#that she made a rule where nobody can leave the school during free hours

[leona-florianova]

Some wild drama happening at my old art high school... New headmaster kicked out three teachers because they liked satirical post on instagram, which made very deserved fun of her. 

She brought it up to police because she thinks liking such posts is participating and enabling bullying and that it paints the school in bad light..  

Meanwhile she is bullying the whole student body along with the teachers/professors..makes Insane rules and  does weird monologues, straight up Umbridge behaviour.. The fact that she hates art and artists and before becoming the headmaster she taught czech... like I remember how she used to berate n ridicule anyone who made even the smallest mistakes...how she made homophobic coments (at liberal left leaning school where at least half of the students are some type of queer)... AND just few hours ago I learned that she got the position she shouldnt have gotten in the first place, because her relative works at the office of our local county representative....while also her, the relative and the county representative are all  KDU-ČSL...Christian and Democratic Union – Czechoslovak People's Party..a centrist conservative party that manages to swing from left to right and right to left depending on need, but always keeps its traditional values - sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia etc. etc... which is just f*cking abysmal.. 

I am no longer a student at the school.. havent been for years.. but damn as an alumni I feel so fragging bad for everyone who has to deal with her and her regime now... 

[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

[levihantrash]

Shitty Comics and Their Shitty Artists

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1:

“The sweets are really good here, huh?” A kind, bespectacled face appeared beside him, peering at the bulging of his shirt.

Levi had stolen from the pantry plenty of times. He had never gotten caught, so his gradual boldness could have been the problem. He had seen Mikasa, his younger sister, whenever she passed by the snacks section in the grocery store. Her gaping mouth at the sight of the colourful assortment of sweets was enough to let him know.

“I just like looking!” Mikasa said hastily. He hadn’t said anything either.

To be caught now, when he had overheard a staff member mentioning that most of the professors would be taking their leave during the summer break, was just his bad, bad luck. Objectively, he was risking his month-old job, but stealing from the pantry was much less risky than stealing from the grocery store. He began doing it weekly. Every Monday, right before the professors came streaming in, he would take a quick survey of his surroundings, and snatch two chocolate bars, sometimes a banana—only a handful. He would glance at the security camera hanging in the corner, willing it to catch him. Nobody would be petty enough to arrest a cleaner for swiping staff snacks in the pantry, right?

Levi stared back at the unfamiliar person. He recognised most of the staff by now. Only the English Literature professor, Erwin Smith, would greet him in the mornings.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Hange Zoë, the new creative writing professor. Nice to meet you!” They extended out a hand, which he felt obliged to shake, albeit warily. The hand was sweaty, and the handshake, vigorous.

“I was setting up my table and I wanted to meet everyone. Turns out most of them are on vacation,” Hange said absent-mindedly, scratching their head. The two buttons of their shirt had been mixed up, scrunching up the dress shirt's already lopsided collar. Levi resisted the urge to rebutton it for them. Today was not the day to scare off what seemed to be a genuinely welcoming person. Hange, on the other hand, found the firm handshake hilarious. What made this person so uptight?

Hange, realising that he wasn’t saying anything, breezily went, “what’s your name?”

“Levi,” he said, pushing his hands back into his pockets.

“You don’t prefer Dr. Levi?” Hange asked curiously.

“I’m not a professor. Just the cleaner,” Levi said shortly.

“Oh? Is that why you’re so secretive about the snacks?” Hange teased him, much to his chagrin.

“You rich profs have enough to eat,” Levi spat out.

Hange didn’t even blink, nodding calmly, “you’re right, it’s certainly good to make full use of the school’s resources.” Levi, sensitive to any hint of condescension, found none, though not regretting his overdose of sarcasm.

“Also,” Hange added, “I’m not going to tell anyone, I promise! So could you not look like you want to kill me and leave my dead body in the cleaning closet?”

Levi scoffed, relaxing the fists that had formed naturally by his side.

“Do you like bread?” Hange asked suddenly, scanning him for signs of the affirmative. He shrugged.

“I passed by a bakery this morning and it had the most delicious smell,” they sighed, “I was running late so I couldn’t get anything.”

“It seems like you’re kind of a mess.”

Hange laughed—this person could literally laugh at everything, Levi thought. They lifted their shoulders with their arms in the air, in a manner of “I was born like this, what do you want me to do?”

As the conversation subsided, Hange saw Levi’s eyes dart towards the neglected mop and bucket, finding it oddly endearing.

“Well then! I won’t disturb you any longer!” Hange announced. Levi wanted to tell them that they weren’t disturbing him at all, before stopping himself. His initial plan was to escape from useless small talk. Uttering such absurdity would be counterintuitive.

“Since you’re here,” Hange grabbed the last few packets of chips in the basket and stuffed them into his gigantic apron pockets, “you might as well take the rest!”

“Are you pitying me?”

“Those snacks aren’t for you,” Hange merely said cheerfully, before tentatively asking, “or am I wrong?”

“Don’t expect any favours,” Levi said begrudgingly.

He looked awkwardly at the distracted professor, who had chosen to open a chocolate bar themselves.

“Thanks…” he said, and Hange only grins, bits of chocolate and almond stuck to their teeth.

----------

Routine, that’s how it all began. Levi and Hange were seeing each other every day. In each encounter, Hange would tug out a new bread or pastry from the depths of a green, bottomless leather bag that they carried around everywhere.

Initially, Levi felt offended. “You think I can’t afford bread?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

Hange’s eyes widened, “of course not! I want to share the joy of this bread, if you remember that bakery I was craving for,” they poked at the loaf, leaving a small dent in the middle.

With their hand still extended out, Hange scoured for words, “and you look like someone who doesn’t often indulge in little joys.”

“I didn’t ask you to psychoanalyze me.” Levi grabbed the bread, tore it into two, and pushed one entire piece into his mouth. A muffled word of thanks came out. The other half was planted back onto Hange’s palm.

“You said you wanted to share, didn’t you?”

Hange glowed in acknowledgement. They stuffed the warm bread into their mouth, cheeks full, incoherently raving about its texture. The sight of Levi chewing the bread contentedly after unexpectedly cramming it into his mouth; Hange wanted to preserve it, to immortalise this tentative pleasure. If fresh bread was what it took to achieve that, it was perfectly doable.

Levi saw it as what it was. An offering. There was really no reason to reject free bread, and if this were Hange’s version of bribery, it was innocent enough.

“Why don’t I get bread?” Erwin asked Hange, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Levi’s nose wrinkled at the overly strong aroma.

“Sorry Erwin!” Hange patted him on the back, not sounding apologetic at all, “I only have money for one friend and since Levi is my first friend here, it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“Certainly,” Erwin said, sipping on his black coffee, eyeing a certain stony-faced individual’s violent coughing at Hange’s mention of “friend.”

“What?” Levi asked, clearing his throat one more time.

“Good day to you both,” Erwin said, sweeping past Levi to return to his desk.

Following the end of summer break, Hange became relatively friendly with their colleagues in the staffroom, who had never greeted Levi. Unbothered by the lack of formalities, Levi found himself getting along best with living things that discarded general rules of propriety. Like children, animals… and Hange. Still, when Levi trailed back to the staffroom, wet mop in hand, he found himself at a hearing distance behind Hange’s conversation with a group of colleagues.

Hange got to the point, smiling sweetly. “Why do you all pretend Levi doesn’t exist?”

There were awkward, feeble words of justification. Something about Levi being too scary. Something about Levi not greeting them first. Hange listened, eyebrows furrowing.

“You could at least say hi, right? He doesn’t bite,” Hange said coolly. Their colleagues felt the faintest chill up their spine. Levi sloshed the mop onto the floor, making his presence known. Hange barely flinched, as though expectant of his company.

“Are you talking about me behind my back?”

Hange slung an arm around Levi’s shoulders and whispered, “no, I’m telling everyone right now that you don’t get enough sleep and that’s why you’re glaring at everyone.”

Levi elbowed them away. “Who cares what people think?”

Unwrapping the bread Hange gave him, he took one significant, large bite while everyone squirmed in silence. Hange, strangely amused by the scene playing out before them, ushered Levi towards Erwin’s cubicle.

“Levi! What are your plans for today?”

“Cleaning.”

Hange clapped their hands together, “I invite you to have lunch with me and Erwin!”

“Why should I go?” Levi said, not unkindly.

“Why not?” Levi couldn’t give a good reason. Hange, latching on to Levi’s lack of refusal, took the mop away from his hands.

“You can finish cleaning later. Everyone has to eat, right?”

“Not you, apparently,” Levi muttered, remembering how Hange had straight-up not left their desk for a whole ten hours—the sun shining on their sleep deprivation at dawn until the desktop screen illuminated their exhaustion at dusk.

“That was one deadline, Levi.”

“Sure.” Regardless, he wasn’t about to decline Hange. Somehow, Hange had grown attached to Erwin, and had endless discussions with him. Conversations about writing, mostly. He didn’t participate much outside of jabbing at Hange’s ribs when the volume of their voice went over the publicly acceptable range. Otherwise, he would be shooting glares at Erwin whenever he tried to probe into Levi’s personal life. Erwin had an intensity that was difficult, near impossible to ignore.

Incidentally, the topic of comics cropped up.

“Comics?”

Hange picked up on the rare tonal shift of Levi’s voice, studying him. Erwin’s fork elegantly pierced a French fry, the screech of the fork’s contact with the plate prompting Levi to speak over it. He was positive that Erwin was trying to get him to talk. On purpose.

“Yes, I like them,” Levi conceded, draining the tea from his cup.

“I learn something new about you every day!” Hange exclaimed, as Levi gripped the edge of the cup harder.

Seemingly catching on to Levi’s discomfort, Erwin asked Hange for recommendations, telling them how he had never read any comics.

“How predictable of a literature professor,” Hange said, sitting up straighter to mock the poise of a scholar, glasses perched at the tip of their nose for the intended effect.

“You look like a fart with a stick up their ass,” Levi commented, leaving Hange howling. Erwin, the consistent gentleman, remained at ease with these disparaging jokes.

While Hange listed out their favourite comics, Levi noted that none of their top choices was marginally close to any of his preferences: in genre, in plot, and in art style.

“I like horror.”

“I don’t,” Levi countered. Hange grinned wider.

“Well, you’re scary enough as you are,” Hange considered, taking in his aloof disposition and the way he sat stiffly on the chair. Nonchalant, and could possibly decimate you.

“Look,” Hange said, thrusting an open book into Levi’s hands. “This comic is so good. It keeps me up at night.”

Levi leafed through the pages, absorbed by the clean black and white lines. That was, until he flipped a page and winced at the image of empty eye sockets, gouged out, spurting inked blood.

“You don’t like blood,” Hange said this matter-of-factly, promptly closing the book.

“I don’t like unnecessary death.”

“How do you know those deaths were unnecessary?” Erwin asked, pushing back his blonde hair in an effortlessly charismatic manner.

Levi could picture it. Erwin, a fearless leader, bringing people to greater heights.

Hange had less noble thoughts. Erwin was definitely the protagonist in a teen movie who looked older than high school age and was starring as a blonde jock whose embarrassingly lacklustre coming-of-age arc was spurred by a shy, beautiful nerd. For good reason, Hange kept their mouth shut.

“I don’t,” Levi answered, “but is any death really necessary?”

Erwin smiled, “perhaps not.” The seed of doubt grew in Levi.

Hange leaned forward across the table towards Levi, a hand covering one side of their smirking face.

“Erwin’s a lot more calculative than you think.”

Levi swatted away Hange’s strands of hair tickling his cheek, “I know,” he said half-heartedly, not wishing to contemplate the extent of its truthfulness.

Carving the last piece of meat on his plate into two, Erwin shrugged.

“So, you would say that some deaths are necessary?” Levi asked. The question blurted out on its own, slicing through the amicable atmosphere like a stray bullet. For some reason, he wanted a proper answer. Hange was busy flipping through the same horror comic book, their eyes trained on the page.

“Do you like bugs, Levi?” Erwin asked.

Levi visibly scowled. “No.”

Erwin’s fork scraped the plate insistently.  “Do you kill them?”

“Obviously.”

Erwin’s collectedness seemed impenetrable. “Would you say their deaths are necessary?”

“Necessary enough as a cleaner.”

“There, you have your answer,” Erwin said, with finality.

“I’m talking about human lives, not some insects,” Levi said, frustrated.

“Some lives matter more than others, am I right?”

“Yeah…” Levi said, struggling to grasp Erwin’s logic.

“It’s the same for us,” Erwin said cryptically.

Hange stood up, snapping the book shut. “Shit, I have to teach a class in ten!” Levi naturally stood up as well. Erwin gave a friendly wave, undeterred by the abruptness of their departure.

“See you, Erwin!” Hange called out, rushing back to the staffroom.

“Why does Erwin have to be so ambiguous?” Levi griped.

“You’re not very telling, yourself,” Hange said blithely, grabbing their laptop before marching out of the door.

Armed with constant smiles and warm words, Levi would classify Hange as someone just as enigmatic. Their discussions about writing were arguably personal, but they weren’t exactly close to the heart.

The two people Levi was becoming acquainted with in the past few weeks were a slate full of words in a language he understood, but couldn’t decipher. For the rest of the day, he compromised on these doubts by making sure the windows had not a speck of dust on them. Every moving insect was stamped out under his supervision. He thought about Erwin’s words, turning them over and over in his head. He thought about Hange’s nonchalance towards Erwin’s questions.

----------

After locking up his cleaning supplies, Levi peeled the sweaty gloves off his arms, untying the bandana on his head that kept his long fringe away, and removed his apron. Hearing a friendly shout in the otherwise deserted school building, he caught Hange coming to a stop behind him.

“You’re still here,” he said, frowning.

“Had a lot of work,” they said, armed with this reasoning every day.

“Were you listening during lunch?”

“Hmm, kind of,” Hange stated obliquely, “you know how literature people are.”

Levi was bewildered, his passive expression cracking slightly. “I don’t. As you might have realised, I don’t talk to a lot of people.”

“Literature people,” Hange rubbed their chin, eyes looking upwards in deep thought, “enjoy discussing morality in a mostly abstract, hypothetical way.”

“That’s annoying.”

Hange fell in step with Levi, who was headed to the exit, “Erwin’s one of the better ones. He’s pragmatic, and he’s not just all talk.”

“Yeah, so what’s his grand plan…” Levi said, finding the right words, “for humanity?”

“He wants to create a comic.”

Levi blinked.

“Huh? What does that have to do with morality?”

Hange looked unperturbed by Levi’s confusion, as though it were commonplace for them to defend the importance of the comic genre.

“Think of texts as a philosophical question waiting to be answered. And the questions of morality being narrativized makes their conclusions more believable. More influential. Erwin has a vision for comics to be the source of truth.”

“What truth?”

Hange grinned, “if we knew, would we need to write the comic?”

“You talk like it’s more revolutionary than it actually is…” Levi said, pushing open the door to step out of the school building.

“A comic can be life-changing,” Hange mused, admiring how the sunset decorated everything in watercolour splashes of orange and pink; a distinct nostalgic hue.

Levi remembered that Hange was, after all, a creative writing professor. “Yeah, you would say that.”

“It’s not because I’m a creative writing professor!” Hange said, impassioned. He gave them a dry look.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Besides, Erwin wants to be the editor of the comic that I am writing,” Hange said proudly.

Levi felt that his head might explode. “Since when were you writing a comic?”

“Since last week!” Hange said, remarkably animated.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Isn’t that what friends are for? To share things with?” Hange asked, hopeful.

That word—Levi figured that that was what they were by now. Friends. He didn’t hate the sound of it.

“You’re not going to ask what it’s about?”

“You’ll tell me if I just waited.”

“You’re right! But you see,” Hange exhaled, shaking their head despondently, “my problem is that I don’t have someone who can draw out my writing.” Levi’s hands twitched. He interlocked them into a prayer, hoping Hange didn’t notice.

“Why not just write a novel?”

Hange was unconvinced, “I’m tired of just the written word, Levi! The versatility and multimodal form of the comic are incomparable to a novel!”

Levi had to agree. “Have you been trying to find artists?”

“Yes, but none of them seemed very keen on drawing the story,” Hange said, recalling the number of people who became increasingly disconcerted upon hearing the gist of the story.

“So, what’s the story?” Levi asked.

Hange was hesitant. Levi waited.

“It’s horror, isn’t it?”

“The premise includes giant naked human beings running around eating people,” Hange said. Levi grimaced. They expected this, but it didn’t make their disappointment at his very reasonable reaction any less jarring.

“It also has a lot of blood,” Hange said. Sensing that they were one sentence away from diving into a world-building sermon, they paused.

“Do you want to hear more?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Levi said honestly. It had been a long day.

“Of course! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Hange said, giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

“I’ll see you,” Levi said belatedly. Hange was already brisk walking towards the crowded street.

Instinctively, he called out, “Four-eyes!”

Turning back, Hange stood where they were, surprised.

“Tell me the story tomorrow.”

A gradual look of appreciation spread across Hange’s face, as their eyes arched downwards into thin curves.

“Thank you, Levi!”

Levi sidestepped Hange’s thanks with a disgruntled “tch. Whatever.”

I finally did it! I posted the first chap of the fic I've been working on for the past month *_* if you read till here... thank you!!! hearing your thoughts/comments would be nice heheh

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

I really wanted to get the next chapter of Nothing Sacred, All Things Wild up this week, but work was crazy and I also got caught up in another story (I can’t control my muse)...so instead I’m offering up a long snippet of the dystopian/space colonist fic I started off a prompt I got a while ago for an “Arranged Marriage + a/b/o” request I got from an anon.

A/B/O is not my cup of tea, so I twisted it into an arranged marriage by an artificial intelligence instead: 

He wakes up angry, sweat soaking through his pillow, heart racing, stomach cramped. The alarm is buzzing from somewhere beneath the bed, where he must have knocked it. 

“Turn it off,” Ygritte mutters into his shoulder, before rolling away with the rest of their thin blanket.

He complies, letting the shock of the cold floor against his feet spur him into full wakefulness. “I take the test today.” It’s raining. He watches the drops splatter against the small window near the ceiling, and he wonders if Ygritte remembered to check the bucket beneath the leak before she crawled into bed the night before. 

Their garden apartment doesn’t do well in the rain. Jon still doesn’t understand why it’s even called a garden...there’s nothing green about their cramped basement residence, besides the mold growing beneath the sink.  

“Oh yeah. Happy birthday...we’ll get drinks when you come home.” 

“If I come home.”  He could be part of the one percent, after all. That is the Institution's promise. Everyone is SOMEONE. Anyone can be part of the 1%. Are YOU?

Jon knows it’s unlikely. How could he, an orphan from Mole’s Town, have the magic combination of pheno-, geno-, and personality type to be chosen for the Colony? No...he’s just another loser of the 99% who will waste his twenty-first birthday behind the Brutalist concrete walls of the Institution’s testing center, playing lab rat for the day, until the examiners come to the inevitable conclusion that he’s just another nobody. 

They’ll spit him back out on the street, leaving him free to carve out a pathetic existence on a slowly dying planet. 

He doesn’t bother washing. It’d be a waste of precious water when he knows full well they’ll scrub him down at the testing center. Instead he spends his last moments at home drinking a pot of weak coffee, trying to remember anything he was taught in the schools he barely attended. His energy would be better spent bracing for the coming indignity of having every part of his body and mind exposed and dissected. 

“Is the area of a circle, two pi times the radius? Or is that the circumference?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ygritte lights a cigarette at the stove before joining him at the table. “It’s not that kind of test.”

He knows that. It’s another Institution promise. The Test doesn’t ask WHAT you know. It asks who YOU are. Are YOU the 1%

How the fuck would Jon know? It’s easier for him to remember that the area of a circle is actually pi times the radius squared, than it is for him to explain who he is. He has no idea. That’s kind of what being an orphan is all about. 

Ygritte could at least throw him a bone and tell him what the test is like. She took it two years ago, though she won’t talk. Most people won’t. There are no rules against it, but The Test is treated like dysentery. Unless you live behind the gates, you’re going to get it at least once in your life, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna go around describing your diarrhea to the world.  

Grenn went to White Harbor for the test a month ago, and though Jon had to buy him six beers and two shots of whiskey before Grenn would shut up about his first-ever train ride, he did give Jon a few insights into the rest of the experience. 

Not that the train isn’t worth the excitement, especially when the ride is paid for (another Institution promise. No matter your means. No matter the distance. EVERYONE makes it to the Test. Are YOU the 1%?) Technically, Jon has taken it once before, from Winterfell to Mole’s Town as a baby, but he doesn’t remember.  

Now he can’t believe anything that moves so fast could feel so smooth. He’s topped out at ninety miles per hour on the best snowmobile Donal Noye patched together, but that left his teeth rattling and his ears buzzing for hours afterward. The train is moving at double the speed, but he could be in the godswood, for how quiet the near-empty economy cabin is. He shares it with a twitchy young man who never looks up from a cheap tablet, and a black raven perched in a large cage who spends the entire ride staring at Jon with one eerie black eye. 

The testing center is located just across from the train station, in an intimidating building that used to have a name. Jon has a vague memory that it was a prison before the Institution took it over. Before that it was something else. 

He doesn’t balk when a masked orderly leads him to a small room, tells him to strip, and then takes off with his clothes. He knows they’ll be returned at the end of the day. Of more pressing concern is the man and woman who enter talking too quietly to make out at the other end of the room, while a nurse rolls in with a small cart covered in collection tubes, gauze strips, and butterfly needles. 

Everyone wears surgical masks, latex gloves, long white coats, and black clogs. 

Jon remains naked beneath a small paper covering. 

He has given blood before, and the messy, life-saving transfusion Mance performed to save Tormund three years ago was far scarier than the rapid, methodical draw that's taken from him now. Still, it’s disconcerting to think of the secrets the Institution will glean from his blood. He’s uncomfortably aware that they’ll know who his parents are before the day is over, even as he’ll continue living in total ignorance. 

Another Institution promise. The Institution values EVERYONE’S right to privacy. YOU control the right to tell the world who you are. Are YOU the 1%?

Before he’s finished the recitation in his head, five tubes are full, and the nurse pats a cotton ball and a band-aid over his arm. She tosses a granola bar on his lap before rolling out of the room with her cart of samples. 

Next comes a physical exam, where the other two examiners speak only to each other as they record his height, weight, blood pressure, and note his every blemish and scar in flat affect. 

“Post-burn contractures across the palmar and dorsal aspect of the left hand, adduction and extension in the metacarpophalangeal joint of thumb fall outside normal range of movement.”

“Keloid scarring along the right gastrocnemius muscle, five point three centimeters in diameter.”

“Slightly hypertrophic scarring beginning at left brow and running medially down across the left orbital cavity to the cheek. No ptosis noted. No apparent damage to the eye.”

He should feel worse beneath the weight of each fault. Instead he relaxes. He was nervous for nothing. Failure was always inevitable. The Institution would never invest in a malnourished kid with a burned hand and a badly healed leg wound. They are famously secretive about their selection process, but some reasons for failure are common knowledge. As the crows like to say, no cripples, bastards, or broken things. 

So, he chews his granola bar slowly and even closes his eyes for a bit, letting the examiners move his limp limbs as necessary for their measurements. He imagines himself a cadaver during the early stages of an autopsy. 

As long as they don’t cut me open….

When an white-haired man enters and lays out what look to be a series of tiny torture devices, Jon wonders if he stopped caring too soon. He white-knuckles it through an excruciating dental exam that ends with his first real exchange of the day. 

“Have you ever been to a dentist, kid?” 

There is still a tube in his mouth, sucking up his spit and a hook pressing at his gums, so Jon just shakes his head. There are no dentists in Mole’s Town. Just Chett, who used to work at a slaughterhouse down south and will pull a rotten tooth for the price of a bottle of whiskey. Jon wouldn’t give the creep the lint in his pocket, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let him near his mouth. Instead he brushes his teeth so hard his toothbrush regularly snaps in half, and prays something else kills him before gum disease has a chance.

