#questions i am prepared to ask and answer for SCIENCE

[knowlesian]

this year fucking sucks so i have taken to leaving giant googly eyes on the inside of doors in the house for my partner to find

but alas we only have so many doors and so the next step: a million tiny googly eyes in the least sensible spots possible

[lucyandthepen]

get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !! 

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway. 

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. 

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable. 

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire. 

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more. 

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you. 

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.” 

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.” 

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?” 

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.” 

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.” 

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.” 

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily. 

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at. 

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it. 

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together. 

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try. 

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features. 

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question. 

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors. 

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips. 

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.” 

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles. 

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.” 

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.” 

“what kind of rewards did she give you?” 

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused. 

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.” 

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is. 

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile. 

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly. 

“you were serious about that?” he laughs. 

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next. 

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.” 

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so. 

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking. 

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.” 

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that. 

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused. 

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours. 

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact. 

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you. 

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one. 

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features. 

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?” 

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins. 

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.” 

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading. 

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.” 

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.” 

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand. 

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words. 

“tell me what you really want, then.” 

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert. 

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later. 

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it. 

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders. 

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced. 

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.” 

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more. 

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth. 

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him. 

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it. 

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force. 

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt. 

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue. 

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you? 

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you. 

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis. 

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?” 

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

“proud enough to give me a reward?” 

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be. 

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?” 

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —” 

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.” 

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do. 

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.” 

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you. 

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.” 

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips. 

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come. 

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered. 

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?” 

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance. 

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit. 

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm. 

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.” 

“but—” 

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.” 

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you. 

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.” 

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—” 

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.” 

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.” 

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head. 

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly. 

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice. 

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.” 

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.” 

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can. 

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.” 

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume. 

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—” 

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you. 

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?” 

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.” 

“m’close, so close —” 

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.” 

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out. 

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off. 

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down. 

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck. 

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

[huellitaa]

girl's guide to academic success: ep 1! ⊹˚. ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 this post focuses on: actively rooting for success! ♡ part 2 -> ♡

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. organisation

first off, have something to organise ur academic life with! i personally use notion (which i'll add later) but u can use anything as long as it's cute, convenient, unique and accessible to you, your life and your schedule specifically. especially as a visual learner, i like to have somewhere i can dump literally everything regarding a singular area in my life, so i do this for almost everything along with school and i highly recommend this <3

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. recognition of talents & improvements

analyse your strengths and weaknesses. think back on tests, exams, marks, and analyse which ones you got highest and lowest on. dont beat urself up for it, obviously; it's just to check which subjects you're doing good in and which ones have room for improvement. for example i love science but im not the best at it sometimes and we had an assessment recently and i didn't get as high as i'd like so i wrote down a little list on a piece of paper in my pencilcase for the topics i got the least in for me to study on my own to practise later.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. laying out goals

set down specific goals; i like to do this week by week accustomed to my schedule that week in my school notion page along with images and vision boards based on the term/semester, but you can do it for the week, the month, the year, anything as long as its helpful to you

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. productive planning

plan accordingly based on ur time energy. when creating any to do list or productivity plan dont pile a ridiculous amount onto it that just leaves you stressed and overwhelmed because that defeats the entire point; this works the same for academic plans and goals and lists etc.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. extra credit

put extra work in to the subjects you know will help you in the future. for example, for my personal aspirations i need to excel in english, history and textiles so i always try my absolute hardest and put my all into those lessons and do extra studying for them in my free time where i can. school is to prepare you for the future so take advantage of that

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. asking questions

please don't be shy to ask questions! that's what teachers are there for and you won't have them forever so take advantage of it while you can! you can even do it in that little window of time just after class if ur too nervous to ask in class. for example, on my last english exam i went to my teacher after class and asked about what i needed to improve on to get the marks i missed next time, and he told me i added too much detail and some other things so i wrote it down and am keeping a note of it to remind me to improve on that next time! (i got top of my class though so i didnt mind. still kind of pissed i added too much detail though)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. participation

participate! ok im saying this as someone who still struggles with social anxiety a fair amount but if u wanna get higher marks and get on good terms w ur teacher i 100% recommend this. i don't do this in every class but i do it where i can and when i'm confident in my answer, and it's really intimidating at first but what i did is i did it first in the classes i felt most comfortable on and continued from there. it gets easier every time i swear, and nobody's judging you; they'll forget about it after five minutes. plus, what would they be judging you for? being smarter than them?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. prioritising ur health

this is mentioned a lot in these types of posts but if you're tired or burnt out or overworked or just feel like you need to take a break then do. do the best you can and compromise like i said earlier if you need to, just make sure u are prioritising yourself over anything. <3

──★ ˙ ̟🎀inspo

──★ ˙ ̟🎀my notion

i also really recommend this layout by @honeytonedhottie ♡

all my love 🩷✨💬🎀💗

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom. Mature content.

Idiosyncrasies of a Remarkable Mind

“I am a man of science, Watson!” he exclaims when I suggest that he is more than a machine and his body not just transport.

“My dear boy, you are so much in addition to that. You have quite a philosophical mind too, in my humble opinion,” I protest.

“John,” he murmurs; always needing me to be the first to shed the formal way we address each other when we are outside of 221B.

We sit by the fireplace, glasses of excellent port at our disposal. He waves his delicate hand, indicating that I shall elaborate.

“Quite often, you are questioning almost everything. For starters, divinity, the universe, occultism, the Greek myths. And you can be overly perceptive when it comes to our more unfortunate clients.”

He scoffs and tells me to leave the work out of the equation.

“Very well. Now, do not get all snuffy by what I have to say next. Sometimes, I think of your curiosity as decidedly boyish. It is refreshing and shows how complicated your nature is. I find myself extremely fascinated by it.”

His cheeks have gone crimson now. I cannot tell if it is from annoyance, embarrassment, or delight.

“You say the most derisible things, Doctor Watson,” he replies, a bit haughtily, but I know him well enough to realise when his protective mechanisms are in place.

“I speak the truth. Honest to God,” I say.

“Oh, do leave the deity out of this!”

I chuckle, which blandishes a smile from him.

***

Later, in our bed, he is pliant; his caustic behaviour is left behind in the parlour. Only the light from the near-full moon irradiates him. His pale skin is verging on translucent.

“Oh, darling. Do you know how beautiful you are like this?” I murmur sweetly.

As predicted, perfect circles of pink adorn his cheekbones. He shifts restlessly under my loving scrutiny.

“John,” he pleads, reaching for me.

His need for my touch is ofttimes like a tangible spirit and I find no reason to deny him. 

I align my body with his, placing him secure in my embrace. His content sigh and long fingers carding through my hair, leave my heart near bursting.

“How can I love you more with every second that goes by?” I ask him.

“Such divine questioning. You of all people should know that love is never logical, dearest.”

His endearment, only heard inside this room, floods my system with longing. 

“I need you closer,” I whisper. “Can I, Sherlock?”

A whimper is answer enough, but he knows that I need to hear it, or I will constantly worry that I have read the signs wrong.

“Always so protective. As if I was a delicate rose petal, or a fragile china cup,” he whispers in my ear. “Kiss me first. Everywhere.”

My prick is engorged now, and I have to talk sternly to myself lest I rut against my beloved’s thigh and ejaculate all over him before a minute has passed.

“You and your ribald remarks,” I tease.

Our lips meet in an ardent fashion. We open up to let tongues dance and taste. I delve deeper; I cannot get close enough. It is frustrating, but at the same time, incredibly arousing.

I move my mouth to his neck. Normally, I would take my time, marking him, but tonight I do not possess the patience for it. Instead, I suckle at his sensitive nipples, using just a hint of teeth, which makes him writhe and keen. His sounds make me dizzy with lust for him.

“Prepare me,” he begs. “I need you too. Urgently.”

He can be so patient, but once his hunger for me overwhelms him, he does not hold back.

“See, your body is so much more than transport, I intend to say, but then his eyes open, and I am helpless. His pleading and loving look undo me.

“My only one,” is all I am capable of uttering.

