#Potentially odder

[hellaverse-critical-confessions]

Fuck it. Here's the oneshot I've mentioned

Summary: We're two weeks after the events of "Exes and Oohs", and Millie has been kidnapped. She's grudgingly enjoying solitary confinement in the world's dustiest yet simultaneously most pristine dungeon when an unlikely face from her past comes sauntering in; against her protests he decides to stick by like a leech, and they end up having a surprisingly genuine conversation years in the making.

Not a confession and… kind of critical?? Might qualify as a fix-it?? Honestly just wanted to give Millie the lore she was robbed of in that episode, as well as do a fun little show-don't-tell exercise. (Also, Chaz has a character now beyond walking penis gag. Sort of.)

[dropsofletters]

you're so-dium fine!

—SUMMARY: chemistry nerd and teacher jeon wonwoo is not so different from her; almost always with his head pressed in a book and ignoring unnecessary conversations, but she can’t still get a word across towards him. a man that beautiful shouldn’t walk around student grounds and she, as the school’s therapist, shouldn’t be ogling him that openly, either.

when a little mishap with bicarbonate happens to wonwoo, leading to her helping him get cleaned up, she realizes that each minute she spent trying to ignore him as not to get feelings for his obvious good looks and tender personality, was another minute she wasted of meeting a man that could, potentially, most likely, hopefully, worth it.

and he’s so damn fine, on top of all that.

—TITLE: you’re so-dium fine!

—PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader

—GENRE: chemistry teacher!au ; school’s therapist!au ; shy!wonwoo ; idiots in love!au ; strangers to friends to idiots crushing on each other to lovers!au

—WORD COUNT: 12,918 words

—TYPE: fluff ; over-the-top fluff ; humor ; suggestive if you squint.

—NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want me to write something for you, go request over there!

She should’ve made a run out of it.

Not to say that she doesn’t enjoy what her job partakes; the help that a school therapist can muster in the life of high school students is important, but when she’s on her third cup of iced coffee to stay awake and just another call away from going back home, she’s feeling a bit desperate. All because she just felt like saying ‘yes’ to the commands her coworker, Taehyun, pleaded to as he spat out that he really needed to buy a gift for his girlfriend after having forgotten their anniversary and he was on the brink of getting broken-up with.

She tosses her head back after finalizing a call, inspecting her office and feeling awfully constricted in it. Her legs are sore from sitting down for so long and she squints at the desk parallel to hers, where Taehyun should have been attending his own students. Alright, maybe, it’s her fault. She knows the terrible outcome of being a people-pleaser, but she felt generous and kind today. The tips of his ears were red, eyes watered, not crying, but he was almost there and perhaps, the empath in her felt like doing a great action. The great deed shouldn’t have included four calls with four different students with their own issues to talk about, but…sometimes, that’s precisely what she gets for not saying a word.

Standing up comes with the cracking of her knees and a tinge of pain that shoots from her lumbar up to her thorax. She clasps a hand on the small of her back, moving over to the window and parting the white curtains in hopes of seeing students mingle around. Not a single one. The skies have started to turn orange, indicating that she should have gone home hours ago, and before she could sulk and turn bitter about the fact that she’s not in her very comfortable couch watching that Park Seo Joon film that she promised she’d watch, she pulls away from the window.

Now, off to walk to the resting room for teachers at the end of the hallway, where she’ll fill her coffee cup and finally, do the last call of the afternoon.

Her sneakers drag across the tiles after closing the door of her office with a slow movement. She doesn’t check if it’s truly closed, moving ahead with a yawn escaping her lips. She’s sure she’ll head to bed once she gets to her apartment, but even when the moment comes close, it feels awfully far. Not letting that thought linger inside her head, she swings her face from side to side in hopes of waking up, speeding up her steps so she can get her coffee, return to work and just finish for the day.

Though, as she hears a manly, quite raspy, screech coming from one of the classrooms, she is sure her afternoon will take an even odder turn.

Thinking it was one of the students that must have been in trouble, she drops her mug to the ground and moves over to classroom number 703. The door clashes against her palm, pushed open with a bang until she sees the culprit of the scream. It wasn’t a student asking for help, neither was it one of the janitors or even a rat passing by that happened to make too much noise. The first things she notices are a pair of long legs that fold over each other, crimpling against the material of the gray slacks, belonging to the man kneeled behind the desk, covered from what she can judge on his white button down and baby blue tie some kind of white chemical. Teacher Jeon, whom she recognizes as the chemistry teacher that joined their team a year ago, four months after her arrival, has his profiled nose scrunched up, glasses tinted in the same substance, heart-shaped lips parted in surprise.

In any other occasion, she would have ignored Teacher Jeon’s existence. Or Wonwoo, as everyone calls him around here. Not because Wonwoo is anywhere near mean, but because their personalities are just not meant to blend in together. He prefers not talking much, and in her case, she has a thousand opinions that she voices out at times, but she hides away in awkwardness after the societal anxiety attacks her, recoiling on what she just did. However, her anatomy moves to her own accord, clasping his hands that were pressed on the edge of the desk to pull him up.

“Goodness, are you okay?!” She questions him, ready to put him inside that shower they have in the chemistry classroom for when toxins or chemicals come in contact with the students. However, Wonwoo wipes at his glasses with the back of his shirt, leaving a small line of sight for him to peep through with his right eye before he extends his hands to his side.

“Yes, I just got…drenched…” His voice is uncommon to her, still. Even though they see each other every day, mostly when she comes into the resting room to microwave her food and he’s most likely having a talk with the good-old Teacher Gong, who extends his legs on a chair in front of him and prides on his soccer team as if they were his own children. He almost always gives her a short nod, a greeting and then, she returns it, before plopping her meal out of the microwave and leaving to the comfort of her office.

“You should wipe all that away from you—”

“It’s bicarbonate. Don’t worry.” Wonwoo explains, grasping a bottle that he had on the desk before she notices it. He was working on a volcano and judging by the numbers of materials and wrappers stacked on the surface, he clearly used too many ingredients. “The kids in my class wanted to have colored, non-chemical and non-toxic lava to come out of their volcano, and I had a few ideas but I didn’t want to try them in front of them in case they…” He rubs the back of his neck, exchanging a smile that bares his gums and has her looking away from him. The students that gossip about wanting to be in his class just because of how handsome he is aren’t wrong. “Saw me embarrassing myself. Which would be this.”

“I’m no chemist.” She says, pointing a finger towards the volcano. “Is bicarbonate supposed to explode like that?”

“I added soda, mixed with bicarbonate to have a white surface that we could color with…I don’t know, food coloring, and mints. The mint is what made it explode.” Wonwoo takes off his glasses, lurking to rub them on his shirt to wipe them, but he realizes just how messy the fabric is, as well. At the end, they look at each other, with him moving his hand at the same time that she does, face heated when she clasps the glasses in between her fingers and wipes them on her cardigan. “I wanted a real big volcano explosion, so I added too many, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

When she returns the glasses to him, Wonwoo has an ashamed smile on his features. “Sorry, I must’ve bothered you. I thought I was alone. If I knew, I wouldn’t have screamed…like that.” He tells her, stammering a bit before grasping the glasses in both hands and bowing the slightest. Alright, she may not be the best at public speaking, much less when Wonwoo hovers in elegance with just the nicest touch of simplicity.

“You…I mean, you scared me, not bothered me. Different things.” Shit, how does one talk to a good-looking man? Even worse, she has to see him every day, which includes some kind of nervousness that lingers on the pit of her stomach and has her cursing the moment he puts on his glasses, hoping that he doesn’t catch the racing of her breathing and the way she tugs at her clammy hands in front of her body. “You are sure you’re okay Teacher Jeon?”

“Should head back home to take a shower, take off these clothes and admit that my plan wasn’t really wrong, just a little bit over the top.” Teacher Jeon starts packing up his things, as well as tossing the envelopes in which the mints came in to the trash. “You’re going back home, too?”

He turns around from the squatted-down position he had taken in front of the trash and she stops looking at the length of his legs when she recognizes that he’s talking to her. “Huh?”

Wonwoo’s cheeks tinge pink, burning from within him and electrifying up to the tips of his ears. He coughs into his fist, once and twice, before he’s speaking again. “I think some of the bicarbonate got inside my throat. I asked if you happened to be going back home, too.”

“Uh…no.” She trails, interlocking her hands behind her back and swiveling on the heels of her boots. “I have another student to call and then, I’ll head home.”

“Are you sure you’re okay staying alone at the school at this time?”

“You were doing the same thing.”

Wonwoo shows the best of him when he grins. The corners of his eyes crinkle, cheeks rounding up, and while he doesn’t bare his teeth and only gives her a tight-lipped smile, it’s enough to warm and awaken her as much as caffeine would. “Bad decisions that I happen to make in the name of science.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Gosh, I can’t see a thing. Well, I’ll head home then.” He puts his backpack on top of his broad shoulders before quirking an eyebrow at her. “You have my number, don’t you?”

“Oh…I’m not sure.” She replies, lurking for her phone only to realize it is back in her office. “Why? Do you need me to check something while I stay here or—?”

“I want you to text me when you get back home safe. You take a bus, a taxi or—?”

“I have a car.”

“Okay.” Wonwoo replies, running his fingers through the messed-up and damp strands of his head, with none other than the white, bubbly substance that he dared call lava. “I think I have your number. It’s in the teacher’s group chat, so I will text you when I get back home so we can talk there. I’ll wait for the text, alright?”

The depth of his voice is the pacific ocean, but it does nothing to fill her heart with peace. Her heart hammers against her chest, perhaps because his face already does wonders, but his personality is what truly highlights the attractiveness of Jeon Wonwoo.

He moves towards the door, pointing at it. “I have to close. Don’t think I’m kicking you out.”

She opens her mouth to say something else, perhaps ask him something about him, how his day was doing or what group he was working with tomorrow just to keep the conversation going. However, she settles for what she knows how to say best. “Yes, don’t worry.”

With that, she’s waving at him, watching him when giving a few steps backwards towards the resting room. She almost trips on the mug she had dropped to the floor, losing her footing and earning a gasp from Wonwoo, who is ready to throw himself forward to catch her, but she stops herself before hitting the floor by extending her hands on the side. Fucking great, she’s made even more of a fool of herself.

She turns her back towards him when she watches his shoulders shake in silent laughter, eyes closed tightly and cursing under her breath before moving towards the resting room and closing the door behind her with a bang that points the obviousness of the quickness in her movements.

Alright, now that’s out from his line of sight, she can confirm what everyone, from teachers to students, say about Wonwoo.

That smile is what electrifies the edges of one’s muscled heart, contracting for him, beating to a rhythm that he doesn’t realize, but dances to the tune of his voice.

“Teacher Jeon should be expelled! He asked me to open a frog. That’s like…so not it.”

Drama is never lacking in a place where teenagers coexist, and she can understand where the student Minhee is coming from. She had not prepared for the class that they had planned with Teacher Jeon for the last month of the school year, perhaps not studying the anatomy and microbiology; for, as far as she understood, the biology teacher and the chemistry one wanted to be able to unite their classes and have something educative take place. In some way or another, as she was perching her notebook under her armpit to go to a few meetings, she was interrupted by junior claiming that one of the teachers was, quote-unquote, ‘teaching murder’.

Hence, she sat down with her and tried to calm her down to get the whole version of the story she had portrayed. Written like a drama would. Instead, what she got was the most innocent of answers, and she has never been happier that there is not an actual murder class happening under these roofs. Minhee has calmed down the slightest when the class is finished and she calls Wonwoo to her office, and he has never looked more adorable.

A pair of clear, safety goggles wrap around his face, black hair sticking out at some parts because of the elastic that keeps it in place. Wonwoo still wears a colorful tie, this time in the shade of green—quite ironic for the frog dissection that was taking place, the root of the reason she had called him. He doesn’t even realize he still has those goggles on when he spares a look at Minhee and asks:

“Minhee! I thought you had left to the bathroom. Are you feeling better?”

Minhee perks up her chin when he takes a seat next to her, wrapping her arms over her chest and adding: “Teacher Jeon, I was here talking about the absolute atrocity that is murdering frogs in front of everyone. That poor frog didn’t deserve to die, much less by a knife—”

“Alright, I think she has already given some hindsight on why I called you here.” And the only thing she wants to do right now is stand up from her seat and go have lunch so she can attend to real matters, with students that have severer problems instead of calling her because they wanted to skip class. “Minhee informed me that you were dissecting a frog and didn’t give her another option to be evaluated by. She doesn’t feel like studying a frog is appropriate.”

Wonwoo blinks a few times, lost in the words that are being told to him, before he turns on her wooden chair. He looks at Minhee, but said gaze goes ignored by the student. “I gave her the chance to only do the written portion of the evaluation because she stipulated that she didn’t want to dissect the frog beforehand. I asked the students if they were fine with dissecting a frog for the sake of having a practical biology and chemistry class, but I was the one performing the dissection alongside Teacher Long. It wasn’t…Minhee, God, we talked about this.”

 The perch of the student’s tongue against the expanse of her cheek says a little bit about her ridden-of-speech situation. Minhee swings back and forth on her seat, lurking for something to say, when she decides to interrupt: “Minhee, I understand where you’re coming from and your interest in animals and their well-being. I stand with you on that. However, if the teacher gave you options that went well with your belief to be evaluated, which is why you’re complaining the most, the fact that you decided not to do the written test falls on you. If you’re not going to perform the practice, it’s Teacher Jeon’s duty to make sure you have the theorical recognition of the subject.”

“I understand,” Minhee says before leaning back on her seat. She splays her arms on each of the armrests before sighing. “I—Uh, I still think the rest of the class is wrong for wanting to do this.”

“It’s the same frog we use every year. No frogs have been harmed since, at least, 2015.” Wonwoo recoils, sparing her a look before taking off his goggles. It takes strength not to stare at the sprinkles of pink that scatter across his face because of the heat, and the way he talks to his students is far more poised and smarter than she recalled him speaking when it was just the teachers getting together. Wonwoo has various sides to him, and his serious one is just as enchanting. “Minhee, is there anything you want to tell me directly? As your teacher, because this feels like it’s going somewhere it shouldn’t have.”

“I…” Then, her cheeks tinge pink. Minhee sits up, hoisting her books towards her chest and bowing deeply at Teacher Jeon. “I am sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll wait for you in the classroom after class with me and my team.”

With that, she’s giving her another bow before scavenging away from her office as if she hadn’t knocked on the door like a madman over an hour ago. That leaves her in complete silence alongside Wonwoo, who frowns at the door before shaking his head. A sigh escapes his lips and she almost thinks it’s paradoxical, how given he is to his job but how tired of it he looks as of right now. Perhaps, she’s projecting what she feels onto him, exhausted of the same four walls and the feeling of not moving forward. Instead, she clears her throat, extending her legs under the desk and accidentally touching his calf.

She moves away in the matter of seconds.

“I think Minhee was just trying to get away from the test. Don’t worry. I don’t think any differently of you, Teacher Jeon.” She tells him, for she knows that Wonwoo cares about his title as a teacher as much as the next person. If not more. He wants his students to learn, almost always ending up on the last day of school in every student’s picture, thankful for his will and hard-working nature. However, a simple student is enough to shatter that to the ground.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Wonwoo mentions, widening his eyes for a fraction of a second. “I…I shouldn’t even be talking about this with you, but I had planned that class with all the good intentions and the fact that I had one of my students just barging out the door saying she won’t even complete the test was a surprise. It made me wonder if I’m just…too nerdy to be giving these kinds of classes. If I’m not as strong willed as some of the other teachers with more experience.”

“Teacher Jeon,” She can’t bear to listen to more of his insecurity, because he doesn’t deserve that seed of doubt that settles in his brain and will grow to be a tree far bigger than what it should. “Education is not about being strong. It’s about listening and shaping our students to have knowledge that will work for them in growth, studying methods and their future careers. I can let you rest easy by saying Minhee won’t be a chemist, most likely, and this is just another student trying to get away from a class. Like how they say they have an stomach ache and then, you see them downing a whole bag of sour candy. My job is to listen to students, but…” She trails her voice, almost losing her breath when she watches Wonwoo’s eyes glimmer when staring back at her, from under the fringe of his black hair, thus a few hairs had escaped their usual confines sleeked back by gel. “It’s also my job to listen to the teachers sometimes, and I know how you are as an educator, so don’t even worry.”

“I—Thank you.” Wonwoo’s cheeks lift up in a gentle smile and she thinks it’s the first moment she actually sees him baring his teeth when grinning. She had seen it in pictures, almost always wondering how he made a school photograph look so goddamned fine, but now, seeing it from up close, she gets to see the fold of his cheeks, the rosiness of his lips and how warm a simple gesture can be. “You never texted me that night.”

“Oh.” Now, she’s been caught by her shyness. She turns on the chair, pretending to be looking for something on her laptop, while she’s just clicking in and out of Google. “I…I didn’t want to bother, that’s all. You were kind that night, but I got out so late and—”

“I was worried.” Wonwoo completes, only to have her laughing softly.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“We may not be friends, but you’re my coworker. We’re one of the few people here who are young enough to support each other and not shake our heads at our own jobs by saying ‘younglings just want to pass students without doing much work’. Of course, I care about your wellbeing.” He stops for a moment, standing up and resting his hands in his pockets. “Hell, it wouldn’t hurt us to actually be friends. You support me. I support you.”

