#i swear if our first one gets jeopardized by this girl who refuses to check her damn texts or emails or even come to class im gonna be so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladyvesuvia · 3 years

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@firewhiskyss: 🎢 harry with either “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” or “I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.” because my heart can’t handle angst rn 😋☝🏼|| for my 300 followers celebration

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Muggle!Reader

Summary: Being stuck in the elevator is bad enough, but being with a stranger makes matters worse.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: not proofread, light cursing, elevators, power outage + let me know if i missed anything

A/N: too bad u cant handle angst i could’ve found ways to sneak that into this hehe jk anywaaayy ok i felt uninspired sorry hydagjih

Harry held a bag he did not own in his hand. His shirt was a bit muddied and moist on one side, but he didn’t mind. He stood in front of the eighth door he’ll be knocking on in hopes it was the owner of the bag. It still wasn’t, though.

Instead, a woman his age greeted him with a smile. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. He apologized for interrupting and went ahead to knock on the ninth door.

It swung open, and Harry let out a long sigh.

AN HOUR OR SO AGO

“Hold the door!” said a voice from the lobby. Harry pressed the open door button in haste, the doors doing as it was told to do. The figure rushed inside, hair dripping wet on the tiled floor of the elevator. He kept his eyes trained to floor as she moved his way to press the button to the eighth floor. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

The girl next to him began to dry her drenched hair with a purple towel, patting herself dry. Harry risked a brief glance in her direction — she was wearing a floral one-piece swimsuit which she layered with denim shorts. When she caught his eye, they both inched away from each other uncomfortably. To their relief, the elevator started to move up.

Nobody seemed to be coming in just yet. After all, it was six p.m. and most were probably outside biding their time for night swimming. Harry, on the other hand, just came down to get a box of doughnuts for Mr. Weasley, who he can only assume was changing into his swimming trunks in their hotel room. The rest were probably doing the same.

Harry was waiting for it to reach the ninth floor when the elevator lurched to a stop on the seventh. While Harry refused to meet eye contact with the girl next to him, she was busy trying to convince herself it was alright.

It’s okay, she thought to herself as she made a show of more aggressive patting of her hair in more of an attempt to calm her drumming heartbeat than to really dry it. Another passenger was probably just entering.

But she knew better, they both knew better. The lights above them began to blink in an inconsistent manner. To her dismay, the doors did not open nor did they continue to go up.

They both turned to each other with a bewildered look on their faces. Harry made to reach for his wand, but held himself back. Then the lights went out along with the tiny ones coming from the buttons. Harry froze. He heard the stranger next to him shift, probably wrapping the towel around herself. She had stopped pretending to pat herself now. Harry watched as her as she dropped her bag down on the wet tiled floor and pulled out a bulky gray block from it. Harry stood there awkwardly as if a statue while she kept on fumbling with the block thingy he now recognized was a flip phone. A light glowed from it, her face looking similar to that of a ghost.

She pressed it against her ear, but it seemed to not be working. She then raised her hand higher in hopes of getting better reception to no avail. Harry cleared his throat. The girl’s head whipped to his direction. “The emergency call button,” said Harry.

“I know,” she spat, reaching out for the buttons. But instead of clicking that particular button, she clicked the button for opening doors. Harry noticed she seemed to be shivering a bit even with the towel.

The girl was still dripping, albeit lesser now. She kept pressing the open door repetitively with her wrinkly fingers. Harry remained stiff, unsure if he should use his wand. “What floor are we currently?”

Taken aback, Harry didn’t respond for a couple of seconds until she reached out to his shoulder to check on him. “Oh, er — seventh, I think.”

He then heard her click a button he supposed was for the seventh, then a bunch of other buttons the next.

“We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die. . . .” Harry found that he preferred the constant clicking noises from the buttons over her constant reminder of their ‘impending doom.’ It was like fourth year all over again when their Divination teacher Professor Trelawney kept telling him he was going to die an early death. She kept chanting to herself in hysterics.

“Have you tried . . . the emergency call button? The one with the bell?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” said the girl. To his surprise, she picked up her bag again and aimed it at the elevator door before swinging it right in the middle. She then started banging her fist hard on the doors, pounding. “Help! I’m stuck! I mean, we’re stuck! Hello? I’m wi —”

“There’s a press to call thing here,” pointed Harry.

“Good,” she remarked as she practically run to it when the elevator made a creaking noise from above. The girl let out a shriek as she fell backwards and pulled Harry down with her. “Lie flat or we’re both gonna die!”

“Why — ?”

“JUST DO IT.” He did. Both of them sprawled their legs and he felt the damp floor wet his back a bit, but he was still weighing the pros and cons of pulling out his wand. Of course, if it were up to him, he’d pull it out in a heartbeat but the Weasleys’ vacation was on the line and he couldn’t jeopardize that by—

The elevator whined, and it felt as if it was moving a bit. “We’re gonna plummet to do our death!”

