#...emphasis on mostly. this one is not my best but i still had to do it bc one of the later ones will reference it 😔✊

[beatcroc]

peppino "never tell the health inspector" spaghetti

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino] [gustavo]<- u are here [gerome] [noisette again]

[stardustizuku]

Unfortunately I came across a very strange and misinformed video about Black Butler.

It’s not good. Don’t watch it. Unless you wanna ruin your day, in which case have fun.

Despite it all, I watched it. What left me wondering, however, was how off the mark the person who made the video was on, well, everything.

From their insistence that the Book of Circus Arc theme or point is non existent, to reading Ciel’s character so badly they genuinely thought the Green Witch Arc did nothing for his character development.

While baffled, it also made me think on how someone could read Black Butler so badly.

Sure, you can say that there’s no real way to read or interpret something “in the wrong way” but interpreting The Hunger Games as a pure battle-royale action story would make you believe it’s bad.

“Why are we focusing so much on how the capitol preps them?” Or “Why isn’t Katniss winning everything?” Or “I wanna know more about the rebellion” All questions that miss the actual point of the story - which is criticizing (not solving or ignoring) the way that media distracts us from violence via spectacle.

The same thing applies here. While there is no “right” way to consume media, there’s things that the author makes clear they wanna focus when creating a story. Things that, if you understand, make the story you’re reading actually make sense.

And in Black Butler there’s three things that you have to understand to properly get what Yana is saying.

Sebastian is the protagonist

Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship IS the story.

And that relationship is, fundamentally, a positive one.

A quicker version of it would be:

Black Butler is a love story from the POV of Sebastian, and you have to ship it to get it

- but that’s not entirely true.

You can still look at it as a complex but ultimately positive rship and get in broad strokes of what it’s conveying. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Although, it helps much more than a platonic framing.

(That said, interpreting their rship as father and son, still isn’t the best way to go about it. Mostly because by its very nature of “soul consuming” their relationship is extremely sexually charged. And hey, if you’re into that I don’t judge. However, if you’re desperately trying to interpret their rship as NOT romantic to the point you fall back on heteronormative patriarchal ideals of nuclear familiar as framing device, I don’t think this interpretation bodes with you)

Now, having all that ground work:

Why do I say these are the key components to understand BB?

Okay so, first,

1. Sebastian is the Main Character. The protagonist.

There’s a lot of people who wanna argue against it, claiming he’s either the villain or the antagonist. Both wrong.

He does not function as an antagonist. Even if, and an emphasis on if, you consider Ciel to the protagonist, Sebastian isn’t a narrative antagonist.

If you wanna go back to Creative Writing 101, be my guest. An antagonist is directly defined by the protagonist. It’s the opposing force. If the protagonist wants A, the antagonist wants to stop them from getting A.

Sebastian’s catchphrase is “Yes, my Lord”. He never opposes Ciel, in fact quite the contrary. By the mere fact they’ve created contract, it means that they’ve both agreed in the inevitable outcome.

People want to frame Sebastian as the villain, because Ciel having his soul taken by a demon, would be a BAD END in the context of their moral compass. They see Ciel as a frail victim of abuse, who’s being tricked by Sebastian, who wants Ciel’s soul.

Which is an. Interpretation. A bad one. But still one.

The narrative (and whether the narrative fits your personal moral compass and lack of critical thinking is irrelevant) treats Ciel as an agent in his own destiny. The abuse he suffered was the moment in which he had no control. It’s only after he meets Sebastian that he can rid of both his guilt and his despair, and do what he wants.

In this case though, it’s revenge.

The famous “Asthma” scene shows this. If Ciel is taken back to his past, he becomes helpless. Swarmed with pain and memories that make it so that he can’t even react. Sebastian is his saving grace. If Ciel didn’t have him, and the power he wields to rebuilt what’s broken, he would crumble once more.

If Ciel has a panic attack, because of all the pain he has, Sebastian picks him up and says “you are not a helpless child anymore, you are not a victim anymore, you have the power to do anything. So, what do you wanna do?”

Ciel’s answer is to kill them.

A proper analogy would be to say that, if Sebastian offers a gun, Ciel pulls the trigger. They are both at fault. Sebastian, strictly speaking, is not here to directly cause Ciel’s downfall, but as a tool Ciel uses to plunge into the abyss.

If, again if, you were to frame Ciel as a protagonist, Sebastian falls closer to the “Voice of reason” character. Not a literal voice of reason, but a literary one. If you have a protagonist and an antagonist exchanging ideals, the Voice of Reason serves to engage with the protagonist on their own ideals.

That said, Ciel isn’t the protagonist. The story quickly falls apart if you interpret it as such.

Things such as Ciel’s character arc being…shall I say odd?

It’s not that his character arc isn’t there, but it’s never lineal. His goals stay the same, the only thing that happens is that we start to peel back the “why”s of his goals. Throughout the series it’s never about Ciel understanding himself better, he knows who he is, he knows what he wants, he knows why he wants it. He doesn’t ever need to uncover these, but simply remember them. Because it’s always about the audience understanding Ciel.

He knows he wants revenge.

In the Circus Arc: He knows that he needs Sebastian because without him, the pain of the abuse he suffered would be too much to bear. But WE are introduced to it.

In the Book of Atlantis: He knows that with this new lease he does not want happiness and peace, he wants revenge. The one being told this is the audience.

In Green Witch Arc: He knows that their revenge isn’t for his family, the real Ciel or guilt. It’s because he wants it. He’s angry, he’s upset, and this is entirely for him. The one being told this is the audience.

Except. Not really. The one either discovering or remembering these key moments - is always Sebastian.

Sebastian is the one who reassures him that he now holds the power of a demon to override the pain. Sebastian is the one who remembers that to override that pain, Ciel wants revenge. And Sebastian is the one who discovers that that revenge isn’t built out of grief or guilt, but for himself.

We are witnessing it all, through the eyes of Sebastian.

This is why we have an extremely vague idea of who Ciel is, Sebastian does not have the whole picture.

If you haven’t been reading this manga with your eyes closed, you’ll realize we have a better grasp at Sebastian’s character than that of Ciel. We get a lot of insight on how he thinks and what he values through light hearted dialogue he has with the servants. You even see the character development in these little interactions.

Think about how when he first arrived to the mansion he magically created food with no regards to taste, but when he meets Bard he states that food is created to see whoever will eat it, smile.

That is character development, more than you will be able to see from Ciel.

Because Ciel’s character, while not static, doesn’t go from point A to point B. Mostly, cause it doesn’t need to. He went through that when he lost the real Ciel and got Sebastian. Everything we are watching is the falling out.

Now, given the fact that I’ve told you that it makes more sense for Sebastian to be the protagonist/main character, and that he 100% isn’t either a villain or antagonist in ANY of the interpretations you can get:

Do you believe me?

If you don’t, you’ll probably believe Yana herself.

This is from the first Volume, where Yana herself describes the process of making Black Butler. The primary idea behind the creation of BB was a butler as a “hero”.

If you go back to the introductory chapter, you notice that Ciel is barely mentioned. He’s simply the one to give Sebastian impossible tasks and standards that Sebastian must find how to overcome.

Ciel is properly introduced until the NEXT chapter. The second chapter has this formula too, introducing Lizzie as a problem to overcome. Although, to Sebastian the best way to “get rid of the problem” is simply to indulge her.

The issue here being that the problem isn’t as simple as a business meeting but something directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s past. Each time that Sebastian has to solve a problem, it chips away at Ciel. While with Lizzie he shows a persona, once he’s alone with Sebastian he acknowledges the toll it took on him. It serves to build Ciel as Sebastian’s master, and how some problems aren’t as simple as discarding a tablecloth.

The third and the fourth, are a unified narrative, with a similar premise to the first chapter. Ciel gets kidnapped and Sebastian must find a way to retrieve him without raising suspicions.

If the first chapter is to set up what Sebastian must do as a butler, the third and the fourth serve to set up what he must do as a demon.

The entirety of the volume, and up to Book of Circus Arc, is about how Sebastian tries to follow the increasingly absurd orders that Ciel has - it is not about Ciel trying to solve them.

That’s how they work, we follow Sebastian for the most part, because he’s the one having to come up with the solutions.

If anything, in early Kuro, where the emphasis was more on a slice of life conflict, Ciel is the antagonist. He’s the one creating problems for Sebastian to solve.

What’s more, in the second volume, the very first chapter is one from Sebastian’s POV. So far, we hadn’t gotten an entire chapter from Ciel’s POV. In fact, I would find it hard to point to a single chapter where Ciel is the POV throughout. The reveal of real Ciel and the flashback is the closest contender.

But once we move past early Kuro, and into Book of Circus, this set up changes.

It’s fairly easy to assume that Ciel is the main character, because from this point on the conflict of the plot sorta surrounded him. We spend a lot of time with him and with his story. The enemies start being people directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s trauma. Rarely, if at all, we get to see Sebastian before he met Ciel.The framing device for the story, is Ciel.

This is where point 2 gets intertwined.

2.- Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship IS the story.

The story begins at the point where Sebastian and Ciel met. Who Ciel was before he met Sebastian, informs why he’s the way he is when he does. You have to know all he went through to understand why he’s a brat, why he lashes out. However Sebastian’s past doesn’t matter…because Sebastian himself doesn’t care much for who he was, before he was “Sebastian”. That’s also part of the narrative.

Unlike Ciel, he doesn’t seem opposed to revealing information from before the contract. He talks about how pets from where he is from are gross, he talks about how he knows how to dance because of other places he’s been to, and alludes to the life he's lived before.

Just that, to him, they're footnotes.

He makes allusions to a very bland, uninteresting life, up to the point he meets Ciel.

That’s why we don’t know more about his past.

As for why we focus on Ciel’s story…okay maybe we need Creative Writing lessons 102

I studied Dramaturgy for about 3 to 4 years. And something you notice is how play-writing is the quintessential story telling. It’s making it work with the bare bones of a story.

Some other mediums have more finesse, more depth, or more spectacle - all amazing things that work for whatever they’re created for. But understanding a play, how and why it works, helps understand the fundamentals of any derivative story telling medium.

Particularly, conflict.

Conflict is dialogue and dialogue can take many forms. A story, in its essence, is a dialogue between two opposing ideas.

Take Batman, for example, who embodies the ideas of justice and order. On his own, he’s not a well rounded character.

If you ONLY present him, in a vaccum with nothing else, you don’t have a character. You have a list of characteristics that you’re supposed to know.

You only know who he is when you have dialogue with another character.

I say Dialogue, but it doesn’t necessarily mean spoken language at one another. Dialogue can mean fist fighting, playing tabletop games, talking to other people about the other, or even just a competition. The idea is to simply to compare and contrast both ideas.

If you want an example on how tabletop games serve as dialogue, watch the video “Well, Someone Had to Explain the Liar’s Dice Scene” by Lord Ravecraft

Another example, were we to retake Batman, you have him fight Joker. Who’s the embodiment of chaos and randomness.

In the following picture, you get far more information than the one previously shown. While the Joke fights with daggers and fake guns, Batman only uses his fists. He doesn’t use the tricks that Joker does. His serious demeanor, contrasted with Joker’s glee at the dangerous situation. The fact that Batman has a deathly grip on Joker’s shirt, while the Joker doesn’t, which shows a desperation to catch him.

You are being shown, through a dialogue, who Batman is.

It’s so much easier and much more effective to explore a character through another character.

This is the reason why Shonen has a tendency to make incredibly good gay ships. If you want to explore Naruto’s personality, and his feelings of inferiority, you HAVE to have him interact with Sasuke.

If you wanna understand Hinata’s passion for volleyball, you have him enjoy himself the most with the only other crazy motherfucker who’s as obsessed with volleyball - Kageyama.

And I think that originally, Yana had this problem.

Sebastian was the protagonist, but she had little room to develop him as a character in the confines of the manor, dealing with random enemies.

She likely tried to create Grell as someone of the same stature as Sebastian. Someone who could be this other person to engage dialogue with and show or allude to his past a bit more.

The problem being that Sebastian didn’t care for his past. Or really, engaging with anyone. He sees everyone as below him, but when confronted with Grell who isn’t below him, he doesn’t wanna talk to her.

So you’re stuck in conundrum.

How do you have dialogue with a character, that as a character trait, doesn’t really wanna have dialogue?

Well, Grell also solves the problem. Because only the moment she gets him to start any semblance of a dialogue - is questioning why he’s serving Ciel.

And this is the moment when it’s perfectly cemented that the focus of the story is their relationship.

Why is Sebastian here? Why does he stay? What did he see in Ciel that made him want this extremely convoluted contract?

THATS the dialogue.

THATS the conversation we’re having in Black Butler.

We need to know Ciel because understanding who he is, let’s us know WHY /Sebastian/ is here.

Then slowly, with the introduction with the Undertaker, we find out Sebastian’s conflict.

Which is…

He’s scared of losing Ciel. It becomes apparent with the constant imagery of the Undertaker taking away Ciel and at some point even obtaining r!Ciel’s body, that he’s worried it might happen.

But he can only be worried that Ciel might be taken away if he wants to stay near Ciel.

And that’s his character arc.

Realizing that he actually likes Ciel, cares for him and the role he plays a butler that he doesn’t want this to end.

In the first chapters, he doesn’t feel a need to protect Ciel anymore than what’s strictly necessary. Just don’t die, that’s about as deep as his involvement in chapter 4 gets.

But by the Green Witch Arc, he feels a need to protect Ciel from ANY harm.

This is why I also said

3.- Their relationship is fundamentally a positive one.

In broad strokes, Sebastian to Ciel is the person who allows him to survive. He’s not worried about giving up his soul since he’s already dead. While Ciel to Sebastian, is someone who’s making him have fun. He’s slowly becoming more and more attached to Ciel and the life he has with Ciel.

Their relationship is not that of just a predator and prey, but also of master and pet.

In the terms that Black Butler itself would call: Sebastian is a wild wolf acting like a collared dog.

Ciel is aware that the wild beast will eat him at the end of the day, but if he clings hard to leash for now, he might just be able to have Sebastian maul his abusers.

Sebastian as a dog, currently finds that he enjoys being a chained dog.

(This is demonstrated in the Green Witch arc where he quite literally says, he doesn’t wanna be a wild beast and prefers to be a butler)

And much like the actual DOG Sebastian, Ciel constantly interprets his attempts to get close and protect him, as an act of aggression.

This push and pull of Ciel’s perception of Sebastian and Sebastian’s true motives is what feeds the story.

And the briefs interludes were that isn’t the case (what other people call the “plot”, but I would refer to as the connective tissue) such as Sullivan and Wolfram, the other servant’s past, the grim reapers and the like, serve as a parallel to Ciel and Sebastian relationship. Either to signify how they care for each other, highlight their weaknesses or fears, or explore how they feel.

It’s no surprise that Sullivan and Wolfram are parallels to Ciel and Sebastian. A sheltered sickly child who seeks the protection of a cold hearted machine that only knew how to kill, but who eventually found he cared for her genuinely.

Undertaker and Claudia’s relationship being heavily paralleled with them, even though we aren’t 109% sure what they had but heavily implied it was a romantic attraction from the undead supernatural creature and a Phantomhive.

Everything is a parallel.

That’s why, like the approach of the terrible original video, is flawed.

Trying to interpret Black Butler as action scene after action scene, with mystery after mystery with the only connective tissue being the mystery of who burned down the mansion - is missing the trees for the forest.

That’s not the point.

And if you’re too much of a prude to engage with gothic horror in its gothic horror game, I see little point as to why you even bother to engage with it at all.

A lot of people, including the person who create the video, simply refuse to acknowledge Black Butler IS the story of Sebastian and Ciel as a close and positive relationship, romantically and sexually charged. The reason for it being that they’re “put off” by it.