Friends. The term would come easily between the two of them if she didn’t remember the exact thought that passed by her head each morning when she came across Wonwoo. That he was over-the-top gorgeous, and judging by his actions alone, the way he organizes his textbooks and sheets of paper before a class to revise, how he silently listens but is also incredibly witty in everything he says, getting to know him would be even worse. It would mean that she’d end up, at least, liking him to an extent that isn’t professional.

She smiles at him, standing up and extending her hand towards him for him to take. Once their palms come in contact, she realizes by the bunched-up fabric of his button down that the veins in his forearms pop out the slightest at the force, clear sign that not only the nerd that is Teacher Jeon works out, but he does it so well that the button down is not enough to conceal the strength of his body. Well, if his shoulders were anything to judge him by…

“I’d like that.” She confesses, because attraction or not, she hasn’t been able to find a true friend here at the school. And she’s starting to become incredibly irritated just passing by the entrance door of the establishment. Perhaps, all she needs is someone to brighten her day, be it with endless conversation or just by a smile from that nicely sculpted face of his. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Teacher Jeon, I have a few appointments with the students—”

His cheeks turn crimson, nodding profusely as he lets go of her hand. What a bummer, it is to feel, the tingling of emotions that transcends from her thorax, her heart and towards the tip of her fingers, aching to interlock with his and keep him in place. That’s not appropriate, much less something that friends—who are purely friends in a professional manner—would do. Instead, she concentrates on the way he parts his lips to speak.

“Sorry for the inconvenience once again.”

“Sorry for never telling you when I got home.”

“Well, I’ll text you once I get home this afternoon. Just to check up on you.” When she doesn’t reply anything to that, petrified by the fact that he’s so utterly nice and handsome at the same time—if that’s even possible—, he counterparts. “…As a friend. Friends text each other all the time.”

“Absolutely. Friends.” She tells him, walking over to the door as he does just to keep it open as he says his goodbyes. And she’s enamored by the way her name goes past his lips as he waves at her through the air of uncertainty.

Better not think that way about her new friend.

If she had been asked earlier this school year to attend the seniors’ last school trip before vacation and their small step into adulthood, she would have said ‘no’. Indeed, she thinks she denied the idea back then, too, but the principal was adamant on having all the teachers there. For extra care, she had said. Apparently, this class of students was a tad bit wilder, and while they were just staying at a camp for two days to share marshmallows and tell ghost-stories, while being near a lake and living through the woods for the slightest bit, the vape that they had found on a students’ backpack just a week ago while in student grounds was enough to have her there. Just in case.

Now, she’s starting to regret it.

Her roommate, the math class teacher, snores like a bear in the middle of hibernation, mouth widened, saliva trailing onto their shared bed, thankfully not her pillow. So much that three in the morning strikes the clock when she decides to stand up and make a run out of it. Wrapped tightly in her fluffy, white blanket, she tip-toes out of the small cabin and walks into the center of the camp. Where the numbered doors shine in their green wood stance, under the lonesome yellow light from a pole not too far and the stars that scatter across the sky. She had heard from the principal that there was a cabin that was only meant for activities for the students—like dynamics and playing-time, but fuck it.

Sleep-ridden and a bit dazed, she walks, half-tripping on her bunny slippers before reaching the cabin’s door. She twists the doorknob, happy to find it unlocked, smelling the scent of turned-off candle-wax, hearing the swishing of trees, clashing against each other’s leaves because of the wind, before she plops herself on the ground with a sigh.

That’s when she hears moving around from a spot near hers on the floor. She sees a silhouette, big and unrecognizable, enough to steal a scream away from her lips as she lifts a hand in the air and slaps whatever animal is in the cabin with her.

“Ouch! God!”

“Wonwoo?”

She didn’t think of bringing her phone with her—sadly—but Wonwoo makes quick work on igniting a lamp that he had brought with himself. Golden hues scatter across his easily-recognizable features, though a bit different with his glasses off. His hair messes up on the bangs, parted by the force of the pillow that she now realizes is underneath him and he has his phone on one hand and a half-eaten cookie on the other. Wonwoo shows the expanse of his shoulders as his yellow sweater falls off one shoulder, squinting his eyes at the harsh light.

His eyes trail across the blanket wrapped around her, placed like a burrito around its contents, though he puts on his glasses as if to inspect her further. She moves farther away from him, covering the bottom half of her face with her blanket before saying:

“I didn’t know it was you. I just…saw a strange figure that looked like a bear and I started to hit it.” She commands, only to have Wonwoo frowning before laughing joyfully. Even at this hour of midnight, he looks like he couldn’t enjoy life more.

“So, you’re brave enough to go around hitting a bear? It would’ve eaten you, no questions asked.” Wonwoo reiterates, making her think about her decisions. Her fight-or-flight reaction was probably not the best to use when she’s in the middle of the woods, scattered around a bunch of teenagers. Had they heard her scream? “Any reason why you couldn’t sleep?”

“How do you know I couldn’t sleep?” She questions, only to have Wonwoo leaning back on his pillow once again. He runs a hand through his hair, unlocks his phone and munches the rest of the cookie he was eaten before she had so-rudely interrupted him.

“Your eyes are a bit puffier. Also, no one roams a camp around three in the morning without any apparent reason. If we’re including the blanket, that’s another sign.” Damn him for being smart. She remains seated still as he opens a bag of cookies that he had next to him, the scent of cinnamon flickering against her nostrils and stealing a grumble from the depths of her stomach.

“My roomie snores like a bear.”

“Ooh, so that’s where the bear thing is coming.” Wonwoo jokes around, offering her a cookie which she accepts gladly, giving it a slow bite as she lets the savory sweet intertwine with her palate. “I was assigned to stay with the soccer team in one cabin, but if I had to hear one more kid say ‘bro’ unironically I was going to lose it, literally.”

She chuckles, resting her cheek against her blanket before taking another bite of her treat. “I thought this was supposed to be like a play-room.”

“Reason as to why I came here. The principal gave me the keys so I took charge of it because I’m supposed to wake up the earliest because I’m the youngest.” He dangles the bag he has in his hands to have the cookies coat with the substance that lays on the bottom of the plastic before munching on another one. “Hence, no one will enter here other than myself. I must have forgotten to knock the door—”

That’s when she’s awakened of her sleepy state. Of course, Wonwoo planned on sleeping here on his own. How would she even be able to stay in the same cabin as him? “Oh, right. I should be leaving then. You must’ve been asleep.”

“Nope.” Wonwoo conquers. “I was playing Animal Crossing,” He waves one hand in the air before rubbing his cookie-dusted hands on his shirt. “And then, I was trying this set of cookies my real roommate gave me before we headed on this trip. I thought they would taste like burnt hell, as if hell could burn, but Soonyoung didn’t do half as bad as I thought he would.”

“This Soonyoung guy, you don’t trust very much.”

“With everything except my kitchen, thank you.” Wonwoo replies, quirking an eyebrow at her before extending one of those ungodly trained arms behind his head. She’s fighting against her will to look him directly in the eyes and not elsewhere. “You don’t look very happy to be here.”

She shakes her head, honest and curt as ever. “Mosquitoes are biting my ankles. I don’t really like the fact that I’m surrounded by the kids I look at every single day. The principal is getting on my nerves with the whole against-vape campaign that he’s making us do and—” Realizing that she’s speaking too fast, she looks at him from the corner of her eye before chuckling. “I would have preferred to start my summer break earlier. I don’t know, my bed misses me, and sleeping on a hard-wooden floor is not really my style when I can’t even sleep well on a bed most times.”

Wonwoo takes her words as a grain of salt, internalizing it before he’s up his feet, getting out of the sleeping bag he brought with himself. “Use it.”

“Wonwoo, no—”

“I don’t know if it’s the midnight haze or the fact that it’s the first time we talk as friends apart from our texts.” That normally consist of exchanging series recommendations, but she won’t say that out loud. “But it’s the first time you call me Wonwoo and open up about something that truly bothers you, so—”

“I’m not accepting it.”

“Accept it or I won’t forgive you for the whole bear-smacking thing.” Wonwoo threatens, though nothing about his face could ever feel like a threat. He organizes the sleeping bag before placing his hands on his waist, as if waiting for her to move.

“No.”

“God, don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn! I just want you to be comfortable—”

Before she could finalize her sentence, she feels Wonwoo’s arms hoisting under her knees and behind her back, lifting her as if she didn’t weight a thing before carefully settling her on the sleeping bag. The worst part is when he pulls away, because his breath cascades over her face as he fixes the blanket she had around her body over her frame before patting a hand against her shoulder.

“Now, off to sleep.”

“Wonwoo…” She trails, a whine to her tone that has him humming as he fixes his slim blanket to rest on top of his body, his frame entirely on the hard floor. “You could’ve slept so much better with this.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“You hear me completely.”

“I choose not to hear you complain about me putting you first for once.” Wonwoo whispers, putting the bag and his phone aside before sighing. “It’s not wrong to be selfish for once. I’ll be fine, just sleep so we can wake up for the group activities and get this trip done and over with.”

She smiles at the ceiling, calling him name once again and getting a hum.

“…You didn’t really like coming to this trip either, did you?”

“I, also, happen to dislike singing hymns about not vaping.”

That steals a loud chuckle from her mouth, covering it up as the flutter of butterfly wings settles on her chest, only because of him.

“Night, Wonwoo.”

“Or morning, respectively.” He corrects, a low-toned laugh spared by him. “Good night.”

“Today, we’re doing an egg race!”

…It’s about time for her to run away from this summer, pre-graduation getaway. This is it. The moment physical interventions such as exercising happen is the second she decides enough is enough.

She ventured into the sun with her own umbrella, ready to lean back and watch the students spend the last day of the camp enjoying the company of one another. As a matter of fact, she imagined the principal would ask for more ‘sentimental’ activities to take place. Nonetheless, a race while holding an egg is not really what she imagined. The worst part is that a group of students wanted her to be part of their team, as their leader nonetheless, and she wanted nothing more than to run away. As in, the other direction, not towards the finish line.

Maybe, running to the entrance of the camp is not really that bad.

She’s not dressed for the occasion, either. While all the other teachers, in hopes of being picked for a team, had worn their best school-themed t-shirts and shorts, she’s left in her jeans and her sweater, swatting away mosquitoes with a book that now is left abandoned on her seat. However, as she’s standing alongside all the other teachers, she voices out her concerns.

“Guys, I’m not really dressed for this and I don’t think I feel all that well—”

Jiho, one of the youngest of the class, takes her by the shoulders and speaks in a rushed tone: “Come on, teacher, you’re one of us now. We’re the best team there is, so we chose you for a reason—”

To lose. That’s precisely the reason they didn’t intend on choosing, but what they were capable of getting.

“I’m being serious.”

“Please, just do it for us.” Another student pleas and she groans, getting into position and hearing a seas of hollers that trail behind her as they cheer her name on.

When looking to the side, she knows she’s doomed. Wonwoo was also picked by a team of students, his black hair pushed away from his forehead by a elastic band, wearing the camp-themed t-shirt everyone had decided to sport and shorts that cling to his long, sculpted thighs. Once the beeping from the referee interposes in between the seas of teachers, they start running, her hand carefully wrapped around the spoon, giving long steps but not enough to keep up with the man that has already sprinted into the finish line.

Wonwoo has a smile to his features, enjoying the game as he manages to rush without dropping the boiled egg on his spoon. Soon after, even the students that had been cheering for her are clapping and laughing along to the other teachers trying to keep up with him, so, for some reason, she wants to be able to have that smile that he has painted across his face. She stops holding back, sprinting on her own and laughing when the egg falls miserably to the floor, reaching the finish line being third or fourth, but that’s not what surprises her.

It's Wonwoo, who had obviously finished first, seeing her with sweat pooling at his forehead and a hand still holding the spoon as the principal, with all the glory basking her tone, grasps his hand and lifts it to the air to say: “We have a winner! All cheer for Teacher Jeon!”

Though, what they don’t expect to happen is for Wonwoo to accidentally drop the egg at the motion, causing his eyes to widen and a bead of silence to fall upon the seas of people before they cheered for him again. She moves closer to him, giving him the towel that her team had passed over to her before he shakes his head: “You totally did this. Made me lose my focus so I would drop the egg.” His voice is hushed and perhaps not heard as the students take pictures of their teachers and start making loud-voiced jokes, but she nudges her side with her elbow.

“Not really, no.” She answers, inspecting his features as he passes the towel she didn’t use over his forehead. She should really stop looking at him from up-close if she doesn’t want this crush to go any further. They are supposed to be just really good friends. “Wait, did you just say I made you lose focus?”

Wonwoo finally puts on his glasses again, stammering a bit as the tips of his ears grow roses on them, perfect in color. “Oh…Did I say that?”

“I heard that, yes.” She comments with a chuckle, only to have Wonwoo shaking his head.

“God, I make things awkward, don’t I?”

“Why would it be awkward?” She questions, though when his eyes divert elsewhere, counting the leaves hanging from the trees over them, she realizes that, maybe, just maybe, Wonwoo doesn’t see her as an absolute friend completely. He could think of her the same way she does him; as a friend that could, coincidentally, pass over the barrier that is the friendzone and they would turn a blind eye on it before feigning surprise over the trespassing. “So, last day of being here and you’re officially the graduates’ favorite teacher.”

“Seems like it.” Wonwoo announces, speaking lowly. “They still love you.”

“Oh no, they don’t.”

“Yes, they do. The students are always talking about how no one hears them like you do.” He peels the towel away from his face, resting it on his shoulder and spreading his hands on his waist to breathe in deeply. He doesn’t look tired, while she’s still trying to manage their breath. “Last day of being around the kids also means I’ll have to find more…ways of us to meet as—”

“Friends.” They both say at the same time, only to smile at each other before she hums. “I think so, yes.”

“Teacher Jeon!” Minhee says, and while she had gathered the information that she didn’t pass the test that Teacher Jeon performed on her because she hadn’t studied, she seems like she doesn’t hold any grudges as she wraps her arms around their shoulders and drags them to the center. “Come take a picture with us!”

“Uh, I’m not really—” She starts lurking for an excuse when Minhee tugs them down, smiling towards the camera that is set in front of them.

“Say cheese!”

When she looks to the side, she catches a glimpse of Wonwoo’s careful smile. His head is tilted, elastic half-undone at this point, bathed in a pink glow that captures her amazement when the flash shuts off. The picture, sadly, shows her looking directly at Wonwoo and she’s mortified at the idea of the students seeing it, but when Minhee lets them go and he immediately goes over to say:

“Let me take a picture with you.”

She almost forgets that she must have made a fool of herself.

Wonwoo’s arm wraps around her shoulder, holding a peace sign in the air as the students start screaming from their spots. Some are just excited, while others are mumbling to each other as she mimics his pose. They have a few fingers of distance between each other as not to make it uncomfortable or unprofessional, but the warmth he emanates and the heat of his skin has her wishing to stay in this position forever. Even closer, perhaps. Though, that will obviously not be possible.

She rushes to look at the pictures in the camera, where everyone gathers just to see the obvious. She’s looking at Wonwoo in the group picture, hearts practically plastered in her gaze upon just being close to him, but the sternness of the line in which her lips are perched in could be confused as just being uncomfortable and awkward in front of a camera. When the head of the photography team of the school switches to the other picture, she wants it framed in a portion of her heart that no one can reach.

They look like friends, but some pictures just transcend towards the skin, gleaming and burning, tracing portions that could be felt even from afar. She feels hugged by Wonwoo just by that picture alone, and he must feel the same, judging by the smile he has on his face.

Or maybe, she’s reaching. This could be just a very pure friendship.

Delayed flights and cancelled trips lead up to here. To him. She would have never thought that her otherwise lonely summers would be filled with the image of Wonwoo, be in the light casted from her phone as she sits with her family across the table, smiling at texts that he has sent of memes that reminded her of him. Or, as a matter of fact, when she returns home after feeling like she’d stay at the airport for a little longer than necessary—forever, she means—. Wonwoo invites her over to his place time and time again, most of the time to play games with her and share dinner, coated in the grease, hidden or not, that takeout is characterized by.

Wonwoo has a red lollipop in between his lips today, using one hand to play Mario Kart with her on the old Nintendo console that they both had hidden in between their things. She’s in her own console, last place, but inherently confused and distracted by the perfect curve of Wonwoo’s lips and the tranquility he exudes when in his household. His apartment is a tad bigger than most, thanks to his hours of hard work, but that’s the least of his worries. He wraps his mouth around the lollipop again, sucking it in, coating his lips in a red shade that she’d kiss if given the chance.

“Are you even trying to win?! Come on!”

She pulls away from her train of thought at that exact moment, returning her gaze to the Nintendo and continuing with her game. Striking over bananas and causing a chaos along the way, but she’s chuckling. Something that seems easy to do with Wonwoo. “I’m just awfully losing at this point. No point in trying to save myself now.”

“Don’t give up that easily,” Wonwoo responds, though he has already won the game, leaning back on the comfortable couch, a cushion pressed against his abdomen as she turns off the console with a quick swipe of her finger against its side. “Hey!”

“I don’t like losing. Not made for me.” She says, earning an eye-roll from Wonwoo, who lifts the cushion in the air before pressing it to her face in a playful manner.

“That’s how a loser would speak. You’re a game-ruin-er.”

“That’s the concept gamers are trying to push to replace party-poopers.” She adds, toying around with the cushion as she avoids it pressing to her face. A spurt of laughter leaves her lips when she pushes his hands away and ends up with his wrists pressed to the backrest.