A soft expression on his face and his hand on my cheek nearly breaks my heart.

“Please, my sweet.” 

His quivering voice is all the incentive I need. The can with petroleum jelly is swiftly procured, and when he is sufficiently prepared, I enter him, and every query about divinity, planets, or other bothersome topics, is blissfully absent.

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

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[verysanebsdfan]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟻: ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴋᴇ

The Perfect Equation: Village by the lake

Ishigami Senku x fem!reader

masterlist tpe masterlist

<previous ・・・・・ next>

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"My name is Kohaku. And I do believe I've fallen for you quite hard."

She says, making Senku drop the tree he was slowly trying to place down. I am also startled. "Did she really just say that? We just met. I mean, she is cute but..." I think, not daring to make a sound, at least not before one of them.

Senku looks annoyed, as always, when anyone mentions romance involving him. "Sheesh. Annoying crap like that makes me wanna curl up and die." Senku groaned, not trying to hide his annoyance and disgust. "I mean, really? You've got a crush on me now? In an emergency like this...?"

"I'm not saying that at all!" She said in her defense, and I relax, leaning closer to Senku.

"Even if she was, so many guys would take that chance; she kinda looks like Lillian Weinberg, you know... The American singer." I chuckle and then look back at her. "Sorry to say that, but it really sounded like it, no offense, now calm down... Both of you." I smile.

"I'm just saying I'll cooperate with you because I like you as people!" Senku finally calms down, saying he appreciates it, and then he says something about how love is the most irrational emotion ever. Wait till he finds out about jealousy.

We all got ready to sleep since the sun was already setting. I prepare the fireplace and light it.

"Hey, (Name)? Do you want this sleeping bag or can I take it? I only have one, sorry." He tells me apologetically, to which I shake my head. I've been sleeping without one for some time now, so I'm okay. He then proceeds to huddle into the sleeping bag and turn around.

Both Kohaku and I lay, well, more like sit, in almost identical positions. Sitting, our back supported by a tree, and our hands on our stomach or chest, getting supported by a leg. The only difference is that she has her knives in her hands.

"So you new humans sleep with blades in hand?" Senku asks, watching her from his comfy sleeping bag.

"It's pretty obvious I don't have 'love' on the brain, right? Hah! I may be curious about your ways, but that doesn't mean I trust you. This is just a habit from having had to protect myself my entire life. Don't let it get to you." She said, looking alert just like before, her teal eyes reflecting the fire quite nicely. "I still don't get why you thought I had a crush on you, I'd never take someone's man. That's like common courtesy, is it not?" She says, and I nod along until I realize what she said. And I am not the only one who realized it.

"She is not my woman!!" Senku yells, looking agitated, a light blush coating his cheeks. "Anyway, you can drop the weapons, I ain't so brave to suddenly attack a lioness like you. So don't waste another 0,1 seconds and get to sleep already.

"A lioness?!" Kohaku angrily exclaims. "That's mean! You may live like a gentleman, but your super-filthy mouth tells a different story. My blade may find that sharp tongue of yours before either of us knows it. (Name) How do you put up with him?" To which I just chuckle, "I'd also like to know that."

・・・・・

"That long-haired man, you're fighting him?" Kohaku asks us, just as she picks up her huge jar. "I would be happy to help, I'm not one to retreat in disgrace, you know."

"Yep. That's why I'm building a Kingdom of Science." Senku says, looking determined. It suits him.

"Science? You mean your sorcery?" Kohaku questions but is not met with an answer.

"But first, I need manpower!" Senku states, and I smile, I am so glad he got revived. One thing is that I missed him; the second is that we would have no chance without him.

"Then you should come with me." Kohaku offers. "I'll be returning home after fetching some hot spring water."

"Hot spring water?" I tilt my head in confusion. What could she need it for? For medical or relaxation purposes? Rituals? I don't know. I'm sure she'll tell us, though.

Kohaku approaches the spring and fills the whole Jar with steaming water. "This will make a fine hot bath once I carry it back. Perfect for rejuvenation." She clears out my confusion, mostly.

"But you're ten billion percent healthy. Why would a vigorous lioness like you need rejuvenation?" Senku asks, looking dumbfounded.

Hearing that, Kohaku bursts into anger, "I am no lioness!" she defends her pride. "And it's for my older sister!" She sighs and picks up the jar. "I swear, she's such a nuisance. That sister of mine only slows me down. She's been sick lately; if I could take her place and give her this healthy body of mine, I would." She calmly says, looking sad, understandably so.

"But then you would be the one sick Kohaku. That would be just as bad, no?" I question, to which she does not respond.

We all start walking down the hill. I take in the beautiful scenery. Green was everywhere in sight. No signs of a modern civilization. It was so peaceful, and the air was so fresh. I could get used to this. I might miss modern life as much as possible, yet nature makes it so much better. The beautiful sight made me relax a little. I was no longer alone. I had Senku with me, and now also Kohaku, whom I already adore.

"That pot only holds about 50 liters. Not exactly enough for a full-blown bath." Senku states. He's right. It's far from enough, so why? "How many times have you gone back and forth, carrying that big, heavy thing, day after day?" Senku asks softly. He looks impressed and melancholic. No, that's not it, but it is an emotion I don't seem to be able to classify.

"Hah! It serves as my daily training. The water is just heavy enough for that. It helps strengthen my body, so I suppose I have to thank my troublesome sister for that." Kohaku says positively, smirking back at us, yet then she almost trips and almost spills the water. Senku caught the jar just in time.

"You're still not totally healed from earlier, huh?" He smirks at her, holding the jar up. Did he get stronger? He said the jar is about 50 liters, which would be 50 kilograms, counting only water; the jar also weighs something. If both of them are holding it, I can only assume how much he is currently holding, but I'd guess about 25 kilograms. "That's a lot!" I nod my head, he has definitely gotten stronger. "We'll be in a real pinch if you overdo it and kick the bucket. Lemme lend you a hand." Senku offered, still showing off that stupid smirk of his.

Kohaku, of course, handed him the jar, and that was too much for him, and he ended up falling face first and also spilling the jar. "Talk about overdoing it." Annoyed, Kohaku said, picking up the jar and going to refill it.

"Am I the only one in this stone world who's not a gorilla? Kohaku, Tsukasa, Taiju..." Senku grumbles as he gets up from the ground.

"Hey!! I'm not a gorilla, too, idiot. Right now, I'm probably weaker than you." I tell him while chuckling. I approach him and dust off a little dirt from his shoulders. "Here."

・・・・・

While Kohaku was out, Senku decided to make a three-wheeled vehicle to transport us to Kohaku's village faster.

"Amazing, building such a useful contraption so quickly!" Kohaku squeals excitedly as she sits on the jar at the front of the vehicle.

"So quickly? It's only because I had the perfect set of materials from the pulleys yesterday. Progress gives rise to further progress. And practical application of that progress is at the core of science." Senku yells from behind me.

"Senku, I don't wanna underestimate you, but... does this have breaks?" I ask, sweating nervously.

"No!" Senku responds. Of course, it doesn't; what did I even expect? And, of course. We crashed. I felt the harsh ground scraping my kneecaps, palms, and elbows. Groaning, I try to get up, until I realize Something is holding my lower body down. Senku was laying right on my thighs. This made me flustered. The intimate nature of this position is getting into my brain. "He looks cute, lying there."

He grunts and props himself up on his elbows. "You okay?" He asked, and I quickly stood up, ignoring the small streak of blood from my wounds tickling down my leg. "Yeah." To which he just shakes his head and says: "I'll patch it up for you later."

We dust off the stray dust particles on our clothes and look ahead of us. "Welcome to my village!" Says Kohaku proudly.

"How many people live here?" Asked Senku. "I forget how many children and elders there are, but them said,e we have exactly forty!"

We are staring ahead at the primitive settlement on two islands by the shore of a lake. If there are forty people plus some children and elderly, it means there must have been a lot of generations or a lot of revived people. But those people do not seem too knowledgable about, well, anything. At least from what I can see. They do seem like good fishermen, though.