Part of me wonders how much that is genuinely true, and how much is just performative outrage. It’s like ignoring the fact that Cersei and Jami are in an incestous relationship and try to frame it as “platonic love”, because the idea of it is THAT off putting.

But regardless of that, if you don’t like the fact that it’s as canon as canon can get, I would reccomend you don’t engage with the story at all.

As I’ve explained, the entirety of the series is about them. If you refuse to see Sebastian and Ciel as, at the very least, a duo that cares deeply for the other - you aren’t reading Black Butler.

I have no idea what you’re reading.Perhaps your own biases and subconscious stigma with British aesthetic. At that point, watch the fucking British Royalty Gossip Magazine. You’d find more substance there.

Just don’t be like the person in the video, please? Don’t play dumb. Don’t ignore the fact that Yana is a Shotacon, don’t ignore the fact Sebastian is a hero, don’t ignore the fact that the entirety of the story is based on Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic.

Because if you do, you are ashamed. You are ashamed of what this story is about. You don’t wanna engage with the text, you want to engage with yourself. You wanna project into Ciel whatever traumas and experiences you have, for the sake a vanity project, where you come out as the morally superior.

You don’t wanna talk about Black Butler, you wanna talk about how good YOU are. How you “don’t sin” by watching it “without all the gross unholy stuff”.

Which is the exact opposite of what BB is about.

So, if you don’t want to, save us all the humiliation fetish and leave.

[elithe31st]

Hi!! I saw you write for Noah in Total Drama 🤭 could you possibly write where reader is either childhood friends with Heather or Alejandro and how Noah would feel about their relationships including readers childhood best friend.

hihi! thank you for requesting, i hope you dont mind i made this in headcannon form. if you'd like it to be a fic, don't be afraid to tell me :D

VULTURE CULTURE

noah tdi x gn reader headcannons

'' i'll watch my step if you drop another name ''

ALEJANDRO BURROMUERTO [PLATONIC]

noah doesn't understand. at all.

you two were friends before world tour, meeting on island, and watching from the sidelines along with him.

noah was content, happy even

until you flocked over to alejandro during wt

he just...didn't get it.

you still hung out with him, yes, but you had brought the eel into it

into everything

he didn't hate alejandro, no. he wasn't jealous or anything

okay yeah he was just a little bit

"(Name)," He says to you, a very small pout on his face. "What is it with you and Alejandro?"

he looks a bit angry, a bit sad

so you explain

and then hes honestly relieved

mostly because you werent like everyone else who fell for his 'attractive' schtick

plus, that was meant for justin

and then the episode where he got eliminated came

and you were mad with alejandro

like, really mad

but you let him be

like all bff fights, just don't talk to each other for a few days and then you're good

ALEJANDRO BURROMUERTO [ROMANTIC]

everything in the platonic part

except 2x angrier (if you two were openly dating)

"Hey, Alejandro, kindly back off. (Name) already has someone to keep them company, and it isn't you."

you and alejandro would be equally confused

noah? showing an emotion? besides confusion, worry, and rarely happiness?

youd have to explain to him

he'd just sit there. and then give a formal apology to both of you

alejandro would beg chris to let that apology air

and then noah would go right back to square one

he wouldn't get possessive, just more cocky and open about some of his insults towards alejandro

noah getting voted off officially comes around

you're mad

you hate alejandro for a few days

but ultimately noah would just make a very clear emphasis to not trust him

and then you get voted off

but you get to watch alejandro from the sidelines with noah

HEATHER [PLATONIC]

oh brother

everyone knew your status as 'heathers bestie' right off the bat

and even though you weren't mean

everyone treated you like it because of heather

except noah

noah was just another face in the team, but an important one

in between challenges, you and noah hug out a LOT

to the point you two treated it like a secret relationship

looking at each other and then giggling, nudging each other playfully, you get it

one day when you two were hanging out, you ask noah why he hung out with you

he responded with "Trust me, I know not to judge a book by it's cover. I mean, have you met me?"

you laughed

and then heather found you two

she just glanced at noah disapprovingly before stealing you to go elsewhere

elimination day

you weren't surprised noah got voted off

you ate your marshmallow, waving noah a small farewell as he left

next challenge you guys lost, you said if no one did anything drastic to just vote you off

so thats what happened

and then you chilled with noah at playa de losers

and told him about heather

and he just nodded

"Oh well, I'm already friends with a bunch of loons. What harm could a snarky loon do to my conscious?"

and then you hit him

lovingly

HEATHER [ROMANTIC]

noah officially has head trauma

you and him are dating. and you hang around heather a lot. if noah wants this relationship to work, he better be friends with heather

and stat

heather probably jokes about you two dating

"(Name), I knew your standards were low, but not know-it-all, braniac, band kid low!"

"Oh no, I'm smart, what a comeback. What's next, gonna say something about how I'm a nerd? I've heard it all. I'm getting bored, some new insults would be pretty nice."

you have to split them up before a verbal brawl goes between them

you make it work

somehow

go out with noah? get heather something small while you two are doing whatever

go with heather? pick up a book noah's been dying to read after

50/50 split

they eventually become friends

just

heather wont let noah get anywhere near you but it's fine!!!

[winchester-girl67]

Cravings

Summary: The reader gets some intense pregnancy cravings when she smells the alpha next door cooking. She grabs a plate and knocks on his front door.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader, Baker!Dean x pregnant!reader

Square: Baker au @spnchristmasbingo​ Love at first smell @spnaubingo​

Word Count: 3,777

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, pregnant reader (Dean is not the father), unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy cravings, mentioned/implied one night stand, mature themes, language, pining, a little angst, mostly fluff

A/N: Inspired by a post on pinterest. First attempt at writing an A/B/O fic. Also written for @spnchristmasbingo​ and @spnaubingo​. Enjoy!

_____

The best thing about this pregnancy was no heats. Your cycle took a snooze and although you still craved the touch of an alpha at times, it was something you could handle yourself. And you did handle it yourself since you wanted nothing to do with the alpha that did this to you.

He was a means to ease your heat that one time, but he was all kinds of selfish and everyday you thanked your lucky stars he didn't claim you that night. Although, if he knew you were four months along that might change things. Simply because alphas are territorial and not because he actually loved you.

You were a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on hopeless, every alpha you met was the same. Controlling, arrogant and conceited. And because of that, there was no way you were going to let just any alpha claim you. No matter what.

You always wanted to be a mom and you didn't need an alpha like that. One pup was enough. You would raise this pup right and if they presented as alpha when the time came, they would be different.

It was near the end of November and it was cold outside but the pregnancy had you running hot, so you had the window cracked open as you watched your favourite holiday cooking show on Netflix. Just the sight of the food on the screen made your stomach rumble.

Pregnancy cravings are a bitch.

One minute it was sweet like chocolate and the next it was savoury like meat pie with gravy and mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce...

You raised your nose towards the open window in your living room and sniffed. Inhaling a deep intoxicating breath that went straight to your stomach and you felt your pup flutter happily.

Your neighbour was cooking something delicious and the pup wants what the pup wants. There was no use denying it, you'd be craving that smell all night if you didn't go over there.

You grabbed a chunky brown sweater from your room and tugged it on. Then padded over to your kitchen cupboard and grabbed a plate before you headed out the door in your slip-on boots.

This is ridiculous, you thought as you stood on your neighbour's porch.

You knew very well the guy next door was an alpha, you could smell him during his ruts and it was always the most intense musky scent. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was distracting and your heat usually hit around the same time. Still, you hadn't ever talked to him. He kind of intimidated you like any single alpha would to an unclaimed omega. So you kept your distance.

Until now.

You lifted your fist to knock.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

In the minute it took him to answer the door you didn't think twice about it. You only thought about that smell and you had to swallow to keep from drooling.

"Hi," you greeted, when your neighbour opened the door and you continued before he could get a word in, "My name's Y/N Y/L/N, I live next door and I was hoping I could have some of whatever it is you're cooking. I know this is really strange and kind of intrusive but the smell is making my mouth water and I just had to ask."

You held out your plate and pouted your bottom lip with big Y/E/C eyes looking up at him. He was taller than you thought, bigger shoulders too. And those green eyes of his stared back at you.

"It doesn't have to be much, just a little. Please?"

But then he smiled, "Of course. Come on in, neighbour."

He stood aside and held open the door. You only hesitated a moment before you stepped inside and let him shut and lock the door behind you.

"This way," he waved for you to follow him and headed down the hall.

You left your boots at the front door and padded after him with your plate in your hands. You stood at the entrance of the kitchen and inhaled with a big smile you didn't know you were wearing. Until you heard a chuckle from your neighbour.

"Here, let me take that." He said and you let him take the plate from your hands. You never felt this comfortable around an alpha before even when you were intimate with one. "Y/N. Aren't you going to ask my name?"

Oh right. "What's your name?"

"Dean," he smiled and set your plate on the counter. "Winchester."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Winchester. I really appreciate this."

He hummed and nodded, "No problem. And call me, Dean."

You swallowed again when he pulled the meat pie from the oven and dished out a couple of slices along with a scoop of mashed potatoes and a dollop of cranberry sauce.

Damn, pregnancy nose was spot on!

"I do have one condition, Y/N." He paused and looked up at your curious face. You started to get a little nervous this time. "I don't like eating alone, would you mind?" He asked as he placed your plate on the kitchen table across from his.

You froze and didn't answer. You just stared at him. Then Dean sighed and picked your plate back up. He slowly walked it over to you, still standing in the entrance, and handed it over.

"Thank you," you said and padded back towards the front door.

Dean exhaled loudly when you reached the entrance, still sulking in the kitchen and not bothering to see you out. You felt a shift and sniffed the air. The alpha smelt salty... lonely. Not dangerous. You paused at the door and looked down at your plate, then back over your shoulder at the entrance to the kitchen.

"It'll probably get cold on the walk home." You stated, walking back into the kitchen and sitting across from Dean at the table. You gave him a soft smile.

You didn't know why but you didn't feel threatened around Dean, despite the alpha within. You stabbed into the slice of meat pie with your fork and hummed around a bite. Savoury and buttery and flakey. It was perfect.

You started purring and Dean's scent changed again. He was happy. Really happy. You stopped eating and met his smirk.

"Is it that good?" He asked and you couldn't help purring a little louder as you nodded. "I'm glad."

Purring wasn't something you did often. Only when you were extremely content and you couldn't stop it even when it became embarrassingly loud. Dean didn't seem to mind though, he actually looked kind of flattered.

"Can I have some water?" You asked between purrs.

"I can do better, how about some wine? I have red," he offered and raised his eyebrows in question as he stood from his seat.

You couldn't drink but you didn't want to tell him why. It was still early to be telling people.

"Water's fine."

"Okay. Can you get me two glasses from the cupboard and I'll grab the Brita from the fridge." He asked as he pointed to the cupboard behind you.

"Sure." You purred.

You had to stretch a little to grab the glasses off the shelf, one in each hand, and your chunky sweater rode up a little when you did.

"Are these ones okay?"

Dean growled and snapped behind you. You started and spun around to see him baring his teeth and staring at your stomach. You stopped purring instantly and dropped the glasses to tug your sweater back down. You were just starting to show.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Dean shook his head and raised his hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't-"

"Maybe I should go..."

"No."

"This is on me, Dean. This wasn't a good idea. I never should've barged in here. I'm gonna go." You said, holding a protective arm over your bump and stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"You don't have to." Dean pleaded and took a step closer.

"I think I need to, thank you for everything."

"Omega. Sit." He ordered and took a deep calming breath. You hesitated at your title and sniffed the air, smelling his fear fade away. "I didn't mean it, okay? I'm just getting a lot of new scents from you, it's confusing as hell but I wouldn't ever hurt you. You can take my word on that." He glanced at the hand you kept on your lower stomach and added, "I won't harm your pup either, Y/N."

"New scents?" You asked.

That implied he scented you before the pregnancy but this was the first time you've ever interacted with him. So how could that be?

"You can smell me when I go into rut, right?" You nodded. "I can smell you when your heat kicks in." He exhaled and rubbed the scruff on his chin, "It's intense. Sometimes it feels like you're in the room with me, sometimes I wish you were... but most of the time, I have to keep myself from going over there. I don't like it when you need me and I can't do a damn thing about it."

Alphas naturally run a few degrees hotter so it wasn't a surprise to see the window in his kitchen open. And your houses were fairly close together, so it wasn't entirely impossible to scent each other during your cycles when your pheromone levels were at their highest. But because it wasn't a direct scent it made sense that a slight change in yours, like a pregnancy, could throw him off.

“You leave your windows open a lot, which I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. You know you shouldn’t do that, right? I mean anyone could just break in, especially when you smell as good as you do." He explained, probably a little more than he wanted by the way he cringed at himself. "I just want you and your pup to be safe."

You spent a long minute just watching him and sniffing the air. Still, he didn't strike you as a threat. He looked at you the way no other alphas did and he kept including your pup so you knew he cared about the both of you.

"I don't think anyone's stupid enough to try something when an alpha lives next door." You pointed out.

Alphas were primal creatures. It didn't matter if he claimed you or not. If he smelt a scared omega in his territory -next door, he would have the instinct to protect you or at least rip the throat out of whoever was threatening you.

"What about the alpha?" He asked.

"He keeps to himself."

"And what if he can't do that anymore?" He slowly slid into his seat at the table and rested his head in his hand as he looked up at you.

He looked defeated. Like he was tired of denying the connection he felt to you. You weren't sure what you felt. You didn't know what to say and you started to get nervous that he may want to claim you. Right here, right now.

"Then I guess it depends on what he does next." You answered, still standing and shifting your weight from foot to foot under his gaze. "I've had enough asshole alphas in my life, Dean."

"I won't force anything on you, Omega. I just want to be near you." He promised as if he read your mind.

"Don't call me 'Omega'. We don't know each other that well and I don't like it." You hardened your face and he nodded like he understood.

'Omega' was something you reserved for your mate. Future mate, someone you trusted completely. It made you feel primal urges when you heard it and you had been fighting the urge to sit down with him since he told you to.

"Please, stay." He whispered and stared at his plate.

Dean's scent was turning salty again and you soured your nose. You hated that scent on him and you would do anything to make it go away. You ignored the glass on the floor and slid back into your seat at the table across from him.

"Why does your house always smell so amazing?" You asked, poking at your food with your fork. You teased, "Are you like always baking or something?"

This hadn't been the first time you smelt something so delectable that you wanted to demand a piece of the pie, so to speak. You had to stop yourself many times and wound up stuffing your face with Oreos or bread instead. But the pregnancy made those cravings a hundred times worse, so there was no stopping you when they struck today.

"I own a bakery, so yeah," Dean smiled and followed your lead when you started to eat again. "I'm usually trying new recipes or whipping up a snack for fun."

"Wait, so you bake all day and then come home and bake some more?" You smiled and the alpha in Dean blushed as he nodded with a chuckle. "Well, if you ever need a taste-tester, you know where to find me. I'm always hungry these days."

You rubbed your slightly swollen stomach and took a bite of mashed potatoes. Creamy and cheesy and you shut your eyes for a moment as you savoured the taste in your mouth.

"I'm guessing there's not an alpha in the picture?" Dean alluded as he stirred his potatoes and licked his fork. "I should've asked earlier but I didn't know," he glanced down as if he could see your bump underneath the tabletop.

"There's not," you stated dryly and mixed the cranberry sauce into your mashed potatoes. Salty and sweet, a perfect combination.

"Must be an idiot," Dean muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

"Not to claim you the second you took his knot." He explained and added a 'Sorry' when he smelt your unease.

You ate the rest of your meal in a silence that wasn't entirely uncomfortable, exchanging glances with Dean between bites. He smiled at you a bunch more times and when the meal was over he sent you home with half the leftovers.

