#startyourfuturerp

[gleerpconfessions]

@mottacommasugar at @startyourfuturerp is so much fun to have on the dash and Alaina is equally as fun to talk to ooc. Her Sugar is exactly how you would picture the character to be in her college years and I look forward to continuing to write with her.            

[lyricalbowties]

[On the morning of October 31st, Blaine wakes up from a dream feeling panicked and uneasy. He can't remember what the dream was about, but he knows it was bad and he can't shake it. As he goes to class, he still hears the whispering. He knows it's about him. He feels the griffon staring at him. As he's washing his hands after a bathroom break between classes, he looks up and sees, written plain as day with thick black marker:] CONFESS. [After that, the whispers sound like a chorus of the word.]

Blaine really started to wonder if he should have just skipped classes today and stayed in his apartment. He had managed to do a decent job of ignoring the strange things that happened to him this week. Brushing them off as figments of his imagination, Blaine did his best not to put any stock in them. He was stressed about school, the whole situation with Rachel which included her meeting Cooper, the fact that he was cheating on her but somehow could not stop, and their whole relationship was a lie. Yeah, Blaine had some stress and anxiety present in his life to say the very least. 

The dream is something that Blaine can’t shake and knows he won’t be able to for a while. The anxiety attack in the bathroom at the union the day before was...unfortunate. He felt embarrassed by it and prefers to ignore that it even happened in the first place. But waking up not knowing what you dreamed but knowing how you felt in or from the dream was almost worse. Yes, things like this had happened before where Blaine would wake up and still carry the emotions from a dream but unable to remember exactly why. This was different. His heart raced and every tiny noise or slight movement made Blaine jump and that feeling of being watched was back. It was terrifying. 

He should have stayed home in bed. 

The whisperings started back up as he went to class but it was just paranoia. The dream had caused his brain to think back to the events in the days before. There weren’t any whispers just Blaine’s mind playing a cruel trick on him. Even as Blaine told himself that, it wasn’t much comfort. But. Why wouldn’t the whole campus be talking about him? That gossip about his “secret secret identity’? Did someone know, other than Sebastian, that his relationship with Rachel was anything less than a complete joke. 

He was a complete joke. Blaine could hear it in the tone of the whispers and the eyes he felt on his back. Focusing in class was impossible. He sat in the very back so he could keep an eye on every student in the room because, if he sat in the back there could be no eyes on him. NO eyes watching him from behind. Yes. He solved the riddle. Blaine was starting to feel insane by this point. He trusted no one he came across and he couldn’t trust anyone to understand what was happening or why it was happening to him. 

Because you cheated. 

He could have sworn he heard someone say that but no, that was just his brain. 

Because you’re lying to Rachel.

Stop it.

Because you’re lying to Kurt.

Just. Stop. 

Because you’re lying to yourself!

Blaine stood abruptly from his spot in the back of the class the moment it had ended and briskly walked to the bathroom. He just needed another minute alone and away from those fucking whispers. Away from the judgement. He went into the handicap bathroom and locked the door behind him. Alone. At last. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes leaning back against the door. He takes this time to use the bathroom for what it actually is used for and to just soak in the silence.

He turned the water on at the sink and let it run a moment before lathering up his hands with soap and meticulously cleaning them as he told himself that everything was fine and it was just in his head. He leaned down and splashed some water in his face and reached over for a paper towel. That felt better. 

As Blaine stood up straight to do his best and brave the world and whispers outside he froze. He felt a chill wash over him as he stared at the mirror. Not the reflection in the mirror because it was just Blaine and obviously that was to be expected but there was something he wasn’t expecting. Something that couldn’t be there. He didn’t notice it walking into the bathroom and the door was locked. 

C O N F E S S 

Blaine let out a shaky breath and slowly reached out to the mirror to touch it. It seemed real enough. But it could just be another figment of Blaine’s elaborate imagination. He took the paper towel, damp from drying his hands and face, and extended it to the mirror. Blaine was terrified of what he was about to do and about to test. He rubbed the paper towel across the bottom of the F and sure enough, the black began to smear. 

Blaine jumped back as if the writing on the mirror had shocked him. It might as well have. He felt his entire body buzzing with the signs of an oncoming anxiety attack. This wasn’t real. There was no possible way for that to be here or for anyone to know that Blaine would be here in this bathroom. He clenched his jaw in an attempt to prevent himself from breaking down and crying there on the spot. 

It’s not real, Anderson. It’s just..not. 

He thought to himself. Blaine backed away from the mirror never turning his back to it. His hands fumbled behind him to find the door handle and once his fingers wrapped around it, Blaine quickly left the bathroom and closed the door hard behind him. 

