#interactive math challenges

[presswoodterryryan]

🎉 Alice's Guide to Conquering Multi-Step Word Problems! 🎉

By Alice Hey everyone! It’s me, Alice, your favorite snack expert, treasure hunter, and sometimes math student. Today, I have big news: Big Sister Ariel has written a mind-blowingly smart paper about multi-step word problems! 😲 Now, when I first heard “multi-step word problems,” I thought, “Ugh. That sounds like too many steps. Why can’t math just take one step?” But Ariel said multi-step word…

[kids-worldfun]

9 Exciting Math Games for Kids and Students

There are many games that kids can play to have fun but when it comes to playing games which can educate them, they simply refuse to accept or download those kinds of educational games. In this online world where kids are attending their classes from online methods, it has become a daunting task to make them sit and study like people used to do before the covid times. So, to boost up their…

[physalian]

Avoiding Plot Holes by Seeding Doubt

Having an “expert” character conveniently fuck up right when the plot needs it to happen, when they otherwise would never, always loudly looks like the hand of the author sabotaging things. Which is exactly what’s happening.

However, if you set up that scene in a way where that fuckup is possible and warranted, you can turn “this is so contrived” to “omg I knew that was going to happen”.

Some suggestions!

Firstly, if we’re dealing with humans, humans are not machines. Variability in skill even at the expert level happens. Go watch the Olympics or any professional sporting event and people have terrible days all the time.

In fiction, a conveniently terrible day because that’s just how this works doesn’t fly. Diablos ex machinas tend to go over easier than deus ex machinas, but a character failing at a critical challenge in the narrative for no reason screws with a lot of the tension and expectations. “For no reason” takes no effort by the author to set up and pay off, and it reads as cheap.

Behavioral variables

I am a novice archer. I write expert archers. I do not write supernaturally accurate archers. From the very beginning of my story, my expert, with four centuries of experience, isn’t nailing perfect kill shots with every hit. A) he doesn’t need to and B) leaving his enemy to die slowly and painfully is a low he will absolutely stoop to if he thinks it’s warranted.

He’s as good as he has to be and if he gets the job done, he doesn’t care if it’s a little messy. Him being messy and overconfident is what gets him in the end, too. If he’s trying, he’ll do better, but most of the time “eh, I got close enough, they’ll die eventually” is his mindset.

“Expert” in fiction being “this is a character who will reliably pass the challenges set up for them by the narrative”.

So if you have an “expert,” allowing them to get a little bit lazy and overconfident, or simply not think of themselves as needing to be perfect in a given situation, you allow yourself a lot of wiggle room for them to majorly fuck up.

Doesn’t work very well if I throw my archer into an archery tournament, but I haven’t done that, and I’ll get to that later.

Environmental variables

Using the archery example once again: Archery is finnicky and precision is key. So if you’ve got your archer, or any marksman, in a windy environment, they have to work that much harder to factor in the wind when setting up their shot.

If it’s rainy, or the sun’s in their face, or it’s dark, or it’s loud and they can’t focus, these things aren’t exact data points the audience is going to do the math on. Or, if they and their enemy are moving, which, in combat, is highly likely.

Physiological variables

Maybe your character didn’t get enough sleep, or they’re stressed about this moment, they’re cracking under the pressure, they’re doubting themselves, the enemy got into their head, or they’re distracted worrying about something else. Or they got drunk the night before, they ate too much or too little. They’re sick, their hands are sweaty, they’ve got a sinus headache. They’ve got cramps, or hot flashes, or earlier they pulled a muscle and it still tweaks.

These are all, once again, introducing doubt into the narrative so that, when they fuck up as the plot demands, the audience should consider “well they weren’t at their best, I believe it”.

—

The sloppy way to do this is to go, in the moment:

“But because it was windy, X missed his shot”.

Is this the first time the reader is learning that it’s windy? Pretty convenient to introduce it right as it becomes important.

Rather, establish your variable beforehand in a disconnected moment. Try to ground it to a different element, otherwise it might look like it’s being mentioned for no other reason than “this is important”. Or, if it’s environmental, bury it with the other sensory descriptors.

When establishing the scene and setting, casually mention how the wind is interacting with the characters—making their hair a mess, throwing pollen everywhere, making skirts billow, etc.

Have another character complain about this variable bothering them

Have the character instantly regret the decision they made the night before for unrelated reasons. Like, if they got drunk, now they’ve still got a headache.

Depends on the story and the audience, of course, but I personally think having the narrator explicitly call out the variable fuckery going on reads a bit hammy. I like letting the audience figure out what went wrong with the clues I give.

If the scene demands, I'll also let my characters get annoyed and upset about their shots going wrong and blaming the environment. So long as it's not "hand of the author here to tell you what went wrong" you've got options.

I wouldn’t pull this trick too many times, otherwise your “expert” ends up consistently not an expert and then their sudden success looks suspect and contrived.

If you are writing some sort of tournament where this character is deliberately setting themselves up for success and is considering all these variables… a great example I like is Todoroki vs Bakugo in My Hero Academia season 2.

Dude is an uncertain mess throughout the rest of his tournament once his “fuck you dad I’m gonna win by half-assing it” suddenly isn’t enough to beat Midoriya. He’s forced to face some Tragic Backstory and it throws him off his game—establishes doubt.

He has a string of successes once he starts taking baby steps with the other half of his powers, and in the finale, he’s up against someone where he really does have to give it his all if he wants to win. His brute force powers are up against someone who has honed his very specific and powerful abilities for a decade.

And he can’t do it.

The final fight stops being a matter of power metrics and who would win if they both were competing at their best with all the tricks in their playbook available, which is what most of the tournament had been up to this point.

Basically—it stops being a numbers game, and starts being an emotional one. If you have a character you need to fail at something, but who wouldn’t otherwise, consider shifting the battle from external to internal, so the task failure is just the catalyst for the real meat of the story: what this loss means to this person in the long run.

**Side note there are of course a ton of anime tournament fights probably better than this one, Rock Lee’s whole arc against Gaara is one of them, I just don’t remember it well enough to comment on it.

Not every reader is going to be savvy enough to go “well that’s going to be important later”. Use betas and editors to help gauge how vague or obvious your foreshadowing is.

But even if you have readers sussing out your foreshadowing: Part of the fun is figuring out how the journey will end, even if we know when and where. Otherwise tragedies and prequels wouldn’t be made.

The dramatic irony of knowing variable fuckery is at play when the character is unaware can be so fun as the audience. Horror films are kind of built on it.

[demilypyro]

I guess the problem is that a lot of what we call "videogames" are not "games" in the traditional sense. A game has rules of play. A defined way to engage with it. And if you break those rules, you're not playing the game anymore. You're being a cheater, or perhaps just a dick. But videogames don't always work like this.

Gmod doesn't have any rules. There's no way to win or lose at it. People can create games inside Gmod, but is Gmod itself a game? Maybe not. It's just a space to be creative in.

Meanwhile a game like Skyrim has its defined goals, but a player is free to break it over their knee, mod it beyond recognition, cheat, go out of bounds. Is this breaking the rules? Are you still playing Skyrim? Or are the rules a more abstract thing in this? Are the "rules" simply anything you're capable of doing within the software? But then the entire concept of a videogame deconstructs.

Is a videogame just software that derives enjoyment? That would be ridiculous. Games are sad sometimes. No, a videogame requires challenge, right? Gmod says no. Perhaps videogames are just... interactive digital experiences?

Back before I owned a smartphone, I'd sometimes use Pokemon Diamond to cheat on my math homework. The game had a calculator. But was I really playing the game in that moment? My playtime says yes.

When google chrome can't find a connection, you get to play the little jumping dinosaur game.

[blacktabbygames]

The amount of art in STP and Scarlet Hollow is positively staggering, in my opinion, and puts even the non-indie visual novels that I've played to shame. I hope you don't mind my asking, but have you ever sat down and tried to figure out how much it would have cost to pay someone else to do the art for these games if neither of you could draw?

Thank you! I don't think it's fully quantifiable for a number of reasons. In particular, Abby's contributions as a writer inform how she approaches her art in a way that would be difficult to capture if we were hiring a third party to just do art.

From my understanding, most visual novels that hire out their art work also hire different artists for backgrounds and sprites, which wouldn't work with the style/presentation of our games, where the sprites are drawn on top of backgrounds using tracing paper, allowing our characters to interact more organically with the world. Assuming those two points are non-issues, though, and assuming a general advanced-career rate of ~$500 per background and ~$100 per unique pose, and $10 per variant of a pre-existing sprite... Scarlet Hollow (so far): ~$600,000 Slay the Princess: ~$250,000 for the base game, ~$150,000 for the Pristine Cut (so ~$400,000 total)

It's worth noting that Slay the Princess, which is done on smaller paper and only in pencils (instead of pencils + inks + full digital color) is less labor intensive per asset than Scarlet Hollow, but for the sake of simplicity, I'm not assigning a different cost to those assets. Possibly still low-balling things here, and again, there's so much to Abby's art that's unquantifiable in this area. But that's the napkin math.

