#he is competitive enough that if someone were to Challenge him to eat random objects... he probably would without any ounce of hesitation

[fedoraspooky]

If we gave Charlie random things to eat would he eat them? He could possibly get into those world record books for bizarre things being eaten. I mean he has eaten a mic before so why not?

Oh dear lord, please don't encourage him. @_@;

[tyrustrash]

Huge Updates

Hey, all! As you know, the world is in a certain state right now causing us to change our daily lives. One change for me is that I now have more time and motivation to write. Also, I published a book on Amazon!! It is a collection of short stories, some of which you have seen but with some changes (For obvious reasons) The link is this: Orientation https://www.amazon.com/dp/B085RRGQ2N/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_919HEbGVEBPPR Also, I am in the process of writing three more books!!!! Which is what I wanted to share with you. The chapters below will be the first two chapters of my young adult novel. The story is about two guys from seemingly different paths meet each other and bond over their shared pain. Theo is a member of a band that is trying to get signed to an agency, while Lucky is his college's best soccer player trying to get his team to nationals. They begin a secret relationship as they uncover more about themselves and their dark pasts. Some more info about the book: the couple is white-latino/asain, contains some sexual content, eating disorders, self-harm, and more. The other novels in development are as followed: 1. A story following a group of guys on a reality competition show competing to be members of a new boy band. 2. A group of teenagers gaining special powers and forming a team to save their town, and the world, from danger. (Has potential to be a series) 3. The other book I mentioned is another collection of never before seen short stories. I hope y'all enjoy the preview of my first novel! Chapter 1: Lo Mejor Comienza The crowd cheered their lungs out as they hyped up their favorite band, Going After You. The sold-out stadium held 40,000 of their fans holding every bit of merchandise the group had. There were a few fortunate fans that struggled their way onto the stage to get ahold of a member, but security managed to drag them away. However, one fan was able to grab the edge of Lucas' shirt and pull off a piece as she was being dragged off. Lucas didn't mind it though, he took it as a sign that he was their favorite, which he had that thought for all the fans. The members of the band looked out into the crowd and smiled as they continued their set. Lucas made sure to make his perfectly white teeth reflect the stage lights into the audience as he gave his perfect smile while he sang. His posture gave off high-end clothing store mannequin vibes: same old them as the rest, but somehow seen as better since where it came from. Gabe banged the drums while giving his rounds of pterodactyl screeching in between beats. The sweat coming from his head flew across the stage because of his hair flinging around caused by his head banging. Blake played his guitar with his swift fingers as he harmonized with Lucas. He had this chill aura around him that seemed to say that he was going with the flow. Lastly, Theo focused his attention on his keyboard. Unlike his bandmates, Theo chose to maintain his attention on his instrument. Not because he didn't appreciate his fans, all the hours spent writing letters and sending autographs said otherwise. He found it hard to multitask since he would get caught up in one thing and ignore the other. At one point in the concert he attempted to nod and smile to the fans, but he got off-key and played the wrong notes. Other than that one mishap, that night had gone well. The band stayed after for three hours to do the meet and greet with the fans. Although their entire bodies were hurting like hell, the pain was worth it if it meant making their fans happy. Everything was running smoothly. Fans stood in a straight line, which was harder than it seemed given they would let their excitement control them and try to form a tsunami, then they would get a picture with the group. So on and so on. This whole cycle repeated itself, concert and after show activities, for three weeks, with another six to go, they never wanted it to end. It was what they always dreamt about. All the hard work, all the nights without sleep, all the tears shed due to the stress-induced anxiety. All of it was finally worth it. However, sometimes it seemed liked hell on Earth. The pain and scars on their hands from their instruments. The times where they lost their voice from singing for up to eight hours a day. The visits to the hospital for when fans get too wild and would manage to make contact with a member. It was challenging in the beginning to form a balance, but it eventually happened. They wanted stardom to continue. They wanted to win a Grammy, star in their own movie, and go down as one of the greatest bands in musical history. Aside from those generic goals, each member had their own goal. Lucas wanted to be a model in New York Fashion Week. Gabe wanted to be the new owner of Playboy magazine. Blake wanted to start a non-profit organization. Theo wanted the loud banging would end. The loud banging. Theo rapidly blinked his eyes and looked around, suddenly snapping out of his daydream. He felt the cold water of the shower over his body. He wiped some of the water off of his face, also while taking a deep breath. He was at a loss of words, mainly because there was nothing for him to say at this point. "Two and a half hours." Lucas softly yelled, but in a nice way, from the other side of the door. "Hurry up. Some of us need our beauty shower." Although his time in the shower always took at least two hours, which all the others knew at that point, it felt like ten minutes. He always tried to shorten his time, but he never got around to fixing it. He never got around to fixing himself. "That's not a real thing." Theo heard Blake make the comment. "Oh shut up" Lucas said as his voice faded off, presumably going off to get his bathing kit from his room. Theo looked down and realized that there were still bits of thrown up food on the floor of the shower. It was rare that he would go off into his imagination after his habit. His shower routine typically consisted of beginning contemplating life, then spend most of his time dreaming, and end with him panic purging while rushing to get done. But lately he has been under a lot of stress. He finished up cleaning and turned the shower off. He placed an extra towel on the floor, per the request of Lucas, so that water didn't get all over the floor. As he dried himself off, he wiped off some steam that was on the mirror. The way he looked at his reflection, it was like seeing someone he didn't know. It was like there was something missing, something wrong. He looked around the room and his eyes fixated on random objects. Blake's razor that he always left out. A pair of Gabe's underwear, something that the boy always forgot to take to his room once he finished showering. Judging by the pair it seemed like it had been there for two days. His eyes locked on the can of air freshener sitting on top of the toilet. He felt short of breath seeing the tiny droplet of blood on the bottom of the can. He picked it up and turned it. Feeling the aluminum on his hands made his breathing stagger, it made his lip quiver. He inhaled sharply as his hands gripped the can tighter. Bringing the can closer to his body, a tear rolled down his cheek. Before he could do anything else, Lucas shouting stopped him, for now. "I need to get in now if I plan on getting enough sleep tonight." "I'm almost done." Theo said monotonal. He wished he meant it, but it's only the beginning. Gripping the can, causing his hands to fade into red, he turned his attention to the door. What was on the other side could have helped him, but it was no use. He was of no use. Not wanting to do anything else, he came back to his normal state of mind and brushed his hair with the brush that he has had since he was eight. He checked his phone for any notifications, but there was nothing. He frowned thinking he ruined everything. He put on his night hoodie and shorts then exited into the hall. Upon entering the hallway, he took note of Lucas and Blake arguing over some skincare routine. Lucas swore he needed to spend at least an hour on his routine for it to work, however, Blake counterattacked that he shouldn't be rushing Theo since he would spend as much time in the bathroom. Lucas grabbed his suitcase-sized bag of products and carried it into the bathroom. Theo grew worried that he was the one who had caused their argument, then wished he had used the can. Blake sighed as he plopped down on the couch. He turned on the TV and Pitch Perfect was playing. He turned up the volume but made sure it wasn't loud enough to wake up Gabe who was already asleep. They had their TV set to just music-themed programs, thanks to Gabe's technological skill. Last night they watched the first season of Glee. They wanted to watch every known music-related thing so they could take inspiration and help with their band. Their band. Although they had only been active for a year, they managed to gain a steady following and regular gigs at some small clubs that would allow a group of high schoolers to perform. Going After You was named after them chasing their dream to be the next big thing, which didn't make sense to some people but it was the group's style. However, they have yet to make any real progress in the real world. Maybe it had to do with them constantly changing their music style, but whatever it was, they needed to buckle down. Theo walked to the kitchen and poured himself a big glass of milk, with a bendy straw to go through the lid. He contemplated for a bit before he made the cup, but he needed something to ease his stomach. He made his way over to the couch and sat next to Blake. "Just like my showers, you should be used to Lucas' skin routine." Theo said as he brought his legs up to sit crisscrossed. Blake chuckled as he took a bite of the sandwich he had made earlier. "I know, but it still gets annoying. Mainly because he thinks it'll actually work. He's been doing that shit for a year now and it hasn't done a damn thing." Theo laughed a little, nearly causing him to snort out milk. "Come on, you're supposed to be the nice one of us." "Can't be the nice one when Lucas has been keeping me awake for the past two hours because he needed someone to complain to about not being able to get into the bathroom." "Sorry." Theo said with a soft voice. "Don't worry about it, I had some fun messing with him. It's