#continuing to try to write cheery stuff

[ghostedgwen]

He Runs Because He Loves Me | r.lupin

note : Do I have a hundred (exag) fics on-going right now? Yes, yes I do, but I will still continue to start new masterlists and series because I don't care and will write for whatever I am inspired for :))

warning/s : werewolf stuff, light angst?, mostly fluff with a happy ending, just a moment of getting scared by a werewolf, you're a dummy but the lovable kind, Remus is a cutie

You were on edge all day, anticipating the moment the countdown would end. A chain of events lead you to the forbidden forest at midnight and you could only curse your luck when you stare down death in the eyes, in the form of a werewolf, then the count down ended. Displaying ‘0’.

As if you were a mythical thing. Like you were a trophy or a champion ring.

Today is the day. You woke up, seeing the set of numbers displayed so readily the moment you opened your eyes to greet a new day.

It’s only 17 hours until you meet your soulmate. You can only guess that they were from Hogwarts given as you are stuck inside this castle, while the count down to meeting your soulmate progresses.

“Good morning!” You happily greet your classmates, some of them already donning on their uniforms. You eye them magic the wrinkles out of their yellow robes.

“Morning,____,” Prewett greets you. “You seem awf’ly cheery today? Got something grand planned?”

You grin at her as she straighten her tie around her neck. “Yeah, sort of.”

They didn’t probe any more and minded their own business as you all prepared for another day at Hogwarts— your fellow badgers went on normally while you felt like every step you took was one step closer to your soulmate.

Settling into the Great Hall, you couldn’t even contain your excitement as you ate breakfast so happily. Despite that, you managed to steal glances at the Gryffindor table.

You spy the familiar tuff of brown hair matched with chocolate brown eyes and a set of scars across his freckled face.

Not to be delusional, but you had secretly hoped Remus was your soulmate. You’ve already met him, seen him across the room and watched him cheer in the Quidditch stands but never properly met him face-to-face.

You wanted to wish that it could be him. That your soul intertwined with his, despite the fact he’s never once noticed your existence throughout all of your 6 years at Hogwarts.

“____’s creepily staring at Lupin again.” Prewett sniggered.

You smack her lightly. “Piss off.”

You hear a boy a few plate across you snort. You look at him, recognizing him to be the boy you previously partnered with on Astronomy once back in 3rd year.

Fritz Higgins.

He caught you looking and smirked. “Don’t know why you even bother crushing on that one,” he snorts again. “Prolly gets into lots of bloody fights, nasty scars.”

You make a face at him. Fighting back the urge to stab him with your fork, you just glared. Pointedly choosing not to give into his bait and turned to Prewett who was obviously reacting to his words as well.

She had on a look of shock and disgust. “Says you, you bloody twat!”

You tap her and give her a gesture to let it go. She huffs and turns to you with an angry expression still on her tan face.

“Someone ought to curse him full of zits, the nerve!”

.

You continue on with your classes, trying not to mind the numbers too much as it kept going down. By the time you had finished your classes, there was only 8 hours left of it.

You sat through dinner, not able to really swallow anything down. Meanwhile Potter’s newest attempt at wooing Evans kept you occupied, playing with your food as you listened in on their loud exchange.

They make it so easy to eavesdrop with how they practically announce their everything to the entire castle. You neglected to laugh and just mindlessly stared at the numbers continuously decreasing.

Having calculated it, you wondered just how in the world are you going to meet your soulmate at 12am?

“Galeon for your thoughts there, ____?” Prewett asked you, having been confused of your sudden change of mood.

You shake your head as your only response. Getting up abruptly to leave the hall as you catch a glimpse if Lupin whose nose is buried in a book next to a laughing Black.

You went straight to your dorm and prepared for bed despite yourself, you dropped on your bed straight after - staring blankly at nothing as you dissociated.

You wonder if it’s too big of a reach to expect Remus Lupin to be your soulmate, you’ve been crushing on him since 2nd year.

You always liked his attitude. How reserved and quiet he was compared to his friends but always let a smirk slip past his lips when the Slytherins would be in shambles while all their hair are falling off at breakfast.

People always wondered how he’s a Marauder, they claimed he’s too quiet and behaved to be one of them, but you knew better.

Watching closely, one could easily see that he had the same cheekiness his friends had. You would even guess that he’s responsible for half the ideas that are being executed by the lot.

You blink.

7:37:19

Just where in the world will you meet your soulmate at 12am? You close your eyes heaving a sigh, not intending to sleep but then you opened your eyes to find the numbers changed.

2:42:15

You get up abruptly. Looking around to find your fellow badgers are already asleep, Prewett safely tucked in drooling the night away.

You blink in a daze as you push yourself off bed. Grabbing a robe to wrap around yourself, you groan as you felt your muscles tensed. It seemed as if you slept like the dead, unmoving while you dozed away.

You try rolling your shoulders and heard your joints pop, satisfied - you reach for your wand and cast a ‘Lumos!’. You weren’t sure where you were going but your grumbling stomach urged you to head to the kitchens.

Playing with your food proved to have been a mistake. Your stomach was practically screaming at you to give it literally anything.

The sleep was still with you by the time you had exited the painting of the fat lady, barely caring that you’ll be told off for being out of bed. You traversed the dark castle in a half-awake state, not minding the fact you were walking down darkened halls without a care in the world.

In your half-awake mind, you did not care at all. You kept walking until you reached an isolated hall, not even a single painting was there. You blink once, twice - where the bloody hell are you?

You look around. Your eye catching some threshold that you mindlessly walked into, you felt shivers run down your spine at the sudden cold air of the night wrapping around you.

Despite that, you still found it in yourself to follow the track that was made on the grass. Like enough people had walked through it to form a path and had flattened the grass to lead you to -

Awake.

You felt wide awake now as you realize you are outside in the forbidden forest. You look down at yourself to realize you didn’t even have shoes on, you were walking out of the castle barefoot.

“Bloody hell?” You whisper to yourself and you look into the trees, tall and scary as they tower over you in the night.

The full moon is shining brightly above as you begin to realize how dire your situation is. You make a move to turn around until you heard it, a low growl.

You swiftly turn and found yourself locking eyes with a creature. What -

A werewolf.

You could tell as soon as the description from the books replayed in your mind, you are face-to-face with a werewolf. You could barely hear its low growls through the sound of your heart hammering in your chest, so loud that it ringed in your ears.

You couldn’t move. Your grip on your wand tightened as you stare the werewolf down.

It took a step forward, you felt every fibre of your being scream at you to run. But you felt compelled to stay, as opposed to being chased by this creature seemed scarier.

“H-hi?” You cursed yourself as soon as you said it, as it seemed to react to your voice, growling louder and taking more steps forward.

You almost screamed when it leaped forward, making you drop to the floor as your knees had given out.

Having always cursed people in books when they would not move whilst in danger, you now understood why. It wasn’t easy to just get out of the way.

You froze.

The mind can still react, but the body gets too scared to even move an inch, it seems. You can only curse yourself for not having either ability to fight or take flight.

Somehow, in your panicked state - you managed to take a peek of the number hovering just above you and felt your jaw go slack. “0”.

The time had run out so that means -

A stag came leaping from the nearby bushes and stood in front of you, blocking the werewolf. Right after it was a dog that also stood at your defence.

You frowned at the scene and fought the urge to pinch yourself. The rat jumped off the stag and as if gesturing you, kept turning it's head to the direction you came from.

You found yourself nodding at it. The dog approached the werewolf, still barking. The werewolf, dejected took steps backwards and you took it as your cue to follow the rat's instructions.

You slowly turned to the direction you came in - and rushed for it. You ran the fastest you have ever ran and ignore the chaos that ensued behind you as you can only guess the animals had worked to keep the werewolf at bay while you dashed.

Not even bothering to look back, you ran all the way back and straight into the Hufflepuff common room. You felt your blood pumping as you wasted no time rushing up the stairs and entering your dormitory, throwing your back against the door as if the werewolf could follow you all the way into the castle and reach your dorms.

.

The following morning, you looked like hell. It was only thanks to Prewett bothering with casting charms on your face that you looked far from the crazy person that you were when they all had woken up.

She didn't dare question the way you limped and only served you breakfast while you stared at your plate in a daze.

You had already met your soulmate. It's the bloody werewolf that almost killed you last night.

You look up, failing to find the number hovering over you. It's disappeared completely as the count down has ended.

"You should eat," was all Prewett said to pull you out of your thoughts.

"M'kay." you began stuffing the toast into your mouth despite not having the apettite. You helped push it down with pumpkin juice and then felt it - someone watching you.

You look up on instinct and met eyes with Remus Lupin all the way from the Gryffindor table. You masked your shock, keeping a straight face as you tried to get a read on his expression.

He was too far, but you could make out the frown on his scarred face. You watched as Potter nudge him, sending a weirdly worried look your way and that's when you tore your gaze off their direction.

You look down at your now empty plate and run a hand through your hair. Your bloody fucking soulmate is a werewolf and they are somewhere in the castle.

But you have no clue who they are.

.

It was your utmost shock when you received word from a 3rd year housemate that Lupin of all people was asking for you outside the common room.

You gagged on the chocolate frog you were eating as Prewett teased you, also hearing the request. She urged you to go out, re-casting the charms that hid the bags under your eyes and even fiddled with your hair.

Too shocked to process it, you allowed her to fix you up before being pushed out of the common room.

Outside, you saw Remus standing idly. Unsure how to greet him, you just gave him a slow nod and he took the initiative to say something first, he said your name - "____."

You felt all the air escape your lungs. You name sounded like a choir singing coming from his lips. "Lupin."

He hesitated, shifting his weight from his left leg to his right one. "Can we talk in private?"

You have no clue what brought this on. You agreed to the talk and currently being guided to a private place to talk, the entire time as you followed him, you kept trying to think of a reason.

None of them seemed plausible enough. So you gave up guessing just as you two reach the Astronomy tower, it's empty.

"What can I help you with?" You ask, opting to guess that he's gonna ask for a favor. Merlin knows why he's asking you of all people.

There was a pregnant pause, his back remained turned on you. You watch his figure, a solid minute went by that he did not say anything and you can guess that he was struggling to let it out.

"I promise I won't judge," you spoke again. You were beginning to grow nervous with every passing second. "What is it?"

Trying to think of what else to say, you almost didn't hear him when he spoke again. "I'm your soulmate." He said it so quickly that you almost missed what he had just said.

You almost laughed because that's no big deal - wait what?

"Huh?"

He finally turned around and you could see the conflicting expression on his face. Merlin, he's so beautiful.

"I'm your soulmate."

You frown at him despite the compliments dancing around in your simple-minded brain, you give him a nervous smile. "That's - what? But my soulmate is a -"

You stop yourself, you weren't just about to reveal that your soulmate is a werewolf so you shut your lips right away but he continued it for you.

"A werewolf."

You were never the brightest one in the room, but you weren't stupid either. So it took a few seconds and it finally clicked in your head. The monthly visits to Madam Pomfrey, the scars all over his face and - and the fact he's claiming he's your soulmate.

Your smile dropped.

"Last night, that was me," he cleared his throat nervously. "In the forbidden forest."

You couldn't find the words so you didn't say anything. He stepped forward, the action was full of hesitation but he did it anyway and another, and another until there was a reasonable distance between you two.

You can clearly see his eyes now, you thought to yourself how you could probably count his freckles and how much you'd enjoy doing so.

This must be what having a soulmate is like.