She's also a *mindbogglingly* fast artist. I want to say she managed to do all of the art of the original release of Slay the Princess (hundreds of backgrounds, over 2,000 sprites) in about six months? I'd have to imagine that work over that time frame would usually require something like 5 artists, which then adds further challenges around stylistic cohesion.

[former-incel]

I can think of some possible reasons why that happens.

It's possible that they got all their ideas about human interaction from TV shows. TV shows often have jocks and cheerleaders always being the absolute hottest, and anyone with "nerdy" interests (math, chess, etc) always being unattractive caricatures. And since they've believed for so long that that's how it works in real life, they're hesitant to anything that challenges that belief.

It's also possible that they need some way to protect their self esteem. They struggle to get women to like them, so they convince themselves that it's because women limit themselves to narrow interests and won't give anyone with their interests a chance. If they admit that women actually do share their interests, they'll have to admit that their inability to be liked by women is a personal failure. And they'll do anything to avoid that. They most likely experience some kind of actual oppression that's making them struggle to be liked (autism or some other disability) and fighting back against the actual source of their oppression would be hard work and painful. Their struggles would be dismissed and laughed at. That's why many victims of oppression choose to fight an imaginary source of oppression instead. It's much less painful when it fails, and they can treat typical societal bigotry against their scapegoat as some kind of victory.

[presswoodterryryan]

🚪 Secret Doors and Hidden Worlds: The Math of Mazes and Portals 💻🌟🐰

By Alice Have you ever found a secret door in your house? I just did! And guess what? It was locked with math! It all started when Mr. Fluffernutter’s fluffy ears twitched. “Alice,” he whispered, “I think your room is hiding a secret!” I gasped. “A secret? What kind of secret?” Fluffernutter pointed his paw at the corner of my bookshelf, where a tiny sliver of golden light peeked through. My…

[hameesstuff]

"Code blue, Code you"

Pairing: Doctor Jaehyun (NCT) x Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Slowburn, Doctor x Doctor AU, He Falls First (and hard)

Genres: Humor, Fluff, Angst, Deep Burn Smut

Word Count Target: ~2k

Preview: When two rival surgeons—sharp-tongued, sleep-deprived, and dangerously attracted—are forced to work side by side, sparks fly, scalpels clash, and hearts get involved. In a hospital full of tension, Dr. Jung Jaehyun falls first... and hardest.

___________________________________________

[Opening Scene: The First Cut Isn’t Always the Deepest]

You don’t believe in love at first sight—but you do believe in hate at first interaction.

Dr. Jung Jaehyun walks into the surgical department on your night shift, fresh from Harvard, and within ten minutes he’s reorganized the trauma flow board and corrected your chart notes with a polite smile that somehow feels like a slap.

"You’re welcome to double-check my math," you say icily.

He smiles, too handsome for his own good. "No need. I already did."

He doesn’t know it yet, but that’s the moment you vow to make his life as inconvenient as ethically possible.

[Development: Petty Games and Relentless Smirks]

Jaehyun is infuriating. His precision in surgery is flawless. His bedside manner? Award-winning. His smile? Unreasonably effective.

You call him “Golden Boy” to the residents. He calls you “Dr. Ice.”

You leave passive-aggressive notes on the scrub schedule. He adjusts the thermostat in your office to arctic levels.

“You’re obsessed with me,” you tell him after he scrubs in for a valve replacement you specifically didn’t invite him to.

“Not obsessed,” he says. “Just making sure you don’t accidentally kill anyone.”

The tension is ridiculous. The nurses place bets on who will snap first.

They don't know Jaehyun already has.

[Jaehyun’s Interlude: Quiet Obsession]

You occupy too much of his brain. You’re snarky, brilliant, competitive—and every time you challenge him, he wants to either argue or kiss you senseless.

He hears you laugh in the breakroom once. Real, unguarded. It knocks the air out of him.

So yes, maybe he teases you too much. Maybe he volunteers for the same night shifts. Maybe he memorized your coffee order the first week.

He’s falling. Fast. And you don’t even see it.

[Turning Point: Hearts in Crisis]

A teenage patient comes in with a rare congenital heart defect. Surgery is high risk. You clash over the plan. But Jaehyun—calmer than you’ve ever seen—suggests a hybrid approach you hadn’t considered.

You agree, reluctantly.

The surgery is brutal. But it works.

Afterward, you find him alone in the supply room, eyes closed, head against the wall.

“I didn’t know you cared that much,” you say.

He opens his eyes.

“You do something to me,” he says softly. "Even when I’m trying not to care."

You leave before you can hear the rest.

[Build-Up: Long Nights & Slow Softening]

The war softens. The teasing becomes banter. You start looking for his face in morning briefings. He brings you ginger tea when you lose your voice.

One 3AM shift, you share ramen in the call room, knees touching.

“You’re not so bad,” you mumble, half-asleep.

He brushes hair from your face.

“I think I’m in trouble,” he whispers.

You don’t respond. But your hand stays in his.

[Smolder: A Near Kiss in the On-Call Room]

You’re arguing about a surgical technique. He’s too close. You’re flushed. He says something about tension.

“Maybe we should just get it over with,” he murmurs.

You stare at his lips.

But the pager goes off.

The kiss doesn’t happen.

You both pretend you’re not disappointed.

[Jaehyun Falls Deeper]

He starts sketching diagrams with your preferred methods. Learns your favorite OR playlist. Defends you in a board meeting when no one else does.

When you fall asleep on a cot after a 36-hour shift, he covers you with his jacket. Stares too long. Whispers your name like a prayer.

You dream of hands holding yours.

[Climax: Confession Under Fire]

There’s a power outage during an emergency surgery. You’re guiding the team by flashlight. Jaehyun is beside you, calm, steady.

Afterward, you pull him into the stairwell, adrenaline still high.

“You saved that girl,” you breathe.

“So did you,” he says.

Then:

“I’m so far gone for you, it’s not funny anymore.”

[On-Call Room, Tension Unleashed]

It’s past 2AM, and the hospital is quiet in the way that only makes your body ache more—blood still warm from a trauma save, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion. You’re both in the on-call room again. The lights are low. He’s staring at you.

You stand in front of him. “You keep looking at me like that.”

Jaehyun’s voice is low, rough. “I can’t help it anymore.”

He steps forward, hands sliding up your arms, gaze locked to your lips.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

You don’t. You press your lips to his, and he breaks.

He kisses like he’s been starved—hands firm but reverent, mouth moving with deliberate hunger. You push his lab coat off. He strips yours away just as quickly. It’s frantic, but not careless.

He lifts you to the cot, lays you down with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, staring down at you as if committing the image to memory. He runs his hands over you like he’s mapping your skin.

When he slides his hand into your scrubs, you gasp.

“I’ve thought about this,” he whispers, lips brushing your neck. “Every night. Every shift you sassed me. Every time you stole my coffee.”

He finds you already wet. His breath hitches.

“Fuck, you want this too.”

You nod, breath ragged.

His fingers move slow at first, drawing lazy circles. He kisses you deeply, keeping you grounded with his weight, his rhythm.

When he finally pushes inside you, it’s with a groan buried in your mouth, his name broken on your lips.

He moves slowly, like he’s savoring every second. Your bodies tangle, skin slick with sweat, gasps echoing through the small room.

“Jaehyun—” you whimper as he hits a spot that has your spine arching.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs against your collarbone. “I’ve got you.”

And he does.

You fall apart in his arms, and he follows with a shaky moan, burying his face in your neck as he spills into you.

Later, you lay curled against him, your breaths syncing.

“Still hate me?” he asks, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You kiss his chest. “You’re infuriating.”

But you kiss him again.

[The Man Who Fell First, Hardest, and Last]

You’re officially a thing now. Everyone knows. The nurses win their betting pool.

He walks you to work even when his shift is hours later. You scold him for sleeping at your apartment without backup scrubs.

But he just shrugs, presses a kiss to your temple.

“Worth it.”

In surgery, you bicker less. He still teases. You still roll your eyes.

And every once in a while, when you catch him watching you like you hung the stars, you realize:

He didn’t just fall first.

He fell hardest.

And he’s never getting back up.

The End.

Feedback is welcome :)

___________________________________________

[robin-evry]

I have no idea if this has already been done(I assume not since I was scrolling through your posts) but what about a Topaz or Jade!Yuu? Either one is fine!

So if usually when I have to choose between two characters, I usually just do both but if one of the characters has already been requested with someone I'll do the other since there's no one request jade and topaz I'll do both

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐙!𝐘𝐔𝐔 🐖🪙

Topaz is the Leader of the Special Debts Picket Team and high-level manager of the Strategic Investment Department under the Interastral Peace Corporation. A member of the "Ten Stonehearts" at a young age, Topaz's foundational expertise is "debt retrieval." Her partner, the Warp Trotter "Numby," is also capable of keenly perceiving where "riches" are located, ensuring that jobs based in security, debt collection, and actuarial varieties are of no great challenge. At presently they are traveling the cosmos together, seeking all manner of liability disputes that might be affecting the stable progression of the IPC's businesses.

