#all this art stems from different times and different people that’s why they looks so different

[milks-thoughts]

︳Question: ❔❓❔

Do you have a persona? Or an main oc?

Please answer! I wanna draw you! <33

Oh! I have like 30 ocs lmao, so I rolled a wheel and you got the choice between a few! (because Nilima is a bit complex and I couldn’t choose)

[prettieinpink]

NEW YEAR, NEW ME

( A collab with thee lovely lele @bloombabydoll )

If you want to reinvent and rebrand yourself, or just continue to make positive improvements in 2024, the first thing is to evaluate your current year. 

EVALUATION

Reflect on how things went for you. Was there continuous growth? Were there many difficult times? Did you discover anything major about yourself and so on. Try to summarise your year in (a) paragraph(s) at least. 

Oversee your goals. Which ones you didn’t, did achieve, difficult ones, easy ones and the impacts it had on your life. 

Compare your dream girl then and now. Is your visualisation of your life currently different to the one you have now and why? 

List any major losses or successes you’ve had in your life, and how they have helped you or why it matters to you. 

This evaluation can be as detailed or simple as you like, but as long as you have a decent outline of your year. 

PREPARING & PLANNING

To prepare for 2024, you want to know what you want life to be like in 2024. Something realistic to a point, but still is a growth journey. 

Think of something that you can associate with 2024. This can be a word, a symbol, art, a song, a book, a movie, a place, or even just all of these things. When you think about your goals and your journey, this is your theme. This is something that should relate to your goals or your dream girl somehow. 

For me, I chose a word and a song. My word is growth because, for me, 2023 was a year for just being able to shed my old self which I did achieve however I just felt there wasn’t much growth as an actual person and not just in my environment. 

For my song, it is Mayflowers by Proleters and Taskrok. This song is the epitome of what I would imagine, is the most polished mindset. I would say perfect, but having a perfect mindset is near impossible. I want to have a mindset glow up because I’ve just been hard on myself lately which has caused my confidence to plummet. 

Before we get into the fun part of the preparation stage, we have to do some organisation in our life. I want you to take a look at your daily lifestyle and your habits, and be completely unashamed about this. 

Then categorise these habits into two sections; Leave and Leap. Leave habits are habits that you are leaving behind in 2023, leap habits are habits that are leaping into 2024 with you. 

Any habits that are self-destructive, addictive or generally harmful are leave habits. Beneficial habits and self-building are leaping with you into the new year.

I want you to do the same for people in your life, all environments (school, work, online etc) and anything else you believe needs to be sorted out. 

This works better if you can reason with yourself why it is a leaping or leaving habit, but don’t try to convince yourself a bad habit is good or vice versa. 

Now, I want you to document an honest paragraph about who you are right now. List your bad and good habits, your strengths and weaknesses and your behaviours. This one requires a bit more detail. 

Then, write a paragraph about who you will be in 2024, your dream girl. List her habits, lifestyle, behaviours, mindset, strengths and anything else extra. I’ll explain later but do not include materialistic desires in this your dream girl. Once again, this one also requires details. 

Stemming from those paragraphs, I want you to create specific and achievable goals. SMART goals are best, but I want to introduce you to how I set goals. 

I divide my year into quarters. For each 3 months, I have 3-5 goals for those months. Usually, it’s one from each area of my life. Then, I break down these goals. 

Questions and How They Help 

Why do I want to do this goal - For motivation and commitment. 

How it’ll benefit me - For the sake of improvement. 

How can I involve myself in this goal - To achieve your goal.  

I prefer this method because it is a lot simpler for me, as I am just a young girl and my bigger goals are more in the future in which I’ll utilise SMART goals. 

To create good goals; Make sure they align with your current values and life principles first. Try to avoid creating goals that you have just taken from the internet. Those goals just aren’t it and you most likely won’t follow through with it. 

Be specific. Don’t say you want to eat more healthily, instead say you want to include (a certain group of veggies/fruits) in your diet and reduce the intake of ( food/drink). 

E.g using eating healthy example

I want to eat healthy -> I want to start including foods that boost my immunity system and support my skin while reducing those that have the opposite effect. 

Then break down those quarterly goals into monthly, weekly and daily goals. Make these habits that you can establish in your lifestyle and have a way in which you can refer back to your progress. 

EXAMPLE GOAL BREAKDOWN

Quarterly Goal - Read 6 books.  

Monthly Goal - Finish 2 books.

Weekly Goal - Be or near half way of one book.

Daily Goal - 20 minutes of reading per day. 

AREAS TO SET GOALS IN YOUR LIFE

Academics

Spiritual

Fitness/sport

Health and wellbeing

Mental health

Personal life

Relationships

Hobbies and recreation

Now for the best part- vision boards! Collect all of your favourite images that embody your quarters or the whole year, then put them in one place where you can see them regularly!

Some ideas are a scrapbook, Pinterest boards, mood boards, playlists etc. 

Choose your theme; It can be your healthy girl era, your academic come back or whatever you want. You can have more than two btw.

Use quotes! Then actually say them in your daily life as a way to shift your mindset to reflect said quote.

Include inspirational people. It doesn't even have to be a millionaire or a very well established person, it could be your friends or someone on the internet.

Be imaginative. Your vision board doesn't have to realistic in my opinion, as the whole point of it to me is that viewing it daily and considering it to be part of your life one day allows for you to open up to those opportunities.

Materialistic Wants

I feel obligated to make this a separate section. This section is practically tangible objects that you want.

However, when choosing this said object that you want, mindfully think about why you want that thing specifically.

It doesn’t have to be meaningful, but as long as each thing on that list has got a purpose to you, and will serve you, I think it’s all good!

Conclusion

If you want, you can definitely start implementing habits before January. However, I believe that as long as you go into 2024 at least knowing who you want to be and shedding away any limiting beliefs, you’ll be fine.

Make sure to incorporate some self care rituals into your daily life as well✨

To end this, I hope everyone has a very merry Christmas! And that 2024 they will achieve to close that gap with their current selves and their dream girl selves! 💖🙏

[artydonsgf]

love your account! maybe jealous art, patrick, or tashi headcanons? like individually them and reader. can be nsfw or not :)

thank you lovely!! i’m so glad to hear that🥹🫶🏾 i’ll do you one better n just do all three of them!

enjoy jealous art, patrick, and tashi :)

Art Donaldson:

- extremely jealous

- literally feels sick with jealousy

- terrible at hiding his jealousy too

- if he feels someone is being too flirty with you, he calls you his gf fifty times in one conversation

- yeah my GIRLFRIEND loves that show too, yeah my GIRLFRIEND is such a good cook, yeah my GIRLFRIEND is the best person in the world

- he does this all with an unnaturally wide smile on his face too

- he trusts you with his life, he literally would believe you killed a bunch of people before he’d believe you’d cheat on him so you’re not the problem

- his problem lies in other hungry losers who eye you whenever you wear your cute tennis outfits to go practice with him

- has to remind himself it’s not reasonable to fight people who look at you too much </3

- his jealousy problem stems from a deep insecurity that you’ll leave him for the better option

- always incredibly clingy after he gets into one of his jealous moods

- bro needs therapy

Patrick Zweig:

- hear me out yall… i don’t think patrick gets jealous like that

- he knows hes hot shit

- he doesn’t care if people flirt with you because he knows you’ll shut it down and you’re deeply in love with him, why worry?

- once in a while he does get jealous and he’s tweaking BADDD

- his internal monologue goes CRAZY he’s wishing death on everyone n their mother

- in a god awful mood when he’s jealous

- it has nothing to do with you, he trusts you with everything in him he just hates other people perceiving you

- will make out with you in front of people n then give them a subtle middle finger when you’re not looking

- petty as hell before he goes back to being nonchalant

- this happens once a month

- he also needs therapy

Tashi Duncan

- she’s above jealousy

- sure it irks her that people can just look at you but she’s not worried

- you’re deeply in love with her and she’s deeply in love with you so why would she gaf about random people staring at you with heart eyes

- cause she gets it, she also stares at you with heart eyes

- the difference is, your heart eyes are reserved for her n her only

- the majority of jealousy in your relationship comes from your side actually

- how can it not? your girlfriend is the best tennis player in the whole country and everyone loves her

- if she does get jealous, it’s brief

- she communicates her feelings and expects you to do the same so jealousy isn’t really a threat to your relationship

- mature tashi for the win!

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Lens Flare

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: Over the past three months, your career has grown by leaps and bounds. Yet at the same time, you can't help feeling dissatisfied. A lot of your feelings stem from what you did the last time you saw him. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant Jake Seresin. It had been fun, in the hangar, under the dead of night - passionate and hot. So too had been the video you filmed and the pictures you'd snapped. But hindsight, well, maybe there is a reason why they say "Hindsight is Twenty-Twenty". Because Jake hasn't called, despite how badly you want him to. A new assignment in North Island might have the potential to change everything for Jake and our Shutterbug, including how they approach everything they hold dear.

Warnings: Once again, this is just some porn with plot. The feral plot bunnies ran away with me, I fear.

Word Count: 8502

A/N: Hiya everyone! I'm baaack! Enjoy this sequel to my fic Photo Finish. It's just as smutty and gorgeous as the last one!

This fic is brought to you all by the constant support of @horseshoegirl, @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern. You're all my heroes and I love you to bits for keeping me from ditching this story before it even started! I couldn't have written it without you!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

An old photography teacher of yours once told you never to submit photos with lens flares to any publication, magazine or contest. He considered lens flares the biggest mistake for a rookie photographer. He’d declared, quite adamantly in front of your entire class, using your pictures as examples, how lens flares made photos look cheap and low quality. Given his dislike of the trick of light, he’s also taught you a plethora of tricks to prevent them. Over the many, many years since you left his class, you’ve started to relax and deviate from the rigid rules of photography he once taught you. For a large portion of your career, you've been photographing subjects which cannot be posed in a studio, which helps. Every snick and whir of your camera feels like you are letting go of rules and embracing your art.

You’ve always heard wildlife photography has a tendency to relax photographers' attitudes. It’s a truth you’re very thankful you had the chance to experience. After all, there are no rules when it’s just you, your camera and what feels like the entire world a hair's-breadth away from your camera lens. It’s hard to be frustrated with the sun glancing across your camera lens when it highlights fox kits gamboling in dewy spring grass. Or elk on a frost-bitten winter morning with clouds of their breath dissipating into the clear air. Those pictures were once-in-a-lifetime shots, perfect in their imperfection and richer with the sparkling halos of light.

Being back in New York after years of traveling has made you appreciate the photographs you took even more. Now you feel like you can fully appreciate the wilderness in them. New York is wild in an entirely different way. It’s louder, greyer, more populous, yet just as vibrant. In New York, you’ve been able to capture human nature, snapping minuscule interactions between people who are always in a hurry and always moving. But you also have to work to make enough money to fund your passions. Not having to travel helped bring some stability to your passions. But of all of the things you thought you'd be photographing, fashion models and clothes were never an option. In a way, photographing fashion and fashion models is capturing another kind of wild animal in your lens sights. Models and designers are wholly proprietary and protective over what they consider theirs, whether their clothing or their aesthetic appearance. You’ve had to shoot and reshoot, as well as touch up your photos more than you've ever had to before. Of course, in this case, your primary objective is to make the models and the clothes they are wearing look otherworldly and incredible. 

At first, the thrill of doing something new was alluring and exciting. But after a year, trapped in New York City, doing the same thing and working with the same people day in and day out, you can’t help but miss wildlife photography. It's like a persistent ache below your breast bone, something calling you back to the life you lived before. You're missing traveling in arid deserts and verdant forests even more now. And then the US Navy came calling. Now, while you miss the wilderness, you think you might just miss something else, more.

It’s late, half-past three in the early hours of the morning, and you’re sitting out on the balcony attached to your overpriced shoebox of an apartment. You’ve found yourself sitting out here more and more as the summer heat turns into the cool of fall. Your balcony is so small there’s only room for a single chair, and your feet are propped up on the wrought iron railing. New York’s the city which never sleeps and the crackle and groan of the city resonates around you. Your oldest camera, a Canon you bought in college with the pennies and dollars you’d saved from tips earned from waitressing, sits on your lap. All night, you’ve been trying and failing to chase away how unsettled you’ve been feeling by peering through the viewfinder and trying to see things from a different perspective. 

But it hasn’t worked. You've been feeling discomfited of late, unsettled and restless. Maybe your listlessness has something to do with your next assignment. You can’t lie, not even to yourself no matter how hard you try. It has everything to do with your next assignment. You should be excited. You should be asleep, because at least if you were asleep, the time would pass sooner. For once, you will not be photographing a new designer collection. In the morning, you're flying to San Diego to take pictures at North Island Naval Base for a follow-up piece sanctioned by the US Navy. Your team is joining you, which should be a comfort, albeit slight and slim. There will be more planes to photograph and possibly shots you can take from within the cockpit or from up in the air.

It took three months to publish the article on the US Navy’s newest hotshot aviation squadron. There had been countless revisions and rounds of approval with the US Navy's Office of Public Relations to greenlight the endeavor. It's been exactly the same amount of time since you met the Dagger Squadron, too - only three months after you edited the photographs, focusing maybe a little too much on one face in particular. Three months after you took the biggest risk of your life, professionally and personally. Three months after you made a sex tape with a client. It doesn’t help that he was a memorable client, too - and how you haven’t been able to forget him.

It's only been two weeks since the magazine hit newsstands with your picture of the Daggers in all their finery near one of the jets on the front cover. Everywhere you go, it seems you see their faces - his face. Your phone has been ringing off the hook ever since. Everyone wants you to take professional portraits of their clients. But your phone has never had the voice you so desperately want to hear on the other end of the line. It's a nationally distributed magazine, after all, and like everything nowadays, published both physically and digitally. The magazine had also mailed special copies to each member of the squadron which was your subject. So he has to have seen it. So why hasn't he called? It's the one question on your mind. It may be the only question on your mind, but it's far from the only thought in your mind. 

Chances are, he doesn’t want to talk to you at all. After all, why would he want to?

You couldn't silence the thoughts if you tried - and you have tried, repeatedly. Getting drunk made you maudlin, going out had you seeing his face in every stranger’s and getting laid had made you wish you were with him rather than anyone else. Over and over again you’ve found yourself thinking about those last few moments with him, agonizing over every detail, from the kisses and touches to the last time you saw him. Maybe you hadn’t been entirely clear in your note to him. You can recall the note as if you wrote it yesterday, the note you'd affixed to the flash drive you handed him.

Sure, you told him to call you when he was in New York next. But really, you wanted him to call you, period. Or text you. Something, anything to show you’re lingering in his memory in the same way he lingers in yours. You thought your dalliance had been memorable enough. You hoped you were memorable enough. After all, it's not every day you let a man fuck you up against his jet and record it, forget a man you’ve known only for a few days. Maybe it’s a little silly how attached you’ve gotten to him, given the short time frame, after what should have been completely meaningless sex. 

But it’s not meaningless anymore, at least not to you, after how many times you've seen the video since you last saw him. Your camera hadn’t hidden a single thing when you made your little home movie all those nights ago. You’ve seen how his hands had been gentle, his eyes soft. Your entire countenance had been beckoning, beguiling in the throes of passion, needy in a way you’ve never let yourself be before with anyone else. He’s also spoiled you for any other man on the planet - or at least in New York. You haven’t hit the same heights since him, and a part of you is sure you never will again. And now you have to enter the lion’s den, venture right into enemy territory with your head held high and only a camera to shield your too-hungry gaze.

A thump on the railing drags you out of your reverie. Your neighbor’s escape-artist black cat makes himself at home on the railing, paws flexing as his tail lashes through the humid night air. Like you’re in a dream, you lift up the camera and peer through the viewfinder. Tonight, everything seems to be coming back to lens flares. The neon lights fracture in your camera lens, softening the visage of the cat on the railing, green eyes luminescent. With reflexes born of years of wildlife photography, partially stunted after nearly a year of fashion photography, you depress the shutter with a soft snick and a near-silent whir. What you’re left with is a long exposed image - neon lights blurring in the background as one shines behind the cat’s head. Even his fur is blurred, only green eyes in focus, piercing into your soul. It’s perfect, as expected, and you hope it’s an omen for the days to come while you’re in San Diego.

Green eyes, different from those of your neighbor’s cat, haunt you, even more, the following day as you pile out of one of the minivans the studio rented for you and your team, as well as all of your equipment, on the tarmac at North Island. The humid, sticky air stinks of jet fuel and salt water. The wind brushes past you, snatching at your hair and ripping your sun hat right off your head. It's hot as it brushes by, providing no relief to the insistent heat.