so fun freaking him out." Theo gave out a soft laugh before Blake straightened himself a little. His face became a mixture of concern and stern, making Theo tense up and scoot away from him. "So, you know you're supposed to be last in the bathroom order." Theo looked down at his cup. He tried not frowning, but kept his feelings to himself, like always. "It was just that I had dinner before you guys." "What does that have to do with anything?" Before Theo could answer, Gabe walked in from his room, in only his underwear. He scratched his lower back as he made his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and drank some milk straight from the jug. Blake let out a heavy groan, but Gabe didn't care. After that, Gabe grabbed a beer and went to sit in the recliner. Gabe was the one that didn't care about how he looked, he always had high confidence in himself that he didn't care what others thought about him. One time he went to school in a skintight spandex suit that outlined some of his more prominent features, resulting in him having to be sent home to change. Another time he went streaking across the neighborhood. He even managed to outrun the cops that were called. As he sipped his beer, Gabe adjusted his crotch which caused Blake to make a face of disgust. "Bro, I'm trying to eat." "Don't act like you've never adjusted yourself." Gabe replied while keeping his focus on the TV. He took another sip. "We're all guys, we've all done it." "But at least I have the decency to not do that while someone's eating." As the two discussed crotch touching and other typical guy things that Theo never understood or cared enough to learn more about, Theo stared blankly ahead, focusing on nothing. The world around him started fading and his surroundings transitioned into a new setting as he went back into his dreamworld for the eighth time that day. This time he imagined them all performing at his future wedding. He was marrying the person people expected him to marry, but he was sharing the moment with his closest friends, nothing could ruin it. Well, one thing. The person he imagined he was marrying. It was the wrong person. Wrong for him, but right for his parents. As he played his keyboard, he used his peripheral vision and he saw his parents sitting in the front while cheering his name. Their cheers grew louder and louder. Every time they said his name, he found it harder to concentrate. The loudness became unbearable to the point it snapped him back to reality, where he found where he heard his name being shouted. Theo sat between his two friends as they were both looking at him. Gabe patted Theo's shoulder as he leaned closer. "So, which is it?" "Which is what?" Theo asked as he became confused. He looked at the hand on his shoulder and started to build up panic. Blake let out a sigh as he tossed his paper plate in the trash can next to the couch. "The theme for our gig tomorrow night. I wanted to go for more modern and pop-ish since it would fit the crowd, but Gabe wants full out punk and rock and roll." "I thought y'all were talking about crotches." Theo remarked as he stirred the straw in his cup, seemingly easing himself. He scrunched his face thinking about his friends talk about touching themselves. "We were." Said Gabe. He finished his beer and tossed it towards the trash can, but missed. Blake picked it up and threw it away. "But it turned into trying to finalize what we're doing tomorrow." "I don't care. Just decide. It's just a soccer game that we're performing at. I mean, who even does that? And a college game too." Gabe chuckled as he patted Theo's back. "It's a paid gig, and it's exposure. "You say that every time." Blake told him. "Well, it is. And it would be one of the biggest crowds we've performed at. Anyone could be watching, like an agent, or scouts for a reality show." "You also say that every time." "Man, what's your deal? You don't seem like you care." "I care. It's just that if we keep changing our style for each performance, then it'll be harder to get signed to a label." "It's called having range. It shows we can do any genre." Gabe turned back to Theo. "So, what style? "Pop, I guess. We've done that the most and it seems to be a crowd pleaser every time." Theo said after thinking for a second. Like Gabe, he was just as eager to get signed. But like Blake, he had the mindset of sticking to one style until they get signed. Another moment in their band career that seemed to be one of the most challenging things. Before Theo could get up and go to his room, he noticed the marks on Gabe. There were kiss marks made from pink lipstick covering the area above Gabe's boxers. He pointed at them, resulting in the other two to look. "What's that?" Gabe laughed. "Come on, man. I know you haven't been with a girl, but I'm sure you know what this is and where it came from." "Is she here now?" Blake asked as he stood up. His face getting redder than a teacher's mark on a test when they give someone an "F". "I mean, obviously. I came out of my room when we finished. Fucking my girlfriend really makes me thirsty." "Bro, you know what the lease says. No overnight guests." "What they don't know won't hurt them." "Hold up, how long has she been here? When did you bring her?" "About four hours ago. We've been at it that long, a new record. Had to miss dinner, but don't worry, I ate alright." Theo shook his head. "Wait, she's been here for a while? Usually you two make as much noise as possible." "Wanted to try it out to see if we could, now we know we can do it even while y'all are asleep. But it was hard getting it one while having to hear y'all argue over some damn skincare routine, but perhaps the arguing helped cover it up a little." "No no no." Blake interjected, completely ignoring the second part. "She is not allowed overnight." "Come on. It's not that serious. She has stayed over countless times before and no one noticed." "What! Do you know how much trouble we'll be in if we're caught? We could be evicted!" "Calm thyself. We haven't been caught yet, and we won't. As long as you don't snitch. Besides, don't act like you've never broken that rule." Blake fell silent for a quick second. He blinked rapidly before speaking with a slightly higher-pitched voice. "I don't know what you're talking about." "Melissa. I know she has stayed over before after one of your escapades." "That was different." "How?" "It was accidental. We went to sleep immediately afterwards and forgot." "Yeah right." "Theo, you have anything to say right now?" Blake asked as a way of changing the subject, but no response. He and Gabe looked back and saw Theo standing at the side of the couch staring blankly at the wall. "THEO!" Theo blinked rapidly and gazed his attention to the two of them. "What now?" "Nothing." Blake sighed. "Just go to bed now. You really need the sleep." Before anyone could do anything else, the bathroom door opened and Lucas stepped out. His face was covered with one of his face masks. "Can y'all stop arguing, please. The yelling isn't good for my skin." "The hell." Gabe said. "How is us yelling upsetting your skin?" "I'll have you know that people yelling makes me stress, and stress can cause breakouts. I can't have any of that, especially at tomorrow's gig. In fact, I can't have that ever. I have to stay looking flawless." Before Lucas could continue with his routine, he turned to Blake. "Before you freak out again and we have a repeat of tonight, I've also broken that rule. Better get your rage out now and soon. Can't have too much more yelling." Blake couldn't say anything to him since he quickly slammed the door. With a final huff for the night he went to his room. Gabe smirked. "It's adorable when he loses." "Maybe." Theo said. He went to the kitchen and rinsed out his cup. While he was there, he began doing everyone's dishes, not because they had a rotation, but because he wanted to. "Sometimes it's hard dealing with an argument over the smallest things." "But sometimes it's fun. Right?" Theo smiled a little. "Yeah. Can be." "That's the spirit!" Gabe grabbed two more beers from the fridge and before he headed to his room, he went beside Theo. He placed a hand on his shoulder, causing Theo to become worried. "Hey, you'll find a girl someday, just keep looking. And I'll make sure to not tell Blake if you bring her over and you want her to stay over." "Thanks." The faintness of Theo's voice was barely audible. He didn't even look at Gabe, only keeping his head down. Gabe went into his room, leaving Theo alone. He looked around and took in his surroundings. Just a plain and small apartment the group found a few months ago. They saved up from all their gigs for nearly a year to be able to afford it. It wasn't anything to brag about, but it was better than what he had before. His family, his neighbors, everything about his old life, it was too much. He wanted to leave it all, and he did. Or so he thought. After pushing back any memories from his past he wanted to forget, and also finishing washing the dishes, he made his way to his room. Along the way he heard moaning coming from Gabe's room. Before he could enter his own room, Lucas stepped out of the bathroom, bare naked except for some scrub covering most of his body. Theo attempted not to look, but failed since Lucas always made a presence when he entered a room. "Ayo, Theo." He said, his hand on his hip, hip sticking out. "Don't worry about what Gabe said. You know how he is." Theo could barely form a sentence. "How do you know what he said?" "Dude, the apartment is smaller than Gabe's brain. You can hear everything." They laughed. Theo turned the handle of his door. "Nice to see you taking time out of your routine to console me." Lucas shrugged. "No biggie. Besides, I had to let my body scrub settle." "I can see." He thought for a second. "Well, I don't want to see. I've always questioned what you did in there for so long, maybe I didn't have to know." "Well, know you do. Now, what do you do in the shower that takes two hours?" Theo's eyes slightly widened. He felt short of breath but pulled together a response. "You'll never know." He said in a quick and sassy tone. Lucas nodded at Theo before he went back inside the bathroom. Theo opened his bedroom door and went in. He slammed the door and leaned back on it. He exhaled heavily. After standing for a minute, he made his way to his bed. It helped clear his mind by looking around his room and seeing all his favorites things. His room was decorated with posters of his favorite musicians, including various Kpop groups, mainly Got7, Kard, Twice, CLC, Day6, and Girls' Generation, and posters of American artists like Ariana Grande and boy band In Real Life. He had lots of stuffed animals scattered around the room. There was