“You’ve got better teeth than I see behind the gates, boy,” he pulls the hook from Jon’s mouth to dictate into a small microphone hanging from his mobile workstation. “Review DEFB1 on ID 17630343BA. At some point the focus will need to expand beyond the holy 22 and get back to the basics. Who is going to care about neuron growth if every fourth planter is born with anodontia?” 

Jon understands little of what the man is saying, but he’s heard enough to know he’s at least got as good of teeth or better than some of the rich tossers who live within the heavily guarded gated communities where the Colonists are actually culled from. Behind their high walls, wealthy sons and daughters of the only one percent that really matters, spend their youths preparing for the Test in homes and classrooms pumped with filtered air, where the water runs clear, and no one ever goes to sleep with their bellies cramped from hunger or disease. 

The Institution promises that ANYONE can be the 1%, but EVERYONE knows that's a lie. 

---

The physical exam ends at last, after several more rounds of sterile humiliation. Jon isn’t sure which was worse; having to lie within a noisy cylinder while a disembodied voice reminded him not to move, or being asked to run naked on a treadmill, wired with electrodes. 

When it’s over, the last examiner provides him with a sweatsuit that is softer and better-made than anything he owns, and he wonders if there is any way he can smuggle it out with him at the end of the day. Another orderly comes in with a waxy crisp apple that hardly seems real even as a spray of tartly sweet juice hits the back of his tongue. He’s given a pill as well that he swallows down with a cup of water so clear and so cold, it’s an act of incredible will-power not to ask for more. 

It’s only after, when he’s led to a small room with two chairs, a table, and a pulsing white orb in it’s center that he thinks to ask what it’s for. 

“This will make the answers come more naturally during your interviews,” the man explains before leaving him alone. “We want you to answer as truthfully as possibly, but we understand that can be difficult under the stress of the Test.”

He supposes people lie all the time on the Test, trying to game the system, though Jon doesn’t have the first idea how he’d go about doing that, nor does he have any reason to try. He’s not going to the Colony. This is all just a spectacular waste of time, and it’s a race day, which means he’ll have to pull extra shifts at the Rookery to make up for what he would have made beyond the Wall. 

By the time a petite woman with a neat low bun, and cracking, grey scar across half her face and neck enters, Jon is reckless with anger. 

“I’d like to go home.”

“Hello, Jon,” she smiles as she sits across from him, and she’s the first person he’s seen since he entered the building who isn’t wearing a mask. She’s also the first person to call him by his name. “My name is Shireen.”

“Where’s your mask?”

Her smile dims slightly, but she maintains her gentle tone. “I’m here to facilitate the interview portion of your Test today. Before we begin, is there anything you need to feel more comfortable? Something to eat, drink, a bathroom break? Should the temperature be adjusted?”

He’s sour with anger so he takes everything she offers, suddenly eager to make everything as inconvenient as possible for the Institution. Shireen takes his requests with an easy smile, however, escorting him to the restroom herself. When they return to the room, there is a bowl of hearty soup with a chunk of bread that is soft and airy beneath it’s golden-brown crust. Beside it is a tall glass of water and a smaller cup of green liquid that Jon eyes suspiciously. 

“What’s this then?”

“I thought you might like some juice. It’s mostly apple, with some kale, cucumber and celery in it as well, I suspect.”

It’s the best thing Jon has ever tasted, and while part of him wants to fling the rest of it at her frustratingly serene face, it’d be a horrible waste, and he’d be the biggest loser. So, he takes his time, savoring each bite and sip, rolling the bright flavors across his delighted tongue. 

“Feeling better?” she asks after the tray is cleared. 

“Is that an official Test question?”

“No.”

“Let’s get on with it then. I can’t afford to miss the train home.”

“As you may know, it is not individuals who decide the 1%. Our artificial intelligence algorithm, The Seven, determines who is the best fit for the Colony. That is how the institution guarantees objectivity in its selection process,” she taps the pulsing orb on the table. “Though we find people are more comfortable responding to another person, so I will be facilitating our discussion as The Seven records and analyzes your responses. Are you ready to begin?”

He shrugs. 

“I’ll start with a series of statements. After each, please say a number to indicate the degree to which you agree with that statement, wherein one equals strongly disagree and five equals strongly agree. Three indicates you neither agree nor disagree. Do you understand?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Statement Number one: At social events, you rarely try to introduce yourself to new people and mostly talk to the ones you already know.”

Jon knows everyone in Mole’s Town, and he doesn’t want to socialize with most of them. 

“Two.”

This goes on for a while, each statement absurdly divorced from anything relating to Jon’s life, but the numbers spring easily from his lips as he relaxes under Shireen’s soothing voice, and kind face, and the lovely feeling of a full belly and soft, warm clothes. 

It’s when the format shifts, that he begins to feel strange. Shireen starts with questions that are easy to answer. Where were you born? How many years of education have you completed? What was your favorite class and why?  What do you do for work? Describe your strengths. When are you most satisfied in your job?  Do you live alone or with others? How many others do you live with? What is your relationship to the person you live with? 

At this point, the questions grow more invasive; more personal. A voice tells Jon that the Institution doesn’t need to know how many times he and Ygritte fuck a week...but the answer escapes all the same. 

“Four or five times a week.”

“Do you use contraception methods?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to have children with your partner?”

“No.”

“Given your age and your partner’s, without contraception, given your regular intercourse the odds of conception are--”

“She’s sterile.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Most everyone in Mole’s Town is. It’s something in the water, or the air, or our weak genes. It doesn’t really matter the cause. If it’s not the one; it’s the other. She’s been fucking since she was fifteen, and nothing’s ever caught.”

“How do you know that you aren’t the sterile one?”

He shrugs. “I probably am too, but I’m not her first partner as you say. I’m not her second or third either.”

“How does that make you feel?” 

He glares, and Shireen clarifies. 

“Your partner’s sterility?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” he pushes back from the table, letting his chair lean back on two legs. 

Shireen only gives him a minute shake of her head, and waits for him to answer the question. 

“Angry. I feel fucking furious about it.”

“So, you would like to be a father?”

“I’d like the freedom to choose. I’d like Ygritte to have that freedom.”

“What is your least favorite thing about humanity?”

She can’t be serious with that question. It’s like asking him to name all the stars. He takes a deep breath. Shireen waits. He stands up and paces. Shireen waits. He finishes his water and asks for another. Shireen calls for a refill. He drinks that too. Shireen waits. 

“My least favorite thing? That we’ve given up. We let this machine,” he points at the orb, “decide who doesn’t have to. It’s like….it’s like the men in Mole’s Town who wander into the snows when winter grows too cold, and there’s not enough food or warmth to go around. Grown-ass men who could be fixing furnaces and braving the cold to find the resources their families so desperately need. Most of the time they don’t even have the fucking guts to tell anyone  what they’re off to do. They just wander away one day, and winter takes them. 

That’s what the fucking Institution is. We’re all those men in Mole’s Town who’ve just given up, despite the blood still pumping through our veins. We’re sitting around, waiting for winter to kill us, so that a few can live. And there’s no one left to be mad about it either, because it’s a fucking machine that decides our fate. It’s like being mad at the wind. What’s the fucking point? But just because there is no one to be angry with, that doesn’t mean the rage goes away...and winter isn’t killing us fast enough."

“So you want to live?”

“I want humanity to want to live. I want humanity to want most of humanity to live. I want us to care about more than the one percent.”

It feels radical, saying it here; behind the walls of the Institution. It feels like he’s put the last nail in his own coffin. Shireen watches him as he cracks his knuckles, one at a time, waiting for her to say the interview is over; it’s time to go home. 

Instead she asks an even crazier question. 

“Do you think there is an essential connection between the morality of an action and the morality of the intentions behind it?”

[captain-danwilds]

One Step Forward

Hi @avengerpercy! I realize I didn’t take Brazil’s timezone into account when posting this so I’m sorry this is technically late, but here’s your @aftgexchange gift.  I hope this is good enough for you Cristal.  This is my first time playing in the AFTG sandbox, so I wanted to live up to your expectations.  I ended up using your prompt “Andrew and Aaron talking and solving their problems”  for a little outsider POV Andreil fluff with a large helping of twinyards.   

A few quick notes. Betsy and the joint sessions set the backdrop for this fic even though I am not a therapist and also not trying to make some statement about therapy in general (Personally I’m a big fan, but also recognize that Aaron really doesn’t seem to be in we’re in his POV.) I’m not trying to demonize Aaron or Andrew here.  Aaron just fundamentally misunderstands Andrew.  Also Raven King/Drake Incident references.  

Ever since Aaron had found out Andrew existed, he’d felt unsteady.   It wasn't just the sudden knowledge of how different his life could have been if Tilda hadn't decided to come back to get him or even if she'd just taken the other baby.   It was the fact his brother was a mass of contradictions piled on top of each other and every aspect of their relationship was built on the idea of one step forward and two steps back.

Aaron wasn't an idiot.  When the officer at the stupid game had mentioned Andrew, Aaron didn't expect his long-lost brother to immediately love him.  This wasn't a television show.   He knew by now that blood only went so far, that it hadn't stopped his mother from raising her hand to him or Uncle Luthor from sending Nicky away only for his cousin to come back a shell of himself.  But he couldn't deny he wanted it to work desperately, for there to be another little boy out there whose life might be made better by having a brother in it.  

His first step forward a letter that had to be rewritten at least twice because everything sounded wrong.  His bedroom trash can overflowed with pieces of notebook paper crumpled in frustration or with ink smeared from tears he'd never admit to anyone he'd actually shed.  Aaron must have spent hours writing the letter, typing it up in stolen time at the school library and sneaking to the post office while Mom had been out of it.  

Hours completely wasted when the only reply was two words:  "Fuck Off."

That should have been the sign to leave things well enough alone.  

But instead, he'd taken the return address and written a second letter to "the guardians of Andrew Doe."  

And instead of an answer from his brother, Aaron had gotten a voicemail saying Andrew had gone to Juvie.  

Even the slightest hint of progress was met with resistance.    

Gaining a brother meant losing his mom and never being in control of his decisions anymore.  

Andrew lived by his own rules, an unspoken tally system of betrayals where Aaron would never be the one who measured up.  Andrew wouldn't say it, because Andrew didn't say anything now that he was off the drugs.  Aaron knew his brother only cared about him in context of proving that he'd never broken their deal.  Until he called the whole thing off for Josten.  

Josten, the idiot that would say things like "Andrew doesn't lie"  as if he actually believed him.  As if there truly was some magical code his brother followed that made sense.    

"If you really don't care about Andrew, why does Neil bother you so much?"   Dobson asked during their Wednesday session.

Aaron dug his fingers into the couch.  He hated this.  Hated that the only time he could get answers out of Andrew was when he was sitting in front of a shrink.   A shrink who was undoubtedly on his brother's side. And that in order to get answers he had to rip himself raw first.  

"I understand that therapy isn't for everyone,"  She'd said smiling gently during their first mandatory meeting freshman year.  "More than that, therapy with me might not be your answer,  so don't let today stop you from seeking help in the future if that's what you decide you want.  I can direct you to one of my colleagues who you might feel more comfortable with."  

They'd been meeting for almost a year now and Aaron still wasn't comfortable with her, no matter how many cups of hot chocolate she offered or how many smiles she gave.   They'd come a long way from the complete silence and blank expression of his first individual session or even the harsh words the first time he'd shown up to Andrew's session, but it wasn't comfortable by any means.  

The point was he wasn't about to pour his heart out to her even if Andrew wasn't in the room.  With Andrew there, Aaron had no good way to answer the question without giving too much of himself away again, of being hurt when everything went to hell. Still, Aaron couldn't help but let the multitude of answers flow over him.  

Because Josten waltzes in, every ounce of him screaming lie and danger, and this team bends over backwards for him. Because Aaron's seen enough to know Josten is dangerous.  Because he will kill him if Josten doesn't keep his big mouth from bring the mafia down on them again before Aaron graduates and he can't handle another murder trial.  Because Josten makes it so easy, throwing as many insults back as he gives.   Those are the easy answers, because Aaron's life doesn't revolve around Andrew. He can hate Josten because Josten is a piece of shit who makes every aspect of his life harder.  

But that's also not the whole truth.  Because he saw the way Andrew looked at him in Baltimore, the tender movements in his hands completely at odds with the angry spark in his eyes.  Because Andrew hates people touching him and yet he doesn't hesitate to wrap his hand around the back of Josten's neck.  Because there's something aggravating in the way that Andrew can look at Josten and see something precious when he never looks at Aaron like that.  

Aaron doesn't want to think his life revolves around Andrew, but his hatred of Josten certainly does.  It’s partially jealousy.  Why does this nobody get easy answers from Andrew?  What makes him so special?  

But the larger issue is that Aaron has seen Andrew broken.  As much as Aaron wants to wish Drake away, he can’t.  He’ll never be able to get Andrew’s face out of his head or the manic laugh left by the drugs. There are nights where he wakes up feeling like he still has the blood on his hands, that he’ll never be free of the feeling of Andrew knotting his fingers through his hair in worry when Andrew’s the one covered in bruises.  Seeing his brother like that once was enough to break him.  He doesn’t understand how Andrew can let Josten so close when Josten is a walking danger magnet.  He doesn’t know what he would do when Josten inevitably hurts Andrew, because that’s the type of danger Andrew can’t just stab with a knife.    

Betsy gave a small cough and Aaron knew he'd been quiet too long.  He avoided Betsy's gaze to look at the clock.  They were already a few minutes over their time.   He wouldn’t have answered at all, just turned back to glare at Betsy until she dismisses them both for the day except he saw Andrew.  

Andrew was still angled away from him on the opposite end of the couch.  His mouth was still turned in a slight frown, but Andrew’s gaze had sharpened.  Even months ago, Aaron might have missed it.  It was a sign of amusement, slight exasperation maybe, but also one of want.  Aaron had never seen that expression for any reason other than Josten, and now it’s directed at him.

“Josten isn’t safe.”  

Andrew gave a huff that might even be considered laughter.

“I’m serious. You’re giving him the power to hurt you.  Just because you don’t care about your own wellbeing, doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and let him get away with it.”  

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”  Andrew waved his hand dismissively.  “Which is good because you’re shit at picking the right battles.”  

Aaron groaned.  “And what do you mean by that?”  

“Neil won’t hurt me.”  He said it like it should be obvious, like he can’t believe Aaron missed something so fundamental.  

“But how can you know that?”  

“How do you know Kaitlyn won’t hurt you?”  The words were thrown like a weapon to end this conversation.  

But Aaron isn’t about to rise to the bait.  Andrew seemed to think that every girl was just going to be another Tilda, that Aaron would let them hurt him for the scraps of affection.  He knew Andrew didn’t decide Kaitlyn was safe out of the goodness of his heart, so his answer made no sense.  

“Why shouldn’t I be worried about Neil hurting you?”  Aaron repeated himself more directly, even calling the idiot by his first name as a sign of good will.  

Andrew looked down at his hands, his right-hand tracing seemingly random places around each of the knuckles on his left.  The gesture seemed both familiar and wrong.   Finally Andrew took a deep breath and looked directly at Aaron.  

“He listens when I say no.”

The words are simple, but Aaron can hear the depth of meaning there.  He gave a slight nod.

Andrew must still see that he doesn’t fully understand, because he continued softly, “He promised he’d stay” before nodding at Betsy and leaving the two of them alone in the room.  

Aaron doesn’t hear Betsy’s chipper goodbye or even comprehend most of practice afterwards. His mind is reeling and even though Andrew only gave him ten words, it feels like one hell of a step forward.  

It’s only later at one of the Fox movie nights that Aaron realized why Andrew’s fidgeting looked wrong.  He’d seen that gesture before.  Andrew’s right hand gently tracing the scars on Neil’s as they sit side by side in silence, barely acknowledging each other but still taking pleasure in each other’s presence.   It’s easy to miss the moment when Neil leans easily back into Andrew and Andrew only tugs their scarred hand closer.  

Aaron hated that it’s this little action is what finally makes him understand. Andrew’s words about Kaitlyn no longer felt like a dig.   It was his brother’s roundabout way of trying to phrase his relationship with Neil in a way Aaron would understand. When you love someone, the world seems safer with them in it.  Andrew might not have said the word love, but he didn’t have to. 

[xmalereader]

Alfie Solomons X Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Requested: Hey hun, hope I'm sending this the right place, if not then excuse me, I'm new to this ahaha. I wanted to request something with Alfie. I was thinking something about Alfie and the reader being together and the workers starts harassing the reader and Alfie is not having any of it and just to whatever else you please. If it's shit then feel free to deny it. Love your page and stories ❤❤

Warnings: Harassment, soft Alfie and protective, slight homophobia, mentions of rape, violence, language.

@ravnulfjohansen

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He didn’t want to go to work, he didn’t want to deal with any of the others. He’s been dealing with this harassment for awhile now and he hasn’t told anyone about it since he is able to handle it himself, he was a big boy and knows how to defend himself against others but the thing is that Alfie, the Alfie Solomons was the man in charge of all of the men that worked in the bakery and he was also his boyfriend.

The big man had a male as his bed warmer and nobody noticed until the day they were caught almost doing it in his office by one of the workers. Alfie had threatened the man that had caught them to keep his mouth shut but of course the whole bakery had caught on about Alfies little affair with another man.

Some of his men didn’t agree with this but they had to remain silent in order to survive the big man from doing anything to them. So instead of letting their anger out on the big boss they decided to attack Y/n instead and show him how much they disapproved about this.

Its been going on for months now and Alfie hasn’t noticed and he wishes that he doesn’t. He was strong and could handle the problem on his own, but sometimes he feels like he isn’t strong enough, feeling weak each time they approach him or corner him somewhere in the bakery, shouting and yelling insults as Y/n tries to push them away, trying to bury away the hurt. Thats why he didn’t want to go to work but if he missed a day it’ll bring Alfie suspicion and he’ll ask him why he wasn’t at the bakery today.

Gripping the covers close around his neck he lets out a deep sigh and slowly sits up from his bed. He takes in the peaceful silence before getting out of bed and getting ready for the day, he made sure to eat something, heading out of his apartment as he walks to the bakery since he lived rather close to it.

It doesn’t take long for him to arrive, skipping steps as he enters from the back. Once he steps inside the factor he is met with a gust of heat and sweat, groaning to himself as he makes his way over to Alfies office. He’s usually earlier than anyone else as he enters the office without knocking.

“Morning Ollie, Alfie.” He nods to the two as Ollie gives him a smile. Alfie could only hum in response as he reads through some letters that he had received this morning. He walks over to the coat hanger and hangs up his own coat and hat and slips on the apron. Tying it behind his back as he approaches Alfies desk, “What’s the schedule like today?”

“You’ll be helping in the back with the others,” Alfie sets his glasses down and looks up to see y/n, noticing the bags under his eyes as he frowns. “Sleeping well darling?” He suddenly asks as y/n raises a brow and reaches up to touch his eyes, he knows that he can’t lie to him since he can easily read him. “Not really, just been a little stressed over my family.” Technically he wasn’t lying, his mother was in the hospital sick, giving him the reason to be working here for the extra money that he earns so that he could buy her proper medicine while his younger sister worked her way through medical school. They were a small family of three and since he is the man of the family its his duty to support them, no matter what.

“Mother doing alright?” Alfie asks next, bringing y/n back from his thoughts. “She’s slowly getting better.” He responds quickly, noticing how Alfie kept staring at him as if he was studying him and somehow he couldn’t figure something out. “I should head to work, don’t want the others to do all of the heavy work.” He chuckles out softly.

Alfie can only nod. “right, Ollie.” He gestures to the man next to him as y/n follows Ollie out and into the open factory.

“It can’t keep going like this.” He hears Ollie whisper as the two walk side by side.

Ollie was the only one in the factory that knew what was going on during working hours, he’s tried to warn Alfie but Y/n always stopped him, begging him to not say a word. Alfie already had his hands full with the Irish and he didn’t want to add anymore trouble. So, he begged Ollie to not say anything.

“You know I can’t tell him, he’ll lose his mind and he’s already struggling with handaling the Irish. I can handle the trouble Ollie so—“ he sighs deeply. “thank you for worrying but I’ve got it.” He gives Ollie a pat on the shoulder as he walks ahead and towards the back of the bakery where all of his troubles were waiting for him.

As he walks down the narrow alley he heads towards his own station. “Well look who decided to show up.” He rolls his eyes as he begins to roll up his sleeves. “You know, Fred, that dough isn’t going to ball itself up.” He shot back, glaring at the older man that stood a few feet away from him.

Fred can only glare in hatred as he approaches y/n. “You think you can boss us around? Just becuase your fucking Solomon’s doesn’t mean you’re the big boss around here.” He snarls out as y/n stands tall.

“I’m no ones boss I’m just doing my job by making sure that we get things finished on time.” Y/n crosses his arms over his chest, smirking at the man in front of him as he steps forward, closing in the space between them. “What? Jealous that I can at least fuck someone unlike you?” He scoffs. “The reason why you work here is becuase their is no one out there who cares for you.” With that he is shoved back harshly against the table.

“You fucking queer!”

Y/n grunts, lifting a leg he knees the man in the gut, shoving him back as he falls onto the floor. “Get your filthy hands off me.” He hisses out.

Fred had a hand over his bruised up abdomen as he sits up, coughing in pain. “Come on boys show him what we got.” He says as the rest of the men that worked around the station smirked and laughed, approaching him and cornering him.

Y/n glares, reaching behind him as he takes ahold of one of the knives. Gripping it in his hand as he watches the group approach. He feels one of them grab his arm, causing an alarm to go off inside him as he swings the blade in his hand and slashes it across the others arm.

The man groans in pain as he grips his injured arm. “You fucking fuck!”

Y/n steps back, feeling another approaching him from host left. He doesn’t hesitate to stab the blade into the man’s shoulder, but before he can pull it out to use it again he is shoved down. “Get off!!” He kicks his legs as they pin him down onto the floor. The same man that he had injured earlier was standing over him with a wicked smile on his face. “let show you what a true man can do.” He says as he starts to unbuckle his belt.

Y/n’s eyes widen in horror as he notices what was going on and what was going to happen. “No, no, NO!!” He shouts out as he continues to kick his legs around, he is able to kick him in the knee, causing the other to fall on his knees in pain. “Why you—“ before he could do anything else a gun shot is heard, causing them all to freeze.

“What the blood hell is going on?!”

He recognizes Aflies voice as its full of anger and disgust.

“Let ‘im go.”

The men don’t hesitate to remove themselves from y/n as he slowly sat up, pressing himself up against the as he lets out a nervous sigh. “Ollie.” Alfie says, Ollie already knowing what that meant as he walks over to y/n, helping him up and making sure that he wasn’t injured. “I’m sorry.” He whispers to him, already knowing that Ollie had told Alfie about the situation, “its fine.”

He glanced over Ollie’s shoulder to see Alfie glaring at the other men that had tried to rape him. He slowly makes his way over to him with Ollie helping him walk, he was still a little shaken up by the events but he was also angry, his body still full of anger.

“What you lot did is unforgivable, one of our top rules is rape and we do not appreciate that stuff around here.” Said Alfie as he approaches the group. “And you lot broke that rule.”

The room is silent as y/n stands behind him, glaring at the others in silent, he noticed Fred standing on the right side of the group as he opens his mouth to say. “Having a queer around makes us all unsafe.”

Wrong move.

“Unsafe?” Alfie moves over to stand infront of Fred. “Unsafe.” He repeats again in silence before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him roughly towards him. “What’s he going to do to you? Rape you, just like you almost did to him?!” He shouted, causing Fred to flinch.

