#sorry for major lack of context | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-town-called-hometown · 6 months

Note

yippee! apologies if my takes are horrendously bad

my personal take on the matter is that i definitely think the dark worlds can work as a metaphor for escapism without undermining the darkners' personhood. it can be more than one thing, yknow? the darkners are important, their lives matter. and the lightners do go to the dark world as an escape from the problems they face in their own life. but that's not the darkners' whole PURPOSE, yknow? i mean. according to the laws of the universe of deltarune yes darkners' "purpose" is to serve the lightners but like it's not their whole purpose in the STORY.

it's sort of like how, in UNDERTALE, LOVE represents how distant you've become, how easy it is for you to hurt people. but it also literally gives you the power to destroy the world.

i think the biggest reason i believe escapism is at least a part of deltarune's narrative is queen.

queen's whole speech in both of her fights is about how she intends to provide escapism for the lightners (so that they will worship her but also so that they will he happy). she wants to turn the whole world into a dark world, so that everyone can live in bliss and not have to worry about the woes of the light world. she mentions "Staring, Tapping, To Receive Joy. Staring, Tapping, To Avoid Pain." which is like pretty much the definition of escapism

she wants to help Noelle with the problems she faces in the light world ("Noelle. Who Will Be There To Help Her? Her Strange And Sad Searches" and "My One Idea To Help Noelle, Failed") by just... shoving it away for a blissful fantasy world ("Wake? No, She Has Already Awakened Too Much. Let Her Close Her Eyes And Sleep Away, Into A Darker, Darker Dream.")

...i forgot the rest of what i wanted to say!

well first off, thank you for your ask! I'm going to get extremely in depth in my answer, so bear with me here. sorry it took several weeks to write this. the escapism reading of deltarune is pretty deeply entrenched in fandom, and to refute it, I felt it required a full-length essay to completely explain my viewpoint.

yes, "the lightners desire escapism" does not automatically translate to that being the darkners' actual narrative purpose. escapism can be a theme without dehumanizing those who are used in order to escape - in fact, I've read a number of stories that use someone's desire to escape to HIGHLIGHT how they're hurting others in pursuit of that. I believe that toby fox is definitely capable of telling a story about kids having a valid desire to escape, and about them grappling with having inadvertently created a world of real, living people as a result.

(I'll reiterate again that this is not the story arc that generally shows up in fanon. the common consensus is that the game will end in an omori-esque "growing out of" the dark worlds. it's why I have a huge dislike of the fanon escapism reading, given that the darkners are shown as people whose lack of agency parallels kris' own. it would feel cheap if the resolution to that plot was that the darkners were actually never meant to be agents in their own fates. but this is a digression.)

the reason why i DON'T believe that this is a story that toby fox is telling is because of the way the world, themes, and characters are written. put simply, it just doesn't come across as congruent with the story being told.

deltarune's main themes are agency, fate, identity, and control. this is a conflict that shows up in nearly every major character, is baked into the worldbuilding, and is the central struggle involving us, the player. the protagonist of deltarune is literally possessed by us against their will. the darkners are objects that have no choice but to serve and be discarded. over and over again, there is emphasis on roles that characters play - and crucially, roles that are imposed on them.

what would escapism mean, in this thematic context? in real life, escapism can represent any number of things, but in a story, a major narrative theme generally has to dovetail with other major narrative themes in the work. I would argue that escapism in deltarune would likely mean going to a place where characters are able to choose for themselves what roles they embody, or even to discard the notion of roles altogether. a fantasy of control is the only way to escape a reality where you have no agency. and honestly, it's hard to imagine that something could count as an escapist fantasy if you don't even get to choose whether or not you participate in it.

let's talk about kris.

I see a lot of discussions around kris that say that kris goes into the dark worlds to escape. the dark worlds are posited as kris' fantasy of heroism. it's a world where they can seem heroic and cool, a world where they can have friends. this theory makes a decent amount of sense on the surface level, but only until you consider that kris is being controlled in order to go into the dark worlds. and it is not a control that they appear to welcome.

if those worlds represent kris' fantasy, then why don't they get to choose what happens in those fantasies? why are they being controlled by an external force, one that they actively push back against? if it's really an escape, then why does everything about this world reflect their lack of agency? if they really think this world is just a pure fantasy, then why do they care if spamton falls when his strings are cut?

because they're being deliberately obscured to the player, it is hard to say how kris actually feels about many subjects... but I do seriously doubt that they view the dark worlds as an escape. they don't act in a way that is consistent with that. they resist their lack of agency, and what little we do see of their reactions to darkner characters doesn't suggest that they view those characters as part of a disposable fantasy, either. they seem to have complicated feelings on ralsei. and of course, one of their biggest emotional reactions in the game is to the spamton fight. I would argue that that suggests they have empathy for spamton, which is a hard emotional reaction to have if you believe he's just part of a fantasy. not impossible, mind you, but it seems unlikely that kris believes that all this is simply fantasy.

also, considering that snowgrave both actively discredits the idea that the dark worlds are mere fantasy and is actively traumatic for kris... I seriously doubt they'd open another dark world in chapter 3 on a snowgrave run if their motive was purely to escape. on that route, they've seen the damage we can cause in a dark world. they know that berdly has sustained lasting damage due to our actions, assuming he's not outright dead. why would they want to try and "escape" to a place like that again now that they know what can happen?

the only answer is that they have a motive that isn't escapist.

now, as for ralsei... what part does he have to play in all this?

ralsei does play a lot to the fun, fantastical elements of the dark worlds. he delivers the prophecy that kickstarts the adventure. he flatters both kris and susie endlessly when they act appropriately heroic. he welcomes them into the castle and even makes nice rooms for them. he initially seems tailor-made to enable a fantastical experience where no real issues can ever complicate anything, and where the pain of reality can successfully be hidden from. but there's a lot of complications to the idea that he might represent an escapist fantasy.

the first, and what honestly seems the most important to me, is that he doesn't encourage kris and susie to remain in the dark worlds. he is welcoming and kind, but once the adventure is over, he prompts them to return to the light world. he wants them to deal with their more "real" problems like homework. that doesn't feel like he is trying to facilitate escapism in them. a real fantasy would encourage you to stay in it, wouldn't it?

and while ralsei is definitely invested in making sure the lightners are happy, there are always cracks that show. he isn't able to make kris ignore what happened in the spamton fight. he isn't able to convince susie to be peaceful and kind. and in his very essence, he represents a number of uncomfortable ideas. very importantly, he represents a number of uncomfortable ideas to kris.

this probably ain't your first fandom rodeo, so I'm not going to explain all the different ways that ralsei interacts with kris' personal issues. there's plenty of posts on it out there. what i will point out is, once again, it feels odd that a character who seems tailor made to bring up kris' most uncomfortable associations with their lack of agency and their outsider status in their own family would be part of a fantasy of escapism to them. you'd think that they'd prefer something that didn't have an inbuilt hierarchy, a prophecy that denied them autonomy, or especially a person that reminded them how little they fit into hometown.

that doesn't mean kris doesn't care about him at all - it seems very likely that they do. what I mean to say here is that he just seems ill-suited to an escapism reading, both behaviorally and on a conceptual level. it doesn't seem like that's at all part of his servitude towards the lightners.

of course, there is another non-lightner entity that ralsei seems diegetically engineered to serve. but I'll discuss that later.

now as for susie...

yes, susie definitely views the dark worlds as more fun than the light world. and why wouldn't she? the light world sucks for her, and she doesn't seem very aware of the fact that the dark world can also suck. you could definitely make the argument that she views the dark worlds as a fantastical escape from reality... were it not for the fact that she treats her darkner friends with just as much importance as she does kris and noelle.

can someone treat components of an escapist fantasy as real and important? of course. but given deltarune's themes of agency and control, as well as the fact that darkners exist in servitude to the lightners, I feel like you'd have to make escapism tie into forcing others into a lack of agency if you wanted the theme to feel coherent with the rest of the work. this would require susie to be limiting the agency of the darkners around her. and obviously, she doesn't do that. her presence around them might be inherently limiting, just by simple virtue of being a lightner, but she isn't aware of it, and clearly is uncomfortable with the idea of limiting anyone's agency. she encourages ralsei to make choices. and she supports lancer in basically anything he wants to do. her treatment of lancer is integral to chapter 1's narrative, and it seems like that treatment of ralsei is integral to the ongoing narrative as well!

her preference for the dark world feels very rooted in her engagement with it as its own reality. rather than trying to avoid her real-life problems by engaging in a pretense, she seems to simply want to spend time with her friends in a place that isn't cruel to her. she isn't ignoring any of the dark world's problems in service of that, either. she notices when things don't line up. if she thought of it as a fantasy, wouldn't she be inclined to ignore issues that impede the fantasy?

and critically - like kris, she does not intentionally choose her imposed role in the prophecy at first. she steps into the role of bad guy to resist it, but that role is limiting too, and she eventually acquiesces to being a hero. it's never something she's completely on board with, though. she actively pushes back the limitations that the role places on her. I find this important to reiterate when we are discussing the notion of the characters viewing the dark worlds as fantasy.

noelle has a complicated relationship to the dark worlds. susie tells her that it's a dream to make her accept the strange reality she finds herself in, which works well on her. she continues to think of it as a strange dream throughout the chapter. (though, like the others, it is not a 'dream' she entered of her own volition!)

it is also a markedly unpleasant 'dream' at times. she has her agency restricted, is kidnapped, has to evade a controlling monarch, and is even tied up in a weird evangelion cross thing on the hand of a giant robot. it's not purely fun. noelle does like scary things, and while it might be healthy for her to have an experience where she stands up to a controlling adult figure... again, the circumstances make it difficult for me to assume that this is a fantasy she would choose for herself. not impossible, mind you, but it's not the first reading of the situation that comes to mind.

and while she does say she wishes she could dream like this every day in the normal route, that does happen specifically because she was talking to the girl she likes. it makes sense she'd find that pleasant. I don't think that necessarily equates to her finding the dark worlds escapist.

and importantly, this isn't the sentiment that she expresses in every route.

again, there's a lot of analysis on snowgrave, so I won't bother regurgitating it much here. but it's nightmarish for both kris and noelle, and very likely fatal for berdly. noelle needs to believe that the event is a dream, for her own psychological safety, but one of the most important parts of snowgrave...

...is that its events, and the world it took place in, are very, very real.

noelle wants to have the strength to face her problems, both in the regular route and in the snowgrave route. rather than escaping from them, she views the "dream" as a chance to practice dealing with her day-to-day issues. it's just that in the regular route she finds that strength authentically, and in the snowgrave route, that desire is manipulated and pushed until she is forced to kill berdly. she doesn't interpret snowgrave as an escape gone wrong. she views it as a dream that became a nightmare. and those are two extremely different things.

but i haven't even gotten to the biggest thing that undermines the concept that the dark worlds are a metaphor for escapism! which is: this fucking guy is dead wrong about everything.

so full disclaimer - I really love berdly. I think he's slept on a lot in the fandom because he's annoying and weird. which is fair, I suppose, but I think ignoring him hinders a lot of people's understanding of deltarune's overall narrative. because berdly often illustrates a lot of concepts in the game, but his narrative framing as a joke (usually...) prevents the player from taking it completely seriously. he has things to say and ideas to show off, it's just that he's often very loud and kind of dumb in his expression of them. which is kind of the point!

ralsei brings up the idea that the darkners are meant to serve the lightners very seriously in chapter one. by extension, and by way of the literal mechanics involved in a dark world's creation, we can infer that this logic is probably something that also applies to the dark worlds themselves. they are allegedly worlds and characters that only are supposed to fulfill a dream of the lightners. but due to narrative framing and deltarune's themes, we know that that's not the full truth. however dark worlds and darkners are created, they deserve to have their own agency. they can't just exist to fulfill a higher being's wishes.

you know who else undermines that view of the dark worlds? berdly! berdly does!!!!

because berdly is the only lightner in the game so far who does take the dark worlds to be an escapist adventure! he wants to turn cyber world into smartopia. he views this as a chance to be a cool hero. he believes he's going to get the girl, he's going to shape this world to his own liking, and maybe also he's going to get queen to acknowledge him or something so he stops being a forgettable little bluebird. and not only does none of this happen, his steadfast belief that it will happen is continually a joke within the narrative!!

berdly's wishes for uncomplicated escapist fantasy are flat-out denied by the dark worlds themselves. as a lightner, those worlds should be serving him. he should have the power to do whatever he wants within the bounds of an escapist fantasy. these npcs should be singing his praises!

but he doesn't have the power. and this world doesn't sing his praise. because it just isn't an escapist fantasy. he isn't right to view it that way. his wishes for heroism are always going to be thwarted.

so now that I've gotten all that out of the way, let's swing back over to the subject of your original ask. queen.

because, like berdly, queen's entire character arc is about how she's completely wrong about what the lightners actually want.

queen would in fact like nothing more to place the lightners into an escapist fantasy. she believes that that's the best way to serve them and make them happy forever. as a darkner, queen has very much internalized the idea that a lack of control is what actually makes people happy. since darkners have no choice in their destinies and are supposed to be happy in it, and since she personally finds her role as a darkner fulfilling, she believes that that's true of all people everywhere. if you want to make people happy, you just have to remove that pesky personal agency!

so she spends the story trying to force the lightners and particularly noelle into situations where she controls them in order to make them ostensibly happier. she does genuinely believe that this is the right thing to do, but as she finds out eventually, she's just wrong. noelle doesn't want that. queen believes that escapism is why the lightners use the internet... but that's totally wrong too.

while there are other searches mixed in, noelle is trying to use the internet to find her sister. instead of trying to hide from whatever happened, noelle wants to figure it out. queen's thesis about noelle and the lightners is proven wrong even before she personally encounters noelle in the dark world. it's just that queen doesn't realize it due to her limited perspective.

the concept of escapism being brought up with both queen and berdly is not there to say that the dark world is escapist. rather, it's there to say that it isn't. despite the dark worlds being a fantastical place, they are extremely real. to view them as a means of escape is foolhardy at best. you cannot act as though you are above consequences within them.

