#and i think it made me sound like a pretentious show off a little bit

[bookwyrminspiration]

sorry can’t talk right now or ever again I said something weird earlier

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt. 1

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan, college au word count: 6k summary: hooking up with a stranger at a party is fun when said stranger is a tall, attractive philosophy major whose name you don’t learn until weeks later. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), a lil butt action but nothing too crazy

ao3 link can be found HERE.

“You’re a new face,” remarked the rich, husky voice belonging to the stranger who had just approached you. In a house party that was relatively packed, you thought you were blending in by sticking to the wall and enjoying your solo cup full of unlabeled liquor. And yet, here was the approaching figure of a man so tall you had to crane your neck to face him, knowing nothing about you and yet still managing to observe how out of place you seemed.

“That obvious, is it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing about you, per se. It’s just, these things are usually pretty tight-knit; the same people come every time. So when someone’s new, you notice,” he tells you, his slow, calm way of talking making you feel relieved and deeply curious at the same time. “Do you go to school here?” 

You nod your head in confirmation, though it feels foreign to do so when parts of you still feel more like a visitor than a student. “I just transferred here.”

He smiles hospitably at this, gesturing his arms out towards the room of people who surround you. “Welcome to our vibrant community. Please enjoy your stay. Refreshments are in the back and the ice machine is down the hall.”

You giggle genuinely at him and the sort of clumsy, awkward way his words seem to land on you. He’s the kind of person you were expecting to meet when you transferred from your rural state school to this smaller liberal arts college. There’s something almost dorky and strange about him, from the way he dresses in an oversized cardigan and big round glasses to the way he holds eye contact with you for what you deem longer than normal. And yet, his self-assuredness is crystal clear to you. It’s at this moment that you acknowledge to yourself how attractive you find him.

“Did you come here with someone?” he asks you, his posture changing so that he’s leaning into you just slightly.

“Yeah. My roommate is here somewhere—” you gesture aimlessly around you, “—probably getting tongued down in someone’s bathroom.”

At this point, you had been fighting off the inclination to assume that the man in front of you was chatting you up for any reason outside of sincere curiosity. But his intentions are made crystal clear when he replies, “Yeah? Care to follow suit?”

You laugh both out of amusement and shock at his forwardness, and even he seems taken aback by his own candor as he smiles in a sheepish, apologetic sort of way. Still, the way that his piercing dark eyes never seem to cease their burning into you, there’s no doubt in your mind that he meant every implication embedded in that response.

“You know, you never told me your name,” you point out, not sure why you are prolonging what feels like the inevitable moment tonight when you’ll find yourself tangled in bed with the handsome man in front of you. Perhaps you’d just like to talk to him for a little bit longer, enjoy the gratification of his attention. Or maybe it’s just fun to tease him and watch the way his eyes crinkle in bashful embarrassment.

You’re pleased when he seems no less interested in you even as you divert from his advances. In fact, he perks up at your observation. “That I did not. Call me pretentious, but I like to think that learning my name is a privilege.”

You show your disinterest in this notion with a scoff, something the stranger seems to take in stride. “Is a man’s name not all that he has in this world, from birth to death?” he asserts with a prideful smirk.

“Philosophical. That your major?”

“How’d you know?”

You’re starting to feel a little scared with just how much you’re beginning to love the sound of your overlapping laughter. When it dies down, you bask in the brief moments of silence where neither of you knows what to say next and instead just stare at each other’s faces in an almost innocent, child-like way. It’s so different from what you’re both feeling inside, anticipation and lust and desire swirling in a mix that makes your bodies feel charged.

“So since you’re not telling me your name, should I tell you mine?”

“Only if you feel I’m worthy of it,” he replies. The game that he’s playing confounds you but you see no harm in playing into it, something tantalizing and freeing about not being bound to the expectations of each other’s names.

“That, my friend,” you reply, “is yet to be decided.” You raise your hand to push against his shoulder, surprised at how sturdy the skin under his cardigan feels. He ricochets dramatically against the force of your hand, and when his body returns to yours, it’s closer than before. He rests his hand on the wall just above your head, the way he’s angled making him appear even taller than he did before.

“You know, I was exploring this house earlier, and there’s a room in the back with a comfortable-looking king-sized bed,” he says, words that would sound fuckboyish and crude if anyone else said them, but come out dorky and amusing when he does, especially when his next statement is, “And the entire time I was in there, all I could think was, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to pillow fight with?”

You smile, the expression mirrored on the stranger’s handsome face as he watches you react to his off-putting way of flirting. You decide to help him out by being more direct. “Are you asking me to pillow fight with you, stranger?” you ask, voice tilted in your best attempt at sounding seductive.

“Only if you’d be willing, stranger.”

When your roomate convinced you to go out with her tonight, you were intrigued by the notion of getting to know this new campus community, plus the always-tempting chance to get a few drinks in your system. You weren’t thinking that you would be in this position, about to hook up with a guy who won’t even tell you his name. 

You’ve been feigning confidence up until this point, an easy enough task when the man in front of you is good-looking and talkative. But now, as you prepare to follow him with the pretty certain chance of having sex, you have to finish off the remnants of your drink first, allowing the heat of liquid courage to wash over you like a warm blanket.

“Lead the way,” you tell him, taking the hand that he offers you before being led through the crowd of partygoers.

He takes you into a bedroom that’s on the ground floor, allowing you to settle in in front of him as he takes heed to lock the door. The bass from the loud music outside vibrates against the enclosed walls of the room. You’re grateful that it’s not completely silent, otherwise this would feel more awkward. 

“See,” the stranger says, walking over to face you. “I wasn’t lying about the king-sized bed.”

With the way he’s standing over you, combined with the looming implications of what you’re about to do – or rather, what you’re about to let him do to you – you’re too anxious to laugh. Instead, you stare at him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Do you like to kiss when you hook up?” he asks you, straight-forward and to the point. You like that. You’ve never understood people who don’t like to kiss those they’re having sex with. Is the act of kissing somehow more intimate than letting someone inside you?

“Depends,” you reply, already moving to cradle the side of his face with your hand. “Are you a good kisser?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, moving instead to lean in so that your lips meet. Everything about this man feels like a paradox. Your interactions thus far have felt innocent, awkward even, and yet they still led to you following him into a stranger’s bedroom with the intention of having sex. And now, though his looks and the way he carries himself feel so clumsy, the way he kisses you is intense, all-consuming. 

He wastes no time trying to build up to something intense. Without pretense, his tongue is invading the wetness of your mouth, forcing your lips open as an audible whimper of surprise spills out. One of his hands comes up to lace itself into your hair, and in another act that surprises you, he pulls on it so that your faces come even closer. You’ve never found the taste of liquor on someone’s lips more addicting than you do now. 

You pull away to find a smirk on his lips, cockiness written all over his expression as he asks, “What do you think?”

It’s hard to conjure up any words when his hand is still in your hair, tipping your head back so that his eyes can comfortably rake over your face and particularly linger on your reddened lips. “I think I really, really want you to fuck me,” is what you manage, and even if you were the type to feel shameful at such remarks, it would be hard to when your words visibly light up his handsome expression until he’s kissing you again.

Your lips melt into his in a kiss so passionate it has you both walking backward in an eager effort to get each other onto the bed. You waste no time in pawing the clothes off of his slender body, satisfied as you hear his jeans then his cardigan hit the carpeted floor with a soft plop.

He does the same when it comes to your dress, a flowy, strapless piece that required you to go braless for it to work. Once it’s off and you’re both down to just underwear, you’re met with the feeling of his bare skin against your bare skin, your bare chest against his bare chest, and more relieving than anything else, the feeling of the bed frame meeting the back of your thighs as you finally reach the bed.

Pushing you up onto the edge of the bed, he lets his hands wander the expanse of your body, enjoying the feeling of your tits squeezed in the palms of his hands. You lean into his touch, moaning a little in his mouth as he never stops kissing you, even as he reaches down to breach the waistband of your underwear. 

You don’t realize how wet you are until his slender fingers push out to separate your folds, a task made difficult as your sticky arousal glues your lips together. But he manages it dextrously, wasting no time in finding your clit and drawing slow, teasing circles with the pads of his fingers.

His other hand, which had up until this point been palming your breast idly, now comes up to hold your face as he regretfully pulls his lips from yours. He studies your expressions with furrowed eyebrows, a teasing lilt in his voice as he asks, “Do you like it when I touch you here?” 

Just as soon as you part your lips to respond, his fingers dip lower until he’s sliding two of them into your fluttering hole. Your wetness provides no resistance, and now he’s coiling them deep inside of you. “Or here?”

You can’t think or respond when he’s pumping his long, slender fingers in and out of you, an act made more intense as he forces you to look at him with his hand on your jaw keeping your head in place. 

If you had to describe sex you’ve had in the past, vulnerable isn’t a word you’d use. 

And yet, it’s exactly how you feel as his eyes never leave your face, overseeing every expression you make from overwhelmed to whimpering to having your lips parted in a moan. 

A faint part of you wonders if you should feel more uncomfortable with how intimate this sex feels. 

And yet, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more pent up just with someone's fingers inside of you than right now, especially when he opens his mouth to praise you in his deep voice.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, his breezy tone of voice reminiscent of a lullaby. “I’m so glad I met you tonight. Can’t wait to fuck you.”

He fucks his fingers deeper inside of you as he says this, causing you to mewl as you throw your head back in his hands. “Don’t make me wait, then,” you challenge, gripping his arm to steady yourself as another moan threatens its way to your lips.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he wolfishly remarks. “Well, if you insist.”

With am amused smile on his face, he pulls his fingers out of you, raising them between your two faces so that you both can look on at the wetness which coats them. You’re not at all surprised when he brings them to his lips, only turned on as he sucks both fingers clean with a wet smack.

“Wanna know what you taste like?” he proposes, his expression and tone of voice far too innocent for what he’s just done. You don’t respond, only pull him into you for a kiss so lewd it makes your insides jump. You reach your hand between your bodies as you kiss him, attaching your fingers to the bulge protruding from his boxers. You enjoy the feel of his clothed cock, large and substantial in your hands, before he’s pulling away to sigh against your lips. 

Your hand leaves his body as he moves away from you. “Don’t go anywhere. Need to grab a condom.”

You watch him in amusement as he goes to hunch over his discarded jeans. In his absence, you relax on your stomach, facing him on the edge of the bed. “Where would I go, stranger?”

“I don’t know,” he intones, returning to you with a silver packet in between his fingers. “But If I could freeze you like this forever, so pretty and waiting for me to fuck you, I would.”

The stranger’s way with words has your body responding once more, a ripple of electricity traveling up your legs and even more so when he takes off his boxers in front of you. You’re not ashamed at whatever expression of suprise is surely showing up on your face at the sight. 

You’d likely use the word pretty to describe his dick, veins bulging out of it like little vines and a tip that matches the rosy color of his lips. You decide then that he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, though you suppose you should save that judgment for when he’s actually managed to fit inside of you.

Your thoughts are broken by his touch as he lifts your chin up with his hands, a smirk ever so prominent on his puffy lips. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

You both giggle at his cheekiness, a moment of humour that is promptly ended when the opening of the condom packet grabs your attention. You reach out to cease his movements with a hand on his wrist. He meets your gaze with a cute, confused look on his face. “Wanna taste you first, stranger” you assert with a blink.

“You’re so cute,” he remarks enjoyably, “But I won’t last if you do.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them extra hard as you say, “Just a peck?”

As you already suspected from the lack of conviction in his earlier refusal, he’s not at all stern as he moves to rub his thumb across your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he replies permissively.

You barely have to lean forward off the bed for your mouth to reach his cock, tall and straight and hard in front of your face. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you press a kiss just underneath his tip, making eye contact as you pull away to watch as a heavy sigh leaves his lips. You don’t stop at just one peck, peppering them all along his shaft and enjoying the smoothness of his skin against your lips.

“I thought you said just a peck?” he reminds you when he notices what you’re doing, placing a hand on your hair but making no effort to push you away.

“Am I not pecking?” you ask, relishing in the groan he lets out when you wrap your puckered lips over his reddened tip. You’re just about to open your mouth fully before he finally shows some restraint, pulling you off of him with a tug of your hair.

“That’s enough,” he asserts, the mattress dipping from his weight as he hops onto the bed behind you. “If I’m not inside of you within the next 5 seconds, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Conscious of his presence behind you, you raise your body into an arch and feel pleased when he immediately grabs at your hips to pull you in closer. He ignores the impatient little wiggles of your ass that you do in attempt to get him to fuck you, prefering instead to spread your pussy open with his fingers and groan as he watches arousal spill out of you. “You’re so fucking wet,” he remarks dreamily, sliding a languid finger inside of you in a way that makes your arch deepen. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it, baby?”

His vocal tone has taken a shift so that he sounds less adoring and more sadistic, the observance of your arousal being just for him stated almost matter-a-factly. You don’t know why it turns you on even more than before, but it does, especially as he plays idly with pussy as if he forgets it belongs to a living, breathing you.

