#I’m down to my last two problems!!! and learning python

[manyblinkinglights]

like the anytaur I just completed? the only real problems I had were with the god damn upper body on my head situation. So, I wanna nuke the situation. Then you will see

[gukyi]

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly. 

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 

Another voice breaks you from your trance. 

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 

You wonder what he sees. 

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you. 

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him. 

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[comfortbucky]

Hey! Can i request a cold, lonely ex-hydra reader × bucky who falls in love with her. Adding some panic attacks and nightmares of the reader.

i love this idea!!! thank u for submitting🥰

𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: avenger!bucky x ex-HYDRA!fem!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers, angst (if u squint), soft!bucky

warnings: canon level violence, description of injuries, blood is mentioned, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares

A/N: i just came up with a random name for the HYDRA leader the reader is after🤣 so just ,,, ignore // also!!!! i tried out a different writing style than what i’m used to! hope u don’t mind🥺 just been feeling like a lot of my writing is the same and wanted to try something new!!!

word count: 3.5k (this is so long LMAO sorry 😭 literally why am i like this)

my masterlist!

completed requests!

The suit that you once considered a second skin, now felt uncomfortable and constricting, like a python squeezing the life out of you. Although, it made sense since the very organization of the uniform you were wearing did exactly that.

HYDRA.

For so long you were just another mindless pawn to them, just doing without every actually thinking. Unlike your younger brother, Alex. They indoctrinated him as well, getting a hold of both of you from a young age, but he was there when Captain America took down S.H.I.E.L.D. and it changed his entire worldview. You found everything he said about “freedom” to be stupid, naive, and dangerous. And you would later prove yourself correct.

You pull yourself from your thoughts as a group of HYDRA soldiers walk past the shrubbery you hid behind. Quickly and quietly, you get up and join them as they march towards the HYDRA base. As soon as you get inside, you manage to slip away from the rest of the group to search for your target.

Since HYDRA took the possibility of you ever having a normal life away, as far as you were concerned, your only purpose in life was to kill the man who was at the center of it all, Viktor Cross. And after months of tracking him down, formulating the perfect plan, that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

You make your way towards one of the main lab facilities, gun in hand when you see several unconscious guards lying on the floor in front of you. Shifting your gaze up, you see that the door has been ripped open, grip marks on the sides.

This was not part of the plan.

As you squeeze through the open door and enter the lab, you come to a halt, frozen in shock. There’s your target, Viktor, shoved against the wall by none other than Captain America himself. You almost let out a chuckle in disbelief at the irony of the situation. Instead, you take a step forward, and the glass cracks beneath your feet, alerting the men of your presence.

Shit.

Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. Viktor’s lips curve into a smirk as you make your way to them.

“Agent- Miss Y/N,” he corrects himself. “What a pleasant surprise.” You ignore him and look to address Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

“Let him go and give him to me,” you start, Steve eyeing you cautiously. “So I can kill him,” you snarl, quickly turning to Viktor to see that his smirk had been wiped off his face.

“Aren’t you HYDRA?” He questions, nodding to your suit and eliciting a cackle from Viktor.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, before lifting a leg to kick Steve in his side. You hit him across the face with the end of your gun for good measure. He stumbles over, giving you enough time to grab Viktor’s collar, before he falls to the floor, and slam him back against the wall. His eyes are full of desperation and you felt nothing but pure, burning rage. You shove the barrel of your gun under his chin and place your hand on the trigger.

“You were such a gifted agent, Y/N. Don’t throw away such potential, come back.”

“Go to hell.”

Before you could pull the trigger, a force propels you to the ground and you feel a sharp pain in your side. Silence and then ringing fills your eyes as you squint your eyes to try and visualize the situation. Your vision is blurry, but clear enough to clouds of smoke engulf Viktor’s figure as he escapes. A muffled voice from behind you speaks, but you can’t make out any of the words they’re saying. You look down to see red. Just crimson red, staining your abdomen. Hands land on your shoulders, shaking you gently as your vision fades to black.

Viktor is in front of you, the barrel of his gun directed right at your head. He smirks as he moves his hand to the trigger.

“Hail, HYDRA.”

A gunshot goes off, forcing you to shoot up in bed, gasping for air. As you start to regain your senses, you realize you’re surrounded by a group of strangers. Well, not complete strangers, the Avengers to be exact. Part of your job required you to study their files, learn everything about them. You could recite from memory where and when they were born, their greatest strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, your side starts to burn with pain, and you carefully lean back in bed. There’s an array of wires and tubes connected to you and you hear the rhythmic beeping of various machines. You’re in a hospital, or some sort of medical facility.

“That, is exactly why I said we should use restraints.”

You’re staring at the ceiling when you hear Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark, speak.

“Tony, she lost a liter of blood, she’s not going anywhere.”

Steve appears in your view, looking down at you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

You shift your gaze away from him. The last thing you expected to come out of this mission was to meet the Avengers, let alone them save you.

Steve sighs, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We wanna find Viktor too.”

There’s nothing he could say that could get you to speak. Your hatred for HYDRA didn’t mean you suddenly liked the Avengers. If anything, they were part of the problem too, so you stay silent.

“Told you, she’s not gonna talk,” Tony quips. From your research, you had come to learn that he was an arrogant man, and his statement only proved you right. “Maybe you should get Manchurian Candidate to come down, give her an ex-HYDRA buddy,” he says sarcastically.

Upon hearing “ex-HYDRA buddy,” you furrow your brows. Maybe it was the lack of blood in your body, but it took you a second to process his words and understand who he was referring to. Your eyes dart back to look at Steve’s but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back.” His voice trails off as he exits the room.

You’re still staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps return and then several others departing.

There’s only one other person in the room beside you. Without even looking up, you already know who it is. His breathing was slow and steady until you started to shift in bed to reposition yourself. His breath hitched for a moment, before returning back to his normal breathing pattern.

“Killing him isn’t gonna make you feel better.” His comment makes you roll your eyes as you slowly sit up to look at him. There were no logical thoughts in your head, all you could feel was pain and fury. Anger swelled within you, your emotions boiling over.

“That’s rich, coming from the Fist of HYDRA,” you spat out. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a while. What was it? Regret?

Bucky’s face fell but he kept his eyes on you. It was a look that made you feel worse, worse than the searing pain in your side.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” he said in a tone so gentle, you felt another strange, new emotion but couldn’t quite label it. You quickly shift gears to avoid addressing the uncomfortable feelings swirling around in your stomach.

“Are you keeping me hostage to lure Viktor in? Because it's not going to work." Bucky shook his head.

"We want..." he trailed off, causing you to tilt your head in curiosity. “We need your help finding him.” You scoffed.

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky’s silence gave you your answer. Shaking your head, you start to disconnect yourself from the multitude of wires attached to you and get out of bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he started, as you threw off your blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

Standing up quickly, the blood from your head pooled in your legs, causing you to feel dizzy. Your head spun and your arms reached out for something, anything stable to grab onto. It was a metal hand. Despite it being cool to the touch, it ignited a heat to rise to your cheeks. You look down and mumble a thank you as Bucky helps you back into bed.

Letting out a sigh, you realize with the condition you’re in, you can’t leave. Definitely not well enough to go after Viktor alone. Shutting your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, you curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you finally speak, keeping your eyes closed. Bucky nods, even though you don’t see, and you hear him walk off.

After a couple days of rest, you were cleared by Bruce to get discharged. Viktor had gone deep in hiding, making your job to find him a lot harder. Tony had so graciously given you an extra room in the tower, right next to Bucky’s. He was probably the one person you saw the most, purely due to location, and the fact that everyone else cautiously kept their distance from you. It made sense though, since you rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of your time in the lab looking for any clues of Viktor’s location. When you weren’t searching for him, you were training in the gym. Bucky was there a lot too, both of you waking up at ungodly hours of the morning. No words were ever exchanged between the two of you, and yet, there was some level of comfort you felt being around him. Must’ve been an ex-HYDRA thing.

“What’s on your mind?” You walk over to Alex and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sighs.

“What if,” he starts, furrowing his brows. “What if freedom is good?” He speaks quietly, fearful of HYDRA listening in on your conversation.

It feels like you’ve got the wind knocked out of you.

“Alex,” you grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” You’re searching his eyes, trying to understand what’s gotten into him.

“Captain America.” The biggest threat to HYDRA’s existence. He looks down at his hands. “He was willing to risk his life for it. It has to be worth something right?” Alex looks back up to you with a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen since you were children. Uncertainty. You sigh and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Hot tears fall from the corners of your eyes. It’s the same dream you’ve had for the last week. Although, you wouldn’t consider it a dream necessarily, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. Just a bittersweet memory.

Bucky could tell that something was up with you for the past week. Despite having gone through a bit of therapy, Steve’s idea, the nightmares still came to him. So Bucky was already wide awake when he heard your weeping on the other side of the wall. It didn’t help that he was also a light sleeper with super-soldier hearing. He didn’t know what was causing you to be so upset, but he didn’t want to intrude and ask. Neither of you had spoken to the other since you first arrived.

But this night was different from the rest. Usually, you would flip endlessly through channels on ur TV until you eventually fell asleep, but it wasn’t working this time. There’s a tight pain in your chest and suddenly, you’re suffocating. You rip off your covers and spring out of bed, tripping on your blankets along the way. At this point, you don’t even register the pain of slamming down, face-first on the ground. Panic has taken over your body, tears now streaming down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for relief.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything until he heard a loud thud from your room. Immediately, Bucky gets up and arrives at your door. It’s rude to just barge into someone’s room, his mom taught him that from a young age, so he settles on knocking. You don’t hear it though, the only sound you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing as you hyperventilate. Bucky hears it too and ultimately decides on inviting himself into your room.

“Y/N?”

You’re lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position with your hands covering your face, when Bucky opens the door. He quickly arrives by your side, kneeling beside you, as he examines you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head in response, anxiety still flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, Bucky’s familiar with panic attacks, having had them himself. But he also knows that everyone deals with them a bit differently. Guess he did manage to learn some useful things from therapy.

“Can you try breathing with me?”

He starts to take deep breaths in and out until he sees you start to follow along with him, your hands still covering your face. There’s a part of you that feels stupid for keeping them there, but they help ground you, so you continue to shield your face. After what feels like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, your panic subsides. That’s when a wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing that it had been Bucky with you during your panic attack.

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you’re greeted by piercing blue eyes. You blink a couple times, realizing that Bucky had taken a spot on the ground, lying on his side to face you, his hands pressed together under his head like a pillow. He smiles and you feel warm. It’s terrifying, the new feelings that Bucky has caused you to feel and yet, you don’t mind.

“You feelin’ better?” You nod and smile back, something you haven’t genuinely done in a while.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

You stare at each other in silence, lying side by side. There’s no physical touch involved but somehow, this moment, it feels intimate. Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks in a voice so soft, it almost sounded like a whisper.

It might’ve been the fact that he just calmed you down from a panic attack, but as you looked into his eyes, you felt the walls you had built up for the last year slowly come crashing down.

“He killed my brother,” you reply, maintaining your eyes on Bucky. You searched his eyes for any fear or pity, but all you could find was a look of understanding. His eyes were starting to become a safe place for you.

“Alex was there when Steve took down S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA along with it. He wanted out, out of the organization.” Taking a deep breath, you continue. “Word got around about a “rat,” so I took the blame. Viktor was about to shoot me when Alex’s dumbass ran in front of me, sacrificing himself.” You let out a chuckle, your vision getting blurry as tears swelled in your eyes. “He was a goddamn idiot, but he also had a heart of gold.”

As you start to cry, Bucky hesitatingly extends an arm to hover over your body, trying to gauge your reaction. Physical touch was something he struggled with during the beginning of his recovery, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s reassured when you grab onto his shirt and pull yourself closer to him, and wraps an arm around you, his other hand softly stroking your head.

You hadn’t cried like this since Alex died, bottling up all of your emotions to focus on finding the man responsible for his death. But as you sobbed into Bucky’s chest, you realize that your love for Alex had transformed into an ugly, burning hatred for Viktor. He wouldn’t want this. You didn’t want it, at least, not anymore. The only thing you wanted was your brother back, and that was impossible.

Bucky held you in his arms until you fell asleep, listening to the sounds of your slow, rhythmic breathing, dozing off shortly after.

That night with Bucky had softened your cold, hard exterior that you initially presented yourself with. You would willingly spar with Nat in the training room and join the team for breakfast or dinner. Everyone noticed and, while at first thrown off by it, happily embraced it. Especially Bucky.

Initially, he got up to work out in the early hours of the morning as a habit. Now, he woke up to see you. His heart did flips in his chest every time he walked in the gym and saw you. Since that night, you started to acknowledge his presence, turning to smile and wave as he walked through the doors. It was something he looked forward to every day.

During the day, you were focused hard on tracking down Viktor and Bucky knew that. But he also knew he wanted to spend more time with you. He looked for reasons to enter the lab, whether it was offering snacks to you throughout the day or helping Bruce or, even Tony. Anything to see you again.

Bucky realized that there was a deeper, stronger emotion that he felt for you when he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The first thing he thought about was you. Specifically, how you were the only thing that could possibly calm him down. Although he’d come in that night to help you with your panic attack, you ended up helping him as well. He hadn’t slept as soundly and peacefully as he did with you. And you hadn’t either. There were several nights when neither of you could sleep and ended up running into each other. It slowly became a routine that would begin in the kitchen, exchanging life stories, and end on the couch in the common area, entangled in each other’s arms.

Tonight you didn’t show up and Bucky panicked. He stared at the kitchen clock. It had been 20 minutes and you still hadn’t shown up. Bucky racked his brain for anything he could’ve done to scare you off, but came up with nothing. It wasn’t like you two had been officially together, Bucky had no idea what you were to each other. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you, always.

You were soundly asleep in bed, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. It was a particularly physically exhausting day for you, training with both Nat and Steve.

Bucky was so caught up with the thoughts racing through his head, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had taken him right to your door. He stands there for a moment, silently debating what to do. Grumbling under his breath, he musters up the courage to knock on your door. Right as he was about to turn away and shuffle off to his room, your door opens. You greet him with a yawn and a tired smile.

“Oh, hey Bucky.”

He looks at the bags under your eyes and feels instant regret wash over him, realizing that you weren’t avoiding him, but just getting some sleep.

“Sorry,” he looks down at his feet. You frown and place a hand on his cheek to lift his head up.

“Something wrong?” He avoids your gaze, partially because he’s embarrassed and partially because his cheeks were turning red because of your touch.

“No.” You cross your arms and let out a sigh.

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s his turn to sigh, as he scratches the back of his head.

“You didn’t come to the kitchen,” he lets out, in almost a whisper. It hits you. You were so tired, you had completely forgotten about your nightly tradition. “It’s stupid, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up," he mumbles. Bucky begins to walk off but you grab his hand. When he turns to look at you, his brows are raised at your touch.

As you start to speak, you pull him close, facing you. “It’s not stupid.” His hands move to hold your waist as yours move to wrap around his neck. You pause, an idea popping into your head. “I’m kind of tired from training today, wanna just come sleep with me?” He nods and you drag him to your bed, nestling into his arms as he holds you to his chest, his chin resting above your head. You tilt your head back to see him looking down at you. There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest and you smile.

“Just for future reference, you have an open invitation to cuddle with me, anytime.” Bucky chuckles at your offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

Bucky cups your face in his hand and you nuzzle your cheek in his palm. His eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Then, the most delicate, sweetest kiss you’ve ever received is on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open as you both pull apart. He quickly kisses your nose before pulling you back into his chest, speaking softly.

“And you have an open invitation to kiss me, anytime.”

[jaskiersvalley]

Hair of the Dog

The problem with having a goat as a pet was that Eskel had a goat as a pet. It was usually wonderful, Lil Bleater was a menace and Eskel loved her for it. Alas, some days she was a little more than he bargained for. Visiting Geralt on the farm was always a delight, it was one of the few places Bleats could explore without a leash and Eskel knew she was safe.

All in all it was a great day, a rarity for the whole extended family to get together. Geralt had Yennefer and Jaskier with him, they were playing pass the parcel with Ciri, except whenever they unwrapped her, it was always a dirty nappy rather than a fun treat under her layers. How Eskel ended up with a family where both his brothers had two partners was a mystery, it was perhaps why he was still a bachelor with only Lil Bleater as his companion, Lambert and Geralt had soaked up all the appeal for themselves and left none for Eskel.

"Where are the Gremlins?" Eskel asked, looking around. The Gremlins were also known as Lambert, Aiden and Cahir. One at a time and they were manageable but the three together wreaked unknown havoc and destroyed an alarming number of clothes between them. If they ever wore safety pins through clothes, Eskel knew it wasn't for aesthetics at all.

