#once again I’ve used a pun as a title

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Exponential improvement - Miguel O’Hara x reader

Warnings/tags: Tutor!Miguel, college AU. Reader is bad at math. Reader and Miguel aren’t actually together, it’s more of a first meeting type thing.

In which, Miguel finds a hill to die on.

Unfortunately for you, that hill is teaching you how to graph Logarithmic equations.

You had made it through highschool math, but just barely- and at the cost of more than a few all-nighters and tear filled study sessions. Math was never your best subject, to say the least. But to be fair, was it anyone’s?

You told yourself this class would be different, that you wouldn’t let yourself get behind, that you’d study, that you’d buckle down and do what you needed to do to get a good grade in the class. But none of that mattered, because despite your best efforts, you were failing.

And god, it felt horrible. You were too embarrassed to ask for help- it was the easiest math class there was- the one considered so basic and fundamental that it was required for every degree track. You knew others were failing, you even knew some had dropped the class in the first week. But that didn’t stop the steady build of shame and self hate that slowly but surely wore you down and left you hanging by a thread.

Then, that thread snapped. You had put blood, sweat, and tears into studying for this test. You stayed up nearly all night going over your notes and the test review. You practiced graphing and crammed every available scrap of information on quadratics, polynomials, and rationals into your head. You even spent the morning of the test watching YouTube videos over your weakest subjects- endlessly reviewing in the hope it would make some sort of difference.

But it didn’t matter. You failed the second test. Barely, yes- you got a 68, but that was still a failing grade, and now you’re halfway through the semester with a 64 and feeling completely helpless about your situation.

You tried, you had studied so hard- and yes, the 68 brought your grade up, but you couldn’t help but feel defeated. Was it so bad that you had expected a little more pay off than a 68? You had ran yourself ragged for that grade, how in the world were you going to get anything higher?

So, you gave in and admitted you needed help.

The campus had a tutoring program that you had known about for a while. Maybe it was embarrassment over needing help, maybe it was your own pride, or maybe it was just plain stubbornness, but you had held out in the hope you could raise your grades without help. But after the latest test, you gave in and signed up for the program.

So here you were, sitting in the tutoring room, waiting for your assigned tutor to show up.

The room was about half full- with each student-tutor pair spread out across the room. The company of others helped calm your nerves, but you couldn’t stop your leg’s anxious jittering. You hardly knew anything about the guy, just that he was in the process of obtaining a masters degree in genetics- and good enough at math to tutor it.

You’re scrolling through your phone- only half paying attention to TikTok as you watch the doorway out of your peripherals, waiting for your tutor to arrive.

5 minutes to 6:00, a man walks into the classroom and sits down at your desk, holding out his hand and introducing himself as Miguel O’Hara. You take his hand, making your best attempt at a strong, confident handshake as you introduce yourself in turn.

You didn’t know who you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. The man, Miguel, is massive: built like a quarterback and taller than everyone else in the room by a long shot. He’s wearing jeans and a simple sweatshirt with the college’s logo. His face is set in a blank, slightly judging look, and his presence just feels straight up intimidating.

You already had your notes and worksheets out and waiting on the table, and Miguel takes notice. He sits down next to you, tugging the top paper in front of him and clicking his mechanical pencil as he scans over the homework.

Before you have a chance to say anything else, Miguel starts, speaking quickly and in a level tone. “Logs? That’s understandable. It’s really quite simple once you get it.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Miguel scoots closer to you and slides the paper in front of you, tapping the eraser of his pencil on the first problem.

“Go ahead and do this one for me so I know where you’re at.”

He’s pressed close to you, close enough that you can hear his breathing and feel the heat radiating off his body. Miguel seems completely unbothered, his eyes focused on the problem as he waits for you to start.

You pick up your pencil, hovering over the paper as you stare at the problem and urge yourself to think in the hopes you’ll not make yourself out to be a complete idiot immediately.

Graph the following functions. Find the x-intercept, the vertical asymptote, domain, range, and end behavior of each.

1) f(x) = log3(x + 3) + 1

You struggle to work out the problem, and you try your best. But, Miguel hovering over your shoulder and watching you like a hawk as you work out the problem is really not helpful. If anything, it’s stressing you out. Especially with how close the two of you are- with his thigh pressing against yours under the table. You know he doesn’t mean it like that- that he’s not trying to do anything. But if anything, that just makes it worse.

In the end, you give up, setting your pencil down and letting your eyes fall to the floor. “I don’t know where to start…” you say, sitting back in your chair, trying to ignore the creeping build of defeat and embarrassment from the depths of your mind.

Miguel nods, clicking his pencil again and getting the lead to the length he wants it. He leans forward, taking the pencil to the paper and scribbling numbers in barely legible chicken-scratch as he talks you through how to solve the problem.

“Well, looking at this, we know the asymptote is at -3 and we know b is 3…”

Miguel trails off as he draws a dotted line to the left of the y axis. You’re sure there’s a stupid look on your face right now, because Miguel has barely said anything and you’re already lost. You lean foreward, sitting up straighter in your chair in order to look over his shoulder and see what he’s writing. But all that dose is confuse you more, because Miguel’s handwriting

“Then, we can just graph the 1 0, b 1, and 1/b -1 points and move them around…” Miguel pauses again, this time to draw 6 points on the graph, then connect 3 of them with one line and the other 3 with a second line.

“And once you have it graphed, the rest is easy. We already found the asymptote, you can plug numbers in to find your x-intercept, the range is all real numbers, the domain is the asymptote to infinity, and your end behavior is just the same as the parent function.” Miguel finishes speaking and filling in the blanks on the worksheet, looking towards you and nudging the paper in your direction so you can see it easier. “Ready to try the next one?” He asks.

You stare blankly at the worksheet in front of you, still trying to catch up with Miguel and figure out what the fuck he had just done, but the mess of poorly written numbers and lines did nothing but confuse you further.

Miguel watched you for a second before sighing and nodding. “… you don’t get it, do you?”

And that’s how you found yourself still sitting in the now empty tutoring room with Miguel over 2 hours after you were supposed to have finished.

Not that it was your fault. You tried to give up after the 6th time one of Miguel’s explanations left you more confused than you had been before, but the man wouldn’t let you leave. When you tried to gather your stuff to call it a night, Miguel grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down to your seat and stating that “he was going to teach you how to graph logarithms if it was the last thing he’d do.”

And by god, it might be the last thing he ever does, because Miguel was looking worse for wear at this point.

Dark circles underlined his eyes and dark wayward strands of hair framed his face. About an hour ago, he’d pulled out his glasses- stating that the eye strain was bringing on a headache. He was hunched over the mess of worksheets and scratch paper between you- his phone propped up against his water bottle and playing a YouTube video that tried to explain logarithmic transformations to you for the nth time of the night.

You were trying your best to pay attention- you really were- and Miguel was doing everything he could to help. He’d pause the video often to ask whether the way the person explained it made sense or to peek over at the problem you were attempting to solve and make sure you were on the right track.

You’ve made progress- you actually knew what a logarithm was now, so that was good. And Miguel had related logarithmic functions to exponential functions in a way that just barely made sense- the only hurdle left to clear was being able to graph them.

And god- it was a big one. At this point, you were ready to give up- and were just waiting for Miguel to let you.

Your eyes drift back down to the YouTube video playing on Miguel’s phone. The words playing from the phone’s speakers go in one ear and out the other. You can hear them, but they sound more like a foreign language to you than a subject that you’ve spent the past two hours trying to grasp.

You narrow your eyes- trying to focus on the words of the man in the video- willing to do just about anything just be done and be allowed to go home- you’re considering faking a family emergency when all of a sudden, it clicks.

Maybe it’s the caffeine from the soda you got from the vending machine, maybe it’s the way the YouTube video explained it, or maybe it was your dead-tired brain being so desperate to be done with math today, that it simply manifested an understanding of logarithms into itself.

Regardless, you got it.

The secrets of the universe had been revealed to you. The power of the mathematical cosmos was at your fingertips. You felt on top of the world, and you couldn’t help the giddy smile that spread across your face as you ducked down, working out one of the problems on your worksheet in an effort to test your theory.

Miguel hardly noticed as you started working through the problem. The poor guy looked half asleep as he blankly stared ahead at the video playing on his phone.

You finish the problem, grinning wide as you hold the paper up and tug on the shoulder of Miguel’s sweater. “Miguel! I did it!”

When Miguel turns to you, his face lights up. “You did it?” He asks excitedly- his normally stern, or at the very least calm, expression is split by a massive smile as

“Yeah! I understand it now!!” You reply proudly- beaming as you stand up and hold your hand up for a high five.

Miguel stands- nearly sending his chair toppling backwards as does- and you quickly realize your mistake as his open hand hits yours with a loud smack that sends a stinging pain across your palm. Miguel doesn’t seem to notice how you wince. “See! I told you it wasn’t hard!” He says, still grinning wildly as he pulls his glasses off and folds them, hanging them from the collar of his sweater.

“Oh shush.” You scoff- the tension from the rest of the evening no more than a distant memory now.

Miguel laughs- the kind of deep, light hearted laugh that makes everyone else nearby smile- and he runs his hand through his hair, getting the wayward strands out of his face as he picks up the worksheet you’d solved the problem on, looking over it. “Yeah- you got it right.” He confirms.

“I still need some more practice with it I think…” you add, trailing off.

“Well, not tonight.” Miguel says, nodding. Starting to pack up his stuff as he clicks the power button on his phone and checks the time, cringing at how late it’s gotten. “I kept you pretty late… sorry about that.”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Definitely not tonight…” you pause, trying to keep your voice level as you speak your next words. “But, I’m free Tuesday?” You say, more as a question than a statement.

Miguel looks down at you- the remnants of his earlier excitement settling as a soft smile as he speaks. “How about the coffee shop by the residence halls? Around 4?”

You nod, a giddy feeling bubbling in your chest at the thought of seeing Miguel again- outside of the tutoring room too.

“I really am sorry I kept you so late. I didn’t realize how long we’d been at it.” Miguel says, his eyes flickering to the side for a minute- but the split second of nervousness is practically over before it even begins. “We’re probably heading the same way so… I’ll walk you to your car or the residence halls- or wherever you’re headed.”

You grin, packing up your own things before slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“I’d like that.”

[undercovercameron]

hole in one

summary: you're a server at the island club, and you may or may not have a favorite customer.

notes: i'm back baby! haven't written anything in a good while but i suddenly had this image of a girly reader and a flirty golfer rafe with that season 3 buzzcut... i HAD to make a pun with this title and i'm so glad i did. also i always write rafe a little more attentive and well-meaning than he is, so take this headcanon of nice rafe with a grain of salt-- and this shit is hella dirty so please enjoy and let me know what you think ;) (also im coming back to edit this fully in a little bit but i wanted to post just to prove i still love and use this account kajddjd)

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 4453

Some things in Rafe’s life were simple pleasures. 

A cocktail during dinner, a night where all the TV he watched was reality shows, a cigarette on a night out. The silence of his childhood home. 

Golf, coincidentally, was also one of those things. The course he frequented was just a ten-minute drive from his house, and he had priority parking. As a donor and a club-member of course. The drinks were cheap, the company was even cheaper, and he had a killer swing. There was rarely an afternoon out on that green that he didn’t enjoy. He felt closest to peace when all he had to work for was getting that tiny white golf ball sunk into a hole. 

They were often sweaty putting sessions, as the North Carolina heat in the summer was no joke, but the traveling drink cart was a brief respite from that. 

“What can I get you?” You ask, bright and long-lashed. Your hair was done in a tight updo, your makeup was flawless, and not a single spec of dirt or turf lay on your uniform. You took pride in your appearance and the effects it had on the loose wallets of the Outer Banks’ finest real estate investors and offshore bank account holders. Most of all, you enjoyed a certain someone’s attention. 

Rafe peeks under the overhang of the cart and stares at your selection. He stands with his hands on his hips, gold rings flashing in the hot sunlight. You take a look at him for the first time today, eyes taking over his bent form. He has gray slacks on with a dark blue polo stretched over his well-built back, unbuttoned to show the tiniest glint of blonde chest hair and his gold chain. He spared no expense when it came to his appearance, you’d come to notice. 

“I think,” he starts, standing back up, and fixes you with his blue-eyed stare. It makes you hold back a shiver despite the heat. “A double tequila soda.” 

He gives you a once-over, admiring the way your skirt hugs your waist and the sparkle of your earrings. He always likes when the girls have their hair up— gives him a sneak peek of what it’d look like if he pulled it. 

“Three limes? Just how you like?” You ask, breaking his focus, and reach for a plastic cocktail cup. You have a freckle behind your ear, he notices. 

“Exactly right,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, and his face splits into a grin when you glance at him and blush. He could be back with his friends from highschool, talking shit about their shitty swings or increasingly high scores, but he’s not. He’s right here, watching closely as you carefully measure the ice and pour a perfect double shot. 

“How’re you guys playing today?” You ask, a humiliating attempt at small talk, and you feel sweat bead on your lower back. 

“Shit, honestly,” Rafe laughs. “These jack-offs couldn’t get a hole-in-one if it was right in front of their fucking faces. And I’ve been distracted all day.” He looks down at you over the bridge of his nose, liking the way you tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Heat getting to you?” You squeeze the final lime and turn away from the cart, holding it out with a polite smile. He takes it carefully. 

“Something like that,” he says, cocking his head, and takes a sip. Tart. Just how he likes it. “Hey.” He digs a hand into his pocket and the tips of your cheekbones heat again for some reason. “Keep the change.” He hands you a fifty. 

You take it between hesitant fingers, peering up at him. 

“The drink is $6, Rafe.” 

He always does this. Pays cash with big bills and tells you to keep the change. He gave you a twenty for a packet of peanuts one time. “I don’t know if I can legally take this.”

He just shrugs. 

“Consider it a personal donation.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” 

“Makes me feel better. I think you deserve a little extra for your services—it takes a lot of work to look that good for a bunch of old geezers in sweater vests and loafers. I know I appreciate it.” He turns and starts off towards his group, yanking his sunglasses out of his shirt and jamming them onto his face. “I like your bra, by the way. ‘S my favorite color.”

You glance down the collar of your shirt, heart thumping, and look back up. 

That stupid fucking swagger he has. He’s going to throw out his back walking around like a peacock like that. 

You tug your shirt up, hiding the red bra you’d chosen for today, and hop back on the cart. Off to another hole where another old man will look down your shirt and ask for his Manhattan with two cherries instead of one. 

You think you’ll either quit this job or start wearing a fucking monk robe. 

The next time you see him is back at the club. Your boss had you on pool bartender duty, opposed to the drink cart you favored, and you were a little out of your element. 

The customer demographic was different, which you enjoyed, but they all seemed to want a lot more and a lot quicker. There was no loitering around to small talk; you had to work quickly and attentively to earn these housewives’ measly two dollar tip on margarita pitchers. 

You had spilled raspberry purée on your company-approved golf dress more times than you could count in your six hour shift. Near the end of it, however, Rafe had made his way to the end of the bar and watched as you ducked to put away the umbrella toothpicks and quickly and secretly downed a shot of Tito’s. Drinking on the job. Hm. 

(It’s not that you like to be drunk at work; it’s more of a little ‘fuck you’ to your boss, you think.)

“Hi,” you say on an exhale, coming over and wiping the already-spotless counter with a black rag. “What can I get you?” You have dangly earrings on today, and a different shade of lipgloss than he is accustomed to.

“Two grapefruit High Noon’s.” He folds his arms and leans on the counter, so close he could smell your perfume. “I could report you for that, you know,” he says, voice as low as a whisper. You peer up at him, lips pursed, and scan his face. No ill intent. Just an easy smile and dirty eyes. 

“Oh, yeah?” You reach for the fridge underneath the mixing mats and pull two cold cans from the shelf. You sit them on the counter and stare up at him. “You’re a real upstanding customer, huh?”

“Mhm.” He twists his pointer-finger ring mindlessly. “You owe me.” The corners of his lips quirk up. 

“Oh, do I?” You ask, giving him your best ’I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. You know he likes that. 

The fact is that you and Rafe had countless conversations exactly like this one. Whether it be at the drink cart, on the way out of the building, or back inside in the restaurant bar. He always somehow leaned over you, smiling like the flirtatious bastard that he was, and making you feel like he’d like nothing more than to take you to his car and show you how much he actually enjoyed being served by you. That’s how you imagined him in bed, at least. Proving a point. 

He takes the two cans in one hand and straightens up, fixing you with a dangerous look. 

“Your shift ends in ten minutes, yeah?” He asks. 

“Yes.” You square your shoulders and stare back. 

“Good. I’ll take you home. Well, mine.” He backs up closer to where his friends are sitting at a covered patio table, mischievous smile flashing white in the sun. 

“I have a car, you know,” you say, leaning on the counter with folded arms. You ignore the hot rush of blood in your veins from his words. “And I have to shower.”

“What makes you think I don’t have a shower?” He purses his lips, faking the wildly confused look, and turns back around to his friends. 

You just sigh, exasperated with him, and work on cleaning up your station. God, it has to be him? The boy you had a crush on in elementary school? You’ve had plenty of hookups in your adult life, but none as close to home as this one. (Literally. You live down the street.) You feel his eyes on you as you scrub a particularly defiant streak of Grenadine from the counter, and feel his gaze on your back when you turn around to get a fresh rag. It makes your face burn hot. 

You know he’s not talking about just hanging out at his place. He probably has a huge shower, for God’s sake, and probably a humongous bed. California king if you can guess. 

You bet he tastes like summer.

After your replacement comes to the bar, you take your lanyard to get into the staff locker room from a hook under the bar and make your way slowly through the gaggles of people to your designated locker. It takes a brief conversation with your boss Angela about if you left the tip jar or took the contents to finally shoulder past the last group of people. 

You tug your bag from the hook, a change of clothes and your shower stuff already packed (as you had been planning to go to the gym after work). You now know you have other forms of exercise coordinated. You give yourself a final look in the little mirror on your locker. Here goes nothing. 