Wonwoo looks up at her with a surprised expression, her knee pressed to his thigh to keep him in place, strands of his hair intertwining with his glasses and covering a bit of the gleam that shadows his eyes. She realizes the closeness then, when the scent of the strawberry lollipop he had merges in between the two, sweetening the atmosphere, dazing her at the warmth he emanates and the sudden need she feels to try the dulcetness of his mouth, clashed against hers in a battle not for dominance, but for speaking through actions.

“Ooh, this is spicy. Reminds me of that one drama I watched last week.”

A half-muted screech leaves her lips when she pulls away from Wonwoo, who does so much as move the slightest before frowning at Soonyoung’s appearance. She knew that he was somewhere around the house, but she had not noticed when he slipped into the living room. Soonyoung is not a teacher, but a dancer trying to open his own academy, so he knows about education…and manners, apparently. He has a smile plastered on his features, brown hair parted in the middle and framing his rounded cheeks, as he leans on one of the walls, arms crossed over his chest.

“Soonyoung, is there anything we could do for you?” Wonwoo prompts, and that earns a wiggle from Soonyoung’s eyebrows which has her body heating up entirely, from head to toe. If he hadn’t gotten there, would she have surpassed the invisible line of friendship and kissed him as if her life depended on it? She’s not sure of it. Probably not. Actions as such wouldn’t come so easily to her. “That doesn’t include you being a voyeur.”

Soonyoung claps his hands at the delighted laugh that leaves his lips, and she’s a bit surprised that Wonwoo says that out loud with so much ease. Perhaps, there is a bit of bite to the man she is slowly falling for. Is that the word? God, thinking had become more complicated than usual now that Wonwoo is in her life.

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go grab dinner with me. I was on Yelp and found this Peruvian restaurant nearby that I wanted to try.” Soonyoung says, battling his eyelashes as he pulls away from the wall. “And considering that when one third-wheels, one gets their meals paid, I wouldn’t be against to going with you two.”

Wonwoo blushes in all the possible shades of pink as he stands up, tossing a look over his shoulder. “Are you okay with having Peruvian? I’ll only go if you want to.”

She thinks about it for a moment, trying not to get lost in the way Wonwoo’s hand splays forward for her to take. She intertwines the tips of their digits together, barely grazing as she stands up, nails coming in contact with each other when she pulls away. Electrified by the motion that is Jeon Wonwoo, a movie that displays just for her to enjoy. “Of course, I’m feeling hungry and getting my ass kicked on Mario Kart is probably not how I expected this day to go.”

Wonwoo looks at her for a fraction of a second longer, toying with a strand of her hair before pushing it past her ear before shrugging. “I’ll lose next time. Just for you.”

“That’s a shocker coming from you—”

The sound of the shutter of a flash has both of them looking over at Soonyoung.

“Soonyoung, I swear to God—” Wonwoo threatens, only to have Soonyoung clasping his phone towards his chest.

“You’re just too cute together, don’t blame me.”

“You’re totally paying for our meals.”

“But—”

Wonwoo widens his eyes comically, which has her sniffling a laugh into the sleeve of her shirt. “I said what I said, Soonyoung.” Though, she knows how Wonwoo is, and at the end, he might end up paying for his meal—and hers, but she always goes against it—. “I’ll grab our coats.”

He moves over to the hanger near the entrance, pulling her coat and inviting her to get in. Once she does, his hands wrap around her forearms, hoisting the length of the sleeves to fit around her wrists snugly. He’s looking down, while her eyes are forever settled on him. Counting the stars in the speckles in his eyes, shining just for her.

Please, let it be just for her.

“There.” Wonwoo mumbles, turning around to grab his own coat and leaving her with a dazed feeling rising from within her chest.

Please, let him be hers.

Routines shouldn’t feel comfortable, much less should she sparce portions of her in the life that Wonwoo breathes and goes through. When entering Wonwoo’s car, one can notice that her favorite jacket is still draped on the passenger’s seat, and that, most of the time, he buys her favorite bubble tea for her to have on the way to his apartment. Sometimes, he stays over at her place, but it’s a very rare occurrence—for, believe it or not, her neighbors are a little too loud for her to enjoy the quietness that Wonwoo exudes. As she’s seated on the car, she watches the polaroid that they had taken on the last day of the students’ trip hanging, rolling with each swivel of the wheels that Wonwoo makes to create a turn and she’s…comfortable with it.

She leans back on her seat, listening to Wonwoo speak about this fishing trip that he’s planning on partaking on with his dad, head tossed back on the seat, ever-so-relaxed even when driving at night. He still has his seatbelt on, but she remembers him saying that he was too full to even close the seatbelt on top of his torso. On that same line, she ate like a madwoman, bloated against her shirt, and she still didn’t feel the slightest bit self-conscious. The magic that he gives into this world comes with comfort, hearing him speak with endless poise and expertise, as if every sentence was constructed to deepen the storyline that he represents and gives to the world with so much ease.

She blames the people that hurt him in the past for making him such an empath, enough to translate each of his words into the most respectful of stances. And when Wonwoo turns to look at her for the briefest of seconds, she realizes that she has left portions of herself in him, too. In the words that he didn’t use before but now repeats ironically, just by spending almost every day together. He quirks an eyebrow when pulling up in front of her apartment, patting a hand against her knee before undoing her seatbelt.

“We’re here. You spaced out.” And she doesn’t feel the slightest bit ashamed of staring endlessly at Wonwoo’s face, tracing the outline of every doodle of his face that the universe had created for him to sport. When he aims to pull away, she doesn’t let him, splaying one hand on his arm and tracing the skin with the tip of her finger. That causes him to breathe in deeply, sending a smile her way that is a little too close to her mouth. “Anything you want to say?”

She’s tired of speaking, because she has never been that talkative, but with Wonwoo just feels so easy. She just wants, for once, that he reads in between the lines and justifies the motions of her body. Confirming what has grown for the past month, perhaps close to busting like a bubble would do in the air if she lets this aching in her chest prolong any longer. “I just want us to stay like this…” She mumbles, earning a hum from Wonwoo.

He leans over the seat, resting his elbows on her thighs before looking into her eyes. “This close?” Though he doesn’t pull away, drawing the lines of her face with his gaze, claiming with one lonesome look what she deems as imperfect to be precise and flawless. “What’s the matter?”

“Should there be a matter for us to be this close?”

“Mhm, not really…” Wonwoo trails, breathing mingling with hers. Her eyes feel heavy enough to close on their own, but she doesn’t want to miss a bit of what Wonwoo represents. That blurring line between love and friendship that feels so comfortable, exactly what she wanted when she woke up to an empty bed. “But I need a reason. I’m a man of science.”

“So am I.” She tells him, tracing his cheekbone before caging his cheek in her hand, breathing out deeply. She swears she feels his body shiver, a palm spreading across her thigh and caging it in a tight hold. “I have a reason for this, but I can’t voice it out.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo asks in between a complaint and a whisper.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not something I don’t know already, that’s for sure.” Wonwoo, confident under all his shyness, replies before leaning forward just a bit more, until their lips are almost closing in together. “I really want to kiss you. May I?”

She doesn’t say much more, because, of course, he had to be knowledgeable of what has grown between them and the consent that she expected out of him. Leaning in, she captures his mouth in a soft kiss, trapping his upper lip in between her own and sighing out of delight at the taste of the tea that mingles in his mouth. He sighs in spurts, a careful hand reaching for her neck as he moves her to the side to deepen the kiss. It’s then that she pulls him by the waist, as if inviting him to hoist over to her seat.

“I’m too heavy.” Wonwoo says, only to have her shaking her head.

“It’s just a few kisses. I won’t die, I promise.” That gains some laughter from him, and if the car was more lighted, she would see him hiding in embarrassment, perhaps. His strong thighs sparce on top of her own, parting and granting himself entrance to her mouth once again. This time, he pecks her lips a few times, before he dives in completely, mindfully roaming the outline of her bottom lip before tasting her tongue. Skillful. Obviously prepared. Strategical and logical even when kissing.

She cages her hands on his hips, keeping him in that spot and hearing him say her name in a mumble. Maybe, she must think of not falling in love with Wonwoo—because of what students or their representatives could say if they were ever to know. Because falling for someone that seems so fitting for her will only hurt more when she realizes that there are things that they won’t connect with in each other’s lives. However, she keeps going, only because kissing him feels like she has finally been found in the island of solitude that is waiting for true love. For him.

She has always wanted him. Not someone like him, but Jeon Wonwoo himself.

She may have fallen before he did, but in the way he kisses her, she knows that he’s still just as nervous, waiting for the next move but also giving a few steps in the dark. Without knowing, she’s mumbling that she likes him against his mouth, which causes him to kiss her with more fervor. Not without missing that beautiful smile that he lets slip in between a few of their mouth-to-mouth action.

Certainty seems to fit them right now.

Wonwoo has been absolutely obsessed with this coconut bread that he buys on a bakery near her home. As a matter of fact, he has insisted on their dinner times to be there now that Soonyoung has found a new person to date and has partaken the couch in which they normally lingered around in. He hasn’t voiced out the obvious, what the kisses and the lingering touches mean, what the ‘good morning’ texts aspire to be, but she’s certain that there is something. Some comfort and title that is just unspoken about as of now.

He is only midway out of the bakery, his glasses on the crown of his head, when he opens the paper bag and gives her one of the heated, soft breads. He dangles one from his mouth, closing the bag and putting it inside her purse before he continues to munch on it. “This is heaven on earth. I’ve never loved anything more than I do this.”

She’s happy to see him so content, much more when the school year is mingling to come any time soon. Just nine more days and they’ll be back to their routine. “I like them, too, but was it necessary to wake me up this early to come pick them up?”

Wonwoo turns around, walking backwards and nodding at her words. “Of course. They are the softest at this time of the morning.”

“We could’ve slept more and used the microwave to have them soft and warm.”

“Not the same.” Though, Wonwoo looks forward once again, walking by her side and placing his arm for her to slot hers through. Once she does that, her habit becomes apparent, even when their arms re close, she needs to have their fingers interlocked. It makes her feel closer to him. “Besides, I want to have you some more time for me before we have to go back to hell on earth.”

“School. And you love your job, liar.”

“I do.” Wonwoo replies, his eyes widening once they feel a few droplets of rain fall on them. The coldness surprises her, letting go of his hand to pathetically place her hand over her head to keep her from the rain, growing stronger by the minute. “Shit, was it supposed to rain today?”

“I’m not sure! We got out too early and I didn’t check the weather.” Before they could get some roof and shelter to protect them from the water, the rain pours with more strength, causing Wonwoo to chuckle as he puts on his glasses and extends his hands on his sides, walking in circles in approval of not having anyone around them. “You’re going to get sick, Woo. Come here.”

“No.”

“Wonwoo!” Though, she’s chuckling when he uses his hands, now that they are free of the bread he had just eaten, to wrap around her waist. Her hair plasters to her vision, not being able to see Wonwoo completely as he bares his teeth in the most gorgeous of smiles. He’s deepening her waist the slightest, hovering over her.

“Tell me this is not the most romantic thing that has happened to you.”

“Having to do the laundry after this isn’t…” She mumbles, pushing his hair away from her face before pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’re really going to get sick.”

“Our first flu together as a couple. Doesn’t sound so bad. We’d have to be locked in our houses for a while. Maybe, not start the school year so early…” She knows Wonwoo would never be irresponsible enough to do such thing, but she forgets the last part quickly when she remembers what he said first. Couple. He had called them a couple.

“Did you just say couple?”

Wonwoo frowns, pulling away from her a fraction of a centimeter. “Huh, are we not…?” He trails, only to have her resting both of her hands on his chest, forgetting the half-eaten bread on her hand, damp because of the rain, probably uneatable as it lays on the ground. “I mean, I never asked, but we…we have been going out as a couple for a while now.”

“Those are things you need to say! Now, I don’t know when our anniversary is.”

“Hey! I just…I thought we were on the same page. I thought you considered me your boyfriend!”

“I was waiting for you to ask me officially, though.”

Wonwoo chuckles, deep and with a rumble to his chest that has him shaking against her body. Or he could be cold, she doesn’t know because he’s not listening to her about the possibility of getting cold out of this romantic action that he wants to perform. “Alright, today. This is our official anniversary date. A year from now, we’ll look back and think about how I asked you to be my girlfriend under the rain.”

She rolls her eyes, smiling when he presses a kiss to her cheek. “You haven’t asked.”

His mouth sparces on top of the shell of her ear, whispering: “Will you be my girlfriend, gorgeous?”

Her brain has melted within her body just at the mere sound of those words, pulling away to look into his eyes before catching his cheeks in between her hands. She nods once, perhaps feeling a few tears gliding at the corners of her eyes that she blinks back so they don’t drop. “Of course. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Teacher Jeon is the most graceful person to ever land a foot on this earth. That’s it. If I’m not marrying him, I won’t marry ever.”

She can understand that freshmen are a little bit out there. In the past, or when she was a freshman in high school all those years ago, she was a little bit timid, if not overly quiet, embarking in books, fandoms and whatever it was that she fit into that time. Maybe, videogames, the slightest. However, as she has grown older, she’s surprised to be getting out of her office and into the parking lot to grab a folder that she had forgotten only to hear the new students talk about Wonwoo. Who had given them the best class of their lives, apparently, and only with his face alone.

She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or frown. Showing affection or even talking as much as they do usually is something that they have forbidden each other to take place on when in school grounds. However, she does open her car and get her folder out, making extra notice of closing the door with a bang to see if students would stop objectifying their teachers after taking hours out of his days to prepare excellent classes. That happens to be to no avail, nonetheless.

Giving up, she goes past the group of students with a sigh. That’s the difficult part; knowing that Wonwoo is hers but she can’t even say the slightest thing so they would have, at least, a bit of shame about speaking of him so openly. The folder rests under her arm when she moves through the hallways, returning to where her office is, wishing to be locked up for the rest of the afternoon as she works on her paperwork.

When she opens the door, she’s surprised to hear it closing with a bang after her, an arm splaying on the wooden surface, the body of the culprit hovering over hers. She’s about to scream, but when her eyes trail upwards, she sees Wonwoo smiling down at her. Making quick work of locking the office, too.

“Wonwoo, what are you—?”

“It’s lunchtime and I just knew you’d stay back and try to do some more work, so…” He pulls away from her, sadly leaving her without a kiss before he moves over to the desk. He rests on the edge of her wooden desk, to which she’d press him into to kiss him to oblivion—and perhaps, more—if it wasn’t for the place they are in. His digits hold a bag that has plastic containers inside of it. “I was lazy and didn’t prepare something extraordinary, but sandwiches never killed anybody, have they?”

“You almost killed me.” She breathes out deeply, walking over to him with a smile on her face. “I just heard a group of students say they are going to marry you.”

Wonwoo quirks his eyebrows at that before shaking his head. “Oh God, no. Don’t even try to tell me about it. I want to concentrate on you for the half an hour we have to spend together.” Before she could take a seat on her chair, she feels him tugging at her forearm. “There are no cameras around, right?” His eyes trail towards the corners of the room before she chuckles.

“Not that I am aware of.”

“Oh well, worth the risk.” Wonwoo mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth before pulling away. “So, tell me about your day. How did you sleep?”

This is not what she looked for, but precisely what she wanted. Maybe, the chemicals in her body only swirl and ignite in emotions that she can’t pinpoint when around him. Wonwoo is the kind of person she’s sure she won’t let go of any time soon. If she’s lucky, maybe never.

[bvtbxtch]

Obsession | Eddie Munson

Day Eleven of Kinktober

Summary: Eddie's obsession with you has been fun and games - late night drives, hookups and even a couple of dates. He has seemed to cross a line as of late, marking you as his territory.

wc: ~2.5k

Pairings: Ghostface!Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Warnings: this has to do with a serial killer and is smutty so an obvious 18+ MDNII!!! Is in order. Murder and serial killers, blood, knife play, mask play, consensual non consent at first, oral (m receiving), anal play, protected p in v sex, established relationships.

in collaboration with the amazing @darknesseddiem! stay tuned for their prompts next week!

a/n: I know I am now technically a day behind but I promise it will pick up. Today is my birthday so I will probably end up posting two stories tomorrow instead of today! I am definitely willing to turn this universe into a series if you're interested! Potential for Ghostface!reader is definitely budding!

Your ponytail flicked as you bounced on the balls of your feet. The gym was full of screaming teens, but he couldn’t be seen from the bleachers. No, you knew he was there but he wouldn’t let you know exactly where. The buzzer on the wall blared signaling a win for the tigers. All of the green and white jerseys flocked to the center of the basketball court to celebrate the win - in what Eddie thought was a barbaric and a little homoerotic show of muscles and lack of cranium. He loathed these games with all of his heart, he loathed Jason Carver - jock and sole reason Eddie’s gaggle of freshman DnD nerds were scared to walk alone down the hallways - the most. Of course his manicured smile sauntered up to you and your horde of preppy ponytails. He hated the toxic positivity second to Jason. But you were different. You and your sunshiny smile encountered Eddie underneath the bleachers, a joint in your hand and flush across your cheeks. Eddie had hid away from PE, and you were hiding from Andy Dwyer and his endless barrage of courting offers. He had laid hands on you before, and each time he would ask you out, he would get more and more aggressive. You told this to Eddie in blind confidence, the attraction and understanding between the two of you magnetic. You and Eddie were fast and strange friends, and either even odder romantically. The line was crossed after you both had snuck to the back woods lining the Harrington house during one of his bi-weekly ragers. He had drunkedly kissed you and when he backed away, you pulled him back in. You had been inseparable ever since - well understandably, save school and other social events. Eddie wasn’t dumb - you had a lot going for you and being seen with him would be social suicide. And that’s why the freckle on your glowing reputation that was Andy Dwyer needed to be wiped away.