“Calm down,” said Harry, hardly knowing why he even bothered in the first place because he didn’t know what to say next especially with the girl’s expectant eyes on him. He thought of what Hermione had told them when they first came here, who then attempted to calm the others down about their feelings on Muggle Elevators. “Er — elevators are one of the safest ways of transportation with only the fatality rate of zero point zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-something-fifteen percent per trip.”

“Oh, shut up, stranger,” cried the girl. “There’s still a fifteen in that end. We’re gonna die, accept that!”

“You seem to be the one having troubles accepting that,” argued Harry back. She shot him a glare.

“I haven’t written my will and we’re gonna die. You see — you hear that rumble? We’re slowly falling down and we’re gonna die. I should have — should have taken the stairs. Please, please, please let me live! I swear I’ll start eating vegetables! This is it stranger, we’re gonna die.”

“That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“We’re about to die and you have time to think? Lie with your chunkiest bits on the floor to increase our chance of survival.”

He wanted to argue, but he resorted to inching further away from her and stretching his limbs awkwardly.

“Damn it, you shouldn’t have kept the door open!”

“How is that my fault? If anything, I was being nice,” said Harry.

“Being nice? You just sentenced me to my death and now I’m dying in this cramped space in a swimsuit and shorts that aren’t even for swimming!”

Surprisingly, the elevator whined to a stop. They remained on the floor for half a minute. Eventually, she was the first to stand up. Dusting herself and not meeting Harry’s eye, she smashed the bell button with her finger. It buzzed for a few seconds before a guy’s voice answered.

“Hello,” said the operator. The intercom seemed to be having troubles.

“Uh, hello, hi,” replied the girl.

“So are you currently stuck in the elevator?” Harry could hear the girl turn to him in the dark and call up the look of utter disbelief, as if wanting to reply, ‘No shit.’

“Yes, very much.”

“Okay, are you alone?” asked the operator.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m with . . .” she trailed off, turning to Harry with prolonged contemplation. “With stranger. I’m with stranger. A stranger. With a stranger, I mean.”

“May I know your names please?”

“Uh, sure? I’m . . . Papier Matchen and this is —”

“Har — Neville. Neville Longbottom, sir,” answered Harry. The operator did not respond. “Neville Longbottom.”

“Are you both guests?” asked the operator.

“Yes,” said [Y/N]. “Wait, are you a guest?”

“I am a guest,” said Harry stiffly.

“He’s a guest,” she added, as if in an attempt to keep whatever morale is left high. The operator didn’t respond again. “Hey, uh, operator? It would really help if you didn’t keep disappearing on us.” She chuckled nervously.

“What floor are you currently on?” said the voice with a bit more static.

“Uh, well,” she said, turning to Harry, “last time we checked, it was on the seventh but it moved down a bit and we might be in-between floors seven and six.”

“Alright, thank you. We’re currently experiencing a city wide power outage, and it appears that the back-up battery in Elevator Three has not yet been replaced since the last brownout. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Yeah, you should be sorry. So, uh, is any of your authorities gonna come and pick us up?”

No response. She pressed the button again. And again. And again. No sound came, not even static. “Hello? Hi?”

When no one responded again, she slumped to the floor once more, her hair still wet but no longer dripping. “Sit down,” she said, pointing at the spot right next to her. Harry obliged. “You can sit across, I don’t care. I know I smell like chlorine right now.”

Harry sat across from her, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t talk either. This went on for about five minutes until Harry had the urge to do something or at least say something.

“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking,” he started.

“A dangerous pastime, you should be afraid. Go ahead,” she said, gesturing a finger gun his way.

“Shouldn’t we try to get out of this?”

“Who are you, Bruce Willis? Need I remind you that you are Nev . . . Bottom?”

“That’s not actually my name,” said Harry.

“Same, I just said Papier Matchen off the top of my head. Like papier mache but witchy. My name’s actually pretty good, I think. I’m [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Oh, wait, nope, don’t like it.”

“I think it’s good.” [Y/N] turned on her phone and shone it around until it landed on his face. Harry realized he had kept the box of doughnuts in the corner when she made them sit down. “I’m Harry,” he said when she finally turned off the phone.

[Y/N] turned it on again and directed it to the box of doughnuts. “Are those doughnuts to make us super tiny like Alice in Wonderland or something?”

“Oh, those are for my friend’s father.”

“Let’s eat it, I’m hungry,” said [Y/N].

“It’s for my friend’s father.”

“You have to realize that that is so not a good enough point. We’re trapped in an elevator with no means of communication with that musty man and eating that is the only thing we can do. Unless you want to do something else?”

“Er — What?” choked Harry, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine, uh, doughnuts.”

She made a triumphant sound Harry couldn’t explain, but paid it no mind as she reached out to grab the box of doughnuts from the corner. She set it in front of her.

“Hey, these are from my aunt’s bakery.”

