Alexandra, wouldn’t he? Of course, Alexandra goes to the private school at Newport. Having a proper education is really so important, don’t you think?”

Emma looked around the group of old classmates in the ballroom. “Well, I don’t think public school did us any harm.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “Well, of course, growing up in a stable family environment is just as crucial, although I suppose you and your son wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

It was in that moment that Emma realised that she had two choices, and that her brain had made the choice without any input from herself. She could either lose her temper and drag Ashley out of the building by the hair, or she could be calm and composed and collected.

For some reason unknown to Emma, her brain decided to take the third option, and she found herself sprouting a lie of enormous proportions that she had never even given thought to before, let alone had time to work on and make consistent.

“Well, since I got married I like to think that I managed to provide a very stable environment for Henry.”

Ashley’s eyebrows raised to her hairline, and Emma began to flounder. Where the hell had that come from? Hadn’t she, Belle and Ruby all determined that they weren’t going to lie, and they were going to be proud of what their lives had accomplished in the years since high school?

Yes, her brain told her, but at the same time, she just really wanted to wipe that smirk off Ashley’s face without the threat of physical violence.

Still, she was stuck in the lie now, and there was no choice but to run with it.

X

If Gold was alarmed when Jefferson grabbed him by the sleeve and steered him roughly into the stock room, he didn’t show it, and merely raised one eyebrow, brushing down his jacket when the younger man finally released him.

“Gold, I need to borrow your clothes,” Jefferson said.

“All of them?” Gold asked drily.

“No, no, just some of them,” Jefferson said, pulling off his suit jacket. “And your cane. Quick, give me your waistcoat and your tie.”

“Jefferson, is there a reason for your sudden desire to inhabit my wardrobe?” Gold asked, beginning to unbutton his waistcoat.

“I need to look like an eccentric billionaire and to do that I need cane. Because right now I look like a harassed event co-ordinator…”

“You are a harassed event co-ordinator,” Gold pointed out.

“I know, but eccentric billionaires don’t look like harassed event co-ordinators – they wear ties and they don’t have asparagus stains on their shirts from where a waitress walked into them with some canapés so please Gold, I need your waistcoat to hide the damage. Please, it’s an emergency!”

“An emergency,” Gold repeated, removing his jacket and waistcoat and handing the latter to Jefferson, his tie following shortly after. “What sort of emergency could possibly require you to dress up as an eccentric billionaire? In my best suit, no less.”

“Jeff? Gold?”

Jefferson looked up from tying Gold’s tie round his neck to see Cara Mallory standing in the doorway to the stock cupboard, no doubt on her way back to the kitchens to supervise the restocking of the buffet.

“I’m not even going to ask what you two are doing,” she said, looking them up and down.

“Impromptu striptease,” Gold said. He made to undo his belt buckle. “Private show?”

Cara rolled her eyes and left the room, closing the door after her with a wry ‘whatever floats your lilo, gents…’

“I need to rescue a damsel in distress,” Jefferson said. He finished tying Gold’s tie and its owner rolled his eyes.

“That is the worst Full Windsor I’ve ever seen. Let me.” He pulled the tie loose and started again, working the fabric deftly. “I’d fire you if you turned up to work one of my bars with a tie like that. Right, go on and rescue your damsel.”

“Thank you, Gold. I owe you one!”

He grabbed the bar manager’s cane, ignoring the older man’s shout of protest at being rendered unable to walk, and legged it back to the bar.

X

Emma was getting desperate. The lie had been a spur of the moment panic, and now it was most definitely coming back to bite her in the behind.

“What precisely is it that your husband does, Emma?” Ashley asked pleasantly, her voice benign but her eyes revelling in every moment of Emma’s now hopelessly obvious discomfort.

“Oh, you know, this and that… He’s very entrepreneurial, dabbles in all sorts of new ideas that need investments…”

“Really,” Ashley said. “How fascinating. Is he not here tonight?”

“I didn’t think that spouses were invited,” Emma said. “Unless they were also in the class, of course,” she added, looking at Sean, who didn’t seem to be taking in any of their barbed comments towards each other at all.

“Darling!”

Emma was startled by the arrival of a complete stranger by her side, linking his arm through hers and pressing a glass into her hand. She was half-tempted to upend the gin and tonic over him and unleash her taser.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, poppet, something came up at the office. There was a problem with a shipment from Sicily, pistachio nuts all over the eastern seaboard, utter nightmare… Look at the coaster…” he hissed under his breath to her on the pretext of kissing her cheek without actually making contact.

Emma did so, raising the glass to take a sip of the clear liquid and looking through the bottom at the white paper coast stuck to the bottom of it, reading the scrawled message.

Pleased to meet you. My name’s Jefferson.  Play along for as long as you need to.

