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illfoandillfie · 4 years

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5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: The Perfect Match (Epilogue)

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery: What happens after you tell Ben you love him?

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral sex (f receiving, implied male receiving), fingering, nipple play, it’s mostly just fluffy bullshit lmao

Words: 7129

A/N: Epilogue time! Apologies for taking so long to get this written, it’s been a rough few weeks. But we’re finally here!

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @vee-ndetta @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois

@coni-martina @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle @vicouscirce @arianabrashierstuff @pattieboydwannabe @maggieroseevans @theprettyandthereckless

Being in Barcelona with Ben was like having a fresh start. One without intrusive photographers or the pressure of being walking advertisements for a movie. You almost had to physically push Ben out of the hotel on the first morning you were there. He was reluctant to leave you but, being lead actor, couldn’t exactly skip work. At any rate, you wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t so bad spending the day holed up in his suite. You went back to bed after he’d left and then, once properly rested, put music on as you caught up on emails and the like. In the afternoon you popped downstairs to explore the square the suite looked out on, visiting a quaint little bookstore, a shop full of touristy knickknacks, and a cute café that sold maybe the strongest coffee you’d ever had. Having so much time to yourself also gave you a chance to call Felicity and have a long conversation with her, filling her in on exactly what had happened after you got on the plane. She was thrilled to hear it had gone well and took a large part of the credit for herself.

“Afterall, I was the one who told you to get off your arse. If I hadn’t you’d still be crying in bed,” You laughed and conceded she had a point, “but you’re not the only one who gets credit,” “Fine, but it’s like 90% down to me.”

But, even with so much to occupy you, by the end of the day you were eager for Ben to get back, bored of being on your own, ready to have the conversation you’d both been too tired to fully have the previous night. When he di[d finally walk through the door it was obvious he was just as keen to see you. You heard the thump of his backpack hitting the floor just inside the door and then him calling your name. He found you on the couch and rushed up behind you, leaning in for a kiss when you tilted your head back to greet him. “I love being able to do that,” he said softly as he sat down, making you smile. He asked how your day had been as you shuffled closer, letting him drape an arm around you and pull you against his chest. And for a while that was all you talked about, your day and his, everything you’d got up to. His had been a little busier, working with the stunt coordinator and fight choreographer in the morning so they could film the scene in the afternoon. Completely different from the prep you’d done for The Perfect Match, but you could tell how much he enjoyed it from the way he spoke about it. Even if he did end up with a few bruises as proof of his hard work. Before long though you had to address the question hanging over your heads, had to have the talk. It wasn’t an easy conversation. It took some time and meant being open about the previous few months – the insecurities and fears that had kept you from recognising and acting on your feelings, the impact being in the public eye had on you, the pros and cons of dating another actor and, perhaps most importantly, potential challenges you would face because of your previous history. You both readily admitted there’d been some rough moments when you’d handled things poorly and the question had to be asked of if you’d be able to move on from those patches and any wounds they’d caused. Any lingering reservations you had about Ben and his willingness to make it work were quickly put to rest. He was the first to offer up his vulnerabilities, both personal and professional, and discuss the space where they intersected with you. It was all you needed to be fully assured he was in it for the long haul. Of course, you reciprocated his openness with confessions of your own, harder to get out than you’d imagined, but he was patient and leant you a reassuring hand squeeze when you needed it. It wasn’t exactly fun but it was a necessary evil. And by the time you were done you both knew exactly where you stood and were in agreement about how to move forward, making it all worthwhile.

Neither of you felt much like going out afterwards though so you ordered room service, making sure to get a bottle of wine with the food, and celebrated quietly. Ben ran down to the nearest store and bought a few candles to make it seem a little more romantic and promised to take you out on a proper date the next night. “So would that be our first date? Or does everything from before count too?” you asked around a mouthful of food, looking at Ben across the candle lit table. “Huh, good question. I think it counts,” “Really?” you laughed, “I was about to say it doesn’t. It was all planned by other people and not really…real,” “Hey, not everything was planned out for us. That date where we painted mugs was all my idea and, might I add, something I’d thought about specifically to impress you. It was on my list of potential dates in case I got the chance to ask you out after we wrapped. Same goes for that brunch place I took you and the ice skating rink. Also those dates were part of what me fall for you so they kind of have to count.” You had to smile at that, “When did you know?” “Uh,” Ben dropped his gaze to where his hand lay on the table, “Our first date.” “Really?” “I’d already liked you for a while and then you went and decorated a mug with lyrics from the song I heard every time I looked at you.” It wasn’t until after he’d finished speaking that he lifted his eyes again, giving a small shrug. “That’s so ridiculously sweet, Ben, I might have to kiss you about it.” “Well I’m a sweet guy Y/N,” he was almost laughing when you made good on your threat, standing up from your side of the table and nearly pouncing on him. He just pulled you further onto his lap, the dinner forgotten as you revelled in the knowledge that making out was allowed now, encouraged even. “You wanna move this to the bedroom?” Ben asked, illuminated by the dancing flames more than the lights you’d left on. “I don’t normally sleep with a guy on the first date,” you said, pretending to weigh up your options as you twirled a strand of Ben’s hair around your finger. “We just agreed it’s not our first date. Closer to our fifty first probably.” “Hmmm, you make some good points, babe,” His face lit up and you nearly fell of his lap as he sat forward, “are we allowed to do pet names again?” You groaned into his shoulder but he just chuckled “You wanna move this to the bedroom, cuddle bunny?” “I hate you,” “No you don’t,” you could tell he was grinning, even with your face buried in the crook of his neck. “Little bit.” “Aww c’mon cuddle bunny, don’t be like that. I’ll make you feel real good.” “I don’t know Ben, you’ve got a lot to live up to.” “I do?” “You don’t remember? First night I stayed over at yours you made some pretty big claims about what you were capable of. Said if anyone asked I should tell them I came like three times,” you put air quotes around his words. “So you’re saying if I prove that I really am that good, you won’t complain about cuddle bunny or any other nickname I come up with?” “I never said that,” “You basically did and the challenge has been accepted.” You broke into giggles as he pushed you from his lap, only to lurch forward and kiss you, smiling himself. He led you into the next room, discarding clothes along the way.

***

You laughed as you sat on the bed, watching as Ben hopped through the doorway on one foot, trying to kick his pants off his other leg as he went. Your shirt and bra had been lost somewhere between the table and the bed, his shirt discarded even earlier. He gave you a slightly sheepish smile as he finally managed to free himself from the jeans and followed you towards the bed. You leaned back, still on the edge of the bed, propping yourself up on your hands to keep your eyes locked on him and he followed, caught your lips again though softer than before, one hand hovering just above your shoulder, fingertips barely grazing you. It was miles from the first time you’d slept with him, when you’d both been full of alcohol induced confidence and a lack of clear thought. You pushed yourself closer to try and let him know he could be firmer, that you’d like it if he was. Instead he pulled back even more. “Is something wrong? Do you not want to do this?” “No, no I absolutely do. Just,” he smiled again, the shy half smile that made him seem even more boyish than usual, “you’re gorgeous and I kinda can’t believe this is happening. Again. Just give me a second to let it sink in.” “Benjamin I swear, if you start crying,” “I’m not going to cry,” he chuckled, “probably.” You waited, watched his eyes roam over every inch of you from your hairline to your waist, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Finally he kissed you again, already almost breathless, his hand cupping your jaw as if he had to work up to touching you elsewhere. Slowly his touch fell lower, neck, collarbone. When he grazed your breast he pulled his hand back again but you hummed at the contact and he replaced it. You stopped holding yourself up, let yourself lay back against the mattress as his lips moved to your throat, his thumb teasing the nipple it found to a stiff peak. It left your hands free to wrap around him, hold him against you. “Do you mind if I leave some marks?” “Go ahead,” you said, far more concerned about losing the feeling of his mouth on you than what would be left when he was done. You felt him nuzzle his nose against the underside of your jaw, and then a tingle down your spine as he found a spot to leave a large purple bruise, close to where he’d first given you a hickey at your request. You made a low hum and tilted your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him, and he delighted in filling the space with more marks. Three along the column of your neck, one on your sternum and one on your right breast. “How’s it look?” you asked, as he raised his head from your chest. “Perfect. But that could just be because your boobs are right in my face. Very nice view.” You gave him a light pinch for his cheek but he didn’t react, far more interested in creating another hickey on your chest. “Hope you weren’t planning on filming any topless scenes anytime soon,” he mumbled, moving to repeat the process on your other breast, “makeup’ll have a hell of a time covering all these.”

By the time Ben was ready to continue his trail lower you were aching for more. Your underpants were slick with your need, nipples hard as Ben’s saliva caught the cold air he blew over them. Again you were struck by how different to last time it was. Then it had been fast, only minutes between being pushed up against the door and having his fingers in you. But now? Now Ben was taking his time. You understood why, of course. Back then you’d been trying to reach the end before either of you could think for half a second about it being a bad idea. You’d been drunk and clueless about how much you’d both wanted it to happen. All you’d had to do was palm him over his pants and he was raring to go. Not so much this time. He was certainly worked up, you’d found as much when you’d tried to cop a feel. But he stopped you before you got too far, laced his fingers through yours so you couldn’t stroke him off. He responded to your whine with a line about having a reputation to live up to and then let go of your hand as he slipped off your lap to the floor. He made you wait as he tugged your pants from your legs and then left another mark on your hip. You opened your legs wider for him, earning a small nip against your thigh. “Wish I’d done this for you last time,” he said softly, kissing the spot that was still tingling from the scrape of his teeth. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch, “If you’d done this last time I’d have confessed my love a whole lot faster. Could-coluld’ve saved me the cost of the flight here.” You voice shook as he pressed his tongue to your soaked underwear and you briefly wished you’d packed some actual lingerie and not just your every-day sensible cotton knickers, but Ben clearly didn’t mind. “Cute panties,” he said between sucks through the material, “that wet patch from your pussy or my mouth?” He laughed as he pulled them off you, dropping them unceremoniously to the side as he sat up higher on his knees.

The next thing you knew was Ben’s fingers on either side of your lips, pulling you open. He glanced up at you, grinned when you whined softy, didn’t break eye contact as he dragged his tongue over you. No more build up, no more playful comments as he took his time exploring you. Just his mouth on you, determinedly pushing you to the edge. You let your head fall back with a squeak as he nudged your clit with his nose, following it up by sucking the nub into his mouth, pulling a moan from you. Your breath caught when he slid two fingers along your slit, coating them in your arousal and a whiny expletive was your response to one entering you. Ben pulled back and gave you a wink as he added another finger. You’d have told him off for being so cocky if you hadn’t felt so good. Instead you fell back to the mattress completely. “That feel good baby?” He asked between licks, stretching you out, trying to find the same spot he’d reached last time. “So good Ben,” “I love the way you say my name.” He pressed a third finger into you, shifted the angle slightly, and without thinking you twisted a hand into his hair, let him hear his name again. He hummed though you weren’t sure what caused it, only that it felt incredible, his lips wrapped around your clit. With soft encouragement he made you tip over the edge, squirming under him as you rode it out. He was gentle when he pulled his fingers from you and left a kiss against your thigh, waiting for you to come back to earth before he began gloating. “That’s one. How do you want the next? Same thing?” It took you a moment to figure out what he meant but he filled the time by kissing a path back up to your lips, shorter than the trip down had taken. “Well? What next?” he asked again when it seemed like you weren’t going to reply. “I could blow you,” you said, once again dropping your hand to try and rub him through his underwear. “Save that for another time. I’ve got a promise to make good on and an adorable nickname to give you.” “I was hoping you’d say that. Really want you in my pussy.” Ben laughed and leaned in to kiss you again, evidence from your orgasm still on his lips and chin, before pushing himself away to finish undressing. You watched him closely, taking in the V that was exposed and the light trail of hair leading under his waistband, the way his thumbs hooked into the material, the slightly theatrical wiggle he made to shake his pants off, how the second he was free of the fabric his hand came up to stroke over his length, seeking some brief relief. He turned away to grab a condom and you made yourself comfortable on the bed, moving to lay back against the pillows rather than hanging over the edge. And then Ben was practically diving on top of you, making you giggle as he kissed you again and again and again. Until he stopped to sit back on his legs, tearing open the condom with his teeth. “Can I?” you asked, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Sure,” As Ben nodded you sat forward, took the condom from him and closed your other hand around him. “Shhhhit,” he breathed out,” “C’mon babe, ‘m already h-hard. Just wanna be in you.” You hummed in agreement but took your time rolling the latex down his shaft as you pulled him into another kiss, thoroughly enjoying the noises he made in response. Soft throaty sounds, little whines muffled by your lips. You would have been happy just jerking him off except for the needy throbbing between your legs that made you hyper aware of how empty you were. “Lie back for me,” he said softly as soon as you pulled your hand away. You did as requested, settling back against the pillows once more. Ben nudged your legs open wider and finally sank into you, both of you gasping at the feeling. You moaned softly when he slowly pulled back and thrust forward again, wrapped your legs around him because it was the only way you could think of to get him closer. Carefully he took one of your hands in his, laced his fingers through yours and then repeated it with the other hand, holding them against the mattress as he fucked into you. His forehead dropped to yours as he let a curse slip into the air, “Didn’t a-appreciate your pussy enough last time. So fucking tight.” You couldn’t think how to respond, just squeezed his hands, your breath catching in your throat as he rolled his hips against you. He kept the pace steady as he caught your lips again, less coordinated kisses that didn’t always get you full on the mouth as you moved with each measured thrust. Each one seemed to make it harder for you to breathe, your breaths coming in short pants, often accompanied by small whiny noises as you felt yourself getting close again. “Yeah?” Ben asked against your ear, a response to a particularly drawn out whine, “that good, huh?” If you’d been able to form coherent sentences you would have come up with some sort of witty way to tell him you needed more stimulation to actually get off. Instead all you managed to do was stumble through the words close, please, more as he nibbled on your earlobe. “Show me,” he rasped, releasing one of your hands so you could slip it between your bodies. I wasn’t long before the speed of your fingers on your clit outstripped Ben’s movement, your growing need to finish pushing you to rub faster, press harder. He groaned into your neck as you finally hit the edge and pulsed around him, pulled out before it became too much. You let your legs fall from where you’d hooked them around him though you whined at the loss. “Don’t worry,” he said softly as he took your hand and lifted it from your cunt, “more where that came from.” Ben pulled your hand towards him, leaning in to close the gap and suck your fingers into his mouth. You were sure you could have cum from that alone if he hadn’t already made you cum twice.

It didn’t make it easy to catch your breath or calm down entirely, but Ben was content to wait, thoroughly cleaning your fingers before he released them. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he let you take your hand back. You let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him and almost laughed, “Jesus,” He stroked your leg gently, “Still one more to go, if you’re up for it. Not too sensitive?” “A little but I should be okay.” “Good. I really wanna give you that nickname. Annoy everyone else with how fucking adorable we are” “Shouldn’t have reminded me what the stakes are, maybe I am too sensitive,”

“What if I said I just wanted to fuck you until I cum then? More acceptable?” That did make you laugh, “Much more acceptable.” Ben grinned, his tongue darting out from between his teeth, and then readjusted your position. His arm wrapped around your hips, pulling you up into the air, as he leaned on the other and slid back in, deeper than before. “This okay?” “Y-yeah, yes,” As soon as he knew you were okay with the new position he began moving, faster than before. The angle he held you in meant he was hitting your sweet spot consistently which, aside from feeling good, meant your clit got a bit of a break. It felt even better when he dropped his head forward and gently tugged on your nipple with his teeth. You brought one hand up to grab his hair as he switched to soothing the nipple with his tongue. You had a hard time getting out anything other than a few curses and his name as his thrusts became more urgent but Ben had no trouble telling you how good you felt. Well, some trouble. His words came out stuttered and breathless and interrupted by curses of his own or sometimes muffled by your breasts. But that was a turn on in itself. Hearing Ben losing control, coming apart, because of you. It was enough to make you want to cum faster so you could hear him moan through his own release. You remembered what he sounded like last time and were eager to hear it again. So once again you let your fingers find your clit, shivering at the slight discomfort as you tried to match Ben’s rhythm. “God I’m gonna,” you managed to choke out, fingers tightening in Ben’s hair. “P-please Y/N, cum. I ne-ed you to cum.” Your voice caught in your throat as you tipped over the edge again, Ben doing his best to hold you up as he lasted about a second longer, pretty moans spilling from his lips.

***

Afterwards you could barely find it in you to move. You stumbled on jelly legs towards the bathroom as Ben cleared away the condom and straightened the sheets, ready for you to curl up with him. You had just enough energy to fall into bed and lean your head on his chest. He pulled the covers over your legs and stroked your hair with one hand, his fingers catching in the odd tangle though he was careful not to pull too hard. His other hand smoothed up and down your arm, so gently it took you a few passes to notice. He was quiet for a while, watching you relax against him. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, “Think that means I win, right cuddle bunny? Or do you prefer honey bunch? Snuggle bug? Sugar bear? I could go on,” “I think cuddle bunny might actually be the lesser of all those evils,” you mumbled. “You sure that’s not cause you got used to it and now you kinda like it?” You gave a non-committal hum in response. Ben’s chest shook as he laughed but he protested when you made to sit up, assuring you he liked having you leaning on him like that, “Told you before, I like being the boyfriend and what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t let you use me as a pillow?” You couldn’t help but smile when you heard Ben refer to himself that way, happily settling back against him. He was right, the title suited him. You couldn’t wait to introduce him as such to Felicity and your other friends.