“They are?” asked Harry.

“Yeah! The one across the street from here?” asked [Y/N], to which Harry nodded. “Ooh, you got the one with Oreos? Nice! I helped design those.”

“Okay, uh, can I have some?”

“I thought it was against your will to take some of these from your ’friend’s dad?’” teased [Y/N], but she handed him a doughnut anyway. Harry began to eat just like she did. “Sorry I forced you to lie down here. . . .”

She looked at him, waiting for something. What? Harry furrowed his brows, confused.

“Sorry, I mean, what’s your name again?” asked [Y/N], hints of the chocolate stuck between her teeth and some on her lips.

“Harry Potter,” replied Harry, who debated against himself whether or not he should point it out. After all, she seemed to be having a good time and they just started to lose the tension. “You’ve got uh, something on your, you know.”

“I know,” said [Y/N], but she didn’t do anything about it. “Anyway, can you believe six and seven are lucky numbers yet here we are, stuck in the wretched elevator between them?”

“No, that’s why I don’t really believe in those . . . things.”

“I’d say that’s insulting, but I’m dripping in my swimwear while I’m stuck in the elevator with a total stranger, so fair enough.”

Harry didn’t know how long they were talking, but it just went on. He was pretty sure there were times he even laughed. Harry reached out to grab another doughnut when he realized she was holding it as well. They both let it drop back to the box.

“Oh, no, it’s yours,” said [Y/N].

“It’s okay, you can have it,” said Harry.

“I ate more than you did, you can have it. Just go,” said [Y/N].

“You can —”

“You know what? Let’s just split it.”

[Y/N] ripped it in half, handing him the bigger slice. Just when Harry was going to offer to exchange, she swallowed it whole.

“Too late, I ate my half already.”

“I can see that,” said Harry. He began to eat his own half, savoring it with three more bites.

“Sorry I smell like chlorine again.”

“Eh, I don’t know, it’s kind of growing on me,” said Harry. “I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

“On a good day, that would sound like an insult but it’s anything but a good day, so, thank you, I guess.”

The two shared a laugh (and most definitely three) the entire time when the lights turned on. They could see each other clearly now. There was no denying they felt quite vulnerable — like finally meeting an friend you only send letters and emails to for the first time, but she smiled to make it feel lighter.

Suddenly, it started to move up again, [Y/N] kept them seated just in case it started plummeting again. It didn’t, though. It opened on the seventh, as the indicator told them so.

The intercom buzzed once more and different operator spoke. None of them stood up.

“Hi, power’s slowly being restored. How’s everyone?”

“We’re good,” said Harry. [Y/N] smiled in the shadows, tossing the towel in the corner. “Wait, you’re — er — good, right?”

“Yeah, surprisingly so,” she said.

“Good to hear, we’re currently doing the best we can to cater everyone’s needs. Has your, uh, elevator moved yet? Sorry, I’m new here. Anyway, has it?” asked the operator.

“Currently open on the seventh floor, but we’re both going up, all’s good now, don’t worry,” answered [Y/N]. She stood up, taking the towel with her.

“Okay, great, thank you and take care!” said the operator before the intercom buzzed off. Harry and [Y/N] stood there as the elevator door closed shut and began to move up and open again to the eighth.

“So,” started [Y/N], “this is me. My floor, I mean.”

“Right,” said Harry

“Well, I still don’t like elevators and I may or may not ride one ever again so I can’t believe I’d ever say this because it’s hella cheesy but thanks for making it bearable.”

“I feel like I should say, ‘you’re welcome?’” said Harry.

“Oh yeah, you should.”

The door began to close, but Harry pressed the open door button.

“Okay, you’re welcome.” The two shared lighthearted laughter. “Anyway, er — thank you, too. See you around?”

“Yeah, yeah, see you around. Bye.” [Y/N] waved as the doors closed between them and Harry was once again all alone in the elevator.

He noticed what a mess the floor was, and went to pick up the empty box of donuts. His hand went to where he kept his wand to clean up and looked around for cameras and found one tucked in the upper corner. Harry let his hand down and dusted his shirt with his hands when something caught his eye. A beach bag in the corner, resting carelessly.

The door finally opened to the ninth floor. Harry was frozen, looking directly at a long hallway of doors. It took a few seconds until it whirred and shut close. Not knowing what to do, Harry picked up the bag and swung it over his shoulder.

He tapped his foot as he waited for the elevator to go up to the twelfth floor until it began going down again. He pressed the button to the ninth floor again.

Ten.

Eleven. A couple his age entered, probably about to go down. Narrowed eyes landed on him and his dirty shirt and pants, but he paid them no mind.

Twelve. The couple started to talk about their plans on the honeymoon tomorrow. Harry busied himself by playing with the straps of the beach bag. He realized just now it had her name inside one of the straps lazily written with a sharpie. [Y/N], it stated.

Eleven again.

Ten again.