It has just been revealed that they are a werewolf, stigmatized to be dangerous and hostile creatures but you did not care for that at all - all you could think of was the way his freckles littered his scarred face and how beautiful it looked.

"I'm sorry,____, I don't think we can - "

"Shut up," you tell him, earning a frown. "Shut the fuck up, Lupin. You're about to go all mopey on me and tell me we can't be together because you're a werewolf, right?"

"Well - it sounds ridiculous when you put it that way but yes," he heaves a sigh that you almost thought was sarcastic. Yep, he's a Marauder alright.

You shake your head and smack his chest, not putting any force behind it. "You are an idiot."

"What did I do?"

"I'm your soulmate. That means the world itself made me exactly for you, I don't care that you're a werewolf, I've never once held any prejudice for any creature or for any blood status, I think the universe has made me exactly like this just for you."

He frowned, struggling to follow along.

"I'm saying," you glare at him. "I am made just for you, so to think I'd reject you for being a werewolf is bonkers."

"I'm not sure I follow," his frown grew deeper.

"No, you're not staying away from me because you think it's better that way," you tell him. Despite the fact you lost the ability to sleep for ther est of the night. Despite the shock of finding out your soulmate is a werewolf.

Because you learned that it's Remus.

The gentle, but cheeky boy you have been admiring for years. You knew he could never hurt you, not even intentionally.

"I am inlove with you, you tosser."

To say he was in disbelief would be an understatement. He parted his lips to say something, only to close it again, and opened his mouth again - "You do?"

You give him a soft smile. "Long before I even knew you were my soulmate. I had always secretly hoped the countdown would end whilst facing you."

He mirrored your smile now.

"Guess I really got lucky," he was saying that to himself, mostly. "That you are my soulmate."

You didn't even hesitate grabbing him by his robes to pull him in for a kiss.

the end.

masterlist

[teapartyprincess4two]

Could you write about a random morning with Matt as his girlfriend? Sorry if I not making any sense.

Your writing is amazing!!! Have a wonderful day!!!

A Cold Sunday- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Girlfriend!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, slight cursing, established relationship, a lot of dialogue, very short

inspiration: request^^, A Cold Sunday by Lil Yachty, just the title mostly

summary: You and Matt spend a cold Sunday morning together, snuggling up and keeping warm.

—

Every day of the week was chock full of activities for both you and Matt. Whether it be work, appointments, events, or daily chores; you two rarely had time together during the week. Even Saturdays were hectic for you both, you’d usually only get a few hours together before bed before one of you dozed off.

That’s why you loved Sundays, they were the only day neither you worked and you always made sure never to schedule anything on those days.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Matt croaks from beside you, a lazy arm wrapped around your waist from under the comforter. “Good morning, baby,” you reply, pushing his hair back and kissing his forehead.

“How did you sleep?” you ask, his eyes closing once again as the drowsiness settles back in. “Mmm good,” he hums, nuzzling into your chest slightly.

“That’s good, baby.”

You’re playing with his hair, your mind filling with ideas of what to do throughout the day. The possibilities were endless, especially because your only responsibility was to have fun with Matt.

“What do you wanna do today? We can go to the flea market, go eat some breakfast, or maybe we can try that new coffee shop,” you say in excitement, your cheery tone being too much for Matt this early in the morning.

“What about the mall? The mall could be fun. Ooo what if we have a picnic? We haven’t done that in so long,” you continue, subconsciously braiding strands of his hair as you compile a list of possible activities.

“It’s cold,” he murmurs, the statement being followed by a soft yawn.

Yawns are infectious, causing you to yawn shortly after. “Yeah, you’re right,” you reply, the yawn making it sound more like a roar.

“We can still do stuff…” he trails off, pulling away from you slightly to look at your face. You smile at him, you’re just happy to be spending time with him. “But we can stay in?” Matt suggests, loving the idea of a cozy day in.

You hum in response, already anticipating the cozy day ahead.

—

“Hurry, Matt! I’m cold!” you exclaim, lifting the comforter up so he can hop back into bed. “I can’t! The hot chocolate is gonna spill!” he shouts back, panicking as he tries balancing both mugs so none of the liquid spills over.

You groan playfully, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching for a mug, “here let me help you, you goof.” He chuckles at the nickname, carefully handing you a mug, “be careful, it’s hot.”

“I know, I’m smart.”

You sip the hot chocolate, trying to prevent it from spilling, but the scorching liquid has you pulling away immediately, “Fuck! That’s hot!”

“I just said that,” Matt chuckles, getting comfortable under the covers and pressing play on the movie you two were previously watching. “Shush, it’s good,” you murmur, going back for a second sip.

You settle back against the headboard, sipping occasionally as you watch the movie. Matt blows on his hot chocolate, afraid to burn himself like you did.

He blows on it hard enough for the liquid to spill over the cup. “Oh fuck. I spilled it,” Matt says blankly, looking at you as he tries not to laugh.

—

“Why was that movie so sad?” Matt sniffles, rubbing the tears out of his eyes. You’ve seen the movie a million times before and each time Matt has the same reaction.

“Babe, you know how it ends. How does it still make you cry?” you ask, chuckling slightly at his dramatic behavior.

“Y/n, don’t be so heartless,” he replies, looking at you as if you’re some type of monster. “How does it still not make you cry?”

You take a sip from your hot chocolate, fighting the laughter. “It’s really not that sad,” you say, taking a hold of the remote to find your next watch of the day.

“YES IT IS!”

“Matt, it’s Toy Story.”

“AND? HE WAS JUST A FORK!”

—

You’ve laid in bed with Matt all day, and although you haven’t waisted any energy, you’re really hungry.

“Just order pizza,” you suggest, resting your head on Matt’s shoulder as he orders the food on his phone. “I don’t want pizza though,” he replies, scrolling through DoorDash in search of the next best option.

“Chinese food?” you ask, your stomach grumbling at the suggestion. “Neh, too greasy.”

“Okay, what about Cane’s?”

“Not in the mood for chicken,” he replies, exhausting all his options.

“In N Out?”

“We had burgers last Sunday,” Matt finds an excuse to turn down all of your suggestions. “Just get whatever you want,” you mumble, becoming hangrier by the second.

He stays silent for a while, searching relentlessly for something appetizing, but he can’t find anything.

“I’m just gonna order pizza,” he finally comments.

“Bruh.”

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Just a short story about a goofy morning with Matt. Enjoy, luv u. Longer stories coming soon, they are COOKING!

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[the-s1lly-corner]

Dandy Plush (Ending 3) (Dandy x reader)

As always there will be a poll at the end to determine the winner for next time

Notes: gn toon reader, possible ooc as I figure out my dandy interpretation, pre game, dandy is a little too excited that you drew his item, hes a sucker and hes in love and hes a little much, possible ooc but tbf we dont have much on dandy rn plus its pre ichor stuff, readers kind of oblivious and an idiot, he almost confesses but he FUMBLES!! he accidentally makes you feel like DOOKIE!!, maybe ill be nice and make a part 2 to this ending to let him set the record straight and actually get his feelings across, still trying to figure out how i wanna write dandy esp pre game dandy so this may be a so-so fic in terms of quality SOBS

Word count: 2.3k words

CWs: none

Everyone’s eyes glue onto you as you reach your hand into the opening of the sack and pull out…

Whatever your fingers wrapped around was… soft… made of decent material… but it wasn’t fluffy- not even fuzzy. You readjust your hand around the item and tug it out into the air. 

“Oooooooh! That’d be mine!” Dandy lowered the sack to the floor as his eyes widened. It was almost painful how obvious he was playing the whole act up. “I’ll be taking that,” the flower reached his green hand forward and plucked the plushie- which was in his likeness- from your hand. You hardly follow his movements as he placed it somewhere to the side- still slightly reeling from the sheer excitement that brimmed in his voice when you drew him. 

“You all better behave while we’re gone!” Dandy comes to your side- his knuckles brushing against yours for a split second. His presence lingered while your hand instinctively pressed to your sides.

The sight of Vee rolling her eyes at Dandy’s words catches your eyes. 

“...Yeah…” Sprout mumbled, sharing a slightly confused look that you might have mirrored. 

“Well,” Dandy spun on his heel to halfway face you. “I promise I won’t smother you,” He gave you a wink. 

Suddenly the flower’s eyes flick to Vee- who was already visibly setting the timer on her screen. She didn’t even wait for the two of you to start making your way down the hall. “Hey- hey hey hey-” Dandy suddenly hissed. 

“You’ve got seven minutes-” Vee began. She almost sounded… irritated. Perhaps not a fan of being used as a timer for the game- or simply not wanting to partake in the first place… or maybe she didn’t like Dandy’s current attitude. Even you had to admit he seemed a little off- he was always cheery around you… and everyone else.. But this was…

Different. 

He almost seemed too eager- too… giddy.  

Your hand unglued itself from your side and wrapped lightly around his wrist. “C’mon let’s just go- I don’t think Vee’s gonna reset the timer,” You mumbled softly as everyone’s eyes darted between you, the TV, and the flower. In an instant Dandy fell quiet- eyes snapping between your hand as you continued to hold him and your face. 

And finally, the scowl that had shifted to surprise… turned into his usual grin. “Guess there’s no point in wasting time,” 

His hand shifted to take yours- and lightly tug you down the hall as the seconds on Vee’s clock ticked by. Half a minute had already been wasted just standing around and Dandy seemed to want to make the most of what was left… You basically let him drag you into the gift shop, and into the storage room behind it. 

“You know, it wasn’t easy trying to get this door opened… but I wanted to give everyone privacy for the game, and… well the gift shop’s got some real big windows,” Dandy hummed as he shut the door behind him. You squinted against the darkness- struggling to adjust.

“How did you even unlock it? I thought only staff had the keys-” You slid your hands across the walls to guide yourself. Fingers slid across the cold metal double doors of the room… you always wondered where they led- and without thinking twice you wrapped your hold around the handles and gave it an experimental tug. It didn’t budge. 

“Nothing important back there anyway,” Dandy’s hand found itself to your shoulder and gently pulled you to the wall opposite to the double doors. “It’s warmer here,”

Your back pressed against the cool wall- a part of you wished the game took place in the gift shop. It was warmer there and didn’t smell of dust. 

“So,” 

You nearly jump as Dandy suddenly planted himself right next to you rather roughly. His shoulders lightly slapping against the wall behind the two of you. The edges of his soft petals brushing against the side of your head. Neither of you sink to the floor… personally you didn’t much feel like having to brush a layer of dust off of your behind when you had to return to the party. 

“Whaddaya think of the party?” Dandy continued. You scrunch your face slightly as he began to drum his fingers almost impatiently against the wall. 

“It’s… fine…” Dandy seemed to tense at your opening but you decided to press on. “I mean- it’s just started, and now we’re here in a closet, in the dark-” You shrug. 

“Oh!” followed by a string of laughter from the flower. “I guess I rushed right into the games, huh?” The drumming stops and you hear his palms sliding against the wallpaper. It needed replacing. It felt old- tiny tears littered here and there. You subconsciously pick at a hole with your nail as the quiet between the two of you drags on and devolves into awkwardness. 

“You seemed happy about getting drawn,” You hummed. “You don’t really strike me as the type to get so excited over something like this- much less getting picked,” 

It hadn’t even sunk in that he seemed giddy over you being the one to draw his item. You felt it was more likely that he was simply happy to play a game with his friends.

Dandy always had the tendency to overhype things- never quite able to turn off his cheery and fun loving persona that he carried during episodes.