“You listen here—“ he shoves him back. “you all better listen.” He points to everyone in the group that stood infront of him. “I don’t want a repeat of this, now if all of you have a problem with y/n working here then you can all leave but I wont promise that some of you will make it out alive.” He warns.

Y/n scoffs, these men weren’t going to learn their lesson he already knows that they’ll try it again when Alfie isn’t around. They’ll continue on with the harassment and it’ll never stop unless he is gone.

“What about y/n?” Said the man who tried to rape him.

“What about him?”

“He attacked us with a knife, almost killed us!”

Y/n growls and without thinking he snatches Ollie’s gun off his belt, approaching the man that tried to rape him and points the gun to his head, without hesitanting he pulls the trigger, causing the shot to echo around them as the mans body falls limp. “There.” He breaths out in anger and glares at the others who flinched away from his deadly stare. “Next time you try this again ill make sure to put a bullet in each and every one of your heads.” He waves the gun around until it lands on Fred.

Grinning mischievously he shoots him in the leg, causing Fred to fall onto the floor as he screams in agony and pain. “you deserved it.” Said y/n, turning his back and heading out of the back room, making sure to hand Ollie his gun back as he makes his way towards Alfies office.

Once he enters the office he yanks his apron off and throws it on the floor in anger, he walks to the corner of the room where the couch was set and falls onto it. Waiting for Alfie to arrive. He can hear the sound of tapping boots as he looks up to see Alfie and Ollie.

“Ollie, leave us will ya?”

Ollie can only look at Alfie and the at y/n before looking back at Alfie and nodding. “Yes, sir.” He says and leaves the office, making sure to close the double doors behind him. Once the doors clicked shut the room is full of silence, y/n is the first to break it. “Sorry that I ruined your walls.” He mutters out, referring to the ‘paint’ job that he gave back there.

Alfie Can only chuckle as he approaches y/n, “don’t matter, he deserved it.” He admits as he sits next to y/n who hums in response. “You alreayd know that I don’t appreciate rapists working in my factory.”

“So your saying that I did good thing from your check list?” Y/n rasies a brow and smiles as his own joke.

Alfie smirks, shaking his head. “You could say that.” He moves closer and wraps his arms around y/ns waist, pulling him close and into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Y/n sighs against his shoulder. “I didn’t want to add anymore baggage on you, your already dealing with enough so I didn’t—I couldn’t.” Alfie genlty takes ahold of y/n’s face, lifting his head so that he can look at his boyfriend.

“Who else has hurt you.”

“No one else just them.” Y/n whispers out.

Alfie eyes him, believing his response as he leans down to capture his lips into a kiss. Y/n leans into it as he closes his eyes.

He feels Alfie pull away and brush his nose against his. “If this happens again I’m going to kill them.”

Y/n chuckles softly. “I don’t mind.” He opens his eyes to stare into Alfies blue ones. “I found it really attractive when you killed him.” He blurts out, earning a laughing from y/n. “Then maybe I should kill the rest, show you my feisty side.” He bites his lip and smirks at him.

Alfie groans as he pulls y/n into another deep kiss and pushes him down against the couch with y/n giggling at his actions.

[regrettablewritings]

How They Spend the Quarantine (Tadashi Hamada, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Wade Wilson, Harley Quinn, & Benoit Blanc)

Just a fun (?? is that even responsible to say?) little thing I’ve been thinking about while slogging through this neverending hellscape of an extended lockdown.

Tadashi Hamada

When San Fransokyo was ordered to go into a lockdown, there were mixed feelings.

At first, Tadashi had a hint of optimism that this would mean more time to work on his prospective projects . . . But then he quickly realized that his projects mostly required tools and space offered by the campus. He could technically make do at home, but it wouldn’t quite be the same considering the garage was considered Hiro’s space.

Somberly had to clean out his lab and take whatever he could home.

Cue the rest of the group (sans Fred and Hiro) griping that at least his style of science could travel well enough to be somewhat continued off of university grounds.

Helps do delivery for The Lucky Cat. It helps him get out the house, and it’s simply helpful altogether.

Uses Baymax frequently to make sure everyone down to Mochi is sanitized, and nobody’s running a fever.

Nearly as frequent a sanitizer as Aunt Cass.

He starts most days prepared to be productive, only to stop and poke fun at Hiro, who’s almost always got his eyes trained on a video game.

Tadashi realizes three hours later that he, too, has been playing the game as Player 2.

Learned how to make facial masks with Aunt Cass. He already knew how to sew a little but frankly, making the masks made him realize he could have a new hobby on his hands. He’s currently trying to figure out how to make Mochi a little vest . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

B o r e d. A s. F u c k.

At first, he thinks everyone being forced to go home would work in his favor -- surely some rule-breakers would sneak out and try to bunk up with the Devil, right?

Well . . . Kinda? Once Chloe found out and scolded him about it, the idea died real fast. Plus, he realized he wasn’t quite fond of the possibility of being around someone who could pop up with a disgusting human sickness at any point during their time with him. Smearing their snot all over, coughing into his Egyptian cotton sheets . . . Nope, never mind, he is perfectly content having the penthouse to himself, thank you very much!

Except he’s not.

The poor bastard is going crazy by himself -- he’s just not used to being without some kind of company!

“At least in Hell, you could tell there were people around you based on the screaming!” he’d whine at his phone during his hourly video chat with Chloe.

Oh yes: The video chats. He tries to make them hourly with anyone he can get a hold of (namely, his long-suffering detective) but this clearly never plays out as he would like for it to: If he had it his way, everyone would respond in an instant and let him bounce mainly one-sided conversations off of them -- basically, what he did before all this went down.

What usually winds up happening is he gets hung up on or nobody answers him at all out of sheer annoyance over his clinginess.

Ironically, he’s not exactly crazy about when Amenadiel initiates those “family calls”. He insists it’s healthy and normal for them to do this and even calls Luci out on the hypocrisy, but let’s face it: Lucifer finds it obnoxiously gushy and weird.

He works his way into Linda’s video appointment books to help him cope with his boredom and admitted need for interactions. She doesn’t mind offering him counsel, but once Lucifer starts attempting to butt in during others’ appointment calls, it becomes an issue.

Has, at some point, gotten buzzed down in Lux and streamed himself attempting to pole dance. It drew quite a bit of attention.

He’s managed to gain a bit of a following and some companionship by streaming himself playing piano and singing. It’s not the same thing as having an actual audience, in his opinion, but it will have to do for now.

He’s never been one to binge with regards to TV shows or movies, but after the first week, he decided to binge watch every work action star Wesley Cabot was ever in.

Makes sure his staff still gets paid well. After all, he’s pretty well-off; there’s no need to make an innocent bartender’s life a living hell just because some other rich bastard fucked up, yeah?

Going off this, should he need to order to-go or anything, we already know he tends to tip as handsomely as he looks.

Dewey Finn

Kids were being sent to Horace Green on tuitions worth more than what some people saw in half a year -- of course the school was going to continue classes online!

While technically an afterschool instructor, the program is popular enough for parents to expect it to continue, and for Dewey to be kept on payroll.

Initially, he was pretty smug: He’s one if, if not, the youngest teacher-figure at Horace Green, so surely that means he’s more tech savvy than his older, stiffer coworkers, right? For once, he’s ahead of the curve!

Wrong: Figuring out Zoom was a headache, and then there was the realization of just how dependent his classes were on actual physical presence.

Plus, let’s be real: Dewey’s Internet connection was decent on its own, but craptastic when compared to those of his wealthier students. The lag is strong with this one.

Has definitely accidentally messed up the background on his screen. Somehow wound up with the Beetlejuice background and got so frustrated, he wound up keeping it there for two whole sessions.

In spite of the slight issues regarding lag, they pull through and try to resume lessons as best they can.

Tries to keep optimism by pointing out how this is a new form of entertainment they could be pioneers in.

Some days, it’s just going so wack or everyone’s so bleh that Dewey just assigns for them to watch a music documentary or something.

“Okay, kids, Mr. Finn’s hungover and clearly Summer is the only one who went to bed before 3am. So what I’m gonna have you do is watch . . . Prrrbbbb . . . Amadeus.” “How is Amadeus rock-related?” “It had a rock single, shut up. Anyway, we meet back next class and talk about what we saw, m’kay? M’kay. Over and out.”

Next class, he’s filled with dread as Summer produces an in-depth analysis of the relationship or lack thereof between character and the presence of talent as evidenced by Mozart’s abilities juxtaposed with his immature presentation and -- Dewey just can’t keep up. Sure, Summer, why not?

When he’s not busy teaching, however, he’s using the lockdown to work on some new material. Or just screwing around.

Otherwise, let’s be real, Big Boy’s living the high life in a place of his own: Playing video games (Animal Crossing, recently got back into Team Fortress 2, is trying to finally finish Ocarina of Time); eating a not very great diet; staying up late, napping at weird times; all in the name of quarantine.

If he orders delivery or to-go, he tips the best he can.

Wade Wilson

On one hand, murking never goes on lockdown. But on the other . . . He’s already technically not well, why risk that even with his mutation?

Oh, fuck I just remembered he lives at the X Mansion, never mind turn back turn back oh god give us free --

The situation is tense to say the least. There’s Wade, who’s sensible enough to know why the quarantine is in place . . . and then there’s everyone else, who knows Wade’s full of shit.

And by everyone, I “coincidentally” mean Colossus, Nega Sonic, Yukio, Domino, Cable, and Russ because the already small world of the sequel just got smaller by the fact that everyone is bound to a large but nonetheless single estate whose size has probably decreased from that of the First Class timeline.

You know those videos of the usual Quarantine Characters? Wade is somehow yet still unsurprisingly all of them, save for the frequent sanitizer. He raids the pantry frequently, sleeps at all hours, considers scooting a swivel chair down the halls exercise for the thighs, blasts video games, and so on.

Going back to the sanitizer thing, it’s not that he’s just not exactly known for being tidy. Colossus occasionally does drag him out of bed at a decidedly decent time (read: any time before 11am) to try and get him excited about cleaning up around the mansion, but it rarely ends well. At this point, the safest option is to just remind Wade to wash his hands for 20 seconds as necessary.

Has acquired a Switch and visits everyone’s island, often to bonk them on the head with a net or gift them with weird crap they don’t necessarily want. For the “friends” from Sister Margaret’s, he has somehow acquired their Dodo Codes. Nobody knows how he did this. 

Facetimes Dopinder frequently.

“Precious, you’re the beacon of light in this cold, cruel world.” “I miss you, too, DP --” “Sshshsh! I’m having a moment . . .” *weeps*

On the many occasions he orders delivery, he tips by giving the delivery person something expensive from the mansion that they can sell. Prof. X is loaded, after all. Plus, he more or less isn’t even present in this universe, it’s not like he’s gonna miss anything he can’t see/probably doesn’t even know exists in his house. The problem is, Colossus does exist and does notice and does care when things go missing. Leading to many a delivery person getting caught up in shenanigans at that weird school in the boonies that they either don’t get paid enough to deal with or couldn’t pay to make up.

“Oh, pawn shops are closed?” asks the man who looks like a skinned avocado if avocados had human skin. “Don’t worry, lemme hook you up -- I know some guys --” “DEADPOOOOOLLL!!” roars a Russian accent from inside the house. “WHERE IS THE BRONZE BUST OF THE PROFESSOR!?” The poor delivery person’s eyes widen as they realize that the odd cargo they’ve been presented with apparently holds some value of some kind. But before they can flee, the avocado man blurts, “Shit! Leave the pizza in the bushes, look me up on my Youtube page, byyyeeee!!”

In his defense, Wade does hold up his end of the deal. Much like the Dodo Codes, nobody knows what strings he pulled. They just accept it and move on.

Harley Quinn

Surprisingly compliant.

She’s crazy, not stupid: Staying at home may suck, but what sucks more is making things harder on people who may not fair so well. Besides, she’s spent time in a maximum security prison -- she can handle staying cooped up in her own home. At least home has TV, books, and snacks.

When she hears people are still going out without masks or plotting to have a protest, she strongly considers firing up the old Fun Gun and popping the next sign-carrying Karen she sees with a tit full of cadmium yellow powder.

Seriously, stay the fuck home and fuck up your own hair; this is the perfect time to make mistakes with your looks, it ain’t like you got anywhere to be or anyone to impress.

“STAY THE FUCK HOME, BITCH!” P O W!!! “JUST GO GREY ALREADY, WE ALL KNOW YOUR HAIR AIN’T THAT COLOR ANYMORE, YOU’RE THREE YEARS FROM BEING IN THE GODDAMN AGE-BRACKET!!!” P O W!!!!

Only leaves her new apartment to grab groceries and to take Bruce on a walk. She actually refuses to steal or cause a scene during this shitshow because she may be a bad guy, but she sure ain’t evil.

So far, there haven’t been complaints about the fact that she’s walking a hyena down a public street. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly anyone out? Maybe it’s because Gothamites just can’t be bothered to be fazed by it . . . Or maybe it’s because she made him a little mask for his snout.

“In this house, we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds, kid.”

Lets the forest reclaim the earth, so to speak. She was never really shaving anything for anyone but herself before, but now it just seems especially pointless.

Spends almost every day in a kigurumi. To give her a semblance of routine, she has a pink bear one she calls her “Sunday Suit.” She doesn’t know it’s not Sunday because the days just blur but Cass just doesn’t have the heart to tell her; she seemed so proud of herself . . .

Like everyone else, she’s gotten Animal Crossing. She’s trying to create an all-preppy island with a few exceptions (Astrid = Aesthetic, m’kay?)

Tips nicely when ordering delivery.

Benoit Blanc

As young and spry in nature as the gentleman sleuth would like to think of himself, he would really rather not test the dangers of the situation and go about all foolhardy -- he’s staying home!

In theory, it’s only logical and therefore perfectly fine. But in practice . . . God, he wishes he’d invested more in things to occupy himself with when home.

It wasn’t that Benoit was never home, he just never felt too much of a need to invest in a fancy entertainment center -- the fanciest he ever got was an iHome.

The beginning of the quarantine served as the perfect time for him to read over case files, catch up on paperwork, even catch up on some reading he’d been putting on hold since God knows when due to cases popping up left and right. But that dried up quicker than he’d assumed, and that’s when he was faced with what a man of his mind dreads the most: Boredom.

Finally caved and decided to hook up Amazon Fire.

Expected to use the one-month free trial on Netflix and be just fine but once the lockdown in his area got extended and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to catch up with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at this rate, he caves even further and buys a subscription.

Fully delights at the influx of platforms uploading Broadway recordings; when The Show Must Go On put on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, followed by The Phantom of The Opera, it was a treat, I tell you!

Sanitizes often, despite hardly ever leaving his house besides to have a smoke or to go grab groceries. Honestly, it’s less about cleaning at this point so much as it is finding something to occupy his focus when he feels there’s nothing else to so.

Takes zinc after every meal to help lessen the intensity of any ailment that might hit him.

Definitely owns a facemask. There’s a good chance it’s from Marta or one of his relatives, and there’s another good chance the pattern is as flamboyant as his clothing. He’s delighted.

Benoit tries not to rely too much on delivery,  as he’d much rather just cook. On the rare occasion where tipping comes up, however, he gives as generously as he can.

Bonus: There’s a slight chance he might have acquired a companion to foster early on in the quarantine. Benoit hadn’t had a pet since childhood, a crime of which he was admittedly melancholic of his own involvement. However, his surprisingly busy lifestyle just wouldn’t suit a four-legged friend, now could it?

Well, now there’s time to. Besides, it would certainly ease the potential feeling of loneliness to have someone or something with whom he could interact with.

Admittedly, when shelters began encouraging people to invest time in taking home a companion, he’d been looking more for a comrade on the canine side of the spectrum -- but darn, if Duke wasn’t a handsome cat.

A lovely grey-and-white cat with eyes that matched his own, Duke has become the one Benoit monologues to (because in all honesty, the man is a performer at heart, in need of an audience to speak his mind to and portray a thought before). Plus, he doesn’t appear to mind it when Benoit finds himself belting out in tone-deaf notes to showtunes while washing the dishes: The mark of a true companion.

At this rate, he’s probably not going to keep fostering Duke when things calm down -- he’s probably going to just straight up adopt him.

Stay safe & healthy!

[writingtoforgetreality]

I just want us to be safe – Chapter 2 (Andy Barber x Daughter!Reader)

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / I just want us to be safe-Masterlist

Summary: You managed to convince your dad to let you help him with this difficult case. Your years at law school were not completely useless & that much your dad knew as well. It was time to interrogate a few teenagers of Newton High. Who thought it would lead you to think this way?

Words: 2,448

Warnings: language (the opportunity was given, come on), father-daughter-dream team (not a real warning but it’s cute), besides that this chapter is good to go

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

When you pulled into your driveway, you could already see your dad waiting for you. You parked your car, got out & ran for him immediately. He welcomed you with open arms & you closed your eyes when you finally reached him. You were all okay but the thought itself was scary.

“You alright?“ dad asked you & you nodded in return. He knew you wanted to know as much as he did & since it was his case, he had quite some information. Dad & you made your way inside where Laurie was already waiting for you. As soon as she saw you, she got up & ran over to you, embracing you in a hug. You were just happy to see all of them but unfortunately, Jacob was still locked inside school.

“The victim was found stabbed in the woods, just a bit away from the way Jake usually takes. It looked brutal, I’m glad you didn’t have to see this.“ dad inhaled & closed his eyes for a second, the images popping into his head again. “It was Ben. You know him, don’t you?“

“Ben? Ben Rifkin? The boy who goes to Jay’s class?“ you were shocked to say the least. When you saw your dad nod you continued. “Knowing is definitely the wrong word. I just knew he was in the same class as Jay. He always seemed like a nice guy…Oh my god…this is…I don’t know what to say.“ you honestly said, your voice breaking throughout your sentence. Dad laid his arm across your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. Even though you did not know Ben personally, you were sorry this had happened. What was his family going through? Laurie mostly sat next to you in silence, processing it differently.

A few minutes of silence passed & you heard the door unlock. This had to be Jacob. You were right, he stepped inside, his expression not readable. He did not look scared or broken but neither did he look happy, obviously. The four of you went into a group hug, grateful that you were all here, together. Jacob was not in the mood for talking so you decided to let him go to his room. Maybe he just needed some alone time to process what had happened today. Dad did tell him that the victim was Ben but still, Jacob did not show any emotions.

“We weren’t friends, really, just regular classmates, you know?“ & with that, dad stopped asking Jacob about it, wanting for him to rest a bit after this eventful day. Laurie decided on doing the same, so she went into her & dad’s bedroom, closing the door. She would probably do some reading. She always did when she wanted to calm down.

Now, your dad & you were alone in the kitchen. Dad’s laptop was already sitting on top of the counter, ready to do some research, as his boss had told him to do. Yet, you did not leave his side. You were not attending law school for no reason. The crime solving had always fascinated you & dad let you have an insight in his cases every now & then. Two people working towards one goal was faster than one so you asked, not caring about your dad’s answer at all, knowing you had to convince him to let yourself be of help.

“Dad? I’d like to help you with this case.“ you stated confidently. You knew his answer as soon as his eyes had met yours. His face told you everything.

“Nope. Don’t even think about it. I’m fine, I can deal with this on my own. I don’t wanna make you a part of this, that’s no joke. This is dangerous, (Y/N).“ the way he called you by your real name surprised you a bit. He only ever used it when he was serious about something. Yet, you could not let him do this alone. It would be so helpful for college so you tried again.

“I am aware of the danger, dad. I wasn’t saying that I’d like to take over. Just helping with research, maybe even interrogations, you know, like we have done a couple times already.“ while saying that, you made sure to look directly into his eyes, trying to sound as confident as possible. Apparently it had worked because you saw your dad’s expression soften & knew you had him wrapped around your finger. You know, you were damn good at doing research, always finding the right sources & clues that helped with solving a case. Dad obviously knew that as well, so he agreed on you helping him. He told you that you had to obey his orders, especially with this case & you were fine with this. So in order to work faster, you ran up to your room, grabbed your laptop, made your way downstairs again & sat right next to dad. You still did not have much information but you worked with what you got. Mainly, the two of you searched for similar cases in the area, trying to find any connections but to no avail. A few hours later, you had not checked the time for a while, your dad yawned & stretched. He told you it was time for bed & you were shocked when the time read 3:11 am. College started in a few hours so it was destined to be a short night without much sleep. You would lie if you said that you were not affected by such cases. But that was what the job brought with itself. Sleepless nights & loads of overthinking. Were you ready for all of this in your future? Honestly, yeah. You wanted to help others in a form of bringing justice to suffering people.

6 am, your alarm woke you from your short slumber. Gosh, you were tired but that was nothing you could not manage. Following the same routine as always, you made your way to the kitchen. Everything was the usual. Dad drank his coffee, Laurie went jogging & Jacob was silent, a bit too silent for your liking. When Laurie came back, the discussion started. Dad & Laurie wanted to drive Jacob to school. An obvious reaction to a killer running around. Jacob insisted on walking again & did not want to discuss this any further. You also suggested to drive him, not planning on taking your own car today, but wanting your brother to be safe. All you earned was a glare. Okay, you would not ask him again. Today was your diner-free day so you hopped inside dad’s car, letting him drop you off in front of your college. You bid your goodbyes & told dad you would be coming over to his workplace as soon as you finished your classes. He agreed, you had been at his work a couple times already, & drove off.

News were spreading fast & so was the fact that your dad, Andy Barber, had been assigned to this case. You were surrounded by law students, just as curious as you were, so of course they asked you if you knew more than the media released. The promise you made prevented you from spilling too much so you went with the typical “That’s all we know, too.“ phrase. Lucky you, you only had one class today & after this, you walked to your dad’s office. Office? More like his workplace but whatever. You loved it there. The atmosphere, the people, the cause. Sometimes you even imagined yourself working there. Maybe your dream would come true in a few years, after successfully graduating from law school. Entering, you saw your dad on his way in his boss‘ office. He was so focused that he did not even see you walk in. Not wanting to interrupt their meeting, you waited outside, greeted some of dad’s colleagues & sat in one of the many chairs. From what you could read from their expressions, it was not a simple “updating“ meeting. When you saw your dad’s favorite colleague walk in, you knew something was off. Oh how much you hated that guy. What was his name again? Neal Logidiudice? Logidouche? Who the hell even cared, he was an asshole, that much you knew. They discussed for a few more minutes until your dad exited the office, spotting you & walking over to you. Okay, dad did not look pissed, more like accomplished. That was a good sign.

“Hi there, angel! Here so soon?“ he questioned.

“Just had one class today so I thought I’d come by earlier. Let me tell you, law students are horrible when it comes to being curious. Am I this bad, too?“ you asked, more to yourself but still loud enough for him to hear.

“Bullshit, you know the way, you’re more experienced than most of them.“ his statement made you smile.

“Soooo? What were you guys talking about? And what the hell did Detective Douche do in there?“ your last part made your dad laugh. You were a bit obsessed with “Lucifer“ so every time you saw one of dad’s co-workers you did not like, you gave them this name.

“My boss wanted to pass this case to him. You know, because of me having a relationship with some parents & students. After some convincing from my side, she agreed on letting me do it anyway. Good sign, angel, you can come with me to Newton High to interrogate a few kids. You in?“ your response was a smirk. Of course you would accompany him. You loved helping him with his job.

Dad, Detective Paula Duffy & you grabbed a few things & made your way over to Newton High. While being in the car, dad told you a few rules you had to follow during the talks with the kids. You knew how to behave during an interrogation. The two of you had gone over the steps multiple times. Yet, he felt more comfortable with telling you again & again, especially while on the way to an important appointment. So you kept listening, knowing how much of a deal it was for him. Arriving at the school’s parking lot, everything seemed normal. Nobody would have guessed that there had been a murder nearby a day prior. When the two of you stepped out of the car & met with Detective Paula Duffy again, you went over to the entrance. The principal awaited you & made you follow him to a separate, empty classroom. There was just one table at the very center. You thought that there probably were kids who could be a tiny bit scared of this sort of confrontation. They might be younger but there sure as hell were not dumb. Kids always knew more than they were revealing. You had been to high school, you knew the deal. You thought it was a good idea to let them know your apprehension. Because of that, the two of them decided to integrate you in the talks. They thought that the kids were more comfortable with talking to a younger one. Of course you were happy to hear that. They trusted you enough to include you. You all got seated on one side of the table, leaving a single chair at the opposite side for the kids.