The next few weeks felt more and more as if he was courting you. Twice a week he'd leave gifts on your doorstep; pies, bread baskets, mini muffins, donuts, gingerbread men, sugar cookies. Some stuff he made at the bakery and some were new recipes he tested in his kitchen during restless weeknights. Then on the weekends you'd join him for a meal, usually dinner and usually at his place since his oven was fully operational. There was an element burnt out on yours and he offered to fix it but you weren't ready to let him into your home; not yet.

You were so grateful for the alpha next door. Sure, because he fed you delicious treats, but mainly because he treated you and your pup with respect. He was everything you wanted your pup to be and more.

He even accompanied you to doctors appointments and bought the pup a Led Zeppelin onesie. He was acting like a mate without all the scary alpha undertones. He did things because he cared and he wanted you both healthy and happy.

You had almost given up hope that an alpha like him existed. And this whole time he was right next door.

You wanted to show Dean just how much you appreciated him, so you invited him over for Christmas Eve dinner; since you were both busy with family on the day of. You planned to cook him a big meal and give him a break, but he showed up a couple hours early to switch out your broken element for a new one. And after that you couldn't kick him out of the kitchen if you tried, so you relented and let him help.

"Do you wanna see the pup's room?" You asked after dinner.

You were too full for dessert, though you were positive you could go back for it in about an hour when your stomach made room. Dean started the dish washer and turned around to face you. You hadn't taken him on a tour of the house yet and he seemed content at the idea.

He tried to hide the smirk on his lips, "Are you sure you're alright with that, Om- Y/N?" He was trying to be respectful of your space.

"Mhm." You purred and grabbed his hand.

You tugged him along with you, up the stairs and into the first room on the left. The pup's room. You hadn't painted it yet and you weren't sure if you were going to, it didn't need it, but you did decorate the walls with posters of cartoon animals. There was a crib on the far end, and a bookshelf filled with children's books and plushie toys, and a La-Z-Boy recliner in the corner next to it.

"I already had a lot of this stuff. Except for the crib, that's new, and I've been collecting books since I found out. I still need a changing table and a dresser and maybe a few other things that I'm probably forgetting." You said and bit your lip as Dean scanned the room.

"This is awesome, I especially like the sleeping sloth poster 'Dream Big'." He chuckled, but walked over to the recliner when he spotted something. He picked up the large stuffed grey wolf that sat in it. Then smiled as he held it up to you, "You kept it!"

Dean won the stuffed animal at the carnival he brought you to last weekend by throwing baseballs at tin bottles. He wanted you to have it for your pup and he was really excited to see that it was in the room now. He really was the sweetest man alive.

"Are you kidding me?! Of course I did!" You said and walked up to him to plant a kiss on his scruffy cheek.

It was the first time either of you did anything intimate like that. Dean's neck flushed at the contact and the red crept up into his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat nervously and set the stuffed wolf back in the recliner. His natural musky scent got a little stronger and you could feel his body heat radiating off of him.

"The pup's gonna love this, Y/N. I can help you get the rest of the stuff, whatever you want." He said and kissed your forehead sweetly.

There was no need to rush, you were only five months along and already better prepared than you ever were. "We have lots of time, Alpha."

You didn't mean to say it, 'Alpha'. It just slipped out but once you said it you couldn't take it back. It felt right. Dean was your mate and by the looks of it, he knew that well before you did. He was just trying to ease you into it.

"Omega," Dean growled, "Don't tease me."

"Do you want to see the master bedroom?" You asked and tilted your head to the side as you looked up at him. You already thought of your house as being his home too, "Our room."

You didn't go into heat since you were already pregnant and that just didn't happen with pregnant omegas, but you felt that flutter in your chest that told you he was the right one. The alpha you wanted to claim and have claim you back. You wanted to be his and he as sure as the moon was high in the sky, wanted to be yours.

You had no doubts that he would treat your pup as his own, he never acted otherwise and always wanted to be by your side. Feeding you treats that were 'Good for the pup'. You had a feeling that if you let him, he would get a whole lot more clingy and protective too. But you wanted a doting alpha and you welcomed it when he lifted you in his arms.

Dean pressed his nose to the crook of your neck where your mating gland was and inhaled, long and deep. He was scenting you for real this time and you scented him back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He growled happily when your bump pressed to his tummy and you could smell his rut coming on strong. His skin was dewy and hot and you liked the warmth under your palms as you held onto the back of his neck.

Then he walked you out of the pup's room in search of yours.

"Which way, Omega?" He asked when he got you out into the hall.

"Last door on the right," you said, nibbling on his neck where you knew an alpha to be the most sensitive.

Dean gently dropped you on the king-sized bed and you crawled into the nest of blankets and pillows. He watched as you moved a few things and made enough room for him to crawl in after you.

"Come, Alpha. It's okay." You patted the open spot beside you in bed, but Dean hesitated.

"Fuck, this is the worst timing," he muttered to himself and you saw him visibly shudder. "I can feel my rut coming on fast, Y/N, I don't wanna hurt you or the pup. I should -I should go." He swallowed thickly and glanced at the door like he was trying to convince his feet to move.

An alpha would normally still go into ruts if his omega was pregnant, so it was natural and you knew he wouldn't hurt either of you. Even when things turned carnal and you knew he wouldn't claim you unless it was safe for the pup; that's just who Dean was. He was an alpha hardwired to protect and care for those he loved, not inflict pain or hardship to satisfy his own needs. He was different, he was a real mate, and you wouldn't leave him on his own when he needed you most.

"Alpha. Bed. Now."

Dean laughed and wiped the sweat from his forehead and upper lip. It wasn't common for an omega to order an alpha around but he listened to you and crawled into the nest beside you.

"Comfy?" You asked when he curled around your body and pressed his cheek to your bump. He shivered and placed a palm over your stomach. "I trust you, Dean. You won't hurt us, Alpha."

He didn't respond, instead he pressed his nose to your bump and scented the pup for the first time. Deep breath in, deep breath out and he stopped shaking. And started purring.

_________________________

Read part 2 here 

_________________________ Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27

[omg-snakes]

What is Okeetee biologically? How does it work and what does it do?

(Also tysm i love your blog you are amazing)

Hiiiiii and thank you and we love you, too!

Okay so Okeetee is a selectively-bred color morph that was discovered at the Okeetee Hunt Club in South Carolina.

Most recognized color morphs in corn snakes, like Amel, are simple recessive traits. That means one gene with two switches (alleles) in the "on" or "off" position.

Both on is called homozygous, and the gene is expressed visually.

One off, one on is called heterozygous, and the snake looks normal or "wild type" but can pass the "on" allele to their offspring.

Both off, homozygous, wild type snake.

Genes code for everything, from the size of a snake's organs to the length of their tail to the amount of pigment on each individual scale, and most of the genetic instructions are minute and subtle. Like, snake A has saddle borders that are the tiniest bit wider than snake B. It's the result of natural variation within a species, just like how a human person and their siblings all look similar but also distinct.

A selectively-bred color morph means not selecting for one single major gene mutation that affects the entire organism, but instead a whole suite of minor genes that do little things, and emphasizing those traits over many generations. That's how most dog and cat breeds were developed and that's how locality morphs like Okeetee work. It's a lot of genes that have been emphasized to create a snake that has the best fitness for their environment and/or the best likelihood of being selected to produce the next generation.

In the case of the Okeetee locality, snakes have high contrast colors, bright reds, and thick black saddle borders. These traits have been emphasized by choosing the highest-contrast snakes with the thickest, darkest borders and breeding those together. The result is a strikingly beautiful snake. By introducing the simple recessive Amel gene with selectively-bred Okeetee, we get Reverse Okeetees with thick white saddle borders and bright oranges.

The issue, however, is that Okeetee is not an on/off genetic mutation like Amel. It's a selectively-bred emphasis on naturally-occurring variation. That means it can be easily diluted if an Okeetee-type is bred to a non-Okeetee-type snake, and there's no heterozygous form of the morph because it's not one gene.

Think like if you had two cups of apple juice that sell for $1 each and you poured half from both cups into a third cup. The third cup is also apple juice, and it's worth $1! But if you have one cup of apple juice and one cup of just water, which is free, and you mix those, the result is a diluted apple drink that's half water. Should you still charge $1 for it? Is that morally ethical? What if you continue to dilute the apple drink, pouring half of what was in the last cup and half water, over and over until it doesn't even smell faintly of apple? At what specific point did this cease to be apple drink, and when do you stop charging a dollar for it? A less scrupulous or uneducated seller might even sell a cup of mostly water for $1 as "het apple juice" when that's not even a thing.

That's what I so frequently see happening with Okeetees and that's why I don't like them. A low-quality Okeetee from a heavily diluted bloodline is just a normal wild-type corn snake, but folks still price them as if they were the real deal, and naïve buyers will pay for the name when they really don't even know what they're looking at.

Again, sorry to the Okeetee fans. You're not wrong for liking a pretty snake, it's just the popularity and the lack of breeding ethics surrounding them that makes my nose wrinkle.

Plus I prefer Sunglow, which is the opposite of Okeetee with no saddle borders, so my opinion is heavily biased.

[munson-blurbs]

Hawkins Boys (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader angst/fluff)

Summary: You work up the courage to ask Eddie to the prom, but he seemingly turns you down in favor of Chrissy Cunningham. How will he feel when you show up with Steve Harrington?

Warnings: language, sadness, Eddie is an idiot, brief violence, Chrissy is lovely as always

WC: 2.7k

--

You:

Today is the day you do it. The day you face you fears, swallow your anxiety, and ask you best friend to the prom.

Eddie Munson is not a prom guy. He doesn't wear suits, he doesn't slow dance, and he probably wouldn't know romance if it smacked him in the head. But you've had a crush on him for ages, and you had to make your move. If he was going to fall for you, it would be on a night when you were dressed up and gorgeous.

He's sitting at the lunch table alone, waiting for the rest of Hellfire Club to come back with their trays of hot food. He nibbles at a pretzel, smiling when he notices you plunk down next to him. You fish two peanut butter sandwiches out of your bag and hand him one. You've been telling him that your mom insists on packing you two, but the truth is, you always make an extra one for him.

"We're almost done with this godforsaken place," you remind him. "You're gonna walk that stage and finally get your diploma."

"Can't come soon enough," he replies, taking a bite of the sandwich. "Told you all that '86 is my year!"

You giggle. "Would've been more believable if you didn't say the same about '84 and '85." He gives you a playful shove, making you laugh harder.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, but he's still smiling. "I'm gonna miss these sandwiches when you go off to college." He raises it for emphasis.

"I'll send you peanut butter so you can make your own," you tease, though the idea doesn't sound half-bad. You just imagine him opening up a package filled with jars of Jif.

He cocks an eyebrow. "I thought I was supposed to send you care packages," he says.

There's a brief silence before you begin to speak again. "Eddie?" you start, "would you wanna go to prom with me?"

Eddie:

"Would you wanna go to prom with me?"

Eddie feels himself freeze. He was going to ask you later today after Hellfire, but now he's caught off-guard. He wracks his brain for what to say.

Steve had given him advice, the same that he had given to Dustin: don't seem too eager, too desperate; keep it casual.

"Oh, uh..." he stammers, running his fingers through his coarse hair. "I dunno...I was thinking of asking Chrissy." There. That would throw you off until he could ask you properly.

He notices as your face falls, and while it makes his heart pang, he doesn't read too much into it. He's already planned how he's going to ask you to prom, and he'll make up for it then.

You:

Tears sting at your eyes when you hear that Eddie's asking Chrissy Cunningham to prom. It makes sense: she's beautiful, sweet, kind, and recently broke up with Jason Carver. You blink until your watery eyes clear, but you know it's only temporary. As soon as the Hellfire boys crowd the table, you quietly slip away. The tears start to fall when you burst into the girls' restroom; sobs make your chest heave.

How could you be so stupid to think that Eddie Munson liked you. You'd been friends for ages; if he wanted to take things farther, he already would have. You lock yourself in a stall until you begin to calm down, at least enough so that you can wash your face and look halfway presentable for your next class.

You're blotting your cheeks with a paper towel that resembles sandpaper when she walks in. Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

"Y/N!" she exclaims, worry evident on her pretty face. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," you lie plainly, buying time to think of an excuse. "Just overwhelmed with the idea of everything being...over." Mostly your fantasies of you and Eddie, but you omit that crucial detail.

Chrissy nods knowingly. "I get it. It's like, we're big fish in a little pond, and soon we'll be little fish in a gigantic pond." She manages a small smile. "At least we still have prom!"

Your voice catches in your throat, and you cough before speaking. "About that..." You're not exactly sure why you're doing this; maybe because you really care about Eddie's happiness, even if it kills you. "I think Eddie Munson wants to go with you. But he's shy about it--you should ask him."

Chrissy wrinkles her nose in confusion. "Me?" she asks. "I've, well, bought from him a few times, but I never knew he was into me."

You laugh. "Chrissy, you're the Queen of Hawkins High," you say gently. "It doesn't take much for the guys here to fall in love with you."

She blushes, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Well, it's not like Jason's gonna take me anymore," she laments, "and Eddie's always been nice to me. Sure, why not?" She pulls you in for a quick hug before flouncing off.

Eddie:

Eddie's relieved when you leave the table; it gives him a chance to go over the plan with the rest of Hellfire.

"So remember," he states, "the goal of today's campaign isn't to win; it's to ask Y/N to prom. Got it?" He looks around sharply at his flock of sheep.

"Got it," they chorus, and he grins.

"Excellent," Eddie says, clasping his hands together. "Now, Sinclair, you're going to--"

"Eddie?" a polite voice breaks his train of thought. He glances over to see Chrissy Cunningham, ponytail swinging in its green scrunchie. "Hi!"

"Um, hi," he answers with a cautious smile. He's not totally opposed to dealing in the middle of the cafeteria, but he prefers the privacy of the woods. "What's up?"

"I was just talking with Y/N," she starts, and Eddie's heart leaps at the mention of your name, "and she said you wanted to take me to prom but were a little nervous to ask."

The other Hellfire members gawp, puzzled at what's unfolding in front of them.

"Anyway," Chrissy continues, "I'd love to go with you! Meet at my place for pictures around 5?"

Eddie sits, slack-jawed, which Chrissy mistakes for introversion. "Here's my address," she slips him a piece of paper and beams. "I really thought I'd have no one to go with after Jason, you know..." she trails off, thinking about her ex's infidelity. "So I really appreciate this." She presses a chaste kiss to his cheek and heads back to her table.

"Dude," Mike Wheeler says finally, "What. The. Fuck?"

Eddie buries his head in his hands. "Y/N asked me to prom, and I told her that I wanted to take Chrissy so she wouldn't be suspicious of my plan, but I guess she...FUCK!" He slams his fists on the table. "What do I do now?"

Dustin slaps a hand to Eddie's back. "Looks like you're taking Chrissy Cunningham to prom, hot shot."

You:

You drive directly to Family Video after school to visit your friend Steve, ditching Hellfire without a second thought. Keith doesn't work Friday afternoons, and you know Steve will let you hunker down in the break room while you throw yourself a pity party.

The tears start up again as soon as you walk through the door. Steve notices immediately, hoisting himself over the counter.

"What happened?" he murmurs, pulling you in for a hug. His eyes widen when you relay the story to him.

"That doesn't make any sense," Steve mutters under his breath, rubbing your back with his strong hand. Eddie had just come to him for advice about you, like, last week. He'd made it abundantly clear that he wanted to take you to prom. Steve hadn't a clue about what changed since then.

"It makes perfect sense," you choke out. "Chrissy is perfect. Everyone loves her; it's not like Eddie is immune to her charm."

Steve takes a deep breath. "I can take you to the prom, if you want," he offers. "I know I'm not your first choice, but at least you won't have to go alone."

You nod gratefully. "Thank you, Stevie," you hug him, smushing your cheek to his chest. "You're the best." The thought of watching Eddie and Chrissy slow dancing still makes you feel sick, but you feel safer knowing that Steve will be by your side.