Emma grinned, as she remembered seeing the man – minus tie, cane and neatly slicked back hair – talking to Zelena at the hotel entrance and ticking things off on a clipboard just before they entered. On closer inspection, she could see the pin pricks on his jacket lapel where his name badge should sit, and there was a staff key-card on a lanyard stuffed hastily into his inside pocket. It was the event manager, come to her aid.

“Jeff, darling,” she said, deciding that playing along was better than breaking the illusion. “I didn’t think you’d come. This is Ashley and Sean Herman. They were together in high school and they’re married now, how long is it again?”

“Ten years,” Ashley said proudly.

“My word, that must have been very quick after graduation,” Jefferson said, and Ashley’s smug smile began to falter. “Still, I must congratulate you on the longevity of your union, and on the forthcoming pitter patter of tiny feet, I see. Is it your first?”

“No,” Emma said. “Ashley was just telling me that she and Sean have two children already.”

“Really? How fascinating. Emma and I don’t have any together yet, sadly, but I am blessed with a wonderful stepson. Do you have any pictures?”

“Sure.” Sean, obviously always happy to talk about his kids, pulled out his wallet and showed Jefferson and Emma the pictures therein.

“Ah two girls. How old are they? Eight and four?”

“Ten and six,” Sean corrected, before Ashley smacked his arm.

“Sean!” she hissed. “Don’t tell him that!”

“Ten? My word, that must have happened very soon after graduation. Still, absolutely charming to meet you both; Emma, shall we get some canapés? I’m absolutely famished.”

He steered her off towards the buffet table, leaving Ashley to moan at her husband, and Emma couldn’t stop herself from giggling.

“Thank you,” she said. “How did you know that I needed a prop?”

“I happened to overhear your conversation. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear. I’m very good at telling when people are lying, and I could tell that she was baiting you. I have to say, it was a bit obvious.”

“Yeah. I’m usually really good at spotting liars as well; maybe that’s what makes me a bad one.” Emma gave another laugh as she remembered Ashley’s priceless expression. “Thank you, anyway. But you really shouldn’t bait her for getting pregnant in high school,” she said eventually once composure had returned and Jefferson had snaffled four smoked salmon canapés. “I did the same.”

“I gathered,” Jefferson said. “And she had no right to look down on you for it when she did exactly the same thing herself.” He sighed. “It’s Sean that I feel sorry for really. If it hadn’t been for the other kids and the fact he was no doubt on the wrong end of a shotgun barrel at some point, do you think he would have stuck around?”

Emma snorted. “I don’t know. He seems happy enough, but it does make you wonder. I know I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship just for the sake of being with the father of my child. That kind of thing can affect a kid growing up.”

“And that is the difference between you and her.”

“What is?”

“You raising your child alone, not settling for getting into a relationship you didn’t want to be a part of or running off to your parents to get them to make it all better.”

“No parents to run to,” Emma muttered.

Jefferson smiled and handed her a canapé.

“Which makes you all the more remarkable, Emma Swan.”

Emma returned his smile, and as she ate the asparagus morsel in one clean bite, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. For the first time since she had entered the reunion, she felt proud of herself, the same pride she felt when she looked at Henry and realised that she hadn’t done badly, all things considered. Despite everything, she still had every right to feel triumphant.

“So, what is it that you and your significant other really do?” Jefferson asked her.

“Storybrooke Sheriff,” Emma said. “I was deputy until four months ago, then elected unopposed when Graham died. And there is no significant other.” She paused. “Just me and Henry. The dynamic duo.”

Jefferson smiled. “That’s what my Grace and I call ourselves.”

“So, what is it that you really do, billionaire husband?” Emma asked. “I know you work for the hotel, I saw you talking to Zelena earlier.”

“Events co-ordinator,” Jefferson said. “You can blame me for this entire spectacle. You might not want to introduce me to Zelena West as your husband; I know I look slightly different to before, but I doubt it’ll fool her.”

Emma laughed. “No, it’s ok, I should be going now anyway. I need to pick up Henry; a friend’s looking after him tonight.”

“Same for Grace, I should be making a move as well. I guess you too know the pitfalls of being a single parent who often has to work evenings. Besides…” Jefferson cast a glance over his shoulder at the bar. “I borrowed half of my outfit from a colleague and he looks pretty keen to get it back. The clothes I think he could live without, but I’ve borrowed his cane as well and unlike me, his need for it is rather more than simply ornamental.”

Emma looked in the same direction and saw a tieless man in a suit that matched Jefferson’s waistcoat leaning heavily on the bar and glaring at her companion.

“Yes… He looks a little murderous right now.”

“Well, I shall return his possessions and mobilise him once more – I’m impressed he got to the bar, actually, I left him in the stock cupboard – and let you on your way. Unless you’d like me to call you a cab?”

“It’s all right, I’ll walk. I’m only going to Granny’s diner, and I don’t live far from there. And I have a taser.”

