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psychedellic-phase · 4 years

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Princess (smut)

A/N: I feel like this is definitely out of character but it literally would not leave my brain. also yes they are so toxic !!! I binge wrote this at 1 am so I hope you enjoyyy

tw: arguing, cursing SMUT! Oral (male receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, cheating & toxic relationships.

word count: 4.6 k

masterlist

It was Thursday. I knew I’d find him where he usually is on Thursdays: that corner table at O’Malley’s, the one below the neon ‘Corona’ sign.

I went most Thursdays, when I could, and sat at a table across the bar. It was the perfect place to watch him have two whiskeys, neat, and go home alone.

He hadn’t noticed me yet. It’s not like I looked different, I still looked like me but he looked better and better every time I saw him.

Was it weird to watch my ex-boyfriend that I swear I’m over from across a bar? Yes. Do I have a loving boyfriend at home waiting for me to come home every Thursday? Yes. Am I lying to this boyfriend? Yes. Am I completely over my ex like I say I am? Clearly not. Am I completely insane? Definitely.

It’s not my fault though, Spencer Reid just had to be all consuming. Addicting. Intoxicating. A human black hole who I’d happily fall back into any given day, but he couldn’t know that. It would just feel his already overinflated ego. He could never know about how all my thoughts revolve around him. Maybe he isn’t a black hole, maybe he’s the sun, and I’m just a planet spinning around him.

Every Thursday I tried to get up the nerve to go say Hi. And every Thursday I managed to get up the nerve the second he paid his tab and left.

But today, that was going to change. I was going to do it, just say Hi. It shouldn’t have been scary, I did spend six months of my life with him. He knows me, much better than I’d like to admit, and I know him. But he always knew how to make me twitch. The man could make me nervous, and men never make me nervous. No one ever makes me nervous.

I watched him as he sat, his hair longer than it had been when we were together. His suit looked the same, so did the gray cardigan and maroon tie. I vaguely remember having that exact tie around my wrists one night. He used his beautiful fingers to trace the rim of his cup, his brown hair covering his eyes lightly. His eyes, brown but hazel, like a golden green, with beautiful eyelashes I was always jealous of. They’re so long, he looks like he has mascara on.

Wait his eyes.

Eyes?

Shit.

I had made direct eye contact with him.

He saw me.

I saw him.

Fuck.

And now he’s walking. Towards me. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Here he is, right in front of me. God he’s so hot.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I just stared at him. He slid the chair across from me from out under the table without asking permission. He sat in it, whiskey in hand.

“So what exactly have you been doing here every Thursday for the last eight Thursdays, Y/N?”

I blushed lightly, but kept my composure. He knew how to make me nervous but I knew how to make him sweat.

“O’Malley’s makes the best cosmos in DC.”

He shifted in his seat, fingers drumming on the table, “It’s a mediocre cosmo at best. You’re here for me. So here I am.”

I sat up in my seat, “Mediocre cosmo, and mediocre company.”

“Mediocre?” He chuckled darkly, “If I’m so mediocre then why have you been watching me?”

Of course he figured me out, he’s a goddamn FBI agent. God I was stupid sometimes, but only with him. It’s like every time he spoke, half of my brain flew out of my head.

“Honestly, there isn’t much else to look at around here,” I gestured around the dingy bar, “And also, it’s been way longer than eight Thursdays. You should brush up on those observation skills, Dr. Profiler.”

His eyes darkened, “You never answered my question, Princess.”

I shuddered at the use of that nickname. I hadn’t heard it from him in a while, I just hoped he couldn’t see the effect it had on me. I evaded the question again, “The better question is why do you come here alone each week like clockwork?”

He shrugged, “Because you’re here every Thursday like clockwork.”

My mouth fell open slightly. He thought about me. I was weirdly proud of myself for that. He continued, “What? You think you were the only one watching? Please.”

I scoffed, “Then why wait so long to come over?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

I bit my lip, a dull flame forming in my belly, “I don’t come over because I have a boyfriend, and it would be inappropriate.”

He smiled, showing his beautiful white teeth, “Well that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!” I was offended. He acted as if another man would never want me, like the colossal pain the ass he always is.

“No, no, I believe the boyfriend. But the threshold of what is appropriate was passed when you lied to him for weeks just so you could get a good look at me.”

He was right. I did lie, about a lot of things and mostly to myself. God, why couldn’t I just love the nice guy? Why was it the infuriating, sexy, genius who I found myself in quicksand with?

“Stephan knows where I am.”

Another lie he’d see right through, but I didn’t care. I’d lie through my teeth if that meant that he would keep talking. God, how I missed his voice, his stupid, arrogant, beautiful voice.

Spencer looked at me straight in the eyes then, “Does he princess? That’s sweet.”

The condescension in his voice was palpable.

“You’re still so passive aggressive,” I said, leaning back in my chair to create space between us. He leaned forward, eradicating the space I just created.

“Yet you’re still here.”

I stood up then, feeling like the tension between us could suffocate me, “I’m getting another round. Neat?”

He nodded, “Make it a double, I think I’ll need it.”

I walked over to the bar, finally getting some air. I was already so hot, and it wasn’t from the packed bar. It was from the way his eyes looked through me, the way he said my name, the way he said ‘Princess’. I regained my composure and sauntered back over to him. Game on, Pretty Boy.

“So how’s what’s his name? Steven?” He said, taking his new drink.

I rolled my eyes, “It’s Stephan, but you knew that. You know everything.”

He chuckled cockily, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, “Well, how is Stephan?” He said the name with a fake posh accent, forcing me to hold back a laugh.

“He’s wonderful,” I responded, twirling the mini umbrella from my drink between my fingers. Spencer’s dark eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, reading me like a book. The same way he always had.

“No he isn’t,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Wh-,” I groaned, “Spencer, I swear he’s great!”

“You haven’t gotten any better at lying.”

“And you haven’t gotten less infuriating.”

“Infuriating? Me?” He was mocking me now, I crossed my arms in defense, hoping maybe he could read that body language, and shove it where the sun doesn't shine.

God why did he have to be like that? How did he always know exactly which buttons to press? And why did I like it? Why was I on fire from the moment he walked over?

“You were infuriating for the six months we dated, three years ago, and you’re infuriating now.”

He shrugged, “But you still like it. Some things never change, Princess.”

I blushed, knowing he was right, but not wanting to admit it, “I don’t like it. I hate it.”

He moved his chair closer to me at the table, so close I could smell him. He smelled the same way he did those years ago, and I had the same reaction. Thank god I was sitting; he made me so weak in the knees.

Snap out of it, Y/N. I ordered myself, Think of Stephan, yes. Stephan, beautiful, boring Stephan.

“Stephan isn’t infuriating,” I said, trying to ignore the way he licked his lips when he looked at me. God, I wanted to feel them against me.

“Oh really? What is Stephan like?” Spencer said, using air-quotes around his name, disgust dripping from each syllable.

“He’s nice.”

I avoided making eye contact, knowing full well how Spencer could see every lie I was about to tell. It wasn’t that Stephan was bad, he was just so, painfully, boring. If cardboard was a human being, it would’ve been Stephan.

“Nice? That’s all?” Spencer said it with an air of amusement.

“Well, he’s an accountant and he’s thirty-one.”

Spencer leaned close to me now, his breath smelling like whiskey and tickling my cheeks as he spoke, “Those are facts Y/N, I want to know what he’s like. Is he good to you? Does he make you happy?”

I gulped. There were the nerves. I was starting to twitch; his specialty.

“He’s wonderful. He’s charming. I couldn’t ask for a better man.”

Spencer leaned back, crossing his legs and drinking some more, waiting for me to continue.

“My parents love him. He’s smart, and handsome too.”

Spencer scoffed, “Your parents loved me.”

I rolled my eyes, “Well, he actually calls when he says he will, unlike you. Also unlike you, he’ll open doors for me because he isn’t scared of germs. He also doesn’t correct me every time I misspeak, instead he tells me I’m beautiful, and smart, and funny.”

We fell silent, both looking angry and defensive. He always could get to me like this. My body was hot and angry and so was his. He looked so good, it actually hurt. Could his lips be any pinker? Could his jawline be any sharper?

“I’m waiting for the ‘but,’” He said, taking me out of my head for a moment.

“But?”

“Yeah, what’s his fatal flaw Y/N?”

“Flaw? He has none. He’s literally perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Yes!” I snapped.

“No one’s perfect. What’s his flaw?”

“None!”

Spencer kept badgering me, “What is it? Tell me, Princess. Tell me. Tell me what it is, you know you want to.”

It felt like a dam that was inside me had been broken, water and the truth pouring out at once, “He isn’t you!”

Spencer leaned back and smiled, “There it is.”

“Stephan is kind and gentle. We don’t scream, or fight. I don’t stay up crying and yelling and cursing! But he isn’t you, and I wish he was.” I gasped for air, not realizing I hadn’t been breathing, “There! Are you happy now?!”

Spencer was grinning, just like usual, “Very.”

I rolled my eyes, “Your turn.”

He raised his eyebrows and pointed to himself, “My turn?”

“Yeah, why have you been alone the last three years Reid? We both know you can have anyone in this place. Hell, Red over there has been eyeing you up for the last hour,” I gestured to the girl a few tables away who had been stealing glances at Spencer. An action that totally didn’t make my blood boil, at all, not even a little.

He avoided my gaze now, “You know why.”

Now I had the power back. I got close to Spencer, so only he could hear me. All my reservations were gone, I was in the black hole. The fire in my body that I hadn’t felt for so long was finally back, “I want to hear you say it.”

He got even closer, lips barely a millimeter apart, “Just like he isn’t me, no woman alive will ever be you.”

I smiled, proud of the confession. I pulled back. As much as I wanted him right now, right here on this sticky bar table, I am no cheater, and though I forgive, I never forget.

“Another difference between you and Stephan is that he won’t break my heart.”

Spencer smirked, “He can’t break your heart, because you feel nothing for him. There’s no love to lose.”

I sighed and ceded, “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

A comfortable silence followed, and my head was spinning. I don’t know if it was from the cosmos or from Spencer. He tended to do that to me. We both had softened. I was sad, because I knew it would never work. As much as I wanted it to, it wouldn’t. It didn’t three years ago. I just needed to live with it. You need more than passion to make it work. Hell, if all you needed was passion, Spencer and I would be growing old together right now.

“This isn’t healthy, you know?”

Spencer nodded, all aggression faded away, “I know.”

“This will never work.”

“I know.”

“No I mean like never.”

Spencer gave me a half smile, “You don’t have to convince me. I know.”

I sighed, reaching out to hold his hand in the most platonic way possible. His skin was warm. I missed the way it felt under mine.

“I just wish it would.”

He smiled sadly now, big brown eyes meeting mine and looking through me into my soul, “So do I, Princess.”

I laughed, “And stop calling me princess!”

“Or what, Princess?” He said it flirtatiously, his hand squeezing mine.

“Or I won’t be able to stop.”

“Stop what, Princess?”

“Stop myself from kissing you right now.”

He leaned in, lips barely an inch apart again, “Then don’t.”

And with that our lips touched softly, before we parted. The kiss was familiar but foreign. I’d felt it a million times before, but this one was different because the feelings were different. We stared at each other, before I stood, holding his hand.

“Follow me,” I said, the fire in my belly mixing with the delightful throb in my core. All reservations were gone. I needed him. I needed him right now, or I felt like I might explode.

He held my hand as we maneuvered between the crowd and ended up in front of the bathroom.

“Bathroom? Y/N there’s so many germs that’s-”

I had to cut him off by grabbing his shirt and pulling him into me. Our lips found each other so easily, like second nature. His were soft but chapped, I missed the way they felt on the rest of my body. I pulled him into the stall, and he pressed me up against a wall. His rough hands roamed my figure, landing on my hips and squeezing there. I pressed my hips into him, relishing the feeling. My hands found his hair, tugging at the roots to beckon his mouth open. He obliged, tongue moving across my lower lip and tangling with mine. Every movement sent twinges of pleasure to my core.

When we broke apart, he looked at me, his light brown eyes seeming impossibly dark with lust, the same darkness that they held just minutes before.

“Please, bedroom, not here,” He begged, and I silently agreed, peeling myself off of him.

I dropped a fifty on the table before stumbling out into the street for a cab. His hands never left my body, and his lips found mine every chance they got.

In the back of the cab he was on top of me, squeezing the flesh of my butt as I left butterfly kisses and sucked on his neck.

We showed up to my apartment, and ran inside. He pressed me up against the elevator door. “Princess, I need you,” he whined, making me moan into his lips.

“Soon, so so soon, fuck.”

I fumbled with my keys, but soon we were inside.

“Bedroom,” he ordered before crashing his lips against mine again, this time even more feverishly, if that was physically possible. I stumbled backwards in the general vicinity of my room, not wanting to break apart from him for even a moment. He pressed his large hand into my back, steadying me for a moment and took his lips off mine.

I whimpered, immediately missing the warmth of him on me.

“Lead the way, princess.”

I smiled wide at the use of that pet name. It always sent an extra jolt of pleasure to my center when Spencer whispered it.

Grabbing his hand I found the bedroom door. Before we even crossed the threshold his hands were on my body again, this time under my dress looking for panties to peel off.

“No panties? Were you waiting for this Princess?”

I nodded and groaned as I kissed him, moving my lips down and across his sharp jaw, flicking my tongue out every once in a while and sucking lightly on spots. Just enough for him to moan, but not enough for a mark. I felt my knees hit the mattress of my bed and I fell back onto it, Spencer towering over me.

I pulled my dress off, throwing it and my bra far away. I needed him to touch me. Now.

His hands were cold on my chest, making my hardened nipples even harder. He pinched the buds lightly, making me arch my back into his body.

He snickered, “Patience is a virtue, Princess.”

I groaned and pulled at his shirt, telling him I wanted it gone.

“Too many clothes,” I mumbled against his chest as I kissed whatever skin I could reach. He did as I wished, and I sat up on my elbows to watch. His muscles contracting as he pulled it off was enough to force me to rub my thighs together, desperate for any feeling. He undid his belt too, letting his pants fall to the floor and stepping out of them. His boxer briefs left little to the imagination, not that I was complaining. The light gray material was darkened in one spot from where his precum was dripping.

“Come back, Sir,” I begged.

His hands were on my shoulders and pushed me back so he could be on top of me again. The feeling of his chest against mine was maddening. I could also feel his member on my thigh, so close to my dripping heat, but still so far away. He distracted me with another kiss, his teeth coming out to bite my bottom lip. I moaned at the slight pain, running my hands all over his bare back. He worked his way from my lips to my jaw, leaving butterfly kisses in his wake. It drove me wild. I was bucking up into him, nails digging into his skin, sure to leave pretty red marks in their wake. He then made his way to my ear, sucking on the lobe ever so slightly.

“You know, the ears are an under-appreciated erogenous zone,” he said between nibbling and sucking on my ear and the skin around it.

“S-Spence,” I let out a breathy moan. Everything he did sent me reeling, clawing into his back begging for more. He really did drive me insane. His hand was back on my breast now, one arm was holding him up while the other pinched and played with my nipples.

As he kissed and sucked the soft skin of my neck I did the same to whatever skin I could reach. I sucked on his shoulder, right where it meets the collarbone, appreciating how his skin was a little salty.

I took one hand from his back and slid it between us, reaching down and toying with the waistband of his boxers.

“Princess,” he moaned right in my ear as I reached in and pumped his hard cock twice, flicking my thumb over the tip to smear around his precum.

He sat up, kneeling on either side of my thighs and I took that as my chance to pull the boxers down just enough for the pink head to bob out. I looked up at him through my eyelashes, his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and his hair was covering his eyes, sticking to his forehead in some parts. He gave you a slight nod, and I sat up, immediately taking my tongue from base to tip.

He took in a sharp breath as I took the tip of my tongue into the slit at the head of his cock, collecting what had formed there. It was salty, but I didn’t mind. The taste was familiar. I selfishly went down to lightly suck on his balls, squeezing the one not getting any attention with my free hand. He sighed, hands tangling through my hair, tugging at the root.

I pushed on his stomach, “Lay down, I want to suck you right.”

I didn’t need to ask him twice. In a matter of moments I was straddling him, taking the head and sucking on it gently.

“Fuuuck,” he whined, “You give the best head princess.”

I smiled around his cock as I took it inch by inch into my mouth. My hands took whatever I couldn’t fit and I started at an agonizingly slow pace. Speeding up as his grip on my hair got tighter.

He moaned in approval, a slew of curse words and praises I could barely hear. I was just focused on swirling my tongue around his cock as he buried it in my throat. He bucked his hips in an attempt to face fuck me, and I allowed it. The head brushed against the farthest point in my throat, causing me to gag, saliva dripping down the sides of my face.

“You look so pretty when you gag on me Princess.”

I hummed around him in pleasure, toying with his balls again, begging him to cum in my mouth. Hearing him moan just made me more of a mess.

He tugged on my hair slightly, “No way, I’m cumming on those pretty tits.”

I smiled up at him and wiped off my mouth. Spencer caught me in another kiss, this one much more loving and tender than the previous ones. He cupped my face and stroked my cheek.

His free hand came between my bodies in the same move I had used on him, this time his lithe fingers rubbing my clit lightly, but only for a moment.

The kiss deepened into a full on teenage make-out, our naked bodies grinding against each other. I had never been so desperate in my life, wetness dripping down my thighs. His hands were on my ass, pinching and squeezing.

“Touch me,” I begged between kisses.

“Lay down Princess.”

We swapped positions again and I moved up the bed to lean on some pillows.

He kissed me, hand moving deftly to my aching core. He took the tip of his middle finger and swiped between my lips.

I shuddered at the touch, but it was taken away so quickly.

He leaned to my ear, his hot breath tickling my skin as he placed that same finger in my mouth. I sucked on it greedily, “So wet for me already Princess.”

He nipped at my ear lobe again, causing me to buck my hips up at him. He put his face just over mine, looking deeply into my eyes as he took one finger and put it all the way in.

I groaned happily at the contact, closing my eyes to savor it.

“Eyes open. Watch me.”

I opened my eyes, just as he added a second finger, curling them to find my g spot. I opened my mouth to moan but no sound came out. The pleasure of him in me was rippling throughout my touch-starved body.

“More Spencer, please ah- fuck- more!” I yelped. His free hand came up to my breast, kneading it and my nipple again. I moaned louder, more guttural this time. His fingers never stopped even as I clawed at his skin. My nails dragged along his back and my eyes never left his.

If my eyes looked anything like his, then they were clouded with lust and immense pleasure.

“Spence—“ I gasped as he added his thumb to circle my clit.

It felt intoxicating, like I was high on all the drugs at once. The vision of his perfect face went black at the edges, that feeling I missed so much forming in my stomach. He’s the only one who could give it to me.

“Use your words Princess,” he cooed, flicking his tongue between his lips.

“D-Don’t stop I’m close.”

He took this as a signal to go faster, his hands moving in ways I didn’t think possible. His thumb rubbed rough figure eights over my clit that was slick from my own wetness. When my breathing quickened and I tightened around him he knew I was close, leaning in to kiss me gently as I rode out my orgasm.

I moaned loudly into his mouth as the rubber band snapped, tingling and pulsing around his fingers. He coaxed me through it, milking me for everything I had. When he removed his hand and licked me off of his fingers, I whined. I needed something to fill me up; I needed him to fill me up. I felt so empty without him there.

“Want me to fuck you, princess?” He asked, his hands coming up to brush the hair out of my face.

“More than anything,” I managed out, still feeling delirious from the first orgasm.

“Your wish is my command,” and with that he placed his tip inside of me, moving slowly to allow me to adjust to him.

“Ah fuck,” we both groaned simultaneously.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered, finally filling me to the hilt and waiting for my signal to tell him to start.

“Fuck me, Spencer Reid, fuck me like you mean it,” I burst, and he did.

At first he started slowly, only moving a few inches in and out. I jerked my hips up, wanting to feel more. He thrusted in and out of me wildly, his hair bouncing with every motion and sweat dripping down his face.

I relished every movement, using my hands to tangle through his hair and my lips to suck on his neck as he leaned over me. He withdrew almost completely, then pounded back into me, the pain causing me to hiss.

The room was filled with primal, animal-like moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. I reached up and put two fingers in his mouth, which he licked with gusto knowing exactly what I was going to do with them. I mimicked his rough figure eights on my clit, wanting to cum with him.

“I’m close princess,” he panted, “Can I cum on those pretty tits?”

I just nodded, unable to find words as we climbed the mountain to our orgasms together. After a few more strokes he pulled out and brought himself to his orgasm, cumming all over my chest with a sigh. He flopped down next to me, overexerted. I continued circling and my own orgasm came seconds later and much less intense than the one he had given me prior.

Spencer stood up and grabbed a few tissues, wiping the fluid off my chest. When I was cleaned up I snuggled up against him, face to face.

“Are we going to talk about this?” He panted, still regaining his breath. He gingerly moved some hair from my face.

I sighed, “You know I’m never going to stop loving you?”

He smiled, “You know I’m never going to stop loving you too, Princess?”

Saying those words again took the weight of the last three years off my shoulders, but deep down I still had doubts.

“We won’t work.”

My voice cracked and tears were threatening my eyes.

He kissed my cheek, and pulled me against him, “We don’t know unless we try and I promise to be less infuriating this time, Princess.”

I turned so our lips met, “So let’s try.”

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aiweirdness · 4 years

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How to begin a novel

Last year for National Novel Writing Month I trained a neural net called torch-rnn on 10,096 unique ways to begin a novel. It came up with some intriguing possibilities, my personal favorite being “I am forced to write to my neighbors about the beast.” But many of its sentences used made-up words, or had such weird grammar that they were difficult to read, or meandered too erratically. (“The first day of the world was born in the year 1985, in an old side of the world, and the air of the old sky of lemon and waves and berries.”) The neural net was struggling to write more than a few words at a time.

This year, I decided to revisit this dataset with a larger, more-powerful neural net called GPT-2. Unlike most of the neural nets that came earlier, GPT-2 can write entire essays with readable sentences that stay mostly on topic (even if it has a tendency to lose its train of thought or get very weird). I trained the largest size that was easily fine-tunable via GPT-2-simple, the 355M size of GPT-2. Would a more-powerful neural net produce better first lines?

One of the parameters I can tweak when I’m getting a trained neural net to generate text is temperature - this controls whether the neural net chooses the most likely next bit of text as it writes, or whether it’s permitted to use its less-likely predictions. At a default of 0.7, a relatively conservative temperature, the neural net’s first lines not only make grammatical sense, but they even have the rhythm of a novel’s first line. This is DRAMATICALLY better than torch-rnn did.

I am, or was.

At the mid-day meal the sun began to set and the quiet dragged on.

There was once a man who lived for a very long time; perhaps three thousand years, or perhaps a thousand million years, maybe a trillion or so, depending on how the scientists look at it.

He had the heart of a lion, and the fangs of a man-eater.

"I am Eilie, and I am here to kill the world."

The old woman was sitting on a rock near the sea, smoking a pipe.

I have just been informed, that the debate over the question 'is it right or wrong to have immortal souls' has been finally brought to a conclusion.

When I was a boy, I was fond of the story of the pirate god.

He had a strange name, and he was a very big boy indeed.

The purple-haired woman came to the clearing in the plain, and without looking up from her book, said, "It's too late to be thinking about baby names."

The village of Pembrokeshire, in the county of Mersey, lies on a wide, happy plain, which, in a few years, was to become known as the "Land of the Endless Mountains."

I don’t think the neural net plagiarized any of these? They are so good that I’m suspicious. But others of the neural net’s lines are even weirder, yet in an effective way that opens with an intriguing premise.

The moon had gone out.

I was playing with my dog, Mark the brown Labrador, and I had forgotten that I was also playing with a dead man.

The black stone was aching from the rain.

The short, dirty, and dirty-looking ship that weighed three tons and was three feet in diameter landed on a desolate and green plain.

How many times have I had the misfortune to die?

The first black dog in the park had been captured alive.

Behold the Sky Rabbits!

In the belly of the great beast that was the bovine Aurore there lived, upon the right hand of the throne, the Empress Penelope; and she had, as it were, a heart of gold.

The moon stood on its own two feet.

The reeking maw of the blood-drunk ship, the enemy's flagship, was silent and empty.

The first day I met my future self, I was aboard the old dirigible that lay in wait for me on the far side of the moon.

The child of two cats, and a tiger, a clown, a horse, a bird, a ship, and a dragon, stood on either side of the threshold of the Gatehouse, watching the throng of travelers who came in from all around the world, before he had any idea what was going on.

I think it’s probably doing this accidentally, stringing likely words and phrases together without understanding what any of them really mean. It’s not that it’s good at science fiction or magical realism; it’s that it’s trying and failing to predict what would have fit in with the usual human-written stuff. Some of the neural net’s first lines really betray its lack of the understanding of the laws of physics. It really likes to describe the weather, but it doesn’t really understand how weather works. Or other things, really.

The moon was low in the sky, as though it had been shipped in from the farthest reaches of the solar system.

The first star I saw was a blue one, which became a scarlet one, and then a gold one, and green, and finally a yellow one, which for some years afterwards seemed to be an ebony one, or even a bubbling mass.

The sun rose slowly, like a mighty black cat, and then sank into a state of deep sleep.

The sea of stars was filled with the serenity of a million little birds.

The great blue field was all white, swept away by the blue-gold breeze that blew from the south.

The sky was cold and dark, and the cold wind, if it had not been for the clouds, would have lashed the children to the roof of the house.

The morning sun was shining brightly, but the sky was grey and the clouds aching.

The night that he finally made up his mind to kill the dog, the man was walking home from the store with his wife and child in the back seat.

Arthur the lion had been pretty much extinct for some time, until the time when he was petted by Abernathy the old woman, and her son, Mr. Popp.

One of the disadvantages of having a neural net that can string together a grammatical sentence is that its sentences now can begin to be terrible in a more-human sense, rather than merely incomprehensible. It ventures into the realm of the awful simile, or the mindnumbingly repetitive, and it makes a decent stab at the 19th century style of bombastic wordiness. I selected the examples above for uncomprehending brilliance but the utter tediousness below is more the norm.

The whites of my eyes shimmered, as if my mind were dancing.

I once went to a party where the dress code was as strict as a chicken coop with no leggings and no boots.

A black cloud drifted by, a mottled mass of hydrogen, a black cloud of hydrogen, with the definite characteristic of being black.

I say I am at sea, because I am standing upon the ocean, and look out across the barren, vast throng of the sea.

It is, of course, a trifling matter in the ordinary course of things, if a certain writer were to write a novel, which is a book of stories, which is a book of characters, wherein every detail of the story is stated, together with a brief description of the theme which it concerns.

There was a boy with blue eyes, with sandy hair and blue eyes that looked at all times like he had been pushed through a million compartments.

The Sun, with its rolling shaft of bright light, the brilliant blue of the distant golden sun, and the red glow of its waning corona, was shining.

The man who was not Jack the Ripper had been promoted four times in the last two years.

Felix the Paw was sitting at the table of his favorite restaurant, the "Bordeaux" in the town of Bordeaux, when his father, Cincinnata, came in to say good-by to the restaurant.

It, sir, gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that the Court be not too long in passing away: but that I may have leisure to prepare a new work for the publication of my friend and colleague, the renowned Epistemology, which is now finished; and in which I shall endeavour to show, that this very point is of the highest importance in the subject of the philosophy which I am about to treat of.

It was a rainy, drizzling day in the summer of 1869 and the people of New York, who had become accustomed to the warm, kissable air of the city, were having another bad one.

Repetitiveness is also common, especially at this conservative temperature setting. Once the neural net gets itself into a repetitive state, it doesn’t seem to rescue itself - it’s a problem that people have noticed in several versions of this algorithm. (It doesn’t help that I forgot to scrub the “title” that someone submitted to the dataset that consists of the word “sand” repeated 2,000 times)

The sky was blue and the stars were blue and the sun was blue and the water was blue and the clouds were blue and the blue sky was like a piece of glass.

At the end of the world, where the tides burst upon the drowned, there exists a land of dragons, of dragons, which is the land of the dragons.

It's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, you're dead.

There was once a land of sand, and sand, sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand

Increasing the temperature of the sampling would help the repetitiveness problem, in theory, letting the neural net venture into more interesting territory. But at a temperature of 1.0 the text tends to venture out of everyday surrealism and into wordy yet distractible incomprehensibility.

The praying mules on the top of the hills sounded the final klaxon, lifting their spiked front hoofs as they crept the last few feet of desert landscape past the crest of the enormous swathe of prehistoric sand.

In the glen of the Loch is a ladder that winds way up through a passage to a ledge with soft, moss-laden environmental standards.

Someone whipped a dead squash gibbet across the room, like some formidable war lord unleashing a heavy hunk of silver at home.

One blue eyed child stood up and cried out: "Douay, saurines, my Uncle – Fanny Pemble the loader!"

Jud - an elderly despot, or queen in emopheles, was sitting across the table from the king, looking very thoughtfully into the perplexions of the proceedings.

Oh, you're a coward little fool, as if you couldn't bear to leer at a Prunker or white-clad bodyguard quickly emerging from a shady, storm-damaged area of the city.

Hanging presently in his little bell-bottomed chamber on the landing-house, early in the morning, the iron traveler sat on a broad-blonde sandbricksannel blanket outside the gate of a vast and ancient island.

Long, glowing tongues trailed from your mouth as you listened to what was being said across this kingdom of ours, but growing a little more somber since the week that caused us to proclaim general war.

The night I first met Winnie the Pooh, I had sat in the Tasting-House and heard the Chef unpack the last of the poison upon his quiet dinnertable.

There is, of course, no perfect setting at which the neural net churns out sensible yet non-repetitive first lines. There are just varying shades of general awfulness, interspersed with accidental brilliance.

No matter how much you’re struggling with your novel, at least you can take comfort in the fact that AI is struggling even more.

I generated all the neural net sentences above using a generic “It” as the prompt that the neural net had to build on (it would usually go on to generate another 20-30 sentences at a time). But although the sentences are independent in my training data, GPT-2 is used to large blocks of text that go together. The result is if I prompt it instead with, say, a line from Harry Potter fanfic, the neural net will tend to stick with that vein for a while. I've included a few examples as bonus content for subscribers.