themes and ideas exist within the story for a sake of an audience. so let's get into the final character I need to discuss here. hopefully this will tie my thesis of deltarune together neatly.

that character is of course us. the player.

when creating a piece of fiction, an astute author will often identify and anticipate an audience's reactions to certain things in their work, and write things in such a way that they elicit the desired reactions. in essence, a writer is directing the "character" of the audience. how we feel and how we are anticipated to react to things is an integral part of nearly every fiction.

that effect is far more overt when dealing with metanarrative fiction that diegetically involves the audience. since the fiction is saying a lot of things about the general 'you,' the audience in aggregate, your reactions to certain things in the story have to be finely cued and anticipated by the author, so that the author can thus commentate on the reactions that you have to the story. the "character" you are assumed to inhabit is posited by the author to have certain traits.

to explain what I mean in plainer terms, I'll use the player of undertale's no mercy route as an example. because undertale is commenting on the way rpgs generally work. the player's behaviors in no mercy are attributed by characters in the story to be the result of us acting like a typical gamer. we kill the characters in the game because we want exp. and more than that, it's because we want to see everything the game has to offer. the role we inhabit in this role-playing game is that of a completionist. you could say that that's assumed to be our "character" in no mercy.

deltarune also posits that certain things are true of its audience. by being written to evoke certain cultural ideas, rpg tropes, and references to undertale, it guarantees that its audience will probably have certain traits, and spends a large amount of its conceptual focus commenting on those traits. one of those traits is nostalgia, which is probably an idea that I'll expound upon in a further essay because it's quite integral to my reading of deltarune. but the main one I mean to discuss here, and why I went off on this tangent about how audiences are dealt with in metafiction, is that we are posited as someone who believes in the logic of certain narratives.

deltarune's writing evokes a lot of portal fantasy narratives. alice in wonderland, narnia, pretty much every story where it's revealed at the end to be all a dream... the story of deltarune superficially resembles a lot of those. this, I think, is responsible for the popularity of the escapism theory. because those stories are often at their end about a child learning to put away fantasy and grow up, people tend to believe that deltarune must be about the same thing. but I truly don't think that deltarune is trying to do anything with that aspect of portal fantasy narratives, at least not directly. its main characters aren't involved in that exact type of coming-of-age arc.

instead, deltarune is very concerned with what happens to characters in fantasy, and specifically fantasy rpgs. if your world is deemed to not matter because it's a dream, what does that mean for you, who has no choice but to live in it? if you are an npc whose role has been predetermined for you via script, then can you ever decide for yourself what you want? what if you want to matter? what if you want to be your own person?

as the major controlling force of deltarune, we are initially cued to believe that deltarune is like a dream. it superficially fulfills so much of what we want from undertale fanon. hometown seems like it's a perfect idyllic town, at least until you start noticing the obvious cracks. and remember what I said about ralsei earlier? he is so reminiscent of asriel, and extremely eager to help us. it's not a stretch to say that making us specifically view deltarune as dreamlike and idyllic is probably part of his purpose in the game.

I would not say that we are posited as escapist. but the idea of escapism as brought up with queen and berdly is meant to strike at the heart of a much deeper idea that deltarune is trying to deconstruct. because if we view deltarune as a dream, escapist or otherwise, then we are inclined to write the internal realities of the characters inside off. the dark world can disappear without it mattering. we can control kris without it mattering. if it's all a dream, what does it matter? why should we care to let its characters go free? aren't we supposed to be in control?

if deltarune is an rpg... what is the significance of us interacting with it?

#deltarune #deltarune analysis #BIG big thanks to tvlandofficiall for being my sounding board and providing the flavor images for this essay #this one gets into some big overarching analysis of deltarunes construction and what it deconstructs. hope u enjoy

370 notes · View notes

alfredosauce50 · 13 days

Text

Surprise! Happy belated birthday to narratornyanko 😼

Sorry for the major delay, but I’ve been multitasking my papers at the same time 😭 And this isn’t *exactly* what was requested, so think of this as an additional bonus. There’s also a lack of content for Matt, and this was needed as a perfect foundation for a later story because someone else requested him 🙈 I hope you enjoy it!

NSFW 2P Canada Headcanons 🍁

When it comes to this rugged Canadian man, the first thing that comes into mind isn’t romance or sex. He has a lot of hobbies that can make him break a good sweat, and he’s indifferent to women.

He also lives in the woods averse to the company of other people, so he’s not getting laid anytime soon. But it’s always been about finding the right one, and now that he’s met you, he’s like an animal in bed.

Very explicit content. R18+ only.

He has a very active lifestyle, so he’s raging with testosterone. Whether he’s cutting and collecting firewood, gardening, or fishing in his boat, he’s almost always sweaty he comes home. When he sees you, his mind will inevitably start to wander. You’re dressed lightly and making dinner, so he can’t help but come up from behind to kiss you. “Not now, Matt.” You push him a little, but he just groans and wraps around you, stubborn as.

Matt has good self-control. Nothing grinds his gears more than feeling like apart of a collective, i.e., a jerk with a dick. So if you’re resisting him, he’ll back off immediately and find something else to do. But if you’re in the mood, he never rejects you. If you do so little as look at him right, he’ll understand. Matt knows you’re a lot shyer than him, so he’ll take charge and pull you in without you having to say a word. “Come here.”

He isn’t afraid to ask for what he wants. It isn’t uncommon for him to just drop the bomb on you (wanna do it?) but it’s become more of an inside joke than a serious question. Matt will bring it up during the worst possible moments, like to break a long silence or in a somewhat serious context. You hit him in the chest and walk off, but he knows you’re only doing that to hide your smile. “I know you like me.” He ambles after you.

Matt would rather use body language to let you know he wants you. You never tell him that you love him, and he’s not very sweet to you either. He never gets you flowers, he’s a lot meaner than most boyfriends, and he doesn’t care much for any anniversaries. But everything seems to fall into place in the bedroom. The sexual tension is unbearable, and the way he stares at you makes you feel naked. Then, he’ll come over and loom on top you, waiting for you to look up at him.

You meet his eyes, and that’s when all hell breaks loose. He’s kissing you like he’s starved, his head moving fervently against yours while he puts his hands all over you. Matt has been dying for your affection for way too long, and now that he has it, he can’t get enough. He also has a thing for your boobs, so he’ll reach for them under your shirt and cup them. He does this while breathing like a dog, and he has an expectant look in his eyes as if to ask, “what’re you gonna do about it?”

He’s good with his hands. He also has really thick fingers, so he never fails to pleasure you with them. He will put you in his lap with your back facing him and touch you like that from behind. He traps you between his arms and pins your shoulder down with his chin while he rubs your clit like crazy. You’re fighting for your life as he makes you cum, but you can’t hope to get away from him. Just when you think he’s done, he’ll stick a finger in and hook you from the inside.

Matt knows your body even better than you do. He’s very sensitive to it and knows when you’re rejecting him. He will put his tip in you and sink deeper in, but never more than you can really take. Soon, he’ll have all nine inches of his cock inside you, and he’ll rock you on it nice and slow so you can feel him stretch you out. “That’s it…” He’s very thorough in this stage because he’s connecting with you, and if you didn’t want him, he wouldn’t have gotten past the tip. “Yeah…”

He’s a lot bigger than you. His back is also really wide, so he can cover your entire body with it. And he’s incredibly strong, which means he has total control over you. When he play fights with you, he doesn’t even have to try to pin you down. “You done?” And when he has sex with you, he gets off to feeling you tremble from penetration. You’re shaking and moaning his name, telling him that you can’t. “You will… Just relax for me…” He loves how much he is for you, even too much, especially when you always take him so well.

Before you know it, tears are running down your face and your eyes are rolled back in pleasure as he pounds and gapes your pussy. When he sees the mess he’s made of you, he goes mad with a desire beyond the flesh. Submitting to him like this when he doesn’t deserve it drives him crazy. Matt will hold you in all sorts of compromising positions to rearrange your guts, like standing up so he can bounce you on him with no mercy.

Matt loves anal. Not just because it’s tight, but he wants to be inside you in any way that he can. You’ll find that he’s really possessive of you, so he doesn’t want there to be anything you haven’t done with him. He also thinks your asshole is cute, so he’ll splay your cheeks apart to look at it. Be mad at him all you want, he’s not changing his mind about plunging inside. It’s invasive and downright dirty, but that’s what makes it so hot.

He doesn’t have any sexual boundaries with you. He will be as nasty as you let him, but even he can’t promise he’ll behave. If you decide to wake him up with a handjob, he’s more than happy to receive. While you pump his morning wood, he’ll just grin darkly at you like he’s the one with the upper hand. Matt loves it when you do this to him, because when you don’t even bother to ask, it goes to show how much you want him. It’s not exactly consensual, but he’s a freak like that. “You’re molesting me now?” He chuckles lowly.

Matt has a piss kink. It’s not surprising that he likes embarrassing you, but he wouldn’t go so far as to do his business on you. He’s decent enough not to put you through that, he just doesn’t mind if you did it to him. In fact, if you try to run off to the bathroom, he might pull you back and keep you on him until you can’t hold it anymore. When it finally comes out, you’ll be mortified beyond relief, crying, and hitting him, but he gets even more turned on. “Don’t be shy. It’s only natural.”

There’s just something so hot about getting you so vulnerable that you relieve yourself on him. After all, you and Matt fight a lot more than the average couple. Having gross and invasive sex is a glaring reminder of how crazy he is about you. “You’re disgusting, Matt…” You tear up, moaning as he rocks you on his dick. He hasn’t cleaned the sheets since the last round, so the smell of sex and bodily fluids is practically searing, but he likes it that way. “I’m just obsessed with you…”

He has a thing for your smell, especially when you haven’t washed yet. Your sweat and musk is enough to give him a hard-on, and he’ll want to eat you out. Matt will find you before you have a chance to take a shower for that sole purpose. Then, he’ll take off your underwear and bury his face between your legs. He’ll suck on your pussy, lick you, and tongue-fuck you until you cum right in his mouth. By the end of it, your thighs are bruised and you’re dripping with nothing but his saliva since he’s swallowed everything else.

He’s really hairy. On his chest, under his armpits, all over his stomach, there’s no shortage of it no matter where you look. He also has a thick happy trail leading down to his pecker, so the rest is pretty self-explanatory. He doesn’t care to shave, especially when he knows how much you like it. You’ve always found his ruggedness attractive, and with his size, it’s like being with a bear.

He likes it when you play with his dick. Matt finds it amusing when you slap it around, or squeeze it. Sometimes, he takes the initiative to guide your hand to his boxers, or inside them. If you try and hit him there, he’ll just grunt and goad you on. “Oh, you can do better than that.” What more is that he doesn’t mind when you touch him under the covers while you’re cuddling, and even while he’s falling asleep. Because if he does get hard, it’s gonna be your responsibility to deal with.

He takes offense if you kick him out of the room to change. He’s already seen every inch of you, inside and out, so he doesn’t understand why you’d try to undo that now. Not that you can. He’ll just take it as you trying to push him away, and he won’t take kindly to that at all. He will sit on the bed and refuse to move, even leaning back to get comfortable. “This doesn’t change the fact that we have sex every other night.”

Matt has a really intense weakness for your tears. If he’s mad and you hug him from behind, he’ll forgive you in an instant. Either you miss him, or you feel really bad about what you did. But if you cry, he will carry you to the bedroom and make love to you until you’re crying from an entirely different reason altogether. If you’re apologizing even with him inside you, he will lose his mind and go so hard, you won’t be able to speak.

Your vulnerability is like a drug to him, and he’s addicted to it. It makes it undeniable how deeply you feel about him, whether it’s sadness, anger, embarrassment or desire. He doesn’t care what it is, so long as you have an emotional reaction to him. For that reason, Matt feels very close to you even when you two argue. He’s the type to look after you even when he’s upset, so you’ll never doubt his feelings for you when things get tough.

Matt is the best at aftercare. As much as you want to sleep off the exhausting sex you’ve been having with him, he’ll refuse and carry you to the bathroom to clean you up. He knows he’s a lot to handle, both in and out of the bedroom. And as stubborn as he can be about communicating his feelings, the one thing he won’t withhold from you is acts of service. It’s how he shows he cares, and he doesn’t want you to feel used afterwards.

He’ll bathe you, get you dressed in something comfortable, then put you on the couch while he makes pancakes. After the best meal you’ve had all day, he lets you rest in the living room so he can swap out the sheets for clean ones. If there’s anything else you want him to do that he hasn’t, he’ll do them too. Chores, errands, you name it. He knows that foreplay starts outside of the bedroom, so pulling his weight will make sure that sex will always be a good experience for you.

#more requests will be coming out over the next few weeks ❤️#alfredosauce50 #update #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia #hetalia x reader #hetalia fanfic #axis powers hetalia #2p Canada #2p Canada headcanons #2p canada x reader #reader insert #headcanons #hetalia headcanon

79 notes · View notes

lesbiansforboromir · 4 months

Note

Been scouring your blog to see if you have a specific take and i only managed to find the post where you said you are more for people coming up with their own meaning for Tolkiens work. anyhow, after reading you boromir post on how hope is his poison I am super curious as to what meaning you personally ascribe to it all. A lot of scholars will tout hope over despair as the ultimate meaning here (and the ultimate meaning of real life...ugh) and considering your very gut wrenching but meaningful takes on boromir i was just curious. Your thought process is fascinating from a scholarly viewpoint (which is not my strong suit) but also an artistic, emotional, philosophical, and human viewpoint. Whew sorry this ask is so long and disorganized! Have i mentioned I am not a scholar? :D

First off I love this ask it made me so happy to read I had to do so like five times before I felt qualified to answer it and then I spent like months writing this response which is over 4000 words now if you want to know. And, on that note, dw about scholarliness or whatever this ask has more desire to engage with lotr in nuanced ways than most tolkien scholars achie- (gets hit by a piano) anyway~!

It's also just extremely flattering that you're curious of my personal opinion at all so thank you so very much!