We get closer to the bridge that connects the first village island and the shore, but then, out of nowhere, two men get ready to attack us. Thankfully, Kohaku deflects their attacks. "No violence, Kinro, Ginro! I'm alive thanks to those two!" Kohaku shouts at the men.

"Sorry 'bout that, Kohaku, but no can do." A blonde man with a side part, chin-length hair, and green eyes says. "No outsiders allowed. You know that. The chief'll be mad.

"There's nothing to argue about. Rules are rules." Says the other man. His haircut looks like it's straight out of Bungo Stray Dogs. I swear the random long piece in the middle of your forehead is not that hard to cut off. He does, however, have the same eye color as the man beside him, a pleasant shade of green.

"No humans live beyond our borders. Any outsiders have to be criminals we kicked out in the past. They cannot stay here. Whether they're your saviours or not, the details don't matter." The man with the strange haircut says.

"You leave me no choice," Kohaku says, "Right here. Right now. Fight me!" She threatened them, making a really scary face, but I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Kohaku, let me at least..." I sigh and turn to the young men. "Uhm, hi, uhm, how about we take this logically and without fighting. Both me and my companion seem around your age, if not younger. Which means you would know if we were criminals. You might say that our parents were criminals. Well, I do not have a good argument for this one, but look, if they were, they would more likely have more kids and attack you, obviously." I try to reason with them. "Either way, I don't need you to trust us right now, but I would appreciate it if you didn't fight, with Kohaku especially."

Then, some bubbles fly from behind me. I see Senku using our soap and a bit of the hot spring water to make them, blowing them through his finger. I smile; this brings me back to my childhood. But I can't say the same for the men. Kinro and Ginro, was it? They look absolutely baffled and terrified.

The brown haired one tries to pop them frantically, while the blondie looks at the 'flying jewels' that are floating around him.

"Whut?!" Senku exclaims while sticking his pinky into his ear. "They're that primitive, huh?" and then he makes a really nasty face. "Heh, heh, heh... perfect. They'll all be mine. I'll have the power of science and forty people to boot once I recruit this bunch to my cause," he exclaims while holding his hand up. This really is some face a main villain would make when talking about world domination or something. "Get excited!!"

[animalsalvationassociation]

Calling all Octo-Agents!

Yes! You! Please read till the end, and if you don't have the patience/energy for it rn, come back later! It'll be worth it I promise!

So the holidays are now pretty much over, (except for New Years ofc, but I digress.) meaning I've been looking for new ways to improve my Au. You see, it's come to my attention that I'm not as organized or as thorough as I thought I was.

I've created a lot of lore/characters for this Au, but not very many people really know what's going on anymore. Even I get lost, and it's been a little frustrating ngl. So, seeing as this blog is officially over a year old, I think it's time to "fix" my mistakes and take a new approach.

Ya'll might've noticed that I've been slowing down on content. I haven't been spending as much time on my art, meaning the quality (well I wouldn't say it's gotten worse) hasn't been as strong as some others I've created in the past.

(Don't get me wrong, I'm not making a resolution for the new year, that's dumb and we all know those never last.)

So here's what I'm promising instead since this clearly is the only thing I'm allowed to work on at the moment (not saying I don't have other projects, but if I want to actually publish this story at any point I'm going to have to spend as much time as I can on it, meaning I have to make some sacrifices - RIP my FNaf's & Undertale fanfics)

1. Full Character Redesigns

Taking all the core characters (The Octonauts / Octo-Agents / Y.N. & Fae / The A.S.A. / C.L.A.D.E. / etc.) and giving them a full reference sheet with details, headcanons, and an updated design.

Creating family/relationship tree for those characters (parents/siblings/love interests/etc.)

Family/Team “Photos”

Crossovers (I will still be doing multiple crossovers and soon they will get their very own redesigns!)

2. Updating the Master Post

3. Updating the “Pinned” Blog Post

For reference this will no longer be the current top post with all of the A.S.A. members, but a poster I will create for the fanfic to make the blog appear cleaner. (I won’t delete that post I’m just going to unpin it since the designs are old and not as useful as they used to be)

4. Asks will open January 1st, but I will not start answering any asks before February 1st!

That is so I can properly prepare and reevaluate the blog’s content so there is more information available to anyone who wants to ask questions for the Octonauts/Octo-Agents.

5. A.S.A.’s Rating & Genre (Fanfic)

This story will now be classified as Cryptozoological Fiction, with partial Horror / Science Fiction & will be drawing straight from Folklore & Mythology. (For “Sci-Fi” don’t think space/aliens, think Cryptids in a scientifically evolved world.)

The rating is now PG-14

(Poll Results)

6. Fanfiction

This is really for the fanfiction itself. I’m still trying to figure out how to go about this. As of this current moment I have 1, maybe 2 chapters written out, and soon I hope to have more. However I am my own editor/beta reader, so it might not be as polished as I’d like to be, but I’m just going to have to accept that.

Unless I can find a bunch of people who can do that stuff for me, for fun, that’s the state this story will be in. You’ll have to have patient with me, I’m using all the tools I have at my disposal (Grammarly, Google Docs, LibreOffice, etc.) but I am a human with heavy ADHD and reading/comprehension disabilities, so please be kind.

7. Weekly Posts

I will still be posting weekly, just not on Tuesdays. I realize it’s only been stressing me out to post on that day every week and so I’ve been abusing my attempts at a proper sleep schedule because of it. I still work a very busy retail job and will have to get a secondary job sometime soon, so unfortunately you’ll just have to add me to your notifications if you want to know when I’ve posted.

8. The Future . . .

This one is for anyone who’s gotten this far. I want you to know that the Octonauts still mean so much to me. Even if we aren’t getting updates anymore, the community is still somewhat alive even if it's only a few of us. Maybe one day we’ll get our kickstart, but for now I will continue making content until I’m satisfied with the story and it’s ending. If I stray every now and then, that’s just because I have the attention span of a goldfish with a million hobbies and fandoms that constantly need attention. I love you guys and I promise to do my very best to make my mark on the internet, even if it’s for a silly kids show about talking/walking/nerdy animals who save fish every day.

9. January's Posting Plan

Week 1: Finishing the Octonaut's Headcanons

Week 2: My Christmas gift to the Community

Week 3: Silly Y/N & Fae Content (No it doesn't make sense, deal with it)

Week 4: Screencap Redraw

Week 5: Starting Redesigns

If you made it this far . . . here's a cookie and the secret formula.

🍪🍾

[catboybiologist]

Ho boy I just got hit with a wave of HRT related asks.

I'll respond to them to the best of my ability, but imma make a copy/paste disclaimer here:

I AM NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL. I have a very, VERY marginal ability to interpret medical data over the average person due to my bio background, but it's far less than people think- hell I just said something wrong about insurance that someone had to correct.

Unfortunately, however, the nature of trans healthcare being under constant political threat worldwide means that everyone should prepare to diy, and know the basics of how they would pull that off. That's why I'm answering these questions, more info out there is always better. HOWEVER, you would better be served by other sources, like:

Anything I say directly about medical care will be an interpretation or regurgitation of something that is likely in these sources, plus a dash of personal experience. My bio knowledge and interpretation is not going to kick in here, it's gonna be too far deep in the weeds of cellular mechanisms that it's not directly relevant.

[banabiohazard]

It started off small, out of nowhere. Little things Sayori would notice about Natsuki that did things to her guts. The way she hid her smile behind a veil of disinterest when she shared her food, the way she failed to hide her enthusiasm when anyone took an interest in her manga, just everything about her when she was mad, Sayori didn’t like seeing her upset of course but there was something about her being angry that just made her way more adorable. Sayori thought hard on this, this wasn’t a normal way to think about a friend. A friend doesn't wonder if her friend knows how cute her voice is. Surely this was weird, she wasn’t even…

“Am I gay?”

She asked aloud. The boy whose room she was in, Emcie, her best friend and neighbor since before they could walk, paused the video game he was playing and whipped around.

“Say, what the fuck are you talking about?”