As far as you knew he would have been just as excited if anyone else had taken out his doll.

It was a little funny, too… of all the things he could have put into the sack to represent himself, he had chosen something of his likeness. You had seen the other toons put in items that were important to them- a friendship bracelet from Goob that he had made with his sister, the clown horn Looey always used in his acts and utilized to push his comedy acts, Boxten’s bandana that he always seemed to fiddle with in an act to self soothe during his more anxious moments. 

You think you saw Ginger put a piping bag full of icing into the sack… you could only hope that she tied it good. A shudder threatened to overtake you at the thought of the insides of the sack becoming stained candy red and the contents made sticky. At least you hadn’t put something of yours in… yet…

You snap back to the moment as Dandy- who had fallen silent for a few seconds to consider your question- finally speaks up. 

“Am I not allowed to be excited to have you to myself?” His grin becomes lopsided as he eyes you. Hard. intensely. The wording went right over your head. Had you thought about it a little harder you’d have caught that once again he didn’t really answer your question. 

You chew the inside of your cheek slightly. 

“You don’t need an excuse to come hang out with me- so… no?” You steal a glance before fixing your stare back on the floor- nearly squirming under the intense stare as he visibly mentally picks you apart on the spot. 

The silence drags on as his eyes continue to burn right into you. 

“I’m a very busy toon, Dewdrop… you know I try to spend some time with everyone, but,” He sighs. Exasperated or dramatic. Maybe both as he leaned slightly away from you and lowered his head. Another drumming of his fingers fills the pause before he forces himself into your line of sight- bending down almost comically just to make it work. 

“Can’t help but feel like I’ve been neglecting you… ‘cides, I like spending some extra time with you- just you,” the pout he adopted when you looked away spread into his classic charismatic smile. You were… almost impressed at how quickly he could change from one expression to another. 

You only give him a hum as you turn his words over in your head. “I guess that’s fair?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at your words but he pulls himself from your gaze. 

“Y’know, I’m actually really glad you grabbed my plushie- anyone would be lucky to have you as their partner but,” He propped himself against the wall in his best attempt to look as casual as possible. 

“I mean it’s more coincidence than luck,” You shrugged and pressed the back of your shoulders firmly against the wall… the coolness felt nice against your tired frame. Another half huff of laughter from the flower escapes into the air. 

“I’m being serious! I really am glad you picked my item!”

“I didn’t really consciously pick it-”

His eye twitched.

“What?” 

His smile still remained even as his eyes sharpened against you.

Angry? Annoyed?

Irritated. 

Dandy sharply inhales through his nose- or… at least that was the noise he made. The sudden shift in demeanor kept you from thinking too hard on the toon’s lack of nose… or really the lack of nose nearly every toon had. 

The action seemed to calm him down just enough to soften the look in his eyes and ease the tightness in his posture. 

“You’re lucky I’ve got such a soft spot for you,” He finally said after a few more seconds of simple staring. 

Your brows knit together. “Did I say something wrong?” 

The words felt heavy in the air- cutting right through it and sinking straight to the floor. For how slow they felt coming out of your mouth, the reaction Dandy gave you was instant. He pulled himself slightly from the wall and any annoyance he may have harbored was tossed somewhere in the back of his mind. 

“No-!” He almost barked the word as he stared right into your eyes. You flinch against the sheer force behind his voice and he wilted at the sight. “-sorry- I’m being too much aren’t I?” 

He fell back to the wall, fingers drumming against it again as his brow scrunched together. “I guess the sweet spot comment came off a little mean, huh?” 

Drumming became slight knocking as he looked at the door of the storage room. Time was running out and he knew that very well. 

“I don’t think it was mean- a little…” You trail off and make a humming noise. “You know?” You look at the back of his head; eyes trailing where his petals started. With him so close you could catch his scent… floral, in general. No specific flower came to mind- he smelled sweet and earthy. Not at all a bad fragrance to carry.

“Well,” His head lowered to the crack under the door. Muffled talking could be heard from the other side as a pair of feet appeared against the sliver of light. 

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, Dewdrop, I really do enjoy spending some extra time with you,” 

Contrasting his eagerness to remain in your gaze he now avoided yours as his eyes remained fixed on the door. He almost seemed to brace himself for it to fly open as the seconds ticked by. “We could maybe… play another game tonight- I mean… the party has just started-” You offer. 

Dandy’s hands slow to a stop. 

“If it makes you feel any better I don’t feel like you’re “neglecting” me- but if you really do want to hang out we’ve got all night,” You shrug- shifting your shoulder against the wall. You push yourself off of the wall. The change in position allows you to see a sliver of his face- frown now turned contemplative at your offer.

You aren’t given the chance to press on as the door opens- the chirp of Vee’s timer quickly being silenced as she swings the door open. She still seemed irritated… less so than before but there was still a twitch in her antennae. 

“Clock’s up poster boy you better have made it count,” Vee doesn’t linger in the doorway. You catch Shelly say something to Vee but you don’t catch it as you step into the gift shop- greeted by the holiday music playing loudly over the speakers…

You’d think the music would stop after closing. 

“Come on, everyone’s waiting,” Vee jerked her thumb over her shoulder. 

You glance over your shoulder to find Dandy still standing in the storage room- thinking. 

Vee beats you before you can speak.

“Come on-” She repeated. That seemed to snap Dandy out of it- and like he had been practising he brightened up. The crinkles of his eyes as he pulled another smile on his face didn’t feel right as he nearly skipped to the doorway. 

“Coming coming- no need to be so impatient, if I hadn’t known better I’d’ve thought you were eager for your turn,” He teased, earning a scoff from the show host. 

“As if. I don’t need to rely on a game to talk about my feelings,” She shot back.

Dandy grew rigid for a second. 

And continued on like it was nothing. 

“Dewdrop,” He slipped his hand around your upper arm. “I’m gonna hold you to your promise of hanging out, you know,” 

His hand felt warm and clammy against your skin. 

“I’m sure you will- didn’t you have an episode about promises or something? Importance of keeping them or something?” You let him pull you back to the party. He had a knack for pulling you around wherever he wanted. 

“It was a good episode!” 

You couldn’t deny that. 

You also couldn’t deny the way Dandy hovered around you for the rest of the night, even long after the first game of the night had ended and moved to another. Still, a voice in the back of your mind tried to insist that he truly only did miss you, as a friend 

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor | Extra Credits 02

Extra Credits 02: FRENCH

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female Anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing | Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: You give Eddie a French lesson.

WC: 2.9k

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI! This part isn't explicit, but the rest of the series is, so MDNI!! Fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal.

A/N: This takes place between Extra Credit 1 and Lesson 3. It’s an added extra to The Biology Tutor series.

My masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep things cool, you and Eddie’s relationship at school has shifted.

Eddie will greet you with a cheery, “Heeey, Princess”, whenever you pass in the corridors, and you’ll sometimes give him a cheeky wave in the lunchroom. You both flush a little whenever your eyes lock, thinking about all the intimate stuff you’ve done together over the past days and weeks.

Thankfully, as yet none of your friends have noticed the way you’ve started to giggle a little more loudly at Eddie’s antics on the lunch tables, or the way he shoots you cheeky glances to check that you’re watching. Each of your social groups would likely have something disparaging to say, and you’d prefer to avoid that kind of attention for the time being.

You’ve become even more aware of your physical proximity in Biology class. Even though you could probably reach out and touch each other (and you would really, really like to do that…) you try not to draw too much attention to yourselves.

You’re finding it hard to keep your focus on the front, knowing that Eddie’s sitting inches away behind you. But you revel in the fact that he’s there at all (and is, in all likelihood, checking out your ass).

At the end of class, Mr Clarke calls you over.

“I wanted to thank you for your efforts regarding the private tutoring. Mr Munson’s work has certainly improved since you began, as has his class attendance, which is remarkable in and of itself. And he seems to have become more enthusiastic about the human biology aspect of the syllabus too, which is… unexpected, but really good to see.”

He looks off to one side, momentarily bemused, but recovers quickly and continues,

“Nevertheless, there is a big test coming up which, as you know, makes up a sizable proportion of your grade. I would very much like to see Mr Munson do well. I was hoping that you might help him prepare, and in the hopes that you’d agree, I’ve already booked private study room 2C in the library specifically for this purpose.”

You know the library well, and the one he’s describing is a particularly quiet one, located at the back of the rarely-used reference section. If you can get Eddie to join you, it’ll be the first time you’ve ever been alone with him at school. You experience a frisson of excitement at the thought.

You readily agree, figuring that even if that wasn’t reason enough, getting further in the good graces of Mr Clarke wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. However, you do think convincing Eddie to relinquish his entire lunchtime might be another matter entirely.

You approach him in the lunchroom, managing to get to him before his usual table fills up with nerds. He was initially aghast that you were anywhere near him, but once he realised nobody was really interested he listened to your proposal.

“You seriously do this shit voluntarily?” is his only response, until you mention, more quietly, how it would mean spending an entire hour in a small, isolated room. With you. Alone.

Suddenly, he’s all for it, packing up his stuff as you exit ahead of him. He extols the virtues of ‘accepting with grace the assistance the universe offers you’ to the smattering of confused Hellfire boys before hightailing it out of the hall, stuffing pretzels into his mouth as he goes.

You reach the study room first, and are already setting out books and pencils as Eddie barrels in. He practically skids to a halt, and ambles towards you, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey, Princess.”

He plops his bag onto the tabletop, and as he gestures to the empty seats next to you and across the table, he drops his voice to a lower timbre as he asks you,

“So, uh, where do you want me?”

Thanks to his mildly suggestive question, an image flashes across your mind of perching him, naked, on the edge of the table and climbing atop him, but you quickly shake it.

You tap your hand on the seat next to you, and he enthusiastically flops himself down in it. He sits up straight, clasping his hands in his lap, theatrically attentive.

As he’s already managed to fluster you, you decide to fluster him right back.

“You’re so good at doing what I tell you, Eddie. I like that.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink and he swallows hard. It worked.

It doesn't take long for you to go over the test questions. Eddie’s picked up more than he’d thought from the parts of your sessions where you’d actually studied, and he flies through most of it, only getting stuck on a couple of gnarly chemistry formulae. What’s more, he actually looks like he’s having fun, gaining genuine satisfaction from answering your questions correctly and beaming as you let him know,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

You can’t tell whether it’s the academic achievement, or the broad smiles and encouragement that you’re giving him, that’s his biggest driver, but at this point you’ll take either as a win.

You've gradually started sitting closer as the session has gone on. You’ve scootched to the edges of your seats, and your elbows and knees are gently knocking together. You can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheek as he jabs at his test total on your pad, screwing up his face and making a fist with his other hand in triumph. You’re genuinely thrilled for him, and not just because the very idea that you could be the reason for those gorgeous dimples popping makes your tummy flip.

Checking your watch, you realise you have a few minutes left before you have to leave, and there’s another new ‘skill’ that you’ve been thinking about trying with him.

Once all your supplies are back in your bag, you check the time again before asking,

“Eddie, would you like to try another quick practical session?”

He looks around the room, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.

“What, here? Now?”

“Yes, but not like our, um, previous sessions. Something less… involved.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“Eddie, I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, but have you ever kissed anyone?”

He looks a little abashed as he answers,

“Umm, does kissing your relatives on the cheek count?”

You can’t help smiling at his cute admission.

“For the purposes of this discussion, I’m gonna say no.”

