#this is part one of a mini series

[chleem]

Not a big deal pt1

miniseries; basketball player drew x high scl student reader

Summary: You lose your virginity to a random guy at a frat party miles away from your home. A few days later, you find out that he’s your brother’s competitor, for the regional colleges’ basketball tournament. 

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: cursing, age gap (18 & 24), protected sex, etc.

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ (pretend drew is 24 in this one) | p2 | p3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You never thought this day would come. 

The day you lose your virginity. 

You’re in a frat house party miles away from your home, kissing an attractive stranger. Not your ideal way of losing your virginity, but at least you were doing it with an attractive guy. 

His name’s Drew. Yeah. That’s the only thing you know about him. 

And also that he’s a great kisser. 

He’s also the second guy you’ve ever made out with.

You try kissing him with the same pace he is, but that just makes him pull away, looking down at you with hooded eyes and parted lips. “Slow…just relax,” he whispers, and you nod, making him smile. 

You feel his smile against your lips, and you actually listen, slowing down and kissing him at your own pace. You tilt your head back into the pillow, and Drew takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper. 

His hands go under your skirt, massaging your bare thigh. His lips move down your neck, kissing your collarbone and cleavage. 

“Drew…” you moan softly, hands tangled into his hair. 

He pulls away from you, and you immediately miss the warmth of him. But he pulls his shirt off, and your eyes are blessed with the sight of his upper body. You also don’t miss how erected he is. “Your…shirt,” his eyes move to your chest. 

You sit up slightly, and reluctantly pull your top & bra off. Now you feel really, self-conscious. It’s your first time being naked in front of someone, and it felt…unnatural. Is he…going to judge you for your chest size? Or the freckles on around your chest area?

“Beautiful,” he whispers, which surprises you. You feel your entire body going an entire degree hotter than it already was. He then chuckles. “Beautiful,” he repeats again, before leaning in and kissing you. 

You smile against his lips, and lean back into the pillow. Your wrap your arms around his neck as he moves down your chest, and starts kissing around your breast. 

He leaves wet kisses around on both of your breasts, unwrapping and wrapping his mouth around each. Your soft moans drives him to suck on your nipples harder, giving each the right amount of attention. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, when he’s done. He kisses down your stomach, stopping right above your skirt. You look down to meet his hooded eyes, a small trail of drool on the corner of his lips. You shyly smile, knowing you got this insanely attractive man on top of you, making you feel good. “Hey,” you breathe out.

“Hey,” he smiles softly too, his fingers playing with the ribbon on your underwear. He then looks down at your skirt, and pulls the underwear off. Cold air hits your pussy, but you like it. “I wanna fuck you in this skirt.”

Shit. Then he palms your pussy, causing you to arch your back. His free hand pins you back down, as he spreads your legs for him. “You’re soaking wet already.”

“Drew…” you softly say, wrapping your hand around his, the one around your waist. You want him to fuck you. Like, right now. You didn’t care if he found you weird for getting wet just from kissing; you just want him.

He lowers his head between your legs, and you feel his hot breath hit your pussy. Swear, you feel like an orgasm is near. “Lemme eat you first,” he says, kissing your inner thigh. Then, he presses his tongue flat against your pussy. 

“Fuck,” you moan, your hands tugging at his hair. You feel him chuckle lightly, before he starts devouring you. Drew’s tongue was good. He’s eating your pussy, as if it’s his last meal on earth. Maybe you’ll cum just on his tongue alone. 

You feel two of his fingers entering you, and you gasp loudly. It feels good, and really tight. It reminds you again that it’s your first time. Drew plants a kiss on your inner thigh, his fingers moving slowly. 

“You’re…really tight,” he breathes out, and you look down at him, between your legs. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, the corner of his lips slightly curled up. “This…you’re not a virgin, are you?”

That comment catches you off-guard. Should you…lie? Tell the truth? Shit. Is he gonna…back out once he knows you’re a virgin? So, you lie. “Been a long time,” you breathe out, his fingers still in you. 

He chuckles, kissing your jawline. “Sure,” he sucks on your collarbone, his fingers starting to busy themselves by thrusting into your hole.  

“Shit,” you curse, breathing heavily. He thrusts his fingers deep into you, stretching you out for him. He makes sure to go deep-deep with his fingers, and you’re pretty sure you’re at your limit. 

He groans at how tight you are, moving back down between your legs. He then plants soft kisses at your pussy, his fingers slowing down. Fuck. You want him to keep going. “Drew…I, I want you,” you voice out, even though the air was practically knocked out your lungs. 

“All yours, babe.”

He pulls his fingers out of you, and gets off the bed. He strips out of his pants and underwear, his erected dick standing tall and proud. Fuck. He’s big. You’re not sure you can take it. 

Drew walks to the nightstand, opening each drawer. He gets lucky in the last drawer, finding a box of condoms. He quickly checks the expiration date, before joining you on the bed yet again. You sit up, watching in anticipation, as he tears the pack open and wraps it around his erection. 

Shit. This was really happening.; You're about to lose your virginity.

You gulp once he’s done, wondering how he’s going to fully fit inside of you. “Drew, that’s-“

“You’ll fit,” he cuts you off, softness in his voice. He pecks your lips, intertwining his fingers with yours, pinning you back down to the mattress. “You’ll fit, and it’ll feel good.”

You nod, trusting a total stranger. 

You watch him adjust his dick to your hole, but only he’ll see since the skirt covers your view. But you feel his tip against the entrance, and you want to squeeze your thighs together. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he compliments, before looking up at you. Butterflies are flying crazy in your stomach. 

He then sticks himself in, and you moan loudly. “Shit,” he kisses your jaw, and you thought that was his whole thing, but then he pushes deeper, his entire dick now nested inside you. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, your free hand scratching Drew’s back. This… this is a completely different feeling compared to just his fingers. It’s a hundred times more thick and…and rough. You’re breathing heavily, and so is Drew, his hot breath fanning your forehead. 

He then moves out, and then thrusts in. You moan, your grip on Drew tight. “Too much?” You hear teasing in his voice, and you look up at him. Sure enough, a small smirk is on his lips. 

You pull him down, and you kiss him as a reply. He kisses you back, and thrusts into you once again. This time, he thrusts harder, making you gasp into his mouth. “I don’t think… I want to go slow on you,” he whispers against your lips. 

Fuckkk. Does he know how hot he is?

“Go ahead,” you breathe out, and his hand squeezes yours tightly after hearing that. His smile is all smitten, kind of matching yours. 

He thrusts into you roughly, and picks up the pace after each one. Your moans are his motivation to keep going, as well as the sound of skin-slapping in the room. The kisses that he trails along your body just serves as a bigger help to your orgasm. 

He even takes one of your legs and hoists it upwards, to get deeper into you. He hits a spot that takes your satisfaction levels to a new ground, pretty sure that he’s hit your g-spot. “Drew…” you moan, the pleasure fogging your mind up. “You… you’re…”

“Mmh?” He groans, biting down on his lip. 