Nine again. The door opened, but he did not step out. Of course, the couple began to eye him with suspicion now as he reached out to press the button to the eighth floor.

Eight. When he stepped out, he heard the hushed but relieved sighs from both of the other two behind him as the elevator proceeded to close shut and go down.

Harry knocked on the first door. A man in his pajamas answered. Harry muttered an apology as he walked away to try the second door. He heard the first door swing shut.

The second door was equipped with a sign on the doorknob saying, ‘Do not Disturb.’ So, of course, Harry moved on to the third. He heard loud sounds of children playing inside. When he knocked, a tired woman carrying a toddler in her arms answered. Harry apologized once more and moved on.

Harry’s shoulder was aching, so he let the bag down and simply held it in his hands.

The fourth door was answered by a middle-aged man holding a glass of wine.

The fifth door’s knob held the same message as the the second — ‘Do not Disturb.’

As you may recall, Harry held a bag he did not own in his hand. His shirt was a bit muddied and moist on one side, but he didn’t mind. He stood in front of the eighth door he’ll be knocking on in hopes it was the owner of the bag. It still wasn’t, though.

Instead, a woman his age greeted him with a smile. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. He apologized for interrupting and went ahead to knock on the ninth door.

It swung open, and Harry let out a long sigh.

An older woman greeted him with a pleasant smile. “Hello, dear,” she said. He took a shot and asked if she knew anyone by the name of [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Unfortunately though, she did not.

Harry finally made it to the last door. He knocked once more, holding the bag tighter now. A little kid answered, with her parents and siblings in the background, eating pancakes. They did not know of someone named [Y/N] [Y/L/N], either.

Shoulders slumping, Harry made his way back to the elevator. He pressed the up button.

“Excuse me?” called out a voice from behind him. His heart skipped a beat. Wait, don’t skip, he thought to himself.

It still wasn’t her. It was the same girl from the ninth door. “Yes?”

“You’re looking for [Y/N]?” she asked. “[Y/N] [Y/L/N]?”

“Er — yes. Do you know her?” asked Harry.

“Yeah, she’s in the shower. Is that her bag?”

“Oh!” He almost forgot that he was holding it. “Yes, yes it is.”

“I can give it to her,” called out the woman. She closed the door behind her, making her way towards him. When she was close enough, she extended her hand.

The elevator dinged open. Harry was about to hand it over to her, when he decided something else.

“Er — no, uh, I was actually hoping if I could see her.”

She let her hand down, grinning. “You must be Elevadork.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s an inside joke,” said Harry.

“You can wait inside,” said the girl. “I’m Karolina, by the way. She’s just showering because she’s, and I quote, ‘will be too unlovable if smelling like chlorine.’”

Harry chuckled as Karolina led him to their hotel room. It was just like every other room he had seen, then he saw the same towel she had with her just a while ago when they were stuck with only each other’s company.

“He was nice, though. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. By the way, we’re out of hair conditioner. My hair badly nee — Harry!” [Y/N] tumbled backwards to the bathroom with a different towel wrapped around herself. Harry’s eyes widened, and he turned around.

“He wanted to return your bag and ask you out,” said Karolina.

“That’s not what I actually said,” whispered Harry, turning crimson.

“Honey, trust me, it was definitely what you said,” laughed Karolina, patting him in the back. “You might want to change first.”

“I guess,” added Harry.

[Y/N] rushed to the get her clothes from one of the two beds and ran back to the shower, where she hastily pulled on her shirt and checkered pajama pants.

“She’s done changing, by the way,” said Karolina, patting Harry on the shoulder again as she left to pour iced tea for herself.

[Y/N] led Harry out, earning two thumbs up from Karolina, who was beaming up at the two of them. “How’d you find me?”

“Fate,” said Harry mockingly, as if from a show. She giggled. “I knocked on all the doors in this hallway.”

“To return a bag?”

“Sure, that, too. But mainly to ask if you’d like to get some — er — doughnuts with, uh, me. I really want to bring some up to —”

“Your friend’s dad, right,” [Y/N] cut out. “Are we still taking the elevator?”

“Yeah,” said Harry.

They finally reached the elevator, where they stood side by side.

“Aren’t you going to change first?” asked [Y/N].

“Nope,” said Harry, pressing the down button. He turned to [Y/N], looking at her shirt. “Does that say ‘Treacle Treat?’”

“Yeah, like as in Trick or Treat. See the pumpkin?” She pointed at the bottom part of her shirt.

“Oh, there it is.” The two were laughing even when they stepped into the elevator. They exchanged a knowing glance at the sight of scattered crumbs of doughnuts on the floor, not daring to talk about it in front of one another guest.

