#mildly inspired by real-life events

[halohalona]

Fair

"It's what my heart just yearns to say In ways that can't be said"

Logan reflects on his life, sense of self, and his relationship with you

Logan Howlett x Reader

this was inspired by the song "Fair" by The Amazing Devil. You can listen to the song while reading but it isn't necessary. i wanted to capture the song's emotion in this fic, and hopefully, I did.

ok this is take 2 of posting this 'cause the first time had a shit ton of typos and could not live with myself letting ya'll read a fic with typos (especially when i wanted this to be very emotional), partially beta-read, hopefully, it's not as typo-filled as before

masterlist

warnings/tags: emotional hurt/comfort, takes place after the events of DP&W, logan cries, reference to "Beanie" (drabble i wrote), a glimpse of domesticity, and i honestly don't know what else to tag.

Sunlight pours into the room through the gaps of the curtain as Logan stirs awake on your chest. You’ve been awake for a while now, just playing with his hair and humming the first song that came to mind.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you softly greet him with a warm smile. He looks up at you, his own tender smile gracing his lips. A smile reserved only for you. He doesn’t say anything, too busy admiring your bedhead, appreciating how beautiful you looked in the morning.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck as his smile widens. “Where have you been all my life?” he murmurs softly against your skin.

“In another universe?” you reply playfully.

His smile slowly fades at the thought. His face is still in the crook of your neck as he mumbles “It’s not fair,” hoping you wouldn’t hear, but you do anyway.

“What’s not fair love?” you ask.

“It’s not fair how the universe hid you away from me,” he joked. You gently hug his head and chuckle. He said it jokingly but you know that’s not what he really wanted to say.

It was Wade who introduced you to each other during one of his many parties. You were his neighbor across the hall. After some mildly uncomfortable introductions and comments from Wade, Logan irritably told him to shut the fuck up which led to him eventually leaving you two alone.

You never met the Logan of your world, and Logan never met the you in his world. Sometimes you wonder if you ever did meet the Logan of your word, would he be the same as the man you’re lying with right now? Probably not, and you think it’s for the best.

He stays quiet for a while before releasing you from his embrace and sitting up.

He stares at the wall, pondering about you, your relationship, this world he’s in, everything.

His mind wanders back to the time when you made that odd-looking hat because you said it reminded you of his hair—he couldn’t help but smile, realizing in that moment that he would cherish everything about you, no matter how unusual it was. He remembered the night you two were watching a horror movie on the couch and you were so scared that you somehow found a way to burrow yourself between his back and the couch to get away from the horrifying scenes unfolding on the TV. In that moment he felt a deep and instinctive need to protect you from anything that would frighten or harm you, real or not. And then there was the time you went out of your way to get him the watch he had been staring at in the mall; it made him realize just how much you cared.

Maybe fate brought you to each other, though he’s not entirely sure. But he was sure about one thing: he wants you. He wants this life he’s created with you. He has never felt so content, calm, and happy. Yet, he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t deserve any of this—especially not you.

“Love? Is everything alright?” your voice laced with worry brings him out of his contemplation and back to the present.

God knows he wasn’t a good man, and he’s told you so many times but you stand by him. If he hadn’t already lost everything, he would be willing to do so, if you asked. And that’s what he tells you.

You move to straddle on his lap and cradle his face in your hands.

“Hey, it’s me,” you say softly. “You may not be a good man, and as you said, you’ve done bad things. But what’s happened has happened, and you can’t change that. Even if you could and you did, we wouldn’t be here right now. You may think you don’t deserve me but isn’t that also up to me? I want you, and you want me. Let’s keep it that way, alright?”

He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close. Afraid that if he moved even the slightest bit you would disappear along with his reason for everything. You don't say anything. You let him hold you until his heart and mind stop racing.

Running your hands through his hair and hugging him against your chest you whisper, “It’s not fair,” echoing his words from earlier. “It’s not fair how much I love you even when you piss me off and act like you don’t need me.”

You settle onto his lap, and softly press your forehead against his. A tender smile graces his lips as he gazes into your eyes. “Well, if that’s the case,” he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere, “you have no idea how unreasonably in love I am with you. With everything you do, with just… you.” he pulls away, holding your wrist and laying his head in your palm, more tears threatening to fall, "You make me feel normal when I'm with you.”

Fighting back your own tears, you whisper, “I love you, and I want you to remember that. I love you so much it hurts. And it hurts me as much knowing you don’t believe that you deserve it, because you do. I love you, so please don’t push me away” you bring your lips to his in a soft and tender kiss.

"I love you more than words can say, and I promise I'll never push you away again.”

“And I’ll stay by your side, no matter what happens,” you added, holding him close.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Nico Di Angelo headcanons?? (I hc he has cfs, that’s basically canon though)

He DEFINITELY has ehlers-danlos syndrome. Always cold? Poor circulation. Frequent fainting? Poor circulation and also poor nutrient/water absorption and etc. Weirdly pale? Semi-translucent skin + did i mention the poor circulation. Weird vitals? Can. Can you guess. (Poor circulation). Chronic fatigue? All his joints are subluxating constantly. He tends to stand/pose weird cause his joints all bend backwards/hyperextend and it freaks people out but he finds it kinda funny. Plus EDS has comorbidity with adhd and autism babeyyy it all works. somebody get this boy a pair of crutches.

Also Nico bruising like a peach is funny. He wakes up covered in bruises and just presumes ghosts are beating him up while he sleeps but no, he just has paper skin and glass bones joints.

The skinny jeans are strategical they're compressive and the only thing keeping his legs from dislocating constantly. That and the bone powers. The bone powers help a lot with the dislocating problems.

NICHE ROGUE DEMIGODS WORLDBUILDING THING: Okay so short version is something something i like to think rogue demigods go by nicknames often instead of their real names cause of the whole "names have power" thing. Some rogues pick their rogue name, others just kind of end up with one over time from people calling them something, whatever. Nico's main one is "Hound"/"Hound of Hades" cause he keeps wandering around with a pack of hellhounds and intimidating the daylights out of everyone. Also the rogues who are less scared of him joke about him being CHB/Camp Jupiter's dog, since he's one of the few rogues with direct loyalties to the camps. Nico thinks the name "Hound" is badass though so he rolls with it.

The jacket is both a sensory object (autism babeyyy) and because he is constantly mildly cold. He likes having layers.

In terms of sensory/clothing stuff, he prefers clothes that are too big or generally baggy on him. Because of this he is a notorious clothing thief when it comes to his friends. No jacket is safe from his clutches. His own clothes are big enough that the Argo II crew can steal from him right back though and it'll actually fit so it evens out.

He got all his emo inspiration from Thalia. She gave him her ipod in TTC for like 20 minutes to get him to shut up and that was a canon event that changed the trajectory of his life forever.

He regularly does little chores and errands for different deities and is generally friendly with a ton of them and will hang out with them and help with stuff. He may or may not have briefly been an Eye of Anubis, and may or may not have partially influenced how Anubis ended up goth (by transitive property, this means Thalia has made at least one god goth. There Will Be More). Other gods he often hangs out with (besides his dad) include Thanatos, Charon, Persephone, Demeter, and more.

He also has kept in touch with Eurytion and Triple G ranch to help out there sometimes and he dogsits Orthrus occasionally. Mrs. O'Leary and Orthrus are friends.

The idea of Hades/Pluto kids being allergic to mint because of Minthe is very funny to me.

[stariikis]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 + 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

synopsis ; based on the Chinese Drama, 'When I Fly Towards You', in which you, a going-on-high-school English genius named Huang Yuting meets the Mathematics genius of the 10th grade, Nishimura Riki, underneath the rain.

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭

Huang Yuting (黄雨霆） dob ; 12.09.05 birth country ; China others ; exceptionally good at English, best friends with Sakai Moka

Nishimura Riki (西村力) dob ; 09.12.05 birth country ; Japan others ; exceptionally good at Mathematics, best friends with Yang Jungwon

Sakai Moka (さかい もか) dob ; 08.10.05 birth country ; Japan others ; not exceptionally good at any subj but very witty and cunning, best friends with Huang Yuting

Yang Jungwon (양정원) dob ; 09.02.05 birth country ; Korea others ; exceptionally good at Sciences, best friends with Nishimura Riki

Kim Sunoo (김선우) dob ; 24.06.05 birth country ; Korea others ; exceptionally good at the arts, gets to know Nishimura Riki and Yang Jungwon as the story progresses

disclaimers ;

this is heavily inspired by when i fly towards you and taylor's sparks fly, i have no intent for plagiarism.

i will not condone any form of stealing of work or translation without permission. (you can send in asks or dm me if you're interested!)

events and happenings in this story do not correlate to real-life, but facts and traits of the characters may be inserted to help the storyline flow

most characters are aged down such that they are the same age in this fic.

and without further ado, hope you enjoy reading!

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

“Uh, excuse me, Miss!”

“Oh shut up, don’t you see I’m drenched right now?” You huff in exasperation, and toss your backpack down onto the bench beside you. 

You’ve been stuck in the pelting rain for the past ten minutes, with no umbrella and no sheltered path back home. Your only refuge from the cats and dogs is the bus shelter you’re currently under, but you’re still being pestered by an unknown, boyish voice ringing in your ear. 

“Sorry. I was just going to ask if you need a spare umbrella?” The voice peeps quietly once again, mildly irritated. Well. If he’s going to speak in that kind of tone towards you, you have no choice but to snap back, right? 

“A bit late for that-” You roll your eyes and finally look up to see who’s tormenting you after such a terrible, long day. However, the sight that lies before you shuts you up instantly. It’s almost a punch to the stomach, how good-looking the boy sitting casually on the adjacent bench is. 

A smile is nowhere to be seen on his face, and his features are unsettlingly relaxed, but… he really does look perfect. You can’t help but to stand there and ogle at him for a few moments before recollecting yourself and refusing his help. Even though the sleek black umbrella does seem really, really tempting sitting in his hands. 

“Um- Ah.. As a matter of fact, no, I do not need your umbrella. Don’t you need it for yourself anyway?” Unable to maintain eye contact with this intimidatingly cute boy, you stutter out a weak excuse and run the rest of the way home. 

When you finally get through your front door and dump your bag onto the ground, drenched from head to toe, you groan when you check your backpack for soaked articles and instead find something you should have found even earlier. 

A sleek black umbrella hiding at the bottom of your bag. 

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[emilyjunk]

pls give us a sneak peek of your wip gsu fic, if it’s okay 🙇‍♀️

it is more than okay, in fact! however. i am gifting this completely out of context and slightly angsty chunk to you with the hope that you will understand i have not even mildly glanced at this WIP in over a week and i dont think i've abandoned it but when will i finish and publish this??? who knows... okay, enjoy!

When Regina was sixteen and in the hospital, laid on her back and floating on the hazy white clouds of a beautiful morphine-high, the events of the bus crash would float in front of her in perfectly still images, a flip book of memory, or perhaps a fabrication of it. She’d never been quite sure what was real or not.

She had always found it odd thinking back on it later, in a curiously detached sort of way – or at least pretending it was – that so many of those images had been just Cady and sky. 

There had been a crowd, there had been the bus, there had been blood and pain and the burning, rocky asphalt beneath her splitting skin.

And yet –

Cady had been the first one to reach her, taking Regina’s cheeks between her palms, tears dripping off her chin and onto Regina’s own.

It had been the last thing she’d seen before she passed out. Probably the last thing she had seen before she died. Cady perfectly framed by gray sky, blue eyes bright and piercing even through the tears, and Regina had thought, ow, and she had thought, fuck you, and she had thought, game over, and she had thought, people should not look that beautiful when they’re crying, and then she was gone.

That had been the tragedy of Regina’s life for the next seven years. Not trauma-induced dreams or lingering neck pain – although she had plenty of both – but that last, stupid, Cady-inspired thought: people should not look that beautiful when they’re crying.

It was a horrible catch-22. The way those tears always made her panic, desperate for them to stop, but also the small but unmistakable fascination with their presence; there were always a few seconds where Regina stopped to stare, marveling at the sight like some awful voyeur. She could not have her cake and eat it, too, but the consequential part of her that was cruel and unyielding, the part that loved the way control felt buzzing at her fingertips, sometimes could not resist the temptation to push buttons and bruises and open wounds just for a glimpse of those beautiful tears. 

There was something deeply wrong with her, probably. 

She had never quite figured out what it was, had only always been grateful that Cady somehow still thought she was worth it.

Regina lays on her back now, motionless, breathing, the walls of her room closing in. The seconds tick by into minutes as she stares up at the ceiling, thinking of those tears, Cady’s face floating above her, perfectly framed by gray sky. Eyes so bright and blue and beautiful, a lifeline in a hurricane, the eye of the storm.

Cady doesn’t call her back.

[chainsofaether]

Is your character inspired by, or takes inspiration from, any kind of existing media? Is it because of a character, trope, setting or other aspects of the story/media you vibed with? How have you adapted that media to make your character yours?

Oh look a question I can easily answer if I just rant. I really want to rant, but I'll try not to.

I can't say I don't take any inspiration from existing media because I'm not some font of infinite creativity disconnected from the world. Neat as that might be. But I can say I don't really take from anywhere specifically.

I consume a lot less media then I once did. Don't read as much, watch fewer shows. Actually what do I do? Mmm something to think about. Lots of video games I guess.

So media is a thing and pressured I could probably point at things? But more I think it tropes and themes I pull from. But getting more specific to Nyxathe, and maybe Nexa.

So Nyxathe's one big thing is Apotheosis. I can hardly tell you were I got caught up on that from specifically but I've found myself increasingly annoyed by the near constant portrayal as godhood as a bad thing. Which isn't to say I don't understand, I do very much. Still I've like to see the other side of it, if it exists.

So much so I started building a little, not so little, world where I can create stories for the very topic. Yay world building, but that's mildly off topic.

Maybe I should talk about that someday, but for now back on topic.

So there's different motivations behind wanting to be a god. Nyxathe isn't so emotionally devoid that it is purely part of just wanting to understand. Part yes, not completely. Instead Nyxathe is a deeply traumatized individual that saw a god being and got in to the thought that maybe with that kind of power things could have been different. If nothing else she could do better.

Is she right? Probably not. Who knows if she can even succeed. Still she'll peruse personal power until someone or something stops her.

That drags us to another topic. Corruption/Monsters. In Nyxathe case ties heavily in to her humanity. How far can she take her core goal without becoming a monster? To this point in time I don't think anyone could call Nyxathe more then obsessed, certainly not a monster. But Nyx is definitely corrupted by her obsession. The further she takes her research the more she starts to find the limits of ethical research. It would be really nice if she could just take an animal and do a few things to test a few theories. Or better yet a person.

But in spite of where her thoughts take her she hasn't crossed that line. Yet. Considering her personality I think it's nearly inevitable she crosses that line. Like taking our dear Angel's character Anna. Have I mentioned I love Anna? Anyway Nyx's horror about Anna would last all of a few minutes till she realized how convenient Anna's way of doing things are, and how much more power comes from that route. Given Anna would almost certainly just murder her before she got that far, so not a meeting to be I think.

Still that's lots about dark talk about a character who is otherwise pretty nice to be around. Who's pretty ethical despite how much advantage is her not being. With the right influence she could even solidify her moral stance on research.