Rafe is waiting outside the swinging door when you push past it, button up shirt and shoes haphazardly thrown on. He immediately takes your bag from you and slings it over one massive shoulder, starting for the exit. 

“I can carry my own things, Rafe,” you say, slightly out of breath with the effort it takes to catch up to him. 

“Yeah, well, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He casts a look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised seriously. You roll your eyes. 

His bedroom door pushes open and you stumble back, hand tight on his bicep as he walks you further. His hand circles your waist as he ducks to kiss you again, mouth hot and commanding over yours. 

He tastes exactly how you imagined. 

His room is bright with sunlight and slightly messy when you glance behind him, but you’re pretty fucking sure you won’t be focused on how his room is decorated when he keeps grabbing at you like this.

The back of your knees hit the bedspread and you fall into a sitting position, posture curved up into his as he leans and holds you by the side of the neck. You make a pleased noise into his mouth and tug at his shirt, suddenly irritated that he is wearing so many clothes. You snake a hand up his shirt and claw at his skin with your sharp nails. 

“Save that for my back,” he breathes, and your fingers fumble to unbutton his shirt as you finally pull it down and off his body. You rejoice at his newfound lack of clothing and smooth a hand over his chest, eyes trained on his toned and tan stomach. 

He’s huge like this, up close, and the warmth radiating from his skin makes your heart jump into your throat. Your fingers splay across the middle of his abdomen, just appreciating the way he breathes under your touch, and you lean back up for his mouth. 

He threads his fingers in your hair and pulls your face so hard to his own that your neck smarts. Between your legs throbs. You protest, grabbing at his wrist, but settle when he shuffles closer to the bed and tilts you back into the sheets.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmurs. Your back meets silk, and he lifts your open legs up and around his hips as he settles between your thighs comfortably. Right where he should be. 

The feeling of his heavy weight where you’ve been needing it makes your back arch. He breaks away from you and slides a hand down your chest, laying the route that his mouth will take. 

“You smell like cherries,” he says as he presses his mouth to your collarbone and sucks. 

“I know.” You shudder through a laugh and bring your hand up to the back of his head as encouragement. “Spilled Grenadine.”

He hums noncommittally and shoves the hem of your dress up past your hips and to your midriff in one fluid motion. You wriggle for a second, so exposed so fast, but sigh contentedly when his lips meet your stomach. His mouth is so unexplainably hot, and as his tongue meets you your whole body erupts in goosebumps. It sends a shiver down your spine. It’s even better than you imagined. 

“Knew you’d taste so good,” Rafe practically moans, eyes darting to yours, and his fingertips curl around the waistband of your underwear as you watch. Your cheeks flush at his word. You’re honored to be the recipient of words like his— it’s not often Rafe finds himself giving someone a compliment. He lays a final kiss on your stomach and surges back up towards your chest. He mutters gibberish to himself, probably something like “I hate this fucking dress” and yanks your dress up past your tits. 

His fingers find your left nipple and squeeze as his tongue finds the other. You arch again, unused to the sensation, and let loose a groan. His fingers are so soft and light, but his teeth nip. 

You make a noise of surprise, eyebrows furrowing, and tug at the short, blunt locks of his hair. 

“Impatient,” he reprimands, tongue rolling as he glances up at your pink face. You’re strung so tight you might snap. “Needy.” He releases your nipple with a pop. Your lips are so pink and shiny, he just has to kiss you again. You whine into his mouth when he comes back, fingernails scratching at his scalp, and your legs wind around his waist. 

But he lets go of your hip with his left hand and creeps closer to the crotch of your underwear, fingertips dancing. Your grip on his hair tightens. Between your legs pulses with heat and need, hot on his clothed crotch, and he knows he could calculate your BPM just by laying with you like this. 

“Rafe,” you breathe, staring up at him as your chest heaves. 

“Relax,” he shushes, ducking down to press a kiss to your neck, and you gradually relax the muscles that lock your legs to his abdomen. “There you go.” You think you hear a “good girl” fall from his soft lips but it’s in that moment that he pushes past the cotton and digs his hand into your underwear. 

You immediately spur into motion, back arching and mouth dropping into an ‘O’, and he just bites his lip and watches. You’re so responsive, and it makes his dick fucking ache. 

“Thought about this? Hm?” He pants, releasing his bottom lip from between his teeth, and grins. “So wet, this pussy’s been begging for me for weeks.”

You struggle to nod, movement interrupted by the slew of noises and ramblings of “please” and “yes” and “Rafe” falling from your lips. His middle and ring fingers push past the slick resistance your pussy gives him, and you go silent and slack-jawed as he pushes all the way to the hilt.  

And he’s got big fingers. You wonder if they’re the same size as his dick. If so, you might be in trouble.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, head falling back into the sheets, and you’re slammed back into reality and consciousness of your surroundings. The coolness of the AC makes your nipples peak again, and the sweat on your lower back cools almost as soon as it’s created. But Rafe makes you hot. Your chest and cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and your lips are swollen into a bigger size and slick with his saliva and your own. We don’t even have to discuss how flushed the other parts of your body are—he already knows. 

His fingers curl slightly up and to the right, and your abdomen jerks at the unfamiliar feeling. You curl up slightly, eyebrows furrowed, and try to catch a glimpse of his large hand in your underwear. God, you wish you could take a picture. You lock gazes with him momentarily but fall back down at the look in his face. It’s nearly animalistic. 

“Rafe, please,” you beg, grabbing onto his wrist with both hands. You meet his eyes. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling his fingers out, and clambers off of you for a second. You sit up, quickly ridding yourself of the dress bunched up to your shoulders, and watch as he rips his shorts off and nears the bed. You don’t even have enough time to gape at the size of him before he’s grabbing your bicep and jerking you onto your stomach. 

You have half a mind to protest his man-handling of you but stay silent as you look up at the angle he positions you. 

There’s a full length mirror opposite this side of his bed, and you just stare at the pair of you as you catch your breath. 

“Like it, huh?” He asks quietly, dipping down and pressing a kiss to your hair. His hand finds your neck and he moves you to face the mirror head on, watching your face closely. You really like the feeling of his fingers around your throat. He can tell, now; your shoulders relax and your lips move into the shape of a smile when he squeezes. 

“You always keep this here?” You ask, head falling onto your folded arms when he releases you to just admire your body. His fingers trace your spine and the curve of your ass, never losing focus. 

“I moved it this morning,” he murmurs, gaze never straying from you. 

“Oh, so you knew you’d be fucking me tonight.” Your face splits into an easy grin, head tilting mischievously. His eyes find yours in the mirror, and he bends again to press his mouth to your lower back. 

“Always teasing me.” His voice is muffled by your smooth skin. He can’t get enough. “Knew it’d happen sometime soon. You can’t stay away forever, you know.” He straightens up but doesn’t find your eyes in the mirror. His large, warm hand maneuvers your hips into a tilted position, and you move up onto your feet. He has you flat on your stomach on the bed, but your ass and legs hang off and the soles of your feet just barely press flat into the floor. “Knew this pussy would get me at some point.” He smacks at an asscheek lightning fast; and your whole body jiggles with the force of his hand. You squeak involuntarily.

A large hand grabs at your shoulder as the other one jerks himself steadily. Once, twice, three times, and then he’s spreading you open and pushing into you. 

Your spine stretches and relaxes when he gets halfway in, and your thighs start to shake when you’re filled all the way to the hilt. 

“Shit, Rafe, you’re fucking big,” you complain, but the tail end of your protest bleeds into a desperate whine. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly, eyes squeezed shut, and your head falls onto your folded arms. “Please,” you say, reaching back to frantically find his hips. “Go slow.”

“Stretching you out, hm,” Rafe comments, breathing hard already, and relieves the pressure by sliding almost all the way out. His tip almost breaches the seam of your slit but he pushes back in, pulling your asscheek away with a thumb to watch. “Fucking sexy.”

You squeeze around him like a vice, but the intrusion is welcome. You will yourself to relax and accept his huge fucking dick, and the thought of yourself getting fucked by him sends a gush of slick between you two. 

“There you go,” Rafe sighs, and pulls out only to fuck back in to you quickly. You cry out, fingers squeezing extra tight on the sheets, but you will yourself to look up.

His chest is flushed in the mirror as his chain swings in the open air, and the pure concentration and pleasure on his face prompts a pleased noise from your throat. You tentatively jerk back into him and his head whips up in the mirror, blue eyes meeting your own. 

“Oh, yeah?” He mutters, teeth catching his lip, and his hips snap into yours. Your mouth drops open only momentarily before you close it and tilt your head to the size coyly, biting your own lip and pushing back into his hips. He watches you carefully in the mirror with squinted eyes, half-impressed and half-challenging. “You think you can take it?” His fingers squeeze at your shoulder tight. 

You just silently nod. Cocky. 

His emotionless gaze locks with yours and his blood pumps hot in his veins. He’s going to make you eat your words. 

His hips surge forward in a suddenly-steady rhythm, skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. You just stare at him, defiant, and push back with every thrust he gives.

Rafe grunts and lets go of your shoulder, replacing his touch with an arm slung around your neck and the other hand between your legs. His warm fingers nudge your clit, finding it immediately, and his hips snap punishingly quickly into yours. 

It’s brutal, having him like this. You hope you bruise. But you challenged him, and somebody has to lose. Except it’s not really a loss when Rafe fucking Cameron is genuinely fucking you into next week. 

“Shit,” you exhale, choking on the inhale that accompanies it, and you squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers rub you in circles. “Fuck, Rafe, that’s so good.” Something hot coils tight in your stomach and your thighs suddenly warm almost in preparation for the wave of sensation. 

“Yeah?” He pants, hot in your ear. ���You like that?” His chest sticks to your sweaty back, gluing you together as his strong hips and legs pound you into the mattress. You stay strong, along for the ride, and provide all the verbal encouragement he needs. Your stomach feels hotter and hotter and your throat runs dry. 

“I love it,” you whine, head tilting up as if you’re praying he won’t stop. “Fuck me like this forever.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, too lost in the squeeze of your pussy around him and the warmth your body grants him. You pulse even more, so close. 

You gather some strength and struggle to push up into an elbow, head tilting further and further until you can feel his forehead brush the crown of your head. Your muscles strain. 

“Just like that. Just like—God, shit, right there.”

You squeak when the hot coil in your abdomen snaps and you fall twitchingly onto your stomach. His fingers rub quickly at your clit and you feel suddenly a hundred pounds lighter, eyes rolling back into your head. It’s so fucking good you wonder how you’ll ever masturbate happily again. Your fingers don’t compare in the slightest to this fucking dick. Your chest heaves with the effort it takes to fill your lungs with clean air, and your legs start to shake miserably underneath him. Your thighs feel like jelly and you barely did anything. 

“Please, Rafe,” you beg, turning your head to the side to look innocently up at him. “Give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He pants and leans down to kiss you messily. You groan into his mouth and push back once more into his hips. Your pussy is still buzzing with feeling, and it fades slowly into a pleasant ache the more he fucks into you. “You want it on your back or in your mouth?”

You blink wildly and push onto your palms, signaling that you want to turn over. He pulls out but jerks himself steadily until you scramble onto your knees in front of him, face level with his pelvis and tongue out. You look up at him with the most earnest and well-meaning eyes, and he just has to close his eyes when the tip of his dick finally meets your tongue and he fills your mouth. His chest loosens with the most pathetic noise he’s ever made, a mix between a raw groan and a whimper. Your soft mouth accepts him and cleans his dick, humming contentedly, and when he catches his breath and manages to open his eyes you’re staring up at him, an immensely pleased look on your face. 

You crawl closer and lift onto your knees, arms coming around his neck and pulling him to you. You press a kiss to his mouth. He can almost taste himself on your tongue, and he smoothes a hand down your side to grab onto your asscheek as you just kiss him. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly to give your face a once-over. “You haven’t even showered yet.”

“And whose fault is that?” You sigh, exasperated. “Someone couldn’t make it up the stairs without shoving his hands up my dress—we barely even made it to the bed.” You smooth a hand down the back side of his head, liking the way his hair feels. 

Rafe just purses his lips. 

“Sounds like a really cool guy to me.”

“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes, and sit back on your heels. 

This room is a mess.

The corner of the well-made bed’s sheets and bedspread is yanked from the far corner and lies bunched up in the middle, dark with sweat. It smells like sex in here, the ceiling fan doing nothing to mitigate it, and your work dress is hung haphazardly on the closet door handle. With a dark Grenadine stain down the middle. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Rafe says, interrupting your inner monologue. His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh. 

“What?” You ask, eyebrows drawn. 

“Don’t even think about putting on clothes.”

You scoff.

“Like those would do me any good right now.” You wind your arms around his neck and smirk up at him. “I still haven’t even shown you what’s in my bag.”

His smile grows. 

“What’s in your bag, baby?”

[destroy-me-baby]

Leon Kennedy headcanons? (Please, Bitte, include Ashley somehow thank you)

Leon Kennedy NSFW hcs + Ashley

Requests are open, see pinned post.

Content Warnings: mentions of sub/dom dynamics, begging, orgasm delay/denial, edging, punishments, “mommy/daddy” and “sir/ma’am” used as a title, overstimulation.

This is nsfw, if you are underage or uncomfortable with the previously mentioned content, please continue scrolling.

Sub!Leon hcs:

- Oh you have no fucking idea.

- This man is desperate for affection and praise, I can practically smell it on him.

- Mostly an obedient sub, especially RE2 era Leon, but anything after that he will get a bit brattier.

- Mommy/daddy kink for sure. He loves it when his mommy or daddy is kind and gentle with him, and will pull him into their chest for aftercare as they rub his back.

- He’s a softie at his core, he wants to be taken care of and to care for others. Definitely giving me some service sub vibes, he will practically beg to eat you out or suck your dick.

- “Please, can I make you feel good? Please untie me, or sit on my face, or whatever you want as long as I can make you cum? Please??”

- Speaking of begging, when you overstim him he tends to go nonverbal, mainly just whines, whimpers, and the occasional “please-“ mixed in here and there.

- But when you edge him? Or G-d forbid straight up deny him? It’s a whole different story.

- “Please- please can I cum? I’ll do whatever you want, I promise! Please??“

- To the point that any soft dom would probably cave and give him what he wants.

- Hard doms though? I think Leon would prefer soft, but if he got around a dominant who’s a stickler for the rules, all that training will come in handy right away.

- “Yes sir/ma’am, right away sir/ma’am.”

- Like I said, RE4 and up Leon is more of a brat. His main recurring offense is back talking. Nothing crazy like outright insulting his dominant (unless it’s someone like Luis, let’s be honest with ourselves), but he’ll definitely argue.

- “Why do I have to be tied up so tight? I thought you just said I’ve been good?” “What do you mean I’m not allowed to cum? Why the hell not?”

- Takes his punishments like a champ. RE2 Leon not so much. Expect some crying and lots of aftercare, and he will be apologizing throughout.

- “M’sorry, I won’t do it again- I’ll be good from now on! Please stop!”

- “”hates”” being spanked. Heavy emphasis on those quotation marks.

Dom!Leon hcs:

- This man is a fucking TEASE.

- He’s not a hard dom by any extent of the word (once again, unless it’s someone like Luis who gets him all riled up), but he loves verbal teasing.

- “What’s the matter, princess? You want something?” “You wanna cum? Too bad, so sad. You’ll just have to wait.”

- You know all those dumbass one-liners? Yeah. He’s not above doing that to someone during sex. He will make puns, and he’ll do it shamelessly just to watch someone’s face contort in a mixture of laughter, disappointment, and pleasure.

- Will have his partner do little challenges every once in awhile. For example, keeping them stuck to a vibrator for a certain amount of time, and asking them to hold back their orgasm until he says so.

- Which brings me to toys. Leon is more than happy to do everything himself, but he will never be opposed to using vibrators, flogs, gags, whatever you want in addition to himself. He may be desperate for praise, but he’s not so insecure as to get jealous over a piece of plastic or silicone.

- As previously mentioned, he wants to take care of people so bad. Either sub or dom, he wants to feel like he’s doing a good job, and like he’s worth something to someone.

- No matter what type of scene it was, expect very soft aftercare. He’ll leave kisses on each sore wrist and ankle, and walk his partner through every step of the way as he gets them a water, cleans them up, etc.

- “You did so well, I’m so proud of you.” “Here, honey, let me hold you until you catch your breath.” “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

Bonus hcs - Ashley

- To be entirely honest, I’m not a fan of Ashley in a sexual context, nor is it something I think of.

- But she’s definitely not an innocent little woman like Capcom may have portrayed her as in the original.

- She may have a reputation to uphold as the president’s daughter, but let’s be real, this is a grown ass adult, and despite her situation in the fourth installment she had her eyes on Leon from minute one.

- Of course, when they first met she was more concerned with getting out of that church alive (as was her savior), but once they got a minute and she saw those muscles?

- Holy hell. That’s about all you can say.

- I don’t ship Leon and Ashley whatsoever personally, but if they were to be intimate I feel like it would be to blow off steam. Maybe calm their nerves for a bit while they’ve got a moment alone and momentarily safe.

- No BDSM dynamic, but Leon would definitely take the lead.

- “Let me take care of you, Ashley.” Whispered in her ear and she’s GONE.

- He would definitely eat her out, and they’d better hope there are absolutely no enemies nearby otherwise the whole village will be on their backs. She is loud.

- Leon likes his partner to be loud. It makes him feel accomplished. Win-win.

[tsukimino]

Kenzan Substory: The Yamato-e Painter

Below the cut is a translation of Kenzan substory #45, “The Yamato-e Painter.”

Please be warned that this story contains an incident of sexual harassment that’s played for laughs in a homophobic manner. This writing is very much in line with the kinds of storytelling choices that RGG Studio has made in the past and has since disavowed through disclaimers or even outright cuts in their remastered games and remakes. 