"Last I heard they were heading for the barn. Cahir was going to see whether the new pony is ready to be worked yet." Somehow Geralt sounded resigned and they all knew that while the trio might have looked at the gelding, they were most definitely going to be making out or more in one of the empty stalls.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel nodded. "I'm not risking that. Tell them I said goodbye and that Lambert still owes me a drink next week, will you?" He clicked his tongue and watched as Lil Bleater blatantly ignored him in favour of hopping over puddles. Just because she was having too much fun and still full of energy despite a whole day of charging around didn't mean she got to keep going. Resigned to his fate of chasing his goat in order to get her home, Eskel lumbered off, trying to look like he wasn't approaching her with intent. Needless to say, it didn't work. With expert ease Lil Bleater avoided him, bounding just out of reach. Even worse, he brothers were watching and Eskel wanted to growl at them that they might as well help if they were going to watch. Thankfully he managed to grab his wayward goat, only for her to protest in the worst possible way, she threw herself onto the ground. Normally Eskel wouldn't mind but she chose to roll in a puddle, her white fur soaking in the muddy water and staining it.

"Well shit."

Dripping goat firmly leashed, Eskel stared at her. She watched him unrepentantly for a moment before trying to nibble at her leash. Eskel had learned the hard way that he needed a metal chain leash for her, nothing else survived her incessant chomping. There was no way he could take her home like that, and hosing her down wasn't going to be much good as she's just drip more water in the car and make it smell even more of wet goat.

Thankfully he always had a towel or two in the boot so Eskel could pat her mildly dry but the puddle hadn't been simple mud and water, only heightening the stench. Thinking about his poor tub, Eskel knew he wouldn't be able to give Bleats a bath. The one time he had tried, he'd needed to buy a new shower curtain and invest in some repairs to the tub. Little goat hooves were not compatible with his bathroom. Stashing her in her travel crate, Eskel pulled his phone out and searched for possible solutions. The most sensible was a pet groomer, alas the three numbers he tried all refused to deal with a goat. Some days Eskel cursed himself for not having a more traditional pet.

"You trying to get a groomer?" Cahir sidled up to him, eyes glinting with the promise of mischief.

"Yeah, but it's not like anyone wants to bathe a goat." Not that Eskel was bitter. He didn't expect Cahir to laugh.

"You just haven't asked the right one. Come on, I'll introduce you to someone who'll help. Just follow my bike."

It was easier said than done. While Eskel had heard stories from Lambert about the strange love affair Cahir had with his bike, it was a whole different thing to see it. Having witnessed it, Eskel had to wonder whether there were four in that relationship rather than three as he'd originally thought.

Hair of the Dog looked like a bit of a shithole if Eskel was honest. It was out in a small industrial park near a village, wooden cladding faded and looking in desperate need of a paint. Helmet under his arm, Cahir barged in without a care for the sign that declared the place closed.

"Scales!" He hollered, impatiently holding the door open for Eskel. "Got you a client."

Not quite knowing what to expect, Eskel's eyes widened when a man larger than him appeared, scowling at Cahir.

"What did I tell you about my opening hours? And fucking hell what is that stench?"

Cahir leaned against the wall with a shit eating grin and gestured towards Eskel and Lil Bleater knowingly.

"That's a goat." It was possibly the dumbest thing anyone could have said.

"No, I'm a human called Eskel," Eskel shot back, a little irked.

The laugh was warm and genuine as the owner of the grooming parlour caught on. "Letho. Who's your stinky companion?"

Somehow Eskel found himself charmed by the fact Letho didn't baulk at the fact he was being presented with a goat. He even invited Eskel to stay and watch the whole process of washing and drying his pet. What struck Eskel was how gentle he was through it all, talking to Bleats as much as he talked to Eskel.

"Wouldn't have clocked you as a dog groomer," Eskel admitted while Lil Bleater was enjoying her second rinse.

"Didn't peg you as a goat owner."

"Touche. You like dogs?" Which was a ridiculous thing to ask, given that Letho's work involved a lot of dogs and possibly a few cats. However, Letho shook his head.

"They're alright. But I wouldn't own one."

"Cats?"

"Guess again."

Eskel squinted at Letho. "I can't really say I can picture you with a parrot."

Another laugh and Eskel found himself quite fond of the raw honesty in it. He waited patiently for an answer though.

"Tell you what-" Letho suggested, "-let me finish up with my last client and then I can show you, if you're interested. It's a snake."

"I only inspect trouser snakes on third date," Eskel said, peering around. "If I had known you'd had other clients, I would have happily waited."

The spray of water was playfully turned on him, barely missing him. "It's you, you numpty. I'm closed on Tuesdays, that's admin day." A soft flush spread across Eskel's cheeks at that and Letho continued, "If I put Gully down my trousers, I don't think she'd ever forgive me. And I don't think she'd fit. She's a reticulated python."

"As long as she doesn't eat Bleats, I think we're good." Eskel had no idea about snakes but, given the size of Letho, he could imagine him with a large snake, no pun intended.

In the silence that fell on them, Eskel looked around again with a frown. "Did Cahir go?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, quite thrilled at the prospect of having a fluffy goat stepping out of the dryer soon, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.

"You owe me a drink. Maybe two. We told you you'll like him."

Groaning, Letho threw the note away but not before Eskel saw.

"That sounded ominous."

"The Three Fucketeers have been trying to set me up for a while. I resisted. Guess they win."

Grinning, Eskel shrugged. "They don't have to know that, do they?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.ion out no matter how hidden. Which led Eskel to the conclusion that if he couldn't beat them, they could join them. It was very unlikely they'd want graphic details so, with great confidence, Eskel met Letho's rather large snake. And he met Gully too.

[mostlymovieswithmax]

Movies I watched in March

Thought I’d chronicle the films I’ve been watching over the March period, from the 1st to the 31st, and how I’d rate them. If you’re looking for something to watch, perhaps this will help. A lot of these movies are available on streaming services also.

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) - 10/10

I hadn’t watched this in a couple of years but I was blown away. Peak Scorsese.

Rushmore (1998) - 7/10

Not the best Wes Anderson movie for me but still fun.

Lion (2016) - 8/10

I discussed this at length on my podcast: The Sunday Movie Marathon. Great movie!

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) - 10/10

Now this is one of the best Wes Anderson movies. I discuss this more on The Sunday Movie Marathon. Fantastic, funny and I watched it twice because it’s so much fun.

Inception (2010) - 10/10

Discussed on The Sunday Movie Marathon. Best Christopher Nolan movie for me, Inception is just breathtaking.

The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (2004) - 5/10

This might be Anderson’s weakest film (at least from what I’ve seen) but it’s still not as bad as a lot of directors at their worst.

The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) - 10/10

I was really on an Anderson binge in March. The Royal Tenenbaums is one of the most wholesome movies I’ve seen and certainly one of his best films.

Rome, Open City (1945) - 4/10

This was filmed in Nazi-occupied Italy and from that premise, the film enticed me. Despite having some interesting qualities, I do feel that initial pull is most of what the movie has going for it.

The Prestige (2006) - 7/10

I showed this to my brother and for what it’s worth, he enjoyed it. I do think this is one of Nolan’s weaker efforts but considering how much I like it, that speaks a lot to Nolan’s filmography as a whole.

Nostalgia (1983) - 10/10

I watched Nostalgia three times in the space of a week and reviewed it on The Sunday Movie Marathon. It’s phenomenal.

Kangaroo Jack (2003) - 1/10

Another one I watched for the podcast. Kangaroo Jack is truly terrible and it upset me a great deal. Avoid this movie.

Stalker (1979) - 10/10

Another Andrei Tarkovsky movie (director of Nostalgia). I watched this again during the day before my second watch of Nostalgia and while it’s hard to compare such different movies, I enjoy Stalker more. It’s a staple of Russian cinema for a reason.

Four Lions (2010) - 5/10

Watched for the podcast. I didn’t really gel with this comedy but it would certainly appeal to someone who enjoys the humour, as my co-hosts did.

Revolutionary Road (2008) - 6/10

This Sam Mendes joint was a tad too melodramatic but still boasted some great performances from Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet.

Metropolis (1927) - 6/10

This silent film is a staple in cinematic history. Its themes are as painfully relevant today as they were in the 20’s, yet despite that I found a lot of it to be intensely boring. After it hit the hour mark, I started playing it at 1.5x speed.

Crimson Peak (2015) - 4/10

A lot of great set design and costumes and colours, yet the story itself was madly uninteresting.

Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind (2004) - 10/10

Who doesn’t love a good movie written by Charlie Kaufman? I reviewed this on The Sunday Movie Marathon and after a third watch, it is as fascinating as it is gut-wrenching.

Godzilla (2014) - 3/10

If you wanted to see Godzilla fight a bunch of monsters for two hours, then this is not the movie for you. There’s maybe about ten minutes total of on-screen Godzilla action and considering that’s really all anyone’s watching this for, it’s amazing the titular sea lizard occupies so little of the movie.

Prisoners (2013) - 10/10

Brilliant mystery thriller by my favourite director, Denis Villeneuve. Discussed on the podcast.

Eraserhead (1977) - 7/10

David Lynch’s debut feature film went down in my estimations this time around. You can listen to why on The Sunday Movie Marathon. Still, Eraserhead is a very good movie.

Raiders of The Lost Ark (1981) - 6/10

The first Indiana Jones movie proved to be a fun romp and Harrison Ford plays the character beautifully. I’m just not a big fan of Spielberg and his average verging on pretty good but rarely ever great movies. Perhaps on a second watch, I may enjoy this more.

The Seventh Seal (1957) - 9/10

Watching this movie again was so much fun. So far, it’s my favourite Ingmar Bergman film. It’s a celebration of life and love, with an underlying sense of dread as death looms ever-present.

Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom (1984) - 5/10

I can tell why this generally looked on as the weakest in the trilogy. Harrison Ford is still great but the movie dragged a lot and felt more like a bunch of things happening for the sake of it rather than a fun action/adventure.

Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade (1989) - 7/10

The Last Crusade was a lot of fun and maybe it was Sean Connery’s inclusion, or perhaps the bottle of wine I drank through the movie elevated my enjoyment. But alcohol aside, I still believe this to be the best in the series.

Justice League (2017) - 2/10

People really weren’t kidding when they said this was bad. I watched this in preparation for the Snyder cut and I was not happy. This took years off my life.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) - 3/10

Barely any better and double the run-time of the original. I discussed this on The Sunday Movie Marathon and I was certainly not impressed. Better luck next time, Zack!

The Truman Show (1998) - 10/10

Brilliant movie and one I would highly recommend for a stellar Jim Carrey performance. This was another recommendation for the podcast.

Eighth Grade (2018) - 7/10

I was impressed with Bo Burnham’s debut feature. This is a coming of age story centred around a young girl growing up in the modern world and how it can affect the youth of today. Burnham shows a deep understanding of youth culture and a real knack for filmmaking.

Bad Education (2019) - 8/10

A real “yikes!” movie. If you want to learn a bit about the embezzlement that took place in an American school back in the early 2000’s, you need not look further than this tight drama with fantastic performances from Hugh Jackman and Allison Janney.

Twelve Monkeys (1995) - 8/10

One of the only movies where the time travel makes sense. I recommended this for The Sunday Movie Marathon and it’s pretty great.

Ready Or Not (2019) - 7/10

Despite a premise that is not wholly original and a super goofy third act, Ready Or Not is gory, violent fun with a lot of stylish art direction.

Dead Man (1995) - 3/10

Recommended on the podcast. I really did not get a lot out of Dead Man. It’s a very slow movie about Johnny Depp going through the woods and killing some people on the way, but it’s two hours long and hugely metaphorical and sadly it just didn’t connect.

Misbehaviour (2020) - 6/10

A big draw for me in Misbehaviour is Keira Knightley; I think she’s a great actor and I’m basically on board with anything she does. I’d been wanting to see this for a while and I was shocked to see just how relevant it is (being set in 1970) to the world we find ourselves in today, where women are still fighting to be heard and to be treated equally. While the film is not spectacular, I still got a lot from its themes, so recently after the murder of Sarah Everard and how women are being treated in their protest.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb (1964) - 7/10

I was surprised at just how hilarious this early Kubrick movie is. While I can’t say it floored me or took any top spots, it’s still a great examination of the military and how they respond to threats or try to solve problems and the side of war we don’t often see in films: the people in the background sitting in a room making crucial decisions.

Taxi Driver (1976) - 10/10

Wow! I can’t believe I’d never seen this before but I’d never really had access to it. Taxi Driver is a beautifully made movie with so much colour and vibrancy. De Niro puts on perhaps his best performance and Paul Schrader’s timeless script works miracles.

Sleepy Hollow (1999) - 5/10

Classic Tim Burton aesthetics in a pretty by the numbers, almost Supernatural-esque story eked out over an hour and forty minutes.

Seaspiracy (2021) - 6/10

Everyone’s going crazy over this documentary and I agree it tackles important issues we’re facing today surrounding the commercialization of the fishing industry, but a lot of what’s presented here is information already available to the public. The editing feels misplaced at times and the tone is all over the place. Nonetheless, it’s still quite fascinating to see good journalism being done in a way that exposes this side of the industry.

Pirates of The Carribean: The Curse of The Black Pearl (2003) - 8/10

Super fun and a great first instalment in a franchise that sadly seems to have peaked at the first hurdle.

My Octopus Teacher (2020) - 8/10

Great cinematography and a lovely premise, this documentary has garnered an Oscar nomination and I can see why.

The Sisters Brothers (2018) - 8/10

A really solid western I was happy to watch again. It’s a shame no one really talks about this movie because it is excellent with stunning visuals and great performances.

Pirates of The Carribean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006) - 5/10

A strangely massive drop in quality from the original. If I didn’t like the whole concept of this franchise so much, I might have had a worse time.

Reservoir Dogs (1992) - 8/10

On a second watch, Tarantino’s first feature is still wildly impressive.

Life of Brian (1979) - 7/10

This is perhaps my third time watching Monty Python’s Life of Brian and it’s still incredibly funny, however it never manages to measure up to its predecessor (and one of my all time favourites), Monty Python and The Holy Grail.

[uh-drarry]

Previous Part

Drarry gets some pets!

-Draco had talked about wanting a cat, and thought maybe they could rescue one. So he and Harry decided to check out the local animal rescue, not really expecting much from their first trip there. 

-They didn’t really find a pet that called to them and they were ready to leave after cooing over all the cuties when something white and fluffy caught Draco’s eye. 

-He got so excited and Harry was just very confused at what was happening until he actually deciphered Draco’s fast babbling and saw what Draco was dragging him towards. 

-It was a white ferret. 

-Draco was so goddamn excited and it was obvious he wanted the ferret so so bad. Which Harry thought was both hilarious and adorable. 

-“I thought you wanted a cat.”

“Why would I want a normal cat when we can get this adorable noodly cat instead?” Draco stared at this ferret with heart eyes and Harry knew they would be taking the noodle home with them.

-Only they don’t get to take him home. It turns out that the ferret had only recently been brought in after it was found outside so there is a waiting period to see if the original owner came to collect the ferret they lost. 

-Draco was obviously worried that he wouldn’t get to keep the ferret but they put their names down, luckily they were first on the list, so they would be notified when the ferret was either claimed, or when they would be able to come take their baby home.

-Draco talked about wanting the ferret their entire walk home, worrying and hoping. 

-Harry tried his best to reassure Draco that they would be able to find another pet if this one was taken, at least if that happened, they knew that the owner loved the ferret. Draco reluctantly agreed and Harry silently hoped the ferret wasn’t claimed so Draco could get the pet he really wanted.

-About a week later, Harry heard Draco answer a call and then a minute later he was yelling and running down the hallway toward him. Harry was afraid something bad had happened until he registered Draco’s giddy smile and bright, excited eyes.

-”Harry! The ferret! We can take him home!” Draco yelled and he lept into Harry’s arms.

-”Oh my god, Draco! That’s amazing!” Harry caught Draco in a tight hug while Draco continued talking to the person on the phone.

-They told the rescue they could come get the ferret the next day as they needed to buy supplies before they could take the little guy home. Harry and Draco immediately ran to the pet store where Draco pulled out a list of supplies they would need that he apparently had been researching over the last week.

-They got everything and some toys and made it home for dinner and they were able to get everything set up for the next day before they needed to head to bed that night.

-Draco then realized he has an all day class requirement the next day, but Harry promised to pick up their new baby and bring him home so he’d be there when Draco returns.

-Draco was reluctant, but he really couldn’t miss this class so he agreed to have Harry do this for them. He’d have all evening to play with their new pet after all.