That I think displays my real interest in the theme/idea of corruption. Least the mental side of it. The lack of inevitably in it. Few characters/people are doomed from the start. It's a life time of situation and events that lead them. Exploration of that is pretty interesting.

Of course we have the physical side of that. That was decidedly not something I was thinking about when I made Yrys. That's much more a new thing thanks to a few things I played and had a very big 'huh, that's pretty interesting' in such a strong way I needed to explore it. So I came back and start looking at how it could apply to Yrys turned Nyxathe.

Which, very easy. Super easy. Nyxathe's whole manipulation of corporeal aether, particularly her own, was such an obvious avenue to physical corruption. Yay body horror?

Okay. Well this turned in to lots of rambling. Less ranting though so that's good. I don't really want to get in to real world stuff on here no matter how much It shapes my thoughts. I didn't touch on Nexa at all. Rip but this was getting long. One day I'll sit down and do stuff for my catgirl. Also I tied Corruption and Monsters together, and I think that's a mistake, or limiting anyway. But if I go back and rewrite all of it will end up twice as long. Plus I need to sit and really think about that now. Another post maybe.

Anyway thank you Sea for the ask. I've been very quiet for a while now. I'll see about slowly ramping back up now that I don't feel so bleh.

[philtstone]

22 (kisses on head) Sam Wilson & dealer's choice

its been 84 years & i finally finished writing this .... inspired by life events bc apparently thats how most of my fatws stories seem to work these days. also shoutout to @foolgobi65, my bestie and co-middle aged fictional man. miss u so much, praying that in 1 month i will be a 60 dollar flight away from u, etc etc

It takes Sam a few tries to make the call.

Okay, so maybe that's hypocritical of him. It's okay to reach out to people when you need 'em, Buck. I'm here if you need to talk about anything, B. You know avoiding the world won't make anything easier, man.

Yeah, yeah -- so Sam's sometimes a textbook example of do as I say, not as I do. His sister would be the first to remind him of this, loudly and annoyingly. Recently, Bucky's taken to agreeing with her -- loudly and annoyingly, after he's given Sam a mildly amused eyebrow at the liberal shortening of his already short nickname -- but it's hard to remember that, and the general cross bleeding of their lives over and across like veins, when he hasn't seen Bucky in a month and their texts have been few and far between.

Not for any nefarious reason or anything. Sam's just been busy. Sitting in interminable meetings with assholes. Getting asked inane leading questions about his stance on global politics. Trying to push through the legal work of actually getting clean water to multiple places in literal first world nations. Bull-fuckin’-shit, Sam thinks. There is perpetual grit behind his eyes. The urge to dangle senators by their ankles from the top of multi-story buildings is real. He and Bucky did that a couple times, in the early days, but then Rhodey got in trouble because of it, so they agreed to ease off for a bit. So now Sam hasn’t even got that as an outlet, and it’s on him to figure out this messed up world for everyone else 'cause for every person who seems to care to try it, there are hundreds more who couldn't give a shit. He needs a vacation. Or a reset. Something to remind him what being Captain America is really about.

And Bucky's -- well, he's definitely not retired, but Sam thinks he deserves some peace and quiet, after everything.

The phone rings a fifth time. It's two in the morning. Sam sits in the dark quiet of his hotel room and is about to swipe end call and just content himself with a short text hey man, how's it going? when suddenly the call connects.

Sam squints.

"Why am I looking at a weird corner of your ceiling?" he asks, before his tired brain can catch up to the possibility that maybe something is deeply, horribly wrong, and there are bad guys there, and their mutual worlds are about to end for the twentieth time.

Then Bucky's forehead pops up from behind the kitchen counter.

“Sam, hey,” he says, before Sam can question further. The phone camera shakes like it’s being propped up against something by a hasty hand, “Gimme a sec, I’m in the middle of something.”

The forehead disappears. Not in a normal way, like Bucky walking out of frame, but in a weird way, like Bucky dropping below the counter to the floor.

“C’mon, ya little twerp, slow down a second …”

“Uh …” Sam wets his lips. “Is now a bad time?”

“‘S fine!” calls his friend’s disembodied voice. “Talk, I’m listenin’.” There is a thump, and a small yowl, and a distinctively Bucky-flavoured grunt. 

Sam can see the edge of Bucky's stove behind him and slowly registers the warm kitchen lighting and mess of kitchen implements strewn ... everywhere.

"What ... exactly are you doing?"

"Wrangling," says Bucky. "How've you been?" 

Could be better should be Sam's honest response. Instead he blinks at the obvious noises of scuffle, the muffled thud of metal limb against laminate kitchen island, some plaintive meows, and ...

Squeaking?

Peep peep peep peep peep.

“Fuckin’ – Alpine!”

“I told you that cat’s possessed,” Sam says, for lack of anything else to contribute to the mystifying noises coming from his phone. 

“Aha!” yells Bucky. There is a particularly despondent screech, and the peeping ramps up in intensity. 

Three months ago they’d got caught trying to bust some superpowered underground fight club and spent two days stuck in some underground bunker under threat of fighting in said club. Could make big bucks, taking bets on Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Sam wishes those violence-mongering assholes could see the two of them now.

Bucky’s head reappears.

“She’s not possessed,” he says. Sam can’t exactly agree, when directly to Bucky’s left, the little white housecat he found in the dumpsters behind his apartment last February is doing her best to wage feral holy war against the impervious plates of his left hand, which has got her hovering four feet above the ground by the scruff of her neck. Bucky himself seems unbothered by the crazy feline trying to maul his hand, and in fact unbothered in general, despite his wild case of bedhead, hole-ridden pajama shirt and slightly faded underwear all captured in frame. His other hand, stretched all the way out in the other direction, is held tightly in a fist.

And it’s squeaking.

“Bucky,” Sam says slowly, “I get that you got this whole nonviolence thing goin’ on right now –” It’s been a new thing Bucky keeps bringing up in sardonic therapy speak, always raising his eyebrows to show that he’s the only one allowed in on the joke, as if Sam knows he hasn’t touched a gun in three years – “but is two am really the right time to stop your honest to God housecat from takin’ out a mouse in your kitchen?”

“Mouse?” Bucky says with a frown. Then he grins. “Aw, no, I found him in the elevator today. Dunno how he got there.” Then, with impossible gentleness, he brings his fist up to the blurry camera, so Sam can see the fuzzy yellow crown of a tiny, very squeaky duckling.

Sam stares.

“That’s a duck,” he says.

“Duck-ling,” Bucky corrects. “He’s kind of helpless. Kept falling over on its own ass ‘til I brought him up. I think he was in shock.”

Peep, says the little duckling, as if agreeing. Or maybe as if to say, And then you exposed me to your psycho cat, asshole, you don’t think that was traumatizing? 

Maybe Bucky speaks duck better than Sam does, because he only grins, widely, and then proceeds to press a small kiss to the top of the duckling’s head.

Sam feels like he must be dreaming.

“You adopted a duckling?” he manages.

“Not officially,” Bucky protests.

“You can’t just adopt a duckling in Brooklyn.”

“I got a bathtub!”

“You got a shower cubicle, man.”

“Okay, fine, I got a sink.”

“Dude, you can’t rehome a duck in your tiny ass sink.”

“He hasn’t got anywhere else to go, Sam, he’s just a baby.”

Sam gestures in mild distress to the cat, who is still trying desperately to escape her vibranium bonds. “Is this not considered a barrier to duck adoption?!” he says.

Bucky sighs, the kind that slumps your shoulders up and down. He holds Alpine up to his face, sternly. She is midway through attempting to chew his wrist with her pointy little cat teeth. 

“You got wax in your ears? Knock it off, Sweets. Whaddaya want, more attention? You want a kiss on the forehead, too?”

“I do not get paid enough for this,” Sam says, putting his head in his hands and staring across the room.

Peep peep peep agrees the duckling.

“Look,” Bucky says, gesturing with his duckling hand. “I’ll think of something.”

“Something stupid,” says Sam.

Bucky doesn’t seem bothered, though. “So what’d you wanna talk to me about?” he asks.

Sam pauses. He’s got to think about it now. In fact – the edge of need that had been present just four minutes ago has mostly disappeared. He takes in Bucky’s disheveled appearance again. 

“You still goin’ down next weekend?”

It is a long weekend. Thanksgiving, to be precise. Sam has spent many a Thanksgiving dreaming of his sister’s cooking; he’s not sure he has the mental fortitude to skip out on it this year, when nothing world-ending is happening.

Bucky gives him a weird look. “Sure. Are you?”

“Delacroix’s still doin’ its food drive, right?”

“Sure,” says Bucky again. He scratches an itch behind his ear with the watch strap around his right wrist. The duckling squeaks. “Maybe you should go.”

“Maybe I should,” Sam says. He doesn’t feel relief, exactly, but there is a cousin feeling, somewhere in his chest, that he does not have words for at two a.m., “to make sure you won’t be pullin’ lame moves on my little sister.”

“You wouldn’t know a move if it danced naked in front of you, Sam,” Bucky says, without missing a beat. Alpine, who has been quiet since threatened, makes a sudden, aborted move towards Bucky’s right hand. Smoothly, behind the counter, Bucky takes a couple steps back and opens the empty garbage can with his bare foot before dropping Alpine into it. “Behave,” he tells her muffled protests. 

“I know so many moves. I am super smooth with the ladies. And your pasty ass better not be doing any naked dancing, or we’ll have words.”

Bucky lets out a very long-suffering sigh. “Just because Ms. Gloria next door likes me best …”

“She makes a mean sweet potato pie every Thanksgiving,” Sam agrees sadly. “I used to get that extra piece, you know?”

“I can’t say no when Sarah invites me, Sam, come on.”

“So she inviting you now, is that how this works? She doesn’t invite me.”

“That’s ‘cause you invite yourself. Or she bullies you into coming home.”

Both of these things being true, they are both laughing before Sam knows it. He is decidedly less exhausted than before. Tired, sleepy, sure, but not exhausted. Bucky has now moved on to cleaning up his kitchen one-handedly, which he’s gotten pretty good at recently. Bucky himself counts it as progress, and so does everyone else. 

Sam catches his breath. “Yeah, alright,” he says. “I should get some rest, then.”

He gets subjected to a long look through the camera. “See you next weekend?” Bucky says finally.

And maybe that was the exact question Sam had been itching to ask. It’s been a long while since he’s had a friend that’s basically family. It hits different. Sam’s happy to get used to it again, bit by bit.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. I don’t think I can tell you all the shit I’ve been dealing with unless we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “For security reasons or Sam-telling-a-story reasons?”

“Man, I can tell a story over the phone.”

“Yeah, but you like having the ambiance. Brings the best out in you.”

“Fishing and stories just mix right.”

“Whatever you say, Sam.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, maybe you can bring that little fluff ball with you. Can you imagine takin’ that thing through airport security?”

Except, oh no. Bucky’s eyes are widening with the sharp glimmer of a new, stupid idea.

“Huh,” he says, aloud. Peep peep, says the duckling. 

“You are not foisting that duckling on me,” Sam says.

“You do have a bird-themed costume. And Sarah’s house has a bathtub.”

But before Sam can open his mouth to argue, there is the loud crash of the garbage can tipping over, and the blurry white figure of Alpine pouncing onto Bucky’s head. 

“Shit! Alpine!”

Sam divines that he’s dropped the duckling.

“You know how long it took me to catch him?!”

Mroooow, howls Alpine, who is now on the counter, blocking most of the frame.

To the renewed sounds of frantic peeping from the kitchen floor, Sam laughs. “Dude,” he says, “you know your neighbors hate your ass right now.”

And it’s maybe fitting, that the last thing he sees before he ends the call is Bucky’s disembodied metal fist, flipping him the bird.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

i actually wrote college AU fluff that’s gen, for once. i would like to thank everyone in the Pidgance Positivity Discord for enabling my chemist Hunk headcanons

and I would like to apologize to Hunk for having to deal with Lance in lab

Read it on Ao3

or read all ~2500 words below!!

Hunk regretted telling Lance his lab section number approximately three minutes into the first experiment.

“Hey, Hunk,” Lance said from his own hood, “can I borrow your scoop?”

Hunk, scanning his procedure for the third time since he wrote it, glanced towards him and asked, “What’s wrong with yours?”

Lance held up the metal scoop. “It’s got these white spots on it,” he said, pointing to one. “What if they contaminate my experiment?”

Hunk raised an eyebrow, surprised by Lance’s concern, but rather than pass over his own scoop, he took Lance’s and looked at it more closely. “Uh, Lance,” he said, “these spots are calcium carbonate.”

“Which is…?”

Hunk pinched his lips together and carefully asked, “How the heck did you pass general chemistry?”

Lance stared at him for a beat before snatching the scoop out of Hunk’s hand and walking over to the sink, mumbling something about all his friends being jerks. And Hunk took advantage of his temporary absence to start setting up his experiment.

“You doing okay, Hunk?” Shiro, the TA, asked when he came over.

“Yep,” Hunk said. Now he held the separatory funnel in his hand, prepared to shake it.

“And you, Lance?” Shiro prompted.

“Peachy,” said Lance.

Shiro crossed his arms as he eyed Lance. “Then why aren’t you wearing your safety goggles?”

Lance’s separatory funnel almost slid from his grip, but he recovered it before it could fall. “I’m fine though,” he said.

“Then make sure you stay that way by putting on your goggles.” Shiro patted Lance’s shoulder as he passed, approaching another pair of students in the middle of their experiments.

Lance looked at Hunk. “You…wouldn’t happen to have an extra pair of goggles I can borrow, do you?”

Hunk sighed as he vented gas from his funnel and set in place, turning the stopper and draining the bottom layer of fluid. “I thought I reminded you to bring your own pair.”

“Yeah, well…I forgot. And then I thought hey, at least I avoid those red lines I get after lab.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Lance, one day you’re gonna be that guy that people tell stories about.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lance said, already busy with draining his own separatory funnel.

They worked in blessed silence for a good few minutes, at least until Lance said, “Hey, Hunk, I think I threw the wrong layer away.”

It wasn’t that Lance was completely inept, exactly. It was that Lance was inept at certain things…like chemistry, and Hunk, for the life of him, could not figure out why the hell Lance chose a major so heavy with it.

“I like marine biology,” Lance said once when Pidge asked him, “and marine biology needs it.”

Pidge, for her part, did not like chemistry and did her best to avoid it, though luckily her interests did not align with it beyond a single semester of general chemistry that she currently procrastinated. “I’ll take it next year,” she said if anyone asked, and then mimed gagging whenever she caught sight of Hunk’s and Lance’s organic chemistry textbooks.

“Chemistry is just applied physics, Pidge,” Hunk told her.

“Well, keep it away,” Pidge retorted, holding her computer over her head as if chemistry was contagious.

Hunk glanced at her computer screen, curious about what she worked on. “Pidge, is that file’s name Mordor?”

“Yup,” she said, glaring at him.

“What is it?”

“It’s the worst coding assignment ever,” she explained.

“And it does…?”

“Well, one does not simply code for Mordor, that’s for sure.”

Hunk took that as a pointed sign that he was invading her privacy and didn’t press her for more details. Odds were it was a differential equation solver…or something like that.

Lance, for once, elected not to participate in their conversation, instead keeping his eyes on the chemistry textbook open in front of him. He pressed his hands to the back of his head, looking focused, at least until Hunk noticed that his eyes weren’t moving and had glazed over.