Hawkins High was shocked at the passing of one of the basketball meatheads, of course. They found his body strung up in one of the basketball hoops, a neat puddle of blood dripping onto the hardwood below. You came running to Eddie to his picnic table, eyes wide and face pale. 

“Teddy, you’re never going to believe what happened. Oh god I feel like I’m going to throw up.” you panted. Eddie rose, expression stoic as he wrapped himself around you.

“What’s going on sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice laced with fake surprise.

“A-Andy… someone… they killed him. Like murdered him. Apparently the custodians found him flayed and stuffed into the fucking basketball hoop.” You could feel tears of horror threatening to spill through your curled lashes. You looked up at Eddie, who was surprisingly calm. He looked down at you with cold eyes.

“Well, guess he finally got what he deserved.” You pulled at the lapels on Eddie’s vest. 

“Eddie, people are saying this is an attack against the popular people. What if one of the cheerleaders is next? Wh-what if I’m next?” You whimpered. Saying these things out loud made you more scared than you thought you were. Eddie’s hands migrated down your arms to your hips and he lifted you to sit on the edge of the old wooden picnic table. 

“Listen to me. Nothing is going to happen to you. As long as I’m around, you’ll be safe. I’ll always be watching, okay?” Eddie eyed you carefully, wishing he could tell you everything so you really didn’t have to worry but it was still too soon. You would know everything in due time. You nodded your head slowly and Eddie pulled you in to kiss your trembling lip still. You heard the bell ringing in the distance and pulled away from him. 

“Shit, I gotta go to math or else Mr. Finnigan is gonna kill me.” you pouted. Eddie stepped back to let you off the table. You grabbed his cheek and pulled him in for one more kiss. You turned and hastily trudged through the field to the school, looking back at your mop headed boyfriend. His usual dopey smile was replaced with a clenched jaw. You entered the school and tried to push down the sick feeling in your gut that Eddie might know more about Andy than he let on. 

Eddie often climbed through your window late at night. Your parents didn’t approve of you dating, especially a person like Eddie Munson, but he was good to you, better than any of the jocks or preps that would be a parent’s wet dream to be introduced to. You were reminded of that again that night, when Jason Carver got too close and crossed way too many lines when he thought no one was looking. ‘His friend was dead’ he said. ‘He just needed some company,’ he said. Still no excuse to pull you in by your arm and press his lips to yours. When you pushed him off with a disgusted scoff, Jason Carver called you a prude and a tease and that you would be lucky to have him because no other guy is going to want to touch you after the shit he spreads around the school. Little did the both of you know, Jason Carver dug his own grave, not yours. 

You had your PJs on, fresh and clean from showering off the sweaty game. You cheered hard - everyone did, for a desperate distraction from the brutal murder of one of your own. You swear you could still see red blood staining the ropes of the basketball hoop. You grabbed your book, ready to forget about the day, about Jason and about Andy. Sleep was just about to take over when you heard a rapping on the window, the same secret knock you and Eddie had created, but it sounded like something like a twig or a piece of metal tapping against the window. You looked up from your book to be greeted by darkness, the familiar face of that lopsided smile not peering through your window like normal. Your brows furrowed together in confusion as you went to unlock and open your window. You stuck your head out of the window, greeted with even more confusion as you met nothing but the gray shingles on your roof. Suddenly, you felt a gloved hand on your mouth and pressure that pushed you back into your room. You tried to scream, but your breath was pulled from your chest in pure shock. You didn’t realize you had screwed your eyes shut in horrid anticipation. When you stilled against your wall, you opened your eyes to be greeted by two black holes contrasted by a stark white mask, its mouth morphing into an unnatural scream. Your breathing picked up as you realized your worst nightmare was coming true. Andy’s death was a statement and you were next.

Streams of tears fell down your face. You wanted to fight, to plead or to hide to save yourself, but you were hypnotized under the mask’s gaze. You couldn't see who was behind it, but could tell their stare was boring holes into your soul. The figure pulled out a knife from underneath the large coat they wore and you began to cry. The masked figure shushed you and you could tell the familiarity of his voice, even though in your shock, you couldn’t quite place it yet. The form ran the knife down the front of your nightshirt, eliciting goosebumps radiating from your sternum. You jerked against him, hoping to free yourself but he held your shoulder at a bruising strength and pinned you to the wall, the knife now mere inches from your throat. 

“Don’t worry doll, I’m not gonna hurt you if you just hear me out, okay?” You felt your world slow and your knees gave out at the familiarity of the voice. You gently moved your hand towards the mask and pulled it up to reveal the sweaty face you hoped wouldn’t be under the mask. Your breath heavied as you pulled the mask off all the way, revealing splats of blood across the left side of his face and scratch marks on his neck.

“What did you do, Eddie?” your voice shook.

“I was protecting you, doll. He was all over you at the game. No one touches you like that.” You felt the bile rise in your throat at the realization that this was in fact someone else’s blood on him, that the scratches on his neck were probably Carver’s last ditch efforts for his life. “I’s so sick and fucking tired of those meatheads thinking that they can just take what they want and not suffer any consequences. You aren’t just there at their disposal.” Eddie’s voice raised and there was a crazed glint in his eyes. He let go of you hastily and you flinched. Eddie’s eyes softened and his hands went to your hips just like they did the day Andy was found. 

“I meant what I said that I would never hurt you, doll. I meant that. I’m always looking out for you, that’s why I had to knock some sense into fucking Carver.”

You wanted to be scared. You wanted to run and scream but your heart swelled in your chest. The boy who stood before you proved that he would do anything to protect you. Fuck, you could probably tell him someone looked at you funny and he would take care of it. You pulled Eddie into a needy kiss.

“Thank you for telling me, and thank you for trusting me, Eds.” Your hands snaked into his large trench coat and you hooked your fingers into his belt loops. You pulled down on them and Eddie gasped out in excitement. He only hoped that you would understand, but this was above and beyond. You wanted to show him that you would do anything for him as well. You grabbed the mask out of Eddie’s hands and put it back on his face with a mischievous smile. You backed Eddie up to the foot of your bed and sat him down. You lowered yourself between his legs and undid his jeans. You could tell that Eddie was already growing hard and violently turned on. You released his hard cock from his dark denim and the mask tilted upwards in satisfaction. You lowered your mouth onto his member. Eddie’s hand flew to your hair, pulling softly. You let out a moan that vibrated through Eddie’s whole body. You bobbed and gagged until Eddie was a shaking mess underneath you, and drool was pooling at the base of his length and down to his balls. You detached your mouth from him and replaced it with your hand, pumping hard. You could hear the pants your boyfriend was making underneath the mask, they were delicious and you wished you could save his sweet sounds to play back when you were alone. You looked at the empty sockets and you placed your mouth on his heavy balls. You suckled and licked like a woman starved. 

“Fuck, baby, you take me so well.” Eddie cooed. “Do anything for you, keep fucking going” You giggled into him and rubbed your manicured hand over Eddie’s weeping tip. He hissed loudly and with a ‘fuck’, he pulled you off of him. He grabbed you by the shoulders and flipped you face down onto the bed. 

“Now as much as I want to see your face painted with my cum, I wanna make that pussy mine.” You tried to look back at him but you felt the cold point of his knife on the back of your neck. 

“You’re gonna keep your face down and that ass up for me baby. Be a good girl and show me how much you want it.” You moaned lightly at his words, your pussy already impossibly wet. You felt the knife trail down your back overtop of your night shirt. You felt Eddie flip the bottom of your shirt over your ass.

“Now, now, what on earth am I gonna do with these on?” Eddie scolded, peering down at your pink cotton panties. With a small gasp from you and a flick from the man’s wrist, your underwear were now in pieces, granting unlimited access to your sweet cunt. He plunged his middle finger into you with no warning, making you moan into your blankets. He pulled his finger out and put it into his mouth under the mask.

“Delicious baby. I can’t wait to devour you whole.” His voice was dark and muffled. He pulled the mask up so it rested on his curls. “But if I don’t fuck you right now, I am gonna fucking combust.”

“Please, Eddie, please.” 

The man spread your legs and returned the knife to the back of your neck. He pressed slightly, encouraging you to spread yourself out for him and push your head further into your sheets. You heard the crunch of foil opening. 

“You ready for me, doll?” Eddie sneered. “You gonna take me like a good girl?” You shook your head violently. Eddie grabbed his length and hissed as he ran it through your wet folds. You whined at the stretch of his fat dock pressing into you. He stretched you to the point where you had no idea how he was going to move, you were already so full. You felt the knife leave your body again and you heard a slump of Eddie removing his jacket and shirt. You looked behind you to see Eddie slowly pumping in and out of you, his soft abs tensing as he thrust. His pale skin was littered with black tattoos and spatterings of red blood. Eddie felt your tight pussy clench against him and any kind of control he was trying to maintain was gone. His grip migrated to your hips and you were sure he would leave bruises later. He burrowed into you at an unforgiving pace, making you see stars. You cried Eddie’s name out, edging him closer and closer to his release, but he was determined to make you fall apart under him. He moved his hand to rest on your ass, sending a couple of slaps to your round cheeks. 

“Eddie… I’m gonna… I-”

“Let go for me, good girl. Come on.”

Eddie’s thumb moved to tease your puckered hole that was on perfect display for him. He pushed into your tight hole up to his first knuckle and you cried out in ecstasy. Your orgasm waved over you and you shook like a leaf around him. Both of your holes had him in a vice and it sent him over the edge as well. The two of you moaned together as you worked each other through your climaxes. 

You stilled until both of your chests were done heaving. Eddie pulled himself out of you with a grunt and he stood off of your bed. You got up to face him, holding the mask’s cheeks like they were just an extension of your lover. 

“Stay the night?” you asked.

“I would love to, but can I steal a shower? Don’t wanna get your pink sheets all bloody.

taglist: @sadbitchfangirl@vintagehellfire @catcrown21@brinleighsstuff@dark-angel-is-back@lovemegood@joantje@adrenalineeerevolver@poofyloofy@aol19@anxiousobserver@filth-fiction-archive@emxxblog@eddies-acousticguitar @ali-r3n @mmunson86 @sluggzillaaa @hideoutside @kirstinjayjay @crybabyddl@keikoraven If you would like to be added to my taglist, please fill out this form and follow me!

[wackytheorist]

In a poetic mood today but the angst and bittersweet potential of bad's corpse?

Imagine a beautiful house that you live in! Now imagine a bit further away, only barely in eye site, you never really thought about it much but now.... Imagine sitting with the flowers is the rotting corpse of your father who has been missing for 4(?) days.

You've been worried about him and he was always in your vision, hidden.

I believe BBH's corpse area doesn't smell like rot, it smells quite sweet actually, lavender disguises the odder of a corpse quite easily. There is lavender everywhere, they tends to the corpse like an open casket.

The disfigured bits due to radiation were the perfect home to fungi, mushrooms sprouted from his body. Vultures never preyed on him, they knew better than to drink "demon blood" but due to that his body was decomposing slowly.

His hands are in a fist, one stretched out and the other relaxed. His last moments were in panic after all! His eyes were ones that understood and accepted his fate, after all he knew what was to come for 6 months. They had a bit of light in them, glowing in the night when fireflies come to rest on him.

He is one with the lavenders, peacefully laying as his children continue to grief.

[christiansorrell]

TTRPG Read-Through: Liminal Horror

Here is a read-through I did last year (originally posted on Twitter) of one of the my current go-to game for modern horror: Liminal Horror by Goblin Archives! - Christian

I cut my teeth learning to GM as a Keeper in Call of Cthulhu and I've really been jonesing for a game in this genre that's more in the style of rpg I enjoy these days. I'm hoping this will be it!

Really excited about this. Shifting away from mental illness and trauma, both of which have their obvious problematic pitfalls, is something I could see really opening up what a character looks like and goes through after having things go wrong in interesting new ways.

Big spread on Facilitator and Player Principles. I think this is all very solid advice as a one-time or just-before-play read, but it's definitely too much for quick reference. That said, I always love reminding folks that we "play to find out what happens."

I may be off the mark but these two bullets make me think Goblin Archives is a Friends at the Table listener. Both of these make me immediately think of Austin's openings on there (which is a very good thing, for me).

Very straightforward stats. I like the HP distinction here and how it seems to refill between events/encounters and when drained is when you see actual damage occur. More inventory structure than I expected (I like that tho!) Cool to see character AND party questions here.

I really loved the Backgrounds and character options in The Bureau, a Control-inspired megadungeon-like module for this system I did a read-through of about a month or so ago. Excited to see more of that here. Also, I really need to play as a Very Online character.

Nice open character creation. I enjoy these types of questions: why do you believe there's something weird going on? What ideology guides you? What are your connections in the world, important relationships, etc.? Those create way more juicy bits than stats alone can provide.

I first encountered these kinds of character bonds in Fate years ago, but it's been a go-to house rule of mine during Session 0/1 for anything my group is planning to do longer than one-shot play for. Even in a single session, it can add a lot. Cool to see it here.

It's a d20 roll-under system (no modifiers, yay). Adding fatigue to inventory slots is a great way to make a mechanic out of that. Also, associates were unexpected! Shows this game could be more than just 3-4 bumbling normies going into the unknown (which is what I envisioned).

Combat is fairly straightforward (in a good way). No rolls to hit, it's just damage that is varied. Props to not using Advantage/Disadvantage as a game term like everyone else. Again, the Detachments make me think this game could have some wild situations come up!

Open-ended spell casting here (reminds me most recently of Primal Quest). They come and go day to day which is interesting, potentially changing entirely. I like the failure being equal to the desired effect. Want to kill someone with a spell? Be prepared to die if things go bad.

Okay, these relics are extremely cool. A blade that does MIND DAMAGE and requires recharging by feeding it memories? Good stuff.

Fallout is really interesting. Take enough DMG to go through your HP and it ticks away your Strength until you die (or take crit DMG). Fallout is the same but wears at your Control. Gaining Fallout makes you odder/more open to the true nature of things, but makes you heartier.

This is a good approach bc it means leaning into the things most games gate behind "sanity" here makes you more able to cope with the weird in the future. Feels like a path to more interesting stories (rather than the CoC-style "you are in a sanitarium now" character ending).

Remainder of the book is a small bestiary with monster creation guidelines, spark tables and a lean but comprehensive mystery creation guide along with a sample mystery. The loose framework, a steady clock ratcheting tension, and a focus on lots of clues feels like good guidance.

Having a mystery take only 6 pages feels much more approachable than the very traditional heavy-prep and lots-of-writing mysteries of something like Call of Cthulhu or Delta Green. I homebrewed a lot of CoC, and the prep work there can be pretty huge. This feels nice tho.

Overall thoughts: the book is a very lean and focused take on creating horror that doesn't get bogged down in the other ttrpg pitfalls of the genre while also having nice mechanics for associates, large scale encounters, etc. so there's room for a lot of types of stories here.

I'll definitely be trying to knock out a mystery for this as part of the jam. I've got a lot of weirdness to get out of my system and this seems like an easy, streamlined way to do it. Also, excited to play The Bureau and The Mall.

You can pick up the most recent addition of Liminal Horror in print via Space Penguin Ink. You can also find it on Itch. The rules and additional content also available entirely for free on Goblin Archives github.

Also, I wrote an adventure for this system last year: Tunnels in White.

Old money siphoning new money from every corner of your city. An aging mansion, quiet and worn. An old corporation shifting its gaze from development to development, always hungry, always growing.

A warehouse bearing the name Singleton Solutions, small and unassuming in one of a hundred industrial parks like any other, takes in truckload after truckload but never sends anything out. It’s the same for the people. Sometimes, they arrive in towncars, other times in shuttle vans. None come out. Ever.

What you know is something strange is going on inside that warehouse and you are determined to discover what it is. What you cannot know is where and how far the mystery may take you.

You can grab a print or digital copy HERE. It's also available via Itch.

Lastly if you like seeing my thoughts on games and how I make stuff for them, here's my monthly newsletter (which now has a free TTRPG thing to take to your table each month): https://meatcastle.substack.com

[judyfromfinance]

Olden Times. Modern Thinking.

(Heimdall/Modern!Reader)

Summary: You know things you’re not supposed to. You behave oddly. And the way you speak is even odder. Kratos, Mimir, and Atreus have no idea if they should believe your ramblings of another world and of a future they have no way of knowing is real. But, you seem harmless enough. Plus, Faye may rise from her grave if they let a poor woman freeze to death in their forest, right outside their home no less.

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 2

It’s been a couple of months since you had woken up in what seemed to be the set of Game of Thrones. You remember Kratos questioning you. Who are you? What are you? Why are you here? Basically trying to intimidate you into possibly giving up any information of potentially being a horrible person intending to hurt him, or more so his son. Luckily Mimir was there to lighten the mood a bit. Seeing Kratos in front of your eyes, not as a video game character was… unnerving to say the least. Honestly when you woke up you were expecting everything to be some wacked out dream. Too much gaming late into the night and waking up at the buttcrack of dawn for your shit job. But no. You were here. Actually here. You think. The jury’s still out on the dream thing. But you answered him still. As truthfully as you could. You decided against talking about the fact that you basically played through this man’s whole life. From destroying Olympus to now essentially. Yeah, you don’t think a man like Kratos would’ve handled that well. But he listened. So did Mimir. And so did Atreus. They stopped you and asked questions here or there. Mainly Mimir and Atreus. One because he’s the “Smartest Man Alive” and the other because pure, unadulterated curiosity. They accepted your words. And Kratos made his decision.