As the elevator began to go down, Harry realized he might as well believe in the lucky numbers. After all, if it weren’t for six, seven, and nine, he wouldn’t be here right now standing shoulder up to shoulder with the girl wearing a funky shirt.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @mrzweasley @gwlvr @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @greenlyblue @henqtic @meiitanoia @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

#harry potter #harry james potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader fluff #harry james potter x reader fluff #harry potter x fem!reader fluff #harry potter x fem!muggle!reader #harry potter fanfictions #harry potter fic #harry x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter x y/n #ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter

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mareshmallow · 6 years

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Second Time’s a Charm? pt III

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iv)

Without warning I follow him and Cal scrambles to follow. He blessedly keeps quiet as we make our way to the caf. Or more specifically the door leading to the stage, except we only needed to get under it. We were responsible for providing an exit from the caf if we needed to avoid anyone in the room and get out quickly.

There was a reason I was responsible for this. I easily twist through the passage unlike Cal who curses after bumping his head for the third time. This time I don't snicker. The first time he'd turned bright red and as satisfying as it had been it was wasting time.

The passage comes to a stop and this is the difficult part; opening the hatch. It was well out of my reach and a ladder was usually used but it wasn't here now like I thought it would be. "Fuck," I breathed. I hear a louder 'shit" behind me as Cal takes this in as well. "Who the hell took out the ladder?"

"You've been here before?" I ask, too surprised to keep the silent treatment up.

"Yes," is the only reply he gives without any further explanation.

I grimace at the thought of my next words, of what would have to be done. "I need you to boost me up."

He whips his head at me. "Relax," I snap. "I already got my cootie shot if that's what you were worried about."

His nostrils flare. "That's not what I'm worried about."

Oh? "So what is it then?"

He stares at me like I'm an idiot. I gesture for him to get out with it. He sighs and mutters something under his breath. I tilt my ear at him in an exaggerated movement. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that Tiberias. Could you speak a little louder?"

"You could get hurt."

I make a sound between a laugh and scoff. "I'm sure that would haunt you for all your days, now hurry."

"Fine," he grinds out. "But it's your funeral."

You're already dressed for it, I think.

"Oh please, a little fall won't hurt me, I've had worse."

He kneels and I place my foot in the cradle of his arms. "On the count of three," I tell him. "One, two-- wait!"

"What?" he asks. "Oh seriously, right now?" he huffs out as I take out my phone. I shoot him a glare. "It's dark and unless you have fucking night vision then how else do you expect me to see?"

"You got a new phone," he murmurs before snapping back to the task at hand. I shift uncomfortably. I didn't expect him to remember but he did.

I shine the light in his eyes and he recoils. "Good it works, now get down."

His eyebrows lift suggestively and I smack him. "Not that like that you dirty minded creep."

I struggle to find my balance in his arms this time while holding the light. The sensation of my skin on his isn't helping either. "One," I begin, "two, three!" He lifts me up and and I shine the light upwards. There it was, the handle to the hatch. I push against it as hard as I can but it won't budge. Again, again. This time I hear a creak and with a final shove it opens. I let out a little cheer as Cal lowers me back down. He smiles as well. "Nice job, I guess."

"Mhmm. You did okay too. Now let's go."

He chuckles at my reluctant praise.

That was only one of our tasks. Next were the fog machines. There should be four in the caf, each in a different corner which was a little more difficult. But there was two of us so it should be quite easy.

We get in the line to enter and a girl at the door hand us our blue bracelets that grace the wrist of everyone inside. "So what are you two supposed to be?" she asks.

"I'm Zeus and he's--"

"Hades," he cuts in looking at me with puzzlement. Hm. He was the god of fire? I thought he got back from a funeral with all that god-awful black. It also happened to be very distracting.

"Huh," the girl says. "That's an odd couple's costume."

"Oh no she's not--"

"Really, I would never--"

"Never, really? That's--"

"Okay well enjoy the dance," she says a little too loudly as if despairing of us. "Next!" I hear her shout as we enter. Luckily the darkness conceals my flush. "You take the far end and meet me by the snacks table." He nods slowly, still reeling I assume. "Nice position."

"Really? I chose it because after all this I'm feeling a little hungry."

He laughs loudly. "I'd forgotten about that appetite of yours. See you later, Barrow"

As I make my way to the first machine I realize I've been grinning ever since I walked away. I try and fail to to wipe it away.

Slinking amongst the shadows is a specialty of mine so it's fairly easy to get to the machine. A soft blanket of mist covers the floor and I cackle to myself. It was about to get much more interesting in here. I instructed Cal to set them to medium. High would be way too much and there was four of them. Plus I needed it to take a while so Maven and Thomas could arrive. Hopefully Shade, Farley and Kilorn were all doing well.

I move onto the next machine as I scan for Cal. I see him finishing up on his second one and heading towards the snack table. Somehow he senses my stare and turns. I pull my gaze away and ahead of me to see a chest slam into mine. "Shit!" the person exclaims. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was--" I look up to see Will gazing at me with shock. Punch drips off the both of us and it smells of alcohol. "Uh...hey, Mare," he says after what feels like forever of us staring at each other.