You’re fighting off whimpers as his fingers continue their exploration of your entrance. You hear him let out a long, drawn out “Fuck,” under his breath before he’s withdrawing from you entirely and asking, “Can I eat you out?”

Images of his plump, rosy lips flash through your mind like a movie sequence before you’re humming out affirmatively, excitement of what’s to come making your body tense as you feel him laying down on the bed, feel his breath against your mound as he becomes level with your pussy, feel his lips against your clit as he goes in to take all of you in his mouth.

The sounds that fill the room now are nothing but a lewd combination of your moans, his slurping, and the continued blaring of music coming from outside the walls. The way that he eats pussy is almost just as clumsy and unsure as he is, but he somehow manages to make you cry out as his tongue expertly flicks against your clit, or he licks into your entrance to taste the arousal there. 

You feel yourself becoming lightheaded and breathless as he licks you closer into orgasm. Already worked up from all the time he spent fingering you, what feels like the last straw is when he experimentally licks upward and brushes his tongue against the tight skin of your asshole. Noticing how it makes you moan and reach back to pull at his long hair, he keeps going, wetting your ass with his tongue. 

Alternating between this and your cunt, it’s only a matter of time when you find yourself mewling and tensing as your orgasm takes over your body. Your thighs are shaking and your hands are pulling so hard at his hair that you’re afraid you’ll rip it, but nonetheless he holds you up with two large hands against your ass and groans as you come all over his face. 

When he finally pulls away from you, your body collapses against the bed, all the marks of a good orgasm hitting you at once – ringing ears, tensed limbs, rising chest. You’re brought back to Earth by the feeling of faint, fleeting kisses being left on the expanse of your spine, the stranger’s body pressed against yours before he’s level with you and moving to pull your head to face his.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, sweet and innocent in yet another moment of tenderness that feels inappropriate for the setting you’re in. Nonetheless, you nod and relish in the feeling of his mouth against yours once more, acknowledging faintly to yourself that he just might be the best kisser you’ve ever been with.

He brings your body back to life by snaking his arms underneath you, grabbing at your boobs and almost making you feel ticklish as he gently caresses your stomach. Pulling away from your lips, he mutters the command of, “Turn around,” against your lips that you follow with zeal.

Flat on your back, you’re brought face to face with the man who has exceeded your expectations in almost every way compared to anyone else you’ve slept with so casually. Long locks of dark hair drape against the sides of face as he holds himself above you, making him look intense, but only briefly before he’s asking through an impish smile, “Are you intimidated by eye contact?”

He says it to you like it’s a challenge, like he hopes you’ll be shy so that he can guide you through it anyway. You shake your head stubbornly. “No,” you answer, “But I’m intimated by you.” It’s true. You’ve definitely never met a person like him, never had sex feel so intimate with a complete stranger. It scares you.

“Don’t be. I’m really a softie,” he assures, a childlike expression of excitement lighting up his handsome features. He presses a hand against your cheek in a gesture of affection, lips curling into a grin. “Only, my dick is as hard as a rock right now. Kinda wanna bury it inside of you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You’re surprised when, in reply, he adjusts his body so that he’s lined up perfectly with your entrance, his latex covered tip pressing just slightly into you. “That’s a great question,” he quips, and without any further pretense, he slots himself inside of you.

You let out identical sounding sighs as his cock is engulfed by the sensitive, wet inside of your pussy. He presses his hips against you, making sure he’s as deep as he possibly can be before looking down at you for your approval. “Feels good?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes,” you’re whimpering in reply, head already thrown back as you get used to the feeling of his girth filling you. 

Hearing you express how good you feel is all the stranger needs to hear before he’s pulling out of you, methodically ensuring that just the tip is left inside before pushing back in. His vigor catches you by surprise, leaving you no time to adjust as he continues at a feverish pace. Unintelligible, broken-sounding cries spill out from your lips with each moment his hips meet yours.

“You have such pretty eyes,” he remarks as he watches you, a compliment you don’t think you’ve ever heard before while being fucked into the next dimesion. “And a pretty mouth, too,” he adds, his thumb breaching the wet insides of your lips before he’s leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is messy as you struggle to meet each other’s mouths, devolving into a mixture of tongue and spit and broken breath.

“Talk to me. Tell me how good I’m fucking you,” he groans against your mouth, sitting up on his knees to fuck you in an angle that’s deeper that before. With the pounding that he’s giving you, you’re just barely able to catch your breath, let alone form the words to respond to him.

“Can’t…scream your name if I don’t know it,” you manage to say in a teasing sort-of-way, your smirk widening into an open-mouthed cry as you’re sure he grazes your g-spot with a particualrly deep drive of his hips. 

He chuckles at your way of trying to get him to share his name, and whether he’s truly serious in wanting to withhold it from you or because he just wants to tease you, he says, “Come on my cock, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Fuck me harder, and I will,” you reply tauntingly, not because he’s not already, but because even through the haze of your approaching orgasm, you want to see how he’ll respond to your challenge.

He smiles at this request, though while maintaining his same pace. “But I don’t wanna break you, sweet girl,” he remarks, and if he weren’t, too, about to crash into his approaching climax, he’d surely make it a point to tease you for how you clench at the pet name. Instead, he opts to slot a hand between your legs and make work of your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. “Does this help?”

Just as you were sure this sex couldn’t get any better, the added stimulation to your clit has your entire body reeling with pleasure. “Oh god, yes. Don’t stop.”

With each approaching second, you can feel yourself about to fall apart, a condition only worsened when the stranger pulls you down by your hips, bringing him even deeper inside of you. You love the sound of his deep voice from above you, sounding almost far-away and dreamlike as he mumbles remarks like, “Keep making those pretty noises for me, baby,” that shoot straight to your core, only adding to your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re killing me baby,” is what he says as his own pleasure begins to reach it’s peak. You love the expressions he makes, the almost painful look on his face as he says, “Wish I could come inside this tight little pussy.”

Even with the knowledge that he put a condom on, you can’t help but react positively to the notion of being filled with his hot, sticky release. And without intending it, your walls close tightly around his cock in tandem with the loud moan that on its own revealed just how much you enjoyed that little tidbit of dirty talk. And without fail, the stranger is quick to pick up on it and tease you for it, though through his own gritted teeth and groans as he inches closer to release.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? If I filled you up with my cum? You wanna have my baby and you don’t even know my name?’

It’s the half-degrading, half-awe-inspired tone of voice he uses that throws you over the edge, your thighs shaking in anticipation of what you’re sure will be an earth-shattering orgasm. “I’m close,” you confess through baited breath.

“I know you are,” he acknowledges in reply, and without warning, your body convulses with the strength of your climax. “That’s it. Come on my dick.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything quite like the overwhelming pleasure that washes over you in a series of pulsating, neverending waves. The stranger fucks you through it without any alteration in speed, and it’s just as you’re about to squirm away in overstimulation that he finishes with one last, deep thrust inside of you. The sound of his groans are just as melodic and husky as his voice is, sending little afterschocks of arousal up your belly until finally, he pulls out of you with a grunt.

Looking up at the ceiling, you feel the mattress dip beside you as he collapses onto the bed. Usually, this would be the point where the post-nut clarity hits you and you’d begin to regret another series of bad decisions that led you to a stranger's bed. Instead, as you lock eyes with who might possibly be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, you only wonder what you did to deserve such good fortune to have met him tonight.

“That was fucking amazing, stranger,” he remarks, putting voice to your own exact thoughts as he rolls over so that he can stroke your cheek idly. You try to hold off the pestering inclination to blink so that you can take in the rosy-cheeked, delicately striking state his orgasm has left him in. 

You thought that after giving you what was surely the best pounding of your life that you’d be less inclined to view him as a total weirdo. Instead, there is something so innocent now about the way he looks at you, as he can’t even believe this happened. Wanting to tease him, you reply, “Good enough for me to learn your name?”

He considers your question with an impish chuckle, and though you’re not at all desperate to know his name, you’re still surprised when he replies, “Will you forgive me if I say something tells me I want to keep you hanging for just a little while longer?”

There is an air of mysteriousness to his words that you pick up on but have trouble interpreting. And while you itch to know what’s going on in that big brain of his, you decide not to question him any further, instead just appreciating the ease and contentment of this moment. 

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him candidly, leaning in so that the tip of your noses touch. “But I’m glad I met you tonight.”

You’re not embarrassed at all when you lean in to kiss him, because even though the sex is over, you just want to feel his lips against yours one last time before you go back to being two strangers who will likely never see each other after this. He reciprocates, seemingly ignorant to the idea of kissing someone chastely as he pulls you in and slips his tongue into your mouth.

Nevertheless, when you pull away, you know the moment is over when he says, “Walk of shame out the door together?”

You’re not sad, only content as you turn to him and answer. “Let’s.”

It’s a cozy Thursday morning on your campus as you step outside to meet with your friend, Jaehyun. When you had allowed him to borrow your computations textbook, you had no idea it would lead you to his apartment complex, where he swore he had left the book on accident.

“I promise you, I thought I brought it with me to class, but I must’ve left it in my room,” he explained sheepishly, patting his pockets as he searched for his apartment key. With his straight-cut bangs and habit of forgetfulness, Jaehyun was about the closest thing to a friend that you had since transferring. You went to the same high school together, congregating in the same social circles but ultimately going two separate ways after graduation. 

It wasn’t until your first day at this new school that you sat down for your morning class and discovered that Myeong Jaehyun went here, too. Since that moment of recognition on both of your ends, he’s been your only piece of relative familiarly in a place that still feels new to you.

“Here we are,” mumbled a disgruntled Jaehyun as he finally managed to unlock the door to his apartment. It was your first time seeing the place, and as far as student housing went, you were impressed. The space was populated with nice-enough-looking furniture and boyish decorations that you could tell belonged to Jaehyun and whoever his roommate was.

“I’m gonna go get your textbook from my room. You can wait out here,” said Jaehyun, turning to head into the hallway where the rooms were. You were just about to get comfortable, maybe sit on his couch and chill as he invariably spent ages looking for your textbook, until the noise of a door opening startled you into attention.

“Oh hey,” said Jaehyun casually to a familiar silhouette that appeared into the hallway. “Y/N, this is my roommate, Leehan.”

You fought the urge to laugh out loud as you were met with the image of the stranger who, just a few weeks ago, was drilling his cock into you in some of the most mind-blowing sex of your life. When he first came out and hadn’t noticed you yet, he simply looked curious, as if he was coming out of his room to see what was causing the noise. But now, he barely fights off a smirk as he, too, processes your presence. All of this goes unnoticed by an unsuspecting Jaehyun, who proceeds into his room to rummage for your textbook.

Left alone with the boy who you can now identify as Leehan, you look him up and down, taking in his casual appearance and hair that has only grown longer in the time since you last met. He leans against his doorframe, looking you over with a gaze just as intrusive before saying, “So. Y/N, huh?”

Both of you laugh out loud at the same time, the humor and awkwardness of the situation hitting you all at once. The smile on Leehan’s face forces his eyes into crescent shapes that you faintly acknowledge as endearing. 

“Leehan,” you state with a grin, returning the preceding instance of acknowledging each other’s names. “It suits you. Although, I’m not sure it’s special enough to justify you withholding it.”

He shrugs indifferently at that, looking not even a little embarrassed as he replies jokingly, “What can I say? I prefer an air of anonymity when conducting my one-night stands.”

“Is that what that was?” you quip back with a tilt of your head. You know exactly that that’s what it was, but playing coy about it is how you save yourself from the embarrassment of having to address the weird sexual-tension-mixed-with-awkwardness that lingers between the two of you.

He runs a hand through his hair, maintaining the smile on his face as he shrugs noncommittally and replies, “I don’t know, I was too drunk to remember. In fact, who are you again?”

You both giggle, the atmosphere and banter between the two of you surprisingly easy, even outside the context of being drunk at a house party. You can faintly hear the sounds of Jaehyun’s rummaging becoming louder a few doors away, letting you know he’s no closer to finding your textbook. To your own internal surprise, a tiny part of you is relieved to have the time to see where this interaction with Leehan will go.

“So, you’re friends with Myeong Jaehyun?” he asks, gesturing his head in the direction of his roommate’s door just a few feet away. You notice how he slips his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and straightens his posture, a move somehow making him look 10x taller.

“It’s a love/hate sort of thing. But yes, I’ve known him since high school.”

The corner of Leehan’s lips switch into a half-smile, something foreboding in his tone as he then says, “Then I guess I should expect to see you much more often, Y/N.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow, and through a confused grin, ask, “Why do you say that so ominously?”

Leehan doesn’t answer at first and instead just maintains his piercing gaze on your face. He’s so strange, but what’s even stranger is that you find yourself attracted to him. Attracted to him and his weirdly crooked smile and habit of staring at people for longer than normal. His shaggy brown hair and pouty lips that you can’t forget were once meshed with yours.

“No reason,” he finally answers, and before you can question such obviously purposeful ambiguity, it’s just then that Jaehyun comes out with your textbook.

“Found your book,” he says, cradling the thick textbook underneath his arm. Looking over at Leehan, whose open-mouthed expression obviously reveals he was in the middle of saying something, he pauses. “You good, Leehan?”