Your team just laughs as you chase, bedraggled and exhausted, after your hat. The wind pushes you towards the hangars at the end of the tarmac, colossal doors thrown open while rows of jets stand gleaming. For the first time, you think you understand why Jake is so in love with being up in the air in his jet, how close to the elements he must be with adrenaline coursing through his system. You raise the camera resting against your chest, leaving your hat to fly where it wants, because you have to capture this.

When your camera focuses, you start snapping with abandon, capturing the sun-drenched metal and heat waves rising off of the pavement.  You’re not sure what pictures the editors will select to go with the article the journalist is going to write. Regardless, you’re stealing the time to take some filler shots now, when it’s bright out still, and blindingly golden outside. Your team is far behind you, still clustered by the cars, as you trail between the shining metal hawks, cockpits closed and emblazoned with names and callsigns. Your heart stutters in your chest when you see his jet, the text dark and fresh, announcing he’s been promoted. So, he's still operating out of Naval Air Station North Island. 

Faintly, you can hear voices emanating from one of the open hangars, so you creep closer, your old Canon camera clutched to your chest like it can protect you. Twenty-four of the US Navy's best aviators are saturated in gold, settled in creaking plastic chairs. Jake’s at the podium, laser pointer in hand, completely relaxed as he talks about things you couldn’t understand if you tried. The light glints across his face, catching angelically on the burnished strands of his hair. A singular fluffy lock has broken free of his hair gel’s hold, trailing softly across his forehead. It makes your fingers ache to push it back into place. But you can’t, because you won’t interrupt or embarrass him. So you take pictures instead, breathlessly, silently, framing the aviators limned in gold like they’re deities waiting to go to war.

You’re not sure when it happens, but he sees you - bright green eyes colliding with yours, a nearly imperceptible frown creasing his brow before the skin smooths. He doesn’t look happy to see you. In a way, it makes sense. You were just a one-night stand, something sexy to indulge in - not someone he'd want to keep forever. The look lances through you, skewering you in place as the wind and sun stick your blouse to your back. He doesn’t acknowledge you but for one curiously blank look, and you’re mortified as you walk silently back to your crew, who are now grouped around the jets in awe.

As expected, Adam and Lea, your stylists extraordinaire, are already scribbling away. Lea's flicking through the tablet in her hands. If you were a betting woman, you'd bet good money they are already planning outfits to take advantage of the blue, gold and white theme of North Island.

“Hey, Boss!” Amy, your assistant, is nearly bouncing in place with her excitement. You're not sure how she's so energetic despite the heat and the hours of travel. “Our liaison should be joining us soon. They'll give us a tour of the base and then show us where we'll be setting up shop this week.”

She doesn’t notice how frozen your smile feels and how mechanic your nods are. All you can think about is Jake. He must have known, right? What are the chances he didn’t know you were coming to North Island to take more pictures? There must have been some briefing or notice informing the aviators why you're here. After all, you’re here to photograph the Dagger Squadron. Then why was his face so blank when he saw you earlier? Thinking about him is driving you crazy, but you're not sure you can stop. All you want is to know whether he could ever feel as strongly for you as you do for him.

When your liaison walks up ten minutes later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see you have not one liaison, but two. Neither of your Navy appointed liaisons is Jake, something which you should have expected, but you were still hoping for regardless. Lieutenant Commanders Trace and Floyd are smiling from ear-to-ear as they greet your team by name. Lea and Katie seem especially enthused at seeing the soft-spoken bespectacled WSO again. Lieutenant Commander Trace is her same unflappable, cool, collected self. Her presence and dry sense of humor has you in stitches as you and your team follow behind her like a herd of ducklings. There are familiar faces around what seems like every corner of the base. But none of the faces are the face you still want to see so desperately.

Jake Seresin shows up again as you’re oooh-ing and ahh-ing over the big hanger, burnished yellow, orange, red and pink in the light of the sun. You’ve got your camera up to your face, lips pursed in concentration, eyes squinting as you peer myopically through the viewfinder. It's his voice you hear first. Just hearing it, with the same rough timber, makes you remember what he told you, before you fell into his arms and headfirst into this situation with Jake Seresin.

God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum.

It’s not a good sign, is it? How you’re unable to even look at his face without giving yourself away. The evidence of your feelings must be on your face, which feels uncomfortably hot. The heat is completely unrelated to San Diego's sky-high temperature and you shy away from eye-contact when you pivot and face the rest of your team, and the trio of Lieutenant Commanders. The sight of him hits you in your solar plexus, robbing your breath and leaving your palms uncomfortably clammy.

“Hi.” 

It’s a quiet greeting, your voice swallowed by the sight of him. It feels like your tongue is two times bigger than it should be in your mouth, unwieldy as you force it to move like you want it to. He doesn’t hear you, or even acknowledge you standing there waiting for him to notice you. Standing there, you finally realize how big a gulf there is between you and Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin.

It's a sharp contrast. He's standing there in his khaki uniform crisp and new, blond hair dark at his temples from the shower he must have taken. In contrast, your shirt is covered in wrinkles, your hair is frizzy with flyaways escaping your braid and your worn jeans are butter soft but have definitely seen better days. He ignores you for the rest of the afternoon. It hurts, of course it does, when he doesn’t notice you in the same way you notice him. But you have a job to do. You can’t - you won’t - jeopardize your career for a man, not even a man as beautiful as he is.

The now-trio of Lieutenant Commanders shows you the Officer’s ready room, where you'll be setting up for the interviews. Each member of your team is also given a badge on a lanyard allowing you limited access to certain areas of base. Soon enough, you're left to survey the ready room and prepare your team for the days ahead.

“I know it's been a long day already for you all.” Your smile is a little wry as you continue, “It's been a long day for me too. All I want is to unwind and get out of these heels!”

You let the scattered chuckles from your team peter out before continuing.

“Before I can do so, we need to sync up on what we're going to be focusing on over the next few days.”

“First and foremost on our list? Getting pictures of the Daggers while they are being interviewed. The interviewer is an old friend of Admiral Kazansky's and will be spotlighting each of the Daggers. As a part of the interview, we will be expected to get photos of each member of the squadron in their flight suits, their khaki uniforms and their dress uniforms.”

You raise your hands up to stall any questions. “I'm aware this isn't exactly the type of photo shoot we're used to. Katie, you’ll be on hand to help with their make-up during the interview. We're keeping it light and subtle. For the interview photos, we want the aviator's uniforms and medals to shine.” 

“Seb and Kris - the two of you will be measuring the light levels in this room during various times of day and setting up artificial studio lights as necessary. I'll also need you both to check on the lighting situation in the big hangar we were in with the desks and the United States flag on the wall.”

“Adam and Lea, it may not sound like it yet, but I will need you both on your A-games. By special request of Admiral Mitchell, we've been asked to stage a beach bonfire. He wants this interview to echo the beginnings of this squadron. They became a team on the beach and now they are a family. I'm thinking we need cozy textiles and bright winter-toned colors. I'll leave the color palette to you both. All I ask is we have a cohesive palette for the squadron as a whole. As always, measurements for the aviators are included in this dossier. One of the minivans is yours. Our office in San Diego knows to expect you both.”

It doesn’t surprise you at all when Adam and Lea make a beeline for the doors as soon as you’re done with them. You’ve worked with them both long enough to know how they operate. They’ll be downtown and looking through the clothing on display before you can blink.

“Ames, while I run point with the admirals,  you'll be sourcing the beachfront we can use for the bonfire. I'm not sure who you'll need permission from, but there might be a bar owner who can give us permission.”

Before long, it feels like you're the only island of calm in the entirety of base. Seb and Kris wander in and out of the room, measuring the light and carting in and out lighting equipment. Even the teleconference you have with the Admirals, both of whom are in Hawaii, due to fly back in a couple of days, goes smoothly.

Over the next few days, you find yourself building on the rapport you created with 6 of the aviators in the Dagger squad in the following days. You also meet the other half of the Dagger Squad. But at the same time you are building a relationship with the other Daggers, it feels like you're losing the relationship you once had with Jake.

The only time you see him during the four days of interviews and pictures is when he is being interviewed. Even then, he spends more time chatting with Amy and Katie than you. Even when you address him directly, he's silent, content to play puppet to your puppet master and then disappearing to an area off base you don't have access to. It hurts, and you’re starting to get weird looks from the other Daggers. They’re all too polite, or too cognizant of their positions in the Navy to ask you any prying questions. At least, until the bonfire.

It hadn’t been difficult to organize at all, in the end. All Amy needed to do was speak to the proprietress of The Hard Deck, a little bar a few miles off base. Penny had been more than happy to hand over the usage of the beach outside her bar for the night. The combination of good food, even better alcohol, and of course, no interviews relaxed the Daggers enough for you to get the candid shots the magazine was looking for. Halos of light spark across your screen with each snap you take - lens flares sparking to life, again and again.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with Jake?”

The question makes you jump and nearly chuck your lens cap into the bonfire. You fumble awkwardly as you try to collect your composure.

“Lieutenant Commander Trace. What can I do for you?”

Your voice is a little shaky as you wheel around and face her.

“You don’t have to do anything for me!” She’s smiling at your discomfort, something wicked curling her lips. “And anyways, didn’t I tell you to call me Natasha three months ago?”

 You’re smiling despite yourself at her antics.

“It’s good to see you again, Natasha.”

“Forget about me. Why aren’t you talking to Jake?” 

You should have known she wouldn’t be able to let it go.

“Three months ago, you could barely keep your eyes off of him and the same was true of him. He went out of his way to chat you up every chance he got. And now? Something happened between the two of you after we all left the hangar, and now neither of you is talking. You were fine when you showed us the pictures the next day. But now?”

You shrug, lifting your camera up to snap another couple of pictures of the squadron having fun.

“Oh my god. I can’t with the two of you. Either you walk over there and talk to him, or I’m going to get him to talk to you!”

You grab her arm before she can march away.

“I can’t, Natasha.”

You try grabbing for her, but before you can, she’s already gone. His eyes cut over to yours the more she speaks, and you’re not sure you like the way he’s glancing over at you. Your heart is in your throat as he skirts around the bonfire and sidles up to you.

“What are you doing here? Natasha has this crazy idea you’re heads over heels for me, but the way you’ve been acting says differently. So what are you doing here?”

His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it over the crackling bonfire. His face doesn’t change its expression once the entire time he’s speaking to you, barring one tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it smirk. Once again, you have to thank Adam and Lea for their work because the Lieutenant Commander looks good enough to eat in his sweater and butter-soft jeans. But you know he's not happy to see you. The disappearing act he's been pulling ever since he saw you outside the hangar four days ago is proof.

“You know what I’m doing here, Jake.” 

“You're taking photos for another article. I know, I know.”

His smirk deepens, eyes twinkling maddeningly as he prowls closer to you.

“But between you and me, it’s just the official excuse, isn't it?” He tugs at a strand of your hair, reeling you closer to him. “But unofficially, I bet you want more of me. Maybe you want to make yourself another home movie? See my handprint on your ass cheeks again?”

His words have heat rising to your face, never mind how your skin already feels too toasty from how you've been huddling near the bonfire all night to keep yourself warm. Form-fitting dresses are not beachwear, especially not in late November. But you’re dressing to impress, wearing sharp blazers and business frocks. Add to the dress the camera and purse you’ve got over your shoulder, and you’re definitely not equipped for the beach.

“How do you know what I want?”

Your voice is thready and light, and your head spins the closer he gets to you. It's weird. You've been aching to have him this close to you all week, but now, when he is actually close to you again, you feel like it's too much, like he's too much. Every night in your hotel room, you've been coaching yourself to ignore him. You’ve had to in order to compartmentalize and be professional while on base. Yet, after only a few minutes in his presence, all your defenses are shredded like tissue paper.

“Because you're looking at me like this.”

Wafts of fragrant wood smoke drift by you and him as you stand mere inches away from each other. You can’t refute his statement. Not even a little bit, not even at all. You've never been able to mask your emotions, wearing your heart on your sleeve and your feelings in the pursed set of your mouth and the raise of your eyebrows. But you’re still not sure what you can say. If he’d propositioned you with the same vulnerable look in his eyes the first day you were in North Island, when he first saw you again, you would have folded like a cheap lawn chair. Then, you probably would have been more than content to pass on your expensive hotel room and make his lonely base apartment a little warmer. But he didn’t, and you’re not sure you can take the risk anymore.

Jake’s shoulders hunch, sinking into the impossibly soft cashmere of the sweater at your lack of response.

“I…” His smirk flattens, something like his Hangman mask taking its place. His shoulders never drop past his ears the longer you stand there with him at arm’s reach and pretend like you’re having a blast at this beach photoshoot turned bonfire party.

“I’ve read this all wrong, haven’t I?”

His sigh is gusty and almost too loud. “I was waiting for you to say something, because I’ve been dying to see you again. But then you ran away when you were taking pictures of the Top Gun class. Afterward, I - I didn’t know how to say I missed you, which is weird, I know. We only knew each other for a singular night.”

If your jaw isn’t on the floor already, you know it will be soon. Already, you’ve been getting too many questioning glances from your team and the Dagger Squadron. Then there is Natasha’s well-meaning meddling from a few minutes ago. Even the admirals have glanced over every once in a while at you and the normally cocky Lieutenant Commander standing in near silence. It’s not a conscious thought which has you whirling around in the silky sand and snagging a hand into his sleeve. You’re not sure why you’re doing it. All you know is if you’re having this out now, you need to have it out in private where it will not be injurious to your career or his.

Thankfully, Jake doesn't fight you as you pull him towards a corner of the parking lot. Your face feels flushed, and your chest heaves with panic at the thought someone could know what you and Jake did.

“I…” 

You cover his mouth with your hand, pretending the feeling of his skin on your hands doesn't burn, like you’re not completely aware of the masculine heat emanating from his skin. For several long moments, you stand in the shadows between two pick-up trucks in the parking lot. Each of your muscles is tense, waiting for someone to realize you've disappeared with Jake Seresin, of all people. You don’t want to think about the possibilities they were assuming. The prickling, uneasy sensation doesn't pass with the moments but does fade a little.

“What was that about, huh?”

You just glare in response.

“I thought it was better to have this conversation where we were less likely to be overheard, is all.” 

Your voice is prim, and your nose is tipped upward. It's obvious Jake doesn't feel the same way you do about this conversation, if he’s asking you questions like this.

“C'mon, sugar. If you wanted to let me down, you could have just said it by the bonfire. I promise I won't harass you.” His brow is furrowed as he thinks through all the implications of your statement. “Then or now.”

“I…” You fling your hands upwards, feeling this sudden urge to rage at the stars above you. How have things gotten so twisted? In your head and between you and Jake? 

“I don't want to let you down, Jake.”

You growl, then, because you know what you feel, but the words aren't coming out of your mouth the right way. He's patiently waiting for you to figure it out, lips pressed into a thin line, and green eyes scorching through you.

“I’m not rejecting you, Jake. When I came to North Island Naval Base and saw you standing in front of the lectern, I wanted you to smile when you saw me. I wanted some indication you felt the same way I did. I also wanted to kiss you, but it wouldn’t have helped then.”

You're smiling again, just a slight curve to your lips, a smile Jake is mirroring.

“Then you pretended I didn't exist. You pretended I was just someone you worked with before. Not someone who you were intimate with. Not someone whose life you changed with your stupid smile and your piercing eyes and your big, gentle hands. I…” 

To your embarrassment, you're sniffling and fighting back tears. “I didn't know why, or how to deal with it, so I just pushed back all my feelings. I pretended the same thing you did, and tried to ignore how much it hurt.”

“Fuck.” The quiet expletive echoes around you. “I messed this up, didn't I?”

He's pacing now, back and forth in front of you, shoes sliding through the gravel as he marches. He's ruffling his hair, face scrunched up in anguish at your words.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I've watched our video so many times, I know my favorite parts. Fuck, sweetheart, I even took the picture of your ass with my handprints on it with me when we were deployed a month ago. I was nearly given so many demerits because of how hot that picture is.”

Your heart seems like it’s going to burst out of your chest, beating as hard as it is. 

“So why didn’t you call?” The same plaintive, sad tone is in your voice again.

“What could I have said?” He’s finally stopped pacing back and forth at least. He flings his hands out from his hips “Sweetheart, I want you, I need you. I wish I could fly to New York right now to taste you again?”

You have to snicker at the sarcastic, sardonic note in his voice. 

“It’s a little melodramatic, but I would have taken it.” 