“What’re you stuck on, buddy?” Hunk asked.

“Huh?” Lance glanced up at him. “Oh, hybridization. Why is a carbon with a double bond sp2 hybridized again?”

Hunk set to explaining, but Lance interrupted him, “Wait, wait, wait. What’s this about pi bonds?”

He looked at Pidge, though he knew beseeching her for help was pointless, and sure enough she focused on her computer again, mumbling something about for loops and iterations.

“You know what?” Lance said after Hunk tried yet again to explain the finer points of hybridization. He stretched across the table until his arms were on either side of Pidge’s laptop, forehead pressed to his open book. “Why don’t we take a break and get some coffee?”

“It’s four o’clock,” said Hunk.

“You don't even like coffee," Lance said.

Hunk looked between his friends:  from Lance, unfocused and annoyed, to Pidge, frustrated and open to his idea. So, despite the knowledge that he and Lance had a midterm in two days, he agreed.

“See, Hunk, here’s the thing,” Lance said as they left the lecture hall, their exam behind them, out of sight and out of mind, at least until the professor graded it. “This isn’t the right kind of chemistry.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Hunk, raising an eyebrow at him. “What’s the right kind then?”

“Well, you know…” Lance waved a hand dismissively. “The kind you have with someone, like romantic chemistry. Like what you and Shay have.”

Hunk rolled his eyes and said, “For the last time, Shay is just a person I met and admire.”

“She gave you a rock,” Lance pointed out with a smirk.

“She’s a geology major,” Hunk said.

“It was a very pretty rock,” Lance said. “There were those crystals on it.”

“Quartz.”

“See?” Lance elbowed him in the side. “You even remember! And I know for a fact you keep it on your desk.”

“All right, fine,” Hunk said with an impish smile of his own. But before Lance could gloat about being correct, he added, “I admire the rock she gave me too.”

“You—” Lance lightly punched his arm, and they both laughed.

Lab got even worse after the midterm when Keith switched into their section.

“What happened that you had to switch this late in the semester?” Hunk wondered.

To his amazement, Keith flushed red and admitted, “I…went out with the TA.”

Lance’s jaw dropped, and Hunk stared at him incredulously. “Like…on a date?”

“Yes,” Keith said tersely, but from the way he very pointedly set up his experiment without even glancing towards Hunk or Lance, he refused to speak further on the matter.

“Now Keith and his old TA had chemistry,” Lance grumbled under his breath.

“We have chemistry now,” Hunk said when he noticed how far behind Lance was in his experiment. He’d only just finished setting up his reaction in the sand bath, but Hunk’s was nearly done, the color inside the flask already changing.

To be fair, today’s experiment was fairly short.

But within a few weeks, Hunk noticed a pattern emerging:  Keith finishing first, and Lance’s work turning sloppier while he tried to catch up.

“You know it’s not a race, right?” Hunk told him.

“I know but I’m still gonna win,” Lance retorted as he scooped his reaction’s product onto a piece of weigh paper while it was still damp.

“You’re gonna get over a hundred percent yield if you weigh it like that,” Hunk pointed out.

“Even better.”

“So you’re okay claiming to create matter?” Hunk asked.

“Shiro doesn’t care,” Lance said. He put the paper on the balance and, without waiting for it to stabilize, jotted a number down in his notebook. “He only cares that we have a number.”

“Okay, this is true,” Hunk conceded, “but you do know that scientific accuracy is kind of…important?”

“Oh, now you sound like Pidge.”

Hunk rolled his eyes and gave Lance up for a lost cause, but he had his revenge when he ‘forgot’ to reply to a text message asking him to correct his post-lab report.

Somehow, Lance survived the lab that semester with decent grades on all of his reports – though Pidge predicted that it was all thanks to Hunk.

“You’re not even in our class,” Lance grumbled.

“I don’t need to be there to know it’s true,” Pidge retorted.

“Well, Pidge, I guess I can’t see that movie you wanted to see on Friday after all,” Lance threatened, arms tightly crossed.

“That’s okay,” Pidge said, sounding unbothered. “I’ll take Matt with me instead since he’s visiting.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “Then I’m changing my Netflix password.”

Pidge’s eyes snapped from her physics textbook to his face. “You take that back!”

“Only if you take back what you said about Hunk enabling my grades!”

“Why would I take back the truth?” Pidge demanded. “What are you, the Catholic Church?”

“Oh, comparing yourself to Galileo again? How high and mighty of you, Pidge!”

“You understood that reference?” Hunk wondered, interrupting their budding argument and surprised despite himself.

Lance gestured towards Pidge, who rolled her eyes before returning her attention to her studying. And he said, “She’s used it before. I’m just adapting to her.”

“Then why can’t you remember what the Grignard reaction is?” Hunk asked, pointing to the organic chemistry notes spread out over the table between them. “We’ve been over it so many times.”

“Grignard?” Lance narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “That’s the one with manganese, right?”

“Magnesium,” Hunk corrected, “but that’s closer than your last guess.”

Lance grinned. “Ha, I’ll ace the final then. Wait and see, Hunk.”

“There’s a really big difference between manganese and magnesium,” Pidge then pointed out. “I don’t have to have taken chemistry to know that.” But when both Hunk and Lance glared at her, she smiled sheepishly and added, “But good job, Lance.”

“Thanks, Pidge,” Lance said wryly. “I guess I won’t change my Netflix password after all.”

They had assigned seats during the final exam, so Hunk didn’t have to deal with Lance’s leg bouncing and vibrating the whole row of desks. But he did have to deal with the stress of seeing Lance finish before him, and wonder if he managed to answer every question on the exam or simply gave up.

Then again, it wasn’t like Lance to give up, even if he had no skill at something, which, well… They’d studied together every day for hours at a time for almost two weeks, and though Lance spent half that time distracted by one thing or another – usually a game on his phone or a conversation with Pidge – he still learned something.

Probably.

Hunk ignored the anxious churning in his stomach as he returned his focus to the exam. He thought he’d paced himself quite well so far, but between the time on the clock and the questions he had left to answer, he started to doubt himself. It didn’t help that someone in the row in front of him kept swearing under his breath.

Chair, and…a boat, Hunk thought as he drew cyclohexane in its two most stable molecular configurations. He was careful to count sides on each shape, to make sure that the hexagons had six corners and the pentagons had five.

He would not lose points on mistakes that wouldn’t have happened if he’d paid more careful attention to detail.

Name the following organic compounds. Easy, Hunk thought.

Propose a synthetic pathway between the reagent and the product. Oh, and this one had suggestions.

By the time Hunk reached the last question, he was grinning, feeling better about this particular exam than he had about anything in the last eighteen weeks of the semester…at least until Shiro called time.

Hunk glanced up at his lab TA before writing his best guess for a question he’d barely scanned, then, after passing the paper over to the TA that collected them, he mentally calculated what his score would be based on questions he knew he got correct.

Well, at least he would pass, right?

Hunk walked with Keith out of the lecture hall; he tried to ask him what he got for that last question, but Keith said, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Why?” Hunk wondered, eyebrow raised. “Did your girlfriend tell you what was on the exam?”

“No!” Keith said quickly. “I just don’t like talking about exams after the fact.” He crossed his arms, and after a beat added, “And the TAs don’t know what’s on the test until we do.”

“I knew that,” Hunk said. “Shiro refused to tell us anything.”

He and Keith parted after that, and Hunk met Lance at the cafe on campus, where Pidge waited for them at a table in the corner. “What time did you have to get here to get a table?” Hunk asked her.

Pidge didn’t look up from the old history exam she held in her hand when she replied, “Two minutes ago.”

“Seriously?”

“Right on the hour, when people go to class.”

“Nice,” Hunk said appreciatively, sitting down right as Lance joined them with three drinks:  hot chocolate for Hunk, who didn’t enjoy coffee, black coffee for Pidge, who didn’t like milk, and iced coffee for Lance, who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘cold’.

“So how do you think you did?” Lance asked Hunk.

Hunk sipped his drink, considering. “Not too bad,” he said. “I think I’ll get at least an eighty percent.”

“Not too bad?” Lance said. “I’d kill for that.”

“You’ll pass,” Pidge said after shooting a brief glance at him. “You’ve been studying your ass off.”

“Look who finally noticed all my hard work!”

“Your lab report grades might bring you down though,” Pidge continued as if she hadn’t heard Lance. She stared straight at him as she emptied three sugar packets into her coffee and drank deeply from it.

“I got decent grades on those,” Lance whined.

“Shiro’s an easy grader then,” Pidge said. “I saw your reports, and I may not know what half those molecules are called, but reports are supposed to be easy enough to follow. And yours were kind of—”

“Don’t say it, Pidge,” Hunk beseeched her.

“—sloppy.”

Hunk sighed, but to his surprise Lance admitted, “I guess I could’ve done better, but I would’ve done a lot worse without Hunk’s help.” When Hunk threw a glance at him, he added, “I was in good hands.”

“That’s true,” Pidge agreed.

Hunk smiled, glad Lance could confess to needing his help in regular conversation, but the smile disappeared when Lance said, “Oh, yeah, that reminds me:  which section are you taking next semester?”

Hunk wondered if it was too late for him to drop out.

[yourstruleejn]

our beloved youth

fate has a cruel way of bringing people in and out of one’s life. be it through weather changes, old memories or what seem to be mere coincidences. Jeno and you parted ways a long time ago, but destiny still has its say in who you end up with.

⋆

pairing // lee jeno x fem! reader; other characters include lee donghyuck (other dream members are mentioned) and aespa’s kim minjeong

genre // fluff; maybe angst? good ending tho; high school au + college au !!; exes to ??? (it’s kinda our beloved summer inspired but like /mildly/); everthing that is in cursive is a throwback !!

word count // approx. 10k

tw // drinking but legal ! (let me know if i forgot any!)

playlist // here

authors note // this one took me a hot minute and i’m not sure if i’m 100% happy with it but i think it’s the best i can do for it at this point! i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! and also sorry for just disappearing haha i’ll try to write more/faster in the future and summer is coming up so, be prepared!

! reminder ! everything i write about on here is entirely fictional and in no way am i saying this is how the boys would act in real life ❥

i.               like downpour you come and go

Jeno sighed as the raindrops hit the concrete. He was currently seeking shelter from the violent rainfall at a bus stop. Just moments ago, the sky had been a vibrant blue, and now it was painted all grey. A groan of frustration left the young man when he realized he didn’t bring his umbrella. Just great. He really wasn’t sure why he agreed to meet up with Donghyuck, when he could have spent his day off at home, avoiding the current downpour. But a few days ago, the promise of a beautiful day outside with one of his best friend convinced him. On top of this series of unfortunate events, that albeit were out of his control, irked him incredibly nonetheless, Hyuck had texted him a few minutes ago that he was going to run late. That of course was to be expected, and Jeno had actually taken Donghyuck’s usual fashionably late arrival into consideration when he left his apartment, but he still arrived at the park before his friend did. He just hoped Hyuck would arrive soon.

A notification from his phone crushed this wish, however. He frowned reading the text he had had just received.

Hyuck: Hey sorry man, I think its gonna take me another thirty minutes, the trains delayed because of the rain.

Hyuck: but you could go to the café near the bus stop. They make a mean hot chocolate. Wait for me there. See you.

Getting to the café would be a problem Jeno concluded. There was virtually no way for him to get there without getting completely drenched. However, the thought of good hot chocolate convinced him to sprint over there. Besides, it really didn’t seem like Hyuck had left him any choice, saying he’d meet him there.

Unfortunately, Jeno was not the only one to try to sit the rain out at the café, so it was quite literally packed with people. There was not a single table unoccupied, all the waiters were running around, a little stressed, trying to get every new customer their order. It seemed they hadn’t expected the rain either and were understaffed for the business boom caused by the sudden weather change.

For the third time today Jeno was tempted to let out a dramatic sigh and wish that he had stayed home, but out of the corner of his eye, at the far back of the café he saw a table for two, occupied by one. Normally Jeno wouldn’t go up to a stranger and ask if they could share the table, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The table was somewhat secluded from the hectic main area of the small café. Jeno was surprised that anyone had spotted it at all. He suspected that the young woman sitting at the table must be a regular and in the café before the rain had started, or else she wouldn’t have been able to secure such a nice, quiet space to finish her work. Jeno approached the table, but with her gaze fixed on the screen of the laptop in front of her, she didn’t seem to notice him advancing in her direction.

Jeno cleared his throat, “Excuse me?”

The second that the young woman’s eyes moved from her work to Jeno, his heart literally stopped. Well, figuratively stopped. He realized that the young woman he had hoped would share her table with him was you. Technically meeting you wouldn’t be such a big deal, if only it hadn’t been so long and if only, he hadn’t left the way he did.

Staring back at him, you looked just as surprised as he did. Eyes wide open and slight confusion written over your features.

“Hi,” Jeno breathed out, “I didn’t realize it was you. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you while working.”

A quick smile was thrown in your direction and then he was ready to turn around and leave. He was honestly just planning on going back out into the rain, which he hoped would wash away the embarrassment he had just felt from this very one-sided interaction. Even though you had had little choice in that matter.

You were too stunned by seeing Jeno again after all these years to immediately react. Your mind was racing quite a bit and you only really comprehended what had happened when you were already faced with the man’s back. So, just like that Lee Jeno reentered your life on a rainy day, just like he once had. This time he was quicker to leave you behind, though. You sighed.

-

May was always especially rainy and on this particular day in May you were incredibly unfortunate. Usually, you always had an umbrella with you, just in case, but you had lent it to a classmate just a week prior, and he hadn’t given it back yet. The morning had already been incredibly suffocating with the humid weather, so your mom reminded you to bring an umbrella to school, but in your morning rush you had forgotten to take an extra one with you. So, here you were standing just beyond the main entrance of your school, willing the downpour to halt, just for your way home, then the rain could fall as much as it liked. You just had to get home. 15 minutes, max.

You were just about to call your mom to pick you up when you, noticed someone with what looked like your umbrella move past you. The audacity some people had. “Hey! You!” you glared and shouted after the figure.

The student came to an abrupt halt, turning around and pointing at himself with a confused look. He was an upper classman, and it was obvious that he was startled by a younger student, such as yourself, talking to him in a demanding manner. Such manner that it made him seriously think that he had wronged the girl in some way.

You ran through the rain to get to the boy as fast as you could, to retrieve your umbrella and give the boy a piece of your mind. Even though it had only been a split of a moment you were out in the rain, you could already feel the fallen water on your skin. Your hair must’ve already curled its way back to its natural state, so you weren’t surprised to see the surprise on Lee Jeno’s face as you appeared in front of him in such close proximity. The umbrella was just big enough to shield both of your bodies from the rain. You must’ve looked crazy.

Even in all of his confusion the thought that you were pretty crossed his mind. Or the thought that you would be pretty had you not such a serious, maybe angry, definitely annoyed expression written over your face. Generally, Jeno thought you were pretty even with such a expression overtaking your features, but since it was directed towards him, he was slightly worried.

“That’s my umbrella.” You stated matter-of-factly.