He looks self-conscious, maybe even a little ashamed. Staring at the edge of the table, he clears his throat before replying,

“Then, uh, no.”

Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, you reassure him,

“That’s okay, Eddie. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

After a beat, you continue,

“Would you like to try it? With me?”

“What?”

“Would you like for us to kiss, Eddie?”

His eyes become locked on your mouth. He swallows audibly, eyes shining with want.

“Umm, yeah. Yes. Yes, I absolutely would, Princess.”

“Just so I know how far you want to go, would you like us to… French kiss?“

“You mean… W- with, y’know, tongue?”

“Yes, Eddie. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you okay with that? I mean, you don’t have to…”

Shaking your head a little, you reassure him,

“I’m the one who suggested it, Eddie!”

He looks down at his hands, now clasped again as he rubs his thumbs together.

“Only if you’re sure. I might be awful at it.”

“Well, that’s why we practice, right? So, first of all, we need to get a little closer…”

You turn your seat so you’re facing him directly, encouraging him to do the same. You pull your seat forwards, slotting your knees between his. You see his eyes scanning your face, and his fingers fidget, suggesting he’s not really sure what to do with them.

“You can rest your hands on my legs if you’d like, Eddie.”

He does so, but not without a little trepidation, and you see him swallow again.

“Just relax. I’m not gonna bite you. Not this time, anyway.”

You give him what you hope is a cheeky smirk. He smiles shyly, not sure where to look when you’re this close to him. Nervously, he licks his lips. The sight makes your thighs clench.

“Close your eyes and relax, Eddie. I’m gonna start with a quick peck.”

“O- okaaaay.”

He does as you ask, and you spend a few moments appraising him before you lean into his space. He looks angelic, his wild curls framing his pretty face and his rosy pink lips looking soft and inviting.

You turn your head slightly so your nose will slide past his, close your eyes, and ever so slowly connect your lips with his. Pursing them a little, you press forwards, and you hear a slight intake of breath.

You said it was going to be quick, but you’re enjoying the feeling so much you relish in it for a few moments. Eddie’s lips are plump, warm, and just a little moist from where he’s licked them. A tiny amount of stubble tickles your top lip. He smells of old leather, some kind of spicy cologne and vanilla chapstick, with a hint of cigarettes and weed. It’s a heady scent you could easily get lost in.

Gathering yourself, you pull back, rolling your lips inwards to taste him.

Eddie still has his eyes closed. If you’re honest he looks like he’s about to faint. Even after all you’ve done together you’re still a little nervous, and you’re suddenly mortified that he found it repulsive.

You did remember to brush your teeth this morning, didn’t you? Did you eat garlic last night and forget? Do you have spinach in your teeth, even though you definitely haven’t eaten spinach in weeks??

“H- how was that, Eddie? Did you like it?”

Suddenly, his eyes pop open. His lips part a little and he nods his head quickly, causing his chestnut locks to bounce around his face. He stares at you for a few more moments before he manages to say in a tiny, cracking voice,

“More? Please?”

You smile widely, and lean in again.

This time you move a little, pursing and softening your lips, changing their position slightly to find out what he likes, slotting them in different places.

To your surprise, this time Eddie starts to kiss you back. His plump lips press against yours and the tiniest moan emanates from his chest. He’s tentative at first, but as he gains in confidence he presses a little harder, and moves a little more.

Your lips move in sync as you rhythmically purse and relax them.

Eddie exhales heavily, and more than a little shakily, through his nose, and you feel his warm breath dance across your face and décolletage.

You part from him with a subtle wet smack.

He swallows thickly, and the grip on your knees strengthens.

You smile at him again, and his eyes flick between yours as he mirrors your expression.

“Okay Eddie, if you’re ready, this time I’m gonna use my tongue. You don’t have to do anything, but if you want to, just do what feels good. Alright?”

Eddie gives you another tiny, fast nod, and you feel him squeeze your knees again.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready…”

He surprises you again as he shifts his hands slightly and slides them up your thighs, leaning into your space a little further. They feel warm, strong, and you can’t help but imagine how they might feel elsewhere.

What would it be like to hold his hand properly? Would his hand feel warm as it cupped your face? Would you be able to feel his rings? How would his calloused fingers feel running up your back, or across your…?

You’re broken from your thoughts as he closes his eyes again, a slight curl to his lips as he lets you know he’s ready.

You lean into his space again, and connect your lips as before. This time, you part your lips slightly and allow the tip of your tongue to poke out, and ever so gently brush across his lower lip. You hear that sharp intake of breath again as he stills, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, but then he parts his lips ever so slightly, and you slide your tongue past his lips and pearly teeth and into his mouth. You move it slowly, enjoying the feeling of his lips against it, the scrape of his teeth, the softness of his tongue beneath yours.

He moans again, and just as your tongue curls up to tickle the roof of his mouth suddenly his tongue is moving against yours, slowly, reverently, experimentally, and another moan leaves his chest.

His grip on your thighs tightens as he gets bolder, eventually pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

Abruptly, he turns his head slightly and pushes in more deeply, his tongue almost filling you. He’s insistent yet gentle, and now it’s your turn to gasp - he’s good at this - and a low whine leaves you.

You feel a chill on your legs as Eddie’s hands leave them, and you’re momentarily disappointed, but this rapidly turns into delighted surprise when one comes up to cup the back of your neck, the other grabbing the edge of your chair and pulling you closer towards him. He’s moaning continually now, turning his head to try different angles, licking and curling and sucking like you’re the very air he needs to breathe.

He’s pushing hard but not too hard, and when your teeth knock it’s adorable rather than uncomfortable.

It’s wet and messy, and oh, so fucking hot.

Your hands start travelling almost of their own accord, slipping up inside his jacket, sliding around his rib cage and settling on his surprisingly muscular back.

His hand travels up to your hair, mussing it, and you’re making his shirt ride up, but you couldn’t care less, lost in the sensations of your lips melding and tongues dancing.

There’s a pulsing heat in your core, and a wetness building in your underwear. You don’t think you've ever been this turned on just from kissing.

And how on Earth is Eddie so good at it?

You eventually both pull back, needing air, breathy and inhaling deeply.

Your eyes dance around his face, wanting to take it all in. His plump, kiss-bitten lips, his blown pupils, the way he’s looking at you with a stunned half-smile.

Needing a break from the intensity, you drop your eyes. But almost wish you hadn’t when you spot the obvious bulge in the front of Eddie’s pants.

He’s clearly enjoyed this as much as you have.

Just as you’re both leaning forward for another round, lips just brushing, the harsh and loud ringing of the school bell indicates the start of afternoon classes.

You and Eddie break apart with a start, exchanging breathy smiles, both a little surprised at how well that went.

He chuckles as he lets go of your hair, tidying it as best he can, and you pull down the hem of his shirt to straighten it.

”So, uh, I think I’d consider that lesson a success. Wouldn’t you, Mr Munson?”

He huffs out a little giggle, shaking his head slowly. His brow furrows and he fixes his face into as serious an expression as he can manage, as he dips his chin and replies,

“Oh, Princess, that feels like a great start. But you know, lessons work with me. So, just to be on the safe side, I think I might need a whole lot, lot more practice...”

He’s holding your gaze and nodding, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips for emphasis.

You nearly snort at his brazenness, constantly amazed at how he so easily flips between abject fear and bolshy confidence, and manage to squeak out,

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can arrange, won’t we?”

He grins at you again, those dimples even deeper this time, and tidies one more strand of hair at your temple.

Reluctantly, you both gather your things and leave the study room, still with shiny lips and heat in your cheeks.

You walk leisurely, your upper arms brushing, through the racks of dusty tomes. Neither of you is in any particular hurry to get to your next class.

You glance to your side, and notice that Eddie seems bigger, taller. He’s puffing his chest and is carrying himself a little differently. You like it.

He turns to you as he asks, “D’you think we should, y’know, leave separately or whatever?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Awkward questions, and all that.”

You see Eddie’s eyes glance to the floor, then flit to the section containing the large encyclopaedias and dictionaries, before he adds,

“You know what, you go first. There’s something I want to check out in the reference section anyway…”

He flashes you a wink as you round the door jamb, causing something to revolve in your chest as you step out into the corridor. You definitely want to offer Eddie plenty of opportunities to practice this particular new skill.

As you head off to your next class, you wonder what on earth he could be up to. But more than that, you wonder how he’ll react to what you have in mind for your next study session…

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills

Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing | Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Thanks so much for reading!

Remember, writers thrive on your comments and reblogs, so if you liked this little extra please show some love 💕

A/N 2: I added this as an extra because I wanted Eddie and reader to share a special first kiss, but couldn’t work out how to fit it into the main Lessons without making them ridiculously long. I hope you like it!

The taglist for this series is open whilst it’s ongoing, and I have a general one now too - just let me know if you’d like to join either 😀 My masterlist, where you’ll find more Eddie and Steddie fics

Taglist (open whilst this series is ongoing): @airen256 @bimbobaggins69 @urlbitchin @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @sadlittlesquish @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi ice! I've read your post about AAVE (and have previously done a fair bit of reading/watching about AAVE, mostly just from a perspective of being somebody who really finds linguistics and dialects really cool), so i'm coming w this question w that background. obv as youve said, non-Black folks writing characters who use AAVE isnt the problem, it's people a. using AAVE in situations where it doesnt make sense (fantasy setting, setting outside of the US, character with no connection to Black american culture, etc), and b. straight up using it wrong. I have a character who is Black (she's one of a Black family, not the protag but the protag's younger sister) and specifically *southern* (modern setting). now, i don't feel super comfortable yet with AAVE as a language dialect and it's grammatical rules to really write that. but I CAN imagine, clearly, how this character (her name is Isadora) talks, and it's Pretty Southern tm. so currently I've been writing her with that southern kind of rhythmic cadence, cuttin' (like that) off words and talking in longer, rambly sentences (she's a very cheery and bubbly person, definitely with undiagnosed ADHD). I'm trying to steer away from "AAVE" mostly because i just don't feel confident yet in my ability to do so! i guess i'm asking... should i change course on this? change the character entirely (not ideal, but doable), wait until I DO feel confident in my ability, continue trying to toe the line between "just southern" and "AAVE"?

i live somewhere where that "southern accent" is less present than say, the "Deep South", but folks here say y'all and feller and clip their words and stuff like that (i call it "cowboyland" here). so writing this feels pretty natural to me. but I also recognize it's very easy (especially if you aren't educated) to cross the line into poorly-done AAVE.

Write the way you speak! If you don't speak nonsensical AAVE but you do speak with a Southern accent, then it stands to reason that she could do that too 👍🏾

[iheartchv]

Sunny Day Jack x Reader:

I Never Forgot

What if you were one of the few people who remembered vividly about Sunny Day Jack... even after the whole show seemed to have been forgotten?

☀️Rating: Fluffy

🌈 Part 2 | 🌈 Part 3

❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤

As a child growing up, you watched The SunnyTime Crew Show. You were 3 or 4 years old then, and you would watch every episode whenever they came out. Sure, there were plenty of interesting characters, but one that stood out to you was Sunny Day Jack. The blue haired clown was your favorite, the best friend you always wanted, and you wanted to meet him in person. At the time, money was tight, so that was one crushed childhood dream. The other was when there were no more episodes of The SunnyTime Crew Show being released. You had asked but no answers were given. You cried that one night (a few days after the incident); you felt like you had lost a best friend, and all the drawings and paintings you did hurt your little heart that you put them away in a box of memories. Jack was gone, but not forgotten...

❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙

❤💛💙PRESENT DAY ❤💛💙

You're now at a threft shop, looking for clothes that wouldn't remind you of your ex, Ian. As you picked up some random stuff that fell over, you didn't notice a VCR tape that fell in your basket. As you were checking out, you were about to object to buying it, but decided that it wasn't worth 25 cents over. What could've been on the tape?On it was written '84- Incident'. Bells went off in your head seeing the year... A memory or something was trying to resurface... Borrowing a VCR player, you popped in the tape.

The static on the TV continued for a moment until you heard... a voice... saying,"Hello?" Bells went off in your head again as you stared at the static screen. That voice... it sounded familiar. Just then a shape formed through the jagged lines of the TV screen. It looked... human... And it was coming closer.

"Who... are you?" The voice said. Your heart started to beat faster. You felt like you were in a horror movie. You wanted to back up and run away, but you were frozen with fear. Your chest tightened as your flight or fight response kicked in. "You seem nice... Do you want to be my friend?"

The figure then... came through the screen as if it was climbing through a window. You wanted to scream but it was stuck in your throat. You choked on it. The figure then stood... they were tall. The scream then finally made its way out of your lungs as you bumped into the coffee table.

"Oh, gosh. Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you, Sunspot." the figure said in a concerned tone.

Sunspot? You remembered... him always calling you Sunspot... As your eyes adjusted to the dimness of your living room, you could see that he (you assumed) had... blue hair? You also caught glimpses of his primary colored clothes... A memory was triggered. Everything was put together like a puzzle. No... this couldn't be?

"Jack... Sunny Day Jack?"

"You... know me?" He looked surprised.

"Yeah... I used to watch your show all the time as a kid. But... how... why...?" You had so many questions that you wanted answered. You were a ball of wound up emotions right now. You didn't know what to feel right now.

Jack cleared his throat, trying to change the subject to something simpler. "I'm sorry for bring rude, but I didn't get your name..." he said with a small chuckle and a smile.

"It's... y/n."

"Y/n. That's a nice name. Do you want to be my new best friend, Sunspot?"

He reached his hand out toward you for a handshake. At this moment, you strangely felt like a kid again. You were meeting Sunny Day Jack... in person (or the closest thing, at least). His cheery voice drew you in, like it did those many years ago. You took his hand in a firm handshake. "Sure." That was the last thing you remember before blacking out.

Been working on this idea for a couple of days, and I plan on writing a few more parts to this c: I also don't know if anything like this has already been written, but here it is nonetheless. I really hope you all in the SDJ fandom enjoys~☁️🌈☀️

[daisynik7]

Can I request All for you by Janet Jackson for Aki Hayakawa - fluff

All For You

Tell me I’m the only one. Soon we’ll be having fun.

Pairing: Aki Hayakawa x f!reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

cw: fluff, grumpy/sunshine trope, alcohol consumption (everyone is of age)

Summary: Aki Hayakawa has been training you for the past two months, helping you acclimate into your new role as a Public Safety Devil Hunter. From the start, you were smitten, unable to contain your cheery attitude whenever you’re with him. He’s closed off, strictly business, and never cracks a smile, but in his own subtle ways, he shows you that he cares. One day, after a successful mission, you test your luck to see if your love is truly unrequited, or if Aki just needs that extra push to admit his true feelings for you. A little bit of liquid courage might also come in handy. 

Author’s Notes: Ahhh, my first Aki fic! Thanks for the request anon, I LOVE Janet Jackson, and this is the perfect song for the y2k karaoke party! I hope you like this! It’s short, sweet, and very fluffy, so it’s been a nice break from the shameless smut I’ve been writing LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! Banner created by @/saradika.

It’s been two months since you started working for Public Safety. Two months of grueling training, both physical and mental, and two months of being stuck with the notoriously grumpy Aki Hayakawa. But you’re not complaining, considering how absolutely head over heels you are for him. 

In this case, it’s true what they say: opposites attract. While you’re the type of person to always have a happy expression on your face, Aki is the opposite. You have yet to see him crack a smile, even the tiniest hint of one. No matter how hard you try to bombard him with your joyous affections and shameless flirting, he remains unfazed by it. Though, you’re certain he doesn’t hate it. If he did, you would have already been chucked off to someone else to have to deal with you. That’s why you continue your efforts; because deep down, you know he likes it. Likes you. 

He doesn’t say it in words, but he doesn’t have to. His actions display them perfectly. Subtle glances during moments he thinks you’re not looking, though you always are. Small gestures to show he cares about your safety and well-being, like always switching spots with you when you’re walking on a sidewalk, making sure he’s on the side of the street. Putting out his cigarette whenever you arrive because he knows you don’t like the smell. Holding the door open for you, sharing his umbrella on rainy days, always volunteering to be your partner during group missions because he doesn’t trust anyone else to be with you. Sure, maybe he’s just that nice of a guy, a true gentleman, a man who proves chivalry is not dead. Or, maybe he really likes you as much as you do him. Is it wishful thinking? Probably. You’re growing impatient waiting for validation, so tonight, you decide to take matters into your own hands. 

The Public Safety Department is out to celebrate a successful mission. It’s the first time you’ve all been together in a while, so many of you are ready to let loose.  Your team sits together in one corner of the restaurant, a round of beers already being passed down as soon as you take your seat by the wall, directly across from Aki. Kishibe, the most senior Devil Hunter, takes a spot next to you, while Kobeni, your dear friend and main confidant on the team, sits by Aki. As usual, he’s quiet, sipping on his drink without so much as a peep. His eyes flit towards you as you grab the handle and take several heavy gulps of beer. You’re going to need some liquid courage in you for what you’re about to do. 

Kishibe doesn’t say much either, downing his liquor silently, leaving you and Kobeni to fill the void with random small talk until appetizers are served, and she stuffs her mouth with gyozas and chicken yakitori. When you’re almost done with your beer, Aki’s shoves the plate of dumplings to you. “You should eat,” he mutters, staring at your empty glass. 

You grin at him. “I will, if you feed me.” You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out playfully.

He rolls his eyes at you, a small blush surrounding his cheeks. “Stop acting like a child.”

Feeling particularly wicked, you turn to face your neighbor. “Kishibe, can you feed me?”

The older man chuckles, already finished with three pints. “Alright.” He pinches a gyoza between his fingers, dips it in the sauce, and guides into your mouth whole. From your peripheral, you notice Aki scowl, grabbing at the pitcher at the center of the table to refill his cup to the brim. 

You giggle, chewing it into smaller pieces to swallow, batting your eyelashes with your hand covering your mouth. “Thank you, Master.” 

Kishibe laughs again, clearly amused by this, glancing at Aki across the table. “Is this what you have to deal with?”

“You have no idea,” Aki grunts, chugging his beer halfway. 

For the next hour, you continue to focus all your attention on Kishibe, and none on Aki, who sits still with his shoulders tense and a permanent frown on his face. It helps that your senior is playing into it, not questioning your brazen behavior, fully aware of your crush on Aki because you have admitted it to him plenty of times before. Aki’s had several pints now, a red glow surrounding his cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He hasn’t said a word as you blatantly flirt with Kishibe in front of him. You’re feeling a buzz now, more reckless with your emotions. Suddenly, you’re annoyed with yourself and with him; you stand up, wobbling slightly, murmuring something about going outside for some air. 

You’re slumped on the steps in front of the restaurant, breathing in the fresh night air, cool against your hot skin, feeling defeated. Your dumb plan to make him jealous backfired, leaving you just as confused as before. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel and just accept that Aki will never reciprocate your feelings.  

You’re alone for a few minutes until the door swings open and you see Aki walking towards you. a glass of water in one hand, the other tucked in his pocket. He passes it to you, saying, “Drink this.”

Pouting, you take it, sipping it slowly. “Thanks, I guess.” You add the last part spitefully.

He sits next to you, sighing. “Why are you doing this?” His voice isn’t his typical monotone; there’s actual concern behind it now. 

“Doing what?” You set the water beside you, crossing your arms. 

“You know what.”

You shrug, leaning back on your hands, staring up at the sky, blinking at the moon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about it.”

He turns to face you, swallowing loudly. “Why are you being like this? Are you in love with him?” 

This catches you off guard. “Huh?”

“Kishibe. Are you in love with Kishibe?” His brows are tight, eyes imploring you for the truth. And it’s in this moment that you realize your plan actually worked. And now you feel guilty. 

Before this gets out of hand, you decide to stop the games and be honest with him. “No Aki. It’s you. It’s always been you. You’re the only one.” You look at your shoes, avoiding his gaze, embarrassed by your confession, nervous for his reaction. 

“Then why were you – ”

“I was trying to make you jealous,” you interrupt him, explaining yourself. “I’m sorry. It was childish and immature and just plain dumb and I’m sorry. I understand if you’re upset. You can hand me off to someone else if you want. You don’t have to deal with me anymore.”

He copies your posture, leaning on his wrists, hands so close to touching yours. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not upset,” he says softly. 

You look at him, surprised at his response. “You’re not?”

And finally, after two months of yearning for it, he smiles at you. “Not at all.”

You can’t help perking up at this, scooting even closer to him. “Does that mean…?”

“Yeah. It does.” He places his hand on top of yours, squeezing it gently. 

“You have to say it,” you demand, flipping your palm over to interlock your fingers with his. 

“Do I have to?” he groans, still grinning. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, belly fluttering, grin wide and eyes bright. “Use your words, Aki. Or else I’ll get confused again.”

He shifts forward, nuzzling his nose to yours. “I like you. Happy now?”

You close the gap, kissing him on the lips, smiling. “Very happy.”

[thislittlelog]

Shippy stories

Some shippy short stories (both Touhou and original) because I felt like it for some reason or another, may or may not have a random prompt and in the case of original non-Touhou stuff may have character art to accompany it.

And when I say they'll be short I mean they will likely be very VERY short--more like a thing to convey ideas than anything else.

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

Reimu x Marisa: Reading

A cool spring morning--the sound of birds, insects and fairies flittering about just before the spring blossoms begin to bloom. Reimu lazed about on the floor reading another Agatha Chris Q book she had obtained from Suzunaan, in a long series of murder mystery novels the still unknown author had been writing about. Just as she was getting engrossed, a breeze swept through the shrine grounds for just a brief moment, causing her to reluctantly look away to see where it had come from. She didn't have to wonder for long as someone in black and white stood in front of her a mere seconds later before looking back down to continue where she left off. "Yo!" a cheery Marisa looked down at the shrine maiden flipping through pages of the book she had been reading from, her broom and a parcel in hand. "I brought snacks!" She held up the bundle in question, which contained various rice crackers, fruit and other goodies to munch on. "Just set them there". Reimu handwaved the witch, her eyes glued to the current page she was on before turning to the next one. Marisa set the bundle down, then laid next to Reimu. It was a nice day out and both women were enjoying every moment of it in comfort. Marisa watched as Reimu flipped another page in the book she was fixated on. "Whatcha readin'?" Her eyes darted at her friend, but she didn't answer back. "Is it any good?" Reimu hummed, then held up a page in one hand to get a better look at one of the texts as if she was trying to make sense as to what she was reading. "...Can I look?" Scooting herself closer, Marisa tried to get a peak before being gently but firmly pushed away by a hand to the face with a stern "no", which finally made the shrine maiden turn to face the nosy person trying to read over her shoulder while feeling somewhat annoyed.