Yamato-e is a genre of painting that (as the name – literally “Japanese painting” – suggests) takes specifically Japanese people, places, and themes as its subject matter. The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s page on yamato-e provides a helpful summary of the genre’s history. Most relevantly, by the early 14th century, artists working in this genre had begun to produce realistic portraits of subjects such as poets, courtiers, military heroes… and perhaps, in Kenzan, a certain wandering swordsman. 

[Kiryu is wandering about in Kawara when he runs into a man dressed in a white kimono with a pink-ish overcoat. The man – identified in the text box as “Ranzan” – waves him down.]

Ranzan: Excuse me, sir, do you have a moment? Where on earth did you train that magnificent body of yours? You’re not like all those other meatheads…

Kiryu: …

Ranzan: Ah, my name is Ranzan. I’m a traditional Japanese painter. Surely you’ve heard of me? 

Kiryu: …

Ranzan: My specialty is warrior portraits. If I may impose, would you be willing to let me paint you? If I were to depict that figure of yours, I’m certain that it would be a most wonderful piece: a work to be handed down through the ages! This is a once-in-a-lifetime encounter – I can’t just let this opportunity pass me by! Please, I’m begging you! I’m prepared to offer you a most handsome reward… 

[Kiryu is presented with a choice to accept or refuse Ranzan’s request; we choose to accept.] 

Kiryu: Uh, yeah… I’ll think about it. 

Ranzan: Yes, I would be most grateful if you would! This must be fate! 

[Ranzan wipes his forehead, then points off into the distance.]

Ranzan: Well then, let’s go to my studio right away. Please follow me. 

[The screen fades to black. When we return, Kiryu is standing in front of Ranzan in the middle of his studio. Various paintings are on display, and there's one in progress on the table to Ranzan’s left. The painter faces Kiryu and mops his brow again.]

Ranzan: Ah! How wonderful! A magnificent physique, like a rock that’s stood since time immemorial! Eyes like a tiger’s that peer into the very depths of one’s heart! Hmm… Hmm, hmm… Yes, that’s it! 

[Ranzan leans in and nods at Kiryu.]

Ranzan: Pardon me, but would you mind removing your clothes, please? Just your upper body is fine! I, Ranzan, am prepared to give this painting everything I’ve got…! 

[Once again, Kiryu is presented with a choice to agree to his request or refuse. Naturally, he agrees.]

Kiryu: Okay, got it. 

Ranzan: Yes, oh yes!  

[The scene fades to black. When we return, Kiryu has stripped down to his fundoshi.]

Ranzan: Ah! How beautiful…. Those burgeoning muscles – they bring to mind a cascade of cool snowmelt… The more I look at them, the more breathtaking they become… 

[The camera pans slowly down to Kiryu’s junk.]

Ranzan: Hmm… Hmm… Hmm, yes, I have it! Just one more thing, if you please: would you be so kind as to remove your underwear? 

Kiryu: …No way! 

Ranzan: Really, now… We’ve come this far and now you’re hesitating!? I’ll get that thing off even if I have to do it by force!

[Still in his fundoshi, Kiryu gives Ranzan – identified as an “Excited Guy” in the splash screen – a thrashing. Note that this title is probably a pun: the verb that the writers use to describe Ranzan – “tatsu” (たつ) – can also refer to getting an erection. After the fight, Ranzan falls to his knees at Kiryu’s feet.]

Ranzan: Ohh… The pen is weaker than the sword. 

Kiryu: What the hell do you think you’re doing?! 

Ranzan: From the moment I saw you, I was smitten! And what’s more, it was no mere fluttering of the heart… Yes, this is what they call love…!  

Kiryu: …

Ranzan: I’m so terribly sorry! Please don’t think ill of me… I want to make amends somehow… But at the moment, I have nothing of value. The only things here that are worth anything are these paintings – but I still need to eat. You can take whichever one you like, but please be merciful and just take the one.  

[A text box pops up and asks which one you’ll take (and adds: please show mercy and choose only one). The options are a painting of a warrior, a painting of an actor, or a painting of a famous place. The outcome of the story isn’t affected by the painting that you choose here, but the warrior and actor paintings sell for 10,000 mon, whereas the scenery sells for one single mon. In any case, once Kiryu picks a painting, the scene fades to black again, and we return to the street where Kiryu first encountered Ranzan.]

Ranzan: It pains me to part ways… I look forward to the day we meet again. Farewell…

[The screen fades to black, and with that, Ranzan is gone. A box pops up informing us that Kiryu has received 1000 EXP.]

[squish36-writes-and-draws]

All the Lemon Squares Argon

Summary: Another renamed fanfic from my creative writing class, this one's assignment was to use setup and payoff in a major element of the story. In the story, Fitz and Dex have a final chemistry presentation project where Fitz has chosen to bake lemon squares, but they've been stolen. I'm not sorry for the pun that is the title.

Word count: 6946

Tw: mild sexual innuendo, jokes about poisoning baked goods, food

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @did-i-say-you-could-get-up @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @xanadaus @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum @loveution @notyourlegacygirl

On Ao3 or below the cut!

    Fitz doesn't even get a chance to sit down next to Dex before Dex’s gorgeous periwinkle eyes glitter up at him with a thousand new ideas. This is going to be…interesting. 

    “What if we could get powdered galactose?  Or lactose? Hm. That’s probably not the best idea. Milk sugar might do weird things chemically. Although that might be the fact that it’s a solution of water and butterfat. Or we could get fructose. That should work.”

    He’s so pretty when he gets like this—especially when I can’t understand half of what he’s saying and I know I’ve missed a lot of context.  

    “We’ve already decided on the parameters of the experiment. We are going to stick with the plan,” Fitz pleads, trying to appeal to Dex’s sense of pretending to be organized. 

    It doesn’t work very well. 

    “What about aspartame? Or Splenda? Is that a brand name? Yeah, it probably is. I should look that one up before putting it in the presentation. Generic Splenda.” 

    “Dex,” Fitz starts, hoping Dex’s name recognition reflex is strong enough to get through this whirlwind of thoughts. “We are not doing any more of this. We have enough. It’ll be fine.” 

    “I wonder what the sweetest one is. Then again, that might not be the best option. Ratios and all that.” 

    An image of the crumbly mess that would follow flashes through Fitz’s mind. He’s forgotten sugar before and it was not a fun result. Better than the three sticks of butter incident in terms of the clean-up, but at least that remained edible. Not that the sugarless one was inedible—that’s a very difficult bar to overcome, but it wasn’t pleasant.

    “It would. But, honey, will you please—”

    “Yeah, honey would be fun!”

    I was calling you that. I realize my error now.  

    Dex’s tirade is finally ended by the school bell ringing in the last hour of the day. It takes a solid five minutes for Mr. Sweeney to take attendance and get the presentation loaded for the group unlucky enough to get drafted on this fine spring Monday. 

    Because AP Chem isn’t already enough of a land of suffering, Mr. Sweeney has graciously decided to fill the time between the exam and the final with a little presentation on whatever chemistry experiment each pair of lab partners wants to do. 

    It can be live or in a video that contains both of you, and it should be relatively safe. This group—composed of Stina and Rissa—has decided that they want to spend an absurd length of time talking about baking soda. Heating it up, predicting the products, hearing about both its and sodium carbonate’s use. Because those are definitely not the same thing. One is used in baking and the other is used in soap. Our class is all in for a riveting ten minutes. 

    Fitz is pretty sure they just found a lab on the internet and followed it, which is a valid method to do things. Once you’ve crossed that mental boundary, though, you should at least try to find an interesting one. He’s heard one group arguing about plating a penny in brass or something. That’s fun. 

    It might be considered defacing currency, but it could easily be argued that that’s the appeal of it. 

    But no. They get to sit there for ten whole minutes, and half of that time is waiting for the sample to heat. Curse you, thermodynamics. Dex doesn’t stop suggesting ideas for how they could embellish their own presentation in a few short days, but Fitz isn’t even sure they’re going to finish what they already have on the agenda. 

    While they’re painfully waiting for the baking soda to heat up enough that it decomposes, Dex asks on the lab table in blue, fine tip expo marker, How are the lemon squares going? 

    The big idea for their project is that they’re going to be taking glucose and sucrose and seeing what happens when they react with Benedict’s Solution. Who’s Benedict? Some guy, probably. It’s a shame they’ve turned him into a soup. At least he’s blue from the copper(II) ions. 

    Fitz should know this by now, but that’s what Wikipedia at two in the morning the night it’s due is for. 

    Anyway, it turns orange in the presence of a reducing sugar, like glucose, and doesn’t react with others, like sucrose. Why do we care about those two? They were the most easily commercially available and it’s taken until today for Dex to start suggesting more sugars for them to try. 

    They’re also performing a taste experiment between lemon squares made with glucose and those made with sucrose. It’s good practice to bring the audience snacks while presenting. 

    Of course, it was a whole process choosing the variety of pastry to be used in this project. As in, Dex asked really nicely for it to be lemon squares—puppy dog eyes and all— and Fitz is incapable of telling him no. It was also convenient that the recipe Fitz had didn’t use brown sugar, and could thus be closer to a controlled test. 

    I made some last night, Fitz replies, and Dex has begun doodling either a chocolate chip cookie or an asteroid on his side of the table. It’s the most precious thing Fitz has ever owned and he will cherish it forever. 

    Dex pauses his masterpiece to say, That’s good.

    Yeah, um, so, about that, Fitz barely manages to write around Dex’s arm, this morning I woke up to find them disappeared. 

    Dex has to erase some of the previous conversation to ask, Well, what’d you do with them? 

    I remember specifically putting them into the back of the cabinet above the microwave. 

    And they weren’t there this morning? 

    Nope. 

    That marks the first time Dex has stopped talking long enough to think for the first time since last Wednesday. 

    Fitz erases a space to write, smearing a haze of blue across the table.

    Don’t worry about it. I’ll make more tonight.

    And then those are going to disappear.

    I’ll put them somewhere else. 

    Until that gets raided too. 

    Then I’ll make MORE. 

    I don’t think you have that many eggs. 

    That’s why grocery stores exist. 

    Before they know it, the presentation is over, and it doesn’t really affect a whole lot. There’s three presentations a day. It’s still going to take a week to get through all of them, but it does make it so that it doesn’t take longer than that. And that’s somewhat relevant. 

    This next one is over the most classic science fair project of all time: the baking soda volcano.  It’s not surprising that Jensi and Valin are the ones to try to blow up the classroom. 

     Dex writes the chemical reaction on the table with accompanying chemical structures before they’ve even gotten off the title slide. 

     NaHCO3 + HC2H3O2 → NaH2C3O2 + CO2 + H2O 

    Jensi also takes his time explaining acid-base chemistry like we’re all fifth graders, which likely isn’t that far off. “You see, class, baking soda, or sodium bicarbonate, is a base, which means that when it comes into contact with water, it is able to rip off some of water’s hydrogen atoms, resulting in an increase in hydroxide ions. And then when vinegar, also called acetic acid, is dissolved in water, it releases hydrogen atoms, forming hydronium ions. Do any of you remember the chemical formula for hydronium?

    Crickets fill the room as Dex writes H3O+ on the desk without a single thought. Mr. Sweeney is probably off crying in the corner as their final grades slip lower and lower. 

    “That’s alright,” Valin continues, “it’s combining the two reactants that’s the fun part. When an acid and a base come into contact with one another, they undergo a double replacement reaction. In this case, sodium and hydrogen switch places.”

    The presentation flips to the next slide, filling in the products of the reaction as CH3COONa + H2CO3. 

    Sodium acetate can be written either the way Valin and Jensi did or the way Dex did. It’s a matter of preference or something about organic chemistry. Now, carbonic acid, on the other hand, is a bit more of an issue. 

    Jensi points at the second term. “But that’s not its final form. This last reactant here breaks apart into water and carbon dioxide, so there’s a second reaction inside of the normal reaction.” 

    Yes, yes, we all know how carbonates work, Dex writes. 

    Fitz laughs silently. 

    “And, with all that in mind,” Jensi flips to the next slide and lowers his goggles from his forehead to where they’re supposed to go over his eyes in true mad scientist fashion. “It’s time for eruption.” 

    Everyone has seen a baking soda volcano before. It’s not surprising when it bubbles up and oozes out of the beaker that Jensi and Valin didn’t even bother to make look like a volcano. It is nice to note that they did bring food coloring to make the lava foam orange and didn’t get it on the ceiling, which is a win for everyone. 

    And then Dex has to ruin it. Did you know this reaction is actually endothermic?

    That’s big fancy chemistry words for “it gets cold.” Curse you, thermodynamics. Lava isn’t supposed to be cold. Fitz is going to personally take this up with the second law of thermodynamics. It’s not going to work, but entropy deserves to feel bad about what it’s doing. 

    Valin and Jensi putz around for another five minutes after their initial volcano has stopped reacting, mostly just adding more vinegar or baking soda at random intervals to see how the increase in concentration affects the rate of the reaction. Definitely not just standing around to run down the clock for the next group. 

    That next group is the brassing a penny group, and it takes them so long to get to their experiment, the entire class is freed from the confines of the school building before it’s over. Except for Fitz. He still has to play chess for an hour. 

    It comes and goes with more blunders than Fitz would care to admit, but that very quickly doesn’t matter when he shows up at Dex’s house to work on homework. And by “work on homework” he means “desperately hope that he doesn’t get horrifically distracted before they accomplish a nonzero amount of progress on the chem project.” It doesn’t seem likely. 

    And then that probability crashes to zero. 

    Dex is found standing in his room at a bulletin board, winding a red string around thumb tacks stabbed into sticky notes. 

    In the middle is a picture of Fitz and a torn-off corner of notebook paper with a three dimensional lemon square drawn on it. Fitz can tell it’s a lemon square because it’s been messily colored in with a yellow crayon that doesn’t show up very well. 

    “Do I want to ask?” Fitz asks hesitantly. 

    Dex smiles into the board. “No, I don’t think you do. But that doesn’t stop me from explaining it. Here in the middle is you, of course. There’s only a few people that know that we’re baking for this project and that I made you do it.”

    “How do we know that the person who took them even knows about the project? Do you not realize how often I find myself baking? I have a problem.

    “Good point.” Dex adds a lopsided question mark to the sticky note with the word ‘project.’ “That doesn’t really change who might have had access to the stash. Which is where our suspects come in.” 

    Dex turns to face Fitz, gesturing widely toward the board like any of it makes sense. His handwriting is absolutely atrocious right now, a sure sign that he’s put more thought into this than it deserves. 

    “Our first suspect is Keefe. I don’t trust him. He’s got a long history of making things disappear. Case in point: Mrs. Cuddles. One day, she was here in all of her stuffed animal glory and the next, we’ve never seen her again.” 

    “We never proved that it was Keefe.” 

    “Well, we really should get around to doing that.” Dex points very intentionally at nothing. “He is also likely to know you well enough to know where you would hide things.” 

    “You have fun asking him. I’m not interrogating my best friend.”

    Dex’s eyes glimmer, and Fitz knows all hope is lost. “We should absolutely do an interrogation! With threats and everything!” 

    “Until he asks for a lawyer,” Fitz deadpans, trying to calm down Dex’s racing thoughts. This is both a common situation and one that Fitz is very bad at de-escalating. 

    “Your dad could be his lawyer.” 

    “I feel like that would make things objectively worse.” 

    “Yeah, it probably would. I think we should declare independence and therefore we don’t have to comply with constitutional rights. Who needs those anyway?” 

    Fitz blinks. He expected for Dex to increase his outlandish ideas in a short amount of time, but not that quickly. 

    “I mean, if you wanted to take the ‘the first amendment protects you from the government, not the Dex’ approach, that would be entirely reasonable without having to prove sovereignty. That would take a while.” 

    Dex smiles. “I forgot about that. That’s perfect. When do you think you can take Keefe into custody?” 

    “I’m not doing it, you do it.” Fitz pauses, trying to think of a good reason why because he clearly did not think through the implications of this before saying it. “You’re the lead investigator here. You’ve got the corkboard and everything. I’m just a guy who happens to be here.”

    Dex looks at him, not believing any of what he just said to be true, but accepting it as fact anyway. 

    “Please don’t let this end with Keefe having a restraining order against us,” Fitz adds. 

    “I make no promises, sweetheart.” 

        Fitz’s faded, once-pink hair falls into his face as he pushes his glasses up to pinch his nose. 

    Why did I know that was going to be his response? 

    Fitz shouldn’t be surprised the next day after school to find Dex in his basement, Keefe sitting at an old wooden table, the lights dimmed as low as possible before total darkness. The incandescent bulbs don’t much like this as they flutter in pain like they’re having a little bit of a stroke. 

    “About time,” Dex says, leaning against the wall. 

    Fitz turns on the lights. “This needs to be taken down about three notches. Keefe, I’m sorry he’s like this.” 

    “I’m not,” Dex and Keefe reply in alarming unison. 

    What did I sign myself up for and why do I do this to myself? 

    “Dex, if you would please proceed with the reason we have gathered y’all here today, that’d be great. Some of us have homework that we actually do,” Fitz suggests. 

    “That’s what study hall is for,” Keefe replies. 

    Dex interjects, “No, study hall is for Wordle.”

    “That’s what English is for.”

    “No, that’s when you do the homework you didn’t finish at home or in study hall.” 

    “Okay, yeah, that’s almost fair.” 

        It isn’t often that Dex concedes a point in an argument. Or maybe Fitz isn’t good at arguing with him. Fitz is very distractible when it comes to Dex and that might affect his debate skills. Or it could be that he knows Dex will pout for a month and a half if he’s proven wrong, and Fitz just lets him believe that he’s right. Yeah, that’s it. 

    Dex bounces off of the wall and slides into the chair across from Keefe. Fitz takes a seat, off center, directly next to Dex, close enough that Dex’s infamous left handed elbow jabs are a serious threat. 