(this is the post anon is talking about for context)

As with all things, my answer has many layers. At the most basic and applicable level, and when taking only my Gondorian/Stewardship investment into account, I am engaging with the story for personal catharsis.

The fact that Gondor felt hopeless, that the enemy was merciless and invincible, that even those figures who were supposed to help had only judgement and platitudes to offer until it personally benefitted them, that Boromir and Denethor were isolated and generally condemned and that many only showed them pity after their deaths, feels extremely cathartically familiar to me and my story with chronic illness. I've spoken about this before here and there, but that is the kind of simplistic, energy giving, 'he's me fr fr' comparison that brings me uncomplicated comfort and inspiration.

But that is definitely not 'what lord of the rings is about' not even just to me, it's not even just what BOROMIR is about to me, it is an element of the story and worldbuilding that I have isolated and consumed but that still exists within a far larger whole. And that whole is also fascinating and compelling but in a far more esoteric and harder to define way.

BUT before we get into it, I do also feel the need to explain the limitations I percieve within the 'lotr is about hope over despair' narrative since you've brought it up but neither your ask nor the post you mentioned properly explains it and it'll enhance my point later. SO.

As far as my experience has lead me to believe, when people say 'lotr is about hope triumphing over despair' they mean it in a moralising fable kind of way. This is definitely the narrative the films latched onto, like a leech. Good characters have hope, lose it only to reclaim it again, teach others to have hope etc, and that is good of them. Bad characters are despairing and therefore have no hope, and they do evil deeds because of the despair and lack of hope. The Aragorn vs Denethor film paradigm.

But nothing within the books is anywhere near as cut and dry. As I said in the linked post, Boromir gains hope after having none (the hope that he can save Gondor by using the ring) and that is bad, it is something he has to 'pay for' according to the narrative. Meanwhile charmed and blessed Faramir admits that he never had any hope quite a few times, yet he is not punished for it. Theoden also has no hope and is explicitely going to war to die, but his death is not considered evil or selfish by the majority. Saruman is very hopeful, he's hopeful that Sauron can be reasoned with, that if they work together they can make a better world, but he suffers 100 indignities and then is killed by a cannibal! And most of all, Frodo also rarely (if ever) shows any signs of hope, he merely doggedly marches on regardless and in the end even takes the power of the ring for himself, essentially the ultimate evil act of desperation, but that saves the world!

For the record the idea that LotR is a fable-narrative of any kind seems exceedingly erroneous to me, like the idea that we are supposed to glean any universal Good Moral from the tale due to Tolkien's 'emminent wisdom' feels bizarre in and of itself. But at the very least this aspect is more complex, I think we can all agree.

But even more than that (and this is more perspective than narrative analysis I suppose but I think it bears saying), ‘despair is evil’ is a kind of horrible thing to teach! If the villainisation of people driven to desperate actions or anhedonia because of the deep despair they are suffering is what LotR is about then that’s.. awful! That sounds like a bad book and I don't think I'd want to read it. But lets put a pin in the concept of condemning people for despair for now, look out for the pin cus it’ll be coming back later.

FOR NOW lets get back on topic, if I don't think LotR is 'about' hope triumphing over despair, what do I think it's about?

Well. I know what I'm about to do appears highly out of character for me so please remain calm and gird yourself before I say this but; Let us start with hearing what Tolkien had to say on the subject.

I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly 'a setting' for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race 'doomed' to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race 'doomed' not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete.

(this quote is actually from a letter to a fan who suggested lotr was an allegory for atomic power and he was pretty mean and dismissive about it in reply, it's kind of funny)

Now I've been a bit glib about this in the past, along the lines of 'tolkien's own opinion on what his book was about changed for every year of his life and by the time all his friends started dying around him it became about death, what a surprise' mainly because, again, we've had enough people caring about Tolkien's opinions to do us for the rest of civilisation. But I've always known this glib comment to be pretty baseless and unconsidered, since death was a major aspect of his life from his earliest childhood and it makes sense for that to have been a large part of his work. And since I am being sincere I will, just this once, take Tolkien's hand instead of ignoring him.

For him, the theme of his book was not power or domination (or the evils of war or hope over despair), it was about death. It was about people trying to deal with the realities of death existing for them, not existing for others, and what love (loving the world) meant in that context.

On it's surface I find this quote kind of clinical in it's first impression. There's a prescriptiveness to it that does not inspire me, which isn't surprising since this came from a letter full of veiled snootiness on his part.

But mostly, as a concept.. it seems pretty distant from what actually happens in the story itself, right? What aspect of death and immortality was the fellowship embodying? Boromir certainly died, but he was not looking for immortality and his death is far more concerned with guilt than the fact that he is dying. Theodred is dead already, but not even his father appears all that bothered about it and it's quickly set aside to focus more on the war. Denethor kills himself but his and Gandalf's last interaction says far more about despair and faith than death.

And then no other main character 'dies' at all, unless you count Gandalf. And the only main immortal character we have (other than Gandalf) is Legolas whom, whilst he does have quotes associated with his immortality, is far more invested in his and Gimli's relationship than anything else. It's no wonder people choose 'war is hell' or 'hope over despair' narratives over 'death' as the main theme for lotr from their perspective.

It also does not satisfyingly link to one of the most compelling aspects of the books as a whole; that of how they are presented. The thread connecting death and immortality to writing a story that is from in-universe historical accounts, editted and compiled by many subsequent in-universe hands, is there but hazy. The intense catholic-ness of the story is also intuitably related to death and immortality, but not explicitly.

In essence, death does not feel like the main theme of the books when you are reading them, at least I don't think most experience them that way.

However, in spite of all that, Tolkien's opinion on what his books are 'about' is still the closest I have seen anyone come to my own. Which I assume is hard enough for you all to hear, but imagine how I feel 😩

To me, LotR is most themactically consistent when viewed through the lense of Frodo and Gandalf's ever misquoted early interaction;

"Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.’ ‘It is not,’ said Frodo. (emphasis mine)

It is not comforting to know that the suffering in front of you was always meant to happen, no matter how comforting the idea of a divine plan might be to some. And that is what Gandalf is offering Frodo in this moment, the relief of a divine plan and its ‘high beauty for ever beyond [the Shadow’s] reach’. But this is never comforting to Frodo in the books, the comfort he finds on his martyr's journey is in Sam. Indeed, it is actually Sam who finds comfort in 'the high beauty', this reminder that beyond all his own suffering there is an imperishable and eternal light that can never be dimmed.

But not Frodo, how can he? His eventual fate is to grasp the power of a weapon so unholy it sickens his soul, to do that which he has been told is irreversible and unforgivable, so that he can never be at ease or even survive in the lands he has loved ever again. The 'High Beauty' is what is doing this to him, what made the rules, what meant for this to happen, what he is doing this in service of. And Gandalf, whose soul will be present to see the very end of this tale, cannot possibly understand what it is for your whole life to be encapsulated by just your own small painful part of what Gandalf would propose was a beautiful and universal tapestry.

And lack of agency against the divine plan is precisely the narrative thread that ties every character together. To some it is a comfort, Aragorn and Gandalf and Sam are all gladdened and encouraged by the knowledge that there is some higher power ordering their lives, some greater beauty they are all a part of beyond any earthly pain or suffering. They are not in control and to remember this is a relief. It inspires them to better fulfill their ordained duties and drive themselves through terrible trials.

To others it is no comfort at all, Boromir and Frodo have no faith in the prospect that the divine plan will include success or happy lives for them at the end of their tasks. But it is a hopelessness and uncertainly that they both accept. They simply believe their duties must be attempted anyway, hopeless or not, even if it makes no difference to the outcome in the end. Lack of control is just a reality they live with.

And to some it is a horror. Denethor and Eowyn want to fulfill their duties, but these duties are torture. They demand loved ones die, they demand relentless fear and sacrifice, they demand ceaseless and hopeless toil. And in the end both of them are given rebellious breaks from these duties by the narrative, ones that are horrifying in and of themselves (and portrayed as wrong to one degree or another) but that are still extremely cathartically presented as attempts to reclaim control of their lives away from a callous divine. Even if, ultimately, this also was out of their control.

Merry, Pippin, Legolas and Gimli appear to have never quite had to confront the realities of their powerlessness before. But through the story they become intimately aware of it in ways that force them to make choices they are not ready to make. For Merry and Pippin, this leads them to ultimately empathise with Eowyn and Denethor’s positions, wracked with guilt and equally horrified, attempting to find agency in death where (it appears) none can be found. For Legolas and Gimli, they confront the spectors of lack of agency/death for the first time in the narrative (sea-longing and the Paths of the Dead) and are irrevocably changed by them, eventually leading them both to attempt to circumvent their fates by illegally sailing to the uttermost west. Obviously fandom likes to believe they made it and live happily, but narratively it is also suggested that they died at sea in the attempt.

Now, at the risk of indulging in my ever-derided biographical criticism, I do think that all of these characterful arcs are represented in Tolkien’s own life. I feel comfortable saying that Tolkien was not a happy man by default. He was wracked with guilt from a very young age (wow a catholic with guilt, groundbreaking) but that guilt followed him and found new reasons to manifest until the very end of his life. And a lot of this guilt had to do with death, his father's death, his mother's death, his friend's deaths. And a lot of it had to do with fear of leaving unfinished or poorly finished business behind him at the time of his own death: guilt about how he had taught his students, about his scholarly work, his parenting skills, his so-oft-mentioned faith.

And being a man of faith, he would have experienced all these things as a part of the divine plan, even as they were also his guilt to bear. So, clearly, Tolkien's experience encompassed all of these characters, right? The despair and the torment and combined love-of and frustration-with the divine. The failure. He knew them all. And within all of them, as well as within the narrative and world itself, there is a wrestling, there is an ever-shifting complexity and multitude of different opinions to how one experiences a life that hurts in a beautiful world that you love but that you eventually must leave, with the sensation that you have no control over any of it.

However, a complication to any declaration of ‘what LotR is about’ is that it is a self-admittedly unreliable narrative. If you cannot necessarily believe everything the narrative is telling you, then suddenly additional layers of complexity come into play in determining the meaning within an already complex text. In LotR you can actually track which characters are recounting which parts of the story to Frodo or Sam at the time of writing. But it is also just obscured enough to make it ambiguous and to enforce the idea that this is a version of this original story edited and compiled for many generations after it's writing.

So not only are these characters and events transient, uncertain and being (sometimes bluntly) misrepresented by the narrators, YOU are now complicit in that. You are yet another interpreter to alter this narrative through your perspective, just as all works and all lives are interpreted by those who view them, with no way to control that judgment. You are also a character now, making it even more difficult to make definitive judgments about a question like 'what LotR is about'.

The clearest example of how this narrative unreliability and reader interpretation comes into play within the text itself is when Frodo describes the fellowship's entrance into Lothlorien to Faramir. He is being blindfolded in order to be lead to Henneth Annun, and he recounts;

‘As you will,’ said Frodo. ‘Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlorien. Gimli the dwarf took it ill, but the hobbits endured it.’

But we, as readers of the previous book, know this is a gross mischaracterisation of Gimli. He did not take issue with being blindfolded, he took issue with being singled out as the only member of the fellowship who needed to be blindfolded.

‘As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The others may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.’ This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. ‘The agreement was made without my consent,’ he said. ‘I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.’

In this one moment Frodo has taken what was a reaction of justified indignation against racial prejudice, and made it sound like a minor tantrum over a shared burden. He has also used it to further aggrandise his own people in Faramir's eyes. And it is up to YOU to notice this, to review it in your mind, to choose what it leads you to believe about all characters involved. The narrative certainly never helps you, or addresses it ever again. You have to wrestle with what it means in your mind.

I believe this is the reason I have observed that every person who reads LotR and loves it and keeps rereading it feels like they are excavating something. There is a narrative under the narrative for every new pair of eyes on the tale. And that narrative is you, it's who your experiences and sympathies lead you to listen too harder, it's the story of the experiences you understand. And in that excavation, you are also reclaiming a moment of control for yourself in conversation with the story and whatever you have chosen to excavate. One might say these are all aspects of every story, but LotR is unique in its investment and immersion into the concept.

Because, to me, when Tolkien says his story is about 'death and immortality', what I read is that it's about the ultimate lack of control we have (death) and trying to empathise and accept the unfairness of what will become our inherently false legacies (immortality). And then just the vast spectrum of experiences and emotions those things conjure. It's not just about those things, it is an attempted soothing of those fears and struggles, it is an offer of comfort or catharsis or applicability. It is also an acknowledgement of the love that drives you and that you will eventually grieve.

Frodo leaves the shire to save it because he loves it, but he knows the entire time he will never be able to fully return. He is frustrated, it hurts, but a piece of the Shire in Sam comes with him and whilst it cannot save him, Frodo is still comforted.

Sam leaves the Shire because he loves Frodo, and he loves the high beauty as embodied by elves and magic and history. He also knows implicitly that this is a task he cannot refuse, but these things comfort him. He is glad to be guided and strengthened to even greater feats the more he trusts in a higher power, but he has a life and a family in the end. And if that is what the Higher Beauty decrees for him, where it has doomed Frodo to incurable soulful wounds, are we surprised at either of their choices? Can we blame anyone for their hope OR despair in the face of powerlessness? Oh! Look at that! It’s that pin I mentioned quite literally last century ago. TOLD you it’d be back.

And that brings us back to the question, what do I think LotR is about.

We are all powerless in the face of death and in writing a book about death Tolkien’s work has an inherent universal applicability in this regard. Tolkien asks an unconscious question within lotr, how should we cope with being creatures that love the world but that are doomed to die and leave it? And then he leaves that question entirely unanswered. This is what sets lotr apart and truly creates a story in which people can read narratives therein that appear entirely separate from death or any other recognisable theme others might see, without losing the sense of universal appeal. He offers multiple perspectives, including that of the dominant religion’s prescriptive decrees of right and wrong, but there is no solution brought forth in the story that saves anyone from grief or death or regret in the end. Not even Aragorn or Arwen, who are in essence the most holy and faithful characters barring Gandalf within the story, end without heartbreak and despair!