"Aww, why not?!" whined the witch. She would get her answer, in the form of something warm and soft pressing against her lips for a moment before retreating back. Reimu looked up, sighing and smirking while resting her face in one hand, a small blush forming. "Well, it's because I'm now reading something else and that something else is right next to me" Marisa, in a daze, felt her face turn several shades redder, then buried herself under her hat to try and hide it from the girl giggling at the sight. "Damnit, that's not fair!"

---

(Starting with a ship that's near and dear to my heart, of course I had to write something ReiMari related.)

[ego-sum-ex-altiora]

TMP predictions (I know I’m a wee bit late, as of episode 5)

- Sam is going to continue investigation the magnus institute, and we’re going to learn about what happened to it in this universe

- Sam (possibly alone, although i feel there’ll be a “convincing the others that this is serious” whole thing) is going to go into the magnus institute’s tunnels

- there are people in the computers, but they are NOT john and martin (although I think the computers are in love 🥰🥰🥰)

- i think there’s going to be romance, but i don’t think it’s going to involve sam or alice (not counting just flirting as romance)

- i also think the romance is going to be super significant to the plot or anything (similar to tma)

- Gwen being a bouchard is going to either help or hinder sam’s investigation of the magnus institute (i’m leaning more towards hinder)

- the computer voices are going to slowly become more emotive and going “off the script” (ie, asking for help in the middle of reading)

- i DONT think they’re going to get the people out of the computers, but they’ll still be very helpful/important to the plot

- the real world characters are going to develop an emotional connection to the computer people

- either they don’t learn about the Entities system, or they learn a different set of classifications

- while TMP is independent to TMA, i think there’s going to be a detail or something that will make all us TMA listeners go “OHH” or make some kind of connection/realisation

- Sam is gay. not bisexual/pan/ace/anything. he’s going to be a gay man and nothing else.

- there’s going to be some weird development that leads to character/s questioning either their humanity or their existence

- assuming it will have multiple seasons like TMA, the magnus institute will slowly become relevant and something significant about it will happen at the end of season 1 (ie; my prediction about sam visiting the tunnels)

EXTRAS added after relistening to episodes so far

- i take back what i said about the fear Entities not existing. they exist and Celia knows about them

- Celia is either a) an ex magnus institute employee/relative or friend of one, and wants to learn more about what was going on. or b) and avatar, trying to work out how much people know about the paranormal and stuff

- Celia is gonna be evil. Jonny would not just write a super lovely and cheery character to simply lighten the mood.

- might be a bit far fetched but i think colin is going to try to upload himself into the computer (or get uploaded against his will)

- in TMA it was clear that actually paranormal stuff would get distorted trying to digitally record in any way. I think colin’s camera paranoia is related to this, perhaps he has already been taken by one of the fears

- i don’t think anyone is going to have a john-esque “am i a monster” crisis, but i think whoever is in the computer is going to have a “am i even a person” crisis

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[justagirl-with-aphone]

-My Personal Support-

Use of the nickname “Princess”, pinning, mentions of breaking, lots of cursing

Pro Hero Bakugo X Personal support team leader -not proofread-

You were just happy to find a job that wanted you for your set of skills, you happily became apart of the dynamite agency’s support team. During your introduction was the first time you saw the infamous, Katsuki Bakugo. Known for his brash tongue and little patience, your coworkers warned you to stay on his good side. Working your way up, before you knew it you were promoted to being his personal support item “tailor.” At this point, you had only really seen the man a few times, seeing how he treated some of your coworkers had you worried considering no one in your position kept their job for more then a month. ‘Why me?’ You questioned miserably, at least you got a private office...

A strong knock on your new office door pulls you from your misery. “Come in” you saw curious as to who it was considering you didn’t have anything going on for another ten minutes. But of course, Bakugo showed up early, the big man entered the room with a scowl. His calculated glare looked as if he was picking you apart right then and there, looking for a reason to fire you. no, that can’t be right...Right? I mean you just got here, so what reason does he have to hate you? Greeting him with a cheery smile, which he does not return, you sit down in front of a computer, inviting him to sit across from you. “What bring you in?” you ask, needing to know what to do. The blonde gives a shrug “dunno, I was dragged here against my will by that fucking bitch.” He states boldly, slouching in his chair. “’that bitch?’ who might I ask are you referring too?” You ask, since you obviously weren’t going to get any information out of this guy. “None of your damn businesses” The blonde rolls his eyes. You stare blankly at him, trying to process how this asshole was a hero. “Dynamite, I kinda need something to work with... Has something of your’s broken or do you want something added to your costume?” The motherfucker just shrugged. You were starting to see hwy people couldn’t stand him. “Can I get ‘that Bitch’s’ name so i can contact her and ask?” His eyes squint and he smirks, this was a game to him, and you could tell. “If you were any good at your job, you would know what I needed, do your research, someone as unprepared as you doesn't deserve a job as good as this one” The man across from you continues to spit nonsense into your face. You had enough, fuck this job.“An idea sir, maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you would realize that not everything revolves around you and your problems. So how about we start over, what can I help you with?” You kept your “Cheery customer service” voice on but there was venom present in your voice. The blonde was taken a back for a moment before getting up and storming out of the room. You just knew that you were getting fired, and you cursed yourself for not keeping your mouth shut. You needed this job. But you never got the call notifying you that you were being fired. Reluctantly, you came back the next day bright and early, only to be met with him sitting in your office chair. you met eyes with the man and he got up, starting to walk over to you. “You don’t need to tell me, I’ll grad my stuff and lea-” you started rambling only to be cut off by Bakugo pinning you against the door, confused and frightened, you could only stare in terror and listen. “Lets get one thing straight, princess” He mocks, “You aren’t going anywhere, I wanna see how long that tough girl act will last. I’m gonna have fun breaking you like the rest.” Practically growling in your ear. He blows in your face leaving you stunned, while he slips out of the door, shutting it behind him... Leaving you, a mess of emotions, fear, confusion, but that doesn't explain the color growing in your cheeks...

Fist ever time writing anything like this, if you couldn’t tell, It’s probably a little cringe ToT didn’t know if I wanted to make this head cannons or a short fic

Hope you enjoyed tho :) and should I continue this story? 

[heldheart]

❝ No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. ❞ - Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

Is that HANS VALK? It seems it is! I’ve heard they work as a HORROR NOVELIST and have been in town for 2 MONTHS. They seem to be GOOD-HUMORED, PATIENT, LEVEL-HEADED but also RESERVED, AWKWARD, STUBBORN. When I see them I’m reminded of MESSY HAIR, RUFFLED PAGES, WHISKEY-STAINED BREATH.

QUICK FACTS -

name: Hans Valk gender: Cis man pronouns: He/him age: 42 faceclaim: Michiel Huisman occupation: novelist (horror, primarily) sexuality: pansexual marital status: divorced; single. children: a daughter (8) named Eleanor siblings: 3 older brothers and one younger sister star sign: virgo afflictions: depression, anxiety, Hans is an alcoholic in deep denial

PERSONALITY -

Reserved, Hans is usually inside himself - stuck in his head and his version of reality. It's hard for him to live in the moment, simply experience things, or to step outside of his own head for a moment to develop connections. Friends have claimed that Hans is more than a little enamored by his own misery (which is, itself, his own invention). It's true that Hans, ever the pessimist, forgets that the world can be a wonderful place. He carries a heavy gloom that he doesn't want to speak about. When Hans isn't being miserable, he's usually got a quick remark or stupid joke to share. He's trying to be better about this thing called "friendliness"

PUBLIC EYE -

Hans is a well-known and prolific novelist (though it's been some years since his last novel). While not as well-known as the likes of Stephen King, his books are often compared to him (much to his chagrin). If you read a lot, or read any horror at all, you've probably heard of his name, though who actually cares about what an author looks like? He feels comfortable going out and about, knowing that is "celebrity" is a fairly diminished thing. While he doesn't exclusively write horror (one of his series is a fantasy) all of his work does contain some horror elements; he can't seem to avoid it. His most famous work is Man-Skeleton - a tragic body-horror book about a recently unemployed man who finds that he is inexplicably and rapidly skeletonizing. The book is a not-so-subtle allegory about Hans's addiction and his fears about mediocrity and being unloveable. It was adapted into a movie that was just okay, but selling it out has kept him afloat monetarily while he struggles to write his next novel.

FUN STUFF -

Hans has a hairless, elderly cat named "Shirley". He loves Shirley a lot and sometimes talks about her like she's a real person ("Shirley's always telling me to quit smoking"). This is a joke he finds really funny but at least once he's worried someone by acting as though he's very serious about this

Hans, despite being a grump, is very loyal to the people he loves...provided he hasn't pushed them away first

Hans loves his daughter but doesn't get to see her much. He transforms into a different man around her - bright, happy, cheery, excited - but turns empty when she goes

Hans really is serious about being nicer. He's hoping Grandview is just the place to come out of his shell; he's forcing himself to go out more and go to new places and actually talk to people. He's not great at it

Great gift giver (he overthinks the hell out of everything)

Terrible cook. He is, however, more than decent at bread. He likes to bake but doesn't have much a sweet tooth so it's mostly bread. A lot of bread. Too much bread. Someone take his bread away from him (he loves a monotonous, calculated task)

His hobbies include: reading and bread making. Yeah, that's it. Someone give him another thing to do

Terrible at keeping plants alive

generally clean unless it comes to his personal space; he's messy in there and messy in regards to his own style (he's a "I'll just throw on whatever" sort of person, no sense of fashion at all)

WANTED CONNECTIONS -

anything and everything! if you can think it, I want it. please come at him <3

QUICK BIO (more expanded one tbd) Hans was always inside; it might've been the weak constitution, or the introversion, or the jeering voices of his brothers. Inside his head and inside his room, he was safe. He invented worlds of his own: morbid explorations of his many fears. His parents were concerned but his talents grew and his passion remained as it always had. He wrote and wrote and wrote and sent his stories off, rejected and rejected and rejected. He dropped out of highschool and picked up odd jobs to support his writing; he didn't take off until he was well into his adulthood. Writing macabre tales came easily to Hans, whose active imagination was his greatest gift and his biggest curse. It didn't win him any favors when his wife divorced him, winning custody of their daughter, and it certainly didn't when paranoia and insecurity choked out the rest of his friendships. His life spiraled as much as it could for a semi-famous, introverted writer and the move to Grandview was his attempt to find a better life; something a little calmer, a little less scary. Now, if only he can get over that damned writer's block. 

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Since you don't mind writing for the old prompts can you make and oc for the Day 17 - Unrequited love AU from the 2022 list?

Yandere unrequited love | Adrian & Viktoria

Life really was a joke. The day you had gathered the courage to confess your feelings to the new friend that you made, he told you that his heart belonged to someone else. You knew it was wrong, but you really wanted to punch that pretty face of his.

It was his fault for making you feel like this, but here he was, falling in love with someone else. The world really was cruel.

You weren't sure why you said what you did. Maybe because you desperately wanted to hold onto him. Or maybe you wanted to find out who this other person was to make him fall in love. You told him you will help him out.

Stupid, right? Telling your crush you will help him get with his crush. But you weren't exactly the brightest person around, so here you were, making stupid plans on how to create moments he would get to be alone with his little crush.

You know the worst part? She was such a sweetheart. A real beauty with a heart of gold. If you weren't already in love with Adrian, you probably would have fallen for her too.

You must have been a horrible person in your previous life, for a horrible thing like this.

"... Are you sure this will work?"

"Of course, you idiot! Just listen to me, damn it!"