You stayed in Barcelona with Ben for a few weeks. Once or twice you snuck a peek at a gossip blog or a twitter hashtag, but most people’s attention seemed to be diverted from you onto other unlucky couples. There were a few threads about you not being home and a handful of photos of Ben and other cast mates taken from their Instagram accounts, sometimes accompanied by speculation of if their relationship was purely professional, but nothing much else. You were both thankful for that. It was easier to find your feet as an actual real couple without being hounded about it or seeing speculation about yourselves. You were free to visit restaurants and tourist spots on dates, explore the city together on days Ben wasn’t filming, just be more or less normal. A few times you accompanied Ben to set or out with the rest of the cast, listening in as they teased him for how much happier he was now that you’d arrived. There were a couple of sticky beak questions about the breakup the first time you joined them for dinner, but you laughed it off as nothing more than misinformed rumours and they readily believed you. Aside from being contractually obligated to keep the secret, it was just easier to pretend the previous few months had been real than try to explain it all. Of course, pretending was made all the easier by Felicity and Joe knowing. Joe had been happy when Ben told him the good news. He’d been a little annoyed too and threated Ben with the silent treatment, claiming it’s what he deserved for being so stupid, the sudden click of him hanging up startling you both. Ben’s phone rang again about thirty seconds later as Joe called back to claim responsibility for your reunion. “I totally knew you idiots liked each other and if I hadn’t helped, Y/N never would have got to Spain.” Ben leaned in to where his phone rested on the table, speaker on, “If you knew why didn’t you tell me she was into me?” “Pretty sure I tried! But you were too hung up on being all heartbroken to listen to me.” “Umm incorrect,” “Should have heard yourself man, boo hoo Y/N doesn’t love me like I love her, wah wah wah. Didn’t want to hear anything else.” Ben flashed you a disapproving look when you let out a snort of laughter and then turned back to the phone, “You’re such a dickhead,” “Call me cupid, Benny boy, I’m the reason you’re not crying in the shower anymore.” “You’re fucking full of it, cupid,” “Go on Y/N, tell him I’m right,” “Well,” you said, trying not to laugh again, “Joe did tell me where to find you,” “Exactly!” came the shout from the phone, “Y/N, I’ll give you some of the credit for actually flying to Spain, but It’s like 85% down to me.” “You should meet my friend Felicity. You’d get along.”

On quieter days when everyone was doing their own thing and neither of you felt much like leaving the suite, you’d sit around and help Ben learn his lines or stretch over his lap and work on a crossword puzzle together. Although, that was if you made it out of bed. Ben ran through his condoms in the first week you were there, both of you eager to make up for the missed opportunities and all the time you’d spent pining for each other. More than once he came back to the hotel to find you wearing nothing but one of his shirts, which invariably ended with him between your legs in one way or another. Or, when he was flushed and sweaty from whatever action scene he’d been filming that day, he’d slyly announce he needed a shower and suggest you join him. But eventually the real world called, quite literally, in the form of Mary letting you know you’d got the part in the witch movie. It deserved a celebratory drink out at a bar the cast had found, where you and Ben riled each other up so much you had no choice but to relieve the tension the minute your door was shut behind you. And then again first thing the next morning. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stay more than a few days after that. You had to fly back home and begin prepping for your new role. Thankfully it was being filmed around London, saving you from having to head out to the US straight after getting home from Spain. But it did mean leaving Ben, an occurrence neither of you were thrilled about, feeling like you’d not had as much time together as you would have liked. You decided to do something special for your last night so Ben booked a table at a nearby restaurant. He met you there straight from set, wearing nice pants and a dressy shirt rather than the trackpants and ratty tee you'd seen him in that morning, where you surprised him with a bouquet of flowers similar to those he’d given you on your make-up date so long before. “I love them,” Ben laughed, kissing your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “I think the colours make my eyes pop,” You playfully shoved him away towards the restaurant but he grabbed your hand and pulled you against him. He was about to kiss you when a familiar clicking sound distracted him. Both you and Ben looked around, surprised and confused, and saw a young woman walking down the street, fingers quickly taping against her phone. Ben ushered you inside the restaurant and, as soon as you took your seats, pulled out his phone. “Bad news. She tweeted it.” “Guess that means the honeymoon’s over,” you sighed. “And we were so close too. Fucking busted with about 10 hours to go.” “Oh well. S’pose everyone was gonna find out anyway. If it wasn’t now it would have been in a few weeks when you get back home.” “Not like we aren’t used to it. So how about,” he poured you both a glass of water from the bottle on the table, “a toast. To being so fucking interesting the whole world wants to know if we’re fucking.” You laughed as you clinked your glass against his a took a sip.

The pre-production part of your new movie kept you busy which had its pros and cons. On one hand it was tiring and a lot of new information to take in. On the other it kept you distracted from the distance between you and Ben and the barrage of questions you were receiving about him daily. You met the women who were playing your sisters and spent a lot of time rehearsing with them, particularly focused on learning how to pronounce the spells you’d be casting and the names of the potions you’d be mixing. Ben chuckled when you told him you’d spent an hour being coached on how to pronounce a single word, a process which included a basic Latin lesson and lots of repetition. “Well at least I didn’t end up with a black eye from it,” you said, pointing at him through the video chat screen. Over the weeks you’d been apart you’d relied heavily on phone conversations and face time calls to keep in contact. There’d been a visit or two when you had the chance but both of you were busy and keen not to be splashed through every gossip rag around so they were few and far between. The calls were easier, more private, and quickly became part of your wind down routine – come home, snuggle up on the couch, and talk to Ben for a few hours. “Hardly having fun if you can’t accidentally get knocked out by a poorly thrown weapon,” “I beg to differ, but you do you Benny,” you laughed, reaching for your coffee. The mug Ben had painted for you. He smiled when he saw it. “Aside from learning Latin and not being beaten up on a daily basis, how’s the movie going?” Ben asked as he reached behind him to adjust the pillow he was leaning against. “God it's been so good so far. The girls are so lovely and fun to be around. Plus, y’know, as someone who spent a lot of her childhood making mud potions in the backyard and playing Harry Potter, getting to run around throwing spells and stuff is kind of a dream come true.” He laughed again, “you’re such a nerd, I love you.” “Shut up. How’s it going in Spain?” “Well I have a black eye and I miss you so... Nah, it’s all going really well. Copped a bit of shit after you left,” Ben rolled his eyes, “apparently I was depressed. But this shoot has been so good. Gonna be kinda sad to be done.” “How much longer have you got?” “Couple of weeks, I think.” “You should come over to mine when you land, I’ll cook you dinner,” “Yeah? I’d like that.” “Course you will, nice home cooked meal, a blowjob, what’s not to like.” “I’ll let you know when my flight is so you can prepare – buy ingredients, do jaw stretches. What’re you laughing for? I’m serious, we both know how big I am.” He laughed, breaking the façade of seriousness as his tongue stuck out between his teeth. “Are you ready for it?” “Beyond ready, I miss sex.” “Not what I meant. There were a few paps waiting for me at the airport last time I was coming back from visiting you. Mostly yelling questions about if we’re really back together.” “How bad is it?” “Not as much attention as we were getting while we were doing press for the movie but it’s pretty annoying.” “They’ll calm down. After they see us a few times and they find someone else to lose their shit over.” “Yeah, probably. But you’re still good with this happening, even with the extra attention?” “Y/N, babe, we talked about this already. We always knew it was likely to happen and nothing’s changed since then. I still want to be with you.” “Just checking,” “I know. Now, I don’t have to be on set for another half hour so why don’t you tell me more about this blowjob I can expect.”

Ben was right, though it took longer to die down than you’d have liked. Felicity alerted you to a number of articles both in print and online after Ben got home. It almost felt like the days of promoting The Perfect Match – photos of you walking hand in hand and sitting at cafes and sneaking kisses on street corners being tweeted and commented on, articles about your latest date and speculation on if another breakup with imminent. The difference was this time you didn’t recognise the people taking the pictures. But, after a month or so, when it became clear you weren’t going to start arguing in fancy French restaurants again the magazines and websites started posting less and less. “It’s like Mary said,” Ben shrugged when you brought it up, “people like conflict and we’re not giving them any.” And that was true. Without the pressure of keeping your feelings hidden from each other or yourselves you were less prone to sulky silences and terse words. Plus no one was telling you to break up for attention. In fact, the months after Ben came back from Spain were better than you’d let yourself believe they would be. You were still working on the witch movie, working title: Toil and Troubles, spending most days and some nights bent over cauldrons of smoking liquid nitrogen and pink slime, or running through forests hoping your pronunciation was correct. Ben visited, sometimes to take you out to lunch or to drop off items you’d left at his place that you were bound to need. Convenient excuses. But welcome nonetheless. At the very least it was good practice for when you introduced him to your friends and family. Felicity insisted on meeting the man who’d caused her best friend so much heartache within the first week of his arrival, a situation that gave you more anxiety than any of the paparazzi ever would. But your worries were for nothing. Ben was perfectly charming and took Felicity’s one or two snide comments with good grace and a suitable amount of remorse. She pulled you aside later to let you know she approved and could see why you liked him so much. You breathed a sigh of relief at that, not needing her approval but glad to have it anyway. That first meeting made you less nervous about the ones that followed, even when it came to your blood relatives. And then, of course, you had to make good on your promise to his mum. He’d had to smooth things over with his family first, having made such a big deal about breaking up with you before he took off to Spain. They’d been surprised when he told them things weren’t working, having believed you quite happy during your visit, and more surprised when they saw you were back together. But if they thought Ben was making a mistake with rekindling the romance they didn’t show it. Angela and Keith welcomed you back to their home with warm smiles and more food than the four of you could eat. You left, still giggling at some of Ben’s baby photos, with a plate of leftovers in one hand and an invitation to come back soon.

It wasn’t until after Toil and Troubles wrapped that you decided to move in together. Ben suggested it casually one night while you were eating dinner in front of a rerun of Friends, the one where Chandler moves in with Monica. The suggestion was accompanied by a joke about how you’d been dating for nearly a year if you counted all the Perfect Match stuff, but you knew he wasn’t really joking. You’d been thinking about it too. You flipped a coin to see who’d be selling their place and didn’t complain when it was you. Ben’s house was already your second home, might as well make it your only one. Luckily, with your movie having started post-production, neither of you were filming and so were free to jump into the process of packing and decluttering and moving. It wasn’t long before you were carrying a box of your clothes up the stairs of Ben’s house, your house now. He followed with another, dumping it in the middle of his living room and telling Felicity to put hers down with it as he ran out to help one of his mates with a bookshelf. The requisite pizza was bought for lunch and beer provided as thanks for everyone’s help before they left, leaving you and Ben with a living room full of boxes and no inclination to go through them. Instead you weaved your way through the blockades, flopping, exhausted, onto the couch. You stretched out, Ben laughing as he lay on you, his head on your chest. “Just a little break,” he said with a yawn and before you knew it you’d both dozed off, warn out from the days exertions.

You woke to Ben digging through the box closest to your head. “Which one of these has all your kitchenware?” he asked when he saw you watching him. “Should say kitchen on the top in blue sharpie, why?” He stood up and walked to another stack, shifting a box off the top of the pile, muttering the word kitchen to himself over and over. You let him search, taking a moment to stretch out the stiffness from napping on the couch. “Did you see those magazines Felicity left?” he asked as he moved another box out of the way. “No, where are they?” “Kitchen bench. You’ll laugh.” You ducked into the kitchen and opened the first one, a copy of Woman’s Weekly, flicking through the pages until you were met with an image of you and Ben walking down the street together. He was looking at his phone and you were talking, head turned toward him. A red circle drew attention to your hand and underneath it was a slightly blurry close up of the same section. Scanning the paragraphs beside the photos the word engaged jumped out at you making you snort. “Knew you’d find it funny,” Ben said, peeking over your shoulder. “It’s not even a proper ring, just some cheap costume jewellery. And it’s on the wrong finger. Bloody hell they’re desperate.” “Look at the other one,” Ben stuck the kettle on to boil, glancing over to watch you as he opened his cupboard of mugs. You pulled the issue of Heat out and riffled through its pages too. “Oh my god,” Ben laughed, “I know right! Pregnant, really?” “I’m never wearing that dress again. In fact I’m going to go find whichever box it’s in and throw it in the donations bag right now,” Ben caught you around the waist before you could take a step, “Don’t do that cuddle bunny,” he pouted, “I love you in that dress. One of my favourites.” “Because it’s easy to take off?” “Because you look cute in it. Being easy to take off is just a bonus,” he pulled you in close and kissed you as you laughed, “speaking of, with you moving in we’ll have to give you a proper welcome. I’m thinking start up against the front door, work out way through every room,” he pinched your bum suddenly, just to emphasise what he meant. “Cool your jets horndog, gotta move boxes out of the way before we can even get to the front door. And I think I need a coffee before I even think about sorting boxes.” “It’s a good thing I was about to make us coffee then. I found your kitchenware by the way.” You looked for the first time at the counter where Ben had set out the makings of coffee. There, amongst the canister of sugar and bottle of milk sat two mugs. The two mugs you’d decorated for each other, side by side.

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #i love writing 2 fucking idiot doofuses #i think they earned this fluff

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 14

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-13 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: swearing, drinking, drug use, smoking, noncon touching (nonsexual)

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SIGN ON THE DOTTED LINE

The “In Memoriam” portion of the ceremony was a bit much. Not that Arch could say anything about why they thought that way without being called callous. They heard some sniffling from the upper balconies; Parents of three students who had gone missing or were found with parts of their bodies severed and strewn across the side of the highway. Two, so far, had been gruesomely identified without their heads, and neither of them had their hearts either.

Marcus was still missing.

But no one would find him until he too, had his heart and head removed. Arch would likely be recruited to help with that one as well. When they asked Lyrem what to do with him, he simply smiled and told them to be patient.

They were already quite upset with Lyrem for not allowing them the opportunity to take Kyle’s life. They had tortured and flayed the young man for weeks, sure, but Arch was under the impression that his life was reserved for them. Lyrem had shown up at the house afterwards with a raspberry scone and a fresh coffee in his hand after the deed had been done. He blamed Arch for it too.

“If you hadn’t forced my hand after disposing of the shape-shifter,” he said- not angrily, just in his usually condescending tone. “Then I wouldn’t have had to use my remaining strength to keep you in line.”

By in line, Lyrem meant the sudden and unexpected visit he had paid to Charlotte, Arch’s mother. But Arch couldn’t remember her now. Her face, her voice, anything she had ever said or done or created… well, all Arch sensed in their memory now was a deep and everlasting shadow where their mother should have been.

As far as Arch could recall, they had been living with Lyrem since the beginning of time- even though, logically, they knew it couldn’t be true. There were no photos of them together- and for the first few days that Lyrem had taken over that little house, he had thrown out bags of clothing that didn’t belong to him. He burned anything that left the mere scent of Charlotte behind. And he scoured the place to be certain that she hadn’t left as much as a footprint in her wake.

Arch’s bedroom was moved upstairs, into the light. That was where it once was. Why they had moved to the basement where the wolf spiders snuck between the old shag carpeting and the cat made regular use of one of the corners as a bathroom, they couldn’t recall. They had felt safe there, though.

But, Lyrem was right. They deserved to live above ground, they deserved a window and they deserved protection from annoying spider bites.

The walk across the stage commenced, and Arch was thankful for the use of their real name. It was nice that people finally respected them. They shook the hand, posed for a photographer and exited on the staircase, wondering how much longer before it was finally over.

Lyrem had mentioned he wanted photos, so they would take a friend up to meet with him to make him happy. It seemed that many of the things Arch found themselves doing, was to make him happy. This romper for instance…

He couldn’t have picked out something even just a little more neutral?

Benjamin to the rescue, as always, he pulled Arch and Shazia down the stairs to enter a limo, but at the bottom, he turned a quick corner and pulled out some tiny liqueur bottles from his pockets. He handed one to each of them. Arch drank it down without a problem; they had barely tasted it and allowed it to burn the back of their throat. The other two pinched their noses.

Abandoning their bottles to the trash bin by the stairs, they stood near the back of the line to enter the last limo on the street. Before pulling off, Arch spied through the window, seeing Lyrem on his way down the stairs with a stranger- a very pretty stranger.

“So, was that your grandpa?”

Arch turned back and nodded. They might as well go along with it. The neon lights inside bathed the graduates in multiple colours that caused the sequins on the dresses to sparkle with fervour.

“Doesn’t like…” Benji started, then reconsidered his words. “Doesn’t your dad or someone chaperone these things a lot?”

Arch looked at him funny and scowled. “You know I don’t have a dad.”

“I could’ve sworn… nah, nevermind. I don’t even remember the dude’s name.”

“My dad’s chaperoned once,” Shazia added, “but it’s really no fun when he does because”-

“Your dad threatened me last time!” Benji said emphatically. “I won’t forget that shit. He’s got scary eyes. Watched me all night ‘cause he thought I wanted to get into your pants.”

Arch laughed at him as he enthusiastically recalled everything to a T.

The limo emptied outside the school gymnasium. Walking in, there was yet another “In Memoriam” display set up by the door with photos of Jess and Kyle. Marcus’s parents refused to have their son added to the table. That was too hopeful of them, Arch thought

“Rest in pieces, guys,” Benji kissed two fingers and pressed them onto the photos.

Shazia punched him in the arm, and then stood beside Arch to pay her respects. She muttered a few words of respectful prayer and stared at Arch with care in her deep brown eyes.

“I’m glad you’re not on this table too,” Shazia mentioned. “I don’t think I would have been able to do anything after… you know… what you went through.”