~

Your stomach is in knots as you, Robin, Nancy, and Vickie crowd around your vanity, teasing hair and applying makeup. The four of you look incredible: Robin in a red pantsuit, Vickie in a matching knee-length dress, Nancy in a baby pink tulle gown, and you in an emerald dress that ends mid-thigh. You've never felt more beautiful.

Your hand shakes as you bring the mascara wand to your eyelashes, and Nancy notices.

"Nervous about seeing Eddie?" she asks knowingly, and you just nod. She sighs and takes your manicured hands in hers, squeezing them tight. "He doesn't know what he's missing. Chrissy's great, sure, but you two could be soulmates. If he's too dumb to see that, he doesn't deserve you."

You give her the best smile you can muster and go back to readying yourself.

Steve arrives right on time. He takes a sharp breath inward when he sees you make your way down the stairs. You'd been friends since you were kids, seeing each other go through all the awkward stages of life, and he always considered you to be a little sister to him. Tonight, with you in that dress, he's thinking different kinds of thoughts.

"Y/N, you look amazing," he tells you, sliding a corsage onto your wrist. You pin the boutonniere to the lapel of his suit jacket, giggling as you accidentally prick your finger.

"You look so handsome, Steve," you say truthfully. "Thank you so much for taking me."

"My pleasure," he says, losing himself in your eyes for a moment. He clears his throat suddenly. "All right, let's ship out!"

~

The gym is decorated beautifully; it's hard to tell that it's usually filled with the sound of squeaking sneakers and basketballs bouncing on the wood floor. You make your way to the dance floor with Steve, Robin, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan. You're swaying your body and having such a great time that you don't even notice Eddie walk in with Chrissy.

Eddie:

But he notices you.

You're the first thing he sees when he enters the gym, looking absolutely breathtaking in your green dress. Eddie watches as you take Steve Harrington's hand in your own, twirling around and laughing. It's then that he realizes that Steve's tie matches your dress--he's your prom date.

That son of a bitch gave me shit advice so he could steal her, he thinks angrily, clenching his fists. I knew he was still a douchebag. I shouldn't have ever trusted him.

Chrissy wraps her hand around Eddie's bicep, pulling him closer. "You good?" she asks.

"Yeah," he answers too quickly. "Actually, no. Chrissy, I-I think you're an amazing girl. But I wanted to bring Y/N; I got scared when she asked me and made up something about wanting to take you, and not that I don't, but--"

"Eddie, relax," she puts out her hands to stop his rambling. "I thought it was kinda weird when she said you wanted to take me. I mean, everyone can see that you're in love with the girl."

Eddie blushes, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?"

Chrissy laughs. "Do me a favor?" She waits for him to nod before continuing. "Go after her." The band starts playing a slow song, and Chrissy grins harder. "Perfect timing--ask her for a dance."

Eddie pushes aside his anxiety and turns to go find you. And he does--just as Steve leans over and pulls you in for a kiss.

You:

The band starts playing "Take My Breath Away" when it happens: Steve kisses you.

His soft, pillowy lips crash into yours haphazardly, like he hasn't thought his actions through. He gently places his hand on your forearm. You're too stunned to moved, and even more so when the kiss ends abruptly.

Or rather, it's ended by Eddie grabbing Steve by the collar, slamming him into the nearest wall.

Eddie:

"Harrington, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eddie snarls, shoving Steve so that his head nearly hits the wall.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Steve retorts. "Get your hands off of me and go back to your date!"

"The only reason I had to take Chrissy was because of your shitty advice," Eddie hisses, never letting go of Steve. "Telling me to play it cool, not to show too much interest. See how well that worked out for me."

"I said be aloof, not be an asshole!" Steve spits back. "Y/N asked you to prom--you should've said yes. Is she supposed to sit around and wait for you? After you straight up rejected her for the head cheerleader?"

And then Eddie finally sees it from your perspective. You worked up the courage to ask him out. You stood there while he seemingly chose Chrissy over you. You set him up with her, still wanting to ensure his happiness. And now you had moved on, moved on with Steve Harrington, and Eddie just had to accept that.

Unless he didn't. Unless he fought for you, like she should've been fighting for you this whole time.

"Where'd she go?" he asks, wide-eyed.

"Put me down, and I'll help you find her."

You:

You run out of the gym, desperate to escape the escalating drama. Footsteps echo behind you, and a male voice says, "There she is."

A large hand grabs your small one. You're pulled back, finding yourself face-to-face with Eddie.

"We need to talk," he says, his voice serious but gentle.

You shake your head. "Go dance with Chrissy and stop worrying about me," you tell him. "Please just leave me alone."

"I don't wanna dance with Chrissy," he says. "I wanna dance with you. I had this whole campaign planned out where I was gonna ask you to prom at the end, and all the Hellfire guys were in on it, but then you asked me and I panicked."

"I don't need your pity, Eddie."

"It's not pity," Steve interrupts, hands in his pockets. "It's the truth. He's an idiot, but he's an idiot who loves you."

"And you?" you ask quizzically, still confused about the kiss.

Steve chuckles softly. "I'm just an idiot who got caught up in the moment. I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you tell him, and he nods before starting to leave.

"Hear him out," he says before going back to the gym, jerking his thumb at Eddie.

You cross your arms over your chest as you turn to the metalhead. "It's really hard to be mad at you when you look so good in that suit," you admit shyly.

Eddie takes a step closer to you. "Remind me to wear suits more often," he jokes lightly,

"Or just stop doing dumb things."

He nods. "Noted." He turns slightly towards the gym doors. "Can I...will you dance with me?"

You grin. "Only if you tell me about that special campaign you had planned. Piqued my curiosity, I can't lie."

Eddie leads you back to the dance floor. You wrap your arms around his neck; he places his on the small of your back.

"So," you start, "that campaign?"

"Oh, right," he says, and you sense some anxiety in his tone. "Yeah, I'll tell you about that. But first..."

And then he kisses you, parting your lips with his own. You kiss him back, never wanting to break it.

It ends naturally, with Eddie smiling too wide to continue.

"What are you so happy about?" you tease, rubbing your thumb against his smooth cheek.

He presses his lips to yours again, more briefly this time. "You're finally my girl. Finally mine."

--

[mirahuyooo]

A Green-Eyed Devil [pt 2] | mafia!bts reaction

[Mafia!BTS Getting Jealous]  — Hyung Line

— you suppose even a man like him isn’t safe from the clutches of envy

In which, your boyfriend, in spite of who he is, lets the green-eyed devil on his shoulder get the best of him.

Word Count: 2,733 Content/s: established relationship rawr, fluff, drama, angst, jealousy jealousy, red flags, possessive behavior, subtle gaslighting??, guns and thoughts of murder (mafia shit), suggestive themes lmao (spicier than the last one ayee), Mafia AU

[masterlist] | more [reactions & headcanons] | [Maknae Line]

A/N: I finally got around to finishing this!! I was feeling too soft to write the angst that my best friend encouraged me to write lmao buT i did decide to write this one mostly on their POV than (Y/N)s so there’d be more emphasis on their jealousy ASJSJSJ hope y’all enjoyed!

KIM SEOKJIN

Kim Seokjin liked to think himself to be above jealousy, this you could tell well with his aura alone. Seokjin exudes confidence—he is confidence personified himself. He had money, power, and a beautiful woman by his side, he told you once, what else would he be jealous of?

His former classmate, it would seem. 

Seokjin watched as you and Lee Hanjae talked—you laughing weakly at something he said in spite of your condition as the doctor checked your vitals. The sight of it makes his blood boil, not that he'd ever admit that out loud. 

This is all my fault. 

It had been around a few days ago, when, during a party, your drink had been laced with something that led to you being rushed to the hospital and confined to this nice yet still dull hospital room. It had been one of the only times Seokjin found himself losing composure—his heartbeat ran wildly, he couldn't breathe, and his nerves couldn't quite settle the same. Fear. For the first time in years, Kim Seokjin felt fear. 

Seokjin supposes this is also his fault—you becoming close with his former classmate, while he spent hours, occupied with barking orders at his men to track down the culprits responsible for your situation. Still, that doesn't mean he'll back down without a fight. 

Ever the proud man, Seokjin marches into the room, posture straight and head held high as he levels the doctor with a cold stare. His anger comes in waves that can never topple the man down, and he knows it well, because he's the one drowning in it instead. 

Lee Hanjae is a good man, if Kim Seokjin must bitterly admit it—among the top of the class, approachable and good-natured, and an accomplished doctor in his field. Most compellingly, he doesn't land his girlfriends in the hospital. 

"Everything seems to be going well for you, (Y/N)," Dr. Lee smiles at you and your boyfriend assuredly, still unaware of the stiff tension in the air. "You'll be out of here in no time."

"Tha—"

"Thank you, Hanjae."

Seokjin's curt tone cutting you off hadn't been meant to be rude to you, simply a by-product of his conflicting emotions. With only a tight-lipped smile from you, Dr. Lee leaves your room, leaving you with your boyfriend, whom you've finally had the chance to look at properly since you were admitted here. Seokjin imagines what he must look like—dark circles marring his features, accompanied with furrowed brows and a frown. A handsome yet pathetic sight. 

You wordlessly pat at a space on your bed, Seokjin obliging to sit beside you. "That was rude," you half-heartedly chide, lightly smacking his thigh as you look at him expectantly, an eyebrow raised. 

Before you, Seokjin's silent and deep in thought, guilt diving into the sea of his conflicting emotions. He knows the name of the monster in the depths of his despair, but he doesn't dare say it—it doesn't dare speak of how much of a failure he feels, or how unnecessary his envy is. 

"Talk to me, Jinnie," your soft voice makes Seokjin curse himself as he feels himself nearly buckling. He's part of a mafia for fuck's sake!

"Do you ever regret being involved with me?"

Your eyebrows raise at his words, a sliver of his troubled thoughts finally coming to light and revealing themselves to you. Seokjin can't find it in himself to look into your eyes, his anxious brain telling him to pack it up and leave. It's over. She hates y—

"It's difficult," you admit, placing your hand atop his to give it a squeeze. "But I'm in too deep to ever try and unlove you."

Such words pull Seokjin out of the troubled sea of fury drowning him. He leans close to press a kiss onto your forehead, heart much less heavier than before. "I love you, too, jagi."

You agreeably hum before him, giving him a bright smile he couldn't help but mirror. "Good," you say. "There was no need to get jealous. Hanjae was just telling me about your college days."

Seokjin paled at what kind of embarrassment his classmate might have told you of, but he stubbornly tried to save face. "Jealous?" he hilariously scoffs, "when?"

MIN YOONGI

It was around an hour past midnight that Min Yoongi finally came home. "Is she asleep?" he sighs to himself as he walks into his penthouse to see your curled up figure on the couch—most likely having waited for him to come home. 

This is his fault, really.

No, it's some stupid druglord's fault, actually. If that bastard was still alive, Min Yoongi would very much like to empty an entire clip into his body for this. 

"Yes, sir."

Caught off guard, Yoongi immediately reaches for the gun concealed at his waist and points it at the source of the voice, only to see a shocked rookie with his hands up in surrender. "It's just me, sir!" the young man quickly tells his boss, ducking away from the gun’s range. "Just me!"

Choi Yeonjun.

He's a runaway from too many failed foster care arrangements and got involved with the underground fairly young as a way to survive. He's young, spry, and outgoing outside of missions and assignments—quite promising, if Yoongi must admit, which was why he approved of assigning him as one of your bodyguards. 

"God damn it, Choi," Yoongi hissed, securing his gun away. "Keep your voice down."

The young man obediently nods as Yoongi looks him over. "What are you doing here anyways?" he begrudgingly asked, a brow raised as he knows the penthouse is secure enough without a bodyguard being within the home itself. 

"Miss (Y/N) said to help myself to some dinner before I go," Yeonjun shyly confesses with an awkward cough as he nodded his head to the kitchen where he had just come from. 

Yoongi's eyes flit towards the kitchen where a pot lay waiting at the stove. Another missed dinner, he curses in his mind, shaking his head as his mood worsens at yet another poisonous thought. 

It's rather ridiculous, he knows, but the thought of you warmly inviting the young man to help himself to the stew you made makes Yoongi frown. In spite of being a man of reason, Yoongi is also a vehement lover—greedy for every ounce of your affection, and in spite of the restraints he binds himself with, he can't help but be spiteful of the work that took him from you for days. 

The case of having to deal with the druglord and his mess, has deprived Yoongi of your home-cooked meals, hugs, and kisses. He knows he has the terrible case of jealousy—an ugly, terrible thing that he always once thought was beneath him, which was absolutely worsened by the fact that you've always had some sort of fondness for the rookie. It's a sisterly love, he could tell, but that doesn't stop the green-eyed demon to give an outcry of "what ifs" and urge him to remove the unknowing Yeonjun from his post. 

Enough of this. I've already been away for far too long. 

"Nevermind," he sighs in defeat, not wanting to spend any more of his energy on either his useless thoughts or Yeonjun. "You're dismissed."

With that, the young man bows and takes his leave. 

Silence reigns within the penthouse with nothing but the faint padding of his shoes to fill it as he leans over the sofa to look at you. Yoongi smiles softly upon realizing that you were wearing one of his sweaters. 

In the midst of carrying you to the bedroom, however, you began to stir, making Yoongi stop for a moment. "Yoongs?" you slur in deep drowsiness, eyes squinting and trying to make sense of his silhouette in the dim lighting. 

A kiss on your forehead satiates the both of you in that moment. "Right here, jagi."

The delight on your face is instant, snuggling into his neck as you wound your arms around him. Jealousy becomes a short-lived monster retreating back into the depths. 

As expected, it's ridiculous. 

JUNG HOSEOK

Jung Hoseok wouldn't exactly call it jealousy, per se. Envy means to covet for what others have, but you're already his, just as much as he's yours. What damnation would this sickly green feeling fall under then? He isn't quite sure himself. 

It started with a fight, see—something he couldn't care less about at the moment when you're sitting at the bar across the room with a man that's not him. 

He knows you're trying to make a point—you and your silent treatment. The both of you were stubborn in your own ways when in a conflict, but yours happens to be ignoring his existence until he gives in. Usually, this is easily resolved at home, and yet here you two were at a gala, traces of your contempt and tension over the argument still in the air. 

I should've cancelled. 

"I don't think it's that bad of a deal, Junsu, but…"

Your voice drifts into silence, your eyes flitting to Hoseok's figure as he approaches. There's an unmistakable scowl on his lips. The first time he hears your voice again and it's to a fucking lackey of an affiliate like this one—some stranger's name falling from your lips than his. 

"Who's this, jagi?" he asks with a tight-lipped grin, standing between you and Joonsoo, whatever his name is. Hoseok does not like your attention on someone else at times like this. 

The man, fortunately, knows when to back off, especially from Jung Hoseok himself. Respectfully bowing curtly at you both with an awkward smile. "Kim Junsu, sir," he politely says, "we met last year through Director Park."

Hoseok hums, looking at the young man up and down and recognizing no ill intent. The boy's a pup. 

Somehow, he's even more pissed to think that he might've been a more pleasant company than Hoseok first thought. "Can I have a moment, jagi?" your boyfriend turns to you without any further thought, not wasting any more time on the poor lackey. 

To Hoseok's absolute delight, you sigh and put your hand into his inviting one. 

Hoseok leads you out into the hallway, away from the prying eyes of the people in the ballroom. "I know what you're trying to do, jagi," he drawls as he looms over you. "Don't you think it's time to stop?"

You simply raise your brow at him, eyes daring him even as he backs you against a wall with his hands caging you into position. There's a mix of triumphant knowing in your eyes—the actions you've orchestrated to make him feel this way—and the spark of the anger he saw on you a few days ago. 

The sight of it is intrinsically pleasing yet vexing all the same. Speak to me, he almost whines, as one hand of his snakes around your waist. Perhaps he has gone soft after all, wanting nothing more than for you to smile and talk to him again.