“I think I’m…fuck,” words are hard to form now. 

Was sex suppose to feel this good? Or is it just Drew that makes it feel like you’re in heaven? Either way, it feels so fucking good. 

And with your orgasm near, you’re a bit disappointed that this was ending. Who knows when you’ll find a guy who’ll have sex with you again, or if you’ll ever see this sexy guy again. “I’m close,” you finally say, looking at Drew with hooded eyes. 

“Cum on my dick, babe.”

He kisses your forehead, cheeks, jawline while giving you a few more thrusts. And when he gives you a sloppy kiss, the knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum all over his dick, just like he told you to. 

Drew continues to thrust into you, but slower this time, as he helps himself to his own orgasm. Your body goes limp, so you just watch as he uses you to cum. He moans in your ear when he finally cums, his moan like music to your ears. 

He rests his forehead against yours, the both of you breathing heavily. 

Drew’s the first one to talk. “Told you you’ll fit.”

“Yeah. And… and it was great.”

Shit. As soon as those words leave your mouth, you regret it. Who says that after sex? ‘It was great’. Are you some kind of psycho? Oh my gosh. This guy is probably rethinking all his life decisions, and hoping he never even kissed you. You’re such a stupid-

“Sensational,” he cuts off your thoughts. “It was sensational.”

You stare at him with doe eyes. What? You couldn’t help it; you burst out in laughter. His word choice is funny. He’s funny. And cute. And handsome. 

He chuckles, probably from hearing your laugh. “Just saying.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. You can’t believe that you just lost your virginity to this guy. This…guy who uses the word ‘sensational’ to describe the sex.  This guy who’s insanely handsome with a perfect body. This guy…who, who’s only looking for a hook-up. 

This guy, who you’ll never see again. 

And in this moment, you told yourself, that you'll never make yourself forget about this man.

——

You hate the jersey Luke forced you to wear. 

You didn’t even want to come to this boring basketball game, totally fine with staying at home. But, your parents insisted, since it was the ‘final championship game for regional colleges’. Yeah. Your horrible brother was able to make it to the championship game, and if he won this round, his college student debts would be payed off, or something like that. 

Well, Luke was stressed out enough to not bother you this entire morning, except making you wear his jersey. 

You don’t hate your brother; he’s just very annoying. You grew up with him always teasing you, and never letting you know peace. 

“Did you even wear pants underneath?”

You roll your eyes, lifting your jersey to show the shorts below. “Of course not,” you reply, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. You don’t know why your parents left you alone with Luke, when you didn’t even want to be here at all. 

The commentator for the game announces there to be ten minutes left until the game starts. You look around, and the opposite team is not even out of the locker rooms. Only your brother’s team seen practicing or chilling by the side. Weird. 

“Who are you guys competing against?” You ask, signaling Luke to scoot over on the chair. 

He does; and you sit down beside him, looking onto the court with his teammates practicing. “Um, WCU.”

Why does that college sound very familiar? “They’re…not here yet,” you comment the obvious.

“Fuckers…trust me, y/n, they’re going to lose,” Luke cockily says, leaning forward. 

You furrow your eyebrows, crossing your arms as you turn to your brother. “You score an average of ten points per game.”

“Thirty points. Per game. No wonder you’re so stupid,” he corrects you, and you roll your eyes. You knew your brother was good at basketball, just his attitude cancels out all his good parts. “Hey, I’m not captain for nothing.”

“Wow, so impressive,” you mockingly say, and he slaps your knee. You flinch in pain, even though he only slapped lightly. “Ouch! I’m telling mom.”

“So mature,” Luke rolls his eyes, turning to the court. 

The commentator then asks your brother’s team to gather up front, to shake hands with the opposite team. Some kind of mannerism to show before the game. Problem is, WCU players haven’t even come out of the locker rooms. 

“They think they’re the guests, so they can wait till the last fucking minute,” Luke suddenly complains to you. “Tell you what, their cheeky asses are going to lose so badly-“

“Hey, maybe something happened back there,” you say on purpose, cutting your brother off. He’s rude and egoistic, and you’re embarrassed to admit that you’re related to him. He gives you a ‘what the fuck’ look, and you just shrug. “Who knows.”

“You’re so fucking naive, it’s cute,” he…insults you? Is that an insult? Whatever. He stands up, before turning to face you while stretching. “Watch me beat their asses, y/n. I swear, you’ll see me holding the MVP cup-“

“Let’s welcome… the Western Carolina university! Going against Eastern Carolina university! For the regional basketball championship!” The commentator interrupts, and music starts to play loudly. 

You look over at the court entrance, that’s connected to the locker rooms. 

The players come out in single file, their supporters cheering loudly for them. Their uniforms are white, with red & yellow stripes. All of them are tall (of course) and all have this…dominating aura around them. 

You look at each one of them as they walk onto the court, facing the crowd and waving at familiar faces. You scan their faces, playing a game of smash or pass in your head. 

But when your eyes land on the last one to come in, you couldn’t believe it. 

No fucking way. It was Drew. The Drew that you lost your virginity to, in a frat party at West Carolina. The frat party that your friend convinced you was worth the five hour drive. The frat party, where afterwards, you left without asking for Drew’s number (to be fair, before sex, you both agreed to it being a one-night stand). 

You rub your eyes, hoping you got the wrong person. Nope. It was Drew. Standing there, hands behind his back, emotionless as his eyes scans the crowd. Wearing the basketball team uniform, a bandana keeping his hair back. His face, the same handsome features you stared at when being fucked by him. 

“Look at them, a bunch of losers, right?” Luke sits down beside you, not even trying to lower his volume. 

Oh fuck. “Hey, you alright?” Luke suddenly asks, making you peel your eyes away from Drew. Is it written all over your face that you fucked Drew?

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You smile nervously. Your brother would freak out if he found out that you slept with his rival. Wait, he would freak out that you even lost your virginity in the first place. “why…you should go join your team.”

“But you seem-“

“Captain of the Eastern Carolina university team, please make your way to the court!” The commentator announces. 

“That’s you!” You say nervously, patting your brother’s back. 

He looks at you, with worried brows and confused eyes. “Okay…” he gets up, scratching his hair. He gets ready to join them, but then turns back to you again. Luke looks at you mischievously, before saying, “You didn’t give me a good luck kiss yet.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, glancing at Drew. Oh shit. He’s staring at you! Does he recognize you? Of course he does, otherwise he wouldn’t be staring. “Fuck off, Luke,” you embarrassingly say, knowing everyone is waiting for him. 

“C’mon, lil sis,” he pokes his cheek. 

Fuck. Why can’t he ever just fuck off? You roll your eyes, before standing up and giving your brother a peck on the cheek. Why does he always want to embarrass you? Why is he such a pain in the ass?

“Thank you. Although, I never needed luck,” he grins, before running to join his team. You wanna kick him in the balls so hard right now. 