    “First, I would like to confirm that you are, in fact, Keefe Sencen. Is this accurate information?” 

    “What, no middle name?” He looks at Fitz. “Do you not know it?” 

    A smirk tries to blossom on Keefe’s lips but quickly gets shut down by Fitz’s own. 

    “I absolutely know what it is. I didn’t think you wanted to acknowledge how you were named after your father, considering everything.” 

    Dex continues, “This is not a government-sanctioned interrogation, and, as such, you are not entitled to any of the protections provided by the Bill of Rights. Miranda rights do not apply here. You are not getting a lawyer unless you want one of my siblings, who are, by the way, not recognized by the bar association.” 

    “This is quickly sounding like more and more of a trap.”

    “It’s like five questions. You’ll be fine. The most severe sentence you will receive is mild disappointment.” 

    Keefe gasps sarcastically. “Not that, never that. How am I going to cope?” 

        “On the seventh of November of this year, it was discovered that a tray of lemon squares went missing. Do you know anything about this?” Dex asks. 

    “No,” Keefe replies, fast enough to not think but not too fast to be suspicious. 

    “Are you absolutely sure?”

    Fitz adds, “They would have been above my microwave.” 

    “Yeah, I’m sure.” Keefe shifts his attention to Fitz. “You made lemon squares and didn’t tell me?”

    “I guess you should’ve taken chem with me.” 

    “Well, I wouldn’t have gotten them either way, considering they’ve been stolen. But, now I know you have a recipe for them, which means I have the ability to annoy you enough to convince you to make them. Who’s the real winner here?”

    “So you’re sure that you didn’t take them? You’re not just being difficult because that’s your only personality trait?” 

    “Actually, I have two. Beauty is a personality trait. But I was very unaware of that particular stash. The one under your bed and in the back of the lazy susan are less safe.” 

    Fitz swears. “I just found that one a week ago and now you’re telling me I have to find yet another one?”

    “You could always use your closet. You’ve already got everything else in there.” 

    Dex snorts. 

    “You knowing where it is would take away the whole concept of it being a hiding place. And then you’d figure out how to sell it on the black market.”

    “I wouldn’t do that. That would risk my own stash. Although your sister is going to stiff it out with that bloodhound nose of hers faster than I’ll be able to raid it.”

    Dex interrupts, “Do you think there is a possibility that Biana was the one to find the lemon squares?”

    “Possibility? Absolutely. I don’t know why she wouldn’t have been your first suspect. She literally lives in the same house as the lemon squares. She would’ve had the largest window of opportunity.”

    “Like you aren’t there almost as much.”

    “That’s because Biana is usually off gallivanting with her friends.” 

    Keefe has a slight inflection on the word “friends,” but what he’s trying to imply there remains unclear. Knowing both of them, it’s probably more than a little gay. 

    Fitz waits a beat before saying, “I’ve got to go get to making another batch. If more go missing, I want you to expect that we will be seeing you again.”

    “I also expect you to come to us, whether it be in person, in an overcomplicated disaster of scavenger hunt clues, or anywhere in between, if you find out any information. We can offer a better bribe than those other people can.”

    “Dex,” Fitz hisses. 

    “What? It’s accurate. It’s not like this is going to lead to a crime syndicate,” Dex replies. 

    “You never know. Alvar could be involved.” 

    “He probably still thinks of you as a fifth grader. I know I do the same with my siblings, and I see them every day. Unfortunately. But that means he likely believes that you shouldn’t be trusted to operate the oven on your own.” 

    “Unless he’s been purposely watching you only to ruin your final project,” Keefe suggests. 

    Fitz holds his head in his hands. “There’s no reason to exaggerate this as much as you are. Next you’re going to be telling me that I should poison the next batch to find out who took them.” 

    “That’s actually a good solution,” Dex says. “You’d make sure there are no more stolen lemon squares…after those, at least.”

    A couple of bitter almonds crushed up into the crust would make that far easier than it should be. Cyanide is known for being delicious. 

    …And that’s exactly why I shouldn’t be allowed access to Biana’s Amazon Prime account. 

    “Are we done here?” Fitz asks tiredly. “Or are you two going to come up with a conspiracy theory to explain the entirety of thermodynamics or something? And do I really have to be here for that?”

    “Hey, there’s probably a fourth secret law of thermo somewhere,” Dex argues. 

    “There already is. The zeroth law. If A is in equilibrium with B and A is in equilibrium with C, then B is in equilibrium with C, remember? You’d need a secret fifth law, and at that point, that’s unrealistic.” 

    Dex laughs. 

    “Please don’t figure out a way to violate any of the laws while I’m gone. I don’t want to deal with the consequences of that. That would imply that the project would have to change and I’m not putting that much effort in between now and Friday.” 

        “I hope you know that’s my goal in life now.”

    “I knew it would be.” Fitz sighs silently. “I’ve got too much homework to keep following this conversation. Just have fun doing whatever it is you find yourself doing this evening.”

         “Let me know if you need distracting from your homework.”

    I give myself fifteen minutes before I’m going to be taking you up on that offer. “I won’t, thanks. Have a nice evening.” 

    “I won’t. And I’m sure you won’t either.” 

    Keefe snorts. 

    “Both of y’all are legally required to have a nice evening. Because I said so. And now I’m going to leave you to it.”  

    Fitz leaves without any more argument, because he’s had enough of that for today. There’s a limited amount of coherent thoughts he can have while being faced with Dex’s dimples and that number is very, very low.

    The next day interviewing—interrogating—Biana goes much the same as Keefe. Which is to say, it’s a complete waste of time for everyone involved. She threatens them slightly more, but that’s to be expected. 

    Fitz spends far too many hours reading scientific papers about glucose and sucrose and a few other sugars just for fun instead of working on the actual project part of the project. 

    It’s to make it as accurate as possible. Yeah. That’s why he didn’t get to bed until two in the morning. 

    That might also be due to the fact that he spent a few hours surveying his house to look for the most advantageous spot to hide the next batch of lemon squares—and with two slices per person in class, it’s not particularly easy to find anywhere even remotely helpful. 

    There aren’t a whole lot of viable options left between Keefe and Biana’s incessant searching for hidden snacks in the walls. Even behind the fish tank in his dad’s office is no longer safe. 

    Eventually, he finds a light fixture that will surprisingly work quite well. They might get a little warm from the heat given off by the lights if they’re turned on. Curse you, thermodynamics. They’ll be fine. 

    Then, and only then, at like two in the morning, is he able to make more. Most of their cooking time is being stuck in the fridge and it gets left there overnight. 

    The next day is Thursday, and Thursdays are good days. Neither Dex nor Fitz have anything to do after school, which means Fitz can drive Dex home. 

        “I made more lemon squares last night.”

    “Oh? And how did that go?” Dex asks, staring firmly out the window. 

    “Well, they weren’t there when I checked them again in the morning.”

    Dex swears. “Is there anything else we can do?”

    “Not unless I don’t let them out of my sight until tomorrow morning when I let Sweeney take custody of them. Do you think I could maybe make and leave them at your house? I don’t want to get up at four in the morning and that’s pretty much my only other option. I’m not staying up all night just to make them at a reasonable time.” 

    “I would rather gouge my eyes out with my pencil than wake up at that heinous hour. Good luck to both you and your sanity. Stars know I’m not going to be doing that. I’d pull another all-nighter before I do that one.” 

    It takes a second and a half for Fitz to realize what Dex just said. 

    “What do you mean ‘another’ all-nighter? Dex, we’ve been working on this.”

    “Well, we’ve also been working on this project for a few too many days for me to just ignore this whole mystery situation we’ve got going on.” Dex’s voice cracks. “I have to solve this problem. I have to find out what happened. We’re going to be very lucky if I get anything tonight.” 

    “Then I guess we just have to make sure you don’t think about the problem. If we don’t think about it, it doesn’t exist.”

    “You’re not playing the object permanence game with me today, Fitz. We all know I’m going to lose and I don’t like doing that.”

    “There’s no such thing as losing. Either you win the game and pass out in the middle of our presentation tomorrow, pushing it to Monday as you get dragged to the nurse’s office, or you get to sleep.”

    Dex sighs. “You do raise a fair point. I can’t get on a first name basis. Keefe and Sophie may have been the first to accomplish that particular honor, but that doesn’t mean they’re ever going to let me live it down.” 

    That wasn’t the point I was trying to make, but whatever works, my darling. 

    Fitz reaches over and gently squeezes Dex’s hand. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not failing a project over this. That’s not something I’m physically capable of doing. Besides, if something does happen, we’ve still got Benedict’s solution and a hot water bath. It’s not as fun or as memorable, but it’s functional.” 

    “Ah, yes, copper sulfate soup. I’m sure it’s very tasty.”

    “The forbidden gatorade. The fact that it’s that shade of delicious, delicious blue is so unfair on so many levels.”

    “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one.”    

    “Well, it’s not my fault it looks so drinkable. Also, you’re a very bad influence on me.” Fitz smiles. 

    “I know. But I’m just picking up what Keefe started. Can you feel the corruption sinking into your bone marrow?” 

    “Yeah.” Fitz says bluntly. 

    They unceremoniously get out of the car, and Fitz leads the both of them towards the kitchen. They’re trying to be productive today and making another batch of lemon squares before sitting down and getting distracted seems like something productive. 

    He checked after Biana’s interview yesterday to see if Dex’s house had all of the ingredients, and for some unknown reason, they did. Why do they own so much glucose? Normal table sugar is sucrose. That would be reasonable. Glucose is not. 

    It might be a little out of date, but at this point, Fitz’s just hoping to not have to do the conversion from baking powder to baking soda. After making the crust and throwing it in the oven, he discovers that his hopes aren’t fulfilled. 

    How am I supposed to measure a sixth of a teaspoon of baking soda?

    And also, why does this always happen? They should really standardize this. Make everyones’ lives easier. 

    Just to be even more difficult, it decides to spill onto his shirt, right next to the flour and powdered sugar from the crust. Flour has no reason to get everywhere and yet it does. 

    Dex leans over the kitchen island where he’s seated, looking up from his phone for the first time in several minutes. “Am I going to be allowed to quality control these?”

    “No. We barely have enough for our victims—sorry, classmates—as it is.”

    Dex snorts. “Have you poisoned these again? Fitz, we talked about this. This is a crime against humanity.”

     Fitz finishes whisking the second lemon filling—the sucrose one—and the oven timer goes off a few moments later. He checks the crusts, and they’re both beautifully golden brown. 

    I need to bake here more often. This oven is better than the one at home.  

    “Says the guy voted most likely to become a dictator by our chem class.”

    “That simply means I know what I’m talking about.”

    “That’s funny, because I’ve never known what I was talking about in my life.”

    “That seems like a you problem.” 

        Fitz pours the filling into their proper crusts—differentiable by one of glucose’s corners being less than all the way to the corner—before sliding both pans back into the oven. 

    That can be Dex’s piece. I just can’t tell him that yet. 

    “Do you have any other homework tonight?” Fitz asks, leaning across the island counter to match Dex. 

    “That really is your only mode of conversation, isn’t it?” 

    “Yeah. It’s sad, isn’t it? I’d ask if you had any new personal projects going, but I think I know the answer to that.” 

    “You do?”

    “You’re fully occupied solving my life’s problems. You don’t have enough time to start something else.”

    “It’s lines of reasoning like that one that make me want to start a new project just to prove you wrong, and I hope you know that.”

    “And now I can ask you very nicely to channel that feeling and work on the presentation we have tomorrow. Unless you forgot that it was tomorrow. Did I mention it was tomorrow? We have a presentation tomorrow and we are extraordinarily unprepared.” 

    Dex tilts his head, considering. “No, I don’t think you did,” he replies flatly. 

    “So do you think it might be a good idea to get the slides open so that progress can be made towards readiness?”

    “No,” Dex replies, getting his laptop out of his backpack and hitting the keyboard approximately fifty percent more than necessary to make it turn on and start functioning. 

     Its fan immediately starts running, producing a high-pitched whine on top of the normal laptop fan sounds. 

    Dex smacks the side of the keyboard, likely an effort to make it stop doing that. It doesn’t. “Curse you, thermodynamics,” he whispers, along with a few stronger suggestions for what friction can do to itself. 

    “I’m going to be hunted for sport if Bex hears this. I’m going to my room. If you need me, you can literally just text me. You’ve done it before. I believe in you.” 

    I don’t know which one of your siblings that is, but I’m not letting you go back in that room while that cork board is still there. I need a focused Dex and that would not be a focused Dex. 

    “Or we could head down into the basement,” Fitz suggests. “I can probably still hear the oven going off from down there and being in the room where we interrogated our suspects seems kind of fitting.” 

    “That’s fair,” Dex says, picking up his still-open backpack and laptop as he begins to descend the stairs. 

    Fitz tries to brush away some of the suspicious white powder dusting the front of his shirt. It doesn’t do a whole lot, but maybe now it won’t be as ground into the carpet lining the stairs and lower level. 

    Fitz finds Dex arguing with one of his siblings—it might be Lex, but it’s difficult to tell. All of their names rhyme because their dad thinks he’s hilarious, only making Fitz’s life more difficult. 

    “Why are you turning down the opportunity to go trash my entire room?” Dex demands. 

    “Why are you so willing to give me that opportunity? Last time you were this agreeable, you planted stink bombs under your bed!”

    “To be fair, that was objectively hilarious.”

    Maybe-Lex smiles. “It was fun banishing Rex outside for a week.”

    I remember that happening. 

    “Just find somewhere else to go live for the next couple of hours. If that ends up being outside, that’s your problem. I have the Fitz and since he’s a guest in our house, that means he, and by extension I, have superiority.” 

    The corners of Fitz’s mouth widen into a smile and his heart flutters slightly. 

    Hearing him use that argument never gets old. It’s kind of pathetic. I’m kind of pathetic. 

    More-than-likely-Lex huffs and stomps up the stairs. The carpet muffles most of his anger. 

    “Sorry about him,” Dex says as he sits at the table, friction causing the laptop to shriek as he slides it back because he put it down too close to the edge. Fitz’s ears want to bleed. At least the journey got the fan to stop screeching for whatever reason. 

    Fitz takes a seat across from him, the chair still ominously warm from probably-Lex sitting there. And then, from the all-encompassing silence left behind, comes the sound of Pop Rocks emanating from the table itself. 

    Fitz looks up to find Dex moving his laptop to the far end of the table so he can get a closer look. 

    “What on Earth was Lex doing here?” Dex whispers to himself. 

    Ah, so I was right on which one it was.  

    That’s not the takeaway you were supposed to make there.

    Fitz shrugs. 

    Dex pokes the table. “It’s sticky.”

    “Now I definitely don’t want to know.” 

    “Not like that. Get your mind out of—” An idea blossoms in Dex’s mind, and without any warning or elaboration, he runs upstairs. 

    A cabinet slams closed. “Where’d you put the baking soda?”

    “To the right of the pantry, top cabinet, bottom shelf, right side.”

    “Thank you!” he yells, running back down the stairs and to the table, becoming a living example of the doppler effect. He pours far more than the recommended serving size of baking soda onto the table, and the popping sound intensifies. 

    Dex swears triumphantly. 

    “Care to elaborate?”

    “No,” he says, looking at Fitz, dimples prominent and so close Fitz could probably count his freckles. “Bicarbonates react with acids to form a salt, water, and carbon dioxide.” 

    “I know. Why is that relevant right now?” 

    “I just dumped an entire mountain of baking soda on the table and it started reacting with whatever Lex left there. That means whatever he left there was more than likely an acid. And, no, it’s not that kind of acid. Probably. It wouldn’t leave gook on the table like that.”

    Fitz’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t ask why Dex would have this information. The answer is probably a Wikipedia rabbit hole. “Do you know what it could be then?” 

    “This isn’t a very helpful answer, but, no, I don’t, and I don’t know what other tests I can do to narrow it down from literally everything else.” 

    “Don’t you literally carry around a gallon of Benedict’s solution? I fully believe there’s something in your backpack that can solve this conundrum.” 

    “Not quite that much, but, yeah, I’ve got some. For reasons we do not discuss.” 

    It’s because it’s the forbidden gatorade flavor.

    “I’ve got the oven going if you need hot water. If that would help. I don’t know. There’s a reason I just let you do the chem labs without getting myself between you and a bottle of one-molar HCl.” 

    “That’s a valid solution to the problem. I wouldn’t get between me and my son HCl either. Benedict’s might be helpful. Then we’ll be able to figure out where to go from there.”

    “The presence of reducing sugars,” Fitz corrects, and he feels way too proud of himself at knowing that fact. Even when Dex already knows it. 

    Dex grumbles, “Close enough.”

    He runs back upstairs to get a spoon and a small glass, filled with a tiny splash of water. He scrapes off a corner, and it forms an off-white peak on the edge of the spoon before it gets dunked into the water and swirled into solution. A few added drops of Benedict's solution makes it a pale blue color before Dex runs it back upstairs once again to throw it in the oven. 

    “That glass better not shatter into my lemon squares!” Fitz yells, but Dex probably isn’t listening. One must respect the science, and the lemon squares get to deal with the collateral damage. 

    Yeah, the crunchy topping is on purpose. It’s isomalt. Totally. 

    Dex spends a very long thirty seconds pacing, the floorboards creaking with every step he takes. 

    He was probably counting in his head, because when he decides the timer is up, he’s running, once again, to the oven to get the sample out. 

    “It’s orange!” Dex yells, echoing through the house. That must be a wild sentence out of context. 

    “That’s a good thing, right?” 

    “That means you’re gonna move on to the next phase of inquiry: the smell test.”

    “Why aren’t you doing it?”

    “Do you really think I just let you sniff the chemicals in the lab for fun? I don’t smell things very well. I’ve got a library of, like, five things, and even then it has to have a lot of smell for me to even be slightly aware of its presence. We’ve been over this.”