Leehan maintains a passive expression, though the hints of a smirk just barely bleed onto his lips as he gestures his head in your direction. “Yeah, just talking to Y/N.”

Jaehuun exchanges an inquisitive look between the two of you. “You guys know each other?”

Not sure how to answer that question, you look to Leehan for any non-verbal guidance. And funnily enough, he looks to you with the same sort of expecting look, and now you’re staring at each other for longer than normal, fighting back laughter as a confused Jaehyun looks on.

“You could say that,” Leehan replies, nodding his head affirmatively.

part 2 can be found HERE

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

[platonicreaderinsertfanfic]

Etho: Vampire Hunter AU (Reader-Insert)

Female reader.

Word count: 932

“You’re up late.” A low voice broke the silence of the night.

You looked up from your work maintaining the chapel’s pews. “Etho!” He looked tired, green and black clothes splattered with dark stains, cloak hanging off his body in ripped shreds, and reddish brown smeared all over his bare hand and forearm. 

Adjusting the mask covering the lower half of his face, he smiled with his eyes. “Sister.” Like all your friends, he called you by your title rather than your name—just as you preferred. As far as you were concerned, Sister was your name, not the pretentious mouthful assigned to you by the Church when you came here years ago. Hiding your identity was a drag, although preferable to being claimed by the powerful vampire queen who had marked you as a child.

“I take from the bloodstains all over your clothes, your hunt was successful?” Tossing your screwdriver onto the wooden pew beside where you were crouched, you leaned back to get a better look at your friend; it seemed none of the blood was his this time. Good.

He laughed, almost sounding embarrassed. “It doesn’t feel successful.”

“Rough kill?” You threw your long hair back over your shoulder, keeping it out of the way as you returned to work.

Running a blood smeared hand through his white hair, Etho’s mood darkened. “Even when I know my target has lived for over sixty years, and killed seventeen innocents, it’s not easy to drive a stake through the heart of a creature who looks like a ten year old girl…”

“The abbess always says you’re too kind for this work.” Picking up the screwdriver, you gave it a little flip in the air, catching it neatly. Gently running your left hand over the pile of screws, you grouped them as you counted in your head. 

Etho walked towards you. “Uh huhh. It’s hard to tell when she sends me out every week to kill monsters.” Sighing, he squeezed past your kneeling body to tiredly sink down onto the pew. “I shouldn’t have specialized in vampires.”

“Etho, don’t sit—!”

Splintering wood and the crash of ancient planks smacking beautiful tilework flooring interrupted your warning, as the pew gave way beneath him. “Ohhhhh.” He sounded pathetic as he lay on his back on the floor, gazing up at the decorative ceiling and gripping the pocket watch hanging from his belt. While you knew Etho must be a fierce and capable warrior, you found such an image hard to combine with the slightly hapless, and very nice guy, you had befriended over the years.

You groaned. “I had removed most of the screws attaching the seat to the end of the pew, so I could replace them with slightly wider screws, ‘cause the whole thing’s been getting loose, and had already been jury rigged before I ever came here…”

“Sorey.” His accent always came through when he apologized. “I’ll explain to the abbess it was my fault.”  

“Thanks.” Leaning back against the chapel wall, you mulled over how long it would take you to fix the pew, assuming you had the skill to properly fix something so old, delicate, and ornate—which you doubted.

“And speaking of the abbess, I got permission to take you with me on my next assignment.”

“Really?” At his words, all exasperation fled your body. Usually you were forbidden from leaving the abbey, on account of the mark on the back of your left hand. “Why?”

“You’re good at clerical work, right, Sister?”

You nodded eagerly as he continued.

“My target tonight had quite a library, and chests of saved correspondence. I needed someone to help me catalog all of it tomorrow, and since they made the mistake of letting me choose my own assistant…I chose you.” Propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes crinkled in a smile. “You do want to see more of the world, right? I don’t know why the abbess always keeps you cooped up in the church compound, but I figure I ought to show my friend a bit of the outside world if I can.”

Without thinking, you gripped the back of your left hand, imagining the green symbol hidden by your half finger glove. “I’d love that.” 

Rising from the rather destroyed pew, which now littered the floor, Etho stretched. “I need to wash up. Wouldn’t want to talk to the abbess looking like this.” He pointed at you. “Now go get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.”

“You’re going to talk to the abbess now?”

“Some of us aren’t night owls by choice, Sister.” Etho chuckled. “If I have to work this late, she can wake up to talk to me in the middle of the night from time to time.”

Grateful for his friendship, and this opportunity to leave the abbey, you wanted to hug the lanky man before you, but decorum held you back. The last thing you had ever wanted was rumors of being romantically involved with anyone, and years of practicing such thinking left little room for nebulous gestures like hugs—no matter how platonically you intended them. “Hm, you’ve always had fun being a bit of a pain.”

“Just doing my job.” His smile shone through in his voice as you packed up your toolbox.

“See you tomorrow, Etho.”

With a jaunty little wave, he strode off, leaving you to wonder what the next day held.

[lilac-rose-writes]

Hey....Can you do some..... Cindix or felozzy hcs.....dies...

i don't think i've ever actually made cindix hcs before! here you gooo <333

cindy likes to write him love letters even as they continue to get older. they go from colourful scribbles to cute little legible messages. cindy always puts hearts in place of the tittles on her is, but when she's writing to felix, she doodles extras around or as a border. she has a stack of pink & blue paper to write them up onto. she likes slipping him little love notes in class when they're in high school and watching him turn bright red in the desk beside her. felix ends up picking up the same habit, writing long winding flowery letters in pretentious cursive with his rich boy fountain pen for her

when cindy plays house, she always calls the mother & father dolls cindy & felix. he finds out and is flustered beyond belief. she declares he's a father now of this cheap little woolen doll and he immediately becomes far too attached. ted is so confused. "i'm a father now, teddy, i don't have time to deal with your petulant whining". felix loves ditching him to spend time with cindy <3

felix likes to pamper cindy. she's always loved anything shiny & accessories, so he buys her all sorts of little gifts and trinkets to show he cares about her. felix struggles with saying "i love you" itself aloud, but he does his best to convey it in other ways like holding her hand or offering a fancy necklace whenever they spend time together

despite felix's struggle with saying "i love you" itself, he is a sucker for sappy nicknames. they are absolutely godawful. honeysuckle, sugarplum, my angelic flower, etc. cindy calls him babe and he comes out with "of course, my darling, delicate rosebud". felix is so unbearably smitten

cindy & felix are the definition of "ily" "i love me too" & it works both ways <3

they adopt a cat. you cannot tell me that felix isn't a cat person. cindy gets gravy and he is immediately attached. he insists that if they ever break up, he still gets visiting rights. he buys gravy all the best cat food, toys & beds. "why call the poor thing gravy?" "i didn't! the dumpster hag named her before i took her in" "wh- dumpster hag?!"

they bully children on roblox together. watch out seven-year-olds on dress to impress, cindix are here and they are slaying. their outfits are top tier. cindy keeps trying to bypass the swear filter, everything she makes is pink. felix falsely reports everyone who insults cindy. he gives everybody one star at most then cindy 5/5. (i have never played dress to impress, i am going off of knowledge from fashion famous when i was 7 and a duncanyounot video my sister showed me)

for all felix cares for cindy, he cannot stand her gum chewing. any chewing sets him off, he despises the sound of it. she does her best to remember not to have any around him, but it's a bit of a struggle when she nearly always has some in her mouth

cindy doesn't like the -ilys and felix immediately picks up on that. they aren't poor so he can't bully them for being urchins, but that's not enough to quell his disdain. he sees lily in the school debate team and immediately declares them arch-rivals (lily is so confused). he taunts billy about having "lost" cindy to him (billy could not care less). he's so proud of himself every time he thinks up a new insult for them

cindy admires felix's flamboyance, felix admires cindy's strong will. cindy doesn't know how he manages to keep so many words in his brain, but it sure is useful when she needs some help with her homework. felix doesn't see her as lesser for not understanding it; as much as he belittles ted for being in the "dumb class", he respects cindy far too much to do the same to her. his extravagant bows, entrances and hand waves make cindy giggle a lot

[prosperdemeter2]

Teaser Tuesday - family reunion (working title)

“Hey,” Eddie said softly, firmly, pulled him out of his head as he was so good at doing. Buck blinked and he was in front of a boutique bakery, the heat wafting out through the door as a customer left, a paper coffee cup cradled in their hand. “You can just come home.” 

Buck hastily grabbed the door before it could swing shut and ducked inside. “I can’t leave Maddie here by herself.”

“Maddie’s her own person.” Eddie argued, pragmatic as always. “Just because she wants this… big family reunion doesn’t mean you have to be there with her.” 

Except he sort of did, didn’t he? “She wouldn’t leave me to deal with it alone.” Except she had… in a roundabout way. There was a dichotomy in understanding the things he did now that he was thirty - Maddie had every right to leave him behind and she probably should have sooner. Staying with their parents after everything they had tossed on her wasn’t fair to her, she had been hurt just as much as he had been, but the fact remained that there would always be a small, illogical, little boy in him that had watched his big sister drive away and leave him behind. “And it’s not like she’s making me spend time with them.” 

Maddie hadn’t even asked. They both knew that Buck was there for one reason and one reason alone - to make sure Maddie got through it all okay. The reunion wasn’t for him, after all. Buck hadn’t even known these people existed until about a month ago, he had never missed them the way Maddie had. It also meant that Buck wasn’t likely to make the excuses for them that she was. “You can’t actually think that they’re not going to try and force a conversation with you?” Eddie asked wryly. 

Eddie was even less generous than Buck was when it came to his… extended family. It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t understand where his parents had come from with Daniel - I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost Chris, Eddie had muttered years ago, when Buck had turned up at his doorstep absolutely ripped to pieces after finding out. But I don’t think I would be able to go about pretending he didn’t exist. But this wasn’t the case of his parents. This wasn’t a little bit of sympathy for the people who had tried everything to save one son and accidentally lost two. This was… these were grandparents and aunts and uncles who had let their nephew be swept under the rug. This was a group of people who allowed themselves to be carefully cut out of two lives that needed them and then never tried to reach out again. It was so incredibly complicated and, really, thinking about it all just made Buck exhausted. But Boston had its own charm, and it wasn’t Pennsylvania and it sucked that he didn’t have Eddie or Chris with him to show bits of his past to but he had Maddie and Jee-Yun and, really, Buck had survived off of less. “They can try.” Buck conceded after pausing to order a coffee he didn’t need (“A medium lavender honey latte, please. Hot.” Eddie had laughed in his ear, sounded a bit offended by the flavor and repeated it in an echo all the way in California like he couldn’t believe how pretentious Buck sounded when he ordered it.) and a delicious looking homemade muffin the size of Jee-Yun’s face to go with it. He shuffled down to the pick-up area, and took a plastic stirrer in hand, toying with it between restless fingers and glancing at his watch to check the time. 

He had told Maddie they would meet for lunch, which still gave him a good… hour to sit in this coffee shop and ponder his life’s decisions or… something. “You’re all staying at the same hotel, Buck.” 

He wrinkled his nose at the reminder. “But if I avoid the elevator…” 

“Aren’t you on the fifth floor?” 

“The place has stairs, Eddie.” 

“You have chronic pain, Buck.” 

Okay, listen, it was his own fault for calling Eddie here. If he had wanted someone to just listen to him whine he would have called Bobby and begged him not to put the phone on speaker so Athena couldn’t yell at him for not thinking straight. If he had wanted logic and a way to fix the situation, rally the troops or something, he would have called Hen. If he had wanted someone who would tell Maddie every single thing he was thinking and feeling so that she could fix the problem, he would have called Chim. But Buck had wanted someone to knock his head back on straight. Someone to listen to him whine and gripe and read the fine print to see that, even if he was joking about it, he wasn’t entirely… okay with it. I’m not sure we should be congratulating him. Eddie had said wryly when Buck had told all of them the sperm donation had taken. I understand wanting you to be their kid’s biological dad, Buck, but you know that doesn’t make you their… actual dad, right? He had asked when Buck was mid-breakdown on his kitchen floor. No he hadn’t known, thank-you-very-much. Or he had but he hadn’t wanted to think about it. Hen would call him out but Eddie would call him out, fill him with water and squeeze him so tight that every single emotion and thought would be wrung out of him whether he liked it or not. 

“My mom looked like she was ready to chew my head off when I told Maddie I’d see her at lunch.” Buck mumbled instead, thanking the barista as they passed over his paper cup and porcelain plate. He balanced the muffin on his arm, found a table with a big, overstuffed armchair in the corner, and carefully lowered himself down onto it. The pain in his leg wasn’t all that bad, really. He had ibuprofen in his locker at work and in his hotel room for if it got too bad, a cream his doctor prescribed for after long, hard shifts. It was the cold that was doing him in, if he were to be honest about it. It was eating into his scars and reigniting where the screws had been placed in his bones. He shifted, stretched out his leg in front of him and rubbed at his knee absently. “I feel kind of bad leaving her there to deal with it all herself.” 