‘‘I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men.’’ ‘‘Nay, dear lord,’’ she said, ‘‘that choice is long over. There is now no ship that would bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or I nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Numenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive.’’ ‘‘So it seems,’’ he said.

There is no such comfort!! … Or is there?

To me, the appeal of Boromir is in the solution he offers; the comfort is in the wrestling!

Aragorn and Arwen did absolutely everything they were supposed to do, unquestioningly, to the point that Aragorn goes to the Silent Street and just lies down to die because it’s ‘the right time’ and he mustn’t become ‘unmanned and witless’. And then he dies and he makes a beautiful holy corpse that cannot comfort Arwen or his children or his people for even a moment.

But Boromir dies with a smile. Aragorn promises that Minas Tirith will not fall, and that does comfort him, because that was the wrestling he chose, the love he decided to hold, the meaning he decided to find and fight for beyond all his powerlessness to protect it. So that’s the answer I find and it might be different from yours, but it’s in LotR to be read because the story is about the wrestling as much as (if not more than) it is about the end. The road DOES go ever on and on, after all!

So ye das wat lotr was about I fink thanks 4 askin 👍I REALLY hope it makes sense. I also really hope Anon manages to see it after it took so goddamn long to respond 😂

#chats #Anonymous #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #erran vs tolkien #boromir #long post

86 notes · View notes

aetherdoesthings · 9 months

Note

Hey hey, am back again (the one who requested the movie headcanons)

I do have another request but I just got to say your impressive as hell. I had put in the other request just a day before it was made. Which is just crazy and the fact the headcanons were so accurate and good. Thank you for doing the last request once again.

Ok now I will get to my request now, just had to give that recognition 😅

I was wondering if you can please do, what it’s like to spread a morning with luffy, sanji, nami, and robin. How it would be like to wake up with them and get ready for the day with them. Stuff like that.

Thank you if you take this request, I hope you have a good morning 🫶🏾

hey hey! welcome back! thanks for the compliment, i'm glad you enjoyed it and found it accurate!

forethoughts: i can't believe i hit 100+ notes one of my post 🥹. thank you all so much for reading my stuff even though it occasionally breaks your hearts! ahhhh. also gonna use this space to have an fyi for people who request(ed) me. i just finished eneis lobby!!! if you request something that's way after eneis lobby, i'm either gonna have to wing it (aka poorly write bc i lack context and i don't wanna google bc google = spoiler), or you have to wait patiently for me to reach that arc. sorry for any inconvenience! anyways back to the matter at hand.

notes: all gn!reader

Luffy always sleeps whenever his body tells him to, so it’s not odd for him to suddenly disappear next to you while you two slept together. But ever since you two had gotten together, he would always make sure that he was by your side whenever you woke up. The moment your eyes open and consciousness rolls in, you feel a heavy weight on your body. Luffy’s fast asleep on you, his head bruised-no doubt from Sanji trying to steal food. You smile softly at him, petting his hair as you roll him over to his side of the bed, placing a kiss on his bruise as you look at him, admiring his peaceful sleeping form. Whenever you’re asleep, he’s awake. Whenever you’re awake, he’s asleep. You found this annoying, but seeing his sleepy baby face always washed your annoyance away. You would proceed with your morning routine as it is, and usually by the time you’re done, Luffy would’ve awoken, and smother you with kisses and whine about Sanji. Additionally, because now that you were with him and sleep with him (every now and then) at night, his hygiene significantly improved, so now he wasn’t always sweaty and covered in dirt!

Sanji is a gentleman, so of course he lets you steal the blanket at night, letting you snuggle up against him. Sometimes when you wake up, he’s not by your side, as he has to start preparing food for everyone, but you would always find a handwritten note and your favorite breakfast right next to you, as well as a rose in a vase on your nightstand. This was life with Sanji; he always had to be up at 5am, ready to cook every meal, while you always slept in. He’ll always make it up to you by giving you the best night, as he can never really give you the best morning, even though he tries his best.

Nami loves to either big spoon or little spoon you. Either way, she craves the physical intimacy she can generate with you. She expects to either be treated like a princess one day, or absolutely spoil you with kisses the moment you wake up, and help you shower, get changed, etc. You cannot change my mind about the fact that Nami is a pillow princess, and will steal the blanket if she’s cold. You don’t mind it; in fact you're already used to this behavior, but you love it anyway, and she loves you for indulging her. Once she wakes up, she’ll kiss you on your lips, whispering a good morning as she snuggles with you. Once you’re awake too, the two of you get ready for the day. Nami spends majority of her time on makeup and clothing, while you simply shower and pick something nice to wear. Ever since you started dating Nami, you found yourself sitting down on a stool, Nami’s hand deep into your scalp trying to ‘fix your hair’, while making you look the most attractive person in the world (to her you already were).

Similar to Nami, both you and Robin will always wake up at around the same time, to say good morning to each other and be the first thing you see once you wake up. In the beginning of your relationship, she isn’t too keen on snuggling/cuddling due to her trauma and the hardship of opening up to others, but after a while of being with you, she’ll let you cuddle her and she grows to love it too. She always smells like fresh paper or flowers, a scent you’ve grown to love. Robin usually wakes up before you, and loves seeing your sleepy face buried in her chest. She’ll plant a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering ‘good morning’ to you. Soon enough, you’ll wake up, and whisper a ‘good morning’ to you. The two of you stay in bed slowly waking up, talking about your dreams and your sleep, then about what you were going to do/plan to do for the day. Robin loved talking to you and helping you achieve your goals, as nothing makes her more happy than to see you succeed. Everyday, she’d check in on you to see if you had completed your task you said you would in the morning, and always reward you with a special night. Ending your discussion with a kiss, the two of you get out of bed, ready to accomplish what both of you set out to do today.

#one piece #op #monkey d. luffy #vinsmoke sanji #nami #nico robin #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #nami x reader #nico robin x reader #aetherasks #mornings #what if i used my forethought box for actual thoughts i have every day? 🤔

150 notes · View notes

blommp717 · 2 months

Text

Disingenuous Misleadings

Disclaimer Post

Welcome

I’m really sorry this is a long post but I reallyyyyy hate this idea that people who “manifest” can’t understand NonDualism to experience the life they love.

Hey guys, this is mainly for the “critics” ( dramatic I know, but I really couldn’t think of another word sorry 😭😭🫶) but of course I advice that everyone read it regardless because it’ll also help you understand if this page is for you or not! I received a message recently and I could tell that sooner or later there would be another person like this claiming I’m being fake or disingenuous and misleading with what I say, so here is, the post I’ll always refer them to 😭 I’m going to use word with allot of “quotes” around it because I know if I don’t people r gonna go nuts. If I come off aggressive near the end, then I’m sorry.

“Your not teaching nondualism” 🤭

I’ve actually said this multiple times across plenty of posts that I’m not teaching anyone how to manifest, because there is no such thing, it just looks like manifestation. But I have to use words like that or else no one would understand what I’m saying. If I wanted to be another no concept or NonDualism blogger who speaks vaguely and cryptically to the point where the majority of the people who read their post’s have no idea what they’re even talking about I would. It’s really not hard, because there’s absolutely nothing to learn. All is what “it” is, absolutely no-thing. We get it.

To whoever gets upset that I’m not teaching nondualism and that I’m giving people a false idea that they can read what I say and be awakened, you yourself have no idea what nondualism states. Starting off, no one can awaken, all of that is just random b.s we make up for ourselves because we think there is a “journey” Nonduality is not a teaching, it’s just another random meaningless word we use to describe what “is”. When you truly reach the point of complete understanding you’ll realize that even the idea of nobdualism is well, just an idea. Truly there only ever is “ “ it’s unlabeled, no words can describe, no emotions or thoughts can describe, it’s the indescribable beingness that always is and what “we” are. Notice how vague that is, this is nobdualism, but you realize no one will understand what we say if we all talk like that right? We HAVE to describe it using words people actually understand or else they’ll all be left confused.

What is “happening”

Regardless of your belief or reliance on LOAssumption, LOAttraction or ND, realize that in the end it’s all concepts made “real” by “ “ or if you want to use words that people actually understand, awareness/consciousness/god. These are just thoughts made real by the realization of the thought/idea itself. Understanding NonDualism is realizing how this experience, so to speak, is. Meaning, absolute, no separation, no difference, no duality. I think where people disconnect from is when they come from people saying, “there is no one doing anything” and they see someone like me talking about how to “manifest using nondualism”. I get it can seem like I’m telling it wrong but that also comes from how you see just one of my posts without context. There is nothing and no one, yes, the experience is completely hollow, yes, it’s lacking a substance, lacking a real foundation…yes. But the existence of what appears to be or what seems to be happening (people, life, physicality) still is “real”. We can’t make all of this disappear (and I wouldn’t want it to) by understanding NonDualism properly, the “goal” was never to transcend anything, because it’s all you! You can’t! And the “3D” just like anything and everything to ever exist is deconstructed to “ “. The (for lack of better words) existence of all that’s perceived or experienced is reliant on “ “, including the body. The “answer” is, all of it is “ “ and in essence that is what “you” are. There are no rules, no concepts, no laws, absolutely nothing. BUT THIS ALSO MEANS IT CAN BE ANYTHING. Imagination, thoughts, visuals, physical is all “ “, therefore any story painted by realizing an outcome or experience is what appears as what “happens” in life. A preferred experience made real by the simple realization of that experience. That is not manifestation Its existence, but do you really expect me to tell people that over and over and over again? Nondualism isn’t a technique it’s not a method and never can be. Literally just being and perceiving that your living the life of your dreams or everything always working out for you is not an affirmation to make something happen, it’s the true nature of existence in that instant moment because you’ve realized it, therefore making it “real”

Are you for real rn??

The “3D” is also just “ “, who cares if someone wants to experience the life of their dreams??? You’d rather people learn to be unaffected by the illusion while their life is “spiraling”, or they’re going into debt or waking up “suffering” every single day? Why does it seem so unappealing to you for someone to have “faith” or even “hope” doesn’t matter if there’s no such thing, we cannot escape what appears to be happening. You still exist as a “physical” experience. If we truly wanted to live life so detached from meaning or anything mattering, people would be able to kill each-other and say “well there’s no one doing anything so you can’t charge me with a crime, because a crime also isn’t really real it’s just “ “ your honor” but surprise, though the experience isn’t really “real” and all of it is just an appearance, it still exists! Please I urge you (not really, pls don’t actually do this) go punch someone on the street a few times and see if you don’t have to “experience” the consequences. Oh right you still get arrested, it still leaves a mark on your name, you get charges and probably jail time or a fine. Why?? Just because it’s all illusionary doesn’t mean the illusion doesn’t “exist” (Don’t actually incite any violence it’s just to paint an image)

Conclusion

So what now? So what happens now is you stop getting so upset that someone’s actually explaining nondualism in a way that people can benefit from, this body will be here for however long it is, and up until then I see no point in “suffering”. If you understand ND and “use” it to be completly neutral in any/every moment, good for you, doesn’t mean everyone has to take it that way. And THATS OKAY. But what will NOT happen is for anyone to come on my page and tell my friends/followers that they’re living their own life wrong and shouldn’t want to go about it this way, how selfish you are, truly. Anyways I think I’m kinda done with this post 😭😭 thanks everyone for reading and understanding. 🫶🪷🫀🥰💵 take care.

#manifest #non dualism #manifestation #law of assumption #law of attraction #nonduality #master manifestor

48 notes · View notes

slasherbvnnie · 2 years

Note

Hi sorry for disturbing I love your writing style and I love your work ☺️ I was wondering if I could make a request for poly ghostface billy Loomis X reader X Stu macher where the reader gets jealous of their boyfriends because their are these girls that flirt with Billy and stu and the reader starts to ignore both of them and they both sneak into the reader house or workplace to confront them if you don't mind me asking you don't have to if you don't want to I hope you have a lovely day/night and sorry for taking your time ☺️

I hope this is written to your liking. I really enjoyed writing it! This little blurb is brought to you by the perfect girl by mareux and my jason dean playlist.

Diamond Tears

Context: After surviving Ghostface, you and your boyfriends moved in together and went off to college. You are currently majoring in education and recently received a new job. Your boyfriends were happy, until their own work life at Mr. Loomis' firm began to interfere with your love life. All characters 18+ Modern Scream Au

Word Count: 1949

Your boyfriends were always angels to you. Ever since you three became highschool sweethearts they had always been doting, gifting you sweets and treats, stuffed animals, jewelry, and any other little items that reminded them of you. It took awhile to get used to, you weren’t used to previous lovers gifting you items as much as they did, but once they reassured you that money wasn’t a problem to worry over, you relaxed an accepted the gifts.

Billy and Stu received love back from you as well, all in different ways. Stu preferred meals, he loved any meal that was cooked by you, he also gladly accepted being cuddled, held, or babied slightly by you. He was a big puppy with having his head rubbed during movie nights, and on days he let it grow a little longer, he enjoyed feeling you play with his hair. Billy was different, he enjoyed when you comforted him even if he would keep his stoic demeaner, it meant the world to him when you would comfort him. He also loved when you would kiss him or hold onto him in public, he felt proud to show you off as his (and Stu’s) and would proudly flaunt you off when you were together.

The boys were a little sad when you had gotten a new job, in your third year of college which meant you now had to help with being a TA, teachers assistant. That meant you were gone for eight hours or more a day, which wasn’t exactly fun for them. Despite both helping as interns at Billy’s fathers firm, and working nearly as long as you did, the lack of face times and phone calls during their lunches or time alone wasn’t fun.

Luckily for you, school had gotten called off for a holiday, which meant you could surprise the boys while they were at work. You had made one of their favorite meals while at home, packing it into Tupperware and happily placing it into a lunch bag for the two. You also got yourself fixed up for them, wanting to look nice, especially since it would be the first time in the office. You at least wanted them to be excited for when they could finally get home and have you all to themselves.