"Hey," I croak. I rush to clear my throat. "Hey, uh, how's it..going?" He laughs awkwardly. "Well we're both covered in what I'm sure is ninety- nine percent alcohol, which again, I'm really sorry for."

"It's my fault too, I was--"

"Looking for someone?"

"Yeah..."

Ugh this is so awkward. Please earth swallow me now.

"Hey, babe," Cal says behind me. He puts an arm around me and smiles casually. "Who's your friend?"

"Just leaving actually," Will says. He smiles at me. "It was nice seeing you again, and I'm sorry..for everything." The words have an effect on us both.

When he leaves, I pull myself out from Cal's grip. He wipes his hands on his pants and I wrinkle my nose. "Was that necessary?"

"No," he replies. Cal begins to shrug off his jacket and hands it to me. Before I can protest he stops me. "It looks like you murdered someone."

"Thanks," I mutter. The punch was drying now and was all sticky. Cal sees this of course.

"I guess you just got yourself into--"

"Don't fucking finish that--"

"a sticky situation," he finishes with a goofy smile. I sigh loudly. "More than you know," I mutter.

My phone buzzes and I take it out, doing my best to not get punch all over it. "Shit!" I exclaim when I read the text.

"What is it?" Cal asks. He sneaks a glance at my phone.

"Kilorn was caught. Apparently a group of kids heard him coughing and reported him after they found him tampering with the lights." I was concerned for Kilorn and pissed at myself for not only not thinking about that but jeopardizing this plan.

"Who texted you then?"

"Shade. They finished up and were coming to check on him when they saw the principal walking him out." I groan in frustration.

I text him back quickly.

"What are you typing?"

"I'm telling them to get Kilorn out and take him home. He's sick and I should've insisted on him staying home.

"Soo, what now? "

I look up as if the ceiling held the right answer. Putting an end to this and going home would be the easiest thing to do. But it was something of a tradition for Shade, Kilorn and I. Shade especially would be disappointed if we gave up. Sure there would be other dances but I knew that Halloween was special to him as well as Farley being here.

"I think we should call it off," I say slowly, not believing my own words. Neither does Cal. "You don't give up, not like this." I whirl around ready to snap at him but his soft gaze stops me. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be looking at me like that. Not when I was the one who had messed up.

"There's something you should know," I say quietly. I needed to get this done and over with. The plan was off anyway with everyone else gone.

His eyebrows raise at the change in subject. Still he waits for me to continue.

"Do remember the guy I bumped into?"

"Kinda hard to forget when you smell like fruit salad and an LCBO store."

"That was Will...my...ex."

Confusion is what I see flash first. Then understanding.

"The guy who stood you up," he states. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

This was the difficult part. My fingers twitched as I restrained myself from running.

"A few months ago," I continue, "I was out at a party. Typical night except that...it wasn't."

I suck in a breath. There was no stopping now. Still, the words refused to pass my lips.

Cal inches closer. His thumb grazes my hand and his lips part. "God, you're freezing Mare." His arms encircle me and I pull away. I don't miss the hurt in eyes before they go blank. It was better this way. At least now it wouldn't hurt so much.

"I slept with him Cal. I wasn't thinking straight...neither was he. It was a mistake. I'm--" my throat closes up and I struggle to keep tears from falling. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "You deserve so much more. That's why I couldn't and still can't talk to you. It hurts to even look at you," I add softly.

I want to look away from the storm of emotions flashing across his face but I force myself to watch. This is what I deserved for my foolish actions.

He's silent for a while. So am I. The words were still sinking in. There was no way he could forgive me. But still, I feel the hope rising in my chest before I'm forced to shove it down.

"I..I need to go," he forces out. I swear I see the glimmer of tears in his eyes. Cal turns away sharply before twisting through the crowd. I feel the piercing gaze of fellow students as they stopped to stare. I got a few sympathetic smiles and I let out an defeated sigh at the sight of them. I really knew how to pick my spots.

"Was that Tiberias Calore?" a soft voice at my right asks. I turn to face them and find Elane Haven watching his retreating form now swallowed up by the crowd. "Unfortunately so," I reply. I look her in the eyes. "What do you want? To gloat over my failed love life?"

Elane snorts. "If only I had enough energy to care." Her brown eyes soften slightly as she says, "But I do know how screwed up a relationship can be. It's worth it in the end though, the tears and the pain. You just have to be willing to fight for them, even if that means risking your pride."

I'm taken off guard. Never would I have expected Elane Haven to be giving me advice on love. Maybe on my outfit with a sneer but not this.

She places a hesitant hand on my, arm the touch so light that it's almost unrecognizable. "You should go after him."

I bite my lip and laugh, shaking my head mockingly. "I'm sorry, but why the hell are you doing this? What happened to 'thrift store fashion died two years ago Barrow, take a hint?' What kind of twisted game are you playing now, Haven?"