Manages the finance of nrc, always could be seen with a note pad or a clip board calculating the finance of the school for Crowley not to mention help him calculate the school taxes because he's unable to do basic math.

Approaches everything in nrc like a business venture. Whether it's securing better living conditions at ramshackle or negotiating with vargas to lower PE requirements, they always have a strategy.

Constantly takes notes on people, labeling them by "risk level," "investment potential," and "market value" (to their frustration). Not to mention they would occasionally go around the School and calculate the market value of stuff, they are wondering why Crowley keeps some useless artifacts when he could auction it to get more funds for school.

When interacting with other students, topaz!yuu mentally calculates their “value.” “How useful would they be in a future deal?”, topaz!yuu assessment of their friends can be surprisingly accurate like how Riddle is a “great brand ambassador” or how Cater has “untapped influencer potential.”

Sam and Azul would seek their assistants as long topaz!yuu got a cut of the price, not to mention topaz!yuu would buy the most randomized things in Sam shop and resell it online with a higher price for their own personal money and it actually works

At school first opinion of numby was "What the hell is that" which hurt his feelings. Numby could always be seen with topaz!yuu following them around, assisting them with work or school or just for emotional support.

Sometimes when numby disappear and they would bring back treasure for topaz!yuu, this managed to catch the attention of ruggie and he would start to follow the warp trotter to get some treasure for himself.

Topaz!yuu excels at math people would already consider them to be a human calculator and manage to count complex equations within a second. Sometimes when the lessons become boring topaz!yuu would do some brain exercise counting stuff in their head.

Although topaz!yuu appears all business on the outside, deep down, they make investments based on loyalty and emotional connection. They’ll always back up their friends or team members, offering free magical items or advice without asking for anything in return—though they’d never admit it.

Topaz!yuu is like those types of kid who use their resources to trade stuff from other students, like a bag of oreos can be worth a pudding cup and an apple juice type of kid, they could be found trading some of their lunch for better so they don't have to spend extra for lunch.

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄!𝐘𝐔𝐔 🐍📜

A senior manager in the IPC Strategic Investment Department and one of the Ten Stonehearts, known for her cornerstone "Jade of Credit." A cold and elegant moneylender, she is skilled at understanding the human heart, with a personal hobby called "Bonajade Exchange." She's willing to wait patiently for high-value acquisitions and adept at extracting value from seemingly destitute clients.

A puppeteer, jade!yuu is working as a manager for Crowley, leading them to have an upper hand over him so they could manipulate the school towards their own whim.

Do you guys know that one episode of nanno that she rent a room from the school and grants wishes for students no matter how big it is, that's jade!yuu basically but they will always seek for something as equal to value as the wish. They excel at understanding the desires and weaknesses of others, always seeking an opportunity to trade, negotiate, or use information to their advantage.

Jade!Yuu always have a larger plan in mind, both in terms of their academic endeavors and social interactions. They would often see the potential outcomes of situations before anyone else, and their subtle guidance could influence the choices of those around them. Whether it’s orchestrating complex schemes or navigating complicated friendships, Jade!Yuu knows how to play the long game.

They would have a particular interest in setting up profitable ventures, whether it's managing the finances of Ramshackle Dorm, organizing events, or offering magical services that people can’t resist. Their financial knowledge and ability to bargain would make them a formidable opponent in anything involving resources or trade. But In return they always seek as an equal value towards the wish.

Unlike Azul whose wish making could only reach the school grounds, jade!yuu ability to grant wish is much bigger you want your family name to be bigger and sign a deal with jade!yuu and the wish will be granted their ability is on a larger scale. They would act as a manager or consultant for other students, offering tips on everything from enhancing personal style to perfecting their magical abilities. Their network would be impressive, though they keep their cards close to the chest, rarely showing their true intentions.

They could easily be a behind-the-scenes orchestrator, pulling the strings to help others, but always with the intention of gaining something in return, whether it’s a favor, knowledge, or leverage.

Azul would try to crack them but impossible, jade!yuu seems to be able to predict his moves without issues. And when a group of rally students are unsatisfied with the outcome of the deal is trying to beat up them, jade!yuu would summon their pet snake to deal with them. Many rumors say that jade!yuu snake is also an exchange they got.

Just to be warned there will always be a price, jade!yuu would want something that is equal price as the wish you ask for them so when you fall, you will fall hard. A student wishes to be great at everything soon loses dies everything and is forced out of nrc, this is the consequence of their deal.

[maleyanderecafe]

Over the Moon (Visual Novel)

Created by: Bibibbb99

Genre: Shonen ai

Over the Moon is a beautiful demo that honestly can be finished off as it's own short game. Despite the fact that we never see Galileo, the main lead, we do get to see the chemistry between the two boys as they have class and go to a festival together. The artwork is pretty and beautiful and I think it has good potential for a sequel or a more fully fleshed out game if needed. This game doesn't seem like it's available at the moment, so we'll keep this as a sort of documentation of what the game was.

The story starts out with Galileo in a dream, on the bottom of a spiraling staircase where he can either go up or down. Going up he sees a woman laughing and dancing with her lover, a star. As she dances with the star, you hear her confess her love. If Galileo goes down instead, he instead hears a resentful voice, crying out and wondering why they chose someone else but not them, confessing their love and begging to why they chose the star instead of them. Either way, Galileo is woken up by his roommate, Atlas, who has made the two tea. You can choose the type of tea, though there is a special interaction for choosing pepperment with too much sugar (which Atlas will say he will only make on special occasions since if he lives that way he might incur health problems) or if you choose black tea, which Atlas will be extremely happy since the two of them share the same taste in tea. Otherwise, Galileo will thank Atlas for making the two of them tea each morning, which will make Atlas happy and blush. Galileo starts talking to Atlas about a book he read, where Atlas talks about a romance between a wanderer and a librarian who must stay in her library, the school work the two have to do and how Atlas is pretty good at Potionology and finally gossip between other classmates, specifically two classmates named Theodore and Lucas. Although Atlas seems to disapprove of rumors, Galileo talks about how the two are planning to dance during a quiz to distract the professor, though Lucas ended up chickening out, with Atlas commenting that it's cowardly to betray your friend like that. Finally, Galileo talks about the dream he had, either of the girl dancing with the stars or the mournful voice, which will lead to Atlas talking about how similar the dream is with a story he's read.

The school bells ring for classes, and the two boys end up studying and going to class, leading to going into the library afterwards. Atlas compliments Galileo on his math scores and can either whine or playfully tease Atlas about it. Atlas seems to know that Galileo works hard on it despite beating Galileo in his scores. To this Galileo challenges Atlas to who can finish their maths first, with the winner being the glorious winner (as Galileo puts it). Atlas ends up winning before Galileo is halfway, so he declares Atlas the winner. Atlas asks Galileo to take off his blazer vest as there's a button that has been loose. Galileo can either refuse, take off the blazer or ask for Atlas's blazer to wear in return. If he does the latter, Atlas will blush and as Galileo continues his homework wearing Atlas's blazer and, Atlas will sew his blazer in return. After this, Atlas will talk to Galileo about a night market that's happening that a teacher mentioned during class. Atlas seems prepared for this venture and the two end up going to the fair together.

At the fair, Galileo can either look around or specifically look into one of the stores. If Galileo decides to look around, he and Atlas will browse around, looking at various potions, stuffed animals and others until Atlas specifically looks at one of the stalls. He looks at the painting of a cozy cottage with flowers and reminisces about living there (with Galileo) until they go back. Conversely, if Galileo looks specifically at one of the stores, a place that sells model telescopes, the vender and Galileo will talk about stargazing, with the vender even talking about a shooting star event. He loses Atlas for a bit but finds him looking at some jewelry, where Atlas decides to buy some as a gift to his mother.

Upon going home, Galileo immediately passes out. Atlas after checking if he's fallen asleep, talks about how he was worried that he had put too much sleeping potion into yesterday's tea and that he might not wake up. He has adjusted it, happy to see Galileo's expression every morning when he wakes up. If Galileo went to look at the telescopes, Atlas will unravel the present, showing a ring, and will slide the ring onto Galileo's finger and his. If they went around, Atlas will talk about how the painting was about the future he wanted with Galileo. He states he'll do anything for that dream, and that he hates living in the capital and how he doesn't want to be the family heir, wanting the two of them to run away together. Atlas will have different responses depending on whether or not he was allowed to sew Galileo's shirt, with him being extremely happy if the two of them swapped blazers for him to wear. If you specifically choose the block tea, tease him and trade blazers with Atlas, he will also have a short cute blushy scene where he will try to kiss Galileo on the cheek. After this, he tells Galileo goodnight and says he has to do some "pest control duties" tonight, excited by the face that he will make in the morning.