“Stay? With y’all? Just like that?” You couldn’t help but sound skeptical. Mimir, who was… sitting… yeah you don’t know whether you could call being placed down on a barrel by your neck stump sitting. But you digress, Mimir chuckled and said “Don’t worry lass! We’ll put you to work yet!” Kratos just hummed in agreement as Atreus smiled towards you.

“Oh. Ok.”

And that’s what led you to now. A few months down the road and they have been teaching you, trying to at least, to hunt and scavenge. Mind you, Fimbulwinter made everything so much harder when it came to gathering food. And since you were mortal, you needed more than the two gods and the undead head.

“This is so stupid. How do you feel anything in this fucking cold?” You simmered to yourself as you practiced with a bow that Atreus had made for you. You could barely feel your fingers as they fumbled with the the string. You tried to keep the arrow straight but no matter how hard you tried it just seemed to move away gradually. As if it was trying to piss you off. “You just gotta get used to it!” Atreus shouted from across the backyard training area. He didn’t want to be hit by a stray arrow. You finally got the arrow to sit still before releasing the string and let your arrow shoot through the sky. Well, shoot through the sky would be a lie. The arrow basically fell not even two feet into the snow and dirt. You heard giggling behind you. You spun around, eyes narrowed into slits. Atreus paused before shrugging and apologizing. “Here, let’s just gather more firewood before father comes back.” You rolled your eyes at the teenage god before walking with him towards the small section of woods behind the training grounds. The trees there were designated as firewood only trees.

“It’s cold as hell here. I can’t help that my body ain’t used to it. I live in California alright? It gets cold there, but never like this.” You swing your bow around your body, finally securing it on your back with the string across your chest. It seemed pretty big to you but Atreus said you’d grow into it. You would’ve mentioned that you were an adult and done growing but the look in his eyes were enough to stop you. You recognized that line. He was remembering his mother, Faye. So instead you just said thank you and took as much care of it as you could. You grabbed a smaller axe that was kept by the fencing and went to work. You definitely didn’t consider yourself strong in the least but you could swing an axe and break a couple of logs. Or at least do some minor damage to it as Atreus did the rest.

“Oh no, Hel is way colder. Trust me.” Atreus said with a grunt as he finished your pile of wood for you. You both then grabbed what you could and headed back inside. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly is your home like? You don’t talk about it much.” He pushed open the door with his back as he stared at you. “Do you miss it?”

You really didn’t talk much about your home and your life before all this. You were more concerned with learning how to be useful to these people. After they were so kind to you and offered their home to you. They deserved that much. And you hated feeling like a burden. It was a gut wrenching feeling to know that no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t live up to some peoples expectations. So no, you didn’t talk about home. To busy trying to help. But.. you missed it. You missed it a lot. Maybe talking about it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “Yeah. Yeah I miss it. What exactly did you want to know?”

It was at that moment that Kratos, with Mimir strapped to his hip, walked in with some freshly dug up roots and what looked to be a chunk of meat he probably butchered from a wild animal. Deer probably. He placed them both on the kitchen counter. Which was just a wooden table. The same table that you guys did anything and everything else on.

“Have you trained more with your bow?” He asked you gruffly. You perked up as you nodded vigorously. “No yeah! Of course!” You said as you took off your bow and placed it next to Atreus’s by the front door. Kratos furrowed his brow at your verbiage before grunting and looking towards Atreus. “She’s doing better father. Not ready to hunt quite yet but better.” He nods before gruffly saying “Good.” He turned towards the food before preparing it for supper. Watching Kratos cook was something else. Sure it wasn’t anything fancy you might see on Food Network but there was still something about it. It was so, domestic for the God of War. You sat down next to Atreus as he got his journal out.

“So… you were going to tell me more about your home? Uuuhh…” he wracked his brain trying to remember what you had called this mystical and other worldly land that you had hailed from. You giggled at his stupefied face.

“California. It’s called California. But that’s just the state I live in. My home country is called America.” You looked down towards your feet. Stilled covered in your Nike tennis shoes. “But… let’s just talk about my hometown for now.”

~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: @zoleea-exultant @sumebuddy @sissontrinity123 @different4black

For some reason tumblr mobile won’t let me tag some of y’all. I’ll see what I can do when I get home on my laptop. But for now enjoy this!

I will say, I do plan on doing time skips here and there. I just want to get to the main weasel man 👉👈🥺

Edit: I got the tags working :)

[dangermousie]

Farscape rewatch: 2x03

Taking the Stone is considered a lesser ep but I really really like it. (The only eps in S2 I find dull are Dream a Little Dream and The Locket. Yeah, I know The Locket is ultra-shippy and I am a shipper, but there it is...) This ep tho - I am very fond of.

What do I love about TtS? For one thing, it has an amazing set design. I love the image of the grave planet, stark blue and blacks and inks. I love Chiana's back-story, her love and loss for her brother (because Chiana is, like Crichton, all about family, because like Crichton, she's lost her own, is lost in the world, and is trying to make a new one).

I love seeing Crichton on edge. He's slowly been slipping further and further and I love that he is beginning to notice.

The chip/PTSD mix is in a way a scifi take on the mental illness experience (and part of it is real world and not a metaphor because while brain chips are not real, Crichton also clearly has severe trauma after torture even without that, and that is very much real) because you may know something is wrong but you do doubt yourself - because the brain is in charge of deciding what is correct and not and so when it’s off track then what. And the feeling of knowing you are acting “wrong” but not being able to stop it is quite a literal take on the feeling. I also love that Aeryn and the others don't notice, won't notice until it's too late, even when he'll tell Aeryn he hears Scorpius in his head in Look at the Princess. I think it's because as fellow-Earthlings, we forget how off-kilter Crichton must come across to the Moyans anyway, with his weird speech patterns and references that make no sense. So they can't tell he is being odder than usual because he is always odd (remember S1 and Aeryn and Zhaan's 'he is Crichton' conclusion at Chrichton's freak out in the Matala ep). It's only when he starts acting bizarre, physical actions, like not fighting Scorpius, trying to kill Aeryn, that they really notice. (Of course, they are also not familiar with PTSD in general, but here it's something more severe of course). 

But to get back to TtS. Crichton can't let go, can he? Not of the 'family' he's finally got. He will go off-kilter, doing crazy things for those he loves, and it's not the result of Crichton losing his mind, it's just him. Eating potentially deadly mushroom to get answers is Crichton just dialed up to 11. In a way, his experiences are distilling him to the essentials. He is so adrift, so terrified of losing the few people he cares about, he goes irrational (any time Aeryn is the calm and reasonable one you know something is off.)

Death is very real to him now and so he obsesses over it coming to those he cares for as much as Chiana does in this ep, tho from a different angle.

His frustration of having to let Chiana go is palpable and what comes the most to me from this ep is the bond between Chiana and John. When he cheers for her when she jumps 'you did it' or when they walk off and they both mimic that arms pose the planet people do?

I think it's significant that this ep centers around the 'death' of Nerri because in a way, Crichton might be replacing his missing sisters (though I don't think he was ever as close to them as he will get to Chiana. They were never in extreme situations like this), but Chiana is replacing her brother with him.

Oh, and yet another gloriously consistent thing - no easy outs. Crichton and co solve the mystery that what makes the clans die early is radiation and solution is easy - just live on the surface. Any other show once our protags would tell the people, they would all be saved. Not here. Crichton tells them, they take a vote and decide to stay and keep dying. They believe him but it changes nothing for them.

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Sometimes Harry was prone to tossing and turning.

Night's clutch was ruthless and unforgiving, promising always the long restless drag of pitch-black wakefulness. His body was unable to get comfortable, unable to keep his eyes shut even with yawns so wide tears fell from them. They stained his pillow, leaving it damp and wholly unpleasant. As though he needed a reason, or to try any harder, to lose sleep.

With a sigh, Harry wasn't surprised to find himself in that state once again this evening. His reluctance to use dreamless sleep had only held firm by the sheer inability to make a halfway-decent potion himself. His ever-faithful (and surely disapproving of potion addictions) house-elf made it impossible to purchase them elsewhere, and Harry had tried one too many times to smuggle them away from Kreachers' keen eyes. He swore the elf had the nose of a bloodhound. Nothing got passed him.

On nights such as this, Harry would hazard an attempt to reach out to Ron or even Sirius if it was early enough. He couldn't simply lull to sleep with a long talk, but the comfort and warmth of their soothing voices made it a near thing. So he cast a tempus and—

Frowned when he saw a bleak 02:46.

All right, so Hermione or Remus it was. They were most likely to still be awake with their head in a tome, after all, but they were also a riskier bet. Their concern outweighed the potential for a relaxing conversation. It was always harder to admit what was happening when confronted with Hermione's nervous nail-biting and 'Oh, Harry...'s, and Remus' worried frown and soft eyes.

But with his hand halfway to the floo jar, Harry paused.

There was…one other person.

Someone who kept odder hours than Hermione, Remus, or even Harry himself. In fact, he was nearly certain this particular person never slept at all. But there was no way Harry could just floo call this late at night, right? That would be outrageous. No one but his family or friends would answer him this late and—

I do not have friends, Harry.

And they weren't friends at all, but—

But Harry was calling out, "Slytherin Manor," before he even realised it.

In the broken haze of what could no doubt only be described as the prelude to his inevitable demise and undoing, Harry felt like an idiot. The green-licking flames of floo fire were never warm or scorching, but his embarrassment lent a hand to be a mimicry of its sibling's blazing red-orange heat.

What in Merlin's name was he thinking?! People didn't just call up Voldemort! People didn't just call up the Dark Lord. Harry vaguely realised the sort of double standard he was encouraging, considering Voldemort could damn well call up whomever he wanted whenever he wanted and had done so to Harry now more times than he could count. But! That was clearly different!

Right?

Harry thought back, thinking of Voldemort's claims of checking in on his Horcrux and the shoddy attempt at hiding his desire to simply check in on Harry, that they were. And was once again reminded of that Christmas they had spent together under the guise of ministry paperwork, Voldemort's need for company (and maybe just Harry's company—but he wasn't ready to think on that quite yet) rivalling his own.

So maybe Harry wouldn't get cursed— or worse, laughed at— in the face of his attempt to reach out. Maybe Voldemort wouldn't even answer.

"Harry?"

Fuck.

"Hi," Harry started. Voldemort's head didn't appear in the flames, so Harry assumed he must have answered from a distance. Maybe he caught the call by chance? Honestly, Harry had never gotten over his surprise that he even had access to Voldemort's floo. How many people could say that?

I do not have friends, Harry.

Fine. It was a dumb question, Harry knew. But the pleased (scary) feeling in the deep of his stomach didn't lessen with the acknowledgement, even if it was for a ridiculous reason that only Voldemort would think up. Something like giving Harry open floo access because he didn't trust Harry to protect himself. As though Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived (one title of many), would inevitably be under attack one day, and Voldemort just expected him to floo on over no big deal so the big scary Dark Lord could protect his Horcrux.

"Harry," Voldemort repeated, exasperated. How many times had he called Harry's name?

Harry, still sort of distracted by his thoughts, replied, "Yes?"

"Did you call to sit here in silence, or did you have something to say?" Voldemort questioned. And really, it was a good question because Harry wasn't sure. Sometimes that's what they did, Remus or Hermione, when the questions (interrogation) ended, and they were simply left with the desire to keep Harry company. To not let him feel lonely while trapped awake and unable to rest.

"I…" Harry thought long and hard about what he would say— should say, "called to say hi." He hit his forehead with the flat of his palm and dragged it down over his face. Clearly, not long and hard enough.

There was an eerie pause, and Harry wondered if that was that. Voldemort probably silenced his floo and carried on doing… Well. Whatever it was he did at 3am, and Harry would have to suffer the embarrassment of this moment on top of his inability to sleep.

"Move," Voldemort's voice suddenly sounded much closer.

"What-" Harry started backing away, scooting on his rump and using his arms to help pull himself as the floo flames rose to an impressive height. He had the startling realisation of what was happening just seconds before Voldemort appeared through the fire.

Unsurprisingly, Voldemort didn't use the floo like any normal person. He did not arrive coughing or soot-covered or with the air of pretentious flawlessness that a wizard trained in the fine art of fire travel since birth would have. But he did arrive with an easy sort of controlled grace. Like the flames and bricks of the hearth would never dream of making his travel anything less than prompt and efficient. Or like his magic would only allow total obedience and mastery over something even as simple as floo travel— actually, that last one seemed most accurate.

Harry just knew that if he'd attempted the same, he would have wound up face down on the floor, maybe in another country. Anyway, all of these runaway thoughts were doing an outstanding job of distracting him from the fact that Voldemort was once again in his home and that Harry's response to this unexpected visit was to continue sitting on the floor in his pyjamas and look up at him in startled shock.

Voldemort kneeled on one leg and carefully examined Harry's face. Finally, he leant back and tilted his head once satisfied with his thorough appraisal. "You are not drugged," he said.

"What?" Harry asked again and spluttered out, "Why would I be drugged? Who would drug me?"

Voldemort seemed to give the question some serious thought, "You are impervious to the Imperius, and I can think of several ways someone could get you to ingest, touch, or inhale an unknown substance. As for the why and who, would you like a list?"

Harry glared and summoned his glasses—which he immediately regretted because now Voldemort's face was right there in front of him in clear, perfectly crisp quality. Being this close to him should be very illegal. Harry couldn't pinpoint when he'd started to get so jumpy around Voldemort, but it felt like a recent development in their strange…relationship.

Harry didn't think that was the right word. It was more like they were two planets that happened to share an orbit. Though that somehow seemed even worse. Maybe they were stars in the same constellation? Two bright gas giants like Castor and Pollux, mirrored but distinct.

He stumbled up onto his feet and looked down at Voldemort with his arms crossed as though the thin sleeves and his tight hold could shield him. "No. I'm good without a second opinion on who would like to kill or harm me." Although, Harry wouldn't be surprised to learn that that list was very real. "I guess I should have phrased my question different— why did you think I was drugged?"

Voldemort had that quiet amusement floating through their bond, the kind Harry couldn't spot without the liquid-like tingle that spread slowly in the very back of his mind. He gracefully stood, and Harry lamented the short life of his high ground.

"You floo called me at the notoriously potent witching hour, claiming you only wanted to 'say hi'." Voldemort's raised brows and pointed look said far too much with so little, "I have not lived this long on spite, Harry. I am reasonably distrustful of most unusual occurrences and feel it unnecessary to point out that this is highly unusual."

Harry would feel very embarrassed if he weren't hung up on the fact that, "You came over because you're a paranoid bastard and thought I was going to kill you?" He wanted to say he couldn't believe Voldemort would think that, but it would be a lie. Of course Voldemort would think that. Of course.

"No, Harry. I came over because I'm a paranoid bastard and thought you were sent to distract me as an outside force readied itself for a full-on strategic attack on my manor or through your floo connection." He paused as if to let that sink in and continued, "It is what I would have done."

Crazily enough, that answer was better. And Voldemort smiled teasingly, probably feeling Harry's relief—if it wasn't already clear as day on his face—and added, "Alas. You appear to be yourself. So to what do I owe this call, Harry?"

Harry sighed, a grin fighting its way onto his face. "I really did just want to say hi, you know."

Voldemort hummed, unconvinced, "And I attend wizengamot meetings for the scintillating conversation and their prompt effectiveness at passing completely reasonable, not at all biased, bills. Do we plan to exchange blatant lies all evening?"

"Well," Harry faux pondered, "considering it's early morning, I think we can skip all that." Then he turned, walked out of the parlour, and waved a hand over his shoulder, "Come on. If you're going to be annoying, then at least have the decency to do it over tea."

The amusement pooling in the back of Harry's head was much louder now. As he set about starting the kettle— and kept one eye on Kreacher, who looked about ready to keel over at the sight of (not only Harry doing anything for himself but) Voldemort sitting one leg crossed over the other at the kitchen table— and picked out two large, proper mugs, Harry debated over what to tell Voldemort.

How did one explain restlessness to someone who didn't require rest? How did Harry go about breaching the topic of nightmares and phantom pains to the person responsible for half of them? Harry didn't think it fair to place that burden on Voldemort now. Especially with how different he was and how hard he was trying to be better. Be more.

Harry was pretty sure he didn't even hold it against Voldemort anymore. It'd be like reprimanding a puppy for something it had done over a week ago. Or, in this case, trauma dumping all the bullshit a murderous dark lord had done to him on the very same dark lord who was incredibly insane at the time of inflicting said trauma.

The kettle whistled, and Harry finished up preparing their tea the way they liked it. Harry's, with a small amount of milk, and Voldemort's, who simply preferred a spoonful of honey. Though, he rarely allowed himself the delight for some odd reason. Harry figured he thought it was some misguided show of weakness and kind of wanted to strangle that out of him.

With mugs finally placed and Harry comfortably sitting in the chair closest to the still-warm stove, Voldemort spoke. "Your thoughts are buzzing like Cornish pixies. I cannot say I personally have ever felt so… indecisive," he sipped his tea slowly. Harry wondered if all of Voldemort's careful pauses were intentional or if they all held such gravitas because it was—well, because it was Voldemort. "Harry?"

Harry tilted his head, confused, and said, "Yes?" It wasn't like he hadn't been listening. It was very rare that Harry found himself distracted from Voldemort; if he ever was, it was typically by a Voldemort-related train of thought. So that hardly counted.