a box of snacks beside his bed that held snacks that he saved up for weeks. He sat on his bed the main dating app on his phone. He opened the chat he had started with someone he has been talking to for the past few weeks. Still no new response. He plugged his phone onto its charger and placed it on the windowsill next to him. He pulled out and opened his laptop and pulled up his search engine. He began researching the college they would be performing at. Although it was in their town, he somehow knew nothing about it other than that it valued sports over academics, like most American schools. He mainly focused on the soccer team. He found articles talking about how the team has had a mixed season so far and was unsure if they'll qualify for nationals. Searching further, he found profiles for each member. He spent the next hour reading about what each person was like personality wise and about their skill level. All of them seemed impressive on paper, but somehow weren't on the field at times. They had never qualified for Nationals, which made them the only team at their university not to do so. Statistics show that this season was their best, which wasn't saying much since it was like a toss of a coin if they won a game or not. During his time reading, one player in particular caught his attention. Lucky Moon. Not just because of his name, but his other attributes, he stood out. He made the most goals this season, given that he was the striker. Off the field, he helped volunteer by tutoring other students and being an assistant coach for a little league team. He seemed like the model student, the perfect person. Theo smiled reading more about him. Delving deeper, Theo learned that the college actually did halftime shows for all the sporting events. One time they had an aerial acrobatics group perform at a volleyball match. Although it seemed weird for a college to go all out for a sporting event, it could pay off for their band in the end. Hopefully. Shutting down for the night, he put up his computer and covered himself with his favorite blanket, the one he had since he was a child. He laid his head down on his green monkey pillow as he thought about tomorrow. How it could be the best day of the group's career. All the possibilities that could come from it. The best began tomorrow. Chapter 2: Stop the Rain The mixture of rain and sweat covered Lucky's face as he ran across the field. He didn't bother wiping it off, it made him stronger, it built up endurance. The grass was harder to run across because he hasn't been cleaning his shoes properly and almost had moments where he almost slipped. There was only one set of lights on, somewhat keeping him warm. He kept on running, while also kicking the ball, for what seemed like forever. He had just reached the halfway point. Every so often he would tighten his fists, which kept him awake. It was two in the morning. He had hardly gotten sleep the night before, and the night before that, and basically every night for the past week. Soccer cleared his mind, made all the stress go away. Not only was this time in the early mornings useful for extra practice, it was his time to think and relax. His schedule was filled with classes and practice that he doesn't get a break. Whenever he was in his dorm, his roommate made too much noise with his gaming stuff and the occasional party. Lucky started getting up early to get some alone time on the field before he went back to his dorm to get a little more rest before his seven o'clock class. It wasn't the healthiest schedule experts might say, but it worked, it helped him stay stable, physically and emotionally. Something that he always needed work on. He shook his head thinking about his wounds, he needed to focus. Focus on his future, his grades, his happiness, but most importantly the ball he was kicking. He finally reached near the goal to shoot. With a hard kick, the ball leaped off the ground and swerved to the back of the net, nearly tearing it. He slightly nodded and gathered the ball. He made his way to the nearest bench, which held a towel and his water bottle. He sat down and wiped his face with the towel, which was about useless since the rain had gotten it damp. What it did was absorb what it could, but his face had streaks of liquid. In the end, he didn't know why he did anything with the towel other than it was muscle memory, the rain would just get his face wetter. He took several chugs from his bottle, the water moisturizing his dry throat. Picking up his bag, he placed the bottle in the side pouch and the ball in the back. While he was standing to leave, he saw a figure walking towards him. Upon closer examination, it was Coach Jupiter. She carried an umbrella and was dressed in her coaching attire. Coach Jupiter held out the umbrella to Lucky, but he remained in his spot next to the bench. She slightly nodded and got as close to him without making him feel uncomfortable. "What're you doing out here at this time of day?" Lucky shrugged his shoulders. When he opened his mouth his words came out bold, yet calm. "Extra practice." "It's not good to practice out in the rain." She came closer to him to try getting him under the umbrella, but he stepped back. "It helps build stamina." He said with even more boldness, but with a kind inflection. He didn't know if it was true, he thought it sounded like she would believe him. "Also helps with feet work." "Need someone to practice with?" "I was just leaving." "Too bad. I thought since you were here at this hour you were committed to the team." "I am!" Lucky shouted. Upon realizing that he raised his voice, he lowered his head in shame. "Sorry." "No need to apologize. Besides, how did you even get on the field?" Lucky kept his head down, feeling ashamed at what he did. "I picked the lock on the gate. But I always make sure to lock it back up when I leave." "Always?" She said while raising an eyebrow. Lucky realized what he said and step back a little while scratching his leg with his foot. "You've done this before? When? How long?" "Every day for the past two weeks." His voice was weaker than before. He sat down on the bench, resting his head in his hands. He began sobbing, his words becoming semi-inaudible. "I'm so sorry. Please don't kick me off the team." Coach Jupiter sat down next to him and held the umbrella over both of them. "Hey, calm down, it's alright. You're not off the team." "Really? Isn't what I did against some kind of rules?" Coach shrugged. "Yeah, most definitely, but I'm not going to report you or do anything." "Thank you." He said with a sigh of relief. However, he raised an eyebrow. "How did you know I was here?" "I got a notice from a bystander saying the lights were on. I came to see what was up." Lucky nodded a little. "I didn't mean any harm." "I know, but," She started saying, causing Lucky to look up and gulp. "If you wanted more time to practice, why didn't you contact me and set up an extra schedule? I would've worked with you. That's what I'm here for." Lucky stayed silent for a minute. Coach looked at him with her wide eyes, trying to figure him out based on his body language. He was hunched over, feet shaking, his right hand was brushing through his hair, and he still had a few tears coming out. "It's okay." She said. "Take your time." Lucky took a deep breath. Thoughts ran through his head and he didn't know what to say. He could tell the truth, which was more than likely a bad idea. Or he could say what she more than likely wanted to hear. Whatever he said, he made sure to make it seem better what was the truth. "I just wanted to practice some more. I know nationals means a lot to the team, and to you since it'll be your first one as a coach, and I felt like since the others look up to me, I needed to be better so we can win some more and qualify. I didn't ask for your help because I wanted to improve on my own. To show that I have the discipline and dedication." All Coach could do was nod and pat Lucky's shoulder, which seemed to calm him down. "Lucky, you are an amazing player, perhaps the best one on the team." "And I want to be better." He interjected. "I want us to go to nationals. I want to see that trophy in our case." Coach Jupiter let out a soothing sigh. "And we will, one day. Maybe this year, or maybe next year, but we will win it. But we won't if we're not in our best condition. Next time you want extra practice, talk to me and we can work out a healthier and somewhat better schedule. How does that sound?" Lucky looked her in her eyes. He couldn't form any kind of facial expression. But Coach made a face though. She seemed like she cared. He was happy to have someone in his life that seemed like they cared about him, someone who wanted to spend time with him, but he shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll see about it." He told her as he stood and put on his bag. "Let's see how we do at this next game." Coach stood up. She gave him another pat on the shoulder before she walked off, leaving him standing in the rain. Lucky looked up at the sky. A few drops of rain hit his eyes, causing him to blink rapidly. As he started walking to his dorm, he wiped some rain away, kicked some grass, and sighed heavily. He managed to get to the door and lock it back up, making it seem no one was ever there. As he walked away, the single set of lights that was on started flickering, then went dark. Lucky entered his dorm building and pushed the button for the elevator. He rested his hand on his hip as he waited. The elevator always took forever, even though there were only five floors. He didn't mind waiting, especially after practicing. It gave him a little time to cool off. The elevator dinged. The doors opened and there was only one person getting out. "Sup, Lucky!" The guy said as he went into a bro hug. Lucky accepted the hug. Although he wasn't too close to him, they did have some sort of friendship through Lucky's tutoring sessions. The guy left and Lucky took his spot in the elevator. He pushed the button for the fifth floor and watched the door close. The elevator always felt like it was going slower than a snail. He thought since they were paying a ridiculous amount for housing, the service would be good quality. The long time, the interior falling about, and the constant smell of sewage, and all that was just for the elevator. The rooms were worse. Upon coming onto his floor, he looked around at all the decorations. Each floor had a different theme, and his theme was the ocean. Cut-outs of different ocean animals covered the wall, along with streamers of different shades of blue. A pinboard hanging on the wall next to the elevator held mini questionnaires filled out by the residents of the floor. One of the questions was if they were