Just as quickly as you snicker, the laugh peters away into a gentle sigh. “All you had to do was tell me you missed me, Jake. All I wanted was for you to tell me you wanted to see me again.”

“Would it have mattered if I did?” 

He’s stepped closer again, close enough you can feel the heat of his skin against yours. One of his big hands cradles your jaw as he looms over you.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.” There’s a smirk on his face as he ghosts his lips over yours.

“Why would my answer matter then?” You’re not sure where the sass is coming from, but it’s making Jake smirk even more. “Knowing the decision you made?”

Thankfully, you don’t have to think of a response with a brain wholly occupied by the man drawing you into his arms. You melt into the kiss like it's something visceral you've been missing. His hair still feels the same against the pads of your fingers, golden silk, as you wrap your arms around his neck. He still tastes like you remember, too, cinnamon and smoky spice intermingling on your tongue as he licks into your mouth. Your heart sings when he gently positions your camera so it isn’t crushed between the two of you.

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing after his mouth like you're addicted to it. He still kisses like he flies, you note dimly, thoughts far away. The car at your back is cool, the metal searing into your skin as the sun has long since set. But the cold temperature of the car has nothing on the man crowding you up against it. His eyes are lidded, gaze hot as he takes in the sight of you. The dual temperatures are enough to make you shudder.

“Look at you, darling.” His hands are just as hot as his gaze as he trails his hands down your sides. “A single kiss, and you’re aching for me.”

You can’t deny the effects this man has on you. In truth, the time for denial would have been some time before you made the movie at the hangar. You’re so far down this path there isn’t a way to turn back. 

“You want me just as much.” 

Your voice is quieter than the rush of the waves, yet loud enough you can see the impact as they hit his ears. He’s still just as fit as he was three months ago, all hard, hot muscle as he presses up against you, cedar and plum wafting through the air off his skin. You can feel the jut of him against your hip as he muscles you even further against the car, spreading you out like a meal he wants to eat. He transfixes you with a glare when he pulls away, even as he smirks at your breathy moan. You watch, eyes lidded, as he opens the truck door and sets your things on the broad seat. You’re panting with need when he comes back to you, body shivering as he leans into you again. His hands find their home against the curve of your waist, fingers still nimble as they focus on tracing your curves in a way which might be driving you just a little mad. You almost wish you were wearing a blouse and skirt again like last time, because at least then you could feel his hands spread across your ribcage, searing their heat into your bones.

You’re lost in him, utterly captivated by the way his tongue tangles with yours, the way he makes you moan. Unlike the rough, claiming kisses of your first sexual encounter with Jake Seresin, these kisses are tender and sweet. They’re searching and tasting, like he’s trying to learn what makes you tick and what makes you moan. In truth, it feels like he’s trying to take you apart only to put you together again. This time, you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same, forever changed by the man in your arms. 

“Fuck…” The word is an exhale pressed to your pulse-point, sticky, sweet, and blindingly hot. “Baby, let me take you somewhere other than this dusty, dirty parking lot. I think I really need to see you spread out on my bed this time.”

“Yes, please.” The words leave you in a strung out moan as you tug him closer, fisting your hands in his hair and sweater as you see fit. You’re past caring so long as he’s pressed so perfectly against you.

When he finally steps back from you, you’re gratified to see he looks just as rumpled and debauched as you feel. For a few moments, you stand there, drinking him in, hands aching to draw him close again, to touch him again. He takes your hand, entwining his fingers and yours. His hand dwarfs yours, skin slightly rough as his hand cradles yours. You let him lead you to the truck and help you in, because a part of you isn’t sure you’re going to be able to let him go even when you have to.

It’s silent, but for the sounds of the road as he starts his pickup, one hand never leaving its spot on your thigh. Your hands find the camera again, snapping with abandon the vista blurring past the windows and the man driving you. The streetlights halo through the lens view, speckling the pictures with circles of golden-butter light. It seems like time slips past in a slow trickle. You’re still looking through the camera when the engine cuts off, the sounds of the night trickling slowly back into your ears.

Jake’s eyes sear through you when you carefully gather your camera and bag up, legs shaky from that look alone as you step onto the pavement. His hand finds yours again, as you follow his broad back up a flight of stairs and through an unassuming white paneled front door. You’re surrounded by the cedar and plum of his cologne as you step in, the scent lightly drifting through the air. Jake crowds you against the door as soon as it closes, hands divesting you of your things even as his mouth slants over yours again. The heat sparking between you ignites again, a flame bursting to life in your chest, fed by the soft moans leaving his lips as you kiss him with wild abandon.

For much of the way to his bed, your eyes are closed. You trust Jake to lead you the right way, not to hurt you as you stumble and shudder your way through the apartment in his arms. His lips don’t leave yours once, moans ripping out of your mouth as he leaves you breathless. He’s far from quiet too, softly grunting when you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, gasping open mouthed into yours as you rub at his bulge. Arousal bubbles in your veins, crashing over and through you. You squeal when he pushes you onto his bed, the mattress so firm it's almost hard as you bounce against it. Your hands shake as you fight with your clothes. Adrenalin makes you clumsy as you nudge your shoes off and fight futilely with the zipper at your back. Eventually you give up, choosing to lean back on your palms. When you look up, Jake’s staring down at you, eyes trailing from the curve of your mostly exposed legs up to your chest and back down again. He’s got his lower lips between his teeth, brow furrowed as he shrugs the sweater off.

Once again, you remind yourself to thank Lea for her work, because if you thought the shirt looked good buttoned up, it looks even better as it slips off his arms. He’s still wearing his dog tags, the silver chain glinting in the moonlight through the windows as he prowls over you.

“You’re still prettier than the pictures you take, baby.”

You feel like you are barely breathing as Jake licks into your mouth. The heat of his body grounds you, the points of contact just enough to tell you this is real.

“Breathe, beautiful.” His hands draw you up until you’re kneeling on the bed, your hands on his shoulders as you peer up into his eyes. Your resulting exhale is shaky as you drag in breaths with just enough oxygen to keep your head from spinning.

“Let’s get you out of this pretty dress, huh?”

“Jake.” His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer. His hands are practiced, sure as they drag the zipper down from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine. The fabric of your dress gapes forward until it’s around your waist.

Jake's eyes seem to glow in the moonlight as he takes in the simple black bra you're wearing, hands tender and hot as they drag over your bare skin, mouth wet and sharp as he drags his teeth across your collar bones.

“Mmm, baby.” His moan has you gasping, your body listing into his as he purrs the words into your skin. “I'm going to make you feel so good.”

When he lets go of you, your nipples are firm peaks in the cool air. When he removed your bra, you're not sure. All you know is you want him, desperately, urgently. Your panties feel like too much material as they cling to you, the gusset damp. Your hands are clumsy as you wrench the dress off, shaking as you peel your panties away from your skin, you flush as Jake's chuckles echo in your ears.

Divested of your clothes, you're faced with one of the prettiest sights of your life. Because, Jake’s standing there, with his belt unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned. His cock bulges out through the v-shaped opening, and your mouth waters as you look him over.

“God, Jake, please.” Your voice is a whine as you reach for him, fingers resting against his taut abdomen, back arched as you wait on all fours.

“I’ve got you baby.” 

His promises drip over your bare skin like hot and gentle summer rain. Your eyes close as he cups your jaw, the rustle of fabric foretelling his bare skin joining yours on the bed. You let him position you where he wants, drugged by the sensations of his big hands. You steal the opportunity to kiss him again, palms splayed over his pecs, and the cool chain of his dog tags brushing against your fingers. Falling into him is too easy. It’s just a series of kisses, a sweet tangle of tongues as you let him cradle you in his arms. Sparks of need, of want traverse your moon-stained skin, hips canting against his thigh in need.

“How long has it been since you’ve cum, sweetheart?” 

There’s amusement in his tone as you wrap your arms around his neck, breasts pillowed against his chest as you nudge his nose with your own.

“Just a couple of days ago.”

His chuckle makes you pout. 

“And how did you cum?”

He rolls you over, ghosting a kiss over your lips as he peers down at you. “Was it some guy you brought home? Who didn’t know how to make these pretty moans spill out of your mouth? Did he make you think of me the whole time?”

When you moan, it’s because he’s pressing into you, the stretch of him making your toes curl.

“N-no.” You screw your eyes up, trying to string the words together. “It was just me. With a vibrator, watching our video.”

“Fuck, there’s my good girl. Waiting for your Lieutenant Commander to make you scream, right?”

You’re so far beyond words all you can do is tug him down, fisting your hand in his hair until you can kiss him again. He’s just as eager to pull you in, hitching your legs up until they’re propped over his arms, keeping you spread open as he pistons his hips until you see stars. 

“Please, please, please.” 

You’re babbling, your orgasm crashing over you with each sharp thrust. Your moans intertwine with Jake’s guttural grunts as his hips stutter at their steady pace. It feels like you’ve been set on fire when you cum, pulsing waves of heat washing over your body. Jake’s shivering as he slumps over you, blanketing your body with his. His hair is sweat-damp as you card your fingers through the fluffy strands.

“Missed you, Jay.” 

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” The words are languid and soft, syrupy and sweet. 

It feels like you could fall in love with Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin as he gathers you in his arms for what must be the hundredth time tonight to clean you up. Every glimpse of the man you see when he's not putting on his Hangman mask intrigues you more. There's a gentleness to him when he's like this, a secret softness shining past his imposing exterior. You want to know more. You have to know more. 

The realization of how little time you have left with Jake eviscerates you. Only two days left. Two days to love this man as much as you can. You can’t tell him how close you are to falling for him. Looking at his apartment, you have a feeling it would just scare him away. His apartment is almost austere, the off-white walls blending into the pale cream carpet on the floor. Everything is bare, with no pictures on the walls and no personality. It’s a trend throughout the entire space, everywhere but the bedroom. There's a cheery quilt at the foot of the bed. It's the only vibrant color in the apartment, the one thing which screams home.

“It's pathetic, isn't it?”  You jump at his words, gripping at the footboard of the bed in an effort to keep from falling.

“It's not pathetic, Jay. Just…” You turn, clad in the soft tee he'd pulled over you after the shower. “Just different than I expected.”

“I know what it looks like, sweetheart.” The same sad soft tone is in his voice again. “It looks like I don’t have any roots. Like I’m scared to let people in.”

He slides his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, his golden hair dripping as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “Maybe that is the truth.” 

Your heart breaks a little at the soft surety in his voice, even as he does his best impression of a koala around you.

“Because like it or not, I’m going to leave one day. I’ll have to leave one day. Another deployment. Another mission. And chances are, I may not be coming home.”

You clutch at him tighter, because right now, you’re not sure you can think about him not being in San Diego the next time you’re here.

“I was okay with my reality.”

When you wrestle your way out of his grip, you’re maybe a little too rough, evidenced by the grimace on his face as you walk away. You’re not sure where you’re going but away has to be enough. You’re not sure you can face him after he’s said something like this. After all, here you are, ready to risk it all in a sultry cross-country romance, ready to give your heart to him, possibly years of your life to him. Then there he is, admitting so callously he might not be coming home one day.

You’re staring unseeingly at the stars when he slides his arms around you again.

“Are you okay, Shutterbug?” 

You lean back into him, because he feels perfect against you still.

“Shutterbug is new.” You’re trying to change the subject, because if he’s insistent about it, you’re going to explode.

“Nuh-uh.” His hands turn you around until you’re looking at him again. “Tell me what’s bothering you, pretty girl.”

“You’re so callous about how you’re ready to never come home again! Why would you say that to me, Jake? I’m ready to risk everything for you. A cross-country relationship, half here, half in New York or really, wherever it’s convenient for us to meet. If you’re not willing to do the same, then what is the point of what we just did?”

You’re choking back a sob as you stand in front of him. Your eyes are screwed closed, hands wringing the hem of the t-shirt clothing you. 

“Why does it matter that you missed me, and that I missed you?”

“It matters, because, sweetheart, you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.”

Your arms wrap around his waist easily as he tugs you closer.

“I was going to say, I was okay never coming home before you. You’ve been running around in my head, the center of every thought, the subject of my every dream for three months. You kept me going when we were deployed, too. All I wanted was to come home safe so I could fly out to New York and see you again.”

“Now, at least I know I’ll be welcome when I come by.”

You’re smiling from ear to ear as you kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Yeah, you will be.”

You're still smiling as you walk into the Officer's Ready Room at North Island the next morning. You've got the same swagger you had in your step the first time you and Jake crashed together. Only this time, you have his phone number on your phone and the promise of a romantic dinner for two tonight. You'd be lying if you said you weren't still worried about the long distance relationship, spending half your life in New York and half here. But more than anything, you're ready for the challenge and excited to. At least you know who you're going home to - and, he knows who he is coming home to, as well.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @dakotakazansky @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @a-reader-and-a-writer @hookslove1592 @mshistorylover @hangmanssunnies @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

I got something else to ask about this look. I saw a comment that it's carmy starting to notice the pattern of her scarf- he looks up a bit - fixated on her then moves his eyes. Like he's so close to figuring it out? I can sorta see it and it brings up a quick rant.

Would it really be far-fetched that Carmy made the sauce inspired by Sydney- like expressing his love for her through this?

Carmy didn't just make a sauce inspired by Sydney’s scarf but from watching her wear different polka dots throughout the month, starting with that dress at Marcus' mom's funeral. This is the same guy who noticed Tina dressing like Syd, who spotted her Thome Browne shirt, notice her sailor moon outfit and had to express he's taking her in, and got her a jacket from the same designer—in the perfect size, no less.

Marcus even foreshadows this by saying he and his mother would pay attention without words. Carmy is paying attention to Sydney, but he does it from a distance. Why? Because Carmy is bizarre like that—his words fall short, he’s shy, artsy, and just a weird little dude, as Tiffany and Richie say and -

Sidebar: I trust Tiffany and Richie's judgment, although it is harsh. They’re observant and can notice dysfunction (though Richie helplessly participates at times). They see traits they don't want to pass on to Eva. They know Carmy's issues stem from his mom, so when they call him weird, it’s more of a bit of confusion. Carmy made her sprite, and it surprises Tiffany and Richie. This gesture is unexpected.

In the same episode, Stevie mentions that bears are both aggressive and kind. That’s Carmy in a nutshell. This is why Tiffany is confused about why Richie would set Claire up with Carmy because she’s so nice, and he’s, well, complicated.

This man spent all of high school being shy and just making detailed drawings of Claire!

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. Carmy has always been shy and has trouble communicating his feelings. He expresses himself through food and art. This has been confirmed multiple times, yet some people find it far-fetched to see this as Carmy's way of processing his feelings for Sydney.

[gluion]

first to know you, first to love you ➵ eric sohn

all you should care about is graduating with flying colors, so why are you starting to care about your seatmate?

requested by @mosviqu @sohnric for the song "valentine" by laufey

general genre/warnings ➵ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, afab reader (they/them pronouns), reader is a psychology student who has so much aspirations (and also believes love and studies cannot be balanced), eric is your seatmate-turned-friend-turned-lover, library dates reading dates study dates you name it!, eric is the most supportive guy out here, he annotates a book for you..., references to books and poetry, he buys you stuff, and he reads a book for you!!, slight hurt/comfort, kissing, also unedited IM SORRY!!!

word count ➵ 10k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel

a/n ➵ okay i am WITHIN the word limit!! but i know i went over the limit of scenarios (this may be the last time this happens... i don't know yet... help?) but i hope you enjoy this bar!! i am not too happy about my writing style for this one :') and i know reader may not be very "black cat" as i know you but i hope you'll still enjoy it to the fullest </3 also i made sure to not mention anything related to height LMFAO for the other readers: if you enjoyed this, always make sure to reblog (even if it’s on your tbr)!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

The years spent in university may be defined differently by everyone. Some may live out these years to enjoy the supposed independence they craved in high school. Others may spend those years exploring their interests and hobbies as they figure out what their future may have in store for them.

You, however, were a different case—head in scientific journals and coursework with a plan to graduate summa cum laude. As you study in a quota course, you’re determined to come out of university with flying colors. In a sea of students who are of similar (or even better) skill sets as you, the desire to be recognized as one of the top students is what you long for.

And for you, that means you were set on not entertaining ideas that may divide your attention from your studies—you were not going to allow yourself to fall in love in your years of university.

That is until a certain boy who goes by Eric Sohn came into your life.

CHAPTER ONE: LOVE LABORS LOST

The season of summer still lingers in the air; birds chipper as they sit on the tree branches; the sun glows yellow in the sea of blue; people point their fans at themselves as they are forced to bask in the heat.