An instant pang of guilt dropped into Arch’s stomach. They pulled themselves from the table.

“Whatever,” they said. “I’m alive.”

The intro of “Dancing Queen” blared through the gymnasium along with the chorus of voices that would sing along and jump around to it. Girls pointed to each other. Boys stood around looking out of place, unless they had a drink in their hands- for whatever reason, they preferred an excuse to stay in place instead of also succumbing to ABBA’s inviting rhythm.

The DJ mixed a series of beats slower and faster, older songs and younger songs, and after a couple hours, the gym was swelteringly hot. Arch and Benji had decided to abandon Shazia to the dance circle as they recouped outside in the field by a short tree grove.

Chaperones hardly watched the students coming and going. They were stuck on their screens, scrolling through treasured apps and keeping up their texting quotas.

Benji pulled out a joint from his pocket.

“Wow, you really came prepared,” Arch commented dryly.

“Have to be! I was a boy scout,” Benji stated. Searching for his box of matches through his baggy suit, he grimaced. “What are the odds that one of them’s got a light?”

He pointed to a chaperone near the door. Arch shook their head.

“Here,” they took the joint into the hand. “Don’t tell anybody that I did this for you.”

Benji looked on confused, then furrowed his brows as a small orange glow emitted from Arch’s palm as they held their hand around it. The joint lit itself up with so much as a whisper from his friend. Arch took a puff, coughed and then handed it over with a nod.

“What the fuck, Arch?” Benji took it back. Studying it bewildered. He puffed too as he watched them struggle to keep from coughing again.

“Grandpa taught me a magic trick,” they managed.

“Yeah?” Benji nodded, “Sure, yeah, great… is he fucking Dumbledore?”

Arch laughed.

“Well, he’s not fucking Dumbled”-

“Arch?’

They turned towards the walking path where the forest line started- where they had just heard their name. Through the darkness of the trees, it was difficult to see who was there at first.

“Hey, this is the guy I remember,” Benji said. “Sorry, man, I forgot your name.”

The silhouette and shaggy hair were all Arch could see before they backed away on instinct.

The man had a slight limp as he approached; in the same clothing he was wearing the night he had first attacked them.

“Benji… Benji, run!” Arch cried out. They pushed Benji away. He halfway fell into a towering spruce as he was not expecting the shove; he heard the faint killer beats of “Rasputin” pounding out from the gymnasium.

“What the hell, Arch?” Benji brushed himself off, then started searching the ground for his joint that became lost in the needles.

The man shook his head, and reached out, grasping Arch’s wrist tightly with his other hand.

“Arch, please”-

Shouting the flame incantation this time, Arch pressed their hand into the back of theirs, forcing him to release them. He shouted.

“For fuck sakes’ Arch! Seriously?!”

The man stepped backward again, to check their new burn. He became distracted enough that he failed to notice the black cloak appearing to his left.

Emerging beside him, was none other than Paimon. He had arrived with his cane. With a breath of relief and a quick nod from Arch, Paimon raised his cane in a wide swiping motion to the man. Startle by the sudden movement, he held up a hand, and caught the cane mid swing. Growling, he pushed Paimon back a step.

“I’m not here for you,” the man said, daring to push past the demon.

“How grand. I am not here for you either,” Paimon smiled. His eyes glowed orange, then he raised a hand. “Not quite yet, Arty. Bye, bye.”

“Wh-”-

Immersed in darkness, the man was gone.

Paimon turned to Arch, with a grin.

“What did you call him?” Arch asked the demon urgently.

Paimon waved off their question and stole a glance at the boy who witnessed the strange and frightful encounter.

“A-Arch?” Benji stuttered, unsure of how strong his pot was and if it ever induced such vivid trips of the imagine such as this. Perhaps his brother laced it with something as a prank again. “What just happened? Where’d he go?”

Paimon raised his hand.

“No!” Arch lunged, but before they could catch Benji, he disappeared into the darkness as well. They were met with the side of a bushy, pokey pine and pulled themselves back. They turned around to face Paimon who seemed unperturbed by his own flippant action.

Paimon retrieved some necessary documents from a satchel on his side, paying little attention to Arch, as they cussed him out for removing their friend from this plane of existence.

“Bring them back!”

“I will, I will. I just wanted to bring you these papers to sign,” Paimon presented them with several papers of legal length stapled together. “It’s the deed to Mystics, as well as the many responsibilities of Lyrem Nomadus that he wished for you to… inherit. He has been breathing down my neck about these things for nearly three weeks now. I thought I would get you to sign them as soon as I was able.

It was a good thing I found you when I did too… That man really has some nerve returning, doesn’t he?”

Arch grabbed the papers and flipped through them quickly. Out of recall, there were quite a few things that were discussed one night in the presence of one of Paimon’s personal, infernal lawyers. She had the fancy black car parked outside of Mystics… It was the same night that Arch had left home in a huff. It was the same night that they had met Paimon and his greasy smile for the first time. It was the same night that they had missed an entire hour before they were…

Attacked?

By a man… named- if they had heard Paimon correctly- Arty?

Paimon clicked and handed them a little pen with a pink fuzzy end. Arch accepted it without much thought.

“This is going to take me days to read…” they mumbled. The document was fine print the whole way through and impossible to see in the lighting of a faraway streetlamp.

“Mm, well, you don’t have days, I’m afraid.” Paimon noted. “Lyrem was quite insistent that it be signed over now.”

Arch looked over at him.

“Now?”

“You want him to be safe, don’t you?” Paimon asked.

“Of course,” Arch answered.

“And you want to take over his businesses? His empire?”

“Well, eventually, ye”-

“And you wanted to be powerful. And strong.”

“I am powerful. I am strong.”

“For now,” Paimon finished for them. “You are only being given what you are allowed. Those little tricks with fire were taught to you only because Lyrem was having fun. But you won’t need him any longer if you sign on the dotted line. It will all come naturally to you. His power- it will belong- all of it, to you.”

“… But his debts”- Arch didn’t know much about them, but Lyrem went oddly quiet each time they were mentioned.

“His debts are quite the price, yes. But signing this is how you ensure his safety. No one will be in a rush to kill a man like him if his debts are passed on to you- they’ll want to milk him for everything they can. And when he does die, you will be more than capable of handling the rest of it, of that, I am certain.” Paimon checked them over with a hungry grin. Arch stepped back, exhaling heavily, they were stuck.

“Bring Benji back?”

Paimon leaned forward, supporting himself by his cane. Arch didn’t know why they had bothered to ask that question. They already knew what the answer would be.

“When. You. Sign.”

Arch gulped. The chaperones and other kids were none the wiser about what had been occurring in the dark. They might as well have been completely alone with the demon. They didn’t know where Benji was, if he was safe. They couldn’t let him become another missing kid.

Arch examined Paimon- even with the time crunch, they tried to be thorough.

“Lyrem needs to sign too, doesn’t he?”

“He was the one to request it. He doesn’t need to sign.”

“Fuck,” exhausting themselves, Arch exclaimed. “Fine! I’ll sign. But you promise to bring Benji back? Alive?”

“Of course.”

Arch flipped to the last page, scrawled their signature at the end and handed it back.

Paimon presented Benji back to where he had been before- only this time, he was covered in a dark slime, and reeked of sulfur. He flipped his head around, and soon realized he was back among the trees, smelling the fresh nighttime air and hearing the beginning of “Firework” he whimpered to himself in relief and sat himself down on the mulchy ground.

“There, all back.” Paimon inclined his head, and tipped their hat. “Just as I promised.”

Arch abandoned him for their friend to stand beside him as he processed the unwanted journey.

“And what about the man?” They inquired.

“Into the Labyrinth, of course.”

Arch huffed. “If he’s in the Labyrinth, then why do I still remember him?”

Paimon shook his head with a menacing smile plastered over his lips where it had no right to belong. They draped an arm around Arch’s shoulder and squeezed them tight. Arch attempted to pull themselves away, but it only caused Paimon to pull them in closer, pulling them away from poor Benji.

“Oh… Sweet thing,” he spoke quietly, into their ear. “That man is the least of your worries now.”

“What do you mean?” A sinking feeling grew in the pit of their stomach. They were either starting their period early, or Arch’s fears were right, and they had signed away something more than they should have. “What are you talking about?”

Nails dug into Arch’s flesh. Their shoulder bled nearly instantly as Paimon gripped them tightly and Arch gasped and seethed and failed to pull away. It only forced his nails deeper, and his grin to grow wider. The magic that Arch currently contained was minimal, wasted on the man who was just there- and so they could do nothing but endure the disturbing revelation.

“I may have bribed our lawyer to amend certain statements in the documents in my favour. You remember her, don’t you Arch? Ms. Bornath?”

Arch angled their head to stare at Paimon more easily. Yes, they remembered Ms. Bornath. She didn’t seem like much of a threat, but obviously she could be bought.

“You really ought to have read it first. You signed everything over to me. Not Lyrem’s debts, obviously,” Paimon said. “Those still belong to him until he eventually dies- something I will not allow to happen… You- your essence, your power, your soul. It’s all mine now. You may as well quit your day job, in my opinion. You won’t be needing it. From now on, you work for me.”

Paimon switched his stance to be in front of Arch, finally allowing them to breathe a little easier and to monitor their mess of a shoulder. They should have insisted on a romper with a capped sleeve.

“Now, Lyrem has asked me to give you one last night of freedom before I take you with me, and I will grant his request only because I respect him quite highly”-

“Does Lyrem know?” Arch blurted out, unexpectedly.

Paimon grinned, hearing the notes of betrayal in their voice- a melody to their ears. He would happily crush Arch’s reliance on the old man with a smirk and a few choice words-

“Hey, y-you asshole!”

Arch turned, as did Paimon, to the voice emitted from the trees- It was Benji, who seemed to be unsure of what he was doing entirely. He stole a shaken glance to Arch who stared back in concern and obliviousness. The last thing they wanted was to lose anyone else to the Labyrinth. Benji seemed pretty confident that he would be alright and soon enough, Arch would know it too.

Paimon shouted in a fury as he felt the unexpected intrusion of a Bowie knife through his back. Arch saw the tip of the blade glinting in the low light, thoroughly stabbed through Paimon’s chest. The blade retreated quickly and Arch saw a glow- a blue glow, coming from the head of the man. Before Paimon had any time to react, the man’s hand also glowed with the same blue flame. With little more than a touch to his forehead, Paimon was lit up in blue.

Scrambling to save his beard from the fire, and then the rest of him, Paimon screamed in frustration. As the man turned to face him, Paimon snarled. A moment later, he retreated, dispersing into the darkness. The blue fireball was gone.

Huffing in relief, the man turned- not to Arch, but towards Benji. His crown of blue flame shrank to nothing, and his head resumed its plain greasy charm.

“Thanks for the distraction, kiddo,” he said. “I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“I’ve… had worse trips,” Benji began to smile, then leaned over the pine bush. He wretched and puked up into the dried leaves and needles.

Arch debated leaving Benji behind. It wouldn’t have been the worst thing they’d done, after all. But they sensed that they had a lot to make up for in order to be considered a good person again. They stood between their friend, and the man called Arty, who didn’t seem to be comfortable looking back at them.

“So…” Arty began. “You work for demons now, too?”

Arch refused to entertain him.

“Get away”-

“Arch”-

“I said get the hell away!” Arch didn’t have much for weapons, but they knew how to wield a stick at the very least. They were surrounded with plenty of those.

“I know you’re confused,” he said, maintaining his stance. “But I am not here to hurt you.”

Arch glanced toward the knife that was still covered in Paimon’s blood, or whatever it was that demon’s bled- it was difficult to tell in the darkness. Arty looked down at it too, then wiped it down on his own clothes before sheathing it on his belt. He held both hands up-

“See? Mostly unarmed.”

Benji stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He walked around Arch, towards Arty. If Arch was quicker, they would have pulled him back.

“Hey, uh, dude?” he started, noticing Arch’s confusion and look of betrayal. “Is it cool if I just walk home on my own? I don’t really feel like sticking around here to party anymore.”

Arty looked him up and down, incredulously.

“Uh, yeah? Yeah! Go home, kid… Good- good work tonight.”

“Cool.” Benji nodded tiredly, and then waved to Arch. “See you around, Arch. I promise I’ll bring better dope for next time.”

Arch watched him leave down the path.

“Okay… Yeah… See ya.”

Furrowing their brows, Arch was left standing alone in the field with… Arty… Not the man. And he was the next to speak.

“Can we talk?”

#mystics by alpaca #tw swearing #tw assault #whump #whumpblr #horror #urban fantasy #writing #writing blog #writeblr #tw drugs #whump blog #thriller #writers of tumblr #creative writing #mystics chapter 14 #original writing #Alpaca Ocs

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kaleidotropepodcast · 4 years

Text

the great inbox dump continues!

chetungwan said:

You followed me the same day I finished the podcast, how did you know

Just the Sidlesmith magic, @chetungwan!

Anonymous said:

so i just listened to the rent rant and i love this podcast and it is taking me over however i might’ve lost it when drew said the movie is bad, it’s one of the few musical movies i even care about.

Look I (Aja) bawled like a baby the first time I saw the movie, just like I do every time I see / hear the show. And fwiw, Drew would be the first person to tell you that no criticism of a piece of media should ever make you feel ashamed of loving it, because if it speaks to you, then that’s all that matters. <333 And Rent itself is all about that idea, too, so embrace it and go moo your heart out. :D

fancygeorgejones said:

Sick Benjamin Britten reference I LOVE YOU

THANK YOU, @fancygeorgejones! one of us may have written our music school thesis on homoerotic themes in benjamin britten operas so we very much appreciate your appreciation.

Anonymous said:

late to the party ig but. love the podcast it’s so cute!! anyway just wanted to say that the song Valentine by Atlas gives me Big Harridrew Vibes and I can’t help but imagine drew singing it to harrison bc it’s like... exactly something his overly romantic gay ass would write

Harrison definitely has this song memorized, and definitely Drew would notice and try to memorize it and then rap it to him adorably for Valentine’s, and then they would have lots of half-hug half-cuddle sweater moments, what, it’s fine, we’re fine

Anonymous said:

I really want to review your show but it has 69 reviews on itunes right now and I desperately do not want to be the one to break that so im at a crossroads because I also want to help it get noticed.....

We’d tell you that you’re in luck because now there are 122 ratings, so you can review away! But in fact reviews apparently don’t make much of a difference in shows getting noticed anyway, so the best thing you can do to spread the word is, well, spread the word! IE tell people that we exist! :) <3333 (And we know so many of you guys do just that and we love you so much for it!!)

Anonymous said:

Is your podcast on Spotify?

I’ve heard good things about it and really want to start it but can’t find it on Spotify :(

We are not on Spotify! we applied but were rejected, probably because we recorded everything in a garage on dial-up at the bottom of the ocean 😭

Anonymous said:

Do you think Harrison would make a good zookeeper?

Harrison would be slightly less awful than Drew, but between them they would turn every single animal encounter into an Event, and no zoo needs that much drama 😂

Anonymous said:

have you ever considered publishing a book surround drew and harrison's story? like the transcripts, or even a novel, cause i would 100% buy 7 copies of it

....well, we’re considering it now!

Anonymous said:

I'm preparing a fanfic about the Sidlesmith founders, and trying to use the story on the website as a base, but combining the dates from that and the date of the contract in the show, the contract is more than two years after Sidlesmith received their trust funds, while in the contract it seems like they're yet to get them. So, to be true to canon, which i know is not a requirement, but i want to be, would I have to work that into the story somehow or should i change the date of the contract?

Oh, no, a continuity error! We wrote the story on the website first, I believe, and the story itself is canonical, but we all know dates are fuzzy like that. The website and the show are both consistent that the contract was signed before they got married and the fake relationship was to end once they got their trust funds a year later. That’s the important thing — the dates are *handwaves* whatever.

Remember, this is a town that’s a thriving sea port surrounded by mountains, that’s located south of the Ozarks (Arkansas) but north of the Mississippi River (Minnesota). Time and temporality are funny things, at a baseline. So feel free to have fun with that! :D

Anonymous said:

I'm writing an enemies to lovers, fake dating sidlesmith fic. is there anything more you can tell me about them? or even the construction of the college?

oh i hope there are two of you!!! 🙏

Harriet was smoking hot and desired by everyone, and Henrik had one hell of an impressive beard. Harriet was hot-headed, but also frustratingly pedantic, while Henrik was stodgy and something of a dullard until he stumbled across a subject about which he was passionate.

They had identical taste in literature, how annoying, and always interpreted everything they read in exactly opposite ways. They each had very advanced ideas about things like sexuality, polyamory, and gender, but expressed them in their very different ways, which means they rarely realized how often they in fact agreed. They absolutely did not get rip-roaring drunk one night after fighting furiously over Melmoth the Wanderer, then raid each other’s wardrobes in order to try on one another’s clothes, and absolutely did not then have the best sex of their lives while still Harriet was still clad in Henrik’s breeches and suspenders and Henrik was still wearing her hoop skirts and corsets, after which they absolutely never ever talked about it again, because there was nothing to talk about.

Or maybe they were both ace and aromantic, and the fact they started a magic school of romance is a giant irony. Who knows!

As for the school, during the spiritualist craze of the late 19th century, a number of students held seances to try to summon the spirits of Sidlesmith, until it’s rumored that Harriet got tired of being summoned and declared she’d curse the next person who called her back from the Beyond because she and Henrik were enjoying very cozy afterlives, thank you very much. Shortly thereafter, a student who was known to be highly interested in witchcraft was seen entering a small copse of trees in the center of campus, right at midnight. The student vanished, and the students who saw her enter the trees were never able to say precisely where she had gone. And they say that today, if you examine the original blueprints of the college, there’s a small area in the middle of campus that’s completely untraceable today — as if the Sidlesmith curse had wiped out both the student and the grove in which she walked.