-Draco was almost too giddy to fall asleep, he kept talking about how he’d never had a pet and he couldn’t wait any longer, but Harry got him to calm down, and then finally to fall asleep.

-The next day Harry made his way back to the rescue to pick up the ferret.

-As he’s waited for a worker to be free to put the ferret in the travel cage he brought, he happened by the reptiles he didn’t even see last time they were visiting. Seriously, how big could this place be?

-He was looking in all the habitats when he saw a ball python that looked like a toasted marshmallow and immediately fell in love like Draco did with the ferret. 

-He didn’t have anyone to talk to about it with unfortunately though. Not like how Draco babbled his ears off when he saw the ferret. Harry just watched the little guy and wanted to hold it.

-Honestly he didn’t know the first thing about taking care of snakes but he always thought they were cool and cute. And okay, he really wanted to take this cutie home. They could handle two pets right? One would technically be Draco’s pet, and one would be Harry’s pet! Perfect!

-When the worker came to get him for their ferret and to fill out the paperwork, he asked her how one is supposed to take care of a snake and what kind of snake is this little guy? He wants to know everything she knows about snakes, please and thank you.

-The worker was very accommodating and told Harry everything she knew and then went to get the worker who knew the most about the reptiles. Harry then asked even more questions. They made a list on his phone of things he would need and how much of what and how big a tank would have to be to hold this guy.

-Harry just kept getting more and more excited the more they talked about it.

-Harry, knowing he had nothing for snakes, just like with the ferret, asked if it would be possible to put a hold on the little guy so he could go make a habitat at home for it before he took him home. The rescue gracefully allowed it and Harry was, again, even more excited.

-He almost ran out without the ferret or filling out the paperwork, but he wouldn’t tell Draco that.

-Finally though, he signed off and was able to take the ferret home for Draco.

-When they arrived home, he got the ferret into his new pen with his toys to wait until Draco arrived. He didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy so he just sat outside of the pen to watch him explore his new home. And maybe he gave him a treat or two.

-While they waited for Draco, Harry started thinking about the snake again.

-He decided he would surprise Draco in a day or two when he would be able to take the next pet home. It would be more fun that way. Draco had another full day of classes soon when Harry didn’t, he could set everything up then.

-Draco arrived home about an hour later and he immediately ran to where they set up the pen for the little guy.

-”Dionysus! You’re home!” He crouched outside of the pen, sticking his hand inside so the ferret could come and sniff his hand.

”Dionysus?” Harry asked.

”Yes that’s his name. Ferrets are mischievous creatures and also very entertaining. Dionysus is the Greek God of wine, vegetation, pleasure, festivity, madness, and wild frenzy. I thought it would fit well.” Draco looks very proud of himself.

Harry snorts, “Okay, babe.” But I’m definitely only calling him Dion, or maybe Noodle, Harry thought.

-Watching Draco play with Dion for the next hour was very entertaining, but eventually he got up to start making them dinner. 

-When Harry called Draco for dinner and he didn’t come, Harry went back to the ferret pen only to find the two curled up and sleeping together. 

-Harry was immensely happy they happened by the little guy, Dion and Draco just seemed to be made for each other. White ferret, white blonde man, a match made in heaven, obviously.

—

-Dionysus was a mischievous bastard.

-It had only been two days, and both Harry and Draco already loved him to pieces but damn.

-The little guy was somehow able to get out of his pen and they had woken up to him sleeping in their bed in the morning (draped over Harry’s face, heaven knows how he didn’t wake up, Draco definitely took like 50 photos), he stole socks, and he was great at hiding, which was terrible for them.

-Oh, he also somehow knew how to get on top of the kitchen cabinets? Draco and Harry were seriously considering the fact that their new ferret was actually a wizard in hiding.

-Each time they thought they had fixed the pen escape problem, he somehow proved them wrong when they turned their backs. It was honestly quite amusing and they didn’t mind terribly, but they needed him to be contained while they were both out so they still needed to figure out what to do. They were thinking about just giving up and basically ferret proofing a room as much as they could and shutting the door while they were both out.

-The socks had been disappearing at an alarming rate, but they finally caught him in the act a few hours later and chased him to where he’d been hiding then behind a dresser. They keep their socks put away in the hamper now, *cough* Harry.

-They also quickly learned that treats were a great thing to lure him out of his hiding places but also they didn’t want him to gain too much weight and have a vet yell at them for it. So they did their best to find him themselves first. They hoped when he was used to his new home that maybe he’d calm down somewhat. But that was a test of time.

-”Maybe he needs a friend.” Harry said to Draco on their second evening with Dionysus. They were watching him run around the room, and sometimes he kind of played fetch.

-”Babe, I don’t think we can handle two of these things. I’m already exhausted from one ferret.”

”That’s true. Maybe more toys to keep him occupied.”

“He’s already got tons.” Harry just shrugged. He didn’t want to give away the surprise of the snake he was planning on bringing home tomorrow while Draco was away for the night visiting his Mum.

-The next day after Draco had left, Harry got Dionysus into his room with water and his toys, closed the door, and then made his way to a local pet supplies store. He needed a lot of stuff in a short amount of time.

-He was about a quarter of the way through the list he had acquired when he realized he really couldn’t do this on his own. Draco had helped with all the ferret supplies, and this was even more than that had been.

-He called Sirius.

-”Hey pub, what’s up?” Harry smiled at the old nickname.

“Hey Dad, I need your help, are you busy right now?”

“Well, I am in the middle of working on a prank for Remus, but that can wait. What do you need from me?” 

“Oh god, I can hear the glee in your voice, what are you doing to poor Pops this time?” Harry didn’t know if he should laugh or warn Remus. Probably the former.

“Well... I may be sewing the flies of a pair of underwear shut. Embroidering more like, actually. He gets dressed in the dark mostly so I figure he won’t notice this and then he’ll have pretty little designs, and a little signature of my initials when he’s trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.” Harry is laughing loudly in the middle of the pet store by the time Sirius is done.

“Good one, Dad. I won’t warn him, that’s pretty harmless. But you should embroider his initials or name on the back of that pair too like Moms used to do.”

“Harry, this is why you’re my favorite child. Maybe I’ll embroider my own initials there so people know he’s mine…”

“Sure Dad, okay. Anyway, could you meet me at the pet store by my place? On Claps Gate Lane?”

Sirius gasped, “A puppy?!”

“No, Dad, sorry. Something a little less furry. But I need your help getting supplies. I’ll tell you all about it if you meet me here.”

“Okay okay, I think I can get there in about 15 minutes. See you soon, Pup!”

––

-After Sirius had found him and Harry had finished telling him about Dionysus and him now planning for a snake, Sirius demanded he meet the new babies. As Harry had been planning to pick up his snake that day, he agreed as long as Sirius helped him set everything up.

-Sirius ended up calling Remus over to Harry and Draco’s place to meet the animals as well as help set up and it turned into a bit of a fun disaster. Harry took some pictures of Remus and Sirius meeting Dionysus and sent them off to Draco before he pulled Remus away to help him set up his snake enclosure. The sooner they got it done, the sooner he could go get the new baby.

-When they got everything done, with some minor mishaps, Harry left them to play with Dion and told them he’d be back soon.

-When he got to the animal rescue, the workers actually recognized him and moved to go get his snake right away while another printed out the forms they’d have him fill out before he could leave.

“Do you know what you’re going to name him yet?” asked the woman who brought over the snake in the traveling carrier.

“Well,” Harry started, looking at the snake fondly before moving to finish the forms, “he looks like a toasted marshmallow, I was thinking Toast.”

The woman chuckled, “Not Marshmallow?”

“Well that’s just a bit of a mouthful. And my boyfriend named the ferret we just got from here, Dionysus. I figured we needed one simple name.”

“Dionysus. Oh my god, that’s such a good name for a ferret though I love that. God of Madness, tell your boyfriend he’s a genius.”

“I think I won’t, I don’t need to inflate his ego. But thank you. Honestly, I’m sure he won’t like the name Toast, and he’ll pick some just as outrageous a name for this little guy too.”

-Soon enough Harry was driving back home with his new baby in the seat next to him. He was so excited to surprise Draco.

-When he walked through the door, Sirius came running. “Let me see him! Let me see him!”

“Okay okay, let me just put him in his habitat so he can start getting acclimated and then you can look all you want.”

-Sirius followed Harry, acting like the child in the relationship. But they both admired the little guy after he was put in the tank.

-”Have you named him?” Harry and Sirius both jumped, not having heard Remus walk up behind them.

“Gosh, Remus, you scared us!” Remus just smiled sheepishly.

“Yes, though I’m sure Draco will call him something posh, but I’m naming him Toast. He looks like a long toasted marshmallow. I think it fits.”

“I can definitely see the resemblance,” Sirius chuckled.

Remus smiled, “Your new pets seem to be a great new responsibility for you two, I think you’ll enjoy them both. You’ve always been weirdly fascinated with snakes, it only makes sense that you’d get one as a pet now.”

“Please tell me Draco’s reaction to the snake when he gets back.”

“Yeah okay, Dad, I will.”

“Siri, we need to get going if we’re going to meet Minnie on time for tea.” Remus told Sirius.

-They all got up to walk to the front door and say goodbyes, and then the two of them were gone and it was just Harry and the two new pets.

-He immediately ran back over to the snake to watch it with fascination.

–

-When Draco was set to be home any minute, Harry was waiting in the living room, bouncing on his toes. First because he hadn’t seen Draco for a while, and second because he wanted him to like their new snake. Toast seemed to be settling in easily enough. He spent a lot of time under his little shelter but Harry saw him out on the heated area sometimes too. Every time he did, he knew he had heart eyes and a big smile.

-Harry had also been playing with Dion too and he was perhaps calming down just a little bit. He seemed to like one of the balls they’d got him the most. He also liked sleeping in his little hammock, of which Harry had taken many photos.

-When Harry finally heard the key in the door, he ran over and engulfed Draco in a hug as soon as the door was open.

-”Whoa,” Draco laughed. “Hello to you too, I also missed you but I didn’t expect to get attacked before I even got in the door.”

Harry leaned up and kissed Draco. “I missed you and I’m excited to see you and I have a surprise for you!” Harry pulled him inside and shut the door behind him.

Draco raised a brow and smirked, “Oh? A surprise for me?” Draco moved his hands to cup Harry’s ass.

Harry retaliated with a pinch to Draco’s side and pulled away, “Not that kind of surprise.”

“Bummer,” he frowned, “What’s the surprise then, dear?”

-Grabbing Draco’s hand, Harry led him into the room where he had set up Toast’s habitat and beamed at Draco, bouncing once again.

“Oh my, what’s in here, babe?” Draco asked, leaning down to look into the tank, and then gasped and looked at Harry with wide eyes. 

-Harry just beamed brighter, and finally burst out saying, “It’s a ball python, isn’t he so adorable!?”

-Draco just looked back at the snake who was curled up under the heating lamp. 

-”Draco?”

”Harry. He’s very cute. But also, don’t snakes eat rodents?”

”Yeah?”

“Aaaand Dionysus is a rodent?” Draco looked back at Harry with slight concern in his eyes.

“Oh! Well… his food is baby rats. Not ferrets. I don’t think he’d be able to eat Dion, he’s too big for him?”

“Hmm. We’ll just have to keep an eye on them. To be careful. But to answer your first question, yes he is very cute, he even looks toasted. Have you named him?”

Harry chucked, “His name is Toast.”

Draco rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, “Of course that’s what you chose. But you are wrong! His name is Damocles!”

“Damocles? What the hell kinda name is that, Draco? I knew you’d pick something ridiculous.”

“Damocles is a perfectly respectable name, thank you very much.” Harry just shook his head in response.

–

-The next day Harry had taken Toast out of his tank to explore a little. Harry ran to the next room to grab his camera while Toast was chilling on a couch cushion when Draco came running in asking if he had seen Dionysus anywhere.

-Immediately on alert, Harry headed back to Toast to put him back in his home and help Draco look when what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

-”Oh my god, Draco! Come here!”

-Running into the room, Draco asked if he’d found him already.

-Harry just pointed to the couch. Toast was curled into a ball for protection while Dionysus sniffed all around the poor snake. But then Dion apparently decided Toast was acceptable and ended up curling himself around the snake to take a nap. 

-”I don’t know whether to be worried, or to melt from cuteness overload.” Draco whispered.

“Definitely the second option, they like each other!” Harry whispered back, but Draco’s face immediately turned to horror.

“Oh my god. Harry. They’re going to be absolute terrors! Dionysus is already a handful of mischievousness, and now add a snake to the mix?! Oh my god, I changed my mind, I’m terrified for my sanity!” Harry just laughed at Draco’s dramatics.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Draco. Maybe having a friend will calm Dionysus down?”

–

This is for @bisexualronaldweasley for putting up with my shit and yelling about snakes with me for like a month. The vote was a tie so I ended up choosing to post a headcanon first. I will be posting a social media post soon though, I promise. I also might end up doing a part two of this as well. I hope you all enjoy this!

Next

Masterlist

@pan-and-ready-to-stan @spaceaas @abstractundefined @afanbloglikeanother @potatoloveisreal @textrovert-01 @tashkib @itsskylover23 @it-would-set-me-on-fire @panicfanatic-malfoy @drarryruinedme7 @charlenasaxen @vici-l @sweetlialia @devilrising @eruditeslytherin @molfoy-potterx

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 18: High-Key Want A Three-Headed Dog

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy said.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given us in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. I had mine mixed up in there in case mine was rigged, Percy insisted upon it.

Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"Don't worry Percy. We'll do this."

He looked at us, and smiled.

He slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at me for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," I said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded. I could see Annabeth wanted to face palm.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Annabeth set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash we'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Annabeth insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I said staring at him.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

I could feel we weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I said. "I never knew you could look cool dead."

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me... they were dead.

Percy grabbed hold of my hand. Annabeth took my other free one. I knew she wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

I could hear Percy muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one we had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy said. "We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff."

"Humans." I said rolling my eyes, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds and Mrs . Rudolph would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, about fifty feet in front of us, standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, and had three heads.

"I thought he would've been a mastiff."

"Same..."

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost we'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I don't know why but petting this gigantic three headed dog would have made my bucket list complete. I walked up to Annabeth with Percy and Grover panicking behind.

"I want to pet him. Cerberus sit!"

"Sit!" Annabeth yelled.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

I said, "Good boy!"

Annabeth threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward the two. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"You should go too. I wouldn't mind."

"How are you sure he'll follow you?" Annabeth laughed.

"I had a dog you know. Real sweetheart. Pretty sure he'll be as cute."

Grover and Percy inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you guys?" Percy asked us as we passed her.

Annabeth looked at me and nodded. "Y/N wants to pet him," she muttered. "I think she can handle him."

Grover, Annabeth and Percy walked between the Cerberus's legs.

I was tempted to make Cerberus sit to be honest.

When made it through. I said, "Good dog!"

I held up the tattered red ball. The ball was tattered and this is going to be the last trick.

"Cerberus, could you get closer to me?" I called hesitantly. All three heads leaned down.

Oh gods... Oh gods... I'm going to pet him... I reluctantly touched his head. His head leaned to my touch. "Good boy." I cooed petting each his head. He whimpered on my touch.  "Okay boy." I leaned my head against his middle one.

I threw the ball. The good boy's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"Bucket list solved." Annabeth and I fist bumped.

"How did you do that?" Percy looked at Annabeth and I, amazed.

"Obedience school," Annabeth said breathlessly, "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"I had D/N you knew that." I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "I promise I'll play again!"

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth and I stopped.

We turned to face the cutie which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I promise we'll come back." I turned to the others. "Let's go."

Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pulled Annabeth closer as she wipe a tear from her cheek as we listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance,.

"We'll come back..."

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A Long-Standing Curiosity

This is a part of my "Countdown" Series, where I play with the "X" times Mulder and Scully "X" trope. 10-2 will be UST-y with the final one being their first time.

This one is Five times Scully was reminded of Mulder’s impressive size. NSFW

I - A Hint (S1)

Whenever Mulder dragged her over to the Gunmen's, she felt a wicked sense of dejavu from her years of being a tagalong little sister. When her parents were out and Missy was busy, Bill was saddled with the duty of watching her. He'd hang out with his friends, usually riding bikes around the neighborhood while she exerted herself trying to keep up, her equilibrium tilting back and forth from training wheel to training wheel scraping against the pavement.

She was the outsider, but she wanted to be included.

"Some spies are said to keep asps in their pockets in preparation for a quick suicide," Frohike proclaimed. For what reason, she didn't know.