But the new academic year has commenced, and you are determined to ace your classes once more. You’ve read the syllabi of all the classes you were going to take, even ones for your general subjects. Many people believe that general subjects are a waste of their time. You, however, thought differently, especially since one of the subjects you’re taking this semester is English Literature.

Coming from a STEM-oriented course, you may not seem like the type to enjoy literature. But the reality is that you love to learn about poets and writers—ones who seemed to craft worlds and dynamics that you could never translate into words. This misconception of those who enjoy science being unable to appreciate written bodies of art is one you face. But at least this course is a general subject, leaving you on equal footing with individuals from different courses.

You sit by the window as you wait for your professor to finish setting up his laptop. It’s syllabus week, so there wasn’t much to be worried about. Once he clears his throat, he shows the class a smile.

“Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Hwang Taejoon, and I am your professor for Introduction to English Literature.” He takes a moment to look down at his clipboard which you can only assume holds a list of his students’ names. “If this isn’t your class, you may take this opportunity to leave.” Some students get off their seats and make their way outside the classroom.

As soon as they left, your professor smiled before clapping his hands. “I’m excited to go through this semester with you. I know this is only an introductory course for you, so I will make sure to guide you all throughout. Now, will–”

The door of the classroom slams open. Your eyes snap to where the sound comes from, showing a boy whose black hair is all tousled up as he pants. He’s all dressed up in a varsity jacket over his hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. You notice how his hand quickly reaches out to his head, fixing his hair. 

The boy then immediately bows down to the class (mostly to your professor) as he says, “Sorry about being late!” Your eyes drift back to Mr. Hwang whose face now holds a frown in contrast to the smile he once showed to you. “I promise, I won’t be late for any other session!”

Mr. Hwang grumbles before he takes another look back down to his clipboard. “Go take a seat.”

The boy stands up straight before flashing your professor an apologetic smile. He quickly makes his way to find a seat. Despite the vacant seats that are located throughout the class, his eyes quickly skimmed through them. That is until his eyes land on you. You notice how his eyes flicker to the empty seat beside you. And the next thing you know, you find him situated to your right.

You try to keep your eyes on your laptop, looking at the text on the syllabus. You didn’t want to stare at him—the boy who took the vacant seat beside you out of all the ones situated around the classroom.

The noise he creates as he brings out his laptop is not loud enough to interrupt the discussion but can drown out your professor’s words. But as soon as he settles down, you notice that he sets his hand down on the space between the two laptops. You cannot help but let your eyes flicker to it, and you notice his wrist is littered with beaded bracelets.

“Now, I’ll be discussing the outputs you are expected to deliver within the semester.” Your eyes snap up to where your professor is, standing right behind the table as he looks through his laptop.

You were ready to focus for today’s session until you felt someone tap your shoulder. As you look to your side, you are met with a boy who shows you a smile—one that is enough to almost have you smiling back, just almost.

“Hi, can I ask if there was anything I missed?” It’s a simple question, but you find yourself unable to formulate an answer. His voice is enough to send you into a lullaby; he could have his own podcast and you’d listen only to hear him speak nonstop, whether it would be of logical discussions or nonsensical chatter.

Without any idea of how to voice your thoughts, you only shake your head. He nods and shoots you a wink before looking back to the professor.

You should’ve been thrown off by his sudden action. If anything, you have every right to roll your eyes at him. But you do nothing of the sort, only looking back at your professor who demands your attention while your mind remains preoccupied with the boy beside you.

This could be due to all the years focused on your studies. You could care less about all the people who tried to earn your affection, from your classmates in your majors to even those part of the same club as you. But the boy emits an aura that has you only thinking of him. How can you ace this class if you’re turning putty at the first meeting? You need to get a better grip on yourself.

“Now, I want you to answer these,” Mr. Hwang says as he flashes a question on the screen: What role does literature play in your life? “And talk about it with your seatmates. Now would be a good time to get to know your classmates with the upcoming paired assessment around the corner.”

As you read out the words on the screen, you are not given enough time to think as the boy beside you clears his throat. You look back at him, met with the same smile he flashed at you then. Does he do this with every person he first meets?

“I think I should introduce myself. I’m Eric Sohn, majoring in Hotel Culinary Arts,” he says with his hand out toward you. You take a glance at his hand before letting yourself hold it, shaking it firmly.

“I’m Y/N, majoring in Psychology.”

You notice the way his eyes widen as you mention your course. “Do you perhaps know someone named Kevin Moon?”

The mention of your friend’s name has you smiling. “Yeah, I do. We’ve worked together since we’re part of our home org. How do you know him?” Your hand drifts away from his, crossing your arms as you listen intently to what he has to say.

“Mutual friends,” he reveals as he lets one of his arms rest on the back of your chair. With one hand tucked under his chin, he rests his arm on the table. He takes a glance at the screen shown in the front to refresh his memory on the question. “Would you like to go first? Or do you want me to start?”

You nod your head, signaling for him to start. He takes a deep breath as he looks up to the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. “Well, I’ve read a few books then and there, but I think it was only when I entered uni that I started really reading more books if that makes sense.”

As his eyes meet yours, you nod as a way to show you understand him. “Yeah, I hate to admit this at first meeting but I’m a very romantic person.” You cannot help but raise your eyebrows at his words, earning a chuckle from him.

“I swear, I am! That’s why I started reading because my sister got me hooked on some romance books, so I’d like to think that literature helps me imagine scenarios I would love to see play out.” You notice the way he starts to scratch the back of his neck. “It doesn’t have to be me as the protagonist, but I’d like it,” he shyly admits, making you smile unconsciously.

God, you were not the type to just smile at some random boy. So why did Eric seem to have this effect on you?

Your thoughts snap you back into reality; the smile is now replaced by your calm demeanor. “I guess I can start.” As you see him signal for you to continue, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your eyes drift to the screen.

“Well, I’ve been reading my whole life, actually,” you look back at Eric who seems to show genuine interest in what you have to say. Oddly enough, you feel as if you can tell him more than just the typical story you tell people.

“I know people don’t expect me to be this type because I major in Psychology, and I have this tendency to read a lot of scientific journals and textbooks for my classes but that’s because I enjoy learning about the human condition.” You let your eyes drift off to nowhere as you reveal a part of you to a stranger. Maybe it’s because he’s a stranger that makes it easier for you to admit details you wouldn’t normally admit to someone whom you’ve met under a different circumstance.

“But I’ve always had an affinity for reading. Books can be a form of escapism through fictional stories, but they can also be a way to encapsulate memories of someone,” you continue with a small sigh. “I have been quite behind with my reading schedule though, so I’m hoping this class may propel me back to getting back to reading.”

He hums as he nods before saying, “No, I get it. I like that answer.” You look back at the boy who only smiles at you. “It’s nice to know that you still want to go back to reading despite how much your other classes demand it. I know many people who’ve lost that love and don’t see themselves going back to it, you know?” You nod at his words.

You were no stranger to the love-hate relationship when it comes to reading. If anything, that is how you’d describe your relationship when it comes to the hobby. But you were hoping that the upcoming years would treat you right and that your love for said hobby may not dissipate. 

“Yeah, I would hate to lose that form of escapism from my studies.”

He nods with a small chuckle following. “I get it, I would hate to lose it, too.”

With no idea how to respond, you expect silence to follow. But Eric quickly fills it as he asks you a question. “Do you know anyone in this class?” As you shake your head, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, same.”

You cannot help but giggle. “I mean, if I knew someone, then I would be sitting with them,” you point out.

You want to ask him why he chose to take a seat beside you, but he beats you to it by asking you another question. “Do you have a class before this?”

“Uh, no,” you say as you quickly take a glance at your laptop, moving the windows away to show your schedule. Since the semester just started, you didn’t memorize your schedule. “It’s my first class of the day, but my next class is around 3.” You look back at the boy who cannot hide the way he reels at your schedule.

“You have such a long break. But me too,” he says as he pulls out his phone. As he shows you his schedule, you notice how big of a gap he has for today, where his next class is happening around 6 p.m. “But at least the other days are back-to-back. I just didn’t get lucky with my Mondays and Thursdays. I tried to change it but all the professors denied my request.”

You cannot help but sigh at the sight of his schedule as you remember yours. “Same. Well, I guess we’re stuck with our shitty schedules.”

Then, he asks, “Do you want to exchange schedules and numbers, perhaps?” Your eyebrows shoot up at his question. “I mean, I just don’t know anyone here, so I’d love to at least have a familiar face I can go to, especially for this class.”

You know you’re about to enter dangerous territories. With the numerous books you’ve read, you were sure this is what books typically started their stories with—a meeting between the two protagonists whose relationship will only have room to blossom.

And you should have kept him at arm's length. You didn’t want to risk getting friendly with someone like Eric because even at the first meeting, you couldn’t help but feel yourself drawn to him. But he’s nothing but kind and there should be no problem with allotting him space to take up in your life. All you need to do is stick to your plan—no idea of pursuing romance shall be entertained until you graduate. You can only hope that your interest in him is just a happy crush, one that will never flourish further. 

So you find yourself nodding to his request to which he grins. But before he can say anything, the light comes through the window. He squints as it hits his face, raising his hand to shield his eyes.

“Here, you can put your number and social media then I’ll send you my schedule.” The boyish grin on his face alongside the sunlight that makes him glow is a sight the universe has gifted to you.

You’ve read all about protagonists being bewitched by the presence of another, but works of literature have not prepared you to experience the same. For once, you wish you could find the right words to describe the sight but all you can think of is what a pleasure it is to be seeing this at the start of your day—you can only hope that your happy crush remains that way.

CHAPTER TWO: LITTLE WOMEN

The later hours of the day dawned upon you. The fluorescent overhead lights are dim as only the lamps situated at every table shine bright; you enjoy them for they never make the library bleak. The wooden interior found in every corner of this library reminds you of your own back in your childhood home. But the main act of the show is the books; the wide selection they offer has you always here at every possible hour, whether it may be to study or to possibly read for leisure.

You usually find yourself alone on most occasions spent here. If you found yourself working on a group project, you would usually opt to have such meetings at the study hall situated a few buildings away. It made sense to have those in a place where you could freely talk versus a library where it would be limited to occasional chatter or whispers. Today, however, is an exception, for you now sit across from your partner for your first paired work for Mr. Hwang’s class.

“I don’t usually spend my time here, but it’s nice,” Eric voices out as he looks around, taking in the sight of his surroundings. There were barely any students in the library around these hours. Usually, it would be you and some familiar faces you recognized because of the numerous instances you stayed here.

You’re not sure why you didn’t push for the study hall, but Eric’s explanation for choosing this place made sense. If you were going to study literature, why not do it in a place that is filled to the brim with it? It’s convenient if you need to quickly pull out a book because you’re already there. But the reality is that you liked this space as your own—somewhat like a part of the university that you believe to reflect the intimate parts of you.

You hum while you look down at your iPad where your notes are all scribbled down. “I’m always here. I spend most of my time studying or reading here.” You look up to Eric whose gaze is trained on you. Oddly enough, it feels like his eyes sparkle despite how dim the environment may be.

With that, you break eye contact with him as you look over a few tables away where you notice students who you knew only by their faces. “Yeah, like I know some of the people there just because we always seem to stay in the library until the closing hours.”

He hums before asking, “Do you know their names?” You shake your head before looking back at him.

“I only know the names of the librarians and staff. I’ve never been bothered to know the names of the other students, but we still say hi whenever we pass by each other.”

He can only nod at your words. “Sorry about interrupting the discussion, we can go back to it.”

“It’s fine.” You cannot help but smile as you shake your head. “It was a break we needed to take.”

He shoots you that boyish grin—one you’ve grown fond of after seeing him every week for class—before he continues, “So, we were talking about the confession scene of Laurie.”

“Ah, that one,” you cut him off as you lean back in your chair.

He chuckles for a moment. “So, what are your thoughts on the scene?”

You let out a sigh before saying, “Well, I am 100% on Jo’s side. I mean, she has every right to decline a man’s confession, especially if she has all these aspirations she wants to achieve.” You bite on the inside of your cheek as you recall the passages in your head. “And the audacity for Laurie to be, I guess, “jealous” of Professor Bhaer is unreasonable. I mean, it’s clear she doesn’t have room for anything romantic in her life, and I think that should be respected.”

“But,” Eric quickly scrolls through his notes found on his laptop. “Don’t we learn later on that Jo ends up longing for love in the end? Doesn’t she end up wanting both—a chance to pursue her dreams while also longing to be in love?”

You cannot help but chuckle at his counterargument. “Yes, but I think that this book was written poorly. I mean, we learned in the earlier chapters that Jo did not want to marry, and didn’t we also learn that Alcott only wrote Jo and Bhaer marrying each other because her publishers forced her?”

Eric hums for a moment. “I mean, we do learn that. But I think another way to look at it is that Jo was not ready to let someone take up such an important space at that period of her life. And I think it’s perfectly fine for her to realize later on that what she thought then is not what she wants after all.” With pursed lips, he lets his gaze flicker away from the laptop and back to you. “I know we put relevance to the context of the author, but I think it’s fine to derive our own interpretations of the text despite what the author intended, you know? That’s at least what I learned in my Art Appreciation class.”

Your partner for this assignment brought up valid points. It’s not like he was telling you to agree entirely with his interpretation of the later sequence of Little Women. Instead, he was engaging in discourse with you, sharing what he thought of the scene to provide a different perspective.

“I just,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I just think Jo’s character was so revolutionary in the field of classics. I’ve read so much about women being viewed as individuals who are only meant to marry, but authors never put importance into their aspirations. I think that’s why I loved Jo’s character.” When you notice that Eric keeps his gaze on you without any sign that he’ll interrupt, you decide to continue. “She clearly had her priorities and wasn’t willing to let the idea of romance get in the way.”

Eric’s expression slowly starts to shift into confusion. Despite your words speaking on Jo’s character, it was starting to make sense to both of you that these sentiments came from a personal standpoint.

“Is this you speaking from experience?”

For a moment, you think of lying to the boy who sits across from you. You didn’t want to hear whatever comments he would make of your own choice to keep your love life as lackluster as possible. Yet, his eyes speak thousands of words—all revolving around curiosity. And you realize that maybe Eric won’t judge you. After all, when has he ever shown you that he would criticize you?

You sigh as you let your eyes look down at your notes. “I’m not looking for a relationship, or love, in general. I don’t think I have the time to even sustain one, and I care too much about my studies to even consider it.” You look back at Eric whose doe eyes still seem to shine.

He nods, letting silence take over. Your answer hangs in the air, almost as if you two needed it to marinate further. That is until Eric decides to break the silence.

“Do you ever get jealous of what you read?” You cannot help but tilt your head at his question. He shakes his head, trying to gather the right words to say. “I mean, you’ve read so many books, and I’m sure many of them have revolved around the theme of love and romance, especially the classics. Do you not want to experience that for yourself?”

Eric’s question seemed to be rooted in genuine curiosity. And you cannot help but ponder over his words.

It’s true that you would find yourself longing to experience the wonders of love that writers seem to talk about. It would be untrue if you said you didn’t give the idea a second thought—what would it be like to allow yourself to enjoy romance all while you study for your degree? But then you remember that there wasn’t anyone, really, to have you consider such. It was only an idea you would think about but never proceed with—there was no one to take up that space in your life to begin with.

So you sigh, shaking your head as you look back down at your notes, and say, “It’s not like anyone has given me a reason to reconsider.” You leave it at that, deciding not to indulge in the topic any further. And Eric only hums, looking back at his notes.

You take this opportunity to review your notes, recollecting every detail that is worth discussing with Eric for the upcoming presentation. Unbeknownst to you, however, your partner has his mind preoccupied with another matter—what can he do to become the reason you consider?

CHAPTER THREE: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

The moon may be shining brightly tonight, but you’ll never know. All huddled up in the library, the lamp on your table shines over your laptop and sprawled-out notes. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this library. All you know is that you still have papers to accomplish and exams to study for.

But at least you were going through this in the comfort of your favorite spot in the university for they seemed to keep the library open all day during midterm season. And at least you had someone there to keep you company during this mess.

“This paper is impossible,” Eric complains as he rubs his eyes from exhaustion. You’re sure it’s past midnight. “What did you write your paper on?”

You cannot help but yawn. “Uh, I wrote it on Still I Rise just because it answers the prompt pretty well.” With droopy eyes, you look at your friend who now leans his head on his arm that is propped up on the table.

“Man, that’s good.” You cannot help but chuckle at his reaction. “I’m hesitant about using a poem just because I’m scared I won’t be able to share my thoughts well. Like, I know I talked about how we interpret the text as something that matters, but sometimes I cannot make sense of what these poets are saying.” His tired expression shows how long he’s been pondering on what to write.