You turn back to Drew, who’s still staring at you. His brows are furrowed, lips in a frown, and head tilted slightly to the side. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is so awkward and embarrassing. You want to disappear into the floor right now. 

You get up and look away from him, walking to the seats behind. Your parents wave at you, and you just smile awkwardly as you walk up the steps.

Please, let this game end quickly. 

——

Whenever Drew scored a point, he would look over at you with a small smirk on his face. Which was, almost always. He must’ve scored over a half for his team (you were exaggerating, but he did consistently score).

And as for your brother, they were behind. Behind by more than twenty points, and it was the last quarter. It was humiliating, and stress was written all over Luke’s face. You’ve never heard your brother yell at his teammates as much as right now, or yell in such a harsh manner.

The last minute of the game. ECU is definitely losing the championship. 

Some of the crowd continues to cheer, and most definitely, the ECU students are bowing. Either at WSU or their school, you’re not so sure anymore. 

Thirty seconds left. You watch as a team member on court starts cheering, wanting Drew to go along with him. But Drew ignores him, saying something serious to him. He listens, and wipes the smile off his face.

Twenty seconds left. Your brother got the ball. A teammate nearby waves to him, wanting to get his attention to pass the ball to him. Luke ignores him; traveling through the court; he wants to score all by himself, just to boost his ego. 

Ten seconds left. Drew defends against Luke, getting close and blocking his way of scoring. 

Five seconds left. Luke jumps at the same time Drew does, and Drew manages to block his ball away, the ball knocked out of your brother’s hands. 

To you, it all happens in slow motion. 

Still in mid-air, your brother pushes Drew, hard. He falls, missing the basketball hoop-pole only by a few centimeters, landing on the hard floor. Shit. 

The bell rings, and the crowd around you all stand up, cheering loudly. Confetti also dropped, further making it hard to see. Fuck. 

“Your brother tried his best,” your mom says, standing up and clapping. 

You furrow your eyebrows at her, standing up beside her. “What? He got a lot of penalties, yelled at the referee, and pushed Drew. He did not play well.”

“Who’s Drew?” Your mom asks, turning to you confusingly. 

Your eyes widen, and you turn away to the court. Shit. “I said crew, mom. He pushed one of the crew from the other team,” you lie. You get to get a glimpse of Drew, who gets up with the help of his teammates. He's rubbing his lower back, pain on his face. Fuck. That fall must’ve hurt. What was your brother thinking?

You watch as the two teams are called to shake hands again, your brother and Drew, standing close to each other. Luke, having a cocky smile on his face, says something to him. Drew says something back, before holding his hand out. Your brother shakes it, his smile now gone, and his expression turned mean. 

What did they say to each other?

After everyone finished shaking hands, ECU went off the court, and WCU was cheering with each other. Luke looked like he wanted to murder someone.

Someone in a suit presents the championship trophy, handing it to Drew, who takes it with a proud smile on his face. Cute. 

Another trophy comes, and the commentator introduces it as the MVP award. It’s handed to Drew too. But he hands the championship trophy to someone beside him, who immediately raises it up high in triumph. 

Then, you make eye contact with Drew. He’s smiling at you, and he holds the trophy near his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck, butterflies are forming in your stomach right now. 

But the eye contact breaks when his teammates pull him by wrapping an arm around his neck, urging him to celebrate. You watch as he laughs at something they say, reminding you of that night, when he chuckled after hearing you laugh. 

Fuck. The urge to run down here and talk to him is beating loudly in your mind. 

But you don't. You were nobody to him; just someone he fucked on a random Friday night.

Same goes for you; just someone you lost your virginity to. No big deal. Not something really important. Just...not a big deal, right?

-------------------------------

word count: 3.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing this! (ignore my mistakes plsss) there will be a part two, so look forward to it <3 and these next two months i will be very happy, since obx s4 is out (won't stop smiling). also, wondering if anyone has any suggestions on what /who they would like me to write about! (recently thinking of jungkook bts & nicholas chavez)

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

Trigger Warning: Drug Use (Marijuana) / Discussion of death & loss / Transcript under the cut

Nancy: Are you going to tell me where we’re going?

Vanessa: Ever heard of savoring the moment? Basking in the adventure of the unknown?

Nancy: This sounds like a slasher film in the making.

Vanessa: You’re no fun, but fine. We’re going to my secret spot.

Nancy: Why are you taking me? What if I told someone about it?

Vanessa: You said you’re not a narc. Besides, we broke bread together.

Nancy: Oh, I see. I have dirt on you, so now you have dirt on me?

Vanessa: Wooow, Blondie! You have some serious trust issues.

Nancy: [mutters] Well. I don’t know you all that well..

Vanessa: I’m not mad. That makes sense. That just means I have to work extra hard to get you to trust me. I must warn you, I’m annoyingly persistent.

Nancy: What?

Vanessa: Nothing!

Nancy: Ok, seriously. What are we doing here?

Vanessa: Looking for my stash...ah fuck! Did someone jack my- ah-ha! Here she is!

Nancy: Who?

Vanessa: [sings] Mary Jane, I love her just the same.

Nancy: You brought us all the way out here to smoke pot?

Vanessa: What, you’d rather do it in front of the nuns? Get in here.

Vanessa: So, what’s your deal?

Nancy: My deal?

Vanessa: Yeah, like, why are you here? I doubt you saw a packet in the mail and thought, ‘I’d sure love to spend my senior year at a boring Catholic boarding school’. Unless you heard about all the hot guys here, then that makes sense.

Nancy: Wasn’t my idea.

Vanessa: Ok. So, what happened?

Nancy: [huffs] Well, if I talk about it then it never goes away, does it? That’s kind of the whole point.

Vanessa: [hums] Well, you’re in the right place, that’s for sure.

Vanessa: [murmurs] All you have to do is pray, and it all goes away.

Nancy: What’s your story?

Vanessa: Not much of a story. I was raised in the church. Heir to my family’s fortune. Blah blah blah. You know how it is, being a Landgraab and all.

Nancy: It wasn’t always like that. My brother was supposed to be next in line, but he died when I was 4.

Vanessa: Fuck, I’m sorry.

Nancy: It’s- I barely remember him, so..

Vanessa: [after a beat] My mom died giving birth to me. My father says I’ll spend the rest of my life being great to atone for it. That’s actually all he says to me.

Nancy: I don’t think my father knows he even has a daughter. I bet he doesn’t know the color of my eyes- he hasn’t looked me in them my whole life.

Vanessa: [laughs] What the fuck? We're really messed up, huh? You know, you’re not like any of the other girls here.

Nancy: Is that a bad thing?

Vanessa: No. I’m not like any of them either.

Nancy: [coughs aggressively]

Vanessa: [laughs] Don’t swallow it! We should head back before they start room checks. You do not want to catch Sister Anges in the halls after curfew.

Vanessa: [cackling] Move your ass, Landgraab!

Nancy: Shhh! We’ll get caught!

Sister Agnes: And where are you two coming from?