"I heard that too," Langly agreed. "That when they feel they've been compromised, they just aggravate the asp into biting them and releasing their venom."

"Like the historical myth about Cleopatra," she added, wanting to contribute since she hadn't been able to chime in during the last several conversations.

The three unfamiliar men looked over at her with a quizzical look. Much like in the summer days spent with Bill's friend, she'd distanced herself more in an attempt to bridge the gap. She squirmed in her seat under their attention, but she didn't lower her eyes, meeting them each with a raised eyebrow that said "What? I'm right."

"Myth?" Mulder asked, drawing her attention to the corner of the room where he was lounging comfortably. Whereas Bill would look over his shoulder, just to make sure she was still there before taking off even faster, Mulder kept a steady gaze on her, unwilling to let her fall behind. "It's a fact she killed herself with an asp," he challenged.

The Gunmen's heads went back and forth with each volley of this proverbial match. "No, it's not. Despite the paintings of Reginald Arthur and Michel Corneille or the writing of Shakespeare making millions believe she held an asp to her breast after the death of Antony, historians have proven that it was either the stab of a sharp implement like a hairpin or a toxic ointment that caused her death."

"I'd never heard that before, that's really interesting," Byers remarked, offering her a sincere smile.

Mulder was nodding at her with what appeared to be pride as she explained this. "That does make a lot more sense than someone just having a snake in their pants at the ready," Mulder teased, turning his attention over to the more eccentric two of the trio.

"Why? You do it all the time," Frohike joked, causing Langly to cackle.

"Except he's packing a python instead of an asp," Langly added, smiling wider as Mulder grew redder.

And just like all those years ago, the group of boys defaulted to dick jokes. Except Mulder wasn't her brother, and she was a woman now. Hearing them talk so openly about a topic she'd mentally sanctioned as taboo made her eyes widen and her curiosity flare.

"How many women you bite with that thing, Mulder?" Frohike, teased.

Scully observed as Mulder's previous position of comfort became tense as his eyes flickered over to see how she was reacting to the crude locker room talk. The ease with which the comments rolled off his friends' tongues made her think that this wasn't unusual talk for them nor that it was unfounded. The only thing that seemed out of place was Mulder's embarrassment.

"Guys, come on," he chastised, glaring at them while motioning his head towards her.

Frohike looked at her and coughed away his chuckling. "Sorry, Agent Scully."

She waved her hand in front of her face in dismissal. "It doesn't bother me."

But a nagging curiosity in the back of her mind now was.

II - A Glimpse (S2)

Scully didn't even realize it until afterwards. A flash of a bulge in her memory coming unexpected like an after shock in an earthquake.

She was standing at her kitchen counter, sipping from a glass of water with a shaky hand while Mulder's weapon sat next to the sink. Her body was exhausted from the effort of removing Mulder's clothes without any help from the double-her-size man. She'd stumbled back into her bookshelf when his pants finally came free and she'd been too worried about waking him to realize what she'd just uncovered, but now that she was calming down, she could recollect it perfectly.

An elongated bulge in his briefs, resting innocently on his upper thigh.

Elongated.

She hadn't really seen anything. Not in the flesh at least.

But in the morning when she checked on him, after he'd shucked the comforter off in his sleep, she was greeted with the same visual she knew she should be politely ignoring: Mulder's impressive, albeit flaccid, penis.

She stood next to him in the silence of her bedroom and looked down at it - a one woman gallery to an amazing show. Was he a shower or a grower?

Despite the fact that question was running through her mind, many were presently answered. He was big, showing or growing be damned, and he wasn't a Jewish stereotype.

III - A Brush (S4)

"Well, you could lock the door to the office," Mulder offered, accidentally brushing against Scully's back before leaning away from her.

"Folks know I never lock the door," Sheriff Taylor responded in an uncompromising tone. Adding, "They'd start rumors," as an afterthought.

She'd been reaching for the gloves, preparing to slide them over her hands, when he shut the bathroom door. As he did this, Mulder took a few shuffling steps closer to her so he could make himself fit in the tiny room. It probably was no larger than her wingspan, but half of the area was taken by either the sink or the toilet, making it so they had no room to shuffle. She could feel his knees and chest against her, so she could tell he was trying to lean his hips back to avoid pressing against her.

However, as she snapped the latex gloves on, he tried to readjust his footing and something ended up brushing against her ass. A significant something.

Her eyes froze on the blue lip of the faux-autopsy-table lunch tray laying in front of her as her brain quickly caught up to what her body instinctively recognized. Scully turned her head, too surprised at what she was feeling to acknowledge how close his face was.

Mulder was obviously aware of what caused her look and he smoothly deadpanned, "Oh, that was my penlight," acting as if their bodies touching so intimately was just a run of the mill occurrence.

"Oh," she murmured, turning back to the tray. "I thought a longstanding curiosity had just been satisfied," she replied, with feigned despondency before intaking a breath and widening her eyes.

"What an awfully big and warm penlight you have," was the response she wished she could have said.

Mulder moaned in appreciation low next to her ear and it sent shivers down her spine. The feeling of him pressed against her on top of his warm breath tickling her ear began to feel overwhelming, so she pulled back the sheet to kill the mood instantly.

IV - A Tease (S6)

A four hour stakeout? No problem. Six? Manageable. Ten? They were going insane.

It was one thing when they were on the X-Files. A stakeout then usually didn't last too long. But now under Kersh's orders, they were stuck with grunt work that was redundant and usually fruitless.

During the first time they'd endured this, Mulder had come up with some hairbrained twist on a children's game so they could pass the time. After a few rounds, it became perfectly clear that the game was just them asking questions back and forth, and they decided to just do that unabashedly. "You're my friend, Scully. I just want to know more about you. Why hide behind a game?" he smirked, bumping her leg with his.

After he'd said it, she was reminded of a night only a couple of years ago where Eddie Van Bluhndt had given her a similar sentiment. Mulder had just gone on and on about a potential X-File for hours before that, so she had no doubts that this was her Mulder in the flesh, but that made it a little more intimidating than it was back then. She knew he'd always harbored some anger towards what had happened with Eddie, not at her but at himself, and she had an inkling that this was an attempt at him doing what she'd inadvertently demonstrated she wanted.

It was initially awkward for them both, but at the end of the day - they truly did just want to learn more about each other.

However, this was now their third stakeout and they'd exhausted awkward high school stories and menial facts about themselves. She supposed it was that, plus the hours of boredom under their belts that led him down this line of questioning.

"What's your bra size?" he asked, shifting in the driver's seat while trying to find a good position.

His last question had been "When did you get your first fish?" so the abrupt topic change made her start in her seat.

Scully turned to him, and didn't see any traces of humor on his face. It was like he'd just asked what her shoe size was. "My bra size?" she repeated.

There it was. A little smile on his lips as the sides of his eyes crinkled with mirth. He turned to her, his smile widening when he didn't see any angry indignation on her face, and he replied, "Yeah."

If he was going to blame their exhaustion for his boldness, so could she. "Guess."

Without even looking he replied, "34B."

Her mouth dropped as she turned to him. "Cheater!"

He laughed and held up his hands. "How?" he asked in shocked amusement.

"How did you know, you didn't even look?" She knew it was stupid as soon as the statement left her mouth. Him not looking now was his way of subtly telling her he'd looked enough in the past to have it committed to memory.

He lowered his head ever so slightly closer to her and murmured, "I thought that would have been improper of me." Her eyes fluttered to the stubble coming through across his jaw and she was brought back by the shrug of his shoulders. "But, if you insist," he declared dramatically before letting his gaze fall to her chest.

She elbowed him playfully and chuckled as he mockingly rubbed his arm. "Ow, ow, okay. Your turn."

Feeling emboldened by his question, she decided she wanted to satisfy a curiosity of her own once and for all. "How big are you?"

"Six foot even," he replied innocently. He knew damn well what she meant and his cocky grin told her that he just wanted to hear her say it.

"No. How big is your…" she stumbled over word choice. Cock was vulgar, dick sounded childish, penis sounded clinical - what effect did she want to go for? "...cock," she settled on defiantly. The last word was slightly softer than the rest and she felt the friction of every consonant in the back of her throat as her mouth opened around the vowel. She'd never realized how, if said right, the word was like an oral invitation for the namesake.

His nostrils flared in response to her bold choice and a devilish gleam twinkled in his eye. She knew what he was going to do as soon as the smile erupted across his face. "Guess."

She swallowed thickly and turned her attention to the streetlamps littering the street, wanting to appear as indifferent as he had. "Well, from the glimpses I've seen over the years-" she started with a lilt.

"Glimpses?" he asked in surprise.

She turned to him with a coquettish smile and explained, "Mulder, I'm your doctor, and you're reckless. I've seen it all."

It was too dark to see fully, but if she could trust her eyes, he was blushing. "What's your verdict, Doc?"

"Six inches," she stated firmly.

He nodded amusedly and she was just about ready to gloat when he murmured, "Half right."

"Half right?" she replied quizzically.

He turned to her and smoothly told her, "You're assuming I'm a shower."

Bigger than six inches.

"Okay, okay," she mused. "Five inches flaccid, seven inches erect."

"Good guess," he smirked.

"But you said-"

He shifted in his seat and her attention was inadvertently drawn to the ever present mound in his lap. "Six inches flaccid, eight and a half erect," he replied.

She sat there stunned for a moment and was flustered when he waved his hand in front of her face and sang, "Earth to Scully."

"I don't believe you," she laughed breathlessly.

"Even about this?" he chuckled.

"Mulder, the average is five inches. Anything above eight is so rare," she explained, trying not to think about what he could do to her with that thing.

"Wanna see it?" he teased, undoing his belt.

Mulder was just joking. She knew that. But her gaze fell into his lap anyway, eagerly committing the image of his fingers deftly undoing his belt to memory. She couldn't find her voice to stop him, so she just sat there watching him.

When the anticipated words of 'Mulder' or 'stop' didn't happen, his hands faltered and he paused, watching her until she met his gaze while he held part of his undone belt in both hands. His eyes were curious, but there was a tint of something else. Something she only saw when she dreamed of him. "Scully?" his voice came out as a whisper.

A loud banging sound reverberated through the empty streets as a woman started screaming at the top of her lungs. "Shit," Scully swore, hopping out of the car as she ran towards the suspect fleeing the scene.

V - A Curiosity Satisfied (S7)

After coming to Los Angeles spur of the moment, following an unseen fear monster around for the entire night, watching multiple people die, and having to deal with infuriating pests following their every move with cameras - they were exhausted.

She'd been asleep in the car the entire time it took him to drive back to their shitty motel, and when he woke her up, it was only so she could reassure him they did everything they could and all but collapse face first into her mattress. The only thing she could physically muster up the energy to do was take off her shoes and coat.

However, her sleep was interrupted by Mulder's staggered breathing from the other room, more audible to her because their adjoining rooms were still open. It was common for Mulder to have nightmares, but there had been a definite spike because of the stress from the last few weeks.

It had become a bit of an unspoken pact as of late between them that if one of them was having a nightmare, the other would just sleep next to them. It was simple and innocent, just carnal comfort of having another person near.

Scully sniffed lightly as she pulled herself off the mattress, trying to shake her exhaustion away for long enough to get to him. She grabbed the warm pillow she'd been resting on and hugged it against her chest as she shuffled across the floor to the adjoining doorway.

Along with the staggered breathing, she could hear him grunting lightly. Her eyes were barely open, but her lip tugged downward in empathy. He'd just worked so hard and he can't even find solace in his dreams.

She made it to the doorway when her eyes registered more flesh than what she'd anticipated. Blinking the sight in front of her into view, she had to bite down on her lip to suppress a gasp.

Mulder was lying on his back, his boxers shoved around his knees, and he was pumping a massive erection with a vigorous fist.

Two. Two fists.

The sight alone was like a shot of adrenaline to her system and she felt a coiling in her gut. When he wasn't fucking his hands, he was using one to rub his precum over his head while the other fondled his balls. Mulder's face was contorted in pleasure, sweaty and flush, as his hips lifted off the bed.

Her feet felt like lead on the floor and she didn't know what to do. Go to him? Run away? Watch?

Mulder's breath continued to hitch as he continued his thrusts, but he was becoming erratic and she realized she was stumbling in at the tail end of it. She wasn't sure how long she'd just been asleep for, but Mulder had worked himself into a frenzy and he wasn't going to be able to hold it in for much longer.

She knew she should leave, but she didn't want to. She wanted to see Mulder in his most primal form. His eyes opened for a moment and she felt excitement run though her body like a shiver. Not fear. Not worry. She was excited at the idea of him knowing she was watching him.

But when his eyes opened, it was just to rip off the shirt he's been wearing and throw it to the floor, rolling over to grab a box of kleenex and setting it next to him on the bed before continuing.

His eyes fluttered shut as he resumed his frantic pace, his arms working so hard she could see the muscles in his biceps flexing. He looked so long and lean like this, wearing nothing but tangled boxers and arousal.

Mulder's mouth dropped open and she knew he was coming undone. His back arched off the bed as he ground himself into his hands, spurting thick lines of come all over his abdomen. Her groin felt heavy and swollen from her own arousal and the sight made her want to go over to him and beg him to finish her off. She was hugging the pillow she'd brought so tightly to her chest that she could feel her own heartbeat through it.

Mulder's breathing slowly started to return to normal as he grabbed some tissues and started cleaning himself up. It took a few wipes, but once he was done, he lifted his hips and gently eased his boxers over his hips.

Not wanting to be caught, as quietly as she could, she tiptoed back into her room and into her own bed. Now it was her turn for her breathing to turn erratic. Scully could hear Mulder's sheets shifting around, presumably from him trying to get comfortable.

Deciding that it was unlikely he'd get up and mimic what she just did, she let her hand slide down her abdomen and under the elastic of her underwear as she thought about the best eight and a half inches she'd ever seen.

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

Other finished “Countdown” parts

10 times Mulder and Scully were as intimate as a couple

6 times Mulder saw Scully in her underwear

4 times they got a little too close

[kpopmalereader]

prom ; lee chan

• summary: dino asks you to go to prom with him after your relationship builds • pairing: lee chan x male!reader • word count: 2049 • to do

You and Chan were never really friends. You weren’t enemies by any means, but you weren’t friends. You knew of each other. And that was about it.

When you finally truly met and got to know each other it was during your last year of high school. Both of you still needed volunteer hours and wouldn’t you know it, you signed up for the same service. You actually passed each other on the way to sign up.

Being surrounded by dozens of different types of animals while also getting service hours seemed like a pretty good deal to you.

Plus, the cute boy that walked in with his sweatshirt only on one arm was an added bonus.

You had your first conversation together when you were assigned to the front desk, signing in the animals and their parents. Anytime someone was not standing directly in front of you Chan’s mind would wander. He could get distracted by Computer the Cat and feed her treats in a steady stream until she left him. Or he would start to spin around in his chair until he was sick and dizzy.

And he became very close to you. Unbeknownst to you, he would ask to share the same tasks as you (no matter how meaningless or nasty) and he didn’t take much convincing from you to do anything you didn’t want to. You never noticed his want to spend more time around you or his willingness to do jobs every volunteer complained about if you mentioned not wanting to do them. You thought you noticed how often you were paired together but never thought it was because of Chan, instead thinking you were looking too far into things or that the person in charge thought you two were good friends.

You were becoming friends. In the process of starting a friendship.

At the beginning, it wasn’t obvious. You would nod at each other in the hallway. And he smiled at you once in the cafeteria while you were with his friends. You felt like you were on cloud nine the rest of the day, though you couldn’t pin down why you felt the way. After a little while of working together and getting to know each other while playing with and bathing dogs you started to say a few words in passing then he would end up by your locker before class and then if either of you were ever alone, you would keep each other company.

You met his friends. He met yours. They had questions but you both said you were only gaining a friend.

By the end of the first semester, your friend groups had mixed. Everyone knew of each other and acted friendly when able. You and Chan began hanging out after school and before going to the office. You learned his favorite color and his favorite animal, his favorite food, his life story, everything he told you, you absorbed.

By Valentine's day Chan was falling. He couldn’t help it. You seemed to care about everything. Every detail anyone else would pass up or forget, you remembered. The candy Chan mentioned one time? You bought it for him a month later. The song he hummed to himself while he was doing inventory? You told him you liked the artist a few days after.

It was really your fault. How could you show interest in him in these small ways no one else really had before and not expect him to fall?