With the paper due a few days from now, you were sure Eric was pressured to think of anything to write about. So you decide to lean back in your chair, brainstorming for anything to help him. Yet, you only draw a blank, clearly exhausted from all the studying and writing you’ve been doing.

His cackle comes out of the blue. Your eyes snap to his face, seeing that his crinkled eyes are set on you. You don’t miss how the students around your area shush him. Eric is suddenly aware of how loud he is as he cannot help but sink into his chair out of embarrassment.

“Sorry, the expression you had on your face made me laugh,” he shyly admits.

You frown at him before saying, “Fine, you’re on your own now.” Your eyes dart back to your laptop.

“Okay, wait!” He quietly exclaims as he grabs onto your forearm. Your eyes drift to his hand that rests on your arm, slowly drifting away from exhaustion. Before you can comment, he retracts his hand. “I would love your help.”

As your eyes settle on him, you notice the pout that rests on his lips. His doe eyes still manage to sparkle in the dimly lit room. The sight warms your heart—you almost let your calm demeanor falter.

“I wish I could help but for once, I can’t think of anything.” As you say those words, the cold air hits your skin. You cross your arms as a shiver runs down your spine.

Somehow, Eric is quick to catch on to your behavior. You watch how he pulls off his hoodie, hair ruffled from the action. And before you know it, he hands it to you.

“Here,” he says as he drops it right beside your laptop, covering your notes. Although you shake your head, he can only roll his eyes. “You clearly need it more than I do.”

With no sign that he’ll back down, you cannot help but sigh. You grab onto the piece of clothing and slip it on you, getting a whiff of a fruity and spicy scent that clings onto it. With how big the hoodie is, it almost acts like a blanket. And when you look back at Eric, you notice the soft expression that takes over his face—a smile that is enough to warm your heart.

“I think you should take a nap.” His suggestion has you shaking your head. “You’re clearly tired.”

You roll your eyes before going back to your laptop. “I can’t or else I’ll be behind on my tasks.”

“Okay, but if you only take an hour to nap, I’m sure you’ll feel well-rested enough to work better.”

Your friend made a valid point. At the rate you were going, you were barely absorbing anything. But you didn’t want to slack off nor did you want to fall behind on your studies.

And as if he notices your worries, he says, “I’ll make sure to wake you up an hour from now.”

You cannot hold back the smile that appears on your face. Somehow, Eric knew all the right words to say in the short span of time he has gotten to know you. And before you know it, your arms settle on the table as you find your chin settling on them. Whether it would be from pure exhaustion or Eric’s persuasion, you found yourself settling in a position good enough to allow yourself to nap.

The victory smile that takes over Eric’s features is one you wish you could smack off his face for you know it’s because you ended up listening to him, but it’s also one you want to store in your memories. His grin is enough to have you smiling back, though you bury the bottom half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, getting another whiff of his perfume.

He then goes back to his laptop, scrolling away at what you can assume to be the instructions for the essay required by Mr. Hwang. As you watch him ponder, you cannot help but take in his features; from his strong jaw all the way to his eyes that manage to easily shift between a strong glare to a soft gaze. He is someone sculpted by the deities—you weren’t sure why the universe chose you to be graced by his presence.

In your time knowing him, you knew that he presented himself as a goofball to many. He became the life of the party, per se, for he managed to create a comfortable atmosphere for everyone.

And yet, you knew that it’s only a mask he chooses to wear for the sake of others. In these moments, you learn that he is more than just a childish guy. Past all the layers, he is profound—you first learned that when he shared his interpretation of Jo’s character. You hope that he can find more moments where he’ll expose that side to you.

You move your chin to rest on your arms. “Can I ask what’s your favorite book?” Your sudden question has his eyes snapping at you. “I just realized that we’ve known each other for half a semester because of an English Literature class, but I never bothered to ask about your favorite book.”

He cannot help but chuckle before saying, “It’s The Notebook.” His answer has your face contorting into disappointment. “Hey, what’s wrong with that?” The way he gets defensive has you erupting into a giggle.

“It’s just okay for me. I didn’t enjoy it that much when I read it.”

He furrows his eyebrows not due to disapproval but genuine curiosity. “Okay, so what’s your favorite book then?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” The answer leaves your mouth quickly, almost like it’s second nature to answer the question with that title.

He hums before admitting, “I’ve never read it.”

“Yeah, it shows.” The remark leaves your mouth without letting a second thought come. You notice the way Eric’s expression shifts into a scornful one, and you cannot help but giggle. “I just think that you might reconsider what your favorite book is after reading Pride and Prejudice, you know?” He only nods at your words.

You let out a sigh. “I actually want to reread that book after midterms are done.” Your blinks are slow, exhaustion taking over your body.

Eric is quick to notice how sleepy you’re getting. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up an hour from now.” All you do is hum before snuggling the lower half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes now closed.

A few minutes pass, and you hear a chair screech softly. You can only assume that Eric had to use the washroom. But when you heard the chair move once more only a few minutes later, you were sure that he only had to get something.

As you hear him clear his throat for a moment, you keep your eyes closed. You try your best to not show you’re awake. And once more minutes have passed, you decide that the coast is clear.

Once you open one eye, you notice that Eric is leaning back in his chair with a book in his hand. He reads it intently, unaware of your gaze on him. You let your gaze drift to the cover of the book, and it takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. In his hands is a copy of Pride and Prejudice, the same one you found yourself revisiting just to read your favorite passages.

As you let your eyes close, a smile shows on your lips. Thankfully, it is hidden by the sleeves your face is snuggled into. With the sight replaying in your head accompanied by his perfume, your heart warms at the thought of him. You can only hope that he’ll love that book as much as you do—you can only hope that this infatuation will pass.

CHAPTER FOUR: EMMA

The season of fall has come; the sky is a patchwork of hues of orange; the leaves have turned to shades of brown; the wind has gotten cooler. Long gone was the heat that summer brought—you were dying to experience the joys of autumn.

Thankfully, you finished your last class for the day. As students piled out of the classroom, you were taking your time tidying your things. For once, you didn’t have any tasks to accomplish within the day which meant tonight would be time for you to enjoy, all snuggled up in bed as you finally reread Pride and Prejudice.

You were satisfied with the grades you received from your midterm assessments. Somehow, your efforts spent studying reflected well in the feedback your professors provided. Now, you can reward yourself with reading your favorite book.

When you exit the classroom, you expect yourself to go straight back to your dorm. However, the sight of Eric Sohn standing outside with his back leaning on the wall is what disrupts your plans.

“Eric? How did you know I was here?” Your shocked expression has him chuckling.

“We exchanged schedules, remember?” He says as he stands up straight, walking closer to you. You two stood in the middle of the hallway with little to no students in sight. “I kind of got lost, if I’m going to be honest.”

As he admits that information, you cannot help but giggle. “I mean, this is where most of my major classes are. That’s why I’m surprised to see a Hotel Culinary Arts student like you here.” He shoots you that boyish grin which has you smiling back. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure? Do you perhaps need help with the upcoming assessment for Mr. Hwang’s class?” You attempt to joke as you remain unaware of the reason behind Eric’s visit.

But when he pulls out a book from behind his back, your smile shifts into a shocked expression. In his hands is a new copy of Pride and Prejudice, one different from the one that he was reading in the library that one night. As your eyes zero on the book he holds, you do not pay attention to whatever expression Eric may have.

“I finally got around to reading your favorite book, and I have to admit that you’re right. I think this might be my new favorite book,” he hands the book to you. Your hands trail over the cover, still shocked that he ended up finishing it. “And I wanted to finish it before you reread it.”

You were expecting him to only read a few chapters, but for him to find enough time to finish it before you could pick it up? You realized you were screwed.

Your hands find themselves flipping through the pages—and holy shit, there are notes and scribbles all over the pages. “I wanted to annotate it just so you can also read my reactions and interpretations as you reread it.” Your mouth parts open at his words, clearly in awe of the action.

The pages are littered with underlines and circles, highlighting passages and quotes that seem to resonate with Eric. On the margins, you notice notes that are simple one-liners and others that are long enough to fill up the pages’ spaces.

“I–I don’t,” you look up to the boy in front of you. With his smile still plastered on his face, you do everything in you to find the right words to say. Yet, it’s impossible—this is the first time someone has done this for you.

He chuckles at your lack of words and says, “I would love to stay and hear how much you enjoy this, but I unfortunately have a class to get to all the way in the Culinary Arts building.” He lets his hand rest on your shoulder, squeezing it as if it’s his way to snap you out of your trance.

But the thing is you are not in any way out of touch with reality. Not only did he give you an annotated copy of your favorite book but he waited until your last class in a building that is all the way on the opposite side of where he needs to be. And at this moment you knew you were doomed—that this budding infatuation is turning into something more.

“I’ll see you next week in class, okay?” He says with a smile. You can only nod, still unable to speak. “Or tomorrow, if you’d like.” And before you can question him, he quickly makes his way out of the building. You let your eyes watch his figure that continues to sprint away.

As soon as he’s gone, you look back down at the book in your hands. You flip through the pages as you still remain in shock at what he gifted you. That is until you notice a post-it note stuck on the last page. When you open it to the page, you expect it to be an index of what his annotations mean. Instead, it is a message directed towards you, and you cannot help but feel your heartstrings tug at his words.

would you be interested in going on a reading date with me?

❑ yes ❑ no </3

p.s. you can just text me your answer :) maybe we can plan something tomorrow (that is if you see it by the time i give this to you)

And you tell yourself that this is wrong—that you should not be considering his offer no matter how friendly it may be. But with how he’s been treating you, you almost hope that this isn’t just him being friendly. You want to be on the receiving end of his affection—of his love.

It seems stupid to go back on your word of refusing to entertain love. Your plans are focused on graduating summa cum laude without ever allocating space for someone to take up your time. But is it wrong that someone has you reconsidering what you originally thought? Is it a sin for you to want to experience the joys of love despite your past reluctance?

So for once, you fully understand Jo’s character—you want to achieve in your endeavors all while experiencing the joys of love. And there’s nothing wrong with having that mindset after all.

The season of autumn is your favorite; the sight of leaves falling is a sight you cannot help but enjoy watching. In the same way leaves fall from the tree to the ground, you have fallen for Eric Sohn.

CHAPTER FIVE: SONNET 18

“So, what’s your favorite scene from Pride and Prejudice?” You decide to ask Eric as you two pass through shelves filled to the brim with antique books.

He hums as he follows closely behind you. “I think it was the first time Lizzie and Mr. Darcy danced together.”

You glance at the boy behind you, humming along with his answer. “Yeah, I really like Austen’s use of the motif of dance.” You come to a halt as you stand in front of a shelf full of classics. “I mean, she uses dance to show attraction between Mr. Darcy and Lizzie without them even realizing it.” Once you turn your head to face Eric, you notice a smile on his lips.

“Yeah, they’re remarkable,” he mutters as his eyes remain on you.

Under his gaze, your knees start to get weak. You cannot help but gulp as you look back to the shelves with cheeks dusted red.

Today, you and Eric were in the middle of a date—not a reading one, but an actual date. At first, you were nervous about having lunch with him mainly because you weren’t sure what to talk about. But he found a way to lead the conversation, making sure to build an environment where you two could talk about anything and everything.

Eric decided to bring you to an antique bookstore near campus considering that you two share an affinity for reading—though you were more interested compared to him. The selection they have covers fictional classics all the way to nonfiction recipe books. It’s definitely smaller than what the library offers but bigger than another bookstore you tend to frequent.

As your eyes scan through the collection, your eyes catch onto a copy of Sense and Sensibility, another book by Jane Austen that you’ve been meaning to pick up. “Ah! I’ve been meaning to read this,” you exclaim as you pull it out. With your eyes still looking through the selection, you spot another book you’ve wanted to read for a while. “Oh, they also have Wuthering Heights!” As you grab onto the other book, you look down to admire the covers. 

While you’re entranced by all the antique books standing in front of you, Eric cannot help but chuckle at your reaction. You whip your head only to see that god-forbidden boyish grin on his face—the same one that got you hooked onto him at the first meeting. He leans his side on the bookshelf all while he stares at you.

With that, you frown as you tilt your head. “Why are you laughing?” The question that leaves your mouth is out of genuine curiosity.

“No reason,” he starts off. “You’re pretty, especially when you talk about books.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock, thrown off by the sudden compliment. Eric has never been the type to tell you such during your time knowing him but hearing him say it now has your knees weak. Suddenly, all resolve was gone and you had no idea how to respond. 

And before you know it, you say, “You’re pretty, too.”

The words come out quickly without a second thought, and only when they leave your mouth do you realize how weird you are for saying such. But you notice the way his smile gets bigger, and you cannot help but feel your cheeks warm up once more out of flusters and embarrassment.

“Are you done picking out the books you want?”

“Uh, yeah,” you start off as you glance at your books. “What are you going to get?”

He hums as he stands up straight, looking at the shelf in front of you two. “Do you have another book recommendation for me?” He looks back at you.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you hum, thinking of a book. “Maybe Jane Eyre? By Charlotte Brontë?” You’re ready to tell him the synopsis of the book, but he doesn’t spare you another second for he grabs the book.

“Okay,” he smiles as he raises the book up. “I’ll pay for your books while I’m at it.”

You immediately shake your head at his words. “Huh? No, you don’t need to.” You hold the books close to your chest. “You paid for lunch already.”

He rolls his eyes before extending his free hand out to you. “It’s fine. I want to buy these books for you.” Your eyes are wide as you slowly feel yourself moving the stack of books away from your chest. “So long as we get to have that reading date, I’m happy to buy them for you.”

You would deny his offer, but you hate to admit that the idea of having someone you like buy the books you’ve been wanting to read has your heart warming. Buying you books, reading your recommendations, and annotating a book just for you—they’re the easiest ways to your heart, and he figured them out.

With that, you find yourself handing the two books to him. He smiles as he glances at the three books in his hands. And before you know it, he quickly links his arm with you as he drags you to the cashier. You don’t know how you got lucky to know a guy like him. 

CHAPTER SIX: SO TIRED BLUES

Usually, the hours of the night are the ones you find most comfort in. It’s the illusion of being away from the hours that demanded you to interact with others. You love spending your time alone doing whatever, whether it may be your own hobbies or the coursework you need to accomplish. This time of day had you in a state of tranquility, at most, for you were comforted with the idea that nothing can disturb you.

But for once, you weren’t calm during these hours. As you stare at your shared document that barely had any input from your groupmates, you feel your sanity slipping away. This assessment is due two days from now—what can your groupmates offer during this time crunch?

You lean your head in your hands as your eyes rest on your keyboard. As you let out a groan, you cannot help but grip your hair out of frustration. 

“What’s wrong?”

As you look at your friend who sits beside you, you cannot help but pout. “Eric, I can’t do this.”

Despite these hours being reserved for your alone time, you chose to spend these with him. The date was a success—you two were practically inseparable at this point. But you two were still going on dates without any expectation, still exploring whatever you two truly felt towards each other.

To be fair, you were still hesitant about jumping into a relationship with him. You still weren’t sure how possible it was for you to handle your studies along with being in a relationship. And you hate to admit it but you’re terrified—what if the love you read about is nothing like what you’ll experience with Eric?

So for now, you’ll only allow yourself to enjoy what you have now. It is only when the universe forces you to confront these sentiments that you’ll figure out the answer.

He crosses his arm as he leans back in the booth you two sat on. “You want to tell me about it?” And for a moment, you consider not doing such. You didn’t want to waste both yours and Eric’s time complaining about shitty and unresponsive groupmates.

But he doesn’t give you a moment to indulge any further in those worries, for he says, “We have enough time for you to talk about it.” He shows you a smile, one that is enough to bring you comfort. “Let me become someone you can lean on.”

And with that, you find yourself spilling out your frustrations. “I’ve just been so stressed, you know? My group mates are so shit, I’m not sure how good of an output we’ll be able to submit on time,” you start off. “I’ve been reminding them nonstop to do their work, and they just keep ignoring me. And it doesn’t help that my professor doesn’t give a fuck.”

Eric cannot help but let out a hiss of annoyance at your situation. “That’s terrible.”

“I know, right? And this assessment is at least 30% of my grade. How am I going to get an A in this class if my groupmates refuse to help?” You cannot help but groan as you lean back.

As you stare up at the ceiling, you tongue the inside of your cheek as you ponder over the situation you’re in. And you’re not sure what takes over you when you share your next set of thoughts. “I just–I want to achieve so many things, but it’s so hard when you’re not supported.”