Eddie hummed and Buck could imagine what he was doing with his face. His eyebrows were probably pulled up, his lips pressed tightly together like he was carefully avoiding saying something he knew Buck wasn’t going to like. Eddie had worn that look the entire time Buck was dating Taylor, it was his I don’t like the choice you’re making but it’s your choice to make look. “What are you guys doing for lunch?” Eddie asked instead of digging into the wound that was Buck’s complicated relationship with his parents. 

“Have you even eaten breakfast yet?” 

“You’re the one that brought up lunch.” 

Buck laughed, a softer one than what he usually let out in deference to the stressed out college student at the table beside him. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a tiny shrug. “We might just let Jee pick.”

“She’ll just choose McDonalds.” 

“There are worse choices.” 

“McDonalds is trash, Buck.” Eddie argued like he always did. 

“You’re only saying that because it was your first job.” 

“No, it was my second job and it was trash.” 

“Just because you only like their nuggets -.” 

“It’s the smell.” 

“It’s not like there’s In-and-Out here.” 

“You can do better than McDonalds.” 

“You know how I feel about seafood.” 

“Doesn’t Boston have a bustling restaurant scene?” 

“Yeah, it’s all seafood.” 

“That sounds like a lie.” 

Buck huffed and draped a hand over his mouth to hide his beaming smile from view. This was it, he knew, the thing he had been searching the world for. No wonder he hadn’t found it until California. He thought about it sometimes, when he was lying on Eddie’s couch or watching him with Chris at his own kitchen table, a word game between them that Chris only pretended to like because Eddie did. He had left Pennsylvania in search of who he was, in search of a purpose. He had found that in the 118, in firefighting. But he had found all of himself scattered in the Diaz household. And no wonder it had taken so long - Eddie hadn’t even been in the country when Buck had started looking. Buck had avoided Texas and stopped in almost every other state altogether. What were the odds, what were the chances. Right place, right time. There was never going to be anyone else, even if things never progressed further than where they were now. “I really want to take her to the aquarium.” Buck admitted, although it wasn’t a surprise. “This one’s really small but I think she’ll love the penguins.” 

He knew she’d love the penguins. “Steal one and bring it home for me in your luggage.” Eddie commanded absently. It was… nine in Los Angeles. He was probably on his way into work, if Buck was remembering his schedule correctly. “It can be our child.” 

“You want to split custody of a penguin with me?” 

“Why not?” 

They would do this thing, sometimes, where their playful arguments would take a turn into flirting territory. Eddie used to shy away from it, he’d shake his head and hide his smile and change the topic and Buck had learned not to push after the first few times. He liked Eddie a whole lot more romantically than Eddie liked him, and that was fine. Buck could cope. Only then Eddie had gotten shot and Buck had broken down the door to his bedroom and suddenly Eddie was getting better and flirting back and Buck was the one scrambling, trying to keep up with this new, tentative side that was certainly much more bold than he had ever taken Eddie to be. It was nice. It was exhilarating. It never failed to make his blood pump hot through his veins. “We should bring her to the aquarium out here.” Eddie said like they were a unit. They did babysit as a unit, sometimes. When Maddie and Chim needed a date night. Buck wasn’t sure if Chim knew they were watching her together but Maddie certainly did. “I think she’d get a kick out of the sea otters.” 

“Who doesn’t like the sea otters?” Buck countered. “They hold hands when they’re sleeping.” 

“To not get separated.” Eddie finished. “I know, you and Chris have both told me.” 

“Well.” Buck blushed, suddenly happy Eddie couldn’t see him. “It’s important information.” 

“I think they have a few new pups.” Eddie continued. “We should go when you get back. Make it a family thing.” 

“A family thing?” 

“The three of us?” Eddie balked at Buck’s question, like the wording he had used had caught himself off guard. “Me, you, Chris.” 

A family thing. Buck smiled into his coffee lid. “I’d like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Buck cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “And then… maybe we could… I don’t know. Do something that’s n-.” 

“Is that Buck?” Hen’s voice yelled through the speaker. Abruptly, he cut himself off, his cheeks flaming so hot that the college student beside him raised their brow when their eyes accidentally caught. Her lips twitched and she pointedly turned back down to her… statistics book. 

“Hen!” Eddie yelped. 

“Hey, Buck!” Hen must have grabbed his phone from his hand. “How are things going in Boston?” 

He smiled, shook his head, and sat back in his chair, pulling his phone away from his ear to snap a quick picture of his muffin and send it her way. “I’m having this muffin that’s, like, the size of your face.” 

Hen clicked her tongue. “Do I make better muffins?” 

“Hen,” Buck told her as seriously as he could. “Your muffins are heaven sent and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

[the-badger-mole]

Hallmarks of the Season: Part 3

The rest of the morning was a flurry of family time. Hakoda had closed the mechanic shop he and Sokka ran for the day, and Kanna came by with a tray of baked goods she had made the night before. As promised, Katara sat with her grandmother and showed her the most recent pictures she had with Zuko. The wedding came up, of course, and Katara had to disappoint Kanna by telling her that they hadn't even decided where to get married let alone when.

"Don't wait too long to set a date," Kanna warned Katara. "That's how you end up engaged for ten years."

"We're not planning on a long engagement," Katara laughed. "We wanted to enjoy this part for a little bit and then talk about dates, but then this whole mess with the investor happened, and I don't think either of us has had the mental capacity to even think about considering wedding plans. Honestly, I'd rather just pay someone else to plan it."

"Now, where's the fun in that?" Kanna huffed.

"You know I hate planning parties," Katara said. "I'd be happy to marry Zuko at a courthouse then go out for noodles afterwards."

"No way!" Sokka exclaimed. "You're marrying a jillionaire! I expect to be served steak and top shelf liquor at your wedding!"

"Sokka, don't be crass!" Hakoda tossed a dishtowel at his son. "I need to be on Zuko's good side, so he'll put me in a nice retirement home." He winked at Katara.

"I'm starting to regret inviting Zuko," Katara grumbled. "I need you two to find some couth before he gets here."

"We will be on our best behavior for his Fieryness," Sokka promised sarcastically. "You might want to give Toph a heads up, though. You know she can smell pretentious trust fund kids a mile off." Katara reached for the dishtowel Hakoda had thrown and smacked her brother in the head with it.

"Zuko's not pretentious," she said. "He's a bit stuffy, but that's just his introversion manifesting."

"Everything is going to go fine, honey," Hakoda promised.

"Yeah, assuming he actually shows up this time," Sokka muttered.

"Sokka!" Kanna scolded him with a swat to his arm.

"What?" Sokka nursed his arm. "We're all thinking it. I just said it!" Hakoda glared at his son and motioned at Katara with his head. She looked at her brother stricken.

"He-he's been working to get this company off the ground for five years," she explained quietly. "He doesn't mean to cancel last minute, but he's been working on this for a long time."

"We understand, Kat," Hakoda said, hugging his daughter. "It was the same when I was trying to get the mechanic shop off the ground. Lot's of long nights and missed trips, but it got easier to balance work and life once we were off the ground." Sokka reached out and patted Katara's arm, looking like a chastened child.

"I was only messing with you," he said apologetically. "Honestly, Zuko seems like a great guy. I guess...I just want to know that he makes you a priority, too."

"He does," Katara insisted. "He's incredibly thoughtful. He came by my apartment last week to drop off my favorite coffee on his way to fly out for a business trip. He surprised me with a picnic dinner on the roof when we both had to work late. And not just to me that he's like that with. He works insane hours to keep the business running, but he makes sure that everyone else feels free to leave at five. The whole reason he's not here right now is because this cashflow issue is threatening this month's payroll, and he just wants to make sure everyone gets their money before the holidays.

"He does sound wonderful," Kanna said. "If you say he's worthy of you, then I will take your word. I can't wait to finally meet him in person."

The conversation drifted away from Zuko after a few more minutes to the possibility of getting together with Toph and Aang, then to Sesi's martial arts class (she insisted her aunt come see her practice). Soon the afternoon drew on, and Hakoda began to make preparations for dinner that evening, and Sokka and Katara started preparing to head for the school. Katara went up to her room to grab her purse and paused to check her messages. There was nothing from Zuko since he'd confirmed she'd made it to her father's house safely. She tried to ignore the sharp pinch of disappointment in her stomach as she sent a short message to him.

Miss you😢💖

-:-:-:-:-:- The dojo stoon on what Katara remembered being at different points in her childhood an arts and crafts shop, a music store, the headquarters of a short lived farming MLM, and an even shorter lived ballroom dancing studio. The Kyoshi School of Martial Arts had been open for a bit over two years, and the head instructor was an ex-military officer who's short stature belied her intimidating reputation. Katara could immediately tell her brother was smitten.

"Sifu Suki!" Sesi ran up to the instructor and nearly dragged to Katara. "This is my Auntie Tara! She's getting married!"

"Congratulations!" Suki said hiding a bewildered laugh. "It's so nice to finally meet the famous Katara. Your brother and niece have nothing but great things to say about you."

"You've made quite an impression on Sesi yourself," Katara said. "She couldn't wait to introduce us."

"I see!"

"I told Auntie that I wanted to be just like you and just like her," Sesi told Suki. "But she said that it's better to be just like me, even though it's okay to be..." Sesi scrunched her nose and tried to remember Katara's words. "...to be perspired by you." Suki had to hid another laugh as she patted Sesi's head.

"I think you mean inspired," she corrected Sesi. "And she's right. Being you is the absolute best thing you can grow up to be. Now, go get changed. We're starting warm ups soon." Suki spared one last smile for Sokka and Katara and went to prepare for class.

"She's cute," Katara said when Suki was far enough away. Sokka shot her an arch look.

"Should I warn Zuko he's got competition?"

"Oh, please," Katara scoffed. "Are you telling me you're not into her? You were doing that weird thing where you try not to stare but then end up staring super hard."

"Knock it off," Sokka shoved her lightly. "It's not like that. Sesi likes her, and she's been a great teacher. I...I respect her."

"Respectfully love her," Katara muttered. Sokka scowled at her, but there was no heat in it. His eyes drifted over to where Suki was passing out small wooden fans to her students, and his gaze softened. Katara nudged him and smiled knowingly.

"Seriously, I can't think about dating right now. I've got Sesi and the shop..." Sokka's voice trailed off as he tried to come up with more examples of his busyness.

"I'm not saying run off and marry her," Katara said. "You don't even have to tell Sesi that you're interested in her. I'm just saying, if you like her, see where it goes." Sokka grunted noncommittally and studiously kept his eyes away from Suki. Katara eyed her brother with concern. After a moment she poked him in the side.

"Hey, are you alright?" she asked. Sokka turned to her in surprise.

"I'm fine," he said. "Why?"

"I don't just mean right now," Katara said. "I know you're still grieving Yue, and I know that grief doesn't have a timeline, but you know that she wouldn't want you to put your life on hold out of loyalty to her. You loved her well when she was with us. It's okay to move on now." A few emotions rippled across Sokka's face, as if he were deciding whether or not to be angry with Katara. Then he let out a long breath and seemed to deflate.

"It's not just about Yue," Sokka confessed. "I miss her terribly, and sometimes I get so angry because she doesn't get to be here for...this." Sokka gestured around the room, lingering on Sesi. "It's not fair that she doesn't get to remember her mother. I don't want her to have to live through a parade of would be mothers who just... leave."

"So do what Dad did," Katara said. "Only introduce Sesi once you're sure it's going to last."

"Right," Sokka let out a bitter laugh. "Remember how that turned out?" Katara shuddered. When she was a freshman in high school and Sokka was in his junior year, Hakoda introduced them to Malina, his girlfriend of nearly a year. Malina immediately tried to take over as their mother. She was oddly intense in her insistence of reorganizing how their home was run and trying to forcibly bond with Hakoda's kids, despite him assuring her he wasn't looking for a replacement mother for them. The final straw was when she replaced a family photo with Hakoda, Kya and the children with a picture she'd forced them to pose for on a trip to an amusement park Katara and Sokka were far too old for. Hakoda never told them what he said to Malina, but they never saw her or her photos again.

"That was one time!" Katara said.

"And Dad has never introduced us to any of the three women he's dated since." Sokka folded his arms and shook his head. The class had started. Suki was guiding the kids through their warm up exercises. Every so often, Sesi would look over to make sure her father and aunt were watching. Katara would wave and motion for her to pay attention.

"You can't let that one experience color how you feel about dating," Katara told Sokka. "I don't want to push you into anything. I just want to make sure you know, dating is allowed." Sokka shrugged and huffed, but Katara could see his gaze still lingering on the pretty martial arts instructor.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Auntie! Did you see when I knocked down the dummy?" Sesi danced excitedly, holding onto Katara's hands.

"I did!" Katara grinned at her niece. "You are getting really good!"

"You're exactly who I want on my side in a fight," Sokka said. "Go get changed. Grandad made your favorite for dinner." Sesi cheered and rushed off to the changing room. Suki walked over to Sokka and Katara.