Update: I now have a few thousand unfiltered examples of neural net-generated first lines at the GitHub repository where I have the original crowdsourced dataset. Themes include: Harry Potter, Victorian, My Little Pony, and Ancient Gods.

My book on AI is out, and, you can now get it any of these several ways! Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

#neural networks #you look like a thing #nanowrimo #gpt-2 #writing #first lines #gpt-2-355m

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seanfalco · 3 years

Text

Want | Priest!Kay x Reader {Part I}

Fandom: Season of the Witch Modern!AU Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None yet, other than maybe some sacrilege? (I’m not Catholic and I know this is probably not going to be everyone’s cup of tea) but there will be smut in later parts.

a/n: I got this prompt (below) & at first wasn’t sure what to do for it, until @midnightseance inspired the idea & @immortalled encouraged me to go for it lol. Thank you two for being my sounding boards 💛

Prompt: Initially I wasn’t gonna request anything because I... didn’t really have anything in mind but then I had a brain blast. I request you writing something you’ve really wanted to write but maybe have talked yourself out of. Like something you thought no one would want- like this is your sign this is your signal. I want to read it! Watching you write something your heart is fully in is one of my favorite things i’ve seen since following you. It doesn’t matter what it is I want to see it!!

Requested by: Anonymous

masterlist

You’d always thought Catholic churches were gorgeous — the architecture, the sculptures, the stained glass windows — so why did you feel this gut churning sense of dread at the sight as you approached.

“You sure I’m not gunna burst into flame as soon as we cross the threshold, like in some sort of horror movie?” you leaned in to whisper in your fiance’s ear and he scoffed.

“If that actually happened in real life, then I probably would’ve spontaneously combusted years ago,” he answered wryly, his eyes flicking to his parents on his other side.

“Right,” you muttered, taking a deep breath as you passed through the large double doors with the rest of the parishioners.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside and you gaped at the sprawling windows, glittering colourfully as the sun hit them just right, while trying not to think about how anxious you felt. As you filed into the pew with your fiance and his parents, you could feel eyes on you from all sides as people whispered under their breath.

“Is that Matthew’s fiance? She looks rather plainer than I’d expected.”

“Is it true they’re having the ceremony here? She’s not even Catholic.”

“Well, she must be converting.”

Sinking down in the pew, you felt very out of place, and it was obvious to those around you that you were an outsider. You’d never been to a Catholic Mass before, much less any church service, really, and truth be told you weren’t really sure if you even believed or not, but this was what your fiance’s family wanted, though you knew he didn’t really care either way.

Matthew wasn’t exactly what you’d call a good Catholic boy — you’d definitely performed several cardinal sins with him already: sex before marriage, masturbation, use of contraceptives, the list goes on. But either way it wasn’t like you had much of a choice in the matter, you were joining the Catholic Church for better or for worse.

Soon the service began and you listened quietly, trying to pay attention, but amidst all the standing, sitting, and kneeling, you were getting dizzy trying to remember it all, and you tried to follow your fiance’s lead, but you were always a beat behind the rest, feeling more self conscious by the minute.

What are you doing here? you asked yourself for about the tenth time, grimacing as you quickly sat once more, glancing around hastily. It was obvious you didn’t belong, and your fiance didn’t even seem to care. In fact, he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all.

And that was when you saw him, quite possibly the last person you had expected to see.

Stepping up to the pulpit, he was dressed in black robes and a white collar, but you’d recognize him anywhere -- those wild curls, kind eyes, and breathtaking smile.

Kay.

Your Kay— no, not anymore. He’d gone to seminary school and you were marrying someone else, remember?

He was older now, and even from where you sat you could see the faint lines creasing his face, but he was still as gorgeous as you remembered him and your heart constricted for a moment as memories assailed you, overwhelming you — of awkward fumblings in the back of your car, of stumbled “I love you’s” for the first time, of —

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

Matthew’s voice in your ear snapped you out of your thoughts and you weren’t sure if you were grateful or annoyed.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you replied, trying to compose yourself, though you still felt like you couldn’t quite catch your breath.

“You went white as a sheet,” Matthew answered with a frown and you shook your head, your eyes returning to Kay.

“Is that your Priest?” you asked instead and your fiance glanced at you curiously.

“Yeah, he’s pretty new though, why?”

“He’s uhm, he’s just so… so young,” you whispered, stumbling over your words. “I thought priests were usually supposed to be, you know… old?”

Matthew snorted softly. “Don’t tell me you have the hots for him too.”

“What?” you hissed, glancing past him to see if his parents had overheard; they hadn’t seemed to and Matthew merely looked amused.

“Oh yeah, he’s rather popular with the other church girls, but I can’t see it,” he scoffed and your lips twitched angrily.

“I dunno, I can see the appeal,” you murmured under your breath. “I think he’s rather handsome.”

Your fiance rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever,” he mumbled and you ignored him, turning back to the front. For a moment Kay’s gaze seemed to pass over you and he froze, his words dying on his tongue as he faltered, his eyes going wide with shock, and he hastily cleared his throat, unable to look away.

Smiling uncertainly, you met his gaze and his reaction seemed to answer the unvoiced question that had been plaguing you since he’d stepped up to the pulpit.

Clearly, he remembered you.

What were the odds that he’d be the priest here, you thought, settling back in your seat. It seemed like some sort of cruel cosmic joke, taunting you. Or maybe it’s a sign? a little voice in the back of your head whispered. Maybe, you agreed hesitantly… if you believed in that sort of thing.

——

The rest of the sermon seemed to go by much quicker, though every time Kay’s eyes passed over you he seemed to tense slightly, while your knotted stomach would give a flutter, too lost in memories you hadn’t thought of in years to remember much of the message.

So when your fiance’s mom asked you what you thought of the homily, you had to lie through your teeth, sorry God, and hope she didn’t question you further.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really paying attention either,” Matthew muttered as you filed out of the sanctuary after his parents and turned down a side hall toward the Parish office.

Shit, you thought frantically, you’d almost forgotten you were to meet with the Priest after Mass to speak about converting and beginning that process. Which meant you’d be meeting with Kay. Great.

“Ah, Father, there you are, lovely sermon,” Matthew’s mother exclaimed and you gave a start, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned to find Kay approaching.

Cool it, [y/n], you told yourself, trying to calm your pounding heart. How many years has it been? Besides, you’re getting married and he’s a fucking priest for Christ’s sake —shit, sorry, God. He chose this life over you, remember that.

“Father, this is our soon to be daughter-in-law, [y/n].”

Shit, you were being introduced, say something, [y/n].

Luckily, before you could decide whether to pretend you’d never met before or explain that you already knew each other, Kay was reaching out to shake your hand, and wordlessly you slipped your hand in his.

“How do you do?” he murmured, holding onto you a beat longer than was proper, but you didn’t exactly want to let go either.

“Good, I’m good,” you managed to stammer, his smile still doing things to your pulse.

“So, uhm, shall we step into my office?” he asked, finally letting go of your hand, almost seeming to have forgotten he was still holding it.

“Actually, we’ll be on our way. She’s in your hands now, Father,” your future in-laws exclaimed, and you waved as they exchanged a few more pleasantries before making their exit.

“Do I need to be part of this meeting too?” Matthew asked suddenly, as soon as his parents had gone and you turned to frown at him, sharp suspicion filling you, but you kept your mouth shut and swallowed it, not wanting to cause a scene in front of Kay.

“I… I suppose not,” Kay answered hesitantly, and a look of relief flashed across your fiance’s face.

“Sorry to run. I’ll see you later, hun,” he exclaimed, planting a distracted kiss to the top of your head before striding away, already pulling his phone from his pocket and you scowled after him.

“Sure, make me go through all this for you and then don’t even stick around,” you muttered under your breath as you watched him go.

“Er… shall we?” Kay prompted, holding his office door open and you gave a small jolt, shaking yourself out of your thoughts to enter the dark room, Kay reaching for the light switch as he followed.

“Have a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the set of chairs facing his desk before hanging up his robes and taking a seat as well, facing you. “[y/n],” he exclaimed, familiarity leeching into his voice now that you were alone. “To say I’m surprised to see you here would be a bit of an understatement.”

“That makes two of us,” you replied, looking around his office.

“It’s been so long,” he murmured, gazing down at his hands, “you look so —it’s uh, it’s good to see you,” he said, cutting himself off and you desperately wished you knew what he had been going to say instead.

“You look good,” you replied, offering him a hesitant smile, your eyes flicking over him. “Am I supposed to call you Father, or--? Because, I’ll be honest, that’s kinda weird,” you admitted, and Kay grimaced slightly.

“I mean technically you’re supposed to, but…” he paused to clear his throat, “—I agree, it is a little … strange,” he admitted as well and you were glad to see he hadn’t changed too much.

“Right? It’s too close to calling you ‘daddy’,” you muttered, realizing too late what you’d just said, feeling your face heat with embarrassment, as across from you, Kay had turned nearly as red as you felt, and he quickly cleared his throat, hooking his finger under his collar in discomfort.

“Let’s uhm, let’s talk about what you’ll need to do to join the Church,” he said, quickly changing the subject and you heaved a breath, thankful to ignore that awkwardness.

“Right, yeah,” you agreed. “So, what exactly do I have to do?”

Composing himself, Kay folded his hands atop his desk. “Well, usually new converts wishing to become baptized in the Catholic Church have to attend a series of classes for nearly a year—“

“A year?” you yelped, cutting him off, your eyes widening at the thought.

“—But,” Kay continued wryly, “we usually make exceptions for those marrying into the Church, letting them join on a more condensed timeline, opting for uh...private lessons,” he explained, his voice constricting at the word private.

“So… you’re saying I’ll be taking one on one lessons... with you?” you asked, chewing the inside of your lip. This sounds like a bad idea.

You were already painfully aware of the fact that you’d never truly gotten over your feelings for Kay and now you’d be spending one on one time with him on a weekly basis, all the while knowing it was only so you could enter into a marriage you didn’t truly want. Already your heart was racing and your mind was reeling with memories all clamoring for your attention.

You didn’t know if you could do this. If you should do this.

But part of you wanted to, if only to be close to him again.

“Will that… be a problem?” Kay asked slowly, as if he had to force the words out.

“No,” you answered quickly, “no, that sounds good.”

Liar.

“Are-are you sure? I mean, with our, ahh… history, I wouldn’t want —“

“I don’t want anyone else.”

At your words Kay’s eyes widened and you could practically hear his breath hitch from where you sat and for a moment neither of you spoke, the words hanging in the air like a confession and you felt your face once more grow hot.

“I mean, I don’t want anyone else for a teacher,” you amended, clutching your hands together in your lap.

I want you.

“Oh, y-yes, that’s… that’s good,” Kay murmured, taking a deep breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We’ll start next week then.”

You nodded as you stood. “Sounds good to me.”

“[y/n]—“

Opening his office door, you hesitated, glancing back at him as he quickly called your name.

“Yes… Father?”

Kay swallowed thickly. “It… it truly is good to see you again.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, it is. Til next week, then.”

———————

Everything Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @misskittysmagicportal

#season of the witch #kay #kay x reader #priest!kay x reader #robert sheehan character fic #fic: want #my writing #priest kink tw

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notcanoncompliant · 4 years

Text

Make It Better

Starker College!AU; Student!Peter/Professor!Tony (another excuse for me to write the word ‘panties’ repeatedly) (sorry not sorry)

****

Something’s off about Peter. Tony notices as soon as the kid steps into the lecture hall, and it only becomes more obvious as Tony actually gets the presentation going.

His favorite student (sue him, every professor has one) is hardly participating, and though he’s still obviously paying attention throughout, typing notes up as he goes, all of his usual enthusiasm is just…gone. He looks tired, or maybe sad.

Tony doesn’t think about how frequently he’s glancing over to check until Peter looks up and their eyes lock. The younger’s flare just slightly, and Tony feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Especially when a bloom of pink spreads across Peter’s cheeks.

He doesn’t check on him again for the rest of the lecture.

But he worries.

After he’s dismissed everyone and the students are filing out of the hall, Tony makes a decision.

“Parker, stay behind for a minute.”

Something in him is too satisfied at the way Peter halts almost immediately at the sound of his voice, stopping hard enough that he rocks forward slightly.

All the times Tony’s pulled Peter aside before this have been exercises in both self-restraint and masochism. The twenty-something is made of sunlight, brightness leaking out of his pores, and watching that split second of supernova excitement burst across his features when Tony tells him to stay is the instructor’s most guilty pleasure.

This time, though, there’s a quick spark, a flash of the light Tony’s (hoping for) familiar with, and then anxiety, and then the kid just looks…flat. Forcibly so. Like he’s hiding something.

The door closes behind the last retreating body, and then it’s just them in the empty lecture hall.

Tony moves to lean against the front of his desk, braces his palms against the wooden edge.

“Alright, kid,” he says, raising one hand to gesture vaguely at Peter, who’s stopped a few feet in front of him, “what’s up? You seemed pretty off today. Distracted.“

Peter winces, his eyes skittering down and away for a second before he looks back at the instructor.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I–it’s nothing, I didn’t mean to get–I still took notes, I wasn’t just–”

“Okay, Peter, breathe,” Tony soothes, “I’m not trying to berate you. You’re usually a little more active participation-wise, I wanted to check up on you. That’s all.”

He has to fight the urge to physically comfort Peter when those doe eyes (those eyes, those regular, normal eyes that Tony only ever notices as such) go pained and disbelieving and hopeful before the feelings are again poorly shuttered away.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, smiling unconvincingly while the knuckles on the hand holding his bag strap turn white, “it’s nothing, just–just life stuff. I’ll be–it’ll be fine in a couple days. Tomorrow! Tomorrow, I’ll be fine tomorrow, participating and everything!”

Tony needs to accept defeat and let him go, bad poker face and all, but a not-good-very-bad voice in the back of his mind is muttering to him about the returned blush on Peter’s face. It’s making him think a little too much about the uncharacteristic unwillingness to share.

They’ve talked about things that aren’t related to curriculum in their frequent after-class discussions. Life comes up; they know some basic things about each other–favorite takeout, least favorite movies, places they grew up, etc.–and some things that are maybe not so basic–names of best friends, stories of first pets, how often they visit their parents, and so on.

But this is the first time he’s seen Peter so…flustered.

Thankfully (yes, thankfully) Tony’s conscience prevails and he decides not to push.

“Okay. Alright. But if you ever do need to talk to someone, my door’s always open.”

He gives Peter a quick smile he hopes is as comforting as he means it to be, pushes off the desk and circles back around to his seat.

He’s proud of himself, he really is, Tony thinks while he blindly shuffles through some papers. Resisted temptation. Kept things on neutral ground. Breached no bound–

“My boyfriend dumped me.”

Tony freezes, his fingers flexing involuntarily. The crinkle of paper is loud in the spacious, empty room.

Okay.

“That’s rough, I’m sorry,” Tony says, suddenly wishing he had something to drink. Water. Juice. Scotch.

He looks up at Peter with what he hopes is more empathy than the inappropriate excitement he’s feeling over the development, but he’s suddenly a lot less concerned with what his own face is doing when he sees Peter’s expression.

The kid’s not even looking at him, just staring off to the side with this heartbreaking shame written across his features.

“I…” Peter’s throat clicks when he swallows, “I told him about something I…like. And he, um…”

Oh, man. Oh, no.

“…he called me a pervert,” Peter says, quietly, “and I know it’s not a big–I mean, the word’s kind of a joke…but, he really meant it, you know? There’s a difference, when someone says it and they really think you’re–” he pauses, frowns tightly. “What I–it’s not even anything bad, not gross or illegal. And I know it’s not, but…for a second…”

Tony’s heart fucking shatters for him. There’s nothing quite like being genuinely kink-shamed for the first time, especially by someone you thought you could trust. For someone as genuinely sweet and kind as Peter, it would be completely implosive. He remembers similar devastation, hates seeing the confused, questioning pain on Peter’s face, the self-doubt.

He resists the compulsion to ask what, exactly, Peter likes.

“I’m sorry. That’s really shitty,” he says instead.

Tony doesn’t typically curse in front of his students (has to keep up appearances of professionalism somehow), and he preens internally when Peter huffs a surprised laugh. It’s a nice moment, both of them wrapped in shared experience (even if one party’s unaware), uplifted by just a hint of levity. Very Chicken Soup for the Secret Kinky Soul–

“Do you–,” Peter starts, blushing slightly, “–can I tell you what it is? It’d be nice to hear it’s, you know, not actually weird?” He’s squirming a little, his eyes dancing away again with nerves.

Tony might actually die. Rolling himself back a bit from the desk, he takes a breath and pastes on his last-ditch effort at an encouraging, platonic, smile. Slouches casually against the backrest of his chair.

“If you feel comfortable sharing, then shoot.”

He’s going for ‘mentorly’, he swears. This is definitely an appropriate conversation to have with his student. Definitely. Yes.

After a beat of silence, Peter shifts. Takes a breath. Swallows.

“I like…um. I like wearing pant–” the kid chokes a little, flushes darker, “I like wearing women’s underwear.”

“Ah,” Tony says. He tries to covertly lace his fingers together over the vicinity of ‘just below his belt’ and only succeeds in drawing Peter’s eye to where his hands have disappeared.

Before Peter’s eyes flip back up to meet his, Tony sees the kid’s tongue peek out to wet his lips in a subconscious motion.

Clearing his throat, Tony brings his hands up from his lap to fold them on the desk, leans forward. Watches the anticipation and uncertainty dance across Peter’s face. Hopes he’s coming off more supportive than interested.

“It’s not weird, Pete. It’s…not. Don’t worry about that.”

It feels hypocritical; essentially telling Peter not to think much of it, when Tony is going to have an impossible time thinking about anything else. He’s trying hard not to think about it right now, trying to avoid imagining clinging lace, or satin, or silk, stretched over Peter’s–

“Can I show you?”

Tony absently approves of the phrasing; that he’s being offered a gift, that this is something Peter wants to give him. The response he knows he should give is something along the lines of 'that’s not appropriate’, but the only one banging around in his head is a resounding YES PLEASE.

When he gives up and nods in the affirmative, Peter slides his bag off his shoulder.

Tony’s expecting him to pull out his phone, maybe show him some pictures. Apparently, Tony’s going to have to re-examine his take on reality, because Peter does not pull out his phone.

The brunet lowers his bag to the floor and starts taking off his jacket.

Tony’s frozen, again, as the jacket hits the carpet beside the already discarded laptop bag. Frozen, twice in one day. Twice in less than an hour. Peter is a fucking trip. He’s a dream, he’s a hallucination–

–that will be immediately visible if anyone were to open the lecture hall door.

Peter seems to realize it at the same time. He’s across the room in a couple of seconds, reaching for the door handle, pausing for a beat…and locking them in together.

It feels a little like someone snaps their fingers in Tony’s face.

He’s about to let one of his students–his favorite student–basically give him a striptease. In his classroom. It’s beyond 'inappropriate’. This is something Peter should be exploring with other twenty-somethings, not a professor fifteen years his senior–

But…Peter had tried to explore it with someone else, hadn’t he?

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says, suddenly, “Is this okay?”

The younger man’s back in place, like he’d never moved at all, but now he’s shyly lifting the hem of his t-shirt with one hand and undoing the front closure of his jeans with the other, and Tony’s eyes lock onto the peekaboo of fire-engine red now visible beneath the worn denim.

“Yeah, Pete,” he says, voice rasping slightly, “It’s okay.”

Everyone has a breaking point, Tony reasons as he stares at the picture in front of him. There’s only so much he could possibly endure before letting go, and apparently his threshold’s pretty low when it comes to Peter; a few seconds of crepe paper resistance.

He stands slowly, comes around the desk. Peter doesn’t move, just watches him, brittle-sharp hope in his eyes. Tony’s aware he’s moving like Peter’s a frightened animal, and his brain both shies from and reaches towards how this could make him the hunter, more so than the awed observer. Though he is definitely both.

The way the kid’s chest heaves slightly on a sharp inhale, the way his lips part just barely when Tony lowers to his knees in front of him, are just more gifts, more memories Tony wants to etch into his brain and play on loop. He plans on showing just how grateful he is.

Peter’s flushing a lot brighter, but he’s not pulling away; he just pulls the zipper open a little further, revealing more of the delicate pattern that overlays Peter’s pale, smooth skin.

“Can I touch you? Kiss you?” Tony asks, voice rough

Peter gives him a shaky but enthusiastic 'yes, please’.

Tony groans and reaches for him, tugs the denim waistband down a couple inches and pulls Peter gently forward by the hips so he can drag his lips along the line where that softly-defined vee of muscle disappears under the thin lace. Peter’s hand slides into his hair, and Tony hums in approval as he presses drawn out kisses into the skin of Peter’s stomach.

When Tony grabs two generous handfuls of Peter’s ass and squeezes, those tentative, sweet fingers tighten reflexively.

“This is–you look edible, Pete. I’m so lucky you’re letting me see you like this.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks, breathless and wide-eyed when Tony looks up.

“Yes, sweetheart. Beautiful. Gorgeous…” He punctuates each word with another brush of lips to the border of lace and skin.

He smells lightly musky and male through the delicate fabric, his cock hard and hot underneath.

Shutting his eyes, Tony gets lost in nuzzling at Peter, murmuring sweet nonsense, nipping and kissing and dipping lower, reveling in lightly musky male scent through the delicate fabric. Peter’s cock is hard and hot, and Tony can’t help but lave his tongue over the swollen head, humming when Peter shivers against him.

He pulls back to both attempt to calm down and check on how Peter’s doing; he hadn’t meant to get so worshippy–

When he looks up, he feels like his chest is caving in. Peter’s on the verge of tears, eyes red-rimmed and wet, and Tony pushes to stand.

“God, Pete, I’m sorry–”

He’s cut off with a muffled 'mmph’ when Peter grabs his shirt and yanks him down for a kiss. It’s short and hard and desperate, and when it’s over, Peter pulls away enough that Tony can see the almost-panic on his face.

“I–Mr. Stark, thank you, please don’t apologize, please don’t say it was a mistake, it felt so good, you felt so good, I don’t want to stop, I’ll stop crying, I promise–”

For a second, Tony’s furious with whoever made Peter believe he has to apologize for his tears (wonders if it’s the same dipshit who said no to Peter Parker in fucking panties), but Tony’s anger won’t help anything right now. He reels in his questions, and instead reaches up with one hand to swipe the fresh-fallen tears from Peter’s cheeks, a move that stops the flow of anxious word-vomit.

“If you want more, I want to give you more,” Tony says, using his free arm to wrap Peter’s waist and tug him gently forward. “I want you to have the world, kid.”

It’s too honest–Tony’s being way too honest right now; months of feelings and want trying to break free–but he’s not about to stop. Not when Peter’s staring up at him with heartbreaking, careful hope.

Lowering his head, Tony presses a kiss to the corner of Peter’s jaw, murmurs his next words into his ear.

“You’re amazing, Peter. So brilliant. So sweet.” He drops both hands to slide down Peter’s hips and around to the small of his back, slips his fingers just under the lace, drags them back and forth along the soft skin just above the curve of his ass as Peter arches against him with a shaky gasp.“That you look like a wet dream right now is really just a bonus.”

“Mr. Stark…” Peter breathes, surprised, his flush deepening.

Tony’s going to have to tell Peter to use his first name at some point, but he’s a little too selfish to do it right now, when the moniker sends a bolt of liquid heat swooping low in his stomach.

“And you’re going to make a mess in these for me,” he continues, tugging at the panties, “because I want you to feel good. Because you deserve to feel good.”

Peter’s staring up at him with a sweeter version of the supernova Tony loves, tentative hope and anticipation and want.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Tony says, tilting his head down to brush a kiss across Peter’s lips, “let me make you feel good. Let me make it better.”

***

@the-amazing-spidertwink, @starkercrossedlovers

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #panty kink #starker fic #tony x peter #peter parker #tony stark #nff #kink shaming

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-3)

Word count: 3.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, mention of depression

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Monday morning rose brighter than it had a right to be; to the point that the sun was stabbing you in the eyes. You had been over and over the plan in your head throughout the weekend. By now, you were absolutely sure that you had mapped every second of the day and nothing could go out of hand.

The plan went sideways almost as soon as it started.

You dropped your bag at the threshold of the lecture room with a loud crash. All of the last row turned to look at who was that much of a klutz. You did not meet anyone’s eye as you took a seat at the very end of the top row. Maybe that would make you inconspicuous.

It did not.

“Y/N!”

Madison slid next to you on the bench, followed by her brood of friends. Lacey and the other two, whose names you didn’t remember.

“How are you, Sweetie?” Madison asked sympathetically. “You looked awfully ill when you left the other day. We were so worried about you! Weren’t we, Mer?”

Meredith- you remembered her name now- did not look worried in the least.

“What happened?” Madison asked.

“I was just really faint,” you answered automatically, having anticipated this. “I’m feeling much better now. Thank you so much.”

Madison looked relieved. “I’m so glad, Y/N. I wanted to check on you over the weekend, but I didn’t have your number or knew where you lived. You have to give me your number right away.”

You did, and she texted you immediately.

“Awesome!” she said. “Now you have my number, too.”

You tried to smile. “Hey, if it’s not too much, could you tell me what I missed in the two days?”

Madison became animated instantly. “Well, lets see. After you left, there was advanced legal writing by professor Mills, then Supreme Court Litigation by Professor Mcleod and Organisation and transactions law after that. Most of Friday was free except for another lecture by Professor Mills. I have the notes. Once you put your email id on the class database, I’ll forward mine to you.”

“That’s seriously more than I can ask from you,” you said, feeling small.

She placed her hand on top of yours. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“Thank you!” You said, looking down.

Madison huffed. “You thank me too much, Y/N! Besides, you really didn’t miss any of the fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“Professor Winchester didn’t show up either,” Lacey giggled. “Didn’t we turn up fifteen minutes early for his class on Thursday? And the man never came.”

Your stomach lurched, a feeling you hadn’t quite experienced in years had you feeling lightheaded.

“Well, he didn’t completely disappear,” said the blonde. “He did turn up for the last half an hour of his lecture on Friday and outlined the syllabus of the semester.”

“He looked stiff and serious. Nothing like his first day here. And even that day he stormed off, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Madison nodded. “Right after you left, Y/N. It was a bit weird.”

You swallowed nervously, your forehead already clammed up. What was it? Was it fear or worry that you felt for Sam? You had been so wrapped up in your chaos that you hadn’t stopped to consider about Sam, assuming that he must have grown passive and wouldn’t care about the past anymore.

Sam had looked warm and at ease with himself that day, happy even, while you had only survived all these years. You’d be lying to yourself, if you said that the image of Sam on the podium, smiling at the students hadn’t felt like a knife in your gut.

But if he had not turned up for classes either… did that mean….

There was noise at the front and you saw Sam on the podium. He looked every bit as dressed up and neat as he had on your first day, if not a bit more severe.

He greeted the class curtly, and instantly jumped to the lesson. You tried not to stare, but it was hard to look away. It was harder still to keep looking. His features seemed more angular now, and he was definitely leaner than when you had first set your eyes on him. Today he was dressed in a dark grey suit and no tie, the button at his throat was undone.

He spoke for an hour about the merger of disputes and cases where it had benefited the original plaintiffs and not once did his eyes stray towards the corner of the class where you sat. It was as if he was deliberately avoiding that very portion of the classroom. He wasn’t genial today. A good teacher, just like he always had been, but absolutely formal. When the class ended, he retrieved the attendance sheet from a kid in the first row and exited the class.

“Well, that was quite intense,” whooshed Meredith. “Hadn’t pegged him for the serious sort.”

Blonde hair giggled at the double entendre, and you almost gagged.

“He’s actually quite good,” Madison murmured, uncharacteristically serious. “He knows what he is talking about.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded. Not that you had paid much attention to the lecture, what with your heart struck in your throat.

The classes that followed weren’t as eventful as the morning and you were more than grateful about it. The other professors all seemed so knowledgeable and expert. You had enough on your mind by the time you left the university, your plate already full of assignments.

When you got home, Meg was sprawled on one of the two sofas that came with the house and were perched in the living room.

“Hey,” you said tentatively.

Meg raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that you were initiating a conversation after a whole week of thoroughly avoiding her.

“Hey,” she said.

You placed your bad and laptop on the side table at the entrance and went to sit on the empty sofa. “I’m sorry about not greeting you earlier… I was going through some stuff.”

“Clearly,” she snorted.

The hurt must have shown in your eyes, because she straightened up into a sitting position.. “I’m not offended,” she said. “Locking myself in my room and avoiding human contact like it’s the fucking plague is my monthly PMS schedule. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed out.

Meg looked amused. “Your face is like an open book,” she said. “If you keep that up, you’re going to be a terrible lawyer.”

You didn’t fight her on it. It was a problem… it always had been. Over the years mostly it had been a blank and your boss had commented on your excellent poker face… but clearly even the dumb expressive face was back with all the feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re studying,” you changed the topic.

“MS, Applied physics.”

“Damn. That sounds hard.”

Meg chuckled. “You really think that, don’t you? You look terrified.”

You rearranged your expression into what was just polite interest. Enough with Meg’s expert face reading class.

“You wanna grab dinner?” Meg asked.

“Sure,” you said. “What’re we doing?”

“I made some stir fry. I didn’t know if you’d be up for dinner, though.”

You felt terrible about skipping the meals and in turn her company over the past week.

“No worries,” she said, getting up. “I’ll just toss some pasta and we’re good to go.”

“Hey, Meg?” You asked, “I see you’ve stocked up the pantry. It’s incredibly kind of you. I might drive to the supermarket tomorrow after classes, why don’t you let me know if there’s anything you want.”

She looked at you with some surprise and a hint of actual liking. “Sure. We can make a list over food.”

“Great,” you smiled.

The rest of the week passed without any more surprises, and you took your time to settle in… getting to know Stanford- both, the University and the town. You attended all lectures regularly and gave your hundred percent effort to every assignment.