Despite your eyes staring up at the ceiling, you can feel Eric’s gaze on you as you reveal a part you’ve never shared with him. So you let out a sigh before saying, “I know I talk so much about wanting to ace all my subjects and graduate with flying colors, but some days it’s hard to keep up with that type of mentality.” You let your eyes close for a moment. “It’s hard to aspire for so many things when you don’t have someone to fall back on.”

Although you have the passion to achieve the different goals you set for yourself, it becomes impossible to keep that fire going on most days. Sure, you had friends from your course and extracurriculars, but they were never ones you could find yourself going to easily. In most instances, you would be by yourself as you were scared to insert yourself into people’s circles.

With that lack of a support system, it became difficult to attain your goal. Although you try your hardest to keep your mind set on the prize, you cannot deny that you find yourself slipping into burnout in most instances.

“I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of burnout, you know? And I know most people would say to take a break or to indulge in a hobby, but,” you look at the boy beside you whose face is full of concern. “I’m exhausted from reading.”

It’s something you didn’t like to admit out loud. Eric knew you as the person who would read at any hour if they could—the one who wishes they could consume books even while asleep. So it hurts to say that you were growing tired of the hobby—the one thing that provided you escapism.

You let out a bitter chuckle as your tired eyes drifted away from him, staring off into the distance. “It gets hard to read when all you do in a course is read. It requires so much energy, and most days I just don’t have that.” As you say those words, you let out a sigh. “And even when I forced myself to read, whether it would be for my own pleasure or a requirement for school, I could never digest the passages.”

Eric hums at your reveal. And when he reaches out for your hand, it feels as if all your worries are lifted off your shoulders. “Is there any way that I can help?”

You cannot help but chuckle as your eyes rest back on him. With his worried expression, you only show him a small smile. “No,” you shake your head. “But it’s fine. I’m glad that someone listened to me.”

It’s not like you were aiming to have your problems solved by him. If anything, you realize how much weight was lifted off of you after admitting these to a friend.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t do much to help you, especially with your group work.”

You can only hum as you take a deep breath. “Yeah. I just need to take over their parts and remove their names, I guess.” As you say that, Eric cannot help but nod along with a chuckle leaving his mouth.

You’re about to get back to the work you were dreading until he asks you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much this would help, but maybe I can read you some passages of where I am in The Awakening if you’d like.” Your eyes widen at his suggestion. “I’m sure you’re way ahead of me but this could be a refresher, you know? While you take a break, I can be your audiobook.”

And you cannot hold back the smile that shows on your lips. Somehow, Eric is always looking out for you, whether it be through keeping your love for literature going or making sure you are well-rested on most occasions.

With that, you find yourself leaning your head on his shoulder. As you let your eyes close, you mutter, “Yes, please.”

He chuckles at the way you seem to melt on his shoulder. And just like that, he starts to recite the words of Chopin.

As his voice fills your ears, you’re reminded of the first time you first met Eric. Something about his voice is enough to ease your worries—to bring you into a state of tranquility. And somehow, he became the late hours of the day for you—you’ve managed to find peace through his presence for all he did is support you. 

CHAPTER SEVEN: HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

It seems like the season of fall is about to end. It’s getting colder than usual and you cannot help but wear more layers than you typically would during autumn. Although winter is about to come, however, you were seated on a picnic blanket with your back leaning against a tree trunk. And on your lap is where Eric’s head lays as he continues to read Jane Eyre.

While you were trying to read your copy of Wuthering Heights, you couldn’t help but glance at Eric every once in a while. After going on multiple dates with him throughout the semester, you weren’t sure exactly where you two were in your relationship. And you know you should take the initiative to ask, but you didn’t want to say the wrong words.

“Eric,” you call out his name as your voice quivers. He looks away from his book to stare right back at you. As he hums in curiosity, you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you sit beside me?” You notice his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “During the first meeting, I mean. Why did you choose to sit beside me when there were other vacant spots?” As you say those words, you spot how his mouth parts open in realization. However, it shifts into a smug grin.

“Cause I thought you were cute.” His reply has your eyes widening in shock. You knew Eric tends to be straightforward, but you weren’t expecting that to be his answer. You were sure that your cheeks were warm at his reasoning.

He then sits up, now face-to-face with you. “Well, that’s what I thought at first. But I got to know you more through the times we studied together, you know?” With his eyes staring intently back at yours, you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I mean, the first time I got to know you, you were talking about how you wouldn’t entertain the idea of romance, so I couldn’t help but become interested in you.” His hand reaches out for yours that rests on your lap. “And throughout our time together, I learned about all your hopes and dreams and your love for literature.”

You notice the way he takes a deep breath in as his eyes close momentarily. “I couldn’t help but like you,” he admits. As soon as he opens his eyes, he is met by yours that are wide as they stare back at him.

“I’m sure it wasn’t a secret with how we were going on dates, but I thought I should vocalize it now,” he starts off as he looks down at your interlocked hands. “I was starting to wish that these dates would give you enough of a reason to reconsider what you first thought—that maybe I could become a reason for you to reconsider after all.”

But as soon as he looks back at you, you feel your heartstrings tug as he draws circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. And the next thing he says is enough to warm your heart. “But I would never push you into a relationship with me. I know you care about your studies, and you worry too much about your grades. Sometimes, I wish I could tell you to take it easy.” He cannot help but giggle as he says those words, causing you to laugh along with him.

“But I hope you know that I’ll be here to support you, whether as a friend or as your boyfriend if you’ll have me.”

And you realize that you’ve been wrong all this time. You’ve fallen under this idea that the road to success means to get rid of all distractions—that love is nothing but a hindrance to the path you want to take. But it’s not that you can only have one or the other—you could choose to have both if you made the effort to do so.

In your time knowing Eric Sohn, you learned the joys of love even if you weren’t signing up for such joys came in the form of him. To you, he is what the poets describe as love embodied. From the first time you two worked together all the way to midterm season until your breakdown, you realize that he is the support you were seeking out all this time. And so you wonder to yourself how lucky you can be to receive something you weren’t seeking but still desperately craved.

So you let yourself lean forward, your face inching closer to his. His breath hitches at your action. As your eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, you cannot help but hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your eyes meet his, and you notice the way he holds his breath. So you cannot help but let yourself smile for a moment.

And before he knows it, your lips crash into his. Your hand reaches out to the side of his face while your arm wraps around the back of his neck, holding him close. His hand holds onto your waist, drawing shapes on it with his thumb.

As your noses bump against each other, Eric cannot help but giggle in the middle of the kiss. You two part away as you continue to look at each other. “So, will you let me be yours?” And his question is enough to pull on your heartstrings.

It’s the phrasing that gets to you—his choice of words to let him be yours versus you being his is what has you realizing just how much he likes you. It’s this whole idea that you didn’t have to surrender anything to him for he is willing to build around you.

But the reality is you would do the same for him—you’re willing to make space for him to take up in your life the same way he already has done for you.

And so you say, “You can be mine if you let me be yours.”

The boyish grin you first found yourself falling in love with appears on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You wish you could tell your past self that nothing goes according to plan. What you may have first thought is not what may push through in the end. While you were never signing up to find love in your years in university, the universe decided to give you a reason to reconsider. And now you know that you can have both—that you can achieve your aspirations while still being in love. All it took was time, effort, support, and a boy named Eric Sohn to have you believe that.

if you enjoyed reading this, consider reblogging and leaving some feedback!

[bookishgalaxies]

Advanced Placement Credit Given to…

☾☼✧☽ summary: the ap classes these different characters would take

☾☼✧☽ type: headcannons, modern au

☾☼✧☽ warnings: n/a

☾☼✧☽ a/n: my ap classes are killing me-

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✧ albedo

chemistry and art history

I think the chemistry part is obvious, as an alchemist he would find this kind of thing fascinating. Obviously he would enjoy the rigor and fast paced layout of the class. CB requires 16 labs to be done throughout the year in ap chem and he would adore this as well. Definitely thinking he’s pulling an A in this class, actually an A+

Albedo’s an artist and a curious individual. I imagine he would find himself interested in the history of art and the different pieces. As a chemist he is always chasing after whys and hows; it only makes sense for him to look for this in art as well. He would also pull a high A I feel in this class due to his commitment to his studies

✧ amber

human geography

Amber isn’t much of an academic, but she appreciates geography I imagine. As an outrider who is exploring and navigating, she would find the history of places and maps fascinating. Amber also, or at least I seem to think, would have a hard time taking an intense ap class. This one is one of the easiest out of the ones CB offers. I think Amber would get an A in this class and I am firm believer that she unfortunately is the one who reminds the teacher when homework is due :/

✧ diluc

macroeconomics, microeconomics, and statistics

Macroeconomics covers the economic of wider areas like regions and nations. Diluc being someone who has a business that is known worldwide would I feel find value in knowing about the economics of not only his country but others as well.

Microeconomics is more focused on the economics of an individual thing like companies. This is a class that would give the insight on the business side of economics.

Business requires a lot of data. Most of the time when analyzing data statistics is involved. Diluc would use statistics I feel to see what kinds of wine tend to sell on what regions and what happens when prices increase and decrease.

Diluc I see passing all of these classes, I think the economic ones with an A and stats with a high B.

✧ jean

comparative government and politics and psychology

Government and politics I feel is self explanatory because of how Jean pretty much runs Mondstadt. She has to contact diplomats from all nations and make negotiations. I think she would also find it kind of interesting about different types of government and how things are ran.

Jean would have to on some level be a people person. To some degree she would have to know how people think and feel. She would find the makeup of the human brain fascinating I think.

Jean is not letting herself get anything less than an A, let’s be real-

✧ lisa

english language and composition, english literature and composition, and latin (or teyvat’s equivalent, maybe Khaenri’ah’s language..)

Tumblr deleted Lisa’s part like 3 TIMES kill me :/. Anyways, I think the language composition and literature composition are obvious. I mean…..she’s a librarian.

The language thing I feel would stem from her wanting to be able to read more books. Therefor she wanted to learn a new language to broaden her selection of books

She wanted to take ap chem but decide to just do general instead. I definitely think Lisa could get an A in all three classes. I just think she gets distracted easily and would need someone to help her focus.

✧ sucrose

chemistry, biology, and computer science a

Obviously she would take chem with Albedo. I think it would take her a bit longer to grasp some of the concepts and Albedo might have to help her out some but she does overall well in the class, I say an A-

She flies through biology without a problem due to her interest in life forms. Is definitely earning an A+

OKAY HEAR ME OUT! So Sucrose wants to study how to manipulate life to make it better and brighter. I think she would be all over the idea of being a bioengineer. Thus, she would learn how to code.

Sucrose would do well in the comp sci a course I believe. I could see her being a really good problem solver and understanding Java well (the programming language you learn in comp sci a)

✧ venti

music theory

Don’t come for my throat, I love Venti I swear. However, I do not think he would preform well in this class. Music theory isn’t really so much about composing music as it is about the rules of composing music. I think Venti would do wonderfully with dictation (where you hear notes/chords and have to identify and write them). As well as sight singing (where you are given a sheet of music and have a certain amount of time to practice and sing it).

We all know Venti is great at composing music…but he doesn’t really like playing by the rules (aka all the figured bass line shit), so I don’t think he’d do so good. Venti can read sheet music sure but he didn’t take the time to memorize all the special symbols when he just knows music.

I’m going to be generous and give him a C considering he can do the dictation and sight singing. Anything where he’s having to analyze and determine cadences or other conceptual stuff he’s kind of screwed

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kaeya does not take any ap classes however he relentlessly bothers albedo while he is trying to study. Also totally tries to convince lisa at least once to bail on writing a paper and come to some party or whatever.

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thank you so much for reading !

stay hydrated and safe !

[pottedplant53]

Oumota Post [Contains Spoilers]

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Something I don’t hear talked about enough in relation to Oumota (or just Kokichi and Kaito in general) is the SHEER NUMBER of parallels that they have with eachother, beyond just their narrative roles. Their philosophies of Faith VS Logic and their respective Hero/Villain personas are undoubtably the most interesting part of it, but there’s so much more to be said than just that. Even their physical appearances are designed to contrast. Here's a list of some of the similarities I found.

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•Kaito is tall with broad shoulders, while Kokichi is short with a small frame.

•Their hair colours are almost exact opposites on the colour wheel. On top of this, while you don’t really see it due to their respective hairstyles, they both have roughly shoulder-length hair.

•Tying into the previous point, they have very similar colour schemes. They both wear white shirts, and have red, yellow, grey, and white accents scattered around their outfits. They’re also both heavily associated with the colour purple, with Kaito being more aligned with magenta (pink) and Kokichi being more aligned with indigo (blue).

•Kokichi is especially pale compared to the rest of the cast, while Kaito is noticeably tan.

•Kaito’s eyes are upturned, and Kokichi’s are downturned. I’m not sure how to word it but it’s almost like their eyebrows are going in different directions, too.

•They both wear capes that fan out in their splash arts. Kaito’s is a coat, but it has the same effect.

•They’re both bilingual. Kaito can speak English, Japanese, and Russian thanks to his astronaut training, and while it’s unclear why Kokichi can speak multiple languages, we know that he can thanks to his second FTE with Kaede, wherein he says ‘common sense’ in English, Japanese, French, and Spanish. ‘Common sense’ isn’t a commonplace word that new speakers of a language would know, implying some level of fluency.

•In the original Japanese script, Kaito had quite a few homophobic, misogynistic, and transphobic undertones, all seemingly stemming from internalized toxic masculinity. Kokichi was very much the opposite of this (read: not straight), as is discussed in-depth in the trivia section of his Wiki page. [We do not talk about Japanese Kaito in this household].

•Kokichi’s birthday is the 21st, an inversion of Kaito’s birthday, which is the 12th.

•Neither of them portray themselves 100% authentically. Depending on how you read their characters, you could almost argue that deep down, they’re more similar to the other’s persona than they are to their own.

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Though he’s often referred to as an idiot due to his stubbornness in the trials, Kaito is actually rather analytical when he so chooses to be, seeing straight through Maki’s lone-wolf act and understanding her needs startlingly fast. He was intelligent enough to pass his astronaut entrance exam (which would’ve involved extremely complicated scientific concepts and a basic understanding of medicine) and has proved himself willing to cheat and lie to get what he wants (i.e, forging an I.D to get early acceptance).

This isn’t the only instance of him lying when it wasn’t strictly necessary, another notable example being the entirety of his Free Time Events; he lies about his impossible summer escapades and brags about how many famous people achieved success because of his influence, seemingly just to boost his own ego and to make himself look more impressive to Saihara. Shuichi internally calls him out for this, more or less verifying that it was all a lie.

He repeatedly lies in the trials (like when he tried to insist that he was the one in women’s underwear in chapter 2), and of course, hid his illness from the others by pretending he was fine, when in actuality, he was on death’s door.

None of this makes Kaito’s passion and kindness any less real, but it’s important to note how he’s not as saintly as he seems. He’s a lot of things, but he’s also an Egotistical Liar, much like Kokichi promotes himself to be.

Moving on to Kokichi, while it’s hard to say with 100% certainty what kind of person he is, we’ve seen him become emotional a number of times throughout the game, most notably in Gonta’s trial. There’s a lot of debate over whether his tears were genuine or not, but the general consensus is that they were. He shows anger here, at both Gonta, the situation, and more likely than not, himself. He clearly feels a lot of shame and grief, but ultimately continues to push on with his plan for everyone else’s sake.

He shows mercy to Yumeno in chapter 3, when he asks her what she was holding back at the end of the trial. This is seemingly done in an attempt to help get her in touch with her feelings, with no obvious ulterior motives or mocking undertones. Him calling her out earlier in the trial can be chocked up to his hatred of hypocrites – as is seen with his overall relationship with the rest of the cast, specifically surrounding how they gang up on him and treat him like a monster for lying when it’s something that they themselves do – but this interaction shows that he sympathises with her, proving that he has some level of empathy.

Kokichi is EXTREMELY selfless, something that’s proven over and over again to the point that if I sat here and tried to list every example, we’d be here until the release of the V3 anime [forever]. He actively plays devil's advocate, knowing that this would lead to the rest of the group disliking him, and his entire plan to end the killing game centred around villainizing himself, all so that he could die to save the rest of the cast. He’s shown to have spent time, likely days upon days, thinking about how to end the killing game – if his room is any indication, he’s poured a lot of toil into making that a reality. Much like with Kaito, none of this changes how Kokichi chose to act – he’s still a bad person who did inexcusable things, but there’s some merit to the fact that beneath all of that, he’s a human being.