You walked out to the car, putting the bag of food on the passenger seat as you put on some music and began to drive off. It wasn’t long before you had made it to the parking lot of the law firm, turning off the Mareux song that was playing through the speakers and turning the car off, carrying the bag of food in your hands as you walked inside. You spoke with the secretary at the front desk, happy when she allowed you to go up the elevator to their floor, you looked around the office as you walked to the room she told you that you could find the two, feeling a bit out of place. On movies they didn’t seem much more full of life, but currently this lawyer firm felt like the coldest place on earth, front the generic wall art down to the repeating style of offices.

What warmed your heart however was getting to see your two boyfriends in action, even if they were just interns at the moment and still working hard on their classes, you felt ecstatic knowing they were becoming what they wanted to be. The receptionist had told you to look out for one of the conference rooms, that one of the lawyers were meeting with the newest team they were assigned with and had asked for Stu and Billy to observe with them. Your eyes darted around with all the glass windows, noticing just about everyone except for the boys.

However when you spotted the room a few people were leaving, you saw the tuffs of brown hair you knew well, plus the towering giant known as Stu. What you weren’t expecting however were the other girls in the room who were talking to the two. Typically, you weren’t a very jealous significant other, you knew the two were hot, but you also knew they were yours. What was different this time was how they acted with the two of them, one of the girls hands traced Stu’s arm, who just seemed oblivious as he rambled on about something. Billy was just as oblivious as the girl facing him spoke on and on, pushing her elbows together slightly to show off her cleavage. It wasn’t the first time girls had flirted with them, unknowing that they were dating you, but it was the first time the boys hadn’t brushed them off and that made something churn inside of you. A frown stayed on your face as you swung the door open to the room, stomping as you walked as the four turned their heads to you. “Baby!” Stu called out, your gaze set down at the table, too angered to even notice the girl who had been flirting with him grimace at the name. “I made you two lunch,” you grumbled out, the two taken back, knowing your angered state easily with the amount of years you had been together now.

You tossed the bag onto the table, storming back out and rushing off to the elevator. You disappeared quickly, leaving the two males stunned and attempting to follow after, but were just left with your trail of anger having already taken off.

Your phone had buzzed non stop for a good hour. You sat in the parking lot for about 15 of those 60 minutes, the other 45 was spent driving home and crying in the driveway. Every time someone had flirted with the boys, they were always quick to brush off the other person. Whether it was a guy, or a girl or anyone who identified in between or not at all, they shot them down every single fucking time. You remembered how many times you saw saddened, angered, or even down right dejected stares from those people when they saw you waltz up and plant big kisses onto them. But this time it fucking hurt, two beautiful women flirting with your boyfriends and neither of them shot them down.

The incident replayed in your mind for hours, even trying to go over the little details you could remember. You could have sworn you saw a blush on Stu’s cheeks and if you remembered correctly, you saw Billy’s signature shit eating grin on his face. Your thoughts didn’t cease even when there was a soft thump of the front door. The shuffling of feet as they made their way upstairs and to your- great- locked bedroom you three shared.

“Baby, come on,” Billy pleaded, sighing as he leaned against the doorframe. “Please open up the door baby, you haven’t answered all day and we’re worried about you.” Stu said, jiggling the knob as tears rolled down your cheeks.

You knew eventually you would have to talk to the two, but the thoughts that were running through your mind were tearing away at you. What if the other women were more attractive to them, what if they no longer wanted just you, what if they were cheating on you all along without you suspecting a thing? They only grew more concerned when they heard you heaving and trying not to make noise as you cried, which wasn’t exactly working out for you as you let out choked sobs.

The knob jiggled once again before you could hear the metal clanking of keys being jammed into the lock from the other side and the creak that it was followed up with. Your head turned to the two as you sniffled, trying to wipe your face clean of any tears as they approached you.

They sat on either side of you on the bed, Stu making the first move and wrapping his arms around you gently. “What has you so worked up, pretty girl?” He whispered, Billy’s cold hands tucking some hair behind your ear to get it out of your face. “Why are you crying, sweetheart? Please tell us what’s wrong,” he said softly as you cried even harder, feeling your body shake as you tried to keep in your cries. However, your body betrayed you and began to melt when Billy cupped your face and made you look at him.

It wasn’t very often that you saw his stone cold face change, but what made you break was seeing his teary eyes and red nose staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered to him right now. “You guys- you-“ you only got out two words before your body shook again from how hard you were trying to hold back from crying, leaning into Stu’s chest when he pulled you in even closer. “They were flirting with you guys and you- you liked it,” you cried out, sniffling as Billy used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. “The girls…the girls you saw us with?” Stu asked as you nodded, “you know we would never flirt with other people sweetheart, we promised you that it would just be us three,” Billy said as you whined. “But you guys always turn them down! You always, you always tell them you have a girlfriend and-“ a small hiccup left you as you sniffled once again, “you two always turn them down. But you didn’t! You just let them keep flirting with you,” you cried out, frowning as Billy did his best to keep up with all your tears. “Pretty girl, I am so sorry if we came off like we were enjoying it. I promise you we didn’t mean to. You know we only have the hots for you,” Stu said, trying to lighten the mood as you frowned. “But- you didn’t push them off of you…and-and Billy didn’t even realize that girl was trying to shove her boobs in his face and it just. I-it makes me feel like you two enjoyed it,” you said between broken cries, frowning as Stu tightened his hold.

“You know we only love you, sweetheart. You’re our only girl. There will never be another girl in our lives. I promise you that. I am sorry we didn’t realize they were flirting,” Billy said as you frowned, looking away from him as he slowly let go of your face. “Is there something we could do to make you feel better?” Stu asked, kissing your temple.

You shook your head, feeling comforted by his kiss. “Well, how about we order some good takeout, you can choose. Then we can watch any movie you want, and afterwards, we will prove to you you’re our only girl ever,” Billy said as he kissed your cheek. “Even if I have to kiss every single inch of your body, even if we have to tell you every single little thing we love about you from your eyes to every little beauty mark on your body, even if we have to spend the entire night cuddling you until you fall asleep, we’ll make you know you’re our only girl,” he reassured, smiling softly as he saw you try and hide a shy smile.

“We better get started on ordering takeout huh, seems like our pretty girl would love to be showered in kisses and told how much we love her,” Stu said as you looked up to him, giving a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, receiving a kiss on either cheek from the two. “Don’t apologize,” “you have nothing to be sorry about,” they reassured you as you sniffled.

#poly!ghostface x female reader #poly!ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #scream 1996 #scream1996 #scream x reader #scream au #scream #billy loomis brainrot #billy x stu x reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher brainrot #stu macher x reader #stu macher #ghostface x reader #ghostface

628 notes · View notes

devondespresso · 7 months

Text

Mr. Crayola Henderson

T | 1791 words | ao3 link | cw: minor ableism from a side character, also they swear, I always forget f-bombs bother some people sorry guys | STWG Prompt: Telling a story to get out of trouble

EDIT: I NEARLY FORGOT thank you @pearynice my beloved for the brainstorming GENIUS and @hairstevington for the sensitivity read! You guys are awesome!! Also thank you @saradika-graphics for making free dividers!!

((little bit of context for extra clarity: this universe is vaguely canon divergent, post season 2. Steve is hoh (hard of hearing) and already adopted by the Hendersons, and in this one they're in the middle of a sort of family reunion/gathering))

Steve went to duck inside the house, holding the door open for Aunt Tracy on her way back out into the backyard where the majority of the gathering was taking place. She smiled and said something, probably just a thank you that he would’ve heard if the batteries in his hearing aids hadn’t died. He smiled back at her and gestured to his ear and she nodded again with a smile that did its best to not be patronizing.

She left and Steve went inside, sighing a little and tried to not hold it against her, the lack of filter seemed to run in the family, but it was moments like that that made him grateful his mom was the most laid-back of the Henderson women.

Steve went over to the media room and dug through the little bin of batteries under the phone, pulling out an opened pack that had just enough left. He took both aids off, changed the batteries, and put them back on to make sure they worked.

He heard a strong thud from his bedroom, followed by muttering.

Steve put the dead batteries down on top of the table and stared at his bedroom door. The muttering escalated to hushed bickering.

Steve walked closer to the door, hearing the bickering more clearly, then opened the door.

Dustin and their cousin Aiden both jumped and turned to look at the door, Dustin relaxing when he saw it was him. Steve paused for a second, looking at both of them crouched on the ground, bright pink paint on their hand and clothes and the carpet around them with no bottle in sight.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Dustin.

“We were just… snooping through your shit. ” Dustin said.

Steve glanced back down at the paint everywhere, and gave him a look.

Dustin just smiled like a little angel, which worked on mom and maybe Steve-from-two-years-ago, but not now.

“Oh no, you found my secret stash of… bubblegum pink paint.” he deadpanned.

“The cheap kiddy bubblegum pink paint.” Dustin corrected, looking down at the carpet. “It’ll wash out.”

“Of course.” He looked over to Aiden, who had relaxed significantly as he realized Steve wasn’t going to blow up on them. “And… why is there totally washable pink paint in my room specifically? Weren’t you guys sticking to dicking around outside to avoid doing stuff like this?”

Aiden opened his mouth to give a better excuse, but Dustin started tapping his shoulder excessively to get his attention.

“He’d help us.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, not arguing because odds were good he’d end up doing something, but he still played it up like he wasn’t already planning to.

Aiden was turned mostly towards Dustin and muttered something he couldn’t catch, throwing a glance at Steve.

“Trust me, this is like a walk in the park compared to–” Dustin said.

“Hardly a fair comparison, man.” Steve interrupted.

“–compared to the other shit he’s helped me with.”

Aiden thought about it, then glanced towards Steve. “And he's not going to jump ship afterwards and get us in trouble?”

“Of course not, right Steve?”

Steve looked at the two of them and ran a hand over his face.

“You know step one of not getting in trouble for stupid shit is not starting stupid shit, right?”

Aiden groaned but Dustin agreed immediately, “Yes, 100% understood.”

Dustin elbowed Aiden, and he nodded despite his clear annoyance.

Dustin smiled and looked at Steve.

He rubbed his temple one last time before throwing his hand down.

“Okay. Step two then.”

Dustin jumped up and shot him a thanks before running around him towards the kitchen. Steve watched him go then turned back to Aiden who looked just as confused.

“What’s he doing?”

“I don't know.” Aiden lied, looking at him curiously, “What's step two?”

“Find me and let me finish the stupid shit.”

“Huh.”

Dustin came running back with a slice of deli-meat in one hand.

“Dustin, this isn’t looking much better than last time.”

Dustin paused his mad dash for just a second to look at him.

“It’s significantly better, I swear.” he said, then ran to sit back down, dropping the slice of meat on the floor in front of him, and waited.

After a few seconds of nothing, a fuzzy little white face poked out from under his bed. Cautiously, a opossum with pink paint splashed on its back came waddling out. It sniffed at the food given to him, nibbled at it, then opened its mouth as wide as it could to awkwardly chomp at its new snack.

It was a wild animal, Dustin brought in a wild animal inside, during a family gathering with some of the most worry-wart mothers he’s ever met–

But god, the tiny opossum was really fucking cute.

Dustin beamed at the little guy like a proud mom, then up at Steve. Steve shook his head in disbelief and joined them carefully around the opossum. He picked up the deli meat and placing it on his hand to get the little guy used to it.

“You’re crazy, Henderson, you’re fucking crazy.” He grumbled, playing up annoyance to avoid losing his better judgment.

Dustin said something probably cheeky as hell, but he didn’t catch it.

“One more time.” he said, looking away from the opossum for just a second.

“And what does that make you, Henderson?” Dustin smiled, definitely cheeky.

“Reluctantly, also fucking crazy.” he sighed, shaking his head before moving the deli meat further up his hand to lead little Mr. Opossum onto it.

He lifted Opossum gently, letting it have the rest of the deli meat so he could use two hands to hold it steady. He stood up slowly, and started walking towards the bathroom.

Dustin and Aiden went around him to get the door, lights, and sink ready– apparently, to continue where they left off. There were pink handprints around the edge of the sink and a bottle of dish soap sat next to the hand soap.

“Wow, I wonder what happened here.” Steve deadpanned. He looked over at the both of them, not a hint of guilt in their eyes. “And this is why there aren’t two Dustin Hendersons.” he bitched with no real anger, and set Mr. Opossum down gently in the sink.

“You mean this is why there aren’t two Aiden Haults.” Aiden said, leaning over the sink.

“Nope, Dustin gets the credit for this one.”

Steve closed the drain to make a pool of water and Opossum gravitated to it immediately, taking a drink before waddling into the pool and almost rolling in the water to get his fur wet.

Steve tried and failed to bite back a smile.

“His name is Sir Crayolan.” Dustin said.

Steve had no choice but to bark out a laugh.

“Sir what?”

“Sir Crayolan.”

“Oh god, I heard you correctly.”

“It’s a great name!”

“You know Sir Crayolan isn't staying, right?”

“Yeah, we were gonna let him go after we washed him, we just–”

Aiden muttered something and tugged on his sleeve, pointing out the bathroom doorway towards the back door.

Just out of the window, Aunt Tracy was caught in conversation with someone, looking like she was laughing, but clearly stopped just before she was going to come inside. Steve quickly rinsed some of the minimal paint on his fingers, careful not to scare Mr. Crayola or whatever.

“Does she know you’re in here?”

“No, we hid in your room–”

“Good, you guys wash him, carefully and quietly, I’ve got the rest.” He whispered, wiping his hands off on a towel.

“You’re the best, Steve.” Dustin said, giving him a quick side hug to avoid getting paint on him.

“Oh really? I’m gonna need that in writing.” He smiled and Dustin stuck out his tongue. Steve returned the gesture and slipped out of the bathroom, straight across the hall and into his bedroom.

He turned off the lights immediately to hide the pink mess on his floor and waited to hear the front door.

He heard Aunt Tracy’s laughing rather than the actual door open, heard her wave off whoever it was she was talking to through the door. He took one hearing aid off before he walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. He made his way back to the abandoned dead batteries and put his aid back on, messing with it a little longer than strictly necessary.

“Oh, Steve, there you are. Everything okay?” she said, joining him by the tv room.