You keep your hands on his chest, as if you'd dare to push him off but Hoseok could sense the want somewhere in your eyes. "I'd prefer you giving me silence alone than to resort to this," he growls, his lips that have been longing to be on yours all night finally crashing against yours. 

For a moment, the kiss lingers and it makes Hoseok happier than ever. Alas, you push on his chest to pull away, voice somehow fond yet also spiteful that it sends shivers down his spine to finally have it directed to him and no one else. "You're such a jerk," you roll your eyes at him, to which he simply grins. 

"Will you forgive this idiot then?" he croons happily now that you've acknowledged him, burying his face into your neck. 

"Not until you apologize to Junsu for being rude," you quip, instantly receiving a scowl from your boyfriend at the mention of the man. 

Alas, just as he's too stubborn to admit his jealousy, Jung Hoseok was too stubborn to admit his faults. 

"Why should I?"

With nothing but a glare from you in response, Jung Hoseok grumbles and sighs, pulling away as the both of you start going back into the ballroom. The mafioso does his best to ready his tongue for the bitter apology he’ll have to make, lest he suffers in your silent fury yet again. 

KIM NAMJOON

Namjoon finds it fortunate to have mastered the art of schooling his expressions. There's a polite dimpled smile on his face in spite of the utter fury raging through his veins, and everyone in the room is none-the-wiser until he deems it fitting to show his wrath—including you. 

Piercing eyes followed you as you moved across the dancefloor with another man, a son to one of Bangtan’s associates. The look of intrigue and attraction in his eyes didn’t elude the mafioso, very much further souring his mood and faltering his focus in the discussion he was having with the politician he was speaking to. His jaw clenched as he held himself back from glaring or frowning.

Namjoon thought himself to be below being the jealous type that restricts your freedom of choice. Besides, while he wanted to slowly integrate you into his life and show you the ropes of some of his work, the two of you had to attend this gala not together in fear of confirming to his enemies about his weakness for you.      

Alas, that also leaves you vulnerable to men who also can’t help but stare at you in the beautiful, form-fitting gown Namjoon bought for you. A part of him knows he can’t blame these men, but they also don’t get to indulge you the way Namjoon can.

Park Seoyoon, who guided you to the catering table after your dance, is an accomplished lawyer fairly detached from his father’s corrupted ways. He speaks with such charm, and makes you laugh in a way that twists Namjoon’s insides—a product of irrational emotions spurring his calm and collected facade. 

It was when he caught wind of your fleeting glance, along with a quick, secret smile just for him, that Namjoon finally decided to make a move for his sake. “Sorry to interrupt,” he nearly grits through his teeth, as he reaches you both by the catering table. “May I have this dance?” 

Of course, you accept—quite giddily if he must say. 

The head of Bangtan then spends the rest of the night orchestrating events to pull Seoyoon away from you—trapping him in a discussion with businessmen, convincing other ladies to circle around the lawyer, and sneaking off with you to a closet for a good half an hour. 

It was only a matter of time before you finally told him you wanted to go home. Namjoon hid his satisfaction with a compliant smile then, instructing you to get into the car while he finished off his covert negotiations. The ride was pleasant with you talking about the things you liked in the gala—that is, until you talked about the man himself. 

“He said what?” Namjoon tries to remedy his clenched fists and jaw by busying himself with drawing patterns on the back of your hand. 

None-the-wiser, you smile and gladly repeat yourself. “He said there’s an auction next month that’ll display these nineteenth century antiques. He’ll send over an invite if we’re interested.”

Namjoon can’t help the eye-roll of irritation he does. “If you’re interested.”     

“What?”

Your dumb-founded expression makes him sigh as the car comes to a halt in the driveway. “He doesn’t know we’re together, jagi,” he nearly grumbles as he got out of the car and offered his hand to help you out. “The invite’s for you alone.” 

He watches as you try and reconstruct the previous events. “But…” 

“He’s a man, jagi,” he grunts, the two of you walking towards the house, “and you’re a beautiful woman.” 

There’s a blush that spreads across your cheeks, but it’s replaced with an enlighted grin. "Oh my god," you gasped like you heard the juiciest gossip in town, stopping at the porch as you came to a conclusion. "Kim Namjoon, are you jealous?"

Namjoon almost winces at the teasing lilt of your voice. "I don't know what you're talking about, jagi," he feigns a smile yet again, hand coming to the small of your back as he nods his head to the door. "It's getting cold. Shall we get inside?"

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 : @mwitsmejk @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject​ @bloodline1632​​

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #15 – Vietnam: A New History by Christopher Goscha

This was my third history book of the year, and is about what you’d expect from the title and knowing it’s written by an academic historian – right down to the solid 100 pages of notes and citations at the end of it. I honestly picked it up because, well, because there was a tumblr post with a really intriguing quote from it floating around a few weeks back, and because I haven’t read any East/South-East Asian histories in a couple of years, and most of all because my library had a copy with no one ahead of me in the line for it.

The basic conceit of the book is that a great many English (and French) language histories that purport to be about Vietnam are in fact about the Vietnam War. That is, they are in truth about the years from 1945 to 1975, with the whole rest of history being either prelude or denouement, and, what’s worse, that they’re at least implicitly histories of Vietnam from the perspective of Americans. So it is trying to be a corrective, writing from the viewpoint of the Vietnamese and paying more attention to internal developments and contradictions than either Cold War grand strategy or the minutia of military operations. It...mostly succeeds?

The book’s very much...I want to say postcolonial, but honestly it’s been so long since I was in an actual seminar I’m probably butchering the term. Anyway, it is very suspicious of both colonial mythology and the sort of patriotic, anticolonial propaganda that a distorted version of is probably the median western anglophone’s only exposure to Vietnamese history. The book Fire in the Lake comes in for a lot of criticism, both in its own right and just as a synecdoche for the whole corpus of work that subordinated careful history or sociology with presenting Vietnamese history as one monolithic tale of glorious resistance to foreign imperialism – which, whatever its merits as political interventions in the America they were published in (then doing its level best to bomb the country into a corpse-strewn hellscape), simplify and exaggerate the actual history they’re telling to the point of deception.

Which really starts with the idea that there’s a singular, coherent Vietnam that has a history vanishing into the ancient past, let alone one always on the side of resistance and independence. The first several chapters of the book are devoted to Vietnam’s precolonial history, with a great deal of emphasis paid to the fact that its present borders are the result of a multi-generational imperial project of conquest, forced assimilation and mass settlement that was still active and ongoing as the French first moved in to colonize Cochinchina. This is complimented by an admittedly slightly tacked-on feeling section at the end of the main narrative that’s basically an explicit counterhistory, covering the same period of the rest of the book from the perspective of the Cham and the highland peoples who ultimately lost out to the Viet and Vietnamese state-making projects.

The book makes a whole organizing principle out of analogizing this Viet colonial project with first the Chinese (both Han and Ming) and later the French colonization of both the Viet and the whole region. It’s very interested in how they interacted with each other, as well – how post-Ming Viet rulers used Confucian/Han high culture to differentiate themselves from other SEAsian peoples and justify conquering them, how the French often continued and intensified campaigns of Viet settlement so as to have easily legible labor to exploit, how the romanized script introduced to make colonial administration easier became the medium of nationalist mass politics, that sort of thing.

The meat of the book is dedicated to the French colonial period and to a lesser extent the wars of independence, focused on the different national and colonial projects dedicated to developing or creating a ‘Vietnam’ or ‘Indochina’ or ‘Tonkin’ or what have you. Something it keeps returning to is that neither the French nor the Viet nor the various highland peoples ever had any singular, unified project they were all united behind – internal contradictions were often just as great as the conflicts between them.

Which, even if I didn’t know for a fact, I more or less took as a given regarding the colonized. But I really hadn’t realized how riven with contradictions and self-defeating the whole French colonial project was? There actually were fairly significant constituencies among the Vietnamese intelligentsia and bourgeoisie for the whole schema of colonial republicanism, for a liberal capitalist or social democratic state in some sort of wider French orbit. The French, in turn, used them or imprisoned them seemingly at random, and gave them basically nothing but words. The Catholic Church was better at indigenizing its hierarchy than the French Republic. They made the British in India look like reasonable honest brokers! (The end result of all this being, of course, that anyone who’d been willing to work with the French on anything but mercenary terms ended up marginal and delegitimized.)

The reasoning is pretty obvious (in that it mostly just boils down to ‘le racisme’), but it is kind of interesting how right up until the end the French colonial authorities were convinced Vietnam was a land of naturally conservative, traditionalist Confucian peasants, and that if they could just get a pliant Emperor to play the part and establish his ‘natural connection’ to the mandarinate and the peasantry the whole nation would be at peace. (Relatedly, Bo Dai’s whole biography reads like a parable).

Goscha’s natural sympathies are pretty clearly with what you might call the cultural intelligentsia, especially as the book moves through the war years. The members of the Literary Self Strengthening Movement, the writers of pacifist novels, poets and academics. The tragedy of inconvenient artists, whose perspective on the war was too bleak or mournful for either the Communists or the Nationalists and who ended up repressed regardless of which side of the partition they were on, gets a particular focus.

As does the similar fate of liberal democratic nationalists – the political tendencies Goscha pretty explicitly sympathizes with. He holds something of a grudge for how the Communist Party formed coalitions or alliances with these groups then systematically sidelined or violently suppressed them as soon as it was tactically convenient – but he’s also pretty clear-eyed that the French, Diem regime, and Americans did more or less the exact same thing as needed. The whole process is portrayed as a bit of a tragedy.

Despite the book’s professed intentions, the war years still eat up something like a third of its page count – but in its defence, those pages are far more interested in nation-building an cultural shifts than the specifics of military operations (with the two exceptions of Dien Bien Phu and the Tet Offensive, for obvious reasons). As far as high politics go, the book loses interest in the Nationalists almost entirely after the fall of Diem, which has the effect of portraying the American client governments that followed as hopeless and purely mercenary even compared to the plantation owners who collaborated with the French.

The sections covering post-reunification Vietnam are easily the book’s weakest, which is rather a shame. It’s essentially one long epilogue – the section on the Chinese invasion and the events preceding it was tantalizing and just crying out for more details (and I, uh, did not realize the degree to which the government just fell back on discourses of near-explicit racism and collective responsibility re: the large Chinese ethnic minority, especially in the south).

The rest of the book after that – there’s a passage I read at an impressionable age, about how every history book since the ‘90s has been obliged to end with a hopeful chapter about the connective power of the internet and the rising middle class and the irresistible spread of freedom and democracy, and how as time goes on more and more things happen but that future never seems to really get any closer. This is not a perspective I’d really generally endorse (certainly less so now than in peak End of History years), but it’s one that really comes to mind reading the book’s perspective on the years since the economic reforms and opening to global markets. Power and government policy are talked about in vague, general terms, and individual activists and civil society members are highlighted and lionized instead. The talk about how the communist party has functionally transitioned into a class-iniclusive formation legitimized by nationalism and consistent economic growth and how that growth might in time force it to liberalize sounds identical to how people talked about China in the 2000s.

(The tragic irony that, from 10,000 feet, the United States has everything it might have wanted out of Vietnam – strategic partner against China, enthusiastic participant in the mechanisms of global capitalism – and killed millions of people over a decade of warfare for functionally nothing is repeatedly remarked upon.)

Anyway, that disappointment aside, still a very interesting and informative book. Not one that really lives up to its promise, and its strongest chapters are specifically those focused on the more distant past – but even its weakest chapters still have at least some interesting anecdotes thrown in for colour. Potentially grading a bit generously because I’m comparing this to my last big 600 page history book in my head, but I don’t at all regret reading this one.

[adobe-outdesign]

What about a Furfrou review ? Although I should probably say "reviews", all things considered... :p

Furfrou's default form is pretty boring, but I'm willing to give it a pass seeing as the whole point of it is the grooming gimmick, much like how Eevee is kind of plain but it's just because it has its evolution thing going on. There's not much to say about it, but I do like it's upturned snout and the bit of black on its face and legs.

My one nitpick is that I kind of wish it was less straight-furred? Like, it looks more like an afghan hound when untrimmed than any kind of poodle, and that could've easily been fixed by just giving it slightly wavier fur (emphasis on slightly, so there's still contrast with the trimmed forms).

But Furfou's main thing isn't just being a poodle—rather, it's a poodle that you can give haircuts to. This is a pretty fun gimmick, and it works well given how people trim poodles IRL. I do kind of wish it had some impact on gameplay so there'd be a reason to do it beyond aesthetics, but regardless, it's fun and memorable. The 'dex mentions that it becomes swifter when its trimmed, so why not give the trimmed forms a speed stat increase or something?

As a whole, these forms add some much needed visual punch with the addition of color (each form having a different palette, though the Matron trim probably should've been a more purple-ish purple) and the black areas of skin, which adds some much needed contrast.

Individually, each form can be broken into three categories:

The shape cuts (heart, star, and diamond)

The hat cuts (debutante, matron, and dandy)

The striped cuts (la reine, kabuki, and pharaoh)

My one issue with these cuts is that they can feel a bit repetitive after a certain point. Almost every single trim (except for the diamond cut) has colored leg fluff, all of them have fluff on their heads, and all have a colored tail in a distinct shape. It's possible they were just invoking the most common poodle trim, the continental clip, but couldn't we get a bit more variety?

I think the shape cuts do the best at differentiating the three in that group, as the placement of the fur is different on each, while the stripe cuts look the most similar. It feels like they could've had, say, a cut where all four legs are shaved, a cut where the tail has no color or shape, a cut with flatter hair on the head, a cut that's mostly shaved with only fur on the body... just more variety is all I'm saying.

For the record, I think my personal favorite is the diamond trim—I might be biased because orange is my favorite color, but I also like that it looks different than the other cuts and the amount of black on it. Least favorite is probably Kabuki, just because it's too similar compared to the other striped cuts and it's not as easy to tell what theme they were going for on that one without knowing the name.

Anyway, overall, a fun Pokemon with a decent gimmick, though I do feel like some kind of gameplay integration and more changes between the cuts would've helped it a bit.