He exhaled and slowly turned to walk away. This was just another thing he needed to pretend didn’t happen. After a moment or two of walking through the halls on his wya out of the building and to his next class, Blaine was met with a chorus of whispers but this time they all joined together to form one word. 

CONFESS

Blaine threw his hands up over his ears and ran through the crowd of students and burst out the door into the open air, thinking it may stop. It didn’t. It was everywhere now pounding in his brain and on his eardrums. 

CONFESS

“Please..stop..” He begged, his voice cracking. There were students looking at him now. They were all talking about him. Because he cheated, because he lied, because he was a fake. 

Blaine felt sick, and his chest started to tighten. His heart beat wildly and it was hard to breathe again. Everything felt like it was spinning and he just wanted to sit down until it all stopped. He tried to get away from everyone but there were just too many students and too many whispers to get away from. 

He rounded the corner of one of the campus buildings and found it to be empty of students on the other side and immediately he flattened himself against the bricks and slid down until he was seated on the cold ground. Blaine was trembling trying to get his anxiety under control but he was spiraling and there wasn’t anything in his mind that he could think of that seemed to help. Everything he thought about was turned around on him. Blaine slammed his eyes shut and brought his knees close to this chest wrapping his arms around them to keep them there and buried his face. 

Please stop. I’ll do it. Just...stop. Please!  He thought desperately just wanting this whole ordeal to be over.

[pearhipshummel]

[Slid under Kurt's door is a deep red envelope. It is unmarked, except for the stamp of a griffon in the middle. In the envelope is a deep gold piece of paper. Written in neat black lettering is a message.] We've been watching. If you choose to accept this invitation, we'll be waiting. [There's another griffon stamp at the bottom of the note.]

It had to be a joke. Right? 

His fingers gripping the envelope, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he scanned the two sentences over, and over, as if expecting the words to jump off the parchment. He almost wished they would. It would at least ease the million suggestions of who would’ve sent this out of his mind, and he could move on. But no. That would be too easy.

Did he have a stalker? 

His gaze lifting momentarily to glance around his room, trying to control his breathing. What if he did? Were they still in the room? He wastes no time to move to his wardrobe and toss the door open. Empty--aside from the hanging clothes that is. It doesn’t stop him from moving them aside, needing to see the back before he put that idea out completely and let the doors slowly close shut once more. The bathroom got the same check, as did under his and Brett’s beds, but still nothing out of the ordinary. 

What if it was him? Kurt felt sick.

But it wasn’t his writing. And why a griffon? To throw him off the scent? Crap. Why did he let his guard down at all? He should’ve been smarter than this. How would he have found him here of all places? He didn’t even tag his social media just to be on the safe side. There was no way. This had to be a cruel joke. Had to be.

His chest felt tight, until it hurt to breathe. He had to move to sit on his bed once he started getting light headed, pressing against the wall if only to keep his wits about him now. Couldn’t keep it to a door or window now. Who knows who could be watching? He could be watching, from somewhere. Again, he read over the words, unsure of what exactly he could say. What if he rejected it? What would happen? Something bad? Was he in danger? Was Brett in danger? Fuck. 

“Oh my god, how are you watching?! THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” He calls out to the empty room, eyes stinging. God. And now he was crying. Pathetic, right? He was stronger than this. Breathe. It was just a scare tactic. Maybe they wanted this. Whoever they were. Maybe this was a sick joke, being played on him by Brett and his friends. Breathe. Deep breath, count of three. Exhale. It’s just a Halloween stunt. They want you to freak out. Don’t conform. You’re not in danger. You’re fine. It’s a trick. Nothing more.

Breathe.

He had to call his dad. Center himself again. He wasn’t here. He was still put away, out of sight, out of mind. Kurt was safe here. It was a piece of paper. It couldn’t hurt him. It was harmless. Right?

[ginsclarington]

[Slid under Hunter's door is a deep red envelope. It is unmarked, except for the stamp of a griffon in the middle. In the envelope is a deep gold piece of paper. Written in neat black lettering is a message.] We've been watching. If you choose to accept this invitation, we'll be waiting. [There's another griffon stamp at the bottom of the note.]

Hunter was in the middle of studying for a midterm when he saw in the corner of his eye, something being slipped underneath his dorm door. Once he marked his place in his textbook, Hunter made his way over to the, apparent, envelope, and picked it up, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he did so.

His first thought as he opened it up and starting reading was it must be a prank. It wouldn’t be the first time someone fucked with him just to get a reaction, but the gold piece of paper was far too sophisticated for some frat guy to use, let alone write on.

Being told he was being watched didn’t unsettle him, but it most certainly confused him. He liked to think of himself as observant, and he would have noticed if someone was physically following him on a daily basis. His next thought was to assume it meant someone was watching him in the sense that they saw his accomplishments being posted on the school website and in the hallways.