In classes, you listened with utmost concentration… all except one. Civil Procedure wasn’t a lecture, it was slow seething torture. Watching Sam talk on the podium, interacting with students simply made it hard to breathe. The walls of the lecture room converged in on you while you gasped for air. On Sam’s part, he ignored you completely. It was as if you didn’t exist at all. Over the course of the week, his stiff, formal stance loosened and you could see more and more of the guy who had introduced himself on the first day. You didn’t know what you had been expecting from him? That one day he would suddenly look at you with hatred and throw you out of the class? That he’d lose his mind and yell at you? Ask you the questions that you didn’t want to answer?

But even for all that, he’d have to acknowledge your presence. Look at you. Somehow the ignoring and pretending that you didn’t exist was so, so much worse. It was killing you. Every second of the class, you fought your tears. However, you did not miss a single class.

Apart from those two hours everyday, you were doing well, all things considered. On Thursday, you packed more food than just your lunch, and after classes, walked to the Green Library. It was just as breathtaking as it had been on the first day. You set out to find that one table that felt right. After a quarter of an hour of testing and teasing, you finally found a desk that looked oh so inviting. It wasn’t the one below the tall, arching windows, but rather a small desk niched between the bookshelves. It was perfect.

You unloaded your bag, and set to work with the assignments that had been set for the class by Professor Mills. You personally thought Jody Mills was a total badass. She took up cases that others were too scared to touch. Her assignments didn’t require you to reference too many books, so you could make yourself comfortable in the chair. Your mind wandered as the time passed. There were a lot of things to be thought through. For starters, if you had to afford living here, you needed a job. Your savings would last a couple of months at most. The expense of moving across the country then having to pay for the lease of the apartment had taken a massive toll on your bank account. By the time holiday season began, you’d be as broke as the china in your grandma’s old cabinet.

Earlier, you had put in an application at the Student’s employment centre for oncampus jobs. You weren’t hopeful, given the number of applications they received, but you sure meant to check in on them next week in hopes that something suitable might have come up.

It was past 8 in the evening when you finally wrapped your stuff up, somewhat satisfied with how your assignment had turned out. You lowkey congratulated yourself on finishing it a week before the deadline as you made your way back home, crashing the minute you found your bed.

********************

18th July 2008

“Y/N! There’s someone here to see you!” Jo hollered from somewhere in the living room.

Thankfully the door to the room you were sharing with Jo was open.

“Coming!” You yelled back, wondering who could it possibly be. Maybe it was the postman with your grandma’s letter. She was a weird old lady who still loved writing handwritten letters. Gramps had been to the war and their love story had blossomed over letters sent across borders. Even though gramps had passed away many years ago, she still got that rosy look on her face whenever she talked of him. You wanted a love story like hers. Was it too much to ask for?

You made your way down the steps two at a time, excited for the letter. Maybe she had sent cookies along with it. Oh, how you loved her.

On the bottom step, you stopped. Sam Winchester was standing in the hallway, one hand balancing a lot of books, the other scratching the back of his neck, looking adorable in old jeans and an open button up over his t-shirt.

“Hey!” He said.

You were wearing a loose shirt without a bra over a pair of boy shorts, with hair falling over your shoulders. Needless to say, you were mortified.

“Give me two minutes,” you muttered and rushed back upstairs.

As you were pulling on a pair of leggings, it occurred to you how dumb the interaction had been. He was here to see you and neither had you invited him in nor asked him why he was here.

To add to your embarrassment, when you returned downstairs, he was still standing at the bottom of the stairs five minutes later, exactly where you had left him.

“Why’re you still standing here? Please come in!” You urged, scandalised that you had kept a guest waiting like that. Gran would have tutted so hard had she been here.

Sam followed you into the living room. Jo was lounging on the smaller sofa chain and you glared at her. She could have easily invited him in when she opened the door.

But no! How else would Y/N suffer in life?

Jo gave you the evil grin and waved to Sam.

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll have coffee!” Jo ordered and you threw her the stink eye again.

You gave Sam a chagrined look. “I’ll put the pot on the stove for her anyway. Do you want coffee?”

He looked like he was trying very hard to smile. “Black please. With half a spoon of sugar.”

You tried to calm your nerves as the pot boiled. Being a nervous wreck wasn’t going to help your case.

When you brought the two mugs of coffee outside, Sam was reading one of the books he had bought along and Jo was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jo?” You asked, carefully placing the steaming mug before him on the table.

Sam shrugged. “She said she suddenly felt sleepy. And that you should drink her coffee because you both like it the same way.”

Oh, that sly girl.

“So, what brings you here?” You asked, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.

Sam smiled shyly. “You said you could use a second pair of eyes for the application.”

He had come all the way from wherever he stayed just to help you with the applications?

“Really?”

“Sure.” He tilted his head, the bangs on his forehead sliding to one side. He just had such beautiful hazel eyes. You have to avert your gaze so you wouldn’t just blatantly stare at him.

You excused yourself a second time and pulled out all your application stuff. Forms, copies of essays, documents and everything. It would be absolutely stupid to not make the most of this opportunity.

Sam took his time with all of it, going through each paper carefully and you counted your breaths to keep away the anxiety. At least he wasn’t laughing at how ridiculous your applications were. That was something. When he was done, he slowly put the papers down and looked up at you.

“Where else have you applied?” He asked.

You told him.

“You didn’t think of applying to any major universities?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t think I had a chance… and I don’t even think I was cut out for those.”

Sam reached out to place his hand on top of yours. A tingling sensation went up your spine. “Y/N! This looks great. Your essays are top notch. You should apply to Ivy Leagues.”

“I’ve already missed deadlines for them… and there are some good universities on my list as well.”

“But you deserve better!” He insisted.

You shrugged. “I don’t have that sort of money, and before you say scholarships, I don’t have those types of recommendations either. I come from a small town. People who are born there, spend their whole lives in the same house. They are happy with what they have.”

“Are you happy with what you have?” He asked, the light from the setting sun hitting his face, illuminating those eyes so they looked like burning topaz.

“I’m happy,” you said, looking at your lap where his hand rested on yours. He seemed to have forgotten about it. “But I know I can do better… for myself and my Gran.”

You made the mistake of looking up then… into his eyes, and they were closer than you had expected them to be. As if, he had no control over it, his hand reached out to touch your hair, the fingertips caressing your cheek on their way there. Slowly, but surely, he drew your face towards his… and you went, willingly. His lips had barely grazed yours when there was a loud noise in the hallway.

You sprang apart.

“Y/N!” It was Jo.

Ordinarily, you’d have flicked your tongue at her or something for interrupting like that. Afterall, she was the one who kept egging on you to get lucky, and the one time you had… that too with Sam frigging Winchester, she had to come barging into the room. Uhgg… Jo was going to get it.

But her face was completely white, and her hand, which was holding the phone, was shaking.

“Y/N,” she whispered again. Your neighbour called. It's your grandma… she passed away last night.

********************

You woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of the blaring alarm.

Gran!

The worry felt so fresh, you had to remind yourself that it had been seven years since she had passed away. Grief was peculiar like that… even after years and years of feeling it, some days it just felt fresh and new. Sad memories opened up the box of more memories, not all of them sad. The thought of gran was always accompanied by a warm feeling and memory of sunlit kitchen, and freshly baked bread.

This… dream or whatever it was had triggered more than just that… you could almost feel the whisper of Sam’s lips on yours. You had suppressed it so long that the feeling was almost forgotten now and how it ached knowing that you would never feel it again. The raw, desperate part of you tried to cling on to that feeling, the memory of his touch. It was three in the night, no one could blame you for wanting this comfort of your own memories. As painful as they were when you were completely in your senses, in this darkness, they were all yours to do what you pleased with them. However, like a dream, the memories kept evading your grasp. The more you tried to hold on it, the further away it slipped. Sleep eluded you completely after that.

Needless to say, you were tired and sleepy and irritated by the time the last lecture for the week commenced. You hadn’t memorised the lecture schedule yet…. you only knew when the Civil Procedure class was. First lecture on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and the last lecture of Thursday and Friday. Lacey had mentioned something about Sam having to travel to the City for work on the first three days.

Sam was dressed more informally today. He was without a coat and glasses, hair just a little out of order… less sleek.

“Oooohhh looks like the professor had a rough night!” Lacey giggled.

“You don’t know that,” Madison shushed. “Maybe he’s single.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lacey rolled her eyes. “He lives in the faculty residence on Alverado row. And his house is definitely a family house, not a bachelors pad… So that means he at least has a woman.”

You caught your breath. Alverado row was right behind your Santa Ynes street, where you lived. Literally right behind, less than a block away. You knew a majority senior faculty staff resided there, but it had never crossed your mind...

“I don’t see no ring,” snarked Rebecca, Madison's blonde friend, who was sitting a row ahead of you to the left.

You quickly looked. She was right… there was no ring. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Doesn’t have to be a wife,” Lacey made a face. “Could be just a girlfriend.”

“Whatever,” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean we can’t try our luck.”

It stung, listening to them talk about it stung more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

“Before we start today's lesson, I have a question for you,” Sam said, calling everyone’s attention and the gossip promptly stopped.

“Basic Property damage,” he said. “The plaintiff has proved beyond a shadow of doubt that the defendant is liable. The only issue of debate which remains is the amount of damages to be recovered. Before the last hearing, new evidence comes to light about a completely unrelated matter where the plaintiff has unintentionally harmed the defendant. If you were playing the part of the DA, what would be your obvious course of action.”

‘Settlement’ you muttered to yourself, just loud enough for the few people around you to hear.

“Anyone?” Sam asked, and on cue, Rebecca raised her hand.

“Settlement!” She called out.

“That’s correct,” Sam said, “It should occur to you faster than lightning to draw out a settlement. Good job there. That was quick.”

Next to her, Madison was looking at her friend incredulously. Then she turned around and gave you a sorry look. The boy sitting on her opposite side, the blond one, who had snickered at you on the first day also raised an eyebrow.

You didn’t care one way or another if Rebecca got the praise for your answer. You were simply relieved that you got that answer right… and that you were able to concentrate in the class better than you had been able to uptil now.

Perhaps that was the reason that it caught your attention, the quickest flick of Sam’s chin in your direction, before he stiffly averted his gaze. When the class ended, few students rushed to Sam’s desk, while you made to leave the room.

“Hey!”

You turned to see the blond dude standing right next to you.

“Y/N, isn’t it?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Brad,” he offered his hand. “Brad Rowan.”

“Nice to meet you.” you murmured, shaking his hand whilst glancing at the door.

“So, we have a party tomorrow evening,” he said, grinning with too much confidence. “Down at the western dorms. Everyone cool is coming. You should, too.”

“Thank you,” you said politely. “But I already have plans for the weekend.”

“Better than spending time with me?” He winked, stepping ever so slightly in front of you.

You were firm this time. “Yes.”

“Oh, let her be, Brad.” It was Madison, who had come sauntering down the aisle. “If she says she’s busy, she probably is. We’ll miss you, Y/N!”

You threw her a grateful look… Madison didn’t seem to catch it.

You said your goodbyes to her and Brad and left the room quickly.

Maybe it was your imagination, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam’s gaze flicker towards you… if only for one moment.

********************

A/N 2: The next chapter is Sam’s POV ;) So we’ll finally know what’s up with him, huh ;)

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

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primatechnosynthpop · 3 years

Text

It's A Sad Webisode, But We Film It Anyway

(Aka, the things I write when I should be doing schoolwork...)

It was a cold, gray morning. The coldness was due mainly to the fact that Neil had left his bedroom window open the previous night, and the grayness was due to the fact that he hadn't cleaned the house in a while, leading to his walls being covered in a gray film of dust. Both those oversights were due in part to his natural aversion to housework, but also to the deep depression that was hanging over him lately, much like motes of dust. And that particular morning, his cold gray surroundings provided the perfect backdrop to his sullen morning routine.

It had been a whole week already. That was hard to believe. The sound of screams still rang in his ears sometimes when he closed his eyes, and he couldn't pass by that old house without shuddering (that much was already true beforehand, but now it was a deeper shudder, often accompanied by the prick of tears in his eyes). Worse still, he was hit with an overwhelming sadness every time his gaze landed on that urn… which happened often, because the urn was sitting right there on the kitchen table. He would have put it away somewhere where he didn't have to see it as often, but that would feel disrespectful. It was so weird to think that the little pile of dirt inside that urn had once been one of his best friends. It seemed like too small a container to fit someone so brave, so kind-hearted, so loyal. But there it was--all that was left of the true-blue American hero.

Neil heaved a weary sigh which turned into a yawn halfway through as he trudged into the kitchen. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes and pushed his bedraggled bangs out of his face, but his vision remained slightly blurry, so he took off his glasses and winced at the realization of how smudged they'd gotten. That wasn't even related to him being depressed about Kevin; he was just a mess that morning for no particular reason. But after wiping his glasses off on his pajama top and splashing some cold tap water on his face, he was all fired up for another day of wallowing in grief… just as soon as he had a nourishing bowl of stale cereal that just didn't taste as sweet these days.

As he was pouring his cereal into the bowl, though, something unusual fell out of the box--a little rectangle of shiny paper. Neil blinked, befuddled. His first thought was, did I just win a prize? He checked his cereal box for anything mentioning prizes or contests, but all he could find were nutrition fact charts. In fact, after tilting the box every which way, he finally found a line of text on the inside flap reading There are no fun prizes in here, just cereal. Eyebrows knitting together, Neil looked back at the scrap of paper tucked neatly amongst his cereal. Well, either the box was lying, or this piece of paper was something else altogether. Something like…

"It's a message from the studio!"

Neil's eyes were startlingly bright, and he had a grin to match. He was illuminated in the doorway by the rising sun behind him, which was just beginning to crest over the horizon. Did he usually get up and about so early in the morning? Moreover…

"They want us to make another webisode?" Ryan frowned as he examined the piece of paper Neil was shoving in his face. "Can we do that? I mean, you know, without…"

He trailed off, gaze dropping. Neil, naturally knowing exactly what he meant, sighed and scuffed his shoes against the porch. A moment of silence passed between them, during which they both thought of the missing member of their team. Making webisodes would be a lot different without Kevin, and probably not in a good way.

Then Neil suddenly brightened again. He stepped across the threshold into Ryan's house without an invitation--he didn't immediately object to it, so it was fine, probably--and shut the door behind him, not wanting anybody to listen in.

"Yeah, they want us to make a Greek mythology inspired webisode this time." He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and read out the note he'd received:

Dear New Kids on the Rock, sorry for your loss. We will be sending in a new team member to replace James sometime in the next month. In the meantime, you need to continue making movies if you want to keep getting paid. For your next webisode, we'd like you to make an adaptation of a Greek myth.

Sincerely, Plymouth Rock Studios.

"I see…" Ryan stroked his beard, eyebrows raising. "Perhaps we could adapt the myth of Erysichthon eating himself to death, or Lycurgus of Thrace being cursed with madness and mistaking his son for a plant, or…"

"No, no, don't you get it?" Neil interjected, shaking the paper furiously in Ryan's face. "This is our chance! We can do the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, and that way--"

Ryan realized what Neil was getting at just in time for them to exclaim it in unison:

"We can get Kevin back!!"

"You go fetch the filmmaking equipment," Ryan told Neil. "I'll open a portal to the underworld."

"Alright!" Neil enthused. "Be right back!"

He scampered off, grinning wider than he had all week--which wasn't a high bar to clear, because he hadn't smiled whatsoever all week, except for in the fleeting moments when he forgot what had happened to Kevin, only for that momentary forgetfulness to come crashing down and plunge him back into misery at the sight of the urn on the table. But that was all going to change now. Heck, he may as well just throw out that dusty old urn, because he wouldn't be needing it anymore after this mission.

Somewhere far below the aboveground realm of the living, in a dark field of ash that stretched forever, a soul wandered amidst countless others. He couldn't remember who he was when he was alive. He couldn't even remember his name. And worst of all, he couldn't see a thing. In fact, the only reason he knew he was in a dark field of ash was because all the other souls kept moaning about it.

Time here didn't flow the same way it did in the living world. He could have been there for an hour or for a century. It felt like the latter. But he had no way of checking, because even if there were any clocks around in this barren field, he wouldn't be able to see them. And he couldn't hear any ticking, so probably no clocks. But hey, on the plus side, no ticking meant no pipe bombs either. At the very least, he didn't have to worry about dying a second time.

And he was definitely dead. That was the one thing about himself that he was sure of. The one scrap of memory that lingered in his mind was the sensation of a tentacle piercing through him, severing his major arteries. Although he couldn't look down at himself to be sure, it didn't feel like this hole was still there when he patted himself. But he didn't have a pulse either, so… yeah. Definitely dead.

He'd like to say it wasn't so bad, really. He had all those other souls for company, right? But all of them were a drag to talk to. Most of them could only moan and groan, and those he encountered who could actually speak were too caught up in emotional turmoil to carry on much of a conversation with. So it was just an eternity of wandering blind and aimless through a desolate field of his fellow ghosts, then. Great.

"Geez, this place is giving me the creeps," Neil muttered, trying and failing to suppress a shiver as he surveyed the barren wasteland. "It's so… ghost-y."

Ryan flicked a clump of ash out of his hair with a disgruntled huff. "I'll say. Who would have thought the land of the dead would be so dull and gloomy?"

"Yeah, our webisode isn't going to turn out very visually appealing…" Neil shrugged. "Oh, well, I guess we can edit it in post."

They lapsed back into silence then, with the only sounds being the ash crunching under their shoes and the low moaning of the pale ghostly figures that weaved here and there around them. Then, after a little more walking, Neil stopped, struck with a realization that was accompanied by a pang of dismay.

"Wait. How do we know which of these guys--" He gestured at the countless ghosts milling around them, all featureless save for the vague outlines of indistinguishable faces-- "is Kevin?"

"Oh, yeah…" Ryan turned to look back the way they'd come. Keeping the portal between worlds open was expending a lot of his energy, so he hadn't been paying much attention to all the ghosts… "Maybe we even walked past him already and didn't notice."

"W-well, he'd recognize us, wouldn't he? I mean…" Neil shook his head, unwilling to even consider the possibility that they could encounter their friend and have him not know who they were. That was the kind of thing that happened in movies when people got brainwashed, and it usually led to some kind of big fight. He didn't think he'd be able to take Kevin in a fistfight.

Ryan prodded Neil to snap him out of his troubled thoughts. "Hey, maybe you could get his attention by playing a song."

"Oh, that's right!" Neil held up his trusty keytar, which he'd been carrying with him the whole time. "That is how the myth goes, isn't it? Let's see…"

He ran his fingers along the keys, playing a scale. A cold wind stirred in the previously stagnant air, blowing clouds of ash around--Ryan coughed and swatted the dust away from his face--but most of the ghosts didn't seem to notice, with only a couple of them slightly raising their heads before carrying on their aimless trudging. Still, Neil was encouraged. He kept playing, eventually branching away from scales and into the basic pop song chords.

According to the myth they were adapting, that was how it was supposed to go: someone goes down into the underworld, plays a song, finds the person they came for, and then they leave. At least that was the gist of it. Neil was too eager about this mission to bother poring through any dusty old tomes of mythology beforehand. He knew the basics, and that was the important part; everything else he could just make up as he went along.

Ryan nodded, satisfied with this development. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out the video camera that he'd also been carrying with him the whole time, and started filming Neil playing his song.

"You're doing great," he called in encouragement when Neil's playing faltered. "Keep it up, and we'll lure Kevin out in no time!"

"I don't know…" Neil sighed, shoulders slumping. Looking around, he still didn't see any ghosts that looked like they might have been Kevin. "If this is where everyone goes when they die, then there must be hundreds of souls here--maybe even thousands. Do you really think we'll find him?"

"I'm sure we will," Ryan replied, but only because he knew that was what Neil wanted to hear. Truth be told, he was pretty skeptical about the prospect of them actually finding Kevin. And even if they did, he just had a bad feeling about this whole mission… he couldn't shake the feeling that there was some important factor they were forgetting.

Neil could sense Ryan's thinly-concealed pessimism, and it put a damper on his spirits, which were already pretty damp to begin with. Still, he wasn't ready to give up just yet. If nothing else, they had to complete their webisode so they could get paid. And so he straightened up, looked into the video camera, and launched into a bona-fide performance.

After an indeterminable amount of time spent trudging aimlessly around the void, music rang out through the ash-crusted air.

It was a rhythmic keytar beat, reminiscent of 80's synth pop. Surprisingly catchy. The lost soul raised his head and turned to face the direction the sound was coming from, and although he couldn't see, an image flashed through his mind. The mental image vanished before he could pin down what it was, but it left him with a sense of inner warmth--a sharp contrast to the desolate cold of the field. The music was good, then. He should go toward it.

At as brisk a pace as he could manage while maneuvering around the countless other wandering souls, he followed the source of the sound. A palpable excitement began to thrum through him as he ran. Somehow, this felt like coming home.

As he grew nearer, a voice spoke over the music--not singing, but a whisper edged with what sounded like concern.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep that portal open. Maybe we should leave."

Panic spiked through the lost soul, not unlike the phantom sensation of the tentacle piercing his body. Another mental image flashed through his mind: two men turning their backs on him and walking away.

"N-no!" he cried. "Don't leave me here!"

As soon as he spoke up, the music stopped. Disoriented by the silence, the soul staggered to a halt. If he still had a beating heart, he was sure it would be pounding frantically, and if he had lungs he'd be panting to catch his breath. As it was, he just stood still, staring sightlessly ahead and praying that he hadn't just been abandoned.

Then another voice spoke, quiet and shaky as though with disbelief.

"…Kevin?"

Well, you sure wouldn't know it was Kevin just by looking at him. He looked no different from any of the other countless translucent gray figures wandering around the field. The only notable difference was in his behaviour. Unlike all the other souls, only a few of whom displayed the slightest interest in Neil's keytar performance, this one was standing stock-still and appeared to be staring right at them.

"Is that… me?" The soul's voice was low and distorted. It didn't sound exactly like Kevin. But it didn't sound like someone completely different either. "Am I Kevin?"

Neil and Ryan exchanged an anxious look. What were they supposed to say to a question like that? After a moment, Ryan cautiously stepped toward the ghostly figure.

"I don't know… are you?"

"You…" The soul shook his head, his transparent outline of a face twisting into a pained grimace. "I know you, don't I?"

Looking at him up closer, Ryan noticed one physical difference that set this apparition apart from the others. Where all the other souls had the pale outlines of eyes, this one did not. Pulse picking up in excitement, Ryan glanced over his shoulder at Neil and waved him over.

"I think it's him."

"Really?" Neil made his way over to the soul and tried to pat it on the arm, but his hand just phased through it. "How can you tell?"

"Its eyes are missing, see?" Ryan poked his fingers through the empty part of the soul's face where eyes would normally be. "Just like what happened to Kevin."

"Oh, yeah…" Neil shuddered at the memory, which he'd spent the past week trying to put out of his mind. "Well, if it is him, then we should get him a new pair of eyes. He'll need them if we're supposed to keep making webisodes."

Throughout this exchange, the soul took in the achingly familiar sound of those two voices. He knew them, he knew he did! A series of mental images flashed through his head in quick succession, each vanishing before he could properly take them in. He clutched his head and shook it with a growl of frustration.

Then that last word stuck in his head. Webisodes… Yes, that was a familiar term. Another image flashed through his mind, and this time it lingered just long enough for him to identify it: two men--no, three men, himself included--hunched over a laptop, watching a little progress bar labeled "uploading…" tick slowly forward. He remembered drumming his fingers against the arm of the couch they were sitting on, chewing his lip, anxiously awaiting their newly made video to finish uploading to a certain website…

"H-hey, guys," he said slowly, incorporeal body trembling with the weight of the question, "What's that website called again?"

Eyes widening, Neil immediately snapped to attention, and began instinctively rattling it off.

"Http://--"

And suddenly the lost soul remembered, with the force of a tidal wave crashing over him, who he was. The three of them shouted it out together, in perfect unison.

"Hollywoodeasttv.com!!"

"Kevin," Neil gasped, tears of joy welling up in his eyes, "It really is you!"

"Yeah," he replied in a shaky voice, breaking into a grin. "It's me."

He flung his arms around Neil and Ryan, and although his ghostly form just phased right through them, he could feel their warmth, and it made him feel warm and alive as well. They stayed like that for a moment, huddled in a tearful quasi-embrace, until Ryan gasped and pulled back.

"Guys, the portal is closing. We've gotta run!"

Neil grabbed at Kevin's wrist. When that obviously failed, he got another idea. "C'mon, Kev, follow the sound of my instrument. We're gonna get you out of here."

They took off at an urgent pace, heading back the way they came. Ryan walked in front; Neil walked close behind, playing an improvised melody on his keytar; and Kevin took up the lead, only occasionally stumbling over one of the other spirits before righting his course and hurrying to catch up. When they got to the portal, it was still most of the way open, with easily enough room for them all to walk through. On the other side of that portal was the familiar interior of their clubhouse. Just a few more steps, and…

Ryan suddenly stopped walking, causing Neil to bump into him. At the sudden pause of the sound of his friends' footsteps, Kevin stopped as well. Neil prodded Ryan in the back with a puzzled frown.

"Hey, why'd you stop? We're almost out, we just have to--"

"…But that's not how the story goes."

"What?"

"We're adapting the myth of Orpheus, aren't we? He doesn't get Eurydice out of the underworld," Ryan said. Although he kept his voice level, a sharp pang of remorse squeezed at his heart as he spoke. "If we don't adapt the myth correctly, the studio won't be happy."

"Oh…" Neil gulped. "You don't think they'd fire us, do you?"

"I don't know, but we probably wouldn't get paid."

"What are you guys talking about?" Kevin asked, putting his hands on his hips. From his position a few feet behind them, he couldn't hear all of what they were saying over the groaning of the other spirits, but judging by their tones of voice, it couldn't be good.

Neil, beset by guilt at the prospect of leaving his friend behind, tried to glance over his shoulder at Kevin, but Ryan grabbed his head and twisted it back in place. If Kevin saw Neil looking at him with those plaintive puppy-dog eyes, he'd know something was up.

"Oh, nothing," Ryan said way too quickly and loudly. "Just saying how great it's going to be, you know, when all three of us are back in the world of the living…" He leaned in to whisper to Neil. "Listen, I don't like this any more than you do, but we can't take him back with us."

"But we came all this way," Neil objected. "Can't we just turn the video camera off now and edit it in post?"

"Are you talking about the video we're making this week?" Kevin interjected, walking up closer so he could hear them better. "What's it about?"

"It's, um," Neil stammered, "it's a--an inspiring sports movie?"

"Well, it's a good thing you guys came to get me, then," Kevin replied cheerfully. He slung an arm over Neil's shoulders, or performed as close an approximation to such a gesture as he could when he was still incorporeal. "What've you got so far?"

"O-oh, yeah, um… hang on, I've got it somewhere…"

Ryan tugged on Neil's sleeve and motioned toward the portal, which was now gradually growing thinner. "We should go," he reminded him in an urgent hiss.

"…Right, yeah… um…" Biting his lip, Neil gave a shaky nod of acknowledgement in Kevin's general direction without turning to face him. He couldn't bear to look him in the eyes (or lack thereof) just then. "Well, it's been nice seeing you again, Kev."

"Wait, what? You guys aren't taking me with you?"

The confusion and distress in Kevin's voice brought tears to Neil's eyes. Ryan drew in a sharp breath and held his head upright, forcing himself to retain his composure despite the crushing feeling of guilt pressing down on him. They thought back to the way they'd lost Kevin in the first place: running away from the ghoul without stopping to look back, thinking only of preserving their own lives, not realizing Kevin wasn't with them until they'd made it halfway down the block away from the manor, and by then it was too late. If they had stopped and looked back then, and seen that they were inadvertently leaving their friend behind, would they have run back to save him? Well, probably not. That ghoul was pretty scary. But they had another chance to save him now, and… well, they'd be a couple of real jerks if they left him behind again, wouldn't they?

They exchanged a glance, and the agreement passed unspoken. So maybe we won't get paid by the studio this week, Neil thought. So what? It'll be worth it as long as we've got Kevin.

"Of course we're taking you with us," Ryan said, and this time he meant it. He turned to address Kevin as he made this declaration, and Neil concurrently turned to face him as well, no longer ashamed to look him in the weird transparent eyeless face. "We came all this way to get you, didn't we?"

But as soon as they laid eyes on Kevin, a magnetic force took hold of him and yanked him backward. He yelped in surprise and tried to tug himself free, but was powerless to resist the supernatural pull. That was the very important thing they had forgotten--the reason for Orpheus's mythological failure. You weren't supposed to stop and look back at the person you were taking out of the underworld.

Realizing what was happening, Neil sprung into quick-thinking mode. "Ryan, hand me the video camera!"

"Alright, but what are you going to--?"

Neil answered that question before Ryan could finish asking it. In a fluid, decisive motion, Neil reached into the camera and pulled out the long roll of film from within. The film was instantly ruined upon exposure to the ashen air, but that was the last thing on his mind at the moment. He hastily tied the film reel into a makeshift lasso and swung it forward with all his might. Kevin just barely managed to grab ahold of it.

But the forces of the underworld wouldn't loosen their hold on Kevin that easily. He continued to be pulled backward, and holding onto the film reel lasso caused Neil to get pulled along with him. Just before the force either dragged him away or forced him to let go of the film strip, Ryan grabbed Neil around the waist. Steadier on his feet now with his friend holding him in place, Neil began reeling Kevin back towards them.

With their combined efforts, the three of them managed to break free from the pull of the underworld. As soon as Neil had pulled Kevin in close enough that it looked like they'd be able to make it, Ryan released his grip on Neil and darted through the portal. A moment later, Neil slipped through it himself…

And then Kevin stumbled through, just milliseconds before the portal closed. In a reality-defying ripple, his flesh resolidified, ghastly blue-gray transforming into skin flushed with exertion, short messy dark hair, and the slightly rumpled clothes he'd been wearing when he died. He gasped, filling up his newly reformed lungs with fresh air.

Then his legs buckled with exhaustion after such an ordeal and he fell forward. Neil and Ryan were there to catch him before he hit the ground. Kevin sobbed at the sensation of their hands grabbing hold of him--no more phasing; he could feel them, solid and tangible. And they could feel him in just the same way. Driven by the sheer ecstasy of the moment, he lifted them off the ground--prompting a yelp of surprise from Neil--and swung them around in a clumsy circle before setting them back down.