“Yeah, just had to find batteries. What’s up?”

“Oh yes, well– now, I know I could be overreacting, but I haven’t seen Aiden anywhere for– oh, for god knows how long–”

“He was with Dustin earlier–”

“I know, I know, but they were near those woods weren’t they? And you know there were those missing kids stories–”

“Trust me, I know.” he said, dropping the dead batteries into their battery jar. “I can help you search for them if you want, but I don’t think Dustin’s ever gotten lost. He carries around a compass like it's his wallet. Worst case scenario? They’re messing around in the woods somewhere a little too far away and they’ll come running back once they realize we started eating hotdogs without them.”

“God, you know Claudia said the same thing, I just worry…”

“Ron just lit the grill, right? Let’s give them twenty minutes,” he checked his watch, “Until five… five fifteen-ish. If nobody sees them, I’ll help you look.”

“Twenty minutes, alright, I’ll tell Claudia.” She said, and circled back to the door.

“I’ll join you guys in a second, I’m grabbing a coke.” he called, jutting a thumb back towards the kitchen.

She called something back with a wave and Steve just waved back until she disappeared out the door. He walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a cold can for himself and a diet pepsi for mom, then circled back to the bathroom.

He checked over his shoulder once real quick before tapping on the door and opening his coke.

Aiden answered the door, cracking it open just enough to stand in the doorway.

“You got all that, yeah?”

“Twenty minutes, we’ve been exploring in the woods.”

“Yup. Release your critter out the front door and circle around. I am not joining a search party for you guys today.”

Aiden nodded and gave him an overserious salute. Steve threw a more casual one back.

“Tell Mr. Crayola I said ‘bye’.” he said, then turned around to leave as Dustin came to the opossum’s defense. He hid his smile by taking a sip of his coke, and went back out the door.

(obligatory disclaimer uhhh dont pick up wild opossums please ok thanks guys love ya)

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #steve and dustin #hoh steve harrington #hoh!steve #hoh!steve harrington #steve henderson au #been a while since ive used that tag straight up hfdklashfhdl #ive kinda recently realized that my steve henderson au's like. origin-story part? was spanning a lot longer than i thought #and odds are i wont be able to exhaust every possible shenanigan these brothers could get in to #so starts the not-really-the-same-universe-but-like-also-kinda-close steve henderson au hfsdjklafhdkl #stwgdailyprompt #devon's writings

73 notes · View notes

cannedpickledpeaches · 7 months

Text

Insert Your Name (2)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Part 2 focuses on a bit of context. I’m sorry that not much romance is happening, it’ll exist later I promise. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Eventually, you grow bored of watching the three of them interact. It all goes exactly as the story says, anyway, down to the dialogue. Instead, you step soundlessly into the hallway and up the stairs to the attic.

You like the attic of this house. Warm sunlight spills in during the afternoons, and when it gets too hot in the summer, opening the window lets in the sea breeze. Not claustrophobic, but cozy. Your feet bring you to your usual spot, the narrow window seat. You have always preferred small spaces. Floyd once laughed and compared you to fish that hide in coral reefs.

Your fingers dig under the cushioned seat and lift it to find a compartment. Nestled inside is what seems to be a regular notebook. You place your hand on the cover and let your magic roll over it like heavy fog. Its plain, blank pages fade into the appearance of a manuscript—no, a stack of printer paper stapled together that contains the information that completely changed your understanding of this world. This humble manuscript tells the “original story.”

You found it while cleaning the attic. Neither Jade or Floyd could confirm its origins or its author. The cover page is blank, save for the title: (Y/N)’s Story. At first, you thought it was a prank that the two were playing on you, so you read through the entire thing. The writing is immature, rampant with purple prose, and the grammar has more than room for improvement. Neither twin writes this way. Floyd lacks the patience to write past a page and Jade is too much of a perfectionist. They could have hired someone, but there are too many personal details in there for your comfort. You decided to put it down and mull it over.

The very next day, Jade ate an unknown mushroom and proceeded to find out that his body strongly disagreed with it. For three nights, he laid in bed with a fever. At first, you thought nothing of it, but the description of the mushroom he ate was uncomfortably familiar. The manuscript mentions this event as a quirky flashback meant to create insight to Jade’s character. Of course, it brushes off the absolutely miserable state he was in for the comedic factor. This alone was not enough. You needed more proof.

The next one was Floyd. He took a broom twenty meters off the ground before his mood suddenly flipped and he could no longer come back down. The story mentions this in another flashback, but does not mention your involvement in flying up there and helping him down. Only the information relevant to the main characters is important enough to mention. Again, it could easily be brushed off as a normal Floyd antic if it weren’t for the detail that he rode and nearly broke his mother’s broom. It was the first and only time any of you had seen it. Their mother, like most merfolk, is not fond of flying.

Once is a coincidence. Twice is suspicious. You confided in the twins. They, understandably, said you were being paranoid. Weeks passed until the next major event, and this time, you could no longer ignore it. This time, the event nearly uprooted the entire Leech Mafia.

You did not watch it happen. You received a text from Jade that asked you to come to a private hospital with an uncharacteristic urgency, so you tipped the taxi driver handsomely to push the speed limit and skirt around traffic laws. When you arrived, you found Mr. and Mrs. Leech lying in pristine white hospital beds with ashy faces. Someone cursed their dinner. You had to physically grab on to both twins—Floyd so that he wouldn’t start breaking things, and Jade so that he wouldn’t immediately leave and track down the assassin himself. You understood those sentiments, but at the moment, both of them needed to be there.

No matter how many specialists they hired and bribed, nobody could figure out how to undo the curse. Luckily, or perhaps not, their parents fell into comas. Their life was still intact, but to what extent? For how long? And most importantly in a logistical sense, who would run the Leech Mafia?

Jade was the one who decided he would take up the mantle while pretending to be his parents. Too many beings, human and merfolk alike, would eagerly sink their teeth into their organization if word got out that the bosses of the largest syndicate of the Coral Sea were comatose. The idea was to stop all in person events and have him run the operations behind the scenes. Floyd would help, of course, but his fickle personality made him unsuitable to run such a large and complex network. Not that he wanted to. He hated all that responsibility.

When things settled down, you brought their attention back to the book. Rereading it with the recent developments regarding the twins’ parents made the cheesy, ridiculously over-exaggerated story seem like a threat. Did someone write it with clairvoyance? Did the assassin write it before committing the crime? Or, in the most unlikely scenario, is the story written by someone from the future? Regardless, after much discussion, one thing was clear: if real life progresses the way the story is written, then not only will the Leech Mafia prosper, the most important people to the twins will be cured with relative ease.

The solution is simple, given the rules which the story operates under. (Y/N) attracts the love and attention of anyone rich, famous, beautiful, talented, or otherwise an eligible bachelor. Thus, through heavy-handed author intervention, she becomes friends with a certain Vil Schoenheit. It so happens that he can brew potions and cast curses with his eyes closed, and anyone who can make such things is always careful to keep in mind how to unmake them as well. Vil, with all his natural talent and hard work, is nothing short of a genius when it comes to such unsavoury usages of magic. Such a complex curse takes him months in the story to dispel, but the most important thing is that he does manage it at the teary request of the story’s favourite protagonist.

The twins and Vil graduated from the same high school. Although acquainted, they are far from on good terms. With his connections in the entertainment industry, it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together and realize the two eel merfolk with the surname Leech are related in some way to the infamous Leech Mafia run by merfolk. Vil, despite his villainous air and name, is at heart a terribly good person. As soon as he realized the twins were involved in organized crime, he cut off contact completely.

But of course, the lovable (Y/N)’s doe eyes and fluttering lashes make him cave in. She can be quite useful in her own right.

You make yourself at home on the window seat, rereading the next chapter of the story. It is a nervous habit rather than out of necessity. By now, you can probably recite the story word for word by heart. The misspellings, the unpolished grammar, every bit of what seems to be a novice writer’s fantasy of an idealized romance. The mystery of the author’s identity constantly nags at you. What are their motives? How did they manage such a thing? The more you think about it, the more questions arise.

Sunlight makes its slow journey across the attic floor. When Floyd’s head pops up through the trapdoor, the patch of light on the wall glows a saturated orange.

“They left,” he announces, boredom seeping into his tone. Never one to be idle. “Whatcha doin’? Reading it again? It’s not gonna change, y’know.”

“I know.” If only it would. You bookmark the manuscript exactly where the story is currently at and slip it back under the window seat. Without your magic to feed the concealment spell, it returns to the appearance of a regular, blank notebook. It’s a precaution you took in case it goes missing. “Do you want to go on a short trip with me?”

His eyes light up and catch the fiery remnants of the setting sun. The yellow one seems to glow, while the olive one displays more gold flecks than green. Sometimes, it can be easy to forget that he isn’t a hyperactive, harmless puppy, that a single swipe of his claws can tear out a windpipe.

Danger presents itself in various ways with him. Everytime you get into his car, you regret it. In fact, you regret the day you didn’t stop him from getting his driver’s license. How he got the license is a mystery in and of itself. The way he drives is most certainly illegal, and the scenery flashing past the windows could very well be your life flashing past your eyes. When the expensive sports car finally screeches to a halt, you slump back in your seat and take several deep, shaky breaths.

“Remind me why we couldn’t get your private chauffeur to bring us here?”

Floyd’s grating laugh scratches its way into your ears. “Because it’s way less fun!”

You would beg to disagree, but a conversation like that goes nowhere with him, so you relent. You get out of the car, Floyd laughing at your unsteady legs, and ring the doorbell of yet another ridiculously large mansion.

Azul personally opens the door. Normally, his housekeeper answers the door and shows you to his office. He must be feeling somewhat worried in his own way. He leads you to the basement, his hands fidgeting with a small device.

“I don’t get it,” Floyd whines, draping an arm around Azul’s shoulder. “Can’t we just use Jade’s Signature Spell?”

Azul brushes him off and adjusts his shirt, the slight tick in his eyebrow giving away his annoyance. “We will have to wait until he gets here. You know Jade is . . . occupied at the moment.”

With bringing the lovely (Y/N) home and fussing over her humble lifestyle, no doubt. Since he must be the perfect love interest, he must cater to her every need even as she refuses his help, so he is likely making her dinner at the moment. He’ll surprise her with his knowledge of recipes to use with foraged mountainous plants and fungi, even though he comes from a family where money is not an issue. Rich, but not a spoiled brat. Mature enough to take care of her. Playful and unconventional to endear him to her.

“Knock knock, Handfish. You there?” Floyd raps his knuckles against your temple. Instinctively, you step away from him. He isn’t known for holding back his strength.

“Yeah.” You collect yourself and focus on the task at hand. No use wondering what Jade is doing right now. You have the story memorized—you know what he’s doing.

You enter a dim room. It is such a cliché. Surely, Azul should be more tasteful, but he’s always had a love for theatrics.

A man sits tied to a chair in the center of the room, his face flushed and angry. A handsaw tattoo stands out on his neck. This is Thug Number One, the extra who pulled you and (Y/N) into the alley earlier today. Recognition flickers on his face when they land on you.

“You’re that bitch who ran away! You—”

“What did you just call her?” Floyd’s teeth flash dangerously as his pupils shrink to pinpoints. One hand comes up to roll a shoulder back, popping his joints like he’s getting ready to throw a punch. Some habits never change. There hasn’t been any reason for him to get physical lately. He must be itching for a fight. “You wanna say that again? Come on. I dare you.”

Thug Number One shuts his mouth and looks to the side. No sane person would respond when the slightest nudge might set him off. Ever the crafty one, Azul orders Floyd to stand down. He’s playing the good cop for now.

“Now, now, Floyd. I understand that you want to protect the honour of our good friend, but let’s calm down and talk this out rationally.” What a load of lies. You know Floyd too well to assume that he’ll get angry on your behalf for something like this. He just wants to expend energy. “Yes, let us have a civil conversation—”

“Like hell! You tied me up and left me in this chair for hours—”

“And it would have been longer if we did not decide to visit you on a whim.” You stand in front of him, scrutinizing his face. No particularly outstanding features. He is, after all, just a nameless extra to the story.

Of course, he does have a name. Barry Moore, male, thirty-four years old. A low-level soldier of the Carpenter Mafia who joined two years ago. No family, no friends except his drinking buddies, no real connections. You texted Azul with a request to dig up this information about him while holed up in the attic. He mentioned that he’d expect payment, but you are not too concerned. You are not stupid enough to hand him a blank cheque.

“Barry Moore. I suggest you cooperate.” You pull a chair over and sit in front of him. “It is not my hobby to get violent.”

“You totally should, though.” The dim lighting casts unsettling shadows over Floyd’s face. “You’ll look just like a red handfish. It’s the look that suits you the best, y’know?”

He would think it’s entertaining. A memory of when you first met flashes through your mind. Silvery puffs of breaths in early spring air. Bright splashes of red on sand. Nails dripping blood. Red Handfish.

“I don’t need to right now.”

He huffs and kicks Barry Moore’s chair, making the poor thug flinch. “Booooring.”

“Cry about it.” You turn your attention away from his pout and study your captive. Information on his background is too limited. There is little you can exploit from his personal connections. Nothing tangible or emotional to threaten him with that you are aware of. So you either bribe him with something he wants, or . . . “Instead of me, maybe you should have some fun, Floyd.”

A sharp leer cuts across his face, his razor-like teeth glinting in the harsh light. Slow, lumbering steps bring him closer until he towers over Barry’s hunched body.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Handfish.” His cackles bounce off the bare walls. Madness shines in his golden eye. “Why didn’t ya say so earlier? I’ll make sure to take reeaaaal good care of him.”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst x reader #twst fanfic #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #mafia au #never let Floyd drive a car #i firmly believe this

113 notes · View notes

charbies · 20 days

Text

I'm mashing together my review of totk and reactions to random encounters with the masterworks I've had lately into one stream of consciousness

Totk should have had true continuity, not a 6 year time skip that we never get to see, experience, and feel. It's not that hard to bridge 2 games with a 1-2 min cutscene, esp in a zelda game. Majora's mask starts with quick, but meaningful exposition that bridges OOT to MM! The intro to wind waker is a 6 minute long cutscene!! This series thrives with its detailed, intriguing intros, so what happened?? Before I even launched totk the night it came out, I booted up botw and replayed the final boss & ending because I was so stoked to see the transition in story/world and wanted to honor both games. Instead boom, we're walking in a cave w/ no context.