(Also, GameFreak, make Furfrou and its trims available in a game again so they stop being a Literal Currency on the HOME GTS. Like seriously, what the hell)

[pencileraser1]

:0 penny for your thoughts on Neil, Charlie + Knox and their parental relationships?

ok so i have had a post floating around in m drafts about this that i just didn't finish so here it is but finished:

charlie and knox in the drop the annual scene in particular i find interesting. watching charlie specifically you can tell a lot about both his relationship with neil and his relationship with his parents. when neil and mr. perry leave the room and he just kinda looks at the door with this sort of angry, almost vindictive look and it was like. he knows!! he understands exactly what neil's father is like!! and then there's the "so i don't like it any more than you do" line after that which makes it clear that charlies parents are about as controlling an neil's father. we put so much emphasis on todd's relationship with neil but i think neil and charlie's relationship is also really fucking interesting. overall the way charlie deals with how controlling his parents are is very different to neil (intentionally acting out vs. trying incredibly hard to fulfill their expectations) but their parents are actually probably extremely similar in a lot of ways.

i've always gotten the impression that knox had a good relationship with his parents, particularly when compared to neil charlie and todd, but i didn't really have any concrete reasoning other than just inferences. after rewatching the movie the last few times i think its just how he seems so content to mostly do the things his parents want him to do. he goes to the danburry's kind of rolling his eyes about it but other than that seems fully content just to go. he's the one who tells neil to tell his dad off. neil points out that knox and charlie don't go against their parents; charlie's says that he doesn't like being controlled by them either, and knox says nothing. plus from one cutscene you find out he's in the "sons of alumni" club. which doesn't necessarily mean anything but could?? i guess. he says that his parents will kill him for trying to go after chris but still does it without really thinking about the consequences, which contrasts with neil doing everything he can to prevent his father from finding out about the play and charlie submitting the article in a way that is hinted he did to get into trouble on purpose.

idk i just think the contrast between knox vs. neil vs. charlie's relationships with their parents is interesting. like all three having specific expectations put on them but while charlie and neil very much don't want to fulfill those expectations, knox doesn't seem to mind being exactly the person his parents want him to be. additionally i do think knox's parents may be a lot less strict which probably also adds to that difference. meanwhile charlie and neil definitely seem to feel the stress that's being put on them by their parents, but act in opposite ways because of it. neil tries extremely hard to follow what his parents want him to do whereas charlie is shown repeatedly and intentionally acting out because of it. instead of hiding everything he does that his parents wont approve of like neil, he makes what he's doing extremely obvious. the most obvious time was submitting the article to the school paper, to which nolan literally tells him that he isn't the first student to try to get expelled. and while i'm not sure how hard charlie Was trying to get expelled (i don't think that was the only motivation although it was probably part of it, the movie makes a point to tell us that and probably wouldnt've if it werent true. and in the end he does get expelled. neil on the other hand tries so hard to not directly go against his parents that he decides that killing himself is the best option. his justification of "i can't tell my dad i'm in the play because if he doesn't know, i won't be directly disobeying him" is very telling. and finally while knox does say that his parents will kill him if he tries to get with chris, he makes very little effort either trying to hide it from his parents, or trying to make it obvious in the way charlie did. he seems to actually be most concerned about chet danburry's reaction, and that is the only person he does anything different because of. while his parents may be mad at him for getting with chris, he likely isn't nearly as concerned about their reaction, given that other than mentioning they'd be mad, he does nothing about it

[smutlandia]

Part 1! Husband/fiancé/boyfriend!Billy Hargrove x reader. This is mature content! I’m not responsible for your own media consumption read with maturity!! Reader and billy have a child together. And I’d like to thank my best friend for giving me the energy, confidence, support it needed to write this. Without her I wouldn’t be a writer :)). She’s often the person I go to when I need help tinkering with little details and oh my god, her brain is so amazing when it comes to coming up with plots. I can throw 4 words at her and she’ll have a story, that’s where I come in.

8 o’clock

9 o’clock

10 o’clock

11 o’clock.

You had put masie to bed around 9, only because you had a little bit of hope that “daddy should be home any minute!” You knew she was supposed to be asleep by 8. It what was agreed upon between you and billy, but how could you say no to her when all she wanted to do was say goodnight to her father?…exactly.

You were wrong. Billy didn’t come home until around twelve in the morning. You should’ve known better, you thought as you laid in bed. He had been coming home later and later as the days progressed, you didn’t let it bother you at first mostly because you had better things to worry about than if billy came home a little late. But as that time seem to have been becoming farther and farther, you let your concerns get the best of you.

As you laid in bed awake, thinking of all the possible things billy could’ve been caught up In as if on cue you heard the front door open and close. It wasn’t a hard shut like usual, it was soft and quiet. As you pretended to be asleep you listened as he walked up the stairs, into your bedroom, lugged his boots off with a grunt and changed his clothes. You continued to pretend to sleep until your body finally decided to let you drift off.

You woke up quite a while before billy that next morning. Hell even masie was up before him. But when he finally did decide to “grace” the both of you with his presence at 9 in the morning, masie was the one who noticed him walking into the living room. And she was ecstatic to say the least, the same couldn’t be said about you though. After all she was an undeniable daddy’s girl, she loved her father to the moon and back, she adored him.

All you heard before masie jumped out of your arms was, “daddy’s finally awake, mommy!” As you watched masie jump into her fathers arms so that he could hold her, you genuinely couldn’t help but crack a small open mouthed smile at the sight, your mind forgetting about what kept you awake last night for just a few seconds.

As Reality set back in billy put masie down, saying goodmorning to the both of you.

Your daughter practically dragged billy to where you and her had been sitting on the couch. As he sat down and tried kissing you, you not so sneakily dodged it, even trying to laugh it off as you had noticed masie not paying attention to the television and more so on the two of you. You didn’t want her to know you were upset with him. As Long as he got the message, that’s all you needed. masie may have been young but she was a smart girl, therefore the warning look you gave billy didn’t go unnoticed by her.

As she turned to her father after witnessing the silent interaction she asked, ‘is mommy mad?’

Whipping your head around to your right to look at the pair ‘no baby, mommy’s not mad at all!’

The emphasis you put on the last two words was only noticed by billy. Just as you had intended.

As the time passed by you and masie had began playing in her bedroom just the two of you. She loved billy of course, but agreed that you were better at playing dolls than he was. But as she grew tired she fell asleep in your arms as you read one of her favorite stories to her, when you noticed you gently laid her down into her canopy bed, before making your way back into the living room where you remembered all to late billy had still been.

You walked directly past him, paying him no mind as you made your way to the kitchen for a snack. What you actually hadn’t noticed was how he followed you quietly, not making his presence known until you were both confined in the walls, where your daughter most definitely couldn’t see you.

‘You gonna’ fill me in here? Or would ya like me to keep guessing?’ The sudden whisper startled you, making you quickly turn your head to him and back rolling your eyes as you responded, while going back to whatever you had came in to do.

‘She stayed up passed her bedtime last night because she was adamant on “saying goodnight to daddy.”’

You had turned around at this point.

‘And Guess who stayed up another three because she was worried fucking sick about your, sorry, no good, perfume smelling ass to come home?! Huh?! Take a wild guess, billy.’ You whisper shouted on the verge of angry tears.

billy didn’t respond. Internally he was fuming, and upset. Feeling so many different things at once. You could see the visible hurt in his face.

‘…you…you think I was out with a bitch last night? That’s seriously what you think I was doing?!’

He didn’t wait for an answer as he stormed off into your bedroom, coming back a moment later with a small box in hand. He tossed at at you, not throwing it as a projectile, more like a game of catch.

‘open it.’

As you reluctantly unwrapped the neatly put together package, your eyes widened. it was a perfume. It was THE perfume that you have been raving about to billy for the past two whole months. THE perfume that’s been sold out every time you’ve tried to purchase it. Your mouth was agape, your eyes were wide, and overall you felt so stupid. Stupid for thinking he would ever be unfaithful to the mother of his most prized possession.

‘Happy fucking Mother’s Day.’ Was the last thing billy said mumbled before grabbing his keys as he intended to leave the house, and he would’ve too. If masie hadn’t came out of her room to find out why her father was yelling.

Both your heads snapped to look in the direction of little footsteps emerging from the hallway. Billy had already reached the door, his hand on the handle. ‘ooo! are we going somewhere!’

All you could do was raise your head from the ground, look at billy and then at your daughter. ‘no masie just daddy, right now. Sorry love bug’

you gave her a sad smile as she ran to grab Billy’s leg, already screaming about how she wanted to go, throwing a level 3 tantrum while now standing by Billy’s legs, you tried to get her to stop with everything you could but for the life of you, she wouldn’t let up.

Billy kneeled down to her level, so that they could see eye to eye. His hands gently placed on her small shoulders. Immediately she knew he was being serious. ‘You quit that screaming n’crying.’

She loved you to death but took what her father would say more serious than if you had said it, always. No matter how inferior it made you feel. ‘You Be good for mommy while I’m out masie. I mean it.’ 

with that he walked out the door without another word to either of you.

Masie and yourself actually had a good couple of hours together, you made chocolate chip cookies, watched her favorite movie, Bambi, and cleaned the house up a little bit. When billy came home around twelve in the afternoon, he had an ice-cream sundae in hand, masies absolute favorite. As soon as that little girl saw it she was over at Billy’s feet as he handed it to her smiling. He loved bringing her ice cream after not seeing her for a little while.

Billy’s eyes wandered up to find yours from across the room, and you knew exactly what I meant. As masie munched on her sundae you went over to the opposite side of the counter, and much to your surprise so did billy. He came right up beside you leaning his arms on the counter and intertwining his own hands together looking at the counter below him, occasionally at masie. The tension was still there.

after masie got a bath, and her p’js on you placed a kiss to her Temple and her cheek, said your final goodnight and turned off her lamp. She laid there after you left knowing it was time for bed, but you knew she would want billy to say goodnight to her. It’s become a routine. As you walked into your bedroom to find billy sat at the end of the bed like he was waiting for something. Like he wanted to say something.

‘…..she asleep yet..?’

You turned to look at him while putting on your pajamas.

‘without you saying goodnight? Mm’m.’

And with that billy was out of your bedroom, presumably down the hall at masies room doing exactly what you had done a few moments prior. He can back quietly when you were in the bathroom brushing your hair, once you spotted him through the mirror you made quick eye contact, before he turned off the bedroom light and laid down, with a sigh As if he had been beat.

Once you were laid down, your back facing his front.

‘D’you like it.’ You look over your shoulder, while rolling over to face him.

‘Of course I do, thank you’ You had inched closer to him while talking, your head now on his arm.

‘Should’ve just asked you where you were last night m’sorry.’

At your apology he felt himself smile.

‘M’yeah?’ Jesus…that tone of voice? the teasing? always got to you.

He had won.

[njnetails]

Introducing my Writeblr!

About me:

Hello!

I'll introduce myself as Rin (she/her), I'm 24 years old as of this moment and I've been writing as a hobby ever since I was a little child. I'm not new to Tumblr, I've been here for more than a decade, but I've never ventured into being more than a lurker.

I've had a really big writing break for a while because of mental health issues and a bad environment, but I've started doing better recently. By creating a Writeblr, I hope it will help me with fully committing to a lengthy project so that I can fulfill my wish of becoming a published writer.

I listen to music all the time and it helps me a lot with getting inspiration or getting me in the mood to write. I mostly read books within the fantasy genre, and I do the same with writing. I also play Dungeons & Dragons, proudly being a Dungeon Master for three campaigns at the moment.

About my writing:

I love creating characters and studying their behaviors while I think or write about them, my general focus being Trauma™. Wordbuilding is also one of my best brainstorming qualities. I used to write for my D&D characters and NPCs, and I've also posted a few fanfiction pieces on AO3 in an anime fandom.

My WIPs:

I've currently started brainstorming for my very first book project! The idea is very rough right now but I want it to be high fantasy, with emphasies on Gods, prophecies, magic and its consequences and a lot of character growth. I am still thinking about including romance, but as it is still in the early developement process, I haven't decided on anything. Update: the WIP is called Godsfallen!

I also plan on brainstorming for an east-asian mythology book (wuxia), but I haven't made enough research to focus on that one for now.

Conclusions:

I will most likely want to post a lot of my brainstorming ideas on here, as well as writing snippets or character details. If you want to see anything like that, please feel free to follow me (I will follow back)! I'm down to hear about your WIPs and I'd love to build a small group of creative friends where we could freely talk about what our brain is cooking.

I want this blog to be a space for writing, so I hope you will join me on my journey!

Thank you if you took time to read all of this! See you around!!

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

how many video game ideas do you even have?

an incomplete list of the bajillion video game ideas I have had over the past ten years (if you want verification, @raptorcivilization is usually the schmuck I pitch to) that I can't do because I lack infrastructure and resources:

a redo of the eyewitness dinosaur hunter game for the modern era (but obviously without the eyewitness brand) - so a 3D virtual museum environment with an on-site dig that brings dinos back to life. would include the history of birds after the end-cretaceous.

a redo of the magic school bus explores the age of dinosaurs game (doesn't have to be associated with magic school bus, a cute kulinda protag will work fine) - so a point and click game where you go to different environments, learn about the history of life, play mini experiments and mini games to learn, etc.

a museum tycoon game (why the fuck doesn't this already exist) (I have an elaborate system in my head that would include ethical collection and museum reputation as important factors)

prehistoric photo safari - you go back in time to different ecosystems and take pictures of various things you're asked to take pictures of, like "a pennaraptoran preening" or "a tyrannosaur family group" that kind of thing

an aviary zootycoon/planet zoo esque game - basically you're creating a zoo but it's only birds. I'm not bitter about planet zoo, no, whose asking.

or just another zoo simulator that's a better spiritual successor to zoo tycoon than planet zoo is, so it would include aquatic and extinct stuff like the zoo tycoons always did >_> also more birds

the same idea as above but now it includes fossil/extinct birds too, you're welcome

a game where you go back in time and gather prehistoric life and bring them back to the present and try to recreate extinct ecosystems, with an emphasis on ecosystem dynamics

similarly, an ecosystem simulator like tyto-ecology except... better. and still being developed. and mostly focused on extinct ecosystems.

a stardew-style farming game but you're ravens in a post-human world, creating a new society from scratch. as birds.

a bajillion different @saurian-game - like games set in different environments including the Manda Beds of the Triassic, the Jiufotang Formation of the Jurassic, literally anything other than the red beds of the Permian, Fossil Lake in the Eocene... the list goes on

domesticated Kulindadromeus sheephearder game (@paleopinesofficial you can just steal this idea and put it in your game, that's fine)

fossil stories - basically you live the life of different extinct animals based on their fossils, so dueling/fighting dinosaurs and stuff like that. it would be your basic choose your own adventure story type dealio.

a dinotopia video game. that's it. that's the entire concept. maybe something like simcity or the sims but in dinotopia. there's something there.

jewish themed stardew valley (this isn't dinosaur/bird or prehistoric life related, I'm just annoyed at the christonormativity in stardew [why does xmas exist in this alternate universe] and want to make a jewish version out of spite)

pet parrot simulator. mainly so that people who love parrots but really can't care for them can play the game. also so people who are thinking of getting a parrot can play the game and find out if they really can take care of one. I recognize pet simulators exist but they're never really accurate when it comes to parrot care.

I know I have more but these are the best ones. The ones I come back to the most are the museum tycoon game, the prehistoric photo safari game, and the redo of the magic school bus dino game; and @raptorcivilization is keeping the dream alive for the remake of the eyewitness game.

[mysticalsoot]

This is it, this is what joy feels like, doesn't it?

A/N: this was meant as my gift to my valentine for Grey's Valentine's Exchange but since it has been cancelled I decided to quickly finish it up and dedicate it to not only grey because they need it with how rough the exchange ended up being but also my new found friend on here! I'm really proud of this and Im very surprised at how much I wrote in such little time (5k is a lot okay lol) I hope you all enjoy it and happy early Valentine's! (I'm still gonna post a special Valentine's blurb!)

Pronouns: they/them, uses of y/n

Pairings: Cc!Wilbur x Reader

Summary: Wilbur and Reader have known each other since their early teens, and despite having painfully obvious feelings for the other, they ignore them in the sake of saving their friendship. James concocts an outing for the two and maybe it goes according to plan?

Warnings: swearing, angst but with a ton of fluff at the end! also there is a kiss but not detailed bc I in fact have never been kissed so I'm going off gut feeling lmao. also mentions of alcohol and drinking (I've also never drunk alcohol so I don't know much about that either so another guessing game there too).

Words: 5.3k

Dedicated to: @grey-rambles @loverboy-soot

masterlist

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James had invited Wilbur, Ash, Tommy, Rue, and you over to his place to hang out. It was mostly Mario Kart and James fucking screaming the Wario sound, but it was fun. There was food and a few rounds of uno with Ash, Tommy, and Rue, but despite all the festivities, Wilbur hadn't joined in any of them. He sat in the farthest corner from you and the rest of the group, the corner of James' loveseat didn't seem very comfortable anyhow. But there he sat, hands folded and rested between his thighs, his eyes darted from the group to the wall, to the TV, and back to his lap. He seemed so dazed like he wasn't fully there in the moment like he was somewhere else.