Jefferson gave her an astonished look.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I really have a taser.” Emma pulled it out of her bag and showed it to him.

“No, not that, Granny’s diner. Granny Lucas is looking after Henry?”

“Yes… Is there a problem with that?”

“She’s looking after my daughter,” Jefferson said faintly. “She’s my go-to babysitter.”

The two parents looked at each other for a moment, before bursting into fresh laughter.

“Go and give your colleague his clothes back,” Emma finally managed. “Come on, you can walk me home, eccentric billionaire husband of mine.”

She watched him make his way across the ballroom towards the bar, and she startled when a familiar voice spoke in her ear.

“What were you and Jefferson giggling about then?”

Emma twisted round to see Ruby standing behind her, arms folded and patented ‘tell all’ expression firmly in place.

“You know him?” she spluttered.

“Of course,” Ruby said airily. “Granny and I babysit his daughter all the time. Her name’s Grace; she’s in Henry’s class at school.”

Emma shook her head in disbelief. She’d heard Henry talk about Grace, but she’d never met the girl before, much less her father. It really was a small world. Ruby was just giggling her head off, and she patted Emma’s arm.

“He’s a great guy, Em. I can vouch for him. If you want to pursue that course, I would say to go for it. What have you got to lose?”

Emma thought about it for a few moments and gave a decisive nod.

“Nothing to lose,” she agreed.

Ruby grinned. “That’s the spirit. I’m going to head out soon too; go somewhere a bit quieter where I’m not going to be mobbed by old friends who were never really friends in the first place.”

Emma looked over Ruby’s shoulder. “Will Mulan be going with you to that place where it’s a bit quieter?” she asked sagely.

“Maybe.” There was a playful smirk in Ruby’s words, and Emma had to laugh again. She was glad that Ruby had found some happiness here as well. The only person who didn’t appear to have made any new connections and turned the evening around into one that could be celebrated was Belle; considering the fears that had plagued her before the reunion, Emma felt a pang of disappointment on her friend’s behalf. Glancing around the room, she found her friend chatting animatedly to Mary Margaret Nolan-née-Blanchard and managed to catch her attention, mouthing ‘Henry’ and indicating that she’d call her tomorrow. Belle nodded and waved goodbye, and Emma went to wait for her fake husband in the lobby.

About ten minutes later, Jefferson reappeared, and they left the hotel, heading away in the direction of the diner. The conversation flowed freely and easily, talking about all the things that they had never known they had in common. Even though Storybrooke was a comparatively small town and Emma knew most of the people in it thanks to her job as sheriff, it just went to show that even small towns could still be surprising. For all she had been complaining at the lack of excitement in her life since graduating high school, Emma knew that this was exactly where she wanted to be. She had a fantastic son, she lived in a great town, and she had a good job that she was proud of doing. It didn’t matter what the rest of her classmates might be doing now. Emma was happy where she was, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

As they walked along, she kept glancing over at Jefferson. Even in Storybrooke, there was still a wealth of possibility to be had.

X

The party was coming to a close, winding down, but Belle couldn’t help thinking that there was something missing somehow. There was something still nagging at the back of her mind, something that she needed to come to terms with before she could truly let this experience fall behind her and say that she was done with high school forever and could move on.

Gaston hadn’t been at the reunion and Belle was very glad about that, but all through the evening, she had been in this place and continually reminded of what had happened the last time that she was here. When she looked around at her fellow ex-students and looked at how far they had all come since that night, she found herself looking at herself in a different light too. So, she may not have moved far out of the town and created a new life for herself in the big city, and she might not be in a high-flying career like Zelena West or Regina Mills, but she was happy with her life. She didn’t yearn for something more. She was content with the small things. Right now, Belle could confidently say to anyone who asked her that she was living her best life.

The only thing she wanted was someone that she could share it with, and perhaps tonight was the time that she could finally make steps towards that.

She glanced over at the bar, but the man had vanished. Belle wasn’t exactly surprised; it was clear that he was the manager in charge of it all and therefore shouldn’t be doing the serving on a regular basis, but all the same, she felt a little disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to speak to him again. There was something so familiar about him. Maybe it was because she was seeing so many familiar faces among her old classmates that she was now thinking that everyone was familiar, but all the same, that hint of recognition was going to bug her for a long time after tonight. She usually had a good memory for people, so the fact that this man eluded her was annoying.

Still. Even if she did meet him and strike up a conversation and work out that he was standing in line behind her in the drugstore one time, or some other equally inane conversation, there was something that she wanted to do first.

Belle left the ballroom where the reunion was taking place and made her way out of the back of the hotel through the gardens, up towards the roses and the fountain and the bench where the events of the prom were still there at the back of her mind, and she looked down at the stone for a long time.