Hunter quickly came to the conclusion that the paper in his hand was an invitation to something prestigious, whether that be a club or an event and that he absolutely deserved it. Now, was he supposed to accept in terms of writing back or speaking out loud? The former seemed impossible and the latter seemed ridiculous. There was no way someone was activity listening to him, unless the person who dropped off the envelope was outside the door, waiting for his answer.

“I accept your invitation,” Hunter stated, assuming the latter. “But if I find out this is a prank, you have my word that I will find you. And you will pay for it.”

[mottacommasugar]

[As Sugar is studying in her room, she notices a row of tiny ladybugs marching purposefully along her desk, straight for her. When they reach the edge of her desk, they take flight and try to land on her.]

Sugar should have been more focused on the books in front of her, but she couldn’t find her any of her highlighters. Honestly, how was she supposed to truly understand the material if it didn’t have the added pizzazz that only highlighters could offer? She was about to start rummaging through her backpack for the third time when movement in her peripheral drew her attention to the middle of her desk. The glow from her laptop casting whatever it was in a creepy shadow. 

Scrambling to her feet, she flicked on the light switch to get a better view of whatever the hell had decided to invade her room. If it was spiders, she would scream, then she was going to sue. She blinked rapidly as light flooded the room and peered over at her desk, mentally preparing to bolt if need be. Which turned out to be unnecessary as the intruders weren’t scary at all. 

“Hey, how’d you guys get in here,” she whispered, eyes widening at the impressive number of ladybugs in front of her. They paid her no mind until the hit the corner and decided to make a beeline for her. “Whoa, okay, not the hair, not the hair.” Giggling, Sugar twirled around as the ladybugs landed on her. “I’m gonna have so much good luck! Thanks, guys!”

A few minutes later her laughter subsided as she came to the sad realization that she couldn’t keep the tiny creatures. She was so not cut out to be a parent anytime soon.  She’d set them free, then she’d go buy a couple of packs of highlighters and attempt to get back to studying. “Let’s get you guys outside, it’s so much brighter out there and the snacks are much better than any I could provide.”

[ginandsmythe]

[When Sebastian is studying alone in the library, his silence and focus are distracted by the distant, but distinct, sound of a baby crying. There's no one else around, and there hasn't been for quite some time. The longer Sebastian listens, the more intense the crying gets, and it seems like it's getting louder, too.]

Sebastian hated studying. He hated homework. He hated almost everything regarding school and his major. Well, hate was a strong word that took up too much energy, but Philosophy was boring as hell and there were a number of things more worthy of his time. When he did have to get things done for his classes, he always went to the most boring building on campus: the library. It kept him more on task when he had nothing of interest to distract him, other than his friend from the Encylopedia section the other week, though he’d deserved that. He’d ended up getting an A on the assignment he’d done that day, and he was certain that there was a direct correlation.

At the sound of a baby, he looked around to see where the noise was coming from, too confused to be annoyed at first. Since when were there babies on campus? He was aware that most straight people didn’t know how to use condoms, but he always assumed those people dropped out once their actions caught up to them. Apparently not. He rolled his eyes at the offending sound before turning back to his work, doing his best to ignore it. When the sound grew louder, he took his AirPods out of his pocket and placed them in his ears, doing his best to drown out the sound with Travis Scott.

[ginsburg-sam]

[When Sam is walking to class the morning of October 31st, he passes a homeless man waiting for the bus. That's not unusual. What is unusual is that he's wearing Sam's mismatching socks as arm warmers with fingerholes cut out. If asked where he got them, the man would shrug and answer:] The Ginsburg Shelter, down on 4th. [Even if Sam didn't ask him, he wouldn't be able to ignore the signs on every billboard with the name in bold letters, asking for volunteers this holiday season.]

It’s getting colder every day, he feels, as he makes his way to class, his bag slung over his shoulder and the collar of his coat tucked up around his neck. His big “bear claws” are wearing gloves; he’d given in and followed Lauren’s advice about getting some gloves. Not that he was going to tell her; he was stubborn enough to not do that, and let her get that satisfaction. It’s so cold that he’s wearing two pairs of socks, for crying out loud. Well, two pairs of non-matching socks, because he couldn’t find the partner for half of his socks anyway. 

That still confused the hell out of him. It meant that someone had been in his apartment; and while they could’ve snatched his TV or his Playstation, they’d gone for socks and his phone charger. It was all very odd, but Sam didn’t feel like reporting it; they were such small things that he could easily buy again. But it had been a stressful afternoon, and it had made Sam really paranoid about coming home again, however nothing had happened there since. 

Yawning, Sam walked down the street that Halloween morning. Several people were waiting for the bus to arrive, and they were wrapped up warm, in big coats and scarves and hats. One person in particular was wearing what looked like- no, it couldn’t be. 