Voldemort's silence transition to something thoughtful. "I tend to be singular with my curiosity of you. This results in my insistence on answers, prying them out of your mouth because I cannot pry them out of your thoughts." Harry clung to each slow spoken word with his complete focus but sorely wanted to laugh. They both knew that if Voldemort were determined enough, he'd easily be able to get anything he wanted out of Harry. "All of that to say you need not answer my questions at once, but you do need to answer them. Fortunately for you, I am a patient man."

Harry laughed, "Are you going to sit here and wait around all morning, then?"

"If I must." Voldemort looked very serious. Harry was almost flattered.

"Even if I don't tell you anything?"

Voldemort's face screamed how doubtful that was, but he replied, "Even then." Damn, Harry was definitely flattered.

After tossing his thoughts back and forth a few more times, Harry safely said, "I couldn't sleep."

Voldemort stayed silent, probably expecting Harry to continue on. He shrugged, "That's really it. I couldn't sleep." But Voldemort was far too good at waiting Harry out and simply sat across from him, quiet and intense, elbows on the table and eyes locked to Harry's own as he squirmed and eventually caved.

"Fine! This has been an ongoing thing. I've been dealing with something like insomnia for a while, I guess, and usually, I call up Sirius or Ron, but after a certain hour, they're both out cold. So that leaves Hermione and Remus, who are great and kind and just so concerned, and I didn't want either of them to sit there and look so worried and disappointed and—" Harry took a deep breath to cut off his longwinded spiral. Voldemort was looking at him with a sudden understanding, and Harry could almost hear the 'Ah' like it was said aloud. "And…and I know you don't get much sleep either. So…" Harry trailed off.

Voldemort gave an understanding nod, and for a second, Harry thought he would make a small throwaway comment, something like a joke. Harry even felt the start of it bubbling through their bond, but that now familiar amusement faded into something softer. Something Harry couldn't quite put a name to. Even though their connection was always so much stronger when they were closer together.

"You are welcome to spend your evenings and early mornings with me, Harry," Voldemort quietly murmured. And his eyes were much darker in this light, the red hardly noticeable, appearing almost like a warm spiced brown. Almost like a steeped tea. "You are always welcome…and to much more than that."

And you are so much more.

What could Harry even say? How could he reply to that? Did Voldemort hear how that sounded? Did he even realise? Harry's heart felt like it had stopped beating, but also like it was beating so hard it could cause tremors to the earth. Was he shaking? Was his house shaking?

Voldemort stood, and with a quick flick of his wrist, his and Harry's mugs floated delicately away. He took Harry's chance to reply with them. "Let's adjourn to my manor and talk more there. I have documents needing some minor attention that I wish to finish, and I see no reason we cannot kill two snidgets with one stone, so to speak." Voldemort sighed before adding, "Nagini has also been rather persistently asking after you. She would enjoy your visit."

Harry's strained laughter didn't seem to phase Voldemort as he held out his hand to help Harry up. And thank Merlin for that. Harry didn't think he could move even if his life depended on it. Maybe Voldemort had cast a jelly-legs jinx while Harry was gazing into his eyes, petrified.

Harry took Voldemort's hand and at once startled at his warmth. Voldemort ran cool on a good day and downright icy normally. Harry suspected the hot drink couldn't have lingered this long and wondered if Voldemort had cast a charm on his hand after noticing Harry's slight chill. His small reluctance to leave the cosy heat radiating from the stove lessened, and he held Voldemort's hand a little tighter, a little longer than he probably should have.

Time slowed for just a moment when Voldemort appeared almost surprised by Harry's grip. His eyes caught and lingered on their held hands (and with a softness Harry really should be used to by now—maybe even come to expect); Voldemort ran a slow, exploring thumb over the back of Harry's knuckles. He traced their small peaks and valleys over and over until he finally rested his attention on Harry's ring finger. He dragged one long line down it as he released Harry from his hold.

Then without a single word, Voldemort trailed out of the kitchen, looking back only once to tilt his head and motion for Harry to follow.

And what else could Harry do but follow? Voldemort had taken with him Harry's heart, after all. Stole it right from his chest with a simple touch.

Harry wasn't sure he wanted it back.

[sitp-recs]

Hi, please help, I beg!

I just had to rage quit a fic with Draco pining over Harry and going "oh, he doesnt want me, of course", "why would he ever return my feelings", "i should tell him but that will ruin our friendship for sureeee", etc....for 30 chapters (at least! 60 more till the end😅) My fault, of course, I should have quit ages ago. Anyway, can you recommend Draco that knows his worth, knows he's a catch, knows he's hot and smart and most importantly knows that Harry knows all those things too and can see perfectly well that Harry WANTS him back.

Hi anon! I see you have strong feelings about Draco 😂💜 you’re a champion for reading 30 chapters of slow burn, my body literally cannot take it. Personally I adore a quirky, proud Draco but I also think it makes sense to see him a bit wrong-footed and insecure when he’s around Harry, considering his/their past. In any case here’s some sexy and confident Draco for you, I hope you enjoy!

push and pull you down by M0stlyVoid (E, 5k)

Harry's resigned himself to petty, inconsequential cases and no real connection to his job at the Auror department—after all, what else would he be doing with his time? He's not happy, not really, but that hardly matters.

I'm lying when I'm looking away by InnerLilith (E, 7k)

Sometimes it takes a Purim party and a flapper dress for Harry to figure out what he likes. (Spoiler: He likes Malfoy.)

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks (E, 8k)

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Sex on Legs in Six-Inch Heels by Tessa Crowley (E, 9.6k)

Draco Malfoy is a brilliant freelance cursebreaker and the only one who can help the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a very dangerous case, but more importantly, he's wearing six-inch heels, and Harry cannot handle it, he really just can't.

On Target by @the-sinking-ship (E, 13k)

A charity dunk tank, some sorry excuses for friends, a Slytherin with freakishly good aim, a (mostly) empty locker room, and one very small towel. Because, apparently, everyone is dying to get Harry Potter wet.

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (E, 15k)

As Draco leaned on the wall to wait for them to get dressed, he could not help feeling like he had done a very kind thing by disrupting them. Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had.

White as Snow by bixgirl1 (E, 19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

Take These Lies by @pennygalleon (E, 20k)

There’s a portrait of his godfather in Draco Malfoy’s potions shop and Harry needs to know why.

Trouble, My Old Friend by Tepre (E, 21k)

Harry goes rogue investigating an illegal potion and ends up at Draco Malfoy's dodgy lab.

We Might Be Too Old for a Bildungsroman by calrissian18 (T, 21k)

Harry finds something he’s been looking for since the war’s end. Admittedly, the packaging’s a bit odder than he expected.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore (E, 29k)

God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.

Potential Gravity by zeitgeistic (E, 32k)

Draco is not good at Cards Against Humanity, but Harry’s not good at being human, so it all works out. Except for the explosions. And Harry’s inability to live when Draco’s not around.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft (E, 63k)

Harry has terrific friends, an amazing girlfriend and his job as Head Auror enables him to work on challenging cases and Ministry reform. He just wishes he could work out why he’s been so out of sorts.

Can't Sit Still by wilteddaisy (E, 193k)

Five years after the war, Harry finds himself drawn to Draco Malfoy by memories that aren't his own.

[roninkairi]

And Now, for Pride Month, A Story I Have Always Wanted To Tell But Never Had The Time To Do So Until Today. And There Is A Toaster At The End.

She laid back on the plush red chaise longue sofa with a sigh. The situation she was in was something someone of her intelligence was not used to, but she was going through a bit of a identity crisis and right now, Velma could use all the help she could get.

Velma Dinkley, youngest member of the 5-member team known as Mystery Inc (Or the Scooby Gang for the general public) had a lot of this going for her: she was a highly motivated young woman, excelled in many different fields of study (and surprisingly enough, hockey and pro wrestling), had gained numerous awards in her academic pursuits and had even developed a large following of admirers over the years.

However, there was one thing that was a mystery to many: her love life. Or rather at this point, her lack of one. She had been spotted with many a potential suitor, but she barely showed any interest in anyone beyond a romantic one. She even admitted to one possible man she met that her work with the team had taken precedence over the matters of the heart (he was kinda cute in his own boorish way, she had admitted to herself afterwards).

That all changed one year ago after the latest case.

Velma’s first glimpse of the career criminal known as Coco Diablo (the woman responsible for just about every costumed villain the team had encountered over the years) had set off an immediate chain reaction of emotions that she was not properly ready to comprehend rationally in a coherent sense.

“In other words, as Daphne would probably put on it, I was going gaga for Coco big time!” Velma explained to the therapist she was with this day. “I’m not used to having affection for another person like that…especially another girl! It was just so SUDDEN and I’m still trying to deal with it!”

“There there Velms. It’s perfectly natural to feel anxious about this sort of thing. If you didn’t I’d be worried it was going to be a sign of something WORSE. I mean really bad, like Ivo Shandor level kind of worse.”

The therapist in question was someone that no one ever expected Velma to seek out but for the sake of plot building, we will say this was both done at the behest of Daphne and a certain caped crusader. Sitting in the seat behind Velma, holding a notepad was one Dr. Harleen Quinzel, aka Harley Quinn. Despite her most recent crimes and misadventures, she was still a very good psychoanalyst/therapist. Pushing her glasses up, she said to Velma patiently “I’m still surprised Daph and Bats referred you to me though, especially since I thought the Justice League had a good support group. But that was before a certain incident. Maybe they thought this would be good for both of us, hard to tell with them.”

“You think?”

“Believe me, I have gone through odder things. But we’re getting off track. This is about you. How are you adjusting these days since you met Coco?” Harley wanted to know how Velma’s mind was assessing her current situation. Keeping her focused was step one.

“To put it bluntly, it’s been a very taxing time,” Velma sighed. “I’ve found myself thinking a lot about Coco, more so after the case was finished. She’s got this very self-confident vibe going for her, and she knows how to take control of a situation when she needs to. Her deductive skills, proficiency in engineering and advanced mechanics, the way she can describe the molecular components of a basic combustion engine—”

“And her smoking booty.”

“Oh hell yeah her smoking booty—wait I mean her physical attributes---you did that on purpose didn’t you?”

“Totally,” Harley snickered. “Having a physical attraction to her is something you should not be ashamed of, you two are both young and healthy adults. Seriously, I still can’t get over people still calling you all meddling kids. At least two of you are legal drinking age now.”

“Anyway, I do think about her a lot. I kind of hope when she does get out of prison we could have some real quality time together but, well, this is still something I’m trying to navigate. I still can’t believe Daphne was able to catch on faster than me that I’m…well…”

“Still having a bit of a hard time admitting it, huh Velms?”

“Yeah.” Velma sighed.

“It’s ok. You’re here with me now and believe it or not, that is more important than you realize. Not everyone awakens to certain aspects of their psyche and it can come out in different ways. Some people try to distract themselves by throwing themselves head-first into a task. Take me for example. Believe it or not, I had started collecting a shit load of Beanie Babies when I tied to deny having feelings for Denise Whitbourne back in my days of high school.”

“Wait, I thought your first female crush was—”

“No. Technically speaking, Ives was my 3rd. My second was Tall Dark and Amazonian.”

Velma nodded her head. She could not blame her.

“So, accepting that part of yourself is very crucial because if you don’t, it can hurt ya in many ways, trust me. At the worst, you could date someone and try to trick yourself into believing it’s the best thing for you.”

“Yes, I ALMOST did that with Shaggy,” Velma admitted.

“Really? I never really could see you two together, I’ll be honest. If anything, I would have bet you’d try to hook up with Daph at least ONCE.”

“I know, I know,” Velma agreed, rubbing her temple “and while the occasional naughty thought did go through my mind, I don’t think she is my type. Maybe a one-night stand at best, but it would probably get AWKWARD the day after. And then there would be the temptation to resist thinking about her in that one nightgown over and over.”

“Do tell.” Harley smiled, eagerly scribbling. The notes she had for her Daph x Velma fanfic were getting juicier.

“This…just feels natural all of a sudden.” Velma admitted.

“GOOD! Progress. See, all it takes is just one good day.”

“I recognize that but…people…”

“People can suck, I know,” Harley picked up a can of soda and drank from it quickly as she continued “Sexual identities are still a hot button topic no matter what era we are in. There will always be someone who thinks they can speak for everyone and try to make them conform. Those are the kind of people I like punching in the face really, REALLY hard. They’re like, number 5 on my list!”

“You have a list?”

“Oh yeah. I know what you’re thinking and yeah, Bats is on that list. Also, on said list is my loser ex-boyfriend, Nazis, drug dealers, pedos, Amanda Waller, Puritans, Nazis again, Proud Boys, conservative extremists, That Orange Bastard, Nazis because why not and that bitch who works at the local Cinnibuns. SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE DID.” Harley shook her hand in the air at that last part. The sins that woman committed could never be forgiven.

“I’ll make a note not to go to that Cinnibuns. But yeah, people becoming aware of this now is still new to me. Believe it or not I’ve gotten…popular with a lot of ladies. And maybe a few guys.”

“You were ALWAYS popular. Believe me, there are people who like academic types. I’m an academic type, believe it or not.” Harley pointed out.

“But you’re very attractive You can get away with looking hot in a tube top and denim shorts.”

“And you can’t? When was the last time you were in a swimsuit?”

“Uh, last summer at Camp Little Big Moose.”

“Ok. And did a lot of people stare at you in that time?”

“Yeah but…I always thought it was because I was with Daphne.” Velma observed. The wheels were slowly turning in her mind…

“Understandable. But did they stop staring when you weren’t with her?”

“…No, actually they didn’t.”

“Mystery solved.” Harley chirped. “Congrats, you just realized people think you are HOT.”

“I’m surprised it took me that long to address that revelation,” Velma said in amazement.

“See, progress! Now we can take that important next step. And you gotta vocalize it. It’s best to get it all out.”

“Do…do I have to?” Velma was beet red. It was quite cute, Harley thought.

“Yup! This session can’t go on to the next step until we pass that hurdle.” Getting up, Harley grasped one of Velma’s hands and said in a very assuring tone “Now take a deep breath there Velma…and say to me what you need to say.”

She gulped. She was even more afraid than the time the gang took on Mamba Wamba and Mano Tiki Tia at the same time in Samoa (oh you just HAD to be there for that one, really man, it was NUTS!!!). But she needed to get it out there.

“Come on, you got this…”

One deep sigh later…

“My name is Velma Dinkley…and I…really…REALLY…LIKE WOMEN.”

“Well, I was hoping you say ‘I’m a lesbian’, but what the hell, YOU DID IT!” Harley gave her the thumbs up and handed her a toaster as she sat up.

“Why a toaster?”

“Its an Ellen gag. Trust me, someone somewhere knows the meaning behind this. Now that we got that out of the way, we need to get you out on the field. There’s a girl I think you should spend some time with. Her name is Marcie Fleach…”

[newobsessioneveryweek]

Oo what is business as usual and sex, drugs, rock and roll 👀👀👀👀

I'm so glad you asked!

Here is an excerpt of Business As Usual for your viewing pleasure (unfortunately I haven't actually written anything for SD&RnR but I'll explain a little bit of what I'm thinking)

Excerpt start

“What are you reading?” came a sudden, soft voice. Loki turned to meet Hogun’s passive face. He was riding beside him. If he had been there the whole time Loki hadn’t noticed.

“Shapeshifting and Illusions,” he replied cooly, banishing the book to his pocket dimension. Hogun’s sudden interest was not unwelcome, just odd- his choosing to talk even odder. “Have you read it?” Loki asked dumbly. He would bet good money that no one in this group had ever glanced at let alone picked up a spell book, especially one that was meant to be locked away in Odin’s library, never to be seen or read.

“No,” Hogun said simply. He looked forward, wrinkling his nose at the conversation happening around them. Loki took note of the odd way he seemed both fond and exasperated. “But tell me about it. I doubt it’s worse than this,” he nudged his chin to where Thor and Volstagg continued to entertain Fandral with questions and comments while Sif listened disinterestedly.

Loki tried to quell a stab of disappointment. Of course, there was only personal gain to be thought of instead of genuine interest. But he indulged him nonetheless. “As the title so deftly put,” he deadpanned, “it’s a spell book on shapeshifting and illusions.”

“I gauged that,” Hogun said dryly. “Tell me more.”

What more was there to tell that he would be receptive to? “Well,” he thought, “contrary to popular belief, illusionary magic is intermediate at best, but often child’s play. I caught on to it quite quickly in my hundreds. However,” Loki paused, drawing in a tired breath, “shapeshifting is an advanced art, one that presents potential… complications if done incorrectly.”

Hogun hummed quietly. There was a beat of silence before he asked, “What would you deem advanced?” His head tilted a fraction as though he were actually intrigued.

“To put it in terms you would understand, it’s the equivalent of shooting a running target in the head from one hundred metres away on horseback.”

Hogun whistled lowly. “Have you ever tried?”

“Tried what?”

“Shapeshifting.”

Despite himself, Loki laughed. Hogun flinched but his expression remained impassive. “Yes,” he confessed, holding back a sudden tidal wave of emotion and the urge to end the conversation at its zenith.

“Why?” 

Why? Loki wanted to scream. He let the question marinate in the awkward silence it caused. He drew in a breath, held it, and exhaled at length. “Because desperate people do desperate things.”

Excerpt end

I might change some things about this wip. In my defense I wrote it months ago. But I hope it's got you hyped!

Here's a bonus because I couldn't resist! I can't keep it to myself🙈

Bonus!