The moment he really “fell” he’ll remember forever. Someone brought in an Orange Dream Ball Python. They said it wasn’t too old but they couldn’t take care of it and didn’t know what to do. You paged for one of the vets and asked the person to wait a minute but as you got the words out they dropped a writhing bag onto the counter and half-ran out of the office. With no hesitation you grabbed the bag and peeked inside, seeing that it did, in fact, look like some type of python. You brought it to the back and Chan followed. The vet was busy and couldn’t walk out but seeing the animal fight against itself in the cloth bag made your face morph into the saddest frown he’s ever seen from you. You stuck the bag in one of your hoodie’s pockets and went on a mission for some kind of cage for it. You found a small cage and took the lid off.

*

“What are you doing?” Chan’s jaw had long been on the floor.

You looked at him like he was the crazy one.

To you, the answer and solution was obvious, but to everyone else in the situation (only Chan), nothing was going to happen until an actual adult walked into the room.

He still looked very confused and a tiny bit frightened, so you spelled it out. “I’m going to let him out. I don’t know how long he’s been in there or if he’s hurt, where they got him from, I’m going to release him into the cage and let him slither around.”

You placed the cloth bag into the cage. Chan took three half-steps backward. The bag fell open and you slowly tug at the other end of it until the snake falls onto the plastic cage.

The snake isn’t too big. It’s sort of small. But it’s still a snake.

It balls up in the middle of the cage and hides in itself. Chan hears a small noise of adoration come from you and you sit in a chair, watching the creature closely.

“Hey, little guy. What happened to you?”

*

The vet gave clearance on the snake. Said it was what the owner said it was and that it didn’t appear to be injured. They had an enclosure for it and one of the techs was sent to get some extra supplies.

You became attached to him immediately. You set the little cage he was in by your station at the counter, checking in with him any time you could. Chan watched as you became more and more okay with the reptile until you had him quite literally wrapped around your finger. The “little dude” slithered over your hands and your keyboard, your smile growing bigger and bigger when he did anything at all.

And as Chan watched you interacting with the snake he felt enamored. You would look up at Chan and point excitedly and he was lightheaded. He wanted to spill everything about himself. He wanted to tell you every secret he’s ever had. And he might have if the head vet mentioned some patrons might be afraid of the snake. You frowned and hid him behind the desk, smile turning sneaky.

He didn’t say anything. Just felt every emotion possible.

You wanted to keep the little snake so bad. Came to school the next day with a pout, recounting to Chan exactly what your parents said about it.

You said Chan saved the day when he said you would know the whereabouts of the snake at the vet’s office.

Every day that passed once Chan’s feelings truly set in they only grew. Most of his friends were quickly let in on the secret and a few of your friends found out soon after.

His feelings came to a head before prom. Chan’s mind began to race when he watched everyone’s prom-posals begin. The more they happened the more Chan began to wonder if you were going to get asked. Or ask someone else.  And the thought was unsettling to him. He didn’t want anyone else to think of going with you or for you to think of going with anyone besides himself.

Your best-friend was finally made aware of his feelings when Chan caved while planning the “perfect confession” and asked for advice. They would say they didn’t hold it over his head. Chan would disagree.

Chan took it as a compliment when they didn’t seem completely disgusted at the idea.

When he started planning, he also started preparing for the embarrassment he would endure if you were to say no. Embarrassment he did not plan for was the embarrassment in asking the head veterinarian for help and permission.

He hoped you wouldn’t notice the change in who you were working with throughout the day.

You did.

*

“Hey!” You stop halfway to turning the light in the stockroom off. Computer the Cat darts out between your legs and you hear the yelp of one of the nurses in his path. “Didn’t see you there.”

His attempt at not being suspicious is anything but good. “Hello.”

“You weren’t at the front desk with me today,” You scrunch your face and lean against the door. “You know how awkward the silences are when you’re not close to the person you’re working with? I’ll answer it for you. Very. It was awful and as far as I’m concerned it’s all your fault.”

He scratches the back of his neck and pushes the stack of paper towels to the left. “Sorry. I asked if I could do more work alone today. I guess I should have warned you.”

You shrug your shoulders and let the door close. You sit on the stool he was using earlier. “It’s not like a real problem or anything. I just missed you. Is everything okay?”

Your genuine concern and thoughtful expression eat away at him until his straight expression breaks into a light chuckle and smile. “Yeah. I just had some stuff on my mind today. It’s okay, promise.”

You nod and jump up, going out of your way to bump your shoulder into his on your way to the door. “Well, if you get tired of doing inventory or being alone, come see me. I’ll ignore more of my work to talk to you.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you later.”

Chan breathes out and bangs his head against the metal shelves as the door closes behind you. He shuts his eyes tightly, rethinking every step of his plan.

*

With an hour and a half left of the day with no attempt at the plan happening every time the head vet passes Chan, constant watch-tapping occurs.

Chan sees you cleaning out one of the cages and sets his plan into motion. He pours a few cat treats into a bowl and corrals Computer the Cat into an empty exam room. She tolerates Chan enough for him to set up his sign. He adds more food to her bowl to keep her in place and walks out of the room.

He catches you as you’re washing your hands, the smaller dog cages fully cleaned and redecorated. “Hey,”

“Hello.” You flick some of the water on your hands at him and smile.

“Have you seen Computer?”

“I saw her earlier, why?”

“She was acting kind of strange earlier; I didn’t know if you noticed anything different.”

You pout slightly and shake your head. “No, where is she? What was she doing?”

Chan leans back into the door. “She keeps sneaking off into Room Three.”

“Poor thing, I wonder if she’s okay.” You walk into the hallway, leaving him to pick his heart off of his shoe.

You moving towards his surprise forces him to recover. He follows behind you, breathing in raspy breaths.

You walk into the room, looking up to first see Computer eating then seeing the sign. “Prom?” is written in big letters and you turn around quickly.

Chan smiles at you with one of his eyebrows raised. A white rose is in his hand and he holds it out to you. “I don’t know if I can handle asking but I will if you want me to.”

“You don’t have to ask again.” Your ears go pink and your smile grows as you take the flower from him. “Thank you and… yes. Yes. I will go to prom with you.”

He laughs and nods his head. “Great, good. Yeah. Okay.”

“I didn’t think you were going to ask me. I was hoping but didn’t think you would.”

“You were hoping?”

“Obviously.” You smell the flower and shake your head.

He scratches the back of his neck and rocks up on his toes. “Thank you. Prom.”

“Prom.” You repeat.

[inthishousewestanpercyjackson]

The End, Sort Of

So I don’t often write fics, I just have other original WIPs to work on, but as much as I loved the Tower of Nero, I though it needed a little of this.

       Percy Jackson arrived at camp that afternoon with Annabeth Chase and Estelle Blofis. I saluted his choice of companions, even if one of them scared me. I’ll let you decide which.

       Campers swarmed the trio - old-timers to greet them, newbies to fawn over the baby. Meg was vanished from my side shadow-travel-style and reappeared at the head of the newbie group. Estelle seemed to like the attention. She squealed with joy at the chorus of baby-talk.

       As soon as the crowd dispersed, Annabeth raced off toward the Big House without explanation. Meg, persistent as ever, lingered by the baby. Soon, she and Percy started up the hill to the pavilion.

       “You’re looking very Lester,” Percy observed as he sat down at the Poseidon table, presumably out of habit. When Meg sat down next to him (ahem, Estelle), I moved to join them.

       “I assure you, I am very Apollo,” I replied. “Where did Annabeth go?”

       “She needed to talk to Chiron.” Percy sat back against the table with a satisfied sigh. “It’s good to be back.”

       “Bad road trip?”

       His eyes brightened. “No, it was great. But...Camp Half-Blood, you know?”

       I nodded my agreement.

       “So.” Percy squished Estelle’s belly a few times to make her giggle, much to our collective delight. “What’s the story? How did the quest go?”

       How did the quest go. Meg and I exchanged a look that included everything from stumbling into camp six months ago to watching the last of the Triumvirate shrivel to ashes in the tower of Nero.

       We told him the story. Sometime around the battle of the Waystation, Annabeth Chase entered the pavilion. She joined Percy soundlessly, sliding onto the bench next to him. Meg, who had never met Annabeth, tipped her head so far to the side I thought it might topple off. Annabeth struck the perfect balance between a smile and a threat, which seemed to satisfy Meg. She went back to playing with Estelle, rocking back and forth cross-legged on the bench.

       Meg let me tell most of the tale. I suspected she was waiting to chime in with the embarrassing parts I “forgot” but I disappointed her. I “forgot” nothing; I was humble that way.

       The difficult part was Jason Grace. From their time at Camp Jupiter, I suspected the two demigods already knew, but Percy’s face turned stony as I described that worst of nights. Annabeth turned away until I finished. Perhaps she didn’t want us to see her tears.

       “I should’ve been there,” Percy said quietly. “I said no. I should’ve come with you.”

       “Percy.” Annabeth put her hand on his shoulder, her eyes red.

       “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” I assured him. “Jason was as strong as they come. Caligula was as evil as they come. They were evenly matched. You would only have gotten yourself killed as well.”

       Percy didn’t respond. Estelle seemed to notice her brother’s grief. She reached for his face, cooing. Percy smiled faintly and lifted her to eye-level. “I did get to meet you.”

       “And Jason would’ve wanted that,” Annabeth said. She leaned against his shoulder and Percy leaned back, an ever-so-slight agreement to put the matter of guilt to rest. But I wondered if it would truly be that easy.

       Tentatively, I continued onto our time at Camp Jupiter and the emperors’ defeat at the hands of Frank Zhang. At last, I spoke of the tower of Nero and Python’s fall into Chaos.

       When I finished, Percy whistled. “That’s a hard fall.”

       “Very,” I agreed.

       He looked at Meg. “Meg? You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

       Meg blushed and responded typically. “Had to do it.”

       “Doesn’t make it any less brave.”

       Annabeth considered both of us, her expression unreadable. Finally, she asked, “What now, Apollo? Now that you’re a god again…”

       She stopped, but her tone implied, Will things be better?

       Better because a trio of evil Roman emperors no longer ruled the world? Yes. Better because prophetic power had been restored? Yes. But I got the feeling that wasn’t what she meant. She wanted to know how I intended to keep my promise to Jason.

       “Being human is hard,” I declared.

       Meg snorted and kicked her red high-tops off the bench, narrowly missing Estelle’s head. Estelle groped after the red shoes with her little fists. Meg apologized for that near-decapitation by sticking her tongue out side-to-side, which made Estelle burst into a new fit of giggles. “Being a demigod is harder.”

       “Let’s say both,” I concurred.

       Percy laughed. He adjusted Estelle on his lap, letting her take hold of his index finger and promptly stick it in her mouth. Percy looked at Meg and I with some measure of solemnity, despite his finger’s current status as a chew-toy.

       “Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood,” he said. “But…”

       His eyes trailed over the distant Long Island Sound, the cabin green, the Athena Parthenos holding vigil beside Thalia’s pine tree on Half-Blood Hill. From the pavilion, we could see the camp in motion: swords flashing in the sunlight, the moaning of monsters in the forest, demigods training and horsing around like any regular summer campers.

       Percy’s gaze finally landed on Annabeth. He kissed her cheek and smiled. “But it’s worth it.”

       I appraised my young friend in a new light. In a brief flash, I remembered how, at the end of the Titan War, my father had offered immortality to the son of Poseidon. I myself had not paid much attention to all the good-feeling, gift-giving that took place, but I did remember clearly the determination on Percy Jackson’s face when he said no. Instead, he wanted to live out his short mortal life, and he wanted us gods to pay more attention to our demigod children. He made us promise to change.

       Now I wondered how well we had kept that oath in the two years since we made it. Perhaps Styx held us all under her thumb.

       And Jackson’s choice - at the time I couldn’t have begun to understand it. Now, though, after witnessing the goodness and heroism mortality had to offer...I could comprehend that the suffering was worth it.

       “Yes,” I said softly. I sighed. “To answer your question, Annabeth, I’m not sure how much will change. I will do my best - which, I have to say, isn’t very much, but it’s certainly better than it once was. I will remember. And I will attempt to help my fellow Olympians.”

       Meg punched my shoulder. “And me? Piano lessons, remember?”

       “Of course,” I replied, rubbing my side. Unfortunately, I could not spare the world from the horrors of Meg McCaffery at the keyboard, but I said I would do my best. That’s all I could do. My time as a mortal had taught me nothing if not that.

       Percy’s grin vanished at the sound of Estelle’s sudden fussing and squirming. Percy deftly checked her diaper and threw his head back. “Woah. That’s a problem.”

       He and Annabeth looked at each other. “Not it,” they said at the same time.

       Percy sighed heavily in surrender. Oh, the woes of being a big brother. Of course, gratefully, I never had to change my sister’s diaper.

       Percy cast another sweeping gaze at the whole of Camp Half-Blood. Then he stood, laying Estelle over his shoulder. “It seems like this place is in good hands.”

       He gave me a fist bump. Dare I say, I thought I saw something akin to pride in his eyes, similar to the look Rachel had worn when she saw how I cared about others. Oh, these hero types. There was much we could learn from them. I was humbled.

       Annabeth nodded respectfully to me. Meg hugged her, which seemed like a jump from the brief stand-off earlier, but what did I know? Meg was nothing if not unpredictable.

       Percy ruffled Meg’s dark hair, which left it only slightly messier than it had been before. Meg didn’t seem to mind. She waved bye-bye at baby Estelle.

       Then the three of them started down the hill. They didn’t look back.

Tower of Nero fic @inthishousewestanpercyjackson

[clevercatchphrase]

2020 Year Review~

2020. Pretty unique year, don’t you think? It’s the first year since 2002 to have only two different digits in it. After 2022, this won’t happen again until 2111. Yep. Absolutely nothing more interesting than that.

Anyway! It’s time I reflect on my 2020, look back on my yearly goals and rant about things that happened to me this year. I made a post like this last year, where I went over my 2019 goals and talked about what I accomplished and what I didn’t, and it’s only fitting I do the same again this year. Read more under the cut for a random stream of consciousness ramble!

So, first things first, let’s look at my 2019 goals;

Finish paying off that last student loan

Put more stuff on my redbubble

Illustrate my own fan fics

Sew at least one stuffed animal

Make an enamel pin

Read one new book a month

Write one page a day/Complete at least one new fan fic

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make

Finish fully scripting Ghost Switch

Boost my patreon

 Paying Off My Last Student Loan: Going down the list, I am proud to say that I FINALLY paid off all my student loans! (and not a moment too soon. The last payment I made was literally days before the first quarantine rolled out). It took me roughly 4 years on my part-time paycheck to pay off all my loans, and once I finished, I had no money to my name (literally; I had less than 1k as emergency money in case of car troubles or health issues). Heck, I’m STILL living at home as a save up for a place of my own. Finally paying off all my student loans DID activate my secret 2020 new year’s resolution, which was to adopt a cat! I did this too, literally a week later! She is the best thing that’s happened to me this entire year and I love her so much and she is the snuggliest cuddle bug I’ve ever met. I’m so happy she’s in my life now~

Put More Stuff On My Redbubble: ah ha ha ha… I thought I did this, but then I went and checked, and it turns out-! I did not. I made art I intended to go on my redbubble, but haven’t put there yet. They are all drawings of some OCs from a game I want to make, but because I haven’t progressed on making the game this year, I never got around to putting more stuff related to it on my redbubble. At the time of writing, there are 7 days left in December, so I guess I could go and put it up on my redbubble right now, but without context on where the characters are from, there wouldn’t be much point, now would there?

 Illustrate My Own Fan Fics: Another goal that I was so stoked to actually do… and then just didn’t. Gee, I wonder why I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do it this year? Truly a conundrum. (Hey, you know what? If Ghost Switch counts as a fan fiction in a visual form, then I am doing GREAT on this goal. 2.5 years in, 1 of ~4 arcs done, and still going steady~)

 Sew At Least One Stuffed Animal: Okay, I have a valid excuse for not doing this one. I even knew which stuffed animal I wanted to make, and had the pattern drawn out and everything, but I had no money for materials because I had just paid off my student loans. And then, by the time I did have enough money again, quarantine was in full effect and I couldn’t go out to the fabric store. I’m still trying my best to stay out of public places even if the rules are laxer now, because I don’t want to catch the plague even if everyone in my goddamn city thinks and acts like the problem is over already. Even if they’re all wearing masks, even if they’re staying 6 feet apart, I still don’t want to risk it. I will stay inside until health experts give the all clear, and when that day comes, then I will buy some fleece and make a plush.