"She really is improving fast," Suki told them. "I think she'll be ready to move up a level in a few months."

"She's going to be thrilled! And...and of course, she wouldn't be learning so quickly without having such a great teacher." Sokka's voice was just a bit too high, and his smile just a bit too wide. Katara had known her brother to be a massive flirt in his younger years, but it had been a long time since he'd asked Yue on their first date. It was clear he was out of practice. Katara smiled to herself.

"So, Suki, how long have you been in town?" she asked.

"Oh, about three years now," Suki told her. "I used to live in Kyoshi, but I was stationed not to far from here when I was in the military. I fell in love with the area, and when I got out of the service, I thought I'd try to settle here."

"Yeah, this place is really amazing," Katara agreed. "I loved growing up here. The community is really warm."

"Yeah," Suki shrugged reluctantly. "I mean, I have a great rapport with my clients, but I don't know...I feel like I haven't found my people yet." Katara clicked her tongue in sympathy.

"I know what you mean," she said. "I live in Ba Sing Se now, and it took me a while to find really close friends again. The first few years had some really lonely stretches."

"It's been really hard to feel like I've put down roots," Suki admitted. "I've been so busy with this place, that I just haven't had time. But I'd love to find people to just hang out with."

"Well, you're in luck!" Katara said. "Sokka and I are meeting up with some old friends in a few days. You should join us! Our friend owns a barcade in town, so if we ask nice, she might let us play on some of them for free." Suki's face lit up with excitement at the thought.

"The Badgermole?" she asked. "I've walked by that place so many times, and I always meant to stop in."

"Well, now you have a reason." Katara nudged Sokka forward. "I'm only in town for a few more days, but you should take Sokka's number. He can let you know all the details, and keep you looped in when other fun stuff is going on in town." A flush bloomed on Sokka's face across his nose and to his ears, but he managed a friendly smile as he put his number into Suki's phone. Suki was called away a moment later by an insistent mother who loudly demanded to know why her daughter wasn't getting Suki's undivided attention during the lesson.

"You are too meddlesome for your own good," Sokka said once she'd gone.

"What?" Katara shrugged. "Suki needs friends, and you're local!"

"I don't need you to hit on women for me." Sokka scowled down at his sister. "That was humiliating."

"Oh, please," Katara snorted. "She's coming to a casual hang out with your sister and high school friends. It's not like I asked her to marry you. And you gave her your number. Ball's in her court if she even wants to come out."

"Whatever," Sokka grumbled. Sesi emerged from the changing room and bounded across the room towards them. Sokka scooped her up and they headed for the door. Suki caught Sokka's eye and waved at him. Sokka grinned in spite of himself and waved back. Katara regarded her brother with a knowing gleam in her eyes, which Sokka did his best not to notice.

"I think the phrase you're looking for is thank you," she said out the side of her mouth.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

[gerogerigaogaigar]

This is it! My last batch of reviews. This time my boyfriend supplied six albums. He is more of a singles and eps kinda guy so the album choices are kinda...

The Front Bottoms - Going Grey

The Front Bottoms have existed in my periphery for a little while now. I'll hear a song now and then but I've never sat down and listened to an album. Going Grey exists somewhere in between 10s indie folk and 00s pop punk/emo. The lyrics are solidly unsophisticated without being stupid. A love letter to immaturity. It is clearly the work of someone looking back on their younger self and fondly roasting them. The music really supports this by primarily utilizing the tendencies of immature 00s pop punk and pretentious 10s indie folk. The contrast makes the tongue in cheek nature of the music clear without ever having to signal too overtly to the listener.

Blink-182 - California

So I actually kinda like Blink-182. I think their music from the 90s is a pure and raw expression of suburban alienation. Plus Travis Barker is an unbelievably good drummer. Unfortunately this album is from 2016. Ok it's not all bad actually. Tom DeLonge has been replaced by Alkaline Trio frontman Matt Skiba and he lends a bit of that emo sound to the album which isn't really much of a jump. Barker is still capable of breakneck drum fills. And a lot of the songs have the energy of their 90s output. There is a lingering feeling though that these men are in their 40s and still singing about being teenagers. Please stop. But between big misses like Kings Of The Weekend and Teenage Satellites are songs that remind me why I liked this band in the first place. The Only Thing That Matters is a major standout track for having the rawness and speed that made me love them back in their Dude Ranch Days. California is a mixed bag, but it's honestly a lot better than you'd expect out of a 2016 Blink-182 album.

Fall Out Boy - Mania

What the fuck happened to this band? From Under The Cork Tree is one of the best albums of the 00s full of witty lyricism and catchy music. Mania is an Imagine Dragons album. Fall Out Boy have become soulless trend chasers who don't even really care about the music they make. It's generically "epic" with vapid lyrics that don't communicate anything. Someone needs to euthanize these idiots before they go making more music.

Rezz - A Certain Kind Of Magic

Rezz is a lesser known DJ and electronic music producer that more people need to listen to. She has an incredibly chaotic style that mixes dubstep, brostep, electro house, and hip hop. And if that sounds a lot like Skrillex to you don't worry. While Rezz has a lot in common with her obnoxious brostep predecessor she is also capable of composing music that isn't just nonstop sensory overload. The peaks and valleys are what make her music so engaging, a very energetic segment can easily turn right into a lower bass driven dubstep sequence. The bass is crunchy with smoother mids and high ends and there are a good number of samples. A Certain Kind Of Magic also inexplicably ends on basically an emo song which catches me off guard every time, but goes to show how a wide range of influences makes for interesting music.

Rainbow Kitten Surprise - RKS

I don't hate this. I'll admit that the whole indie white boy blues aesthetic never clicked with me, and I can point to a number of bands doing this sort of thing that I like better, but I can point to innumerable bands that I like much, much less. RKS is deeply inoffensive music that isn't gonna hold my attention too hard, but it does have a few moments that are truly enjoyable. Particularly when they let down that bombastic sound and let those bubbly clean guitar lines shine.

Kelly Clarkson - Breakaway

I've been given special instructions for this one. I have to sit in the back of a car on my way home from my friend's house while it's raining and then I have to listen to this album and feel bad. I don't have any way to do that.

What is Kelly Clarkson? Being the first American Idol winner puts her in a position where she's primed to be a golden goose for a bunch of executives. As such her options for artistic integrity are severely limited to the commercially profitable. On Breakaway Clarkson split from the Idol management to craft an album that dated to explore outside the mainstream pop landscape. The results are embarrassing.

Obviously she was never going to make good music. I would be an idiot to try and give an American Idol contestant the benefit of the doubt in regards to their artistic sincerity. Her voice is a hollow void of emotion. The lyrics are paint by number. The music shows the outline of an emotion. Kelly Clarkson is the shadow on the wall of Plato's cave. Her fans incapable of comprehending that this is just a pale imitation of real music.

So I ask again. What is Kelly Clarkson? The answer seems obvious now. Kelly Clarkson is a name that once belonged to a human being and now is the property of record companies. The name is attached to records and the records are expected to sell based on the name. The human being that once shared the name Kelly Clarkson is a shadow. Kelly Clarkson is a music career. Kelly Clarkson is the avatar of the American Idol social experiment. Kelly Clarkson is a cipher. There is no such thing as Kelly Clarkson, there is only the music. But the music is also a shadow. There is nothing here. A shadow cast by a shadow. You cannot find the artistic merit in this music any more than you can get blood from a stone.

[firebuug]

HELLOO!! waving really really fast :] 4, 9 and 26 for the oc ask game mmmaybe?

HII looks at u with giant boba eyes. sorry this gets really long because u asked me a music related question. this is unavoidable

4. How did you find the name for a certain character?

god so a lot of my ocs come pre-named, like my lobcorp ocs (all randomly generated ingame) and some of my town of salem ocs (buggy comes from the firebug skin, skuggy is just...sk (serial killer) buggy....) but i think i can list some (slightly more) interesting ones :3

will (my g corp housefly limbus oc) comes from the author of the poem he comes from, william blake

maggie (one of the names of julian's boss) comes from maggot lol

adànor (my dnd character based off...adam lobcorp) was difficult because i was stressin like "uhhhghh how do you name an elven characterrrrrr" but i found this fun website and used it to come up with a first and last name! i chose the prefix Adàn because it's literally jsut the spanish way to say adam lol....also bcuz im hispanic and it sounds better than just a d a m .... used the suffix -or because it sounded nicest and elfy lol, it also means flower (just according to this little site) which is fun. his last name is caldeth which sounds epic but also means eternal faith which...fits his character lol. i pulled up a bunch of name meanings for adàn and used the one i liked most LMFAO so in the early days of the campaign (when he was still innocent.......and very egotistical lol) he'd introduce himself like "i am adànor caldeth, which means earth flower of undying faith . . " or some pretentious shit like that. it was pretty funny while it lasted

bierrab kaluk (my aaracokra dnd character, which is a giant bird) is literally just mangled up "birb" and "cluck" LOL. my friend fuzz helped me come up w this one and it stuck

5. What is one of your character’s theme songs?

GIGGLES....so this is difficult bc i have whole playlists for ocs rather than single songs, but i can definitely go through and pick out the songs that fit the most for them?

julian is hard because you kind of need the Whole playlist to get a gist of all of the multitudes he is made up of. man stuck in a time loop. man who is exhausted but keeps running anyways. man who cant stop thinking he is full of bugs and worms. man who is deeply in love with someone who keeps dying. but my friend showed me a few songs that really clicked so i can say that as of rn the most julie themes are for the departed and rule 21: momento mori :3

eva. grabs him so hard squeezes him SHAKES HIM AROUND SO HARD. his are piedmont by destroy boys (the autism. the alienation of being raised on one track his whole life isolated from normality (he was a nestie raised solely to work at a wing) and having nothing in common with anyone because all he was allowed to be was a success story. nostalgia for memories he's never had (time loops erased except for little bits and pieces from past abnormalities. he woke up one day knowing how to play perfect piano from la luna). blue. dissociation. eva song fr) and usseewa by ado (if youve listened to this song you know. corporate slave anger and rage. u get it). as a bonus his distortion themes r machine gun poem doll by cosMo-P and abnormality dancin girl by guchiry

adanor's is 100% cannibal by tally hall im so fucking normal about this i can't explain it completely but it fits in line with how his plot went and its. grips . GRIPSSSSS GRIPS he's haunted by his dead wife. to the point where he will undergo horrors and get actually ripped apart for her if its what she wants. he ends up getting manipulated by an evil entity disguising herself as his dead wife into sevrving her by doing exactly that. and he just believed it was her because she loves him and would do him no wrong. hiding in the corners disguised....he's really idolizing the blood moonstone and not his dead wife and he had no idea....until he finally opens his eyes later on but it's too late he's been consumed by what's manipulated him and it's left a permanent scar onto him he doesn't think he'll be able to redeem himself from.....grins so hard my teeth fall out

narae has hall of fame by jeff rosenstock. he has a specific brainrot that causes him to think everyone is out to get him and he needs to constantly be proving himself. he needs to be the one on top at all times etc etc he needs to be competitive until he dies

ummm bonus but. julipede's theme song is bug by kairiki bear teehee. i love how frantic and energetic it is but also u can Feel the paranoia radiating off of it. i love the silly double meaning it has for julipede because bug as in "disease / glitch / illness" ya but also BUG BC HES A BUG.......also i. cant pick apart the lyrics rn but. um. he's . Yeah

26. What’s your favorite relationship/dynamic between a set of OCs?

IDK IF YOU CAN TELL BUT IM A BIG FAN OF DUBIOUSLY ONE-SIDED FRIENDSHIPS. i love it when some guy is so sure he is this other guy's best friend but that other guy wants him to die so so so badly. and the other guy refuses to admit that the only reason he hasnt beat the other guy into a pulp is because that guy genuinely makes his life a little better. this is the julian + eva dynamic and it is also the dynamic between buggy and skuggy the alternate universe besties / twins . also the dynamic between salamander and narae...i just really like it ok.

[emproleon]

HI IZZY 🗣️ i present to you a random free pass to tell me five things you love about dio's goofy ass 🎟️ but also no pressure 🧡

OOOH HI KAT THANK YOU FOR THE FREE PASS💖 this is gonna be long LMAO and im actually gonna keep this in line with canon as opposed to my psychotic daydreams (yall get that in discord)

Honestly, i love how funny he is?? like he is definitely overly memed on, and it's gotten old, but a lot of those moments just on their own are so funny to me SJKDHVS like the whole "how many breads have you eaten" line is so ????? why did u say that king..... and honestly i dont think he gets enough credit for the whole Muda shtick like hes the first (i think?) character to start the whole catchphrase thing back in part 1, pre stands, and it's again. not complaining, but what went through ur mind in making that decision, bud. plus the weird little homunculi he just made for funsies in part 1?? a real comedian 10/10

His fashion!! i genuinely LOVE his fits and all the little details in them so much, including the ones he wears in one off illustrations. the leathery, feathery, one is his best looks EVER and i honestly kinda wish it wouldve been in part 3. wouldve been very Lestat. ALSO this includes the Moorish shoes!!! i think they tie in his themes and design SO WELL and im tired of people clowning on them

His impact on the story! Dio Brando really, truly is That Guy™️ i love that he continuously haunts the narrative (at least in parts 1-6) and even with Diego, who is a different character, but still undeniably Dio. just as a reader/watcher getting through the ENTIRE old universe and finally feeling like dio and his mess is done forever just for Diego to show up in part 7 is just really funny to me, esp with how similar Diego is to Dio as opposed to Johnny and Jonathan or really a lot of the other counterparts. You can't get rid of him.