I was so disappointed that zelda wasn't a companion character to link in totk, it was disempowering to her character arc. Really thought this game would build off of botw's snippets of link & zelda working together in memories. The teasers and trailers for totk gave this perception that she would be there (which would also "break tradition" like devs wanted, ffs). When I was on the tutorial island I was fully convinced I'd be finding her and we'd reconvene like "ok what's next." When I realized 20 mins into the game that she was GONE gone, as in will not reappear likely until the end of the game damsel-in-distress-style, my verbatim thought "wait... really? Is this still going to be good?" Which was kinda sad, for a game I waited so many years for :/

I had major pet peeves with the copy/paste nature of the cutscenes with the old sages. The dialogue, bgs, pacing, literally all identical. They just hot swapped the character models for the sages and said that was good enough, wtf!!! I live for cutscenes in games, I have since I was like 5. This felt lazy, and seriously demotivated me from completing the dungeons bc I knew there was going to be nothing novel or intriguing to look forward to

The secret stones were gimmicky af. Sorry. Also stupid name, they couldn't even opt for "sacred?" Ik in other languages they have way cooler names, which would have helped. Link's fucking thanos glove of stones was a stupid gimmick, I cannot believe they didn't think to alter that concept to be more mythical, or creative, or just original. I would have killed for the stones to relate to the triforce in some way, or to do away with the stones and have this game connect to the triforce, since the whole direction of this story was going back to ancient myth & lore.

the Zonai lacked depth, and honestly just felt like a boring distraction even tho they were supposed to be a central focus of this game. I 1000% agree with other folks posts on the take that rauru was a flat, 2-dimensional colonizer. Sonia got sidelined. yikes. ew. no thanks.

^similarly, ganon really was given no character or depth imo. It's like they did a fantastic job making him visibly LOOK scary, so they didn't bother to give him motives beyond "I'm bad, I do what I want."

the cliche "back to normal" at the end irked me. Link could have come out with no arm, keeping the zonia arm, or at least scars w/ the zonai arm pattern and that would be meaningful. Zelda got factory reset from irreversible draconification in a method that for all intents and purposes, could have been done as soon as link got rewind ability. There was no investigation or inclusion of the other dragons, which seemed like a missed opportunity. Actively working on reversing her could have been a main quest in game!! Like 1. Complete all dungeons/get all stones, 2. you can now go round up the spirits of rauru & sonia and reverse zelda yippee, 3. you and zelda go beat the shit out of ganon together. The dragons fighting was beautiful, powerful imagery, but honestly I think too much potential was traded away just to execute that one fraction of the boss fight.

The masterworks book annoys me, which is sad bc I love concept art. I wanted to be a concept artist growing up, I can accept that you'll often see things that never make it into the final cut. I was enamored with early posts abt things like zelda's haircut, char designs, etc.

But more recently I'm seeing the anthology side of the book taking major liberties that it didn't even bother showing us directly or alluding to in the game, and I think that's such a cop-out. They are literally telling us instead of SHOWING us in the game they release a year ago, and spent SIX YEARS making. There was a festival celebrating the return of zelda/defeat of ganon?? Freaking show us that!!! Show us link & zelda acclimate to post-calamity life. Show us imperfect, non-linear healing and resilience. I would have loved a festival scene w/ link and zelda that conveys the nuance of celebration and recognition of their efforts, and the contrasting weight of what they went through. Show me zelda, exhausted after a festival struggling with guilt and indecision about whether to bring back the monarchy with hyrule's restoration. Throwing in a "oh btw imagine if we actually had done this" post-game makes me so irritated and feral. It's like the post-release canon is sidling up to fanon and saying, "hey look we can do that too! look at our fan art" idk if that makes sense, I don't think I'm explaining it well. But it just feels disingenuous.

I'm not a timeline purest, I don't need everything to interconnect, but I don't love how assertions in this book invalidate connections and lore of other games. Also really don't love how this game overwrites and sidelines the sheikah.

I know majority of my disappointment stems from my own, personal expectations of a game that, let's face it, was probably given many mandates and initiatives to appeal to *everyone* in broad, lackluster ways. I still love the world and characters of zelda, if anything, totk reaffirmed what I love and want to prioritize in my art that I didn't see present in this game. Fun fact I used the world of botw to learn a lot about drawing landscapes & composition. It actually inspires me a bit to try to learn to do comics, which has been a longtime goal I've been too busy and/or timid to pursue lol.

mmm anyway if u read this and any of this resonated DM me and lets froth at the mouth and commiserate lol

#long and spoilery #put my rant under the cut bc I'm so shy about putting out long posts lol #totk

25 notes · View notes

starlightkun · 1 year

Text

❧ word count: 11.8k ❧ warnings: cursing ❧ genre: fluff, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au if you squint, werewolf jeno, human reader, ft. various other magical dreamies & neos and human!renjun (and an extra special guest appearance), hybrid au adjacent? (you’ll see what i mean, but i swear he’s a big bad werewolf), same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: and here’s werewolf jeno too! continuing my big baby jeno agenda in this one so please take care of him, y’all <;33 ❧ sequel

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

Your friend’s eye roll was practically audible over the phone. “Just because I’m a Magical Creature Studies major doesn’t mean I’m a werewolf doctor, Y/N. I study them in a sociocultural context—”

“He’s grown ears and a tail, Renjun. Not wolf ones.”

Unlocking the back door to the bakery, you flicked on the light switch by the doorway. Immediately, the kitchen was illuminated, and you dumped your bag on a stool to root through it. You secured your navy blue apron from inside it, putting it over your neck then fastening the straps around your waist, now ready to start your opening checklist. The idea of a 4 a.m. opening shift should’ve made you shudder, but you always came into Half Moon Bakery with a bounce in your step despite the distinct lack of sunlight.

The first thing was to preheat the ovens: separate ones for yeast breads that needed more moisture, and sweets like cookies, muffins, and cakes that didn’t. You took the yeast doughs out of the fridge first that you’d prepared yesterday. It was all muscle memory, turning and shaping the dough with your hands and bread scraper. After shaping loaf after loaf after loaf, you put those aside for their final proof, then started on the sweets. Some had also been prepared the night before by the closing shift, whichever cookie doughs needed to sit overnight before being shaped. In the mornings, you mixed up the doughs and batters that didn’t need to be chilled prior to baking.

By the time the bread was finished proofing, you had usually at least spooned out your first batch of cookies as well. Those went in the sweets ovens first, then you turned to scoring the loaves before putting those in the bread oven. And it was usually at this point that you were entirely on autopilot, operating solely on dings of timers, no other units of time or place really having meaning to you.

You only knew that it was 6 a.m. when your coworker arrived. The employee entrance opened again while you were setting a hot pan of blueberry lemon scones down, Lee Jeno stepping through. He pushed some of his hair out of his eyes sleepily, lifting a hand in your direction in greeting.

“Morning, Jeno!” You chirped, pausing the music blaring from your phone.

He mumbled something akin to ‘morning’ back as he dropped his own apron around his neck then fumbled with tying the knot around his waist.

“You are never going to be a morning wolf, huh?” You sighed, grabbing the other pans that were in the oven.

“No,” he shook his head. “‘S too early.”

“What if I told you, that I…” You set down the pan of chocolate chunk cookies you just took out, then darted over to a different counter. A plate was there, a single broken sugar cookie on it. If the cookie were whole, it would have been half-dipped in chocolate to look like a half-moon. But alas, this one didn’t make it.

You held the plate out towards Jeno. “…Saved you a discard.”

The werewolf visibly perked up at this. “Really?”

“It’s not peanut butter, sorry.”

He rushed over to take the plate from you. “I can have it?”

“Yeah, Jeno,” you chuckled. “I accidentally snapped it trying to take it off the baking sheet. Better it go in this garbage disposal than the actual garbage.”

You poked his stomach on the word ‘this,’ earning an indignant scowl from him. Which didn’t have the intended effect, as he already had stuffed the entire cookie in his mouth.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jeno said once he’d swallowed the food in his mouth. “I didn’t have much for breakfast.”

“Oh?” You frowned as you returned to your station, starting on preparing the icings to drizzle over the batches you’d just taken out. Werewolves usually had quite the appetite compared to humans, Jeno must be starving. “Were you running late or something? You could’ve eaten, I wouldn’t have minded if you were a couple minutes late.”

“No, I just… I don’t know, wasn’t that hungry.” He shrugged, starting to go about his own opening tasks.

“Who are you and what have you done with Jeno?” You pointed a whisk at him accusatorily as he opened up the storeroom.

He laughed. “I’m serious, though. It was weird, I made breakfast but when I sat down to eat I just… didn’t want to.”

“You seemed to handle that cookie just fine at least.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice slightly muffled as he took a couple steps inside the storage room to tally up the ingredients. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to turn down your baking, Y/N.”

You grinned to yourself as you whisked up the lemon icing for the scones. “Aw, thanks, Jeno.”

“Seriously, I don’t know how Mr. Minseok and I managed before you came along.”

“You seem to be forgetting that Minseok bakes. And very well, too,” you scoffed, referring to your sphinx boss. He had started the bakery by himself some years ago and Jeno had been his very first hire when he realized he couldn’t handle the front and back at the same time. You’d only started at the bakery a little less than a year ago, having been a passionate home baker who needed extra income now that you were in school. It was the summer right now though, between spring and fall semesters so you found yourself at the bakery most days.

“I know, I know. But like half our menu is your recipes now. And you improved some of Mr. Minseok’s.”

“Okay, improved is a choice word there, I streamlined the process a litt—”

Jeno emerged from the storeroom with a big sack of flour over his shoulder, and you completely lost the rest of that sentence as your eyes were drawn like magnets to where the muscles in his arm flexed and tensed. The sleeve of his white t-shirt—the same one you were wearing, with a small half-moon embroidered above the cuff—strained a little around the bulge of his bicep, veins crisscrossing his skin like roots of a tree.

“Y/N?” Jeno tilted his head curiously. This was truly so unfair; he was simultaneously looking like a confused puppy while holding a bag of flour one-handed that would take two humans to carry normally. “That’s a lot of icing on that scone.”

You looked down at where your hand had frozen over a scone, the spoon that you’d been drizzling icing with now pooling and entirely covering one with it instead. “Oh, shit!”

Picking up the scone, you held it over the icing bowl to shake and scrape off as much as you could, taking a few deep breaths.

“Anyway, this is our last bag of bread flour, and we’ve only got half a bag of whole wheat. We need to order some more?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You kept a laser focus on the scones as you went back to drizzling, refusing to look up at Jeno or his stupid big, stupid strong werewolf muscles. “Uhm, two bags of bread flour, one whole wheat. And how are we looking on all-purpose?”

“Still got three bags.”

“Order a bag of that just in case.”

“Heard, chef!” You could see him salute you in your peripheral vision before disappearing back in the storeroom.

After finishing his back of the house opening tasks, Jeno went to start to open the front of the bakery. You, very thankfully, didn’t do much in the front of the house. People in general were alright, but you’d much rather deal with dough and batter, and hear secondhand from Jeno how much everyone supposedly enjoyed what you baked and how delicious they apparently thought it was. You still had a job, so you figured that the customers liked your food just fine, at least. Sometimes you’d be called in as a very last resort to cover a front house worker’s shift, but usually the only times you ever emerged from the kitchens was to drop new batches off in the cases, then you’d disappear again.

Jeno popped in and out to take the food out to the display cases as it got closer and closer to opening, then dropped off an empty tray without picking up a new one.

“T-minus ten minutes until opening,” he informed you with a bright smile, disappearing back through the swinging door to the front for the last time this morning.

You knew it was 7 a.m. when you heard the quaint coffee shop playlist Jeno always put on start to filter in from the front. There wasn’t always a customer right at opening, so you usually relied on the music to reorient yourself in time. Chatter from the front would rise and fall as waves of customers came in and left, but you just kept working on your batches and washing up between them. Now with the bulk of your baking done for the morning, you had a lot of cleaning to do.

Minseok’s arrival let you know that it was 8 a.m., you were already 4 hours into your shift. Your boss came in through the employee entrance as you were dipping some now cooled half-moon cookies in chocolate.

“Morning, Minseok!” You greeted him with a grin.

“You know, Y/N,” he stopped in the middle of the kitchens to turn to you. “I will never doubt my decision to hire you. You know why?”

“Uh... why?”

“Who else could I possible give the 4 a.m. opening shift to and they would still give me such a nice greeting every single time?” He chuckled. “You should’ve seen Jeno’s face the first time I told him what time I open the bakery at.”

“Oh, yeah, he doesn’t seem to be a morning person.”

“You kidding me? Kid asks for the morning shift now,” he snorted, shuffling over to inspect the cookies you were dipping. “Jeno used to be about ready to rip my throat out with his teeth whenever I had him open with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed. “Though that was the early days of the bakery, you know, when he was just my hormonal teenage summer hire because I was doing his dad a favor and needed someone to work the register while I baked.”

“Now it’s almost like you two are a real business or something.”

Minseok laughed, his sharp canines glinting in the fluorescents. “Almost. Anyway, I’ll be in the office. Holler if you need me.”

You knew it was 11 a.m. when another coworker arrived. It usually cycled between a few different front house workers, and today it was Donghyuck, a dryad friend of Jeno’s who was a newer hire. You waved at him as best you could with two soapy hands, cleaning while a new batch of bread dough bulk proofed. A second front house worker usually came in a little before the lunch rush to help out, make sure whoever opened could take their break, and take over when their shift finished.

A little while later, Jeno came into the back, stretching and groaning. He took his apron off, hanging it on a hook against the wall by Minseok’s office door.

“That time already?” You asked knowingly.