"Oh, man," Kevin half-laughed, half-cried. "I missed you guys so much."

"Aw, gee, we missed you too," Neil replied, patting Kevin on the shoulder.

"Say, you won't be needing that urn anymore, will you?" Ryan asked. "Can I keep it?"

"Of course you can. In fact, I'll throw in an extra one, on the house."

With that declaration, he clutched his friends close to his chest and made a mental vow to never die again.

"So, how are the new eyes holding up?"

Kevin blinked and experimentally rolled his eyes up and down and from side to side. His vision was about as good as he remembered, and they were staying in their sockets securely, so…

"Pretty good," he said. "Thanks again, Ryan."

"Oh, it's no trouble. I'm just glad I was finally able to put some of the eyeballs I've been collecting to good use."

Neil wandered in just then, holding up a blank check. "Well, we didn't get paid by the studio," he announced with a sigh of resignation. He flipped the check over to show them the stern note scribbled on the back. "In fact, they're saying we'll rue the day we dared to defy their orders."

It was two days after their underworld rescue mission, and aside from the aforementioned threat from the studio, everything was going great. It was safe to say that the status quo had been effectively restored, and although the lack of payment was a drag, neither Neil or Ryan regretted their decision, at least not enough to go back on it. Having Kevin with them was worth more than one week's salary. And now that they were a trio again, they'd be able to make more movies in the future, unfettered by grief.

"Let me see that." Kevin walked over and took the paper out of Neil's hands. After giving the note a cursory glance, he crumpled it up with a dismissive scoff and tossed it over his shoulder. "Ah, who needs them?" he said, voicing what the others had just been thinking. "As long as we've got each other, we'll be fine."

And it was true: going forward, they all made more of a conscious effort to look out for each other, and through this newfound devotion, they persevered. After all, mortals were only allowed one free trip to the underworld. It was a good thing they didn't waste it.

#yes the title is a hadestown reference. no i never actually saw hadestown. we exist.#anyway as you can tell i was making more of an attempt to capture the vibe of the actual series with this one #instead of veering into epic depression moments #does that mean my mental health is improving? who knows. let me know what you think #anyway. yeah :3 #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

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spockandawe · 4 years

Text

So, my heart keeps circling and circling back to The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, and I was idly prodding at why that is, even more than the other mxtx stories, and then I thought to myself, ‘why not ramble into the internet abyss instead of just in your own head?’ And so here we are.

I love this story so much, seriously. It was maybe the most difficult of the three novels for me to begin, because the translation editing is definitely rougher than mdzs and tgcf, and I think the story itself assumes that readers are kind of familiar with transmigration concepts (teal deer, person from real world reads novel, involuntarily is pulled into novel, often(?) as one of the established characters, lives out the-novel-plot-but-different).

But once I got past like, that first chapter? MAN. I was so hooked.

I think the first thing that really stands out to me is that Binghe as a love interest is...I’m not sure I want to say he’s more “flawed” than the other mxtx love interests, but that’s the best word I’m finding right now. The wangxian ship is mostly in tune with each other in the present, despite a few lingering misunderstandings. And the hualian ship, like, hua cheng rolls up like ‘heyy what up i would do anything you asked of me’ and xie lian was like ‘you. i like you a lottle.’ and their in-book development is mostly about bringing xie lian up to speed on the depth of their history together.

But Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe! The original canon Binghe is specifically a blackened hero, who is casually cruel and manipulative, and has collected up a massive harem of pretty ladies to be his wives and concubines. Pretty much the last straw in that blackening is that his abusive teacher (who he still desperately wanted the approval of) found out he was half demon (also news to luo binghe) and kicked him into the abyss where he had a miserable few years having his demon blood awakened. Later, he came back to the human realm, much stronger and angrier than when he left, and his morally questionable adventures involved de-limbing his old teacher, cutting out his tongue, and keeping him alive for years.

Shen Yuan is a modern-day human bean who has been hate-reading the webnovel of this story, where he can see a lot of interesting potential in the story, but is massively frustrated by the things the author has chosen to do with it. It is a Significant shock to his system when he wakes up inside the story, in the body of Shen Qingqiu. After Luo Binghe has already been his student for some time. Also, there’s a System that’s policing whether or not he acts in-character as Shen Qingqiu, and he’s going to get punished if his points drop below a certain threshold. He gets more freedom to act as the story progresses, but at first he has to do things like argue with the System about why he should be allowed to give medicine to Luo Binghe after he gets beat up (it will shame their sect if outsiders see him with a bruised face). And on the one hand, he’s trying DESPERATELY to avoid a future where he gets mutilated and tortured by his student, but... he is absolutely a massive softy who takes no time at all to start ADORING this kid and being super proud of everything he does. He won’t admit that, even in his own pov, and he has a very, very reserved external manner, but he’s so soft on the inside.

(ps why did using fans as conversational props stop being a thing. maybe sometimes i don’t WANT my face hanging out in public, maybe sometimes it’s extra fun to hide your expression.)

And this makes for a fascinating dynamic, because this new Shen Qingqiu 1) adores Luo Binghe, 2) is terrified of Luo Binghe.

At first, when Luo Binghe is still a teenager, it’s easier to land on the side of just adoring him. The original canon character was a sweet, sweet kid all on his own. And Luo Binghe is still an extremely good boy when this novel starts, even though he’s being mistreated by his teacher and most of his fellow disciples. But when Shen Qingqiu starts giving him support and positive reinforcement, oh my god, he BLOOMS.

But Shen Qingqiu is from outside the novel, and he knows where this is headed eventually. And at the point where the original character shoved Luo Binghe into the abyss for a couple years of misery, the new Shen Qingqiu thinks he’s in a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation, and... reluctantly does the same thing.

So here’s the trouble. Luo Binghe is... needy. He’s a needy, needy boy. He loves very hard and cares about his people (person) a lot, but he is also clingy as heck, jealous, and has MASSIVE abandonment issues. Getting this treatment from his favorite person in the entire universe is... not ideal. Having it happen when he’s just found out he’s half demon is even less ideal, especially when the framing makes it look like he’s being rejected because of What He Is, not something he has any power to change. And it ties back into to his oldest, most painful insecurities. His name literally means ‘lowered into the icy river’, because that’s what his birth mother did with him.

So when he comes back to the human realm, he’s not as blackened as he was in canon, and doesn’t have a grudge of the same magnitude as the original Luo Binghe. But the person he loves most in the world hurt him very, very badly, and he :) has :) some :) questions :))))))))))))))

And this is the point where every time Luo Binghe breathes, Shen Qingqiu goes WAUGHHHH

Which is so TASTY, honestly! And the escalation of hurt and mistrust is such a delicious feedback loop! I love a good supportive relationship, but I live for two people who care about each other inadvertently inflicting massive wounds on each other’s hearts.

I don’t want to go into describing the later parts of the plot, because that seems like such a waste, but I feel like transmigration stories are the MOST tasty if having prior knowledge of a novel’s plot makes the leads act as dumbasses in all kinds of new and exciting ways. Which definitely, definitely applies here.

And there are all kinds of DELICIOUS side relationships, which weren’t there in the original canon, and that Shen Qingqiu accidentally discovers/uncovers while he’s fumbling around trying to dodge his canon fate. Like, early in the book, Shen Qingqiu is supposed to kill one of his peers in the sect. The guy was suffering from a qi deviation and the original Shen Qingqiu was like ‘look, he was out of control, and I didn’t want to kill him, but it was him or me.’ Everyone was skeptical, but they didn’t have any evidence to contradict him. This character was the brother of one of Luo Binghe’s eventual wives, so it was pretty much just another bonus reason to hate his shizun once he turned against him.

The new Shen Qingqiu is like ‘okay, so this Liu Qingge is supposed to be strong. Maybe if I save his life he’ll protect me from Luo Binghe?’ And it changes SO MUCH! And Shen Qingqiu is SO DUMB! He’s like ‘wow, liu qingge really hates me, huh.’ And Liu Qingge is like ‘WHY ARE YOU BEING NICE. IT’S WEIRD. ARE YOU REALLY STILL YOURSELF?’ And then later there are spoilery developments, but there’s this act of devotion that moves me so much. (five years!!!!!!!!!!)

And I don’t want to undersell the intense emotions these characters are so frequently feeling in this story, but they are also. so dumb. so frequently, frequently dumb. and I live for it.

Like, I just got past the part in the novel where Shen Qingqiu sees Luo Binghe and Liu Mingyan having their first conversation. Liu Mingyan is a legendary beauty (so beautiful she wears a veil, because otherwise her beauty is just too distracting) and eventually becomes one of Luo Binghe’s favorite wives. So Shen Qingqiu (who hates the original novel, but also sure has a lot of passion for it and remembers a lot of the details, considering how much he theoretically hates it) is like ‘OH, HOT DAMN. MY OTP’S FIRST CONVERSATION. I WANNA SEE HOW THIS GOES.’

And what happens is that Luo Binghe gets so massively jealous. We get a bit of his pov, where almost all of his thoughts are ‘WHY IS SHIZUN STILL LOOKING AT HER?? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU CAN SEE MUCH PAST THE VEIL ANYWAYS. AND ANYWAYS, I’M PRETTIER???????????????’ And finally Luo Binghe goes off out of sight with her so shizun can’t watch her anymore, and Shen Qingqiu is like ‘ah.... alas....... of course the protagonist and his lady get privacy for such an important scene..............’

They are so dumb, guys. They care so much, and they ache so much over each other, and they are so dumb. And the supporting cast isn’t much smarter. Even the smart ones have the dumb ones inflicted on them.

In the extras, at one point demon king Luo Binghe is addressing his main retainers, and he’s like ‘if... hypothetically..... two people’s hearts were out of alignment with each other........ how would u fix that.......... hypothetically..............’ And his poor retainers are like

But I really, really think that the protagonist being afraid of the love interest is a really key point for me, personally. And then it’s extra my favorite, because of 1) him having a good fucking reason to be afraid, and 2) his love interest having no goddamn clue. It makes for such a good blend of humor and sincere pathos. I’m weak to dumbasses-in-love as a dynamic, but it can be hard to have something so lighthearted while also working in painful emotional depths. The premise for this story is hard to replicate, and I’m kind of drawing a blank on anything that I’ve read that measures up to it, and the plot REALLY makes the use of some incredible foundations.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my ted talk, this book is ridiculous and i love it, and it’s also the shortest and most linear of mxtx’s books, and i highly recommend it to everyone.

#svsss #long post/#guess who doesn't want to go back to her workday #it meee

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whindsor · 3 years

Note

since you reached your word count, can we maybe get a sneak peak of your story?

aaaaaaah sure!!!! this is like, the inciting incident.

it’s also SUPER unedited so like. don’t just me please.

Ellex pulled on her best clothes, her best leathers, and did everything she could to make her seem like she was maybe supposed to be there.

There was still no sign of the King, though there was technically the possibility that he had arrived with out any pomp or circumstance, which seemed unlikely. She still couldn’t shake the vague sense of foreboding; she almost felt like someone was aiming a bow at the spot between her shoulder blades, her back tingling with anticipation of danger or pain. Things were coming to a head, and she had a feeling she was about to find out something terrible.

Axel knocked on her door, surprisingly respectful compared to that morning. She wrenched it open, her hand gripping the handle tightly. He gave her body a once over in a completely clinical way, assessing her dress for the supper.

“That’s the best you brought?” he asked.

“This is the best I own, and you know that,” she said, feeling extra prickly. What did he expect?

“I know you own a dress. Maybe even two,” he said, tilting his head to look into her rooms as if said dresses were going to magically appear there.

“I’ll be in a room full of the best warriors in the country, do you think I’m going to limit myself by wearing a dress?” she asked, pushing past him into the hallway.

“What about your ceremonial braids?” he countered, making her pause.

“There’s no need for those-“

“You’re meeting the King, now is the best time for them-“

“He wouldn’t get them anyway-“

“You’re not even wearing a dress, you should wear your braids-“

“I can’t do them!”

“…What?” Axel, for some reason, was surprised by this fact. “What do you mean you can’t do them?”

“My mother or Xera always did my braids for me,” she explained, trying and failing not to sound like a sad child. “I could never get my hands to work right, so they took pity on me and did them for me.”

“I can’t believe you can’t do your own braids,” he did sound genuinely impressed, but not in a good way.

“I’m sorry, can you do them?” she asked, hands on hips and anger hot in her tone. First he insulted her clothing, and now he was insulting her hair braiding skills. He was already making this trip infinitely more difficult than it needed to be, did he really have to be like this too?

“Well I-“

“That’s what I thought. C’mon, we’re gonna be late,” she said, turning on her heel and walking towards the front hall. They weren’t to eat in the normal dining room tonight, but instead in the Great Hall somewhere on the upper level of the castle. The servants waited for them in the front hall, leading them up the massive staircase to the upper levels and into a huge room.

If she thought the dining room or the library were big, she was not ready for the Great Hall. This Hall was used for anything from banquets to weddings to matters of the state, the decorations and lamps transformed with each meeting. Now eight rectangular tables were set up in a circle, a perfect octagon with the head table up on a dais at the front of the room. The King would not sit on his throne, but it was stationed right behind his table, in full view just in case anyone forgot who he was. Already Felda and Gable sat at their table, as well as Barta and Ilane and Ink and Kala. Ellex was glad they’d found the happy medium between being the first and last to arrive. She swiveled her head, looking for Mara the mysterious and bratty heir from the desert, but she was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Ellex hadn’t seen her at all that day, and wondered if her arrival hadn’t just been some weird fever dream.

“This way, Miss,” the servant said, leading her and Axel to their table. It was just adjacent to the door, which she didn’t like. Having her back to the only entrance in the room was less than favorable. So of course she moved so that Axel was closest to it, so that he could be the first to die - or, make an attack, if that was an option.

The heirs eyed each other from their seats, but no one felt confident enough to say anything. Ink was still sketching away in his sketchbook, his eyes flitting up to Ellex every so often. She wondered if he was making a new picture of her, or just perfecting the one from earlier. Either way, she had to stop herself from grabbing the book and tossing it into the nearest fire.

Fort and Lave entered with a loud, low whistle. Fort was apparently impressed by their new eating arrangements, and expressed as such loudly and with forced casualness. “I think this is the size of the whole house back home,” he said, nudging Lave in the ribs. “Maybe even my first ship.”

“Was more of a boat than a ship,” Lave murmured quietly, just loud enough that Ellex could hear it as they walked by. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing, sending a conspiratorial look towards Lave. She wondered if, being Fort’s second, he ever got tired of dealing with the other man’s antics. She also wondered if Fort ever turned those antics down, or even off. It seemed unlikely.

“So, our host still has yet to arrive?” Fort asked loudly, and again Ellex had to keep herself from replying. Of course the King wasn’t there. What other comment did he need on it? Luckily, they were all saved from the discomfort of the moment by Murette and Alsatia making their entrance. Both of the women looked beautiful in traditional forest garb; most of the country was focused on warriors and their strength, but in the forest they were more about skills and assets - the very definition of work smart, not hard, which was important when there were a shit ton of trees that one could run into when making an advance - or an escape. So instead of leathers and armor, they had on tunics and skirts made of wide leather strips, the pointed ends covered in silver. In a battle they’d probably wear breeches underneath, but here they left their legs and arms bare, thin silver-green lines lacing over their limbs in elaborate fake tattoos.

In short, they looked like iridescent forest nymphs and Ellex was supremely jealous.

“Wow, this is amazing,” Murette said, gazing up at the ceiling a million feet above them. There were slats open to show the night sky, though the lamps from inside drowned out any starlight.

“Eyes on the road,” Alsatia reminded her, touching her elbow lightly. She easily sidestepped the table she was about to run into, going to her designated seat.

“I thought we were running late, but apparently we’re right on time,” she said. When they’d dined together before, Ellex assumed her dreamy voice was due to her taking of libations, but it seemed like that was just how she spoke all the time. She didn’t mind it.

“Early, even,” Alsatia agreed, adjusting her quiver ever so slightly as she sat. Ellex still thought it odd that they dined with their weapons donned, but she was not about to be the only one to remove them. She wondered if the other provinces had similar traditions, but they all just pretended they didn’t, just so they wouldn’t be the odd man out. She’d have to ask some of them later. Now the only ones they were waiting on were Mara - who no one else knew was present in the castle - and the King himself, who was still currently absent without official leave.

The clock tower outside, which had been previously dormant, sang out the hour, the peals of the bells cutting through the wide windows that were thrown open to let in the sweet night air. Seventh hour, the hour they were told to come. The door opened once more and they all turned expectantly, wondering if the King was finally gracing them with his presence. Instead, the hooded desert heir slipped inside, her head bowed as she crossed the threshold. Her dusty robes whispered behind her as she followed the servant to her table, and behind that her great sand-colored dog walked with casual grace. Mara removed her hood and sat, the dog claiming the space on the floor next to her.

“Well, seems the wildwitch decided to join us after all,” Fort said. Ellex thought Mara would bristle at the name, but her dark eyes showed no emotion.

“I was summoned, just as you were,” she replied. Her voice was quiet, but somehow carried easily through the space. Fort, not knowing how to respond to such directness, faltered just long enough for Ink to get a word in.

“I have heard amazing things about the libraries in the desert,” he said. He seemed glad that his table was right next to hers, even leaning over Kala so that he could speak to Mara better. “Would you be willing to tell me about it?”

“I will tell you anything you want to know,” Mara agreed, and Ellex wondered if everyone else heard the edge to her voice, or if she was the only one. Everyone else’s magic, which had previously been simmering just below the surface, spiked now that Mara was here. Ellex became even more uncomfortable, caught in the crossfire between Mara and the rest of the airs, all of their magic poking and trying.

“What’s a wildwitch?” she asked Axel, keeping her voice as low as possible. She did not need a glare from Mara, or condescension from everyone else.

“In the desert, they practice a different form of magic, more elemental in nature,” he explained. Now it made sense, why hers felt so incredibly different compared to everyone else’s. “But it’s also more difficult to control, and there has to be a certain amount of…feral energy to work it. Hench, wildwitch.”

“She doesn’t seem to like the name,” Ellex continued.

“For a long time, before magic was wider spread, the wildwitches were seen as troublemakers, dangerous,” he said. He glanced over at Mara, alone at her table with no second beside her. Despite all her apparent shortcomings, she had a regal poise about her that Ellex found impressive. “They still are.”

“She doesn’t seem that dangerous,” Ellex said. “She doesn’t have any weapons.”

“The wildwitches don’t need weapons,” Axel said darkly. “You’d do best to stay away from her. I mean it.”

“I’ve been trying to stay away from everyone,” she bit back, realizing halfway through that she was speaking a touch too loud and softening her voice. “You’re the one who keeps trying to make me socialize.”

“I’m trying to make you learn, not socialize,” he countered, once again his patience wearing thin. He used to be able to handle her shenanigans, but his fuse was getting shorter and shorter. Ellex probably shouldn’t feel proud of that fact, but she was. “You’d realize that, if you listened to a word I said.”

“Sounds boring,” she replied, turning to her cup. Another bell rang, this one deep in the kitchens, and the doors opened once again. Once again, no King was in sight, but there was something even better: food.

Like the night before, the food came out in courses, starting with greens and soup and working towards heavier portions. Ellex didn’t mean to eat as much as she did, but she also didn’t have any regrets about it. As supper continued on, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate; everyone figured that, like the nights before, the King would not come tonight.

They would be wrong.

The servants were handing out dessert whenever it happened. The door to the Great Hall slammed open, as if a boot hit it from the other side. The King’s second strolled in first, hands on his belt. He was dirty, as if they’d come straight from the road. He stepped to the side, looking at each of them in turn for a long, painful moment.

“All rise for King Antyus.” For a small man, his voice carried brilliantly, though the shape of the room probably helped that. The heirs and seconds - some of which had taken a little too much in their cups - stumbled to their feet, wondering if they were to bow or to step to meet him or to drop to their knees.

The King took his time making his entrance, his spurs jingling with each step he took and the massive room amplifying the sound. His thumbs were tucked into his belt, and he absolutely ambled across the room, welcoming the silence and the awe. He was not a man of great stature, but he carried himself so that he appeared more formidable. Everything from his boots to his leathers to the sword at his waist spoke of his station. He was also old - older than Axel, older than Ellex’s father. Hell, he might have been older than her grandfather, she couldn’t quite tell. But there was still a spring in his step and a glint in his eye as he met each and every one of theirs.

Ellex noticed he was not wearing the crown.

Wasn’t the King supposed to always wear the crown?

He was wearing it in his portrait.

Where was it now?

Find the crown. And claim it.

The words came to her, apparently the only thing she managed to retain from her late night reading. That was the significance of the crown - the King was not chosen, or assigned, or elected. The King had to beat all their rivals to find the crown. It was so simple, the first lesson they learned in school. How could she have forgotten?

And how in the hell was she going to get out of this?

“Now, now,” the King drawled, his accent smooth but his voice gravelly with age. He gestured to everyone as if he’d been there all along. “Don’t stop the celebrations on my account.”

“Your Majesty,” Fort was the first to bow, Lave following a breath later. Ink and Kala bowed as well, while Murette and Alsatia dipped into low curtseys. Barta and Ilane crossed a fist over their chest in their own salute, and Felda and Gable of the Plains held their hands to their foreheads in theirs. Only Mara stayed fully upright, hands clasped in front of her.

“Ellex,” Axel hissed from somewhere below her. She broke from her trance to find him down on one knee, their typical sign of respect. She quickly dropped next to him, hoping the King hadn’t noticed how long it took her. Her head was reeling; soon, there would be a race to find the crown. That had to be why the King invited them all here, why he made sure the heirs brought a second.

He was retiring. And one of them would take up the crown after him.

“Return to your seat,” he said, sinking down into his own chair. His joints cracked a few times as he did so, the sound amplified in the silence of the Hall. “I’ve been told it’s time for dessert.”

“Your Majesty?” Ink spoke up this time, and the King looked up with a serene face and raised eyebrows, curious as to what he wanted.

“Yes, Cornelius?” he prompted, using Ink’s given name. Ink’s magic pulsed at the sound of it, but whether it was due to excitement or fear Ellex wasn’t sure.

“I…” Ink had spoken up, but then was unsure what to say. “How was your journey?”

This was apparently the right thing to ask, as the King grinned broadly. “Quite adventurous, thank you for asking,” he said. Once again he gestured at the chairs, and they all sat as one, school kids afraid of the master.

“Where did you go?” Fort asked, trying to gain an upper hand in the conversation. The others seemed to notice this, sitting up a little straighter and preparing what they were to say. Ellex, for her part, wondered if she would remain unnoticed if she sat super still.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the King answered, his grin turning cryptic as he reached out and grabbed his glass. He took a slow sip of the wine, his eyes never leaving Fort.

“I suppose I would, yes,” Fort said, his eyes glancing obviously towards the top of the King’s head, which was covered with thick, white hair but no sign of a crown. The King sighed, shaking his head.

“Very well, I guess we’ll address the elephant in the room. Though I really planned to get through dessert first,” he said, genuinely sad not to partake in the apple pie in front of him. Ellex hadn’t even noticed the servants bring the plates in, and while normally she would be ecstatic to try yet another new dessert, the thought of eating anything made her feel even more sick than she already did. “You’re probably all wondering why I gathered you here.”

“Always to your will, King,” Murette said, moving her arms as though she was curtsying again, though she stayed sitting in her chair. His smile was less genuine this time, and he gave her a placating nod.

“Right. As it were, I am currently only acting King,” he said, stressing the extra monicker. He ran a gnarled hand through his white hair, the gold of his rings glinting in the low light of the Hall. “As you can see, I’ve returned from my journey a day late and a crown short. As it were, the next ruler is sitting here in this room. Right now.”

Fort shot to his feet, Lave not far behind. They looked like they were going to make their way to the doors, but they closed heavily before they could take another step, the sound of the plank sliding home hitting each of them. They were now locked in the Great Hall.

“I still expect the same level of respect, young Fort,” the King said, his eyes icy as he settled them on the coastal boys again. “There will be plenty of time for you to go on your hunt. But for now, my journey was long, and I would like to get to know you.”

“Apologies, my King,” Fort said, for once looking embarrassed and bowing his head like a chastised child. He returned to his seat, his heel bouncing as he sat down again.

“Apology accepted. Now,” he looked at them each again, and Ellex felt her blood run cold as his sights set on her. “You, my dear, are not the original intended recipient of my invitation.”

“No, my King,” she said, her voice shaky even to her own ears. “My sister, Xera, fell in battle against raiders three months ago. I am here in her stead.”

“Interesting,” the King said, moving on immediately. Mara was his next target. “Ah, a priest from the desert. I’ll confess, I am surprised to see you here. We’ve not had visitors from the desert in quite some time.”

“Apologies, my King,” Mara said, though somehow she didn’t seem to hold the same reverence that the others did. She looked right at the King, as though she were addressing an equal rather than the ruler of the land. “I’m afraid my people are less than social.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he said, and if the comment offended Mara, she didn’t show it. Maybe she was actually a robot with a human face, and that’s why she didn’t have any emotions. But then, how would she have the insane amount of magic? “I noticed you have no second.”

“Oe is my second,” she said, and it took Ellex a moment to realize she was talking about the dog. At the sound of her name, Oe looked up at Mara, waiting for a command. When none was given, she laid her head back down on the tiles. The King cocked his head to the side, staring at the dog for a long moment before letting out a single laugh. A moment later he laughed again, then busted out into a full blown hysteric attack.

“The dog is your second. Right,” he said, still chuckling. A few of the other heirs started laughing with him, a few of those few even looking like they meant it. Axel even let out a low chuckle next to her, immediately stopping when she looked his way. She didn’t understand what was so funny; if she’d had her way, Andalus would’ve been her second instead of Axel. Every day she felt that more and more. She thought to speak up, to say something on her behalf, until she glanced at the woman in question.

Mara, for her part, kept her head high and her eyes clearly on the King. Ellex would have thrown at least a comment or two his direction, or towards the other heirs, but Mara kept her lips firmly sealed, apparently too good to give into such banal tendencies as sticking up for herself. Ellex rolled her eyes; the woman didn’t need her help. She was doing just fine on her own.

“Well what’s next?” King Antyus asked, taking another languid sip of his drink. He leaned into his chair, not touching the dessert in front of him. “Is someone hiding a litter of kittens in their scabbard?”

Another titter of laughter curdled through the Great Hall, but it felt even more forced than the first. Everyone’s magic flexed and curled in their discomfort, threatening to choke Ellex. She hated it here. She hated seeing these stuck up heirs with their attitudes, she hated how vaguely threatening the King seemed to be, and she hated being the only one that didn’t have a magical weapon. She wasn’t made for this, and therefore was constantly sitting at a disadvantage. It was not a feeling that sat well with her.

She picked at her fruit pie, though the sweet crust and tender fruit did nothing to improve her mood. She didn’t bother paying attention to Barta and Ilane telling tales of the beasts they’d hunted in the mountains, or listen to Murette and Alsatia as they made thinly veiled flirts towards the King. Fort interjected any chance he got, trying to pull the attention back to him. They were all trying to make a good impression, to show that they should be the next King.

As if he was going to offer them some hint to where the crown was.

As if he had any say on who was next.

Part of Ellex was so mad at the situation, so frustrated by all these people who thought they would be the next best ruler, that for a moment she was inspired to go out and find the crown herself. After all, why shouldn’t she? She was an heir, just like them. And perhaps, being different than everyone else would make her a better ruler. Sure, she’d never ruled over anything, and she’d been groomed her whole life to be a second. But maybe that’s what the country needed: something different.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering exactly where this is going,” the King said. He’d been through a few glasses now, as had most of the people around him. Everyone sobered up instantly, sitting forward as if that would help them hear better. Ellex wanted to cover her ears, but this was the King speaking, and if he was giving any sort of clue…well, even if she wasn’t sure on her plan yet, she still needed all the information he could spare. “As you can see, I’m missing a certain accessory that I tend to wear…most of the time.

“I am, unfortunately, getting a little on in years. And while my mind is sharp, I won’t make the same mistake that my predecessor did, waiting until his second had to hide the crown for him. And his second wasn’t half the man mine is, so,” he waved his hand lazily, as if this meant something to them. Did he mean to imply that the man wasn’t good at hiding, or that he was easy to get the location from. “One of you - whomever finds my crown - will be the next ruler. The search begins tomorrow morning.”

“Must we wait, Your Grace?” Fort asked. His words, usually laced with confidence, were slow and measured, as if he were making sure he was saying them correctly. Was he drunk? Ellex flicked her eyes over to him, and it took a moment for her vision to catch up with the motion. Wait, was she drunk? She’d only had the one glass. The King smiled, and in the haze of the night, it looked menacing.

“You must,” he said, holding up his glass. “A toast. To the next King.”

“To the next King.” The words were a hum as they all tried to match his pitch. Ellex felt like her own tongue was sluggish and thick. She took a sip from her cup and ended up drinking deeply, the wine sweet and light. She didn’t even like wine. When she put the cup down, time seemed to slow down. Next to her, Axel groaned, putting his head into his hands. Across the room, Murette slumped into Alsatia, who didn’t look any steadier as she leaned heavily onto the table. Fort tried to stand and ended up crashing to the floor, Mara’s dog pushing quickly to her feet at the sudden noise. Mara was gripping the edge of the table, gritting her teeth as if she was holding back a cry of pain. Was she in pain? No one else seemed to be. Ellex certainly wasn’t. She was just tired. So very tired.

The other heirs were laying their heads down. Axel was snoring softly, his head tucked into his arms like a child. The King stood, his steps sounding far away as he strolled back to the door. The sound of his spurs clinking was soothing to her, lulling her further. He stopped between her and Mara, meeting each of their eyes in turn.

“Good luck. Don’t miss the forest for the trees,” he teased, continuing on past them. Ellex met Mara’s eyes, both of them struggling to keep them open. What did the King mean by that?

She could still hear his spurs as he walked away, the sound steadily retreating. Whatever he meant, she could figure it out in the morning. For now, she needed to sleep.