“Curious,” he said, holding the bottle up to the light.

Loki rolled his eyes affectionately. “What is?”

“Red is my colour.”

“And?”

“Then by association, this potion must make you devilishly handsome like me. You could use some. I’ll buy it for you.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I would be offended if that wasn’t a lie.”

Bonus end!

Now, SD&RnR doesn't reeeaaallly have a plot rn. I just thought it would be neat to explore Apollo's past of "living life to the fullest" in a protective bubble of perfection and indifference. The title is meant to allude to impulsive grabs for satisfaction and surface level pleasure that doesn't really treat the deeper parts of one's longing and desire (such as that of wanting to be accepted and understood by your family for instance).

So yeah, that's the idea behind it. I haven't written a word but it's coming! Bet your autumn harvest it'll be here!

Thank you this ask and for letting me talk about my babies☺️💛 you rock!

[aniketsanimationblog]

Star Trek: Prodigy has been Canceled: A Rant!!

Ladies and Gentlemen,

With a deep Grief and Anger, I have to say this, but Star Trek: Prodigy is Canceled and Going to Remove from Paramount+ despite of Season 2 was announced by the same platform!!

And this is not the first Nickelodeon Series that has been cancelled by Paramount+, it has happened to The Fairly OddParents: Fairly Odder as well!!

We were so hyped around what S2 would bring us, but now, I don't think that's gonna happen whatsoever!! The thing is, as I said it before and I knew it, that Nickelodeon has a history when it comes to axing their IPs, which were underperforming as per them!! I said it a thousand or a million times that Star Trek: Prodigy needs the efficient support to thrive!! It was supposed to be the next Avatar The Last Airbender for Nickelodeon, and they just lost their golden chance to prove that!! We have failed as an Ardent Animation Lover!! If the viewers could just said in their reviews that it is the Star Trek's Equivalent to the Clone Wars instead of just write out as More Star Wars than Star Trek and giving lowest Ratings and not watching further, then the scene could've been different!! It's their fault to let this happen!!

This reminded me of "Peter Rabbit's" cancellation way back in 2016 (7 Years Ago) by Nick Jr. Leaving Barebones to nothing, because of negligence by the so-called Animation Fans, despite of having the potential!! And as a result, Nick Jr. is now all about PAW Patrol!! I said it earlier, if any Nickelodeon series got greenlit and not bringing more sufficient audience than SpongeBob SquarePants and PAW Patrol, then maximum chances are those shows to be cancelled or burned off to Nickelodeon's Dead Sister Networks or Channels until it's cancellation!! That's why, no one wants to pitch their creation to Nickelodeon!! And Same happened with the case of Star Trek: Prodigy for Paramount+!!

No, Tax Write-off is just the particle of this cancellation!!

Moral of the story: Pitch your Animation Ideas to Disney or Cartoon Network or Netflix!! Don't ever pitch your Ideas to Nickelodeon!!

We're Just Sad and Mad both at this time!! But as someone said, "Don't Cry because it's over, Smile Because it happened!!"

I am Disheartened by this thing!! Animation should have deserved better Shows!! But, here we are, except worse!!

As for Dan and Kevin Hageman and Aaron J. Waltke and everyone involved in this series, Thank you for believing in Us and respecting the faith within yourselves!!

And Shame on you, Paramount and Shame on you, Nickelodeon!!

[miiserableee]

( 𖤘 ) ▸ love you enough : scaramouche x fem! reader !

y/n went through a lot with her past relationship , you can even call it a relationshit ! she harbored quite the few negative inkling with her , but that doesn't mean she's still hung up on him ! it just , hurts , the hurt enough to stick in for scaramouche , to deal with !

( !!! ) mentions of indirect suicide attempts ! uhhhh traumatizedreader ?! reader loves icecream , afraid of thunders ! kind & loving scara ! ooc scara (?) cheating again ! potentially can be but i dont think so ; angst-y oneshot !! MODERN au ! 3.4k words !!

YOU HEAR THE DOORBELL DiNG . you immediately pull your tongue back in before you could even bite it . shutting off the laptop with one considerably harsh slam , you tossed it on the mess atop your bed , hurrying to get your coat and sprinting to the front door to slip in your shoes , mouthing multiple just a minute !  for the person on the other side to hear . he simply stops the continuous dinging and you felt your breathing slowly pacing itself back to usual .

breathing out one more time , you clutch at your purse and whispered . "One more day , Y/n . One more day ." pushing the buttons to enter the code by what machinery sorcery there was by the door , you hear the usual clink in which signaled for you to turn the knob to the side . Certain pair of indigos burying themselves into your e/c , you flash him a smile . "You're here early ."

rolling his eyes , he steps back , scoffing . "Are you ," he started , his usual sharp voice of knives and small daggers somehow melting into a putty puddle of melted iron . "Hm ?" you urge him on , "We can just stay in today ." he finally says , which you immediately shake your head at , hands waving at front of his face as if to further push in your declining of the idea .

"No , no , no !  Didn't I promise we'd finally be able to get to spend some quality time together today ?" as odd as it is that you're dating him , it's odder for him to be considerate . even to you , his girlfriend of 3 years . though of course , you were undeniably tired , having nearing graduating and cramming for a thesis , and as reasonable as it is to him to consider letting you have some rest instead , it was evident enough these last few weeks , raging to nearing the count of amounting to a month , how little time it is you two have spent together .

of course , he comes by your apartment to give some barely even there  moral support sometimes , but it doesn't change the fact that even though that sort of visit lasts for almost 8 hours , all that ever occurs during those turn of 60 minutes , is him not being able to be spared even a glance from you whom got your head all stuck on the screen .

he eventually stopped coming over around a week of the same thing happening . you miss his frequent calls , and when you do have time to call him , he's already sleeping . the last time you got him finally caught within your grasp , sight and ears all of that aligned , was two days ago in the uni . after passing your parts to your leader to the thesis , coincidentally he was having a nice leisure talk with some woman by the fountain .

you think nothing of the woman at all despite how he was smiling , a whole lot at her . which is again , oddest of the odd , he rarely ever smile . maybe it was because you weren't able to have proper sleep or even meal those times that you didn't even have the time and fuck to spare to think about that .

he doesn't say anything about how you two barely connected at all for a whole month , waved the girl bye with a smile . and that kinda rips your unfortunate indifference apart . why was he smiling at other women like that ? he used to say he hated doing that the most , makes you feel special because even with such statement , the moment you wake up beside him , that small smile graces your wokening .

you suddenly remember how impulsive it was to ask him out on a date then and there that day . and how he looks somehow reluctant of it until you laid out all the possible reasons of why , how , what makes it important to go on a date as soon as possible . he ended up agreeing to it in the end . though grumbling and totally denying of the idea at first .

"Cinema ?" you mouth , the date have been agreed on to go by his plans . he hasn't given you a hint at all of what you were going to be doing or where you would be going but you didn't at all think it'd be the cinemas of all places . he hates crowded places . he has already gotten that fact dug on your mind so well throughout the years . with that , you look at him , a look of worry and wonder mixing like mochi into your eyes , sticky and persistent as it gleamed enough for him to feel it by the side of his eyes . "Hn ? Yeah , cinemas . Didn't you say you want to watch this shit last time ? Here we are ."

pointing at the poster of some animated movie you did say you wanted to watch , he speaks of it like he had no prior plans at all and just dragged you here with that in mind to make up for it . still , it felt nice to know he listens to your pointless random ramblings . "You don't want to ?" he tilts his head a bit to meet your dazed gaze , hold on your hand tightening . "I'm just , super happy you remember I said that ."

"You're worth the trouble ."

though so monotone , the flat of his voice calmed your ferocious oceanic waves of anxiousness as you sigh . "Hm hm , love you . Let's go ? We'll miss the trailers ." he nods , as you walk ahead and he hold the popcorn on one free hand . not expecting how you started slowly running to said destination , "You'll trip if you run—"

you just laugh at his scolding .

"Don't fall asleep , we're barely reaching the main characters' boring family's introduction ." you nod as you lean into his shoulder , your head have been there since earlier and he hasn't been saying anything about it . you regarded that to be a signal of him not minding . you were initially so hyped about this movie . but you've seen millions of spoilers now on tiktok , since you spend most of your 20 minute breaks scrolling , and the app seem to be stalking your private life , your fyp have been filled with spoilers of it and as stubborn you are , always just handing the responsibilities to your future self , instead of just scrolling past it to avoid any more spoilers , you like , save and even put it on your favorites . not at all expecting the algorithm to then flood your fyp with the same content .

you kind of already knew how the guy gets his whole arm mangled enough that you see his bones , and how the half zombie girlie ends up eating the guy she's been burdening since the start of said movie , what a , fucking tragedy . yet it gets you tearing up , the guy sacrificing his everything , even his survival for some girlie that he's been one sided-ly inlove with , since fuckening birth , the idea just hurts .

seeing it now for like , the 100th time though , it just seems downright stupid , idiotic , foolish . though somehow still understandable and pitiful . blame the spoilers for the negative add of perception . scaramouche puts his arm around your body and settles his hand on your tummy as he sighs , leaning into your head too . "This is shit , Y/n ."

"Hmm . . ." you still stare at how lovey-dovey the two of them deem to be right now though . in that screen , big and huge , you wonder if love can really bloom within such short span of time . perhaps , yeah , perhaps .

when you awoke , credits was already on . the amount of names getting pulled up into the black of the huge screening , you squint eyes and feels scaramouche rubbing against your stomach a bit . his palm pressing on it lightly , pressing a small kiss on your head too as you noise your way into his perceiving as awake .

"Sorry , sorry , sorry , I feel asleep . I ," he only ever nods , your waist and stomach feeling cold now without his arm . "It's alright , didn't you also say you wanted to go to that manga cafe a station away from here ?" he didn't , look mad . even just a smidge of irritated . even though you fell asleep , even though the idea of being able to talk about the movie had gone to waste , even though you were the one pressing on that you wanted to spend more time with him . in the end , you just slept . he gets you up , by one hand . staring at you as you bite at any inner part of your lip you could reach . he makes you sip on the still cold coke and freed your lips in the process . "You're such a bother sometimes , give me a kiss ."

you still a bit , gazing at the way he leans into your height , is he being for real ? not knowing the answer but also not wanting him to stay like that any longer , you went in for it . the taste of cola on your lips transferring a bit on his . he just looms over you once you were done and smiles a bit , looking like a smirk on one sense , a sweet smile on a made-up one . "You're being . . . way too nice to me today . Are you planning on dumping me when we get home—"

flicking your forehead , after he immediately holds both your hands and glares at you , jokingly , not as icing as what he first gave you , still intimidating though . knowing the context , cutely intimidating ! "I wouldn't have watched that boringass movie if I was only gonna dump you . Stop saying that ." you nod , hesitantly . "You really won't , bro ?"

"Really won't ."

in the manga cafe , you both settled on that closed space , he got you laying down on his lap , you were wondering why but he keeps on fixing your lips shut each time you try to pry for an actual answer . "Just , read . You haven't read the latest volume right ? The girlie you so preach about there is gonna get ," he pauses himself as you look at him , the manga only ever lowered enough for you two to meet sights . he laughs a bit and dips a hand down to pinch at your cheek . "Want me to continue ?" you shake your head right away and he chuckles , small chuckling , until he went back to his reading himself .

one hand on your head , massaging your scalp . his other hand occupied with that one manga you were rambling about a few weeks ago . supposedly , it was a manga that makes all reader weep after the 20th chapter to its 50th which is the ending . but you see him on the last chapter of the last volume , barely any pages in but stoic face he keeps up still . you wonder if it's because it doesn't have much impact on him because he doesn't really get sentimental over this things or if you're just too emotional sometimes .

he hasn't said anything , only the sound of pages turning and his occasional sipping of tea heard around . you hold on his hand , his massaging gets you sleepy . he doesn't say a word and lets you sit up again , but in the end , you lean on his shoulder much like you did in the theaters . you read silently a bit more and you see him reading something else already . he didn't cry at all . he holds on your hand like you wanted .

and was making this small humming noises .

for someone with such spine shivering voice , he sure sounds soft and mellow . no no no , you can't fall asleep . what will he say when you fall asleep again ? you didn't make him come out on a fairly windy winter day to just sleep whenever you're both seated and rested with cushions on your backs and bums . you shake your head and blink again and again . but in the end , the comfort dwelling in you , with his warmth seeping into yours , render you incapable of any sort of humane control . your eyelids , felt heavier than any lead , and your body felt all soft and light . a small thud resounding before the flimsy sight of the mini room starts glitching and beep , it was dark all over , warm and soft .

jolting up , you were covered in white fluff . looking around , scara was just beside you , on his phone , turning to you soon after . "Oh , morning , slept well ?" he fixes himself up on his elbows and slowly went to you . "I'm having food delivered . You're hungry , right ? There were no sundaes though , the ice cream machine near the store we go to really don't love you , huh ? They're never working when we order . . . Aaaand you're crying ."

you could see the way his lips coil and he clicks his tongue , staring at you first as you cry your eyes out . you don't know why , can't tell so in an understandable matter . but it hurts to see him caring so much , what if he's just doing this to unload the burden of any guilt he might be feeling as he plans to leave you after all of these ? what if he's getting tired of you always being busy and unavailable , and what if he's finally found , someone else ? you've been denying it all day long , that he's being considerate of your situation . he isn't supposed to be . he isn't . it's scary when the people you've been burdening doesn't lash out at you and even comforts you in their own way , it usually , ends on a very permanent parting , when they get too tired . you shake your head and looks down .

that guy always had that dreading , distasteful and annoyed look whenever you cried . what if , scaramouche has that exact face right now ? why did you have to fall asleep , why why why why why , you were trying so hard not to . trying so hard to at least make up for what you've been lacking on the significant other department so why ? aren't you already aware of how much it hurts to be left because of your lacking ? have you forgotten just how much it teared you up and pulled you down ? have you ?

the idea of it happening again hurts . it does . it hurts more to think that scaramouche would be the one leaving this time . you're being such a doll he has to drag around to be of any mere presence . your lips tremble as you bite it down , you can't make noises . you can't . he'll hate it too . it'll deem you more of a nuisance than you already think you are .

"Y/n ."

you shake your head even more . you try to wipe off all the tears but they just wouldn't stop coming and dripping and going . you hear him sigh and it's almost as if , all you've been building have gone , crashing down , down to bits , along with what scaramouche have pulverized to dusts , along with the memories of that guy , and all he's done . you didn't want that to happen , that can't happen . it shouldn't .

it's all your fault .

"Y/n , stop it ." you don't , you can't . "You were tired , you needed rest ." but if you rest , then you're just adding to the pile of actions you've been doing , been neglecting him as so . "Don't cry , you're gonna complain later again how it hurt your head ." it wasn't the afternoon anymore , it was late midnight . he went ahead and gave up on getting you to look at him . you were still crying , crying so hard . you didn't cry at all having to do so much for your research and being taken advantage of again and again , having to do more than you alone can manage . yet you're breaking down now , all because you're afraid that you're losing him . he pulls you in for a hug . which you didn't have the strength to latch away from . he settles his arms on the back of your waist , and lets your head rest on where his shoulder and neck meet . you're getting his t-shirt wet .

"Are you scared ?" he asks , pulling you close when you try to pull away . you nod , answering as you sniff and hugs him back . "Don't be . I won't go ." he sounds so sure , so steeled to such statements . "I won't . I really won't . I fucking cherish you too much to leave you alone . You're already pathetic with me here , what of you when I'm not ?"

you wish he said that too , on that day when it was thundering all over the city . the you who'd be under the blankets and lulling yourself to sleep , afraid of those clapping , grating sounds , was too busy crying beside your lampstand and a handful of pills on hand . staring at the note you've already left for everyone you love to see and crying a bit more , ignoring how much you've made your lips bleed . how could he do that to you .

your mother fucking died . how can he go and lash out on you , all drunk and high , saying you're too busy to have any time for him . how could he say that , when he wasn't the one caressing your slumped shoulders as you cry aimlessly beside your mother on her deathbed . how could he , say that ? and what came over you , to blame yourself ? what ? why ? how ? it doesn't make any sense . each thought and normal prejudice and moral you own shredded on a shredder and you were too busy trying to fucking breathe from all the tears and sobbing and begging to not be left alone to try and piece any of those things whole anymore . he still left in the end .

said that he wanted to fix things , that he's been putting too much for you , that he's done everything already , that you weren't cooperating at all and that nothing would work . but you begged still , begged and begged and begged , you gripped on his pants with tears welling up your eyes saying countless sorry and multiple dont leave me , not like this . he was your first love . he , he was . maybe that's why it hurt so bad . maybe that's why you couldn't hate him . maybe that's why all spite you have that you wanted to let out , you just kept within . maybe that's why , that's why no matter how 2 years have passed its drilled in . that people come and go . no matter how harsh or gentle the parting is , it still , and always will , hurt .

that's why , you should always grip tight on anything , everything . that pain is too much after all , it's too much , it hurts , it's suffocating and infuriating and utterly , painful . you didn't want to feel that way again .

you love scaramouche .

with all your heart , you do . he came in your life around the time you have cemented yourself to live still , even by yourself . he came in your life , became the best guy there ever was , no matter how much of a dick he can sound like . he came in your life , and started slowly mending at the cracks you've got everywhere . just , what will become of you without him ?

"Y/n ." he gets you to look at him , a hand on your chin , looking at you silently . "You were tired , no ?" you hesitantly nod your head . though aware that he wouldn't leave you , you're still afraid . and you hate it that you are . shouldn't you believe in him ? shouldn't you ?