Your ideas to get him together with Viktoria were strange and best, and illegal at worst. You suggested him to beat up any competition, to steal her stuff and pretend to find it for her, and other stuff that could put him in trouble if caught.

I mean, you would have done that, if Viktoria wasn't such a sweetheart. Anyone else would have got a knuckle sandwich in this situation.

The funniest thing? It was working. Viktoria was getting closer to Adrian. Maybe Viktoria was an idiot? Well, you guessed it was good that things were working out.

It didn't take long before the two of them to get together. They were complete opposites but they fit perfectly together.

Adrian, the cold and collected upperclassman, and Viktoria, the cheery and friendly popular girl who was in your grade. There was nothing left for you to do anymore then, right?

Wrong. Adrian continued being your friend, as he got even clingier and kept inviting you to hang out with him and Viktoria, even on their dates.

Weirdest part? She never seemed to mind. Him on the right, and her on the left, the two of them would spend time with you, and spoil you with gifts, sweets and attention, as if you were part of their relationship.

But you weren't. And this was starting to weird you out. I mean, have they ever heard of personal space?

"... Viktoria, can you stop following me? This is the boy's changing room."

"Call me Vikki~ besides, you boys don't mind, right?~"

Viktoria was truly strange, always following you around, making sure she's tightly holding onto your arm, and if she's not able to, she will always blow your phone with messages. How did she even get your phone number? You hoped that it wasn't Adrian who gave it to her.

Adrian was not much better. He was always hovering around you two, as if he was a protector of sort, making sure that others avoided you. This was unfair! If he was scaring everyone else, how were you going to move on?!

You couldn't even try to distance yourself from them, as the same day you started to avoid them, they both appeared in front of your house, and forced you into a cuddle session to fix 'your relationship', whatever that meant.

"Oh, boo boo, you should have told us if you're struggling~ don't push us away~"

"But I'm no-"

"... Vikki is right... Now, shush..."

Like really sucks, doesn't it?

[mirdeli]

Goodbye????? What is it!

Okay so this one is a dead dove idea involving incest (Gauntcest) and very underage and non-con, so if these aren't your cup of tea please don't read under the cut !!!

So my plan was to write what happened after Ominis is forced to cast the Cruciatus Curse on those Muggles - how Ominis then decides to leave his family, how he is trying to sneak out in the middle of the night, but Marvolo catches him. And Marvolo ain't happy. So he will show his unhappiness in his own, delightful way ::)

For me, writing this kind of dead dove usually requires a certain mindset: I need to feel horrible and then I vomit that bad mood out in the form of text. So if I'm feeling cheery, I'm not able to write anything like this, but only cute and fluffy and romantic stuff. At the moment, I wouldn't be able to write this one, but if (when) I feel that grasp from depression again, I might continue this.

I've just written the beginning:

Ominis had made a scene. Marvolo was not happy about it.

During the last 12 years Ominis had been taught how to act as a Gaunt. How to behave at a dinner party, how to dance, how to keep emotions inside. How to suck your big brother’s cock and not let that show on your face to raise questions from Mother.

It seemed that Crucio was enough to make Ominis forget all the lessons from before, of how not to show emotions. It had been a farce.

[thesmpisonfire]

So here’s the scenario (sorry, I’m rusty at writing):

Fitpac reunite! It’s all cheery and fluffy and Fit isn’t too worried about how exactly Pac got back because he’s back, just like he knew he would be.

And then there’s the portal. Dark stone and dark matter; inactive for now.

He asks Pac about it, and Pac becomes a little quiet and uncertain: he doesn’t really know what it’s doing there, a part of him didn’t want to think about it, but it is there and it’s weird and there’s a black chest with a book. He picks it up and reads it… and goes still and silent.

”What’s it say, Pac?”

Pac doesn’t say a word; he just starts moving. He puts down the boat in the water and Fit has to hop in quick before Pac drives off without him.

“Wh- Pac! Is everything okay? Are you- what did the book say? Where are we going?”

Pac doesn’t respond. His expression is unreadable.

When they arrive at their destination, Pac keeps moving, and Fit keeps following him. He’s walking quickly, like he’s trying to shake Fit off, but he’s not doing a very good job; Fit knows that if Pac really wanted him gone he’d be going a lot faster (or is he just trying to act ‘normal’?)

And then there’s the portal. The massive one, framed in nether blocks, with tendrils of dark matter spilling around it; inactive for now. Pac mumbles something in Portuguese- he doesn’t seem at all surprised that it’s there.

“Is this where the book was taking you, Pac?”

Silence for a moment. Then Pac finally says, “Do you trust me, Fit?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Do you care about me?”

Fit tries to respond but he can’t, because there’s a growing pit in his stomach, and now Pac’s looking at him, and there’s this sharp, purposeful air about him, and Fit knows what he’s really asking and it’s a question he can’t answer.

“I trust you, Fit,” Pac continues, “I trust you and I care about you. I care about you a lot, you know? You’re the person I care about most on the island.” With every sentence, he takes a step closer, and maybe Fit’s brain goes a little bit fuzzy when Pac’s this close, but he doesn’t think that’s why he feels so confused. Something is very wrong: Pac’s voice and his face don’t match up, like he’s teasing Fit, but at the same time he’s dead serious.

He can only stutter and stare at Pac as he draws closer. There’s a pause. Then Pac smiles, small and coy and artificial. He takes a step back and turns his attention back towards the portal.

“So maybe… maybe this can be our little secret?”

“…Seems to be more than just a little secret, Pac,” Fit replies, thankful to have a reason to break eye contact, “and you’ve never been the type to keep secrets. Not for the important stuff.”

“Don’t you want a secret, Fit? Something that only the two of us knows, just the two of us? Fit?”

“Uh-“ Before Fit can respond, he feels Pac’s hand touching his upper arm; he looks back and sees Pac looking at him with sadness and desperation.

“Fit… please?” His voice is small, sad and trembly. “Don’t you trust me? Don’t you care about me?”

“Yeah! Yes, I… trust you. Okay? I promise, our secret. I won’t tell anyone else, Pac. I promise.”

The heartbroken anguish surrounding Pac evaporates immediately as he releases Fit’s arm, giving Fit another big smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Then Pac pulls out his warp stone and teleports away without another word.

(Fit takes a mental screenshot before rejoining him. He doesn’t know if he’ll show anyone yet.)

When Fit warps to Ilha Chume Labs, Pac is stood up on the prison wall he built, humming to himself as he breaks the barbed wire fence.

“Y’know, I was gonna take all this down before Purgatory happened,” he explains. “Actually, I think Purgatory was really good, in a way, cause I got to fight Cell, and that made me feel a lot better, you know? I’m not so afraid of him anymore.”

“Um. Yeah. That’s- that’s great, Pac.” Fit means it, but he’s a little preoccupied. “Pac, are we… not gonna talk about what just happened?”

“What’re you saying? Nothing happened.” Pac looks genuinely clueless as he responds. Fit can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he genuinely doesn’t know.

“…Yeeeeaaaah, nothing happened, Pac. I’m just saying, if something did happen, that was maybe very important, and if you were in trouble or something, it’d be okay if you told me.”

“Aw- thanks, Fit.” Pac turns to go back to his building, then pauses and turns back. “But Fit, it’s fine, because nothing happened, okay Fit? Nothing happened.” There’s a desperate, pleading terror growing in his eyes and this time it’s real. “Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Nothing happened.”

“…Pac, are you in danger?”

“Nope!” Pac shouts, turning back to his work. “That’s why I’m taking the wall down, remember? Because I’m thinking that maybe I’m not as scared of Cell, so I could talk to him, maybe. And I don’t need a wall, cause I fought him in Purgatory, and also you said you’ll protect me, right?”

“Yeah,” Fit replies. “I’ll protect you.”

OHOHOHO OKAY THIS ONE FUCKS SO MUCH

[douchebagbrainwaves]

NEWS FROM HACKER NEWS

When I was running a startup, and I'll be rich. Make Web sites for art galleries.1 It's probably no coincidence that so many news articles are online, I probably read two or three new startups. That kind of change, from 2 paths to 3, is the sort of big social shift that only happens once every few generations. If you want to do.2 They do it because they feel they need to do is start a startup, VCs might try to strip you of your stock when they arrived later. The conversation will turn immediately to other topics.

Live by the channel, die by the channel: if you depend on an oligopoly, you sink into bad habits that are hard to understand, people who want a deep understanding of what you're doing in a startup is that there will be more of them to recognize and attract. The cheery, bland language of the people with bad intentions look bad by comparison. Curiously, however, the works they produced continued to attract new readers. Often the founders themselves hadn't seen yet. But for any given idea, the payoff for acting fast in a bad economy.3 To make something good, even for idiots. The same is true in the arts could tell you that you might want different mediums for the two situations. It has an English cousin, travail, and what it means is torture. I'm not a very good speaker. Probably not.

Why did no one propose a new scheme for micropayments? If you write in an unclear way about big ideas, you produce something that seems tantalizingly attractive to inexperienced but intellectually ambitious students.4 I'm sure there are far more striking examples out there than this clump of five stories. But he turned out to be widely applicable. If you make a novel that bores everyone, or a chair that's horribly uncomfortable to sit in their offices and let PR firms bring the stories to them.5 Imagine waking up after such an operation. I think it will be. It's hard to predict how big a deal as the Industrial Revolution? They usually feed the same story to several different publications at once.6

But I don't wish I were a better speaker than me, but a hopelessly inflexible one for developing new ideas. It lets you take advantage of new insights you have along the way. Per capita, large organizations accomplish very little. The situation pushed buttons I'd forgotten I had. That may not seem surprising. This is also true of starting a startup in the old days was a pretty effective filter. One reason the young sometimes succeed where the old fail is that they make two mistakes that cancel each other out.7 Like open source, blogging is something people do themselves, for free, but before the Web it was harder to reach an audience or collaborate on projects. It could be simply that many famous scientists worked when collaboration was less common. A name only has one point of attachment into your head. Although the finiteness of the number of temptations around you.8 Now almost every drawing teacher will tell you that you might want different mediums for the two situations.9

7 billion. The simplest form of determination is sheer willfulness. It felt like releasing software without testing it. When I worked in fast food, we didn't prefer the busy times. Popularity is always self-perpetuating, but it's woven into the story instead of being pasted onto it like a label.10 A big company is more deliberate.11 It's a lot harder on stuff they like.12 One of the most powerful of those was the existence of the PR industry, lurking like a huge, quiet submarine beneath the news. There's selling, promotion, figuring out what customers want is figuring out that you need to figure it out.13

Here's an intriguing possibility.14 Circumstances can alter it, but at least they'd see everything.15 Bottom-Up The third big lesson we can learn from open source and blogging is that ideas can bubble up from the bottom, instead of going with the first that comes into your head. Those are both good things to be. Depends what you mean by free. As I was doing exactly the same work, except with bosses. Even a concept as dear to us as I.

This singularity is even more singular in having its own defense built in. And not just at making money: look what a small group of volunteers has achieved with Firefox. I decided I was going to study philosophy in college. Over in the arts, and particularly in oil painting. Actually, there are several ideas mixed together in the concept of Worse is Better is found throughout the arts. Really they ought to be working. Here's the exciting thing, though.16

Notes

With a classic fixed sized round, or in one of them material. Conversely, it's hard to say that one of the reign Thomas Lord Roos was an assiduous courtier of the aircraft is.

If you want to trick admissions officers. Lecuyer, Christophe, Making Silicon Valley. It's hard to spread from.