Upon waking up, Galileo sees Atlas frowning as the two of them drink tea. Atlas breaks the news that Theodore pushed Lucas off the balcony, leading to Lucas being in a coma and Theodore being kicked out of school, claiming that after the incident, the two had an argument and shoved Lucas off the roof. Galileo attempts to comfort Lucas, blaming himself for telling him of the rumor, with the last shot of the game having Atlas elated at the fact that Galileo is hugging him.

First of all, the artwork in this game is seriously gorgeous, from the CGs and the cute little moments that Atlas has with Galileo. The close ups of Atlas are extremely pretty and the small chibi moments are really cute. Even the backgrounds are made to be extremely pretty as well.

The story itself is generally pretty simple, establishing the daily life of Galileo and Atlas in boarding school, drinking tea together, going to classes together, studying together and going to the fair together. The story itself does a pretty good job for some aspects of foreshadowing, with the dreams showing both sides of Atlas's devotion, the more desperate and pathetic side and the romantic and loving side. It is pretty clear that Atlas loves Galileo, but to what extent is fairly unknown at least until we get to the end, when he seemingly causes Lucas to go into a coma and blames it on Theodore and drugs Galileo. I'm not sure why Atlas decided to go after these two boys, likely because Galileo showed interest in their shenanigans perhaps (or to teach him a lesson in the idea that he really does not like listening to rumors), though he does use this by pretending to be extremely upset that this happens so that Galileo will not do this again and so he can get a hug from him. We also learn a bit from the special interaction where Galileo is from a richer family (probably the reason why his grades are so high because he has to live up to his family's legacy), though he has no use for being the heir and will do anything to run away with Galileo. It seems that he's been drugging Galileo for a bit (though based on his worry that he over did it, I'm not sure if it's been a very long time yet) just so he can see him wake up and sleep. There are plenty of cute moments with Atlas fawning over Galileo such as when he complements him and blushes, making their favorite tea (worrying about his health or otherwise happy they share the same tastes), being extremely happy to mend Galileo's clothes (and even more so swapping them) and dreaming of a future together. I also just like the relationship built up between the two, with Galileo being a bit more teasing towards Atlas, and Atlas admiring Galileo and helping him when needed. Generally the only big gripe I have about it is the fact that we never really see Galileo or know too much about him. Technically he is the player character, but given at least on the itch.io page he is likely the red haired character, it would be nice to have some cgs that incorporate both of them. The general motif of stars is really nice, and is placed in most aspects of the story, or at least the key ones. I honestly think this game can be considered a full game, even if short, and it would be cool to see a sequel or even prequel. But as a demo, I think it can also be expanded on if needed to fill out other points.

Overall, extremely pretty and fun game with a nice yandere in it. As I said, I like the relationship developed between Galileo and Atlas and the general world (learning Potionology sounds cool). I hope to see more from this game and characters in the future.

[painted-bees]

July 20th 2012 

i) 

 The Commodore Ballroom was a significant step up from the assorted bars and clubs that had hosted their performance over the past nine months. Their “band” consisted of Margie, Tess, and Raf, and had performed under a completely different name across nearly every establishment in Vancouver that would deign to let them grace their stage with their low-budget, no clout indie act. Raf enjoyed it. There was an amusing novelty to being regarded as an unknown, untested musician. Initially, the management of each establishment haggled, scoffed, and finagled with him in a manner he’d never been faced with before. They negotiated as though it was a tremendous burden to host musicians on their stage, but that they were doing a good, charitable turn, putting themselves out for the sake of promoting “local talent”. Apparently, this position helped them feel justified in extending the most dog-shit agreements he’d ever had the misfortune of navigating. Commonly, they were willing to grant him the privilege of covering venue costs in exchange for a pittance of ticket sale profits. 

 “Venue costs” usually only ensured that the stage would be vacant for them to use, with no additional services provided. Yet often, venue staff fees were included in the cost. Their agreements often took care in detailing that refunds on ticket sales would be available, but on a few occasions, Raf had to negotiate a no-refund policy when a venue tried shunting that burden entirely onto the band. It would have been fine if the math added up to something resembling a financial profit for them, provided they could secure a sizable attendance. But even the most rosy projections would only allow them to make even on their total costs. Some were better, others were much worse…in which case, discouragement was probably the intention. Each time, Raf accepted the offer with a smile and a warmly delivered, “Marvelous, I thank you. But under those conditions, this will be the last time we perform at your venue.” 

 Perhaps this was unfair. After all, musicians were a dime a dozen, and the amount of acts looking for a venue vastly outnumbered the amount of venues that existed to host them. Raf was able to bag gigs because he could afford to let these no-name pubs rob him and his bandmates out of a livable cut. He wasn’t doing it for the money, he was doing it because Margie really, really wanted to play at venues. She’d do it for free–but Raf knew better than to let her pursue that route. And so, he pitched their music to venues across the city and treated himself to the special challenge keeping his name out of the negotiations. The venues had no reason to assume that they were hosting a celebrity act. He wanted to see how an unagented indie band might get along–and found it an extremely humbling experience. The management of venues that’d even let him present his music to them regarded him with about as much respect as they’d regard a stray dog on the street. A little bit of pity, a tremendous amount of wariness, and the constant measuring of whether the interaction was worth their time at all. It didn’t matter if the music was good, what mattered was that Raf could promise to pay, up-front, the costs of hosting the show. That latter part was par for the course. But, in combination with the “take-it-or-leave-it” atrocious cut on the profits, Raf found it difficult to imagine how someone like Margie could have been able to afford taking the live venue route towards finding her audience.

 How many other Margies were out there?

 Nevertheless, they played the same gig under a new name at a new venue on a semi-consistent basis over the past months. In that time, a growing number of people had begun to recognise him. He woke up to that fact back in May, when a previous venue rang him up offering to book a weekend with “him and his band”--and under a much sweeter arrangement. There was a certain satisfaction in telling the man, “Appreciated, but our previous experience with your venue’s management has discouraged us from performing there again.” Tactless perhaps, but oh…it felt very good. 

 This small win, however, was overshadowed by the looming inevitability that had hung over him since the very start of his little charade: the jig was up. People had figured out who he was, and he was unlikely to meet any more petty squabbles from the uncharitable management of dingy venues. That being the case, Raf elected to, more or less, stop soliciting venues to host their performances.

  That was until Margie dismissed his assertion that the ambiance of a proper venue like, say, The Commodore Ballroom, would provide the legitimacy to their live performance that she felt they were lacking.

  “Hah! No, that’s not what I mean. Raf, our band doesn’t even have a name. It’s fine, we’re not like–an actual band. It’s a fun hobby thing, not a Commodore thing.”

 She hadn’t meant it as a challenge–but Raf took it as one. And, truth be told, he was fond of The Commodore as a venue. It was one worth throwing his weight against…just to see.

  Against his better judgement, he armed himself with Nels, whose strong business connections worked smooth as butter to put Raf in front of the people he needed to speak with. The rest was easy. Funnily, Raf had worried that he was, perhaps, overestimating his clout. By all definitions, he was a “has-been”. His name hadn’t held industry significance for over a decade. But he carried himself like a millionaire and oozed charisma with practised ease. Where industry relevance failed him, money and his implicit connection to the Ephrem brand did the lifting. Not only would he bag a favorable time slot with all the included amenities at the venue, he was able to negotiate an agreeable percentage on the profits as well. All he had to do was let them use his name and likeness in the advertising, and recklessly, he agreed to it under the condition that his name appeared alongside that of his bandmates, presented with the same level of emphasis.

  It wasn’t until after their agreement had been secured in writing that Raf’s anxiety caught up to his brashness. This was the first time he had put himself out there to such a capacity in…a long, long time. And there was a reason for that.

  There were predator eyes scouring for him from across the ocean. It was only just a year ago that he discovered he had narrowly missed encountering his father. The man had apparently arrived in Vancouver to take care of some business pertaining to his late Uncle Bill, and Raf had only avoided him by the good fortune of living on Cortes Island at the time. The terror of returning after a year away from the city and learning that his parents had not only encroached upon Hi-Note Studio, but also set foot inside the building that was to become his home felt violating in a way that made him want to claw his way into the earth’s molten core.

  According to Nels, it was only his father who arrived to manage business related to him and his deceased brother. Raf didn’t buy it. Where his father was, his mother was always very near. But if they had hoped to find him, they only wasted their time. Still, his therapist got a lot of money out of him for two months following his return home. It took even longer still for Raf to look at Nels and feel anything resembling fondness for the man who allowed his father to trample the sanctity of his turf. Truth be told, Raf forced himself to go out and solicit venues as a direct countermeasure against the overwhelming instinct to hide himself away. Away from Hi-Note, away from Nels, away from the home his Uncle left to him, away from Margie…

  He still might have if Tess hadn’t acquainted him with “Anxiety Beach”. 