She sniffs. "And yet you still dress like a-" I clear my throat. "Okay look, the same thing happened with me and Evangeline. But it was your brother who told me the same thing I'm telling you now. If he hadn't..." she trails off. "I love Eve so much that hurts to think what would be now if I hadn't fought for her and with her," she laughs a little. Her gaze is solemn. "You care about him, so go before you lose him forever."

I let out a shaky breath. Shade comforted Elane and encouraged her to go after Evangeline? That was something new. Perhaps a piece in the puzzle if what had really happened. But her words rang true. It sounded like something Shade would say if he were here right now. Well...if he and Cal were on better terms.

"Thanks Elane." The words unsettle us both.

"Don't mention it," she smiles though it's strained. "Seriously, don't ever mention this again. To anyone."

I laugh lightly, sniffing a little. My cheeks feel wet from tears I hadn't even known had been there. "If only you extend the same courtesy."

"I will, believe me. Now hurry, if he's not gone by now."

Then I'm off. Running through the halls. They whip past me, locker after locker. Rain pours in sheets outside and distantly thunder rumbles. A storm.

I can't see him anywhere. It's so impossibly dark and clouds roll overhead, blocking out the faint glow of the moon. This is it, he's gone. I'm breathing heavily now, breaking down into sobs. My dress is soaked through probably making it sheer. I wrap myself tighter in his jacket and inhale the scent. He'd forgotten it, I think weakly. How could I be so stupid? I kick at the soda cans littering the parking lot in frustration. In my haze of self pity I barely even notice the car that comes to a screeching halt in front of me. The bright lights momentarily blind me from seeing the driver. They get out of the car and the door slams shut.

"Oh my god are you-" the words freeze on their tongue and I wait for the flashes of white to disappear.

"I'm really sorry," I croak out. "I don't even know why I came out here in the first place." I laugh sarcastically. "Actually I do know, see, I was running out here all rom-com like in the rain hoping to stop the guy I love from leaving. But he's gone so-"

"The guy you love?" the stranger says so softly I barely hear him.

"Mhm, it's all very terribly romantic I'm afraid. Anyways, I'm sorry-"

#second time's a charm pt iii #chelsea writes shit #chelsea's fic pt iii #astacfic3

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sagebodisattva · 5 years

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MGTOW and Nihilism

Welcome, followers of MGTOW. Before we begin, just real briefly, for those who are watching this video and are unaware of what MGTOW is, the acronym stands for Men Going Their Own Way, and is the title for a movement by and for men. A few samples of definitions mined from the internet include:

“M.G.T.O.W., Men Going Their Own Way, is a statement of self-ownership, where the modern man preserves and protects his own sovereignty above all else. It is the manifestation of one word: “No”. Ejecting silly preconceptions and cultural definitions of what a “man” is. Looking to no one else for social cues. Refusing to bow, serve and kneel for the opportunity to be treated like a disposable utility. And, living according to his own best interests in a world which would rather he didn’t. MGTOW asserts that only you have the right to decide what your goals in life should be. It is saying that, as a man, I will not surrender my will to the social expectations of women and society, because both have become hostile against masculinity. MGTOW often talk about seeking “independence” from western and/or consumer culture, and a few MGTOW try to live that sort of Zen existence. Most of those who embrace the term have a deep hostility towards and/or profound distrust of feminists and women in general. Many MGTOW refuse to date “western women” and some try to avoid women altogether.”

Well, before we go any further, it should be noted that, just by being a MGTOW, you are a nihilist, plain and simple. And before you get all up in arms, relax, this is a good thing, and I mean this in a good way. After all, you are watching a video by the Meta Sage, and you could say that the Meta Sage channel is the flagship station of nihilism on the internet today. So, this isn't a disparaging title aimed to degrade you, nor is it indicative of a characterization that you are either depressed, violent, lazy, immoral or apathetic, but, meant just as a label that is reflective of a matter of truth and fact. Nihilism is a philosophical doctrine that suggests the negation of one or more reputedly meaningful aspects of life. MGTOW itself is a cornucopia of negations of normative meanings and values that are usually associated with the average life. Tossing out the investments into dating, sexual relations, marriage, child bearing, societal expectations, social and cultural traditions, and the disposal of all aspirations to emulate the role of a specific gender archetype, are all value subtraction equations, no matter how you slice it.

So, you have arrived at this point; so are you gonna live up to the name of MGTOW and really be a man that goes his own way, or are you gonna remain bitter and resentful of women and get stuck on moaning about it. If your aim is to be an activist and spend the rest of your life screaming from a rooftop about the inequities of women, it can't really be said that you have gone your own way. By doing this, you are still giving women power and importance by way of investing value judgements into their behavior, which continually provokes taxing anger and indignation, which, thereof, serves as validation by way of negative attention. Remember, negative attention is still attention. And eventually it gets to the point where, thou dost protest too much.