I thank Araki every day for that character sheet he released last year bc Dio intending to have a soft voice is SO GOOD to me. like i love both anime performances a ton and they're iconic and fit the whole over the top theme of it all, but big, scary, villains with smooth, level, soft voices is my kryptonite 😩 ive thought of it before, but if i had to pick like. an actual more "realistic" voice claim for him it would be Harry Lloyd👀 loved him in game of thrones, and his character voice wise in that def has RANGE like ii think dio would have, but he also does audiobooks and they're SO lovely to listen to💖

The way Araki ties him to the Arts, as pretentious as that sounds💀 i think depicting him as someone who appreciates art, literature, and philosophy makes him SO FUN to play with from a fan/creator perspective. i feel like it's a great way to toy around with other bits of symbolism and really expand on him in art and fics.

throwing in a sixth, but i like his dumb face unfortunately!!! Sorry i know this is a shock to all!!! but esp his character model in asbr/over heaven.........so handsome😔 THAT is pookie right there

in conclusion hes alright ig🙄🤚

[craske]

I don't want to sound pretentious when i say all this (and this ended up being really long??), but i really do think you don't need to uphold your online presence so consciously, or even at all. There's nothing wrong with being "inactive" because trying to show up for everything is some sick standard social media made up. Maybe it might be difficult to uphold an idgaf personality, but i can say from my experience it could be better to try a little bit at a time. I can say that they really do mean it when you can have quiet admirers, from my experience all the more. Maybe they're too shy to put silly tags when they reblog or just put a like on your post. And I don't think you have to worry too much about sticking to one piece of media and be afraid the people following you won't like you anymore for posting different content. At most, I just believe they won't really care enough to unfollow you or stop engaging entirely. The most important thing to me is that you stick around doing the things you actually want to do, even if you're just showing up every month or so, or black out for a year or more. Because the people who do care will be overjoyed to see you whatever you post or share, especially when you come back after a long time. It really is discouraging when you don't see that actively, maybe because we're so used to seeing numbers that relate to our worth. But i like to imagine we're waving at each other from a distance or smiling through a window, as horrid as online landscapes can be nowadays. I know i'm running my mouth here but i just wanted to share my experience because i um. 🙋 also think youre really cool and awesome and i love whatever work you do and the fact you share it is an amazing thing enough i feel privelaged and youre humor is funny and whatever new stuff you post is just introducing me to things i'll also think is cool down the line and i really do wish i can share my appericiation more and evolve from being a quiet admirer /inhales/ 👍 i would say this is a sort of love letter from the gas station but i also mean it as kai 👋 i hope you're doing well in uni or that it gets better soon or in whatever it is youre doing now. and whether or not youre online, i hope youre doing the things you enjoy 🫶

okay i needed some time to figure out how to respond to this ask because theres a lot (in a /pos way dont worry) so ill start off with saying that i really really and i do mean it Really appreciate what you said here. Especially lately, ive been struggling with being active online outside of small spaces where there are just me and a few other people. might be me feeling overwhelmed when i say something into the void with a high chance of no response, though i wont fault anyone for that. i myself know interaction is scary so i do get it. ever since i started using the internet ive stuck to my small online bubbles so yeah interaction kind of intimidating online

and though i agree it does feel discouraging to sometimes see no feedback or much of a reaction, i try not to be bummed out about it myself because im also a silent admirer of many artists online. so like ive said before i do understand that sometimes people are shy and dont interact directly and theres no pressure really to change that. just the idea that there are people that like what i make is really nice, even though i suffer from the same issue that maaany other artists have and i need to actively remind myself of that.

about sticking to one fandom its a very recent but big issue to me because ive been DEEP in the persona pit for like 4 years, and i certainly built an audience around that. i know there will always be people that stick around no matter what but despite that theres always that nagging feeling that maaybe things will crumble. obviously thats not true but human mind fucking SUCKS

as the final note ill say it again that your message means a lot to me and i thank you a lot for it <333 im soo flattered by your words and they made my past two days, thank you soo much

[teen-step-mom]

Yapping 4/7/2024

I've put off making a tumblr for a very long time. I've had a substack for a bit, but I haven't put anything on there, and tumblr feels like it requires a little bit less of an investment. More prudently, one of my friends made a tumblr and convinced me to make one, which leaves me where I am.

This is sort of a leap for me. I've spent a lot of time keeping my online life separate from my offline life. Being online gave me a bit of anonymity, and enough of a buffer from reality to start developing an identity of my own. I grew up Southern Baptist, which is far from a high control group, but it isn't an environment that encourages exploration of personal identity either. People from the real world get to see the identity I've been taught, people online get to see the one I've cultivated. When I think of who I am, the latter comes up first, but the former is still an inexorable part of me. Lately, I've been trying to bridge the gap, so that there's only one version of myself that I can show everyone.

By "exploration of personal identity," what I really mean is "I have known I am transgender since I was like five or six, but I only really started to accept this fact around the age of 18." Being online allowed me to experiment with social transition before I was in any way something that resembled a woman. This sort of gave me the confidence I needed to accept that I was a woman, and to take steps to actualize this offline.

This is a massive simplification. Socialization and identity and gender and gender presentation are all horrifically complicated subjects. But to say that who I am is only the existence I've cultivated or the existence I've had cultivated for me is to deny a part of myself. There are parts of both of these identities I am grateful for and parts of both that I hate.

I don't know. This is all annoying and pretentious but being on a site with a larger format than twitter makes me feel like I have to take it more seriously and that makes me take it too seriously. Hopefully if I write here with any regularity I'll sound less pretentious.

[weonbullshit]

Wait, you know Lore Olympus, right? (I, unfortunately, do because of how absolutely garbage that webcomic is)

What would happen if Cody and Seojun met Hades and Persephone?

I can't post on AO3, so I decided to make this a writing exercise.