a sea creature, which would they be. Lucky answered dolphin, because they are sleek, fast, and that people often make assumptions about them and have no reason to worry. He reached his assigned room at the end of the hall. He looked at his name tag, which was a dolphin, which he thought was a coincidence. He tapped the head of the dolphin before entering, a ritual he had since he started college. Touching his name tag before he entered his room. The first thing he saw was one of his roommates, Matt, asleep on the couch. Lucky grabbed a blanket form the rack in the corner and covered him up. Matt let out a weird groaning noise and turned but stayed asleep. When Lucky went to open his bedroom door, it was locked. "I'm busy!" His main roommate, Spada, yelled from the room. "Come back in a few minutes!" Before walking off, Lucky could hear the noise of a bed squeaking. Grunting, he went to the little kitchen area. Every time he really needed to get some rest, Spada pulled some shit like that. Every time he was gone for longer than thirty minutes Spada had her over. But he never had the strength to say anything. Opening the fridge, his face remained emotionless at the sight of a basically empty fridge. At that point, he was just over his roommates not keeping up with the one simple task of grocery shopping. The only thing edible he could see was some milk, a few slices of leftover pizza, and a half empty ketchup bottle. He grabbed a slice of pizza and poured him a glass of milk. As he chewed, he pulled out his phone and opened a dating app and went to the message section. There was only one person who had a conversation. Lucky smiled for the first time that day. He thought he might've met someone but didn't know if it would work out. He didn't know what to respond with. He hadn't replied for at least five hours. The right words had yet to come, even though the other person's message was really simple. It asked what he was like when he was younger. They had been getting to know each other better, but he has been picky about what he shared, especially life before college. He didn't want to change the subject since it seemed rude, but he also didn't want to make them mad by lying. He began typing a sentence but stopped when he heard his bedroom door open. Spada's girlfriend lurked out of the dorm, waving to him as she exited. Spada came out next, only in his boxer briefs. He went to the fridge and sipped some of the milk straight from the jug. "Can you please use a glass?" Lucky said as he took another bite of the pizza. Spada placed the milk back in the fridge. He maneuvered his way around the tiny kitchen space and leaned up against the counter next to Lucky. "You already have some." "Besides the point. Others might want some later and they more than likely don't want your germs. Besides, I know where your mouth has been." Before Spada could respond, he finally got a sniff of Lucky and nearly gagged. "Dude, you stink." Lucky sniffed his own armpit and shrugged. He has grown accustomed to his stench that he built up an immunity to it. It took him really trying to sniff to catch it. "Yeah, I do. It's called sweating. It's what comes when one is physically active." "I'm physically active." "Sex and parties don't count." "Hey, don't diss those. I be sweating pretty hard while doing so." Spada crossed his arms. "You need to shower. I don't want to be smelling that the rest of the night." Lucky turned to him and scolded him. "I was going to when I got here, but you were busy." Spada stood straight up in a defensive manner. "You know the rule we set up at the beginning of the year. If one of us has company over, we shall give them privacy." "But I didn't think it would include the middle of the night." "There weren't any time restrictions when we made the deal." "Whatever." Lucky sighed as he made his way to the bedroom. Before he took off to the shower, he looked back at Spada, who was shaking his head. "You know," Spada started saying. "I wouldn't mind waiting out here for whatever amount of time you needed. That's if you ever bring a girl over." With that, Lucky slammed the door. There were times he despised Spada. Times where just his presence caused annoyance. He had the typically rich daddy's boy vibe, but lacked the rich daddy. Whined whenever he didn't get his way, bitch until he does, just plain punchable. On the other hand, there were times Spada was kind of tolerable. The times where they got drunk together were nice and good bonding moments, but those were rare sense Lucky didn't want to risk showing up to class or practice with a hangover. Spada once invited him to a threeway with his girlfriend on the terms that they wouldn't do anything with each other, but he declined out of respect. One time they to the arcade and made a mountain with all the tickets they had earned, then destroying it by jumping into it and rolling around. Putting all those thoughts behind him, Lucky went straight to the bathroom and locked the door. He stood in front of the mirror and stood straight into his eyes. He began that state of being where everything around him became too real and where he started contemplating life. What life was, what he was doing there, and what will happen if he dies. Or in his case what would've happened if he had died. Or what things would be like if he was never born. Shaking his head rapidly, he got out of those thoughts. He turned on the shower and waited for it to get hot. In the meantime, he took off his clothes and placed them neatly in the corner. Remaining in only his black briefs, he went back to staring at himself in the mirror. This time he stared at his body. At the wounds he had. The cuts across his six-pack. The bruises on his sides. The everlasting burn wound on the upper part of his arm. As he ran his fingers over it all, he tried staying strong. He kept reassuring himself that it'll all be over soon. He wanted to continue looking, but the mirror fogging up stopped him. He took off his underwear and stepped into the shower. The hot water hit him sharply, giving him the best feeling he has had for the day. He simply stood in the middle of the shower and let the water go all over him. It took him a good minute or two to begin. He poured some of his Axe body wash on his hands and started rubbing his body. He took it easy around his wounds since they were sensitive. He used the green apple shampoo his sister got him, only because he was out of his regular kind. He let his hand slip down his body until he reached his v-line. He tapped his fingers across it, enjoying the tingling sensation that slowed throughout his body. He let out a soft moan as he reached lower. He grasped his crotch and let out a louder moan. His head flung back and his eyes closed. Just the feeling could've made him finish since it had been forever since he had felt some sort of pleasure. He started moving his hand, the shampoo helped made a smooth rhythm. He used his other hand to rub his chest. His hands became synchronized in motion resulting in a higher amount of pleasure. All the feelings going through his body sped up his hands and he couldn't stop. It felt like electricity going through his veins, lighting was about to be next. Just as he was about to release, there was a loud bang on the door. It startled him so much that his hand sharply gripped over himself and he released over the front of the shower. His knees felt like jelly and he had to hold onto the rail so he wouldn't fall to the ground. "Hurry up, bro!" Spada said. Lucky took a moment to catch his breath. "I can't fall asleep with the shower running." Lucky groaned as he cleaned up, again, and turned the shower off. He stepped out, dried off, and wrapped the towel around his waist. He wiped off some of the steam on the mirror and brushed his hair. In the corner, he saw some of his residue on the corner of the tub. He took the edge of the towel and wiped it up so that Spada wouldn't complain. Finally finished, he grabbed his dirty clothes and walked into the bedroom and over to his dresser. He took off his towel and tossed it and the clothes into the basket. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a pair of light blue briefs. After he put them on, Spada turned on his bed and faced the ceiling. "Sorry about earlier." Lucky went to his bed and got under the covers. He took note of Spada's weird change in attitude, which wasn't uncommon. He adjusted himself and his pillows before responding. "About what?" "About saying if you ever bring a girl over." Spada let out a sigh. "I didn't mean to come off snarky." "It's fine." No it wasn't, but it wasn't the time. "Don't worry about it." "My thing is," He started, resulting in a soft groan from Lucky. "You're so attractive, no homo, you can get any girl you want. You're the star soccer player, a people helper, and you're Asian, girls love ethnic guys now." "Don't say that!" Lucky slightly yelled. He hated it when people brought up his race, not because he was ashamed, but because he thought it was never needed to be brought up. "I thought you were tired? Why don't you get some sleep, maybe it'll help your brain." "Hey, don't get upset at me for stating facts." "Well I don't want to hear your so-called facts." "Well, what do you want to hear?" "You sleeping." Spada chuckled. "Man, I can help you." "I don't need your help." Lucky turned to face the wall. "What's your type? Blonde, brunette, redhead? Maybe another ethnic person." Lucky became furious. He grabbed a bottle of water from under his bed and threw it at Spada. "Stop saying that! As I said before, I don't want or need your help. Stay out of my personal life and leave me the fuck alone!" Without saying anything, Spada made a face of confusion with a mix of anger. He tried throwing the bottle back, but it failed to reach halfway across the room. He huffed and turned to face the wall. Lucky wept silent tears. He pulled out his phone and went back to the message conversation. He scrolled through the entire thread, wanting to relive one of the happy parts his life had. From where they talked about school, hobbies, and dreams for the future. Although he had a gist of what he wanted for his dream, all he could think about was making a new dream reality. After a long time of thinking, he finally decided what to say. Let's talk, in person, after my soccer game. I know a place we could go and be alone. With a simple click of a button, his life changed. Whether it was for good or bad, that was debatable. What wasn't was his feelings. Feelings for soccer, feelings for freedom, and feelings for the one person that could truly care about him. A ding. Lucky looked back at his phone and formed a small smile at the message notification. He smiled more when he read it. I'll be there.