It was just a bench, an inanimate object, and it was not the bench that had hurt her. Looking at it now, and looking around at the garden, she could see the beauty in it. She sat down, looking around at the foliage in the twilight and taking it all in. She had felt apprehensive when she had first walked up here to this spot, but now there was a sense of release and catharsis. It was just a bench, just a garden, a beautiful garden. Gaston wasn’t here, he was gone from her life, and as she sat, Belle knew that she was not going to let him ruin whatever might happen next.

“Hello.”

Belle turned to see someone coming up the gardens towards her. It was the man from the bar, and she smiled, waving him closer when he stopped a good distance short from the bench.

“Hello again. Catching a break from all the drunken revellers in the ballroom?”

The man laughed, sitting at the other end of the bench.

“Well, they’re not exactly revelling, but several of them are well on their way to being very drunk, including the hostess.”

Belle had to laugh at that. “When we first got the invitation, a lot of us were certain that this would be an event of snarking and bitching and one-upping each other.”

“Much like being back at high school then?”

“Yes, now that I think about it. I don’t think that we were expecting Zelena to be among those of us drowning their sorrows because they haven’t been as successful as their peers.”

“You’re not drowning your sorrows though, I hope?”

Belle shook her head. “No. I’m happy with my life. I don’t have that sort of chip on my shoulder. Everyone has a different measure of success, and the problem occurs when we try to measure ourselves against other people’s. I know my own worth, I don’t need anyone else to define it for me.”

The man nodded. “That’s very astute.”

Feeling bold, Belle held out a hand. “Belle French.” She looked down at the name tag that Zelena had given her when she had first walked in. “Of course, you probably knew that already.”

The man shook her hand. “Raymond Gold. And likewise.” He pointed to the hotel staff badge on his lapel. “Most people just call me Gold, though.”

“You look familiar, but I can’t place you,” Belle said. “Have we met?”

Gold gave a tired half-smile. “In a manner.” He offered her a cigarette and Belle declined with a shake of her head. He took one out himself and was about to light it when he paused and put it back in the packet, stowing the heavy gold lighter in his inside pocket but leaving the packet on the bench between them. “My son keeps telling me to quit. No time like the present to give it another go again.” He sighed. “I should’ve put more effort into it sooner, really, but there was always something in the back of my mind keeping me from really trying.”

Belle looked at him, her head tipped on one side as she continued to try and place the face in front of her, framed with greying hair and the faint scent of tobacco. “What was that?” she asked.

“Just the whim of a foolish old man, my dear,” Gold said.

“No, I want to hear it,” Belle said.

Gold smiled.

“I’ve been working in this hotel for a long time, I’ve been smoking outside the kitchens for a long time, and I’ve been witnessing high school proms for a long time. And sometimes you see more important things outside the ballroom than you do inside it. I always wonder, if I hadn’t been sneaking a smoke that night, at that moment, I wouldn’t have seen her. She was something special, not part of the popular crowd, not the prom queen, but still something special. Her date took her outside and was trying to get some in the garden, and she fought him off like a little lion cub; brave and utterly ferocious but just not big enough. And if I hadn’t been outside, I wouldn’t have been able to lend a hand.”

And suddenly, Belle realised where she knew him from.

X

Gold watched as recognition dawned on Belle’s face, and he wondered what her reaction would be.

“I knew I knew you from somewhere,” she said. “Thank you.”

Gold shrugged. Her response had surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to take it so calmly. What kind of a man remembers the face of a woman whose date he punched at her prom ten years earlier?

“I was only doing what any decent person would do in the circumstances.” He sighed, he was in too deep now and he might as well give her the full story. That was what she had asked for, after all. “But that’s why I never quit.”

“Because you were worried about what might have happened to me if you hadn’t been there?” Belle asked. Gold nodded.

“And… On the off-chance I might see you again,” he murmured, then looked away, embarrassed. If she hadn’t thought him a mad stalker before, then she would definitely think so now. He felt her small hand on his shoulder, a friendly, relaxed grip, and he turned back towards her. Belle was smiling.

“Well, it worked,” she said. “So maybe now is the time to quit.” She took his cigarettes. “You shouldn’t be needing these anymore.”

Gold gave a weak laugh. “It’s hard to break the habit of a lifetime, Miss French.”

Belle smiled and stood up, leaning in close to him.

“Maybe you just need to find something else to do with your mouth,” she whispered in his ear, before pressing a light kiss to his cheek. Gold felt the weight of something drop into his jacket breast pocket and Belle flashed him another brilliant grin and left him sitting on the bench, as she began walking back down the garden towards the ballroom.

Gold looked down and saw that she’d returned his cigarettes. He pulled out the packet and was about to take one out, from habit more than real desire, when he saw it, there on the side of the packet in neat, rounded hand.

She’d given him her phone number.

There was a definite spring in his step as he followed the path she had taken back down to the bar.