#inbox fun #leaf you are a treasure #and i love you #thank you for this!#witchofinterest

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whispersafterdusk · 3 years

Text

Lost in Time - ch 16

It was hard to take his eyes off the contraption attached to his wrist.

The Hi-Def was a tiny computer that was held to him with a comfortable canvas and leather wristband; the screen was two inches square, sleek and shiny, and edged with a polished steel casing. The device had two small buttons on one side but, as Eli was demonstrating, the majority of the computer's functions were controlled either by touching the screen, poking at the hard light projection that came from the screen, or using voice commands. So far the only button function he knew how to set whether the device operated exclusively with screen-touched commands, hard light commands, voice only, or any combination of any of them; that had been the first thing Eli had taught them, even before they'd finished the elevator ride down.

They were now all gathered within the facility, standing together around a computer console on what they considered the "ground" floor (which was the bottom-most floor the main access elevator could reach) and on the monitor was a larger image of the Hi-Def's screen. Eli was frequently switching between projecting out of her own Hi-Def and using the computer monitor, depending on what she was instructing them to do - it was a lot easier for them to see on the larger monitor than it was in the projection without crowding one another. ((Continued below cut))

"So here," Eli said, gesturing with her free hand at the monitor, "is the communications panel. You can set up a quick-response voice command to open it without needing to manually navigate here in the same area for all the other voice commands I showed you earlier. It's fairly self explanatory on this landing page -- you can see the list of Hi-Defs in range here. I've already programmed in the "names" of your Hi-Defs, using your names, to make it easier."

Asher looked down the list and could see his name along with Eli, Arlo, Sam, Remington, Adam, Mali, and Gale's name was there as well (though Gale wasn't presently in the room with them - his name was outlined in bright red). There seemed to be loads more empty spaces left but he knew Eli had only made nine of these so far...she must have thought ahead and programmed with the intent of making more in the future. Neat.

"I've set it so, by default, it'll always broadcast to all Hi-Defs within range. If or when I ever add more to the network I'll start programming in some set group defaults but for now we don't need that." Eli turned away from the screen briefly and rapidly navigated to the communication page on her own Hi-Def, then set it to project into the air in front of her. "If you aren't wanting to talk to everyone all at once you can select a specific person or group from the default list, or create your own personalized groups of people -- and, like everything else, you can set up voice commands to get here quicker. Anyway..."

He watched as she reached out and "tapped" (it was so weird to be tapping on light that was solid...) Arlo's and Sam's name, which highlighted them in a bright green.

"So I've got my recipients selected," Eli said, smiling a bit as they turned toward Sam and Arlo - her voice was coming out of their Hi-Defs now (it was a weird effect hearing her from multiple places at once). "All you have to do then is just talk. It's pretty decent at picking up your voice even if your hand is down at your side as well as filtering out background noise but there's still a chance other things might be heard through it so be mindful of that. You can adjust your incoming and outgoing volumes here-" she indicated a double pair of up and down arrows, "-and there's an element of proximity when it comes to outgoing broadcasts." She raised her wrist to her mouth then. "If you need to be very quiet, for example," she went on in a bare whisper, "just get it closer to your face if you can."

Asher couldn't hear the words coming from her lips but could hear her clear as day coming through on Arlo and Sam's Hi-Defs - a whisper that was coming through at a normal volume.

Eli then reached out to tap Arlo's and Sam's names again, returning them to the dull tan color they'd been before she'd selected them, then demonstrated sliding both incoming and outgoing volumes down to zero. "If a Hi-Def is out of range the name will be in red and if you try to select it it'll give you its best estimate as to how far away you are from being in range. This will be based on the last time you WERE in range, so it's not going to be completely accurate -- normally these would be tethered to a satellite and could give you measurements down to the inch but we're in short supply of those. One thing to keep in mind for the future is even if we get all the signal towers up there may still be areas where you're considered out of range because the signal can't reach. Places like being in deep valleys or underground, or if you're somewhere there's a lot of metal or 'things' between you and the towers like trees, dirt, concrete... Again, wouldn't be much of a problem if we had satellite support too but we'll have to make do."

"Can these be accidentally turned on?" Asher asked. He waggled his wrist slightly. "I'm not going to start broadcasting my snoring if it turns on while I'm asleep?"

Eli shook her head. "Accidentally? No. It can detect heart and respiration rates so if you hit a certain threshold it'll assume you're asleep or unconscious and will disable all outgoing broadcasts and turn on a tracking indicator. If I NEED to I can turn the outgoing back on from here-" she patted a hand on the computer console "-so we can get audio of your surroundings, assuming you're within range. Incoming broadcasts won't be muted if you're asleep or unresponsive however."

"Neat. Can we set up alarms on this thing?"

"You mean to wake yourself up, or to alert others?"

"Both?"

Eli pointed to a spot on the projection that had a large exclamation point on it. "That there will send out a distress signal by default if you double tap on it. If you press and hold..." She jabbed it with a finger and held it there; the button flashed from red to yellow, then expanded out into a new menu that was overlaying the communication page. "It opens up this secondary menu where you can set up custom ones with your own messages and sounds. If you're looking for an alarm clock that's in the clock and calendar functions."

"Wait, you said there's a tracking indicator?" Arlo interrupted. "Even if we're asleep?"

She nodded. "Yes. There's no way for these to tell the difference between sleep and unconsciousness so a tracking indicator will turn on no matter what."

"That's...a bit weird, isn't it?" Sam asked, looking between her Hi-Def and Eli.

"Is it?" Eli asked. "I know where you all live so I already know roughly where you sleep."

"...true," Sam replied. "I guess it's not so weird when you put it that way. Does it track you any other time?"

"Not automatically, and it's not something that just anyone would've or will have access to," Eli answered. "I can, from either this computer or my Hi-Def, track any of you at any time. Normally I'd have no reason to and there were really, really, REALLY strict rules on how and when you could use the tracking function and, if we were back in my time, you could be thrown in prison if you were found to have misused or abused access to it. It's meant to be a safety feature - if someone goes missing or silent unexpectedly I can look to see where you are and if need be we can head out to do a rescue."

"So not everyone will have access to the tracking thing but will WE have access?" Asher asked, gesturing to everyone standing about. "It's not much use if you're the only one who can and you're the one who goes missing."

"I'm giving you all permission to do so but only from here," Eli said, patting the top of the computer. "It's another security thing - if someone takes you out and gets your Hi-Def we wouldn't want them figuring out how to track the rest of us - which is also why I want you all to definitely set up the voice lock command like I showed you. That'll minimize the risk even further."

"Could Paulina do the tracking if asked?" Sam asked then.

Ha...Paulina. Pauline's successor, in a way. Technically Paulina was an altered copy of Pauline that didn't need a name (because it wasn't a living AI) but they'd all agreed to renaming the working console just so they could refer to it and have everyone know exactly what was being discussed. Paulina ran both the computer as well as all of their Hi-Defs - one big copy of Pauline and nine more tiny ones.

"Yes, and no," Eli finally replied. "I'd have to program her to be able to do that. As of right now no, that's not something I have her set up to do because of all the variables that would have to go in to it. She SHOULD, in theory, be able to do it just fine since Pauline tracked people within the facility but there'd be a difference between the check point sensors and signal towers that -- well. I'm not going to get into the technical aspect. Let's just leave it at 'yes, possibly' for now."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam nodding, looking satisfied with that answer; he looked up again as Eli turned back to the computer.

"A couple other things here - this button will mute your outgoing, double tap it to quickly mute both incoming and outgoing, and then double tap it again to unmute them. This one here opens the menu to set up your own communication groups. Press, hold, drag and drop, then hit the title bar here and either verbally or manually name it. When you do that it'll appear here..."

Asher watched as she backed out of the new menu and landed back on the main communication page, then she gestured at a smaller button that had what looked like a capital V on it; when she poked at it another menu opened and it had blank text fields on it that looked identical to the ones on the main page.

"This is where your created groups will be stored - like with individuals you can set up quick or verbal commands to broadcast to a group." She let them all get a good look at it then closed it, and then quickly flipped all the way back to the main screen of the Hi-Def. "That's all for now - don't want to overload you all with information. Feel free to play around with it, there's nothing you can do to these that I can't reverse."

Remington tapped a few fingers against his screen. "How sturdy are these things? I'm worried I'll scratch or break it somehow."

Eli chuckled. "You'll probably break the casing its in before you actually damage the screen. I don't have access to the alloys the casings were originally made out of so they're not quite as indestructible as they used to be. -- but don't get me wrong, breaking them IS a possibility, just not a very high one. You don't need to treat them like spun glass but also don't be using them as hammers or whatever - just wear them normally like you would any other article of clothing and you'll be fine." As she spoke she set the computer into a stand-by mode; the screen went black but not the dark black that indicated it was powered off entirely - that had been another concept to get used to...a "black" that still put out light.

"So...how do we start mapping Portia?" Asher asked after a pause. "This thing has some sort of scanning function, right?"

She nodded at him. "It does but we're not going to worry about that right now. We only have two signal towers up at the moment - the one here attached to the elevator platform that's interfacing with the working sensors in the facility and one that Selene attached to the schoolhouse's roof that currently is too far away to communicate with anything here but will still work if YOU all are within its range. Until we get the other towers up and figure out how to power them you'll be relying only on your onboard storage and, when it comes to mapping, that's not going to count for much because the data that generates the maps -- ...ok, again, not going to get technical, but suffice it to say that it won't be possible until we get the entire thing up and running."

"Gotcha," he replied. Honestly he was most looking forward to the mapping part...it'd give him an excuse to pick a direction and start walking during those times he wasn't on guard duty.

Asher had been born in Ethea and raised in Highwind; in a few ways Portia reminded him of Highwind - of home - so he assumed that was probably why he liked it here so much, and why he was itching to go poke around. All the wide open spaces, the beach access and harbor, the neighboring desert...all of it was something he'd been hoping he'd get a chance to fully explore before he had to go back to the Pigs's headquarters in Lucien. Now that he was carrying a Hi-Def it seemed like he had a really good reason to stick around even longer - once he'd helped get this spy problem under control he'd then be free to help map out Portia and the surrounding region, and then if these things got expanded across the continent...

Eh, well. He shouldn't get ahead of himself. The only reason he even had one was because Eli had the parts to build it; they could cover the continent in the needed signal towers but that wouldn't make more Hi-Defs appear out of thin air. And if expansion was out of the question then he probably wouldn't get to take his Hi-Def out of Portia -- and even if he wanted to keep it and leave there'd be zero reason to since all the useful stuff he was excited over wouldn't work once out of range of the signal towers.

He tapped his screen to turn it off and looked around; the others were fiddling with their Hi-Defs and Eli was still sitting on a stool next to the main computer console - she didn't seem to be paying attention to anyone or anything in particular at the moment though she had one hand resting idly across her own Hi-Def's screen.

After a few breaths she looked up suddenly and met his eye - must have sensed he was looking at her, or something. "When do you think the rest of the towers will be up?" he asked.

She took a moment to consider, then shrugged. "Hard telling. Selene is having to make molds and cast some parts, then we'll have to test strength and durability. We could technically make do in the short term but we can't guarantee we can dig up the right parts forever. And I'd rather not have to dismantle a ton of things," she added after a moment, waving a hand around herself to indicate the facility. "I'd like to...actually utilize this place. Don't know what for just yet but..." She fell silent then offered up another shrug. "We were always taught to use whatever we had at hand if things went south...I'm as far south as someone can get but it feels like tearing my own house down. I want to keep this place standing - find a reason to bring life back to it."

"Maybe as a school?" Remington offered, without looking up from his Hi-Def.

"Nah. We're moving Stewart to the clinic, remember?"

Now Remington did look up. "I remembered, yeah, but medical stuff isn't the only thing folks could learn."

Asher looked between the two of them as they spoke and was able to watch the slow progression of Eli's expression from confusion to a guarded curiosity.

"What do you mean?" she went on finally.

"Well..." Remington started, drawing out the word as he closed all the menus he was perusing. "You're teaching all of us some ranger things, and fitness and strength training. And you know all about the Old World since you lived in it. I bet people would flock from all over the continent to meet and learn from you."

Eli's expression went neutral. "True. But I'm not exactly a school teacher. I'm a soldier, and I imagine your church would have more than a few things to say about my teaching anyone on a large scale."

"They don't hold any authority within Portia or the rest of the Free Cities," Arlo said into the brief pause that followed. "They can hold all the opinions they want but they'd be inviting a lot of trouble if they tried directly interfering in a town's business or with their citizens."

Eli shrugged again. "Even still, I'd rather not kick the proverbial hornet's nest. Just because they don't have authority doesn't mean they can't or won't try something, whether that "something" is them riling up the populace against me or directly taking action to remove me from the picture - which is what would have happened in my time, and often did if someone was trying to incite something without regard to the laws."

Asher clenched his jaw at that last part; the Church Enforcers were a...particular lot. They traveled around and destroyed relics they deemed dangerous (which usually meant ANY relic they could get their hands on) and had been known to get into conflicts with civilians on the regular. The conflicts were violent at times but not usually fatal on either side; he couldn't think of any accidental deaths that had happened within recent years but could see the potential for them if the Church thought Eli, her knowledge, and anyone she shared that knowledge with was a threat. If similar had happened even back in Eli's time when, as history detailed, the world had been living in what amounted to a utopia...guess humans really hadn't changed much in three hundred years.

"Yeah, well, we just make sure that doesn't happen," Asher found himself saying, and then immediately stopped as all eyes shifted to him. He'd...not actually intended to say that out loud since it was only a half-formed thought but too late now. "Not...not that I'm suggesting we pick a fight with the Church or anything. Or have a gaggle of body guards following Eli around-"

Eli snorted. "By the Three I'd hope not."

He grinned at that. "-BUT, what we CAN do is take some steps to make sure a confrontation doesn't happen, or doesn't have a reason to happen. That means keeping people away from places they don't belong - which is something we do now anyway - and also not turning a blind eye to churchfolks who like to make up stories about things or people. I know Arlo's dealt with that here already," he added after a breath, looking to the man.

Arlo in turn nodded and crossed his arms. "I have. Thankfully Lee understood early on exactly where Gale and the Civil Corps stood on the topic -- the few things he spread around were squashed quickly and, to my knowledge, he's back to his usual sermons without 'embellishing' them."

Asher looked back to Eli. "Yeah, that - squash the lies, and just be careful about things - Portia might have opened all her other ruins for exploring but there's a lot of them across the continent that're closed, period, because they're too fragile, dangerous, or too many people rely on whatever's in them to be fairly distributed. It'd be up to Portia to set rules on who gets to come in here and why but if you end up turning this place into something everyone can use then we'd know who's here and for what reason, and anyone without a good reason can be shown the door. An Enforcer is going to stick out like a sore thumb if they come anywhere near Portia anyway. And the Church HAS come around on stuff like water filtration, powered tools, electric generating gadgets...they're definitely trigger happy on everything they come across but even they can be made to see the benefit to things eventually."

"And besides," Sam picked up, "it's not like the enforcers are assassins or anything. At most they can arrest people in the regions they have jurisdiction in, and at best they get arrested themselves for causing problems."

Adam grunted. "Threat of jail hasn't stopped 'em from arresting in places they don't have power in. There's a lot of bullhonk out in the world that you lot don't see in a town like this. They're not friendly."

"They're NOT murderers though," Asher interrupted, shooting Adam an annoyed look. "But accidents do happen when they get a bit...overeager in their work and yeah, sometimes they do try to step out of bounds if they feel threatened or justified."

Eli looked between the two Pigs. "I think we need to have a chat on what these enforcers are, what they do, and what they're SUPPOSED to do. Are they reigned in by law at all?"

"Of course. Doesn't mean they stick to it," Adam answered. "Same as anyone."

Mali shook her head and gestured for Asher and Adam to quiet. "WE," she said, gesturing to the Pigs, "would be happy to discuss the politics and laws of the wider world. Whenever you'd like to just let us know."

Eli nodded. "I appreciate it. I'll be busy this afternoon so maybe later tonight, or even tomorrow."

Asher could see her glance over to Arlo and give him a barely perceptible nod; guess whatever she was up to this afternoon included him, or the Civil Corps, or both. After another pause in the conversation Eli stood up and again invited them all to play around with their Hi-Defs, reminded them to set their voice locks, then headed out of the room with Arlo following along a few moments later.

For one brief moment he contemplated following them; everyone else had their attentions back on their Hi-Defs so he doubted they'd even notice if he slipped out. But, it was pretty clear, when neither Remington or Sam moved to leave, that whatever Eli's plans were for the afternoon they included Arlo and just Arlo...if others were welcome she probably would have said something. He looked around at everyone again -- whether he followed Eli and Arlo or not he did know he wanted to get back out on the surface and into fresh air; the Research Center, with Stewart's help, had fully repaired the air system down here so he logically knew that fresh air was always circulating but it didn't stop the feelings of mild claustrophobia and stuffiness he got when he was down here for awhile. He'd give Arlo and Eli time to get back to the surface then would head that way himself and tuck himself into a quiet corner of the tent while he fiddled with the Hi-Def.

Asher flipped through the screens back to communication and sorted Mali and Adam into a separate group he labeled "Flying Pigs," and then slid all three of the Civil Corps members into their own group as well. Setting up the voice commands were easy ("call Pigs" and "call Civil" respectively, since Eli had suggested "call" as a command word to use) and then he found his fingers hovering over Arlo and Eli's names; after a moment to consider he slid the two of them into another custom group.

Adam and Mali might be his fellow Pigs but he wasn't especially close to either of them - before now he'd not even had a chance to talk to them much since they were always doing their own things; he was closer to Greg than he was to anyone else in the Flying Pigs but only because they'd shared a bunk room at headquarters up until Greg got married and moved in to a house with his wife. Arlo reminded him of Greg in a lot of ways and, despite having watched him fail the entry exam multiple times, Asher was still convinced that Arlo would make it eventually and was looking forward to being there when he finally did (and hey - he hadn't had a bunk mate since Greg moved out and Arlo would be expected to spend his first two years living at headquarters as a rule).

And, when it came to Eli... Well.

He titled their group "Buds" but held off on setting up a voice command. For now.

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

"Hey you!"

Harrison took a moment to reply (he hated being interrupted mid-sentence when reading) but found himself smiling up at Lily as she leaned over his pile of books.

"Hello there - I didn't hear you come in."

She giggled and patted a hand on top of what was basically a barricade of reading material lined up along the outer edge of the little table he studied at. "Gee, I wonder why."

He felt his face go a bit red but he laughed quietly all the same and quickly moved a few stacks of books down to the floor near his feet. "Sorry. What are you up to today?"

"I came by to ask if you had any letters or anything you'd like me to take back to Lucien."

"Back to Lucien?" he repeated. A sinking feeling hit him - she was leaving?

Lily nodded. "Uh huh. It's about time to head back home to check in with mom - I try to stay away only a couple months at a time. If I come home at regular intervals then she worries less." She paused and squinted at him, then waved her hands frantically. "But I'm coming back! I'm going to come back!" she added in a rush. "I just have to let her know I'm ok!"

"Oh," he said, letting out a loud breath. "Ok. Yes, that - that sounds like a good thing to do. Um..."

He'd had a pad of paper here somewhere... As he started sorting through the folders and remaining books on his desk Lily stood there and rocked back and forth from heels to toes, like she usually did when standing still (well, not STILL - she seemed incapable of not moving some part of her when standing around idle) and then she bent to yank something out from under a pile on the corner.

"Here you go-" she held out the writing pad to him with a grin.

"Thanks." He grabbed it and leafed through the pages inside; there was a half-completed letter in here somewhere...ah. Carefully he pulled the page free and flipped it around to show her. "I sort of do. When did you plan on heading home?"

"I'd planned on heading up to Sandrock today and catching the bus north but I can wait until tomorrow."

"I can have this done here in a few minutes if you really want to leave today."

Lily wrinkled her nose and sighed. "I don't REALLY want to leave but I have to. BUT, like I said, I'm going to come back. I even have a job lined up for when I come back, too!"

Harrison blinked at her. "Oh?" How long had she planned on leaving without mentioning anything to him...?

"Mmhmm. That old lady farmer is willing to hire me on as an extra farmhand to help with the spring planting and all the little baby animals that'll be born or hatching here soon. That'll earn me enough that I wouldn't have to worry for awhile."

"How long will you be gone?" he asked as he fished around for a pencil.

"I'll probably be back within a week." She hummed to herself for a breath, then spun on a heel to face the door. "I'll be back in a bit for that, ok?"

"All right."

Harrison watched her skip out of the clinic and huffed out a sigh. He shouldn't be too surprised or disappointed that she'd be going home but logic and sense rarely went hand in hand with... The "L" word felt a bit too much at this point but he was definitely interested in her, and she in him. It was highly unfair for him to expect her to stay here, just because he was here, without giving any thought to her own needs or obligations.

Quickly he skimmed over the letter; he'd been halfway through detailing everything he'd done so far in Portia - this wouldn't take long to finish.

Not long after Lily had left the doors opened again; Dr. Xu came in leading someone with a heavy bandage taped to their chin. Harrison paused in his letter writing and watched as Xu led the man over toward the Uplifter, and lifted the machine's dust cover while directing the man to pull over a stool.

"Would you like a hand, Dr. Xu?"

"That would be welcomed, Harrison, thank you."

He got up and came around to help the patient position the stool in front of the Uplifter. "Here, just sit here and -- yes, like that, and sit up straight. Dr. Xu will lower that part there that looks like a plate and adjust it near your face."

"And this thing'll be able to fix it?" the man asked. His voice was obviously pained and also slurred, as he didn't seem willing to move his mouth and jaw more than he had to.

"It'll close the wound and there shouldn't be any scar visible, yes," Xu answered. "Go ahead and take the bandage off while I get the last few steps completed. This will sting briefly as it starts up but will numb soon after-"

Harrison looked from the man to Dr. Xu as Xu cut off mid-sentence; the doctor was patting at the side of the machine and looking confused. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm. The manual for it isn't in its usual slot. Have you seen it?" Harrison shook his head and Xu hummed to himself. "Well. I have the steps memorized but I had wanted you to follow along in the manual as I worked."

"Perhaps it accidentally got mixed in with Phyllis's things when she moved to her new practice?"

"It's possible," Xu replied, nodding to Harrison. "When we finish here would you mind walking out there to check?"

"I need to finish something quickly before that but otherwise I don't mind at all."

Xu smiled and began to input the commands into the Uplifter's computer panel; Harrison leaned over to help the man on the stool remove the bandage, and then winced when he saw the injury -- it was a deep wound, with jagged edges, and he could see the white of bone beneath it. Once Xu had all the commands in place he settled the headpiece of the Uplifter over the man's head fully and hit the Start button.

"No talking," Xu said then. "This will take several minutes."

Harrison could see the man flinch as the machine whirred to life but afterward the man sat calmly, unmoving, as the Uplifter did its work.

Since there would be some time to kill while the machine mended the injury Harrison returned to his table and went back to his letter. Assuming there weren't any other emergencies or distractions he should have this done well before Lily came back for it.

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

"How many keys were on the keyboard I was using?"

"Fifty six. Fifty seven if the secondary power button counts."

"Good. How many birds over there?"

"Fo- no, five."

"And what are they?"

"Sounds like common house sparrows."

"Right. Cows in the field?"

"Unfair question - McDonald said one was in labor."

"Assume the calf hasn't made an appearance yet."

"Fourteen."

"Horses?"

"Three. The rest were in the barn still."

As they walked along Eli nodded approvingly at him; these early techniques she was teaching him were hard to describe but when put into practice Arlo found they weren't so impossible as he'd initially thought.

"How far off is the Dee-Dee?"

Arlo paused; he was certain he hadn't seen or heard the Dee-Dee that ran between here and town yet but if Eli was asking, then...

All right, so maybe he shouldn't feel so confident in himself just yet.

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

Harrison's letter was safely in her pack; he'd written out his parent's address and on the back of the envelope he'd even given her a crudely drawn map of how to get there from Lucien's town square.

It was going to be a really simple matter to find his family.

The bus had dropped her off at the stop just outside of Lucien's border; a group had gotten off with her and as they all filed through the little turnstile to get off the platform Lily tried to tamp down her irritation at being jostled by all the careless people around her.

And then finally she was out into the night, and free. No one in the near vicinity, and no one paying any attention to her when she passed.

There was a run down shed on the northern side of Lucien that held old, rusted gardening equipment. The padlock looked equally as rusted but she knew that was just for looks; her key turned soundlessly in it and, after making sure no one was around, she slipped inside and picked her way among the clutter until she came to an empty workbench with a heavy burlap rug pinned underneath the bench's front two legs. She flipped the rug aside to reveal a trap door and used a second key to open it before sliding down the ladder and into a cramped, barely lit tunnel that led to a considerably more comfortable room with padded chairs, a few bunk beds, and a tiny kitchenette.

Normally there would be three or four people here, waiting; tonight there was only one - a dark haired man, short and squat, with a ruddy complexion and face dotted with pimples and acne scars. He was listening to a small radio and when Lily stepped into the room he spun around with one hand going for a gun holstered at his side. When he finally registered who she was he visibly calmed, then an instant later growled at her angrily.

"What are YOU doing here? Captain Xan didn't-"

"Shut up," Lily snapped. She stomped in and yanked Harrison's letter out of her pack before letting the bag drop to the floor. "Through sheer dumb luck I stumbled on something that we can't pass up. Call him down here."

Grunting and puffing the fat man got up out of his chair and shoved passed her to go back up the tunnel she'd just come from. Lily yanked the envelope open, took the letter out and flattened it across a table, then carefully opened the envelope's seams so it too could lay flat.

She waited longer than she wanted to but soon the scarred man came back, huffing and puffing and with his face even redder with exertion; behind him trailed a rail-thin man with a shaved head, seven piercings in his left ear, and what could be mistaken for smile lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He was dressed in old, stained clothing, and had a heavy apron tossed over one arm -- it would seem Xan was still working his cover job as a butcher over on the southern side of Lucien's market district.

"What brings you back early, Lily?" Xan asked. His tone was smooth and calm but Lily could tell by the way his jaw bulged a bit that he was gritting his teeth -- she didn't know what he'd been told by the fat messenger but it was clear he was mad at her.

"An opportunity fell into my lap," she answered. With a light touch she turned the letter and envelope with its map around to face him, then pushed it across the table toward him. "There's a doctor in Portia, with a student who sounds just like him. And that machine we've heard of exists and does exactly as rumored - I have the manual to prove it. Doctor and student are roughly the same size and height as well."

Xan's face broke into a cold smile as he gingerly picked up the envelope and studied the map; that was one thing Lily liked about Xan -- he understood her ideas and plans without her having to painstakingly spell it out for him. "Have you acted on it?"

"Not yet. I think it best if we have some bargaining chips first. I've charmed the student so it won't be odd for me to be seen in and around the clinic -- and besides, the lock on their doors as well as on the doctor's desk are ridiculously easy to pick. We can take out the doctor and force the student to replace him once we have the appropriate motivation in place for the student."

Xan nodded slowly, tapping the edge of the envelope against his lower lip as he thought; it was several minutes before the man spoke again. "We'll prepare a place to hold everyone -- we will, after all, need ready access to the doctor so we can feed information to the student, so that the illusion holds. When will the All Source be moved into the clinic?"

"That I'm not sure. I found all the information about their plans to expand the clinic but construction hasn't started yet, nor was there any hint as to when it would."

"Wait until construction is under way, then you may act," Xan ordered. "I'll send Marcus and Evangeline to back you up directly, and will have others standing by to get the All Source secured and away when the time comes. Leave the hostages to us."

"What do you want me to do in the meantime? They know someone has been keeping an eye on the facility."

"Do whatever you have to to keep your current cover intact," Xan replied. "Is the suit secured?"

Lily jerked her head toward the pack on the floor. "I need a few replacement wires - one of the Flying Pig bitches shot me in the arm."

Xan turned around toward the ruddy-faced man. "Tell Steven we need the filament wires, immediately." When the man nodded Xan turned back to her. "You've done exceptionally well -- I'll make sure you get a bonus. Take some time, rest - actually visit your mother if you so choose. Leave the suit here for Steven though."

Lily nodded. "Understood. Is anyone staying here tonight?"

"Just Howie," Xan said, gesturing toward the fat man. "-who SHOULD have already left to fetch Steven, yet here we are."

At that Howie about fell over himself to scramble from the room again; Xan let out a short chuckle that trailed into a sigh.

Lily wrinkled her nose and picked up the letter, offering it to Xan who took it and carefully folded it with the envelope. "I will go home then. I'm in no mood to share a space with an ugly idiot."

"Fair enough. Tell your mother I said, thank you for the chamomile. It made a very pleasant tea."

"I will. You know where to find me."

Wordlessly Xan nodded and turned to leave; Lily gave him plenty of time to have disappeared into the night before she too left the underground hidey hole and headed out into the evening air. Steven had repaired the suit before so she wasn't concerned about leaving it behind.

She took her time walking home and stopped at the front gate to take a steadying breath and get her mind back into "happy go lucky airhead Lily" mode. It was so exhausting to keep up that facade but knew if she didn't play the right part then her mother would ask questions she'd rather not answer.

With an inner grimace but an outward smile Lily pushed the gate open; the front windows were open to let in the night breeze and the lights were still on. "Moooooom," she called out as she walked up the path toward the front porch. "I'm hooooooome!"

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 16 #Arlo #Sam #Remington #Mali #Dr. Xu #Duvos #Lucien #My Time at Portia

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freewithyourtempo · 4 years

Note

Highschool cherik au firsts? Like first date, kiss, first time, etc.

Thank you for the prompt, anon!

Let’s start with first kiss…

Charles hisses.

It isn’t as bad as it looks, he is sure. It is just that the sweat rolling down his temple and upper lip is dragging down the blood as well. The wound itself isn’t deep. Obviously.

That being said, did Alex have to aim so freaking high with his free-kick?

Charles shakes his head. He is being unjust: it wasn’t Alex’s fault, after all, but Charles’ own, who had been distracted by a very recognizable silhouette, shaped by the shadows under the bleachers.

Charles bites his lip and keeps on dabbing mercilessly at the cut at the angle of his mouth, which is now turning an ugly shade of purple. It stings like hell, the paper rough against his ruined skin, but he can’t bleed for the whole period. He has already missed half of it. He huffs.