Normally you wouldn’t talk to an upper classman in such rude fashion, but you had had a really rough day and just wanted to get home not thoroughly soaked. Studying his features, you recognized the boy in front of you. You knew who he was. The whole school knew who Lee Jeno was; stellar student and star athlete. Captain of the school’s Baseball team. You also heard that he was nice and helpful in moments of need. All you needed him to do right now was give back your umbrella.

He looked at you confused, “It’s my friend’s, Park Jisung’s”

Park Jisung. Said classmate you lent your umbrella to a week ago. He had begged you to lend it to him, since he had to carry some comic book, which apparently was worth more than his yearly allowance and Chenle (another one of your classmates) would most definitely kill him if he got it wet. You agreed since you had actually brought extra rainfall protection on that day. Now, of course, you were regretting the decision.

You sighed, “No it’s mine. I lent it to Jisung last week and he hasn’t given it back. See it’s my initials on here.” You pointed to the bottom of the handle, where in neat handwriting your initials adorned the umbrella.

“Oh.”, was all Jeno said. However, he still held onto what was now established to have been your umbrella.

“Well?” you asked expectantly, “Can I have it back?”

“But then I don’t have an umbrella.” He looked at you, brows furrowed.

“That is in all frankness not my problem.” You reached to grab the umbrella from him, but in a swift motion, almost a reflex, Jeno took a step back, leaving you exposed to the heavy rain, mouth open in shock.

Jeno had never pulled someone towards him so quickly. He hoped the grip on your arm wouldn’t leave marks, but when he had taken a step back, to keep the umbrella in his grasp, he hadn’t thought as far ahead as you standing in the rain without anything shielding you from it. In any other scenario Jeno would have blushed, being so close to a girl, but he was just so shocked and surprised with himself to actually comprehend the even closer than before proximity of your body.

“Sorry.” He whispered almost inaudibly.

You scoffed. Was this guy for real? With the added wetness to your school uniform and hair your body began to shiver despite the somewhat warm May temperatures. Now you really wanted to get home. You were about to curse at the boy in front of you when he stripped off his blazer and placed it over your shoulders.

“I’ll walk you home.” He stated, smiling comfortingly, as if it was a solution to all of your problems.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No.” Jeno’s eyes went wide at that, never once had someone rejected his offer to walk them home. He himself thought it was sweet to do such acts of service. Before he could rephrase his offer and explain what he had meant, you continued, “I’ll walk you home.”

Now Jeno was blushing.

 ii.              flowers are a gift from the earth. and a reward from me, for you

It was a slow day. In every aspect. Spring break meant that there were barely any university students in town. Well, barely any but you. You were working in an empty shop, while it was the most beautiful day outside. You sighed, seeing the beams of light come through the glassy front of the shop which overlooked a small square. You loved to work in the flower shop, really. It was one of the best jobs you’ve had so far. You loved interacting with the customers, creating beautiful bouquets to give to their loved ones. You thrived off of the love, as well as the general distraction from whatever was going on in your life. That’s why, on days like these, when it was just you and the flowers, both doomed to observe the sunny outside world, your mind wandered to places you’d rather it didn’t.

The short and coincidental interaction you had with Jeno just a few days ago occupied your mind more than you had hoped it would. It seemed like he couldn’t get away fast enough. It was obvious that he hadn’t recognized you at first, but it would be a lie for you to say you hadn’t done everything in your power to distract your mind from him the second he had stepped into the shop, all disgruntled and annoyed from the rain. Your first instinct was to laugh about it and wave him over, as if he was here to see you. Thankfully you were able to muffle that instinct as soon as it rose up from deep inside of you. The distraction part was also going fairly well, until the young man decided to march right up to and ask something, you weren’t really sure what it was, just to turn around within five seconds, giving you no time to react. It was a little overwhelming seeing him again after all this time.

When you had told your roommate Minjeong about it, she burst out laughing. But upon seeing your expression she placed a hand on your back. Her face turned from teasing to empathetic and almost worried within a split-second. A small smile its way onto her face, “Still hurts, huh?”

You just nodded, bringing your knees up to your chest and sighing once more, to let all of the unspoken feelings out, without actually speaking them still.

The truth was back when Jeno and you parted ways, it was sort of mutual. Sort of because, while you didn’t not want to be what you were right now, Jeno’s points and worries made sense. He was graduating high school a year before you were, going to university kind of far away. So, you decided to break up, if you can even call it that since technically you were never officially each other’s significant other. Still, you considered yourself to be Jeno’s, and you were sure he considered himself yours as well. Back then it was easy for all of your girlfriends to paint Jeno as the villain, giving him dirty looks at school, for the little remaining time he was still roaming your school’s hallways. You knew it couldn’t have been easy for him either.

It still was easy enough for him to leave town without a last goodbye, though. When you found out from Jisung that Jeno had left right after graduation, and didn’t say a final goodbye, or anything at all really, it was easy to believe the words your friends had to say about him. And for a time, you did. But soon the anger turned into hurt, which eventually got more and more dull until you barely noticed it on a day-to-day basis. Only certain things, sounds, smells brought back the memory of your love that never really got to be what could have been. Well, could have, would have, should have, didn’t.

So here you were, wallowing in your first, and so far, only love that mattered. All of this made you just sadder so, to make it go away you decided to just let your head rest on the counter before you. It smelt like fresh cut flowers even more intensely than the shop already did. Trapped in your busy brain you didn’t notice the bell at the door ring.

“Is the shop closed?” an unsure male voice called from the entrance.

You were quick to react, happy that there was someone to take your mind off of Jeno, “Nope. No. I’m here. Sorry.” You said, lifting your head quickly off the table.

You had to stifle a laugh when you saw who had stepped into the flower shop. Was this fate playing some incredibly vicious joke? Whatever you had done in your past life must’ve been quite the crime, you concluded.

In front of you stood none other than Lee Jeno, who to be fair looked just as bamboozled to see you. You let out one sigh before saying a soft greeting to the man. Now that he wasn’t running away from you, you could study his features. He hadn’t changed much. The main difference was merely his more adult look, but put him in a school uniform and boom, you’d be back to being 17 and in love with the kindest, sweetest boy you had ever met.

Your heart ached at the thought that he was probably here to buy flowers for his girlfriend, nonetheless, you had to keep the business going, “What can I get for you today? Something pre-made or would you rather select the flowers for your own bouquet?”

Jeno was taken aback by your professional /read cold/ behavior. Despite the polite smile on your face, he couldn’t recognize any of your warm, welcoming expressions from high school (experienced by Jeno only after he had given back your umbrella, of course). Then again, basically running away from you last week couldn’t have helped his cause. Other than the change in expression towards him you still looked just as graceful as you did in high school.

When Jeno had first noticed you back then he was far from brave enough to talk to you. He knew you were friends, well classmates, with Chenle and Jisung, but he still struggled to find a reason to introduce himself to you. That’s also why he thanked a higher power for the unexpected downpour that one day, as well as everything else that followed.

“I’ll just take the one with the sunflower. But could you please wrap it?” he spoke softly, as if he was asking you to do an impossible task. The impossible task of wrapping up his new girlfriend’s flowers?

You just hummed softly, taking the bouquet off the stand, and bringing it to the back of the counter. For Jeno the silence was suffocating, for you it was welcome. You were focused on working right now anyways. Concentrating on getting the flowers wrapped as gently as possible.

“How have you been?”

Jeno’s question caught you by surprise. You halted your current actions and looked at him. It wasn’t a necessarily unhappy look, but Jeno still felt exposed under your gaze. Well, besides the fact that he had just interrupted your delicate wrapping of his bouquet, as well as practically sprinted out of a café at the sight of you, you just weren’t sure what he was looking for with asking the question.

Jeno was tense looking at you, looking at him, but after a moment or two your features softened, and you turned your attention back to his purchase. You nodded softly, “I’ve been good. Busy. Good-busy, though.”

Jeno let out a relieved sigh, “That’s good.”

You threw a small smile in his direction, finishing up the packed bouquet and handing it to him. He politely thanked you as he took it from you, paid, and with that he was out the shop.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bringing a cooling hand to your cheek you tried to calm your nerves, before tackling the cleaning of the stray leaves and blossoms that decided they didn’t want to be part of Jeno’s bouquet.

You picked up one of them and brought it closer to your eyes, to get a better look at it before softly whispering, “the others are traitors, thank you for staying.” You then proceeded to giggle at your own silliness before actually continuing to tidy up.

What you didn’t know was, that Jeno was watching you through the window. He smiled at your habit of being soft and vulnerable when you thought no one was watching. You used to do that a lot, however, Jeno almost always got to sneakily witness those moments. There even was a time you would act that way around him without hiding. Of course, he couldn’t hear what you had said, if he had he probably wouldn’t have come to the conclusion that you were happy, but you looked happy.

-

You: smiling. Over the past two weeks Jeno had been fortunate enough to be able to see you like that a lot more often than he was used to. He was also lucky enough to have gotten to know you better ever since that fateful day in the rain. Now, here he was on your second date, well hang out, watching you ramble on about anything and everything while sipping on the Capri Sun you had brought to share. Initially, you had brought two, of course, but Jeno had already finished his and you had offered him another sip from yours, so he had stolen one or two from your pack as well. You said it was ok.

“If I fail my history test tomorrow, it’s totally your fault.” You stated as you happily strolled along the park, not at all worried about said test, Jeno noted.

You two were actually supposed to study. The both of you had another two tests just before a short break. Your history test was dreaded by all the students of your grade, and Jeno, having already taken the test, suggested he’d help you study for it. From the beginning you suspected you wouldn’t get a lot of studying done and that the plans with Jeno would definitely stir up your whole day. Actually, you were quite sure that Jeno would stir up your whole life, turn it upside down.

“You won’t fail the test. It’s pretty easy actually, I don’t know what all the fuss is about.” He chuckled to himself. He had scored a 93% last year, and from what he had gathered he was sure you were a lot smarter than him, “besides, it’s so nice outside today. It’d be a tragedy if we spent it cooped up in the library all day. Consider this a short break, we are only stretching our legs for a minute.” Jeno proceeded to dramatically stretch his limbs, groan and sigh, leaving you giggling, shoving him lightly.

“Ok mister, I play video games all night but can’t sit still two hours to study without my body getting stiff.”

“I actually move quite a bit when I play video games!”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” You laughed. Despite being slightly worried about the exam, it was nice taking a break. Or taking the rest day off, as you suspected it would turn into a full-afternoon-adventure.

“Tell you what, I’ll ask you one of the most asked history questions ever, and if you get it right, you stop worrying about the test and embrace the afternoon plus I will give you this daisy,” he quickly picked up the tiny flower from the grass beside the walkway, “and if you don’t get it right, you definitely need the break because there’s no way you will get this wrong.”

“So, either way we’ll spend the afternoon not studying?”

“It’s called self-care” he smiled his infamous eye-smile. You shook your head; it was foul play. Jeno knew you were weak for his smile. Well, he probably knew you were weak for him.

“Okay. Shoot. What’s the question?”

“When was Rome founded?”

You laughed, “You really think Mr. History Teacher is going to ask questions like this?”

“Sounds like you’re avoiding answering. You’re right, Y/N, maybe you should be worried.” He dramatically shook his head.

“753 BC. Idiot.” You glared at him while he just smiled, proud that you knew your romans.

Jeno grabbed your arm the get you to slow down and halt in front of him, “Don’t you want your reward?” he smirked.

Your cheeks were burning and judging by Jeno’s smirk, he knew what he was doing to you. Ever so slowly, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, and moments later placed the daisy behind it. He looked at you as though you were the most precious painting in the world. You whispered a small thanks and then the two of you continued you way through your study-free, sun-filled afternoon.

As time went on, you talked about all sorts of things; Your families, music, and goals after graduating. (After all you hadn’t really known each other for all that long.) The last topic left a bittersweet taste in Jeno’s mouth; He was excited about finishing high school, sure, but you had another whole year of school before you, and while your maybe-relationship (?) was incredibly premature and the two of you were only getting to know each other for now, Jeno knew how he felt. He knew how much he liked you, and he just didn’t want to stop anytime soon. Or ever. But for now, break was coming up and Jeno was sure to remind you to make time for him. It made your heart flutter.  The attention Jeno gave you was unlike any other you had ever gotten before. Looking back, you were so happy that Jisung didn’t give back your umbrella right away (or ever really). You smiled contently as you walked side by side the last rays of golden sunlight warming your skin. A small smile adorned your lips as Jeno casually slipped his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.

“It’s gonna get chilly soon, we should preserve the warmth.” He was blushing slightly. Since the umbrella incident Jeno had managed to control his blushing a little better, only turning three to four shades redder when he came in sudden contact with your body. He wouldn’t have it any other way though, it confirmed his feelings, and he liked the butterflies.

So as expected and promised, the short study break turned into an afternoon full of laughter, every thought of history cast aside except the one you were making for your own lives. With the golden light fading and the sky slowly turning into a twinkling, tiny polka-dot pattern, Jeno dropped you off at home. The warmth of the day had subsided, but you didn’t even notice the change of temperature as a gentle kiss was placed onto your cheek, warming you up from the inside out.

You hadn’t even properly processed the kiss, before the boy made another swarm of butterflies erupt inside of you, “Hey Y/N? If you get a higher mark on that history test, I’ll buy you real flowers, okey? But if my score ends up being higher, you’ll buy me some!”

You chuckled, your hand finding the daisy behind your ear. Challenge accepted.

 iii.            let me hold your hand, so you don’t fall for someone else

Days were long, boring, and filled with thoughts of you. Jeno hadn’t actually seen you since that day at the flower shop, yet he seemed to see you everywhere. Daisies blooming, umbrellas everywhere, and hell, Donghyuck’s new dorm room was room Nr. 753. (so technically he was also thinking of ancient Rome?)

When Jeno had first told Hyuck about his little encounter at the coffee shop, he burst out laughing and kept bringing it up throughout their whole meet-up. Most of Jeno’s friends had always been Y/N-enthusiasts, so Jeno was sure there was some hope, some hidden agenda in Donghyuck’s continuous mentioning of you. It would’ve been a lie for Jeno to say that you and everything he had felt, he feels, for you was in the past, so he chose not to talk about you at all.

It was hard. Especially after seeing you again in the flower shop, all he wanted to do was tell Hyuck how happy you looked, and how bad he felt for wanting to be included in your happiness. However, he didn’t deserve to have such demands after leaving. Back then you were determined to make things work and Jeno was quite overwhelmed with the ending of his childhood. Staying friends is what he suggested, and although he could see that it hurt you, you agreed. But in the end, it wasn’t what Jeno wanted at all. He was in love with you, he just wasn’t sure how to handle such strong feelings in a time of such change. And thus, he just left. Friends don’t leave their friends without saying goodbye. Not when they go home after a movie marathon and certainly not when they leave for university. Sending a message was the least he could do, and he typed it out, but he just never hit send.

In any case, Jeno was sure your happiness was more than complete, even without him. So as Donghyuck was putting the flowers Jeno had gifted him into a vase, and he kept teasing him about how it was sweet that he knew each of the guys’ favorite flower, Jeno was thinking of you. And as the small dorm filled with the rest of their friends, he was thinking of you. And as he walked home that night, he was thinking of you. And the next day, he was thinking of you.

The first time Jeno really wished he could stop thinking of you was a rather unexpected one. Jeno would’ve bet his throwing-arm on the certain emptiness of the library during spring break. There was virtually no way anyone else would be between the bookshelves, except for the people that actually worked at the library of course.