[mads-maddie-madison]

Antithetical -part 2

(Hawthorne!Michael)

//NOTE// I hope this part is more fulfilling than the last. It is slightly edited, but it was done in the middle of class so we’ll see how that goes, lol.

Summary: After Robichaux's supreme, Cordelia Foxx, allows Hawthorne's own Boy Wonder, Michael Langdon, to attempt the test of the Seven Wonders, y/n has a problem accepting that. She will stop at nothing to prove he is anything but the next supreme, even if that means attempting the test herself.

Warnings: Light Angst, sexual tension (?)

Word Count: 1.8k

xx

I groaned, slamming my laptop shut. My eyes were throbbing, dry. They felt like they were ashes left by the coals of a burning fire. I had been studying for three days now, no break in sight, at least not until after Sunday afternoon. I rubbed my eyes, looking at the time. Eleven-thirty-two, I had been at this for almost four hours. Shuffling out of my chair, I made my way towards the door. I at least needed something to eat before I spent the rest of my day head deep in grimoires.

"And where do you think you're going?" I internally groaned at the malicious voice, words dripping with arrogance. "And why do you care, Langdon?" I refused to stop, continuing my strides down the white hallway, trying to focus on the photos of past witches rather than Michael's presence behind me, following my every step. "Well Miss y/l/n, I'm only looking out for your well being, seeing as how you'll need every moment of studying you can get if you want to even have a chance against myself." Every moment I spoke to him, it felt like his ego inflated. I didn't believe I could feel so much resentment towards another human being, if that's even what you'd call him. "You're so confident that you'll succeed, what makes you think I won't?" I cascaded my way down the stairs focusing myself towards the kitchen, glancing back at him. His posture all the same as it was three days ago. Hands held behind his back, chest broadened to show dominance. His blonde hair swept to the sides, and the same black uniform that all the Hawthorne warlocks wore. I made a mental note to make sure I looked as prepared as he does on Sunday. "It's blatantly obvious y/n, I've seen your reports. You're mediocre in all your classes. Not to mention, you've shown no abilities that even begin to compare to mine." That damn smirk spread across his face again, oh how badly I wanted to smack it off. "Just like how it's blatantly obvious that you're a self-absorbed, conceded asshole?" He chuckled, knowing he was getting a rise out of me. I reached over the counter, grabbing a red apple from the bowl in the center. "I can assure you, Mr. Langdon, that you most definitely have competition this Sunday. I would jump off of that high horse of yours before you fall." Biting into the apple as I made direct eye contact with him, his ice blue eyes staring straight back at me. Had he not been such an arrogant, self-centered jackass, I may even think he was beautiful. He said nothing, just continued to look straight through me. As if he was reading everything about me by a simple look. "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to discourage me, you want me to question myself and my own abilities. I can promise you it's not going to work." With that I walked out of the kitchen, the feeling of his eyes glaring into my back as I left the room.