He notices with a grimace that the piece of toilet paper in his hand is crimson-spotted and crumpled up. He throws it in the overflowing bin next to the door and tears another one from the roll he has wisely put on the sink.

The soaked, muddy, unsanitary sink of a high school gym toilet, as clean as the bottom of his soccer-shoes. He will consider himself lucky if he doesn’t catch tuberculosis by the end of the day.

In that moment, the door of the locker-room slams open, and Charles jumps.He stares dumbly at the newcomer, hand still mid-air, and blinks. He realizes with sinking horror that his reflection in the mirror is a mess, with smears of blood around his mouth and sweaty, messy hair stuck to his forehead and temples. He glances down at his soccer shorts, low on his hips and covered in brownish stains, and at his socks, rolled-up mid-calves.

It looks like he has been dragged across a cricket pitch by his shoelaces.

And, really, Charles isn’t attracted to bad guys. It would be predictable and so two-thousand and ten.

It isn’t the black leather jacket that does it for Charles, but the back that stretches it thin. It isn’t the cigarette, but the mouth enveloping it. It isn’t the piercing… Yeah, no. It definitely is the piercing. And the eye-liner.

Erik Lehnsherr stops on the threshold of the locker-room and blinks at him, unsurprised to see him there, with the expression of perpetual boredom of an underpaid kindergarten teacher who has to explain to you for the third time why you shouldn’t shove mud in your mouth.

Charles doesn’t take it personally: he shares a few glorious classes with Lehnsherr’s unpredictable moods, and that seems to be the expression that inconveniences him the least to be seen wearing. That, and the smile he hides with a twist of his lips every time a professor mistakes his boredom for incapacity to follow their lesson.

Not taking his eyes off of him, Lehnsherr orientates the cigarette dangling from his lips towards the lighter in his left hand. A sparkle, and the tip turns instantly red-hot.

Lehnsherr’s cheeks are momentarily sucked into his mouth, and Charles finds himself as a guest in the control room of his vocal cords.“You can’t smoke in here,” he says. And pursues his lips for good measure, which means that a fat drop of blood happily slides down his chin. He slaps a piece of paper on the wound. Sexy. Lehnsherr predictably rolls his eyes - God, his silver piercing dances so prettily on his eyebrow - and leaves with no comment. A cloud of smoke signals his departure.

Charles clenches his jaw and decides that, once he will be tucked in his bed this night, banging his head into the mattress, he will blame his stupidity on the blood-loss.

Charles isn’t into bad boys, but who could resist a daily assault of one Erik Lehnsherr hitting the brakes of his big bike in the principal’s parking spot, then proceeding to take off his full-face helmet, neck bent backward and long throat bared under the sun. When his jeans-clad thighs release the saddle from their relentless grip, Charles can literally see the leather decompress.

There’s a limit to what a boy can endure. And Charles’ limit, specifically, is fingerless, leather gloves that squeak under Lehnsherr’s sharp teeth when he unfastens them right before getting to the blackboard and proving a mathematical theorem in three steps.

Charles feels sympathetic: he would squeak too.

It isn’t a “he doesn’t even know I exist” type of situation, as Charles would prefer. Lehnsherr, unfortunately, knows who Charles is, and on one particularly memorable occasion, they were even paired up for an Art project.

Charles had been more or less (he hoped less) evidently bursting out of his skin, but if his deep frown had been any indication, Lehnsherr hadn’t shared his excitement. The ring on his eyebrow had almost touched his cheekbone for the whole duration of their professor’s speech about how he would have to mark only half of the essays that way.

But the more Lehnsherr had glared at him - a sight that had given Charles goosebumps -, the more Mr. Howlett’s grin had grown satisfied.That particular staring contest was therefore won by the latter.

One afternoon in the library and the research had been completed, despite Charles’ attempt at miniating the bibliography and taking coffee breaks.Lehnsherr had been even more brooding than usual, content to just swing on two of his chair’s legs, play with his lighter and shoot Charles weird looks every other minute.

And Charles had done what he always does when the silence gets too heavy: he had talked. And talked. And waved his hands. He had only stopped blaring away when he had noticed Lehnsherr staring intently at him from the other side of the table.Damn.

The bleeding has thankfully stopped and he has just washed his face when something falls on the sink right next to him, and Charles jumps again. “Would you please stop doing that?”, he complains, and turns off the tap. Lehnsherr has come back undetected, and his hip is propped up against the sink. His cigarette, still impenitently fuming between his lips, is now noticeably shorter than before. He stares at him. Charles blinks.After a few moments of silence, Lehnsherr exhales an exasperated puff of smoke and nods pointedly at the first aid kit he has just dropped between them.Charles slowly reaches out and unzips it under Lehnsherr’s scrutiny, suspicious. He looks for the green lid of the hydrogen peroxide’s bottle and is about to open it.

He doesn’t have the chance to do that.

Lehnsherr curses under his breath, squashes his cigarette into the sink to put it out and pries the bottle out of Charles’ hands. Still mumbling what sounds like words of incredulity, he chooses another bottle from the first aid kit and brusquely wets some cotton wool red. Then he reaches for Charles’ face.

Charles steps back, hands up in a defensive stance. He’s not sure it would be a good idea to have him closer and actively touching him. Lehnsherr tilts his head and lifts an eyebrow. And steps forward.

He smells of smoke, and leather, and of something else rich and full that goes for Charles’ throat and squeezes.

Charles swallows and takes a deep breath to untie his back. He reaches out to grab the cotton wool, hand unsteady and slightly shaking, but Lehnsherr is faster. He bats Charles’ hand away and gently cups his chin in the same movement. Charles’ eyes widen, but his head obeys like putty and is turned to expose the injury.

Charles is very, very aware of every finger holding his face, but he’s especially wary of the thumb, hovering above his lower lip. He can almost feel its warmth projecting onto his skin. He goes still like a rabbit in the torchlight.

Lehnsherr shifts slowly, carefully, his eyes flickering for a moment to Charles’ face, and bows in half to inspect his mouth.

There’s warm breath tickling his cheek now, and this is a position Charles never would have thought he could find himself in, not in a million years, not in his wildest dreams. Maybe the ball has knocked him out.

Lehnsherr’s eyeliner is smudged and glues together two of his eye-lashes. If the hairs of his short beard were to brush his chin, Charles’ soul would spiritually leave his body.

He tightens his hold around the edge of the sink.

His heartbeat is so fast his heart is vibrating under Lehnsherr’s delicate fingers, and he tries to focus on the cheap decoration of the tiles on the other side of the room. Don’t think about leather gloves.One orange triangle, breathe in, one blue triangle, breathe out, one orange triangle, breathe in, one blue triangle…Then his vision shifts.He lets out a sudden shout as he is lifted and dropped unceremoniously on the sink. It feels shockingly hard and cold through his flimsy shorts.

Lehnsherr nudges Charles’ knees open to make room for his own body between them, and Charles is ashamed of how easily they move under Lehnsherr’s guidance to welcome him. He spreads his legs as wide as possible to avoid any kind of contact between rough jeans and naked skin.

Charles stares into Lehnsherr’s electric eyes, frozen like a puppet waiting to be dropped. A hand slides unashamedly from his hips to his thigh, which is now cold below and hot on top. And bare, bare as it has never been before.

A rough palm starts to trace the outline of Charles’ knee in calming circles. At least, Charles thinks they are meant to be calming.

Charles isn’t calm. In fact, he can feel himself redden and fry under Lehnsherr’s amused stare, now right in his line of sight.He starts sputtering, and feels his wound stretch at every word. “Really, my friend, this is quite unnecessary. I’m sure, perfectly sure I can do it myself.”Lehnsherr huffs in disagreement. “No reason to do all of this. I thank you for your concern-”Lehnsherr growls in warning, probably because the wound has started bleeding again. “You’re probably missing out on your lessons and-” Lehnsherr kisses him.

It is quick, little more than a press of lips, hot, dry lips that embrace his mouth, and so very gentle. Charles is so astonished he doesn’t even close his eyes, simply gapes like a fish on a hook. His mouth starts fizzing and pulsing for a whole different reason, now, as if marked with fire.

When Lehnsherr steps back, Charles is so caught up he leans in and almost falls off the sink. He is saved by a very firm hand pressing a piece of cotton wool against his mouth and pushing him back.

Regained his balance, Charles lifts his eyes to look up at Lehnsherr’s face.

He’s not smirking, but his mouth is disclosed. His eyes are elsewhere and terribly intense at the same time. And he’s… Blushing?

Charles opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Lehnsherr steps back and flees the room before he can emit a sound.

***

Charles hasn’t told anyone yet.Firstly, because he is sure no one would believe him.Secondly, because he doesn’t believe it himself.It just doesn’t make any sense. Someone like Erik Lehnsherr shouldn’t even look twice in his direction, let alone kiss him.Charles is a blubbering mess with a knack for cardigans. Don’t get him wrong, he is proud of who he is. But who he is is most certainly not Erik Lehnsherr’s type. Type of victim, yes, maybe. Type of boyfriend, unlikely. Charles is more some nice girl’s type, with golden hair and a Bronte’s novel on her nightstand.

Maybe he did kiss him just to shut him up.

Sure, a “shut your mouth” could have been equally efficient, but Lehnsherr is not exactly known for his loquaciousness.

And what was he even doing in that locker room, anyway?

So, Charles hasn’t told anyone, and hasn’t planned to do so in the near future. Until English Literature on Friday.

He’s minding his own business when-

No, that’s a lie. He isn’t minding his own business, he is minding Erik Lehnsherr’s business. Specifically, the business that keeps him from being sat at his usual spot in the classroom.

Charles is staring at his desk like a middle-distance runner waiting for the gunshot to sprint. Sprint where, he doesn’t know. Maybe out of the window, because the mere thought of Erik Lehnsherr stir-fries his blood, and he doesn’t dare think what would happen if he actually saw him crossing that threshold.

That’s why, when Emma Frost leans against his desk that Friday morning, and asks, with her usual air of polite casualness, what happened to his mouth, he blurts out: “Lehnsherr kissed me.”

Emma stops scrolling through her phone and actually looks at him.

Now, Emma Frost is Lehnsherr’s type: tall, sharp-minded and silver-tongued enough to get away with anything. She’s the kind of girl one thinks about when in need to cast a new Charlie’s Angels movie.

Their prole would have a set of chromosomes to die for.

The thought inexplicably saddens him.

An excited, conspiratory smile spreads on Emma’s face, and she stretches on his desk to half-whisper. “You mean your first kiss with Lehnsherr has been so wild he broke your lip?"

"Wh-what? No! No, no, no. No. No!"

"Oh.” Emma pursues her lips in blatant disappointment. “A pity.”

Charles frowns. “Why aren’t you surprised? Erik Lehnsherr kissed me.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that. Congrats, he’s hot!"

"He’s not hot, he’s the hottest thing to ever set foot in the district since that Bunsen burner’s explosion in the chemistry laboratory three years ago!” Charles hisses. “Why me? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe he wanted to make fun of me.” His eyes widen in horror. “Maybe he wanted to humiliate me. You are his friend, what do you think?"

Emma slowly straightens and looks at him with an unreadable but serious expression. She opens her mouth under Charles’ feverish stare, then closes it. "You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmurs to herself. Then raising her voice, “listen, Charles, I don’t know what makes you think he would-”

The arrival of the professor cuts her sentence in a half, and Charles never gets to know what Lehnsherr wouldn’t do, because at the end of the lesson Emma flees the classroom.

***

“Erik Magnus Lehnsherr!"

Erik grimaces and shoves a cigarette into his mouth even before getting off his bike. This conversation is not going to be pleasant.

He looks to the left and sees Emma Frost stomping in his direction, stabbing the ground with her heels and throwing daggers with her eyes.

This conversation isn’t going to be pleasant at all.

She stops next to his bike, hands imperiously on her hips and demanding eyebrows up in the middle of her forehead. Erik lights up the cigarette and exhales a puff of smoke in her direction, just to rile her up. "What’s up, love?"

Emma glares. "Don’t you what’s up love me! I have just talked with Charles Xavier.”

Erik averts his eyes and fights down the blush that is threatening to crawl up his neck. He straightens the collar of his leather jacket.

Getting to know Charles Xavier has been like craving a black coffee and being pawned by the Starbucks’ employee a seasonal pumpkin-spice frappuccino instead, only to bring yourself to drink it and begrudgingly finding it delicious, soft on the tongue and addicting.

Erik drinks bitter, uncorrupted coffee, not sugary hybrids that never stop blubbering intelligent nonsense with cherry-red lips.

He fixes the mirrors of his motorcycle, which don’t need any fixing, and emits a carefully uncaring mmmh.

Because he doesn’t care.

At all.

Everyone fucking loves Charles Xavier, but Erik intends to resist. He will not yield to messy curls, disarming smiles and eyes that are blue and kind but sometimes flash with cunning humor and suck you into a parallel universe where Charles Xavier could really be looking at Erik Lehnsherr like that.

Emma smacks her lips and folds her arms, too satisfied with his reaction for Erik’s comfort. “Don’t try that bad-boy bullshit on me, Lehnsherr. I can see you blushing from here.”

Erik growls but doesn’t try to deny it. It would be useless.

“He says you’ve kissed him.”

Erik rubs the back of his cigarette on his lower lip. “I didn’t take him for one who kisses and tell.”

Emma acts like she hasn’t heard. “What I don’t understand is why he would think you did it to make fun of him.”

Before he can think better of it, Erik’s head snaps up. He must have inhaled abruptly, too, because there’s smoke in his throat and he starts coughing.

Emma smirks and Erik hates her a little bit. “Why would he-”

“Yeah,” Emma interjects forcefully. “That’s what I was about to ask him, too. Why would he ever think that?” She puts her perfectly manicured hand on her chin to mimic someone deep in thought. Then she just as unnervingly brights up as if she’s had a revelation. “Oh, yes! Because you’re an emotionally constipated punk who probably jumped on him in a dark alley and then ran away without a word. Am I right?”

Erik clenches his jaw and glares, but Emma doesn’t budge. She bats her eyelashes.

“It was the locker-room, actually.”

Emma springs towards him, and for a moment Erik is convinced she’s going to strangle him. She stops just as abruptly, instead, and looks at him with fire in her eyes. “You’re… unbelievable! Why would you do something like that? I know you like him.”

Erik doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know what to say. Or he knows, but it’s too much and he doesn’t want to. He falls back onto his bike and flicks away the remnant of his cigarette.

“You didn’t-,” she twists her hands, and looks actually hesitant for the first time in this conversation. “I know he’s nerdish, and clumsy, and talks. A lot. And he’s like… The furthest thing one would imagine from your type. But he’s so sweet, and bright… You didn’t do it to make fun of him, right?”

Erik stares at her for a few moments, chest heavy. He opens and closes his mouth a dozen times. And then.“To make- To make fun of him?” He jumps off the saddle of his bike and starts waving his arms around like a stressed-out windmill. “How could kissing the boy I’ve had a crush on for years ever qualify as making fun of him? It just happened, all right? He was so pretty, and so messy, all alone in that locker room and with a split lip. And he was about to use the freaking hydrogen peroxide to clean it. But I kissed him like an idiot and didn’t know what to say. So I ran away! And now I can’t even face him because I am the creeper who has assaulted him in the school locker-room!”

When he stops shouting, he realizes he’s panting. Emma is staring at him with wide eyes. Erik clears his throat and straightens his back. His face is hot; he’s not sure if it’s due to the anger or the embarrassment, but he feels twitchy all over. He tries to light up another cigarette, but his hand trembles and he has no control over his thumb. He throws everything on the ground and massages the root of his nose.

Emma takes a step towards him. “A split lip, mh?” she comments, and there’s gentle humor in her voice, so Erik lifts his head from his hand just as she says: “Kinky.”

He snorts. “It’s the librarian attire that turns me on, actually.”

Emma chuckles, then sighs. “You should tell him, you know? You’ve been astonishingly stupid, but the only thing that has bothered Charles about that kiss is the fact that it ended.”

Erik bites his lower lip, mainly to hide his erupting smile. He’s not successful. “You really think so?”

“Yes, stupid.” She rolls her eyes and amicably hits him on the shoulder. “I really think so. That kid is head over heels for you as much as you’re for him.“

Erik tries to be dignified even if his face is splitting at the height of his mouth."Head over heels is maybe a bit much…” “Oh,” says Emma delicately, eyebrow risen. “If you’re not that interested, maybe I could try my chances with-”

Erik’s throat tightens and he shows his teeth to hiss. Emma just laughs at him.

***

Emma knows three things for certain:

One, there’s nothing you can’t do in heels;

Two, white will never go out of style;

Three, power is a question of paying attention to the right things.

That’s why, that morning, she’s rocking high boots, wearing white cashmere and ignoring Azazel’s gross attempts at flirting in favor of keeping an eye on Charles Xavier on the other end of the corridor.

She can see his mop of chocolate hair fumbling tirelessly in his locker, until he freezes.

Emma smiles.

There’s an unmistakable roar of engines approaching the school. It lasts a few moments, then it is abruptly cut off.

Emma can see Charles’ nape redden, and knows that he, too, is counting the seconds.

Erik Lehnsherr, the asshole, makes his entrance as loud as possible. The door slams on the opposite wall and the sole of his combat boots scratches against the floor at each step.

Everyone in the hall turns and stares for a moment. When the students resume their buzzing, their eyes seem to keep sliding sideways.

Charles tries to not-so discreetly glance over his shoulder. Emma can pinpoint with millisecond accuracy the moment he notices Erik’s leather trousers, because his face flares up and his mouth swings open. He turns around again and stays very still, facing his locker, back rigid.

Emma chuckles behind her hand.

Erik is frowning, his eyes thunderous. He looks around for a bit, then he patently zeroes in on Charles’ figure and his frown deepens. He tightens his jaw and starts marching forward. The corridor is crowded, but no one dares to be on Lehnsherr’s path when he’s clearly in a foul mood.

Poor boy, Emma thinks. It’s not his fault if his sentimentally crashed face is also his angry face.

He stops right behind Charles, clenches and unclenches his fists, shifts from one foot to the other.

Charles turns around, slowly. He blinks his eyes open wide, and they are very big and very blue.He squeezes his books against his chest and forcibly removes his gaze from Erik’s thighs. “Yes?”

Emma bites down on her lower lip and almost squirms. Come on, come on, come on. She’s so patently distracted that Azazel takes his eyes off her cleavage long enough to focus on what has drawn her attention.

Erik takes a deep breath that puffs up his leather jacket. He opens his mouth and mumbles something that has Charles gaping. Then closes it. He shakes his head and withdraws it into his shoulder. When he steps back, Charles’ hand outlines a jerky movement.

Emma grabs Azazel’s arm and sinks her nails into his skin. He wails.

In that moment, the door of the classroom next to Erik flies open and bumps into his back, then gets stuck. Erik is forced to step forward to keep his balance, and glares dangerously over his shoulder.Mr. Howlett stumbles out of his classroom, almost invisible behind the gigantic toothpick-diorama of a half crumbled Eiffel Tower he’s carrying.

Emma notices with horror that he has a cigar in his mouth, and it is seeding red-hot ashes all over the floor. There’s an alarming smell of smoke coming from that class.

Mr. Howlett stops on the threshold, deliberates for a moment and decides there isn’t enough room to get through. He gains momentum and pushes the door wide open with a tremendous shove of his whole weight.

The door gets unstuck with a rattling sound, vibrates and goes flying against Erik. Again.

This time, the impact sends him crashing into Charles with a bottomless thud.

They stumble into one another in a mess of limbs, knock their foreheads together and almost deform the locker they fall into.

The show ends with a loud groan and the splat of Charles’ books on the ground.

Azazel, who has the social receptiveness of a sweaty sock, takes the opportunity and chants: “Fight fight fight!”

Half the students in the hall enthusiastically join him.

Emma downs her head into her palm.

Mr. Howlett patently ignores the mess he has caused, exhales two puffs of smoke in quick succession, smirks and turns away as if nothing happened.

Erik and Charles are frozen in place, Erik’s hands on either side of Charles’ head and flat against the locker. His leather jacket has ridden up his back, leaving a naked strip of skin exposed. Charles’ arms have flown forward and are now hanging between their chests, unsure of where they should rest. His fingers finally grab Erik’s waist to keep him steady, just to realise they are digging into soft skin and not into rough leather and squirt away as if burned.

Erik’s nape is red, Charles’ face is crimson and their chests are heavy.

If Azazel doesn’t stop the chorus of blood-thirsty imbeciles, Emma is going to crush his foot with her heel. She has just risen her boot, when silence dawns on the hall.

She snaps her head up and almost squeals.

Charles’ arms are locked behind Erik’s neck to drag him down into his reach, his eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is pressed against Erik’s, lips tight. His blush hasn’t receded a bit, and seems to spread on his skin like wine on a white tablecloth.

Erik is unresponsive for a few moments, eyes gaping in place of his mouth. The he jolts awake.

He wraps his longs arms around Charles’ waist and holds him tight against his chest.

Azazel twists his lips, shrugs, and prompts another chorus. A moment later, the hall is chanting: “Kiss kiss kiss!"

#you asked #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #highschool!au #my fic #cherik fic

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princessselene126 · 4 years

Text

Game Night

I was inspired to write this after finishing Supernova yesterday. I had this random thought that Nova does a weekly game night with Simon, Hugh, and Max where they talk about Adrian and he has no idea that they do this. It does contain spoilers for Supernova, so don’t read it if you haven’t read Supernova. I REPEAT: THIS FIC CONTAINS SUPERNOVA SPOILERS. Anyway. 2124 words of fluff and family bonding. Maximum fluff nodrian at the end.

This is part of a larger series that can be read as individual fics or one big one. If you’d like to read them in order, please go to the second masterlist linked below.

masterlist We Rise with the Sun masterlist

Nova didn’t bother knocking on the door of the old mayor’s mansion anymore. SHe had no reason to now that she lived there.

It’d been almost six months since the battle at the cathedral. Six months since Ace died. Six months since she’d told Hugh Everhart--Captain Chromium, one her boyfriend’s dads--that she, a villain, was in love with his son. Six months since he told her he didn’t believe there were villians anymore.

It’d also been about six months since game night began.

Game night started off simple enough. One night a few weeks after the supernova, Nova got a message from Max asking her to come over. This was nothing out of the ordinary now that he was actually able to interact with people without stealing their powers, so she went to the mansion without a second thought.

When she got there, however, she’d been surprised that Simon Westwood--her boyfriend’s and Max’s other dad--opened the door. “Nova, good to see you. Come on in. Max and Hugh are in the living room,” he said with a smile.

She found her lips mimicking his out of habit. “No Adrian?” She asked as she stepped into the threshold. The few times she’d been to the mansion Adrian was always with her, it was strange that he wasn’t there now. And as nice as Simon and Hugh had been to her since the battle, she knew she had a lot to do to earn their trust.

Simon shook his head. “No he’s with Oscar planning some one month anniversary thing for Ruby, I think.”

“Right. He mentioned that a couple days ago.” She pulled her hat and heavy winter coat off, hanging them on the wooden pegs by the door. “I bet he’s going to jump out of a cake or something in the middle of HQ.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past him.” Together they walked down the hallway to the refurbished living room.

Max smiled at her from where he sat on the floor. “Hi Nova! You ready for game night?”

Nova blinked a few times. “Game night?”

And that had been that. Every Wednesday night Nova, Max, Simon, and Hugh had game night without Adrian. It was a good way for them to get to know her better, for them to trust her. It didn’t hurt that she also got to hear a lot of ridiculous stories about Adrian as a child. A lot of very cute stories.

Tonight they were playing Uno, which was admittedly the most dangerous game they played so they didn’t do it often. Even though they were heroes, whenever a draw 4 card was set down threats were thrown around--very violent threats. Nova said she’d put someone to sleep and make them wake with the worst headache anyone could experience. Hugh would make a chromium knife and twirl it in is hand while biting his lip. Simon’s left eye would twitch and his fists would clench the table so hard his knuckles turned white. And Max? Max would curse the person out so much it would make any sailor blush. Uno was the only time that Simon and Hugh wouldn’t scold him for it.

Hugh shuffled the cards with his large hands, then started dealing them out. “Everyone remember the rules?”

“No putting anyone to sleep,” Nova said.

“No lying that I have to go to the bathroom then turning invisible to come look at your cards,” Simon added with a sigh.

Hugh looked at his husband with his eyebrows raised. “Or?”

“Or anywhere else.”

The first couple times they played Uno that was a problem. There was no such thing as honor when it came to Uno, Simon had said after Nova felt his body near her and elbowed him in the ribs.

Hugh nodded. “Good. Max?”

Max was grinning at his cards. Nova couldn’t help thinking the kid had a terrible poker face. Well, he didn’t even have a poker face.

“What?” Max asked.

“What’s another rule?”

“Hey, I don’t have any rules that apply to me except the normal ones. You’re the ones that cheat, not me.”

Nova couldn’t help rolling her eyes at that. Just because the kid didn’t have powers anymore didn’t mean he was incapable of cheating, in fact he’d done it many times. True to his former hero name, the Bandit was excellent at stealing things, but also hiding them.

“Alright, fine,” Max said with a scowl. “No hiding cards.”

“Right. And what happens when someone breaks one of the rules?” Hugh asked. He set the remaining stack of cards in the middle of the coffee table and flipped the top one over as their starter card.

“They have to drink a glass of pickle juice,” Nova said. “Now let’s get on with it. I need to redeem myself after Clue last week. I still can’t believe I lost to you of all people.”

Hugh grinned as he took his turn. The winner of the week before always went first. “It was a very embarrassing defeat for you.”

They started off in a clockwise direction, and Max was next. The first few times around were uneventful, each wanting to hold onto the special cards until they got some numbers out of the way.

“So,” Simon said. “Who wants to share their most interesting Adrian story first?” He put a reverse card down, making Nova grumble.

She started to draw cards until she had one she could use, then set it on the pile. “He was pretty much his usual self around me. Didn’t do anything embarrassing.” Well, there was one thing that happened, but that was while they were making out and it was important for context that they were making out, so she wasn’t going to tell his dads and little brother about it.

“Liar,” Max said.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Hugh interrupted the back and forth bickering he knew was about to happen. “Max has a point. You always have an Adrian story for us.”

She could make something up that sounded Adrian like, but she’d promised herself and Adrian and his family that she wouldn’t lie to them anymore. “It’s hilarious, but if I tell you, you’re going to be grossed out,” she warned.

“Oh?” Simon seemed intrigued now. “Is it PG?”

Max set another card down. “I’m eleven, I think I can handle PG-13 after all the crazy things I’ve done.”

“That depends, on how PG-13 it is,” Hugh said as he eyed Nova. It was one of those looks that made her feel like she was undercover as a renegade again. It made her feel like she’d be sent to prison if they found out her secrets. Not that they would.

“It’s on the low end of PG-13,” Nova said.

Simon glared at his husband when Hugh set down a draw four. He drew the cards and seemed even more frustrated my what they were. “I want a divorce.”

Hugh grinned. “No you don’t. And go ahead and tell us Nova.”

She very pointedly didn’t make eye contact as she laid her card down. “Adrian wasn’t paying attention when he went to kiss me and accidentally stuck his tongue up my nose a little bit. It was weird. His cheeks were so bright it looked like he was wearing face paint.”

Simon snorted, Hugh covered his mouth with his hand to hold in his laughter, and Max made a disgusted face.

“I told you it was gross.”

“I can’t believe he…” Simon started laughing so hard he had to set is cards down.

Now that he was laughing, Nova looked them in the eyes with a small smile on her face. “Honestly, neither can I.”

“How would that even happen?” Hugh wheezed. “Please… please don’t tell me he kisses you with his tongue out all the time, because if he does we’re going to have to talk about that.”

“No, he definitely doesn’t,” Nova assured him. “I have no idea what he was trying to do that day and he knows better than to do… whatever that was again.”

Max gave her a look “Up your nose?”

“Only a little, but it was enough to be weird. I think he was going to lick the tip of my nose because I was annoying him.”

“And he misjudged the distance,” Simon mused now that he was calmed down a little bit. He picked his cards back up and took his turn, but he was still smiling at his ridiculous son. “We know his vision is terrible without his glasses, but he’s always been a bad shot with a gun too. Maybe his depth perception is off.”

Hugh set another card down. “But it hasn’t been much of a problem before. Drawing takes depth perception and he’s great at that.”

“It actually doesn’t take that much,” Nova said.

Simon and Hugh looked at her curiously.

She flushed slightly, still not exactly used to the two of them looking at her like she had more answers than them. “Well, think about it. Drawing happens on a two dimensional surface, he only needs to look at the piece of paper, or glass, or wall, or whatever he’s drawing on. But shooting, or aiming at anything really, requires you to be more spatially aware.”

There were a few beats of silence, as if Simon and Hugh were thinking over what Nova said, wondering if maybe their son needed to go to the optometrist again sooner than his yearly appointment.

Max set a skip card down. “It’s still gross that he stuck his tongue up your nose.”

“It really is,” Nova agreed. “What’s your Adrian story for the week?”

“He charmed an ice cream lady into giving me free ice cream,” Max said with a grin. “He forgot his wallet when we went yesterday and offered to take a picture with her in exchange.”

“Why wouldn’t you guys just come back and get it?” Hugh asked.

Just as Max opened his mouth, they could hear the front door open. Footsteps resounded down the hall toward them. “I’m home!” Adrian called to no one in particular.

“We’re in the living room!” Hugh called back as he tossed another card down.

Adrian stepped into the room and his brow furrowed the second he saw his dads, brother, and girlfriend sitting on the floor around the coffee table. “Uh… what’s going on in here?”

“Game night,” they chorused without looking away from their hands.

“Oooookay that was creepy.” He walked across the room and sat on the couch behind Nova. Leaning over he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

She gently swatted him away. “Don’t look at my cards, you’d just go tell Max what I have.”

“What?” He laughed. “No I wouldn’t.”

“Yes you would,” Nova, Simon, and Hugh said together.

Adrian made a face. “You guys gotta stop doing that.”

“And you need to stop sticking your tongue up Nova’s nose,” Max said.

His cheeks heated, eyes darting back down to Nova. “You told them?”