  Between Tess smoothing the wrinkles in his brain and his own desire to feel anything but terror, Raf had gotten a little carried away in reclaiming some semblance of control over his environment. And apparently, that took the form of antagonizing random venue managers for fun over the course of three months and then landing a gig at The Commodore out of sheer spite. 

  Well, of all the potential ways he could have acted out, this was possibly the least damaging. 

  More than that, the consequence of his atypical outburst was a Margie thrilled to bits. Both he and Tess quietly basked in the excited vibrations emanating off her as they lounged idly inside The Commodore’s “Green Room”. 

Quite literally, she vibrated.

She sat comfortably sunken into the cushions of the sofa, but her legs both bounced, her left leg playing off-tempo quarter notes to the right leg’s tireless sixteenths. Independently from that, her upper body swayed side-to-side at a more leisurely pace while her right hand stirred a straw in the mai tai she held with her left. This much wiggling could only have been driven by nervousness in equal parts to eagerness.

  Without asking permission, Raf leaned over to put the straw in his mouth and steal a small sip of the sunset colored beverage before scrunching his nose at the uncanny sweetness that failed to mask the burn of alcohol.

  “Oof, that’s strong.”

  “Not strong enough!” Margie drew in her own much larger mouthful of candied liquid courage through the straw of her drink, “Raf, I’m so nervous. We’re like a garage band pretending to be Nirvana.”

  Raf recoiled with mock disdain, “We’re–what?” He held out a finger. “First of all, we don’t have a garage.” 

  “Raf-!”

  “Secondly,” he lifted another finger, “No one’s expecting Nirvana. That guy’s been dead for, like–”

  Margie threw a hand in his face to silence him, and giggles warbled her words. “You know what I mean!”

  Raf smirked against the palm of her hand before waving it out of his face. Leaning into her, he planted a firm kiss against her jaw before speaking with a quiet, certain tone into her ear, “We’re exactly what we need to be, right where we need to be.” He sat upright again before regarding her with an encouraging smile over an inquisitively lifted brow, “Trust me?”

  She pulled her knees up so that her feet perched on the edge of the couch and returned a sheepish smile to him from over the rim of her glass. She provided no obvious answer to his question–which was an answer in itself.

  He reached over to pick his half-empty bottle of water up off the coffee table, bringing it to his lips before uttering, “You’ve got more skill in your little finger than at least half the talent that has sat here in the past, I promise.”

  As he washed down the residual sweetness of the mai tai with a hearty gulp of water, he watched Tess nudge her shoulder and sign additional assurances to Margie.

  “The reality is that both you and Raf are riding on my success, and that’s ok. I’m happy to have you here.”

  He drained the last drop of water from the bottle before flinging it limply at Tess’s head. “You’re so humble. And kind.” He accented his delivery with a “mean girl” sharpness and a wrinkle-nosed sneer, but his smirk betrayed the jest.

  Tess only turned her palms up in a most demure and saintly shrug, while a quiet string of giggles bubbled steadily up from Margie.

  Outside, the din of the opening act fell quiet and then quickly picked back up again as one song transitioned into another.   Raf checked the time on his phone, “Another ten..fifteen minutes?”

  Margie threw her head back with a groan, “This is so painful. Head empty, on stage–that part’s easy! But this is the worst.”

  Standing up with a sharp, determined breath, Raf sauntered over to where Margie’s belongings had been tucked away into a small bundle in the far corner of the room. He fished her white, lensless hipster framed glasses out from within it and brought them to her. Without so much as a flinch, she let him slide the empty frames gently onto her face.

  He opened his palms as he withdrew, as if presenting a magic trick. “There. Now we can say we left Margie at home. What we have with us here today is Margie, trademarked. This is the Margie that everyone out there will meet, and none of those people will ever even know the Margie we left at home. The actions of Margie, trademarked, do not reflect the actions of Margie at home, including–but not limited to–any catastrophic failures performed on stage. I mean, it’s obvious they’re two completely different entities. After all, Margie at home doesn’t wear glasses. Everyone knows that.”

  He watched Margie place her drink down onto the coffee table before sinking back into the couch and curling her fingers around the glasses’ outer frames in a relishing gesture.

  “That actually helps.” Her self deprecating laugh carried itself on a sigh. “Thanks, Raf.” 

  He opened his mouth to reply, but a knock at the door cut him off. He responded with a curt, “Yep?” before moving to answer the door properly.

  On the other side, a well dressed man met him with an amicable nod and held out a white sealed envelope. He wasn’t a member of Hi-Note’s sound crew, nor did his attire match that of the venue’s backstage staff. He certainly wasn’t a member of security. But if he was able to access this corner of the venue, it was because he was someone with the clearance to do so.

  If Raf’s bewilderment was legible on his face, the gentleman didn’t acknowledge it.

  “An esteemed guest has asked me to deliver this to you, Mr. Ephrem.”

  Raf couldn’t prevent his jaw from clenching under a pang of annoyance, but he put on his best showman’s smile. “Oh, cool, cool. Didn’t know this place offered fanmail service.” His amicable expression did a lot of heavy lifting to dull the sharp sarcasm in his tone. He had already begun tearing open the letter as he dismissed the man with a dull, “Thanks.”

  During their initial negotiations, the venue had requested to grant backstage “VIP” passes, and Raf had vehemently disallowed it. He loved his audience, but his relationship with them needed to begin when he took the stage and end the moment he stepped off it. This felt like a violation.

  The sound of the door closing obscured his bitter mumbling, “If our “esteemed guest” isn’t fuckin’ Beyoncé…”

  He pulled a folded letter out of the envelope, unfolded it, and instinctively bounced his gaze away from the note’s contents the very moment his eyes met the fine cursive lettering.

  No, what? That’s not what it is. Come on.

  Be real.

  Conscious thought requested his body to read the note, but against those desires, the hand holding the letter crushed it within a tightly clenched fist and dropped it into the bin as he passed by it.

  His mouth was dry–he was thirsty. That wasn’t good for his throat. The performance would suffer. He needed water. There was water in the mini fridge. He grabbed one of the small bottles, but as he attempted to open it, he found no strength in his fingers, and the sweat of his palms only complicated the task further. His throat was dry. He couldn’t swallow.

  His throat was dry.   The performance would suffer.

  “--You alright?”

  He turned to see Margie, her hand had been on his back but she withdrew it the moment he moved to face her. She had said something prior, but her voice struggled to be heard over the deep, warm whooshing noise that muffled his ears.

  “Yeah,” He replied, pointing to the unopened bottle of water, “I just–uh…the alcohol was strong.” 

  Margie’s brow wrinkled. “The…mai tai?”

  “It’s nothing bad, I just need, uh.” His mouth wasn’t dry anymore, and a sudden caustic ache in his jaw spurred him to abandon his efforts with the water bottle. “Gimme a sec, kay?”

  There was a skip in his vision, a blink and he found himself doubled over a sink, ejecting the contents of his stomach.

  A sink’s not the place to be doing this. 

  He was in a bathroom. The door was closed. There was a toilet. Why’d he pick the sink?

  Which bathroom was this? He felt hot. Sweaty, even. Did he pass out? No, I’m standing over a sink. I should turn the water on. He did.

 What am I doing? 

Performance.

Right.

  His throat burned.

  He needed to drink some water.

  His throat was dry.

 The performance would suffer.

[osamucide]

DAZAI HCS! ⊹

LAST UPDATE: DEC 19

cw: talk of mental illness and substance use/abuse, speculation about Dazai’s f’ed up past+trauma, Dazai-typical references to suicide, references to self harm, probably a lot of projection on the author’s part

reid: i feel like yapping about Dazai tonight so here’s a non-exhaustive list of general headcanons i have about him. no word count because i’ll probably update this periodically lol

he does not listen to music from this century. he just doesn’t. not that he goes out of his way not to, he’s just drawn to a certain sound that only older music seems to have—I think The Smiths, Blondie, Tears For Fears, The Smashing Pumpkins, King Crimson, and Led Zeppelin are among his favorite artists

I think he also really enjoys classic jazz/blues/bebop music—Charles Mingus, Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, etc.

he’s anemic. I’m of the firm belief that Kunikida buys him a 100 ct bottle of iron tablets every 100 days which Dazai always graciously accepts. however, he only actually takes them when he gives enough of a shit to (which is not often) so the bottles are just accumulating on his bathroom sink/in the cupboard beneath

nail biter, cuticle picker, hair twirler, thigh bouncer, etc. I don’t think he really sits still unless it’s absolutely necessary

children love him, much to his dismay. they think he’s entertaining. he thinks they’re like puppies (and he canonically hates dogs). he won’t treat them badly, but he’s just not super interested in interacting with them. unwilling older brother vibe when faced with them. shithead kids can stoke his rage much faster than Chuuya ever could

he cannot take care of a fucking plant. has one succulent in his apartment. it’s surviving out of pure unadulterated spite. he hasn’t watered it in over a year

wearer of funky socks. his favorites are either the ones that say "I love my job ha ha just kidding" or the custom ones Yosano got him as a gag gift one year for white elephant at the office christmas party (they have Kunikida’s rage face on them)

really sad that, despite his criminal record being scrubbed clean, he is still banned from driving in the nation of Japan for the rest of his life because he wants a Ford Explorer so bad