You had lost count about how many children had been in there. There was nobody who gave you new information. Mostly, the teenagers were shocked to find out about Andy Barber, Jacob’s father. Some of them even recognized you, telling you they had seen you around a few years prior. Even though all three of you tried to get at least a tiny bit out of the kids, it was useless. It was time for the last kid of the day. You were tired. Sitting there for hours, interrogating teenager after teenager without success was exhausting. The last interrogation was with a girl. She looked cute, nice & smart. One of her first questions was addressed to your dad.

“Are you Jacob Barber’s dad?” your dad, being tired of the statement he had heard so many times already, simply smiled & nodded. Her next question, though, brought your attention back.

“Have you talked to him about it?” her face shifted but you could not quite make out what her expression looked like. It was a normal question but to you, something did not make sense. You let your dad answer, not really knowing what to say yourself.

“Um…you mean if I have talked to Jacob about this situation? No, not yet.” your dad barely ever stuttered so that was another unusual thing.

“Maybe you should. Can I go now?” the question everyone asked as soon as they wanted to get out of there. Your dad gave her his card, telling her to immediately call this number if she remembered anything or if she saw anything. She nodded, making her way towards the door, looking back one more time, her face showing…pity? Now that was interesting.

“We’re done for today. Go home, we’ll keep working tomorrow.” the Detective said. She said goodbye & walked out of the room, leaving you & dad alone.

Back in the car, you could not get this girl out of your head. Her words seemed to activate something inside of you & you started growing concerned. Not wanting to wait any longer, you asked what you had on your mind.

“Do you think Jacob knows more than he lets us know?” even though you faced the street in front of you, you saw dad looking at you from the corner of your eye.

“Seriously?” he let out a low chuckle. “Angel, we’ve talked to him. He doesn’t know anything else, he promised.” Dad reassured you.

“Can we be sure, though? Maybe this girl has a point. Should we ask him again?” you were scared. You hated yourself for even believing that your little brother Jacob had been hiding the entire truth from you. But you were trying to solve a case & that meant that you had to consider every possibility. The thought made you sick.

“(Y/N).” his voice was more serious now. “We know Jake, if he knew something, he would’ve told us.” He reasoned.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, this case just…you know, not easy.” you tried to explain. Your dad nodded, understanding you were a bit confused with this situation. As he kept driving, you could not help your thoughts wandering back to the slight possibility of Jacob being involved. How could you ever doubt your own brother? But on the other hand, was the doubting justified?

 ~to be continued~

Published (01/05/2020) by Cathy

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #20)

01/07/88  11:56 PM

Hey.

That first night was rough.

The following six would not be much better.

Honestly, most of my time spent in the dump has excused itself from my memory, on account of being so profoundly unremarkable and entirely unpleasant. I’m pretty sure I know what I did, but a large sum of the details are basically gone. Thankfully, none of it’s all that important, but I still feel like I should write down what I can recall. It’s kind of weird -- it feels like the more I write, the more I remember. Maybe once all’s said and done, I should try keeping a journal or some corny crap like that. A real one.

‘Dunno if I could stay regular on it without the added benefit of pretending to talk to you.

Anyway. Seven-ish days, I stayed there, and each day, relations with Wreck-it stayed just as strained, clipped, and awkward as the day before. I found out on the first morning that he had a strike system in mind -- I break three rules, that’s three strikes, that’s my ass hitting the road. Of course, I found out about this shortly after making my first strike. Literally seconds into the first day. 

I hadn’t slept at all, being too sick and anxious and plagued by a snoring gorilla. So, when he woke up, before he could even stand, he was greeted by a violation of Rule #2:

“Hey, Maestro, what’s it like havin’ an entire brass section lodged in your nose?”

Then he, let’s say, ‘explained’ that I’d just struck one of three.

The second strike was not long for this world, either. Just hours later, I’d break Rule #5, completely by accident.

Business was pretty slow that day, being so early in the School Year (I heard some things here and there about so-and-so’s throwing First Day of School parties, but there was no festival this year -- not in the climate for it, I guess). Fix-it had a fair amount of free time between gamers, and made the incredibly ill-advised decision to try to talk to me. I was curled up on my pillows trying very hard to sleep when I heard him climbing up the bricks, calling out cautiously, “Mavy? Are you here?”

I didn’t say anything. I just grabbed a brick and tossed it in the direction of his voice. I then heard a yelp, a handful of Nicelander gasps, those tumbling sound effects, and that morbid little funeral drone. I didn’t expect to actually hit him, let alone K.O. him. He’s so damn easy to K.O., it’s like cracking an egg.

Regardless of it being an accident, regardless of the fact that Fix-it was assuring everyone he was fit as a fiddle seconds later, regardless of the fact that Wreck-it wasn’t even in the dump at the time, but watching from the roof of Niceland, it was a strike. So I had one left until I was out on my ass. I really had to pull it together in that regard. And I did, sort of.

I spent each day more or less the same: Looking for distractions that didn’t break any rules, puking, and trying to sleep.

I wandered around when I could. I took sporadic catnaps. I took very, very cold baths in the river, which I did not miss doing at all, but I certainly couldn’t use the showers in your game anymore. I drew sketches of the gamers’ faces as they played. I spent lots of time hugging a bucket. I very quietly played my guitar, more for the motion than the music. I snuck into the building from behind and raided apartments during gameplay, stockpiling food and water as my appetite slowly came back. It was all repetitive, futile, and not nearly enough to distract me the way I needed. I wanted buffs so, so bad. Even a drink. But for the life of me, I could not leave the game.

I tried many times, often several times in a day. I’d go stand at our dinky little train station, staring at the dinky little train I’d have to use as a newfound ground-dweller, and shiver. I’d pace. I’d kick the train, usually. It was so demeaning and frustrating. Nobody can keep me locked up. Yet there I was, too afraid to leave my own Dev-damned game out of fear that I’d be murdered. That had to be exactly what my attacker wanted me to feel. Just crippling, paralyzing fear. She may not have killed me, but maybe she was counting on other ways to make me disappear. And there I was, giving her what she wanted.

Wreck-it, on the other hand, left the game nightly to go to Tapper’s, right after closing. He’d check in with me beforehand, and it’d be the same each time.

He’d say, “Hey. Holdin’ up okay?”

I’d say, “Yup.”

He’d say, “Think you might leave soon?”

I’d say, “Hopefully.”

He’d say, “I’m going to Tapper’s, if you’re interested.”

I’d say, “No, thanks.”

End scene.

Word for word, the same every night. Those were really our only brief windows of communication, right up until the fifth night, after he had come back from Tapper’s and settled in. 

The withdrawals had cleared up by then, but, needless to say, I still didn’t feel too good. I’d been stuck in there for nearly a week, feeling more broken and pathetic than I’d ever felt in my life. Everything was weighing down so, so hard, it was like I could barely breathe. Being unable to find you, nearly being murdered, being villainized, practically losing my brush -- it all had me cornered. There was nowhere to run. I was wishing so deeply for a way out. So, like I’ve done countless times before, I stared out into the arcade through the screen, trying to imagine a reality where I could break out and leave all of this behind.

The thing is, though, I’d only ever dreamed of that when no one else was around. This time, I was peering over the mound of bricks that I’d been sleeping behind, barely ten feet from Wreck-it’s stump. I was lying there for Devs know how long before, completely by accident, a question slipped from my mouth.

“What do you think it’s like out there?”

Wreck-it jumped. “Huh?”

I jumped. “What?”

“What’d you say?”

I felt my face burn up. I couldn’t have that conversation, not with him. I slipped back down the bricks to my privacy, and instinctively grabbed my guitar. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter.”

Wreck-it didn’t press, but I didn’t expect him to. It was the heavy, awkward silence after that I was worried about, so, without a second thought, I started playing my guitar. I’d played quietly while Wreck-it was around a few times before, and he didn’t seem to mind. Up until that point, though, I’d been silent on the vocals, because… y’know, I guess I just didn’t feel much like singing since you’d left. But in my panic, I started singing the first thing that popped into my head. It was this song I’d started writing about a concrete world and a neon storm. It wasn’t done. I’d forgotten most of it. It was a freakin’ mess -- eventually, I just gave up. I sighed and started plucking no tune in particular. Me and my unpredictable mouth.

That’s when Wreck-it piped in again, casually.

“Was that a new one?”

I cringed. “Yeah. It’s... not done.”

He paused. “It was nice. When it’s done, you should play it at Tapper’s.” He paused again. “...Y’know, after… things die down a bit.”

“...Yeah, right. As if I’ll ever play there again. Certainly not at Qix, either.”

“No?”

“No. Sprites at Qix are there for a good time, and I’m not super conducive to those anymore, so… even if it ever opens up again, I’m off the setlist.”

Qix had, indeed, been barred from the public not too long after the incident. It had become even more of a hotspot for buff use and dealing. Hardly stopped users and dealers from finding new places for it, but, still, the arcade lost its one and only nightclub. So that was grand.

“And, as for Tapper, I kinda doubt he wants the arcade’s most hated sprite playing at his bar.”

“Tapper still likes you,” he said. “I mean, he even talked about you the other night, said he’d run into you at the memorial. Wanted to know how you were doing.”

It was true -- I had met Tapper briefly at the memorial, and I remembered that he said that I was always welcome in his game if I needed company. It really was a sweet thing, looking back. But I didn’t take him seriously at the time, ‘cause I still thought it was a big joke. And after that, I definitely made him regret his offer. All I’d done at Tapper’s was drink myself violent and end up throwing punches and breaking glass. I was certain that he’d changed his mind and started hating me like everyone else. That thought really stung.

I waited, for a moment. “...What did you tell him?”

“I just told him I wouldn’t know.”

“Good,” I nodded, “good.”

We were both quiet for a long while, before words slipped out of me again. “I’m gonna miss that bar.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… whether Tapper likes me or not, I’m… bad for business, now. I could draw sprites in with my music, before, but, now… Even if he says I’m welcome there, I’m not really. It’s not entirely up to him.” I sighed, and felt my voice drop so low, it practically dragged. “I’m not welcome anywhere, anymore, so… that’s great.”

“Nowhere at all?”

I said, “Nope. Didn’t you say yourself that I’m trouble? Big trouble? Everyone seems to think that. Bigger trouble than anyone can deal with nowadays.”

Once again, we were both silent for a moment. I’d stopped playing, reduced to flicking one string with my thumb, just enough to hear it.

I heard Wreck-it take a deep breath behind me. He paused, and then, in a slow, awkward voice, said, “Well… Yeah, maybe, but… You don’t scare me, kid.”

I wished that could have made me feel better. It was, objectively, a pretty decent thing to say, and another sprite probably would have been very comforted by the chance of an ally in this mess, or at the very least, someone with something resembling loyalty. But it just made me feel worse. I felt too smart to believe any of that crap could last. He didn’t know it yet, but he’d change his mind. I’d always figured that sooner or later, everyone would decide I’m too much. That was just the way of things. 

However, given my bleak circumstances, I had little choice but to accept his… tolerance while it lasted. Having someone on my side, even for just a little while, seemed like it could have proven helpful.

So, after a long, sullen silence, I just went back to plucking idly on my guitar. “Good to know you’re not as dumb as you look, then.”

His breath caught in disbelief for a second, before he dropped right back into growling, “Name-calling. Watch it.”

“It was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, a super backhanded one.”

I closed my eyes, trying to play myself to sleep. “Just take it, pal. I don’t got that many kind words to share, so I gotta ration them out wisely.”

He grumbled. “You would call that kind.”

“I do. Now, can we cut the yammerin’ and sleep?”

“Fine. Yeesh.”

He slept. I didn’t. Not ‘til midday the following day, anyway. I fell asleep during gameplay hours, and woke up just after closing when Wreck-it stomped his big ol’ stumps up the bricks. We had the usual pre-Tapper’s exchange, ending, of course, with me refusing his offer to come along. I was tired as hell, and I still wasn’t ready to go out there.

But, as I quickly discovered, it didn’t matter if I was ready or not.

I’d been in a fitful sleep for what must have been barely half an hour when Wreck-it’s feet woke me up again. This time, he came around behind my bricky knoll to stand next to me, towering with this look on his face that I didn’t like at all.

He said, “Hey kid, guess what.”

“I’m being evicted?”

“No,” he grinned in a way I couldn’t read -- don’t really see him smile that often, honestly, “but you are leaving. You’re going to Tapper’s!”

I was not following. “Uh… ‘kay, you do know that I said ‘no thanks’, right? That’s a thing you remember?”

“Yup, yup, I do. But listen to this -- I talked to Tapper for you, and all that stuff you said about him hating you or -- or, y’know, all that --” he shook his head, “-- not true. He misses you, kid. You gotta get out there and show him you’re alive.”

I felt my face burn up.

“You-- You--” I sprung to my feet, “You TOLD HIM I’M STAYING WITH YOU!?”

He put his hands on his hips nonchalantly. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

“HOW-- WHEN I SPECIFICALLY SAID NOT TO?! THAT WAS RULE NUMBER ONE!!”

“Ah, ah,” he pointed, “polite request number one, and, request denied.”

I’d have throttled his fat neck if my fingers could fit around it.

“WHY’D I WASTE MY TIME BEING POLITE, THEN, LARD-FACE!?”

He seemed thoroughly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m gonna let that one slide, because you can bellyache all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been in here way, way too long, kid.”

“QUIT CALLING ME KID! I’M GONNA LEAVE, OKAY! SOON! ON MY OWN!”

“Uh huh, I’m sure you were going to,” he nodded in a condescending sort of way that made me want to hurl a brick between his eyes, “but now you get to leave with me, right now.”

“NO, I DON’T!”

“You said you’re here ‘cause you had nowhere else to go, right? Well, now you’ve got somewhere else to go, so get up off my bricks, and come go to the bar like I know you’ve been dying to do all week.”

He wasn’t wrong. But I was so angry. And I was still so scared.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO, AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”

His eyebrows raised for a second, and he shrugged. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this.”

Then the colossal bastard grabbed me. Me, as in, my entire body, in one of his huge, meaty paddles he calls hands. It’s not that he’s never done that before, but it’s always been to throw me, and lasted only a second. This time, he started walking down the bricks, with the clear intention of just carrying me the entire way to Tapper’s. His code is still less dense than that of Fix-it, but that prolonged contact still made my binary crawl. Devs, did it crawl.

So, after a quick burst of threats and shrieking, I conceded. I agreed to go with him if he would just put me the hell down. He dropped me, I ran back to grab my book bag, and we trudged to the train. The way he walked behind me made me feel like he was marching me to some grim fate. Some grim, unnatural, unspeakably awkward fate.

As much as I lamented being reduced to riding the train like a chump, seeing the way his massive ass just barely fit into one of the cars was pretty rewarding.

Once we started rolling, he told me, “You know it’ll do you good to get out. You’re just not coded for life in a box, kid.”

I don’t remember if I sighed or gave the flattest laugh of my life. “Yeah, tell that to the Devs. And for cuss’ sake, quit calling me kid.”

In all truthfulness, as scared as I was, I really was so relieved at a chance to finally leave. And as much as I hated not being able to do it on my own, I was, admittedly, glad to have a second pair of eyes. It was probably a pretty decent thing of him to do, scouting out a safe place for me to go. Even if I really, really didn’t want or ask for it.

But I’m still pissed at him for denying my incredibly polite request.

[cirilee]

i just found a text my browser had saved on a word count website, and i apparently typed it last november while being sad - i just wanna have a place to post it, and it explains why i was gone for most of may through november last year.

if you’re interested, u can read, it’s basically just a long long long vent and i wanna save it somewhere :’)

(and if you wanna, you can tell me what u think of the whole thing, maybe share if something like that happened to you too, because man, this whole thing was WEIRD for me)

bottom line is: i’m much better now and have way better friends then back then and in general, i’m a pretty happy person again^^

My parents and me had been fighting a lot the past years. I still love them. For a while though, it was just shouting matches between us. We weren't really speaking to each other throughout january 2019 until april 2019, so i wasn't informed by them that they were planning to mOVE OUT. And the place they wanted to move to only had enough space for 2 people. now my brother and me had 3 months total to find and finance our own flats. i was desperate. 2 months i unsuccessfully searched for a job or a flat or a way to make a deposit for said flat, without any saved up money. an old school friend offered to move out together. i only saw him once every month for group activities. he was nice, but we also had a bit of a history. 3 years ago he had acted kinda scummy and tried to get me to be his girlfriend because "he couldnt find anybody else” - ending in a "movie night with friends" that turned out to be a trap, where the only one spending the night was me because he only invited me. creepy. he apologized and i forgave him and we were chill and it was normal between us. i realize now, that i should have just left him out of my life at that point. but time was running out, so i gave in and asked myself "whats the worst he could do. i’ve known this person for 12 years and the he's part of my friend group" we set up basic rules, how we would pay for stuff, etc. .. we moved in. it seemed fine. then i noticed that he talked A LOT. and he wanted A LOT of attention. after a day of working on my diploma or working at my job, he would assert himself in my room and try to engage in smalltalk. i am not the hermit type. i engaged with him, i joined in on his conversation. but when i was already tired he wouldn't accept "i'm gonna go to sleep". there was always something else he needed to talk about. I was trying to make clear to him that i needed alone time too, but no matter how honest i was, the message either didn't seem to stick, or he'd get upset and start asking me if i hated him. With that, i could have kept up with in the long run. Then he started knocking on my door. even when it was already late and i already told him i was gonna go to sleep. Repeatedly knocking on my door. At some point he just opened the door. It was 1am. I pretended to sleep. I could hear him breathing, it sounded angry. He eventually closed the door. The next morning i confronted him. He argued it away as him trying to warn me that he was going to take a shower, so that i wouldn't use the bathroom. He started commenting on how i wasn't funny enough around him. in that friend group, i'm the funny one :c. but i cant keep up that energy 24/7 (this was supposed to be a home, not a free neverending standup act, for this one guy). that confused him. the next day he asked me if i had depression. My parents had given me a griller/toaster as a parting gift (there’s a backstory for that too but anyways) my flatmate ALSO had that same toaster. He demanded we make up our minds which one to keep. i didn't understand why this was important to him and i hated discussing this useless topic with him so i stored the toaster in my room. He repeatedly suggested i throw mine away (?). One evening i got hungry and decided i'd make myself a toast in my room. So i made some toast. Suddenly he bursts in. And he starts ranting. "why are you doing this are you CRAZY you cant TOAST in your own room thats DANGEROUS you're gonna start a fire, don't ever do that again, we have a KITCHEN for that. why don't you want to use the kitchen you cant just HIDE from me every day, this is OUR flat  and i want us to live TOGETHER!" He didn't stop talking and it overwhelmed me, so (this is embarrassing, but) i actually started crying and i turned away from him so i could try to control myself. and he just started babytalking me "awww its alright i didn't mean to scare you, but you see, you shouldn't have done that". he tried putting his arms around me, i told him to stop. "you need a hug right now" ...... i was so angry i think my brain might have short circuited because the next hour was me just acting the whole way through. i told him everything he wanted to hear. i was so sorry for almost burning the house down and made up some explanation that my parents were still making me sad, so i needed distance. The next big thing involved one of my best friends. she wanted to spontaneously go out for an evening. so i put on some pants and of course: HE appears in my room, asking where i'm going. i was surprised by the question and just answered "going out with Lina" he left it at that. then suddenly: "can i come too?" He threw me off with that question. Lina had said she needed some advice on personal stuff, so I said "no" because i didn't have a better answer. he got ANGRY. i explained. "Lina wants some privacy, i'm sorry" He starts arguing that Lina is just as much his best friend, and that he should be allowed to hear what she wants to say to me. Before i can reply he slams his door shut. "Don't even try to explain yourself", he says. I told my friend while meeting up with her and she began with the sympathetic "you should have said yes" and we argued about it and then she came out with this absolutely horrifying sentence: "you know how he is. you cant be *too* honest with him. he's sensitive. you need to lie to him so he doesn't get mad" it was as if i'd been splashed with cold water. i said i didn't agree with that. that that was actually unfair to HIM. nobody likes being lied to and treated less than. she called him, told him i was gonna apologize and he showed up with the angriest expression i ever saw in his face. he accused me of being depressed and that he now has the burden of my mental issues to bear. This he assumed because one night i told him about me dissassociating sometimes a few years ago. Then he wanted me to promise i would never leave him, because he's afraid i won't be able to pay my part of the rent. the crowning moment was my friend Lina mostly agreeing with him and both of them berating me for not having my life together because i still hadn't managed to find an open-ended contract job, only limited-time jobs. at the end he justified himself by saying he cant stand my parents phoning me. (at that point they had started calling me everyday and showed genuine concern ... i was trying to reform a bond with them) - apparently he resented that. he knew about my parents disciplining me with face slaps as a kid (when i was 9-11 yrs old) (they feel bad about it, and they they stopped doing it fairly early) in that moment my flatmate chose to tell me ..... (hoo boy i need to get ready to type this) .... "i'm concerned about you. if your father would ever beat you, i would beat him  to a bloody pulp" then he repeated "i would beat him/kill him" a few times, VERY agitatedly. it was scary and at that point i was numb. i didn't really respond, i just said "its fine" or something to that extent. the  thing that made me decide to move out (although certainly among many that followed that night) was this: one morning i informed him i was going to visit my parents that weekend. we had started talking again (as i mentioned before and i wanted to meet them without fighting for once). he says "but you're coming back, right". i say "of course don't be so nervous". i go to work. i get a LOT OF texts from him suddenly. i skim through it. he's mad about me calling him "nervous". i don't reply/read bc i am at work. Then he actually CALLS me. i don't pick up.  now i'm thinking: What is so  important, that he has to call me during work.  there's a 4 paragraph essay in my inbox. "watch your mouth", "you have no right to speak that way to me", "you should have more respect". he was mad i called him nervous. i responded that i don't have time to reply. he argued back. at one point i said "if i cant even call you nervous then i'm ACTUALLY gonna stay with my parents" he fiNALLY didn't reply to that. after a 10hour day i come home. i wanna shower. i go to my room, close the door and start undressing myself. of course, there's knocking on my door. i say "No" he flips out. i calmly tell him i'm only half dressed. he flips out even more, says i'm a horrible person who WANTS to fight because my "no" wasn't a good enough answer and i should have explained in full detail why he couldn't get in. he was actually SERIOUS. this was his reasoning for flipping out. he goes away. not even a minute passes by and he hammers his fist against my door again. "OPEN UP THIS TIME I *HAVE* TO COME IN" at this point i'm beginning to get kinda scared  so i say "come in" He comes in and says he needs me to disconnect with the wifi because he needs it for his work. i calmly say "ok" and disconnect my wifi. he goes away, leaves the door open. i stand up to go and close my door. HE ACTUALLY GOES AND PULLS AGAINST ME TO TRY TO PRY IT OPEN AGAIN. eventually he lets go and then he flips out FOR REAL. he starts screaming about how i'm a psycho, and that im crazy and awful and he has been nothing but nice and that he "saved" me and i haven't been thankful enough.