She at least looked sympathetic when she turned toward him and rested her cheek on the side of his thigh. “Sorry. They pried it out of me. But in my defense, you didn’t give me any other good stories to tell them for this week.”

“What does that even mean?” he asked, more more confused than he’d been when he walked in. “Stories? You do--” Adrian paused mid sentence, eyes widening with realization. “You guys have been talking about me. That’s how you knew about the incident at the parade when I was thirteen.” He looked at his fathers. “You promised you’d never tell anyone about that.”

Simon grinned widely. “Actually we promised we’d never tell any of your friends about that, and we haven’t. Nova’s your girlfriend, therefore we haven’t broken any promises.”

“Friend is in the word!”

Nova reached her hand up to cup Adrian’s cheek, giving him a soft smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

He sighed and leaned into her, trusting her. “No more swapping stories about me.”

“Now that I can’t do. This is our destressing time.”

“You can destress with me.”

She shook her head. “No can do. Your dads and Max need this too. You’re more than welcome to join us if you want to listen to stories about yourself though.”

“I’ll pass.”

“In that case…” Nova let her power surge through her, putting him into a peaceful nap. Adrian slumped back against the couch. He’d wake up in an hour or two feeling refreshed. By then they’d be done with game night and she could spend some quality time with him.

She turned back to the table where it was still her turn.

“Go drink the pickle juice,” Max said. “You cheated.”

“He wasn’t even playing!”

part 2 (kinda?)

#renegades #arch enemies #fanfic #mine mine mine #i wrote this #renegades fic #supernova #supernova spoilers #spoilers #beware #nodrian #nova artino #adrian everhart #hugh everhart #simon westwood #max everhart #We Rise with the Sun

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khaoticallykat · 4 years

Text

◇The Prince and The Punk◇

Chapter 3: The Girl at the Rock Show

word count: 2,048

Warnings: sight mention of abuse

Summary: Ransom goes to a concert with you.

A/n: Wow, I'm so sorry this took so long to write, I had a lot of stuff going on within the last 2-3 weeks, but im getting back into the groove of writing. Thank you all for understanding and supporting me. 💖 (does this spacing look weird to you? Let me know.)

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You've been fighting with yourself all week over whether to confront Clarissa, you knew getting into someone's relationship would cause problems, but you couldn't just let what you heard go. You sat in the library at campus, zoning out from the laptop you were looking at, you finally started to get to know Ransom, you would even probably call him your friend.

You were snapped back into reality as Ransom snapped his fingers in front of your face, "You must be really focused," he laughed, sitting across from you, "what are you working on?"

"A little research paper before we're out for winter break." You said, going back to typing, "don't you have a paper to work on?"

"I'm done already," he smirked, you noticed he was wearing one of his white sweaters today, his right cheek was a little flushed, your heart sank, wondering if Clarissa hit him again. "you have any plans for winter break?"

"I'm going to a concert tonight, that's really it, work and go home," you said, "hey does-"

"A concert? With one of those bands you like? Can I come?" His blue eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Really? You?" You tried to hold a laugh, "you wanna go to a concert? It might be too much for your rich ass."

"How bad can it be? Clarissa is going on a trip with some girls from the cheer team and I got nothing but free time."

Your jaw clenched at her name but you remained calm, you could ask him later.

"Alright, you wanna go? Then meet me at my house at 6," You wrote down your address and cell phone number and handed it to him, "and I wouldn't wear that, it'd be a shame to see that sweater ruined."

Walking across the field to your car, you passed by the cheerleaders, all who were chatting with Clarissa. You did your best to ignore the loud talking amongst them but you turned your head when you heard your name being called.

"Y/n! Hey!" Clarissa was running over to you, dressed in the university's sweat suit, "sorry for the short talk yesterday, maybe we started off wrong."

You looked into her baby blue eyes, knowing damn well that was a lie.

"Yeah, I think we did too."

"We should try to get to know each other, do you wanna come hang out with me and the squad?"

You rather pull your eyelashes out, but maybe you could try to get to know her.

"Ah, yeah, sure." You smiled and followed her over to the circle of girls, you were introduced to each one and they all seemed rather nice. They mainly talked about their classes, some were even in the same majors as you. They also talked about their upcoming trip, they were using one of the girl's parent's vacation house by a lake, it honestly sounded fun, but you couldn't shake the feeling of something bad, most likely Clarissa was burning holes into you under that preppy demeanor.

Clarissa checked her phone and smiled, "I got a few things to finish before we leave tonight," she said, breaking away from the group, "but I'll see you all later."

The girls waved their byes and you took the chance to leave too, some shook your hand while others hugged you, it felt a little strange but you happily gave them hugs back. On the way to your car, you caught a glimpse of Ransom and Clarissa talking from across the campus. A cold shiver ran down your spine and alarms were going off in your head, you should check on him, to make sure he doesn't get hurt. But it wasn't your place to do that, taking a deep breath, you unlocked your car and drove home, you sworn you could have seen Ransom looking right at you.

It was almost four thirty when you arrived back at home, the little two story house was simple and modern, grey with red window panes. Your father brought it when you were still just a baby, but worked on it over time. You took off your bag and coat, leaving your boots by the door, your mother came around the corner from the bedroom and greeted you.

"Long day today?" She asked, you mother was smart and kind, but she also didn't mess around when it came to family or her patients.

"Yeah, but you know I'm going to that concert tonight, right?"

Her brows furrowed, "It's going to snow tonight, anyone going with you?"

"A friend from college, he begged me to come so he's gonna drive us." You walked into the kitchen and sat your stuff down to look through the fridge for leftovers from last night.

"Your dad ate the leftovers," you groaned and closed the fridge in defeat, opting to make instant noodles instead, "that has a lot of sodium you know? And your friend, can he drive in the snow?"

"Yes, mom, we'll be fine, worse case scenario is that I have to stay with him, and he's right in town."

Your mother, still hesitant on letting you go, rubbed your back, "I trust you enough, I've seen it everytime you go to those crazy concerts, you are careful and mature, just be extra careful tonight."

"I will."

You were getting changed when your mother called you from the bottom of the stairs,"Y/n! There's a young man down here to see you, he's very handsome, his name is Ransom, where did you find him?"

You groaned loudly in annoyance, the down side was that your mother could be really embarrassed, on purpose. You grabbed a jacket and huffed down the stairs, seeing Ransom in your living room, he wore a black long sleeved shirt that hugged his arms and black jeans, it was definitely a shock to see him in darker colors.

"I found him in the trash at school, he looked like he needed a home," You joked with you mom, Ransom felt the burn from that comment but still held a smile on his face. "You look like you're about to go commit a crime."

"There was that one time in high school with the principal's car." Ransom laughed.

"Well, one person's trash is another's treasure, don't let me hold you two back, just be safe, and try to stay out of trouble." Your mom winked at the both of you before going back to her room.

You grabbed your keys and opened the front door, "let's get going, traffic is going to be a bitch."

The car ride with Ransom was going well, traffic would happen in certain parts but he made sure that the both of had something to talk about. By the time you arrived to the venue, snowflakes began to fall, you cursed your mom for being right all the time.

"Hopefully this snow won't be too bad on the way back," Ransom said, "you never told me who we were seeing."

"Dreams of Demise," you smiled, "they're band is from a small town but they're really good."

His eyebrows raised a little, "Holy shit, they sound a little intense." He laughed, opening the door to a large room filled with people and loud metal music playing, Ransom's eyes went wide, taking in everything around him.

You started laughing at his expression, "yeah, it's a little intense, you gonna be ok? You look like you're gonna piss yourself."

"I'll be fine, just gotta break in to this a little more." He said as you both made your way through the crowd to the stage, the band was starting to set up to play and the room was buzzing with excitement.

"Trust me, you'll either break in or be broken, just hope you can handle it." You smiled at him, watching his eyes light up with the same excitement.

"Well, I'm fucking ready to enjoy this."

You and Ransom walk out of the concert right when it was over, the snow had gotten heavier, more than a inches on the ground but it didn't stop the adrenaline that you both felt.

"THAT WAS AMAZING!" Ransom cheered as he ran out into the night, almost slipping on an ice patch. His hair, no longer in the posh pretty boy style, he looked disheveled and wild, it was a good look on him, at this point, he could make a potato sack look good.

"And you didn't die, I knew you could do it," You laughed, getting in the car, "and you even got yourself into a mosh pit, I'm proud, baby's first mosh."

"I want to go to another one, I know some of the bands you like,I could pay for us to go to another one." He turned on the car and dusted the snow off the windshield.

"Maybe, you don't have to pay, I make it by just fine."

The roads were clear of any cars as Ransom drove, the temperature dropped below freezing and he did his best to not slide on any black ice. About a half hour into the drive, you notice the road was blocked going towards your house, you both groaned, knowing that would add an extra hour to the trip back.

"Hey, this snow is getting worse, I don't live that far from here, it might be safe just to stay with me until some of this clears in the morning." Ransom said, pulling over to the side of the road, "If you're ok with that."

"There's no other choice right? I don't want you risking your life to get me home, if you're closer, then I'll stay." You were feeling slightly uncomfortable as you thought about staying the night with Ransom, you knew he lived on his own, you both started a friendship so it would be alright, right? Your stomach fluttered as you sighed.

"SLEEPOVER!" He yelled in the all too quiet car, scaring you back into reality.

"WHAT THE FUCK RANSOM?!" you went to smack his arm but stopped yourself when you saw the smallest flinch, he was pressed against the driver door, that hint of fear in his eyes shown for a brief moment.

"I just haven't had anyone sleep over in a while," he chuckled, "it'll be fun, I got food!"

You nodded, placing your hand on his shoulder, "then let's get going."

Ransom's house looked as you expected it to be, fancy, modern and simple. He pulled into the long driveway and into the garage, "it might be a little cold in here, I like it like that." He lead you up into the living room, hardwood floors with a fluffy rug that definitely was from an animal. You stood awkwardly in the threshold of the kitchen and living while you watch him move about.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs, you followed him up the spiraling staircase until you reached the top, grey carpet was all throughout the upstairs, even in your boots you knew the material was something you couldn't even afford a square foot of. "This is gonna be your room tonight." He opened a door and flipped the lights on, the bed was a queen with grey wooden pillars, simple pillows and blankets laid neatly on it.

"Wow, you actually keep it clean in here." You laughed

"I have a cleaning lady come over every other day, she makes it look like I don't even use my bedroom," He laughed before showing you the bathroom, "and here's the bathroom, you can take a shower whenever, just be careful not to slip." Ransom walked into another room that you assumed was his, you waited by the door, taking peaks in. He came back out with clothing in his arms, "these might be a little big on you, but it's better than sleeping in concert clothes."

You took the clothes and smiled, "Thanks Ransom, you didn't have to do all this for me."

"That's what friends are for," he said, his eyes softly looking at you, you gave a strong yawn and wiped your eyes, "you should get some rest Y/n."

"I am," you walked over to the guest room and waved, "goodnight Ransom."

"Goodnight Y/n."

#ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #Tp&TP #the prince and the punk

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is0gild · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 12

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 10,649

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

There was no way.

No. Friggin'. Possible. Way.

Rayne was bonkers. Off her rocker. Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. A couple screws short of a toolbox, a few cards shy of a full deck, and several fries scant of a Happy Meal.

She was just… wrong. She had to be. The very idea was outrageous. Laughable, even. There was just without a doubt and quite simply no way.

No way that Lea had a crush on me, that is.

I mean, come on! All I'd ever done was make a complete bumbling idiot out of myself in front of the guy! I'd kissed him before uttering so much as my very first 'hello' to him, chucked a phone at a wall in front of him for no apparent reason after spouting off nonsensical gibberish, sat on him without even the slightest bit of a heads up or forewarning - which to be fair wasn't really my fault, but still! I could go on and on with this list, but I'd rather not as it was just depressing me at this point.

Had a crush on me? Please, he probably just saw me as a total trainwreck of a human being by now and was merely half curious, half terrified to see what would next be pulled out of the bag of crazy that was me. So no, he absolutely did not have any sort of feelings even remotely resembling… that. Not at all. Not towards me.

...so then why did I now find myself hovering outside the mall, trapped in a heated staring contest with my pale reflection in the glass door as arriving and leaving customers gave me weird looks, the very idea of so much as taking one more single, solitary step over that threshold and into the food court seeming utterly impossible to me?

It'd been a couple days since the now infamous (or so it was in my head, at least) Friday night out. A couple of days which I'd thankfully had off from work, giving me some much needed time to recuperate from all that stressful social activity. By the grace of some benevolent deity up above, not to mention my magnanimous, boundless mercy, Anna still lived. But she hadn't got off without a long, stern, and particularly mind-numbing lecture from me, as well as a promise from her to keep me stocked in a lifetime supply of Triple Chocolate Mallowpuffs by way of recompense. She wasn't completely off the hook yet, but it was a start.

During my downtime, I had given little to no thought to Rayne's musings - aka unhinged ravings of a madwoman. Oh sure, the stray ghost of her words might have flitted across the back of my mind once or twice. But whenever they had, I'd simply banished the silly notion with a soft chuckle and a shake of my head.

Which is why I wasn't quite sure what the big deal was now, out of the blue, here, at the entrance to Dusk Town Center, right before my first shift back since the night at the bar. Why in my brain, her words had cranked up from a barely audible whisper to a full blasting, thundering roar played on loop. Why the idea of facing Lea now just all of a sudden seemed so…

...intimidating.

...ugh, this was stupid.

I was being stupid.

It wasn't like I was some third grader in the schoolyard afraid of catching cooties from a boy. I was an adult, damn it! An adult in the adult world with an adult job leading an adult life! So I could handle any such feelings, or more specifically lack thereof, like a goddamn adult!

He did not have a crush on me.

He did not.

With that, a newfound determination filled me. Eyes hardening, chest puffing up, and shoulders squaring, I grabbed the door handle, yanked it open with more force than necessary and marched into the food court with my head held high.

...followed immediately by flipping a one-eighty, dashing back outside and around a corner to hide, pressing my back against the wall with one hand over my hammering heart.

Well done, champ. A for effort. Did a real bang up job there, eh?

I took a few seconds to regain my composure and fortify my resolve. Then I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, straightening up to my full height once more. Alright, take two. Giving myself a firm, reassuring nod, I walked back inside again.

It was there, seated at a food court table roughly halfway between Pizza Planet and Ice Palace, that the reason for my initial retreat could be spotted. Lea was hunched over what looked to be a textbook of some sort, with papers covered in messy scrawl strewn about every inch of the round dining surface. He was gnawing a pencil between his teeth and agitatedly ruffling his hair as flipped to the next page. I don't know why I had given into my knee-jerk reaction to run from him the second I'd seen him. He was so engrossed in whatever he was working on, I highly doubted he'd even noticed me walk in. And I was strongly suspecting he'd probably continue to fail to notice me if I just strolled straight on past him to the Ice Palace to prepare for the start of my shift.

Which is exactly what I was going to do.

Or at least, that'd been the plan anyway.

But something stopped me. A sort of… stubbornness that abruptly flared up within me. I wanted to settle this right here, right now. Prove once and for all without a doubt that Rayne was in fact a total loon and that he definitely did not see me as anything more than just a friend. I still had a few more minutes before I had to clock in, so now was a good a time as any.

Seizing the opportunity before I could overthink things and lose my nerve, I made a detour and headed straight towards where Lea sat. Arriving at his table, I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down heavily, burdened with great purpose.

Alright. Phase One of the Mission Not A Crush complete. On to Phase Two.

Which was…?

Good question. Was actually... still kind of, sort of trying to figure that one out.

Potentially a greeting of some sort would be a good place to start.

As Lea glanced up and became aware of my presence at last, I began, "H-"

He leapt out of his seat and bolted, knocking several loose papers off the table in his wake.

I blinked.

...see? Not a crush.

Not if he was running away in fear at the very sight of me.

As well he should. I was a very fearsome vision to behold, after all. My mere visage redefined the very essence of horror, did it not? Look upon me and tremble, puny mortals, for I-

"Ow! Hey, quit it already!" a voice that sounded suspiciously like Xion's pulled me from my thoughts.

Turning my head towards where it'd come from, sure enough, there Lea was with the girl in tow. Literally. He was dragging Xion over to the table by one of her ears pinched between his fingers. The two of them pulled up to a stop in front of me, Lea scowling as he released her and she stumbled a few steps forward. With a tiny hiss of pain as she rubbed the abused lobe, she glanced back at him. He simply crossed his arms and started tapping his foot, clearly waiting for something.

Xion looked at me now with a guilty frown, folding her hands together just below her waist and bowing her head. "Please forgive me, Elsa, I am so very, very sorry. Sorry for tricking you-"

Lea cleared his throat.

She hastily tacked on, "-and for conspiring with Anna-"

He did it again, louder this time.

"-and, uh… for manhandling you into my car-"

A third time.

"-and…" she pursed her lips to one side, squinting up in thought, "...and for not driving with the comfort and safety of my passengers in mind-"

Once more, with feeling.

"-and for, ah… providing… less than optimal seating arrangements to you throughout the whole experience?" Xion ventured, glancing back at Lea. He rolled his eyes but gave a shrug, which she seemed to take more or less as a sign of his grudging acceptance. Her eyes then fixed on me once more, "I meant no offense, but sincerely apologize if I embarrassed you or made you feel uncomfortable in any way."

...this… I had not been expecting.

I just stared blankly at her for a second. Then I realized she was patiently awaiting my response. "Oh! Um," I gave a tiny awkward laugh, "that's okay. We're fine. Totally good. Don't, uh… don't even worry about it."

Her face immediately lit up with a relieved smile. "Thanks, you're the sweetest!" Then she gave Lea a dull look. "Satisfied? Can I get back to my job now?"

His eyelids drooped, but he sighed and waved her off. She ran past him, blowing a raspberry in his direction as she went. He plopped back down into his chair at the table, pinching the bridge of his nose as he grumbled, "Kids these days, I swear."

"Thanks," I smiled at him, "that was really very thoughtful, but you didn't have to make her do that. It wasn't necessary."

"Somebody's gotta teach the lil twerp good manners and respect," he leaned back in his chair slightly, scratching a spot behind his ear. "Her parents certainly never did."

Humming a soft, noncommittal noise, I then looked down at the clutter littered across the table. "So what are you up to? What is all this?"

"Decided to take my lunch break to try and unravel the enigma that is," he held the textbook up, showing me the cover, "Intro to Calculus. It's being a real pain in the ass though. Honestly, who needs to know all this crap? Evil math genius super villains, that's who! Shit, I'm just looking to run a lil shanty of an ice cream parlor by the sea, not trying to calculate how to blow up the sun or anything," he tossed his pencil down against the open pages of the book.

I rubbed a knuckle along my lips as I felt them tug up at one corner. "Not math's biggest fan, I take it?"

"Not my strong point, no, but usually I can get by. Unfortunately, I caught some kinda bug a couple weeks back and had to miss a few days of lectures. Asked the teach what I missed, but he's a royal asshole. Just brushed me off, telling me to talk to his TA instead."

"And the TA?"

"Mini asshole in the making," he scoffed, snatching up a small stack of sheets from the table to wave about. "Just handed me his photocopied notes for the days I was out sick and told me to figure it out. They're useless though. I can't read his chicken scratch. A big test is coming up on all of this too that's s'posed to be a huge chunk of our grade, so I really need to wrap my head around this junk."

"Maybe I can help. Let me see." I moved closer, shifting over to the seat beside him. My shoulder brushed against his as I leaned in, spotting a piece of paper sticking out from beneath the textbook on which it looked like he'd been trying to (unsuccessfully) work through some of the chapter's exercise problems. "Derivatives, huh?" I murmured, picking it up to take a closer look. Then I pointed to the first equation, "This one is almost right, you just forgot to conjugate the binomial. It's an easy mistake, anyone could've made it."

"I, uh…" he trailed off. I glanced over at him, realization just now smacking me like a ton of bricks at how close our faces were. Boundaries, Elsa, boundaries! Dropping the paper, I quickly pulled away, spine banging firmly against the back of my seat. Clearing his throat, Lea picked up the sheet and glared down at it, "Damn, I thought I did that!" After a couple seconds of scrutiny, he grabbed his pencil and started furiously erasing his work before jotting in new numbers, his knee jiggling restlessly beneath the table. The scratching of the graphite stilled almost immediately however as he looked over at me, quirking an eyebrow. "...weren't you an Art History major?"

Reaching for my ponytail to self-consciously pluck at a tendril, I said, "Well, yeah, but I'm pretty good with numbers too. You're in luck, Calculus was just about where I called it when it came to college math courses. I mean, I took the class a couple years ago, but a lot of it's still pretty fresh in my brain. I'd be happy to work through more of it with you, but..." I frowned up at the giant clock hanging over the food court entrance. "My shift's about to start."

His eyes followed my gaze and he grimaced. "Crap, I need to punch back in myself." He rose to his feet, slamming the book shut and swiftly gathering all his stuff into one big, crumpled heap. His gaze shifted to glance at me out of his peripheral. "...you working tomorrow?"

I stood as well, tipping my head to one side. "No, but then I'm back on the schedule for the next three days after it. Why?"

"Good, I have it off too." Things more or less together now, he picked the sloppy stack up and tucked it under one arm as he slid the pencil behind one ear. "You think maybe you could help me cram for my exam? Say…" he looked away, rubbing the nape of his neck, "...my place around noon tomorrow?"

My eyes widened a fraction. "Oh! Uh… yes. Sure. Of course! I don't already have plans, so I'd be glad to. What are friends for, after all?"

Note the keyword here: friends. Cuz that's what we were. Period.

The huge smile that broke out across his face now all but blinded me. "Thanks, El, you rock! I owe you big time for this! I'll treat you to an absolute mountain of your favorite ice cream, which is…" he paused, narrowing his eyes for a second before snapping his fingers and pointing at me. "...Goofy Parfait? No, too basic… Double Crunch? Nah, that's not it either. Eh, I'll figure it out sooner or later! I'm closing in, I can feel it!" He started jogging backwards towards the Pizza Planet. "Anyway, you can get my address from Raindrop! S-" He bumped into a plastic chair, stumbled for a bit before catching himself as another paper flew loose. "Heh… meant to do that. See ya tomorrow!" He waved then turned and sprinted off to avoid clocking in late.

I raised my hand, my fingers curling in a tentative wave back, "Yeah… tomorrow…"

So that, apparently, was Phase Two of Mission Not A Crush.

Go to his home and prove it there.

Perfect.

What could possibly go wrong?

A lot.

That was the answer you were looking for.

A lot could go wrong.

Starting with-

"Ahhhhh!" Rayne squealed yet again as she turned the steering wheel, making the car take a right down a side road. "I can't believe my baby's going on her first date! It really is true, they grow up so fast!" she gave a mock sniffle as she reached over to pinch my cheek.

My left eye twitched and I swatted her hand away. It was a mistake telling her. But Lea had told me to get his address from her. And of course the second I'd asked, she had insisted on driving me there. Should have seen that one coming a mile away. I sighed, "I've had dates before. It's kind of hard to wind up engaged without going on a few dates first. Not impossible, mind you, but hard. And it's not a date, I'm just helping him study for a test."

"Mmmhmmm, sure," she gave me a knowing smirk, "and I'll bet you get all dolled up in a new dress like this for all your other not-a-dates."

"Please, I bought this secondhand in a thrift shop for ten dollars, I hardly call that getting dolled up," I rolled my eyes before looking down at myself.

As it turns out, yesterday had been payday. Meaning my first check, hallelujah! I think this officially made me a bonafide adult. And seeing as how my wardrobe was limited to my work clothes, a couple of hand-me-downs from Rayne that she no longer wore, and that one outfit I had, er… shall we say "borrowed" during my whirlwind escape on my wedding day, I had felt some clothes shopping had been in order after I got off shift yesterday. But working at an ice cream shop in the local mall doesn't exactly have you rolling in the big bucks, as one might imagine, so I'd quickly discovered that a used clothing store was a dirt poor girl's best friend.

I'll admit that I had lucked out a bit with the sundress I now wore, given that it'd come from the bargain bin and had even miraculously fit like a glove. It was a pastel blue with tiny, faded white polka dots, its gently billowing skirt falling to just below my knees. Triple spaghetti straps held it up at the shoulders and it had a sweetheart neckline with embroidered, white lace trim. It was high waisted, with ribbon weaving up the front of the bodice segment and a loose bow tied at the small of my back. Paired with my usual ankle boots of course, because really, who had the munny for more than one pair of shoes? Not me, that's for sure! But the best part? Stockings. Blessed, blessed stockings! My legs could die happy now.

So was it a new dress? Yes, but that was more so to do with my distinct lack of other options than anything else. And, okay sure, the thought had crossed my mind that this was the first time Lea would be seeing me not in Ice Palace attire, so of course I'd wanted to look at the very least, erm… presentable? Yes, that was the word. Presentable. Was that a crime now? I think not!

"Well I think you look cute enough to eat!" she declared before waggling her eyebrows at me. "I'm sure that's what Lea will be thinking too."

"Oh my god, Rayne!" I huffed, hiding my face in my hands and slouching down into the car seat.

I don't know a lot about having friends, but I wonder if they're exchangeable. Like, if you can return them to Ye Olde Friend Shoppe and get store credit that can go towards the purchase of a new gal pal, one that's not delusional and won't take sadistic pleasure in teasing you mercilessly. Yeah, that'd be super-duper nice right about now.

"We hath arrived!" I heard her gleefully announce, feeling the vehicle come to a full stop.

I peeked out between my fingers to see we were now parked at the curb beside a long, colorful row of what looked to be duplex apartments. As I lowered my hands completely, Rayne suddenly seized my chin and jerked my face towards her, studying me with eyes squinted. My brow furrowed, "...what are you doing?"

"Hold still." My jaw still trapped within her iron grasp, she reached for her bag in the backseat, hand noisily rummaging inside for a few seconds before pulling out a light brown makeup pencil. "I wanna make those adorable freckles of yours hella pop so that boy really goes all weak in the knees."

"Ugh!" I yanked my chin free and snatched the pencil away from her, rolling down my window and chucking it outside the car.

"Hey! Those aren't free, you know!"

"Tack it onto what I owe for rent," I grumbled as I closed the window again.

"Whatever," she huffed before she started taking off her jacket. "Take this, will you? It's chilly out, I don't want you to get cold."

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I gently pushed the proffered garment away, "I'll be fine. The cold never bothered me anyway, you know that."

She shrugged, tossing it into the back. "Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when you catch your death out there." I reached for the door handle, but stopped as she said, "Hold it, c'mere." Oi, what now? I slowly turned my head to cock an eyebrow at her. She licked the pad of her thumb and wiped it across my cheek, "You got a lil schmutz."

I couldn't get out of the car fast enough, staggering onto the sidewalk and whipping around to slam the door shut behind me, nostrils flaring as I narrowed my eyes down at her.

She lowered the passenger window again, gracing me with a sly grin. "Have fun on your study date, sweetpea!"

"It's not a-" The engine roared and she cackled as she sped off. I stamped my foot and crossed my arms, lips twisting sourly. "...date."

It wasn't! That was in fact what I'd come here to prove, after all. That there was no crush and this was not a date. She'd see. I'd show her. Then we'd see who got the last laugh. Ha!

As I turned to face the line of apartments, I realized I had no clue which one was supposed to be Lea's. Rayne had never given me a unit number, just told me she knew exactly where it was and would take me there. I would hope that this one coated in a dingy cherry paint that she'd dropped me off directly in front of would be it, but with that girl's sanity track record lately, I couldn't be sure that was a totally safe bet. Still, I had to knock on one of these doors, so this one was as good as any to try first.

Running my hands down my dress to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles and sweeping my braid forward over one shoulder, I puffed out a slow breath and put one foot forward. Then, after a pause, the other. Then the other. Eventually, I was climbing the three steps that led up to the door and coming to a stop in front of it.

Then I hesitated, gnawing on my lower lip.

Smoothed my dress again.

Fidgeted with my braid some more.

...I was running out of ways to stall.

Inhaling and exhaling once more, I brought my fist up to the door, preparing to initiate Phase Two of Not A Crush. And came to an abrupt halt, my knuckles a hairbreadth's away from the wood.

Because now we came to the second thing to go wrong.

That being me realizing I had absolutely zero idea of how to accomplish Phase Two.

In fact, what the heck was I even doing here? I struggled with regular one-on-one social interactions on any given normal day, even when I didn't have an ulterior motive to worry about on the side. How on earth had I fooled myself into believing I could handle it, this, here, now, while juggling a stupidly self imposed secret mission as well? This was a terrible plan! What the actual frick had I been thinking?! Did I know myself but at all?!

...you know what? I'm leaving. This was already too much and I hadn't even gotten past the friggin' front door yet. Sorry to bail, Lea, but you're a smart lad with a good head on your shoulders. I have the utmost faith in your ability to navigate yourself through the trials and tribulations of Calculus all on our own. Peace, I'm out!

Spinning on my heel, I rushed back down the steps and beelined for the sidewalk. The walk home wouldn't be short. And I hadn't been paying attention on the drive over, so I wasn't even sure which way I should go. But psssh, minor detail. I'd just pick a direction and if it was meant to be, I'd find myself on my own doorstep sooner or later, right? Right. Now this was a plan I could get on board with. This, I could-

"El?"

I froze mid-step with a wince, gritting my teeth.

Fudge.

...should I just make a run for it?

Probably not. Pretty sure he was way faster than me with those freakishly long legs of his.

Putting on a shaky smile, I stiffly turned back around to see that front door now open with Lea standing on the threshold, giving me a quizzical look.

And it was just hitting me now as I looked at him that this wasn't only going to be the first time he was seeing me out of work clothes, but the first time I was seeing him out of his too. He was wearing a long, untucked button up that was a deep purple plaid and sleeveless, with a black tee on underneath and a black, loose hoodie vest that hung open over it. His legs were clad in dark, dark red skinny jeans, accompanied by tall black boots on his feet. His hair had been pulled back into a stylishly messy ponytail with a few spiky bangs poking free and of course he was sporting his usual guyliner. Though was it just my imagination or was there a bit of an extra swoosh to those wings at the corner of his eyes today? Probably just my imagination.

He… cleaned up pretty good.