In an attempt to simply lower the volume of the tiny voice inside his head that kept chanting your name, Jeno decided to stop by the library to pick up a few books he would be needing for upcoming essays and whatnot. The bike stands in front of the building were almost empty. Only few bicycles scattered around the metallic constructs, some put up properly, others toppled over. Jeno was almost certain that the bikes were either placed there for a quick stop to the convenience store on the other side of the road, or that they had already been there and not been moved for the majority of the semester. In any case, Jeno was counting on the library being empty, as well as it being a quick visit of picking up books and then getting back to his apartment and possibly calling up the boys for an afternoon in the park.

The cool air-conditioned atmosphere and the smell of books welcomed Jeno as the doors slid open, inviting him in. The old lady working at the front desk was sitting comfortably reading a book; a good sign for no one being in the library, no books to put away. It was also quiet. Well, it was a library after all. But during the semester, when the library was full of desperate students, there were always some sounds, even if it was only the turning of pages. The lady barely acknowledged Jeno as he walked past her determinedly. Jeno knew where the books were that he needed so he didn’t need her until he was actually checking them out.

Strolling through the rows and rows of bookshelves, Jeno couldn’t help but feel some sort of comfort. This was an environment he knew pretty well; it was also because outside of baseball, Jeno never really did much but study. Of course, he had hobbies like gaming and hanging out with his friends, but he also cared about his grades, so he always made sure to have enough time to study. Days like these would’ve been a portal straight back to the past if it wasn’t for the lack of you. Jeno shook his head at his thoughts wandering off towards your direction once again. He sighed, sliding the last book he needed off the shelf and turning back to head towards the exit.

Just as he was about leave the aisle of books, he spotted someone familiar sitting at one of the tables. He had to refrain from audibly sighing. From what he could tell, you sat alone at one of the tables at the far end of the so-called study space. The window front let in enough light for students to not get sleepy during their endless hours of studying, and at this very moment your gaze was turned towards the outside world. Jeno just stood and stared for a second. Was this really happening? Running into you for the third time in only 2 weeks, this must be some sort of sign, right? Divine intervention to get you back to him. But just as Jeno worked up enough courage to go say hi to you, invite you out to coffee maybe, just as he had gotten his legs to work again, as he took the first step in your direction, a head popped up beside yours. A male head.

Jeno once again stopped and stared. Your mouth turned into a smile as the young man next to you whispered something into your ear. Shaking your head, you shoved him back into his seat and he once again disappeared behind the wall. Looking at the scene now, it was clear that you weren’t alone; Two bottles of water were placed on top of the table in front of you, numerous textbooks were stacked on top of each other, none of them for your major and at an even closer inspection, you were reading a novel. So, you weren’t studying at all, simply accompanying your… boyfriend? You kept smiling at the guy in front of you, you kept giving him the attention Jeno wanted, the attention Jeno once had, the attention he had lost. He appeared once more from behind the wall and grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

Had Jeno stayed a moment longer, had he not turned around the second the other male’s fingers wrapped themselves around yours, he would’ve seen you pulling your hand from his grasp and sticking your tongue out to your friend in mockery. But he didn’t. So Jeno concluded that this was not a sign for him to talk to you. This wasn’t divine intervention to get the two of you back together. It was the message for him to move on. So, as he checked out his books, he tried not to think about you. Walking back home, he tried not to think about you. Entering his apartment, he tried not to think about you.

Jeno wasn’t used to not succeeding at things. He had always done fairly well with everything, so why was this any different. If only he had held onto your hand a little bit longer, if only he had held it a little bit tighter, then maybe you wouldn’t be falling for someone else.

-

“Y/N” a soft voice woke you from your sleep. In all honesty you weren’t entirely sure when you had fallen asleep but the position of your head on the book in front of you, as well as the pain in your neck, indicated that it wasn’t an intentional nap. You hadn’t fully opened your eyes yet, when another statement was made by the soft voice, “You’re drooling allover your novel.” With a surprising speed your hand flew to the corner of your mouth checking if what was had been said was true (it was not), but you were only met with a giggling Jeno.

“Ha ha. Very funny, Jeno, thank you so much for the entertainment. I should hire you as my alarm.”

“Does that mean I get to wake up next to you every morning?”

You playfully rolled your eyes in an attempt to control the butterflies in your belly.

The two of you had spent the afternoon in the school-library. Jeno studying for his final exams and you reading. The afternoon quickly evolved into nighttime and looking outside now you were met with a pitch-black darkness, that did not look welcoming at all. Observing the outside, you let out a sigh, sleep still heavily clouding your brain.

Jeno on the other hand was looking at you, smiling. Before you fell asleep, he couldn’t get any studying done because he loved watching your facial expressions while you read. After you fell asleep, he couldn’t get any work done because he was busy just staring at you and listening to you breathe. There was a small smile on his features at all times, he noted to not invite you along to (serious) study sessions again.

Only then did you realize that Jeno had already packed up all of his things, “Are we leaving already? I’m not tired at all I could do this for another 3 hours minimum!” you smiled up at him, stretching your arms theatrically.

“Okay sure, sleepy head, but what you’re forgetting is that you have a curfew, and as the responsible young man that I am, I shall bring you home at least fifteen minutes before then.” He stated, smiling at you, and reaching out his hand for you to grab.

You checked the time, and it was true, your curfew was coming up rather fast and you really had to get home. You placed your hand in his and watched as his fingers wrapped around yours, the warmth from his hand spreading all the way to your heart. Too focused on the love you had for the boy in front of you, you didn’t realize that apparently your legs weren’t completely awake just yet, resulting in the first step being somewhat off? And then the next one had you stumbling completely. So, two steps in and you were already on your way to hit the floor.

But thank God for Lee Jeno. Thanks to him and his incredibly strong arms as well as very nice reflexes he caught you just in time spinning you towards him instead of the ground. Both of your eyes were big in surprise, staring back at each other. You opened your mouth in an attempt to thank him but his lips forming into themselves into a grin, made you reconsider your words for another moment. And that resulted in Jeno being faster with his reaction to the incident.

“Falling pretty fast for me, huh?” he smirked.

Your lips turned into a smile, “That totally ruined the moment just now, do you know that Lee Jeno?”

“Oh no not the government name.” He feigned fear, opening his mouth, and widening his eyes. This expression was soon replaced by what you could tell was a genuine smile, “You’re not going to move away?” he asked, suddenly somewhat shy.

Too caught up in Jeno’s joke and the general situation to have actually moved away, you hurriedly took a step back to give the boy in front of you some space. But before you foot could even hit the ground again, Jeno pulled you in once more, smiling. He promptly placed a soft kiss on your forehead (something he had seldom done before, especially in public!) and then placed his arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the library.

“Let’s get you home, sleepy head.”

You were sure your face was glowing with all the blushing it had been doing in the past moments. While the heat radiating from it welcomed the cooler night-air, the fresh air did little help to calm your racing heart.

 iv.  let’s stray alone

The world was spinning. Moving too fast and it seemed like you just couldn’t catch up with it. Your brain wasn’t doing you any favors by making everything blurry. Maybe downing that last drink wasn’t the greatest of your ideas. Your feet halted for a second as you tried to stop the carousel that seemed to be the ground for a second. You had to get yourself together in order to get home as soon as possible.

You had gone out for drinks with some of your friends and not planned on getting this intoxicated. There really wasn’t any occasion for your celebration, although it is important to say that Minjeong referenced to the evening as a mourning-party for you, since you clearly had fallen once again for Lee Jeno. You really wanted to contradict her, and you almost did, but then again you knew there was no point in lying to your best friend. She had observed you each and every day since Jeno came into the flower shop, thus Minjeong knew exactly what was going on. Contrary to its name, the outing today was actually supposed to keep your mind off your high school romance and keep the mere idea of men out of all your brains. It was doing a pretty good job (which was surprising since most of Minjeong’s Missions ended in chaos) until Lee Donghyuck walked into the bar of your choice. And thus, chaos spread. At least in your mind.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Minjeong sighed. Confused you followed her gaze. At the sight of your former school mate, you almost had to laugh. “There’s no way Jeno will show up, is there?”

“Lee Jeno is haunting you, Y/N” one of your other friends said giggling.

“It’s fate! Destiny! I’ve always said Jeno was your soulmate” another one chimed in, excited at the thought of your romance.

Minjeong scoffed, “Jeno doesn’t deserve Y/N, not after the way he left.” She turned to you, “You okay, bubs? We can leave if you want?”

While you appreciated Minjeong’s offer, you knew she had wanted to go a club after this, so in a swift motion you gulped down the drink in front of you and shook your head, “I don’t want to spoil anyone’s fun. I’m just going to go home and relax there, where the possibilities of running into Jeno are zero.”

“Never say never!” your friend chimed in making, most of the girls at the table laugh and you roll your eyes.

Minjeong just nodded along, watching you slip on your jacket. “You sure you don’t need me to walk you home? You know it’s not far, I can be back in like 30 minutes. You had quite a few drinks.”

It was true, your apartment wasn’t far, and you really had a few drinks, but with flushed cheeks and a small smile you declined her once again and headed to the door. You risked one last look back at where you saw Donghyuck, regretting it instantly. He was watching you, knowing him, he probably had been for quite some time. He offered you a smile, which of course you reciprocated. You had always liked Jeno’s friends. They were incredibly welcoming in high school and in the couple of years where Jeno was playing baseball out of town, you had seen them a few times and caught up a bit. But now with his apparent return to your hometown and thus  the possibility of Jeno showing up any second, and further confusion for you and your apparently not gone feelings for him, you decided to just throw Hyuck a small wave. Finally, you escaped from a for your heart potentially difficult situation.

So here you were: Drunk, almost home and most definitely scared of still being in love with Lee Jeno.

You remember your mom telling you once that cool night air is the best remedy for intoxication, and up until this starlit night you would have stood by this, but tonight it seemed to not work its magic at all. Sitting down on a park bench just behind your apartment building you let out sigh looking up at the sky. Bad idea. Who would’ve thought that looking up would actually make the spinning worse? Quickly you lowered your head and stood up again deciding it was time to finally get to your apartment.

Taking the way you had, meant you had to go through a sketchy ally which then led straight to the entrance of your building, and it was also where the stray cats lived. You smiled to yourself thinking of the many days you stopped by to feed them and got some cuddles in return. Not all of them loved you, of course, but you were proud to say that all of them at least tolerated you (meaning none were hissing at you anymore). Turning the corner, you were still smiling about your furry neighbors, Jeno somewhat forgotten at the thought of getting to pet them.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as your feet came to an abrupt halt. The cats were there. But there was also someone else. Crouched down, stroking the kitties as they happily munched on what you could only presume was provided by the host. Your breath hitched, suddenly everything you did was too loud, and you could swear any second now he would turn around and see you just standing there, watching him like a creep. No. Nope. You were definitely too drunk to talk to Jeno right now. As well as too fragile, if you were being honest.

Carefully and quietly, you took the few steps back behind the corner you had just turned. You breathed out. The guarantee of invisibility thanks to the wall allowing you to gather your thoughts. Arguing with yourself whether or not you should just go up to Jeno, you took a peek. He was now sitting on the road, one of the cats settled comfortably in his lap. You didn’t have to see his face to know what look was on it. A soft smile spread across your features as you watched the boy you once came to love interact with the cats that have brought you comfort countless of times. You hoped he found comfort in them too. You heard Jeno let out a small sigh, barely audible, as he played with one of the kittens.

Caught up in his own thoughts Jeno was happy to have stumbled upon the strays. He was on his way home, after dinner with the guys. Donghyuck had insisted on them getting drinks later, but Jeno had refused, alcohol wouldn’t help his aching heart and he would end up drunkenly calling you or worse running into you, with his luck. Of course, he didn’t tell Donghyuck that, who would just insist on him tagging along. Jeno knew deep inside he wanted to run into you again, just so that he could finally tell you everything he’s been holding inside, how sorry he is he left the way he did, how much he has been thinking about you and most importantly how he never stopped being in love with you.

Who knew he would unknowingly end up in front of your apartment? Fate had its ways.

“What am I going to do, huh?” he asked the cat in front of him. Looking around Jeno had come to the conclusion that somebody was taking care of them; toys were lying around, and water bowls stood filled up to the brim. “Someone’s been taking good care of you. Hopefully they show you all the love you deserve. I’m sure you take good care of them, too. You think someone will take care of me too?” Jeno chuckled at the silliness of talking to cats about his troubles. But his heart was heavy, and he wasn’t used to feeling this way. The past years he was doing okay, thinking of you every now and again, having fond memories together and re-awakened the occasional butterflies, but now? The thought of you brought a longing and regret.

Jeno had no idea that you were watching him. I mean how would he know? Hidden behind a wall was not only you, but your heart as well. Hearing Jeno say these words confused you more than ever. Only a few years ago you were sure you and Jeno would end up together, now? You were hoping for it deep down, but you weren’t entirely sure how to go on about it. It was just a little more complicated than either of you had anticipated.

-

The first stone for the wall around your heart was set when Jeno asked you to talk. Technically that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. The two of you always talked but it was the way he phrased it that worried you. It was how he didn’t grab your hand pulling you away from your friends, how he didn’t place his hand on your lower back to lead you outside, and most importantly it was how reluctantly he spoke and how he didn’t really look at you.

Just days ago, the two of you were smiling and laughing together. The feelings you felt for the boy were so intense, almost overwhelming, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Back then, you wanted to tell Jeno you loved him. (You didn’t verbally, but he knew. Exactly how you knew he loved you.)

Now, here you were standing in front of the boy you loved, who was avoiding your gaze at all costs. Deep down you were hoping he was just nervous to /finally/ ask you to be his girlfriend, but you knew that wasn’t why he wanted to talk.

“Is everything okey?” stepping forward you tried to seek out eye contact, growing more worried by the second. Over the past few months, you had gotten to know Jeno quite well, and while it was a fairly trouble-free time, you had experienced him worrying. Mainly about the future and how his childhood was coming to an end. But this was different. Jeno was afraid of losing you, that had always remained unspoken. But now, he just wasn’t sure how to make things work.

“I’m not sure how we should go on about this.” He still wasn’t looking at you directly, which only added to your nervousness.

“What do you mean exactly?” You blinked confused, taken aback by the statement. You weren’t exactly sure how he expected you to react to this. You understood his worries, however you always figured you were going to come up with some sort of plan together, that maybe during summer you were going to work things out together.

“I think, I think we should just be friends.” Jeno thought his voice gave away that this wasn’t what he really wanted. In the end he wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing what he was doing. It’s not like it was the lack of feelings that proposed a problem but rather the overwhelming love he felt for you. Everything was a lot, it was just too much, and no matter how cruel it sounded, you were the thing he could get rid of most easily. He couldn’t stop time from moving forward, he couldn’t not graduate and not go to college. So not pursuing the love he had for you was the easiest way to lessen the weight of change. Even though it was the last thing his heart wanted him to do.

“Oh.” At first you were just relieved that he was alright. But then the reality of what being friends implied hit you, “Right.” You breathed out.