 Make An Enamel Pin: I ACTUALLY DID THIS ONE. TWICE! Halfway through quarantine, I was feeling anxious and depressed about my job and how they were planning to have me work with the public despite climbing infection rates and positive covid cases. I didn’t quit then, but in a desperate move to try and become self-sufficient, I went to madebycooper and made two enamel pins based on some butterfly dragons I drew last year. They’re on my etsy store now! I even went out of my way to open a P.O. box just to start a small business! I haven’t sold a single pin yet, and I’m actually really nervous to sell my first because I don’t trust the efficiency of the postal system thanks to the actions of the GOP that really screwed them over this year! (If you would like to see my enamel pins, click here!)

 Read One Book A Month: I did this! With dragon books I bought a couple years back! In fact, I read FOURTEEN dragon books, and still have more books for next year to read! The 14 books I read this year were:

 The Hive Queen

The Poison Jungle

Wings Of Fire Legends: Dragonslayer

Dealing With Dragons

Searching For Dragons

Calling on Dragons

Talking to Dragons

The Bronze Dragon Codex

The Brass Dragon Codex

The Black Dragon Codex

The Red Dragon Codex

The Silver Dragon Codex

Dragon Strike, and

Hatching Magic

 To be honest, I had read The Red Dragon Codex years ago when it first came out, but completely forgotten what it was about. I remembered liking it, and I knew the reading level was on the lower side, but the whole dragon codex series was pretty good! So far, the Silver dragon codex was my favorite, and black dragon codex was probably the worst! Hatching Magic was also really slow and bad and had plot points that went nowhere, but the book was written in the 80s, so I don’t know what I expected. The Dealing with Dragons series was very charming and great for the most part, save for one line in the last book that really rubbed me the wrong way, and all the Wings of Fire Books go above and beyond in this third arc. The second legends book could be a little tighter, though (sky and wren are the best duo and I want a book solely about them, but I honest to god do not care about leaf and ivy’s stories.)

 Write one Page of any story every day/ complete at least one fic: I… did this? Okay, I kinda cheated near the end of the year. I was keeping up the one page a day thing for the first four months, but then the world went to shit and my schedule and habits got disrupted and I fell off my good track record. I completed 7 out of roughly 12 one-shots I had planned for this year (my goal WAS supposed to be one short a month, but… you know how it happens) I kept trying to catch up on this goal all year, but the days kept piling up…. Until November hit. I managed to write over 250 pages for Nanowrimo, and I consider this goal a win. 365 pages of fiction in total, which averages out to about one a day~. SHUT UP IT COUNTS.

 Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make: Another goal I didn’t have the mental energy to commit to this year. Truly a mystery to where all our willpower went in 2020.

 Fully Finish Scripting Ghost Switch: still haven’t done this one yet! The Snowdin arc is completely planned, but I just haven’t gotten around to getting the other areas. I’m not worried, though. I know all the major plot points I gotta hit, it’s just weaving them together in a way that flows nice is the final task. I’m not too worried though. I don’t expect to finish the Snowdin arc for another year and a half, at the bare minimum.

 And my last goal of 2020, Boost My Patreon. I did this at the beginning of the year, but then very intentionally stopped about a third of the way through. It didn’t sit right with me to tell you guys to donate to me when suddenly EVERYONE was financially strained from layoffs or being furloughed. I told my patrons the same, and if you ever need to stop donating to me to take care of yourself first, then by all means, please do. I would feel much better knowing you’re using your money to see yourself fed and housed instead of given to me (where it is pretty much only used to buy gas for my car, honestly)

 Welp! That was all my goals for 2020! I achieved 4 out of 10 goals plus 1 secret goal! Pretty much the same ratio as last year, but now this time I can blame all my failures on the pandemic! I don’t feel so bad about myself anymore~

 ON TO 2021!

 I have 11 goals for the new year, again some rolled over from this list, and some from even older years. They are, in no particular order;

 Read 12 new books (roughly 1 book a month)

Finish the first draft of 2019’s Nanowrimo project and rewrite it

Script TDV

Finish Scripting Ghost Switch

Build A Comic Buffer

Sew 1 Stuffed Animal

Finish 1 Song Comic

Make another Enamel Pin

Finish 2 short original comics (this one counts as 2 goals)

Finish the 5 remaining one-shot fics

 Now to go into depth on each one, more for my own sake, really. I want to know exactly what I have planned for each goal this year, and sometimes just looking at a short list doesn’t capture all the smaller details.

 1)Read 12 new books. Same as last year! I The only difference is I might not be able to make it all dragon-related books. (I try my hardest not to buy from amazon anymore, but half-price-books doesn’t always have the obscure stuff I’m looking for)

 2)Finish 2019’s nanowrimo project. If you read my 2019 year reflection, you’ll notice I said I wanted to do some original writing. And I did! The story I wrote for nanowrimo back then was a story I’ve been toying with since 2017, but it was only last year I finally got pen to paper. Now, you may find it odd that the keyword says “finish”. You may think, “but isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for nanowrimo?” and to that I say, WRONG! I wrote 50k words for nanowrimo, but the draft was only about halfway complete. I was kinda discouraged about what I had written last year, because I didn’t like how it was coming out, but I did manage to get it half done. Now it’s time for me to bite the bullet and just finish the thing so I can finally revise it and make it into something I DO like. (It’s still gonna be hella long, tho. That’s what I get for trying to write an epic fantasy, I guess.)

 3)Script TDV. TDV is the abbreviation of the game I want to make. I… still need to do so much for this project OTL… In addition to getting the story solidified, I still need to draw art and game assets, and learn how to code for it, both of which are no small task. I keep having some sort of new year’s goal related to this on my list, and every year I just don’t hit this one. Will 2021 be different?

 4)Finish Scripting Ghost Switch. (Or at the very least, get the waterfall arc completely written out). I have a plan to break this down into simpler steps, by focusing on just one arc for a month or two. Every major arc has 2 to 3 parts, broken up by flashbacks, and if I can just finish one section a month, then I should have the entire thing scripted by the end of the year. It’s not a difficult pace, but seeing if I stick with it will be the real challenge, as it is will all my goals it seems.

 5)Build a Comic Buffer: I’m actually working on this one right now! Since I paid off my last loan and got a new job this year, my current Patreon goals are kind of out of date. They had all been centered around me paying off that last loan, and working towards full-time employment, but those are both completed now! So instead, I would love to get to a place where my patrons could read pages at least a week ahead, and to do that, I need to build a buffer. And since I’m working 5 full days a week now, I can’t afford to fall behind. But you can’t fall behind if you constantly stay ahead! I would like to have… a 10 to 12 page buffer. That’s roughly 3 months’ worth of pages to always have on hand in case I get swamped with work, or something. Right now I currently have a buffer of 3, which will cover me for half a January, which is better than not having anything at all, but still not the best. (ultimately, I would love to have a buffer so big, I could queue them up for the whole year. Wouldn’t that be something?)

 6) Sew one stuffed animal: same as last year. ASSUMING the plague gets under control in 2021, I don’t expect to get to this goal until the summer at the earliest.

 7)Finish 1 song comic: I have 7 song comics planned. One is a gift, one possibly for wandersong, one is a collab that’s currently in the works, but I’m waiting on a friend to do their part before I can continue mine, 2 are UT related, and 2 (well, technically 3, but one is the collab) are KH related. It’s one of the UT ones that will probably get finished, if I’m being honest. It’s completely story boarded, and now I just need to ink and color it. I would like to get it done for UT’s 6th birthday, since I made a song comic on the fly for the anniversary this year, and it was fun, and I’d like to do it again! So, look forward to that next september~

 8) Make another enamel pin: I have a dolphin design I’d like to make because dolphins are cute, if not little murder machines. (need to save up some expendable income first, tho. THESE THINGS AIN’T CHEAP TO MAKE.)

 9 and 10) start and finish 2 original short comics: I’ve got some comic ideas I want to do, but I need to get them written out first. I don’t think either would be too long. Each maybe a couple “episode’s” length, if envisioned on a website like webtoons or tapas. They’d both be heavy in allegory, but not overly drawn out (hopefully)

 11)And lastly, Finish the 5 remaining one-shots I had planned for this year but never got around to. I’m going to try to write one every other month. Pure self-indulgent shipping fluff. If I finish these 5, then maybe I’ll ask other people for more prompts and ideas, which I’ve never done before. We’ll see how it goes~

 Also, Like last year, I’d like to look at everything that’s happened to me this year, though to be honest, I’m not sure how much I remember/how accurate it’ll be. God, I don’t even remember what January was like. Who was I back then? Who were we all back then? I guess I’ll start my yearly retrospective in march because, heh, god we ALL know what started happening in march.

 Firstly, I paid off my last student loan! Then a week later on March 18th, I drove half an hour out of my city to adopt a cat and I love her and it was the best day of this year for me. Spring break is just beginning this weekend, but the attendance at the zoo is shockingly low this year. Apparently, a lot of people watch the news, and they’re all taking precautions about social distancing. I wasn’t too disappointed. Fewer people at the zoo, the easier my job is for me. I was looking forward to getting some free overtime on spring break, since I’m broke after paying off that loan, and I’m a cat parent now and have a furry child to feed. Monday rolls around. My manager calls me and tells me that the zoo is going into lockdown until further notice. I worry for the birds I take care of, but understand it’s for everyone’s safety.

 For two months I sleep in and watch way too much YouTube. I join a couple writing discords. I have nightmares about my birds escaping their enclosure and I dreamed one of the security guards I really like at the zoo gets covid and has to go to the ER. I woke up really upset.

 I started and finished BBS for the first time. I also replayed and finished KH2 final mix for the first time. It had been about 5 years since I last played KH2 before my PS2 died, and it was like coming home~ I also finished tearaway, and played and beat Ryme for a second time (which I can’t remember if I did that last year, but it was a fun experience regardless)

 Mid-June, and I’m allowed to start going back to work, be it on reduced hours. The zoo is still closed to the public, but I’m loving it! I get to work with full-time keepers and do full-time keeper things. It’s so much fun not having to deal with the public. August starts to creep up and there’s a rumor that the zoo will be opening to the public again, which I’m not stoked about. I don’t want to go back to standing in one exhibit all day, talking to guests who don’t listen to the rules or to me. 2 of my younger coworkers (who had both only been there a couple of months) get chosen for full-time positions, while I get passed up which really pisses me off. My other 2 coworkers quit when they think we might be reopening because they cannot risk catching the virus due to at-risk family. I am now the last keeper in the interactive bird exhibit.

 I keep working, the zoo slowly opens, but with me as the only interpreter in our interactive bird exhibit, we can’t open because I can’t run the entire exhibit by myself. So my exhibit stays closed. September comes and goes, and then October starts. Now there is more serious talk of opening my exhibit before the end of the year because the zoo expects to bring in larger crowds for the Christmas lights event in November/December. I ask if I get hazard pay or health insurance since I’m doing full-time hours until they hire more staff. They say no.

 I immediately start searching for a new job feeling incredibly indignant/hurt/slighted/insulted/used/abused/ALL the negative feelings at my job. I had been there for 4 years, but never got a chance to work full time, while the two newest hires who had only been there 2 months both got moved up. I can’t help but feel they were holding one mistake I made two years ago against me and never wanted to give me a chance. (that, or they knew I was reliable when it came to showing up for work in such a volatile position that sees a lot of new faces, and they didn’t want to bother going through the process of hiring someone new) I don’t want to risk my life working around guests who don’t wash their hands and don’t properly distance. I don’t want to gamble with my health when they won’t offer me health insurance because I’m part time.

 Mid October, I get an interview for a full time job and get hired on the spot. I peace out at the zoo 2 weeks later, literally 3 days before they planned to open my exhibit to the public. It was a close call for me to escape before they opened to the public (and pettiness was only partially the reason I dipped out so close to opening). Sorry new hires who are now in charge of the bird feeding exhibit. I taught you the best I could in the short time I had. If the managers are struggling with what to do with one less person, I can’t say I feel bad. I can only hope they delayed opening/closed you down again for your own safety. You are not lightbulbs. I really hope the higher ups stop considering you as replaceable as one. Will I go back to the zoo to visit? Probably. But not for a year at least.

 I started my new job the very next day after I quit the zoo, and have been there ever since, (which isn’t that long yet, tbh. Christmas day was my 2 month anniversary). It’s full time, but it’s also a small business, and everyone’s hours this year have been on the short side due to the plague. I understand, though. They don’t want us to work if they can’t afford to pay us. Everyone is nice enough, though some people smoke and it’s hard to avoid them with how frequently we have to go in and out, and I really don’t want to get lung cancer, sorry not sorry, please and thank you. Also, with such a small team, gossip is certainly harder to go undetected, so it’s a relief knowing people don’t talk behind one another’s backs.

 I participated and beat my 4th nanowrimo in a row, I made TWO apple crisps on thanksgiving, and made baklava on Christmas and both of these recipes were my first time making them, and they both came out adequately! I voted the first day of early voting, and I did an art trade/collab with two of my friends for my birthday! (normally we would have done monthly “art days” where we get together and do art projects for fun because we’re adults and we can spend our time together however we want, but the plague said otherwise this year) We drew pokemon and it was fun! (hopefully I can show you all the results soon. At the time of writing, I’m still waiting for the last two colored parts to get back to me)

 I reached 100 pages on my undertale comic, and finish the first arc out of…! (im not sure. It’s either going to be 4 or 5, I haven’t decided yet)

 Over all, I managed to stay healthy as far as I know. I wasn’t as productive as I wanted to be this year, but then again, who was? (don’t answer that. I don’t need that kind of comparison in my life right now)

 Will 2021be any better? Honestly? I don’t think so. Not right away, at least. Just because a new year is about to start does not mean the slate is completely wiped clean. The change of the calendar year doesn’t magically make all our current problems disappear. Covid will still be here and cases will still climb when January starts. Small business will still be strained when the month rolls over, police will still go on murdering innocent civilians and getting away scot free, amazon and disney will still be monopolizing all consumer goods and media, and I can’t help but feel like there’s an impending shit show about to go down on inauguration day. I do hope things will get better, though. It’ll be arduous and unpleasant, but I do hope things will improve, because sometimes hoping is all you can do.

 Good night.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #359

“i’m only a crack in this castle of glass  /  hardly anything there for you to see”