He asked, his voice could surely be heard a county away, lord, she really wished his parents kept him in speech therapy when they were little. “Just answer the question!” she shot back, he raised his hands and quickly shrugged, “How would I know that!?” he responded, sounding almost offended as he turned back around and unpaused the game. “You’re ‘arrow romantic’ or something right?” she asked, “That’s a flavor of gay, don’t you have like, gaydar??” she added. Emcie sighed, “The chance of me humoring you drops more with every word.” he groaned, “PLeASeeeeEE!” Sayori whined, he paused the game again and adjusted himself to sit facing her. “Fine, you big baby.” he cracked his neck. “Are you into women?” he asked flatly, Sayori scoffed and then choked on a sigh, “I don’t know! That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” she poked his stomach and he grunted. “Okay,” he sighed, “What is making you ask? That might help.” he asked, Sayori searched for the right words for a moment. “I think I’m getting a crush, on a girl.” she said as she looked down, was that shame she felt? Don’t worry about it, put that in a bottle and file it away for later. “Sounds like you’re probably gay then, good talk, I’m gonna go get a snack now.” he replied as he stood up, Sayori grabbed his shirt, “You can pig out in a minute! I wasn’t finished!” she screeched. He sighed hard, “Go on.” he encouraged, Sayori took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I’ve never thought about a girl like this before, like ever. But she’s just so.. Cute.” she finished, “Mhm.” Emcie acknowledged that he was listening, “I’m a little freaked out about it.” she finished in a small voice. Emcie nodded, “Well if it means anything, I don’t give a fuck.” he said, clearly trying to sound comforting. Sayori breathed a small laugh through her nose, “Thanks, I guess.”

~

As Sayori prepared herself for school, late as usual, she thought about the two classes she shared with Natsuki, would she be able to focus? Not that she usually did, of course she would, this didn’t change anything. She has a crush on a friend, big whoop, join the club, millions of people are in the same boat, she'd be fine, it’ll go away.

~

She couldn’t focus. She just stared, Natsuki sat diagonally ahead of her on her right, and she just couldn’t take her eyes off. The way she kept her hair up was nice, she wondered how long it takes to put up like that. She wanted to see her put it up. She wanted to see her with it down. FUCK, STOP. A pretty girl was not going to be the reason she failed science, she can do that fine on her own thank you very much!. . . She always smells like that dollar store birthday cake perfume.. Godamnit! Pay attention!

~

Math, a vile word, should be a slur in Sayori’s opinion, she didn’t know why she complained about it so much, truthfully it was one of the subjects she was better at. You wouldn’t catch her complaining right now though, she sat at the same long desk as Natsuki in this class. She listened to her struggling for a moment before ‘very subtly’ sliding her finished sheet in her direction, Natsuki suppressed a laugh.

“I’m not that desperate.”

She said through a smile, ow, okay she deserved that, she’d earned the airhead reputation she had. “But I’m good at math!” she whispered, “Dude, I know. I’m not dissing you, I’m not desperate enough to cheat with the teacher looking right at us.” Natsuki whispered back. Sayori’s heart ran cold, she glanced to the front of the room, just as Natsuki warned their teacher was staring right at them behind his wiry spectacles, his plump soft face furrowed into an expression of disappointment. Sayori looked down at her paper, shame welling in her stomach hot soup as she listened to Natsuki suppress a giggle, god she hated how much she enjoyed causing that sound. Next was lunch, that she could do. As she left the classroom, trying not to acknowledge the look on the teacher’s face as she did. Natsuki stopped her right as she got into the hallway. “Yo, Sayori, hold on.” she stopped stiff, “Yuri texted me that she’s going home for lunch or whatever, you wanna sit with me? I’ll be bored to death by myself.” Natsuki asked, yes! Yes, yes, YES!! “Sure I’d love to.” Sayori replied calmly.

~

Natsuki was actively leading her away from the lunch room, OoOoO how scandalous- STOP THAT. They stood together at the bottom of the north stairwell by the vending machines. Oh, is this where she disappears to at lunch? “You want a chocolate bar?” Natsuki asked, standing in front of the vending machine. “Oh I can pay for it one sec-” Sayori started but Natsuki cut her off, “You can but you won’t.” as she said it, the candy bar clunked to the bottom of the machine and was immediately tossed at Sayori’s chest; she barely caught it after fumbling twice. “Hey! I was gonna get it!” she squeaked, “Shame.” Natsuki said with a smirk as she passed her and sat down on the stairs. Oh Sayori’s heart jumped, wow that’s new. As they sat on the steps Sayori couldn’t help but look at her, good lord she was pretty, she wondered if she thought she was pretty too. “What?” Natsuki asked, side eyeing her, Sayori breathed in sharply, “Uh,” the words left her mouth before she could stop them. “You wanna hang out at my house tonight?” she could feel herself turning red, thankfully Natsuki wasn’t looking. “Sure, I got nothing better to do, you mean like staying over or just hanging out for a few hours?” she asked, Sayori was practically on fire. “Uh, the first one..” she replied sheepishly. “Cool…” Natsuki trailed off, “You good?” she asked, “Yep! say, is this where you and Yuri usually eat?” an excellent distraction if Sayori could say so herself, genius. “Yep.” Natsuki popped her lips, “That’s cool.”

THIS IS A TEASER OF “Bottles of batter” ON AO3!!! TO COMPLETE THE CHAPTER FOLLOW THE BELLOW LINK!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63595816/chapters/162991699

[xinganhao]

my angel !! i’m here with cookies 🍪 as i promised and also to ask u - which of ur smaus this year are u most proud of? what genre of smau was ur favourite to write? is there anything new u hope to explore in the new year? while i’m here i want to remind u that i think ur one of the most innovative and creative writers i’ve ever met and i’m so lucky to call u my moot :’) i’m genuinely so excited to see what u will come up with next bc u always outdo urself, and i truly think u should be proud of every single work u post!! ilysm and spare no details in answering my questions pls 💞💘

૮₍˶ ╥ ‸ ╥ ⑅₎ა my no. 1 sanrio x svt truther,, thank u for these cookies!! i (FINALLY) return with answers + i will scream about your writing off EVERY rooftop. if pochaccoups has 100 fans i am one of them.. if pochaccoups has one fan that will be ME..

୨୧ smaus i'm proudest of: i feel like there are glaringly obvious answers and there are ones that are less obvious, so let's go with the latter for now ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ ) it was a bit heavy-handed and clunky, but i enjoyed writing about it after running the initial poll— so dead poets society member!vernon x reader holds a very, very special place in my heart

for ot13 work: svt and the ways they make your heart flutter grew on me in ways that i didn't expect! sometimes, it truly is the little things

୨୧ favorite genre: i think i've mentioned this once before, but i'm actually immensely unconfident in my fluff-writing skills! and so being xinganhao has been one big 'ol study in getting better at fluff lol

no one has yet to clock me, so i'll put it out there myself— i love, love, love exploring breakup/exes dynamics ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ data science major!jeonghan is my bias despite the wonky ahhh headcanons

୨୧ what to explore for 2025: new headcanon formats, definitely! more diverse pairings and aus! going back to my angst roots (🙃) + potentially collaborating with people, just so we can really push the form of smau/text imagine writing (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

this ask has inspired me to prepare proper a year-ender wrapped which maaay drop some time next week. char my 4ever inspiration

[sambartika]

UNLIKELY FASCINATION

PART III: "Forever and Ever"

It was Sunday—the laziest day of the week. Waking up at 9, I strolled past my front balcony, heading straight to the kitchen for breakfast. Then, I opened my computer to work on my project.

The clock struck twelve. As I prepared for a bath, I felt something queer. Did I forget to do something? I wondered while opening the door to the balcony.

"Oops! How could I forget this?" I mumbled.

I placed the bananas on the cupboard behind which the civet stayed.

Yes, it has been quite a few years. It grew older, and I grew up.

I really grew up. Actually, that’s misleading. Nothing much changed about me—I just became mature enough to realize what reality is. I grew from a child eager to make friends, to a teenager traumatized by friendship, to a mature person afraid to make friends.