.... ..

yes, i was in a difficult position. but that flatmate arrangement was made on even ground. he had wanted to move out from his parents for years. i fled and left. called my parents, but they were miles away and laughed it off. i would have probably too. i called my friends. Lina offered to come and mediate. He continued screaming even with Lina there. It culminated with him roaring at me, pointing at the door saying "if you don't like how i treat you, there's the door, leave right now" with lina replying "don't say that, you NEED her money to pay rent!" it was awful, and an eye-opener. the next day, on the way to work, i decided i was gonna move out. and before i could tell him, i get a message from him (!). An ultimatum. he tells me i have 3 options. 1) leave immediately and take my stuff away within a week. i wouldn't have "pay any more than i've already payed" (it was the first day of that month and i had already payed my rent. nice) 2) stay for half a year, but immediately pay him something so that he knows i'll stay 3) stay indefinitely, but set up a " bevahiour contract" with him, so this "never happens again" i told him i'd take option 1 and then i stayed over at a friends house. then at a friends shared appartement. then at dormitary and soon i'm gonna move in with my younger brother. we've been estranged a bit but grown closer through this whole thing. now Lina and him are still friends and lina blames me for "everyone in our friend group" being mad at him. one of her first concerns, was that her birthday parties are gonna be weird now. i am completely done with her as well and don't want her in my life anymore. according to her, I left him with a rent he cant pay  and i should feel bad for that. except i dont. should i though?

[hyperfixateandchill]

aaand because I can’t stop thinking about it i’ve written down my ranking of post-finale deancas scenarios including a non-exhaustive list of pros and cons for each. read on at your own discretion.

1st place: Deancas open up the new Roadhouse. My personal favorite because, again, Dean’s canon dream. I think Dean would LOVE running his own bar and playing host and serving people food and drinks is basically his love language. Cas isn’t as into the bar vibe specifically but he enjoys seeing people come and go and getting to know the locals who come by and just being with Dean. They get to stay connected to the hunting world without being actual hunters which is probably the perfect win win situation for them.

Other Pros of the Bar scenario (i’ve thought about this a lot): Claire and Kaia come by increasingly often to visit until eventually Claire basically works part-time at the Roadhouse when she’s not off hunting and Dean starts only semi-ironically calling it the “family business.” Claire puts up pride flag stickers on the front door and Dean makes a thing of it at first but then warms up to the idea. People start catching on and now local queer people will come from several towns over to visit the bar because there aren’t exactly that many queer friendly spaces in their corner of Kansas. Then it’s pride month and Claire and Kaia secretly update the bar’s online info to explicitly draw in queer customers and on the evening of the nearest pride march the bar is PACKED with all the local gays and Cas has the pop music blaring and he will NOT let Dean change it but it’s ok because Dean’s made friends with a drag queen who’s a professional comedian and now they’re comparing calendars to see when she might be able to come do a set at the Roadhouse and basically their bar is now a gay bar. “LGBT friendly”, Dean insists, because 1. he’s not gay and 2. he still caters to the local straights and the hunters. but now hunters come in and end up sitting 2 stools away from a flamboyant!gay and some are slightly weirded out but most don’t care at all and all of them end up making some kind of comment about how they’d heard about Dean Winchester and his angel... guess it’s true huh? And Dean shoots them a cocky grin and says ‘yep’ but he still holds to the rule that pop music is only allowed on tuesdays and thursdays and maybe very late at night on the weekends when everybody’s drunk and dancing. The Roadhouse is a second home to Dean and it’s the perfect mix of middle american dive, hunter’s hangout and lgbt space, and that’s literally DEAN so it’s perfect and he gets to work with his family by his side and be a part of a community (or several) and he feels useful and happy.

Cons of the Bar scenario: Doesn’t work great with having a small child or hobbies. very long hours and unusual work schedule. would encourage Dean’s drinking habit. I.e. it might be more intense than some alternatives (unless the bar is more cafe/diner during the day and Claire/Kaia/whatever other youngins can mind the place on their own if deancas aren’t in and the bar is located quite close to their house to they can come and go).

Overall works pretty well for a more active/energetic take on deancas’s lives post-finale. 8/10

2nd place: Mix of mechanic!Dean and retired!deancas. Dean’s never had a proper job before or much of a social circle who aren’t hunters, so I find it hard to imagine Dean working at an autoshop and playing mr. normie with his coworkers. Same with Cas and a regular job.

What I can imagine, however, is Dean having his own small business where he fixes up old cars (for like, vintage car enthusiasts). It starts as a hobby but then he realizes people would pay him to do it so now it’s a business. Deancas obviously have a a house on a big plot of land near the woods and a lakeside, so there’s plenty of outdoor space for him to set up a small shop and most of his customers call ahead so he doesn’t have people just coming in anyway. The work is not quite enough to pay all the bills but again, Charlie’s magic credit card, so who cares. Cas gardens and beekeeps and occasionally sells the extras at the local farmer’s market. Dean cooks and fishes and uses Cas’s ingredients whenever possible. They spend their days on their own property, doing their hobbies on their own time and making enough money from them that they don’t feel useless and still have plenty of time left to get over-involved in Jack’s pta. It’s a very calm, contented life. the millennial hipster dream, fulfilled by two 40-some year old dads.

Pros: deancas getting to spend their days doing what they love, being ridiculously domestic and married (even if they’re not officially married), both being absolute malewives in their own ways and it’s disgustingly sweet.

Cons: this scenario doesn’t have quite as much excitement and opportunity for shenanigans as the bar scenario. Less connection to a community, more living like hermits. Dean might appreciate the more social atmosphere of a bar. Cas might be equally happy either way, but he’d probably like having Claire help them out at the bar so that’s a plus for him.

Overall a good scenario for a more placid semi-retired life. 7/10

3rd place: a bait and switch. Cas is the one who ends up still having something you could call a ‘job’, Dean is the househusband. It starts with deancas still helping saileen with HOL (hunters of letters) stuff but eventually Dean is very decided that he wants out now that things are in good hands. Cas agrees with him but still consults with the hol network since he’s got all that lore knowledge. Dean very occasionally helps with research/strategy for a hunt but that’s IT no more hunting for him, and so it ends up that Cas still comes by the bunker fairly often and works from home the rest of the time on research and translations etc and Dean’s 100% amateur chef-in-training and papa bear because now nobody can look down on him for being a housewife (or nobody he gives a shit about anyway) so he’s gone all in. and whenever he comes by the bunker these days is after he’s picked up Jack from school and he comes to join their family to cook them all dinner while they finish up the work.

Pros: love me a Dean who’s gotten over his hypermasculinity and is now comfortable with doing whatever he likes even if (sometimes specially if) that thing is considered stereotypically feminine. It’s his big fuck you to his dad and it’s the life mary had wanted when she was young and dean is mary and therefore he’s honoring her memory when he spends his days on a bright airy kitchen making lunch for his 4 year old and waiting for his ex-soldier husband he adores to come home and doing not one bit of hunting. except dean never had to lie about his past and cut ties with his hunter family to get this. which is why this time for him it works, when it didn’t for mary or sam. love that energy.

Cons: Dean is not in fact just a malewife and would probably still want some more action in his life. might feel kinda useless with Cas having a ‘thing’ to do when he doesn’t. Cas would be perfectly happy regardless though.

Overall heartwarming and sweet but not as realistic: 6/10

4th: Disheveled-magic-shop-owner!Cas (+ Sam and Dean). Just thought of this. Cas knows his shit about spell ingredients and magical objects and supernatural weapons, probably more than even Sam. And Cas gardens. And Cas most likely enjoys pinterest and mom blogs and finds out about etsy... So Cas may or may not start growing/hoarding specific goods he knows are useful in the hunting world. at first it’s just to help HOL out but eventually Dean realizes like... we could profit off of this? And Cas eye-rolls because he doesn’t care but then again he knows his shit so he sets up a poorly-designed website to sell hunting stuff. and maybe Sam goes in on it with him because Sam also knows his shit and it’s kind of cute because they work together and Dean probably does the mechanic/barkeep/househusband thing though he does help with making the special bullets and dropping off parcels at the post office and so on. And maybe eventually they open up a small magic shop where they sell their shit. And maybe the shop is next door to the Roadhouse and it’s all become ‘your one-stop shop for everything a hunter might need’ (and you know the gays like their new age shit too so it all works), and the bunker isn’t even far away either and all three business are interconnected, the ‘family business’ that AU John Winchester of Hunter Corp wished he’d created.

Pros: Cas gets to do a thing he’s knowledgeable and passionate about and Deancas get to leave hunting while staying adjacent to the community. Cas as a disheveled shopkeep who’s not particularly nice to customers but who provides them with insights and mysterious comments that make people certain he must be legit.

Cons: Cas using his knowledge of the supernatural to profit off of hunters sounds too capitalist and not very Cas-like. He would be the type to gladly give people stuff for free and methinks that Dean and Sam would feel that way too. Cas helping with HOL stuff is basically established in options 1-3 already and so is him gardening for potentially useful ingredients. He doesn’t need to sell this stuff in a shop.

Overall makes sense theoretically but doesn’t vibe well for me. 5/10

5th: full on retirees, doing basically the same things as no 2 except with maybe some more travelling and less caring about making money from any of it.

Pros: the “and they lived happily ever after” they deserve after all the shit they’ve been through.

Cons: boring. uneventful. Dean and Cas are still quite young and neither’s had a chance at something even resembling a normal life for more than a couple of months at a time. They should get more of a middle aged married life experience before moving on to full retirement.

Overall valid but less interesting: 4/10

6th: Cas gets a job at a local library or shop, Dean is either a mechanic or a househusband. To preface, if Cas were to get a job out there in the world, my favorite would be like a magic shop or a bookshop with *unique* books. But I find that unlikely unless Cas is running his own shop (see 4th place for that). So here we’re talking about a regular normie shop.

Pros: Cas has a job he likes and feels useful in? And he’s not completely tied down to Dean all the time (though not sure that counts as a pro). More of the ‘normal life’ vibes.

Cons: Cas working at a random bookstore or library or shop or whatever would be passably interesting but not as fulfilling or useful or fun as any of the other options.

Overall valid but not interesting or all that heartwarming. 2/10

6th: deancas don’t know any life outside of hunting so they keep on doing it, except now with lower stakes than before and they go on less actual hunts.

pros: umm... consistency? they keep working closely with saileen and the new hunters who start coming by/moving into the bunker.

cons: everything. Dean’s wanted out and he should get it. Cas literally died several times over and he should get to experience a human life with the man he loves and not just do more dangerous shit.

Overall a terrible idea. 1/10 (because 0/10 would be the Cas never comes back and Dean dies and goes to heaven scenario)

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: Cause no one was doing it so I might as well go do it. If you like it and want part two don’t forget to leave feedback! 

Words: 1,892

Warnings: Blood, this is an apocalyptic world so, plenty of gross. Swearing and bad writing cause I did this in a hurry to get it out of my system, this is a series so the end of this chapter isn’t the end of the story uwu

Next chapter

Oh. Hi. How’s life?

Well, I guess that if you’re reading this, life isn’t exactly going fine. You looked for this, you know what’s up, with the apocalypse, I mean. Not with me, so I guess I’ll start with that.

My name is Y/N L/N and my life is great. Kinda. 

Okay, my life is good enough. The problem is that before this whole thing I wasn’t popular. No, I wasn’t a loser either; or an outcast that only played by her own rules. I was just a kid. 

I was the right amount of friendly, I was an “ok” student at school, I was free to go to parties and I did, but I also spent plenty of Friday nights binge-watching Netflix at home until I couldn’t feel my butt. No one ever watched me up-close, and now I don’t even have parents that look after me or to talk about how my day was. And I really wish I had someone that I can tell how my fucking day was. If I’m honest, these last few weeks have been nothing but a lonely existence.

“But Y/N!” you say, “Didn’t you mention you had friends?”

Well, yeah. Emphasis on “had”. See, even if I had plenty not all of them wanted to form a new group: two of them left with the cheeramazons, others found their home with the gamers, some even were brave enough to leave the city and go look for relatives their age that might still be alive. I was one of them. I went looking for my sister with my ex-best friend to her college hoping that I would find her; which I did. Turns out being twenty years old is enough for you to turn into a ghoulie. So I parted ways with my best friend and I went back to Glendale, the only place where I know my way around because I’ve lived here since I was a baby, and I’ll probably die here in about a month or so, let’s face it.

Since most of the tribes intimidate me, I quietly made my way into the far lines of the jocks. I wasn’t noticed, kind of like the backstage crew, I did things here and there whenever they asked me to do them and got no recognition from that. I was fine with it, honestly. That until Turbo finally lost it and started to kill kids for fun. Like we didn’t have enough with Baron Triumph!

So I left the place and nobody stopped me, of course, no one really cared. My normal life was quiet; my post-apocalyptic one is just that, but with a bit more of freedom. I’ve been living on my own for like three months now, and I think I’m doing pretty good so far. Adapt and survive, right? Just like in Highschool.

And I was doing just that until Josh wheeler decided to crash into me.

“Hey!” I growled from where I was laying on the floor, my knee and elbow scraped and burning, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“No time! The jocks are chasing me, c’mon!” 

Now, I could’ve said ‘No thanks! I’ll leave you to it!’ but the guy was scared shitless and he didn’t wait for a reply, He stood up and pulled me with him. He got on his skateboard without letting go of my hand and I had no choice but to move along, my roller-skates were going so fast against the asphalt, that I was sure they’d be ruined once we reached… wherever it is Josh is taking me. 

At some point, he let go of my hand and I simply decided to stick around for a moment. If he was actually in trouble, he could need a hand.

“Wait, here…” 

Josh gave a sharp turn to the right and into an alley, I followed. Once he made sure no one was there he leaned against the wall and sighed deeply, eyes closed. I stood there with my arms crossed, waiting for the explanation he owed me. When he opened his eyes and realized I was still there, he tilted his head.

“Y/N, right?”

We knew each other, barely though. We got paired up for a school project and that was it. Josh was the typical new kid that no one really pays attention to. He didn’t have any specific traits or amazing talent. He did manage to date Sam Dean I think, I don’t know how did he manage to do it, but I guess the thing is that he’s nice. A good guy overall. He was just Josh.

“Josh,” I frowned, “care to tell me what the hell did you do to piss off Turbo?”

“Nothing!” He scoffed, “It’s all fault of the golf team, I thought they had Sam and I went after them… turns out it was Angelica.”

“Bummer,” I said, though I didn’t really care, “so it was your fault.”

“I just said-”

“You went out of your way to annoy the golf team cause you thought they had Sam Dean kidnapped or whatever, and now you’re saying it’s their fault that you’re being chased down?”

“Yeah?” He stopped for a second, then continued, “okay so it was kinda my fault…”

“Yeah,” I scoffed, “you probably messed up a bit.”

He let out a dry laugh, then stared at me for a moment.

“So what are you doing? are you part of any tribe?”

“Me?” I raised my eyebrows, “I used to, now it’s just me.”

“Yeah, same,” He nodded, “well, I never belonged to a tribe but, I mean, it’s easier, isn’t it? On your own”

“I don’t know… I guess” I looked down at my shoes and whimper at the sight of them. They were most definitely ruined.

“Roller-skates?” He asked with a smirk, “seriously, Y/N?”

“Who are you to judge?” I replied with a frown, “a shitty skateboard against the monster trucks that Turbo drives around? Yes, that’ll definitely gonna leave them biting the dust”

“Hey, my skate is great! And I have a car,” He defended himself, “but… fuck, I guess I left it on jock territory”

“We should keep going,” I replied, deciding not to comment on what he had said, “they might be getting close.”

“You could leave if you want,” Josh shrugged, “after all this whole thing is not your fault”

“I could, but I just left my place cause it got destroyed, my skates are fucked and if the jocks don’t find you they’ll be on the hunt for something else to play with so to be honest, I think that staying with you for a couple of hours won’t hurt.”

“Cool,” He sighed, moving away from the wall.

“Good,” I moved beside him, “ so, where are we going, exactly?”

“Uh,” Josh rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously, “the mall?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, looking at him in disbelief.

“Are you trying to make all the wrong choices today?” I huffed, “Do you have a death wish?”

“No,” He rolled his eyes, stopping in front of me, “Someone told me Sam might be there, so I’m going”

“Do you realize that is Baron Triumph’s territory?”

“Yes, I do. Thank you for reminding me.”

“What is up with you and Sam Dean anyway?” I asked in annoyance, “Were you two together during this mess and then one day you fought, she left the house and now she’s missing?”

I was trying to be sarcastic, I wasn’t expecting him to reply with:

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

“Oh,” I blushed in embarrassment, “sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t think…”

“It wasn’t exactly like that,” He lowered his eyes to the ground, kicking the dirt, “we weren’t together when it happened, but we did fight before. I haven’t seen her since the whole apocalypse stuff.”

We stayed silent for a moment, I didn’t know what to say, not because I didn’t understand the situation, I did. I also had someone important that I wanted to find desperately, and when I finally did, it was too late. I think that I was surprised, I never saw Josh Wheeler as the type of guy who would stand alone in front of Turbo and his crew just to find a girl. If he could be that stubborn about love, he certainly had to be it for surviving. 

“Alright,” I said in a defeated voice.

Josh looked at me in confusion.

“Alright what?”

“Let’s go then, to the mall.”

“You coming?” He smiled, “seriously?”

“I know you don’t need me,” I moved until I was standing face to face, “but I think that we can make a good team, for a few hours though. I hate group projects.”

Josh laughed, giving me a simple nod.

“Don’t worry, we’ll finish this in no time.”

And boy, was he wrong about that.

We hurry our asses off to get to the mall fast and unnoticed, once there I saw two kids cornered by a woman against the doors and I pointed towards them, Josh hurriedly pulled out his sword and stabbed the ghoulie, the woman turned around and ran away, revealing two familiar faces that I was definitely not expecting to see.

“Ah, shit! My sword!” Exclaimed Josh, losing grip of his weapon.

“Y/N?” Asked the boy.

I looked at Josh with a stern face.

“Wesley Fists?” I said, “you ally with Wesley Fists and our school’s drug dealer?”

“I didn’t get much of a choice,” He grumbled.

“You suck at heroing,” Said the blonde girl.

Josh turned around to look at her.

“I saved your stupid lives. Twice.” Then he leaned to grab his skateboard from the ground and added, “now hurry, Turbo’s on our ass.”

I moved to a side and waited for him to open the door when Wesley spoke up again.

“Uhm, no. He’s not,” We all looked back, facing the empty street, “Why aren’t they chasing you?”

Almost as if to answer the question the sound of an engine coming closer made us quiet down, and a black figure appeared in front of us.

“Baron Triumph,” mumbled Josh, probably about to shit his pants like the rest of us, “oh, shit…”

He stepped back and pulled me with him by the hem of my shirt, my skates moving easily against the dusty road.

“Anyone know who the hell this idiot really is?” Angelica, the little blonde girl on my left asks in an upset tone.

“I heard is Marco Lions, that gearhead that lived in Hollywood?” Offered Wesley.

“Didn’t your bestie, Jayden Hoyles ride a motorcycle like that?” Asked Josh in a bitter voice.

“Well,” Wesley nodded without looking back, “Hoyles is a real prick.”

“And you just figured that out?” I asked.

“Whoever he is,” Interrupted Angelica, “here he comes…”

Everyone prepared their weapons for the fight, and it was then when I realized…

“Fuck!” I whispered, “I don’t have anything to defend myself!”

“Don’t worry, we got you” Josh whispered back.

“You literally just lost your sword on a ghoulie’s back.”

Josh was about to reply when Baron got off the motorcycle and we all froze once more. He swiftly took off his helmet, and…

“What the…”

So what’s my life like during the apocalypse?

It’s never what I want it to be.

[brandtmax]

welcome back to gallagher academy, soo-yun ‘maxine’ brandt ! according to their records, they’re a first year, specializing in research & development; and they did not go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( sugar-free mints, a messy low bun, wisps of hair alongside her face, the end of a pen between her teeth, the patek philippe calatrava 4897r-010 in rose gold, off-white pants in every fabric ). when it’s the ( virgo ) ’s birthday on 08/23/1997, they always request their japchae from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. 

henlo it me again i hope u guys aren’t sick of me yet bc i have a new bby named max! i’ve written a lot™️ so brace urself but it’s worth it ( i think ) + trigger warnings: death and alcohol dependency under the cut xxx

the basics

full name: soo-yun ‘ maxine ’ brandt

nicknames: max — just max

age: twenty-two years old

birthday: august 23rd, 1997

gender: cis female

preferred pronouns: she / her

sexuality: bisexual

major: research & development (  formerly a b.a. political science degree from yale university )

known languages: english ( native ) / german ( native ) / korean ( native )

background

nationality: american

birthplace: new haven, connecticut, new hampshire

current location: gallagher academy, roseville, virginia

financial status: upper class

religion: non-theistic

appearance

eye color: brown

hair color: black

height: 5′8.5″

notable features: curly hair on lazy days, rosy cheeks

usual mood and expression: calm, furrowed eyebrows whenever her eyes are on work; lethargic and irritable when she’s overworked ( or without alcohol )

family

birth order: second born

parents: soon-bok ‘ vivian ’ jang and stephen brandt ( d. 2018 )

siblings: min-jun ‘ parker ’ brandt ( b. 1995 ) & georgia ‘ gigi ’ brandt ( b. 2001 )

significant others: chris harmon ( 2013-2015 ) / ava carrillo ( 2015-2016 )

her story so far (this is so long n serious lol)

soo-yun 'maxine' brandt was born and raised in new haven, connecticut, to jang soon-bok ( vivian ), a surgeon, and stephen brandt, a ( n allegedly shady ) criminal justice lawyer.

the brandt siblings were raised like any other blue-blooded, very strict but loving household ( strict = mom / loving = dad )

brandt house rules: get straight a’s, follow the 12 am curfew and don't bring anyone home that you know you’d get disowned for. follow those three rules, and you can do whatever you want.

there was pressure for the brandt siblings to be academically accomplished, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle. they were well-tutored, semi-popular, attractive teenagers, which were common in new haven, and everyone knew they were destined for ivy league.

in high school, she dated chris harmon, and it was the kind of relationship that could only be described as the personification of a kinder egg. sweet on the outside, a waste of time and money on the inside.

which is fine; it took max about 2 months to get over it when they broke up halfway through senior year, because neither of them thought of their relationship going far. the joy of getting into yale ( already expected ) trumped the feeling of losing a boyfriend. she even bet parker $5,000 she'd get early admission. she won.

during college, she had an on-off relationship with ava carrillo for a year, which inevitably became a permanent off. it turned out that it wasn't a good idea to throw herself into a committed relationship the minute she stepped foot into yale. max never had the time, and ava didn't have the patience. at least she tried it tho !

things seemed to be on the up and up for their family, and the worst thing max has ever been through is being awake for 24 straight hours to prepare for a final presentation. but ! you know what they say about the calm before the storm.

( tw: death ) on december 18, 2018, their father unexpectedly passed away from a heart attack during a layover flight in new york. the brandt family was at home when they heard the news. needless to say, they had a quiet christmas and new year.

the family tried to move on as best they could, but the siblings knew their dad's death irreversibly changed their mom. they have a rocky relationship to begin with, the siblings always feeling like vivian never wanted to become a parent and only did so for their father. they have absolutely no mother-children bond, and it got worse when stephen died. being the older brother, parker took it upon himself to take care of vivian, balancing that with running the home stretch with his undergrad degree.

on the other hand, maxine still had a few years left at yale. no amount of therapy helped her cope with the loss of her father, the way her mother seemed to become a shell of herself, how parker had to break the momentum of his career to be there for their mom, and the constant pressure to do good academically.