Are you really ready to move on from these values you have subtracted, or is this all just an elaborate ploy to continually sustain a platform on which to complain about women? If you consider yourself MGTOW, then you identify as such because, either you are a product of the so called “incels”; that is, a group of men who call themselves involuntary celibate, (which is just a round about way of saying, you can't get a girlfriend,) or, you are a man that has had girlfriends or a wife, but has been somehow royally screwed over by one. Either way, it's time to use all that time and energy you would normally waste on trying to jump through hoops for a female, or in complaining about a female, towards your spiritual growth. In other words, it's time to actually go your own way. And when I say "spiritual growth", I don't mean religion, or any other vague supernatural notion concerning a soul, or the divine, but rather, am more referring to what was implied earlier from the definitions of MGTOW, to seek to live, and know, a Zen experience of life.

You are not the first ones to renounce women, only the most recent ones. A man's struggle to find a suitable woman as a companion is nothing new. The inequities of women is not something new either. Granted, the modern western world seems to have gone berserk with many of these courtship issues, but this is mainly due to the explosion of a very shallow materialistic western culture coupled with overpopulation and the subsequent massive influx of mediocrity. Yes, women far outnumber men, and so most of the decent men out there are already taken; coupled up with compatible women and are currently in relationships. Of the small pool of men that are left, some are gay, some are in prison, some are homeless, and what remains are either the cads, that is to say, a few cavalier males, that are usually very confident with themselves and therefor unobtainable and unwilling to be pinned down, which makes them a very desirable albeit unrealistic ideal for a woman, the so called hidden fruit, so to speak, or the common average insecure desperate man that women generally don't want, but usually end up settling for; ie the bulk of what's out there. And of this bulk, the ones with the money or career get the girl, and then usually a subsequent knife in the back, aka, cheated on, divorced, child custody battle, paying alimony and child support, and the rest of the bulk get nothing, aka, Involuntary celibacy.

All of this, and yet somehow, we are still overpopulated. Go figure. And don't tell me that we're not overpopulated because of a fallacy of scarcity, or because we can fit the entire population of the world into the state of Texas... that isn't the point. The point is, the more you have of something, the less valuable it becomes. The significance and importance of the contributions of individuals are undermined by an over flooding of individuals, which drives down the value of individuality. Too much of anything isn't healthy, and humans are not excluded from this truth... of which, is also why I would encourage MGTOW's to dig even deeper into philosophy and to check out anti-natalism, which is not too far of a stones throw from your current positional mindset. You see, I'm waiting to see the fourth wave of feminism, wherein women reject procreation... but honestly, I don't think they have the balls for that.

But anyway, MGTOW man, now that you are not tied up in chasing the meaningless mundane pursuit of conquering a woman; of which, doesn't lead to enlightenment, and will, given enough time, only lead to having babies, which will seriously jeopardize your pursuit of an awakening, because having a child is almost always indicative of passing on the buck; why not use your newly found freedom to investigate the inner connectivity of reality with the mind?

This is what all people should be investigating: the secrets concerning the source of attention, instead of wasting all our time being desire whores and value junkies. Honestly, I enjoy people's disillusionment. I enjoy it, not because I enjoy people's suffering, which is how your average sheeple of righteous indignation would like to portray it as, but because disillusionment is what ultimately leads a sheeple to a place where he or she can finally have an opportunity to possibly discover the truth of awareness. In order to arrive in such a place, often a feeling of disappointment resulting from the discovery that something is not as good as one believed it to be, is required. Whether it be a disillusionment due to let downs associated with school, politics, religion, work, justice, fairness, the opposite sex, or expectations of success in some field of interest, doesn't matter... the seeds for a possible enlightenment could potentially be planted, depending on whether or not this disillusionment leads to nihilism, or to a wounded ego that is gonna play the victim because it still deep down desires what it is disappointed in, and is just bruised from rejection. I root for the former.

Hey, I have an idea. Instead of getting a gun and shooting up a school, a movie theater or a nightclub, drop the value of the investment into that which is facilitating your malcontent disposition, and instead, meditate. Instead of spending all day as a keyboard Rambo, posting diatribes on online message boards, explore the inner connectivity of reality and the mind. Instead of indulging in the poignancy and resentment that comes with the territory of playing the victim, take responsibility for your reality and incorporate a little existential nihilism in your life. Don't swear off women as a means of protest, swear them off and then close that chapter of your life. Truly let go of the value you have placed on the gratification you receive from female companionship, courtship, sexual relations, union and family.

MGTOW is a good thing. It's an excellent beginning, but there is still much more work to be done. There is more conditioning to unlearn, and more attachments to let go of. It doesn't end with women. Welcome to nihilism, where you will deconstruct every attachment, every convention and every expectation. For you MGTOWers that are curious to find out a little more about nihilism, I recommend searching through my video library to find out some more useful information, for this is one of the only places where you will find the subject treated honestly and not demonized or maligned with a negative connotation.

#MGTOW #Nihilism

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