 In the end, he dies as a Selfless Hero, trying to save a group who he surely must’ve known would feel no gratitude for his sacrifice. He's the exact kind of person that Kaito would approve of, were it not for the other, less pleasant aspects of his personality.

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Again this is all just my interrpretation and what do I know but I thought it was interesting so here :3

[illumnis]

oh, time turner. ― you could've pushed through the hurdles instead of ending it at once; but the time was going to pass anyways, right? time has done it's work, you're different people now, with different lives and different minds, so why do the two of you still hold onto who you used to be- to each other, you mean. no one can blame you, we all have the same hearts as yesterday after all.

pairing: various x gn!reader

warnings: just angst no comfort, codependency?? or just attachment, both of you are sad and sentimental, this was gnna be a vent but i got carried away and instead made this, i am so sorry. (inspired by promise by laufey if that makes it hit even harder)

art creds: holly warbuton (pls correct me if im wrong hhh)

time has passed, but the same sparrow still perches at your window sill.

sparrows, they say, represent love- an extension of aphrodite herself, the goddess of love and beauty.

you wish you could say it was ironic; how this same sparrow stilled, perched on your window as your and you partner came to the painful agreement to end things. you wish you could say it's ironic, how this sparrow; who still, despite two years- which people may say it's not a long time, but its seven hundred thirty days. seven hundred thirty days that you heart is left to mend, or your brain is to abandon information to take in something new; something that matters more than something that did seven hundred and thirty days ago. - still perches at your window will. a sparrow that represents love, a sparrow who watched a piece of you walk out with someone, still right there.

you wish you could say- but you can't, because despite the time, the minutes, and the seconds, and the hours, and any and every interval of time, you still love them.

(more under the cut)

the piece of you that they walked out with did not die the moment it left its home. much like how a flower separated from its roots to join a beautiful bouquet- it's quite sad in reality, stripping a flower away from its freedom to make its own food or water itself on its own accord; maybe that's why...

why you still find yourself depending on you ex-lover, or at least, the parts you abandoned of yourself that did depend on your ex-lover, you still hold onto. like the sagging flower- which its sagging may look obnoxious, but really, it's coming apart at it's seams, starting from the stem, to the leaves, to its- begging for it's owner...

'please water me' it begs.

'please look after me, you're all i have. for i cannot walk on two legs. for i cannot turn to the sun on my own- i only have your artificial lighting. for i no longer have my home, my roots.'

you're thankful, at least, that you aren't a flower cut away from its roots, and do not require someone to keep you alive in the same conditions.

however, you do long for that part of you again; along with the care of your ex-lover. it's a different codependency you think- yet, just as shameful.

two long years, he had found you again on social media, sending you a friendly dm, asking to meet at a cafe like old times.

old times. a petal plucked from your head, marking a time in your life you held dear. old times.

you agree, and of course; it's different.

there are old times, and there are new times. old times, as in the name, are not something you can relive, not something you can take back.

you and him are not the same people you were when you were together. but despite all of this- the longing, the string connecting your hearts together is retied. the feelings are left unsaid, but you both know.

you both know it's there but there is no acknowledgement, there is no attempt at rekindling the fire. the both of you know that either way, you will end up hurt.

two years ago, you two were different lovers, different views as to the ones you have now, different attitudes, different lives. so what would be the harm of trying again?

the harm is that you both still have the same heart. new wounds, sure, but mended does not mean new. the scar is still there, the love, the memories, but also the flaws, the causes of your disagreements, and the reason you ended it in the first place.

there was no trying again. this was it. despite the hurt, despite the pain of parting; or despite- if in another universe, you ended up rekindling the fire that burnt out two years ago- the pain that would come if you got back together, there was still love.

you hate to settle. he does too, you know that. the two of you hated to settle because of the possibility of better.

but the two of you always find that, around each other, that's just naturally what you do.

even if it was never down together, you settle.

― men who, despite the pain, still love. who gratefully take a piece of everyone they have every cherished, and cared for it with their entire being: diluc, kaeya, xiao, venti, kazuha, megumi, yuji, yuuta, gorou, kaveh, alhaitham, wriothesley, nanami, neuvillette, childe.

navi. mlist.

[startographist]

☆ﾟ⁠ . * ･⁠ ｡ﾟDEAR SOULMATE — PROLOGUE I 🪽

prev. mlist. next

wistful, dreamy, and vague— those are the three words kazuha describes kunikuzushi's pieces. wistful that you can feel the nostalgia by just looking at it, dreamy and vague as if it lets the viewers reciprocate what the piece truly means. 

but one thing about kunikuzushi's pieces that makes them genuinely recognizable is the muse.

in every painting, a muse in white is always included, if it's not the main focus of the piece, the muse is present.

kunikuzushi doesn't know why he paints a specific muse either, he certainly can't say that it's a force of habit or has seen the muse before in fact, the muse is just a product of his void of imagination.

every time that he tries not to paint the muse he either ends up unconsciously painting her or he feels that something is missing...

there's no denying that painting her was an unspoken law itself.

and he dared not to break it.

because from the base of her neck to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of him.

 

soulmates. he thought it was worthless.

soulmates are a useless and unpleasant concept, the red string tied to his pinky finger is served as a distraction for him.

and the idea of commitment itself scares him and as if being tied to another is gonna change everything... he's abandoned after all, hope isn't gonna do anything hell— it will crush you to pieces, he knows it too damn well.

but with a red string looped to his finger twitching, he wonders...will his soulmate be the one who'll heal him? some even suggest that the muse in white is his soulmate, whether it's true or not, he doesn't care or so he thinks...

he's in a sheer in denial but one day, he dreams, he'll have his soulmate to dedicate all of his pieces... and so, he secretly waits for that day...

a hint of elegance and serenity, its aroma dancing around her, each sniff leaving a feeling of contentment that made her grin. she can still feel the softness of petals on her fingertips. she admired the sight that made her eyes beam with admiration as she grasped the stem between her index and thumb.

she knelt in front of the flowers, which looked at her with grandeur that she would never achieve. she wasn't bothered by other people's conversations or footsteps since her complete attention was on the flowers in front of her.

they danced whenever the wind was too strong outdoors. the noises of gasping from the women wearing skirts could be heard, but she was unaffected. she desires a stronger breeze so that the flowers can swing gracefully with it. the scarlet string in her pinky twitched, yet she chose to be ignorant as her attention still on flowers.

when one of the petals dropped on her hand, she giggled. It was blue, a colour that many people consider basic, yet any colour mixed with it makes it appear much more lively in her opinion. despite the noises in the distance, she feels as if she's in heaven since everything is just too serene for her.

she worried that the peacefulness will soon be disrupted by unwanted tragedy.

a special butterfly was letting itself arrive and dance with the breeze as the tiny shop's bell chimed. such a small object with a kaleidoscope of colours whirling around it, a tiny work of art that drew her gaze in enjoyment.

as it landed gently on one of the petals, its wings fluttered in a little way. she gazed at it, and no matter how much she deny it, she believe it stared back at her. it soared away, high and free, with one hand rising and her fingertip almost brushing its wings. she wonders oh-so carefully, maybe this butterfly is my soulmate, she thinks.

she runs after the butterfly, ignoring the stares from people who thought it was a childish act. bumping into different people but she paid no mind as her eyes and mind are focused on the little creature that entranced her minutes ago.

then again, the scarlet string started twitching, perhaps glowing.

she ran after it, but she stopped when it landed on someone else. again blue is the color she tends to ignore, but somehow it caught her eye this time on an ordinary day. she got lost and instead stared at those ocean eyes as the man was crouching down and studying the flowers in front of him.

she looks down on her pinky finger again. and there, it glows.

the way the flowers danced once more made everything perfect. there was so much beauty that she felt it was out of this world. at this point, she felt butterflies in her stomach take over her and her emotions.

"woah..." she uttered under her breath, almost as if the scene in front of her had taken her breath away.

her finger landed on one of the petals, his fingertip barely brushing against hers as it was on the other side of the flower, put on another petal. she was so close, yet so far away; if she had only allowed herself to get closer, she might have been able to reach him.

she could've reached towards the beauty itself.

It wasn't the butterfly that drew her attention anymore; instead, it was his figure. His colourslors and build, his physical traits, with his fingertip almost brushing against hers.

Her gaze never broke from his, and as the bell rang again, those stunning eyes finally met hers.

glowing red string,  eyes locked, both bamboozled.

two individuals stare at each other seemingly bewitched to each other.

her, who is hauntingly beautiful, and him who's gorgeous as a porcelain doll...

in the midst of the serenic warmth of inazuma, summer joy filled atmosphere, two individuals are in chase of finding what this all means.

"it's you." he muttered under his breath, cursing at the fact that he feels the nervousness brimming to his nerves.

she shakily stood up, eyes wide in shock. and as funny as it is, she wore a white dress highlighting the fact that the muse in his paintings was not a product of his imagination but is actually his soulmate. this also highlights her beauty even more, with golden hues of warm sun pouring over her figure.

her e/c eyes scanned over his short stature, seemingly entranced at the doll-like features.

"you're pretty..." she breathed.

the first change of words was sure a bittersweet one.

to be entangled with someone forever was already a bittersweet fate.

and yet here they are, ready to face the pre-birth agreement they made...

TAGLIST (open) ; @sakiimeo

NOTES ; uuuuu im so tiredge // credits to yizheng ke on art station on slide one !!

smau by startographist! plagiarizing, distributing and translating without the author's permission is a violation against creative rights.

[betterbemeta]

As it is right now, machine learning image generation is classist. It depends strongly on the human audience's eye for pareidolia to smooth over its inconsistencies and find patterns in its noise where its procedural generation falls short.

This means that the less opportunity a person has to gain context for information, the more likely 'AI art' is to be convincing. As long as that person has been given a baseline to 'believe' the general arrangement of elements, AI art will 'make sense' even if that baseline is just exposure to more acontextual imagery. Which is what the machine learning's algorithms were trained on in the first place.

For example, 'AI' right now struggles to coherently depict plants. When it's not blurry, indistinct plant fur, leaves from different kinds of plants appear on the same stem, plants from the wrong biome are included in 'nature' images. Someone who has very little educational opportunity, but has seen movies where people walk through jungles or forests as set pieces or something, might not notice the difference. And why do you 'need' to know if the plants look right, poor person; you'll never leave your immediate area or take a biology class!

Someone without the opportunity or comfort to travel might not recognize that a cityscape has been artificially generated, depicts no actual real-world city. Is that supposed picture of Dubai or New York City or Cairo showing a real place that exists? Who cares, you're too poor to ever go there.

Searching for information about animal species, even, can get messed up by generated 'content.' Do servals have ear tufts? What kind of insect is that? What species of lizard or snake am I looking at? You don't deserve to know what kinds of animals are real. What time do you have to go to a zoo, if there's even one around you?

The less money you have, the more likely you are to be surrounded by advertising and "AI Art" is ideal for advertising because it only tells a very simple story at best. There's no complicated human emotions; its literally made of averages of what has been seen before. Marketing and advertising content often replaces actual art that might be a window into a greater world. It may even just be dropped in there to fill the awkward silence or blankness that would have otherwise surrounded marketing efforts-- commercials would be surreal without some say-nothing 'music' track behind them, and billboards would be creepy without the graphic noise that surrounds the product and its information. Someone who passes through more monetized public spaces per day will see more of it than someone who inhabits private property.

And like, at the end of the day if you are wealthy... you probably don't care about any of this. You have access to whatever you want, so why do you care what's real? You trust you can 'pay for' the real thing, right?

Plus, who knows the economic status of who generated imagery the machine learning algorithms train on? It's all stolen.

Photography has been critical in modern history for bringing 'the world' across social divisions of class, race, geographical divides. Photographers and filmmakers, along with other visual artists as well as musicians, writers, and journalists associated with all of these disciplines give us lenses, framing, voices, and perspectives to understand our greater world no matter where we are. Hell, identifying the human intentions BEHIND those lenses, framings, voices is key to our development. No matter your circumstances, with a strong grasp of media literacy anyone can sit down and say, wait a minute, is this real, would it be true for me too? Or is this someone's point of view?

To the point of view of wealth and capital, the working class and those without wealth who cannot work (disabled people, displaced people, homeless people shut out of employment, and more) do not deserve to know about reality. To that point of view, nonwealthy people don't deserve to even know who created the perspectives they're allowed to see. You can be born, get trained to work, go to work, come home to the minimum, repeat, and die having seen no images of reality for all they care. They'd like that! How can you dream of something outside the current exploitative structure if you can't even trust you know what plants and animals and cities look like, outside your tiny box?

[heliphantie]

“Bubo Marquez, what it is, dark magic?”

Local fauna enthusiast has discovered an exceptional specimen.

Local goddess of flora has inherited gene that makes one falling for nerds.

A lot to say about Bubo under ‘read more’…

Bubo! The man who was cut from the story and replaced by cactus:D

I believe real reasons for it is that his storyline would’ve been excessive for already crumped timing of the movie. Sure, in concept art his and Isabela’s couple looks like comedic stereotype, but then, underlying theme of the story is how deceptive surface picture in human relationships (and humans in general) can be. Aren’t Pepa and Félix embodying a cartoon duo cliché (a stocky man and tall, often spindly woman: Boris and Natasha, Popeye and Olive Oyl, Gomez and Morticia, you name it) as well, yet they have enough personality and chemistry to feel like full-fledged people in genuine relationship. And it’s not like Disney had problem with pairing statuesque confident woman with dorky/nerdy man just not so long ago: Captain Amelia and Dr. Doppler, Kida and Milo, Sgt. Calhoun and Felix Jr. … I’ve had written here my thoughts on this plot point as it appears in revealed animatic of scene: there is no much further context to it, but from what the scene discloses, it may create unfortunate impression of Isa’s character, as she seemingly tries to ditch her family and elope with somebody who can promise her future and allows her to indulge in her interests rather than maintain a respectable image she doesn’t want. Compared to her eventual storyline she appears more egoistical, and her feelings for Bubo seem self-centered too, as she only talks about loving what he loves in her. So, based just on that scene only, it could give Isa rather unsympathetic air and hurt her character arc (as it doesn’t reflect faithfully on cultural values it’s intended to portray). But her arc, I suppose, was intended to evoke sympathy after all, as, amidst all the comedy bits, the scene implies genuine and deep affinity between two (and, as another storyboard for epilogue shows, Isa’s happy ending did involve getting married to him). I guess it was decided that focus on sibling and intergenerational bonds was more pivotal for the message, thus any romance got sidelined as it was (even though different romance plot was squeezed in, it’s got even less room for development). /And, after all, love story is in the heart of the plot, it just deals with its consequences rather than blooming stage of it./

Back on the subject of stereotypes: well, yes, scrawny nerd type and model beauty together is an odd pair that may rise brows and ill suspicions in real life (presumably) and taken as joke in fiction, not particularly fresh too. But the catch in this particular case is, in all production materials and in the movie itself, it’s implied to various degree, Isa is a nerd too, by her nature. in concept art, she’s shown with books in hands (only her of all characters), and her song shows she’s knowledgeable of botany far beyond her typical repertoire, and it’s strongly implied the magical gifts stem from one’s deep inclinations. /It also stealthily upturns the presumed dynamics of three sisters: gorgeous one is really a Brain, while Luisa, a sensitive one, is Beauty, and finally, strongheaded and determined Mira (presupposed “Brain” of trio) is a figurative Brawn./ The scene from the animatic, in its turn, implies Bubo may be just as much into zoology (fearless in the woods and, that, I guess, why he has these animal urinе samples). So, romance or not, they apparently have something to see eye-to-eye and grow mutual affection over it. And the scene is quite essential in showing a gist of his personality: smart, brave, bit of eccentric, - enough to see him as likeable charismatic figure without needs to question what may be so charming about him. /Quite obviously, after he was cut, a lot of him went into final character of Bruno; he is basically just younger (well, not *smaller*) bespectacled Bruno sans all the gloom and drama./ Inner kinship under contrasting façades makes effectual portrait of a functional couple, I think.

Also, his name, which is likely a nickname, referring to his oversized glasses (Bubo is Latin and Spanish for “horned owl”.) Emphasis on eyeglasses again, like in case of Mirabel, a metaphor of “seeing beyond the obvious” through the movie. And owl is a symbol of wisdom, of course.

TL;DR: In this house we respect Bubo Marquez. I’ve finally come to giving tribute to him, at last. (This is not the last you’ve got to see of him, I gotta warn you.)