( tw: alcohol dependency ) it started with buying bottled moscow mules because she didn't like how beer tasted, and she wasn't dumb enough to go straight to hard liquor. just one to take the edge off whenever stacks of coursework became too much, or when her mother would send her an email talking about her day, and she didn't have the courage to read it. then it went from a one, two, three-time thing to a whenever-i'm-upset thing, which slid into a whenever-i-feel-like-it thing. after a while, it became a daylight thing where she would add a splash of soju ( or whatever ) to her lunchtime drinks, and she genuinely thought it was just a funny idea at first. max wasn't the only day drinker in her social group, anyway. she found it acceptable, no different than how other people would pound red bull every 6 hours like it's their life force. it was manageable for her since she was able to schedule when she'd be indisposed, and she still can.

parker had ( and still has ) no clue. despite the two being close, max spared him the burden of having another thing to worry about. as long as she can control it ( or she thinks she can ) then nobody had anything to worry about.

eventually, both maxine and parker were offered the opportunity to join gallagher academy, with parker in line to graduate with honors in global affairs and maxine, not far behind with her own impressive academic portfolio in political science.

though really, her acceptance into gallagher has less to do with her published papers ( still impressive, tho ) and more to do with her covertly helping her father win cases by doing some expert sleuthing, strategizing, witness dispatching + discrediting, sexc breaking and entering, and good, old-fashioned manipulation !

it was something they both wanted; to be a part of the bigger picture in the world, but they knew they couldn't leave their mother alone. parker, who chose to make the sacrifice, let maxine go and stayed behind to take care of vivian.

( but if we’re honest, maxine would’ve left for gallagher regardless if parker was coming with her, but she’ll never tell him that )

despite the guilt and telling parker she wasn't going anywhere ( cough ), he insisted on her taking the once-in-a-lifetime chance to be a part of something they never knew existed. he knew they were going to end up resenting each other if they both stayed. at least one person in the family should be doing something that made them happy.

and so max dropped out of yale and left for roseville, even though she hadn't thoroughly planned out her career trajectory.

she’s eager not just because of the school, obviously. she can't handle going back to their childhood home and seeing how hollow everything is. plus, the immense anger and denial she feels over her dad’s untimely death has no place in new haven anymore.

she promised parker she'd make it up to him, though. somehow, someday.

who is this b*nch

max is relatively easy to get along with, tbh !

she’s a mood matcher; meaning if you’re nice to her, then she’s nice to you ( and if you’re gonna be a punk bitch, then she’ll be a punk bitch right back )

she’s a lil spoiled, lil sheltered, and lil ignorant but her general friendliness makes up for it, she’s the type to be friends with ( almost ) everyone

internally: perfectionist to the point of being ruthless, first place is the only acceptable place, meticulous, neurotic, workaholic, overachiever, if you’re not useful then what’s your purpose?, slightly egotistical, etc etc

externally: caring, protective, and supportive mom friend who just wants people to get their shit together because inadequacy is unacceptable, fixer, likes to dip into different social circles, consciously makes the effort to be more patient with people

she’s incredibly ambitious ? morally ambiguous ? slightly self-serving and self-involved ? her father’s a criminal “justice” lawyer whose clientele doesn’t exactly consist of the beacons of society so... she learned a lot of lessons about how you can win any case in the courtroom if you’re smart enough to a ) make a good story, b ) get the fitting evidence by any means necessary, c ) discredit and discard the necessary people, and d ) be charming and persuasive enough to rock the jury

she’s actively trying to be more open-minded and assimilate to a diverse group of people because back in yale she was definitely in a wasp bubble, and admittedly there are times where she will come off as super snobby without meaning to and tbh sorry about it

she’s still an extremely sociable person because yale also taught her how to network like a motherfucker, and how it’s important to know / be friends with everyone

honestly, intense people turn her off ( both positive and negative ) a little because she can't handle concentrated personalities in one sitting

even though she’s a little intense herself sometimes but it’s fine, we love hypocrites in this house !

neat freak ? but honestly who doesn’t like a friend who squeegees the shower every day and has a tiny can of lysol in their bag and an aroma diffuser with three ( 3 ) oil blends

she’s like... weirdly aggressive sometimes and most definitely has anger issues ( still in denial over her father unexpectedly passing away and getting stuck with a mom who doesn’t like her own children very much )

but also, she’s just agro in general and has a number of physical hobbies. she’s an ice skater, equestrian, a soulcyclist, and a kickboxer. she can fite.

she’s not the type to make fun of herself because she's not at a point where she sees qualities in her that are okay to laugh at ( unless you’re tight )

keeps her negative juju to herself because she’s a very private person

will prioritize work over play because she'd hardwired like that, but that doesn't mean she's anti-fun ( clearly )

definitely needs to loosen up a little that doesn't involve alcohol... jenga perhaps ? or actually try therapy again ?

very effectively sneaky about her growing alcohol dependency ( sugar-free breath mints, brushes her teeth + uses mouthwash after every meal )

dry sense of humor

at all times: wears a 1-carat, emerald cut, pavé diamond ring ( family heirloom ) + carries her trusty black hydro flask with her ( 24 oz. ) and no one is allowed to drink from it !

her signature scent is le labo bergamote 22 🤍

hmu on my discord @ tin#0697 for plottage !

[milkcartonbastard]

The Water Will Carry Me to You

Fandom- It. (Richie/Eddie)

Notes- Soulmate AU. Warnings for Henry's bullying and mild violence. I bring everyone together with a rock fight. Happy ending.

~~~

  Richie Tozier stood abandoned in a dark room. There was only a humming around him, like the sound a motor would make in water- it was muffled. He felt like he was freezing, slowly turning into an icy statue. He was shivering uncontrollably and his teeth were chattering, so he pulled his arms around himself tightly.

  There was one beam of light coming from the side- where a wall should be- of the room and showering down into the empty space. Richie could see particles of something floating noiselessly in the light and catching his eyes. The little flecks of debris burst into flame and disappeared, floating out of the light and into the darkness, which was freezing Richie to death.

  Richie immediately made the decision that he would rather burn than freeze to death, so Richie began to move towards the light. His body moved with great difficulty and he had a very difficult time staying on the ground. He was moving through the air like it had the viscosity of water instead. Actually, Richie was pretty sure he was in water. His teeth chattered again, and sure enough, air bubbles rose into the water and floated away from him.

  Still, Richie walked on the ground and made his way to the warmth of the light. He could feel his feet and legs freezing. If he didn't make it to that light soon, he knew he would die. He was so close and stuck his arms out in front of him. The humming was growing louder, but Richie was beginning to think it was his heart and not something far away from him. Yeah, that made sense.

  Richie's fingertips grazed along the entrance of the light beam and he pushed them into the light. The water was colder there than in the dark and Richie felt his fingers start to gloss over and turn to ice. He watched, dumbfounded, as another hand pushing itself into the light across from him. Richie's had was in up to his elbow and he was icing over. The hand across from him was burning and he watched with amazement as that hand touched his. The ice melted and the fire extinguished, leaving their hands together in the beam of light, under the water. The other hand was a little more tan than Richie's own and smaller. The heat from the other person's body heated his own and he stopped shivering.

  "Cold." The voice across from Richie said. His ears perked up. Was that a boy or a girl that had spoken? He couldn't tell for the water surrounding them and the echo that played with their voices.

  Suddenly, Richie's heart gave a large thud and he was being blasted backwards, his hand being ripped away from the other person's. Richie was soaring, slowly, through the water and tumbling rapidly into the darkness and away from the light. In a gasp of breath, his eyes snapped shut.

~~~

  Richie had been dreaming again. He dreamed almost every night, but sometimes he would only see a dark void where his subconscious movie should have been playing- but that only happened when his soulmate wasn't sleeping at the same time he was.

  All of Richie's dreams were different, but he never saw the face of his soulmate. He wouldn't either, until he met them in person. He wouldn't know right away, only when he laid down at night and let sleep take him. Then he should see their face, beautiful and the other half of his soul.

  It was like that for everyone. Soulmates appeared in dreams and interacted that way. Richie was one of the rather unlucky ones, because most people could see their soulmate's whole body- minus their faces of course. Richie was stuck with shots of their arms or their back. It wasn't too bad. Richie's best friend, Bill Denbrough, could only see a hand wrapped around his own and birds flying through the clouded sky. Bill seemed content though.

  Soulmate dreams were... complicated. Like Richie's, for example. Richie always dreamed of some extreme circumstance where he met his soulmate. He was underwater and walking on the ocean floor in one and trying to pull someone out of a stormy sea that sucks them both in during another. All of his dreams with his soulmate had one thing in common though- water. Richie hopped they didn't find each other in a flood or a hurricane. He hoped it was a swimming pool or at the quarry. Something simple that wouldn't scar Richie for life.

  Richie sighed as he moved fitfully under his damp sheets. His curly hair was sweaty and plastered against his sultry forehead. He wiped at his eyes and squinted harshly towards his alarm clock. Big, red, angry, numbers stared back at him and let him know he might as well go ahead and get up.

  His first day of Sophomore year was in a few hours and it wouldn't hurt him to get ready early. So Richie swung his legs over the side of his bed and grabbed for his glasses. In one quick tug of the fitted sheet on his bed, he pulled it up and stuffed the loose sheet and duvet into a ball of dampness. He violently grabbed his pillowcase and swung his pillow around until all he had ahold of was the case. He tossed all his shit into the hamper and made his way to the shower.

  It was going to be a great fucking day.

~~~

  English. Richie had English III for first period this year, followed by Art, then pre-Calculus, then Astronomy, then lunch, then Physics, then Derry history, and then it was all wrapped up in the seventh class period from hell. Study Hall.

  Study Hall with Mr. Penny. The most batshit teacher in the entire teaching industry. Richie hated this man with a passion. All the man did was shush Richie, shout at Richie, write up Richie, and just suck major dick. Sure, the entire point of the class was to be quiet and not disturb others, but who the fuck was supposed to actually sit in a classroom full of students, stay at one desk, do homework, and not open their mouths? Not Richard fucking Tozier- that's for sure.

  "Sit. Down." Mr. Penny's voice was high and flute like, always causing the hair on the back of Richie's neck to stand on end. He had red hair that was receding down to the side of his head and no facial hair. He had small, circular glasses, and a pinched nose. Richie huffed and bounced his leg under his desk. He wanted out of there. He had no friends in that class and wasn't allowed to talk.

  That rule- no talking- made the rebellious streak in him fight against his want to not be in trouble on the first day of school. Richie just sat at his desk, bouncing his leg up and down, and tried not to let the string of profanities he was thinking of fly out of his mouth. It was a lot more difficult than usual. He was used to being at the Arcade all summer. Or goofing off with his friends. Bottling himself up and losing the freedom that summer gave him was honestly the reason he was having so much trouble being good right now.

  Richie grabbed a Deadpool comic out of his bookbag and started flipping through the pages. Deadpool's white and yellow boxes were arguing from one side of the page to the other. Richie laughed softly, admiring the cleverly worded insults and jokes that would make Bill stutter out the words "Beep, beep, Richie."

  "Ahem. Study hall is not for your entertainment purposes. It is for what the name states. A study hall. Grab a book from one of your classes, Richard. Not some- some overpriced funny book." Mr. Penny was out of his chair and plucking the comic from Richie's grasp. Mr. Penny had called Richie Richard, again. That was something he insisted on doing to his students. He called them by their formal first names instead of their surnames. Richie would have preferred some teacher to bark 'Tozier' at him than 'Richard.' Mr. Penny didn't seem to give a shit- which irked every muscle in Richie's body.

  "I payed good money to see a page full of your wife's boobs in comic form. If I didn't pay, I would have ended up grabbing a free newspaper to look at your mom's vagina. And nobody wants that. Free or not." The words fell from Richie's mouth and smacked Mr. Penny in the ears before Richie could stop it. Mr. Penny's face and the top of his head turned a violent shade of purple and a blood vessel appeared on his forehead. He was sputtering, trying to keep his arms at his side.

  "To Principal King's office. Now." Mr. Penny's words sounded like they were being released from a balloon. Yeah, Richie could imagine his head turning into a red balloon that would float off and pop in a set of power-lines. Richie cringed at the order, snatched his comic from the teacher, and slung his bookbag over his shoulder. Mr. Penny didn't even notice that Richie had taken it, but instead was barking at the class to get under control. They were laughing hysterically and Richie highly doubted he would lecture them back into shape.

  Richie walked through the deserted hallways and towards the back of the high school's gym. Richie knew Principal King's policy. First office visits of the year are forgiven, so he didn't bother stopping in there. Mr. Penny would call Mr. King and tell him all about the disrespect and Richie would get spoken to tomorrow, so he didn't sweat it. Instead he slipped out to the back to see if he could bum a cigarette off anyone. Which, he was in luck, because his favorite person to bum off of was out there.

  Beverly Marsh had a cigarette between her fingers and a hall pass dangling from her wrist. Richie grinned at her, pushing his glasses up his nose. Bev rolled her eyes and handed the smoke to him. It was almost intact, like she'd lit it seconds before he arrived. He took it and took a drag from it. The red headed beauty grabbed another cigarette from her pack and hung it between her lips. She lit it and the smoke mingled with the cloud Richie was making.

  "Are you skipping?" Bev asked. Richie snorted and shook his head, his dark curls bouncing.

  "I had Mr. Penny. He took my comic, I made a comment, and got kicked out. Mr. King's office can wait 'til tomorrow."

  "What'd you say, Trashmouth?" Bev grinned. Her wide, green eyes danced with humor. Richie's cheeks heated.

  "Something about his wife's boobs and mother's vagina." Bev's laughter busted out, her cheeks and ears tinting pink. Richie shoved his shoulder into his friends, laughing along with her.

  Richie and Beverly had been friends since the beginning of eighth grade year. From the moment Richie had met Bev, they'd hit it off. They shared cigarette's behind the gym during lunch or break and just laughed about the stupidest shit. Her humor almost seemed to match his- almost.

  They snuck out together a lot, sneaking into movie theaters, and skipping class when they could. Richie didn't worry about his grades, because he was one of the top in his classes. Bev just seemed to like the rush skipping supplied. Either way, they got called to class more often than not.

  For a moment- a brief moment- Richie had thought Beverly could have been his soulmate. He'd asked her, but they'd soon discovered their dreams did not match up. Beverly did dream about water, but there were always fish swimming through it. Richie had never seen a fish in his dreams, which quickly told them they weren't for each other. Plus, they'd known each other for a week by then and neither had dreamed about the other.

  Then Bev had found her soulmate. She'd been at a pet store, watching fish swimming inside of a tank. She told Richie that the boy came out of nowhere, but was looking at the same fish through the glass of the other side of the tank. Beverly told Richie that she knew the chubby faced boy was her soulmate as soon as they locked eyes. Richie was surprised about that, which led him to hope he knew when he met his soulmate. He wanted to know right then, not when he went to sleep that night.

  Richie blinked up at the cloudless sky and felt the heat coming off of the pavement. It would be a perfect day to go down to the Quarry with Bill, Bev, Ben, and Richie's other friend- Mike. They'd become a nice little friend group since the beginning of high school.

  "Wanna go to the Quarry after school? It's a nice day. I'll get the others on board, too."

  "Sure thing. I might be a little late, since I'm dropping some books off at the library with Ben." Bev crushed the lit end of her cigarette against the concrete underneath them. She flicked the remains off into a nearby ditch and stood up.

  "Later, Rich."

  "Yeah, later."

~~~

  Everyone had agreed to meet up at the Quarry. Richie was already on his way, peddling slowly on his bike. He wasn't in a rush, since he was going to be the first one there. Bill was taking his little brother home and was going to come by after that. Mike would be a little bit since he had a few chores to do. So Richie rode alone, his back tire squeaking slightly as he started up a hill.

  The warm wind whipped through his hair and warmed him to the bone. His Hawaiian shirt was open and blowing loosely around his body. He had a white t-shirt on underneath it that was plastered against his flat stomach.

  Summer was Heaven for Richie, even during the school year. He loved the heat and the way his body was warmed to the core by the sun. He loved it.

  Richie pedaled absent mindedly. He was thinking about not thinking. He thought about the birds chirping pleasantly and the way the leaves of the trees seemed to wave at him as he passed. If he imagined hard enough, he could hear the kidlike voices of the green leaves calling to him.

  "Hi, Richie!"

  "You look cute today!"

  "That ass is doing amazing, Sweetie!"

  He chuckled to himself. The imaginary voices of the leaves played in his head. He opened his mouth and tried to mimic them. He sounded squeaky, like the back tire on his bike. Richie cleared his throat and tried another voice, but never finished his full sentence when he saw who was on the road in front of him.

 The birds stopped singing around him and his bones tried to escape through his skin. Richie's bike skidded to a halt, alerting to Henry Bowers and Belch Huggins that a victim was approaching. Richie observed the empty car and the one bike laying on the ground. His chest constricted for a second, worried it could have belonged to one of his friends.

  Bowers and Belch grinned widely, sending Richie's spine on another mission to escape again. Bowers ran toward him. Richie dropped his bike and bolted into the woods nearby the road. Fight or flight- and Richie wasn't much of a fighter. Bowers and his three mouth breathers had been terrorizing Richie and his friends as long as he could remember.

  Bowers had been on a rampage ever since he'd discovered he was being held back- again. It would be his second Junior year. No matter how many kids he beat up though, it didn't change anything. He was a lot more physical now, actually breaking bones, and slicing up kids. There was a rumor going around that he'd shot Mrs. Lenshaw's tabby cat. Richie didn't have to think too much on that. He'd go to the grave swearing it was the truth- just because Bowers was that fucked up.

  Richie was a lot faster than the others, so he managed to get a pretty good head start on them, since he could only hear them behind him. They must have found Victor Criss, because now three sets of voices were yelling out for the 'Four Eyed Freak.'

  Richie made a split second decision and ran into one of the open ends of the sewer tunnels. It smelled like shit and there was grey water congegated in the middle of the piping, but Richie ran down it. He was careful to avoid going too fast or making too much noise. He didn't want to get himself cornered by Bowers and Co.

  Richie had made a few turns down the tunnel before he considered himself safe. It was dark and dank, but Richie managed his way down the pipes. His breathing was ragged and his skin was flushed. He walked on just a little more. He and Bill used to come down to the Barrens and explore the sewers- It was something to do during the summers. He was sure he'd been in this set of tunnels before, because it looked familiar and he guaranteed Bill could navigate them well. Richie sighed silently and rested his back against the sewer wall.

  How long would he have to wait here before the coast was clear? Richie pushed his glasses up his nose and his head thumped back against his resting spot. It was quiet in here and he could here the sound of his own breathing. He'd managed to avoid sloshing around in the water and telling the bullies where he was. He would either sit down here or go farther in and hope for another exit.

  Raspy breathing came from farther down in the tunnel and Richie jumped out of his skin. Something was triggered- it sounded a bit like a rusty pipe releasing air. But then again, it was too quiet for that. Was someone else in here? Was it Bowers or one of his gang? Richie's heart thundered in his chest and his palms felt slick, and not from the moisture on the sewer's wall.

  Something clicked inside of Richie's brain. He remembered the sight of Belch and Henry grinning while standing over someone's bike. They had chased some other poor kid, who must have also seen the sewers and taken full advantage of the hideout. Fight or flight.

  Richie walked beside the small and thin strip of water running in the sewer tunnel. It was attached to the Kenduskeag- Derry's very own section of the canal- and there had been very little rainfall, which meant there was barely any water standing in the pipes. He kept his hand against the wall as he walked, since it was rather dark and he could see a little bit, but not much. Soon enough, that raspy breathing was getting a little louder and the sound of an aspirator- Richie had identified it as not a rusty pipe- went off again.

  Richie rounded another corner and he saw a shape leaning against the concrete with their shoes in the water. They weren't wheezing anymore, but Richie could feel the fear rolling off the kid in waves.

  "So uh, whatch you do ta wind up in ta slammah? See me, I punched Ole Fuck Face Bowers right in ta kissah and heres I's am." Richie had flipped his Hawaiian shirt's collar up and was slouched and walking with his hips out from his body. He spoke from the side of his mouth and had his fists out in front of him.

  The other kid didn't seem to enjoy his Voice that much and had to take another hit of his aspirator. Richie held his hands up in surrender and dropped the New Yorker/JD accent. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm actually hiding out from Bowers too."

  The kid's arms- which had tensed up by his side- relaxed. "Did he follow you in here? Are you alone?"

  "No, he didn't see me. I had a pretty good head start." Richie sighed and sat down next to the other boy. The other seemed slightly taken aback and scooted over a little to give Richie room on the slab of concrete that was higher than the rest of the tunnel. "I'm Tozier. Richie Tozier."

  The other boy scoffed and Richie could hear the eye roll. The lighting was absolutely  terrible, but Richie could make out thick, long, eyelashes. He could really only see how his chest rose and fell jaggedly. He wanted to pat the boy on the back or offer words of comfort, but that seemed weird, so Richie kept his hands to himself.

  "Eddie Kaspbrak." Eddie sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it gently. Richie watched his lip, but peeled his eyes away and looked down the tunnel in the direction he had come down. "How long do you think we'll have to wait in here?"

  "Probably until some other loser comes along and gets caught." Richie leaned back against the sewer wall before jolting up. "Losers! My Losers! Aw, shit. We've got to get out of here."

  "Wa-what? What are you talking about? They're out there waiting for us!" Eddie hissed out the words. Richie shook his head and had to push his glasses back up his face before they slid off his nose.

  "My friends! We're supposed to meet at the Quarry and this is the route we all take. They don't know about Mullet Face out there and his goons. I've got to go!" Richie stood up and could feel the air move behind him. Eddie was stood up too and Richie looked back at him. He had expected the kid to continue sitting there and maybe to take another hit of his aspirator.

  "I don't think it's a good idea to go alone. I'll help you so you don't get killed, okay? But you have to do the same for me." Eddie spoke quickly and stuck his hand out. Richie looked at the outline of it in the darkness before taking it in his own and shaking.

  "Deal. Come on."

  Richie had no clue how to get out. He was honestly lucky to have found Eddie, because Eddie led them out of the sewers like he was walking on a straight path. They only got lost once, but that was Richie's fault. It took barely any time for the two to arrive at the entrance, but it took a second for Richie's vision to focus in the bright light. The other kid had stopped wheezing- thank God- and was now just clutching his inhaler anxiously.

  Richie poked his head out of the piping, looking around for the three Dickbags. He saw nothing, so he cautiously moved forward. The birds were not chirping and the tree leaves were not giggling in Richie's imagination anymore. The sky was gorgeous and so was the summer breeze, but that was all. Richie felt chills worm their way up his skin and into his bones. Something was wrong.

  He heard screaming. It was far off, but he heard it all right. It sounded like a girl and she sounded scared and panicked. Richie felt Eddie flinch beside him, but they didn't try to go back inside of the sewer. Richie started to walk towards the noise.

  "Ben! Stop it! Please!"

  Richie's eyes widened and he took off running. Beverly was screaming and she was screaming about Ben. Richie was flying, his long legs covering more ground than usual and he could sense Eddie running close behind him. He was terrified of what he would find when he emerged from the bushes. Nothing prepared him to see Henry Bowers holding a knife to his friend's stomach and trying to cut it.

  "Stop fucking moving!" Henry cursed and slammed Ben's back against the Kissing Bridge's wooden railing. Beverly screamed out when the knife glinted in the sunlight. She was being held back by Belch Huggins, who was holding her arms behind her back and twisting them like he was trying to give her an Indian Burn. Her face was a pasty white, which was a sharp contrast to the reddening heat of anger coating Ben's face.

  Ben wasn't crying, only thrashing madly and yelling out that nobody better touch Beverly. His blue eyes were wide and slowly getting an enraged look to them. He couldn't get to her because of the eight-inch blade hovering in front of his gut, but Richie was getting nervous about that look in his eyes, because Bev made a sharp noise of pain, and he truly believed that Ben was about to plunge himself onto the knife just to strangle Belch.

  Richie looked around, trying to find something to help Ben out. Victor Criss was holding him tightly by the shoulders and staring at Henry's knife in bewilderment. Richie got the feeling they hadn't planned this out as much as Henry had. Richie's eyes flicked across the scene, trying to think of something- anything- that could help. He hadn't even remembered Eddie standing next to him until a big rock went flying through the air. It smashed against the back of Henry's head and knocked him forward. The knife fell from his hand and Ben kicked it backwards- sending it spiraling over the edge of the bridge and into the shallow waters below.