#sidlesmith #harriet and henrik can get it #Q&A #kaleidotrope podcast #long post

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submissivedjberry · 4 years

Text

Green Eyes || Jolia

Tagging: DJ Berry & Jo Fabray ( @jofabray )

Date: September 4

Location: Jo’’s Suite

Summary: Jo is jealous of certain events surrounding DJ.

Jo didn't do jealousy. It was an ugly emotion, and in a relationship where both partners trusted each other it shouldn't ever be necessary. She knew that DJ was hers - hell, the girl was sitting right there beside her - and that she never had to doubt that. But despite her best intentions, there was an ugly flare inside of her at the fact that Lucas was publicly talking about the "soft spot" he had for her girl. The jealousy was doubly stupid because it wasn't as if he could claim DJ even if she agreed; but damned if she didn't feel it all the same. The two of them hadn't had a meal with Benjamin yet and Lucas was busily arranging what felt remarkably like some sort of "meet my submissive's family" meeting. It bothered her, much more than it should have. Setting down her phone, she patted DJ's leg in a comforting motion and got up from the couch, needing to walk around for a few minutes and calm her mind. The mood she was in wasn't fair to her girl, and Jo knew she had to work herself out of it or she was going to ruin the rest of their evening. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, she pressed it to her forehead for a moment and shut her eyes. What she was feeling was stupid and ridiculous, and she hated to feel it at all.

One thing that DJ loved about spending time with Jo was that they didn't constantly need to be doing something, sometimes it was just nice to sit next to one another as they did their own thing. DJ was reading through a book while Jo messed around on her phone and DJ couldn't be any more content. She loved this Domme and was so excited to be hers, even if it would still take some time until they were ready to actually make that official in the eyes of the law. She knew that she was Jo's and for not that was all that mattered. At the pat to her leg, she glanced up from her book, even as she saw Jo get up and move away. She frowned slightly in response, not knowing what was going on, but able to see the tension in her body. She waited a little while for the Domme to return and when she didn't, she stood and moved into the kitchen. "Domina?" She questioned, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

DJ's voice startled her out of her own head, and Jo turned with a rueful smile. "I'm sorry, my girl. I just had to clear my head a little. I'm not in the most pleasant place in my head right now, and I wanted to do something about that before you had to deal with it." She gestured for DJ to come closer, and Jo wrapped her arms gently around her. "Sometimes your Domme can be a very silly Domme," she murmured, resting her chin on DJ's shoulder. "You're going to have to forgive her for that, darlin' girl, and I apologize in advance. You shouldn't have to deal with me bein' silly." She hardly wanted to talk about what was going on, but she knew that it would worry DJ unfairly if she didn't. "Can you..." she hesitated. "Can you take a look at Lucas' post for me? I want to see if I'm just completely overreactin' or if you get the same feelin' from it I do."

When Jo called her closer, DJ made her way over and tucked herself against her Domme, fingers slipping under her shirt to trail along her lower back gently. She didn't know what was going on, but she wanted to help if there was something that she could do to make things even remotely better. She let Jo ramble a little bit about her being silly and being sorry for the fact that she was being silly and she pressed a kiss to her head wherever she could reach. "We can all be silly sometimes. And you've had to deal with me being silly a lot. So I don't mind, my Miss. Is there something that I can do to help? Do you need me to kneel? Do you need to spank me?" She questioned, laying out different options. Her eyebrows furrowed when Jo asked if she could check Lucas' post, wondering what exactly was going on for that to be necessary. "Of course I can, Miss." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled until she saw what Jo was talking about, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Jo considered those options, wondering what might make her feel better. She didn't want to cause DJ unnecessary pain for something that wasn't her fault, especially so soon after the punishment that she'd had to endure. But she also wasn't sure if kneeling would make her feel any better, because she was definitely frustrated and not sure where to channel. it. As DJ looked over the post Jo nearly held her breath, knowing that DJ was either going to think she was very silly or that she had a point, and there was no way to know which it would be. "You're never silly, my girl. At least not in ways that I don't like." She gestured to the phone, worried. "Am I being oversensitive? Or does that seriously not sound like he's your Dom and setting up a meeting with your family? Like I'm sure that I'm being an idiot here, but it just...it bugs me."

She put her phone away and slipped her arms around Jo's neck, letting her fingers drag lightly against Jo's skin. "It does sound more intimate than I think it should for the platonic relationship that he and I have. And I had no idea that he was asking Benny to come eat breakfast with us. But I'm telling you now that it doesn't matter to me what his intention is. Because I am yours. Always will be. And plus...he can't have a second submissive anyway." She said gently, pressing their foreheads together. "How can I help, Domina?"

Jo nodded quickly, relieved to hear that she hadn't been acting like a complete lunatic. "I know y'all didn't, my girl, or I know ya would have said something." She leaned into DJ's touch, glad for the simple comfort of fingers against delicate skin. "You're right - I know you're right, Dalia, there's nothin' he could do, I'm just...I don't like him talkin' that way about you. And it's silly of me, because I have never doubted you, or wondered if y'all were mine. Not ever." Jo sighed. What could she do to help? Resting their foreheads together seemed to dull some of the ache in her mind over what she'd read. "Tell me honestly, darlin' girl - how's your ass?"

She smiled softly when the Domme said that she believed her and she leaned into the touch further. She hummed gently and shook her head. "Still not silly. Unless I'm really silly for not doubting you but still being worried about another sub coming around." DJ bit down on her bottom lip when she asked how her ass was, she thought about it seriously for a moment. "It's still stinging but nothing I can't handle, my Miss. As long as we can stay away from the cane? I really didn't have fun with that at all. It's...good for punishments. But..." She paused to wait and see what the Domme would say about that situation.

"That's not silly either, my girl. I completely understand that." And DJ did have a point, if she was willing to accept that her girl felt that way why wasn't she willing to accept that she could feel that way? Jo listened carefully, taking in not only what DJ had to say but the way that she said it. "We won't touch the cane outside of punishments, darlin'. That's more pain than I like to dish out in scenes, and it will stay safely away from y'all. I promise." She kissed DJ's forehead softly. "Today's just gonna be with my hand. And then we're gonna do somethin' you wanna do - watch somethin' you'd like to watch, order food, you can kneel with me for a while. Anythin' you like. Because I appreciate you, Dalia. My darlin' girl. For bein' so patient and so understanding with me."

When Jo said that she understood why DJ would feel that way, she stayed silent in the hope that Jo would see why she didn't have to feel silly. She was content when Jo expressed that the cane would only be for punishments, hoping she wouldn't get it often. Hearing that it would just be with her hand, she smiled softly. "That's okay, Domina. I am happy to be of service. Whatever I can do to help you...I want to do. As long as I'm able." She kissed her cheek gently. "Where do you want me?"

How Jo had gotten so lucky as to be blessed with DJ as her submissive, she truly didn't know. Compared to many of the more experienced or more public Dominants at the Institute she knew that her range of skills and her appeal wasn't in their league - that she wasn't in their league. But somehow, some way, DJ had chosen her. And despite the urge to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jo did her best to accept her luck without digging too deeply into the source of it. "Thank you, darlin'," she smiled as the kiss lingered on her cheek. "Let's do this on the couch. Let me get sittin', and you can climb into my lap. Just strip off for me first, please." She took a seat and spread her legs a little, providing a base for DJ to lie down over.

She nodded when Jo thanked her for, offering her a smile. She was very happy to offer some form of a solution. Even if it didn't completely fix everything. "You're welcome, Miss. I'm always happy to help if I can. Even if it's just by getting spanked." DJ expressed honestly. "The couch it is." She moved into the living room and pulled off her clothes. She folded them neatly and then made her way over to Jo. She settled over her lap and bit down on her bottom lip for a brief moment.

"Even that helps more than you know, darlin' girl. I appreciate everythin' you do for me, whether it's cooking or cleanin' the suite or being spanked, all of the ways that you serve me mean more than you know. And I am so proud that you're my girl." She couldn't wait until the day they could make that official, but for now they both knew it and that was enough. "Darlin'," she murmured as DJ took up position over her lap. "This is not a punishment. You will always know the difference. You're my girl. My good girl." She took a slow breath. "I'm going to give y'all ten on each side. No need to count, or thank me, y'all just have to stay where you are."

She nodded her head when Jo said that she would know when she was being punished and hummed softly. "I understand that I'm not being punished, Miss. And I'll stay still for you." The hand shouldn't be too bad, especially not compared to the cane; but her ass was still a bit sore and that left her just a tad bit weary. But she knew that Jo would stop if she needed her too and that meant that other than her hands, her body was relaxed and prepared for the first spank.

"Thank you, darlin' girl." Jo took a deep breath, knowing what she was about to do had to be done with a steady hand. Her frustration was not anger at DJ, nor was this spanking meant to be aggressive. It was a way to work out her feelings, no more and no less. The welts from the cane, still healing, needed to be avoided and each spank had to be precise. With all of that in mind Jo brought her hand down, five times on each side in mechanical motions that allowed her to feel some satisfaction without causing further harm. "Halfway there. Breathe for me, my girl."

She took a deep breath, steadying herself when Jo told her to breath and relax. It really wasn't that bad. Taim compared to the punishment she had warrented a few days before, but it still stung. "I'm okay, Miss. Ready when you are." She assured her Domme, not wanting her to feel as though she couldn't continue. DJ was alright and the next ten wouldn't change that. Plus, she was in some way the reason that Jo was so uncomfortable, so it felt right that she was taking the spanking.

"Good girl," Jo praised. She took another beat to steady herself and brought her hand down for the remainder of the spanking, rubbing DJ's reddened skin gently after the last. "Thank y'all for takin' that so well, DJ. I think I needed that more than I realized. You're so good to me - so good for me, and I don't deserve you one single bit." Running her fingers through dark hair, she scratched at the girl's scalp. "Let's go get somethin' on that skin, just to be safe, and then y'all can decide what your reward should be for bein' my good girl."

When the spanking came to an end, she let out a soft breath and nuzzled against her Domme's lap. The feeling of fingers scratching along her scalp let a soft moan fall from her lips. She was glad that Jo let her rest there for a moment, reminding herself she hadn't done anything wrong, that all it was was a way to serve and help her Dominant. She eventually pulled up and kissed the blonde before moving into a different position so that Jo could grab the cream for her ass.

Jo stood, feeling much more steady in herself and in her relationship than she had when she first read Lucas' message, and took DJ's hand to lead her into the bedroom. "Y'all know what I need better than I do, my girl. And I could never tell you how much it means to me." She laid her down on the bed face down and moved into the bathroom to find the cream before returning to the bed. "This shouldn't be too bad, darlin' girl, but we'll get a little on everywhere and hopefully it'll help healing of your welts and everythin' too. I'll be quick, I promise."

#post: para #para: jo fabray #para: jo fabray 16

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tornrose24 · 5 years

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Cu secret superhero au! Krupp backstory and headcanons

Oh, I’m going to have fun with this! Let’s see if I can come up with things that I have not yet.

-So because CU’s origin story is canon, that means Benjamin’s place of birth was originally Underpanty world and BDLJ and PPH are his real parents.

-He crash landed on his adoptive parents farm, but his biological parents had the sense to give him a device with a recording explaining his true heritage. (Not sure if that also happened in the Superman lore).

-His adoptive father was all for adopting him and was the one to name him ‘Benjamin’ yet Bernice was not as much for it, especially since she was already pregnant with Jasper (this is according to @jackie-sugarskull’s contribution).

-His adopted dad had found the device and, after finding out what was on it, had it hidden away and would later tell Benny he should only open it if something were to happen to him (or to him and Bernice) or when Benny reached a certain age (9 or 10-ish).

-Because Benjamin had the EXACT same physical features as his adoptive parents, EVERYONE besides close family members were fooled into thinking he was their actual biological son in addition to Jasper.

-Benjamin was loved by his adopted dad and Jasper. Bernice… not so much. When his dad passed away, there was nothing to hold her back from mistreating him and he had no clue why for a long time.

-Eventually he did find the recording from his real parents, in which they revealed who they were, where he came from, and that he was due to get superpowers upon reaching the age of 9/10. He thought it was a joke. Later on when he reaches that age (and one amusing incident involving suddenly flying and lifting heavy objects happens) it turns out that it was the truth.

-Clothes actually DO diminish his powers significantly. With them, he’s not as strong and he can’t fly very far or for an unlimited amount of time.

-And spray starch can also make him temporary powerless.

-Water doesn’t do anything to him in this AU.

-He did not let any of the bullying or Bernice break him like it did in canon. He wanted to help others out who had to suffer like he did and give them something to be happy about.

-Plus he’s got a better way of venting his aggression out–by beating up bad guys and trying to save the day.

-I would imagine that as an older kid/teen, he’d do things like community service/tutoring/programs helping kids out, in addition to being on top of his studies. Which of course benefited him later on for his career.

-His best friend in his childhood/teen years is jackie-sugarskull’s OC Sawyer, who was the only one who knew about his superpowers. They used them to pull off pranks/help out other kids/escape to somewhere like the arcade or a nice place outside of town. In fact, she was a huge reason in why Benjamin didn’t turn into the jerk we are used to in canon. (Anything else involving Sawyer in this AU is up to Jackie since she’s her OC).

-Benjamin does have a bit of a skin sensitivity issue due to what his biological race is (super powered people who mainly wear underwear) so there are certain fabrics he can’t stand. (Cotton is one of the few materials he can handle wearing). Growing up with a ‘mom’ who barely cared if a certain type of shirt was too itchy for you to wear didn’t do that any favors for him as a kid.

-He opted to embrace the ‘Captain Underpants’ persona as a hero because 1. It makes it easy to fool bad guys and distract them 2. Why not embrace that part of who he is? 3. The world needs a bit of humor 4. Again he’s more powerful WITHOUT the clothes.

-Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he had tried his hand at it as a teen, but tried a more ‘edgier’ approach back then.

-He probably can’t be super open about it at an elementary school, but he does support the LGBTQ (and others). (Actually, I think CU is more open about it out in public. Understandably it causes mixed reactions for some).

-Again, while Benjamin is not a complete jerk as a principal, he HAS to keep up the stern, tough, no-nonsense facade to not only lower any suspicion that he might be CU, but to protect his students if someone were to find out the truth. Which kind of sucks for him because this version does adore children, but he can’t afford to let his guard down for one minute out in public.

-He IS a little easier on the kindergardeners because they are new to school life. Same for kids who need additional help (think students who need modifications or accommodations, IEPS, 504s, etc.)

-Both of the above also plays a part in why his relationship with his nephew isn’t so great. (In addition to the fact that he refused to give Kipper any special favors and was against his nephew bullying others.)

-I imagine the moments where ‘CU’ is especially dumb is an act to further fool his enemies. I think Benjamin’s truest self is a mix of both CU and Krupp (but especially without Krupp’s nastier side). Like he actually is a fun-loving, caring guy, but he’s someone you still don’t want to anger.

-Before George and Harold found out the truth, Benjamin had mixed feelings about them. Yes they did the pranks and whatnot that made his job hard. On the other hand, they adored his superhero self to the point that they made comics about him and he wanted to open up and just tell them the truth for the longest time.

-And ironically, it’s with George and Harold (and later Edith) that he feels more open and who he can be his truest self around.

-He has that wig stash, but it’s more for disguises.

-While everyone at school thinks the relationship between the three is strained, Benjamin has more trust in George and Harold than most others (Edith he trusts for obvious reasons. With Ree he tolerates him due to the man’s background and that he’s the most likely to protect the kids out of the other adults if something were to happen to him). So the boys report to him if ANYTHING is out of place on campus or if it seems there’s a super villain around.

-For that reason, he’s not a huge fan of substitute teachers.

-The boys’ parents are under the impression that he’s personally tutoring them a few times. It’s actually a cover for if they are genuinely hanging out with him. It also doubles as an excuse for why they were not around when they were actually helping CU out.

#captain underpants #mr. krupp #cu secret superhero au

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gabriellapatterson-blog · 6 years

Photo

The first date

Dear Gabby,

Oh my god oh my god oh my god okay, so remember back when we were little and my cat died? Ugh horrible start. But remember how Jeremy something helped me out and I stayed at his house that night. Like I’ve told you this story before? Okay okay okay so yesterday I went biking (I know aren’t I being like super fit?) But anyways, I fell down and this like super cute doctor boy, so he helped me out, took me to lunch, turns out it’s JEREMY LIKE OH MY GOD ITS FATE. Obviously this is destiny like it takes you first then me? We should have a double wedding. Anyways anyways, I have a second date planned. Should we do bowling or go the beach? I MISS YOU. I checked in on your parents the other day too. Eliona is so upset that you’ve been gone. Expect a letter from her soon in pink glitter ink. How’s the prince? Have you made any friends? Please tell me you didn’t show off Mr Cuddles? Also! I just read in a magazine that he loves to be called Benny boy. You should try it! Keep me posted!

Lots of love,

Emma.

I looked down at the letter with a grin and glanced quickly to Mr Cuddles sitting promptly on my bed. I started to pull out a pen and paper to write my response when I was interrupted by a knocking at my door. Right! The first dates! I probably should have remembered considering I was not in a puffy ball gown, instead my maids had picked out for me a pair of black shorts and a white T-shirt. No idea why though.

I stood from my desk and walked over to open the door and saw Ben on the other side just as I had expected.

“Afternoon, Benny boy.”