"What am I to you ?"

"My boyfriend ."

he smiles , smirks , whatever that curve on his lips is supposed to be called . pressing a kiss on your lips , you were glad your voice didn't croak . "Yeah , a boyfriend ," he coughs , "Needs to care for his girlfriend . No matter how much of a bother she can be . Which you aren't , completely . I wouldn't have agreed to be your boyfriend anyway if I didn't know what I was signing up for ." he shrugs a bit , and stares at you .

"You went through a lot ."

you nod your head .

"And to be honest , I've met that guy before and I wanted to , execute him so bad but you said you didn't want me to so I perfectly and welldone-ly preserved it in . You know how hard that is ?" you nod again . he laughs lowly before grinning up at you . "I'm not him . And I won't be like him . I'm not planning to be either ." you kiss him this time .

the tears have stopped .

he breaks off the connection and tries to speak more but you just kiss him again . "Sorry ." you say between your kisses and he just hums to your lips and deepens it more . he probably didn't want to go all out tonight , considering how tired you still look , he pushes you gently away from him . you wanted more .

"Sorry ?"

"For being such a burden to carry ."

"I don't like kissing burdens ." he smiles , beams even . you squint your eyes at this and your lips part as if to speak . he knows you wanted more of said kisses . acting as if he wanted to stand up and leave you alone on his bed on one of his shirts , you press him on the bed and glares at him , "I've long been a burden but you've always been kissing me ."

laughing a bit , he rolls his eyes . "That just means I've never seen you as a burden , just a dumbass , a needy , crybaby , dumbass ."

"You really like saying that ." you just kiss him to seal his lips itching to tease you more . "I love you , Scara ." you feel him smile as he kisses back , a lot more passionately than you did . "Hm , love you too ."

you sniff again , "Why didn't I meet you sooner ?"

"World's your number 1 hater , probably ."

"Rude ."

"Pft ."

SCARA-LiNE ! / WORK NAVi !

[rp-academy]

roleplays make me very intimidated by the other people because i'm worried i'll do something they don't like or mess up the roleplay somehow. i'm also just very shy about even introducing my characters because even though cringe culture is dead i am still heavily anxious about if my OCs are too edgy to be taken somewhat seriously. how do i get over these worries?? do i just kind of rip off the bandage?? input/help greatly appreciated. thank you!!

Aw, honey. I feel you, seriously.

Here's the thing about it — Cringe culture is not truly dead. As much as we'd like it to be the case, our society still is and likely will always be critical of things that are harmless. God forbid someone does something that doesn't really affect anybody else in a negative way, you know?

Meet Phil. He's one of the OC muses I write over on @fledermuse and has been developed with the help of @pointdointy for the past several years. He is a character that I initially was VERY, VERY afraid of letting into the RPC, because I considered aspects of his character to be too uncomfortable and too overloaded with potentially triggering content.

He suffers from mild to moderate paranoid schizophrenia, which I used countless medical sources to research.

His childhood is riddled with abuse, neglect, and overall trauma, some of which I referenced from my own childhood experiences, while others referenced from medical/academic sources.

He bears a curse which, when he is too distressed / in the midst of panic, his mind responds to it by reverting to that of a dog's, making him act like a sort of foolish, friendly canine in a human's body.

He's one of my odder OCs, certainly, but to my following that's been with me for a while, he's a fan favorite. The problem lies not in if he's "edgy" or "weird", but the way that he is labeled and handled.

I think the most important things to remember are ReWind: Research and Warn. If your muse has a medical condition or trauma that you yourself do not have, you should research that condition to better understand it. Take accounts from those affected firsthand and listen to their experiences. Do not fall into incorrect stereotypes. Once you feel you have a respectable grasp of this content, you need to put an upfront label on your blog that tells others that this blog contains discussions/mentions of [x].

Some will be alright with it. Others will not. You may occasionally receive hate about the character. More often than not, those same people who are rude to you about your character will be hiding behind anon. Remember that this gives them a lot less merit. They find themselves protected by their ability to be anonymous and not take accountability for their words. If it is a legitimate concern brought up about your portrayal, question which aspects of it might be offensive and research again. Use your own judgment and listen to criticism, taking accountability where necessary.

As for actually revealing these characters, ripping off the bandage is a big part of the experience. You have to have the courage to put yourself out there at the risk of getting your feelings hurt. It is going to happen, and it is going to suck. There will always be people in the community who don't want to write with you, and that is okay. It is a part of being in the community, and I understand it can be very lonely when you first start out, but it truly does get better.

[stwritings]

Funny Seeing You Here

Synopsis

Long time in-patient y/n was looking forward to her upcoming discharge date from the Hawkins Memorial Hospital. That is, until she became acquainted with an unlikely familiar face, Eddie Munson.

Author’s Note

This is a fix it fic following Stranger Things season 4, volume 2. In this fic, we’re going to forget the fact that the Duffer Brothers decided to delete Eddie from the series. :-) These events take place after the battle in the upside down. I’m also choosing to change the ending of season 4 by having the issue with the upside down resolved, therefore, Hawkins is not plagued by the massive earthquake that resulted in new portals being opened.

What To Expect

Slow burn, angst with a happy ending, fluff, smut in later chapters. ♡

Series Warnings

Mentions of mental health struggles, SMUT (in the later chapters, 18+ to read this story), angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence.

Chapter 9

The next morning, y/n woke up before her alarm clock went off. Confusion set in as it was still dark in her room, she slowly sat up to peek at the time.

4:24 am

She groaned and fell back down onto her pillow, brows furrowed as she was trying to understand why her slumber was disrupted. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, which further frustrated her. Her thoughts kept her up for most of the night; she couldn’t even remember when she fell asleep. All she knew was that the last thing on her mind before drifting asleep was Eddie. He was also her first thought of the day as she lay awake at this ungodly hour. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was most likely the culprit keeping her mind busy, thus shortening her sleep cycle.

She tried getting back to sleep but was tossing and turning, her thoughts racing. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t quiet down her mind and accepted the fact that she would simply be sleep deprived today.

-

By the time 10:00 am rolled around, y/n was exhausted. She was running off 3 hours of sleep, and the coffee she had drank earlier was wearing off. Unable to re-fuel her energy by getting another, she was left tiredly sitting in her group session, eyes feeling heavier by the minute. It certainly didn’t help that this was her longest scheduled meeting, typically lasting up to 2 hours, depending on how chatty everyone was that day. Luckily for her, today’s session only went on for an hour. Once back in her unit, she was striding for the coffee machine. After pounding back her first cup like it was water, she quickly poured more of the liquid gold into her cup to sip on it throughout the day. She knew she would need it.

Come 4:00 pm, it was time for her daily stroll with Wayne. Y/n usually preferred having them scheduled in the mornings, but Fridays were typically very busy for her, and this late afternoon time slot was the best she could get. She met Wayne by the entrance of her unit, as per usual and they went on their merry way.

Although y/n wasn’t the most consistent person behaviour wise, Wayne had noticed a peculiar pattern during their time spent together walking around. When they first began their daily ritual, their path was varied day by day. Recently, she seemed to always prefer the 3rd floor, which was slightly odd, given that she had expressed her dislike for routines in the past; she liked structure, just not repetitiveness. What was odder was her onset need to run to the washroom or fulfill a craving. As y/n had planned, Wayne was in no position to question her, nor did he feel comfortable approaching that topic. Much to his dismay, this strange behaviour did need to be monitored and investigated, not because he personally wanted to, but because his position as her caretaker required him to. He braced himself for this potentially awkward conversation and gently eased his way into it.

“So, where are we heading today?” he began, “We thinkin’ the 2nd floor? Maybe 4th?” Wayne was aware of the 4th floor being off limits still, and he knew y/n was too. This was a test.

“3rd floor’s fine.” She answered, picking up on his odd demeanor.

“Works for me. How are you feeling today?” He was hoping he wouldn’t have to fish too much information out of her and that she would make this uncomfortable interrogation easy on him.

“A little tired, I didn’t catch much sleep last night.”

He could tell. Her eye bags much more noticeable than usual and her eyes slightly red from the fatigue. “What’s got your mind, kid?”

He was genuinely asking now, concerned for her well-being. Wayne had seen her go through the motions before, and he knew the consequences of these warning signs going unnoticed.

Y/n was starting to feel overwhelmed by the amount of white lies she was having to keep up. They didn’t seem big initially, but they were catching up to her now. She hated being deceitful, especially towards someone who had shown her nothing but compassion and kindness. Her mind was caught in this relentless game of tug-of-war, being torn between telling the truth or keeping up this charade. She couldn’t bare to think of the betrayal Wayne would feel if she fessed up, especially after all the work he had put into doing her the favor of getting her daily activity back. Wayne was forgiving, she knew this, but everyone has their limits.

It killed her inside, looking up at his concerned eyes, knowing that her next few sentences were nothing but a pack of lies, but she knew that admitting to her previous schemes would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment.

“I’m not sure, I think I just couldn’t get comfy.” Her mind shifted to Eddie, the clock ticking as she wanted to spend as much of her allotted 30 minutes with him as possible. She began blinking erratically, setting the scene for her next scheme. “Oh, ouch…” her hand shot up to her eye and she started gently rubbing it. “I think I’ve got an eyelash stuck in my eye, I’m gonna go check it out in the bathroom.”

Before she could scurry away, Wayne gently put both of his hands on her shoulders which completely halted her movements. “Hoooold it.”

‘Crap.’

“Let me take a look” he said, guiding her by her shoulders to face him. He was looking at her with an eyebrow raised suspiciously before letting go of her and crossing his arms.

‘Oh he’s definitely onto me…’  Y/n had to think on her feet to attempt to have at least one last interaction with Eddie before she inevitably had to confess to Wayne what she’d been doing.

“Oh, I’m really weird about eyes, I’ll just go look in the mirror quick!” she said still blinking frantically.

“I’m not gonna touch it, I just want to see, is it your right one that’s bugging you?” he asked, a suspicious look still painted across his face.

“You know now that you mention it, I think it’s both actually. Yup I feel it, woooh, that stings!” she started rubbing both eyes, pausing the blink a few times before continuing her distraught eye rubbing. She really wasn’t the best at acting or lying for that matter.

“What’s going on, y/n?” Wayne was getting impatient, and she could tell. She had definitely oversold it. If it wasn’t for the immense feeling of guilt constantly plaguing her, the sad look in Wayne’s eyes pushed her over the edge.

“Okay, um. I haven’t been entirely truthful with you these past few days.” She began, squinting her eyes as she braced herself for whatever reaction was about to erupt from him.

Despite knowing him for quite some time, y/n had just realized that she had never seen him get mad. Well, not at her, that is. It took a lot to anger him, but when that rage did come out, it was quite the sight to see. His anger was never directed towards people, more so inanimate objects, but boy, did he ever let ‘em have it.

From smacking the computer monitor due to it being frozen for hours or reefing on the finicky cabinet doors when they would get stuck, she could tell that you would not want to be on the receiving end of his fury. Y/n knew he would never get physical, but Wayne had a way with words, and she knew she did NOT want to be on the receiving end of them.

Feeling like there was no other way past it, y/n decided to face the music, no matter the outcome. She was terrified of the consequences that would ensue from her deceitful ways, but she knew that Wayne deserved honesty.

“I’ve been coming up with different excuses to have some alone time on our daily walks, but not because of you!” She wanted to make sure he knew this before everything else. “When you left to deal with the pen emergency-“

“Filing emergency” he corrected her with closed eyes, seemingly having war flashbacks from that stressful day.

“Right. Filing emergency. Well, when I was wandering around i made a friend. The problem was that he was on the 2nd floor, and I didn’t want to make things weird for him by having you standing with me like a bodyguard, all intimidating, so I thought that if I could sneak away for a few minutes everyday, I’d have more genuine conversations… I’m so sorry Wayne, I know I had no right to do that and I completely violated your trust-“

“I KNEW IT!” he exclaimed; a wide smile now plastered on his face. “You are smitten like a kitten.” He said, a loud laugh erupting from his chest as he crossed his arms once again, seemingly amused by your sudden confession.

“You…knew it? Wait what. How??” she exclaimed, her brain buffering. She was so confused, yet equally relieved.

“Oh come on, you think I’ve never snuck out of the house before to meet a girl when I was your age?”

“You- hold on… How…-“

“Listen kid, you’re not exactly the most believable trickster. I started to catch on to your pattern after the second day.”

Y/n was at a loss for words.

“Plus, you’re not that sneaky. You know, when you’d run out of the bathroom and book it to the stairwell, there’s a reflective mirror right by where I was standing? Saw you every time.” He stated, holding in a chuckle.

A snort escaped her, as she began to start piecing together her next sentence. “So what now? Am I in trouble?”

“God no, do you know how much paperwork I would have to fill out if I snitched on you?” he said while shaking his head. “Look, I’m not here to make your life miserable, and as far as I can tell, you’re not trying to make mine either. I’m hoping that after today you feel more comfortable talking to me, knowing that I’m not out to get ya?” His expression was soft and caring.

Even though the situation had worked out in her favour, his reaction made her feel awful. She could only hope that he wasn’t hurt by her actions and that this wouldn’t take a toll on their friendship.

“Now get outta here, your 30 minutes is almost up.” He quipped.

“How much time do I have left” she asked, genuinely having no idea how long their interaction had lasted. She assumed she most likely had only a few minutes left before needing to head back to her unit.

He paused, looked at his watch and smirked. “29 minutes.”

Before he could even brace himself for the hug, y/n sprung into action and wrapped her arms around him.

After a few seconds, she released him from her grip and gave him an appreciative look. “Thank you.”

Sensing her emotions and words we’re authentic, Wayne nodded, accompanied with a big smile before gesturing towards the door and taking a few steps back to lean against the wall. “I’ll be here when you get back, don’t b-“

“I won’t be late.” She interrupted, her words less of a statement and more of a promise. She wouldn’t let him down again.

_

Chapter 10

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[crossoverworldtree]

Superhuman Population Dynamics

These numbers represent the Upper Limit on Supernatural Entities within the expanded Buffyverse (or just the Buffyverse, really, since that is the main source of information) thanks to the horrors of Sunnydale High. Other sources will be cited upon use.

A while back a short essay entitled "Vampire Population Ecology" calculated the amount of "Vampires" (but, in practice, it works for any supernatural predator that feeds exclusively on humans) the town of Sunnydale could support using the methodology used for animals in the real world. It ended with a town of 36 thousand supporting about 18 Vampires on average. Taken to a global scale, that's about 3 million active predators lurking in the shadows, but monsters waiting to eat you are not the only being within the Buffyverse.

Thanks to Sunnydale High, we have an upper limit for which we can guess the total number of things that are different on earth but not actively seeking to devour humanity. Using the number of people who are aware, become aware, or become something else during the course of the show. Sadly, this does not include the entirety of the senior class in these calculations due to the extreme nature of Graduation Day (1998). From these observations, we get the following numbers when we apply Sunnydale High to the rest of the world.

1/14th of the global population would, given the Sunnydale Numbers, be somehow related to the Supernatural or be considered one. This amounts to 430 Million People in the year 2000.

Half of these would simply be people like Xander, who know about the Supernatural but say nothing (that's 215 Million People).  In the expanded Buffyverse, this would include bizarre gangs and henchmen as well as intrepid reporters and FBI agents seeking "The Truth".

A third of 430 Million would have paranormal abilities of one kind or another. Be it: Mage, Slayer, Most Werewolves, Mutant, or something else.

143 Million of these would be, effectively, non-human (demon in disguise, half-demon, some werewolves (those who are more/start as wolves or other animals), etc.).  According to Mahou Sensei Negima!, there are approximately 67 million Mages, this 67 million may or may not represent a single gestalt group. There are dozens of competing mage groups across the world. This leaves 78 million for other super-humans (mutants, Slayers, and odder things), with officially 2,000 of these being Slayers by 2003. That might seem like a lot of Slayers but understand something if real-world biology would be taken into account: there are (as of 2005) about 1,590 giant pandas living in the wild.; there are 4-7,000 Snow Leopards; 3-5,500 African Painted/Wild Dogs; and 5-7,000 tigers.

In other words, while there may seem to be a lot of Slayers--they fit the bill of an Endangered Species in terms of population. Possibly Critically Endangered due to their short life expectancies. I personally go for a higher number, if only because of the way they're treated as cannon fodder in Season 8. This may imply that there is a constant state of Slayers set at '2000' rather than '1 girl in all the world, as they never make any dialogue regarding 'running out' of Slayers.

The remaining sixth of this population segment is either folk who will rise as some form of Undead (Vampire, Ghost, Zombie) upon their death or are really good at hiding their undead natures (such as Red Court Vampires or those aligned with Wolfram and Hart). This amounts to 71 Million. The split between Hiders and Potential is literally 50/50 (35.5 Million).

Taking this to cities with high supernatural populations, we get the following:

In New York City (which is 3 cities here: Gotham, Metropolis, and New York): 452 Thousand Paranormals with 220 thousand Mages; 113 Thousand Potential Undead with another 113 Thousand currently undead; 678 thousand people in New York are simply aware of the supernatural.

Los Angeles has a population roughly half that of New York, so the numbers above would similarly be reduced.

In Tokyo, there would be 778 thousand various sundry undead; 309 thousand paranormals with 464 humans simply "Aware" of the goings-on.

With all this, the average person has a 1 in 33 chance of meeting or knowing a Supernatural Being or someone who is connected to such things.