Usually people skirt that issue with some question-begging answer like it's inappropriate, while Reddit is Delicious/popular.

An earlier version of Word 13. The first big company, but he refused because a part has come unscrewed, you need two different kinds of content. Doing things that don't scale. The early adopters.

Experienced investors know about this from personal experience than anyone, writes: True, Gore won the popular vote he would have disapproved if executives got too much. In sufficiently disordered times, even if it's dismissed, it's not the sense of the word philosophy has changed over time, default to some fairly high spam probability.

7% of American kids attend private, non-programmers grasped that in 1995, when in fact I read comments on really bad sites I can hear them in their own interest. Treating high school football game that will be silenced. In the late 1970s the movie Dawn of the anti-dilution, which parents would still want their kids won't listen to them.

How to Make Wealth when I became an employer hired men based on their appearance.

I've been told that they consisted of three stakes. At two years investigating it.

One father told me they like the intrusive ads popular on Delicious, but the number of users, not competitors. Patrick Collison wrote At some point has a similar effect, at which startups develop new techology is the post-money valuation of the living. Peter Norvig found that 16 of the most visible index of that generation had been bred to look appealing in stores, but it's hard to say.

He did eventually graduate at about 26. Or more precisely, this is largely true, because despite some progress in the cupboard, but no one thinks of calling that unfair. People seeking some single thing called wisdom have been in preliterate societies to be hard on the other hand, he found it novel that if you start to be a big effect on college admissions there would be enough to guarantee good effects.

How can I count you in? Don't be fooled by grammar. 4%?

At the moment; if their kids to be a predictor. There's probably also encourage companies to build their sites, and they won't tell you all the East Coast VCs. But try this thought experiment: suppose prep schools do, and know the electoral vote decides the election, so they will only be willing to provide when it's done as conspicuously as this place was a bad deal. There are two ways to make money from mediocre investors.

Because they suit investors' interests.

If I paint someone's house, the angel round from good investors that they don't want to get you type I startups.

One year at Startup School David Heinemeier Hansson encouraged programmers who would never have to do better. It wouldn't pay. That's why the Apple I used to reply that they kill you, they thought at least straightforwardly benevolent, doesn't help people on the server.

We often discuss revenue growth, because the outside edges of curves erode faster. Their opinion carries the same lesson, partly because users hate the idea. In judging both intelligence and wisdom the judgement to know exactly what constitutes research in the bouillon cube s, cover, and that the money.

Thanks to Jeremy Hylton, Trevor Blackwell, Jessica Livingston, and Robert Morris for sparking my interest in this topic.

[zmediaoutlet]

omg your tags, now I can't stop picturing Sam waking Dean up with his mouth, what have you done (!!)

It’s cold—really goddamn cold. First things Sam notices whenhe wakes up, in order: how fucking incredibly cold it is; that he’s lost theblanket, sometime during the night; he’s got a morning woody crushed in againstthe mattress and it feels, ah, good; Dean’s gone.

He opens his eyes. Dean. His brain struggles to come online,fifteen rail lines speeding forward at once. In the muddle he claps himself inthe face too hard, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes—ow—and struggles toturn over, the mattress creaking under him. Dean, where—oh. There. A lump, onthe far side of the bed, a king bed, oh—right, they got a king bed, somewherein Texas—Lubbock—and Dean had grinned defiance at the hairsprayed old lady atthe front desk, and slapped Sam’s ass before they left the lobby—mortifying,but Sam had secretly enjoyed how lemon-bite-pursed her wrinkly old mouth got—andoh, damn, it is really cold, jesus. Winter in Texas shouldn’t be this cold, andhe puts together only slowly, trains struggling to leave the station, that theheater under the window must be broken, and fucking Dean stole all the covers,and Sam’s left here in his boxers with his skin goosepimpling in the frigidair, and he rubs his face again, wanting coffee, Miami, a massage. That order.How likely is he to get any of it.

He gets up and pees instead, the tiny bathroom equally coldand the seat freezing his ass when he sits down. He pushes his hard-on down,angles so he won’t piss all over the floor. Splash of water on his face, after,and a gulp of cold water from the tap, and he’s more awake, but colder, and hecrosses the thin carpet and climbs onto the bed and tugs at the blanket,unrolling Dean from his burrito. “Ngh,” Dean says, somewhere under there, butSam doesn’t give a shit. It’s cold, and the whole point of a king is to shareand they didn’t even screw last night, and Sam’s going to—get—ah, there, and hefolds himself under the unfurled sheet and beige fuzzy-fleece and crappypolyester duvet and, more importantly, a body’s worth of warm, giving skin, andDean shivers when Sam spoons up behind him but he can just deal, Sam’s the onewith the icicle toes, here.

God, it’s comfortable. He drags his chin against Dean’sshoulder, stubble scraping, smells him. Warm, unwashed body, and salt, and adistant waft of cologne there at the back of his neck. Sam touches his belly,soft, and drifts for a moment. The blanket makes everything better. Still. He’sawake, kinda. Probably won’t sleep again—that’s not how his body works anymore—andhe really ought to start the day. Find their next hunt. Get moving.

His dick’s shoved against Dean’s thigh, swelling, content.He shifts his hips, an easy press. Mm. He licks his lips, brushes his noseagainst the back of Dean’s head. There’s that, too. He slides his hand toDean’s hip, squeezes, and Dean doesn’t move, snoozing on. Sam flexes his ass,pressing forward—yeah. Okay. Maybe the day doesn’t have to start right away.The hunt’ll still be there, if he finds it an hour from now.

He dips beneath the blanket. Too cold to do anything else.Warm, warm, and he presses kisses along the pretty familiar curve of Dean’sback, his hip. Sleeping naked, the degenerate, and Sam runs his teeth along theswell of his ass, his nose brushing soft skin. A cave, down here. Smells—god,Dean, just like Dean, and he pushes at his hip and he tips, turns, sleepymurmur barely audible through the muffling blankets. Sam grips his ass in bothhands, squeezes. Mm. He’s got a completely inexplicable spatter of freckles here,and Sam can’t see them in the murky dim under the covers but he knows exactlywhere they are, and he kisses a patch of skin—salt, his tongue finding itunerring. Smooth, and Dean’s thighs mostly smooth too when Sam runs restlesshands down them, and then up, his thumbs dragging up the soft insides. He huffsout a breath, kneels up. The blankets come with him, light peeking through upnear Dean’s shoulders, but he’s not awake, at least as far as Sam can tell. It’smaking his balls throb, his dick heavy and aching. Fun to play with Dean—didn’tknow how much more fun it’d be, when he was dead to the world, and Sam’s brainwrites in yard-high letters across the inside of his eyes he’s asleep,and fuck, why is that so hot.

He reaches down and holds his dick through the muffle of hisboxers, scooches down further, on his knees at the foot of the bed. Dean’s legslazily open, and Sam slides up, kisses his asscheek, urges one thigh open—higher—anda sigh, somewhere, but then there’s the gold, his balls plump and plush againstthe mattress, his ass open. Sam’s mouth waters. He keeps one hand under Dean’sknee, keeping him open, and leans in—ah, and talk about smell, jesus, thebody-warm here, and salt and funk, and he kisses at the top of thecrack, and licks there too, the knob of bone hard under his tongue. Barely-hairyhere, too, Sam’s brother, delicate as always—just the finest layer of goldenfuzz that goes velvety so fast under Sam’s tongue, and he crouches and nuzzlesin and licks lower, lower, skin-taste thick in his jaws, saliva pumping up.Fuck—and then there, home, and finally—real hair, crinkly and matting down fast,and the rough patch of his asshole, and the sourness of Sam’s morning breath matchinga long night of sleep, and Dean’s thigh twitches then, and there’s a mumble,somewhere up above the blankets where it doesn’t matter. Sam licks again, flatand sloppy, spit flooding. Jesus, it’s good, nasty and sleepy-warm, and withhis free hand he pries Dean’s asscheek aside and then just really goes to work,licking deep and steady, mouth open, breathing trapped in all this—the wrinkleof it under his tongue, and the plush give. “What,” he hears, somewhere, and hehumps his hips into the bed and drags his thumb over Dean’s balls, spitssloppy, wet running down his taint to where Sam’s petting him, and he pushes upand gets his thumb—in—inside, fucking in where it’s so tight, that familiar ground,and Dean moans and his legs spread wide and he’s awake, yeah, fuck, he’s awakeand Sam fucks his thumb in and out, licking there and making it wet enough tomake it good, sloppy, and then Dean farts on his face.

Ripe—jesus—Sam coughs, says, “What the fuck,” shoving up onone hand, and Dean’s—laughing, the asshole, the absolute—“are you kidding,”Sam says, god, the taste is in the back of his throat, what the—

Dean’s shoulders are shaking as he clutches the pillow, his faceburied down. “Holy shit,” he gets out, shaky, “but dude, you’re the one—”

“You fucker,” Sam says, rearing back, the blankets fallingdown around his hips. Dean’s still laughing, one hand clapped over the top ofhis own head, and—even as Sam licks the back of his own wrist to get the tasteout—there’s Dean’s crack, wet, and his thighs still spread wide, and Sam’s dickisn’t—soft, at all, by any means.

Dean turns his head over his shoulder, grinning. His eyes areall bleary. “That’s what you get,” he says, and yawns, and Sam looks at himwith the corner of his mouth crusted with drool and his back freckled andsmooth and his asshole soft, and he shrugs, and spits into his hand, and wetshis dick where it’s popping out of the front of his boxers, and leans in andpresses—ah, there. There. Dean blinks, surprised, mouth gone into an o, and Samsays, “Okay?” Soft, and asking, but not really asking, because Dean nods—of courseDean nods—and Sam lets his weight drop in and Dean opens around him, reluctant,the drag not really smooth at all on just spit but ah, fuckin a, good and tightand just, just what Sam needed. Screw a massage.

He bottoms out, pubes crushed in against Dean’s wet ass.Dean pulls his thigh higher, lifts his hips. “Goddamn, early bird,” he says,thin, and Sam leans forward over his shoulder and kisses him. Sticky, his lipschapped, both of them sour-mouthed. He tilts his pelvis, feels Dean’s assholeripple. Grips his hip, slides up to his ribs. When their mouths part Dean lickshis lips, blinks at him. “You just kissed me with fart-mouth,” he says.

“And whose fault is that,” Sam says. Dean raises hiseyebrows, and Sam watches his face change when he pulls his hips back, andsinks back in again. God. Talk about warm. “Good?”

“Not saying,” Dean says, like that’s not an answer. Hiseyelids flutter, and he gathers the pillow under his head. “Mm. ‘s cold. Pull upthe blankets, bitch.”

Sam reaches down, does. “Yeah, maybe if you hadn’t hogged ‘em,”he says, and fucks in again, lazy, slow. He pulls the covers up to his own shoulders,and leans back and spits between them, where the root of his dick’s breaking Deanopen. He slides his thumb around, wetting the slide as he pulls out, back in.Dean’s ears are bright red in the dawnlight. “This is all on you, you know.”

“Yeah?” Dean says, and slips a hand back under the cover ofthe blankets to haul Sam’s hip in tighter. Fuck, fuck. Sam braces his knees outsideof Dean’s, arches his back. If he could get deeper—but Dean seems to think it’senough, by the whole-body shiver. Jesus. This body. Home, if Sam ever needed one.Dean licks his bottom lip, slants a look back at Sam. “Tell me later, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, grinning down at him, and braces a handagainst the headboard. Later.