Jeno’s eyes met yours for the first time. Jeno could see you close yourself off towards him. He tried to explain everything he was feeling as best he could, without hurting you any further and without admitting his feelings making things even harder for the both of you. He tried to lessen your weight as well. But you just nodded along to what he was saying, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. Jeno could see you holding back tears, he too, was trying to stay composed, keeping up the façade of doing this for the ‘greater good’. It was just the easy way out, really.

“Are you okey?” his voice was soft, as though he was handling something incredibly fragile, which in some ways he was.

At last, you looked at him with a small smile on your lips, but not one that spread warmth around his heart. This smile was distant. A single tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to wipe it away, “Well, I can’t say it is what I would have wanted, but if it is what you want, there’s not much I can do, right? So,” you tilted your head and smiled a tad bit wider, still not fooling Jeno, “Friends?”

It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what he wanted at all, but at the same time he really didn’t know what else to do. He knew you weren’t going to force him to do something he didn’t want to do, but it still hurt to hear you say that this is not what you wanted. It laid out the blame loud and clear. And you were right. You thought that this was something the two of you would talk about together. That the process of figuring Jeno’s post-graduation was something the two of you would do together. So, in the end he made a decision you should’ve made together, alone.

The thought of being friends with Jeno while still feeling all this love for him was almost impossible. Comical even. And when he left a week later without saying goodbye, you realized it was impossible for him too. Jeno never wanted to be your friend, he just wanted out and that you couldn’t understand.

 v.  fate has its ways

Things had been quiet for the past two weeks. The lack of Jeno gave you time to think clearly without freaking out too much. Honestly, at first you were surprised by how much of an effect he still had on you, but after reminiscing in the memories you had with him, you were impressed by not being affected by it more. The good memories made you excited at the thought of meeting Jeno again on accident. You realized pretty soon into your Jeno-escapades that you had forgiven him, that his presence was ever missing from your life. And besides, were many things remained unspoken between the two of you.

Fate definitely was playing games with your heart, since now that you were hoping to see Jeno, you didn’t. Just after he had scrambled up you and your life again, and you were starting to feel happy about it again, he disappeared. Not that it was his fault that you stopped running into him, but every corner you turned you were looking for him, every time the bell at the flower shop rung, signaling a new customer had entered, you hoped it was him, and at every little disturbance at the café you hoped it was Lee Jeno who was pulling you out of your thoughts. Of course, it never was him, always leaving you disappointed, looking for someone who you once loved and were ready to love again. Fate really was cruel.

For Jeno the world was spinning. When Donghyuck had told him that you were at the bar that night, his decision not to go felt like the worst decision anyone had ever made. It felt like missing the jackpot of the lottery by one digit, like bingo, but someone else said it faster. He doubted every decision he made, that didn’t lead him to the bar that night. From what Hyuck had told him, you had left almost immediately after he had arrived, why he didn’t know. But Hyuck had described you as very tipsy so maybe that was the reason why you left? He chuckled at the possibility of experiencing you drunk although he hoped you had gotten home safe that night.

So, Jeno too kept looking for you, everywhere. Although he was not quite as determined to talk to you as you were to talk to him, he longed for your presence in his life and the sunshine it had once brought. He didn’t expect you to be the exact same person as you were in high school (who would be after so many years?), but he was certain that you had only gotten even more perfect over the time you had spent apart, though he wasn’t entirely sure how that would even be possible.

With days filled with the thought of you in addition to his college student responsibilities, the weather had turned warm, and summer was approaching as quickly as ever. Time had gone by much more quickly than usual and Jeno wanted to stop wasting it without you.

-

Cicadas. The sound of summer. Even in the city they played their music day and night. It never really was quiet in your hometown, too many students celebrating too many occasions. There was always someone playing music too loudly from some corner of your neighborhood, so hearing the loud sounds of the cicadas was refreshing. It was like a welcoming greeting whenever you left your apartment in the evening. Minjeong had left to visit her family over the weekend, which for you meant that you had little to no motivation to cook for yourself. Of course, you still had to eat so you decided on stopping by the store just by your apartment building for some instant dinner.

You were happy on days like these; You had been productive enough to treat yourself to something, yet you hadn’t let the day go by without stopping to enjoy the small moments like listening to the cicadas or lingering on the balcony, in the sun for a moment longer than you normally would have. Jeno crossed your mind every now and then, memories resurfacing you hadn’t realized you even remembered. The semester was coming to an end for the first time in a while you weren’t too confused about your feelings, so you were content.

You sat down on a table inside, overlooking the small crossing in front of the store. You had your food in front of you and looking at it, it felt like a reward. After a day of studying for your final exams all you really needed was good food and a cold iced tea to be happy. So, enjoying your food, you watched life pass by outside, focused on the lives of passing people until a hand tapped your shoulder.

Jeno had ventured into the small corner store in hopes of a refreshing drink, as well as some treats for the stray cats that lived nearby. He was about to leave when he had spotted you, happily munching on your food, gaze fixed on the outside world. He was tempted to just let you be, content in being on your own, enjoying your food, but he didn’t know when he’d run into you again, if he’d run into you again, and after all, he really wanted to see you again, maybe even on purpose the next time. So, he took a leap of faith, and tapped your shoulder.

Neither of you had any idea that the other one had been re-falling in love over the past weeks. That each of you had been quietly longing to see the other again, just to finally go up to them and talk. Overwhelmed by memories and what-ifs, regrets and possible do-overs you were anticipating to be reunited by fate once again.

So, when you turned around, and realized it was Jeno who had  tapped your shoulder, your eyes lit up and a smile spread across your face almost instantly, setting free the familiar butterflies in Jeno’s stomach.

“Hi.” You spoke softly, pleasantly surprised (although by now you really shouldn’t be). Your heart was speeding up due to the grin that formed on his lips and the eye-smile that was welcoming you.

He smiled back, ”Hello.”

thank you for reading til the end! i hope you enjoyed it and have a nice day !!! ♡

this piece was written by @yourstruleejn so please don’t post on any other platforms or translate into any other languages! thank u !!!

[dilfdoctordoom]

On Tom Taylor, the Current Nightwing Run & Ableism

I did mention I was gonna do a post about it, so here we are. There are some things I want to make clear before we begin: the issue exploded on Twitter on the very first day of disabled Pride month; disabled people have been discussing the ableism in Taylor’s Nightwing run since it began; nobody has blamed Taylor for what happened to Barbara in 2011. We are, however, blaming him for the way she is written in his series during 2021. 

I am also going to be discussing the ableism in the fandom in this post. The reactions I have seen, from here to Twitter to TikTok, are showing not only a great misunderstanding of the situation, but a purposeful misunderstanding. The very real reasons disabled people are angry right now have been twisted to make us seem ridiculous and overly sensitive and I cannot help but feel that is very intentional.

Another quick addition: disabled people are not a monolith. Barbara Gordon spent over 20 years as a paralyzed wheelchair user. Stating (and I would like to note, never truly showing) that she is a part time cane user now is still erasing her disability. These things are not interchangeable.

So, with that out of the way, let’s begin.

Tom Taylor’s run is ableist. That is a fact of this situation. He made the active choice to include a version of Barbara Gordon that is ableist caricature. Story wise, the role that Barbara plays could have easily been filled by anyone else. There is no real season, within the narrative and outside of it, for Taylor to include this version of Barbara Gordon, who has received a decade of criticism from disabled people. It’s very well known that this iteration is problematic, to put it kindly, and Taylor is aware of that. 

He made the active decision to include her, anyway, showing, at the very least, that he is passively, if not actively, ableist. Passive ableism is still ableism and disabled people are allowed to take issue with that.

That alone is reason enough for disabled people to be angry. But that’s not why things exploded on Twitter.

On July 1st, the very first day of disabled pride month, the new design for Barbara was dropped. After months of teasing Barbara’s return to a wheelchair using Oracle (see: Last Days of The DC Universe, Batgirl (2016), etc), they debuted... a new Batgirl costume that the artist has openly said draws inspiration from the Burnside suit.

There’s a lot of issues to unpack here, so let’s start small: the issue with consciously calling back to Burnside. The Burnside era of Batgirl stories was... beyond awful. The villain of the series’ first arc, was an AI based on Barbara’s brain patterns when she was disabled. It was evil because of all the rage and pain Barbara felt. The actual Barbara, on the other hand, was good -- because she was able bodied. Because her PTSD had been tossed aside. It was a horrifically ableist era that drove the idea that Barbara’s life was terrible when she was disabled; that it was some horrible, twisted secret.

Comics have kept that narrative going. Barbara is seen hiding books on chronic pain; she reacts aggressively to the mere idea that she could be in a wheelchair again, acting like it would be weakness. Whereas Barbara had once been Oracle not because of, but in spite of, her disability, who was fantastic representation for the disabled community, she now acts like it is the most shameful thing in her life.

To call back to Burnside is to call back to that ableism and make no critique of it. If anything, it’s to embrace the ideas of that era.

There is also the design itself to consider. Many people have pointed out the inclusion of a back brace, as if that saves it from ableism -- it does not. Any person who has ever worn a back brace can take one look at this design and know that they did not consult a disabled person. Hell, by how impractical that thing is, I doubt they even Googled a picture of a back brace.

It’s a superficial acknowledgement that Barbara is supposed to be disabled. Something that was apparently thrown in to appease the numerous complaints of Barbara being able bodied; something that no one working on it put any effort into.

When it comes to aids, this is not a new thing for Barbara in Infinite Frontier. She’s said to be using a cane occasionally, that we got a better look at in Batman: Urban Legends, and as any cane user can tell you... that is not a cane that could feasibly be used. It’s another pathetic attempt to acknowledge that Barbara is supposed to be disabled, without actually doing anything of importance.

[IMAGE ID:  A segmented cane with a tri-pointed handle with a wrist strap. There is a stripe across the sections to connection them, labelled “solar battery charger buttons”. The text reads: “telescoping antenna doubles as cane or weapon if needed”. END ID]

Dropping this design (which we have now established to be problematic) on the very first day of disabled pride month is a sickening move. The very first day, and DC has doubled down on their disability erasure, thrown in superficial things like a back brace to act like it’s fine.

Tom Taylor is definitely involved in this, whether you like it not. No, he is not in anyway responsible for the events of the New 52 and what they did to Barbara Gordon, but that does not absolve him of blame for what is currently being done to her in his run.

When the design dropped, it started trending due to disabled fans reactions. To be clear: we were directly calling out the ableism in this design. This was Tom Taylor’s response:

[IMAGE ID: A tweet from TomTaylorMade that says: “Hey, @Bruna_Redono_F I think our new Batgirl suit is getting some attention.” He then adds a winky face emoji and tags @jesswchen and @drinkpinkkink. Attached are a screenshot showing that Batgirl is trending in the United States and a picture of the design itself. END ID]

This is him, bragging about how the disabled community reacted. Perhaps before this tweet, you could’ve made an argument that he was not ableist, but after he flaunted the fact that disabled people were rightly furious over this, like it was something to be proud of? No. If you are defending him, you are a part of the problem.

Taylor has included ableist writing in his Nightwing run, beyond the inherent ableism that comes with the current iteration of Barbara Gordon (whose inclusion, yet again, is his decision).

[IMAGE ID: A panel from Nightwing #79. Barbara and Dick are standing in his apartment. Barbara is saying: “I have some pretty new technology holding my spine together. I’m happy to do most things -- eat pizza in the park, take down low-level thugs -- but leaping from rooftops seems... unwise.” END ID]

What Barbara says in the panel above has bothered a lot of disabled people. The implication that she couldn’t “eat pizza in the park’ and “take down low-level thugs” without a spinal implant that conveniently erases her disability is... fucked up, to put it mildly. Those are both things that Barbara has done in a wheelchair. The first one is something wheelchair users can do and the implication that it’s not is beyond offensive.

But, let’s leave Barbara behind for a moment. I have previously mentioned that disabled people have been discussing the ableism present in this run long before July -- and that ableism is not only centred on Barbara. Dick is also a player in all this.

Dick Grayson was shot in the head. I don’t believe I need to retread the story, but just in case: Dick was shot in the head by KGBeast, developed amnesia from the event, and went by Ric Grayson for a long enough period in comics. If you have been active within the DC fandom for the past year or so, you know all about this controversial storyline and its fallout.

The Ric Grayson arc concluded itself the issue before Taylor became the writer for the series and ever since his tenure has begun, Taylor has completely ignored the reality of Dick being a disabled man. We understand this is comics, that things do not function the way they do in our world, but still -- it is clear that this gunshot wound to the head has affected Dick massively. We had an entire arc dedicated to how he struggled to find himself in the aftermath.

Taylor is choosing to write Dick as an able-bodied man, despite his canonical injuries and how they would impact his life.

This man is choosing to give empty gestures towards Barbara being a disabled woman (as discussed above, the completely dysfunctional back brace, etc) whilst writing her as able-bodied as possible. He writes both Dick and Barbara as able bodied as humanly possible. That is ableist. He is ableist. This is the same man that said he made a dog disabled ‘in honour of Barbara’. I do not think I need to elaborate on why that is bad.

The least he could’ve done, was get a sensitivity reader. We know that Taylor is not beyond getting people from marginalized communities to consult on his work (see: Suicide Squad), so why, when writing two characters that should be disabled, one that the disabled community have been criticising for a decade, does he not reach out to a single disabled person? A mere Google search could’ve improved the situation massively. In both the new design and the current writing, it is beyond clear that this is not just an able-bodied person writing it -- it’s an ableist person.

He could have listened to the numerous disabled fans that spoke out. Instead, he chose not only to refuse to do that, but to describe justifiable anger as ‘raging’. He treated us like we were crazy for daring to speak out about blatant ableism being parading around of us in our pride month.

Tom Taylor has failed to do the bare minimum and in doing so, he is, at very, very least, guilty of complicity. Again: passive ableism is still ableism.

The argument at hand is not just about Barbara Gordon and the continuing ableism that shines out from her current writing. The argument is about the treatment of disabled characters in his run. It has also become about the way he treats physically disabled people.

We also can’t have this conversation without acknowledging the fandom’s role in it all. I waited a day to write this up, to allow all the reactions to flood in... and I am sickened.

We have everything across the board. Able-bodied people that have actually listened to disabled people, who have supported us (which is deeply appreciated). Able-bodied people who may have had good intentions, but a skewed sense of the situation and perpetuating some of the more insidious lies being spread around (IE. that this is only about the new costume).

There are, obviously, the ableist reactions, though, that we will be discussing here. People deeming the current issues as ‘crazy’, calling disabled people ‘overly sensitive’ and ‘delusional’. Many people have completely glossed over the examples given for why Taylor, specifically, is ableist, and instead have resorted to telling disabled people that we are wrong and should be mad at DC instead.

It’s important to note that Tom Taylor is an adult man. He doesn’t need a fandom to attack disabled people for daring to call him out. He is not the victim in this situation; he has, for quite a few disabled people, been the aggressor.

I have seen claims that Infinite Frontier is a ‘slow burn’, implying that disabled people need to patient... as if we have not waited a decade for less ableist writing. There is a complete refusal from able-bodied fans to actually listen to what disabled people are saying. They would much rather rush to the defence of the (honestly rather mediocre) current Nightwing run. 

Disabled fans know that comic book spaces are ableist. We know that both DC and Marvel and many of their writers are ableist. We are still allowed to be pissed as hell about it and acting like the current reaction being had right now is disabled people being ‘overdramatic’ is yet another example of how the able-bodied side of the fandom both refuses to listen to and undermine disabled people when we call out ableism.