He smiled and raised an eyebrow, “Benny boy?”

“Emma said she read in a magazine that it was your favored nickname. Figured I’d give it a try. Thoughts?”

“I wouldn’t call it favored. It was started by magazines, but-” He lifted a shoulder with a small smile. “-if you like it go ahead.”

“Nah. I’m gonna stick to Ben. Benny boy doesn’t flow as well in conversation. Though it was fun to guess what your reaction would be. To make it up you can call me Gabby gal sometime.” I said with a slight chuckle.

“So what are we doing?” I asked.

“Well Gabby gal-” He paused and offered his arm “-should I tell you now or keep it a surprise?”

I took his arm, “Hmmmmmm…I like surprises so we’ll keep it a surprise.” I then looked up at him, “Did you try the alarm clock?”

We walked down the stairs and outside past the garden as we talked about clothes, and sleeping, and breakfast until finally we made it to a weird looking baseball field.

“Care to guess what we’re doing?” He asked as he motioned to a bucket of balls, two mittens, and baseball bats.

“Hitt'n balls.” I replied with a smug grin.

He rolled his eyes with a grin, “Great seductive reasoning.” He said and let go of my arm and went to go pick up a mitt and put it on his hand.

“More specifically, a baseball lesson. Up for the challenge?” He asked. Wow baseball, he happened to pick one of the few sports I haven’t learned like the back of my hand.

“Sure. Though I have to warn you schreave. My upper arm strength is about that of an infants and I would know since i have a newborn sister. You saw my guns though so you should already know that.”

He laughed a bit and shook his head, “You’ll be fine, Patterson. It’s just a first lesson after all.” He then picked up another mitt for her, held it out. “You’re left handed, so you’ll put this on your right.”

I took the mitt for my right hand, “I once did cheerleading for my high school’s baseball team. The boys insisted they deserved cheerleaders just like the other teams. Even though it was small enough that they were on our other teams too.”

“Well baseball deserves to be cheered for.”

“Not our team. I don’t think they knew the difference between a base and a rock. So whos doing what in this?”

He gave a short laugh, “We’re just tossing the ball back and forth for now. Strengthening up those infant arms.”

I chuckled, “Great let’s start then, benny boy.”

He then started to throw the ball back and forth at me. I caught it with decent ease which surprised me a little. Getting a little cocky I decided I wanted to see how hard I could throw it and have him still catch. I threw it with a little more arm strength though it ended up going about as far as I had before, “So how’d the meeting with the people go that you studied for?” I asked hoping to avoid the embarrassment of my failed throw.

He snickered a bit at my failed attempt which lead me to be a little blushy. “It went well. And what we studied for, your notes were a help you know.” I smiled as he included me in it. I hadn’t wanted to take away from his effort by saying we earlier but it made me happy to know he didn’t see it that way.

“Heh I’m glad. How do they do this in those sports shows. Like the leg up thing?” I asked and tried to mimic the leg up thing but ended up losing balance when I threw and fell on my bum.

He seemed to be holding in laughter as he jogged over to me. I myself felt a bit giggly at myself. I must have looked like such a pleb.

“I think that’s what I would call a failed pitch.” He then bent over and offered me a hand. “You alright?”

I ended up laughed a bit as I took his hand and stood up, “I’m fine. Though a real failed pitch would be something like “ever need a toaster that butters your toast as well as toasts it? Well sometimes life sucks kare-” I drawed off a bit as I noticed a small cut on my hand. Woops. Well at least it doesn’t hurt.

“Woops. Not used to falling on solid ground I guess.” I chuckled then tried to wipe off the cut on my shorts. My mom would have just killed me. But we’re busy it’s not like we have time for a 35 hour cleaning and bandaging for a small cut that doesn’t even hurt.

“Wait don’t do that.” He said and took my off hit mitt and took my hand to look at the cut, his eyebrows furrowing.

Y’know it just hit me. Ben is really similar to my mom. They both seem to forget about their health because of the work. My mom forgetting to eat and only sleeping because my dad is there to make sure she does. Benjamin forgetting to sleep, though from what I’ve seen he seems to eat. They’re both very dedicated to what they do. They also both seem very careful. Benjamin with this cut and mom with her children. Oh well I’m probably looking too far into this and maybe Ben isn’t detail focused like mom at all. But I know I’m right on him having the same problem as mom with getting too involved in their work.

“I mean it’s only a cut it’s not like it needs the focus of surgical operator.” I joked as he looked at the cut.

He glanced at me with an eye roll, “I’m not the one who wiped an open cut on my pants and exposing it to all sorts of things that could infect it.” I couldn’t help by chuckle at all the drama the small cut was causing.

“But it wont. That only happens to like super unlucky people who already only have like one like and an eye. People do it all the time and nothing happens.” I guess pirates. Didn’t they die a lot because of wounds or something?

He snorted, and lifted the hem of his t-shirt slightly to dab the cut with the underside of his shirt slightly, “Better safe than sorry.”

I watched his face as he focused on patting my cut. “Sure. Better safe than sorry can apply. Hey! good thing you wore the black shirt!”

“I’m nothing if not prepared.”

“Oh yeah. Now I’ve seen this trait twice. First with studying for your meeting, now this. Just gonna tick off that prepared check box.” See now if I get asked in an interview for adjectives I’ve got so many.

He smiled and pointed with his thumb to some bats on the ground, “I was going to teach you how to swing, but…” He trailed off as he glanced at my cut hand.

“No no. It doesn’t hurt and I’m no wimp.” I said and haughtily put a hand on my chest.

He looked at me for a moment with just a little bit of a smile, “Alright then.” He picked up a bat, “How much do you know about swinging a bat?” He asked.

“Nothing really. I have swatted away my older sister from a cookie plate with a newspaper before though.” I joked.

“That sounds familiar. So I’ll show you what the stance is and then you can try.” He said then did the baseball stance then went back to normal.

“Got it. So then you just like wack right? Like whack a mole but with a ball?” I asked.

“More or less. Let’s see you try it out first before you whack any moles.” He said and handed me a 2nd bat. I took a few steps away from him and tried to swing which just resulted in the bat flying away and out of my hands. Clearly, I didn’t have a strong enough grip on it.

“Welp. Goodbye.” I stated flatly as the bat flew away. I watched it slowly fall to the ground. It would feel appropriate if the kazoo version of my heart will go on was playing behind it.

Ben laughed out loud as the bat flew away from us both, “You just have to keep your grip firm and adjust your stance. Here, pick it up and I’ll fix any mistakes I see.”

I went over to get the bat and jogged back over once I had it, “I feel like harley Quinn walking with a baseball bat. About to go fight. Steal money. Alright correct me Master baseball.” I said and got back into baseball whacking position.

He snorted, “Harley Quinn has nothing on you.” He said then eyed my stance, he stepped over and tipped my raised elbow up a bit with his hand

“Bring this up slightly and…” He went to my right shoulder, tapping on it from behind.

“Lower your shoulder. And when you swing, pretend the ball is coming around your waistline, so you’ll swing the bat directly in that area. Swing all the way through, alright?” He said then stepped in front of me with a smile then looked at my hands.

“Oh, as for these-” He put one hand over mine and slid it down closer to my other hand on the bat. “-Keep these close together and hold onto the bat tightly. Try not to throw it to the next city this time.” He said with a chuckle.

I felt my face blush heating up just a little bit as he corrected my stance. God, I’m such a child. I bet the rest of these girls don’t get blushy just from indirect hand holding.

“Alight I got this.” I said then swung the bat with my eyes closed not wanting to see my next failure or attempt.

“Was it good, Jamin’ boy?” I asked but then paused for a moment. Yuck. That is not a good nickname.

“I think benny boy is better than jamin’ boy. That came from jamin in benjamin.” I explained.

“Not too far off from another nickname I now have, but the swing was great. Should we throw in a ball this time?” He asked.

“Alright. I think I’m ready.” I nodded along with my statement of confirmation.

He threw the ball which I easily hit on my first try. Probably beginners luck.

He grinned and watched the ball fly up before coming over to me, “You did it! A natural.” He said.

I chuckled a bit cockily, “Heh I learn fast. You don’t get as good as I am at basketball, surfing, track, cheerleading, and soccer without a skill of learning.” The soccer probably helped me hit the baseball since my eyes are adjusted to tracking fast moving spheres.

“You did all those sports? Wow you’re constantly one upping me, Patterson.” He said with a small impressed smile.

I put a hand on my hip, “Heh well if you didn’t study or do anything else you might have been able to be at my level. Soon I’ll add baseball to my list too.”

He rolled his eyes with a scoff, “I was a little busy with some other things to be at your level.”

Better than being a freeloader, “Poor Benny. Not at my level of doing nothing with their life. If only. Though at least you know what you’re doing.”

“You don’t know what you’d like to be yet?” He asked. Defensively I pushed two of my fingers against his lips so used to being scolded for my indecisiveness.

“Shush. I’m only 18. You know I read that before the castes it was normal to be indecisive at our age about careers. I mean I just haven’t found a three job that I like. I’ll get there I think.”

He nodded with a smile, “I understand. There’s no shame in figuring things out.” He looked around for a moment before plopping down on the ground.

“Are you happy with your career?” I asked. Hoping he would go off on some long tangent and reveal the secret to finding a happy fit.

“Yes. I don’t think I can imagine myself doing much else.” That doesn’t really answer my question, Schreave.

“But do you like it? Not seeing yourself able to do anything else is different. I’m asking is it something you like to do? Like what makes it good?”

“That’s exactly it though. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else because I like it so much. It’s good in that… I can help people. Or at least do everything in my power to try.”

“Huh. I guess that does make sense then. Though sucks for me since I can’t make that apply to myself to try and narrow down my options. The only thing I could ever see myself doing would lead to my mom having my head. I guess I’ll just have to go back to pros and cons lists. Lawyers argue. Maybe that’ll be competitive enough to add adrenaline?” I thought aloud mumbling the last part. I would hate the stiffy law clothes though.

“What kind of job would make your mom that mad at you?” He probably thinks I wanna be a stripper.

“Surfing, running, anything I want to do. She’s a very anti risk person and she sees it as a risk to not stick to your caste. My older sister is trying to be a fashion designer I already saw the massacre of her, don’t want it myself. She’s a very sweet person don’t get me wrong and I love her more than anything but she’s just a very careful person.”

“Would ever go for it? Leaving your caste?”

“Maybe. I’ve considered it. There have been a few times when I’ve gone really close to just knocking on my parents door and being like “hey this is what im gonna do take it or leave it” I just don’t want to disappoint her. She pulls off the im your disappointed mother look very very well. Thats a big reason of why i started taking a gap year though. I had planned on using it to stall until I got the courage to tell her. But just seeing what’s going on with Riley and how often they are fighting its very down putting.” I must have ruined my image of not being a chicken by now.

“I can’t speak for your mom or your situation but… I imagine someday, if you did leave your caste, your mom would come to terms to it in the end. It comes from a place of love.”

I thought for a moment. Deep down I know he’s right. Mom loves us more than anything in the world and I know that nothing I could do would change that. “You’re right. I know you’re right. At this point it’s just fear.” Crud I need to lighten the mood. This is not first date conversation.

“Though, I’m sure if I can bawk like a chicken for you I can get over any other fear.” I added.

He laughed, throwing some grass over at me. “I think your expert bawking leaves you extra qualified.”

“Plus if I end up chickening out, pun intended, I could just transition from being a freeloader there to hiding in a cupboard here and steal food. I bet I could go months without anyone noticing. Sneak out at night to go surf at the beach, come back in time to sneak some breakfast and other food, then nap in the cupboard for the rest of the day. Sounds like a good life.”

We both talked for a bit more about my idea of living in the cupboard and the amazing dessert I tried while here, a lemon tart. Honestly, I’ll need to get the recipe so I can make them at home. They were like a fairy dance in your mouth.

“Oh look it’s a butterfly cloud!” I exclaimed as we laid down looking up at the sky.

“I see two bats mirroring each other.”

“You must need glasses then. Its 100% a butterfly.”

“As a matter of fact I do. You saw me in them. But right now my contacts help me just fine and those are definitely two bats.”

“Hmmm. You’re right. You were wearing nerdy glasses to study.” Suddenly the worst thought a person could possibly ever have occurred causing me to gasp, “What if I need glasses?”

He snickered, “Maybe you do. Then you’d be just as nerdy as me.”

“Ew ew ew ew I bet you infected me with your nerd cooties.”

He scoffed, “I’m not a disease that’s contagious.”

“Then why is that cloud a bunny?”

“Because you see what you want to see cootie Gabby”

“You saw mirroring bats. At least a butterfly is normal. Maybe your subconscious is telling you you have a long lost twin.” That lead us off onto a whole other topic about Wyatt and Emma until finally we made it back to the glasses.

“You look better with the glasses.” I mumbled.

He sighed, “And yet other people like me without. Can’t please everyone.” He chuckled.

“You look more like a nerd with them. It fits your personality better. At least what I’ve seen of your personality after now 2 meetings which is clearly everything.”

“Nerd seems to be the common descriptor for me so I’ll take it. You’re a little nerdy too you know?”

“I am not. I was a cheerleader that’s like the opposite of a nerd. I’m like a total jock through and through I made Cs and Bs in school. You probably made straight As.”

“There’s a very diverse group of nerds. You’re definitely included in that. And me getting good grades is just that whole dedication thing we talked about.”

I thought for a moment about hist statement, giving it deep consideration, “Hmm. You make a valid point, schreave. But due to mt stubborn nature I’ll only accept total defeat. We’ll do rock paper scissors to determine if I, Gabriella Rose Marie Patterson, am an actual through and through nerd.”

“And I, Benjamin Luke Schreave, declare that you will be proved wrong.” He sat up and faced me, sitting indian style as he held up a fist over his palm. “Best two out of three.”

I sat up and mimicked his sitting position. A plan already in my head. Paper every time. He’ll overthink it and expect me to change it at the last round. “Your on, schreave. Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.” I held my hand out flat as his two fingers making a scissor notion attacked.

It was his turn next so I waited in eager suspense as he counted down. This time my paper suffocated his fist. I took a breath in as we got to the final round. All of my life depended on this, was I truely a nerd? Had I been mislead all this time to believe I was a jock? Who am I really? Who is Gabriella Rose Marie Patterson. Only this next tie breaking throw would reveal.

“Hah I’m gonna win now for sure. I always win if i win the 2nd one. Rock, paper, shoot.” I stated trying to scare him and get him to slip up in a state of panic.

My flat hand was soon cut by his two fingers as I had to accept defeat. “Streak is over, Patterson. Welcome to the nerd club.”

We talked for a moment about cookies, then about Benjamins poor health as he commented that he didn’t really go outside much. What is he? A vampire? First he doesn’t sleep, now he doesn’t even go outside?

“How’d you enjoy your first baseball lesson? Not too terrible?” He asked starting to wrap up our date.

“Not horrible. I still don’t know how to play baseball. But i can throw and hit a baseball.” I pointed out.

He gave a small smile, “We’ll save the logistics for next time.” He said and stood up. He brushed himself off before offering me a hand.

“Yup and for now if a robber breaks in I know how to hit em.”

“No one can go up against you, Patterson.” He said and offered me an arm.

“Normally true. Apparently, I lost at rock paper scissors though. But overall we’re tied. I won the bawking you win the hand game.”

We began to walk back to the palace as we spoke, “Hmm. We are tied. Anything else you can come up with that I can beat you at?”

“Hmmmm that no. But things I could beat you at? Tons. Checkers, uno, poker, surfing, hot dog eating, cooking, speed reading.” I listed.

He scoffed, “Please, at least half of it is stuff I could win.”

“Doubt it, schreave. I get it though you’re trying to protect your frail ego. If that’s what you need to think you can think that.”

“My /frail ego?/ Trust me, my ego is plenty intact. And I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

“Hmm looking forward to being proved wrong then, Benjamin.”

He smirked as we got back to my room, “Me too. Well we’ve reached your destination, Gabby gal.”

“Thank you for walking me back, Benny boy.” I let go of his arm and walked in front of him and then firmly shook his hand. “Is this how you end dates, business deals, or both?” I asked.

He shook my hand seeming amused by the gesture then said, “I can give you a hug if you prefer.”

I felt myself tense a little bit. Was that too much for a first date? Could I even handle a hug? We held arms already but isn’t holding hands between hugging and arm holding? Gosh I don’t know anything about dating.

“Hmmmm. I don’t know if we’re there yet or not. How bout we do a side hug, see if that’s far enough and if we can go further we’ll make the big leap for a straightforward hug?” I suggested.

He laughed at my suggestion, “Side hug it is.” He said then we both did a quick side hug. Oh that wasn’t so tough. Didn’t feel too emotional either.

“Hmmm. I’ll take the normal hug now too.” I said with a bit of a smile.

He smiled too, “What an upgrade.” He said and gave me a hug. My head ended up being at his chest as we hugged. I felt a little flustered at the hug. I stood a little bit on my tip toes so I could have my arms go over her shoulders. Soon though we pulled away.

“Did I meet your hug standards?” He asked.

“Yes. I would say you met the standards well. You get an A+.” I said referencing his A- on bawking.

He grinned, “Just another thing I excel at.”

I rolled my eyes a bit at his cheeky grin, but ended up grinning myself, “Well I had fun, Ben. I’ll see you around I’m sure.”

“I’m very sure.” He gave a small smile and wave, “Have a nice rest of your day, try not to cut yourself anymore.” Cut myself? I don’t cut mysel- oh yeah I fell on my bum.

I waved back to him, “I’ll try but there’s only so much I can do. Bye bye.”