    There’s so many reasons why this could very easily be a very bad idea, some of them involving ammonium hydroxide or chemicals like it, but Fitz is just going to trust Dex’s omnipotent chemistry knowledge. He’s done it all year, and he’s not failing AP chem yet. 

    So long as Fitz is well enough to take the final so that he can definitely not cheat off Dex on it, it should be fine. 

    Dex comes rushing back down the stairs, nearly spilling the forbidden now-orange juice on the carpet.

    He finds Fitz trying to waft the airborne aromatic molecules into the air, his nose slowly inching closer and closer to it. 

    Something registers, and he has to have smelled it wrong. His brows knit together. “There’s citrus in there.”

    The pieces click together—the smell, the stickiness, the presence of reducing sugars in a place where they typically wouldn’t be, and the acid. Citric acid, malic acid, ascorbic acid. Maybe some other acids. 

    “...These are the lemon squares.” Fitz takes a deep breath, before quietly asking, a dark undercurrent running through his words, “Have you been the one taking them?” 

    After all this, all the work Dex has claimed to have done to try to find them, if he knew where they were the entire time that’s—that’s absolutely unthinkable. And if he wasn’t the one to squirrel them away, having them end up in his house of all places is terrifyingly coincidental. 

    Dex puts his hands up defensively, his voice rising in pitch and threatening to crack. “Let’s think about this logically. I would’ve known exactly why you made those. Do you really think I would take them? Do you really think that little of me?”

    Fitz stands. “Then how else would your siblings get their grubby little hands on them?”

    “Why do you expect me to know? Why don’t you go ask them if you’re so concerned with where my priorities lie?” 

    “Keefe,” comes a yelled voice from the great beyond of the upstairs. So quick to throw their source under the bus, but that also means Fitz’s best friend lied to both Fitz and Dex without so much as a moment of hesitation. 

    …I’m not even disappointed, Fitz thinks, and that realization is…kind of depressing. 

    But that also means Dex’s siblings have another source if they’re willing to give that one up so easily. 

    Just because this one case might have been solved doesn’t mean the possibility is removed from the future. They’re going to find a way. At least finals season is upon us, so the baked goods will be plentiful because the stress is plentiful. 

    “I’m sorry,” Fitz whispers, staring at the baking soda hills to deliberately avoid eye contact with Dex and his perfect periwinkle eyes. 

    Dex sits across from him. “I can’t apologize for their actions, but I can apologize for not thinking of them during my whole process. I just figured I would know if they were stashing it in my own house, you know?”

    “Yeah, that’s fair. I don’t trust Biana enough to use that same logic with her, but I get where it would be coming from if I did.” 

    Dex smiles softly. “How mad would you be if I were to join you on that particular endeavor?” 

    Fitz smiles. “So mad.” 

    Dex takes Fitz’s hand, smearing the baking soda across the table. 

    And then the oven timer goes off. The lemon squares are done, and all that’s left is for them to cool off and be powdered sugar. Then they’re ready to go for tomorrow’s presentation. It’s not the most prepared he’s ever been, but at this point, it’s good enough. Monosaccharides and disaccharides aren’t that bad to just completely ramble about with no notes. Dex knows too much for his own good anyway. Between that, some unhelpful clip art, and a four in the morning rabbit hole, everything will be fine. 

    Besides, it’s not like any of the other students will care. They get snacks. 

    “You, uh, might want to go check that before they get taken,” Dex suggests. 

    “Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,” Fitz mumbles, beginning the long journey of trudging up the stairs. 

[ay0nha]

Newton's Laws of Potion  | Severus Snape

Thank you anon for the request!

Pairing: Severus Snape x femme!reader (Ravenclaw)

Word Count: ~1.5K

Warnings: Not movie/book timeline accurate, slowburn, touch-starved Snape of sorts, etc. Unrelated title that I pulled out of my ass

A/N: I’ve strayed slightly from the original request, but I’ve officially done it lmaoooo...it’s on the shorter side, but this was a fun brain break to write. Might have to do a part two yule ball sm sm, but no promises. Enjoy and thank you for the encouragement! Especially @sempervenefica :))

Also if you have a better title name, lmk (my default is puns because I love them)

Her unrefinement showed in her teaching methods which only aided in how she got under Severus' skin with little effort.  Most new hires he wasn't fond of, but her, she created her own, distinct category of bothersome.  There was always a problem she presented him with a solution at the ready. It was all a ploy to remind Severus what she thought of him, something he never asked for, let alone desired.

Severus watched her polished finger move from left to right across the paper, repeating the recipe of the potion as if he hadn't come up with it himself, "...Here, this is where I'm confused..."

Reading it back himself, he saw how she questioned his key ingredient. The very thing that took him too long to discover. He earned his title rightfully and the muggle-born witch thought otherwise.

Only continuing to add to the onset headache he felt, she said, "By adding the live element of the plant, you leave too much room for error on part of the students."

"Good," He bit lightly, "It'll weed out the true talent."

"They are getting confused and with this," She presented yet again her premade solution, "It's the exact same outcome without your repercussions."

"You're creating a primitive potion."

"An age-appropriate one," She countered.

Rarely did she back down from his scowl. It became easier once she began tutoring the children that sought out her help, too afraid to approach the Slytherin. Rather, the Ravenclaw would use her personal time to make sure every student demonstrated the skills needed in order to face Snape yet again.

"Do you question my teaching methods?"

His eyes scanned her for honesty, eyes landed on the various patterns of ink that were collected on her skin. He realized now he'd never been able to make each image out as clearly as he could now.  Her appearance now reflected how most thought of her when she was first introduced by Dumbledore a handful of months prior; callous, harsh, and adversarial. Soon enough, the stigma around her ink-littered skin broke due to her true demeanor which showed nothing but warmth and virtue.

Severus wanted to be disappointed, but vexation filled him instead. Especially since his eyes lingered on the art that spread across the top of her chest, just below her collar bones that reflected a snake being tormented by an eagle.

How fitting, he thought.

"I never posed a question."

Severus paused for a moment, running through their conversation quickly, then posing a question of his own to cover his blunder, "Then what do you propose as a solution?"

---

The knock came before her question as she peered into Snape's office, "Now a bad time?"

Severus held his time alone dearly. It was the moment for reflection and for contemplation and making different concoctions was like his version of mediation. It was a safe haven that he rarely, if ever, shared with others.

Yet, as if knowing this, she entered after hearing silence as his response. She already went into talking, like she always had. She rambled on about something he hardly listened to as he continued on, but he stopped when he finally decided to glance up at her.

In her arms, she held various items all of which were clearly newly bought. There were vines hanging down to her waist while she balanced the spiced and dried goods. It was as if she'd come bearing gifts for him. He was quick to move and catch something that teetered on her forearm.  

"Where did you find this?" He tried to hold back how impressed he was once he read the label of the opaque bottle. It was an expensive item, one that many would begrudgingly give away.

"Mr. Mulpepper's."

"That is a dark place." He frowned at the thought of her wandering Knockturn Alley. No doubt, she could protect herself, but she seemed to gravitate towards the mischief.

"They speak very highly of you there."

He hummed as he began to roll up his sleeves in preparation. It wasn't the first time Severus had heard or been told she spoke about him. His students were the first to whisper about it, wondering about the nature of the relationship besides the professional one they required all due to the rumors she spread.

They were kind comments, nothing explicit. She talked of his intelligence, but also his ridiculousness. It aided in humoring the students, but as the handful of weeks went on it became a usual conversation topic. It made Snape's skin prick.

Severus was methodical in the way he finely chopped each plant she had to offer, his earlier concoction entirely forgotten and put aside. He could make out now which potion she was attempting to amend. He wanted to replicate her idea to see how it worked for himself, but there was no seed of doubt.

She was the reason for the improvement in his classroom. There was less time spent on silent stares after he posed a question and actual answers, suggestions, and solutions. Her cleverness reflected her intelligence, but it made Snape feel as though she'd be better off suited next to him and his fellow Slytherins. But having her close like she was now was enough for him to realize that desire was purely selfish.

"This potion does not require you to stand so close," Snape's voice was low, betraying how it had actually felt to have company other than students.

"I'm simply observing."

Her stance was firm, peering over his shoulder and watching just how delicate he was with his movements.

"You don't need a book?" The question was rhetorical in a sense as she asked it. It was just a way to acknowledge how awestruck she was by his fluidness.

"No."

His responses were always simple, but they became more frequent which she valued. Although she wasn't sure if they could consider each other friends, she accepted the unorthodox progress they'd made. She never shied away from him, even at the start, but the progress helped her bold statements stick and her actions more spirited.

"May I?" She reached over another question that held no respect for a response.

Severus went to protest, but when he felt her fingers on his own take hold of the mortar and pestle, his words got caught in his throat. The world of witchcraft and wizardry was something Severus well understood, he needed to in order to exist and exceed within it. However, the feeling that traveled like a spark from his fingers to the pit in his chest couldn't be explained by the world around them.

"I heard you were chaperoning the Yule Ball," She started tentatively, hoping the two could carry a conversation longer than a few seconds.

"Correct."

He watched her every movement. He wanted to step in, and take over again as her eyes were on his as she measured by feeling. But as he was further learning she had an innate ability to pick things up. Just the other day Severus saw how the students invited her to a practice of quidditch and he noticed how it seemed like she was letting them win.

After a few rounds, though, students grew more confident and bold in their game, making her balance questionable. He told himself he wouldn't interfere, but it started to look dangerous. With the slight help of a spell he whispered, she hadn't landed as harshly as she was supposed to.

"I am as well," She gave him a soft smile that caused a quick swirl to appear in his chest, but it faded just as quickly when she added, "Lockhart invited me, told me how it's pointless to go without company.”

"You'd be better off going alone." It came out as a criticism, but it was meant as cordial advice.

Finally, though, he was able to hear her laugh directly. It was fleeting, more like a quick breath out the nose, but it was a laugh. His eyes broke from her tattoo covered hands to her face to see if there would be a remark otherwise.

"He's not all bad now, is he?" She joked lightly, the potion finally resembling a color the two recognized as correct, "He means well most of the time."

"I believe you are too kind to him."

"Perhaps." She mulled over the thought. She wasn't unfamiliar with the comment, it was one that followed her most of her life and offered her the most consequences.

However, Severus wasn't one to withhold his opinion. It was usually one that held validity.  Meaning now, as she poured the mixture into the small glasses she'd set aside, it was something she'd take into consideration.  

As expected, there was just enough for the two professors that collaborated to make it. She wafted the scent, making sure it was adequate enough to ingest. Severus was still taking a moment to catch up to how quickly the blend had been made and now left only one option before him.

"Come on, then," She instructed as she held the dark compound for him to accept, "You're going to have to learn to trust me at some point."

[team-heavenly]

Drumroll‚ please! 🥁

It’s been some time, and I managed to slip on my promised deadline once again (thank you for your patience)... But finally‚ we return to the story of Teresa and Andrea in our Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky Randomizer!

A few items of note before we get started (and yeah sorry this is overly detailed and lengthy because idk what it means to be concise, just scroll down if you're not interested):

Please be aware: updates to Team Heavenly’s story will not be as frequent as they were during main. I now work a full-time job in a field where my schedule is somewhat contingent on unanticipated emergencies. And in general‚ I’m just a very busy adult! So I unfortunately can’t give you an exact (or even rough) timeline of when posts will be released— It basically comes down to whenever I have the time to do it. But rest assured‚ the entirety of this tale will be told… eventually!

I’ve gotten my hands on a newer tablet since last year, so my camera quality is much better now! …However. While snapping pics for this post‚ a seemingly unavoidable digital blue glare persisted‚ no matter how I adjusted my screen brightness. When I subsequently ran these photos through the auto function‚ they didn’t really… improve? So I had to do a lot of manual tweaking… Anyway‚ all of that to say if one shot doesn’t look visually consistent with another, it’s because each image got edited a little bit differently.

I will link multiple posts for a single "chapter" (see last bullet) in the same manner as before, with preceding and succeeding parts linked at the beginning and end, respectively. I’ll also update the table of contents in the pinned post for continued ease of navigation.

Also, please note... last year, my older iPad somehow managed to circumvent any sort of (consistent) image limit. But that is not the case this time! There is a strict hard limit of 30 images per post. It's therefore likely that post-game chapters will have more parts than the main-story chapters ever did. (Though whether that actually equates to a "lengthier" chapter is up for debate.)

As the post-game content does not get separated into official chapters‚ I will be partitioning the story based on subject matter! For example, this first act will focus on the guild’s graduation exam, the next will include Sky Peak, and so on. I also intend to use a random number generator to select chapter names from this list. (I mean, c’mon, that's part of the fun of a randomizer!) But for the sake of clarity, I will be including the actual subject matter after the chosen title in (parentheses). Thus‚ this first unofficial post-game chapter is known as…

Chapter 21: Would you like to eat moss?

(AKA: The Guild’s Graduation Exam)

As a result of Teresa and Andrea’s heroic actions… The destruction of time was stopped and peace returned to the world of Pokémon. They went back to Totodile’s Guild and fell back into their daily routine of vigorous training.

One morning‚ several months later…

Pineco: “:/ Hey hey, why can Teresa and Andrea take the graduation exam before we do? We’ve been around a lot longer…”

Tropius: “…They literally saved the world and have proven themselves to be worthy many times over. Also skill issue lol.”

Don’t feel bad for Pineco though; he’s not the only one getting roasted.

Lol rip.

Anyway‚ Andrea asks the very sensible question of what exactly this exam entails…

Dark Chasm? Evil MANSION?!

Are you— are you sending us back to the future‚ Totodile?! WTF??

Oh! That’s easy enough though. I mean‚ compared to scaling a collapsing tower while Time itself crumbled at our feet? Pshaw! This will be a cakewalk!

...You know, this is really the first thing that should have tipped me off as a kid 🤦‍♀️

🤨 How convenient.

Okay, so he's not gonna be any help, unfortunately. Looks like we're going in blind. (Haha unintentional pun...unless?)

But for real, anything that makes Mewtwo cry out in fear and run away is a force to be reckoned with indeed.

As we enter Nautical Cottage to begin our preparations, we run into our stand-ins for Teddiursa and Ursaring! After a quick chat, Horsea reveals they are also headed to the Dark Chasm...

*seen (sorry).

Also, at the risk of beating a dead Horsea (aHA! TWO FOR TWO ON THE PUNS!), y'all go play WHERE? *gets hit immediately by a Snipe Shot*

Andrea immediately suspects something is sus. Unfortunately, this is the smartest she's ever gonna get about it.

Anyway, it's been a hot minute, so I go to check my storage and evaluate what I have to work with...

BRUH?? I do NOT remember picking this up omg 😳

So my plan is to equip this for the exam, right? But then I totally forgot to do that 😅

Also I don't have a picture for this but I was able to buy 3 Poké from the Finnkecleon shop for free lol

✅Mission: set ✅Destination: arrived ✅Chance of success: 💯😎🎆

Oh my god, this really is the future of darkness!! I guess our efforts to save the world weren't enough, damn 😓

🎶I'm starting with the man in the mirror I'm asking him to change his ways🎶

A couple of Gummis later, Teresa learns the Lava Evader IQ Skill! Neat!

Me when Ivysaur used Fly:

Believe it or not, this actually almost killed Andrea at 96 damage. But the stairs were nearby and I wasn't too worried about it until...

Go figure, amirite?

Then Andrea reminded me of the awesome power of Blizzard and we knocked out everyone except Combusken and the Kabuto on the first turn <3 And she got right back up again in no time with the Fast Healer skill!

Does anyone remember that one time when I had the foolish idea to forget Quick Attack in favor of Helping Hand? Yeah, not one of my smartest moves. But I managed to find a TM in this dungeon that does the same thing as Quick Attack but better!

Here's the info for Quick Attack:

And here's the info for Mach Punch:

Higher power and hit ratio? Yes please! (Yes, I'm aware both are only one star stronger. But hey, every bit counts.)

I teeechnically have enough room for three more images, but this feels like a natural transition point so click here to advance to Part 2!

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 53 - baking something with all those apples I cut in the kitchen

Love that a lot of the episode titles have two meaning or are outright puns. Crusader here referring to the tank and the knight corpse.

Another I had a bit of a hard time following. I think the voice acting is really fitting here, but the frantic tone messes with my ability to process what's told.

Gloucestershire… British pls… why? Just… why??? T_T (Knowing that this is a trick pronunciation I would just say "Gloshshshshsh")

"I was the gunner. I’ve always had good eyes, you see, and you really need that for the gun." - Good eyes you say…?

3:29 " The Italians had unsurprisingly taken a page out of Rommel’s handbook", right at "page", someone turns a page! The VA actually turning the page of the script or intentional soundscaping (since there is more paper rustling to come)?

"Then I saw it: a flash of light, a twinkling glint of sun from the enemy tank. In the back of my mind, I knew what it meant: the sun reflecting off their own binoculars" - music is playing at this part and I don't understand why? xD Usually music accompanies something spooky happening. While this is a scary situation especially hearing someone burning to death without any way to help them, I don't know if it's mean to be supernatural spooky stuff? I mean it's an Eye statement, binoculars would fit that bill, but otherwise?

Very soft at 5:33, very briefly at 6:58, 7:49 - scraping sounds (at 7:00 with a knock, like making a period with a pencil) and paper shuffling like someone's taking notes? Gertrude perhaps? I think this is indeed intentional soundscaping.

10:10 also shuffling can be heard. All throughout the statement there's a bit of shuffling here and there, I think it fits very well.

"but instead there came the scent of something else. All that, at that point I had no idea what it was but I would have described it as not unlike wood." - Paper and Papyrus is made of plant fibers ¯_(ツ)_/¯

"It should have been pitch dark. Though there was no light at all filtering through into those underground caverns, but it still – I could see everything. " Good eyes indeed.

"At the same time I suddenly got the most intense feeling of being watched, like a thousand eyes turned to me at once." <.<

"From within its huge, flowing hood I could see nothing except a single lidless eye." - I think that one is the inspiration for the Eye of the Entity Tarot designs which are in the Rusty Quill merch shops.