Have any of you ever experienced living in an environment, studying in a school with your agemates, and realizing that no one—absolutely no one—thinks like you? No one understands your sense of "friendship." No one understands your definition of "loyalty." No one understands your idea of "happiness." At that point, you may feel you are innocent. And yes, I admit I was innocent, and I want to remain unchanged for my entire life.

Sometimes you will be framed. And then you may call yourself a fool, but you are not. You are just not experienced enough to understand who deserves your friendship. Friendship requires trust. Trust demands loyalty, and—

LOYALTY is an EXPENSIVE thing that you cannot expect from CHEAP people.

Hence, now I’m afraid—maybe I won’t be able to distinguish the rich from the cheap. It requires skill to distinguish a diamond from moissanite. It requires even more skill to identify a rich heart from rich apparel.

Hence, now, I am truly petrified—of friendship... with narcissists.

But don’t think I’m devoid of friendship. I do have friends, and I’m genuinely happy with them.

I’m proud to say that I’m an animal lover. I love all animals. To me, they are my best friends. Whenever I see them, I feel an eternal, inseparable bond existing between us—something rare, beyond profit, beyond ulterior motives, beyond any conditions—so natural, so resolute.

As I was placing the civet’s food, it came out, only to stare at me for a few obsessed moments. Earlier, it was introverted—it restrained itself from appearing in front of me, yet secretly watched me. That’s hypocrisy, though. But I loved how it changed. Seeing its change, I asked:

"It has been so many years, and still you haven’t answered me."

It looked at me cluelessly.

"What? Did you ever answer me whether you want to be my friend or not?"

It picked up its food and took a bite.

I smirked and walked away.

At this point, both of us knew the answer to the question. I reminisced about our sweet memories—the time when our eyes first met, that dining table incident which still gives me goosebumps, and how I developed an unlikely fascination for a civet cat, a wild, supposedly nasty species, even though I hated cats.

Oh, there’s something I must tell you all. Civet cats are not cats. Yes, the scientific name of the house cat is Felis catus. Thus, all cats are generally part of the Felis genus, although their species may differ, like Felis chaus (Jungle cat) or Felis bieti (Chinese Mountain cat). But civets are not one of them. Civets belong to the family Viverridae, and they don’t form a monophyletic group.

In West Bengal, we generally find Paradoxurus hermaphroditus (Common Palm Civet) or Viverricula indica (Small Indian Civet). And believe me, I found this out on the last day of my Class 10 board exams—coincidentally, the day I studied biology for the final time for exam—since I pursued Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics, and Computer Science as my main subjects in Class 11.

So my fascination wasn’t that unlikely, as it’s really not a cat. I know it may sound melodramatic and cheesy; it may even resemble a mistaken identity plot. It might seem like an attempt to romanticize the idea—love is all perfect and ideal—even though the shape of Earth isn’t—but for God’s sake, believe me, I didn’t make it up for the story. It’s damn true.

Anyway, aren’t you eager to know the answer to the question from earlier? Well, it was—

“Forever and Ever.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for deleting my classmate's online output in retaliation for previous grievances, & WIBTA if I kept this up?

📚🧪🗑️

(↑ so I know Tumblr didn't toss it into the void)

Take your time reading this before the poll. Trust me, everything matters.

I (16NB) am a student that migrated from the regular 10th grade sections into the top section of my school's STEM program via passing the admission test. I'm part of the very few that made it from the regular sections into such a prestigious senior high strand (which had only 3 sections and ±30 students per section), and the rest of my classmates and batchmates come from specialized programs that they were in since 7th grade. Naturally, they don't know me, and wouldn't think much of me due to my previously "mediocre" background. But really, I was only able to join the STEM strand this year because of financial difficulties during the lockdowns, so my parents could only afford to put me through the regular sections from grades 8 to 10.

Amongst my specialized program classmates was this girl, who I will call V for anonymity. V (16F) struck me as aloof and reserved at first. Our class seating arrangement dictated that I sit near the window farthest from the door, and V near the room exit, so we were 3 columns and one aisle apart, and had no one-on-one interactions so far due to this.

The entire school year in my school is split into two semesters, two quarters each semester, so four quarters. In Q1, I tried signing up for the strand-exclusive club that was practically a boost for report card grades, the STEM club, and we used printed forms. I filled in my form, and V collected the forms from everyone who signed up to give to the STEM club leader. We waited a week for confirmation of our acceptance (which was our forms being given back with a red stamp and the leader's signature) and everyone except me got them back. I asked V if she received my form. "No, you didn't give me any," she had said. I was denied another form by the leader, who accused me of lying about me having already given the form.

I didn't ask for a rivalry, but I had no choice but to be wary.

In Q2, our Earth Science professor gave us a lab activity and grouped us by random. I ended up in a group with V in it. I actively participated in the activity by helping prepare the materials and answering the guide questions on the activity sheet given by our professor, but I was stumped when it came to a question that required some research. Our professor allowed us to assign someone by group to take the activity sheet home and submit a picture instead when we ran out of time, so I went to my group's chat and asked them to wait for me as I finished the answer for that particular question. It took me an hour or so before I finally got the answer. I gave the answer to my groupmates, but V said that they had already turned it in, confirmed by my other groupmates. I asked them "Why did you hurry the submission? We had plenty of time left to refine and finalize the answers." They didn't reply, and they didn't answer me when I brought it up the next day in person. I went to my professor and explained the situation, even providing screenshots of my group messages as proof, but he didn't believe me. However, he did let me write down my answer to the question I was doing research for.

By then, I suspected V had convinced them to submit the activity sheet without me, and going back to Q1, also got rid of my membership form when she had the opportunity. I think she also might have lied to the professor that I wasn't even participating in the lab activity, and damn if he was gullible enough to fall for it.

Come Q3, this current quarter. Our professor in Literature gave us homework to be submitted in Google Drive. I did mine, converted it into the required file format, and had uploaded it to the Drive folder when I came across V's output. I figured it was time she got what was coming when she ruined my reputation to the teaching staff, so I deleted it. I secured my own folder so nobody but I can edit/delete it, just in case. The next day after that, V had nothing for submission and let's just say took some hits when the professor scolded her, and I have plans to get rid of more of her future outputs since we're relying on online tools for turning in homework.

On one hand, I feel a bit bad for doing that, and in addition I'm also scared I may be caught/traced. But on the other, I felt that it was only fair that she experienced even a fraction of humiliation that I faced during Q1 and Q2.

I dunno, Tumblr, AITA for that, and WIBTA for continuing with my plans?

What are these acronyms?

[angst-fairygodmother]

hi boo!!!! for your spotify game, how about diego andddddd 20??

btw i miss u <3

Bon! I miss you too! 💙 Sorry I haven't been around too much. Life is weird.

Anyway. I am kissing you on the mouth for this one (platonically) because it was PERFECT.

A/N: This is over 500 words, but it just sort of spilled out. I definitely could have written a lot things for this (including some Diego/Lila fixing but meh). And it doesn't even totally ignore S4, just the bullshit ending. Word Count: 747 (wrote it out of me at the speed of one too) Rating: T - pretty tame other than some language Spotify Wrapped Short Fics

Diego Hargreeves was a difficult man to understand, even for himself some day. Some might even say impossible. Maybe part of it came from the number of timelines he had lived, or not lived, through. Timelines where you were dead, or he was dead - had never been born? - or you were alive but living a life totally unknown to him, and he had another wife, who wasn’t unlike you in a lot of ways but wasn’t the same, and they had a whole three kids, picket fence life until she got bored and lost and cheated on him with his older-younger-twin? brother. 

But maybe that wasn’t it at all. You couldn’t put your finger on the reasons, and you weren’t sure they mattered at all. Maybe all that mattered was that in this timeline, they had died and then not died, and the children had been erased, and everything was forgotten - even now all those things you’d both seen and done were distant and foggy like a dream - but then you all found each other again. And she chose him, not his brother, and he chose you. And now you were sitting in a café with your perfectly ordinary friends and family around, listening to him give a speech with no sign of a stutter in sight about you, for your perfectly ordinary birthday (which was a perfectly ordinary birth, and you just happened to share it with your perfectly ordinary boyfriend and several perfectly ordinary friends that were a found second family now). 