The absence of his laugh and his smile...and his voice, concerned you. It wasn't like him to isolate himself like this, it was one thing to stop answering messages and hiding in his flat but straight out isolating himself at a social gathering was nothing like him. You wanted to find him in his corner, bring him away from the others and ask him what was wrong, what you did every time he found himself anxious and shutting down. But every time you tried someone would pull you away, ask questions or bring you into banter. Staring at him, contemplating doing something wasn't helpful so maybe engulfing yourself in the festivities around you would help. It was selfish, yes, but there wasn't much you could do. The chances of him brushing it off and saying he was fine and completely ignoring the subject at hand were much more probable than him stepping aside and delving into his anxieties with you. So you pushed it aside and focused on whatever shit James and Tommy were debating about at this point.

“James,” Tommy pauses for emphasis, his hands folded in front of his face and eyes closed, “You are one deaf fucking bastard.”

“I’m hearing you! I’m just saying your point is invalid and ill-informed!” James counters, despite the possible hostility of their bickering, it's known by everyone that it's just light-hearted poking and prodding at each other, nothing substantial to be worried about.

Something you could slip away from easily…

“Says the man who is convinced that the creeper is the elite hostile mob in Minecraft?? It blows shit up and is extremely difficult to kill at the start of the game! The true elite mob is the zombie, they are slow and easy to hit.” Tommy then stands up and his face plastered with a smug smile. He knows he's right even if the topic at hand is trivial and childish at best.

"You're an asshole, Thomas Simons. I'm right, you're wrong." James is quick to poke at him, and you catch a small, soft smile forming on Wilbur's features. He's gazing at the chaos in front of you, no longer on his jeans or the spots on the wall. It's on the people now. His friends.

The thought brings a glimpse of hope to you, maybe it's just a fluke and he's okay. Nothing to worry about, he's not being self-destructive right now. It's okay.

It wouldn't hurt to get him to join the conversation, would it? "What do you think, Wil? Who's the most elite hostile mob?" You pose the question with a smile on your face, eyes locked on his, gauging how he was feeling by the way his eyes went wide and his mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. Anxious, noted, not anything new and revolutionary but something to note when speaking to him.

"Um, Skeletons I guess?" His answer is unsure and it's probably because he wasn't really listening in the first place, just observing his friends having fun and bickering, doing anything he can to keep his mind off the anxiety dwelling in his head.

“Skeletons? That is the most basic bitch answer! Also, it’s invalid because they can shoot you from sixteen blocks away!” Tommy counters his answer and he gets riled up again, rushing to pull up some sort of resource list as if this was a school assignment.

Wilbur’s face drops again, but his eyes are still trained on the group as they begin bickering again. Rur and Ash decided to chime in this time, both with their own very opinionated thoughts on the matter. It began to get tenser, despite the laughs and smiles, the abrupt yells were enough to push anyone already on edge even further.

It was best to get him out of there, even if it was for a moment. So you stood from your spot at the sofa to walk over to where Wilbur placed himself. Pushed into the corner of the loveseat farthest from the group. Now that you're closer, you notice how straight he's sat, his whole body is tense and his face is flushed.

You put your hand out to him, an offering, “Come on, Wil,” It’s muttered as a mere whisper, but he hears it. His head tilts up to look at you, eyes still wide and overflowing with unease.

“Okay,” He whispers, taking your hand in his and standing up from his own spot. His shoulders slouch, making him seem slightly shorter --- he still towers over you, but it makes him seem vulnerable and small.

You tighten your grip on his hand, in a comforting way and lead him out of the living room, through the hall, and into the dark kitchen. No one seems to notice the absence of either of you, they're too busy arguing over a block game to think about much else. He lets your hand go after the door is closed and he goes to sit on the floor in the corner of the room against the kitchen cabinets. Wil pulls his knees up to meet his chin and he wraps his arms around his legs.

“Are you okay?” You slide down the cabinet to sit next to him, your hand resting on his knee drawing circles with your thumb.

“Mmm, ‘m fine.” He mumbles, his head between his knees and his face hidden.

“As your best friend, I do not believe that.” You try to lighten the mood, be playful in hopes he’ll at least crack a smile.

“I’m fine.” He lifts his head and looks to you, despite how hard he tries it's not convincing.

“Yeah, yeah, and the queen’s alive. Come on, Wil.” You laugh, moving to card through the curls atop his head.

"I'm okay." He tries to fake a smile to rid your concerns but it's not that easy anymore.

"You don't have to tell me, but you can admit when you're not okay, love." The pet name was merely a slip for you and when you noticed you used it, you wanted to crawl into yourself. Hideaway and forget everything you said. Surely to others, it's not a big deal but it's not like you can give any hint at your feelings for him, feelings you know aren't reciprocated.

He simply hums in response with his head back between his knees, and you take your hand away from his hair and drop it on your lap. You want to help him, make him feel better but this is making you feel so hopeless. You can't let him wallow but he's stubborn, it's not easy to get through his shell.

"Wanna tell me about the French Revolution?" The question was merely a suggestion, a bribe to get him to speak in more than two words per sentence.

And it worked, his head lifted up almost immediately and his eyes were wide with excitement, "Really? Are you sure?" His voice is soft but you can practically hear the joy in the way he spoke.

"Of course, tell me all about it." As you mutter the last bit, you lean your head against the cabinet and gaze up at him. His smile is wide and he's now let his knees fall to where his legs are stretched out in front of him. Stupid lanky bastard.

"Okay so, the revolution of 1789 had maaany different causes, primarily economical and political," And so he went on for what felt like hours, but you enjoyed the chatter. You liked seeing him so giddy and happy over something he loved like this. He's an absolute history buff and most people don't care to sit still long enough to listen, except for his brother, you, and sometimes Ash. So you let him talk your ear off, you asked questions, and let him tell you all the little details and factoids he's learned over the years.

After a while, your eyes began to droop and feel heavy, and you kept having to pull your head back up to keep yourself awake. So you settled with resting your head on Wilbur's shoulder as he continued telling you about one of the many corrupt French kings. You wrapped your left arm around his middle and your right hand rested on the shoulder you laid on. You were comfortable and he didn't seem to mind the contact.

"Sleepy?" He breaks his info dump and runs his hands through your hair. You were far too drowsy to think twice about the action or to get nervous about it as usual, so you just hummed and nuzzled further into him.

"Keep talking." Your words were muffled by his sweater but he understood, and so he did just that. He continued on about the revolution and everything that came after before he himself began to doze off. His head leaned against yours and before he knew it, he was passed out too.

----

"Hey, has anyone seen Wilbur?" James chimed in, the Lion King plays on the TV, and everyone groans, and Tommy pauses the movie.

"Dude, it was the best part!" Tommy exclaims and dramatically throws his head onto the back of the couch.

"Sorry! Wil just disappeared, so I was just wondering if anyone saw him." James reiterates, hands in the air in surrender before dropping them to the floor on either side of himself.

"I'm sure the guy's fine, he's probably somewhere with his best friend anyways," Rue reassures James, her arms crossing over her chest.

"Those two are inseparable," Ash adds.

"And they are so obvious too! It's annoying." Tommy grunts in that typical little sibling way.

James frowns, clearly not satisfied with how calm and not worried his friends are. Ash notices and pats his friend on the back, and James' shoulders slump.

"Dude if you're so worried about them, go find them." Rue leans against the back of the couch, crossing her ankles and resting them on the coffee table. James growls and shoves her feet off the table, Rue then rolls her eyes. "So mean.."

“Fine, I will.” James groans and lifts himself off the floor where he sat and he as well makes his way out of the living room. He heads through the hall, peaking into the dining room; nothing. He checks the guest bed next, also nothing; and then his office, still nothing. He checks every room before he settles on checking the kitchen- the last spot he expected to look. The moment he peaks his head through the door he catches a glimpse of both you and Wilbur cuddled against each other, sound asleep.

“Aww, cute,” Rue whispers behind James and he jumps, yelling a slew of curses at his friend. She simply laughs in response. James looks back to be sure the interaction didn't wake the two of you, and surely it didn't. He would have never been so thankful for how heavy of sleepers you two were.

James backs away from the door, being sure to close it as slowly and quietly as possible, and then he ushers Rue down the hall and back to the sitting room where the rest of their friends were. He then happily plops down onto his sofa, right next to Tommy.

“So, are they okay?” Ash’s expression is one of concern, but calm still.

“Oh they're fine,” James takes a swig of the drink he left on the coffee table, “But we have some matchmaking to do.”

----

“We’re meeting at the pub around the corner, that's right, James?” The entire situation is confusing and getting a confirmation out of James is the worst hell that you desperately want to crawl out of.

"Yes, yes, that pub. I told you like ten times already." James sighs in a loud obnoxious way and if it weren't for the fact you loved him, he would be dead on sight. Or on sight when you both got to the damn pub.

"It's not my fault you give shitty instructions and clarification!" You do your best to whisper yell through the phone, he may annoy the fuck out of you but you don't hate him, and if he lost his hearing because of you—you couldn't mess with him.

"Oh my god, stop whining and get your ass over here." You're about to snap back at him and then he hangs up just as quickly as the words roll off his tongue.

You groan and drag your feet on the sidewalk, desperate to make your trek longer so you can postpone seeing James a little more. I mean, you love him but fuck can he be an annoying little shit sometimes. He's really good at it too and you don't know how he manages it.

Unfortunately, you're in front of the pub way quicker than you thought you would be. You're quick to open the door, and rush in before you push through the crowd to find any inkling of where your friends have situated themselves. James didn't mention which table the rest of their friends sat at, so you assumed he didn't know either seeing as he was on his way here as well.

You're about to give up when you spot a familiar Pinterest hipster across the pub. Wilbur is sat alone at a booth, holding what seems to be a simple water as he himself eyes the tables and bar as well as the sea of people standing around the place.

You smile and wave your hand at him, signaling that you're there. He smiles too, waving back and then gesturing for you to sit with him. You're quick to shuffle through the people surrounding you, muttering excuse me and I'm sorry's whenever you bump into someone or get just a hair too close to them. By the time you reach the booth, you're out of breath from swimming through the crowd. You plop down on the spot next to Wil and you rest your head face first on the table.

"Why is James so annoying?" You pose the question, all muffled and not really meant to be answered, simply spoken into the void.

"Hell if I know, he told me the rest of the group was here but I couldn't find them." Wilbur speaks in such a nonchalant way that you would think he did this often, wait for his friends to be there and either be late or not come at all. But you know he doesn't do this often, I mean it was more common in middle school and high school, but now he's an adult and you know his current friends wouldn't do that. I mean you're his best friend after all, you notice way more about him than you would care to notice.

"So you think they've ditched us?" You move your head to face him, eyes looking up to him and his own looking down at you. You swear you could see a smile forming on his lips.

"Hah, maybe." He laughs and then switches to gaze at his hands resting in his lap.

You lift your head up, and lean against the back of the booth. You rest a hand on his shoulder and he looks to you, "You're my favorite anyway." You pat his shoulder before removing your hand only for it to find great interest in the sleeves of the jacket you wore out today. One of Wilbur's old jackets his arms were too long for. It's oversized but it's comfortable and a hundred percent smells like him, so it's comforting.

"Ash isn't even your favorite?" He's smirking now and you can tell he's almost completely forgotten about James and the clan.

"He's a close second." You throw a soft smile to him and you can feel your cheeks warm and turn red.

———

"Wow, France is fucking shitty." You let out a soft laugh, taking a sip of whatever alcoholic beverage was the special—you didn't care, it tasted good and didn't burn horribly so it did just fine for you.

"I know!" Wilbur slurs and then laughs, throwing his head back to lean against the back of the booth. He turns to face you, smile wide and face pink from being a bit too tipsy.

"You're smart, Wil. You know that?" You rest your chin in your hand and look in his eyes. You never really noticed how rich and…deep they were. It was endearing to look at.

"Not really, I just know a lot." He shrugs, gaze dropping and face draining from positivity.

"Isn't that the definition of smart?" You reach your hand out to rest against his arm. He doesn't move or flinch. It's like your touch is second nature.

There's a silence, he doesn't say anything, you don't say anything. Your friends still aren't here and it's been an hour and a few drinks in—you're beginning to wonder what James' intentions were.

"They ditched us didn't they?" You lean your own head against the backboard.

"Oh they sure as hell did." Wilbur lets out a soft chuckle and the sight makes your heart flutter.

"Wanna go back to mine?" The question is simple and you play with the idea of looking away from him, to dull the sting if he says no—or rejects you without even admitting anything to him—but you decide to turn your head and gaze upwards at him.

A soft smile, a breathy laugh, he turns his head to face you, "Of course,"

It takes a good twenty minutes to get back to your flat, which is only a ten minute walk from the pub James tricked the two of you to go into, but with both of your slighter drunken states, it was safe to say it took a lot longer. Stumbling, giggling, slurred speech, a hand on the small of your back, your arm around his torso. There was no such thing as a ten minute walk on your minds.

The walk down the cobble path to the door of your flat is a tricky one. Wilbur only had a few shots but he hadn't been drinking in a while so his ability to handle much alcohol was severely lacking at the moment—so he was stumbling a lot. He nearly fell in the bush a few times but you were able to keep your grip on him, keeping him steady. You yourself weren't in the best of shape either, but you managed. Surprisingly neither of you had felt the least bit nauseous yet, which was a tremendous thing.

You struggled a few moments with your keys before Wilbur got off the wall where he leaned and said, "Here, lemme try." He was quick to find the right key and turn it in the keyhole. The door clicked and Wilbur turned the door knob and pushed it open. He stepped aside and bowed, his right arm over his stomach and his left out stretched in a gentlemanly manner. "Royalty first, as always." You smile and are sure your laugh is heard by the man.

"Why, thank you kind sir!" You exclaim, folding your hands like a queen in a ball gown and dramatically walk in the door. He laughs and follows you in, closing the door and locking it behind him.

You lead him to the living room just to the left in the corridor and curl up on the couch and shove your shoes off your feet. Wilbur follows and does the same, his head next to yours and his legs curled up next to him.

"Hi," He whispers to you, smiling softly and gaze set up on you.

"Hi," you pause, readjusting your legs to be held against your chest. "I'll take the couch, you take the bed, that cool?" Your eyelids begin to feel heavy and so you rest them, unable to spot the reaction Wilbur gave you.

"No, not cool." He states plainly, your eyes shoot open. Did you upset him? What did you say wrong? Your mind runs wild and he seems to notice your anxiety bubbling. Your slightly tipsy self, not doing a great job at hiding it. "I take the couch, you take the bed."

"No, you take the bed, I take the couch."

"Darling," He warns and the pet name shocks you both, and it seems as though the alcohol has an effect on both of your filters, his and yours.

"I said what I said and I stand by it!" You cross your arms over your chest and playfully move to look away from him.

He groans in an artificial annoyance and you smile to yourself.

"How about this," He begins and you turn back to face him, he's sat up now, legs pulled up to his chest still. "We both take the bed? That way we both win."

"Mmm, as long as you're okay with it, I am."

Wilbur smiles and nods, "It was my brilliant idea, now wasn't it?" A smirk forms.

"Goddamn, you and your stupid ego." You roll your eyes and Wilbur huffs.

"Oh shut it." He snaps back, going to stand and walk out the door and across the hall to the bedroom. You follow him and quickly go to the cupboard on the left beside the door. Your bed is prepared to warm one person, not two, so you need extra blankets and maybe another pillow or two.

"Dude, when's the last time we shared a bed?" You break the silence, chuckling to yourself as you hear Wilbur shuffle around the bathroom—presumably to find his old toothbrush he left at your place that one time he stayed for a week six months ago.

"Like the last time I stumbled to your door drunk as fuck?" He sighs before exclaiming an Aha presumably because he found the toothbrush he was looking for.

"You really need to stop drinking that much, especially alone. I'm not always gonna be here to be a pick me up for your sorry ass." You throw the blankets you pulled out onto the bed and jumped in face first. "So comfy." It's meant as a whisper, but Wilbur manages to pick it up.

"Save some blankets for me, meanie." He turns on the faucet and he's then silent for a moment before the sound of brushing sounds from the bathroom.