GERTRUDE "The bronze grate over the entrance to the archive." <.<

WALTER "I have just now. That funny turn I took on the way down the stairs, I felt it again. All those eyes watching me." - <.< (I absolutely love this Archive lore in this episode.)

"There’s even one unnamed contemporary historian that describes the mob attacking the Serapeum not as Christians, but using a phrase which roughly translates as “those who sing the night”." - Worshippers of the Dark attacking the Archive? It would make sense, they are complementary. Things unseen and things seen.

"What was it? A guardian of some sort? Or perhaps… perhaps… it too was once an archivist." - Ok, so on my first listen I already had a suspicion that Archivists are not just people in an archiving job. Jane called Jon "Archivist". Also before I reached this episode my sister once called me "Archivist" and I was already like "Why would she do that if there wasn't a deeper meaning?". Hearing Gertrude contemplating, if this creature was once an Archivist, confirmed my suspicions.

Martin being a blessing once again! <3

"I just worry. You needed five stitches after you “accidentally” stabbed yourself with the bread knife." - My sister visited me just two days ago and she managed to stab herself with the bread knife XD Nothing severely, but it made me laugh. Also, Martin totally doesn't believe Jon here…

Ok ok, Martin asks Jon, if he wants a sandwich! I understood this like "Should I get a sandwich for you while you stay here and I go alone". And then Jon says he's coming with Martin! He totally didn't have to do that? Does he think Martin would poison the sandwich? I mean, Martin could poison every cup of tea he makes, so don't think Jon's thinking of that. Keeping an extra eye on Martin? Personally, that's my headcanon: This is where Jon starts going on lunch breaks with Martin. At first under the pretense of more surveillance and trying to find out more about him. But eventually he starts to just enjoy it and keeps doing it, especially after he finds out what that letter to his mum was about (in like 3 episodes). I mean, it would make sense, right? Why would someone think of the two of them "being close" otherwise?

"It reports an explosion in Alexandria which destroyed several buildings in the vicinity of Pompey’s Pillar and killed 17 people. Official investigation determined it to be a gas mains explosion" - THAT FUCKING FORESHADOWING!!!!! Biggest weakness of an Archive - gas mains.

Those damn gas mains are always full of spiders

[uhhhitsgray]

Desire Chapter Ⅰ

Hellooo! Just stopping by to make a quick note about the story before the first chapter. Internal dialog with readers self will always be in italics to make it more clear, I talk to myself a lot in real life so the reader will do the same, lol. I have it stuck in my head that AU Eren would have tattoos and may or may not paint his nails, so there will probably be mention to that. There will also be self harm and abuse references, just references, in this story and I'll make sure to put a warning in the chapter title, then the type of trigger warning in the first line of the work. Thanks for reading!

~ Eventual smut, bit of a slow burner. Modern setting time skip, reader and Eren are mid 20s ~

~ Pairing Eren Yeager x Fem!reader

"You always this much of an asshole?!" You shout at Eren as tears stream down your face, your heart breaking into a million pieces.

"I guess so." His green eyes break away from you as he turns around and starts walking away.

"Eren! … Eren!" You scream, your vocal cords burning, your vision blurred as tears keep forming.

'Fuck, what is even happening right now?' You think to yourself.

"Eren.." You whisper to yourself as you see the man you love walking away from you.

↳ Table of Contents ↳ Chapter Ⅱ: Emotional Rollercoaster

Chapter Ⅰ: We're Just Friends

Your head bops to the beat of the music that is far too loud in your headset as you wait for your best friend Armin to join your discord voice channel. You’re mouthing the words to Desire by Meg Myers for two reason - one; the song is good, and is a secret wish to fuck someone to this song, and two; you can’t sing very well.

You’re holding your pen to your mouth using it as a mic.

Baby, I wanna touch you

I wanna breathe into your well

See, I gotta hunt you

Though if you weren’t waiting for Armin to join you, you’d have no care in the world but you didn’t want Armin to go deaf because of you. 

You hear the ding as Armin joins your discord, and you pause your music. 

“Heelloooo?” You say as this is the normal way you greet your friends through discord, your hands fidgeting with a pen you were just using as a mic waiting for your friend to respond. 

“Heeloooo?” Armin says back. 

“Arminnnn! How are you, my guy?” You smile to yourself. It’s been awhile since you’ve spoken to your best friend. You and Armin were childhood friends, and though he moved a few states away for a job opportunity you two stayed close. You didn’t want the friendship to dissipate just because he moved away, once he was settled into his new place you two set up a good schedule to have weekly calls in discord together. Usually on Friday nights as it was easier for both of you, but for the past few weeks your guys’ schedules weren’t lining up causing your usual Friday’s to be canceled. Normal, annoying adult things getting in the way.  

“I’ve been good! Just busy with work, and all that. How have you been?”

"Same honestly. Just work, work and more work." You smile to yourself, still fidgeting with the pen continuing, "How's the job been, big shot?" 

After college Armin got offered a job as a marine biologist and got to work on the water a lot, which he always had a love for. You were happy for your friend. 

He laughs into the mic, "Man, it's been so good. Like I knew I'd like the job, but it blew my expectations out of the water honestly. No pun intended there." He lets out a small laugh again, continuing, "How about you? How's your job been going? Any new projects?" 

You and Armin both attended the same college together, but ended up taking didn't classes, you majoring in web design. Your job allowed for you to live anywhere and work from home, while Armin had to move. You almost wondered why you didn't go with your friend, but you still had commitments in your home town. 

"Yeah, we just took on a project for a big company we work with. We're pretty much doing a complete makeover of their website so it's gonna be a lot. We just started this week, but so far so good. Crossing my fingers it stays that way." You cross your fingers in front of your face. 

Of course I’d fucking do that. 

Good god girl. 

You two continued on for a few hours just catching up with life, talking about nothing specific as the conversation flowed between you two. 

Fuck, I have missed this so much. I've missed him so much. 

"How are you and Annie doing?" Armin and Annie had been together since your guys' first year of college and were going strong.

"It's been good, the distance has been a little hard but she'll be moving here with me soon so I think it'll be a lot better when she gets here." 

"Yeah, long distance can be tough I'm sure." You frown to yourself feeling bad for your friend, continuing, "But I'm glad you guys have stuck it out. It’ll be worth it once she moves out there with you." 

"Yeah I agree honestly. You and her should make a trip out here sometime, I think it'd be fun." You can hear the smile in his tone.

You let out a huff, "So I can be the third wheel? Come on Armin." You laugh. "I do want to come out and visit though, you know I'd come out either way." You reassure your friend. 

"Just means you need to get yourself a man then." He laughs, you can hear him typing something on his keyboard in the background. 

You sigh, "Yeah but the men here aren't that great honestly. You've seen them." 

Armin lets out a low laugh, "I have indeed, but I have someone I want to introduce you too. Doesn't need to be anything more, more of a I'd like to introduce him to our small friend group. He just started at my job, and we get along really well. I think you'd like him." 

You smile, "Yeah I'd be down to meet him whenever." 

You hear more typing in the background, "He said he's busy tonight, unfortunately, so maybe tomorrow if everyone is free." 

You pause before answering, wondering if you had anything to do tomorrow. 

Do laundry, dishes. 

Clean the apartment up cause this place is looking a mess. 

Uhh.. anything else? 

I don't think so?

"I've got a few things to do tomorrow just around the place but I'll be down for whenever." 

"Awesome, I'll reach out to him and then let you know. It is getting late though, so I'll probably let you know tomorrow, sound good?" 

You look at the bottom right of your monitor, 11:30PM, yeah it was getting late and you're pretty tired after an exhausting week. 

"Sounds good, just one quick question though." You pause waiting for Armin to say something but he takes too long to answer so you continue, "Does this coworker have a name? Orrrrrrr?" You laugh. 

Armin lets out a small laugh, "Yeah, sorry. His name is Aaron with an E." 

You raise an eyebrow to yourself. 

Aaron with an E? What.. 

Almost like Armin read your mind, "It's not spelled like normal Aaron, it's spelled e r e n." 

Makes sense.

You nod your head to yourself understanding what he's saying, "Gotcha. Eren. I like that spelling. Thank you for clearing that up cause I would have completely spelled his name wrong and Aaron with an E just confused me." You let out a laugh. 

Armin laughs back, "I figured so. But, imma head out for the night. I'll let you know about tomorrow." 

You two said your goodnights and you left the voice channel. You sigh as you turn your computer off, almost like a loneliness settling over you after telling your friend bye. 

You had other friends, sure. But sometimes you just couldn't help but feel lonely with your best friend now being almost ten hours away. Of course you had Hitch and Annie, but the person who has been through the most with you was farther away now. 

Fucking dude had to leave for his job. Maaannnn. I should have left when I had the chance.

You walk into your kitchen, running your finger across the cold countertop stopping at the fridge for a drink before walking back to your bedroom getting ready for bed. 

As you settle in your bed for the night you're scrolling through tiktoks when your phone goes off, displaying a discord message from Armin. 

Armin: Eren said he's free tomorrow evening if we all wanna hang out in discord for a while :) 

You: sounds good, you know I'll be there. What time?? 

Armin's discord status went offline after he sent that message, assuming he wouldn't respond, you put your phone on the charger and drifted off to sleep.

You're woken up suddenly from loud rumbling outside of your window, your hands coming up to your eyes to rub the sleep away. 

You sit up looking out your window. It's gray out, heavy rain filled clouds spread across the sky as rumbles are heard along with rain hitting your window. It's almost calming. 

"Good morning Beanie." You smile as your cat lays at the foot of your bed sleeping, paying you or the storms no mind. 

You reach over grabbing your phone off the nightstand checking the time. "Hhhmm, it's only nine. Nice." Though you wouldn't complain if you were able to sleep in, sleeping in sometimes made you feel like the day was being wasted away, especially since you had stuff to do before this evening. 

You get out of bed, stretching and fixing your blankets making sure to not disturb Beanie who has made no efforts to move since you woke up. 

You make your way into the kitchen, starting your morning cup of coffee as you load the dishwasher, playing your favorite podcast over the Alexa in your kitchen. 

As you finish putting your last dish away, you hear for phone ding. Pressing the power button on your phone to turn the screen on, you smile at your lock screen as it's a picture of Beanie sleeping on your couch as the sun rays kept her warm. You see a discord message from Armin, you click on the notification and unlocking your phone. 

Armin: How does 7pm sound? 

You: sounds good to me, you can invite him to the server whenever you want btw 

You lock your phone, setting it on the counter as you start cleaning up the kitchen. Your mind wanders elsewhere as you mindlessly clean up. 

Hopefully he's nice. 

He's gotta be nice if he's friends with Armin, right? 

Duh. 

Armin wouldn't be friends with an asshole. 

Lowkey a little nervous. 

Eh, I'm sure it'll be fine. 

Meeting new people was never really in your comfort zone. You found it hard to spark up the "meeting new people" type of conversation, the "what do you do for work?" Or, "where did you go to school?" Shit like that. Obviously it's good to know those things, but you enjoyed conversations that were on a deeper level. 

Tell me your hobbies, your favorite band, what you do in your free time. Stuff that tells me about who I'm trying to get to know, not just the stale same ol' same ol' questions. 

You sigh to yourself hoping Eren was a bit more interesting than just wanting to answer all those boring questions or even worse, ask them to you. 

Can you say …. 

B to the O to the R to the ing 

Boring.

The day went rather quickly as you kept finding more things to do around your apartment, and before you knew it it was dinner time. 

"Beanie, dinner time baby!" You weren't too sure where your cat had been most of the day but you knew they'd come around once they heard food hitting their food bowl. 

You drop the food into the bowl, the hard pieces hitting the bowl, "Right on queue." As you see Beanie sprinting from your bedroom into the kitchen as if they haven't eaten in days. 

Typical cat behavior 

Good god 

You laugh out loud to yourself as you open the fridge pulling out your ingredients for dinner. 

"Alexa, play my feels good playlist on spotify." You say to Alexa, as she starts playing songs from that playlist. 

You spend your dinner making time singing into your spoon in between stirring the food that was cooking on your stove. Getting way into it and losing track of time.  

"Ah, shit." You say to yourself looking at the time on your stove. Seven right on the dot, and you still had just a few minutes left of cooking. You grab your phone off the counter, opening discord to message Armin. 

You: don't be mad but I mmaayyyyyyy or may not have misjudged how long it'll take for me to cook dinner. I'll be there in 5 promise 

You leave your phone on as you do one last stir of the food, and grab a plate from the cabinet next to you. As you're dumping your food onto the plate you hear your phone go off. 

You mumble the message Armin sent you, rolling your eyes, "Yeah, yeah. I'm comingggggggg." You say to yourself as if he could hear you. 

You set your plate down at your desk and power on your pc. Grabbing your favorite blanket, sitting down and putting your headset on. 

You hear the ding in your headset as you join the discord, it's silent but you notice Eren is muted. 

"Uh, hello?" You say stuffing a fork full of food in your mouth. 

"Oh hey, didn't hear you join, sorry. Was watching a video. How'd your dinner turn out?" Armin asked. 

Your mouth is still half full of food, covering your mouth, "It's yummy." You let out a small laugh. 

You hear Armin laughing as well. 

"What’d you make?" Your eyes shoot up to look at your screen, you hadn't even noticed Eren unmuted himself, his voice almost surprising you. 

"Ope." You laugh at your own surprise. "I made potatoes, peppers, sausage and crack two eggs in it. It's like breakfast food but for dinner I guess." You giggle again. 

"It's really good, honestly." Armin chimes in. 

Eren lets out an almost nervous sounding laugh, "It sounds pretty good." 

Okay, well at least it's not just you who seems nervous. 

"So Eren," Armin starts, "This is my best friend (y/n), we've been buds since we were kids." Armin introduces you to Eren. 

You can hear the smile in Armin's tone, "And (y/n) this is Eren." 

After introductions, conversation actually came easily between the three of you. There were a few questions of Eren asking about your job, but they seemed more like curiosity than anything. You happily filled him in on what you did and how you loved to work from home to which he said he was jealous of. One reason being the convenience and secondly because that meant he could travel. 

You smile to yourself, "So you like to travel then?" 

"If I had more time and money, I'd love to travel more. When I was younger my family did travel a good bit but now not so much." His voice almost sounded sad as he ended his sentence. 

Family talk with Eren is a sensitive subject. 

Got it. 

"But," He continued, "Once I get stable at this job, I will one hundred percent be traveling more." 

"Didn't you tell me you wanted to go to Germany one day?" Armin chimes in, he's been surprisingly quiet after the introductions but you figured he didn't want to interrupt the easy flowing conversation between you and Eren. 

He let out a small laugh, "Yeah I do. My family is mostly German, and figured going there for that reason alone would be cool." 

You nod your head to yourself, "That'd be sick honestly. I hope you get to do that!" Excitement filling your voice. 

"Yeah, me too." He lets out a relieved sigh. 

All three of you ended up staying in the voice channel for several more hours. Sharing stories of you and Armin growing up, stuff that happened in high school, Eren sharing the same about himself. 

You could confidently say this was the smoothest time you've had meeting someone in years. Usually you were too awkward, or didn't know how to fill the dead air. But with Eren, it just seemed to flow between you two. You liked that about him. 

After saying your goodbyes, you leave your office feeling almost warm and fuzzy on the inside. Relieved that it wasn't the same feeling of loneliness that washed over you yesterday after you and Armin chatted. 

You smiled to yourself as you got your glass of water for the evening, and putting your dirty plate into the sink being left for the morning. 

After finishing your nightly routine, you snuggle into your sheets turning on your phone screen. To your surprise you had a discord friend request from Eren and a message from him. 

After accepting the friend request you got into his messages, 

Eren: Hey, just wanted to say thank you for this evening. I know I barely know you, but tonight with you and Armin was really nice and well needed for me. 

Eren: hopefully that's not too weird to say.. 

Eren: oh well, lol. Thank you again, hope we can chat soon :) 

Your heart feels warm and fuzzy again as you smile at his messages. You were honestly glad you weren't the only one who felt that way. 

You start typing out your response to him. 

You: hhiiiii! not weird at all to say so please don't think that. It was super nice, and well needed for me too! I'm sure we'll talk soon :) 

Do I tell him goodnight? 

Is that too weird? He didn't even say goodnight. 

Your fingers are hovering over your keyboard. 

Girl, he didn't even say it. What are you doing? 

Your fingers clearly doing whatever they want as they move across your keyboard on your phone. 

You: goodnight eren :) 

Ope.

You already hit send too late now. 

I mean you could delete it. 

Should I? 

Nah, don't be a pussy. 

Your phone vibrates in your hand.  Eren: goodnight (y/n) :)

The next morning you’re woken up to your alarm, resulting in your groaning out in tiredness as you grab your phone off the nightstand turning the alarm off. Once the alarm is off you’re looking around your room just taking in the peace and quiet. The sun's warm morning rays hitting your bedroom casting a pretty light throughout the room. 

You reach back over to your nightstand, grabbing your phone and holding it in front of your face. You see a message from Hitch, and a discord message from Armin as well. You unlock your phone, rubbing your eye with one hand as you open your text messages to see what Hitch said. 

You met Hitch in high school, and you two have stayed friends since. She was a ride or die type of friend, always there when you needed her - being a shoulder to cry on, someone to vent to whenever you needed it. Of course you did the same for her. 

Bestiiieee: goodmorning beautiful. What are you up to today? Wanna do something? 

You: good morning my beautiful friend. i should be pretty free today.

Bestiiieee: I just wanted to get some lunch with you if thats cool, ive got some stuff to do today so i can’t spend my whole day with you :( 

You laugh at her response.

You: how daaareee you not spend every waking moment today with me! :( but i’d be down for some lunch! 

You close out of your message and open discord to read Armin’s message.  

Armin: good morning! 