This is probably the most cringe thing, I've ever written. If you see spelling mistakes, I don't care, I wrote this in one go just because I could.

~~~~~

"Never thought I'd end up in the underworld." Seojun said as he looked around at the bright city around him. "Never thought it'd look like this either."

Cody grinned. "For all we know, Sekhan's raggedy ass is probably in Tartarus sulking." He joked.

Seojun wrinkled his face in disgust. "Don't even speak that into the universe right now, bruh."

Cody snickered and tried to hide his smile. "Sorry."

The duo decided to explore the city, taking in the various sights and sounds, perhaps even looking for a place to stay the night.

"Maybe it's not that bad down here..." Seojun murmured, his eyes glowing with wonder.

"Yeah." Cody bit into a kebab he had gotten along the way. "Even the food's pretty good."

"We can't stay here for long though, I'm not trying to get stuck here." Seojun reminded him.

Cody sighed. "Yeah, but we could just have fun for now." They replied, finally looking away from the kebab.

Only to crash directly into a blue, monster of a man with white hair and the longest nose he'd ever seen. A short, chubby, pink woman was wrapped under his arm, looking at him with wide eyes.

The blue man gritted his teeth as he brushed kebab off of his white button up.

Cody cringed and handed him a napkin. "Sorry, I didn't see you." They quickly looked between him and their fiance, who stood at a similar height.

"Not sure how though..."

He sniffed and looked down at him with red, glaring eyes, Cody could sense that he was powerful, just from his super weird demeanor. The way he carried himself, he seemed like an aristocrat.

The girl next to him however, looked completely oblivious to what was going on. She looked at all of them with wonder.

"Oh don't worry about it." She said. "Aidonis has plenty of those white shirts."

"Persephone, I told you not to call me that in public." The man grumbled.

Persephone scoffed and waved him off with a grin. "Oh, whatever. You're a huge softy for me." She said.

Seojun frowned. "Persephone..." He looked into the eyes of the man next to her. "Please tell me you're not Hades." He grumbled.

Hades scoffed pretentiously. "The one and only." He said.

Cody gulped nervously. He'd just spilled kebab on this man. Not even a man, a god.

"Sorry about that." Cody said, looking away from his horrible gaze.

Hades rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter." He said.

He hugged Persephone's hips, Cody was sure he was using all his grip strength to creepily cup her butt cheek. He wanted to gag.

"Let's go."

Persephone turned around and waved. "It was nice meeting you!" She cheered.

"Persephone!"

"Okay, okay!" She replied. She then turned back around and smiled again. "Bye!"

Reluctantly, Cody and Seojun waved back and after walking a certain distance they started talking again.

Cody turned to Seojun and pointed in the direction they came. "That was weird, right? Or was that just me?" They asked.

Seojun cringed, showing almost all of his teeth. "Yeah... Why did he look like her father?" Seojun asked.

"Well in "cannon" he is her uncle." Cody said with finger quotes.

Seojun's eyes watered as he made another face of disgust. "Eww."

"But not in this universe, instead, she's just 19 and he's like, 2000." Cody added.

Seojun rubbed his hand down his face in astonishment. "I don't know which is worse." He looked at Cody. "I thought she gave off way too many "little girl" vibes."

"You should see the story from the beginning, it's fucking crazy. I used to read it in middle school." Cody said mischievously.

Seojun squinted. "How did anyone ever think that you'd get a girlfriend?"

Cody rolled his eyes. "Fuck you."

Seojun chuckled. "If I make that joke, I think that'll just make you even more upset."

"Don't even think about it." Cody replied.

"You humans have some weird lore. It's freaky." Seojun commented. Then, he paused.

"Oh my Gods, our kids are you gonna be half freak. What if they only have five fingers?" He exclaimed.

Cody burst out laughing. "Okay, I'm gonna get you for this."

Seojun grinned. "Not if you can't catch me!" He took off, weaving through the city streets.

Cody scoffed. "I guess he forgot I can do... this!"

He jumped into the air and activated his telekinesis, floating through the air above the city, watching Seojun sprint from a bird's eye view.

It definitely helped that he was like, three heads taller than most of the people there.

"You asked for it!" They shouted as they dived down to tackle him.

[dei-lab-assistant]

Ethoslab Vampire Hunter AU

Reader-Insert version can be read here. Anyway, I hope you can enjoy this little 924 word fic! _____ “You’re up late.”

She looked up from her work maintaining the chapel’s pews. “Etho!” He looked tired, green and black clothes splattered with dark stains, cloak hanging off his body in ripped shreds, and reddish brown smeared all over his bare hand and forearm. 

Adjusting the mask covering the lower half of his face, he smiled with his eyes. “Sister.” Like all her friends, he called her by her title rather than her name—just as she preferred. As far as she was concerned, Sister was her name, not the pretentious mouthful assigned to her by the Church when she came here years ago. Hiding her identity was a drag, although preferable to being claimed by the powerful vampire queen who had marked her as a child.

“I take from the bloodstains all over your clothes, your hunt was successful?” Tossing her screwdriver onto the wooden pew beside where she was crouched, she leaned back to get a better look at her friend; it seemed none of the blood was his this time. Good.

He laughed, almost sounding embarrassed. “It doesn’t feel successful.”

“Rough kill?” She threw her long hair back over her shoulder, keeping it out of the way as she returned to work.

Running a blood smeared hand through his white hair, Etho’s mood darkened. “Even when I know my target has lived for over sixty years, and killed seventeen innocents, it’s not easy to drive a stake through the heart of a creature who looks like a ten year old girl…”

“The abbess always says you’re too kind for this work.” Picking up the screwdriver, she gave it a little flip in the air, catching it neatly. Gently running her left hand over the pile of screws, she grouped them as she counted in her head. 

Etho walked towards her. “Uh huhh. It’s hard to tell when she sends me out every week to kill monsters.” Sighing, he squeezed past her kneeling body to tiredly sink down onto the pew. “I shouldn’t have specialized in vampires.”

“Etho, don’t sit—!”

Splintering wood and the crash of ancient planks smacking beautiful tilework flooring interrupted her warning, as the pew gave way beneath him. “Ohhhhh.” He sounded pathetic as he lay on his back on the floor, gazing up at the decorative ceiling and gripping the pocket watch hanging from his belt. While she knew Etho must be a fierce and capable warrior, Sister found such an image hard to combine with the slightly hapless and very nice guy she had befriended over the years.

She groaned. “I had removed most of the screws attaching the seat to the end of the pew, so I could replace them with slightly wider screws, ‘cause the whole thing’s been getting loose, and had already been jury rigged before I ever came here…”

“Sorey.” His accent always came through when he apologized. “I’ll explain to the abbess it was my fault.”  

“Thanks.” Leaning back against the chapel wall, Sister mulled over how long it would take her to fix the pew, assuming she had the skill to properly fix something so old, delicate, and ornate—which she doubted.

“And speaking of the abbess, I got permission to take you with me on my next assignment.”

“Really?” At his words, all exasperation fled her body. Usually she was forbidden from leaving the abbey, on account of the mark on the back of her left hand. “Why?”

“You’re good at clerical work, right, Sister?”

She nodded eagerly as he continued.

“My target tonight had quite a library, and chests of saved correspondence. I needed someone to help me catalog all of it tomorrow, and since they made the mistake of letting me choose my own assistant…I chose you.” Propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes crinkled in a smile. “You do want to see more of the world, right? I don’t know why the abbess always keeps you cooped up in the church compound, but I figure I ought to show my friend a bit of the outside world if I can.”

Without thinking, Sister gripped the back of her left hand, imagining the green symbol on the other side of her half finger glove. “I’d love that.” 

Rising from the rather destroyed pew, which now littered the floor, Etho stretched. “I need to wash up. Wouldn’t want to talk to the abbess looking like this.” He pointed at her. “Now go get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.”

“You’re going to talk to the abbess now?”

“Some of us aren’t night owls by choice, Sister.” Etho laughed. “If I have to work this late, she can wake up to talk to me in the middle of the night from time to time.”

Grateful for his friendship, and this opportunity to leave the abbey, Sister wanted to hug the lanky man before her, but decorum held her back. The last thing she had ever wanted was rumors of being romantically involved with anyone, and years of practicing such thinking left little room for nebulous gestures like hugs—no matter how platonically she intended them. “Hm, you’ve always had fun being a bit of a pain.”

“Just doing my job.” His smile shone through in his voice as she packed up her toolbox.

“See you tomorrow, Etho.”

With a jaunty little wave, he strode off, leaving her to wonder what the next day held.

[duhragonball]

Nanwum VII Update: 72,197

I'm starting to run out of gas, which is probably not a big deal since I already cleared 50k, but this bears out my whole strategy of building an early lead. My intention was to pull down 2k per day from the 13th to the end of the month, and I'm still on track, but on the 14th I fell a little behind and only got to 1709. It's not a problem, since I got caught up, but I need to be careful from here if I want to make it to 100k. Not that I need 100k, but I like bragging rights.

To reward myself for the insane wordcounts I put in earlier this month, I decided to watch all of the recent DBZ review videos that TotallyNotMark put up. You know, the ones with the new Team Four Star DBZA clips in them. I'd already watched the "Buu Bits" in a separate compilation video, but now I'm finally checking out the review and...

I don't know, there's a lot of good material in these things. The editing is top notch, and you could play these videos with the sound off and still enjoy it just as an hours-long DBZ highlight reel. And Mark has a lot of salient insights on the series. I particularly liked his analysis of Gohan and Videl's dynamic, and it's also refreshing to see a DBZ fan who, you know, actually likes the show. Like, he's gushing over Vegeta's character arc, or talking about how great the androids and Cell are without a bunch of qualifiers, and it's just refreshing to see that.

That having been said, the writing for these videos often ends up sounding like this:

Like, arguably, you can't do a six-hour review of a cartoon show without being a little pretentious, but there's sentences in these videos where it feels like YouTube is paying Mark by the word.

Also, he tends to make these off-the-cuff style remarks, like he's discussing creative decisions about making the video in the video. I get that too. I write my blog with that same stream-of-consciousness energy, because I really am making this up as I go. It's a blog, there's not gonna be a second draft. But he's doing a YouTube video, and there's a lot of production values involved and the work is pretty polished. I don't think it makes a lot of sense for him to talk about how the sausage is made. Just give me the sausage, which is footage of the cartoon with a guy telling me what he liked about it.

I've sort of had this fascination with the writing style throughout the series, and I think if I had to spoof it, I'd go with something like this:

"Again, as I said before earlier in this video, when I started this review, I wanted to avoid sounding pretentious, an attribute the likes of which can be disastrous for the making of a successful review. But, having established that fact firmly and decisviely, perhaps even conclusively--not withstanding earlier comments made about the length of Piccolo's cape, which is a subject for another day-- I can say with great certainty that Goku and Vegeta do indeed comprise a dramaturgical dyad, not only upon which the series depends upon, but through which we can see the true genius of one of the most influential manga authors of all time."

And while you hear this word salad, there's a cool shot of Vegeta beating up Pui Pui or something.

The weird thing is that I didn't really pick up on this in his GT, Super, or OG Dragon Ball review videos. It's almost like he's purposely writing more stuff so he has room for all the cool footage.

Right now I'm in the tail end of the Buu Saga, and while I give him credit for being diplomatic about it, Mark still falls into the same trap I see with a lot of critiques of the Buu Saga: They keep comparing the existing text with some hypothetical better story that they assumed Toriyama was planning to write instead, before he changed his mind.

I think everyone has run across this before. People saw Gohan take the main-character role after the Cell Games and assumed this was a guarantee. When Gohan gets demoted and Goku takes the lead again, they cry foul and complain about how Toriyama failed to make it work, or he just plain gave up. There's an old fan rumor about how he was "forced" to put Goku back in charge because of backlash from angry fans, but this is absurd on its face.

This leads to critiques of the Buu Saga that operate on the premise that there's some idealized "correct" version of the story, where Gohan trains really hard, beats Buu all by himself, and so on. Whenever the published version of the story deviates from this "correct" version, critics suggest that Toriyama got his wires crossed, and blame everything on the awkward pivot back to Goku.

To me, that doesn't make sense. "Gohan and the Next Generation defeat Buu" is a what-if fan theory. Maybe it's better than what we ended up getting, but it's not fair to review the published work by comparing it to a hypothetical draft that may never have existed. That's like if a food critic gave a steakhouse a bad rating because he thought it was a pizzeria and he's still mad that his sirloin didn't have anchovies on it.

When you look at the Buu Saga as it was actually presented, the throughline is clearly not about passing the torch to the kids, because they all get jobbed out and killed. So it's dumb to review the thing and complain that the Gotenks stuff is pointless, and Gohan's power up is unearned, and his loss to Super Buu really sucks the life out of the story, and gosh, this is a really terrible passing-the-torch story. Well that's because it's not a passing-the-torch story. It's a story about Goku trying to pass the torch, failing, and discovering that he still has a place in the world after all. The "torch" he was trying to pass was his identity and personal responsibility, things he can't just confer on someone else.

You can't just tell someone else they're the new protagonist of your story and now they have to go do your job and feed your pets while you play video games. Everyone talks about Vegeta going Majin as a manifestation of his mid-life crisis, but Goku's mid-life crisis was him dying at age 30 and nope-ing his way out of life to train in Valhalla for the rest of eternity. The Buu Saga forced him to accept that this was a mistake, which is why he doesn't just drink a vial full of heart-virus juice after the story ends. He's back in the world of the living and this time he knows he needs to stay there.

And when you look at it from that perspective, suddenly all the Gotenks/Elder Kai Ritual stuff makes a lot more sense as awkward farce. It's anticlimactic and unsatisfying because none of those plans were ever going to work. Nothing worked until Goku and Vegeta both got their heads out of their asses and worked together. The world didn't need martyrs or torch-passings or a 'next generation', it needed adults to put their personal feelings aside for the greater good.

[pagerunner-j]

Some TLOVM new-episode notes, under a cut 'cause there's some great stuff here and I, uh, went on for a bit:

Not gonna lie, I was halfway expecting the theme to The Neverending Story after that Falcor-looking fucker flew by.

Watching an animated version of something I watched happen in person in a live episode is a damn trip. I feel like I should be sitting in a movie theater on Pico all over again...

Grog all torn up over hurting Pike: *tinysob*

Put...the sword...down....Grog...

Okay, putting it down in a rock will do. More dramatic than a pocket dimension, anyway.

Percy, stop trying to sound like an expert and get on with flirting with grass.

Hey! Laura found her best friend from the next campaign! Convenient!

Honestly, I'm kinda liking how they're shifting things around with Grog. Having this fit in with his whole "where do you get your strength?" theme works.

Hi there, Billy! Nice to hear you here!

Arta -- ahem -- Garmelie drawing dicks? Fancy that.

Vax, you're cruising for a bruising here, and by that I mean my palm across your face. Chill.

Ashley and Sam going full country twang: bwahahaohdearhelpme.

(it works, though)

Pikey made the Scan-man bluuuuuush...

PokéTrinket!

...I think I read this in a fanfic once.

(istg it's fucking pollen they knew what they were doing)

Diplomacy in action! About time.

Well, the boys are talking again. That's good.

"We are all just prisoners of our own anxieties...." Keyleth wasn't wrong about that part, at least, before the rainbow vomiting started.

Sylens, stop being an arrogant jackass and start being useful--oh wait. Wrong narrative.

Ripley consorting with dragons: *chef's kiss*

Twin angst incoming!

--

Syngorn is indeed pretty AF.

You don't want to tango with pixies, indeed. You might, on the other hand, want to steal their furniture for your dollhouse. *side-eyes Percy*

(yes, that was an actual thing that actually canonically happened in the campaign)

(I will love it forever)

Heh, I've heard THOSE lines before. Wink wink nudge nudge. Little sudden in this context, but I certainly can't complain that they're here.

can't complain at all

nope not me

VELORAAAA

Velora's owlbeaaaaar

Velora so cute

Troy sure does do a good job at playing a pretentious ass.

(cough)

Wilhand!!

And there we go with the namedrop. This time it pretty much worked.

stop giving Vex's character moments to Vax challenge 2k23

We're about a handsbreadth here from Miracle Max and honestly I can't really be mad about that part.

"You'll need to amend one name, though."

Watching that happen in person was so fucking satisfying, I'm not going to lie.

All right, I have notes here and there about how they're adapting this, mostly just because it's having to happen too quickly for all of it to land (the eps are short, what are you gonna do), but I love this conversation between Percy and Vex. They finally got to work in Percy making things for her, too!