Nancy: We? Um. We...

Vanessa: From the greenhouse, Sister Agnes. I was just showing the new girl around. Nancy says she loves her some pot-

Nancy: -tted plants! Potted plants!

Sister Agnes: You should know the rules better than anyone, Ms. Villareal. No loitering in common areas without a chaperone. Up to bed now.

Nancy: Pot? Really?

Vanessa: I thought it would be funny!

Vanessa: Today was pretty fun. You should come hang out with us during rec. Dina and Nina are total bitches but they’re funny.

Nancy: Sure. Yeah. Cool.

Vanessa: Cool. ‘Night Blondie.

Nancy: Goodnight...Red.

[madelynraemunson]

CASUAL part 2

see part one here.

modern!incel!asshole! eddie x fem!reader

It’s 7 in the morning. Eddie is seen doom-pacing in the halls of Hawkins High.

a/n: i promised y’all part 2 so here ya go. let’s make him pay. 💋 also shout out to @love-anonymous-writer for bringing this universe to life. a little angst here and there is good for the soul <3

who got the last laugh?

[WC: 1.1k words]

“Please respond…please respond…please respond…”

The soles of Eddie’s shoes slam against the tiles of Hawkins High as he rushes to your locker. Meanwhile his entire soul has left his body.

You didn’t answer any of his phone calls. All the texts he sent you were left on read. Having been so accustomed to your instant replies, Eddie essentially catapulted himself into a full-blown panic last night when he saw the ominous text you sent him...and the nothingness from you that followed soon after.

The crickets of Forrest Hills that taunted his eardrums later that night served as a vengeful metaphor of the brick wall you built between you and him. The girl who once gave him everything has now started giving him nothing. You’re nowhere, but everywhere. It’s like you’ve become a ghost.

When he sees you, color drains from Eddie’s guilty face. You look so beautiful today, hair curled down to the small of your back, a nice simple dress and some slippers, with makeup ever so gracefully applied. A class act, even when plagued with the utmost disrespect.

“Hi," he says to you as he approaches.

“Hi.”

As far as Munson knows, he no longer exists to you. He's a shadow now, a carapace of a boy you used to love 'cuz now — after hearing what you heard in his trailer — you know he's not the same boy that made you feel all the butterflies. That boy is long gone. You even start to wonder if that version of Eddie even existed.

“C-can we talk, please?” he requests.

“What’s to talk about?” you challenge him, stoically. “Don’t wanna annoy you with my rambling.”

“You never annoy me…” he attempts as you mindlessly comb through your locker for your homeroom notebook.

“Mm.”

You were casual about it. Too casual about it.

“You… uh…” he clears his throat. “You made me cookies yesterday?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I was at your door for quite a while so you must’ve been busy. Cookies were taken care of though.”

“I see…” Eddie mutters as the pieces all start coming together.

He thinks about how he always leaves his windows cracked open. His uncle would whoop his ass if he hot-boxed the trailer again, so it became a habit. But the trailer park is small, and on certain afternoon, if someone from a nearby unit had dropped a pin, Eddie would hear it. Suddenly, fear arises in him.

Surely, you didn't hear everything he and The Boys™️ said. He had his headphones on and he couldn't have possibly been that loud, could he? Unless technology failed him again.

The warning bell sounds throughout the halls and you excuse yourself from the narrative. Eddie tags after you like a lost puppy, nearly tripping on his shoelaces along the way.

"W-wait!"

The first class of the morning is homeroom. A class you unfortunately shared with Eddie, Grant, and Harmony.

You didn't want to see any of their faces. Eddie's face would serve as a reminder of how fake and construed the fucker is. Grant's would remind you of how insignificant you were to the guys (despite how welcomed they made you feel at the start). And Harmony. Harmony's beautiful face — with a body far too developed for a girl in her grade to match — would only remind you of the fact that the girl didn't inherently do anything to you... other than be beautiful and get caught in the crossfire of horny, greasy teenage boys.

It’s a fucking mess.

You swallow hard and keep your chin up regardless. Because what other choice do you have? You either feign your confidence or let irrelevant boys crush it.

You continue strutting over to your seat as Eddie trails behind at a measurable distance. Along the way, you inevitably run into the Junior Queen of Hawkins High herself, Harmony Heathers.

Harmony issues you a sweet smile. You smile back at her in return. And you didn't even need to turn your back to know that Eddie most likely did a double-take when sliding past her.

The late bell rings, indicating the start of class.

“Okay,” your homeroom teacher Mrs. Helleck exhales as she clasps her hands together. “Good morning everybody. For Red Ribbon Week this week, we’re gonna be doing a group project. Worth 20-percent of your grade.”

The class erupts in agonistic groans while Mrs. Helleck attempts to calm them down. You feel Eddie’s gaze burn into you, indicative to the fact that he was looking forward to using you again like he always seems to do. This time around it would be for a grade instead of a two-pump fuck. But you had something else in mind.

“You will be doing a presentation,” Helleck continues. “With a partner of your choice. Your job is to create a slogan along with a list of reasons why you should stay away from drugs.”

“Drugs Instead of Hugs,” Grant mutters to Eddie.

The general vicinity collectively praises his lukewarm wannabe 4-Chan edged joke.

You roll your eyes while your poor homeroom teacher tries to proceed with her instructions, despite the immature snickers.

“You will be presenting with your partner on Friday. Do not wait until last minute to do this assignment please. Deadlines catch up to you fast.”

Mrs. Helleck makes her way over to you.

Like Dungeons and Dragons, everyone in the class is assigned a “classroom role”. You’re the leader of the pack, the ‘foreman’, to which you never understood because up until today you never had the confidence to call the shots. The alphabet has never been on your side anyways.

“Now dear,” your teacher smiles down at you. “Since your last name starts with an A, you get first choice. Who would you like to work with?”

Eddie’s gaze is extra fixated on you now. It gives you a greater deal of satisfaction than tossing those cookies ever did. It was you who had the reigns now, instead of those woman-patronizing incels.

You start to smile connivingly, to which the guys start to gulp over. You can tell they’re putting two and two together, their two brain cells collectively working over time to discover that you had a delicious upper-cut up your sleeve.

It’s the very least they can do. If they wanted to taint your name to smithereens in your absence, you’re sure as hell going to give them something else to lose their minds about in Math 3.