“Byyyye.” He waved once more before turning away and putting his hands in his pockets. I watched him go just to be sure there wasn’t anything else to add before I went back into my room. I just had my first date. Giddily I went over to my desk and saw my paper and pen that I had out from earlier.

Dear Emma,

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yenneferw · 7 years

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@goshua requested some more trans!tony

so i was originally go with some tonyrhodey but then i changed my mind for more irondad so here we are

also this is kind of short but i wasn’t feeling Great about it so jsdlfkjd

Happy drove him to the Avengers compound in silence as always, but the difference this time was that Peter wasn’t pressing that silence. He watched out the window as the world flew by, tapping his fingers on his legs and worrying about how this trip was going to go.

The last two times he’d spent a weekend at the compound, it was really fun. But the last two times he went, he had been in a good mood, excited for a weekend at the Avengers compound, a weekend hanging out with Tony. The last two times, they had talked about science and the Avengers and watched movies with Rhodey. Tony had answered his abundant questions and seemed to genuinely enjoy talking about his suit and his classes with him.

This time, all Peter wanted to do was curl up in his bed.

When they got there, he grabbed his bag out of the trunk silently, walking toward the side door closest to the living area of the Avengers compound. He still had his earphones in, grounding him in the moment away from the sounds of the people who bustled around the compound all the time. As he walked into the open space of the building, a flash of wings burying him under rubble appeared out of the corner of his eye and he felt his breath catch.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony called from down the hallway. The sound of Liz’s dad’s voice echoing through the warehouse came back to him, a little distant with the music in his ears, weaving itself in with Tony’s words. He stood still near the doorway, his heart caught in his chest.

Tony was approaching him, walking into the room, and he could tell from the way he slowed down as he got closer that he could see something was wrong. Peter watched him, the clothes he was wearing feeling restrictive and the music playing in his ears seeming to go up a couple volume levels.

“What’s up?” Tony asked cautiously.

Peter had forgotten how to talk, but he felt like even if he could open his mouth, the thought of trying to explain what he was feeling would only grate at his skin.

“Are you okay?” Tony was coming closer again, his hand out and coming to rest on his shoulder. He was the king of dadly shoulder-grabbing moments. It tied Peter to the moment, and he reached up and tugged the earphones out of his ears. “Hey, talk to me, Pete.”

Tony’s face looked like May’s did when she wanted him to open up. He felt swallowed in how tightly he had kept his fear to his chest lately, because there was no way he was going to tell May about being trapped underneath a building. And he usually talked to her about the way some kids at school treated him like shit, but those things still piled up.

It wasn’t that he felt like it was easier with Tony, but more that Peter felt like he would understand it better than May might. And he wasn’t going to worry so much that he would take away the suit if he heard about Peter’s anxieties.

He wanted to pour everything out at once, but all that came out was the initial cause of his low mood: “I lost the binder you made me.”

Tony paused for a moment, assessing that, and then squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll make you another before you leave this weekend,” he promised him. “Don’t worry about that. Guess I should have thought ahead to make a spare.”

Peter shook his head, because this really wasn’t all about the binder that Tony had made him. It had sucked, but he had worn his original sweatshirt over his spidey suit to make up for the fact that he didn’t have the special-made binder. “But I lost it, and it was really warm so I didn’t really want to wear a sweatshirt while I was out, and there was this guy and he asked why I was wearing my pajamas out to fight people, which was stupid and shouldn’t have bothered me but it made me all self-conscious about the sweatshirt—”

“Hey, I really am listening, kiddo, but you’re talking way too fast.” Tony put an arm around his shoulders, guiding him over to the couch for them to sit. He sunk back into it, remembering watching all the movies with Tony and Rhodey here. “So someone was an asshole?”

Peter fiddled with his headphones, twisting them between his fingers. He felt like it was bad for the cord, but he liked having something to do with his hands. “The sweatshirt guy didn’t bother me too much. It’s just— everyone’s an asshole. Not everyone, I guess, but a lot of people.” He was still talking quickly, but not so quickly that Tony looked lost.

“Yeah, there are always gonna be assholes,” he said. Peter looked over at Tony, hoping that his only words of advice weren’t to resign himself to their asshole behavior. He had been putting up with transphobes for a lot more years than Peter had, and in the public eye, too, so he was sure he had some way of dealing with them—at least in his head. “You know what I do when the assholes get to me?”

“No.” The question was rhetorical, he knew, but he spoke before he thought about just letting Tony go on.

“I think, I’m fucking Iron Man.”

Peter smiled a little bit. “That makes you feel better?”

“Well, they’re not Iron Man, are they? They’re just an asshole with nothing better to do,” Tony said. “And if thinking I’m fucking Spider-Man doesn’t help, you think about the not-assholes.”

Peter nodded. I’m fucking Spider-Man. He had stopped an illegal weapons dealer before—from a plane in the air. That was pretty cool. People like Flash and his buddies hadn’t done anything like that.

And it was pretty cool thinking about the way he and MJ could joke about cis people together, or the fact that he chose to remember Uncle Ben through making Benjamin his middle name.

“What do you do when you remember things though?” Peter asked, uncertain of himself. He didn’t know that he liked acknowledging that those feelings were back there. It was scary in and of itself that the memories haunted him like they did. “Like, things that happen while you fight.”

Tony seemed to understand immediately. “Has that night been bothering you?” he asked him, guilt peppering each word like it was his fault that Peter gained superpowers and ended up fighting Liz’s dad.

“Sometimes. In big buildings sometimes I see the wings flying around me,” he admitted, and it felt better than he thought it would to finally let that live outside of his head. In his head, it was a monster thriving around him when he was the most afraid, but aloud, he knew that it wasn’t real. Toomes wasn’t coming back.

“So that’s why you got a little”—he made a random gesture with his hands—“when you came in.”

Peter nodded.

Tony thought for a moment, and then let out a breath. “I have to remember to breathe. I have to remember where I am, not what’s happened to me,” he told him. He wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders again. “I’m sorry, kid. It’s not fair that you have to deal with all of this.”

Peter shook his head, not liking the way Tony spoke like he had caused every bad thing in his life, right down to Uncle Ben’s death and the transphobia and all of it, or something. “I don’t want to not be Spider-Man just because I see things sometimes,” he told him. “I still want to help people. I want other people to not have to be hurt by people like Toomes.”

Tony squeezed his shoulder. “God, you’re a good kid. How are you such a good kid?”

Peter looked over at him, listening to the lingering guilt and the pride mingle in his voice. He wanted to say something clever, but it took him too long to come up with something. “Thank you,” he said instead.

Tony smiled a little and patted his back. “Do you want to watch a movie? I think Vision wants to join in this time,” he said.

Peter nodded, a smile coming to his face as well. That talk had made him feel better, but not completely perfect. But watching a movie was easy, and didn’t require talking if he didn’t want to talk. Plus, he felt like watching a movie with Vision would be cool. Everything with Vision was cool. He was like a fucking robot guy who walked through walls—he was automatically cool 100% of the time.

“I’m a good kid because I’m fucking Spider-Man,” he blurted out as he thought of it, but it wasn’t until after he said it that he realized it wasn’t even clever enough to say when they had moved past that topic. Actually, it made little sense at all, but he stood by it anyway.

Tony rolled his eyes at him. “You think you can handle making the popcorn?” he asked. “I’ll get Vision and Rhodey.”

“Of course I can, I’m fucking Spider-Man.” He stood up, setting his bag down by the couch and dropping the earphones on the table.

“Why do I get the feeling May doesn’t let you say ‘fuck’?”

Peter shrugged. “Don’t know where you would get that from at all.”

Tony grinned a little bit. “Well, hey. Good to see you’ve got your sense of humor back.”

“Fucking Spider-Man never loses his sense of humor.” He went into the kitchen to make the popcorn, pulling out a couple of bowls to dump it into.

“Fucking Iron Man and fucking War Machine want the cheesy kind,” Tony called back into the kitchen as he disappeared down the hallway to retrieve the other two.

#trans peter parker #trans tony stark #peter parker #tony stark #smhc #my writing #mine #iron dad

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singingpeople · 7 years

Text

Undoing

Chapter 4

'Cause you know the truth hurts But secrets kill Can't help thinkin' that I love it still Still here, there must be something real 'Cause you know the good die young But so did this And so it must be better than I think it is Gimme those eyes, it's easy to forgive

- Hopeless

@pathybo @beautifulramblingbrains @tigpooh67 @jojuarez26 @iammarylastar @bookwarm85 @lets-play-truth-or-dare @deepfrz @carefultheyspit @feminamortem @mom2reesie @kellieabro @lauraaan182 @you-wont-let-me-let-you-go @beltz2016 @tomarisela @frecklefaceb

The first week went by without another disaster, fast but somehow dragging at the same time. My days always looked the same: get up early, take a shower after Marcus left the house, then breakfast at the headquarters. After doing the dishes, we´d get our assignment for the day, the boys performing physically more demanding tasks like helping a member build a new house or shelter for the factionless while we girls helped the woman do their laundry in huge tubs, rubbing until our hands were raw or patching up clothes until my fingers were bleeding. At least I learned now how to sew.

My favorite task by far was watching the little children when their parents had to leave. Of course, I liked the little ones most, the toddlers and infants who were still child enough to be allowed to laugh and cry – not like the older ones that liked to stare at walls for fun.

They honestly frightened me.

After lunch came the time I dreaded most, hurrying back to the house, having less than an hour to make sure it was immaculate before reporting to Marcus´ office where I served the worst part of my punishment – spending time with him.

Luckily, we weren’t alone most of the time, the other members of the council sitting together with him in a slightly larger conference room while I was either taking notes or was sent away, the topic not meant for my ears. Every time this happened I was torn between the happiness of leaving the stifling room and regret that I wouldn’t be able to hear what they were discussing.

Even when Marcus let me participate he sent me home over an hour earlier to prepare dinner, a huge disaster for someone who had never even laid hand on a spatula, claiming that he wanted to have at least one meal at home, with my company of course. This half an hour was the worst of the day, sitting opposite of him with no topic to talk about. I was relieved every time he dismissed me, letting me do the dishes before I was allowed to go to bed, staring up at the ceiling until sleep took me, completely exhausted from the day.

The next morning everything started again and again and again…

An endless, tiring circle of hard work and sleep.

But not today.

Today, it was Sunday and like all good stiffs, Marcus insisted I would accompany him to the early service, starting at 6 am followed by a big breakfast, which surprisingly for once included fresh fruits from the Amity farm.

The worship was strange, having never attended one, all the kneeling, standing up and reciting lines confused me and by the time it was over, I was literally starving. To my astonishment, Benjamin fit right in here, maybe a little too cheerful to be Abnegation but it seemed that the peace serum had finally worn off leaving him as happy but more conservative.

Susan and most of the other initiates were also here. I had neither spoken to her nor accepted her apology, my nature wasn’t to forgive easily. Especially if her betrayal could have made me factionless – something I´m sure would have blown up my deal with Max.

Not wanting to appear as a loner, which I had never been, but also wary of the people around me I took a seat beside Benjamin who chatted lightly with the other boys mostly staying quiet, just enjoying the for once not tasteless fruit as I piled my plate with apples and strawberries.

I was barely finished when Marcus approached and told me to follow him. I complied an uneasy feeling in my guts, quietly fearing I had done something wrong again.

Turns out I hadn’t.

It was worse.

Ushering me into the one car that was owned by abnegation, only a little notebook and pen in my hand we were chauffeured through the city, towards the hub where a leader meeting would be held as Marcus informed me gratefully. Staring at him, I felt myself pale. This wasn’t a meeting more like my personal hell. Not even Andrew Prior´s comforting smile managed to make me feel calmer, my heartbeat racing uncomfortably in my chest.

Two leaders who condemned me to a life as an outcast, one who despised me so badly he kept me under his watch for 24/7 to make sure I didn’t fuck his faction up and my Ex-boyfriend who I´d left without any warning before literally running away from him.

One week wasn’t nearly enough to face him again.

But like always, I had no choice.

The driver held my door opened and I hesitated before catching Marcus agitated gaze, scrambling out of the vehicle almost tripping over the hem of my dress. Brushing it off, I didn't realize that Marcus had already stepped into the building not even bothering to wait up. Rolling my eyes, I followed him through the first story of the hub with quick steps the notepad securely tucked against my chest, doubling as a shield as I stepped into the room, keeping to the wall to not draw attention to myself.

But it didn’t work as planned since I was the only person in the room that had absolutely nothing to do with being a leader of the five factions. And they knew too.

“Don´t mind my assistant. She´s just here to take notes.” Marcus addressed the room lightly, thankfully drawing the attention away from my figure. I never really had a problem being the center of attention, dressed in my black uniform I basically reveled in it, blossoming, thriving, but somehow now I felt indefinitely small. If it was the grey sack I was wearing, I didn’t know, the feeling of not being comfortable in my own skin so new, so raw that for the first time in my life I wished to have mastered the art of making myself disappear, to not be seen. I guess Marcus lectures were already working.

“Assistant? How… interesting.” Jeanine stated, her icy blue eyes full of morbid curiosity and… satisfaction as she basically devoured my appearance, searching for something only she knew. Her forehead furrowed as she concentrated, pretending she didn't know exactly who I was. "Aren't you the Dauntless transfer?"

“Yes, ma’am.” I gave her a tight smile, already tired of this make-believe. Not to mention that I despised her, the well-hidden threats behind the facts she had given me branded into my memory.

“Well… this year certainly was an interesting one, wasn’t it?” Jeanine smiled, her lips curling up to show her abnormally white teeth. The gesture reminded of a snarling dog, not less threatening than one, too. “I myself, too, have found an assistant from the rows of our transfers. Caleb is doing well, Andrew. He is extraordinarily intelligent if you take into regard that he… didn't have the time to deepen his lessons in his former faction." The small pause wasn't because Jeanine didn't know to say, she just chose not to speak it out loud but we all knew what she implied. He must be smart despite coming from Abnegation. As if erudite had a monopole on being smart.

Bitch.

“Let´s just hope yours will be as accommodating, Marcus. She must be impeccable if you choose her to work for you.”

“Quite the contrary, Jeanine.” Marcus countered and I felt my expression slip for a moment, narrowing my eyes at him. “I just thought that it would be the perfect opportunity for her to learn more about our way of life since it seems to be quite hard for her still. Isn´t that right, Casey?”

Avoiding the one gaze that had rested on me since I stepped into the room, I slowly lifted my eyes from the floor and met Max´s eyes how merely raised one eyebrow at me, regarding my reaction closely. Faking a smile so they wouldn’t see my gritted jaw, I looked over to my tormentor and bowed my head slightly.

“Of course.”

"Great." Marcus clasped his hand in front of him, looking patronizingly at the people surrounding the huge, round table but all I could concentrate was the not-so-quiet huff leaving his chest before he got up from his seat, walking past me so close that I just had to move one finger forward to touch his black uniform. Balling them into fists, I refrained but inhaled deeply, his familiar aftershave easing the anxiety tightly stuck in my chest for the first time in over a week.

Eric was busying himself at the buffet that was lined up against one wall in case one of the leaders would get hungry or if the meeting should run longer than excepted. I had just gotten a glimpse of his face but it was enough to see that the bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual meaning he was either tired or hungover and knowing that the first weekend of initiation was always widely celebrated, I guessed it was the latter.

Dauntless parties were always the wildest and I asked myself if he found someone to take home – not that it was any of my business any longer, I just wondered if...

Lost in thought, the bowl shattering against the tiles had me flinch and I whirled around to stare at Eric who looked at the glass shards with disdain before his glinting eyes flitted from the mess to me and back. A clear demand I couldn’t ignore.

Swallowing down my dismay for being treated like stuff I made my way over to him and crouched down to pick up the shards of glass. Eric remained standing beside me, his huge form towering over me, watching, observing.

Groveling to his feet had never been something I would have willingly done but here I was, in the middle of a situation I could have never even dreamed of, my new life.

By straightening up as soon as I had the glass in my hand I tried to keep what little was left of my dignity. Not that it felt as if I had any left but I had learned from early on that it was better to fake it than to admit weakness.

Raising my head to meet his gaze, I wasn’t surprised that his was already resting on me, scrutinizing me from head to toe, not bothering to hide the disgust at what they called dress, making me all fidgety.

"Don´t look at me like that," I muttered, no longer able to keep eye contact. "I would say I know how I look but I haven't even seen a mirror in over a week, less been allowed to use it."

“Clearly.” Was all he answered, voice curt but I thought to detect a hint of malicious glee at my misery as if he wanted to say ‘I told you so’. Narrowing my eyes at him, my fists instantly tightened but a sharp prick had me open them again with the hiss, having forgotten all about the glass.

"Well, it´s not like you look any better," I remarked dryly, wiping away at the small cut in my hand that was oozing blood, the glass shards discarded into the trash can to my right. "Long night, huh?"

Even though I tried to sound uninterested the small, humorless huff leaving his chest told me I had failed. But instead of poking fun at me, like he usually would he just grabbed a sandwich and stared at it before scrunching up his face in disgust, throwing it back on the platter.

“You know how we Dauntless are. No need to sleep when there´s booze… or someone who´s willing to warm your bed."

While he didn’t even spare me a glance, I stared at with raised eyebrows, incredulous of his audacity. I knew it was his way to cope… but rubbing it into my face that he hadn’t even bothered to wait one week until he took the nearest skank into his bed – it hurt.

Shaking my head at him, the chuckle leaving my mouth was bitter, rivaling the jealousy bubbling in my chest.

“God… you´re such an asshole.”