The chewbacca figure on one hand and the cats in space print on the other caught his eyes. He had those socks! Well, one of each now. Could it be that they were his? Sam stopped for a bit, pinching his nose as he thought whether or not he should ask the guy where he got them from. He was dressed in a big coat, his long beard almost coming down to his chest. He would be a good contender for ‘Movember’. But he didn’t look like the rest of the people waiting for the bus. He looked more worn down. Sometimes, Sam had given some of his change to the homeless people that he passed on the street. Other times, it had been a cup of coffee, if Sam himself could afford it. But, he knew that he hadn’t given his socks away. Or had he? 

“I’m sorry, sir,” He really was. He didn’t want to start any drama. But he also wanted to know where he got Sam’s socks from. “I don’t want to bother you, but I was just wondering where you got those gloves from?” Sam asked and pointed down to them, offering a soft smile - hopefully he was appearing non-threatening. “The Ginsburg Shelter, down on 4th”. 

It made sense. Nodding once, understandingly, Sam sucked in a deep breath. “You know what,” He said, and started taking his own gloves off. “They don’t look that warm,” And then he placed the gloves in the homeless man’s hands. “These will be much better for you, sir,” The cold instantly hit his fingers, but he put him in his pockets straight away, hoping that would help. “Have a good day.” 

Continuing his journey towards campus, so he wasn’t late for class, his hands now naked again, Sam saw the pieces of paper hung up on every light pole down the street, and the big letters on the billboards. There was a lot of clothes that he couldn’t fit into anymore, and he made a mental note right then and there to go home and pile it all together, so he could bring it down to the shelter after class. 

[thepuckrman]

[Everything seems normal to Puck. The flowers and the note have almost faded from his mind, except that when he speaks, it doesn't quite sound like him. There's a patter to his speech that's definitely not his. When someone asks him how his Halloweek is going, the wild and mostly true story was on the tip of his tongue, but instead he said:] This week's been great, went to a party with a super hot date. We fucked that night and this morning, late, because chicks hate when I make them wait.

“mmfm… He-hello…?” Puck answers in a voice completely weighted down by sleep and grogginess. The suns already down, he’d already been to class, and apparently, he had decided to lay down and nap at some point. Only his sweet dreams were put on an abrupt halt.

‘Noah, are you asleep? Did you not have class today? What is this?’ Questions the familiar voice on the other line, with a tone of confusion and slight agitation to it.

“N-…no ma, I was ju-just…” Puck clears his throat, taking the time to sit up in his bed. He was tired, sure, but not tired enough to be stuttering on his words. Slurring, maybe, but not this, “I was just napping, o…kay?” 

The line hangs in silence for a few beats. Puck’s positive she’s trying to listen for the sound of glass bottles or bong’s bubbling or any kind of hint that her son’s doing anything he shouldn’t. He’s actually a little surprised at how quick she is to brush past it instead of prodding, changing the conversation into the next sport his sister was getting into. Apparently it was going to be Ice Hockey, and Puck couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest at the kind of take-no-shit badass the ten year old was becoming. It’s hard not to wish he was there to see it happen. 

Without meaning to, Puck goes quiet as a pang of homesickness settles in.

‘Noah? Are you still there?’ Ava’s voice interjects, quieter and softer than it was before. There’s a reason she calls him– she knows his individual attitude didn’t always match her son’s heart

“Ye-yeah… I-….I’m here, but ca-can we wrap this up? I’ve gotta je… je…” Jet. ‘I’ve gotta jet’ Why can’t I fucking say that? Puck wonders in frustration, brow furrowing. His brain and mouth were wanting to finish the sentence but instead he slight irritation he changed it, “I’ve gotta go.”

‘Hold on… tell me about your Halloween,” Ava asks, her voice riddled with sincerity. She didn’t want to let Puck go without a proper check in, even if he was trying to end it, ‘You and your classmates call it Halloweek, right? I’m sure you’re having fun, tell me something you’ve done.’

Given he’s Puck and this was college, only about three stories come to mind that are still true to his badassery while still nothing she’ll clock him for. He figures he’s better off talking to her than not. And yet, despite actually thinking about what to say, somehow he still spoke carelessly

“This week’s been great, went to a party with a super hot date. We fucked that night and this morning, late, because chicks hate when I make them wait.”

Puck’s eyes went wide.

‘Noah Elias Puckerman WHAT in the WORLD did you jus-’

Click.

Puck’s finger moves from the ‘end call’ button on his screen, his heart practically raging against his chest, “Ho-holy shit…” he whispers to himself, not noticing the fumble in his words due to being floored by his actions. Apparently Puck was going to have to really enjoy this Halloween, because there was now a good chance it was going to be his last if his mom got her hands on him after that. 

Guess now was as good a time as any to see where the party was at for that night, right?