And when all eyes are fixated on you, you tilt your chin up to project your voice. You want to make sure everyone, especially Grant and Eddie, hear you loud and clear when you sinisterly announce,

“I pick Harmony.”

tag list: @damp4eddie @eddiesguitarskills @babygirl229 @love-anonymous-writer @ziggeddie @socially-awkward-eliza @shesahellfirebabe @ali-r3n @yourdailymemedelivery @mincloud @jupitersnights @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @whisperingtales @fearlessreid @emma-munson

divider by: @benkeibear

[fatuismooches]

Weird thing I always imagine. Idk if they’ve been invented in teyvat but let’s say they have so….rollie chair Dottore. Specifically if he’s taking care of fragile reader in his office, just cleaned their arm in preparation for needle, but wait that needle is over on his desk, that’s okay he’ll just wheelie over !! Idk just imagining him rolling from desk to desk to grab some papers and whatnot is so scientist/doctor coded

The only reason Dottore owns one of these rolling chairs is because you were the one who bought it in the first place (very much persuaded by Pantalone's luxurious one.) The Doctor prefers a regular ordinary chair, as that's what he's worked with his whole life and sees no reason to change, but that's also probably because he could care less as long as it doesn't break. You, however, are of the opinion that spinning chairs = fun. You replace his main chair with the rolling one. Dottore still doesn't care. He's much more in the habit of simply getting up whenever he needs something. You sit in his lap and try to push him to get it to roll but you're not strong enough for that of course. The mission is mostly unsuccessful. Mostly. He does sometimes unintentionally roll when the distance is short, and then just continues since he's already doing it. You find it very entertaining, and he does admit to the convenience. (Foxttore loves the chair the most. Lil shit refuses to get off it sometimes.)

[illegaltruffle]

pizza time

[hawkogurl]

[summers-art]

omg pls let silver give espio a big hug to help him warm up <\3

alright they get a hug, as a treat

also Blaze is still here

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

[britishchick09]

a sneaky list of full poto movies! ;)

youtube

1925

1937 song at midnight

1983

1987 animated

1989 mall

1990

1991 staller

1993 y/k

1995 wishbone

1996 ivan jacobs

2000 ken hill audio

2013 ken hill

2021 korean y/k

leroux audiobook

(these last two are privated every so often, so they're not always available)

musical

lnd

ok.ru

musical

lnd

1943

1962

1974 paradise

1989 freddy

1998 rat phantom

2004

dailymotion

1925 in hd

1995 phantom lover

2011 y/k takarazuka

night gallery

internet archive

musical

1925 original

1974 paradise

1974 hollywood

1983

2004

2004 takarazuka

[weatherera]

The Hero

[13o7billionyearsinthemaking]

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 8 - Sleep Deprivation

title: right beside you, blocking your way

fandom: hermitcraft

cw: torture

~

“Impulse. Hey, bud, you gotta stay awake.”

Impulse groans, his eyes fluttering open. “Tango.”

“You know I don’t want to.”

The only sign that Impulse hears him is the way his features harden just slightly.

Tango doesn’t know how much longer they’re going to be able to keep this up. At some point, Impulse will need to sleep, and there won’t be anything that anyone can do to keep him awake.

“Time’s up.”

Tango screws his eyes shut for a brief moment, willing the tears to go back to wherever they came from, not spill onto his cheeks. Then he looks up toward the blond man keeping them captive, glares hard at him.

“He needs to sleep,” he says. The blond man shrugs.

“Yes,” he says. “And it’s your fault that he can’t.”

That isn’t fair. That isn’t fair, and Mr. Blond knows it. Just because Tango won’t—can’t—help them design weapons of mass destruction, they’ve decided to torture Impulse.

It isn’t his fault. It’s their fault, for imposing a rule like that. Tango knows that. Mr. Blond knows that.

He just hopes that Impulse knows it, too.

He lets himself be led away, away to that tiny room with the bed shoved into it that serves as his cell in this torturous prison. He only spends his nights here, his days at Impulse’s side, keeping him from falling asleep.

He hasn’t seen anything of Doc or Ren. He hopes they’re okay.

They shove Tango in, the same way they do every night. The lock clicks behind him.

He stands by the door, buries his face in his hands.

He can’t keep doing this.

Tango’s the one to keep Impulse awake during the day, because at first he had just sat there and refused any questions, but then he saw how terribly Impulse was treated when he got too far gone to keep himself awake, and he begged the blond man to let him be the one to wake Impulse. He wouldn’t beat him, he wouldn’t burn him, he wouldn’t whip him even if they put the tool in his hands themselves (which they have).

But whatever they do to Impulse at night is even worse than what he witnessed during the day. Tango’s sure of it.

He swallows against the lump in his throat, pretending that he doesn’t feel the tears dripping down his cheeks.

It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay. Someone will find them. Someone has to find them!

It’s been a week since they were kidnapped. An entire week. The longer they’re gone, the less likely they are to be found.

Tango slumps onto his cheap mattress, ignoring the plate of food on the floor beside him. Why should he deserve food and a bed, when he knows that Impulse is kneeling in the other room, barely fed and going on seven days without sleep?

He falls asleep crying, as he has the past six nights.

-

Tango gets to sleep.

Tango gets to go off to a nice room with a bed and sleep for as long as he wants. Tango gets to sleep.

Impulse hates him.

When Tango sleeps, they beat Impulse. They always do.

“Just an hour,” Impulse begs, even as he doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore. “Just an hour, please. . . .”

The whip cracks across his calves. Impulse jerks up, trying to cover his eyes against the flashing lights.

“It hurts,” he cries, his arm hurts—

A hand pries his arm away from his mouth, from the pretty red spilling everywhere.

“Oh, poor Impulse,” a voice whispers. “Tango’s taking your sleep, isn’t he? He never lets you sleep.”

Impulse wants a turn. He wants a turn so badly that it burns the inside of his mouth, makes his teeth shiver and shake like they’re going to fall out.

There’s ants on his feet. There’s ants between his toes and he can’t stomp on them, he can’t do anything about it.

“Poor, poor Impulse. Tango keeps hurting you.”

The voice is green, green like grass and poison and good guys, green means good, green means go.

Green.

“It’s red,” he says, despairingly, and the green hums.

-

Tango pushes Impulse’s shoulder. “C’mon, wake up. There you are. Eyes open.”

Impulse’s eyes are not open. He’s deep into this sudden nap, head drooping to his chest.

Tango glances around at the guards. They aren’t paying him much mind.

“You gotta stay awake. Did I ever tell you about how much trouble it took to get the stream of Decked Out exactly the way I wanted? Usually water works pretty well for me, but it was so cold. . . .”

He keeps up the low monologue, eyes fixed on Impulse’s sleeping face.

Every time he leaves for the night, he comes back to find his best friend in worse condition. Today, he has a split lip, still bleeding sluggishly, adding to the black eye already there. His arms are wrapped in red-stained paper towels, messily stuck to his skin with scotch tape.

He doesn’t have to stand, at least. His arms are pulled behind him with scratchy rope, looped around a hook on the wall high enough to keep Impulse on his knees. It’s clearly painful, but he isn’t on his feet.

Tango’s not sure he’s capable of standing. Not with those whip marks on his feet.

He needs to sleep. Impulse needs to sleep before it kills him, but every time Tango begs for him to just rest for a bit, the blond man chuckles and asks if he’s reconsidered the demands.

The most he can do is be the one to wake Impulse when he slips.

Which will have to be now, as the woman at the door has glanced over at them twice in the past two minutes.