Do you look better with your hair down or up? It's too short to go up. Has you mom ever directly told you that she favoured your other sibling(s) over you? Yeesh, no. Have you ever read The Outsiders? Seen the movie? Read the book, seen the movie. Adore both. What’s your favourite drink from Jamba Juice? I don't think we have those here. Can you stand eating the crusts of a slice of sandwich bread? I don't mind the crust at all. Do you do your homework at home or in class? Prior to college, I did my work right after getting home to get it out of the way. In college, I did it in-between classes or when waiting for Mom to finish class. Do you feel uncomfortable sharing drinks with other people? Yes, I never do it. Do you get jealous if your boyfriend hugs another girl? I'm single, but hypothetically, I wouldn't... It's just a hug. At least for me, it's just a friendly gesture. Is there something that happened in your past you hate talking about? A few things, yes. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? Nah. If you had to choose, what color is your favorite? Baby pink. How many times have you dated the person you’re with now? I’m single. Has anyone suspected you of being a different sexuality? Yes. Do you like chocolate or vanilla cake more? Chocolate. Does it bother you to have blood drawn or not so much? Nah. What color is your toothbrush? It's a white electric one. Do you normally fall asleep fast or slow? Ridiculously slow. Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction? No. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? I'd love to dress up as like a Ms. Oogie Boogie and take some cool pictures, but I highly doubt it'll actually happen. What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. Do you still look in the toy aisle, or do you pass it by? I walk past it. What are your summer fashion essentials? I don't have fashion essentials for any season. Do you have your own website? For my photography, yeah. Do you think you would be a good salesperson? Ha, no. I worked in retail before and I fucking sucked. Do you like candy corn? NO. Just colored wax, ugh. Do you like to wear skirts? I don't wear anything that shows my legs. Were you happy as a kid? Yeah. That, talkative, and hyper. Favorite store to browse but not really buy anything? Haha, I LOVE going on MorphMarket now and again to browse the ball pythons especially, but boy if I had the cash and space would I buy like fifty of them at once. I don't really know about a store I like browsing but not buying from. Skittles or Sour Patch Kids? Both are great, but I guess Sour Patch Kids. BUT, if you throw SOUR Skittles in there... then it's a war lol. If tattoos were free, how many would you have? A HELL OF A LOT. I wanna be just about totally painted. Do you wear a retainer at night? Not anymore. I had one, but I stopped using it. Are you afraid of dolls, puppets, or clowns? I'm not a doll person, particularly porcelain ones. When you’re in your room, do you keep the door locked? No. It's not even closed. Do you think your face is mostly symmetrical? Actually no, and I'm self-conscious about it. Stupidest thing you have ever said out loud? OH Christ, I'm not retrospecting on this. What’s your least favourite ice-cream flavour? That I've actually tried, strawberry. It's disgusting. What was the last good news you heard? I got approved for TMS therapy! Who was the last person to comment on your Facebook status? My friend Lyndsey. How did you meet him/her? World of Warcraft. She's actually my guild master, and she is the sweetest damn person. Have you ever learned any self-defense? If not, would you be interested in learning? I haven't, but yeah, I'd like to. When was the last time you took a nap? How long was it? Yesterday. For some reason, I actually slept a LONG time, like at least three, but probably close to four, hours. I mean I was tired, but I didn't feel THAT tired. Do you like Gushers? YAAAAAAAAAAS What would you do if you could do anything without failing? Actually get a degree for SOMETHING. What is your native language? English. Do you have a younger brother or sister? A younger sister. If so do/did they really get on your nerves? No. We were very close as kids, but we've drifted apart. Now, she absolutely doesn't get on my nerves. I'm so proud of her. Name something that happened to you that was completely unexpected. Uhhh I dunno. Do you judge people that have multiple piercings? Lol wtf? No. Do you watch the Olympics? No. What did you have for breakfast this morning? I had Kix cereal. Do you like orange juice? Yes. So long as it doesn't have pulp in it. Do you think it’s cruel to keep an animal in a cage while you’re away? It depends on the size of the cage as well as how long you're away. Do you have a pet gecko? No, but I'd love a fat-tailed gecko. Are you scared of reptiles? Not at all, I adore them. Is your car messy? I don't have my own car. Mom's kinda is, though. It needs a wash badly, but because of her bumper literally being zip-tied on, she doesn't trust going into a car wash. And neither of us are about to do it manually, lol. Have you ever seen the show 16 and Pregnant? No, fuck that show. Do you buy expensive clothes? No. Does death scare you? Not really. What are your current goals? Conquer my social anxiety, get a job, lose weight, do something to strengthen my legs... Those are the four biggies. Do you clap or cheer when at a concert? I did both at the one I've been to. Do you drink coffee? What brand? No. Do you use a comb or brush? A comb. When you were younger, did you ever do that exclamation point that looked like an upside down triangle and had a really big dot? No. I loved the cutesy girl handwriting though, haha. I just could never do it. You’re locked in a room with the person you last dated, any problems? Well yeah, we're locked in a room lmao. What kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed? It's perfectly fine, we're best friends. Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? No. Do you get mad when people smoke around you? Yes. Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Yeah, more than once. When was the last time you were on a city bus? Never. Do you have a garden? Does it have flowers, vegetables, or both? No. Where do you want to raise your kids? Who said I even want kids? Have you ever been to Cracker Barrel? Yessssss, good shit. Have you ever seen a ghost? I think I have. Have you ever burned an ant with a magnifying glass? No. Have you ever been to craigslist.com? Yes. Have you ever used Nair? Yes, on my legs. It works, I just have stupidly hairy legs that need so much to get it all. How many tabs do you have open and what are they? Two YouTube tabs and then Tumblr. What browser do you prefer to use? Chrome. What room are you in right now? My bedroom. Are you excited for anything this month? 1.) I get my tattoo on the 19th, and 2.) I start TMS next Wednesday. What language course did you take in school, if any? I barely survived one semester of Latin, then I did all four available German courses. What language would you most like to learn? I'd love to improve my German. What would you like to get a degree in? Photography. What book are you reading, what genre is it and do you like it so far? Wings of Fire: The Brightest Night. It's young adult fantasy, I think. Did you ever sometimes flip through your text books even when you didn’t need to? Yeah, mainly to just look at pictures because I was that bored in class, haha. What types of magazines do you read? None. Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Play a video game. What’s your current relationship like with the person you lost your virginity to and do you wish it was different? We don't have any relationship anymore. I don't regret losing it to him, if that's what you're asking. If you mean our relationship stance, it'd be nice to still be in touch with him, but I know it wouldn't be healthy for me. Have you ever felt responsible for someone’s death? Pets, yes. No humans. What was the last book you recommended to someone? Idk. What’s the most difficult thing you and your current or last significant other have gone through? Distance was very hard. What’s your best memory with your ex? I'm going to assume this refers to "the ex." In which case, we were "play arguing," and I came storming into the kitchen after him to make a point, and I slid mid-sentence, and he caught me. We just held each other laughing our asses off. It's the simple things, man. Who was the last person that asked to hang out with you and what’s the story of how you met that person? Summer. My little sister and her were in pre-k together and became friends, but I gradually became closer to her than Nicole did when we were teens. Has anyone ever asked you out and you turned them down? Yes. Is there something you generally always ask for help with? Yeah. Like recently I've been having apples and peanut butter a lot, and I ask my mom to cut the apple because I'm terrified of knives. Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? NOPE. Have you looked at any old photos of yourself lately? No. In a relationship, have you ever been on and off with your partner? No. Do you consider cooking to be an art? Yes. Are you a fast or slow reader? I'd say I read at a moderate pace. Does it take a lot to gross you out? It depends on what it is, but I am actually more squeamish than I used to be.

[archaneanscribe]

A Firefly In The Hand

Some pre-canon/pre-relationship Forsython, Forsyth trains at night, remembers a local tradition, and Python reminds him that he'll never be alone.

The moment Forsyth’s plans set into motion was after he heard his parents exchange goodnights the room over. He kept his eyes shut, but began reciting one of the old veteran’s war stories in his head to keep him awake for the next thirty minutes, listening closely for any noises in the house. When the only sounds he could hear was the distant bleating of his neighbor’s goats, he shrugged his blankets off and hopped out of bed.

Moving as quietly as his feet would allow, he made his way over to the window and pulled it open, climbing up and out into the quiet darkness.

Sneaking through the village late at night wasn’t a new activity for him by any means, nor was it for any of the local youth. During the summer, a mass of fireflies would light up the sky every year, and it was regional tradition to catch one in your hands and make a wish that was certain to come true, but the younger children were sent to bed long before they appeared. This, of course, began a long standing and unspoken custom to sneak out after everyone else had gone to bed. Forsyth remembered those evenings fondly, catching one for both him and Python (who couldn’t be bothered to do it himself) and gleefully refusing to share their wishes.

Usually, he would wish to become a knight one day, but there were other, even more secret things he hoped for too.

Tonight, however, he wasn’t off to hunt for fireflies, but train. If Father wouldn’t let him do it during the day, he would just have to do it when he was asleep.

It wasn’t long before he had made his way out to his favorite clearing in the nearby woods. It was a fairly open area surrounded by a ring of tall, hardwood trees, with many bushes scattered around for him to hide his training lances, lantern, and bandages for worse case scenarios (he often had to forcibly enlist Python to help him come up with reasonable excuses for the injuries). He never put his things in the same spot to avoid detection, effort that his best friend told him was unnecessary as no one was even looking for them, but that was Python, who told him any effort was unnecessary. 

At the moment, his stash was nestled into a wild blackberry bush which will lay dormant for another month or so, where they had spent many a summer afternoon ruining their dinner. He pulled out the crude wooden lance, which only looked anything at all like a weapon because the blacksmith from the next town over had taken pity on him when he was in the village for a horseshoe delivery and helped him carve it.

That was how most of the adult’s saw his aspirations. Just a child’s fantasy to indulge in, even as he grew into teenhood.

He gripped his lance tighter. 

After lighting the lantern with his flint and stone to give the night some small illumination, he took the frustration of never being taken seriously out on the invisible enemies laid out before him, swiping at them in his best mimicry of the forms in his book on combat. His father tried to take it away from him, but his mother had always felt bad and returned to him later on.

More pity.

“Haaaah!” he let out a huff of exertion as he lost his footing, sliding forward an inch further than he had meant to and nearly falling.

“Really? This again?”

As he righted himself, a familiar voice emerged from the darkness, and Python came into the dim lantern light, arms behind his head in judgemental nonchalance, “Yer pop is gonna be mad.”

“I know that. And you should know by now that won’t stop me,” he replied, swinging once more, “I do everything he asks of me all day, so I can do what I want at night.”

Python shrugged, taking a seat against one of the thick tree trunks. it was a common enough occurrence for his friend to join him, as he would often be up anyway, choosing to instead nap throughout the day like a cat. His parents weren’t all too fond of the behavior, but unlike Forsyth’s family, they had long given up on changing him.

“You know I’m all for doing whatever it is ‘ya want,” he said with a dismissive wave, “I just thought you might need the reminder. You actually seem to care when he yells at you.”

Forsyth paused, glaring down at the dirt like it had wronged him, “I don’t care about his opinion so much as it’s suffocating to be there when he’s angry. We just aren’t going to see eye to eye, which I’m fine with, but he refuses to accept it.”

A jab, and a snicker from Python.

“Are you picturing an enemy soldier, or your old man?”

“Both.”

They shared a laugh at that. Despite their differences, and how often they would get on each other’s nerves, if there was one thing he could never be in Python’s presence, it was dour.

“Any success with hunting lately? he asked conversationally as he resumed, now focusing more on his footwork than his lancework. It may have been hard to believe, but out of all the teenagers and the village, Python easily had the best bow arm, and thus the hunters always forced him to tag along. Forsyth suspected the only reason he gave in is because hunting had significant down time compared to carpentry.

"I guess. Been seeing a lot of wild boar lately, but I don't think I'll tag along for that. A lot of work I'm not willing to put in."

Forsyth scoffed, "Two boar could feed the village for a week and a half! If you helped, it would save you a lot of work in the long run."

Python hummed in consideration, snuggling into his relaxed position even more like he was barely listening, but Forsyth knew he was actually thinking hard on his words. One of the few things he would put effort into was the saving of effort, after all.

"We'll see. It's a problem for tomorrow."

"If you," step, jab, "Always," step back, block, "Put off," downward swing, "Your problems," upwards swing, "Until 'tomorrow', then you'll never get to enjoy 'tomorrow'."

"Your form was off in the middle there, more shoulder, less arm," Python pointed out, and Forsyth adjusted accordingly, "That might be true, but if yer always doin' everything today, then you can't enjoy the moment. Either way you lose something, and I'd prefer to reap my benefits before I'm old and wizened."

Shaking his head, it was Forsyth’s turn to shrug, "I will never understand you as long as I live."

"Feeling's mutual, pal."

And for the next few minutes, there was silence between them. When they were younger, their time was almost always filled with antics, arguments, and mutually prodding, and there was still plenty of that, but they were now able to enjoy long periods of quiet together. 

Of course, nothing lasts forever.

"Python, look!" Forsyth called out, letting his lance arm relax, "Fireflies!"

True to his word, a group of fireflies formed a small bundle of light that was hovering near and on the bushes.

"They're a little early, but it is getting to be that time," Python supplied, getting up and brushing the dirt off his posterior, "Reminds me of when we were kids, staying up too late to see the lightning bugs."

"You're right..." he put his training lance aside, Forsyth reached out to trap two in his hands, a much easier task as a sixteen year old than a nine year old.

Python walked over to him, smiling in a soft way Forsyth thought might exclusively be for him, but didn't dare be so bold as to be sure of that, "Caught one for me too, just to finish the trip down memory lane?"

"Maybe I just want two wishes for myself."

"Ha!" Python gave him a friendly jab in the ribs, "You'd never be that selfish, it'd give you a stomach ache. Though your lofty dreams need as many wishes as they can get."

Forsyth’s heart fell. He often forgot that even his best and longest friend also saw his dreams as silly.

He did his best to sound chipper, "I think I'll just let them go this time. No need to rely on some bugs when I've got hard work!"

As he opened his hands to release them, he felt something, or rather someone, force them shut, "Hey now, what's all this about? That ain't like you."

"It's nothing."

"Don't give me that. Nothin, is ever just nothin' with you."

"You're being awfully pushy about this. Why do you even care?"

Even in the low lighting, Forsyth could see a unique flavor or anger flare in Python's eyes at that, making a feeling bubble in his gut he couldn't name. The look was gone as soon as he saw it, but it wasn't something he would soon forget.

"Dealing with you normally is already more work than I feel like doin', and it's double that when you're mopey. Better put the work in now than be forced to deal with it later, right?"

That's what Forsyth always said to him.

"It's- No one takes me seriously. Not my parents, not anyone else in the village, not even you. I won't give up no matter what anyone thinks of me, but I would rather not be dismissed anytime I open my mouth. My dreams aren't just some joke!"

"Forsyth," Python tightened his grip on his friend's hand, making Forsyth worry he was killing the poor torchbugs, "Listen. I do think what you're tryin' to do is impossible. But I know you're serious about it. I take everything you do seriously, even if they're wastes of time. Have I ever tried stopping you?"

"...no."

"And have I been there for all the nonsense?"

"...yes."

"Am I here, keepin' you company because I know that you get unto yer own head on nights like these, when I could be in my comfy bed back home?"

"Yes."

Python released him, so he could in turn release the fireflies, thankfully alive, though likely quite annoyed, "Then that's that. I would love it if you learned to settle for a little less, but I'm never gonna get in the way of your big dreams. Yer gonna need someone with a good head on their shoulders to keep your big old noggin' from floating away anyhow."

"Python..." Forsyth grinned, much more like his normal self, "I'm sorry for doubting you. Lazy layabout you might be, bad friend you are not."

"Glad to see your common sense came back. While we're here," he smiled mischievously, "Why don't you tell me what you wished for?"

"It won't come true if I do!"

And like that, they argued amicably until their exhaustion finally caught up to them (and Forsyth’s father was an early riser, so he had to return soon), and they walked back to the village together. 

Forsyth hadn't come out here to find fireflies, but he had, and even better, rediscovered that no matter what he might feel in the moment, he'll never be truly alone.•

[fisherfurbearer]

Sad times today. Rupert is going to the vet to be put to sleep.

I love him so much, I cried a lot last night over this. I've been bracing myself for this day for weeks. He's been slowing down a lot, he can't climb like the others, there's something wrong with his lower half that he can't lift himself and walk properly. He can only drag himself around, and while he does get around pretty fast and still enjoys digging around, eating treats, and snuggling with Lisp and Java...he's getting to the point where he can't clean his rear end, and is starting to smell from dragging himself in urine...no matter how much I clean their bedding, because he can't lift himself up, he pees on himself, and it can't be hygenic or okay...

I don't really know what else to say.

I know I made a big song and dance over how much I really really wanted rats, building this huge over-the-top ridiculous enclosure for them, planning so far ahead and going overboard (AS PER USUAL, RIGHT?) and thinking I was doing a good job because I researched for so long, thinking I thought of everything...but then the fire happened and the enclosure was halfway done (top two parts weren't finished, bottom 4'x2'x2.5' one was so the baby boys lived there) and I lost so much motivation and time to work on it...we had to move around a lot and then landlord (Jessie's parents actually) said they had to live in the (unfinished) basement because the upstairs was carpeted. Turns out the basement fucking floods when it rains, and it got so hard for me to care for them down there, not seeing them all the time like when they used to be right in our bedroom, it just...fucked up so much.

Lost Python to a horrible URI and overall failure to thrive. It was awful. I spent so many hours over so many days syringe feeding him food and water, he would perk up and have energy, then crash before we could call the vet, perk up so we'd keep going hoping he'd be ok, then crash, repeat...eventually he passed away on his own. It was awful. Lisp and Java and Rupert and Squealch (whom I adopted from a coworker before things got really bad, they ended up living in a seperate enclosure because Squealch was very rat aggressive) were all good but. Anyone who has had rats knows they're the most heartbreaking pets you can own and I should've fucking listened.

I never stopped loving them, but it was hard. Losing Python, feeling so hopeless, not having the energy to finish the rest of the enclosure (no point really, since I only had Java and Lisp left there, and Rupert and Squealch had their own space almost as big as theirs) But eventually I convinced everyone to let me move them upstairs, after our one roommate moved out and we had a spare bedroom. Things got a lot better for a while. This was mid-pandemic though, before I got the unemployment money, so finances were tight. The rats all seemed to perk up being closer to us and with more attention, and things were ok for a while. Then Squealch developed a tumor on his side...I had no money to take him in. I thought I was keeping a good eye on it, but he's so shy that he wouldn't come out all the way to see me when I'd check on them. I thought he was okay for a while but then very suddenly he developed a tumor on his face, his eye looked horrific, he was losing weight quickly. He was oldish? About 2.5 years old. But dammit I just. Wish I had taken him in sooner. I wish I had instead of letting him get this bad. Whatever. He was PTS a day or two after we noticed the face lump, now that I had money I could take care of him. I just wish he didn't suffer like he did.

Rupert is as old as Squealch, so he's more like. 2.75 years old, I guess. This is just his time, now.