We know it when we see it. We always do and we always will and we will always be able to recognize it far faster than an able-bodied person. If this many disabled fans are coming out and talking about an issue, calling it ableism, then it’s time for you shut up and listen.

Stop being a part of the problem and start supporting disabled fans for once.

[count-lero]

Good day to everyone in the Napoleonic segment of Tumblr once again! 🌺

I humbly assume, there is no bad timing for some “Napoleonic-related-game-world-news”, so here we are. :)

Won’t describe my own gaming history as it’s another long story to tell… However, I will make a remark that I am a gamer who have enjoyed such leisure activity on many platforms - PSP-gaming, computer gaming, console gaming, phone gaming as well. Speaking of the latter, there is one game in particular that fascinates me till nowadays. It’s called “Time Princess” and it is, in a nutshell, an interactive novel with the core dress-up mechanics.

The game’s name says it all: there is a main heroin who gains the ability to relive countless stories through, pretty much, any writing source available in this world. Those stories are based on different historical epochs, mythologies, classical literature pieces and so on, and so forth. The sole requirement for each story is straight-forward simple: the main character should be… female! That’s why there are some stories based on world famous classics where the main characters went through gender swap: for example, not “Romeo and Juliette” but “Romy and Julius”; a “Swan Lake” story where prince Siegfried becomes princess, while Odette and Odile are known as Aldous and Audwin. These changes are looking not that bad, actually, and are quite enjoyable during the play through.

There are also many original stories set in modern or future times, several interpretations of famous women’ biographies (which I would never discuss on serious terms as there’s too little left from the real-life historical personalities: their characters - as well as actual historical events - go through such drastic changes for the plot’s sake that it’s sometimes impossible to recognise them at all) and classical literature adaptations with canonical female characters aka “Phantom of the Opera” or “Little Women”.

Still, I’m here to speak about Napoleonic era as always. And in “Time Princess” there are no stories based on that memorable epoch (yet, dare I say - since I’m starting to believe that there is a possibility). What made me mention this lovely game on the Napoleonic agenda, then? Well, big thanks to one specific in-game event which comes to an end soon!

In short, it was an ambitious collaboration between “Time Princess” and one of the most famous museums in the world - Musée du Louvre in all its timeless beauty. There were many wonderful activities, mini-games and other stuff to do but the best gift - best gift for all the Napoleonic era lovers, of course - came in the very end of it.

Thus, behold la grande finale (or is it better to say “das große Finale”? 😉) together with us: the magnificent set of clothes inspired by coronation robes of Marie Louise, erzherzogin of Austria, empress of the French! 🇦🇹🇫🇷🎉

The full set is called “Midnight Vienna” and makes an obvious accent on Marie Louise origins and heritage. The descriptions of each piece of clothing are unbelievably pathetic and romantic, while the historical foundation is… well… How do I put it mildly? Many fellow enjoyers of Napoleonic history would be probably crying bloody tears over that one-sided interpretation of martyrdom and excessive exaltation.

But, despite all the cringy aspects, I believe the designers and software developers made a very good job in keeping overall resemblance to the classic silhouette many love and adore!

Just look at all those wonderful details: jewellery, embroidery, simple but gracious ornaments…

It’s also noted in game that the dress itself was “freely inspired by an engraving of Empress Marie-Louise by Louis-Adolphe Portier” which is, of course, preserved in the department of graphic arts in the Musée du Louvre.

In the end, I was able to find the original engraving which was mentioned - I’m attaching it as well. 🌺

And even though I’m very, very sceptical of any biographical adaptations which may come after such lovely representation, it’s undoubtedly nice to see the reminders of Napoleonic era beauty in any spheres of our everyday lives. 😌

[plainlo-inthemorning]

Two cents about the case of Jeb Magruder vs. the Hamfam

I’ve seen some discussion arise about whether it’s fully ‘appropriate’ to all-out fangirl (gender neutral) over the character of Jeb Magruder that Haim plays on Gaslit – a fictionalized account of events surrounding Watergate that uses dark satire to relate its story.

As someone who loves and adores our little corner of tumblr, and the many different ways we go about obsessing over our main man and his varied works, I just want to throw my proverbial two cents out there:

The Haim fandom has always appeared to be primarily made up of adults. 

Many of whom know that Jeb was a real-life person, and not a very nice one at that (to put it mildly).

Many who don’t. 

Context matters when telling stories about real-life people.

We can all agree on that.

I’m a working journalist irl who’d lose my job tomorrow if I didn’t grasp that basic concept.

Context also matters, however, when – whether inadvertently or not – questioning the fangirling (gn) over fictionalized versions of those real-life people.

And that context is that fantasies about said fictionalized versions can co-exist with the fans’ disapproval of the wrongdoings of the real person. 

Readiness to make that distinction, with or without other background info than what the piece of entertainment media in question is providing up front, is the general fabric that makes up a whole lot of fandoms.

Some fans draw the line at fics about morally depraved fictional characters. Say, JT, a convicted rapist.

Other fans draw the line at fics about real-life people, or, in Gaslit-Jeb’s case as well as Porter Collins’ in The Big Short, fictionalized versions of real-life people.

What’s your fic juice may not be my fic juice, and vice-versa 🍹

Information and history are always enriching for the understanding and enjoyment of entertainment (Erin has written a great background piece on the real Jeb here).

But trusting that our fellow mutuals can distinguish between real-life creeps and fictional crushes is essential for fandoms to blossom in the first place.

The historic events that inspired Gaslit are important. Gaslit, however, is not a documentary.

Thirsting after Haim’s Jeb, joking about the character, and making fan art does not suggest that fans are somehow missing the point.

Something both Haim himself as well as the Gaslit social media people seem to agree on too 😉

Fandom is many things to many, many people.

What it should not be, in my opinion, is accidentally discouraging towards those who approach it differently than others.

❤️

[slashbitch2]

The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."

[untamed-era]

Come Out and Level Up 

inspired by Venna Teng’s Level Up and @mdzsnet‘s LWJ birthday event. 750 words.

EDIT: Now also on AO3

“I mean, I know gay people exist!” Wei Ying says, confidently. “I’ve known for years! But this coworker, I mean it’s the first time I’ve known one, right? I just keep thinking about her, it’s just. I mean she’s so cool! Good for her! And also it’s, well, weird, you know?”

Lan Wangji has waited very patiently through this whole spiel. He has not interrupted. It has been excruciating.

“Wei Ying,” he says, now that there is an opening. “I am gay.”

He thinks he sees the exact moment that Wei Ying short-circuits. He watches him gape, blink, gape some more, and takes quiet pleasure in the fact that he is here now. That he can be the one to surprise Wei Ying. It was the other way around, back in the first few years of their acquaintance. Before fate pulled them away from each other for seven years. He is pleased to be here again, able to display his quiet new confidence. It is not, quite, the first time he has said the words aloud. There was a queer meet up, in his last year of undergrad. A few other times, in sufficiently supportive circumstances. Enough that he knew his voice would be steady, even with this emblem of his past. Even with the person who precipitated this whole course of self-examination.

“Wait,” Wei Ying says, finally. “For real?”

“Mmn,” Lan Wangji says steadily.

“I— what? Since when? How did I not — I mean. Uh, that’s great? I support you? Is it, uh, difficult?”

This is mildly excruciating, but also quite a relief. “I have known for almost ten years,” he says, ignoring the hamfisted mention of support. Coming out? Absolutely. Discussing the emotion involved with the love of his life, who is the kind of straight person who feels the need to assert that to everyone around constantly? Terrible.

“What? You mean you’ve been gay the whole time I’ve known you? And I didn’t realize?”

Theoretically, he has been gay his entire life. In his experience, he has been gay since three weeks after he met Wei Ying, when the idea that all he felt for the other boy was an overpowering annoyance grew untenable. Neither of these answers appeal. “I did not publicize it, at the time.”

“Huh. Huh. So you’re like, gay-gay?”

What does that even mean, Lan Wangji wonders. What is he after? “Technically, homosexual demiromantic gray asexual, to the best of my understanding.”

Wei Ying blinks. It is always satisfying to make him shut up for a moment. “What?”

“‘Queer’ works as well. Or, yes, ‘gay-gay’.”

“No but, what were all those extra words? I mean, homosexual I know — am I allowed to say it? Is that a problem? — But…. Demi-whatsit?”

“Demiromantic. Romantic attraction happens only after an emotional bond.” It’s the closest term he found in all his research for that moment, months into their friendship, when Wei Ying casually referenced some tiny fact he’d learned about Lan Wangji from who-knows-where, and Lan Wangji suddenly realized he would follow him anywhere. “Gray asexual means sexual attraction occurs only in rare or specific circumstances.”

He watches carefully as Wei Ying thinks about that, eyebrows furrowed. It would be possible, Lan Wangji thinks, to untangle that set of words into his true feelings. His brother would no doubt do so immediately. He hopes Wei Ying will not. It seems unlikely.

“So… Wait, romantic and sexual attraction are different?” Wei Ying asks, finally. “Like, they’re different things? What’s that about? I mean, people talk about attraction all as one thing, but you mean… What, some parts can be broken, at first?”

“Not broken. Partitioned, sometimes. Romantic, sexual, aesthetic, platonic. Everyone experiences them differently.”

Wei Ying stares off into the distance. “Wild. Wild.” He keeps staring for a moment, then pulls out his phone. “Hang on, I’m looking this stuff up, that’s so neat. Give me a second.”

He subsides into a frantic Google binge, and Lan Wangji relaxes a little, watching him. This idea, being seen, being known, terrified him once upon a time. It settles something in his heart, being here. Wei Ying’s utter bafflement was more amusing than anything else. His interest and initiative in learning about it are encouraging. He will be a better ally for knowing, Lan Wangji thinks. It feels nice to make such an impact on his friend, his love. He has made long made peace with Wei Ying’s inability to reciprocate his feelings, with being in love with someone tragically straight. He decided years before that he would not burden Wei Ying with his own wishes for the impossible. But it feels good to let the conclusions of himself be known. It feels good to let Wei Ying know, in some capacity, how he has changed Lan Wangji. It is enough for peace —

“Holy shit,” Wei Ying says, still scrolling. “I know nothing about attraction. Like. Nothing. Am I even sexually attracted to girls? Wild.”

— What.

[mst3kproject]

The Neanderthal Man

Since I'm taking a break from fishmen, I might as well let Bigfoot catch up a bit.  The Neanderthal Man isn't exactly a Bigfoot movie, but it’s along the same lines and its entire starring cast has MST3K pedigrees.  Robert Shayne was in Indestructible Man and Teenage Caveman. Richard Crane was Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! Beverly Garland was in Swamp Diamonds and Gunslinger. Even the composer, Albert Glasser, wrote music for Invasion USA, Last of the Wild Horses, and almost all of MST3K’s Bert I. Gordon movies.

Some little mountain town in the middle of the Sierras (which the Portentous 50's Narrator takes some trouble to tell us is a primeval place where 'the defacing hand of civilization has fallen but lightly') is having a rash of saber-toothed tiger sightings!  At first these are laughed off, but when the game warden himself sees one cross the road in the middle of the night, it's time to do something about it.  The warden shows a cast pawprint to Dr. Ross Harkness in Los Angeles, who is interested enough to come up and see for himself. Local Mad Scientist Dr. Groves pooh-poohs the whole thing, which is enough to tell me that we're not dealing with a local cryptid here.  Somebody is making prehistoric monsters.

So... I may not have actually run out of movies, but I seem to be running out of plots, because this is a remarkably similar movie to Monster on the Campus. The major difference between the two films is that Dr. Blake turned himself into a caveman by accident, while Dr. Groves here is doing it on purpose.

Another difference is that Monster on the Campus' story, while silly, was linear – events escalated in a way that felt logical, and there were reasons why things happened when and where they did.  By contrast, The Neanderthal Man feels like a first draft.  At the beginning of the film, we're dealing with the saber-toothed tigers that Groves has been creating by injecting cats with his de-evolution serum.  We hear about these slaughtering game and livestock, and it seems like only a matter of time before they move on to human beings.  The beginning of the film is quite upfront about the fact that Groves is responsible, too, as it is only mildly mysterious in its depiction of one of the creatures escaping his lab.

Sometimes the saber-tooths are represented by an actual tiger, usually filmed from behind or at a great distance so nobody has to put the prosthetic teeth on it.  They do have prosthetic teeth, but they're only visible in a couple of shots. Imagine being at a bar and some guy tells you his job is sticking fake fangs on real tigers for a caveman movie!  For close-ups, there's a hilarious puppet head that looks like the sort of thing you'd see mounted on a frat house wall as a joke.  The director had the sense not to linger on this in motion shots, but later we see still photographs Groves has supposedly taken of his experimental subjects and they're even stupider-looking than we imagined.

Anyway, this goes on for a while with rising action, as the game warden goes to get Harkness and they manage to shoot one of the animals, only to have it vanish from the kill site when they try to show it to Groves (the movie never bothers to explain how that happened, incidentally. The ending suggests that the creatures change back when they die, but there's definitely no dead kitty cat at the scene, either).  The whole movie could easily have just had the cats and their creator as the antagonists, perhaps even ending the same way as Dr. Groves proves his work to the other characters by injecting himself. That's not what happens, though.  Instead, the story mostly forgets about the cats one we find out Groves has also been carrying on human experiments.

(Before himself, Groves' first experimental subject was his disabled Latina housekeeper.  Another series of photos show her half-transformed into a cavewoman who for some reason is wearing drag queen false eyelashes.  And as long as I'm talking about the movie being gross and bigoted, there's a bit where a woman is violently raped.  This happens off camera, but the audience is not allowed to entertain any illusions about it.)

The problem is that before we see him give himself an injection in the arm, we have had absolutely no indication that Groves has been giving his serum to anything besides the cats! Cats are stealthy, cryptic creatures and if one of those has been seen wandering around killing things, then surely a full-on caveman beating people to death would not be able to stay out of sight!  If what we were seeing were the first time Groves had tried the formula on himself then that would be an explanation, but his notes reveal that he's been doing it for so long that he's on the verge of losing control of the transformation and permanently reverting to a pre-human status, as indeed he does for the climax.  Much like the stupid dinosaur in The Beast of Hollow Mountain, the movie's main monster is given no build-up whatsoever!

There's worse yet, though.  The main characters, Dr. Harkness and Groves' daughter Jan, are barely involved in the 'caveman' part of the plot. They get phone calls about the various murders that Groves is committing in caveman form, and they snoop around the lab to figure out things the audience already knows.  The same story could have been told without them, perhaps with the game warden and the hunter as protagonists, and it would probably have been more interesting. The script also repeatedly has Dr. Groves wander in and bluster about how the tiger sightings are hallucinations and tall tales, which seems a little unnecessary when we already know he's responsible. The film-makers can't seem to decide whether they want us to know that or not.

Dr. Groves wears glasses.  Maybe the reason his primitive alter-ego is angry and breaking shit (although it does politely open and close the window it climbs out of, which made me laugh) is because it can't see. This is also my theory about why the Hulk smashes, and what do you know?  In Avengers Endgame he's got Hulk-sized spectacles and only smashes when he's told!