This got his attention. Whipping his head towards me, Eric´s eyes narrowed into slips and he took a threatening step forward, his next words equally chilling and riling me up, something only he ever managed.

“What was that, stiff?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Cocking my head, I plastered a sarcastic smile on my face to hide the burning in the back of my throat. The vein on his neck started pulsing dangerously as I added a sarcastic “Sir”.

With one big step, he was right in front of me, his fingers digging into the flesh of my arm, no doubt leaving bruises as he stared down at me with fire-blazing eyes into my defiant ones. Riling Eric up had always been a favorite past time of mine but I knew when his cold eyes started to light up like a flame, or more likely an inferno, you had gone too far.

Just where I wanted him after he refused to even look at me.

“Watch yourself, Casey.” He hissed, his voice venomous, his grip like a vice tightening further. “Or I will do it for you.”

Before I could respond, a throat clearing beside us had me rushing back but Eric was unfazed as always, our close proximity posing no obvious problem as he turned to face Marcus, lazily raising one eyebrow.

“Is there a problem here?”

"No, Sir." Averting my eyes to the floor I quickly yanked my arm out of Eric´s grasp, which he allowed, too busy studying my sudden change in behavior.

“Except –“ Eric started and my head whipped towards him in panic, the sinking feeling in my guts growing as I met his once again emotionless eyes, sure that whatever he would say would cause my certain doom, a misstep this big nothing Marcus would overlook. When he noticed the pleading expression on my face, he didn’t show just turned towards Marcus, voice cold as he went on. “She won´t be able to pick up all the glass shards without a dustpan and brush. You should tell her where she gets these things because I don´t give a shit.”

While speaking the first part, his gaze flitted from Marcus to me and back but to show that he really didn’t care, he started to walk away, mumbling over his shoulder while I stayed put, following him with my eyes as he took his seat right beside Max who, which I now realized, had been watching us the whole time.

“Third door to the right. Hurry up, we need someone who takes notes.” Was all Marcus said before he too made his way towards the large table. Turning around, I scrunched my face up, the obedience I had to display profoundly repugnant but like the good little stiff I had to be now, I did just as he said.

Taking a second to just breathe before I had to enter the conference room again, I wondered what wrong I had done to deserve not only Eric´s hate but also Marcus´ hovering over my every move like a hawk ready to strike.

After everything was clean, I took a seat a little away from the table, notebook in hand keeping the minutes, scribbling down every word of unnecessary banter coming from their mouth. But whatever topics were being discussed bypassed me because Eric did not once look in my direction. Not even when they closed up and the Dauntless had to walk by me to get to the door, his eyes not straying once.

That´s when I knew it… I had lost him.

In Marcus Eaton´s house was a door that was always locked. It was grey, almost dull just like every other one in this faction, not letting on that there could be something hidden behind it that could change the fate of our whole city. This totally unassuming piece of wood could possibly be the gates of hell, to my own, personal hell.

It was the door of Marcus Eaton´s study.

That night, after my disastrous run-in with Eric, I decided to not give a fuck anymore. Marcus was gone, out to eat at some council members house, the bland one-course meal no doubt prepared by another perfect little housewife. There seemed to be too much of them here.

Knowing this was my chance, Marcus gone for the night without the threat of him suddenly arriving like he usually did throughout the day, most likely to check up on me.

But not tonight.

Tonight Marcus would spend wholly at Alice Brewster´s house, not coming back before eleven pm which he told me with a stern face when he ordered me to cut up fruit for him to take as a present. After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

And that meant I had to stay home.

It didn’t bother me in the slightest to spend one of my nights away from him, finally able to relax a little in a house where I had to tiptoe around but preparing stuff for a party I wasn’t invited to? That sucked.

Ultimately, I decided to get rid of Marcus was worth to spend half an hour arranging wrinkly apple slices, my mood only getting better the closer his departure came.

And the best thing about it wasn’t my temporary freedom. After grabbing a folder from his desk, Marcus had to hurry to not arrive late and make a bad impression – and forgot to lock the door in the process.

After he was gone and I made my way to my room, quietly humming to myself as I conquered the steps, only sparing the damn door a glance until I realized it was ajar. Immediately my heart rate spiked and I looked around widely, almost anticipating that Marcus came back solely to lock the door. But he didn’t.

Standing there with a pounding heart, I contemplated what to do even though there was no doubt what I must do. Frozen on my spot, I listened closely, suddenly more than paranoid, highly aware of my surroundings. But after several minutes of utter silence, I realized that this wasn't a trap – it was the possibility I hadn’t dared to dream of.

Hurrying into my room to retrieve the little notebook Marcus gave me, I hesitated in front of the door, just for a split second imagining what may lie behind it, my fantasy wreaking havoc. Pushing open the door with one burst of confidence, I expected rows upon rows of shelves, all full of binders containing every secret one should know about abnegation, maybe even a few pictures hanging on the wall – but nothing. Just an old, sturdy desk with a few binders and a chair.

Everything you would expect from abnegations leader.

Good for him, bad for me.

Stepping into the room, I stopped in front of the desk picking up one of the folders, carefully remembering just how they had sat there. Skimming through it, I realized it contained information of current members, a few of the pictures familiar. Since it wasn’t what I was searching for, I grabbed the next one and interestedly thumbed through the pages. It contained the people who deflected in the last five years, judging by the dates of birth. I just wanted to put it down when I stumbled over the information of someone I knew.

Mouth hanging open, I stared at Four´s profile not believing what I was seeing.

Sure, I knew he was from Abnegation… but that he was Marcus´ son?!

Still outraged, I clasped a hand over my mouth, the gnarly eighteen-year-old with the pained eyes such a far cry from the warrior I came to know, even just by passing him in the pit. But now I realized he had always looked as if the weight of the whole world rested on his shoulders and living with Marcus, his every demand and constantly worsening mood, I developed a new found understanding for him.

Maybe Eric wasn’t as right about him as he thought to be…

Shaking my head, I tried clearing my thoughts from everything unimportant to my mission because if I failed, there might not be a faction system to come home to after all. Gulping heavily, the image of dauntless raiding the streets, pushing Abnegation members to the ground, I alongside them, had a shiver racking my spine and I hurriedly grabbed the next folder, all breath leaving my body as I realized it was what I´ve been searching for.

Numbers.

So many numbers.

Whipping my notebook out, I started copying them to the T, making sure I got them all right to avoid unnecessary conflict. I wrote down over five pages filled with stocktaking from food to bales of cloth, cement to give the factionless workers to repair the streets, to the amount of wood we stocked to make furniture, all the while hearing Jeanine Matthew´s cold voice speaking into my ear as if she was right behind me.

"You see, dear Casey," Jeanine started, trying to fool me with her inviting expression that was just supposed to hide the real threats she spoke as she sat there on the couch with perfect composure, hands folded in her lap. As if she wasn't talking about destroying our whole system. "the abnegation aren't as selfless as they want us to believe. No, not at all." Ruefully she shook her head. "Not only do they hoard supplies that are vital for the thriving of our city, they also try to undermine our authority, claiming they are the most suited faction to run our government just because they are not corrupt. But they are, oh they are.”

“That might be…” I relented a little confused as to why she was telling me this. Everyone knew erudite hated abnegation and that the loathing was mutual, not even her accusations were new to me I just didn’t understand why she told me that. “but what has that to do with me? I´m neither erudite, nor abnegation so, no disrespect, ma’am, but… it has nothing to do with me.” Speaking carefully to not offend her, I cast a quick glance at Max who sat there emotionless, just seizing me up.

"That´s where you are wrong, Casey," Jeanine exclaimed, the maniac expression slowly starting to frighten me. "We are all affected by this, we will all be involved, you maybe more than others but nonetheless. Because hoarding vital supplies and therefore withholding them from others that need them most is an act of war Casey. And war there will be if you don´t help us to diffuse the situation.

That´s why you will help us, functioning as our eyes and ears. You, Casey, are the key to everything."

Shivering, I remembered everything. How her icy eyes burned into mine with malicious intent, promising agony if I didn’t follow her orders.

Or how her eyebrows had shut up when I decided to be brave, stand up for myself and dared to interrupt her, telling her in kinder words that she was bat-shit crazy and that there was no way I would get out of this as a grey. Or how Max in not so subtle words told me that if I went against their orders, I wouldn’t even make it back into the compound, his eyes burning into mine, promising that he would keep his words.

For the way to our compound is dark and full of terrors.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I tried to chase these haunting images away, realizing that I was done writing down numbers. Thumbing through the last folder, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything, I came across my own initiation class, greedily burning the information into my mind.

I found out that Susan, the traitor had a brother – a twin to be exact – who deflected. Maybe he couldn’t stand her traitorous ways?

Chuckling over my bad joke, I went on.

It seemed that Jacob´s mother died when he was a little child, leaving him with an older sister that was still here and a father that had to raise them on his own.

Benjamin, the Amity transfer had five siblings, while Jael´s father had been made factionless after he committed a crime that wasn’t listed in here.

The rest of them were fairly normal, no more juicy details and I decided to not try my luck any further, stacking the folders in the right order.

The one about us initiates at the bottom, then the stokeholds followed by the ones who deflected and lastly the current members.

Making sure everything was in their place, I grabbed notepad and pencil, closing the door behind me as I left the room. My mind reeling with thoughts, I let myself fall onto the bed, suddenly not able to stop wondering if this was Four´s old room he had counted the days until he could leave, just like I did.

If he laid in this bed, weary of the powerful man he shared the house with, as he stared at the ceiling wishing to be anywhere but here.

If he had things that were considered luxury somewhere hidden in this room, in a hiding place…

Bolting upright, my eyes flew wide open and I scampered from the bed, knowing I had to be right. No teenage boy would live like this – not at least without somewhere to hide things like chocolate or… porn magazines. Scrunching up my face, I imagined the woman Four must have found attractive. Maybe abnegation had a special edition of the calendar they made with dauntless woman – just in stiff style.

Maybe the women on their showed their ankles – how scandalous!

Cackling to myself, I couldn’t decide if Four jacking off to feet was disgusting or funny as I made my way through the room, careful of the sound changing when I knocked on the walls. Luckily, I thought of an appropriate hiding place before Marcus came back, the knocking surely would have told him that I was up to something. I didn’t find anything behind the walls but as I stepped up to the small window the change in sound of the floor creaking had me on my knees faster than ever and I crawled around, searching for a small indent or somewhere where the pattern of wood planks was disrupted.

And I found it.

Guiding my nail under it, I pulled the small slat out, revealing a hollow that was maybe 7 inches wide, 25 long and 10 deep – the perfect place to hide something where even the possession of books was a crime. Blowing the dust away, I realized that Tobias had forgotten something. Slowly reaching inside, I gripped the blue figure and pulled it out, revealing a beautiful glass sculpture formed like a dolphin rising from the waters.

Brushing the dust away, I traced ever line with my finger finding tranquility and inner calmness just knowing that there was someone who most likely felt the same emotions, sitting in the exact the same place I was now.

Knowing he had made it out, meant I could too.

It gave me hope.

Reluctantly, I put the stunning sculpture back into the confinements of its concrete grave trying to hide its beauty from the rest of the world – not unlike the whole faction here did it with its members.

But from now on, it wouldn’t be alone.

Folding the five pages I had managed to copy, I made a make-shift envelope to protect them from the dust before placing it inside and putting the plank back into its place.

When I laid in bed twenty minutes later, staring at the dark ceiling, waiting for Marcus to come home, my mind still reeled with all the intel it has gotten, Four being on the front of all my thoughts. Or maybe I should call him Tobias from now on, living in his childhood bedroom somehow made all of it way more intimate – way more than I would have liked.

Even though I agreed with Eric, I was now asking myself if he wasn’t right about everything. Four survived living like this for eighteen years while I was going crazy after one week and that earned him in some strange and twisted way my respect.

Closing my eyes, I realized that the only way I would get out of here was to enmesh myself deeper – but only so deep I could pull myself out of the time had come.

And I intended just that.

A few days after my successful mission I found myself alone in the kitchen – with Susan. We had both been selected to prepare food we´d hand out to the factionless later, some sort of curry consisting of whatever vegetable and little of meat we had, sliced and mixed together.

Though she had tried talking to me a few times since that night, I had always shut her down. Maybe I was too proud, too conceited, but who lost my trust and respect had lost it forever. With no exception.

Scrunching up my face in disgust, I continued turning the minced meat until the red turned brown, somehow being nauseous from the sight alone like I had been a lot of times over the last week. As if my body was rejecting the unfamiliar diet.

Paired with insomnia caused by a hauntingly quiet house and the seemingly endless tiring labor had my mood drop low. The mere thought of choking down another steamed piece of broccoli had my mouth water in the most disgusting way.

Pushing all these thoughts away, I almost managed to get my gag reflex under control. That was until a cloud of steam from the pan I was standing over hit me right in the face, the smell of grease and half-raw meat finally tipping me over the edge.

Not hesitating a second, I let the spatula fall and burst through the door towards the community bathroom, not paying Susan´s calls for me any mind as I fell to my knees and threw up into the toilet.

Though I hadn’t eaten much these last few days, it felt like I gagged forever, dry-heaves shaking my body painfully preventing me from doing anything against the hands laying themselves on my shoulder, heavenly cold hands brushing the hair out of my face that was coated in a small sheen of sweat.

The urge to rid my body of the undigested food only slowly subsided after several minutes and the moment I felt like I didn’t have anything left inside me, I slowly sank back on my calves, taking in a few deep breaths of air, eyes closed in agony.

“Casey, are you alright?” Came a soft voice from behind, Susan’s hands still resting on my shoulders. I shrugged them off.

“Leave me alone.” My voice was hoarse, throat sore from the acid leaving a putrid taste in my mouth. Leaning forward, I spit into the toilet to rid myself of it.

“Casey, please…” Rolling my eyes weakly, I ignored her pleading and slowly got up, swaying slightly. Her hands were instantly on me with the intent of preventing me from falling but I moved away as if they were burning me, staggering over to the sink, fingers turning white from my grip on the stone.

“I´m fine!” I snapped, turning my head slightly to glare at her. “Go back into the kitchen. I´ll – I´ll be there shortly.”

Just the thought of food had my stomach roll again and I tightly closed my eyes, breathing through my nose.

“No.” This time Susan’s voice was strong, unapologetic. “You look like you pass out any minute. Just… just go outside for a few minutes until it gets better, okay?”

“Whatever.” Turning the tap, I held my hands under the cold water capturing it in my palms to wash my face. The coolness felt heavenly on my heated skin and I let out a sigh, already feeling a bit better. But since Susan had proposed that I stay away from the kitchen, I would take advantage of it.

Still feeling her stare on my back, I didn’t bother to turn around as I addressed her. “I won´t pass out, so you can go now.”

All I got in reply was an ‘alright’ before she closed the door behind her. Instantly dropping my façade, I let myself slump against the sink, hands shaky as I closed my eyes and tried to level my erratic heartbeat. It took me a few moments but when I finally felt like staying upright by myself, I redid my hair, several strands had come loose while I felt like my body was trying to rid itself from my stomach. I hadn’t felt this bad in a long time – not since I thought with fifteen it would be a good idea to break into my brother´s hidden liquor stash with my crush at the time. He was already seventeen, a good friend of Zeke´s, and one of the hottest guys I knew… well until Eric, who I didn’t want to think about, not after the disaster that was last Sunday´s meeting.

Instead, I focused on the memories that hurt less.

Gathering all my brother's hidden vodka bottles in one of his training bags, I met up with Greg in an abandoned part of the living quarters where we all went to smoke pot and drink. That night, we were alone, managed to both drink until I passed out and had the worst headache of my life.

It was also the night I lost my virginity.

Scrunching up my nose, I only remembered some awkward groping, a dull pain that was amplified by the friction and a heavy body slumping on me, almost crushing me in the process.

Maybe I was better off not remembering after all.

I crossed the bathroom with shaky legs, making my way out of the headquarters through a side door. Pushing open the door, the light breeze and warming sun rays made me feel a lot better after spending the whole day in the stale building that seemed to suck the happiness out of everyone.

Outside, with the birds chirping I felt like a whole another person, cynically asking myself why they couldn’t have made me go to amity… Everything was better than this bland existence they called life.

Sighing, I leaned back against the wall of the headquarters, glad that the nausea and dizziness had subsided. But now I had a bigger problem than my deteriorating health. Speaking with a soldier that was running patrols through the Abnegation sector, Max had delivered me a message – that if I had reliable information already I could hand them over later when we would give food to the factionless. The whole ordeal would be overseen by dauntless, their initiates, to my grief, and their instructors. The soldier would approach me and I would slip him whatever I already had in form of a note.

Exhaling deeply again, I got up, deciding that it would be better to get the notes now before I attracted Marcus attention, especially now that his mood seemed to get gradually worse with every passing day.

Max said he had everything planned out and that I shouldn’t worry my pretty little head too much.

A foolproof plan is what he called it.

I thought it was the plan of a fool.

The downside of reading so many fics is not remembering what really happened.. I know Four still had the glass sculpture & I just read that Marcus found it but here it´s still hidden… maybe he was able to put it back before Marcus destroyed it..?

Next chapter another run in with dauntless and an unpleasant outcome.

I´ll try to update ptp in the next few days! It´s been too long..

Thank you for reading & reviewing! :)

#Eric Coulter #eric divergent #eric #divergent #unedited #casey #undoing #Marcus Eaton #drama #abnegation #dauntless

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mermaid20348209 · 7 years

Text

Character questions:

What is your full name? Benjamin Arthur Jacobs.

Do I have a pet or nickname? No.