It hurts so bad because...Python and Squealch weren't the nicest rats, no matter what we did. But Rupert is such a sweetie. He really wiggles his way into your heart...even though he's not okay right now, he loves pets, and exploring (to the best of his abilities), and treats, and loves his new brothers and they love him...I'm gonna cry again. I'm just glad he got to know Lisp and Java for a little while. They've been taking care of him. When I gave him a bath to clean up his pee stains, I used a blow dryer and towel to get him dry, but he couldn't reach his backside to get fully dry. Lisp and Java pounced on him and started grooming him all over, helping him reach where he couldn't. They're such good, good, good boys. I just wish I could've done better by them.

Sigh. Just. After losing Python the way we did, and then losing the love of my life Mr. Jinx (I'm...still not over that cat. How can I be?), and going through the first mice passing away/being pts because of various old age mousy problems, and seeing our last old man rats deteriorate like this...I don't think I can do it anymore.

I should've listened, when people talked about how HEARTBREAKING rats are. But I got them before I REALLY knew what losing a pet was like. I've learned a lot about life/death and myself since then. A LOT of crazy life stuff has happened, too much to talk about here, and it's just...

I HATE that I wasted so much time/energy/excitement/money but...I think these will be our last rats. After Java and Lisp, we'll be closing the rat chapter of our lives. I love them so so so much...an unbelievable amount. They really are amazing little animals. But they are JUST big enough and they live JUST long enough...and the fact that they get elderly so quickly, and slow down so much...it's too much. I can't keep going through this.

I'm glad that I've learned that the mice are a much better fit for me, somehow, even though they live even shorter lives...somehow that's been working out much better for me? I guess it's because they live so fast and die so fast, it's always something that I understand will happen, but with rats they're there for just enough changes of the seasons that it feels like they've been here forever and losing them is...just So much harder on me. At least, I know I'll be keeping mice for a long while yet. They really jive with me and I'm very happy with how they fit into my life. But the rats...I feel like I've just fucked up so much with them, and I regret that all of this even happened, but I know I did my best, I know THEY weren't unhappy all in all, and that they liked us a lot and we loved them so much...it's just...too much for me, these days. And that's okay.

So. Goodnight, sweet prince Rupert. I love you impossibly so. I just. Never want you to get to the point of suffering. I hope you've had a nice last night with your new brothers. I'm sorry that you couldn't live forever.

[birlcholtz]

Okay, I'll bite. How and why did you learn to code?

HI LIN thanks for biting this is a story that tells you quite a lot about me as a person

so some background: my parents are both in compsci. they're the late 80s, early 90s silicon valley crowd, they've both had their fair share of established companies and startup-hopping, and my brother and i grew up here

my brother is about 5 years older than me and took to coding like a fish to water (like a duck to water??) which is to say he started programming on scratch at the tender age of.... i don't even know, honestly, maybe 9? too young for me to really remember, and he's been a compsci prodigy ever since

but then. then there was me.

now i do love scratch. when i was little i always copied my brother (not in like a cute way, in a 'if he can do that i can do it too' mindset that meant my third grade teacher REALLY struggled to find book recommendations for me that i hadn't already read. since my brother was above his grade's reading level, and i would read whatever my brother read. yeah that's the kind of kid i was/am)

so naturally i did what he did. i programmed on scratch, i did advanced math courses, i was in CHESS CLUB (i am so bad at chess by the way. i am not good at it. let's establish that. i think i beat my dad once and i genuinely don't know if he let me win or not. i never beat my brother so in that respect i failed. but i'm better than my mom so there's that)

HOWEVER. around fourth or fifth grade i was like hey. maybe i want to like... forge my own identity. and not just turn my life into 'do whatever elder brother does BUT BETTER.'

and thus began my campaign to NEVER DO ANY CODING EVER FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE AND WHILE I'M AT IT FUCK MATH

this gets long so there’s more under the cut sjflsghf

there are two problems with this. the first problem is my inherent pride and the fact that, despite my best efforts, i am actually decent at math and too proud to intentionally fuck it up. so i wound up in honors math. that made part 2 of my independence campaign a little difficult.

the second problem is that my parents were just as determined for me to learn to code as i was to avoid anything to do with coding for the rest of my life

(the third problem was actually a serious problem for this goal. and that was that in seventh grade, when i had a required compsci class where we learned basic, i found myself... enjoying it. HORROR OF HORRORS.)

so i was quite vocal about my anti-math stance and my determination to explore other avenues of life, to which my parents responded by listening with bat-ears whenever i talked about my compsci class and/or my love of spreadsheets so that they could jump on it and say 'YOU KNOW, COMPUTER PROGRAMMING IS JUST LIKE THAT, I THINK YOU WOULD REALLY ENJOY IT' whenever i said something remotely applicable

and to which i responded, of course, by plunging ever deeper into performing arts because fuck compsci, except when it's basic, because then i understand everything because of messing around w scratch when i was little and it's easy and i'm ahead of the rest of the class and can stare into space while the rest of them struggle with closing their parentheses (which is not to say i never messed up my parentheses. i totally did)

now, my brother, because he's a nerd, went to compsci summer camps where you'd spend a week or two learning some program or language. he did things like java and c++ and then would come home and use this knowledge for robotics club. like i said. nerd.

but my parents sensed a golden opportunity. namely, 'if we can get birl to go to these camps, she will actually learn programming things (not just being ahead of the class and spacing out in basic), and we'll probably get her to agree since it's only a week and she can do cost benefit analysis'

and, because i CAN do cost benefit analysis, i agreed to that deal. i'd go to a few of these camps, and then we'd agree that i was done with my parentally mandated computer science requirement. i learned some 3-d modeling, i learned to use unity (which involved some c+ as well), and i learned some java, and all was well. the camps were like 5 days long. we mostly worked on self-directed projects so i could do whatever the hell i wanted (and i made some pretty cool maze games if i do say so myself-- one of them in unity and one of them as a text-based game in java)

and.... horror of horrors....... i didn't hate it.

(of course i didn't want to go BACK any more than i had to but i also didn't hate every moment of those weeks)

so we were out of the woods right?

except no. we weren't.

because here's the thing. my high school ALSO had a computer science requirement. we had to take at least a semester. there were 3 levels offered: AP compsci, normal compsci, and then easy compsci (not its actual name) for the people who did not give a single shit

obviously i wanted to take the last one. my parents really wanted me to take AP but were willing to settle for normal. you will notice there was no overlap

i wrangled my way out of taking AP because that was a year-long course and i didn't have space in my schedule (my parents are wonderful in the sense that they didn't want to infringe on my actual interests to force me to do compsci which meant i had LEVERAGE)

but we literally wound up discussing it with the dean of students who was like 'well if you're capable of AP and just not taking it for schedule reasons then easy compsci would probably be boring for you!' which was an unhelpful take, thanks EVAN

but i did get my way by virtue of volunteering with a progressive tech organization in lieu of taking regular compsci, so i took easy compsci (in which i used scratch again, yay nostalgia, and also briefly flirted with html) and also wound up learning to use squarespace which is criminally easy but you can make it look like you're an expert

and all this while i was getting better and better with spreadsheets due to my own individual love for spreadsheets that near as i can tell, nobody in my family shares (my dad does have a lot of spreadsheets but his aren't as detailed as mine and he doesn't include data validation so HA)

all of which (plus my ap calc and stats classes) combines to mean that while i would not be able to just sit down and write you some code, if you give me access to stack overflow and tell me what language it's supposed to be in i can probably figure it out. especially now that i've become familiar with python by accident (well, more by my desire to write fic)

and because now i'm stuck in a rut, my current internship is with another civic tech company and that's probably what i'll wind up doing next summer as well. i don't actually work on software but i do comms which means i need to be able to have conversations with the engineers so i've been learning on the job. i know so much help

SO. with regards to my fic, my parents would both be thrilled because i taught myself some of a new programming language (python) and disappointed because i taught myself some of a new programming language with just stack overflow and some time and all i'm using it for is fic.

but near as i can tell we finished that battle long ago. it was a resounding victory for birl and i continue to expand my technical talents into areas like photo/video editing and CRM tools.

thank you very much *bows*

[violetsystems]

#personal

I deposited my first check for my business yesterday at the bank.  I had to go to the teller because it’s an entirely different account.  They repeated the name back to me off the check and asked me if I wanted a balance.  If you look at my life from the right perspective everything seems amazing.  Truthfully, they say the American dream is owning your own business.  They say a lot of dumb shit about America.  Now more than ever.  Which is why it’s nice sometimes to stick around in a neighborhood and let people battle it out in terms of what they think of you.  It’s been about ten months of insane isolation.  I spend most of my time at home alone with my cat.  I talk to my parents every so often but nobody really else intimately.  Other than here.  I live in a city so it’s impossible to be alone once you leave the house.  I sometimes think that’s a hard balance to maintain.  It gets easier over time the less I worry about the outside world.  I know it’s hard to when you live on a planet in the middle of a dense, dark universe.  But these days I pay more attention to space in the news more than anything.  I just bought a few things for my business to experiment with.  A mini drone to learn Python with.  I flew it out on the porch for a few seconds until my neighbor poked their head out.  Everybody out here is always in everybody else’s business.  It’s almost a reflex.  Oddly enough when I fly it indoors my cat just rolls her eyes at it.  I’ve been continuing to apply for jobs and maintain a presence on the job sites.  But everything whiffs in such a weird way.  It’s like I’m invisible until I’m out on the street.  Then it’s everyone wasting my time and energy trying to project some secret messages or agenda.  It’s laughable at this point.  You’d think after years of fucking with somebody on a guerilla level you’d bother to at least acknowledge them with more than a glare.  And yet people can’t be bothered to be kind or understanding.  There’s not enough of it in the world.  So when you walk that path, everyone has their hand out.  Everybody expects it’s a given that we’re all in this together.  When it comes to my physical address behind closed doors most assuredly this is not true.  But considering my business address and my residence are one and the same right now, it’s not too hard to know I’m painted in a corner.  I don’t have friends that even check on me to see how I’m doing other than here.  Everybody in this city is too caught up in a lie or afraid of being exposed.  I can confirm this by simple math.  The people I still keep up with are business transactions at best.  There’s an icy veil between that where you get this feeling you aren’t welcome into any real social circle anymore.  This feels even worse applying for jobs in this city.  I just got out of a twenty year employment opportunity where you get to work with your friends.  Only to find ten months after being let go, none of those people were my friends.  I personally at this point care more about making money than friends.  The teller is friendly enough when they stare at my account from behind the screen.  It’s a nightmare to think over two years ago my life was quite the opposite despite having it all.  Dream jobs are in the past now.  Everybody’s godson is their own personal cybersecurity officer.  The nerds got rid of their IT managers and are locked in their bedrooms on zoom with their cameras off.  I’m more excited about drones on Mars and autonomous delivery.  And I still see no future for me here, there or everywhere.

The biggest lesson for me has been about validation.  There is a point when what you want to do isn’t the clearest road.  I’ve had my share of friends doubt who I wanted to be or become.  I’ve cautiously shared things about my life I couldn’t put into words only to have my concerns gaslighted or dwarfed for the main narrative.  People who lie are really good at one thing.  Continuing to lie.  When I catch people in lies, it makes me angry.  Mostly because the one thing I’ve always tried to do was be transparent, accountable and real.  The way I see America when I walk out my door is severely broken.  A thousand fractured narratives clashing together in selfishness.  I try to keep the peace and bridge things together as best I can.  But I’m no politician.  I’m not even an activist.  I’ve been duct taping my life together for almost a year only to realize everybody else’s is far worse off.  Social distancing through the plague has brought me to extremes.  It helped me distance myself from years of my life I’d been caught up in.  And yet now I find myself caught up in a city rather than a suburban area I crawled out from years ago.  College is so far away.  I actually took masters level courses in Psychology.  I wanted to go into artificial intelligence.  I settled for data analytics and human resources.  Never really did much with that degree other than learn how to spot crazy.  I don’t have any student loans to trade for leverage with an employer.  Everybody follows me around and talks behind my back to the point where I wonder if employers have a red flag tabbed on my LinkedIn profile.  The shit I have seen done with my life is so fucking amateur that people would rather erase me than confront the problem.  And therein lies the lesson.  You have to validate yourself.  Believing in yourself and walking away from the table is a tough thing when everyone negs you to think less.  But there’s a point when my Viking roots throw caution to the wind and I tell the world I’m done.  I’m sure my Gyspy roots concur.  Not sure about the Bohemian side.  I think here is the hidden key to Nationalism.  Everybody falls back on their shallow gene pool for comfort to ease the cognitive dissonance of society being a chaotic fuck show.  Primitive thinking that can’t evolve beyond pattern recognition.  The things I’m supposed to be proud of are very finite to me.  They don’t span generations or even decades.  The last ten months has been the most bleak and soul churning I have ever experienced.  And I experienced it quietly with my family and my real friends in a weird sort of intimacy.  And even my parents don’t really know what goes on with me too deeply.  There’s a point when you have to be your own person.  And some people can’t break free and stand on their own too without fear or pain.  So they’d rather fall back into a crowd.  Where they can stop being judged, negated or feel unsure about where they stand.  That is a crutch.  Sometimes the world is so hurt you need something to stand on.  And sometimes the bones heal you back all gnarled and distorted.  You look inward and all you feel is hate.  And that hate isn’t you.  It’s not a good thing to be angry all the time.  And yet I feel it too.  More so these days when I let myself get angry over things and people outside my control.  The people outside my door don’t ever validate me in a way that’s dignified or respectful.  And that says a lot about the world in general versus how I choose to live.  The real lesson I’ve learned is that this is the way it is.  If you want to change it, you must start with yourself.  And there’s some things you can’t change.  The hell of other people trying to intrude and muscle in on your place on this planet.  

It’s hard to love yourself when everyone else is judging your every move.  It makes you think there is something wrong with you.  And the world is always looking for something to point it’s finger on.  We’re all being judged.  We’re all under duress.  We are all paranoid looking over our shoulder.  I should know because I catch someone with a knowing look out my periphery every ten or fifteen seconds.  That’s a lot to subconsciously prepare for every day I want to live my life.  And yet I know there are people who are simply continuing to live through a lie.  To be further manipulated away from controlling themselves.  The reactionary bullshit in America serves a dual purpose.  Thinning out the herd.  We are so caught up in headlines we never read the fine print.  We are enraged, huddled together through protest and then led further down the rabbit hole with no end in sight.  We complain about government but can’t name a single piece of legislation other than guns that have saved our freedom.  I’ll name one for you.  The CARES act.  We know everything about everyone every second of the day but have never even asked anyone’s name.  And you can seek out that whirl wind circle jerk of group hugs and prayer circles all you want.  People are still just going through the motions.  Saying the right things to avoid confrontation even if it means blatantly warping the truth.  Ask anybody I used to work with.  I would ask them for you but they pretend I’m fucking dead.  And this was how it was supposed to feel I gather.  I was to be taught a lesson.  Freedom isn’t free.  It did teach me a lot about life.  Mostly that I’m not really sensitive to anything other than my own ethics.  There’s things I don’t do.  And these things are observed and never clarified.  I live in a silent void of rumor, legacy and shadow.  I’m living that life you people brag about in public.  Whatever that life is I’m not even quite sure.  I’m terribly alone in all of this and not at the same time.  And it requires me to have confidence enough to simply and effortless believe I’m worth it.  Like some vicious game of poker.  I’m all in at my own kitchen table.  I have no dreams left other than to be free.  And maybe to learn Premiere editing 4k drone videos in my spare time.  I don’t really fucking know anymore what to do other than to continue to not humor anyone’s dumb ass bullshit.  And to be real, this entire experience has taught me firsthand how worthless and fucked up my past is here in America.  Everybody wants some shame to hold over you so you stay a bargain.  Everybody wants to roast you and take your shine so they can look mediocre next to you at best.  Everybody wants to bring everyone down to their level regardless if it’s legal, civil or ethical.  And yet when you do the same, you understand what the problem is.  I’ve walked the walk for years and everybody can’t stop talking their shit.  Now people have run out of bad things to say.  So they either pretend I’m a ghost or speak like I’m some urban legend.  And thinking too much into that can drive an intelligent person insane.  Which is why knowing what I know I stay out of everything completely.  Even when I don’t you can see how much it drags me down to humor it all like a good sport.  These people out here do not play fair.  They never have.  And the only winning move is not to play.  I learned that from Wargames years ago.  Everybody wants to be a hacker now.  If you learn one thing from Hackers the movie.  The M1 is here to stay.  And never try to hack a gibson.  That’s the only ICE you have to fear when it comes to crossing my path.  Flatline your shit and leave you staring at the ground awkwardly with your well meaning intrusive bullshit.  End of line.  <3 Tim