PROFOUNDLY SOUND KNOWLEDGE OF MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY

he’s fluent in Japanese and English, proficient in French and Italian, and learning Russian

I think he also enjoys learning math/researching random shit/reading anything he can in his free time when he feels up to it. he never received a formal education and his IQ is through the roof—his yearning for academia is almost like an itch he has to scratch every once in a while. also, he just likes knowing things

he never learned how to ride a bike. wahhhh wahh

BPD king. look at him. my beautiful princess with a disorder. I doubt he’s diagnosed but he strongly suspects it seeing as he’s so self-aware; if not borderline, he just assumes he has severe PTSD. either way, he really won’t do anything other than what he already knows about how to manage it

along the same lines—he’s been a functional alcoholic since an alarmingly young age (I’m talking 16-17). I think it probably got a lot worse post-defection when he was underground, but he hardly had to function then anyway; he gets somewhat better after joining the Agency but still has a dependence, it’s just not severe enough to debilitate him

has a bin of art supplies in his apartment. he only ever pulls them out once every few months, but he rather enjoys painting and wouldn’t mind getting better at it

master at darts. don’t take him to a bar where there’s a dartboard. he will stand in front of it all night and obliterate everyone who challenges him

insatiable sweet tooth. he especially loves anything maple, butter pecan, or butterscotch he’s a grandpa

UPDATE.1

I love to headcanon that he has a glass eye!!! and that the bandages around his head in the dark era were some legitimate injury. he likes to pop it out as a party trick/to weird Kunikida out

he feeds the stray cats and kittens that linger around the ADA dorms. he probably spends some of his grocery money on the fancy wet canned food and leaves it out with a big plastic bowl of water. sometimes sits and watches them eat and likes to give them little scratches if they trust him enough to come rub up on his legs. they’re sort of to him as the orphans were to Odasaku, and it makes him feel closer to his deceased friend

on the note of grocery shopping—he only goes when Atsushi or Kunikida drag him along. keeps his list relatively the same from trip to trip: canned crab, cigarettes, bandages, a few cases of beer, sake, instant ramen, ice cream (particularly butter pecan), paper towels, and 3-in-1 shampoo when he needs it. Kunikida forces vegetables upon him (“put it in the ramen so you don’t die of heart disease”) but they almost always end up rotting to mush in his fridge. he steals his toilet paper from the ADA bathrooms/supply closets or bothers Atsushi and Kyoka for spare rolls when he’s out

religiously orders drinks from the cafe on his way in and out of work. on mornings he usually gets a latte with plenty of sugar and some sort of flavor; in the evenings he probably gets an iced flavored tea to mix or chase his sake with when he gets home

always has a pocket knife on him. probably one he got in his mafia days, or, it’s at least a habit/security he picked up from then

takes a lot of night walks. he doesn’t sleep well, so I think he probably wanders out tipsy with his pack of cigarettes in the wee hours of the morning and scuttles around to tire himself out

UPDATE.2

two words: medical trauma. I know some people get iffy when it comes to speculation about what Mori did/didn’t/may/may not have subjected him too as a young teenager (and believe me I have a lot of thoughts) but I definitely headcanon that Dazai was used as a little bit of a lab rat/sedated and coerced to some degree when it came to turning him into a killing machine. as a result, he’s got a fear of medical settings. after his surgery during the cannibalism arc? I know he got that phone back and was like “Tanizaki get me out of here right neow”

I think sweet little old ladies probably love him and he loves them too. always feels like he strikes up the best small talk with them. will help load groceries into their cars for them. he gets all smiley and stuff when they call him “sweetheart” “honey” “dear” or remark how handsome he is and about his hypothetical girlfriend must be so lucky

he can throw knives with pinpoint accuracy from a pretty impressive distance. he’s a little less accurate with his handgun at long range/with moving targets but HE’S GETTING BETTER

has like a 3.5 ft vertical jump at his best. like why are you a detective when the Lakers need a center

UPDATE.3

lowkey a god at shoulder massages? he’ll meander behind Kunikida at the office and rub his shoulders like a boxing coach trying to warm up his athlete mostly to try to piss him off but Kunikida totally just melts into it after smacking his hands away a couple times. does the same thing to Atsushi but Atsushi just starts fucking purring and almost passes out

I was talking about this with Kal a second ago—but I think he and Ranpo love acting so gay at the office also to piss Kunikida off. they also ask him if they can be allowed to go outside and play

cigarette of choice is a Marlboro Black. I think someone has said/alluded to this before but I can’t remember who. if you’re reading this you’re right

on top of his overflowing piles of iron supplements, I think he also has an unreasonable amount of reusable water bottles. reason being Kunikida again because I just know Dazai doesn’t drink enough water and Kunikida’s always buying him a fancy new cup to try to keep him enthusiastic about being hydrated. it doesn’t work but his favorite one to date is his orange hydroflask (sometimes he brings a vodka soda to work in it. Kunikida is thrilled until he realizes his partner is tipsy) (Kunikida wishes he could fire him)

on that note—other than sake, I think his liquor of choice is vodka. I do not think dark liquor agrees with him but ultimately he will drink whatever gets him drunk. and so ensue the Sunday scaries (and the every other day scaries)

[dollfaceksj]

taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) MASTERLIST

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: Jeon Jungkook is your junior and a great student, obsessed with anime and video games. To you, he’s a Grade A geek. However, you soon find out the reason why he’s so quiet around you is because your mutual friends have told him to stay away from you for your sake, not his. Why? You wish you weren’t so curious because now you’re determined to find out.

➥ GENRE: slowburn ⋆ angst ⋆ fuckboy!jk ⋆ e2l

➥ CATEGORY: crack drabble series (bullet-point format)

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, (eventual smut), plot twist, improv, interactive, angst, love triangle cause theres a bit of yoongi x reader, reader is curious and nosy, arguing, jealousy, jk is TOXIC and so is READER, switch!jk & switch!reader, spit kink, spanking, hairpulling, slapping, protected sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), sad childhoods, trauma, lots of trauma, sensitive topics, minors DNI

➥ STATUS: completed

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— i n d e x ↓

♢ #1 jungkook gets down like that

♢ #2 jungkook likes role-play

♢ #3 jungkook doesn’t like you

♢ #4 jungkook wants to apologize

♢ #5 jungkook doesn’t like being called a fuckboy

♢ #6 jungkook wants his expensive sneakers back

♢ #7 jungkook can only offer good dick and math notes

♢ #8 jungkook wants to talk

♢ #9 jungkook buys you a bar of kinder

♢ #10 jungkook wants you to take his bait

♢ #11 jungkook wants what’s best for you

♢ #12 jungkook doesn’t know what to do when he’s nervous

♢ #13 jungkook has some mud on his clothes

♢ #14 jungkook accepts your challenge

♢ #15 jungkook thinks you have a filthy mouth

♢ #16 jungkook can’t stop himself

♢ #17 jungkook has experience in being quiet

♢ #18 jungkook craves love and affection differently

♢ #19 jungkook wants your phone

♢ #20 jungkook doesn’t think he bares all the blame

♢ #21 jungkook thinks you have fallen for him

♢ #22 jungkook is up to date with your instagram stories

♢ #23 jungkook knows more about you than you think

♢ #24 jungkook doesn’t want to hear another word from you

♢ #25 jungkook hates everything about you

♢ #26 jungkook thinks you should end it

♢ #27 jungkook might as well admit defeat

♢ #28 jungkook wants just a little bit

♢ #29 jungkook is never drinking again

♢ #30 jungkook wants to be good to you

♢ #31 jungkook wants you to be sure

♢ #32 jungkook doesn’t want to leave

♢ #33 jungkook and mia

♢ #34 jungkook and the significance of the fallen angel

♢ #35 jungkook and his only friend

♢ #36 jungkook and his enemy

♢ the end.

— s i d e d r a b b l e s ↓

♢ #1 the one in the elevator

♢ pending…

— e x t r a s ↓

♢ playlist

♢ f.a.q.

♢ cross-posted on ao3

♢ pending…

➸ request here

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[xtra7s]

Could you write a Leighton Murray x fem!reader, preferably in season two where Leighton is out of the closet and she meets R who she falls for but R is in the closet? would love to see how Leighton deals with previously being SO closeted and now dating a closeted girl. thanks! xoxo

𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 ──── 𝘓𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘔𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Leighton meets a girl in her math class, and gets into more than she was expecting.

Content: Leighton Murray x Fem!Reader, really uncomfortable man interaction, fluff, closeted!reader, some angst, jealous!leighton.