Friends and family that were staring at you, expectantly. Shit. Had he asked a question?

“I…don’t know?” you asked, immediately regretting it as his face fell and your heart plummeted to the floor. That was definitely not the answer he was expecting, and the room was still dead silent and watching. 

“Fuck. Sorry. I mean…I…to be honest sweetheart, I wasn’t listening. I mean I was, but I zoned out a little bit. I just couldn’t help it. I was listening to you and you were being so sweet and adoring and I started asking ‘why?’ and then my mind was off: why do you love me, of all seven billion or whatever people in the world? The same way I can’t help thinking while we’re watching a movie, ‘why does my windowbox always sprout fucking marigolds no matter what I do?’ or ‘why do people like dogs that can’t breathe because their faces are so smushed?’ or ‘why does the sun rise and set, and why in the directions that it does?’ Why would you love me? I’m an asshole, exhibit A. And at the same time I was asking why you love me, I was asking why do I love you?”

His eyebrows were furrowed in that cute little way they did when he got contemplatively angry, and everyone was still staring and you could feel your neck heating to an inferno. So you plowed onward. 

“I mean why does anyone love anyone? But then I started thinking that it doesn’t matter. None of those questions need answers, for the world to go on and them to keep being true. I’m sure Five will have some boring, unromantic bullshit lecture prepared about chemicals and hormones, and also tell me how there are answers to all the science-y ones I asked, but I don’t want there to be, so he had better keep his damn mouth shut,” you shot a glare at the man in the corner who was definitely about to interrupt before looking back at Diego with your full attention.

“I love you. More than I can possibly express. There’s not a how, or a why, or limit, or a reason. It’s just…it’s fact. Incontrovertible, foundation of the universe, fact. So you have every right to be angry, and I am happy for you to be angry, and it won’t change anything. But I don’t have an answer for you, except I don’t know. And I love you.” 

He was shaking his head fondly, and walking toward you, and goddamnit the whole room was still staring but it didn’t matter because it was just you and him when he kissed you softly. 

“I’m going to take that trainwreck as a yes,” he teased, pulling back to press his forehead to yours and slip a delicate silver ring shaped like braided rope and brambles onto your finger.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh, now I get why that was a bad answer. Definitely yes.”

[evansdoodles]

Okay, time for questions! I'm going to send them in a few separate asks so you can answer different topics at your own pace!

First: the occult! You mention that in exchange for Eddie's blood, Oswald gives him knowledge of the occult! What does that exactly look like?

Is it potion making or more spell like? I think a mix of both, with Eddie being very quick to pick up potion making because it's just like working in a science lab!

Does Oswald just give him some written down instructions after he feeds on Eddie or does he personally teach Eddie in his spooky mansion?

I kind of imagine that it becomes a sort of "My Babysitter's A Vampire" vibe after Selina and Quinn find out about Oswald, with the four of them learning about and fighting supernatural enemies while balancing school work on top of that. Maybe Oswalds mansion becomes like their hang out spot and he pretends to be all uppity about it while actively cleaning up the dust and preparing rooms for them (or at least for Eddie).

I am hopeful I’ll be able to respond to a good chunk of these questions in the fic I’m writing, but in any case I’ll try to talk about the AU without spoiling too much!

With “Occult knowledge” Oswald just means letting him use his mansion as a hang spot to study some of his Dark magic books.

Now you mabye be thinking, “Evan?? What in hell is a dark magic book?” well! That’s a good question!! Oswald doesn’t know.

The books are a mix of folklore, Potion making, herbs and recipes, creature lore and more.

Oswald has inherited the mansion way back when he was still human, and as far as he’s concerned the books have always been there, and Edward can use them for whatever purpose.

Now the problem relies in the fact that the books are written in old Hungarian, Oswald’s mother language, so Edward needs Ozzie’s help to read these and explain them to him.

Sure Oswald could just drain Edward of all his blood and eat the rest, but a steady supply of blood is just the tiny incentive Oswald needs to be helpful to his friend.

More on the next Q&A post about Harleys/Eddie/Oswald/Selina’s relationships!

[skzdust]

Contingency

Part 2

This one ends with a bit of a cliffhanger but the next part will have some smut so prepare for that hehehe! Enjoy! Thank you @palindrome969 for beta reading!!!

Summary: You accept a job from your best friend Seonghwa getting information on Ateez's rival group, SKZ. You decide to get to the organization through one of their members: Lee Minho. You find yourself falling for him, and things get even more complicated when SKZ's resident hacker seems to have his sights set on you as well.

Pairing: Lee Know x I.N x Reader

Includes: Coffee shop date, mafia party, meeting Jeongin, cliffhanger ending

Word count: 2.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife, @tsunderelino, @hyunjinsjeans

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Part 1 | Part 3

Masterlist

-----

Minho was already at the coffee shop when you walked in the next morning. He hadn’t texted you, but you were counting on him to have run a background check on the name and number. 

Y/n l/n was a squeaky clean person: never gotten so much as a parking ticket. Middle of her class at the local university, graduated with a computer science degree. Worked for a country-wide company headquartered in the city, providing a degree of anonymity a more important job at a smaller business wouldn’t have. No boyfriend. Parents lived four hours away. Only a few friends in the city. 

You’d gone to great lengths to forge y/n l/n’s life as the perfect partner for Minho. You hoped it would be worth it. 

Minho was seated facing the door, and he smiled as you walked in. You waved and got your latte before sitting across from him. 

“Hello.” He greeted you awkwardly. 

“Hi.” You smiled. You were nervous, but you knew that was stupid. This was a mission, just like any other. This wasn’t really a coffee date, this was a step in a calculated plan. 

But to Minho, it was just a coffee date. “I’m going to be honest, I hate small talk.” He took a sip from his americano, keeping his eyes on you. “So, I have an important question for you.”

“Sure.” You ignored the jump of fear in your stomach. Did he know who you were?

“Are you a cat person?”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh. “Pets are definitely considered small talk.”

“Pets are very important to me.” He gestured with his hand for you to keep talking, smiling. “I asked a question.”

His tone was joking, but the glimpse of dominance made your stomach jump for a very different reason.

“I am.” You shook off the thoughts.

“Good. This might work out, then.”

“That’s a prerequisite for dating you? I have to like cats?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Yes, it is.”

You laughed again, wondering if you were laughing too much. “Fair enough. Fortunately, I love cats.”

“Very fortunate.” His smile was genuine again. “So, tell me about what you do for work.”

He was blunt changing between topics, but you went with it, inventing something about the grocery company you worked for and how you liked your workplace but your boss was a bit too authoritarian at times. A standard answer. 

“What are you doing here all the time, then?” He gestured around the coffee shop.

Your heartbeat kicked up. “I, er, I work hybrid. I’ve had a few days out of the office recently.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

“How about you?”

Minho’s lie was smoother than yesterday. He told you about business deals he helped to negotiate for one of the biggest banks in the country, and his only tell was the slight shifting of his feet under the table you could hear when you asked a question. You knew the truth, though, and didn’t hesitate to test him a bit. 

“So, you travel a lot?” You interjected after he mentioned something in Milan.

Minho nodded. “Yeah, it’s a lot of long flights.” He sighed. “I don’t like flying. I don’t like being away from my cats, either.” 

It was one of the first personal details he’d given. He’d kept his talk strictly to work.

“You must really love those cats.”

His eyes softened, a fond smile curving his mouth. “I do. They’re my babies.” 

“I’d love to…” You cleared your throat, not even needing to fake anxiety. “I’d love to meet them.”

“Trying to get in my apartment already?” He looked amused. 

You held up your hands in front of you. “I just like cats!” 

“Mhm.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t say I didn’t want you there. Anyway.”

Your discussion turned to other things: music and books you liked, what you did in your free time, your favorite places around the city. You didn’t forget who you were talking to, or why you were talking to him, but you let yourself enjoy flirting with him for now.

There was a lull in your conversation.