"No, they're mine. I bought them with my money, dickwad." You grunt and turn over, wrapping yourself in a little blanket cacoon.

Wilbur lets out a laugh, and the faucet sounds again before the tapping of the toothbrush on the side of the sink. Before you know it, the other side of the bed dips and you feel a blanket being snatched from you. You don't have the energy to fight it, so you let it go.

"Wow, my best friend being generous to me? What world do we live in.." He mutters, laughing more to himself than anything.

"Too tired to care."

"Not because you love me? Oh my heart!" He dramatically clutches his heart and lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Only because tired." Your words become more slurred and they're muffled by the pillow you have your face in.

"Yeah, yeah." He sighs, and then tosses around a few times, getting comfortable. The bed creaks with his every move and you can hear him groan in annoyance at the sound.

The creaking stops, and Wilbur stops moving. He's situated now, but he's on his back staring at the ceiling.

Many thoughts run through his mind but one in particular stands out; Should I tell them?

The concept is foreign, expressing undiscussed emotion that could be detrimental information if provided at the wrong time—it's scary. What is he meant to do? Lye around and pretend he didn't get nervous at your touch, or your pet names or the way you willingly am letting him sleep next to you—and while the latter wasn't unusual in the past, it was now, given the two of you being in your early 20s and having been avoiding sleepovers since you turned 18. Although there was only so much you could do when Wilbur came stumbling to your door pissed out of his mind.

He bit the bullet. What's the worst that could happen? A Lot actually.

But he figured he should give context first, background.

"Do you know why I was sulking that day at James'?" He breaks the comforting silence that fell between you two. He doesn't mind it but he figured he must act now before he chickens out.

"I figured you were just having a bad day, and once I offered a France info dump you seemed pretty okay. Was there something I missed?" You turn your head back to face him, eyebrows knitted in genuine—sober—concern.

"I was upset," He pauses, beginning to place the pieces in his mind of what to say next and then after that and then after that and so on. "It's kind of stupid, I guess-"

You cut him off, "Nothing, and I mean nothing you say is stupid, Wil. I promise." You're sitting up now, crisscrossing applesauce on the bed, your body facing him but your eyes trained on his own eyes. "What was wrong?"

He closes his eyes, "I guess, I was getting sort of fed up with myself. See, I really really like this person—" He pauses to sit up himself, he gazes down at you as he leans his back against the wall. He reaches for your hand and draws circles on your palm with his thumb, his eyes painfully focused on the lines drawn in your skin. "They're wonderful, and one of my closest friends. I've liked them for a long while, love them even but a part of me knows they don't reciprocate my feelings—so I was feeling sorry for myself. It had been years and no moves had been made and so I felt hopeless. That person was so happy that day, and I was pissed I wasn't the reason for their smile." He sighs, letting go over your hand and leaning against the headboard, eyes closed shut.

Your voice is but a whisper, "Who is this mystery person?"

He hesitates for a moment, but he's this far already, there isn't any going back.

"You." The answer is simple, straightforward and blunt but it hits you hard nonetheless. Handfuls of emotion are thrown at you like confetti and you can't even begin to sift through and identify them all. You're in shock, that's for sure, but everything else? There's no telling.

You smack his shoulder, "William! You should have said sooner, you asshole!" Your tone is playful but your words would say otherwise. Elated.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He rubs the side of his arm, wincing for a split second before meeting your eyes.

"Not telling me." Frustration.

Silence, no more words slip from either of your tongues. It's simply quiet, the humming of the fan you set up hours ago, sirens sounding outside in the city —your breathing, his breathing. Fear.

"I like you too, you know." You look down, despite him already confessing to you, admitting this is still terrifying, and odd to you.

"Oh, I know." He smiles, and you mentally smack yourself for saying something you know would get some stupid snarky comment.

"You and your damn ego, Soot." You shake your head, smiling fondly at him.

"Oh but don't you love my ego, my dear?" The man is still tipsy.

"Hey, why don't you shut up?" He smirks, and you immediately regret your words, well, partially — he reaches his hand up to rest on your cheek, and he brings your face closer to his, lips millimeters apart and breath fanning on each other's faces.

"Can I?" It's a simple request but you nod, smiling whilst your heart warms. He leans in closer, your own lips meeting his in a soft loving exchange.

You smile into the kiss, giggling a few times throughout. You rest your hands on the back of his neck and his own hands fall to rest on your sides.

It's not as dramatic as you imagined, figuring if he felt the same he would have some grand confession —but you like this, you really do. It's calm, private—it's tremendously better than a heated confession in the rain, at least in your opinion.

You both break apart, smiles wide as ever and you're out of breath. You lurch forward, wrapping your arms around him and your head hitting his chest, settling into him. It takes him a moment to reciprocate but when he does, his own arms snake around you, pulling you closer to him.

Wilbur's head dips down to rest on top of yours and you hum happily. This is it, this is what joy feels like, doesn't it? Warm arms around you, the sound of his beating heart—he starts to hum, what sounds like one of his songs.

The night goes on like this, the two of you wrapped around each other, Wilbur humming songs he knows or wrote and the occasional comment on how long it took you two, followed by laughter.

This was joy, he was joy.

The next day, you awoke to your phone buzzing like no tomorrow. You were groggy and really didn't want to even bother looking, but the sound managed to send you into a slight panic. Your legs were still wrapped with Wilbur's, and his head was resting on your chest and his stupidly long arms were pulling you into him. You looked over at the end table on your left and snuck your phone into your grip.

You groaned as you pressed answer on the incoming call that created your woken state. It was James.

"What do you want, James? It's 2am." Your tone is that of a very annoyed person, and James winces over the call.

"I hadn't heard from you and Wilbur's not answering his phone or his door, so I figured you two ran off and died." His words all jumbled together and you laugh much to his distaste, "Be serious here!"

"We should've run off, honestly. Maybe we would have gotten some peace and quiet then." You set your gaze down at the man with his arms around you, and you smiles sweetly.

"You're a dick—are you two okay? Do I need to send like a police force or something?" James is still frantic with how he speaks but you can tell he's calming down by the second.

"We're fine James, okay? We're at my place. We drank a little last night and my apartment was the closest." You pause, but before he can get a word in, "Thank you for setting us up." There's a smirk on your face and James can hear it in the way you spoke.

"What—I, I didn't set you up!" He's quick to his defense and you laugh.

"Yeah, no you definitely did."

"Did it work?" He asks, ditching the defensive attitude from the moment prior.

"Yeah, yeah it did. Thank you." You lean your head back, phone still pressed to your ear and your free hand carding through Wilbur's mop of curls.

"Good."

[monstersandmaw]

Male Demon x male human witch - Chapter Four - light nsfw

I'm so sorry this month has been unusually quiet. It's been a bit of a bonkers time, with Mr. Ghosti getting a new job, then my dad's memorial happening, me upping my coppicing work and chainsaw training, and also buying a freaking motorbike(!!), but I'm back on Patreon again, and here's Demon's chapter four!! I hope you still remember the story. If not, here are some catch-up links!!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Content: mutual pining, lusting after your new boyfriend, an old friend, some magic, some fancy sushi, and some light steamy content before it all kicks off next chapter... Wordcount: 2601

Thank you again for your patience and support, especially the folks on Discord who were so kind when I mentioned what the state of things was.

Preview:

Carefully, Demon slid his leg over the seat in front of Jasper’s and somehow made it back to his apartment without wobbling the bike and its precious cargo off the road.

His mind was spinning and his heart refused to beat in a regular pattern. It was a good job that neither Țepeș, with his supernatural hearing, nor Coco with her ability to detect desire, was nearby. Somehow, he managed to park the Panigale in the underground parking lot of his apartment building and secure it with both a lock and a curse without blowing anything up. 

Just a week, and I’m completely fucked.

Fuck.

He led Jasper up the stairwell and into the glinting main lobby, and past the doorman who looked up and nodded. “Afternoon, Mr. Mortlake,” he said politely, eyeing Jasper with artfully-bland curiosity.

“He’s with me, Dennis,” Demon said. “You can let him in any time.”

“Of course, sir,” Dennis replied with an expression that gave absolutely nothing away.

In the elevator, Demon let the doors close, then pushed the fingerprint-locked button for the penthouse. Jasper might not have noticed but it was also protected against shapeshifters, and even those under mind control, with a nasty hex.

“Seriously?” Jasper asked when he saw which button Demon had pressed though. “The penthouse? I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess… given that monster bike you own and the fact that you are a demon. You could probably have anything in our world you wanted, but still…? Also, ‘Mortlake’? Isn’t that where John Dee had a house?”

Demon just smiled. His witch was knowledgeable too.

Fuck. He’s not my witch. 

Gods, I could be his though.

Fuck, fuckfuckfuck.

“Do I even want to know how you came by all this?” Jasper asked, glancing around at the shiny elevator walls for emphasis.

“Made a few deals in the beginning with people who were rich as Croesus before they lost their bargains. Probably best if we leave it at that though.”

“Fair enough,” Jasper said, though his eyes were a little wide and there was a twist of unease in his emotions that Demon didn’t enjoy.

 It’d be worse if you had to tell him the pain you caused to balance the bargains you made when they couldn’t keep them though, his mind helpfully supplied.

As the lift sailed upwards, Demon cleared his throat and changed the topic. “I’ll need to adjust my wards to let you in. I… I don’t invite people home often. So far they’re only attuned to about three and a half people other than me.”

“Oh. Are you sure? About me, I mean. I don’t want you to feel like —”

“I’m sure.” I’m so fucking sure it’s scaring the shit out of me.

“Ok.” After a little pause, Jasper asked, “Who are they? And who’s the half?”

“Hm?”

“The people you trust enough to let into your home…” Jasper asked. “I’m mostly just curious about the ‘half’ though.”

Demon’s lips lifted into a lopsided smile and he said, “Țepeș, Coco, and Oats, plus Oats’ kid. She’s the half.”

“Rude! Children are people too.”

Demon snorted. “This one’s half horse. Does that still count?”

“Half… horse?”

“Kelpie, technically. But so is Oats.”

“Oats?” Jasper looked baffled. He clearly knew about supernatural creatures other than witches and demons though. “Because he’s a kelpie? And horses like… oats?”

“Because he’s always got granola bars in his pockets for his kid. We’ve all got nicknames for each other. ‘Demon’ was mine for… obvious reasons,” he said. “It wasn’t meant with much grace to start with, but it stuck anyway. Same goes for Hot Stuff.” The doors pinged but they didn’t get out straight away. “You’ll probably have to meet Hank’s little family at Full Moon some time soon, but for now, I’m going to keep you to myself. Well, for tonight anyway.”

He stepped out of the lift and turned away from Jasper so that he didn't have to reveal just how much he wanted it to be longer than ‘tonight’, and how much the idea of what might come next terrified him just as much. The idea of Jasper walking away and Demon never seeing him again sparked an almost physical pain in his chest, just where his ribs flared. 

Read the whole thing over on Patreon now! Remember all my writing is now going up ONLY on Patreon, but anything that would have been free to read here on Tumblr will be free to read over on Patreon. Just become a free member, or join a tier and get early access, plus access to my huge archive of exclusive content.

[intercoursefluids]

Be My First Be My Last Chapter 13

Chloe sighed, adjusting the sunglasses she was wearing. The school lights were hurting her eyes today, she had spent too long pouring over the details of Marinette’s case file.

It was mostly empty, full of dead ends and half plausible leads. No one could find her; it was like she disappeared.

Chloe would have felt awful about Marinette’s disappearance regardless of the circumstances, but it was even worse because she was there.

She had been there when they took them, she was there when they all woke up in an unknown location, she was there when Mari had impersonated Kagami.

She had been there when Mari had gambled her life away to save theirs.

And she couldn’t even help find her.

They had been knocked out before they had even reached the front door, only waking up underneath a bridge where the Couffaines spotted them from their houseboat.

They had no idea where they had been, if it were in Paris, France, or if they had still been on the same continent when they were taken.

She had never felt so useless.

Months had passed since Marinette had gone missing, months without the slightest hint at where she had gone.

Sabrina had told her that the police station was starting to consider her a lost cause. Well, she didn’t say lost cause but cold case held pretty much the same meaning.

The only reason she hadn’t been presumed dead yet was because of her and Kagami’s testimonies of what happened.

Officer Raincomprix figured that if they wanted her alive enough that she could save all three of the girls by threat of suicide, they wouldn’t hurt, or at least, they wouldn’t kill her.

It had been a small comfort, the only comfort that Marinette’s parents had been given really.

All they had was their belief that she was still alive, nothing more and nothing less.

Chloe looked up from her desk as Alya and Nino walked in, talking loudly about their plans for the day.

“Okay, you run home and grab your mixtape, I’ll get the videos and photos ready and we meet back here and combine the two. Think they’ll like it?” Alya asked, glancing up from her phone to her boyfriend.

Nino nodded, wrapping an arm around her.

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. We can’t find her, but maybe we can show the Dupain-Cheng’s that no one has forgotten about her, y’know?” Nino said, pressing a kiss to Alya’s cheek.

Chloe squinted at the two from behind her sunglasses, wondering what they were planning.

She was just about to go over to them when her least favorite classmate walked in, Lila.

“Hey guys! What are you talking about?” She asked, worming her way into their conversation. Chloe couldn’t help wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Oh! Lila we’re putting together a collection of videos and pictures that everyone has of Marinette for her parents. Do you have anything you want to add?” Alya asked, turning to face the other girl excitedly.

Lila didn’t say anything, narrowing her eyes at the girl in front of her.

“Alya.” She said sharply. “Why would I have anything save of my bully?” She said with emphasis, her eyes flashing as she stared at Alya.

Alya hesitated, tripping over her words before narrowing her eyes as well, her green eyes shining defiantly.

“You’re so right, girl. Why on earth are we even doing this? I mean, yeah, I feel sorry for her parents and all, but you have to admit… Karma always has its way.” She finished, leaning in like she was sharing a joke with Lila.

Nino looked shocked, grabbing Alya’s and pulling her attention away from Lila.

“Alya!” He shouted. “I mean, I know you two hadn’t been on the best of terms before she disappeared but come on! She’s missing.” He insisted, shaking her arm like he was trying to wake her up.

Alya tugged her arm out of his grasp just as Lila rounded on him.

“No one is implying that she deserves any of this Nino,” She said with a honeyed tone. “It’s just that, I mean… I can’t really bring myself to miss her, y’know? Not after everything she did to me…” She finished shyly, glancing up at him.

Nino hesitated, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He cast a glance up at Chloe, his green eyes meeting hers before he looked back to Lila.

Chloe wasn’t sure what he said next, having stopped listening the moment their eyes met.

She wasn’t entirely sure about Alya, she hadn’t known her as long, but Chloe had known Nino for years. She could have sworn he had brown eyes, not green…

Chloe took off her sunglasses, staring intently at the three of them.

Alya’s eyes, which she could have sworn were green just a moment ago, were brown again. A glance at Nino showed the same results, their eyes were both back to brown.

Chloe shook her head, sure that she was just imagining things when another thought struck her.

How would she have even been able to tell what colour they were behind her sunglasses? They would have to be glowing for her to tell.

Biting her lip, Chloe raised her glasses again, not putting them on but only looking through one lens with her other eye closed.

Their eyes were still green, a glowing bright green that matched the colour of Lila’s eyes.

When Chloe opened her other eye, free of her sunglass’s lens, their eyes were normal.

Chloe quickly put her sunglasses back on, observing everyone that interacted with the three near the door.

Throughout the day, Chloe wrote down what she noticed in her notes app.

She couldn’t see any difference without her sunglasses.

The eyes always glowed green, regardless of the pervious eye colour.

Their eyes only glowed around Lila.

When their eyes started to glow they would immediately agree with whatever Lila was saying.

Chloe had a theory, but she needed to perform one final test before she shared her thoughts.

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