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: REMASTERED BABY, decided to fix it up because I realized (with the help of @lovequinnins comment which i cant find anymore), that I should try a different approach with it. Really like how it turned out, let me know(:

masterlist | next part

Leighton Murray found herself in the new top-level math class at Essex College. Little did she know, this class would not only challenge her love of equations but also introduce her to someone who would change her for the better.

Y/N, a reserved and quiet girl, sat quietly in the back row, focusing on the formulas written on the whiteboard. As the days passed, Leighton noticed the mysterious girl with an air of intrigue. Leighton, never one to shy away from new connections, decided to make her move.

One day after class, Leighton approached Y/N with a warm smile. "Hey there, Y/N, isn't it? Mind if I borrow your notes? I think I was a bit distracted today."

Y/N looked up, surprised by the friendly approach. "Oh, sure. Here you go," she replied, handing over her notebook.

As Leighton flipped through the pages, she couldn't help but notice the meticulous organization of Y/N's notes. "Wow, you're really thorough. I wish I had your dedication."

Y/N blushed slightly at the compliment. "Thanks, I just like to stay organized."

Leighton chuckled, "I'm Leighton, by the way. Leighton Murray."

"Pretty name, Leighton," she replied, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Leighton continued to engage in friendly conversations with Y/N after classes, discovering common interests and shared passions. As the weeks passed, their connection deepened, and Leighton found herself captivated by Y/N's intelligence, kindness, and, unknowingly to her, the subtle signs of a shared attraction.

One evening, after a particularly challenging math assignment, Leighton invited Y/N to grab a coffee with her. They found a cozy spot in a nearby cafe, Sips. The atmosphere was filled with the warmth of brewing espresso and soft conversation.

As they sipped their drinks, Leighton leaned in, breaking the barrier of friendship. "You know, Y/N, I feel like we've become really good friends. But there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Y/N looked at her curiously, her heart pounding.

Leighton smiled warmly, "Are you seeing anyone? Because I can't help but feel this connection between us, and I don't want to assume anything, but..."

Y/N looked around quickly, her eyes narrowing at Leighton. "What?" she spoke quickly, noticing a few eyes on her. She chuckles awkwardly, leaning back from Leighton.

Y/N's eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment. The fear of exposing her true self and the potential consequences rushed through her mind. In a moment of panic, she stammered, "I am not gay, Leighton. I'm gonna go" She spoke with a forced laugh, standing up quickly and packing up her stuff, heading out of the cafe without glancing behind her.

Leighton looked around embarrassed, wanting to chase after Y/N but not wanting to seem desperate. 

Leighton sat there with a frown on her face, Kimberly walked over and sat down after seeing the interaction. "Are you okay?" She asked softly, her eyebrows furrowed at seeing Leighton upset.

___

The thumping bass of the music echoed through the crowded frat party, creating an energetic atmosphere. Leighton, enjoying the night with friends, spotted Y/N across the room. Excitement flickered in her eyes as she made her way through the sea of people, eager to talk about what happened with Y/N.

However, as Leighton approached, she couldn't help but notice Y/N actively avoiding her. Confusion clouded Leighton's expression as she tried to understand why Y/N seemed to be purposefully keeping her distance. Determined to address the situation, Leighton maneuvered through the crowd, attempting to catch up with Y/N.

"Hey, Y/N! Wait up!" Leighton called out, her voice barely audible over the music.

Y/N turned, a brief flash of panic in her eyes, before she quickly changed direction, disappearing into the throng of dancing bodies. Perplexed, Leighton picked up her pace, determined to get to the bottom of the sudden avoidance.

Several attempts later, Leighton managed to corner Y/N in a quieter corner of the frat house. "Y/N, what's going on? Did I do something?"

Y/N, visibly flustered, avoided eye contact. "No, Leighton, it's not you. I just... I need some space, okay? I'll catch up with you later."

Leighton left her alone after that, finding herself soon surrounded by her roommates, – Whitney, Kimberly, and Bela. As they navigated the lively atmosphere, Leighton noticed Y/N at the makeshift bar, downing a few shots.

Curiosity flickered in Leighton's eyes as she observed Y/N from a distance. However, her intrigue turned to hurt when a guy approached Y/N, his intentions written all over his face. Leighton exchanged glances with her friends, and they collectively decided to keep an eye on the situation.

Leighton's brow furrowed as she watched the guy engage Y/N in conversation, leaning in with a flirty smile. The atmosphere around them became tense as the guy tried to make his move. Leighton couldn't help but feel a knot forming in her stomach.

The guy's attempts escalated, and, to Leighton's dismay, Y/N seemed to be going along with it, albeit reluctantly. The situation took an unexpected turn when the guy leaned in and kissed Y/N. Leighton's heart sank as she saw Y/N reciprocate, a look of happiness evident on her face.

Y/N abruptly pulled back, a brief expression of disgust crossing her features before she masked it with a forced smile. Leighton exchanged glances with her friends, the concern etched on their faces mirroring her own.

Y/N, feeling weird about the situation and needing an escape from the persistent guy at the party, decided to create an excuse. She gently extricated herself from his hold and said, "Hey, I actually need to head home. It's getting late."

The guy, with a cocky grin, tightened his grip on her, clearly not taking no for an answer. "Come on, don't be like that. The night's still young."

Y/N, feeling increasingly annoyed, insisted, "No, really. I have to go." She attempted to pull away, but the guy complained, trying to persuade her to stay.

"We'll catch up later, okay?"

The guy, displeased with the situation, reluctantly released Y/N. However, before she could fully distance herself from him, he pulled her back in for another kiss. Y/N, feeling pressured, went along with it briefly. As they kissed, the guy's actions became more intrusive, as he groped Y/N's ass.

Y/N pulled back with a short smile, holding her arms around his neck. "I really gotta go now, I'll see you later." She smiles at him, silently celebrating when he lets her go. 

She heads out of the party quickly, walking home a little too sober for her liking. Leighton wants to follow her but decides to give her space for a bit.

Later that evening, Leighton found herself standing outside Y/N's dorm room, contemplating whether to knock or not. After taking a deep breath, she gently tapped on the door. Y/N opened it, surprised to see Leighton standing there.

"Hey," Leighton began, a hint of concern in her eyes. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something might be wrong. Can we talk?"

Y/N hesitated but eventually nodded, inviting Leighton into her room. The air in the room was tense, and Y/N couldn't bring herself to make eye contact.

Leighton sat down, choosing her words carefully. "I noticed something changed after I asked you out earlier. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that, I guess I just read the vibes wrong. I genuinely care about you, Y/N, I'm sorry."

Y/N took a deep breath, mustering the courage to speak her truth. "It isn't that, Leighton. My family is pretty uptight. I've been struggling with the fear of coming out to them, and it's making me hesitant about being open about me, even liking you. Especially around my cousin who came here with me" Y/N expresses quickly, getting worked up over the conversation.

Leighton hums quietly, "I understand, Y/N. Coming out can be really challenging, especially when you're uncertain about how your family will react. And with your cousin around, it adds an extra layer of shit I don't even know how to get into. I never wanted it to change my life, but Y/N it has never felt better. I'm still me, I never changed, I just get to freely love who I wanna love and not worry about it. It's gotta be hard with family around, but I wanna support you however I can. Some people suck, but those people don't matter, they come and go, your friends, me, I stay."

Y/N places her hands on her thighs, squeezing them for comfort.

"It's just that my cousin is pretty.. intense, and the thought of her finding out about us, me, it terrifies me. I'm scared of any public affection or behavior that might give it away. I feel like I'm hiding all the time and it's suffocating."

Leighton places one of her hands on top of one of Y/N's, smiling sadly at her.

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with this shit, Y/N. It must be really fucking tough for you. Just know that I'm here for you, we can figure this out together, if that's what you want?"

Y/N looked up, meeting Leighton's gaze, and for the first time, she felt a tinge of hope and acceptance. In that shared moment, the unspoken understanding between them deepened, setting the foundation for a connection that went beyond the surface and resonated with the complexities of being true to oneself.

In a sudden surge of courage, Y/N leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss on Leighton's lips.

Leighton blinked in surprise as Y/N quickly backed up, her eyes widening, panic flashing in Y/N's eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that without asking. I am so sorry"

Leighton caught off guard but pleasantly surprised, couldn't help but smile. "Hey, it's okay. No need to apologize. I'm more than okay with it."

Y/N's eyes flickered up to Leightons, seeking reassurance. "Really?"

Leighton nodded, her smile growing wider. "Absolutely. If it feels right for you, then that's all that matters. I want this, Y/N."

Encouraged by Leighton's positive response, Y/N smiles shyly at her. "So, is it okay if we... you know, try that again?"

Leighton chuckled, "Definitely," and Y/N leaned in once more. This time, the kiss lingered, a sweet and tender connection forming between them. 

Leighton's smile grew during the kiss, leaning back to give her a quick kiss again. Y/N looked at Leighton with a newfound confidence in her eyes. "Thank you for being so understanding and supportive. I appreciate it more than you know."