Armin: so what’d you think of eren? You two seemed to have hit it off pretty well

What could you say, he made you feel comfortable. 

You: good morning :) yeah i liked eren, he seems really nice. Hopefully he wants to stay in the friend group 

You go back to your text messages and finish making plans with Hitch, after getting out of bed and getting your morning coffee. You sip on your hot drink looking out your window that looks down to the streets below, the sun still shining nicely through that window washing over you with warmth. You smile, looking down and seeing Beanie sitting on the floor next to your feet looking out the window. 

“You like the sun too, huh?” You reach out and pet her head as she starts purring, standing up and rubbing her sides against your legs. You sit on the floor with Beanie as you continue to drink your coffee and keep petting her. 

“I love you so much you preeettttyyy baby.” You kiss her head, getting up off the floor, setting the cup down on your countertop and heading into the bathroom to get ready for your lunch with Hitch.

“So, how are you and Marlo doing?” You give a small smirk to your friend who sits across the table from you. 

Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink at the mention of her boyfriend. She smiles, “Ugh! Babes - we’ve been so good.” A big smile still on her face as she continues, “He’s just so sweet, and kind to me. Treats me how I should be treated, and it’s a nice change.” 

You smile at her, taking a sip of your drink before speaking, “Well Hitch, I’m really glad to hear that honestly. If anyone deserves it, it would be you.” You point your fork at her. 

She raises an eyebrow letting out a small hum, “Yeah, but you do too girl. When was the last time you had someone? Hm?” 

She was right, it had been way too long since your last relationship. But your last relationship wasn’t a good one, he was mentally abusive to you, made you feel worthless - like you didn’t matter to anyone and it put you in a dark place. Though you got out safely, he still left his effect on your brain and your confidence in yourself. You knew it was stupid to let that idiot still have this hold on you, but healing and forgetting about that asshole was easier said than done. It was true that it kept you from having any form of romantic relationship, just too hard for you to let down those walls and to share yourself with people. 

Your eyes look down at your food, picking your fork through your food. “I know, just has been hard since Charley. I’m really fucking trying Hitch, but fuck. It’s been hard.” You feel pines in your eyes as tears gather at the corner of your eyes, you look up at Hitch offering her a sad smile. 

Her happy, curious face changed into sadness as she looked into your eyes. She reaches her hand over the table grabbing your hand, holding yours in hers, her thumb rubbing across the top of your hand. “I know babe. I know it’s been hard.” She searches your eyes for any type of reaction, but you just simply keep listening to her, waiting. She continues, “You will find someone who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Someone will come along, and will give you that confidence about breaking down those walls and showing them who you really are. You know you’re a great person, right?” She squeezes your hand, “We all love you. But,” She looks into your eyes and offers a small smile, “You need to give people that chance to. You don’t get to know someone overnight.” 

You look down, your free hand under the table grabbing the bottom of your shirt hoping to relieve some of the anxiety you were feeling. 

You sigh, “I know, I know. I get it, I really fucking do Hitch. But it’s been so hard. It’s just easier to not get closer to anyone anymore.” 

Hitch lets go of your hand, leaning back in her chair. “I know, I get it. But promise me one thing.” 

“And what’s that?” You already knew what she was going to ask you. 

She’s going to ask for you to at least try. 

I’m sure she’ll tell me again at some point. 

God, you’re a mess, huh? 

“Can you at least try to let people in that you meet if you think they’re worth the time? Please?” She offers a small smile to you, eyes flicking between yours. 

You nod your head, “Only if I think they’re worth it. Otherwise,” You pause, raising your eyebrow, “They aren’t worth the effort.” You let out a small laugh. 

Hitch smiles at you, “Okay, fair enough.” She laughs. 

Do I say something to her about Eren? 

Like .. we’re just friends, but he made me feel so comfortable with just the short amount of time we chatted. 

Fuck. 

She’d find out eventually from Armin, right? 

Might as well tell her either way. 

“So,” You start, cheeks feeling a little red as Hitch raises an eyebrow to you, “Armin introduced me to one of his coworkers yesterday in discord, and it surprisingly went really well.” 

“Well of course it did, you’re a hard person to not like. But how was this coworker? He pass the vibe check?” She takes a sip of her drink. 

You smile at her, “Yeah I think so. He was so easy to talk to, conversation between the three of us just flowed super easy. His name is Eren.” 

She raises an eyebrow to you, looking down at her drink as she laughs. “Why you got that look on your face, Hitch?” 

The smile on her face continues to stay, “No reason.” She giggles, continuing, “I’m glad that he seemed cool though, that’s always good to hear.” 

You roll your eyes, “Hitch, we literally just met. He just seems really nice, it’s nothing more.” 

She nods her head as if she doesn’t believe the last part, smiling, “Either way. Glad you three all got along. Do you know what he looks like?” 

Of course she’d ask that. 

You smile at her, “Nah. But if he works with Armin, probably some nerdy looking dude if I’m guessing.” You laugh, though you were sure there were all types of people at Armin’s job, you really couldn’t picture anyone looking different than Armin really.    

She shrugs her shoulders, “He could look god tier for all you know.” 

You look at her, returning the shrug smiling, “Yeah, who knows.”

A/N: thank you for reading this new fanfic, was literally making dinner and this came to mind and i had to act on it. hopefully yall like it, and thank you for reading - pretty excited about this one. see yall in the next chapter.

[waddlehekk]

Shin Lupin III Chapter 133 “Eye of the Beholder” (and me rambling about Goemon’s swords)

The original name of the chapter is  ラショウ門  or “Rashomon”. The title can be translated to “Rasho Gate”. You can think of it as a pun on “Goemon”, but it is also the title of the movie Rashomon released in 1950. Monkey Punch was a huge fan of movies and even collected them, so he based this chapter off it.

The movie takes place at the ruined Rashomon city gate where there is a downpour.

A woodcutter and a priest sit beneath the gate to keep dry, and then a commoner arrives.

The priest and the commoner then question the bandit, the wife, the dead samurai, and the woodcutter on the assault that occurred at the gate. However, they all tell contradicting stories.

In the case of this chapter, it is the arrival of Goemon, who leaves behind a sword that mysteriously hangs beneath a scroll.

I’ll refer to the guy who questions them as the “commoner.” They all tell contradicting stories. The “woodcutter” says Goemon left the sword and then slashed 2 assailants. He did not kill them, and so they ran off.

The “bandit” claims Goemon got scared by the lightning, threw the sword, and ran off. Amazingly, the thrown sword hangs beneath the scroll.

The “wife” claims Goemon sliced 2 pillars while swinging his sword towards the scroll, and left it hanging there.

All of the people lie out of selfishness, like in the movie, and so the commoner is unsure of what to think of it. He reveals he wishes to challenge Goemon with his uncuttable skin, and he asks his master for advice on how to tell the truth.

The master tells him that Goemon has already seen his weakness. He tells the commoner to try standing in front of the sword that is hanging, and so when the commoner walks up to the sword, he is struck in the eyes.

His weakness is that he is blind. He couldn’t see the sword when he walked into it, and he couldn’t see for himself what Goemon did previously.

The chapter is still very different from the movie, but what I really like about the movie was that they are interrupted during the questioning by the crying of an abandoned baby with a jewel, and the commoner steals the jewel and runs off. The priest now has lost faith in humanity after seeing all of these people do terrible things, but when the woodcutter decides to care for the baby, he realizes that the woodcutter was telling the truth, and his faith in humanity is restored.

This might be me overthinking but I think that maybe this chapter is a continuation of Chapter 120, “Sharpened Steel”.

If somebody could find a higher quality image of this colored version that’d be awesome.

In this chapter, Goemon wishes to acquire the Magic Sword that hangs mysteriously.

With each attempt, however, he fails as the sword has a will of its own that allows it to come out of its scabbard, slash Goemon, and return.

Lupin says that Goemon has wanted the sword for a very long time, and yet after he acquires it at the end of the chapter, it is never to be seen again. Why is that?

I saw somebody point out that with each of the 5 times the sword slashes at Goemon and Jigen, not once does it cause any fatal damage when it easily could.

The sword may have a will of its own, and so it refuses to kill like Goemon always did in the past.

I’ve talked before about how the events of Chapters 31 and 100 brought Goemon to becoming a cold killer for the sake of protecting others, and so Goemon not using this sword may be a sign that he has changed, and so a sword that refuses to kill will be of no use to him. The sword represents Goemon’s old self.

So, where did this sword go? I believe Goemon left it behind in Chapter 133, the one I just talked about. Goemon realized the weakness of the commoner, and Goemon, out of the kindness he still has, left him the Magic Sword so that it could move on its own will to act on what he cannot see. Maybe with its own will, the sword points to the commoner’s eyes to show his weakness.

The guard of the sword is gone when he leaves it behind, however, and I think Goemon removed it on purpose. The reason why Goemon’s swords, the Takemitsu he uses in the original manga, Ryusei, and the sword he leaves behind, all have no guard and are shaped like that is because MP based the design off of the sword in the 1962 movie Zatoichi. Even the way Goemon slashes, his Iai technique, is based off the movie, and the Japanese wiki for Goemon supports this.

I’ve seen a rumor from Japanese fans that MP, when thinking of creating Goemon, originally thought he should be blind. Zatoichi is the story of a blind swordsman who uses a sword just like Goemon’s, and it is shaped like that so that it can act also as a cane. In the original manga, there were times where Goemon would rest on his sword as if it were one. I believe that Goemon removed the guard so that the commoner could also use it as a cane.

On a somewhat related note, I want to bring up Takemitsu. Takemitsu is a bamboo sword that Goemon uses. As a result it is very light and weak, a sword not useable for killing, and due to that it helps highlight Goemon’s incredible strength. Even with this sword, he is still able to cut through steel through the use of the Secret Iron Cutting Technique, and he cuts through other hard objects too.

I realize that in Shin Lupin, there was a part in Chapter 49, “Goemon Star” where Lupin swapped Ryusei with the old man’s sword so that the old man can win against Goemon in a fight. Just before Goemon slices at the straw bundle containing Ryusei, however, he slashes another straw bundle that contains steel, and yet he is still able to cut it. There was no time for Lupin to swap the swords in-between these 2 slashes.

Also, Goemon states Takemitsu was passed down his family for generations, and yet in Shin Lupin, he abandons it for Ryusei, the iron-cutting sword made of a meteor. I talked before about how Goemon rejected some of his past culture and accepted new ideas, and his Ryusei is representative of that too.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digiweek 2022 Drabbles/Ficlets - Red Shades Filling Up My Heart

One year ago, @dutchforstrangers​​ had decided to dedicate the entirety of Digiweek to a lovely little polyamorous OT3 fanfiction with the title “Shades of Red”. Even if I went into Digiweek 2022 pretty much unprepared, I’m still aiming to pay homage to the story by taking a look at how things may have developed afterwards...

🧡💜❤️  

Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Chapter 2: Relationship

Summary: Koushirou is treating Mimi for dinner, thanking her for all the support she’s been offering him throughout his journey to discover his feelings for his two best friends, encouraging him to shoot for the stars and for his romantic happiness. However, the platonic relationships in his life are just as important to him - and now he has the means to put that into words as well.

Characters: Koushirou Izumi, Mimi Tachikawa

Ship: Platonic Koumi, romantic Taikoura

Main POV: Koushirou Izumi

Genre: Friendship, Romance

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1277

“Well then – cheers!”

 With that, Mimi clinked her cocktail glass against Koushirou’s, smiling her brightest smile.

 “Congrats on scoring the highest possible score there, Koushirou-kun! Or shall I say… Scores?”

 Koushirou himself couldn’t help but sigh at that pun, but a somewhat embarrassed grin was forming on his lips as well.

 “Mimi-san…”

 It was a happy occasion after all. He had volunteered to treat Mimi for dinner, should he ever manage to confess to Taichi – and Sora as well for that matter, but the main objective had been to convince Taichi that his feelings had not been a one-sided deal all along. Mimi had encouraged him – and Sora – to go for the Valentine’s Day confession and was now earning her price for believing in her friends so thoroughly. And loudly.

 “What, I just want you to know how happy I am for you!,” she pouted at his lowkey-ness, wanting to celebrate having his feelings successfully reciprocated after a lot of second-guessing. “And proud as well – who would have guessed you would actually go for such an extravagant goal! Falling for and going for two people at once… Truly impressive.”

 He coughed at that remark as she gleefully dug into her sundae once more. Just like Taichi and Sora had pointed out, Mimi had a sense for her friends’ romantic affairs…

 “Well, you made it pretty apparent that you’ve been having quite the… Colourful impression of us.”

 “Pffff, please, can you blame me for that?,” she giggled, pointing her spoon at him in a dramatic manner. “You guys were unbearable to watch sometimes, each and every one of you, no exceptions… And I’m still mad at you for not having told me about all of this sooner.”

 It had been quite a journey indeed – by now, Koushirou had realized how exasperated the others must have been to witness the entire thing unfold in front of their eyes. With Koushirou and Sora having been dancing around each other – figuratively and physically –, while Taichi had silently suffered around them, all of them too oblivious and dense to see how much they had hurt one another in the process, despite having wanted each other for the longest time…

 “What was I supposed to tell you about when I wasn’t even aware of what was going on myself?,” Koushirou confessed in a defeated tone – and was almost certain that Mimi was this close to throwing the spoon at him, hadn’t they been in a public place.

 “EXACTLY THAT! Taichi-san must have been just as baffled to see you being that close to Sora-san… And that Spain trip!” Once again, she dramatically rolled her eyes, followed by a loud laugh. “I still can’t believe you thought it was appropriate to book just one hotel room and one bed without having any ulterior motives there…”

 Hearing that, he felt heat creeping into his cheeks and so he took a big bite from the pancake in front of him, trying hard not to remember that instance too vividly.

 “And I’ve told you that my only ulterior motive had been to save costs – the spot where you hit me still hurts sometimes by the way.”

 “Well deserved! Sleeping in the same room and same bed as beautiful, gorgeous, stunning Sora-san – just how?!”

 And thus, the heat increased even more. Looking back on it, it obviously had made him notice Sora more thoroughly, having been physically close and comfortable in her company, watching her from decreased distance, seeing her smile, her happiness, with completely different eyes… Heart fluttering included.

 “When we were sixteen, you couldn't even look at me without turning into a tomato – just like you do now!"

 "I was sixteen, like you just said!," he countered, raising his voice, causing her expression to turn mischievous. Through years of experience, he was aware how much she enjoyed getting under his skin, challenging and teasing him, especially about his former crush on her – and he was also terribly aware that he fell for it each and every time.

 "Seriously though, you had been rambling about this trip for days, told me you were planning on doing loads of sightseeing. I’ve literally never seen your eyes lighting up at the idea of going dancing with Sora-san, you used to be stiff as a board! And every second sentence was also about how you’d wanted to show all the sights and stuff to Taichi-san...,” Mimi mused, still sounding highly amused – but also fond of the memory, enjoying her friend being so obviously in love with his two best friends. “If I didn’t have my suspicions about you being a bisexual disaster before, that would have been the final straw, unbelievable."

 This time, Koushirou couldn’t unsee the softness in her expression and automatically returned it. He really must have been unbearable after all, having been so fed up with Taichi closing himself off that he had continuously rambled about him, how frustrated he had been with him, how much he had missed him…

But before he could even reply to Mimi, she elaborated – with words that made his heart jump a little:

“… And now look at you. You finally know what you want, who you want… And you went for it. That is truly amazing and admirable, Koushirou-kun.”

 “I have to thank you for that,” he responded almost immediately – and thus catching her off guard in return.

 “Awww, I didn’t even do anything, really.” Mimi just waved her hand at that, obviously flattered, before emptying the ice cream glass in front of her. “Playing Amor is definitely a profession I’d consider, but honestly? You guys just needed a nudge. And… Being in love suits you.”

 He could tell that she was speaking honestly here, not wanting to take too much credit, but he also knew her well enough by now to pick up on the little things. There had been a time when he hadn’t been able to deal with her well, not knowing how to reply to her, how to tend to her emotions, just as she hadn’t had the capacities to deal with his rationality either. They had come a long way since then, with a lot of ups and downs in between.

 “No, I mean it,” he spoke from a place of honesty just as much as she had done, wanting to underline how much it all meant to him. “I’d say that… Relationships of that caliber have never been my biggest strength and it took a lot to face all of this. You should be aware of that… First hand, so to speak. I wouldn’t have been able to understand myself as well as I do now, or be able to… Say these things out loud, if it hadn’t been for your support. So… The bisexual disaster in me is just incredibly thankful.”

 Once he had finished his speech, he already felt the urge to apologize for it – because her eyes were, without a doubt, shimmering with tears. But again, he had no chance to intervene, as she actually threw a tissue at him this time, babbling enthusiastically:

 “Awww, you’re so cute when you get open like that! Sora-san and Taichi-san are super lucky, hehe…”

 “I’m just as lucky. To have them… And you as my friend, Mimi-san.”

 “See, being in love really suits you, it makes you more cheesy as well! I’m thankful too though,” she admitted, chuckling, as she wiped a tear away. “Speaking of food… Shall we order another course?”

 With a heart full of softness and thankfulness, Koushirou handed her an unused tissue now, knowing that he had found the right words eventually.

 “It’s my treat, so go ahead.”

 “Yay!”

[elorrabean]

ao3 wrapped [writer edition]

My own reflection on my writing in 2022.

1. How many words have you written this year?

My ao3 total is 134,675 words, but 14,000 was from prior years for a wip I finally finished this year, so 120,675. 

2. How many works did you publish this year?

23 published, although a couple were written last year for zines and published on ao3 in 2022. 

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Amuse-bouche, because it’s the longest piece of writing I’ve ever planned out, written, and then posted on a regular schedule. 

4. What work of yours has the most hits?

Also Amuse-bouche. 