I knew what he was trying to do, if he discouraged me it was likely that I'd do worse in the seven wonders. I sighed as I looked back towards my desk, the mountain of books and papers spread across the surface. I had already mastered telekinesis, having had been one of my original abilities when I first arrived at Robichaux. Concilium followed, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a challenge. I decided I needed help, so I texted Mallory asking for her to meet me in my room. "What did you need help with?" I looked up from my book as Mallory walked through my bedroom door. "Concilium, I need someone to practice on." She nodded in understanding, sitting across my bed. "Alright well before you do anything, just please, nothing embarrassing." I chuckled at her, "Agreed." I turned my chair, focusing on Mallory. I focused my thought on making her stand, grabbing the random shirt that was thrown onto the floor and imagining her folding it. I had stared at her for what felt like forever, nothing was happening. "This is ridiculous!" I sighed in frustration, "You're thinking too hard y/n. Don't stress it, let your mind flow freely." I let out a deep breath of air, I knew she was right. Maybe Michael had gotten to me earlier, this shouldn't be so difficult. I reverted my attention back to Mallory, "Alright, let's try this again." I freed my mind of any thought of Michael, of the test, any worry I had to think of. Slowly, I watched Mallory stand and walk towards the corner where my shirt resided. Picking it up, she walked towards the bed, folding it neatly and setting it down. "See y/n, you just have to be stress free."

Pyrokinesis was next, I grabbed the candle that sat on my nightstand. Running my hand over the wick, I watched the flame ignite. I smiled to myself, I had succeeded in three of the seven wonders, at least I was getting somewhere. "Alright Mallory, I need you to help me with divination." She agreed and walked out of the room, not returning for what felt like five minutes. "Okay, you need to find something that once belonged to Cordelia." I nodded, I closed my eyes, focusing on the energy that engulfed the rooms atmosphere, I allowed my thoughts to bring me towards the object of my desire. I stood up, walking out of my room and down the hall towards the end where a pot full of decorative wooden sticks rested. Reaching out I grabbed Cordelia's old support cane, from when she was attacked by her father-in-laws pets. "Is this it?" I questioned, facing Mallory, "yes."

Transmutation was anything but a challenge, so far I had this under my belt. The ball seemed to be in my court. Now I had to focus on Vitalum Vitalis, I grabbed the dead rose from my bed that I had gotten from the garden earlier. It just so happened to be one of the unfortunate few that didn't get enough sunlight. I bent over the rose, leaning my head down towards the red flower. I lightly blew onto it, attempting to transfer my own life force into the unlucky plant. I watched the petals slowly rejuvenate, lifting themselves up from a crippled, dried up mess to a soft, delicate rose once again. The shriveled up brown stem became a vibrant shade of green again, full of life. Now I could focus on the most challenging task; descensum.

This was the one I feared, the thing that would determine life or death. If I fail, my soul would be stuck in my own personal hell for eternity, whatever plan for a life ahead of me gone within the blink of an eye. I considered pushing it off for Sunday, if I were to die, then I could die attempting to save my coven. But if I attempted it now, and failed, I could die in the comfort of my own bed, quietly and peacefully. Mallory sat on my bed, silently watching me as I practiced. I glanced towards the clock for the second time today, four-fifty-seven. I inhaled a large sum of air, before slowly exhaling as I made my final decision. I would be no coward, I will practice descensum, but I won't attempt it until the day of the test. If I'm going to die, I'm going to go out proudly instead of hiding out behind the confinement of my own four walls.

xx

It was nearly one-thirty in the morning now, time had gotten away from me. The only thing that mattered was my passing of the test. The test that was in two days, I should be resting, knowing every minute of sleep was a gift. Every moment of peace mattered, in two days my life will forever be changed. For the better or the worst, I don't know. I had been laying here, tossing and turning for the majority of the time I had been in bed. Thinking of the different possibilities as to how this could end. If I passed, Michael wouldn't, if Michael passed, then I wouldn't. Each thought raking my mind, one right after another. I turned, facing the window, staring at the front yard. The thought of how Zoe had failed transmutation, ending up laid out across the forks of the gate. Suddenly it occurred to me that I was not the only one risking my life to complete this task, Michael was too. While I had hoped that I passed, I became worried at the thought of him failing in the worst way possible, my heart dropped to my stomach. ' Why do you care about him y/n?' I thought to myself, 'You barely know him, he means nothing to you.' I still thought the worst, Michael may be arrogant, but I surely didn't want him to die. Did I?

'No of course not! You'd never wish death upon anyone.'

"Thinking of me?" My head snapped to the doorway I hadn't noticed was open. My eyes met the tall dark figure that was Michael Langdon. "What are you doing in my room?" I immediately sat up, suddenly feeling exposed due to my sense of vulnerability. "My dear y/n, your thoughts are consuming." He urged forward, coming closer to the end of my bed. "So you're clairvoyant as well? Good to know," I huffed, pulling my blanket up to cover my tank top adorned torso. "Well I tend to listen in when I'm the main topic. Worried for me are we?" Even though I couldn't exactly see it due to the darkness of the room, I could practically hear the signature smirk on his face. "Why would I worry for you?" I attempted to rebuttal, trying my best to hide my thoughts, not wanting him to learn anything further. This time he sat at the edge of my bed, slowly leaning over me. His face now lit by the light of the moon shining through my window. "Don't deny it Miss y/l/n," he slowly reached his right hand up to push a strand of hair behind my ear. "I think we both know I mean a little bit more to you than you'd care to admit." He was so close I could smell the mint on his breath. He leaned a little bit closer, mouth resting over the lobe of my ear. I could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke, "Good luck Sunday." Suddenly I was alone again, the ghost of his words haunting me to sleep. Did I care for him more than I'd care to admit?

[thewriterscreed]

Halloween (Modern AU, Edward Kenway)

Edward loves Halloween. Absolutely adores it. It’s an excuse to get drunk, have a party, stuff himself with candy, and act absolutely crazy with his friends. What’s not to like?

To this end however, he has an innate need to be the most festive person on the block. It’s not enough to just throw on a dime-store mask and fall asleep in front of the television watching Friday the 13th. No. Competitive bastard that he is, Edward has to have the best costume, the best candy, and the best decorations. Otherwise what’s the point?

Last year that competitiveness meant Edward having to win the ‘Best Costume’ contest at Ade’s annual party. Deciding to dress as Batman, Edward had walked around perfecting the lowest, gravelliest voice he could manage until you could barely understand a word he said as well as having to put up with him crying over an imaginary ‘Rachel’ and only referring to you as ‘Robin’ for a solid month. The year before that had been the Halloween of the Great Spiked Cider Incident, where Edward had entered a drinking contest with a random party attendee and ended up getting so drunk you only found him the next morning, slumped in a corner with an empty glass still held in one hand.

This year the challenge came in the form of jack-o-lanterns.

The two of you had been out on a lovely evening stroll when you spotted a sign outside one of your favorite pubs describing a pumpkin carving contest taking place in a few days. Whomever could carve the best design during the three hours you were given would win free drinks for the rest of the year.

Edward was ecstatic. Halloween, competition, and free drinks all rolled up into one evening? It was his perfect night.

Immediately he dragged you to the grocery store where he picked out a few pumpkins to take home so he could practice his carving skills. Only problem was, Edward had no pumpkin carving skills. It seemed to be the one Halloween related thing that he had no talent at. Sure, he’d carved pumpkins before, but they had only been the traditional jack-o-lantern smile with two triangle eyes and a crooked nose. He didn’t seem to have the finesse necessary for small, intricate details and also seemed more adept at accidentally slicing his fingers than cutting the correct shapes out of the pumpkin itself.