Leighton reached out, squeezing Y/N's hand. "We're in this together, Y/N. No need to rush anything. Whenever you're ready, I'll be right here."

[billybrain]

Pride of Lions | Chapter One

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader

Series Warnings: eventual smut, semi toxic relationship (happy ending), billy and reader are similar (challenges with emotional availability and communication), violence (not between billy and reader), typical neil hargrove interactions, sort of canon compliant but better

Summary: There's the group of girls dying to experience the new boy in town, and there's you. Billy wants what he can't have, but he bets he can get it.

You wanted to punch the boy next to you. Math came easily to you but it was your least favorite class for the past two days. You rake your eyes over towards your desk partner, who was turned away from you and wasting your paired work time in favor of flirting with the girl across from him. Billy Hargrove’s arrival in Hawkins had set the high school ablaze in the midst of October’s chill. He’d only been in town for a few days, but rumors about how he performed in bed were already circulating. 

You dropped your eyes down to the worksheet on your desk, realizing you’d have to complete it alone. It didn’t take long, math was a satisfying puzzle, but being forced to do all the work annoyed you regardless. The deep chuckle and obnoxious gum chewing beside you almost sent you spiralling, but then Billy swivelled in his chair to face you. 

“That was quick.” Possibly a hint of surprise in his tone, but you didn’t know him well enough to be sure. “You must be smart.”

“Well, class is over in two minutes and I don’t want homework.” You sighed, putting the worksheet in your folder. You didn’t trust him not to lose it. 

You glanced up at him only to immediately look away when you found his blue eyes staring back at you. Studying you. Probably trying to figure out how easy you were. 

You busied yourself with zipping up your backpack. When you stood up to sling it on, he spoke again. 

“You going to the Halloween party tonight?” A casual question, but not uninterested.

“Yeah.” You shrug. No point in lying since he’d obviously be going as well. 

“With who?” Billy leaned back in his chair, seemingly unconcerned with the ending class period. He stretched his arm over the back of your empty seat. You didn’t look at the outline of his muscles underneath his white shirt or how his thighs seemed to strain against the confines of his jeans. Manspreading, of course. You fought not to roll your eyes.

“Steve Harrington.” The bell rang, and you left before he could say anything else. 

—

Billy lit the end of his cigarette and flicked his lighter closed, shoving it back in the pocket of his jean jacket and leaning back against his Camaro. 

“I’m telling you, man, Ashley’s sure to be wearing the skimpiest little outfit to–”

“What about her?” Billy interrupted when he spotted you power walking through the school parking lot. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards when he saw you unlock a purple Firebird. 

Tommy Hagan followed Billy’s gaze and snorted. 

“You’d be surprised. You won’t get anything from her, though.” Tommy admitted, clearly sitting on knowledge about you. 

“Why’s that?” Billy watched you toss your backpack into the car and slide in, imagining he could see beneath your loose hoodie and jeans before you’re out of sight. 

“She’s got no interest in guys.” Tommy laughs. “People would think she’s a dyke if it wasn’t for the guy she had in Minnesota.”

“Minnesota?” Billy wrinkled his face at the thought of such a frigid state, and the impending winter he would have to endure in Hawkins. 

“That’s where she’s from.” Tommy cracks a grin and elbows Billy. “Who knows, maybe she has a thing for guys from another state.”

Billy smirks. “I bet she does.”

— 

I am not third-wheeling again. You chant to yourself in the backseat of Steve Harrington’s car. His girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, was in the passenger seat. It was your spot once. Before you got a car of your own, Steve would drive you to school like the good neighbor and tentative friend that he was. 

Steve was different now. Nicer, thanks to Nancy. Maybe even in the running for best friend, but second to Lara, who was meeting you at the party tonight. 

“Let’s just have fun tonight, yeah?” Steve said softly to Nancy, reaching across the console to hold her hand. She nodded, but her smile looked tight. 

I am not third-wheeling again.

Luckily, Steve pulled up to the party shortly after and you jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped. 

“You’re driving?” You called back to Steve, wanting confirmation. It was the only reason you rode in his car in the first place. 

Steve nodded and grinned, putting his black sunglasses on to complete his Risky Business costume. You gave him a thumbs up and a smile while you backed away towards the front door of the house, wanting to be far away from the tense couple. 

Inside, guys were already turning their heads to ogle your skin-tight leopard costume. It wasn’t your most clever work by a long shot, but something about having a tail gave you unexpected confidence. You were also meant to be matching Lara, who was coming as a bunny. You walked through the house, ignoring the stares and searching for your friend. 

It was early in the night but the house was packed full, with rock music blaring through the radio and the smell of beer permeating from everyone you passed. Shouting and cheering rang out from the backyard, but you were focused on finding Lara before you got self-conscious about being here alone. 

“Kitty!” You snapped your head to the left at the sound of her voice and grinned. You both weaved through the crowd until you met near the punch, which was surely spiked. 

As expected, Lara was dolled up in a suggestive white bunny costume, ears and all. 

“You look like a Playboy bunny.” You compliment, grabbing a red solo cup from the counter. 

“Good!” Lara tossed her short brown hair in a display of exaggerated arrogance. She was a senior like Steve, but being from out of state like yourself had made you become fast friends two years ago. 

“Where’s your little boyfriend?” You asked, scanning the room for Eddie, the super-senior she swore she didn’t have feelings for during an agonizing three month denial phase. 

“Dealing. He’ll find me soon.” Lara looked around the room as well, no doubt wishing he would hurry and come back. “And he’s not so little…”

You watched as she bit her lip and tried not to show how uncomfortable you suddenly felt. You turned your attention to filling your solo cup. 

“Want some?” You asked, wanting to change to subject to anything other than her boyfriend’s cock. 

“Did you drive?” She countered.

“No?” You furrowed your eyebrows before playfully scoffing and shaking your head. “One cup is not going to get me drunk!”

“I’m just saying, you’re a lightweight!” Lara giggled. You gave her a ridiculous look of disbelief and took a sip of your drink. 

“Hey Kitty.” A deep voice murmurs against your ear. You nearly jump out of your skin.

You take a step towards Lara to get his face away from yours before you turn around. It’s Billy, of course.

Lara steps up beside you, clearly not amused by Billy’s behavior. 

“Kitty?” You immediately want to challenge him, though you know it’d be better to ignore him. 

“That’s what your friend called you.” Billy’s eyes slid disdainfully over to Lara, looking her up and down as if she was an annoyance. When he looked back at you, he smirked flirtatiously, eyes brighter. “Thought I’d try it out.” 

You glanced down at his jeans, black leather jacket, and lack of a shirt. 

“This is the best costume you could come up with?” You cross your arms. Billy’s gaze drifted down to your chest and took far too long to travel back up. 

“I’m the Terminator, sweetheart.” He licks his lips. 

“So even if I make you go away, you’ll just come back?” You tease meanly, dropping your arms and leaning against the counter.

His eyes flash with excitement at your retort. He steps closer to you and mimics your stance, leaning his weight on the counter.

“Come dance with me.” He practically purrs. 

“I’m here with my friend.” You say pointedly, reminding him of Lara’s presence, which he’s been so happy to ignore. 

“I thought you were here with Steve?” Billy doesn’t even spare a glance at Lara, eyes too busy trailing over every inch of your face. 

“He drove me here.” You put simply, knowing what he’s fishing for. 

“You’re not with him, though. He’s dating that Wheeler chick.” Billy grins as if you’ve been caught. 

“Never said I was.” You hold back a smirk, trying not to let yourself enjoy the back-and-forth. There’s no way you’d ever be able to trust a guy like him. 

“He’s my neighbor.” You find yourself adding. 

“You really won’t dance with me?” Billy's voice is deeper, softer. He slides closer so you’re practically breathing the same air. You notice how long his eyelashes are as you watch his eyes slowly trail down to your lips. 

“I’m not much of a dancer.” You deny him again. His lack of disappointment makes him seem even more disingenuous to you. “You don’t strike me as one, either.”

Billy shrugs one shoulder noncommittally and plucks your drink from your hand. You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already downed it in one smooth motion. You scoff, not surprised by his behavior but frustrated to be on the receiving end of it. He leans impossibly closer to you, and for a moment you’re afraid he’s going to steal a kiss. 

Instead, he just smirks. “See you in math class, Kitty Cat.”

You don’t pull your eyes away from him until he’s lost in the crowd. Only then do you remember that Lara is standing right next to you. 

She’s staring at you incredulously with a disgusted look on her face. 

“You have a class with him?” She questions.

“Yeah, we’re math partners.” You grimace, realizing you’d never brought him up despite being annoyed by him every day since his arrival. 

“Don’t let him toy with you.” Lara shakes her head, eyes narrowed, and moves to fill up a cup for herself, clearly aggravated by the encounter with Billy. 

“I won’t.” You assure her, but your eyes scan the crowd for a glimpse of him. To make sure that he won’t bother you two again, of course.