  "Hey, Fuckface! Over here." Eddie's voice cut through the air and Henry's head snapped toward him. Ben barreled forward, breaking free from Victor's grasp and knocking Henry to the ground. He stepped around the crumpled form of Bowers and started towards Belch Huggins. Belch had stopped twisting Bev's arms up after he saw his batshit leader hit the ground. There was a pause in the air and Belch tossed her away from him. He moved towards Ben, seeing the fight about to happen and wanting to be the first one to get in a hit. But Richie was ready this time.

  "Hey, Dick for Brains!" Another rock soared through the air and landed with a pleasing thud against Belch's stupid face- Richie saw blood spurt from Belch's nose. Beverly turned around and sent her foot barreling into his crotch, causing him to lose his breath and double over. Victor was trying to help Bowers up when the sound of machine gun fire started down the hill. Henry flinched out of the corner of Richie's eye. Nobody said a word.

  Richie let a relieved grin overtake his face at the sight of Bill Denbrough rolling down the hill on the bicycle he called Silver. Silver was a massive bike with playing cards clothes-pinned to the spokes, when they caught air they made a machine gun noise. Henry Bowers had recognized it all right. Bill was standing while pedaling; a set of arms were wrapped around his waist and curly hair was peeking over his shoulders. Bill easily pieced together what was going on. The happy and joyful smile on his face disappeared quickly and was replaced with a seething and angry look. Victor Criss hissed through his pointy and crooked teeth, his arm supporting a glaring Henry.

  Silver rolled to a stop, causing the boy behind Bill- Stanly Uris who just happened to be the one holding Bill's hand in those dreams- to poke his head around his torso. His smile instantly dropped too, the light left his warm, dark, eyes and Richie felt a pang of sympathy. He doubted in the two weeks of them finding each other that Stan had seen Bill mad. Richie supposed there was a first time for everything.

  "What the fu-fuck are you duh-doing?" Bill set his mouth in a tight line. Stan set his feet on the ground and stood up from the back of Silver. Bowers glared at him as he straightened up his blue button-up. A snarl left his mouth, but Bill had already dropped Silver to the ground and was walking towards Bowers.

  "No-none o-of yo-your fu-fu-fuc-king business, Mush Mouth." Henry jerked his arm in synch with his mocking stutter. Richie could see a pump-knot forming under his greasy mullet where Eddie had hit him. Bill's hands knotted into fists and he took another few steps towards Henry. Belch was slowly getting to his feet and making his way to his two friends.

  The next bike over the hill carried Mike Hanlon and- as if it were possible- Henry Bowers's sneer deepened. Richie felt something slide into his hand and he gripped it. It was a fat rock that barely fit in his hand, which said something. He got the message though. He passed it to Beverly who was standing beside him. She took it and he felt another large rock slide into his palm. Ben must have gotten one too, because his knuckles were white from gripping whatever was in his hand.

  "Go the fuck away!" Mike belted the words out. Stan and Mike were standing with them now and they had rocks of their own. The side of the road that Richie and the Losers were standing on was littered with the big bastards, which could only benefit them.

  "Or what?" Victor Criss sneered at Mike. His face was sharp and angular, sort of like a cats. One of those ugly naked cats that sort of reminded Richie of Gollum from Lord Of The Rings.

  "We'll make you." Ben spoke up, his voice was sharp and deep. Richie grinned widely while maintaining eye contact with the three idiots in front of him. Bill was still standing a few feet away from Bowers, his fists ready to fly at a moments notice.

  Ever since Bill had found out who gave his little brother, Georgie, a black eye over spring break- he and Bowers had been in an all out war. Every time that Bowers had tried to fuck with him, he and Bill had ended up fighting, which meant whomever was with Bill also fought by his side. (It was usually Richie) Now it was seven to three and Richie was pretty sure he knew who was about to win. Here's a hint- they had rocks.

  "You can't do shit." Belch grunted the words out. His voice was higher by a few octaves- almost being a perfect match to Mr. Penny's voice. Richie thought about how good Beverly would play soccer with kicks like that.

  "Tell that to your broken nose, asshole." Stan's voice was steady and Richie would have believed he was calm- had it not been for the slight shaking of his hand that the rock resided in.

  "You're just a bunch of fucking losers." Henry smiled like he's said something new. He stood up to his full height. Richie hadn't noticed how close in height Bill and Henry were becoming until then. Bill was a full two inches taller, with a wiry form, but he could pack a punch. Too bad Henry was stronger and meaner, otherwise Bill could have taken him by himself.

  "Exactly." Bev paused. Richie saw her arm flex and then the rock in her hand went flying- hitting Henry on the gap between his eyebrows. He grunted- flying backwards and knocking Victor down with him.

  Soon enough- five other rocks were flying through the air and bouncing off of the bodies of the three bullies. Bill was standing above the three- his chest heaving up and down. He raised his fist and brought it down- hard- against Henry Bower's face. He only hit him once before letting him drop back to the ground. Henry was angry now- shooting up from the ground- only to get drilled by another six rocks flying through the air. Victor grabbed him by the back of his shirt and the three of them scrambled to get into Victor's car. Bill managed to get Silver out of the road before the car went barreling by.

  "Bev."

  Mike dropped a rock into her hand and she took it. She reared her arm back and threw the rock at the car. It hit the middle of the back windshield and bounced off with a bang. No cracks could be seen, but the car had sped up. Bill clapped her on the back and she grinned. She'd always had the best aim out of all of them. The boys had tried to talk her into playing for the school's softball team, but she said it wasn't really her thing. Plus, she'd have to quit smoking to join.

  "Das right! An' doan yous come back now!" Richie put on a Voice and sauntered forward. He bit his thumb in the direction of the car, steadily proving how much of a dork he was. The others laughed, but one laugh was unfamiliar. It sent a smile over his face and his cheeks glow softly. Eddie.

  Richie hadn't actually looked at the kid since they got out of the sewers. He turned around, expecting to see some twelve year old standing there with tears in his eyes. Instead, his eyes met the prettiest whiskey color he'd ever seen. His eyes were bright and shining. His hair was a wavy brown that hugged his ears and fanned over his forehead. Freckles rested subtly on his nose, which had a cute little button shape towards the end. Richie felt goosebumps roll over his skin. He realized he was staring- so he had to mentally jumpstart his brain.

  "The rocks! Good thinking, Eds!" Richie clapped Eddie on the shoulder, only to have his hand smacked away.

  "Don't call me Eds. That's not my name." Richie smiled. He wasn't offended that his hand had been slapped away, he was too giddy for that.

  "Thanks, for what you did. I thought Henry was really going to do some damage to Ben." Bev smiled at him, her hands nursing the red skin of her forearms. She leaned down and pecked the side of his cheek. Eddie's face flushed, but he looked proud more than flustered.

  "Anytime. I would hope that someone would do that for me."

  "Someone wuh-will now. Wuh-welcome to the Loser's Club. I'm Buh-Bill." Bill smiled softly and the others looked around with wide eyes. Nobody had ever been inducted into the Loser's Club that quickly before, but it somehow felt right. It felt like a piece of a puzzle had clicked into place. Richie had only thought that the Loser's Club would fit six, but he was wrong. It was seven and he thought it had always been meant to be seven.

  "Yeah, Eddie. Welcome to the Loser's Club." The others introduced themselves one by one. Ben and Beverly intertwined hands and grabbed their bikes. Mike tossed his leg over his own and Richie grabbed his. Bill mounted his bike and helped Stan onto the back. Stan's hands grazed gently over the busted knuckles on Bill's right hand. Bill whispered something to him and Stan's face softened.

  One by one- the group of kids started down the road. Richie was watching the others go, laughing and giggling along. Eddie stood by the side of the road, sporting a dazed look on his face- one that told Richie right away he'd never had any friends before. Richie rolled his bike back and forth, listening to the squeaking of his back tire. Eddie was watching the others and Richie was trying to string words together in his mind.

  "We're going to the Quarry. You coming?" Eddie's face turned toward Richie's and Richie felt his breath leave him. Eddie was absolutely stunning and Richie's heart was pounding like a drum. His brain started to try and explain the reason- but Richie pushed that thought away. He focused on the rocks laying everywhere and the broken concrete that Derry really needed to repair.

  "Yeah." Eddie grabbed his bike and off they went.

~~~

  The Quarry was abandoned, much to the delight of the kids. They all arrived at the same time- bikes squeaking and playing cards gunning. They laid their bikes down before taking off some of their clothes. They were all in shorts and Bev also had on her bikini top.

  The Quarry was the unofficial initiation to becoming a Loser. Once you made the jump- you were in for life. Eddie wasn't going to be told this, of course. He could be pushed or jump himself, but no matter what he was going to hit the water below. He was a Loser already- he just needed the Badge of Bravery that came with the Quarry. (In Bill's words, at least.)

  Bev squealed loudly, trying to get out of Ben's reach. Her soulmate had managed to wrap his arms around her waist and was walking her towards the cliff. Soon enough, she was being pushed over the side and he was jumping in close behind her. It was a full couple seconds before the water below was reached. Bill grinned mischievously at Stan, who shook his head pleadingly.

  "No. You better not!" Stan tried to fight the smile off his face, but to no avail. Bill had his arms wrapped around Stan, their chests close together. Bill pecked his lips gently before shoving his soulmate a good four feet over the Quarry's edge. Mike was the one to push Bill over, who hadn't been expecting that at all. Mike jumped after, leaving Richie and Eddie standing up top.

  "Are they always like this?" Eddie asked. Richie nodded his head and casually tossed his arm across Eddie's shoulders. He led the two of them forward, feeling the slight shaking of Eddie's body. The jump could be pretty scary, especially for someone who had never attempted it before. The two boys looked at the water below, watching the small shapes of their friends swimming and splashing around. Richie could already hear the game of chicken being discussed.

  "I guess it's just you and me, Eds." Richie looked over in time to see a grin spread across the shorter boy's face. Before Richie could prepare, Eddie's hands were on his chest and he was being shoved over the edge. Richie's long fingers wrapped around Eddie's wrist and he was being pulled over the edge too.

  While falling, Richie was staring at the terrified look on Eddie Kaspbrak 's face. His brown eyes were open wide and his mouth was letting out a shriek. His arm was still in Richie's grip, but he didn't try to pull away. Eddie's free hand smacked the curly haired boy's shoulder. Richie laughed and his body broke through the water.

  The Quarry's water was cool, which was a wonderful contrast to the heat of the sun. As Richie plummeted down into the depths, he felt the water lift his hair, loosening the tight spirals and pulling them towards the surface. Eddie was right across from Richie, looking through the surface and into the sky. His cheeks were puffed out from him holding his breath, which caused him to look like a very startled chipmunk. Richie laughed again, watching as his air bubbled up. He kicked his legs and brought his head out of the water, Eddie following close behind him.

  "You mu-made it!" Bill was swimming over, the others trailing behind him. Eddie was wiping his right hand across his face and smiling softly. The others circled around and patted him on the back. Eddie was smiling, clearly happy about the positive attention.

  "Welcome to the Loser's Club, Eddie Spaghetti!" Richie rolled his knuckles against Eddie's head and dunked him under the water for a split second. When Eddie reemerged, he was sputtering and flushed. He locked eyes with Richie and lunged at him. Richie swam quickly, laughing and trying to stay out of Eddie's reach. The others laughed and started teaming up for chicken. (Mike and Richie won, mostly because Richie cheats.)

  The Losers learned about their newest member. Eddie Kaspbrak had moved to into the town of Derry after living a few towns closer to Bangor. His father had passed and his mom had insisted that his spirit was haunting the house. Eddie hadn't been too upset to have found out he was moving. He'd had a rough time at school and thought a new start would be good. It was too bad Henry Bowers lived in Derry, otherwise the town would have been perfect.

  Eddie was a Sophomore at the same high-school the others went to. He had classes with all of his new friends, just not at once. Apparently, he and Richie were in the same Study Hall and he'd been there to witness the scene with Mr. Penny. Richie had gotten a lot of 'Beep, beeps' after Eddie had finished the story.

  By the time Richie got home, he was exhausted. They had left the Quarry after sunset. Everyone had pulled their shirts and shoes back on and mounted their bikes. Richie was one of the last to leave, since he'd lost his glasses in the water at one point and had to find them. Then the tire on his bike had finally decided it was done with his shit and busted while he was riding down Up Mile Hill. He had to push it beside him on his way home.

  When he got home, he'd seen his mom sitting in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette and reading some erotica novel with Fabio on the cover. He'd cracked a joke about it, causing a smile to twitch onto her face. He took that as a win.

  After his much needed shower, he'd put his fresh sheets on his bed and tossed his glasses on his nightstand. As soon as his head hit the pillow, Richie was unconscious.

~~~

  He was freefalling- dropping through the black horizon like a ton of bricks. His face was turned toward the sky, but his curls were blocking his view. It's not like he could see anything anyway- he was basically falling out of a void. Air was gushing against his back, causing his shirt to snap against his stomach like a shitty whip. His hands were clawing the space in front of him, trying with all of his might to find something to grab ahold of.

  After what felt like an eternity, his hand scrapped across something resembling flesh and he gripped down on it. It was an arm and the arm belonged to a person. He struggled to see around his curls, but then his body met the water.

  The quick and rapid falling was cushioned by the water, which was not something that could happen in anything but a dream. Richie felt like he'd landed in a bed of feathers, sinking in slowly and gently. The water held him and was beginning to pull him towards the surface. Richie's eyes were shut now, trying to prevent the water from irritating them. Richie felt the direction of the water change and his body was being pushed to the surface.

  He opened his eyes when the sunlight turned the back of his eyes a glowing red. The sun was shining down- the sun had been no where to be seen earlier- and was casting rays against the green water. Fluffy, white, clouds were floating in the blue sky and cicadas screamed sweetly. The water droplets on his glasses raced towards the bottom of his lenses. He blinked hard and stared at the cliff in front of him.

  The Quarry. He was swimming in the Quarry. He'd never seen a place before in his dreams- not one he could recognize, at least. Richie's lips parted in awe and he looked around. He couldn't have been alone in the water? After all, he heard water stirring beside him. Richie cast a glance over his shoulder, not actually expecting to see someone's face. A beautiful face.

  "Richie?"

  Eddie Kaspbrak was floating next to him, water droplets cascading down his flushed face. Richie took in the sight. Was it really Eddie? He had the same mouth with water sliding across the plush lips. He had the same button at the end of his nose and his hair was slicked back, slightly darker now that it was wet. And he had the same eyes. The eyes that looked like sun shining through a bottle of whisky, eyes that somehow held the sun and stars and once. Could it be?

  "Eddie?"