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Looking back over which fics had the most comment threads, I suppose it was Absence Makes the Arse Grow Rounder. I think that was because it had 5 chapters and I posted them all one day after another, with some slight cliffhangers in the middle and reveals toward the end. But also maybe Melody and Bassline, based on kudos, but that’s probably because it’s one of the kind of few fics I posted this year that didn’t have smut (also it didn’t have any kinky stuff). 

6. Favorite title you used.

I can’t decide between the several pun titles, and the several titles referencing memes, and the several titles including the word ‘gravy.’ 

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I use song lyrics occasionally. I only titled something with lyrics once this year. It was a gift fic for someone who likes song lyric titles and I used a Mumford & Sons lyric. 

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

18 of the 23 fics I posted were Thommy fics. 

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Thommy. 

10. What work was the quickest to write?

This is kind of hard to answer because I had some fics that were under 2,000 words and I also had much longer ones. But probably in terms of the ratio of word count to how many days/weeks whatever it took to write, it was either It’s Called Fashion, Look It Up (which was 2,269 words and basically written in a day) or So Tame My Flesh and Fix My Eyes (which was 12,680 words and written in a couple weeks). 

11. What work took you the longest to write?

The years-long wip I finished this year, Anyplace or Anywhere or Anytime. 

12. How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

About 10 or so that I’m motivated to work on, at various stages from an idea with an outline to more than 10,000 words already written. 

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

Amuse-bouche. 

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

First Look, which was a teeny piece written for a zine. 

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

NONE. And that feels really good. Also I now have a policy not to start posting multi-chapter fics until I at least have a full rough draft of the entire thing, so I don’t plan on ever carrying something over from one year to another again. 

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

“Alternate Universe - Modern Setting” with 18. 

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

I had so much fun writing from Jimmy’s point of view this year. I think I said the same thing last year, but yeah, it’s just really easy and fun to write from his point of view, so he’s my favorite. 

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Out of what I posted this year, it was writing that little bit from Caspar’s point of view for the Caspar zine, but that was written last year. I struggled a bit to finish the final few Sylvain chapters for Anyplace or Anywhere or Anytime, for fics I was actually writing this year. 

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

I still have a lot of ideas for Thommy at various time periods in canon and a couple more modern AUs for them. 

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

It must be one of the earlier fics in the series I’ve been writing for a year and just finished, because I had to keep referring back to what I’d already written. Probably either Absence Makes the Arse Grow Rounder or You’re the Chips to My Gravy. 

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

951. 

22. Which work has the most comments?

Amuse-bouche had the most comment threads (and the most comments, I’m almost completely sure). 

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

No, although I did write something based on an idea someone else had but said I should go ahead and write, and I gifted it to them. 

24. Did you write any gifts this year?

5 of my fics were gifts, either for exchanges or just because. 

25. Did you receive any gifts this year?

I got 2. 

26. What’s your most common category?

It’s M/M, but I think it’s interesting how that splits along fandom lines in my writing. For the other fandoms I’ve written for I write more gen or M/F. 

27. What do you listen to while writing?

If I listen to anything it’s soundtrack music (either video games, tv shows or movies) because lyrics often distract me when I’m trying to compose my own words. 

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

This is really hard to pick. I guess I could narrow it down to either Amuse-bouche, or So Tame My Flesh and Fix My Eyes, or More is More. 

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

This is even harder, but I really love this from Amuse-bouche so I’ll go with it instead of searching and searching for other lines/passages: Thomas’s face opened, and Jimmy witnessed the moment that a part of him dared to hope. Thomas still didn’t quite believe it, but it was like trying to tamp down the sunrise: the hope and love shone through, inevitable and unyielding. 

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Essentially the biggest surprise was realizing that getting from an outline to a 10K wip is something that I can actually do now (at least I can if I have an idea that would warrant a fic that long) in a reasonable amount of time. I used to really struggle to take a more substantial idea that was going to be longer than a few thousand words and get it to the point where it felt like I was delving into everything I wanted to express and doing it justice.

Credit for the questions here.

[calyssmarviss]

Spoilers for Obi-Wan Kenobi part I

Ok let’s go

Yeah, let’s put in a recap just in case the Prequel Trilogy doesn’t haunt you

“Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi,”

featured in “the top ten sentences that break my heart”

So Hayden being hyped for this was just preparing me for how this is All About Anakin Again

God they were both so hot in RotS

Pun non intended for once

HAAAAA LETS GO

show Order 66 as many time as possible challenge

Yeah those kids are dead

Bye kids

SAND TITLE CARD you’re so sexy

Wait i have a great idea: every opening should be another Order 66 scene i want to see all over that Temple as it falls down

SPACE SHIP SHADOW my beloved

Idk why space ships, especially big ones, make me incredibly excited and a not insignificant part of why I’m a fan of this franchise comes from the fuck you big ships it has. Yes i did like the Last Jedi a lot. ‘cause it had the biggest ship.

Inquisitor Squad! I spent like 2 hours earning them all in GoH a couple weeks ago now I’m gonna see if their attacks are accurate lmao

Another reason why I’m a fan of star wars is that the villains know how to dress

Yeah my dudes, you get why the dark side is fun

“You know who we are.”

“Yeah bro, you’re all dressed like an evil elite force and not the ones wearing red.”

Hehehehe evil monologue let’s go

LOL

THIS FIXATION WITH KENOBI WELCOME TO THE CLUB THIRD SISTER

What is that.

I don’t wanna say Krayt because i don’t know much about them besides that they’re dragons on tatooine and at least some of them are black but Krayt? 👀 (please it’s important to me because of themes)

ARE THEY PROCESSING IT

That meat looks good tho

HE’S HERE

HELLO THERE

OH I MISSED YOU SO

you look good with a knife ngl

scratch that he just looks good in general oh my god i need to find a pirate version of this i want to take all the screenshots

The Obi-Wan Show Episode1: Obi-Wan starts an union

Meat Wars reborn but this time it’s Meat Workers War

No i not will elaborate, know your crack

He’s so beautiful i missed him so much i wanna die

@forcearama i know your pain

SAD MAN IN A CAVE TIME

SMELLY MAN IN A CAVE 😂

Jawas are the best actually. Love how they talk.

They sound like sped up anime characters

“I’ve heard the Jedi are all but extinct.

Courtesy of my best friend.”

Anakin is so bad for business.

Welcome to the stinky wizard club Obes.

He’s still dreaming about him 10 years later no one touches me.

*makes miserable noise at Anakin laughing in the speeder and then the i hate you*

LISTEN

I KNOW ALL THAT ALREADY

WHY IS IT HITTING ME SO HARD

Part of me is like “answer the phone Qui-Gon” the other is like “no that’s good i don’t want to see him anyway and also Obi-Wan needs to be alone and miserable because i love angst”.

Baby Luke!

Oh that’s hitting him hard

*claps gleefully* yes more pain

It’s like he’s paying for child maintenance after his divorce

Oooooh he called him master of course he knew him everyone knew him

“You were once a great Jedi”

Yeah 😭

Is that Alderaan?

Yes!

Tiny Leia!

“Try to not make anyone cry”

lmao that’s daddy Vader’s girl

And that is Anakin and Padmé’s girl <3

Do they have binary classes or did she just learn to interpret by having a droid around from a young age

I’ve got to read up on that it’s important for fanfic reasons

Leia and Lola

Don’t give promises you can’t keep babygirl

You know when we used to talk about a Kenobi movie all i wanted from it was seeing Obi-Wan be sad in the desert and today I’m being finally fed.

Owen vs Ben

“Like you trained his father? Anakin is dead, Ben. I won’t let you make the same mistake twice.”

Might as well stab him in the heart it would hurt less.

Cut off hand count: 1

Is Reva’s Force sense tingling?

Hate to break it to you Reva but Owen’s not dying for nine more years.

Today in Everyone Hates Tatooine

Today in Everyone Wants Obi-Wan

What did he do to her lol

“What I’m owed.”

Like what? Revenge? (Cause her name is Reva) Loads of credits? A promotion? Darth Vader’s attention?

“I didn’t do it for you.”

I knew you would say that you dumb fucking farmer (affectionate) guess what he was probably not saying thank you for himself either

“I didn’t come here to end slavery”,

said most people in Star Wars.

“Then i guess i don’t need manners when I’m talking to you” nice burn.

“You’re not even a real Organa” nah she’s a Skywalker, which is worse

She’s reading your mind cuz

“You have to rise above Leia”

wait til the third trilogy she’ll rise alright

She’s so dramatic i love her

I wonder if her cousin gets blown up with the planet

See, promises she can’t keep

“I know who she’s like”

me too

Bounty hunters?

Who you gonna call?

He’s our only hoe after all 😌

“I’m not who i used to be”

why, because you lost your sparring partner?

Great now i have to go and look up the travel time between Alderaan and Tatooine to know how long it takes for Bail to arrive

Yeah it’s something like 4 days give or take

“You couldn’t save Anakin”

here’s your daily reminder

“There is no one i trust more with my child than you”

hey that’s a sentence I’m sensitive about

Funny how it doesn’t hit the same at all tho 🙃

Ewan has really pretty eyes

A whole army no but I’ll do you one better

Is he

IS HE

digging for his lightsaber?

Did he find it by pinging the kyber?

Oh man i keep pausing on shots of Ewan looking hot that’s not good for my psyche

I’m going to have so much fun drawing him in something else than beige.

I mean come on he has LEATHER GLOVES i love drawing that shit

Ah shit no he was digging for his Jedi robes i hate this show

Bro do you actually wanna get arrested

They really do be hunting themselves

[desertsquiet]

31 Days Music Challenge

Day 7 - 3 favorite songs from Safe at Home

1) Luxury Liner

Look, I freaking love it, in every shape or form. I adore Emmylou’s version on her self-titled album and I love the original even more. The first time I listened to this album, I was progressively more amazed with each new track because I honestly couldn’t believe how good it was. It was the moment I realized that, as far as music was concerned, this guy could really do no wrong. And Luxury Liner was a big part of that. The way the lyric “I’ve been a long lost soul for a long, long time” seemed to be already a perfect incapsulation of his musical identity, the way the arrangement felt like the perfect marriage between country’s aching and rock’s defiant spirit. Seems kinda funny to be talking about an “underrated gem” inside of a career that is underrated and overlooked as a whole, but that’s what it is: a treasure within the treasure.

2) Blue Eyes

Just one of the sweetest songs he’s ever written. It’s fun and it’s quirky and adorable in all the right ways. It never fails to bring a smile to my face and put me in a good mood.

3) Miller’s Cave & I Still Miss Someone

I’m very sorry, but I really couldn’t pick just one of these because I’m totally obsessed with both and felt they both deserve a huge shout out. Miller’s Cave may be my favorite sounding track on the whole album (those little piano riffs are so simple but so brilliant) and I love menacing atmosphere it creates even before you can see where the story is going. Killer vocals, obviously (excuse the pun 😂). And I Still Miss Someone, well, is a song *he* made me fall in love with. I’d already heard Johnny Cash do it, but once again Gram used his supernatural ability to make any other version pale in comparison in my mind. So much so that when I’m singing it, when it comes to the line “sweethearts walk by together”, I always instinctively put the accent on the word “walk” instead of “by”. Now that I’ve heard plenty of people perform it, I can say that he’s the *only* one who does that and I think that’s pretty cute.

[hardnahas]

Modded gamecube roms

MODDED GAMECUBE ROMS FULL

MODDED GAMECUBE ROMS CODE

And then again, the Nintendo 64 only used cartridges, while the PlayStation used CDs.

MODDED GAMECUBE ROMS FULL

Because the disk size means it can't work to its full potential. Yen's team at ArtX went beyond to make the Dolphin's graphical capabilities more powerful than its rivals. Don't expect the Gamecube library to be filled with system pushing powerhouses like Grand Theft Auto or Half-life 2. Despite games being compressed and emitting a few features, graphically it was pretty close to its rivals. They are literally the size of my hand if I had no fingers.Īnd some ROMs like Metal Gear Solid The Twin Snake and Resident Evil 4 ROM require two disks. Far below the PlayStation 2 and Xbox as their games use normal size dual layer DVDs that held around 8,5GB. Nintendo called Panasonic to make special mini DVDs that held about 1,5GB. But it didn't matter that much because they were still paranoid about piracy. Speaking of the Game Boy Advance, some games like Metroid Fusion and Pokemon Ruby ROM, Sapphire took advantage of the Gamecube Gameboy Advanced link cable.Īfter sticking with cartridges for the Nintendo 64 failed from a financial perspective, Nintendo finally made the switch to disks. Down on the bottom are outputs for a modem to allow broadband connection and the Game Boy player. You have the power at the back and AV output here, which also has an optional digital slot for progressive output.

MODDED GAMECUBE ROMS CODE

Sorry, I'm just trying to find ways that can make the console stay true to the code name. You know what they should have done? Make it look more like a dolphin and it requires water to power it. Holding a decade-old console in public would be pretty embarrassing. While the handle is handy, no pun intended. I'm honestly not a big fan of the design. Like any Nintendo system between the mid 90s to mid-2000s, it had a rainbow of colors to choose from like orange, silver, black and indigo. The title of this thing speaks for itself - Nintendo GameCube. This is one of the most basic yet unique looking consoles I've ever seen. And in true Nintendo tradition, its launch price was $399. The Nintendo GameCube was released on September 2001 in Japan, November in North America and the rest of the world by May 2002. it's about time Luigi got his own proper game. The next year launch titles were listed including Star Wars Rogue Squadron 2 Rogue Leader and Luigi's Mansion ROM. That same year the Gamecube was announced by Nintendo. You may recognise their logo on many systems.ĭespite the acquisition, the team was still able to finish the processor as planned. Just as the processor was nearing completion in 2000, ArtX was purchased by ATI. The project name is based on the processor made by ArtX, called the Flipper, which would also carry on into some of Nintendo's exclusives like Super Mario Sunshine. In May 1999, Nintendo announced project Dolphin as a successor to the N64. The console was also designed with a simpler RISC which made it easier for third-party developers to make games for it. Their intention was to make it the king of the hill 128 bit juggernaut of gaming systems. And in 1998, they were given a task by Nintendo once again to create a new graphics processor for their upcoming successor. While the Nintendo 64 was in its prime in 1997, Wei-Yin who had worked with Silicon Graphics to develop the graphical technology used for the N64, formed a new tech company called ArtX.

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Now Playing! Saturday, 6 August, 2022:

Marshall Crenshaw Marshall Crenshaw (Warner Bros) (released in 1982)

Often when I talk about favorite albums I tend to talk about double albums.  Back in my era, they were planned albums encompassing too much material and they were often considered special releases, somewhat out of the ordinary from your standard single album.  It isn’t often that I speak of single albums as true favorites, but that is somewhat misleading.  Of course plenty of albums that I love and consider favorites are single albums (Sound of Lies The Jayhawks, Blood On The Tracks Dylan, Tonight’s The Night or On The Beach Neil Young, I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got Sinead O’Connor, This Years Model Elvis Costello and The Attractions to name a few) but you want a big contender, it would have to this self titled debut album from Marshall Crenshaw.  I’ve mentioned recently that his first three albums are all gems (and I believe his third album, Downtown, to be his very best) but when I play Marshall Crenshaw it is like when I play Guppy by Charly Bliss (another contender) I simply cannot stop playing it. 

It was probably the final album recommended to me by my oldest and dearest friend who was a Beatles obsessive who lit on the fact that Crenshaw played John Lennon in Beatlemania.  Yes, this album is Beatlesque but it is a debt owed to the Everly Brothers (cue up Side 1′s closing track The Usual Thing and tell me it wouldn’t sound sweet coming from Don and Phil) as well as other harmonically obsessed bands of the 50s and 60s.  This is one of those fine albums that fails to feature a bad track or even a lower tiered track, they are all spectacular pop jewels that I just want to play endlessly.  And this is equally one of those rare albums that makes me believe the entire world is eventually going to be set right and life is good and nothing like Alex Jones exists. 

I don’t play this album a lot, I’m not a person who wakes each morning and must hear Revolver every since day.  I’m not sure there is an album that exists which I could play daily, hence the beauty of favorite albums.  Three years ago I decided to do Crenshaw’s catalog and I by-passed this album because I was so familiar with it.  I ended up dropping the ball on his work after Downtown and never moved beyond that.  I am attempting to dive down into his catalog properly this time and I’m starting with his debut and I’m thrilled to be hearing it again.  And boy, does it recall 1982-83 in my mind when I wasn’t married but all signs were pointing in that direction.  I was just beginning a new job that would turn into a career and for once the future looked brighter than the past.

It would be a toss up as to what my favorite track could be: Cynical Girl, of course but then there is Rockin’ Around In NYC, I’ll Do Anything, either opening track on Side 1 or Side 2 before I give up trying to determine what I love most and I just play the whole album again.   And yes, I even love the cover--Crenshaw is a covers guy--of Soldier of Love.  Just yesterday I actually heard another pun that I’d never got after 40 years of playing the song: “Use your arms to hold me tight” arms (guns) and arms (appendages).  That’s how deep I’m falling down this album’s black hole and I’m so happy for the experience!

You certainly must have the Warner Archives compact disc from 2000 which includes many rare B-Sides (the always popular You’re My Favorite Waste of Time--which, for the record never tell your wife this reminds you of her because she will take it wrong every time), Somebody Like You and a live version of Rave On) as well as unreleased live tracks and demos.  I’m a B-Sides sucker and I love it when labels compile them on an album appropriate reissue. 

Playing Crenshaw and investigating his catalog has brought me considerable pleasure since returning from Chicago.  Had I known I would be so hungry for his music I might have looked at the umpteen record stores I visited while up there two weeks ago.  But that’s fine, I’m in my normal space and it allows me to trawl through a discography I stopped paying attention to in 1991.  Shame on me, but the best thing about rediscovering someone you’ve lost sight of is that you have found them again and you remember why you loved their music so much in the first place.  But one thing is certain, I’ve never lost my joy and love for this album.  Truly one of my very favorite albums.