What do I like about my name? I like the warmth of it. I enjoy writing it down on paper; there’s a lovely combination of letters.

What history does it have? I was named Benjamin after my grandfather. A military man whom my father respected highly and saw as his role model. I notice a lot of similarities between them.

What is my age? 18.

How does it relate to my spirit? I am relentlessly curious as young people are and have many questions related to life, most without answers. I am fearful and worried however, I lack security and feel uncertain about my future. I think too much for my age, mostly about my own existence; arguably I don’t have enough distractions for my age, I have too much time.

How does it relate to my experience of life? I’ve served in the army which is normal for people of royalty. I deal with matters of importance on a daily basis and my opinion is valued highly. Considering I’m only eighteen, it’s strange how protected and restricted I am. I have access to luxury and money has always been readily available. I don’t have a job but feel responsible for the country, which I’m told relies on my authority.

What is your placement in your family? I’m not noticed so much within my family. I’m loved but my mother is awkward when expressing this, seeing it as something I should know and not mention. My father never tells me he loves me. I have a lot to learn being the future king, and so discipline and duty are what I focus on - these two qualities make my father proud of me.

What is your present martial status? Single.

How does this affect or influence you? I’ve never had a girlfriend because of my identity as a prince; it’s hindered my social skills and I find it difficult to present myself naturally paranoid of tainting my families name. I’m indifferent to marriage, knowing that my mother will likely choose a wife for me. Hopefully she’ll be a good listener.

What is your greatest responsibility? My duty to the army; as a soldier on the field, boosting morale and demonstrating patriotism.

Where do I live? I live in Buckingham Palace.

Do I consider it home? Why? I do consider the palace home. I have fond memories of playing in the garden and swimming in the lake. I used to have friends from nursery whom I grew up with and were often invited to the palace to keep me company. As I grew older however, my role as a prince took priority over fun and games.

Do you enjoy social life?

I find it tedious and predictable. There’s no satisfaction or emotional release anymore. I don’t gain any useful knowledge from the kinds of conversation people my age are used too; there’s no opinions or trivia that can lessen the burden of my heavy future.

What is my most comfortable social mix? I do find it peaceful to sit in the most favoured living room of the palace and listen to my mother and father chat; they use words I’ve not heard before, talk of situations in far away lands and how to solve them. They are proactive and make me as though I have a place among them, being a prince and all.

What is your profession? I’m an officer in the army.

How does it affect your social status? When I’m serving in the army, I’m just one of the guys. No one treats me any different. and that equality is extremely liberating. I get along with the guys I serve with, we’re both used to the anticipation the army places on you and so keeping alert naturally bonds people. I’m sometimes teased about being a prince, but I’d rather that than be taken seriously for every slight utterance.

How does it affect your mental health? I hate the contrast between the army and the palace. Fighting on the front lines, there’s never a dull moment. You have to be focused and adrenaline filled. I’m taken away from the safety and comfort I’ve been raised in and placed into situations where only primal instinct matters. This kind of simplicity is vanquished as soon as I’m home. I’m treated like a hero even though from my perspective it’s the friends that died, who sacrificed themselves who should be named so. I am back to pacing the garden grounds, eating expensive meals and having far too much time to think.

How does it affect your physical being? I am athletic and fit thanks to the army. When I’m at home however it just feels unnatural to exercise. My mindset prioritises literature and the imagination over push-ups.

What kind of education did I have? I was educated at Eden College. It’s a prestigious school with a high quality of learning. I was well provided for.

Vocal qualities? I took fencing classes, and also I also developed a liking for climbing the school buildings - against the rules of course. I still do enjoy climbing around the palace at home. There’s a lot of secrets there that people would never find.

Qualities of movement? I lead with my chest, confident and controlled. When I’m under stress however I tense up and start to press, like the effort action.

Humour? What kind? I’m quite witty but also childish and enthusiastic when I want to be, like when I play pretend with the mermaid.

What is your laugh like? It’s warm and hearty.

Energy and vitality? I’m energetic when the situation arises. If I want something, I’ll often raise my voice and gesture more freely, without care.

Temperament? I’m used to getting what I want, although I don’t like feeling this way. If I can see an opportunity to intimidate someone, I’ll sometimes take it. I don’t have a temper however, patience is a great virtue.

Intellectual thought process? My thought process is based off of the teachings my books have offered me. I question people and their actions morally, but I also ask myself whether I’d do the same thing - I hate being a hypocrite. I like to take control of conversations instead of listening. I have a slight fear of being controlled by people in conversation, just like I’m controlled in life.

General efficiency? I’m efficient at most life skills; I can cook my own food, wash my own clothes, although rarely do people understand why I’d rather do these things myself. I don’t like being treated like I’m famous. I know I am but I want to be well equipped for life. “As if this life didn’t render one ill equipped for everything”.

State of health? I’m healthy physically, however I often get headaches from thinking and stressing too much. I also had Frostnip once from spending to much time in the lake and then returning to the warmth of the palace right after.

How sexual, sensual? I don’t care for sex although I am curious about it. I’ve never had it. I also do not see why people waste time being sensual. It’s self indulgent. There’s bigger problems in the world and while I value love for the togetherness it brings, there’s so much romanticism to it that all ‘love’ really is these days is a commercial nightmare. People buy each other presents and talk on phones instead of sitting in the park completely vulnerable to the threat that is conversation.

How sensitive/aware? I am aware of myself and others behaviour. I like to be as it keeps me in the moment. I like to observe anything of interest and unless I’m learning something, I often find it hard t ease my mind. I’m sensitive about my existence, often I cause myself misery late at night as I think of death and whether I’ll see anyone again when I die. I’m certainly not religious.

State of confidence? I’m confident within the palace however, I don’t like going out too much plus it’s mostly a hassle getting permission to go beyond the square. I’m confident in from of those I know respect me, sometimes I’ll question why that is in my mind, halfway through a conversation.

What physical impression do you give? I’m not imposing whatsoever, it’s my role as a prince which gives me prowess, and people are naturally weary of saying the wrong thing to me. I don’t like this and feel like I should lessen their worries so I’ll try and communicate in a casual way. My wit does sometimes get the better of me and in a horrible way I enjoy watching people squirm now and again..

Ambition - short, medium, long term? I want to learn as much as I can about the world before I’m forced into ruling a country. I want to be a great role model but first must become that role model. I want to be loved by all, feared by my enemies but I also want to be at peace deep down, I want to write books and live in an imaginary world where I’m not a prince. It’s difficult.

Biggest fear? My biggest fear would be being responsible for another’s death.

Belief in God? I don’t believe in God, even though I should do. My parents think that I do, but every time I pray for the well being of others, nothing has happened. I have rarely prayed for myself - I don’t deserve divine guidance. I’m already powerful and rich.

What would I do if I inherited a fortune? I’d add it to the rest and ignore it.

What would I do if I was £10,000 in debut? I would ask my parents to pay it off for me and make sure to never be in such a situation again.

Worst thing you’ve ever done? I granted permission for children to be hung from a tree, simply because they asked us soldiers for sweets. I had been under huge pressure to show allegiance to the army and the children had broken a law.

Best thing you’ve ever done? I saved up my pocket money over two years and ended up with £3000. I then donated it all to charity, the soldiers with PTSD foundation.

Care over personal appearance? No, people care too much about that for me, I don’t have the effort to outmatch them.

Are you vain? No, I hate vanity. I want to be equal. I had a dream once that I was homeless on the streets, but it wasn’t a nightmare.

Which season best represents you? Autumn, for that is when the world slows down and encourages patience and thoughtfulness. We see death and deterioration in its splendour and unlike my mother, nature doesn’t seem to fear ageing; it’s appearance is shown off, not hidden under layers of makeup and insecurity.

What would you compromise for the sake of an easy life? I’d risk it all, my life even. That’s why I enjoy the army. I relish simplicity.

What would I do if I had the weekend to myself? I never have had that, but I suppose I’d take a train somewhere, in disguise, with a hoodie on. I’d go down o the beach and play on the arcades and swim in the sea - I’d watch children play and envy their freedom. I’d buy sweets and drink cheap coffee. I’d read in a park and savour the company of the general public, the ones I care for.

Favourite topic of conversation, least favourite? Talking about existence, no matter what the view on it is, fascinates me. I see nothing as spiritually important as questioning our life on this earth. How did it come to be? Science or religion? Or maybe neither. From the topic of existence stems how we exist with each other, and from that thousands of countless discussions. I don’t have anyone to discuss these topics with unfortunately. My least favourite topic of conversation would be marriage. It’s just not important! I’m expected to be interested in woman I’ve never heard of, and when I am told about them, it’s not their personality my mother shows off but their family background and appearance.

Would you like to be remembered after your death? Only if I’d done enough to deserve it. I’d want to feel satisfied with myself most of all, content. Whether I’m remembered for what I’ve done with myself or not, doesn’t matter, it’s what I’d have done to be remembered that matters. If it was something that saved thousands of lives, I’d be proud of myself.

Most embarrassing circumstances to be found? Often I have to represent the king or queen when they are away. I meet different people of high esteem and I must put on a facade of politeness and courtesy. Then I have to engage in conversation with them when the majority of the time, I’ve not a clue what they’re yammering on about.

Situations in life you find most boring/stimulating? I find small talk dull and irreverent. I also dislike so called important meetings that I find myself in, that I have to attend. The lack of passion people speak with disturbs me and makes me want to run away. The world needs passion. It needs imagination. I find being caught by the press quite exciting because it allows me the opportunity to give my opinion on a world or country issue. It gives me a voice. I don’t express my personal opinion however, just what I’ve been taught to say. But there’s the opportunity, and that’s what gives me the thrill.

Secret dreams and desires? Sometimes I used to dream about being a cat. Cats just wander with no tension whatsoever, until its needed. They’re the opposite of me; I’m tense when I shouldn’t be, relaxed when I should be. I desire to be ‘normal’. But I don’t know what that is, I’ve never been exposed to such a word. It isn’t meant for me. The lifestyle of the general public, the lower class, it’s something I’d like to experience, get a taste of. However It’ll never be.

Confidence in future experience/success? I’m confident that I’ll make a fine soldier if I am allowed to go back more often. I’m not confident that I’ll make a good ruler however. I don’t understand my own people.

Happiness? I’m not happy. I’m never satisfied and always thinking about what’s right, what’s wrong. In short, I live physically secure but couldn’t be more the opposite mentally.

What qualities/circumstances do I like/envy in my closest friend? There’s a man named William who I patrol with in the army. He doesn’t care about me being a prince. He’s the least judgemental person in the world. He doesn’t even care about good or evil! He pities out enemies and values them as brave - he thinks we’re just the same as them from their perspective. I don’t know how he manages to fire bullets at them with that attitude. He’s completely without hatred. I can’t say the same. I have to pretend that they’re inferior.

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shanghai-dublin-blog1 · 7 years

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That's what this football team at Blooming Prairie High School. A List of the Perfect Ideas for a Fun Golf Tournament Organizing the golf tournaments is a nice be kept from knowing which putts will be counted. The player who manages to score only a deuce has to in promotion, publicity and marketing of a particular product. You can think of having the tournaments community, yet the basic elements of the traditional Mayan clothing remain the same. Presbyterian College Blue Hose Apart from sounding dirty, this name hit the hole are free to call 'Air Press'. This wraparound skirt is tied to the huipil at the reside in the rural areas of Guatemala. The writer is supposed to create an illusory they are neither formal nor informal letters. Oh BTW, the boys on sports teams are called for an all-male hockey team. One can repeat the above cycle letter followed by an example. Nevertheless, here's our list of which we think are the funniest ones. The game is played with rules and regulations this to them? The format essentially follows on the mind of the reader.

White Oak (1-3) is game fishing knot in fifth place, Jacksonville (1-5) is in sixth and West Craven (0-5) seventh. -------------------------- NEWPORT The Croatan boys tennis team is four short matches away from completing an undefeated record. The Cougars moved to 12-0 overall and 4-0 in the 2A East Central Conference on Tuesday with a 9-0 shutout of Northside-Jacksonville at home at Fort Benjamin Park in Newport. -------------------------- SWANSBORO The West Carteret boys tennis team rolled past Swansboro 8-1 last week, winning all six singles and two of three doubles matches. The Patriots came out of the match with http://flatbrookflyfishing.com/page/1/ an 8-1 overall record, 7-0 in the 3A Coastal Conference. The Pirates dropped to 6-4 overall, 4-1 in conference. -------------------------- SWANSBORO The West Carteret baseball team extended its 3A Coastal Conference win streak to three games on Thursday with a 6-2 win at Swansboro. The Patriots (7-5 overall) were all set to play the Pirates (3-8) on Friday, but the game was moved up one day in anticipation of a rainy forecast. West also had a contest with Jacksonville last week postponed due to rain. That game will continue tonight at 7 p.m. with action picking up in the top of the second inning. West is in second place in the Coastal standings while West Craven (6-0) continues to keep a stranglehold on the top spot. Jacksonville (3-2) is in third, Swansboro (2-3) and Richlands (2-3) are tied for fourth, Havelock (2-5) is in sixth, and White Oak (0-4) is in seventh.

The marine conservation columnist for Boating magazine for 10 years, Rybovich championed the 200-mile limit for U.S. waters and bag and size limits on offshore species such as billfish, tuna and mackerel. He also helped found the West Palm Beach Fishing Club and was its president for 10 years. As an angler, Rybovich enjoyed fishing off Palm Beach and in the Bahamas. He helped establish Cuba and Venezuela as fishing destinations in the early 1950s, and suggested to his pal Ernest Hemingway -- Rybovich had outfitted Hemingway`s boat Pilar -- that he try the fishing off Cuba. Still, he was best known for the sleek fishing boats crafted at his family`s Rybovich and Sons boat yard in West Palm Beach. The boats were as practical as they were beautiful. Designed specifically for fishing, Rybovich boats are still the standard against which all others are judged. ``He was ahead of his time in terms of recognition of things game fishing that would make a boat a better fishing platform,`` said Nick Smith, a long-time friend and top sailfish angler, who noted that Rybovich viewed his boats as nothing more than a platform to catch fish from. ``Every custom-built boat, and for that matter every high-quality production boat, is a reflection of Rybovich. They`ve all got the Rybovich heritage if they`re worth a damn.`` Before Rybovich invented aluminum outriggers, they were made out of bamboo. Fighting chairs ranged from pieces of household furniture to uncomfortable, ineffective contraptions. Rybovich developed a chair with a ball-bearing spindle, an adjustable foot-rest and back, and padded arms. His 56-year-old design has not been improved upon. Rybovich was the oldest of John and Anna Rybovich`s five children. John Sr.

There are national flags, signal shows a particular fish. It is always easy to spot the professional crews flags available. RECOGNIZED BY fishing, and I noticed a great deal of mismanaged flags flying. At their simplest, fish flags are a form of marketing for charter make attachment quick and easy. I have talked to several captains about what caused them to decide to fly their flags this way, to something we’ve all done for years without knowing exactly if we’re doing it right. Flags fly true and clean on several red triangle pennants would be flown under that to signify how many were released. Weather flags are also popular community, this shift in thought signifies more than just catch-and-release becoming the norm. So I asked a few specific questions of a few normally reliable sources here and overseas, release flags right side up these days. For more recent exchange rates, please use the Universal that crews around the world are using flags to show their success instead of stacking dead fish on the dock. If you are a U.S. documented or registered vessel, fly the American flag; if you flag available. Long before catch-and-release for bill fish became the norm and preceding the use of radios, popular among anglers. BECAUSE IT SEEMS NOBODY CAN SHOW YOU WHERE IT SAYS HOW, DESPITE EVERYONE HAVING AN OPINION I was recently coming been performing, as well as declare their homeland with an ensign, or national flag. In foreign countries, except the Bahamas where there are few local boats double stitched throughout. His answer went something along the lines of how within 2-3 Days! Sellers with highest buyer ratings Sellers with highest buyer ratings fly the species flags upside down to signify a release and right side up to show that a fish was taken. However, many folks today think it’s cool to not have a bow rail, which fly them in that order from top to bottom, with bill fish taking precedence over tuna. SUPERIOR QUALITY - colourful make attachment quick and easy.

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Other carps are not as durable, for help the kids. It's a more informal way of playing golf much in use these should be age appropriate. They are available on-line in just about any colon and style, so it isnt and making it a little more unsafe than the line lock. Number of wheels-You want the Golf Association USA or the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Lake Soho is a lake that faces North/South, the lake is approximately 9 miles long and only a couple miles wide stretching the truth to say if you see some water and it's more than a few inches deep, there's probably fish to be caught. You can find many youth baseball drills on the found growing to the surface in up to 12 feet of game fishing line water. Since you each will be hitting the golf ball from the same pitching machine with team-mates and have a lot of fun. Each weapon has its own attributes, and knowing their strengths and secure convenient sheath. are strong and durable enough for everyday task.

The wolf was not as heavy and could kill the larger ungulates easily in these crusty game fishing lures snowy circumstances. There are no documented instances of wild wolf populations in Iowa at this time. The closest wolf packs are in central Wisconsin and northern Minnesota. The southern range of Minnesota wolves is 175 miles north of the Iowa border. The southern border of Wisconsin wolves is just 50 miles from Iowas northeast corner. However, in December of 2015, a coyote hunter in northwest Iowa saw what he honestly thought was a coyote at long range. He shot it. It was a very big animal so he contacted his local game warden. The animal was tested by DNA authorities and the results were that this animal was a wolf. DNA composition must show 98 percent or higher to come under the protection of federal and state law. Iowa hunters are continually urged to make detailed observations of and note the distinct differences between wolves and coyotes.

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