“So…” Minho filled the silence. “I know this is our first date, but I figure it’s worth asking. I have a work party coming up, and I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

“Wow, you haven’t even taken me out to dinner, and you already want to bring me around your coworkers?” You teased. 

“There will be dinner at the party, does that count?” Minho scrunched his nose as he smiled.

“I suppose that can count.”

“So, you’ll come?”

“I’ll come.”

You couldn’t believe your luck. Minho trusted you enough—liked you enough—to bring you to one of his SKZ parties. It would be a great opportunity to get to know what kind of resources SKZ had, both in people and in equipment. 

“I should warn you, it’s kind of a business party.” Minho said. “We’re celebrating a… a victory. A big deal.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh?”

He laughed. “I wasn’t too involved, but as I’m a branch of the team that did the work, I got invited.”

“So you don’t know too much about it?” You gave him an easy out. 

“Not too much, no.” He shook his head. “I’ll send you a dress.”

“Don’t you need my address for that?”

“You see, I was hoping we could go there together.”

“You want me to bring you home?” Your eyebrows shot up. “Minho, we’ve gone on one date. What if you’re a stalker or something?”

“Then at least I’m hot.” He smirked.

You suppressed a grin. “You’ve got me there. I’ll give you my address, but you’re not coming home with me tonight.”

“Fine, deal.” He leaned back. “I’ll send you a dress.”

“When’s the party?”

“Er… tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You were genuinely surprised at his answer. You’d heard about the SKZ party through one of your contacts, but you didn’t know it was so soon.

“I know it’s short notice... but I’m looking forward to you being there.”

You smiled. “I’m looking forward to it, too.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Alright.” You wrote down your address for him, your heart jumping at the self-satisfied smile he gave you as you handed it to him.

He stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You got up, too. “See you.” 

Before he left, Minho took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, keeping eye contact with you, before sweeping out of the coffee shop.

—

The next day, the dress Minho had promised showed up at your door, delivered by a man in a dark suit. You unzipped the garment bag, excited to see what Minho had picked out for you.

The dress was beautiful, a shimmering deep blue material with a low neckline and a low back. The bottom flared into a trumpet skirt. 

You were surprised at the quality of the tailoring. You couldn’t tell if there was any special adjustments to the pattern, but even if it was a standard size, it fit you like a glove. You admired it in the mirror before taking it off, deciding to do your makeup and hair first so as not to mess up the dress. 

You finished your preparations and put the dress on again. You hid a few knives on you before doing a few twirls in the mirror and checking the time. It was almost 7:00, and a minute later, there was a knock at your door. 

Minho was standing there in a black suit with a blue shirt that matched your dress. There would be no doubt who you were there with. He was carrying a small bouquet, and held it out to you.

“Thank you, Minho!” You accepted the flowers with a genuine smile. 

“Of course.” He nodded his head. 

“I’m gonna take these inside, and then we can go.”

He nodded again, a smile creeping onto his face. “Alright.”

You went back inside. This apartment was a rental, not your actual apartment, and you had no idea where the vases were, so you just got out a large cup and half-filled it with water before setting the flowers inside. 

Minho held out his arm as you walked back towards him, and you took it. “How gentlemanly.”

“That’s me.” He smiled as if laughing at some private joke. “A gentleman, through and through.”

You almost snorted. You didn’t think the numerous people he’d killed would describe him that way, but whatever. 

You left the apartment building, and you acted surprised at the limousine waiting for you. “A limo? Minho!” 

“It’s on the bank.” He opened the door for you, and you climbed in. 

“Well, if you’re kidnapping me, at least you’re doing it in style.”

He laughed. “If I were kidnapping you, you’d know it.” 

He got into the car after you, and you were off. The party turned out to be in a ballroom in a skyscraper downtown, which you found a little disappointing. You’d been hoping to see one of the SKZ buildings tonight, but you supposed Minho probably wouldn’t bring an outsider to one of his organization’s secret locations on a second date. 

He helped you out of the car and opened the door for you as you went inside. You were the only two in the elevator, and as it dinged to indicate you’d arrived at your floor, Minho held out his arm again. You took it and walked out of the elevator to a short hallway. Two men stood outside one of the doors, and Minho nodded at them as they opened the doors.

The ballroom was big, a huge chandelier suspended from the ceiling, and beautiful rococo-style molding on the trim and wall panels. It was dim, but not too dim, and it was full of people. 

“Don’t be too intimidated. Some of them might seem… scary, but I promise they’re all nice.” Minho mumbled as you walked in.

You held back another laugh. You knew these people were killers. They’d kill you if they knew who you were. They weren’t nice. 

But you nodded. “I’m not easily scared, it’ll be fine.”

“Oh, here’s my boss.” Minho sighed as a man noticed you, waved at Minho, and began to walk over. The gun holster strapped to him was the same dark color as his shirt and suit, but you noticed it immediately. He was young, younger than you’d expected, but if he was Minho’s boss, this had to be Bang Chan, the leader of SKZ. 

You swallowed. His job was to know who his enemies were. His job was to know who you were.

But he didn’t indicate any recognition as he smiled at Minho and extended a hand to you. You let go of Minho’s arm to shake it.

“Hello, Minho. And hello, beautiful.” He smiled at you, and if you didn’t know who he was, you would’ve melted. But you were a little too terrified of him knowing who you were to be starstruck by that brilliant smile.

“She’s here with me, Chan.” Minho said, but his laugh was good-natured. “I forbid you from hitting on her.”

Chan gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine.”

“My name’s y/n. I’m… yeah, I’m here with Minho.” You looked around. “I know exactly no one else.”

That was a lie. You didn’t know everyone, but you recognized at least half the faces here, either from missions or reading files. Right now you could name Han Jisung, who was one of SKZ’s top spies, and Kim Seungmin, a gifted medic, among others. 

“It’s alright, I can introduce you.” Minho smiled reassuringly. “Like I said, no one’s scary.”

“At least not too scary.” Chan said, and Minho shot him a look. 

You’d met a few bosses, but never Chan. He was more lighthearted than you’d expected, but you knew his relaxed vibe masked a ruthlessness and a tendency for vengeance that surpassed those of other organizations. Chan was like Minho: dangerous, but good at hiding it. 

Minho guided you around the party, introducing you to a few people, including a few of those you already recognized. You were on guard the whole time, hoping no one would recognize you. You’d never worked with or even against anyone in SKZ before, but you were known enough in the mafia world that you half-expected someone to blow your cover. But you were lucky, no one let on even the slightest indication or tell that they knew who you were. 

Although you did notice someone watching you.

He had blond hair and the most intense eyes you’d ever seen—and you worked in the criminal underworld, you’d seen a lot of intense eyes. You didn’t recognize him, but he stuck to the walls. His white jacket and the black belt he wore over it stood out in the sea of dark suits worn by almost every man in the room. 

Minho was talking to someone, so you told him you were going to get a drink and walked over to where the man in the white jacket was leaning by the punch bowl. 

You poured some into a cup, trying to react to his staring like a normal person and not like a bounty hunter. “You’ve been watching me.”

“Yes.” 

“That’s a little creepy.” You looked at him, and he gave a wry grin. 

“I’m not trying to be creepy. I just… you look familiar.” 

Your stomach twisted. “I don’t work for the bank. I’m here with Minho.”

“Ah, you’re Minho’s date.” His grin grew, and if he didn’t know the bank lie Minho had been telling, he didn’t let on. “I’ve been teasing him about coming solo to parties for a while.”

“Do you have a date?”

“No.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Then who are you to talk?”

“Touché.” He laughed. “So then, why are you so familiar?”

You shrugged. “Dunno.” You took a sip of your punch. 

“Hm.” He hummed.

“I’d better get back to Minho.” You said, turning around.

“Wait.”

You turned back to him. 

“My name’s Jeongin.”

Your blood went cold.

Your specialty was tech and hacking. You were one of the best. But if there was anyone better than you, it was Yang Jeongin of SKZ. He was your biggest competition, the only one who could get past a firewall or take down a system faster and more effectively than you.