"I gotta stimulate myself? Okay..." "Back it up." Sporfle.

Nice frog-to-not-quite-a-frog transition there. (Ribbit.)

Saundor, you creepy fuck. HANDS OFF OUR GIRL.

"Sweet, broken Vex'ahlia." I love that line and hate it in equal measure, and I want her to shoot him in the fucking faaaaaaaaace.

Hey, THERE'S that line I wanted her to yell at her father! Slightly different context here, but hey, I'll take it.

"My heart is someone else's." <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

"How do you fight a tree?" With FIRE. Seriously, this was one of Keyleth's coolest moments and best strategic decisions in the campaign, and I love that they're going for it.

"Twig dick." I say again: sporfle.

Okay, they're making this fight look absolutely badass.

SHE'S USING

PERCY'S

ARROWHEAD

see, this is how you do it

Stubby

Garmelie Artie, you little fuck.

(The traveler, hmmmm?)

(And thank god that was Matt. I mean, who ELSE could you cast?)

KILL BOX INCOMING

--

So the herd is fucking terrifying. Appropriately. But dang, this got grim in a HURRY.

Mythcarver has been so much more useful in this show than in the campaign that it's kind of hilarious.

One thing I love about this episode: Grog has, legendarily, an intelligence of six, but it's easy for the animated version of him to slip into all-doofus-all-the-time mode in the way the campaign never did -- in part because Travis is clearly so damn smart and you have him out of character as part of the picture. So it's nice giving Grog more depth here to do its part in balancing things out.

Pikelan cuteness: <3

Grog backstory! Grog and the gnomes! <3

KAYLIE

I wouldn't flirt if I were you, Scanlan

I mean: I really, really wouldn't

for reasons

Grog saving Wilhand is everything I hoped for.

In a word: ouch.

Dark-haired Pike! <3

I want to hug them both, okay? They deserve hugs.

....Scanlan, please, hit the brakes before you hurt yourself.

Good to see some tabaxi out and about in the world! Now please save the wee one.

"I swear, I know that voice!" Iiiiindeed.

Kevdak, you're an asshole, and you'd be nothing without your magic toys, and you know it.

"Your armor's not exactly the quietest." Oh, Pikey. Never the stealthiest, are we.

Scanlan, I'm not gonna say this again. COOL YOUR JETS.

Nice magic tricks, though.

saaaave the kiiiitttyyyyyyy

you're not doing this on your own and we all know it so listen to Pike okay

...all right, save the KILL BOX INCOMING for next week, but we're well on our way!

[aplanetaryghost]

Sucker

I'm pretty sure my best friend's a vampire. I'm aware that opening with that makes me sound delusional, but I promise I'm not.

Maya's been my best friend since middle school. I told her when we were ten that I thought she was the most interesting person I'd ever met, and she gave me a glow-in-the-dark Silly Band and, giggling, invited me to her secret society. And thusly, we were inseparable, as most childhood best friendships go. Through the trials of middle school dances and AP classes. She was the first person I told when I stopped believing in God; I was the first person she told when she got a girlfriend last spring. We keep each other's secrets safe. So Maya's never been scary, never been weird before— I mean, we've both been weird, but in the way little girls are. Inventing elaborate backstories for our fairy characters on the playground, making potions out of sticks and grass. 

The weird-weird stuff only started this past summer. Or at least, that's when I first noticed it. I don't remember the date, but it was early August, those dreamy midsummer days when school's not an imminent threat, but a distant memory. 

Maya had had a dance recital. She's been doing ballet since she was tiny, way before I knew her. You'd think she'd resent it by now, but she doesn't, isn't the kind of person to lose her love for something because of what other people want her to be. Her dance company was doing The Firebird, and I certainly can't remember the plot, but I remember Maya. A riot of red, a ribbon of flame. You know how there are some people who just— sort of— glow? Maya's one of those people. Like, of course she got the lead, because there's something electric about her, something impossibly magnetic and expressive. I'm the quiet kind of storyteller; I keep it to self-indulgent fanfiction and the homebrew DnD campaign that'll blow everyone's socks off if I manage to finish it before I die. But Maya— Maya's a center stage sort of girl. She's the only one I'd believe playing a creature of legend. She's such a good dancer. 

After the show I gave her some flowers; I don't really believe in traditional forms of manners like thank you notes and flowers, but my mom told me to bring them, so. And then Maya beamed as she took them from me, her brown eyes warm, honey-gold. Molten. Like there was fire in her then, too. 

Anyway, her mom had work stuff (her mom always had work stuff) so she came home with us. We sat on my bed with the stripy sheets, and she didn't make fun of me for having way too many stuffed animals for a junior in high school, and after we talked for a while she spotted my ukulele leaning against the side of the desk. And she asked me to teach her something. 

I mean, everyone and their mom learns "I'm Yours" on ukulele. It's super popular and it's in C, so it's sort of baby's first uke song. I said something mildly mocking about this to Maya and she laughed and said "Well, you don't have to teach me if it's too basic," and I blushed and said no I actually hate pretentiousness, and what kind of ridiculous person would try to gatekeep ukulele anyway, and she just laughed at me again, all airy and unsulliable. Sometimes I think Maya's made of different stuff from the rest of us. Sometimes I wonder why she bothers hanging out with me. 

I explained a little bit about how chord diagrams work, but Maya's not really a visual learner, so I handed the ukulele over so she could try it out herself. But she still hadn't quite gotten the hang of how to press the strings down so they don't buzz when you strum them, so I reached over to help. It's sort of instinct to do that— I did it when I was teaching my little sister, Lou, too— because it's hard to explain it any other way. I feel kind of bad for invading people's space, but Maya's a pretty touchy person anyway, so I shifted closer to her on the bed and leaned over her shoulder. I reached to place my fingers over hers on the fretboard. 

Her hand was freezing. It was ninety degrees outside, and our AC is super finicky, so it wasn't much cooler indoors. But Maya's hand was icy, and there were goosebumps up her arm. On some sudden fervent instinct, I grabbed her hand in both of mine and rubbed at the skin. "Why are you so cold?" I asked with a little laugh.  

She looked down sheepishly and gave a forced chuckle, gently tugging her hand from mine. "Maybe it'll warm up if I actually get this chord right."

She sounded uncomfortable. Nervous, almost. Like I'd caught her out on— what? Having cold hands? Maybe she just hadn't expected me to touch her. Logically, I should have been able to brush it off, but I just couldn't. Everything about that afternoon stood out to me, but especially the feeling of her frigid hand in mine. I just kept thinking about it. In bed that night, long after she'd gone home. In the car the next day, on the way to pick up Lou from summer camp. Practicing ukulele by myself a couple weeks later. The warm line of my shoulder against her back and the slightly-too-closeness of her face and the chill that seemed to pass from her to me when I touched her hand. It was just so fucking vivid, and not in a bad way, exactly, but it was weird. 

School started up again. I found Maya in homework and she beamed upon seeing me, and something sort of bubbled in my stomach, some weird nerves-excitement that I guess happens when you don't see your best friend for several weeks. And things were normal. I can't point at anything that was actually, tangibly off in those first few weeks. It's just that every interaction with Maya felt so charged, like now that she'd passed that strange electricity to me once, every time we touched each other that current flowed between us again. And it was unfamiliar and unsettling and also it meant nothing because nothing had actually changed, except for the fact that I was sort of addicted to it now: kept catching her eye in class, kept switching seats to sit next to her at lunch. 

But I didn't really have anything to ascribe the feeling to until Mrs. Richmond introduced the first unit of Honors English. Joseph Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla, like Dracula but before Dracula, and with more women. I'm not really a spooky-scaries person (as evidenced that I say shit like "spooky-scaries"), but it's short and has fantastical elements, both of which are very rare in books you have to read for school. So, fine by me. I know it came out before all those tropes existed— is maybe the reason we have these tropes— but it's funny reading a story that feels kind of like the ultimate vampire archetype. Spooky castle in vague eastern Europe. Beautiful mysterious stranger who hates crucifixes. Sorry Laura, but I think she vants to suck your blood. 

I've never read vampire stuff before, though, and there's something compelling about it. There's this intensity to the way Laura and Carmilla talk to each other, a sort of self-destructive desperation that feels like maybe there's a universe where Laura just says screw it and runs off with Carmilla on a whirlwind vampire quest. I always make this joke that if some kind of portal-fantasy door opened up in my life I wouldn't think twice before diving through it— fantastical dangers or no, I want to see a dragon! And there's something sort of like that in Laura. Like she's looking for something she can't find, except maybe Carmilla is it. Just something about the way Laura thinks, feels, talks, there's a flicker of— something— in my mind, in my heart, in my stomach. A sort of recognition, but of what? 

It tips over the edge when Maya bites me. That sounds weird, but— well, it's a little weird. Maybe I'm just making it weird. 

We're sleeping over Jess's for her birthday and we're marathoning the entire High School Musical trilogy. But we started late so it's 2 a.m., maybe, and we're about halfway through the third one. While Kelsi tries to convince everyone to do one last show to celebrate their senior year, we giggle deliriously and flick popcorn at each other. Maya keeps trying to steal my sour patch kids, but she hasn't got a subtle bone in her body, especially when she's on a sugar high and loopy from how late it is. I hold the cardboard box of candy over my head, my arm flinging wildly enough that it'll probably spill all over the floor anyways. She clambers over me, grasping at my arms, a tangle of limbs and warm laughter, and I stagger to my feet, using my height to my advantage and dangling it out of her reach. 

She huffs at my "unfair" use of "tall person privilege" and flops to the floor, declaring "I give up!" I follow suit, giggling softly, but I'm barely settled when she dives toward me again, eyes sparking. I fling the sour patch kids away but she just plasters herself to my side and announces, nonsensically, "I bet you taste better than sour patch kids!" and gives an exaggerated chomp to my shoulder, bare in my pajama tank top. We're all past laughing by now, more of a breathless wheeze, the kind you only get when it's way too late at night and you know each other better than anyone. 

Then Jess cackles and says "Why are you two children? I'm trying to watch Troy Bolton's existential crisis over here!" And something about the awareness of another person in the room— what, did I think it was just me and Maya? this is Jess's house— snaps me back to the present, and a cold feeling comes over me. My stomach drops, and there's heat flooding my face, and I don't know why. But Maya just blinks a little and then goes back to chuckling at the movie, and Jess and Margo don't seem put off at all, so I settle back into our nest of blankets on the floor and try to focus on Sharpay singing about her big Broadway dreams. 

The Monday after, October begins, and we're still talking about Carmilla, now with a sort of goofy spooky edge. We do a close read of the bit where Laura describes her dreams, but I can't focus on the strategic use of sensory imagery and foreshadowing because something about Laura's words is ringing, is resonating like a tuning fork set to the same note as some strange hidden part of my psyche. A magnetic pull, the rushing of a river. A strange, tumultuous excitement that was pleasurable, ever and anon, mingled with a vague sense of fear…

Mrs. Richmond says the river is the literal sensation of blood leaving her body, but I think it's something else. I think it doesn't matter what's physically happening when you're so wrapped up in a feeling; that Carmilla's consuming more of Laura's mind, or spirit, or something, than she is her blood. I know that intensity of feeling, have felt it before; it echoes the giddiness of that past Saturday, the sense that I was losing my mind in a good way. Maya's mouth on my bare skin. 

Well— okay, hang on. That's. That's not normal. Most people don't think about their friends the way they think about vampires.

I'm a pretty rational person, okay, and a skeptic to boot. But something's felt off for a while, and my brain latches onto this idea. Conjures a corkboard in my mind, draws strands of yarn between cold hands and strange attraction and teeth against my skin. Scrawls MAYA IS A VAMPIRE in messy red marker over the top. 

There's no fucking way. Right? Except now that the idea is named in my head I can't stop seeing it. Maya shading her eyes in the sun. Maya leaning into me for warmth. Maya not eating any of Margo's mom's garlic bread even though it's fucking delicious. Maya's eyes meeting mine and my brain plunging into some pool of Maya Maya Maya as if there's nothing else. Don't vampires have hypnotism or something? 

This is so stupid. I feel like a crazy person. I can't stop thinking about it, though. I go through the rest of the day in a weird haze, passing through class and homework and dinner with my mom and sister like a zombie. I try to distract myself but can't focus on anything because as ridiculous as this idea seems it also feels like an answer, like one I didn't know I was waiting for. I go to bed and toss and turn for a few hours and eventually give in, grabbing my laptop off my desk. The faint glow of the screen casts a ghostly glow on my face in the dark of my room. 

I don't really know what kind of search terms would get me where I need to go, and my brain's not really firing on all cylinders right now, so my first search attempt is the astonishingly intelligent carmilla vampire feelings real??? Which, shocker, does not bring up a helpful step-by-step checklist of signs of vampirism in your childhood best friend. 

It does bring up an article called "Queer Desire in Joseph Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla," which takes me aback. I click on the article and read through it, then go back and click on another. The rabbit hole swallows me and suddenly it's 4 a.m. and I'm deep in the YouTube comments of some vlogger-themed adaptation of the book, all of which say things like Carmilla could murder me and I would thank her and me, not knowing I was a lesbian: wow I wonder what it's like to kiss a pretty vampire girl.

At this point the blue light is hurting my eyes a little and, exhausted from my strange fugue state, I shut my computer and stare into the dark of my room. For a couple seconds there's just white noise in my head, my brain overfull with words and snatches of dialogue and flashes of photos. I let it sieve through my brain, the fluttering thoughts settling until suddenly they coalesce into a question I somehow hadn't even thought to ask. 

It's four a.m. I sit in my bed. I ask myself do I want Maya to kiss me? And—

Well, shit. 

The static fills my brain again, but not— not in a bad way, this time, I don't think. Just that flood of Maya Maya Maya, terrifying and reassuring all at once. Uncertain what to do, I'm left still staring at the ceiling until I fall asleep. 

The next day, Maya sits next to me in math, and the world implodes. I mean, it doesn't, not really, there are no external indications that such a thing might be happening. But I feel like someone pumped me full of helium and if I don't cling to reality white-knuckled I'll float away and maybe accidentally burn up in the sun. That sounds like my luck. I just keep looking at her. That Maya Maya Maya chorus has gotten louder, incessant, like my brain has decided it's key to my survival that I be distinctly aware of her presence at all times. We're partners for solving a problem on the board. She grins at me and jokingly names our team after the two of our names smashed together, like we're a popular ship from a sitcom. My insides are fizzing like that time when I was nine and ate five packets of Pop Rocks on a dare. 

But the world goes on even after it ends, apparently, because I don't spontaneously combust that day. Or the next. Or the next. I stammer my way through a couple of interactions with Maya, I shift uncomfortably in my seat when we talk about our opinions of Carmilla, but there's no catastrophe. I think this is what they were talking about when we learned about adaptation in bio. Sometimes shit just happens and you just…continue to exist. Reshape yourself around it. The feelings for Maya, unexpected and unrequited as they are, become comfortable. Like a worn-in sweater.

Maya talks about her girlfriend— not the one from last spring, someone new from the grade below us who she's in dance with, her name's Lily— more and more. It seems like she's getting more comfortable, too, and I'm happy for her. At first I think I can never tell her about me, like the fact of loving girls is permanently entangled with the fact of loving Maya, and admitting my sexuality to her would be showing my hand and ruining her relationship and a whole other host of anxious spirals. But weeks go by, and my heart settles a little. When Jess asks if there's a guy I want to take to the winter formal in November, I seize the moment and awkwardly reply "Or girl." And Maya grins and echoes, "Or girl." And then it's done. 

And then I tell my friend Parker from band, who's been out to me since freshman year anyway, and who thankfully is not embroiled in this whole mess and therefore is perfectly willing to listen to me lament my unrequited love as much as I need to. And slowly, the crush on Maya starts to feel less like an earth-shattering event or a collapsing star and more like something I can melodramatically gossip about in the band room after school. Then we finish Carmilla a week before Halloween and I get possibly the best idea I've ever had, even though it's literally an inside joke with myself.

There's a party at Jess's on the thirty-first. Maya will be there. So will everyone else. An hour before, I press fangs onto my teeth with cosmetic glue and smudge fake blood across my lips. When I'm done, I grin wickedly in the mirror. 

Maybe being a creature of the night isn't so bad.