  Eddie nodded and Richie felt his face change. He was smiling widely and opening his mouth to talk. But he never got a chance to say anything, because his alarm clock was startling him awake.

~~~

  Richie was ready for school in record time. His heart was thundering out of his chest and his hands were shaking like maracas, which really deteriorated his ability to dress himself. Richie's glasses were still on his nightstand when he went to leave his room, causing him to lose some precious seconds of time that he could be on his way to Eddie.

  Eddie. A boy. The new Loser. His soulmate.

  People didn't judge one another for their soulmates- it was Fate that marked them after all- since no one had any say over it. Soulmates had always been a touchy subject for Richie. Sure, he'd asked Beverly and Bill, but he'd trusted them not to judge his yearning for someone to- for a lack of better wording- love.

  Richie's parents weren't soulmates. Nobody except for a handful of people knew this, but it wasn't really a big deal. A minority of people never find their soulmates and Maggie and Wentworth Tozier had just given up on looking. They still had dreams of their respective other halves, but nothing came of it. Richie was waiting for the day one of his parents came home with another person. Cause that would be the icing on top of the cake of an already shitty household.

  Richie had always worried he'd end of just like them. That maybe after so many people with similar dreams came and went- that he would still be holding his own heart in his hands, just waiting for someone to come by and trade it for their own. Maybe Richie would take up drinking- like his mom. Or maybe he would wake up in another person's bed after his 'late night shifts'- like his dad. Or maybe worse, he would spend his entire life searching for someone who could never love him in return.

  But that was all out of the window now. He had a soulmate. He had found him and he was going to him. Richie didn't think he could handle it if Eddie rejected him, but then he thought about his face in the dream. The blush that coated his cheeks and the water that dripped over his curved up lips. He was happy to see Richie and Richie was so fucking happy to see him.  

  Richie grabbed his bike off of the concrete of his driveway. He threw his leg over the seat and kicked off from his spot, only for his bike to go a few feet and crash to the ground. In his fit of excitement, he'd forgotten all about his back tire being blown out. He cursed- definitely waking up old Ms. Harris in the process- and tossed it on the ground. He started to run now, his long legs covering a lot of ground.

  Richie lived closer to Bill Denbrough than any of the others and he was about to take full advantage of their friendship. Richie was at the Denbrough residence within five minutes. He couldn't even feel the way his legs were throbbing or his lungs were trying to shut down- he definitely needed to lay off the cigarettes- because the heat in his chest and in veins was overriding every other feeling. Eddie. His soulmate.

  Richie's fist pounded on the door for a solid thirty seconds before it swung open to reveal Sharon Denbrough, who looked very concerned about the red color in Richie's face- yeah, he really needed to lay of the cigarettes.

  "Richie? What's wrong, honey?" Mrs. Denbrough pulled her housecoat tighter across her chest. Richie wheezed hard and coughed before he tried to speak.

  "Soulmate. I need Bill to 'High-Yo Silver, Away!' me to school. I can't run- oh Christ- anymore." Richie was gasping for breath and she was shouting over her shoulder for Bill.

  "Oh, I remember when I saw Zack for the first time in my dreams. He was walking through a field of stargazer lilies- which is our common theme- and he just turned and looked at me. Our eyes met and it was three days before we found each other again. It was a rough time, but it all worked out in the end." Sharon smiled, her blue eyes were so similar to Bill's that it was disturbing. Bill came out of his kitchen, hopping and pulling his shoes on with a piece of toast dangling out of his mouth.

  "Come on!" Richie's hand shot into the door frame and grabbed his friend by the arm. He pulled Bill with him and grabbed Silver. Bill was trying his best to eat his toast, but Richie smacked it out of his hand. "We have to get to school!"

  "Wuh-what's at scuh-scooh- fuck!- there?" Bill tossed his leg over Silver's seat and helped Richie onto the package carrier. As soon as Bill picked his foot off of the ground- Richie's heart jumped into his throat. He hated riding double on Silver, mostly because of the way Bill always got her started off. She would waver from side to side, almost tossing the boys off with each pump of Bill's legs. The playing cards on the tires would swish at first, but by the time the they were at the end of Bill's street, the cards had the machine gun noise down pat.

  "Eddie. He's my soulmate." Richie shouted over the sound of the cards and his own heavy breathing. He was clutching the top of the package carrier, hoping today wasn't the day Bill would run them into traffic. Bill's foot almost slipped of the pedal and his entire body stuttered. If Richie wasn't so anxious to see Eddie, he would have laughed long and hard.

  Bill's excitement took over his tongue and his stutter increased ten-fold. Richie told him everything, making sure to answer all the questions Bill could possibly ask. Bill was smiling, looking over his shoulder occasionally. He was thrilled about the news and Richie was thankful. If the two teens weren't going fast before- they were a speeding bullet now. Bill leaned off his seat and hovered over Silver's handlebars. She swayed heavily while he shifted his weight from pedal to pedal.

  "High-yo Silver, AWAYYY!" Bill screamed at the top of his lungs. The playing cards were deafening now and Richie was clutching onto anything to keep him from falling off. Needless to say, they made it to school in record time. The best part was- a newly familiar bike was already shoved in the bike rack.

  "Ruh-Rih-Richie! Luh-look!" Bill brought Silver to a stop, which was a painstaking process of Death flashing before Richie's eyes. Eddie was standing on the grass near the front of the building with his fingernail in-between his teeth. When he caught sight of Richie- Richie could see the change in his face.

  Richie didn't even bother to wait for Silver to come to a complete stop. He stumbled when he connected with the ground, but quickly righted himself. He was running again. Eddie's hair was messy- like he hadn't taken the time to brush it. His shirt was inside-out and Richie was pretty sure his socks were mix-matched. He looked perfect.

  "Richie-"

 Eddie was knocked off his feet and his body crashed to the ground. Richie was wrapped around him like a snake, crushing his bones under the impact of him falling on top of the shorter of the two. A pair of lips were pressed against Eddie's face repeatedly, causing a blush to rise to the surface of Eddie's pale skin. He erupted into a fit of laughter.

  "Hiya, Eds." Richie propped himself above Eddie, staring down at him. Eddie was glowing and his hair was even more dishevelled, now with little decorative pieces of grass.

  "Fuck off, Trashmouth."

  Eddie's hands cupped Richie's face and he pushed himself from the ground. He pulled their mouths together. It was a quick kiss, mostly because neither of the two could stop smiling long enough to try and make it good. It wasn't even messy, just weird and gentle. It wasn't a big deal though, because they had the rest of their lives to master their smiles.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @cakelanguage!

Wishing you lots of joy this holiday season, I hope you enjoy your gift ☺

Merry Christmas!

Read on AO3

*****

Calling Dr. Love

Magnus heard the Lightwoods before he saw them. Of the three siblings, he only knew Isabelle, and even then he'd only spoken to her over the phone once, but the coffee shop where they'd arranged to meet was quiet and the Lightwoods were making quite a ruckus as they walked in. Magnus stood up and turned around, a polite smile already prepared and ready to start evaluating his newest client - and his mind promptly went blank when he finally saw them.

Magnus was a dating consultant, one of the best in the business. People came to him when they needed help navigating the confusing world of relationships and dating, especially with the things like dating apps and speed dating sites muddying the waters, and Magnus was known for having a magic touch - teaching his clients tips and tricks on how to not just snag that first date with their dream person, but form a steady, long-term relationship with them. Magnus usually preferred to know as little about his client as possible before the first face-to-face meeting, so that he could get a more accurate first impression and know what he was working with, so he didn't know which of the two men with Isabelle was the brother he was supposed to help. But he had never hoped so badly that it was the shorter blond one instead of the tall, dark-haired man with the striking hazel eyes who was having a whispered argument with his siblings.

"Um, hi," tall, dark, and handsome said when he noticed Magnus, his eyes widening slightly.

"Hi, you must be Magnus!" Isabelle beamed and nudged her dark-haired brother forward. "This is Alec."

"It's very nice to meet you, Alec," Magnus said, swallowing his disappointment. It was fine - he was a professional, and there was a reason why he'd sworn off dating, ironic as it was.

They all took a seat and Magnus let them talk - or rather, Isabelle talked, with the occasional jibe from Jace. Alec just crossed his arms and scowled. He learnt that Alec was the eldest of four siblings, hadn't been in a steady relationship since college, and he worked as an accountant. He supposedly had been nursing a crush on a co-worker named Andrew, and Isabelle thought the office Christmas party that was happening in two weeks was the best opportunity for Alec to finally ask him out.

"Who's Andrew?" Alec asked with a frown, the first time he'd spoken since he'd said 'hi'.

"The guy from IT? The one you went to say 'hi' to that day when we went out to dinner with Mom?" Isabelle supplied helpfully.

"Oh, Underhill. I didn't know his name was Andrew," Alec said, and Magnus started to wonder if Alec's siblings had the right information. Why would Alec not know the name of the guy he was supposedly interested in?

"I'm glad that both of you are so supportive of your brother, but do you think I could have a chance to conduct the rest of this session just with Alec?" Magnus asked.

"Sure. Have fun!" Isabelle said immediately, and she and Jace both made themselves scarce.

Alec watched them wave at him from across the street, waiting until they were out of sight, then turned back to Magnus and said, "Look, I'm going to be honest with you. I'm not interested in Underhill, and I have no idea why my siblings think that I am."

"So are you saying that you're not actually in need of my services? Not that someone with a face like yours needs my help," Magnus said, and couldn't resist dropping a flirty wink. It would be kind of a relief, but also kind of a terrible tragedy if he didn't have an excuse to meet Alec again, but he had made a promise to himself years ago.

Alec licked his lips nervously. "Wait. I mean, I could probably use some general tips," he said hurriedly. "Besides, I know Izzy means well, and she went to all this trouble of hiring you."

"I tend to work better if you have a specific person in mind. My forte is in helping you present yourself in a way that will fit what your dream date is looking for, and everyone is looking for something different," Magnus explained.

"Oh. Isn't that cheating? I wouldn't want to get into a relationship with someone, then realise that they weren't really the person I thought they were," Alec pointed out.

"I don't mean that you should lie about who you are, just that you should show the facet of your personality that is the most appealing to them. It's really no different from putting in a bit more effort to dress up for a first date," Magnus said with a laugh. "The goal is to get your foot in the door, let them give you a chance. The rest is up to the both of you to figure out together."

"Ok. I may have someone in mind. But what if I don't know anything about him?" Alec asked.

Magnus plastered on a smile. He should have known that Alec was already interested in someone else. "Then Google is your friend. You'll be surprised at the digital trail people leave behind."

Alec wrinkled his nose. "That seems kind of invasive. No offence."

Magnus smiled and shook his head, waving off his apology. "Then try the old-school method. Do you have any mutual friends or acquaintances?"

"Yes, maybe. Or I could just go up and ask him," Alec said.

"Oh no. No, no, no. That'd be tipping your hand, and you'll have already made a first impression without the help of my expert advice," Magnus said, winking. "So why don't you find out more about this guy you like, and we'll meet in a few days, say..." Magnus flipped through his calendar on his phone. "...Wednesday? During your lunch break?"

"Sure," Alec said, then quickly added, "Ok, you don't have to answer this, but since you're a relationship expert, I'm assuming you're happily attached."

"Are you questioning my credentials, Mr Lightwood?" Magnus teased. "Actually, I'm currently single, and I prefer it that way. In this line of business, personal relationships and emotions may make me biased and compromise my ability to advise my clients."

Alec frowned but nodded in understanding. "Sorry, should I pay you for this session?"

"Oh, don't worry, the initial consultation is free. You can pay me when you land your first date," Magnus replied.

"You're really confident about this. Do your tips really work on everyone? What if they say they're not interested?" Alec asked.

"Not interested at all, because they're not into men or romantic relationships in general, or just not interested right now?" Magnus asked. "Maybe they'll tell you they need some space, or that they're focussing on their career, but what they're really doing is brushing you off without really thinking about it - because they don't even know you, so why should they give you the time of the day? The thing is, nobody wakes up thinking 'I hope I don't get to meet the person of my dreams today'. Even the most confident of us don't necessarily know what we want until we see it, and sometimes as part of my job I do a little bit of, well, engineering to create the circumstances for them stop and actually see you. But if you never give it a shot, you'll never know if it would have worked out."

"That's what I thought," Alec agreed.

--

When Wednesday rolled around, Magnus was both dreading and looking forward to seeing Alec again. On one hand, nobody could complain about having an excuse to look at that gorgeous face, but on the other hand, Magnus would have to sit there listening about the person who had caught Alec's attention.

The place that Alec had suggested was a cross between a blue-plate diner and coffee shop, and Magnus started to get the feeling that he was in trouble when Alec actually pulled out his chair for him like they were in a fancy restaurant. The place was worryingly quiet for lunch hour, but Alec was obviously a regular (and a creature of habit) because the waitress knew him by name and just asked if he was going to want his usual.

"What do you recommend?" Magnus asked.

"The breakfast stuff is pretty good, and there're vegan options too - I wasn't sure if you had any dietary preferences."

"I don't, but thank you for thinking of that," Magnus said with a smile.

They made small talk while waiting for the food to arrive, and Magnus couldn't help feeling that the quiet and cosy atmosphere, with both of them sequestered in a corner table, was a bit too intimate for his own good.

"So, what's the name of this guy you're interested in?" he asked Alec, turning the conversation to business.

"Um... Harold," Alec replied, tugging on his earlobe in a sudden nervous gesture and not quite meeting Magnus' eyes, looking down at Magnus' hands instead.

Magnus tried not to frown. It was ridiculous, but he already disliked the guy just based on his name. Alec and Harold sounded terrible together.

"What's he like?"

"He's my sister's friend and he runs his own business. My sister said he's into men as well as women, but honestly, I think he's kinda out of my league," Alec said.

"I very much doubt that, but what makes you think so?"

"He's really confident and vibrant, and he dresses well."

"You're a pretty smart dresser yourself," Magnus said with a smile. "Dark colours, simple but classic. You seem like you know what you like, and you don't strike me as being timid or lacking in confidence."

Alec shrugged. "I guess I'm just afraid that he's going to find me boring. My life is mostly work and family, maybe a drink at the pub with friends now and then."

"Switch out family for my cat and that sounds like me," Magnus said, laughing. "First rule, don't go in assuming you know them just because of what they look like."

"Ok, that's good advice," Alec said with a grin.

"Second rule, make an effort but keep your expectations low. Hopefully it leads to a serious relationship, but for now, you're just getting to know each other. Which leads me to another point I wanted to bring up - don't make your first date with this guy your office Christmas party. Even if he's a colleague, going to an event together makes people assume that you're already a couple, and that's too much pressure for a first date, or even a second date. At least take him out for lunch or coffee first, just the two of you."

"And if he agrees to go out with me, then what? I'm not very good at starting conversations."

"Just be present in the moment and pay attention to what he's saying, and you'll find your opening," Magnus said reassuringly.

Alec hummed and nodded. "Ok, I can do that."

The waitress came by with their food, briefly interrupting their conversation, and after she left, Alec cleared his throat.

"By the way, did you say that you had a cat?" Alec asked.

--

Magnus got back to his office at a little before two in the afternoon, but he was already ready to call it a day. Clary, who was a talented but struggling artist by night and his trusty personal assistant by day, looked up with a bright smile when he came in, but her face fell immediately.

"Are you ok? What happened?"

"Alec Lightwood is going to be the one client who ruins my perfect success rate," Magnus groaned. "Instead of talking about this guy I'm supposed to help him set up a date with, we spent his entire lunch break arguing about the relative merits of cats and dogs as pets."

Clary laughed in relief. "I don't know, that sounds like a great lunch meeting."

Magnus had to admit that it had been a really enjoyable lunch, but that was the problem. "I don't think I should keep him as a client. He paid for my lunch and pulled out my chair for me, Clary. And I have to confess that if I'd been in the market for a relationship - which I'm not - he'd be exactly my type. I'm probably not the best person to try to help him get this date with another guy."

"You're a professional, you can do it! I believe in you," Clary said cheerfully. "Besides, like you said, you're not interested in a relationship."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence," Magnus said wryly. "You know what, why don't you take the rest of the day off? I'm going to need to do some serious thinking to help get Alec at least one date with his dream guy within the next week, so that he'll have a date for his office Christmas party."

"Thank you!" Clary chirped, grabbing her messenger bag.

"Ah, I know that look - you're going to meet the mysterious girlfriend," Magnus said, smiling at Clary's infectious glee and excitement.

"You'll get a chance to meet her very soon," Clary promised, and Magnus couldn't help feeling just a little bit envious of her happiness as he watched her leave.

--

Resolving to keep his distance from Alec, Magnus decided to text Alec instead of arranging additional face-to-face meetings to coach Alec on how to plan the perfect first date. Unfortunately, they'd had as much luck sticking to business talk on the phone as they'd had at their lunch meeting, and they were currently sending each other pictures of the strangest creatures people kept as pets while Magnus was supposed to be catching up with his friends over drinks.

"Who the hell have you been texting all night?" Catarina suddenly asked.

"What? Nobody. A client," Magnus said quickly, shoving his phone back inside his pocket and taking a sip of his martini, only his first for the night because he'd been too busy texting Alec.

"And exactly what type of person is your client into? Considering you two were sending each other photos of lizards and octopuses," Ragnor said snidely.

"Mind your own business," Magnus said with a scowl, then scowled harder when his two friends exchanged a meaningful look. "He's a client. You know that means that he came to me with someone he's already interested in, and it's my job to help him get a date with this person."

"But he's sending you pictures of tentacles on a Friday night," Ragnor observed. "I'm not the relationship guru and even I know what that means."

"You know, if you were interested in him too, you could probably wipe out the competition without much effort," Catarina said. "What do you know about this guy he's interested in?"

Confident, vibrant, smart dresser, self-employed, bisexual, and a friend of Alec's sister. Wait a minute... On a hunch, Magnus glanced at his own hands and suddenly noticed that the watch on his wrist, a birthday gift from Ragnor, had the brand "Harold Pinchbeck" printed on the watch face.

Magnus' phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out to read the latest message from Alec, ignoring his friends' annoyingly smug looks.

Hey, I think I've got an idea for my date with Harold. Are you free on Monday afternoon for me to take you out on a test-run?

Ordinarily, Magnus would have declined without a second thought because he had a better sense of self-worth than that, except that he was starting to suspect that he knew exactly who "Harold" was. He dithered on his response for a while, then finally typed "Sure" and sent it before his common sense caught up with him.

--

"Where are we going?" Magnus asked.

"I told you, it's a surprise," Alec replied with a grin.

"A surprise location for a first date is a really bad idea, Alexander. It puts you in an uneven power position and is more likely to go wrong, since you don't know your date that well yet," Magnus scolded.

"But you also said that a first date should be memorable, and that people tend to remember things that they didn't expect," Alec countered. "Anyway, we're here."

"Beekeeping?" Magnus said in amusement as he stepped into the shop with Alec.

"Introductory class to urban beekeeping, followed by a honey tasting session," Alec clarified.

Magnus arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm sure this has nothing to do with the conversation we had about exotic pets."

"You did say to try to plan a date that might be in line with common interests," Alec replied, barely hiding his smile.

Magnus made a face at him, which made Alec laugh, but in the end he had to admit that Alec had planned a date that followed all of Magnus' rules. It was unusual, activity-based to minimise awkward silences, intellectually stimulating, and definitely memorable.

"How did I do?" Alec asked as they were walking out.

"Well, I'm sure Harold will enjoy himself as much as I did," Magnus said drily, then added a bit more seriously. "I had a lot of fun today, Alexander. Thank you."

Alec flashed him a lopsided grin and cleared his throat. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why did you decide to quit dating?"

"Oh Alexander, that was one of my cardinal rules - don't bring up the exes on your first date," Magnus tutted.

Alec's lips quirked up a little. "But this isn't a date, so it doesn't count," he said softly. "Does it?"

Magnus heaved a sigh in mock exasperation and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, a little tempted not to reply, but honesty as the best policy was another of his own rules. "I decided to take a break from dating because I was tired of having my heart broken. My job is to help other people find love, but my own relationships seemed to be my blind spot, and I just seemed to be looking for love in all the wrong places."

"But someone once told me that if you don't give it a shot, you'll never know if it would've worked out," Alec said, repeating his own words back to him. "I hear he's kind of an expert in this stuff, you should take his advice."

Magnus laughed. "Alright, smartass. Then ask me out properly."

Alec grinned and ducked his head, then squared his shoulders and looked Magnus straight in the eye with a slightly more serious expression.

"Magnus, will you go out with me on a proper date tomorrow night?"

"Only if you let me take you out to dinner first. Right now, if you're not in a hurry to go somewhere else," Magnus said.

"Deal," Alec replied with a grin, and offered Magnus his arm.

--

And that was how Magnus found himself at Alec's office Christmas party that weekend as his date. Unfortunately, as expected the party was boring, served greasy finger food and cheap alcohol, and was full of people Magnus didn't know. But Alec had promised him that they could leave to do their own thing after he'd dropped off his secret Santa present, so Magnus was just walking around people-watching until Alec came back. He certainly hadn't been expecting to spot a very familiar face at the party.

"Clary?"

"Magnus! I was looking for you," Clary greeted him enthusiastically, kissing him on the cheek.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"My girlfriend works in the research and development department here," Clary explained. "I think you've met her. Izzy, I found him!"

At the sound of her voice, Clary's girlfriend squeezed her way through the crowd at the drinks table to meet them, and she turned out to be none other than Isabelle Lightwood.

Magnus narrowed his eyes at the two girls, who were looking entirely too pleased with themselves. "Oh no, you didn't."

"What's going on?" Alec asked, appearing behind Magnus. "Wait, do you know Clary?"

"She's my personal assistant. It appears we've been the victims of a setup, Alexander."

"We were just applying all the tips I picked up from Magnus," Clary said mischievously. "Sometimes two people just need a bit of engineering to create the circumstances for them to see each other."

"After all, who matchmakes the matchmaker?" Izzy stated airily. "Besides, I think Clary and I did a pretty good job."

Magnus exchanged a look with Alec that was both exasperation and fondness for the two girls, and eventually Alec just shrugged and grinned.

"Ok, yes, you did a good job," Magnus conceded.

"I'm done, do you wanna get out of here?" Alec asked.

Magnus nodded and they said their goodbyes to Clary and Izzy. The streets were full of people hurrying off somewhere, so Alec put an arm lightly around Magnus' waist and Magnus leaned into the touch.

"You know, you never did give me any dating tips past the first date rules," Alec said.

"Since we're already on our third 'official' date, not counting the beekeeping, I doubt you need me to give you more dating tips," Magnus pointed out.

"What about tips on when to go in for the first kiss?" Alec asked.

Magnus smiled to himself. "Whenever it feels right for both of you."

As they stopped at a crosswalk waiting for it to turn green, Alec pulled him a little closer. "How about now?"

"Perfect," Magnus murmured.

Magnus tilted his chin up to meet Alec's lips and they stood there kissing, heedless of the people milling around them, until the lights turned green, then red, and back to green again.

[cloudyyoonji]

Our TicTac Love.

Han Jisung X Reader

Summary: Awkward moments can sometimes reveal hidden truths, especially when it comes to Han Jisung. Genre: FLUFF! HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR YEAR FLUFF!!

____________________

Drama was your absolute favorite subject. Why? Because you got to spend a whole hour and a half with your best friend and awesome teacher, playing ‘educational’ pranks and goofing off.

You’ve always been competitive with your best friend, Han Jisung, the absolute do-gooder in anything he did, so today; when your teacher told you you’d be all competing in a race, you two were more than ready before it even started.

The race was challenging, a bombshell that your teacher dropped on the whole small class.

“So, you’re all going to have a box of tic tacs - which I have counted to see that the same amounts are in all the boxes, don’t worry. But you’re going to run around the school, and offer every person you see a tic tac. First back to the circle wins.” Your teacher grins, “The rules are only 2 tic tacs per person and no entering classrooms. I have eyes around the school to see that happen.”

You’re all buzzing with excitement, your eyes narrowing in on Jisung who is mouthing “You’re going to lose” to you, eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

“Oh, it's so on.” You mouth in reply, gesturing to him as you receive your box of tic tacs.

“Ready. Set. Go!”

You’re all off your seats the instant ‘Go!’ is yelled, everyone scrambling down the stairs in a mad rush to make it out to the quads and oval, looking for any sign of a class, teacher or even a student walking.

Maybe this challenge was harder then you’d anticipated… Giving out only 2 tic tacs per person was exhausting, especially when class was on and there was nobody walking around during the periods.

5 Minutes till the hour is finished. You’re running, sprinting back to the classroom, only 2 tic tacs left in your container. “Mr. Williams!” You yell, hailing the science teacher with a wave of your hand. “Can I ask you something?”

The male nods, computer in hand as he watches you, a breathless student, approach him with heavy footfalls.

“Would you like some Tic Tacs?” You ask, holding out the container.

His eyes narrow on the container. “Is this for Mr. Walsh’s Drama class?”

You nod quickly, holding in your heavy breaths.

“I’ve had 2 students already come up to me. But sure, go ahead Y/N.”

You smile, quickly pouring the 2 remaining mints into his open palm. “You’re the best Sir! I won’t let you down!”

As you’re rushing off to the drama classroom, you hear him yell after you something along the lines of focusing in his class more.

The classroom is clear, your teacher surrounded by empty chairs. You’ve almost reached the top of the stairs, when the elevator dings, Jisung stepping out and walking towards the classroom.

Your blood boils, adrenaline kicking in as you spring to the classroom, literally neck to neck with him. Taking your seats next to each other, you breathe a sigh, lips twisting in a smirk. You so won, and Jisung totally knew you did.

So one by one, the students return, some having still half full packets of TicTac’s.

As the bell rings, you’re all anxious for lunch, but also anxious to know the result of the quest.

“Okay okay, quiet down!” Your teacher yells, standing up. Chatter fades into silence, everyone waiting, anticipating.

“The winner of today’s challenge is... Han Jisung! And Y/N Y/L/N in a very very close second.”

Whilst the boy next to you cries out in excitement, you can only groan as he points to you.

His torment doesn’t stop there. All the way down the stairs and onto the oval, the boy is non stop talking about how he won, even if it was down to a fraction of a second.

You shove him in the chest, fixing your bag back onto your shoulder. “Yah, it was a second difference!”

“Yeah, and I still won!” The boy replies, holding out his arms in victory, now walking backwards to face you as he rubs his victory in.

You roll your eyes, turning to walk towards where your group of friends sat in the quad. “I’ll see you next period.”

And so you two part ways, a light smile on your features as you think of how happy the boy was.

You were fond of Jisung, a type of fondness that existed between true best friends. However, you’d spoken to your friends, concern lacing your tone when you told them how you thought you might fancy the boy after his hug had truly left you breathless on more than one occasion. Your friends confirmed the feelings after your explanation, which left you even more nervous.

How could you develop stupid feelings for your even stupider best friend?!

Upon getting to your spot, you notice the absence of people. Sighing to yourself, you turn back around immediately, heading back to the oval. How could they just ditch you?!

Ignoring the twinge of excitement that comes your way at the realization of getting to sit with Jisung and the rest of the boys too, you head off back to the oval.

You can hear the music the instance you’ve finally reached the oval, spotting the group, a few guitars on laps and a whole lot of amazing vocals. It’s always one thing you’d envied, their amazing ability to sing. You had no concept of music, not on how to play nor on singing either. You more liked the dancing aspect of it, the way the music made your body move.

Moving closer, you can hear the familiar chords of “Waves”, Seungmin’s vocals harmonizing with Chan’s beautifully.

You’re careful not to disturb, waving a small “hi” to each of the boys as you take a seat next to Changbin, who has a guitar on his lap.

This was normal practice for them at lunch. They would joke around, singing or even rapping to different songs. You loved it, hearing their voices and how well they blended together.

Jisung has a seriously amazing voice.

Even now, as he closed his eyes, singing out the chorus of the song, your heart skipped a beat. His voice was so sweet, soft and silky. He blazed through the notes like he’d been singing his whole life.

“The freedom, of falling. A feeling I thought was set in stone.”

As he opens his eyes, your heart skips another beat when they meet yours, a little flustered at his piercing gaze.

So when the song ends, his lingering gaze sends literal shivers down your spine. The bell signals half of lunch has passed, but you hardly hear it over the sound of the heartbeat in your ears.

As the boy sits down next to you, pulling out some lunch, you’re jittery, standing up to walk around, scared that maybe the boy would see how you looked at him even after he’d finished singing.

“I’m going to the shop.” You blurt out, hands shaking as you reach for your bag. “Does anyone want anything?”

Chan looks up at you, slightly concerned.

“I’ll be back in time.” You tell him. You all have a meeting to head to in the next period, which was luckily one of Jisung, Seungmin, Felix and your own free periods.

“Okay... we’ll save you a spot.”

And with that you’re running, running to the shop, running away from your fluster with Jisung.

How could he make you feel like this with just a look?!

Browsing the aisles, your a little conflicted at what to buy. But there it was, as clear as day, the rack of tictac’s calls to you like a cheesy beacon.

You had to tell him.

They're in your hands before you know it, taken up to the counter, $5 bill in one hand as the cashier takes the pack from you and scans it.

You’re staring at them, pen in one hand, box in the other. Your concentration was strong as your shaking hand-scrawled on the box, blatant words that you knew couldn’t be misconstrued.

“I like you.”

The handwriting was messy; very you. The cursive letters forming the sentence seemed to radiate your nervousness as you ran back to the oval, the tictac’s hidden in your hand.

The bell rings as your halfway across the oval, the boys noticeably missing from their regular spot. You sigh, visibly stressed, running towards the staircase.

The auditorium was on the other side of the school!

You let a few choice words leave your lips as you trip over on the staircase, the cement grazing your knees. People lurch towards you, trying to help you up. But you’re quick to brush it off, continuing up the stairs and turning the corner to race up the 2 flights that separate you from the auditorium.

Hm, perhaps this is why your teachers always told you to not run on cement.

Ignoring your bleeding knees you knew would bruise later, you shove the box into your pocket, letting out a big exhale as you try and compose yourself.

The seats are mostly full, leaving you searching for the large group with hasty flicks of your eyes.

Ah, of course, they’re right at the back.  Rolling your eyes a little, you begin to trek up the staircase, knees throbbing in protest. By the time you reach the seats, you are quick to collapse into its cushion, examining your knees, which are bleeding quite bad.

“Shit! Y/N, what happened?!” Felix is quick to tend to you, catching the attention to the rest of the gang.

“Yah, y/n! Why would you run on concrete?!” Jisung asks you, examining your other knee.

“I’m okay guys,” You laugh, whacking the two boys away. “It’s nothing, really.”

Mrs. Last launches into her explanation about what she’s called everyone there for, explaining that the theater production rehearsals will begin next week, and people should just read the script to prepare themselves for rehearsals, no matter if their part is big or small.

“Sorry I ran off before,” you whisper to Jisung. “I forgot that I needed to go to the shop.”

“No, don’t worry! It’s fine,” the boy reply’s with a smile, ruffling your hair. “But are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod in reply, a smile on your lips.

As the teacher mentions the script, you elbow the boy in the ribs.

“Have you even read the script?”

He’s a little sheepish, smile giving everything away before he even speaks.

“Not at all.”

You shake your head at him, stifling a laugh as Mrs. Last shoots you two a look, concluding her lecture with “I won’t keep you from your classes any longer.”

The buzzing of people talking fills the room, voices echoing as everyone grabs their bag for their next class.

As the group disassociates as they head to different classes, Felix motioning for you and Jisung to head to your next class without him.

“I’ve got to get something from my PE teacher. You two head to science. I’ll meet you there.”

And so you two head to the labs, which is situated on the other side of the school. The tictac’s rattle in your pocket, their noise filling in the silence.

He helps you up the flight of stairs, grip on your hand to make sure you don’t trip again.

“Jisung,” You stop him with a touch of your hand on his, alone at the top of the stairs. “I... ah... we need to talk.”

The boy can only look at you, concerned and slightly confused as you pull out this damned pack of tictac’s, messy scrawl bold against the white.

“I...ah this hard!” You exclaim, shoving the pack into his outstretched hand, turning slightly to avoid embarrassment.

But a hand embraces you, pulling you back to face the boy, your cheeks red.

“Yah, Y/N. Don’t run away again, please.”

His smile makes you blush even more, almost melting into his embrace.

“You dork, I like you too! I thought I was being so obvious!” He exclaims, shaking you a little.

“Well,” you sigh, cracking a smile as you scratch the back of your neck, a little nervous. “I am an idiot.”

You cannot even describe how insane your heartbeat is now. You’re happy, so unbelievably happy that your feelings are mirrored by the boy. You’re also so nervous, unsure of what exactly will happen next now that you’ve both confessed.

His eyes glitter as they search your own, their fierceness only something you’d seen when he sang.

“Yes Y/N, you are. But now, I guess you’re my idiot.”