“Wake up,” Tango says, a little louder. He shifts, his mouth up to Impulse’s ear. “Hey, bud. Wake up.”

Impulse doesn’t wake. Tango’s eyes dart to the guard, now watching them suspiciously.

Tango sucks in a deep breath, pokes Impulse between the ribs. The man hisses, but his eyes don’t open, so Tango pokes him again, harder.

Impulse’s bloodshot eyes blink open. He glares at Tango, a tear slipping down his cheek.

“You’re red,” he says. “It’s all red. And purple. I hate you.”

Tango swallows back the tears so close to the surface. “I’m so sorry,” he croaks, reaching up to tuck Impulse’s hair behind his ear. It’s stringy and lank, crusty with blood. “I have to. Everything’s gonna be okay, Impy. Just you wait.”

Impulse shakes his head doggedly. “No. No. No. I want—please. No.”

“The moment one of our friends bursts through that door is the moment you can sleep,” Tango promises. “Soon, okay? But you gotta stay awake to see them.”

Impulse blinks at him, eyes either unseeing or uncaring. “I never want to see you again,” he says, clearer than Tango’s heard him sound in three days. “I’ll—I’ll leave. Too red. Red is bad. Stop. Red.”

He’s just saying it because he doesn’t know what’s happening. He doesn’t mean it. Impulse would never say something like that.

It doesn’t stop Tango’s heart from breaking.

They’ll be saved soon. They have to be.

Otherwise, neither of them will make it out of this alive.

[nomoreusername]

Caption Gally (Part 4)

Pairing:Gally x female reader

Summary:Now that everything's cleared up, you and Gally are actually happy together.

"You and Gally, huh?"Minho asked as we stopped for lunch. I merely shrugged as I took a much needed sip of water.

"You're welcome. It's all thanks to me,"He sighed, seeming happy with himself.

"You didn't really do anything. You just didn't know how to keep your mouth shut,"I pointed out.

"So you would have realized that you're hopelessly in love with him if I hadn't gotten involved?"He questioned.

"I am not in love with him. Give me a chance to breathe before you bring up that,"I instructed.

"No. I planned for too long for you guys not just say the obvious."

"Planned? What do you mean planned?"I asked, narrowing my eyes in suspicion. He got an 'I just shucked up' look on his face. "What do you mean planned?"I repeated.

"Oh look at that.We should get back to running,"He suggested.

"No. We still have five minutes so tell me,"I repeated. He kept his eyes on me as he cautiously stood up.

"Okay. So I'm the one who convinced Gally to admit he likes you, and I knew you'd talk about him so I just took the opportunity,"He explained, still looking ready to sprint.

"Is it too late to lie?"He asked.

"I'm giving you a five second head start,"I offered.

"Before what?"He asked. All I did was hold down my first finger which was enough for him to start running.

He's an idiot sometimes. He really thinks I hate the fact that I got a chance with Gally? If anything it's the exact opposite, but we're not going to talk about that right now. We're just going to be glad that it happened. Even if Minho did plan it out like an obsessive fangirl.

♡ - - - ♡

As I returned from my run sweaty and out of breath I was surprised to see Gally waiting by the walls. I gave him a halfhearted grin as I wiped my forehead as best I could.

"Looking for someone Captain?"I asked him.

"Just an irritating Runner. Always sarcastic and knows how get on my nerves. Do you know her?"He played along.

"No, but she sounds familiar. If you throw funny in that list I might,"I shrugged.

"I'd rather not. She has a big ego,"He explained. "To be real I was waiting for you to come back because I missed you,"He confessed.

"I missed you too, dumb shank."

"Y/N! We need to get mapping!"Minho called.

"There's my cue. I'll see you at dinner if you save me a seat,"I promised.

"Yeah. That sounds good."

Yeah. It really did.

[palaxy27]

PZPTH COMIC!!!! (And a little pennashi) ENJOY :3

(Note: English is not my first language so there may be grammatical errors)

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Warning: Contains blood and angst.

Yeah... sorry...

Anyway, this is part 2.5 of the mini pzpth fan comic "everything will be fine", in case anyone doesn't know or remember I did a mini angst comic about sashi and I have decided to continue this story, I don't know how many legos will get with this but I hope you can enjoy it🥰

Here is the part 1:

Also there is a pzpth discord, if your are a pzpth fan join us!!

[onepiecebrained]

otptober day 9: reconcile

(3/3)

[everynicorobin]

"Bad timeline" my ass she looks fucking incredible at forty there

[park-jimin-isnt-real]

🍂 pairing: yoongi x reader (platonic) 🍂 rating: pg 🍂 au: "over the garden wall"-esque 🍂 genre: autumn?? a lil spooky, a lil whimsy, a lil mystery; not quite angst, not quite fluff 🍂 this part: you wake up on a bench in a forest, with no memory before then of recollection of how you got there. the person greeting you gives you three options: going into the Great Unknown (never to be seen again), wandering the woods (until you become an Edelwood tree), or spending a month in Devil Town. 🍂 tw: none for this part 🍂 wc: ~3.5k 🍂 track: Devil Town ~ Cavetown: "Life's alright in Devil Town, yeah, right, no one's gonna catch us now." (subtrack, Come Little Children ~ Adriana Figueroa, FamilyJules) 🍂 devil town masterlist 🍂 main masterlist 🍂 an: ahhh i can't believe it's finally here!! super special thanks and shout-out to @theharrowing for being the catalyst, inspo, and beta for this little project. i really hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think!

"Led thru the mist, by the milk-light of moon..."

A warm forest canopy greeted you when you opened your eyes, the vibrant reds and oranges of the leaves dense enough you couldn't see the sky. The surface beneath you was hard and cold, with uncomfortable ridges digging into your back. The air was a little chilly, a little misty. You looked around, trying to get your bearings.

The tree trunks were thicker than you'd ever seen before, the bark on them nearly black, with strange holes and creases that almost looked like faces. Slowly, you sat up, carefully moving your limbs to stretch them out. You were lying on a bench, you discovered, in a small clearing next to a well-worn path.

Why did you wake up on a bench?

How did you get here?

"Hey." The voice was quiet and calm, but it still startled you. You thought you were alone out here. "How are you feeling?" You turned towards the sound and watched as a person came into view, almost like he was materializing from the mist between the trees itself.

"Who are you?" You asked as you moved backwards on the bench, hoping to keep some kind of distance between him and yourself. If you had a better idea of where you were, you would've run.

"I am the Guide," he answered, coming further out of the shadows. His hair was light and windswept, his face soft, his cat-like eyes deep and sharp. He kept his hands in the pockets of his coat. You weren't sure if that was comforting or not.

He also didn't really answer your question. "What does that mean?"

"It's pretty straight forward," he responded, "I guide. And I know you have plenty of questions, so just get them out now."

For right now, at least, he didn't seem to be a danger to you. If he was, he would've done something by now. Or maybe he was luring you into a false sense of security, getting you to drop your guard, and then he would strike. Still, he was offering answers of some kind, and you were in desperate need of those, however you could get them.