...I mean, not that I pay attention to stuff like that or anything. Ahem, anyway!

"Where ya going?" He moved one step down the small set of cement stairs, grinning slightly. "You know that's the wrong direction, right? Living room's this way."

"...it is?"

First thing to blurt out of my mouth and we're off to a simply superb start here.

"Oh! Y-yes! Of course it is! I… I knew that! But, ah…" I took a teeny step backwards. "...I forgot something at… at home!"

Yeah, my backbone.

"That's it!" I laughed weakly and there was another shift back of my feet. "So I was just going to, you know…" I jerked both thumbs to the right, "go get it! Then… come straight back. Here. To your place, uh... o-of course!"

He frowned, looking down the street before glancing back at me. "You were gonna walk? Isn't that kinda far? Tell ya what, let me go grab my car keys and I can swing you back by your place real quick."

"No!" I threw up my hands, rapidly shaking my head. Drat. Thwarted. "N-no, that's… that's fine. And you know what? It's... not actually all that important. Really! Turns out I, um… I don't need it after all."

Looks like it was just time for me to grow a spine instead.

"Oh. Okay then, if you're sure," he shrugged before heading back up the steps and walking inside, holding the door open wide for me and smiling big. "Come on in. Mi casa es su casa!"

"Th...thanks," I managed to squeak past the anxiety squeezing my throat, making it hard to get words out. Taking a deep breath, I clenched and unclenched my clammy hands before clasping them together in front of me just below my waist. Then I rallied, if only just barely, and got myself up those stairs and inside, hearing him shut the door behind me.

The room I'd stepped into was open and rather spacious. To the right seemed to be the living room, in the middle of which stood a long coffee table, a couple of armchairs, a well-worn plush blue sofa covered in far too many pillows (all of them mismatched) and a large rug checkered in various shades of red. A giant dark wood entertainment center took up one wall with a large flat screen in the middle. The shelves surrounding it were mostly filled with books and DVDs, but there were a few odds and ends to decorate it as well, such as a couple of red frisbees sporting sinister-faced fireball decals in one cubbie, while in another sat a framed chart of what looked to be the lunar cycle.

To my left was a dinette space with its table already buried underneath a textbook and a mound of papers, and further to the left beyond that lay the kitchen. The two rooms were separated by an island counter wedged between a pair of thick square columns, the one furthest forward having a skinny door in it that was currently closed. Behind the dinner table and further back in the apartment was an open arch leading into a small corridor - more of an alcove, really - with two doors on the back wall and two more at either end of the hall.

"So..." I began as I glanced around, fingers already fiddling with the tip of my braid, "this is your casa?"

"Yup! Let me give you the grand tour." He all but bounced into the sitting area, arms dramatically flourishing in his best Vanna White impersonation. "The living room! Top of the line and comes with all the deluxe amenities you could ever dream of, including a couch as ugly as sin and a rug old enough to be your father!"

I snorted into my fist, biting back a tiny grin as I felt some of my tenseness beginning to fade, if only by a smidge. "Fancy."

"You like that? Well then prepare to have your mind blown." He darted over to the left side of the apartment now, presenting it with another theatrical sweep of his hands. "Dining room! And get this, you're never gonna guess… a kitchen!"

"Wow, dining room and kitchen? Amazing, you really do live in the lap of luxury here. My my, how the other half lives."

"I try not to let it go to my head. And check it out," he moved to the column bearing the small, inset door and pushed it open, revealing cramped shelves full of foodstuffs, "comes complete with itty-bitty pantry space!" It really was tiny. Could Lea even fit in there? Leaving the door open a crack, he then moved into the hallway, smacking a hand to the back door on the left. "My room." He pointed to the door at the right end of the hall, "Bathroom." Then the one at the left end, "Closet."

Nodding, I looked to the only remaining door directly to the right of Lea's bedroom. "And that one?"

He shook his head and waggled an index finger, "Oh-ho no, you don't wanna know what horrors lay beyond that door."

I quirked an eyebrow at that, one corner of my lips twitching upward. "Is that where you hide all the bodies then?"

"How'd you know?" He'd said it with such dead seriousness that for a second there, I started to get nervous. Then he snerked and chuckled, folding his arms beneath his chest as he leaned a shoulder against the inside of the archway. "You really are too easy, ya know that? Nah, that's just where I keep my household Saïx."

My head tilted. "...what's a Saïx?"

"Two for one deal, roomie-brother combo."

"You live with your brother? That sounds nice... not a lot of people do that after highschool."

One of his shoulders bobbed in a half-shrug, "Half-brother if ya wanna get technical, but yeah. We grew up in the foster system and had to put up with a lotta crap. Learned fast the best way to survive was for us to stick together. I guess old habits die hard. But I don't see him all that much anymore actually."

"Oh?" I frowned at that. "Why not?"

"I'm a creature of the sun, he's a child of the moon. Total night owl. His job keeps him up all hours and he sleeps all day. Nowadays I really only see him during breakfast which is his dinner and vice versa."

My eyebrows knit together. "What's he do for a living?"

Another bounce of the shoulder. "Hell if I know. He works remotely, so basically just locks himself up in his room all night glued to his laptop. Rox and Xion sometimes do take a late night though and caffeine up before dropping by to drag his ass outta his hidey-hole n' make sure he gets some fresh air every once in a while. The kiddos are convinced he's a vampire at this point, swear up and down that they've even seen him hiss at sunlight. But I know that's just silly. Totally ridiculous." Here he paused with a smirk. "Cuz he's obviously a werewolf."

A smile tugged at my lips. "Obviously?"

"Yup! All the clues are there." He struck up a finger. "Crazy obsessed with the moon." Up went a second one. "Likes his steak so rare, it's still mooing. Classic sign of lycanthropy." A third digit joined the other two. "And here's the real kicker: dogs? Love him."

"Wow," I laughed softly. "Well then, with such irrefutable proof, hard to argue that logic."

"Thank you," Lea bowed his head. Then he pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the dining table, pulling out a chair for me. "On that note, shall we?"

I nodded, taking the offered seat and reaching for one of the pages of notes. "Sounds good. Let's get to it."

"Bueno Volcano?"

I glanced up from the open textbook before me, blinking once at Lea before my eyelids drooped. "No, I do not believe the derivative of F evaluated at X as H approaches zero is… Bueno Volcano."

Another one of our flavors of ice cream, as you might've already guessed.

He was staring at me with a completely straight face while wearing his pencil like a moustache. Removing it with a gentle harrumph, he leaned his chair back onto its hind legs, "C'mon, El, we've been at this for hours now. I need a study break."

I sighed through my nose, inserting a worksheet into the book to save the spot before shutting it. "Fine." I was kind of getting stiff from sitting still for so long. Stretching one arm over my head and arching my back to work some of the kinks out of my muscles, I asked, "So, Bueno Volcano… final answer?"

Lea's seat wobbled precariously and he had to grab the table to keep from falling over. Ruffling his hair with a sheepish laugh, he then visibly mulled for a second before shaking his head, "Nah. Spicy veggie ice cream is just weird. No one's into that junk."

"You'd be surprised," I hummed a chuckle, planting an elbow on a small stack of papers and resting my cheek in my palm. "You're running out of options. You sure you haven't guessed it already?"

"Positive. I'm getting warmer though. It's on the tip of my tongue now, I can practically taste it!"

I raised a brow at him. "So what's it taste like?"

He slapped a hand down to the table with a smile, declaring, "Victory!"

"...I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that flavor," I deadpanned.

"Bah, don't get cute, you know what I meant," he bopped my forehead with his pencil and I flicked it away. Then he tapped it to his chin as he eyed me thoughtfully. "...so why Art History?"

Um…? Where had that come from? Besides out of left field, that is. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, twirling the pencil between his fingers now. "Just something I've been curious about… why pick that as your major? Why stick with it until you graduated if you weren't feeling it? Why even start it in the first place?"

"I, uh…" I averted my gaze, hands rushing up to toy with my braid. Answering those questions would involve bringing up my parents. And that was a whole other can of worms that I wasn't sure I was particularly ready to pop open just yet.

"Ooo, I'm sensing another secret." Grinning, he scooched his chair over closer to me now, bumping his knee into mine. "Don't worry, I know information isn't free. So how 'bout another trade? Tit for tat. Quid pro quo. One o' mine for one o' yours. I'll start." Then he was lifting up his shirts.

And I, in turn, was turning beet red and slapping a hand over my eyes.

Jeez, this guy did not know how to keep his top on!

"I've had stitches!"

...oh.

My fingers tentatively parted and I saw that he'd only raised the layers of fabric by a few inches, revealing a jagged scar wrapped around his side just above his right hip, big and gnarly, but also old and long since healed. I was kind of amazed I hadn't noticed it the first time he was shirtless in front of me. Then again, he had been drenched in ice cream at the time which had most likely covered it, and I had been a little preoccupied with spazzing out and using my hat as a makeshift censor bar.

"What happened?" I breathed, lowering my hand.

"Saïx happened." I gaped up at him and he released the hems, letting them fall back into place as he batted a hand, "It was an accident. We were only kids at the time. But turns out a chainsaw? Not a toy."

I spluttered, "A ch-chainsaw?!"

"Pssh, it's no big deal, was only a lil one. It'd have to be for an eight year old to be able to lift it after all," he brushed off with a snerk.

Fixing him with a flat look, I muttered, "You and I have two very different definitions of 'no big deal.'"

"Trust me, it looks a lot worse than it actually was. Poor Saïx though, he thought he'd killed me and the little dweeb couldn't stop bawling his eyes out at the hospital. I think he cried more than I did that day, which is funny cuz I was always the bigger crybaby of the two of us." Lea smiled as he relaxed back into his chair a bit, interlocking his fingers behind his head, "Yeah, we were one screwed up pair o' brats. It's no wonder no family ever wanted to keep us monsters, we were a handful to say the least." Then he nudged my shoe with the toe of his boot, "Alright, your turn now."

I glanced away, pursing my lips to one side. Then I locked my gaze back on his with a tiny smirk. "I've shoplifted."

His eyes widened and his head rocked back a bit as he blinked at me a couple times. Then he was narrowing his gaze, "Okay, one, no fair, you know what info I wanted."

I let my shoulders rise and fall, "You just said a secret for a secret. Never specified I had to answer your earlier question."

The rolling of his eyes was his only retort to that before moving on, "Two... you? Shoplift?" He gave a snort. "Does not compute. What was it even, a stick of gum? Some change from the Take-A-Munny-Leave-A-Munny tray?"

I lifted my chin a hair and inspected my nails, feeling a bit too pleased with myself. He'd thought he'd had me pegged. Well, I'd shown him. There's more to me than meets the eye, bucko. "Some clothes. These shoes," I slightly lifted one of my feet, presenting the left ankle boot. Then I paused for dramatic effect. "...a phonebook."

"A…?" he gave me a blank look for half a second. Then he burst out laughing, throwing up his hands, "Look out, we got ourselves a badass here! Behind that sweet, innocent face lurks the sinister mind a hardened criminal and cunning master thief! Best be careful or she'll come for your sticky notes and wall-hanging calendars next. Pfffft, a phonebook. Why? Just… why?"

Crossing my arms, I gave a derisive sniff. "I had my reasons."

Now he cocked his head to to the left, a sly curl twisting his lips. His interest had been piqued. He looked down, studying my shoes with a low hum. "...those still look kinda new. So your lil foray into the world of the five-finger discount had to of been pretty recent. I'd say… maybe a month ago, two tops."

I stiffened.

Oh no, I'd said too much.

I hastily pulled my feet back under my seat, as if to hide any further evidence he might gleen from them. "Speculate all you want, you're not getting anything else out of me."

"Oh, I see how it is. Tough nut to crack, eh?" His eyes crinkled as he leaned in closer to me, propping his elbows on his knees and tucking one arm behind the other. "Am I gonna have to go all good cop, bad cop on you now?"

...okay, cheeks, what's the deal here? I know you're still on red alert from the false alarm with the shirt earlier, but come on, this was nothing to be stoking the coals over! I cleared my throat, turning my head to one side, "No, it's just… that's a whole other secret, is all."

Lea straightened up in his seat, both eyebrows reaching for his hairline. "You mean you want another one outta me?" He shook his head with a grin, rising to his feet now. "Damn, El, you drive a hard bargain. I need to rack my brain to come up with something else good for ya. I'm gonna grab a soda while I'm at it." He winced as he made his way over to the kitchen, "...and I'm just now realizing I've been a totally crap host this whole time. Did you want anything to drink?"

"Just a water, please?" I asked, soon hearing him clinking cups around followed by the sound of a running faucet. I looked down at my lap, tucking in my lower lip as my fingers tangled into the tuft of my braid. I don't know why I was still thinking about it. I'd successfully sidestepped the question and he'd let me off the hook without me giving any sort of explanation for now. And yet, it still lingered at the back of my brain… prickling, needling, until-

"It's because I was a coward." The words were out before I'd even realized it.

He looked up, blinking at me from across the island counter. "Pardon?"

"...why Art History," I clarified softly, my hands going to my lap now to clench slightly at the fabric of my dress. "Because I was a coward, too afraid to go against my parents' wishes. They… said it would be necessary in order to make me more refined and cultured for my eventual role as… as a wife to any potential future husband I may have had. And I just… It seemed… easier just to go along with what they wanted."

"Woah," I heard him approaching again and watched out of the corner of my eye as a glass of water was set down at the table beside me. He retook his seat, a can of Kupo-Kola now in hand, "Remind me again, what era we living in? Coulda sworn we'd left the Dark Ages behind a few centuries ago." My gaze rose to meet his, a wilted attempt at a smile tugging my lips. He cracked the can open with a satisfying fizz before taking a sip. "So then, what did you want?"

I frowned. "What did I…?"

"Say you'd flipped your folks the bird and done your own thing. What would you have majored in instead? If you'd even major in anything at all. Just… what did you want?"

My brow furrowed as I processed for a few heartbeats. "...I'm not sure, actually. Guess I never really thought about it." Then again, no one had ever really asked before. Not even me to myself.

He huffed out a laugh through his nose. "Sure ya have. Everyone has interests, dreams... and hey, you were a kid once. What did you wanna be when you grew up?"

"I…" Trailing off, I squinted towards the ceiling as if I'd somehow find what I was seeking somewhere up there. Unfortunately, no magical, clear-cut ceiling answers divining the secrets to my soul revealed themselves unto me. Drat.

What were my dreams and interests? Did I ever even have any? How pathetic was it that I had to ask myself that? That said however, my mind did strangely keep circling back around to that conversation I'd had with Rayne a few nights ago. I began slowly, "When I was younger, I… did like taking part in musicals. Nothing huge, mind you, just for school and summer camp, things like that."

"That's still something though!" he nodded, face lighting up as he took another swig before putting the soda down. "And didn't I tell ya you should get into singing?"

Eyelids drooping, I gave a tiny scoff. "It's nothing, just a stupid, childish fantasy. My parents were quick to squash any such silly notions as I grew older, saying no daughter of theirs was going to be a failed singer or two-bit actor who never made it. It's not a job that's suitable for-"

"But whoever said anything about turning it into a job?" he cut me off, tipping his head to one side. "I mean yeah, that's one option, but it could also just be a hobby. You know, for fun. You could take a class or something, just to check it out... they offer drama courses at my university. Oh, and I know a couple people from the local community theater, I could check with them for you! Why not give it a shot?"

I grimaced, one hand shifting to rub my elbow. "I don't know…" Being on a stage again, performing in front of an audience, just... all those people… the mere thought already had me feeling the chill of anxiety clawing its way up into my chest.

"Look, I'll talk to those theatre friends of mine and also get you a catalog for next semester's courses. No pressure, but just so you have the information, ya know, in case you get curious," he smiled.

...I guess it wouldn't hurt... And I had to admit, a teeny part of me was drawn to the idea. However, a much bigger part of me shriveled up in dread and made my stomach churn and knot up. "...thanks, but I don't think that's really-"

The loud, groaning creak of a door opening suddenly pierced the air. Lea paled as his head snapped over to the left towards the hallway, his eyes going round. Then he facepalmed and hissed out through grit teeth, "Fucking hell, not today!"

Puzzled at his reaction, I started to follow his gaze, "What are you-?"

His hand abruptly grabbed mine, immediately drawing my attention back to him as he whispered urgently, "Don't move. Don't even breathe."

What the…?

Despite my rising confusion, I did as I was told. I heard a slow thud, thud, thud of footsteps approaching, felt movement behind me as something brushed passed and kept lumbering along. Was that… Saïx? If so, why then did it feel like we were reenacting a scene from a Jurassic Park movie with him the T-Rex and we the scared humans trying to hide in plain sight by going stock-still? I heard the steady footfall muffle now, presumably by the living room rug which is where it'd sounded like he'd been heading. Lea relaxed a little and I took it as a sign for me to do the same, now tentatively turning in my seat to glance over my shoulder.

Across the room stood a man with his back to us. He was tall, but I think Lea still may have had him beat by an inch or two. Long blue hair fell down well past his shoulder blades, bangs a chaotic mess on top - most likely bedhead if, like Lea suggested, the guy had been sleeping all day. A black tank top hugged his torso with grey camo sweatpants beneath it and feet bare. He'd come to a stop directly in front of the far wall and was now just… staring at it.

Knitting my eyebrows together, I whispered, "What's he doing?"

Still keeping his voice down as well, Lea said, "Sleepwalking. Something he's done all his life, but it's been months since the last episode, so I was hoping we'd be in the clear today."

"Oh." I cocked my head. "...shouldn't we wake him?"

"No," he said quickly and with as much emphasis as he could muster in his hushed tone. "He goes totally berserk if you do. Believe me, it is not pretty. Best just to stay out of his way and let him do his thing. He usually only wanders about for a few minutes before he heads back to his bed. Just-"

He hastily cut himself off as Saïx chose that second to whip around and face us. His eyes were closed and between them, a faded scar in the shape of an X slashed across the bridge of his nose. Lea's hand still on mine, I felt his grip tighten as Saïx started ambling in our direction. "Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it," I barely heard Lea chanting under his breath, watching Saïx like a hawk as he drew ever nearer.

He came to a lurching halt once more, this time next to the dining chair across the table from us. Lea scowled at him, muttering, "You're gonna do it, aren't you, you slumbering jackass? You're gonna play musical goddamn chairs." As if on cue, Saïx pulled out the seat and sat down. Watching him, it was almost eerie the way he seemed to look directly at us even though his eyes remained shut the whole time. A second later, he was rising again and moving counterclockwise towards the next chair closer to me. As he plopped down once more, Lea growled, "Damn it, of course. Of. Fucking. Course you are, you big, dumb, sleep deprived- shit, move!"

Lea leapt to his feet, yanking me up and out of my chair with him just as Saïx was about to yet again take a seat, this time on top of me. Lea backed up a few steps towards the kitchen island, me still in tow and our fingers now interlaced, his other hand miming pulling a zipper over his lips to me while his unblinking gaze never left his brother. A few seconds ticked by before Saïx was up and on the move again, his knee banging into Lea's chair, making the redhead cringe slightly. However, this only seemed to give Saïx pause for a beat before it too was sat upon.

I felt a tug on my arm and Lea started pulling me along, gingerly sidling over to circle the table in an attempt to put it between us and Saïx as we watched him stand back up and move onto the next seat. Then the next. And the next. He did this a few more times, with us all the while continuing to sneak around so as to stay opposite of him. At last, he seemed to lose interest in the dining area, turning his back to it and making his way into the kitchen.

Lea's eyes darted over to his bedroom door. Then to where Saïx had disappeared behind a column. Then back and forth a few more times. Then he murmured, "C'mon. My room. He always stays outta there."

I reached for the textbook with my free hand, "Just give me a sec to-"

"No time, leave it!" he hissed, making a run for it, giving me little choice but to stumble after him or be dragged. We were almost there, his door was just a few more feet away, but then-

"Motherfu-" Lea quietly choked out as Saïx reemerged from the kitchen directly into our path. Immediately putting on the brakes, his feet scrabbled and skidded until he had shifted into reverse and backed up against the square column at the end of the kitchen island, yanking me backwards with him. He flattened himself against the surface and I did the same as Saïx shambled by hardly centimeters in front of us. Saïx then came to a stop once more, this time taking up post in the small corridor right smack dab in front of Lea's room.

Lea released a barely audible sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, still maintaining a whisper, "Bad Saïx! Bad!" He flicked his hand in his roomie's direction a couple times, "Shoo! Shoo!"

Saïx, seemingly unperturbed, didn't budge.

...this had to be… without a doubt, hands down… the weirdest social visit I'd ever been to.

Another minute passed of Lea unsuccessfully trying to persuade Saïx to get lost. Finally however, he did decide to move… straight towards us.

"Crap." Still leading me by the hand, Lea bolted around the corner and back into the dinette. The table, the chairs, the island, everything blurred past us. It was all happening so fast and before I knew it, Lea was jerking me into a hiding spot with him. And where, one might wonder, might that be?

Do the words 'itty bitty pantry space' ring any bells?

This, at least, solved one mystery. Lea could, in fact, fit in here. Not only that, there was even enough space left over for one (1) awkward Elsa to go in there with him. It was however, hrm... a rather tight squeeze, to say the least.

"This door opening in is really shit design," Lea grumbled, back pressed against said door and unable to close it as there was, quite simply, not enough room to do so. Not with us in the way anyhow.

He'd released my hand by now and I currently stood opposite him, my own spine uncomfortably pressing into the shelves of canned goods behind me. The gap between us was virtually non-existent to the point where every breath I took had my chest brushing up against his. Of course, that cinnamon scent of his that I was becoming oh so familiar with at this point was present and accounted for, invading my senses. And was it just me or was it getting a bit on the warm side in here? Poor ventilation. That had to be it. Yup.

I had no idea where to look. His face? Out of the question! Not in here, not this up close and personal, nope, nu-uh! I'd just have to settle for what was right in front of my nose.

Why good day, Mr Man Boob! We really have to stop meeting like this. Still looking as stately as ever, I see… wait! Oh gosh! What am I doing? I can't be staring at his frigging man boobs! That's just… just so unseemly! ...or is it? Is it technically okay for me to get an eyeful of man boob? If so, well that's a bit of a double standard now, isn't it? Better to be on the safe side and shift over to your charming neighbor here.

Hello there, Mr Bicep! Looking real good, real fit… have you been working out? Well whatever it is, it's doing wonders because let me tell you, you look nice enough to-

...ahem, readjusting focus once again, now landing on, um... Mr Collarbone! Yeah, Mr Collarbone here seemed innocent and harmless enough.

I think.

Clearing my throat, I asked, "So… he doesn't ever come in here during one of his episodes, right?"

"Never." I heard some shifting that I think was his head turning to look out the door, where there had yet to be any further movement. "...almost never."

"...how reassuring."

And silence reigned once again. This was so uncomfortable. I was dying. Come on, Elsa, say something else! Anything to break the stifling awkwardness! Say something… something nice! Yeah, like a compliment! Tell him… what a lovely home he has! No, too generic. Comment on the… smallness of his food closet! No no, jeez, that wasn't even a compliment. Point out the… stateliness of his man boobs! …oh dear god, no! Dang it, Elsa, why are you so bad at this?!

"So, uh... what's a nice girl like you doing in a pantry like this?"

I blinked. Then, somehow, I finally found the courage to look up at him. He said nothing else, just gave me a tiny half-grin and a wink. And just like that, all that tension inside me cracked, shattered, and started to melt. Slowly but surely, a smile stretched at my lips and I gave a soft snort.

How did he do it? How did Lea always seem to know just what to say to put me at ease?

Shaking my head, I murmured, "I bet you use that line on all the ladies."

He hummed a low chuckle and made no other reply, just continued to stare down the few inches that separated us. Gosh, his eyes really were just the most beautiful shade of green, weren't they? Out of the corner of my peripheral, I saw his hand slowly rising until it hovered just beside my cheek. There he paused… hesitated… and then-

Clunk!

A sudden noise from outside and his hand had seized my shoulder tightly while his other shot up, pressing an index finger to his lips. I nodded and we both peered out into the dining room, waiting. We heard Saïx before we saw him, that very distinctive thud, thud, thud of his footsteps drawing nearer. Then he plodded into view, pulling to a stop right outside the doorway and just stood there. Neither of us moved a muscle, remaining frozen like statues and holding our breaths as we watched and silently prayed.

After what felt like an eternity but in reality was probably only ten seconds, he started walking again, lumbering off out of our line of sight. We both exhaled and slumped, listening to his footfall fade. Then there was the blessed sound of a door creaking open followed by it clicking shut.

"Is that it?" I asked hopefully, voice still a whisper.

"Should be." He cautiously poked his head out to look around. "I mean, sometimes he gets crafty for a sleeping dude and will just open and close doors without going through them, but it's rare."

Good enough for me! I slipped out of the pantry and crossed the dinette, coming to a halt next to the sofa where I started to stretch a bit. Ahh, taste that sweet, sweet air of freedom! Whew, I had been starting to get a bit claustrophobic in-

"Look out!"

At Lea's warning, I spun around. Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the apartment, there Saïx was again, heading straight for me!

And I, being the total dummy that I am, decided to pick the absolute worst time (aka now) to have a total deer in the headlights moment. My body was just not responding. Hello, legs? Anyone home? Now would be a really great time to jump out of the way! ...huh. No reply. Feet? Come in, feet, old buddies old pals! Saïx's getting real close here so if you could just, ya know, get a move on, that'd be swell! ...radio silence from that corner too. Well shoot, I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut, I guess this was it. The end of the road. The final curtains. Goodbye, cruel world. So long, and thanks for all the-

An abrupt force suddenly barreled into me from the side, pushing me out of Saïx's path at the last second and sending me tumbling over the arm of the couch where my back hit the seat cushions, decorative pillows flying everywhere. As my brain scrambled to catch up, I gradually became aware of the fact that there was a large weight on top of me, pinning me down. Warily, I peeked one eye open. Then the other. Then I blinked once. Twice. Then my face erupted into an inferno.

Because that weight on top of me? I'd figured out what it was. Or rather, who it was.

Lea.

He must have thrown himself at me, knocking us both out of the way of danger and onto the sofa. And thus why he could now be found hovering over me, his hands on my wrists, holding them down to either side of my head as he propped himself up, his hips resting between my legs. His head was currently turned to the left as he watched over the backrest of the couch, probably tracking Saïx's movements. So engrossed was he in this that I don't think he was aware of the rather compromising position we were in right now.

Unlike me, who was very, very aware.

I just stared up at him, unable to move, unable to think. My face grew hotter and hotter by the minute as my heart thundered in my ears. My breath hitched and my mouth grew dry. But the weird part? I… wasn't panicking. Oh sure, all the classic signs of panic were there, but that wasn't it. That wasn't what I was feeling. What was it then? This strange, alien emotion I felt invading my chest as I gazed up at him, making me feel all…

...kind of, sort of warm and fuzzy?

...wait.

This wasn't-

I wasn't-

Dear lord, it couldn't be I-

"There!" Lea puffed out a sigh, his shoulders sagging in relief. "I actually saw him go back into his room just now, so we should be safe for real this time. Sorry 'bout all th-" The words died in his throat as now, at long last, he looked down at me. And you could all but hear the click in his brain. He froze, eyes wide. There was a long stretch where neither of us said or did anything. Then abruptly, "Shit, s-sorry!" He quickly released my wrists, shooting up onto his knees and hastily crossing his arms, jamming his hands into his armpits. "I didn't mean to- That is, I- This was just- This isn't how it-"

In his rush to stand, he slipped and fell off the couch, banging his head against the coffee table. I gasped, sitting up and reaching for him, "Are you okay?"

In a flash he was back on his feet, rubbing the fresh sore spot and blurting out, "Yup, no, I'm good! Just dandy! Just a small concussion, no biggie, nothing a bandaid or-" once again, the coffee table got the better of him and he stumbled backwards over it. He managed to catch himself however and chuckled weakly, "Heh… who put that stupid thing there? Anyway, I'll just go, uh, get myself patched up... in the bathroom! Yeah, be right back!" And with that, he practically blurred across the apartment and straight into the restroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

...well then.

I think that answered that.

Mission Not A Crush.

Because I think we can all agree now that Lea clearly and quite obviously…

...did not have a crush on me.

I mean, come on, did you see the guy? He couldn't get away from me fast enough! All but tripping over himself to put as much distance between the two of us as he could. Probably desperate not to give me the wrong idea. Well message received, loud and clear.

However, this did complicate things a bit now though.

Because even though he didn't have a crush on me…

...I was now pretty sure I had a crush on him.

Author's Notes: Ahhh, this chapter… in which it's probably never been made more clear how really bad Elsa is at reading social cues from others xD Also, always love me a good ol' "hey, look, we're trapped in a tiny cramped space together" scene, that's my crack yo :3 But on another note, now Elsa's gone and done it… she caught feelings, the lil fool! Something she's never had to deal with before, so this should be fun xD Minor Fun Fact: Saïx's middle name in this is Isa, just like how Lea is technically our redhead's middle name as well. But unlike Lea, Saïx actually likes his first name so that's what he goes by. And we'll have a real appearance from Saïx in later chapters, not just sleepwalking zombie Saïx xP Another Minor Fun Fact: the stuff about the chainsaw was supposed to be a reference to Saïx's claymore from the video games - chainsaw is just the closest thing I could come up with xD And for those unfamiliar with this bit from the manga, there's a point where Saïx attacks Axel with his claymore and leaves him wounded right where Lea's scar is in this chapter, so another teeny lil reference, weeeee! Another ANOTHER Minor Fun Fact: Lea's outfit, if you didn't recognize it, was based on his outfit at the end of KH3! Elsa's outfit… was not based on anything, it just sounded like something I thought she'd look cute in xD Also this chapter marks the start of me regretting a little bit making this story only Elsa's POV. I mean, how fun would it be to write all the things going through Lea's head right about now? xD Alas, I'll just have to leave that up to your imaginations, dear readers!

Next chapter, what will Elsa do with these new fledgling emotions of hers? Is it really a crush? Or is she simply confused in all the whirlwind of excitement that just happened? Will Lea ever pass his exam? COULD the derivative of F evaluated at X as H approaches zero actually BE Bueno Volcano? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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