The direction of The Neanderthal Man can probably best be described as 'serviceable'.  It shows us what's going on, but doesn't particularly add anything to the proceedings.  The 'Neanderthal' mask is immobile and uninteresting, not much better than somebody's Party City Sasquatch costume.  Even the eyes are just painted on, meaning the poor guy in the costume can’t do much because he can’t see where he’s going.

The dialogue is often very strange, with characters talking like they're in a Jules Verne novel. If only one person did this, it might seem like a character quirk – it works for Dr. Groves, for example – but it's everybody. Seeing the cat carcass is gone, Harkness declares, “I refuse to believe in the supernatural!  There must be some logical cause and effect to this unholy adventure!”  Groves' fiancee Ruth berates him for ignoring her, saying, “I want you, the man I once knew!  The good companion, the cheerful friend.  I want the happiness we once found in each other.”  It's bizarre to listen to, and often audibly awkward for the actors.

Monster on the Campus was kind of trying to be about how humanity must choose to evolve away from our inner savage, although the finale didn't bear that out.  There's a scene in The Neanderthal Man in which this movie seems to be trying to go in the opposite direction, saying that we were never savage to begin with.  Dr. Groves is speaking to a panel of scientists about the size of the brain in various 'primitive' species of human.  He points out that by the time we reached Homo erectus we were already working with four times the cerebral jelly of a chimpanzee, and argues that our ancestors would have been recognizably human in their behaviour and problem-solving capacity.

(Amusingly, his chart of human evolution includes Piltdown Man, which was proven to be a hoax literally a few months after this movie's release.  What makes this even more tragic for the writers is that their list of primitive humans seems to be the only place where they actually did any research.)

The problem with Dr. Groves' theory is that he already knows it's wrong. We soon learn that he's been experimenting on himself with his serum for a while already, and his notes show that he knows very well he regresses into a near-mindless animal.  The movie does not even try to reconcile these ideas.  If Groves were continuing his experiments in the hope that perfecting his serum would give him a more accurate reconstruction of ancient man, that would be one thing, but the script never goes there.

So now that we've had two 'man turns into caveman by injecting science juice' movies, of course I have to ask which one is better.  Monster on the Campus wasn't a good movie but it was definitely an improvement on The Neanderthal Man in several respects, and although I don't have any way to find out for certain, I suspect it was an intentional remake.  It's definitely more entertaining and gets bonus points for including the Meganeura dragonfly, but nothing in it is nearly as funny as The Neanderthal Man's fake tiger head.  I guess if you're gonna watch one or the other, stick to Monster on the Campus, but if you're gonna watch both, start with The Neanderthal Man and do them in chronological order, the better to spot the inspirations and references.

Before I go, a fun paleontology fact: current thinking is that the saber-toothed cat's eponymous fangs actually didn't show when it had its mouth closed!  There are zero cave paintings or ancient sculptures of a saber-tooth cat with teeth visible, and when scientists looked at the structure of the enamel in the canines, it suggested that in life the teeth were hidden by big, fleshy, St Bernard jowls.  Google 'smilodon lips' and behold how this looks fully three hundred percent more ridiculous than you're imagining.  I love nature.

[luminous-studiess]

I’m considering going into law as a career path but I’m not sure...do you have any insight or advice?

hi!!!!!  uh ok several thoughts coming from someone who struggled with “is this really what i want” before going into law school/the first three semesters. under the cut because this is LONG.

1. the first question you may want to ask yourself is whether or not you have enough interest (note: not passion.... more on that later) in law as a subject to study it for 3-4 years. are you updated on current events, both in your country, and abroad? do you have an idea of what law school in your country is like? why do you want to go into law? admittedly these are questions you yourself have to answer, to see if it really is worth it. the why is very important, because this may be the only thing that sustains you when you’re wading through coursework and dealing with scary professors and getting cold-called. if you think that it’s something you’d be interested enough in to put in admittedly a lot of time, emotion, and suffering into, then that’s great!! ok. this may tie into the next thing you have to ask yourself: 2. do you have an interest in/or are willing to learn the skills which are required in law school and beyond?  law students are required to read huge piles of text, be able to digest it, retain it, and then regurgitate it both in class discussions and in exams. this means that you need to at least be a diligent, patient reader, an efficient and clear writer, and a strong speaker.  in your later years, you will have to draft pleadings and memoranda. this requires extremely sharp writing skills, logic, research abilities, and (weirdly enough), organizational skills. you need the patience to make an argument for a client, usually crafted out of documents and legal provisions and mountains of cases.  you don’t have to be all these things right away-- my classmates and i, in our first semesters, had no idea what was going on, and nobody knew how to speak up when called without panicking or stammering or (in my case) nearly crying. but you learn those things in time. are you willing to put in the effort? then you can do it, absolutely. 3. are you ready for the lifestyle law school requires?  i’ll say this right away. it can be one of the most unhealthy environments you’ve ever been in. i’ve mentioned the heavy coursework-- it depends again on where you’re studying, but the course load can usually vary from 10-20 cases (say... 5 to 100 pages at most per case?) per class, plus a handful of laws and articles. you have to have read these -- skimmed, briefed, digested, taken notes -- and then be ready for class discussions, where you could get cold-called.  this entails pretty much an entire life which revolves around studying. it does get easier, and it does get lighter (in the sense that life does come back), but the first semester or so of law school will be completely about trying to chase every deadline, every requirement, and yes, every bit of sleep you can catch. the actual environment can be difficult as well-- in some law schools, the learning atmosphere can be tense, to say the least: the professors can be quite strict, if not downright harsh, and you can spend entire class sessions getting grilled through the socratic method, aka an endless barrage of questions you may not know the answer too. the culture shock coming in is pretty hard as well. suddenly, you’re grouped with so many brilliant, hard-working, eloquent people that it becomes easy to doubt yourself. from experience, law school took such a toll on my physical and mental health (poor sleep, poor eating habits, bad class performance and being afraid of the professors) that i was very close to quitting. however....... IT GETS BETTER. okay, hopefully, i haven’t scared you away. now make these considerations: 4. if you have a strong reason for wanting to go to law school, and getting through it, then even the hard parts become worthwhile. initially i wanted to go to law school because i was mildly intrigued by how i could use the speaking and writing skills i got from my college degree. after becoming quickly disillusioned by my first few weeks, i had to rethink why i would want to stay. one reason, admittedly, is that the promise of a well-paying job can keep you working through everything despite all the pain, suffering, and embarrasment. that sounds really covetous ngl but...... i once mentioned on this blog that i wanted to work in something i wasn’t extremely, wildly passionate about, so that i would have the money and security to fund my real passions. living, and living well is so expensive. not all of us can work in things we absolutely, completely love, so if there’s an opportunity to sustain yourself well, so that you can keep doing the things you like in the side, then it is an opportunity worth pursuing. another reason, at least for me, is that while one aspect of law and lawyering that most ppl see is the “jeff winger” “harvey specter” sleazy lawyer aspect, admittedly, a lot of the law is embedded in the things we do, and the rights we possess. if two people are fighting over a piece of land, they turn to the law to resolve it. if someone is being arrested without cause, then it’s the law that’s being disregarded. you do have the potential to help many people, just by your knowledge of basic civil rights, to some labor laws, to property rights. you don’t necessarily have to work pro bono all the time, but you can accrue enough knowledge to help individuals who don’t know the law as well, and as deeply as you could. and that in itself can keep you going-- you know that you could keep someone out of jail, or help them claim support, or protest unfair labor practices.  5. the journey can be more beautiful than you expect. ok this sounds like live, laugh, love bullcrap but to illustrate: i was completely afraid and lost during my first year of law school, but i had the total luck of becoming blockmates with smart, funny, kind people who became my family in law school. we studied together, went drinking at the end of the sem, had lunch and dinner and breakfast while reading and talking and fighting and teaching each other things. i know for a fact that some of these people will be my bridesmaids, and people i’ll contact for work, and to hang out with 10 years in the future. these people keep you going. as much as i mentioned terror professors, there are also the ones who taught so well, and gave me so much inspiration through the sheer passion they had for the law. there are professors who spend the entire day talking one-on-one to the students to check on how they are. i broke down in front of two professors after class in my first year-- the first one awkwardly comforted me, and the second pulled me into the faculty reading room to have a good, private cry. she handed me a tissue afterwards. you have the opportunity to learn from both brilliant and kind professors and fellow law students, and suddenly, things become a little easier. cases actually make sense. you know how to study for exams and how to speak up in class. you finally get 8 hours of sleep (i do tbh). you find a little to like about learning each and every day. so, in short-- law school is brutal, and it can be unmerciful. but you don’t need to be smart to get through: just be a little interested, very hard-working, and have a lot of grit. please let me know how you’re doing, friend! good luck.

[corpsentry]

WHEN THE WAR IS OVER AND I AM LYING AMONGST ANGELS, WAITING FOR YOU TO FIND ME: a spoiler-filled addendum

because i buttfucked the timeline harder than nintendo and That’s Mildly Concerning ao3 link

q: what the fuck is this a: this fic is the answer to the question, ‘how can i reconcile the events of breath of the wild and age of calamity into a coherent narrative?’.

q: what the fuck happened a: age of calamity was a dream zelda had while partying in ganon’s apartment for a hundred years.

q: [you point a nerf gun at my head and smash my knees in with a hammer concurrently] what the Fuck happened a: link has a line near the end of chapter one which goes something like ‘my mother used to say dreams are the memories of people from another world’. this is the core concept of the story. while age of calamity is a dream to botw zelda, who saw it unfold over the course of a hundred year nap, it’s also real. in my incredibly fucked up version of things, it happened- just not in the same universe as botw. when botw zelda settled in to drink cheap beer with ganon for a hundred years, her consciousness drifted across time and space to the age of calamity timeline, where she proceeded to live out someone else’s life for a few months. are the other characters in aoc aware of this? link is. at the end of chapter two, when he pleads with zelda to ‘rebuild the old world with [him]’, he falls out of character. he betrays the real purpose of this timeline and his place in it, which is to salvage what botw could not.

q: what the fuck is up with the space-time continuum thing a: inspired by the multiverse theory (note that i know nothing about multiverse theory apart from the fact that there are multiple verses), i decided it would be fun if i added a third dimension to the botw/aoc pair. the inhabitants of this third universe are aware of the existence of multiple worlds. they are also aware of the prophecy of calamity ganon’s return, but for the purpose of this essay it does not matter if calamity ganon will rise in their world. the primary concern of zelda in this third dimension is whether she can engineer a universe where link does not die. as she says in chapter two, there are a thousand possible outcomes, but only two fulfill her requirement: the outcomes that constitute botw and aoc. we can assume she went to enormous lengths to uncover these universes, as described by impa, who says with some disbelief ‘you destroyed the space-time continuum for a boy?’. zelda destroys the space-time continuum. she moves through timeline after timeline, tweaking dialogue and moving the hour-hand ever backwards, and at the end of it all, for all her suffering, what does she actually achieve?

q: okay so what the fuck is up with the scene where link kisses zelda and is like i had a dream where i died and then nothing happens a: first of all, you’ll find this scene near the end of chapter two if you’d like to take a second look at it. as for who exactly this zelda and this link are, it’s unclear. maybe after botw zelda woke up, the original aoc zelda and aoc link lived happily after the war. maybe the zelda in the third dimension missed a positive outcome in her thousand-bullet-pointed list. maybe this, too, is a dream someone had, while lying in a field of flowers somewhere. your call.

q: rabbit???????? a: the story about the rabbit is a framing device. first introduced at the end of chapter one when link tells zelda a story on the bridge at night, it eventually comes to parallel botw zelda’s experiences, but in reverse. the rabbit is happy in her reality. she has a dream where everyone she loves is gone, becomes immersed in it, and is eventually saved by the voice of some-god-or-another. zelda is not particularly happy in her reality (botw). she has a dream where everyone she loves survives, becomes immersed in it, and is pulled out of the dream by some-god-or-another. the important thing to note here is the second rule the rabbit lays out in the story, which is that you, as the dreamer, can’t tell anyone that you’re dreaming. self-awareness is a sin in these lands, but the greater and far worse sin is to attempt to share that self-awareness with someone else. this is why link is so adamant that zelda not finish speaking at the end of chapter two, when ganon is defeated and they are standing on the balcony. he wants her to stay. he’s in love with her. he doesn’t want her dream to end because in a way her dream is his dream too; they want the same things (peace, living champions and family, each other). unfortunately for him, zelda has to leave the aoc world behind, because even a hundred year nap has to end, and so she says what she has to say, she says it feels like she’s dreaming, and she wakes up.

q: please explain, in plain english, whatever the hell goes down in chapter 2. a: chapter one is a relatively straightforward retelling of the first four story chapters in hwaoc. chapter three returns the reader directly to the botw timeline, where link shoots a glowing arrow at ganon’s ass, killing him instantly. chapter two is the glorious fuck that lies in between. in short, it splices the events of aoc and botw together with overlays and meta commentary from the third universe mentioned above, where zelda is trying to engineer a happy ending, and the ambiguous fourth one where link is the one who sees the dream. i made use of several batshit devices here, but the most prominent one is, i hope, the encore. the [ENCORE] is initially used to signal that a scene will be set in the botw timeline. it makes its first appearance before botw zelda and botw link’s journey down from mount lanayru, which, as we know, does not take place in aoc. this is played straight up until the halfway mark or so, at which point i swap out ENCORE for encore and finally ****** (still says encore though). this distinction is lost altogether once impa begins dragging link’s body up to the great plateau. up until now, ENCORE and [these brackets] have been used to distinguish the botw timeline from the aoc one, which is not an encore and is not in [these brackets]. the next segment, concerning the battle on the great plateau, flips them. now impa and co’s funeral procession is ‘real’ and the charge zelda leads to the temple of time is ‘fake’. i wonder why.

q: ‘the lights are BLUE or YELLOW or PINK’. explain. a: what’s a play? a pretense. what does it take to pretend? actors. what is zelda doing? dreaming.

q: fourth wall breaks. explain. a: the interview segments are an homage to the seven thousand articles about age of calamity i read before playing age of calamity because this game was effectively my reason to live for the months of october and november. sooga talks about google maps because he’s dead (possibly dlc?) and dead people have the right to say fuck-all. every device in this story was implemented for a vaguely coherent reason. and then i fucked it up for fun.

q: what is the state of zelda and link’s relationship? a: in the botw timeline i imagine they’re involved with each other even before calamity strikes. in the aoc timeline i imagine they’re working their way towards something, but several important trigger events in botw don’t take place in the aoc timeline and the stakes overall feel significantly lower, so i’d hesitate to say their relationship develops to the same degree it does in the botw timeline. this is all personal conjecture, so you’re free to disagree.

q: why does the last line sound like a hannibal lecter line? a: [dab] god’s plan

q: why does zelda say there are a thousand possible outcomes, and only one where link lived in chapter 3? a: the first rule of time travel: don’t.

this is everything i can think of off the top of my head that might have confused people, but i did unfortunately write this thing so if there’s something else that made you go ‘the fuck?’ please don’t hesitate to drop me an ask or a line in the replies, i’d be happy to help. also, if it isn’t clear as day, i have a lot of fucking feelings about both of these games, so if you want to talk lore, theories, or just miscellaneous zelink fuckery, hit me up. i’ll go sleep now. take care everyone.