But goddamn it he was determined, and you’d never known Edward to give up on anything before. So that night, after butchering the two pumpkins he’d already picked out from the grocery, he went back and got two more and after that two more, working on his designs well into the night.

You’d woken up that morning to find a row of ten pumpkin faces leering at you from the kitchen counter and three bins piled high with seeds pushed into the corner. You’d found a note from Edward plastered on the fridge as well, saying he’d taken an early run to the pumpkin patch and would be back later. You’d just laughed and gone to work, managing to put the pumpkins out of you mind. At least until you got home that night and walked into your living room to find more than twenty pumpkins scattered all over your furniture with Edward bent over his current project, his eyebrows bunched in concentration and about a million band-aids plastered onto one hand.

And it only got worse from there. A few days later you woke up to a pumpkin sitting on the pillow where Edward’s head should have been and you’d screamed so loud you were sure someone would call the police. You’d jumped out of bed to go confront Edward only to find you couldn’t even open your bedroom door because of a huge jack-o-lantern taking over the hallway.

His carvings were getting better though…objectively. After fifty pumpkins he could at least carve a face with some symmetry to it, though he still struggled with any detail that had to be completed with a blade smaller than a butcher’s knife. He was so excited though, that you couldn’t do much more than smile at him when he showed off his progress. You even offered to drive him to the pumpkin patch for one last haul.

The night of the competition then saw the two of you sitting on opposite sides of a table, a pumpkin each and a handful of tools between you. With the enthusiasm of a small puppy, Edward went about carving this final pumpkin, mumbling and cursing all the while as he worked. He was chopping away until the very last minute, and when it finally came time to judge, Edward proudly turned his pumpkin around to reveal…a standard jack-o-lantern: toothy grin, big eyes, and a few crescent shaped strands of hair up by the stem. It wasn’t terribly by any means–especially considering how he’d started out–but it wasn’t an award winner either.

He was disappointed to say the least. Edward hated losing and you watched his face turn to a spectacular pout as the judge passed him over without much of any consideration.

You on the other hand, had crafted a masterpiece. On the face of your one pumpkin you had managed to carve a picture of what awaited you back at home: a plethora of jack-o-lanterns pouring over your living room furniture, each with their own unique face. They piled high over each other, some even turned upside down, and the effect of it all congested in one design stretching nearly all the way round the pumpkin itself, was quite hilarious.

You beamed as you were handed a first prize ribbon as well as a voucher for free drinks till December 1st, winking at Edward whose frown had vanished. (He couldn’t stay mad now that he’d gotten free rum for two whole months. The pub had no idea how much in profits they were about to lose).

Your pumpkin ended up getting a place of honor amidst the harvest you had at home, and the rest of Edward’s practice runs were slowly baked into dozens of pies that you and all your friends were eating until springtime.

[thewriterscreed]

Halloween (Modern AU, Edward, Arno, and Jacob)

2755 Words

Edward loves Halloween. Absolutely adores it. It’s an excuse to get drunk, have a party, stuff himself with candy, and act absolutely crazy with his friends. What’s not to like?

To this end however, he has an innate need to be the most festive person on the block. it’s not enough to just throw on a dime-store mask and fall asleep in front of the television watching Friday the 13th. No. Competitive bastard that he is, Edward has to have the best costume, the best candy, and the best decorations. Otherwise what’s the point?

Last year that competitiveness meant Edward having to win the ‘Best Costume’ contest at Ade’s annual party. Deciding to dress as Batman, Edward had walked around perfecting the lowest, gravelliest voice he could manage until you could barely understand a word he said as well as having to put up with him crying over an imaginary ‘Rachel’ and only referring to you as ‘Robin’ for a solid month. The year before that had been the Halloween of the Great Spiked Cider Incident, where Edward had entered a drinking contest with a random party attendee and ended up getting so drunk you only found him the next morning, slumped in a corner with an empty glass still held in one hand.

This year the challenge came in the form of jack-o-lanterns.

The two of you had been out on a lovely evening stroll when you spotted a sign outside one of your favorite pubs describing a pumpkin carving contest taking place in a few days. Whomever could carve the best design during the three hours you were given would win free drinks for the rest of the year.

Edward was ecstatic. Halloween, competition, and free drinks all rolled up into one evening? It was his perfect night.

Immediately he dragged you to the grocery store where he picked out a few pumpkins to take home so he could practice his carving skills. Only problem was, Edward had no pumpkin carving skills. It seemed to be the one Halloween related thing that he had no talent at. Sure, he’d carved pumpkins before, but they had only been the traditional jack-o-lantern smile with two triangle eyes and a crooked nose. He didn’t seem to have the finesse necessary for small, intricate details and also seemed more adept at accidentally slicing his fingers than cutting the correct shapes out of the pumpkin itself.

But goddamn it he was determined, and you’d never known Edward to give up on anything before. So that night, after butchering the two pumpkins he’d already picked out from the grocery, he went back and got two more and after that two more, working on his designs well into the night.

You’d woken up that morning to find a row of ten pumpkin faces leering at you from the kitchen counter and three bins piled high with seeds pushed into the corner. You’d found a note from Edward plastered on the fridge as well, saying he’d taken an early run to the pumpkin patch and would be back later. You’d just laughed and gone to work, managing to put the pumpkins out of you mind. At least until you got home that night and walked into your living room to find more than twenty pumpkins scattered all over your furniture with Edward bent over his current project, his eyebrows bunched in concentration and about a million band-aids plastered onto one hand.

And it only got worse from there. A few days later you woke up to a pumpkin sitting on the pillow where Edward’s head should have been and you’d screamed so loud you were sure someone would call the police. You’d jumped out of bed to go confront Edward only to find you couldn’t even open your bedroom door because of a huge jack-o-lantern taking over the hallway.

His carvings were getting better though...objectively. After fifty pumpkins he could at least carve a face with some symmetry to it, though he still struggled with any detail that had to be completed with a blade smaller than a butcher’s knife. He was so excited though, that you couldn’t do much more than smile at him when he showed off his progress. You even offered to drive him to the pumpkin patch for one last haul.

The night of the competition then saw the two of you sitting on opposite sides of a table, a pumpkin each and a handful of tools between you. With the enthusiasm of a small puppy, Edward went about carving this final pumpkin, mumbling and cursing all the while as he worked. He was chopping away until the very last minute, and when it finally came time to judge, Edward proudly turned his pumpkin around to reveal...a standard jack-o-lantern: toothy grin, big eyes, and a few crescent shaped strands of hair up by the stem. It wasn’t terribly by any means--especially considering how he’d started out--but it wasn’t an award winner either.

He was disappointed to say the least. Edward hated losing and you watched his face turn to a spectacular pout as the judge passed him over without much of any consideration.

You on the other hand, had crafted a masterpiece. On the face of your one pumpkin you had managed to carve a picture of what awaited you back at home: a plethora of jack-o-lanterns pouring over your living room furniture, each with their own unique face. They piled high over each other, some even turned upside down, and the effect of it all congested in one design stretching nearly all the way round the pumpkin itself, was quite hilarious.

You beamed as you were handed a first prize ribbon as well as a voucher for free drinks till December 1st, winking at Edward whose frown had vanished. (He couldn’t stay mad now that he’d gotten free rum for two whole months. The pub had no idea how much in profits they were about to lose).

Your pumpkin ended up getting a place of honor amidst the harvest you had at home, and the rest of Edward’s practice runs were slowly baked into dozens of pies that you and all your friends were eating until springtime.