Jeongin knew you as The Spider. He shouldn’t know your face. You’d never seen his. The fact that you were familiar to him was very concerning. 

“Y/n.” You replied with as easy a smile as you could muster. 

“Y/n.” He repeated, tilting his head. “That’s a beautiful name. Just as beautiful as you are.”

“Thank you.” You were getting flustered, both from his recognition of you and his compliments. “I should get back to Minho, though.”

“Oh, Minho… he won’t mind if you talk with me for a little longer.” He gave you another grin, but this one was more flirtatious and less threatening.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“You.”

“Me? I’m not very interesting.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Why are you being like this?” You said bluntly. 

He tilted his head, and his eyes got a little more intense. “I didn’t come here with a date. I hope Minho will forgive me for what I want to do to you.”

A shiver ran through you, definitely not fear. 

This was arousal.

“And what do you want to do to me?” You whispered. 

He smiled, and it looked warm, but you knew it was dangerous. 

You knew he was dangerous. 

But you wanted him. 

“Come find out.” 

You swallowed. “That’s a bad idea. I’m here with Minho.”

He rolled his eyes, laughing. “I can deal with Minho… if he finds out.”

This could jeopardize the entire mission. If Minho found out you’d cheated on him, he’d probably dump you, and while SKZ likely wouldn’t retaliate, you wouldn’t be welcomed either. There would be no way to get their information.

On the other hand… if you could convince him you were just some civilian, you weren’t involved in his world at all, you’d be safe. Hooking up with him would probably do that.

This was a poor rationalization, and you knew it. But he was hot.

“Okay.” You said after a second. “Show me.”

----

a/n: prepare for smut lol.

[redheartedtramp]

Ruby: Oh Penny, I'm so happy to see you again! I-I thought...I thought that-

Penny: I died?

Ruby: Well, I mean, I heard about what happened with Jaune. And I just thought that...I never got to say goodbye.

Penny: Oh Friend Ruby, that's really sweet of you. But it's silly.

Ruby: S-silly?

Penny: I already met the sweet embrace of death once. Did you really think I wouldn't be prepared for it again?

Ruby: W...w-what does that mean?

Penny: *presses a button on her wrist. Erecting from the ground is an elevator and she leads Ruby inside* Friend Ruby, walk with me. Talk with me.

Ruby nervously steps into the elevator and rides it down.

Ruby: P-Penny? What...what is this?

Penny: Friend Ruby, let me answer that question with another one; how do you think it feels to die?

Ruby: ...Cold. The heat just drains from your body like pouring water from a cup until there's nothing and you pass.

Penny: Oh. I was not expecting the correct answer.

Ruby: The Ever After was a trip, Penny.

Penny: For that, I appologize.

The elevator door open and Penny leads Ruby through an underground laboratory.

Penny: But anyway; when I was rebuilt after my untimely demise, I began to really think about life; my life. In this robot body, I am not real in the same way you are real. Even if I have a soul, I do not have flesh and blood. And the one time I did have it, I had to give it up for the greater good.

Ruby: ...Penny, I-

Penny: Oh no, don't misunderstand. I do not want pity. And I do not resent Friend Jaune for doing what I asked of him. In a way, I was quite happy to die.

Ruby: W...what?

Penny: Dying for the second time was quite the experience.

Penny opens a door. Ruby is left speechless as she sees another Penny; she's floating in a tube of suspended animation, eyes closed, nude, in a tube of liquid.

Penny: It was like meeting an old friend. I embraced death, this time prepared for it, and held her in my arms like a bride.

Ruby: Penny, what...who is-

Penny: This is my solution for death, Friend Ruby. *she casually walks around the tube* What do you think? I gave this body more freckles. I couldn't explain the feeling when you kissed all the ones on my face.

Ruby: Is she...a clone?

Penny: Not quite. You see, Friend Ruby; this is an alternative body I made myself. This lab was constructed by me to build myself new bodies. Bodies suspended in a special solution that, well, emulates my soul. It acts as an anchor, you see. So when I die, I'll be drawn to this lab and can inhabit the new body. So, she's more like a shell.

Penny snaps her fingers, the room lights up and they're surrounded by 10s, maybe 100s of empty Penny bodies. Ruby is looking in awe, both afraid and interested.

Penny: You'd be surprised how much free time being the Protector of Mantle gives you, Friend Ruby. It took a long time for me to rebuild my body just right. There's a certain artistry to the science of building me, surprisingly.

Ruby: *Ruby pauses as she stares at one tube, with a Penny that looks like her original self before Beacon fell*

Penny: A fan of the original, Friend Ruby? Don't worry, I am too. She's quite nostalgic, don't you think?

Penny: Oh, but if you're impressed with her, how about this?

Penny presses a button on her wrist as the tubes shuffle about before another Penny is in front of them, this one has white hair.

Penny: Hmm, thoughts? I always admired Commander Winter. She was like the sister I never had. You're a fan of the Schnees, right~?

Ruby: W-well...

Penny: Ooh, I also come in other colors. *Penny presses a button as more tubes cycle in front of them* How about blonde? I hear they have more fun? Or maybe brunette; mature, refined, chocolate. Speaking of, how about a tanned Penny? Freckles don't show as well, but a nice caramel skin looks so delicious on me, don't you think?

Ruby: Penny, this is just...a lot. I get making these bodies, but...why all the variants?

Penny: Naturally, so I can be whatever you want me to be.

Ruby: Penny...all I want is for you to be yourself and with me.

Penny: Oh, Friend Ruby...you're gonna make me cry.

Ruby; You can do that?

Penny: *sniffles* I made some modifications to this body for expressions.

Ruby: *cups her face in her hands* Then I'll kiss those tears away~

[immediatebreakfast]

Dear Lanyon,—You are one of my oldest friends; and although we may have differed at times on scientific questions, I cannot remember, at least on my side, any break in our affection. There was never a day when, if you had said to me, ‘Jekyll, my life, my honour, my reason, depend upon you,’ I would not have sacrificed my left hand to help you. Lanyon, my life, my honour, my reason, are all at your mercy; if you fail me to-night, I am lost. 

Sir Henry Jekyll, admired scientist of your time.

“It is well,” replied my visitor. “Lanyon, you remember your vows: what follows is under the seal of our profession. And now, you who have so long been bound to the most narrow and material views, you who have denied the virtue of transcendental medicine, you who have derided your superiors—behold!”

You are a hypocrite beyond comparison.

How could he? How truly could he dare do this? I ask, and yet the answer lays on Hyde's words, and Jekyll's intentions.

Lanyon's letter is the beginning of the end in this mystery. It is the ugly truth coming to light, it's looking at the horror directly, and wondering why are you witnessing this.

How arrogant of Jekyll to play with his disturbing discovery like this in front of his old friend. He wrote such moving letter, so well written and so desperate, to lead Lanyon to do what he wanted. Yet, in his desperation to prove his theory, Jekyll killed Lanyon.

Remember how they fell apart, a dispute about crimes against science, probably trying to do magic, and call it science. Then neither can see eachother, leaving Utterson in the middle, and in all of that time Jekyll was preparing this while Lanyon was none the wiser.

The chase, the instructions, Hyde coming to Lanyon's house specifically, all of it was planned.

Now that I truly think about it, maybe this is why Hyde had such despicable aura, and how he as mask ends up becoming "stronger" than Jekyll despite him being a fundamental part of the gentleman. Hyde's whole being, one of the pillars that made his existance possible was Jekyll's emotions towards Lanyon. All of that pettiness, the hate, the rage, all of them boiled inside Jekyll then exploded in Hyde.

Hyde is not only Jekyll with a mask, he is Jekyll's ill intentions made physical to the point that the first thing people notice about him is that negative miasma that makes them hate him. Hyde was born out of hatred!

And what Jekyll did was inflict that traumatic transformation upon Lanyon... Because Lanyon rightfully called his endeavours "unscientific balderdash." An unscientific balderdash that ended up killing him from pure terror.

This whole horrifying display of defying the laws of nature was just the pettiest way possible for Henry Jekyll to finally prove to his old friend Hastie Lanyon that at the end he was the better scientist.