All the butterflies are based on actual species that can be found in Columbia, even though I didn’t check on correct sizes and a habitat of each, sorry for that. Hey, it’s all magic after all.

The last, related to this piece of fanart of mine: Bubo is said to be an outsider from the big city who had arrived one day in Encanto, in my version he is, perhaps, born inside the village (like Agustín, who has ancestry from big city) and was a friend of Isa in their adolescence, but eventually left Encanto to see the world. Maybe he even suggested Isa to consider joining him, but she was adamant to stay… They said goodbye, their feelings for each other left unexpressed.

[tamelee]

I had stopped being able to read the naruto manga way back near the beginning of shippuden (it was still coming out at the time) due to the store I had access to not bothering to carry the volumes anymore (man am I old 🤣) then different fandoms caught me and years go by so my mind has the sasuke naruto meeting with sasuke draping himself over naruto to threaten him and sakura being competent with healing kankuro and fighting sasori... so I was...confused when I recently fell back into the fandom why sakura would even be with sasuke...as I felt mature medic nine fighter girl would have understood that she'd had a crush and moved on.

Like, Naruto and Sasuke had so much stuff between them I get why they haven't let each other go.

So it seemed weird as hell that sakura would even still "like" sasuke... as her original feelings stemmed from childish "he's so cute and broody" which is okay in a 12 year old girl but less okay as an adult woman...

The naruhina I though, ah, he and hinata must have had many moments in all the parts I've missed, and bonded...oh...she just...endangers herself and confesses to which naruto doesn't react at all...and then their married...

As a shonen manga I figured we wouldn't get a blatant narusasu ending (even though they are the best) ...I'm even a cheery multishipper often for characters I like but...it was so sad. I'd of been happier to have it end with shion just randomly turning up to have naruto keep his baby making promise...

Anywho sorry for blathering on.

I adore your art as well, it's super pretty and I need all the naruto x sasuke content to heal my shipper soul...

Hi @roseunspindle ! Oh gosh!! You couldn’t read past the reunion scene??? I would’ve gone crazy 😭

Yeah, Sakura never matured in that department. Even in the sequel where she’s supposedly married to Sasuke, Ino derisively says she’ll forever stay a girl in love. Like the story had to spell it out for readers. There is this weird vibe between her and Sarada when it comes to Sasuke.. I don’t even know how to describe it but it’s creepy. Even when there is a kid involved somehow and they speak of marriage, Sasuke gives her no reason to love him romantically and it surprises her still that he showed no concern for her life whatsoever. Sasuke, who expresses through action in most cases, is still as indifferent as ever towards her. 

Sakura has moments where she shows some care for characters, mainly driven by her being a medic, but emotionally, it is bizarre how little she cares about Sasuke and yet, at the same time seems to only care about him... if it involves herself. She doesn’t even question why Sasuke does what he does or tries to understand how he feels. Even when she gets fed little snippets of his pain or the source of that, she doesn’t try to find an answer. In the very end she doesn’t even give a shit about his reason to travel or defend his words regarding "redemption". She felt entitled to an apology while she was the one going up to him with the intention to kill him. Even when he tries to explain why he wants to travel, she just cuts off his words because she wants to go with him regardless of his intentions or goals. I get why some people wanted a development for Sakura where she’d be able to let that crush for him go, but story-wise? That would take a lot from Kishimoto because there is also a lot of insecurity involved too.. And frankly, she's very much a red herring :')

Meh, nh... I have nothing to say. 

Well, SNS-fans often say their story is very tragic. But that’s not just how we feel, it IS a fact that Naruto and Sasuke went from receiving a semi-sweet/bitter-sweet (depends on how you look at it as we got a resolve but not a clear resolution yet) in ch 698/699 to a bitter ending in 700 where they suddenly not only didn’t have what they wanted, but certainly not what they needed either. To combat that in the sequel, they shoved all the problems of the world onto a bunch of aliens... distracting everyone from the hypocrisy of the system. Neither Naruto or Sasuke got to work on the thing they wanted and their internal desires were completely massacred for the sake of these kids. And both of them have shown that if they don’t have what they need, they will fail the thing they ultimately want. Meaning, the Shinobi world will forever stay the same while spitting on their dream for the future and the trauma they had to go through because of it. It’s not even about SNS or the story being Shonen... but the concept, which Sasuke talked about at the end that was supposed to be a vehicle for a better world is completely retconned. 

... but I’m happy that besides that, SNS is still widely and largely celebrated regardless. And that says a lot! I’m happy to hear you like my art 🥰💕 that really means a lot, thankyou so much!! (I’m trying to heal myself through them too ;-;!) 

[absolutely-esme]

My Headcanon for Liminals

I've been having a lot of fun posting headcanons, and I'm starting to realize just how many I've built up over the years, so here's another one.

So I've stated before that part of the reason why Danny and Vlad are so different is because Danny was inside of a portal when it turned on whereas Vlad just got a face full of energized Ectoplasm and other assorted nastiness. The still human and already ghostly halves of Danny fused into a cohesive whole in order to survive the opening of the portal and continued supporting eachother. Vlad's human half forcibly integrated his resistant ghost half as it formed in an effort to survive. Rather than a cohesive whole, Vlad is two dischordant halves.

That said, I do not consider Vlad's state the default result of humans being exposed to ectoplasm.

Part of it is because the exposure was violent and his human body was so incredibly unwell that it made sense for the part of him with less emotional attachment to it to want to escape. This illness did not stem directly from the ectoplasm. We know this much because other people exposed to ectoplasm did not get ecto-acne, and figuring out the involvement of the cola was what allowed the Fentons to cure it.

Part of it is because Vlad has a superiority complex. This means that, in any given state, Vlad considers his current way of being superior. As a human, Vlad considers humanity superior. As a ghost, Vlad considers ghosts superior. This leads to a whole lot of clash between the parts of his psyche which each consider the other half to be lesser. Combine this with the fact that each half despises the illness and associates the illness with the other half, and you get a whole lot of internal toxicity.

For the average person with ectoplasm exposure, there wouldn't be so much of a clash. They would take on some ghostly traits (more and more over time, with continued exposure) and maybe start doing some prep-work for ghosthood, but they wouldn't be trying to leave their human lives early. They probably won't have insane healing factors like Danny, but they won't be tearing themselves apart like Vlad either.

They're preparing for the afterlife, but they wouldn't be so eager to discard the human life they are still living. If you've ever had a favorite hoodie that you wore all the time until you loved it to pieces and it came apart at the seams, that's kind of the feeling. It's not the end of the world when you can't wear it anymore; you can wear other jackets when you're cold, but you want to hold onto it for as long as you can.

The more someone is exposed to ectoplasm (in terms of both frequency and amount), the more ghostly they will become over time.

A random person who just happens to live in Amity Park on the opposite side of town from Fenton Works and and was somehow never at the sight of a ghost fight, will probably just experience a slightly increased awareness of ghost-related stuff and perhaps a slightly smoother transition when their time comes.

Other kids at Casper high, who attend school with Danny every day and get caught up in ghost attacks sometimes will probably start to form the wispy beginings of their ghostly self. Sometimes you just catch a glimpse of what sort of ghost they are going to be. They may also develop some slight powers while still alive.

You look at Paulina carefully shaping and lacquering her nails into something both beautiful and dangerous, and for a split second you just know that, someday, she's going to be all claws and glittering scales and passionate pursuit of her goals. She will transcend the human form and shape herself into a work of art of her own design and a powerhouse none can deny. Then she turns to her friend and giggles over a funny story, and the moment passes; she's just another kid steadily making her way to adulthood.

She's just another kid until some jerk at the mall oggles her a little too blatantly and her jewelry flashes brighter than the lighting should allow, blinding him so that he trips into a fountain, and Paulina smugly watches him sputter before turning to walk away with a satisfied spring in her step.

Sam and Tucker, Who hang out with Danny every day and frequently explore the ghost zone with him, will start forming more of the foundation of their ghostly selves and probably develop more powers sooner. They are more likely to develop to a point of being able to take on a ghostly form while still alive.

Typically, a halfa formed through extreme, prolonged exposure like this would have a bit of separation between their human and ghostly halves, but without much discord between the two. However, with Sam and Tucker spending so much time around Danny during their formative period (and having so much less contact with any other ghost than with him), it's entirely possible that they would subconsciously learn the integrated system approach, in much the same way people pick up habits of speech from the people around them.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hi~ I just wanna ask you, how do you think/feel about Eli & Heather's relationship and their 'history'? Like some people said that Heather took advantage of Eli's innocence, some people said that it was Eli's mistake.

Ok anon. I have my thoughts but I reread the arc just to try and articulate them better. Fucking forgot Darius Hong was in this. And no one needs more Darius Hong in their life. Anyway.

Eli Jang/Heather Relationship rambles

In this essay...

Damn. This is rough. Please note I may be the least well informed person to give my thoughts on this. Happy for anyone to disagree.

Sigh. I think a lot of times we think of things in black and white, whereas almost everything is in shades of grey.

Eli Jang & Heather's background

First off, Eli has experienced a lot of trauma when he was first introduced, and clearly going through a lot mentally. He's also stunted in a lot of ways and 'deprived of an education'. Literally everything that he has known was abuse. Ran away from home at the age of 10. And whatever fucked up shit was going on with Tom Lee too.

I cannot stress how clear all of this is.

With Heather, the only real thing we know about her is she's 15. Both parents lawyers and very overbearing.

Eli Jang's 'recovery' from trauma

But by chapter 237: Eli Jang (6) a month passes and they have both met. Eli, from how he is portrayed, has already improved a lot. Healed a lot. Not fully. I think we need to remember that the passing of time and progression differs massively in Lookism than in real life.

If this was real life, nope. Lookism, ehhhh. Literally please suspend your belief.

This is in part a big reason why I don't blame Heather for her actions that night.

The huge fucking question mark over consent

I can also never fully agree with anyone saying that Heather groomed Eli. To me, she acts very much like a 15 year old girl with a crush. Less nefarious than what grooming implies. Could she have been better informed and set boundaries? Hell yeah.

From what we can see in the panels, Eli reciprocates her feelings. Sure there might be other things going on, but if there were insidious intentions I feel like PTJ would show it more front and center.

To me, looking at the storyline and art, it just feels like 2 people with a crush.

At the same time, if we apply real life morals to this, then yeah it's all pretty messed up. This isn't real life though.

(Sex education is a whole other kettle of fish I don't want to get into. Where I'm from, we have free contraceptives, free medical care, sex education. But oops, teenage pregnancies still happen an awful lot.)

Here's where people might disagree because I'm giving consent to people on their behalf - though we're talking about fictional characters here and all we can do is speculate.

My opinions on this are:

If we ask Heather if she believed Eli consented that night, she would fully believe so.

Similarly at the time, Eli would probably say yes he did.

I have little reason shown by PTJ to doubt that he would withdraw his consent present day as well.

As for Eli's mistake?

Uhh. Assuming they are both able to consent, and let's just say yes for the sake of simplicity, then I don't see how the night together is his mistake?

The whole mess afterwards and the poor communication and martyr thing going on I would say is his mostly his fault. Yes, he has his reasons for it. Two things can still be true.

And fucking Olly Wang.

But Heather was right there. Eli could have cleared the air with her. Said wtf I didn't message you those but he didn't.

Heather lashed out, which I think is a very human response to her situation and the sudden insane amount of pressure placed on her shoulders, however unfair her words are. She didn't have the full story though, whereas Eli did.

So like I said, I place more of the ownership of this situation on Eli even though I can also see where it all stems from.

In Summary

This goes back to what I said before about there are so many shades of grey, and this situation and relationship is absolutely not black and white. To me, anyway.

We can also imply all we want with things happening off-screen during any of the arcs though it's better to stick with what we can see or clearly read between the lines.

Taking in my thoughts above, honestly? I just think it's a tragic story about 2 kids that had unprotected sex one night and then it fucking spiralled. I don't see the blame lying with either one for their actions. Based on my reasons above.

This situation feels too nuanced here for me to say yeah Heather fucked up or Eli fucked up because there are so many details at play here, mostly to do with Eli Jang's background but also to do with the pacing of time and recovery in PTJ-verse.

TL;DR: No-one sucks here. Too many nuances. Sad af situation.

[zkoh001]

There are children who grew up on atla, still praising it's writing, animation, and emotional storylines.

And then there's children who grew up like me, with this shitshow. And you know what? Screw it-

I loved it.

This is me ranting about this horribly flawed show that's a relic of my childhood.

It was either incredibly predictable, or batshit crazy, was riddled with plotholes, and was about a bunch of twelve year olds playing matchmaker for badly animated chinese legends that looked more like burnt out balcanic couples.

The plot happens in episode 1-5 and then 25-26. Inbetween that, it's just tomfoolery. 19 episodes of literal nothing. The people who get close to ending them are literally never the main badguys. They fix up marriages, families, (it's kinda sweet in that sense i guess...) fight the baddies (one of whom they literally HAVE to befriend- but thats just another one of the ✨plotholes✨) and run after the dragons eye, which (guided by their fortune cookie of a master) leads them in a gigantic circle back to where they came from.

The plotholes are so ridiculous that my brain started to come up with explanations that I literally just made up in my head. I remembered there being an episode with an umbrella, and I was sure that it was either used by Flamo, since y'know fire... But no, the fire element is doing just fine in the rain (despite the water element not doing well in the desert but who cares amiright) Or maybe Jinhou since water corrodes metal. But no.The umbrella was Raindrops. The water element. I can't make this up I swear.

Then there is the biggest thing that stems from the premise of the story: They need the five elements to reunite, and become the golden dragon. So why doesn't General Bu just get rid of one or two of them? He captures them regularly, and he has one stapled to his hip at all times... Why does he insist on capturing all of them? (So the show may go on i guess) In my mind, I decided that if one dies or something, the rest can revive them, but that is never even implied in the show, I'm just trying to stop my brain from imploding...

The characters are... Not smart. The only characters arguably smart are Master Yun (debatable) and Shao Yen who is in the wrong show (and sometimes Niwa I guess). I mean, it explains a lot when you know these characters are all 12, and the backstories loosely fit their personalities (by sheer accident I'm sure). Niwa was a servant, and has the strongest powers so she's reserved and nut much of a leader, but still confident, Jinhou was raised and praised by monks who knew of his importance, so hes full of himself and a bit sheltered, Randrop is an objectively worse fighter and student than Shao Yen, so he has doubts, and she in turn has this responsible big sister attitude despite not leading. Flamo acts pretty accurate for a 12 year old with fire powers and a megalomaniac for a role model. ...Why is it that only he and Raindrop gets dumb ass names, while the others get... Like, normal ones?

Last point: This show brings up some interesting ideas (by accident I'm sure) and blatantly ignores them, going out of it's way to avoid anything even remotely surface deep. General Bu, evil mastermind (with gadgets I'm sure they made up while high on drugs) is the past student of Master Yun, teacher and father figure of two of the main characters. That never even matters. It gets mentioned in episode 1 and never again. Why is he even evil? Idk, who cares. Dragon taido. What even is it? How is it different from Tiger taido, and what even is that? Is it made up by General Bu, or are there other martial arts forms? When our characters scream dragon taido, they just start using their elemental powers, and there is no difference between how Raindrop fights and how Flamo fights despite them being dragon and tiger taido novices respectively. Hell, I'm pretty sure Flamo never even says Tiger taido in the whole series, only Bu does. Grub is apparently an experiment gone wrong, but I'm not even sure if I made that up, or was a detail of the show. Thats how important it is. There's this thing where they try to juxtapose Shao Yen and Raindrops semi-healthy sibling relationship (and to a lesser extent with the other two elements), to Grub and Flamos toxic one, but that never goes any further than Grub calling for him when locked in a cupboard, and Flamo being kinda sad for a moment when he "dies".

Also: The whole Avatar ripoff thing? I don't really see it? Yes, obviously thats what inspired it, and honestly, the intro is probably the big thing people point to when saying its a fipoff and you know what, thats fair. But story wise, I don't really see it: Face it people. Master Raindrop is way to off the rails to even try to liken it to Avatar. Outside of five man band, elemental powers, and fiery -eventually redeemed -bad guy, i don't really see it (and none of that was invented by avatar, might I add). Maybe that one talk with Master Yun in episode 5, but wise, cryptic guy is also not an Avatar thing. I even saw some people say Grub is supposedly Uncle Irohs stand in..? Flamo and Grub remind me more of the wet bandits from home alone than Uncle Iroh and Zuko, but suit yourself I guess :"D

Now after saying I love this show, shitting on it for 3 and a half pages, I have only one thing to say.

Its still better than the movie.