 You’ve learned the hard way that Arno Dorian can be a mischievous little shit, and the Halloween season only makes it 1,000 times worse.

By this time you’ve become quite used to the occasional prank at Arno’s hands. Most of the time they’re mild and harmless--just a change all the contact names in your phone or flushing the toilet while you’re in the shower type thing. You’ll grumble about it then laugh it away when you see his sheepish smile. All is well again in a few moments time. No big deal.

During October however, you had to be on your guard at all times. You weren’t sure what it was exactly. Maybe the scary movies? The chilly weather? The early darkness that crept over the sky before you’d even had a chance to finish your dinner? Whatever the reason, Arno took the opportunity with autumn to perfect what he called his ‘stealth technique’ and what you called sneaking up and scaring the ever-loving shit out of you with every single goddamn opportunity he got. As soon as you turned the calendar to October 1st you swore you held your breath and clenched your teeth, only able to fully relax again when you were carving the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.

Arno would hide around corners to jump out at you as you turned down the hall, or creep under the bed and reach out to grab your ankles when you woke up in the morning (more than once causing you to piss your pants with fright). Once he even sat on top of the fridge for two hours, waiting silently, only to jump down right on top of you as you stooped to grab some orange juice. You had dropped your glass and sent neon orange liquid flying in every direction. To this day you could still see a few droplets stained into the drywall.

Each and every time Arno scared you, you’d jump and shriek like a banshee before turning on him and smacking him on the chest with a disgruntled frown. You tried to be stern and tell him enough was enough, but he’d just laugh it away and kiss you on the forehead in lieu of promising to stop. It was like living with Freddy goddamn Krueger and you were just waiting for the nightmare to end.

It got so bad you started walking lightly on tiptoe in hopes that Arno wouldn’t hear you coming, and checking your corners before entering a room like you were a police officer in search of a dangerous convict. When your friends had asked you if you wanted to go to a haunted house with them one night, you’d groaned and told them there was no point--you were already living in one.

Then one bright, crisp morning, you were making breakfast in the kitchen, calm for once as you knew Arno was still in bed asleep. You could listen and hear him snoring away in your bedroom down the hall, no doubt exhausted from all his sneaking around. Cheerfully then, you put together some pancake mix and set some bacon to go into the oven, even humming a little tune as you went. You were just about to put the frying pan on the stove however, when you realized with a cool dread that you couldn’t hear Arno snoring anymore. You couldn’t hear him walking round the bedroom or starting a morning shower either.

You barely had time to think, oh fuck, before he was suddenly there, shouting and grabbing your waist from behind. And even though you knew it was coming, even though you had been through this exact scenario a million and one times before, you still screamed bloody fucking murder.

Scared out of your mind and devoid of common sense for a few precious seconds, you swung around and hit at your attacker, remembering only too late that you still had the frying pan held in your hands. With a resounding thwack! you sent the cool pewter swinging directly into Arno’s face, making him reel backwards onto the floor with a pathetic yelp of pain. He laid there on the ground, whimpering and slowly rocking back and forth as he held a bloody hand up to what was clearly a broken nose.

You ended up having to take him to the hospital where the story of what had happened caused Arno some major embarrassment with the various doctors and nurses. He turned out to be a pretty good sport about it though, as the authentic bruises and bandages on his face only made his Rocky costume that much cooler. Not to mention the fact that for the rest of the month Arno’s ‘stealth game’ came to a stop, too worried that he’d get an arm broken next time to make another attempt at scaring you.

But don’t get too relaxed. There was always next year to look forwards too.

 Even though he’s now well into his 20s and should have outgrown such things, Jacob seriously, painfully, desperately wants to go trick-or-treating on Halloween night.

It’ll be so much fun! He proclaims, trying to persuade you with a playful nudge to your side. The two of you can run through the streets, causing havoc and pulling stupid Halloween pranks like smashing pumpkins, throwing eggs, and the classic ding-dong-ditch. Not to mention you’d get a mountain of candy out of it--enough to eat with every meal between now and New Year’s Day if you followed the route Jacob already had planned out for you. (He’d been staking people out and had scrupulously discovered which houses were worth the walk because they actually gave out full sized candy bars. You didn’t even want to know how he’d gotten this information).

Yet charming as both the idea and the man who asked for it were, you tried to dissuade Jacob as soon as he offered up his plan. You were well beyond the age of stupid pranks and shuffling door-to-door, you told him. And there was the unpleasant fact that a lot of people wouldn’t give away candy to someone as old as you were. Plus, you’d already promised Evie and Henry you’d come over to their place and help hand out candy like, you know, adults.

Your reasoning was sound and you had a refute to every one of Jacob’s points, but still your arguments fell on deaf ears. Jacob would not be put down so easily and he spent the next two weeks trying to bring you round to his side.

He used every trick he knew, too: puppy dog eyes, trembling lips, even pinning you down and tickling you until you promised to go out with him. (You’d given him a swift kick to the side to get out of that one, leading to a rather ferocious play fight that broke two lamps and a side table before you could declare victory).

Eventually though, you gave in only because Jacob had become insufferable to deal with in his quest for trick-or-treats. Having taken up poking you in the face thousands of times a day in a last-ditch effort to get you to agree, you were only one touch away from breaking his finger clean off when you finally assented.

Jacob was absolutely thrilled and on Halloween night you were being dragged along the streets as the Leia Organa to his scoundrel Han Solo.

You had a lot more fun than you were willing to admit, too. Every person that answered the door seemed to think that you and Jacob going trick-or-treating together was the cutest thing they’d ever seen. Especially when you’d lean into Jacob’s side telling him you loved him, only to receive the iconic ‘I know’ in return.

By the time the sun began to set the both of you had pillowcases filled to the brim with candy and were walking with them slung over your backs like old-time peddlers, the envy of every six-year-old you passed on the sidewalk.

Eventually however, you fell into a spot of trouble (as usually happened on your outings with Jacob).

On what would have been the last house of the night, the couple inside simply refused to give up their candy to the two of you, saying it was for the kids and not some crazy adults who could have just driven to the grocery if they were so desperate for a Hershey bar. The couple were incredibly rude about it too, insulting you and Jacob on more than just your Halloween fun.

It wasn’t like either of you to simply walk away from something like that--especially as an end to an otherwise perfect night. So when Jacob pulled out a few cartons of eggs you were quick to agree on getting some revenge, all previous reservations about Halloween pranks gone in the face of this new challenge.

It took a few well-placed throws to the couple’s living room window before they caught wind of what was going on, peeking outside to see you and Jacob gallivanting around while throwing eggs all over their house, lawn, and even the shiny, new car parked along the street.

The two of you were soon chasing each other around with raucous laughter, throwing eggs at each other more than your previously intended targets, having a wonderful time committing your petty misdemeanor.

So distracted were you two with each other, that you completely missed the approaching police cars until an officer hopped out and demanded you two put your hands in the air.

“Uh...sorry about the mess,” Jacob mumbled, letting one last egg fall from his hand before the both of you were shuffled into the police car and taken down to the station, Jacob making snide comments about being taken by the Empire the whole drive there.

You ended up having to spend the night in a holding cell along with fifteen other teenage delinquents (whom you bonded with spectacularly), and Evie’s face when she came to collect you the next morning was one you would never forget. Still, you and Jacob marked it as a resounding success--with more than twenty pounds of candy each--and Jacob was spouting out costume ideas for next year before you’d even made it out the police station’s doors.