"Where am I?" You asked as you looked around again, hoping for greater understanding of the woods you had awoken in.

"You are in the Unknown."

Your gaze shot back to him, the Guide. "What does that mean??" You snapped more than asked, because while that was technically an answer, it still didn't tell you anything.

The Guide only shrugged, "If anyone knew, it wouldn't be called 'the Unknown', now would it?"

You could only blink at him, at his non-answers that he probably believed to be helpful. It took you a moment to regather your thoughts and move on to the next most pressing question. "Okay, so, what am I doing here?"

He didn't respond immediately this time. Instead, he opened and closed his mouth, the look on his face growing increasingly more frustrated. You glanced down, a movement in his coat pockets capturing your attention. It looked like his hands were shaking, or maybe he was clenching and unclenching his fists.

"I can't tell you that," he finally said, his voice less soft and comforting, carrying a bit of that frustration in its tone.

"Why not?"

"I can't tell you that either," he huffed. You opened your mouth again, but he continued, "And before you ask why again, know that I want to. I always want to. But I can't get the words out of my mouth. I'm not allowed to."

You felt just as frustrated as he looked. "So what can you do?"

That question seemed to relax him again, his body returning to its odd stillness as he continued to stand there. "I can tell you about the options you have now that you're here."

"Options?" You repeated. "Like what?"

The Guide finally pulled one of his hands out of his pockets, holding a single finger up. "Well, option one: you can walk off in that general direction," he gestured to your right, "towards the light, and enter into the Great Unknown." You turned to look where he indicated.

The path that the bench was next to led either left or right, and the way right was significantly brighter than its opposite. Despite the friendly glow, you felt unnerved.

"But don't people always say 'don't go into the light'?" Because going into the light often meant death.

"And you could listen to them," he said. "Those who choose to go into the Great Unknown are never seen or heard from again. But ultimately, that choice is up to you."

So that way was definitely death.

You looked back at him, hoping for something better. "And option two?"

"Option two is wandering around the woods here," the guide looked around at the trees, "until you eventually and inevitably turn into an Edelwood tree, whose wood—according to legend—is then harvested and turned into oil to be used in some ancient lantern that harbors the soul of the Beast that also wanders the wood."

Now you looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm sorry, what??" He didn't miss a beat or bat an eye, his voice stayed the same even, monotonous tone, he said all of that like it was just another day here, wherever you really were.

"According to legend," he repeated, then shrugging, added, "again, no one really knows. Supposedly, a couple of kids arrived in the Unknown a while back, and they defeated the Beast before taking their leave." He looked away from you again, turning his gaze to the closest tree and slowly looking up. "But if the Beast were truly gone, then why are people still turning into Edelwood trees?"

You paid closer attention to the trees surrounding you now, with their nearly black bark and face-like holes and creases, and felt hundreds of empty eyes fall on you in return. How many people had wandered through the woods here for the forest to become this dense? How many ghosts of screams could you hear echoing on the breeze?

How long would it take the same fate to befall you?

"Is there a third option?" You asked, much more subdued than your recent questions. Part of you wondered if the trees could hear you as well.

"Of course," the Guide answered, and you felt your shoulders relax just a bit at that. "Your third and last option is to spend a month in Devil Town."

You had to close your eyes and take a moment to breathe, to tell yourself to remain calm. "Devil Town."

"Yes. It's not an actual town of devils, that's just its name."

"And no one knows why?" You guessed, opening your eyes to glare at him again.

He merely shrugged, "If we did, it wouldn't be in the Unknown."

You forced yourself to breathe slower, counting to ten in your mind. Yes, the Guide had answered every question you asked, but every answer was a non-answer. They didn't satisfy any of the curiosity you possessed, they simply led to more questions and even more non-answers.

"So my options are, one: definitely death; two: becoming a tree; or three: going to someplace called Devil Town?"

"For a month."

"Huh?"

"If you choose to go to Devil Town, you can only stay for a month," he explained.

"What happens after a month?"

"You get kicked out and you have to make an official choice. Either the Great Unknown, or the woods."

"So if death and tree are my only options in the end, then why bother with Devil Town at all?"

"Well," he started, but then paused. He looked frustrated again, like there were things he wanted to say but wasn't allowed to. Finally, he sighed. "They're your only options in the end right now. Depending on how things go in Devil Town, when your month is up you could have some other, more rare options opened up to you."

That was the first bit of good news you had heard since you woke up. "Like what?"

"Like..." he paused again, still struggling against whatever force was trying to keep him silent. When he spoke again, this time he sounded strained. "Like staying in Devil Town permanently, or, even more unlikely, going home."

You almost stood up in excitement. "If I spend a month in Devil Town, I can go home?"

"Maybe. Again, it depends. There's a lot of things that factor into that becoming an option, and very few have ever achieved it."

"But there's a chance," you insisted.

"Yes," he conceded, starting to relax again.

Part of you wanted to jump up and start heading to the ill-named town, whatever direction it was in, but the other part of yourself held back. "Is that chance worth it?" You dared to ask.

"That's up to you," he responded, yet another non-answer.

You rolled your eyes, wondering when this cycle of questions and non-answers was going to end. "Well, you're the guide! Guide me!"

The Guide shook his head, "I can only guide you towards the Great Unknown or to Devil Town, but you have to choose first."

Something about that made you curious. "Did you choose Devil Town?"

"I did," he nodded, "and then I chose to stay."

"What's it like there?" If this was your best option, you at least wanted to know as much about it as you could before you officially chose it.

He shrugged, "Life's alright in Devil Town. There's not really much to do there, but plenty of people to talk to."

"When does the month start?"

"Once you set foot in the town limits. After that, you have to stay within those limits, or things start getting… messy."

"Messy how?"

"I can't talk about it," he almost snapped, probably getting annoyed at your ability to ask questions he can't answer the way he wanted to. You wanted to ask about that, but figured he wouldn't be able to tell you about that either. "Now, is Devil Town your choice?"

You took one last look to your right, towards where the Great Unknown lied, and then looked up at the trees around you. Death and tree would not give you a chance to get home. You took a deep breath, relishing the cool air, and stood up. "Yes. I'll go to Devil Town."

The Guide nodded, then turned towards your left and started down the path. "Follow me."

You walked behind him in silence. He didn't seem to be much for conversation now that you had made your choice. You looked around as you walked, trying to take in and appreciate your new surroundings, but the trees all looked like they were watching you and you couldn't hear any animals hiding up in the branches. The only sounds you could make out were your combined footsteps on the dirt and the wind rustling through the leaves.

You weren't sure how long had passed before you finally cracked and broke the silence yourself. "Do you have a name?"

"I am the Guide," he responded, rather curtly in comparison to your earlier questions.

"That's a title," you shot back. "Do you have a name? Something people call you when they're talking about you or they're trying to get your attention?"

He didn't answer you right away, and you thought he wasn't going to, that you would go back to walking in silence. After a bit more walking, however, he sighed and said, "I did once. Now I am the Guide, and that's how people refer to me."

"Just, the Guide? There's nothing else?"

"Yes." He stopped walking to turn and look at you, and you nearly ran into him. "Whoever we came to Devil Town as, that's not who we are anymore, so we don't have these 'names'." The Guide turned around again and continued on his way. "You'll understand more after some time there."

You didn't move for a moment, lost in thought wondering what he meant. How did someone just not have a name anymore? And why did he sound a little sad when he said it?

You shook yourself from your ponderings and ran a bit to catch up with him. The last thing you wanted was to get left behind, in fear that you'd end up lost and then turn into a tree anyway. You didn't ask him any more questions, instead letting him guide you in peace.

Soon, you could see a break in the trees ahead of you, and through the mist you could make out the silhouettes of buildings. You started to feel anticipation crawl up your spine as you grew closer, and you wondered at what point you crossed the town limits. Had your month started already?

You could practically feel the mist on your skin as you came out of the tree line, moist and sticky and cold. You wrapped your arms around yourself and walked a bit closer to the Guide, not wanting to lose him. In front of you, Devil Town came fully into view.

The streets were made of cobblestone, with not a sidewalk or stoplight in sight. People loitered around the sides of buildings made of brick, or by lampposts that flickered as if their light was from a candle instead of a lightbulb. Everyone was dressed similarly, in coats that looked fuzzy and warm, with plaid scarves wrapped tightly around their necks. Many of the adults wore formal hats, while children had beanies or earmuffs.

It was like you stumbled into a ghost town that someone had decided to bring back to life, albeit unsuccessfully, and the remnants had yet to fade away again.

As the Guide led you further into Devil Town, an important question came to mind. "Where will I stay?" There were so many small buildings and even smaller shops, but you had yet to see anything that resembled a house or apartment complex.

"With the Fool," he answered, though it didn't give you any more confidence. "He has a book shop with a spare room. That's where most people like you stay until the month is up."

"How do I unlock the option to go home?" You whispered this question, not wanting anyone to overhear you. Home must be a touchy subject for those who were still here. "Is there something specific I need to do?"

The Guide only sighed in frustration, a sound you were starting to get used to. "I can't tell you that." It didn't deter you this time, you simply changed your question.

"What can you tell me?"

He took his time answering you again, this time waiting until the two of you were standing in front of a wooden door. With one hand on the doorknob, the Guide turned to look at you. The intensity of his gaze—locked dead onto yours—forced you back a step.

When he spoke, that intensity was carried through his voice, quiet but pointed. "Devil Town is tricky, and those who are here are trickier. Whatever it is you are running from, it won't catch you here. It can't. But that doesn't mean you're safe. Don't trust anyone, not even me, and especially not yourself."

He didn't give you a moment to recover, to process his words, before turning the knob and pushing inside the building, leaving you to follow after hesitantly.

"Ah, the Guide!" A new, deeper, cheerier voice said. "What brings you here? Another lost soul to harbor?"

You didn't like the term lost soul.

You looked around as they spoke, at the shelves and shelves of books. Or, book. Maybe you were tired or maybe you had become too confused, but it looked like every book was an exact copy of the one next to it: same height, same thickness, same color, same title.

What kind of bookshop only sold one book?

"Yes," came the response from the only person you had met so far. "Is your spare room empty?"

"Of course!" You finally looked at the new person, the Fool, the Guide had said. He was much taller, and was actually smiling at you, with deep dimples in his cheeks. He seemed much kinder than the Guide had when you first met him, but his words outside the shop still reverberated around in your head. "It's right this way," he gestured behind him, "please follow me, miss…?" He trailed off, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

That was when you realized, the Guide had never asked for your name. He never wondered who you were, beyond "another lost soul" to guide through the Unknown.

Don't trust anyone, not even me, especially not yourself.

What scared you the most, however, was that you couldn't answer his question.

"I don't remember," you told them, your voice small and shaky in a way it hadn't been since you woke up on that bench. You were confused, you were concerned, but you hadn't necessarily been scared. "I don't remember my name." You looked back and forth between them, hoping for some kind of help, though you weren't sure what either could offer you.

The Guide merely blinked at your words, probably having heard them before, countless times from countless others he's had to do this with since he chose to stay here. The Fool continued smiling at you, also not concerned but seeming to offer you more comfort.

"That's alright," the Fool shrugged, "you can pick out who you are later. I'll help you, if you like." You wanted his offer to be kind and generous, but it only reminded you of the conversation you had with the Guide on the way here and it only added to the fear that now had a solid grip around your throat.

Still, you walked towards the Fool, wanting to lay down and rest and get a proper moment to think and process everything that had happened. You did try to keep your distance from the bookshelves, still put off by the repeating book.

"Take care of her," the Guide said, taking his own steps towards the door.

"You know I will."

"I know you will try," the Guide sighed, "we'll see what happens. And for you."

You looked back at him, "Yes?"

"Your time has started. Be careful with what you do with it." The Guide turned away, his hand on the doorknob. He didn't turn it, though, instead his knuckles were turning white with how hard he was grasping it. "And whatever you do, stay away from the Loner."

The Guide sounded strained again, like he was specifically trying to get those words out, like it was something he wasn't supposed to be telling you but managed to anyway.. With that final warning, he pulled the door open and exited the bookshop, leaving you alone with the Fool.

"Don't mind him so much," the Fool tried again to comfort you as he led you down a small hallway and up a short staircase. "He tries to act all intense but he's practically harmless." You didn't respond, still worried about too many things, still trying to process everything that was happening.

He stopped outside a simple wooden door and gently pushed it open for you. "Here is your room," he said, "get yourself situated, rest if you like. I'll be downstairs."

You stepped into the space, cozy but still void of any life. A single bed, a chair in a corner, a wardrobe in the opposite one. The window was thin and didn't have much of a view, but it didn't let the cold in.

"Thank you, um..." you trailed off, still unused to the strange naming system. You felt especially uncomfortable calling him the Fool.

"The Fool," he said for you, still smiling. A strange and silly part of you wanted to poke his dimples, just to see if they were real. "And you're welcome. Don't worry too much about forgetting your name. Like I said, we can pick one out for you."

With that, the Fool left you alone, closing the door but not all the way, giving you space but letting you know if you needed something you could go to him.

You went over to the wardrobe, gently tugging on the vintage-looking knobs, worried they would pop out if you pulled too hard. The doors creaked open, showing you clothes similar in fashion to what the people in town were wearing, all dark tones with simple patterns, somewhere between vintage pioneer and modern school uniforms. You shrugged off your current coat, the long, dark brown one you didn't remember how you had gotten, and hung it up on an empty hanger.

Then you tenderly sat on the bed, testing out the mattress before putting your full weight on it. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than the bench you woke up on.

Why did you wake up on a bench?

How did you get here?

What had you gotten yourself into?

🍂 thanks for reading!! 🍂 tagging: @secfir