“Yep. Lunch?” Jeno grabbed his keys from his pocket, spinning them around on his finger.

“Wish I could, but these loaves are going to finish proofing in like half an hour,” you sighed wistfully.

“I’ll go bring something back for us.”

“Oh, Jeno, you should go enjoy your lunch break away from work,” you tried to insist.

He made a face. “All by myself? How would I enjoy that? No, I’d rather hang out with you. Now, what do you want?”

Sat on two stools in the small, usually unused breakroom attached to the kitchen with Jeno, you bit into your sandwich gleefully.

“How do you not get tired of bread after working here?” He asked, peeling up one of the slices of his own sandwich.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I just like it. Isn’t that kind of part of the job requirements?”

“Mm... good point.”

You were halfway through your sandwich when you realized that Jeno had barely taken a bite of his. The most he’d done was pick a little bit at the fillings, but he really had just been chatting with you. Normally he would have already devoured his, and been pretending not to be eyeing yours.

“Jeno? Aren’t you going to eat?” You asked, gently pushing the food towards him by the wrapper.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I don’t... want to...”

You set your lunch down. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I feel fine,” he nodded. “I’m just not very hungry.”

Concerned, you stood up and headed towards the door that led back into the kitchen. “Wait here.”

You went over to the cooling racks, searching for a specific tray of cookies. You pulled off a peanut butter cookie and walked back over to the werewolf, holding it out towards him. He sat up a little straighter, but it wasn’t the usual ecstatic reaction he had to his favorite kind of cookie.

“Here,” you pushed it in his hand. “You can have it.”

To your relief, he didn’t hesitate to eat half of it in one bite. His eyes crinkled into familiar little crescents as he happily munched on the cookie, quickly polishing off the other half.

Minseok approaching your station from the front typically let you know that was mid afternoon, about time for your shift to end as well. His schedule was variable, it depended on what kind of administrative duties needed to be done, and whether or not he needed to help out in the front or back at all that day.

The sphinx stopped across the counter from you as you put away clean utensils that you didn’t need anymore. “Hey, it’s too slow today. I already sent Donghyuck home and I’m having Jeno close the front. Go home once you’re done cleaning up.”

He was walking towards the back door when you suddenly thought of something. “Oh, Minseok!”

“Yeah?” Your boss stopped, his hand almost on the handle.

“I actually wanted to ask if I could stay after my shift and test a new recipe?”

“Sure. What kind?”

“New flavor of brownie?”

“Hm. If all goes well, it can be a limited flavor. Keep Jeno to taste test.”

You grinned, already planning on doing that yourself. After all, this recipe really was for him. “Will do, thank you!”

“Call if you need anything. Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Minseok!” You sent him off for the day with an enthusiastic wave.

Jeno came into the back just a few minutes later, tossing a washcloth into the laundry basket. “You need any help back here?”

“Yes, actually.” You couldn’t hide your beaming smile.

“Oh no,” he groaned. “What is that smile? We’re getting off early and you’re happy about giving me more work?”

“You can go if you want...” you sighed teasingly. “If you really don’t want to help me taste test the peanut butter brownies I’m about to make.”

He gasped, face immediately lighting up, “You’re making what?”

“Yep, the test kitchen is open this afternoon. But, since you want to leave work early, I guess I won’t have my trusty taste tester this time.” You let out another comically deep sigh, shutting away mixing bowls into cabinets. “And to think... all that peanut butter just going to waste... I guess I could give some to Sungchan. I know he says it’s not a werewolf thing to like peanut butter but—”

“Y/N!” Jeno cut in with a whine, grabbing your arm. “I’m staying! I’m your taste tester!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, turning to your friend and patting his cheek, “I know, Jeno. Now come on, help me put this stuff away and we can get started.”

Despite having worked at a bakery for a few years, Jeno didn’t know much about baking. He knew what the different kinds of baked goods that the store offered were, but he didn’t do any of the cooking. Mostly his role in your little test kitchens was to just taste test. And when your arm got tired of mixing sometimes, you’d pass the batter and spoon off to him. Sure, you had electric mixers for that kind of stuff, but for small batches like this, you preferred to just do the mixing by hand.

This time, you were making brownies swirled with peanut butter and with mini peanut butter cups in them. It was something Jeno had been begging for nearly as long as you’d been working at Half Moon. It had been sort of always in the back of your mind to get around to eventually, but Jeno’s disturbing lack of appetite today had finally spurred you into action.

As you folded the mini peanut butter cups into the brownie batter, you saw a hand snake under your arm towards the batter.

“Hey,” you gently pushed Jeno’s hand away from the mixing bowl. “That’s unsanitary, Jeno.”

“We’re not serving it to customers!”

You shook your head, pouring the batter into the square pan. Turning back to Jeno, you handed him the big mixing spoon, still coated in batter.

“Here.”

As he happily went to work licking the batter off the spoon, you put the finishing peanut butter swirls and mini peanut butter cups on top, popped the pan into the preheated oven, then set the timer.

“Alright, now we wait,” you declared, grabbing your hand towel off your shoulder and wiping a stray dollop of batter off the back of your hand.

“And by wait, you mean…”

You latched onto his forearm, the hand of which was holding a now batter-free mixing spoon, and hauled him over to the sink, which was filled with the dirty dishes from preparing the brownie batter. “I mean active waiting, of course. Come on, Jeno, do you want to wash or dry? I’ll let you pick, I’m feeling extra nice today.”

He sighed, nudging you over towards the other side of the sink, “I’ll wash today.”

Your eyebrows shot up as he turned on the faucet and picked up the sponge, squirting a small amount of dish soap on it. Normally if either of you were given your pick, you’d take drying, hands down. No chance of touching gross wet food, no soapy smelling hands, and no pruned fingertips. Drying was clearly the superior task.

But you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth—or a gift werewolf, you supposed—so you grabbed a clean dish towel.

By the time you two were done with the dishes, the brownies were only about halfway done. So you did Jeno’s preferred method of waiting: passive waiting. Grabbing two chairs from the dining area, you sat down right in front of the oven, the interior light on, and watched them bake.

“And you’re sure liking peanut butter isn’t a werewolf thing?” You double-checked.

“I’m sure.” He confirmed with a chuckle.

“Okay, because you like really like it. Don’t get me wrong, Jeno, it’s endearing. But it’s practically supernatural how much you like it.”

“Well, it kind of is.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know that werewolves have heightened senses, right? Compared to most other creatures. Other than vampires, I guess…”

“Well, yeah.”

“Sight, hearing, smell, taste…”

“Touch?” You asked curiously. That one was always left out of whatever werewolf lore you’d hear about.

“Oh, sure. I like really fuzzy blankets.”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the image of Jeno bundled up in a bunch of fuzzy throw blankets.

Jeno continued on with his justification of his love for peanut butter. “So, when I find something that I like the taste of, I really like it. At least, compared to a human, you know.”

“Because you taste it a lot more strongly than humans do.”

“Yeah!” He beamed at you.

“Got it. That makes sense. And you just happen to like peanut butter, like some humans will like peanut butter-flavored stuff more than others.”

“That’s part of why I like working here so much, too. Everything you make smells so good.”

“Aw, thanks, Jeno. I like working here too. You’re one of the easiest coworkers I think I’ve ever had. Aside from the incessant begging for peanut-butter flavored menu items.” You lightly flicked his ear, your tone teasing.

“I’m sorry!” He rushed to apologize.

“I’m kidding. Like I said, it’s endearing.” You waved off his apology. There were a few beats of silence, the two of you continuing to stare at the brownies. Something he said had stuck in your brain, though. “You said that was only part of why you like working here. What’s the other part?”

“Uhm…” Jeno’s eyes widened, flicking between you and the brownies nervously. “You know, Mr. Minseok is a really great boss! He’s super easy about asking for time off, and making the schedule around our classes and finals and stuff!”

“Yeah, Minseok’s great…” You agreed, eyeing your friend suspiciously. He was absolutely lying. Not about your boss being a good boss, Minseok really was great, but that definitely wasn’t what he meant when he said that just then.

But then the oven timer went off, and you decided not to press the matter any further. If Jeno wanted to be weird, that was his prerogative, you weren’t going to demand that he tell you something that he was clearly uncomfortable about.

Grabbing the dish with your oven mitts, you now transitioned into your least favorite part of doing test recipes with Jeno…

“Is it ready?”

“No, Jeno, it needs to cool down.”

“Oh.”

And just a minute later:

“Is it ready?”

“No, Jeno, still too hot.”

“Right.”

Two minutes later:

“Are you sure I can’t have just one bite?”

“It’s still steaming.”

“Okay…”

Another minute later:

“Y/N…”

“Jeno, I know you think I’m doing this because I’m a big meanie, but I promise it’s because I care about you and don’t want you to singe off all your tastebuds.”

“Fine.”

And finally, once he'd given up:

“Jeno!”

“They’re ready?!”

“Yes,” you confirmed, grabbing a knife and triangle server.

Serving Jeno up a corner piece, his favorite, onto a half-moon plate, you then dropped your own piece onto a full moon plate. After tapping your brownies together in a little cheers, you two took your first bites.

The brownie was still warm from the oven, fudgy, and gooey thanks to the swirls of peanut butter in there. You got a couple mini peanut butter cups in that bite that melted over your tongue. Altogether, you had to hand it to Jeno, this was a fantastic idea. It was missing a little something, though. Quickly grabbing a shaker from the counter, you dropped a couple flakes of coarse sea salt on top of just your brownie, then took another bite. Oh yeah, that was perfect.

Jeno had already polished off his brownie, and you could see him trying not to be obvious as he eyed the pan of seven others.

“That was really good, Y/N!” He praised you, eyes turning up into delightful crescents. “Like, I think the best thing you’ve ever made!”

“You say that with everything I make,” you pointed out, taking another bite.

“But this one’s seriously the best!”

“Because there’s peanut butter in it?”

“Well…”

“You can have another one, by the way.”

The sentence was barely out of your mouth before he had dished up another brownie. It didn’t even make it to his plate, instead going straight from pan to his mouth. You chuckled. Why did you even bother with dishes with him, honestly?

But really, it warmed your heart to see somebody enjoying your baking so honestly, so thoroughly, and unabashedly. You’d take a hundred customers like Jeno over any pompous pastry chef any day. And you were glad to see that his appetite was back.

He’d finished his second, and you guessed was about to go for his third when you stopped him.

“Jeno, hold on.” You grabbed his upper arm, looking around for a napkin or paper towel.

“What?” He asked, eyes on your hand that was on his arm, curious.

“You’ve got chocolate like, all over your face, dude.”

You’d finally secured a napkin, and stretched back to dampen it in the persistent drip from the sink faucet. Scooting your stool closer to Jeno, you leaned forward to get a better angle at your task. The werewolf jerked away, but you just clicked your tongue in your mouth and grabbed his chin to gently pull him back towards you.

“C’mere, Jeno. It’s just a little water,” you teased him, wiping away the brownie, chocolate, and peanut butter that were on his cheeks. “Don’t tell me the big bad wolf is scared of the equivalent of a baby wipe?”

“‘M not,” he mumbled as you dragged the wet napkin over the corner of his mouth.

You got a smear that was on the tip of his nose next, “How’d you get it up here anyway?”

He made a ‘I don’t know’ noise in the back of his throat, but stayed perfectly still as you moved back to scrutinize your work. Jeno’s face and ears were definitely much pinker, and he was looking straight up at the ceiling.

“Oh, missed a spot,” you sighed, bringing the napkin up one more time to the curve of his bottom lip. “There, Jeno, all good to go.”

It was then that your heart seemed to have caught up with the rest of the team, as you froze where you were. Jeno’s eyes were locked on yours, his warm breath hitting your face as he took shallow, quick breaths. Your blood roared in your ears. You were so close to him, your hand was still holding his chin, if you just—

Before you could actualize that thought, Jeno let out a yelp, tucking his chin to his chest and curling in on himself in pain.

“Jeno?” You stood up, panic overtaking you as he let out something closer to a grunt this time. “Jeno, are you okay?”

He keeled forward into you, and you easily caught him. Easing him off the stool and onto the ground with you, you sat down, cradling him to your chest as he still wasn’t responding.

“Jeno, what’s wrong?” You asked, carding a hand through his dark hair soothingly.

“It hurts, Y/N,” he whimpered.

Your heart broke at how distressed he sounded. “What hurts, Jeno?”

“Everything!” The werewolf wailed.

“Oh my god, okay. Shh, shh,” you tried to calm him back down, still stroking his head. Pressing the back of your hand to his forehead, you swore he felt warmer than normal. Werewolves naturally had higher body temperatures than humans, but he felt hot. “How bad? Do you need to go to the doctor? Should I call someone? What do you need from me, Jeno?”

“Don’t go!”

“I didn’t say I was going anywhere. But you need somebody else.”

“No I don’t—”

“Jeno—” Your sentence stopped in its tracks as your hand that had been running through his hair suddenly bumped into something. Turning your eyes back down from the ceiling to the werewolf in your arms, your eyes widened comically when you saw two fuzzy white ears emerging from the mop of dark hair atop his head. Trailing further down, you saw a fluffy white tail, too.

“I don’t need anybody else,” Jeno insisted.

“Jeno.” You stated quietly, desperately trying to maintain your composure. “I need you to listen to me. I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going anywhere. But we need to call somebody else to look at you.”

“Why?”

“You have ears and a tail.”

Jeno huffed. “I’m a werewolf, remember?”

“Are they always white and fluffy?”

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, “No...”

“I’m going to call Renjun.” You decided, shifting so you could ease your phone out of your back pocket.

“Y/N!” Jeno buried his head in your lap.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jeno,” you reassured him, resting your free hand on his back. “I was just grabbing my phone.”

Dialing up the contact, you prayed that your friend wouldn’t be deep in a study session. Renjun had an annoying habit of being a good student and turning his ringer off when he studied. Finally, after way too many rings for your liking, he picked up.

“Hello?” Renjun picked up tersely. It sounded like there were other voices in the background.

“Hey, Renjun!” You put as much pep into your tone as you could muster. “Sorry, are you busy?”

“I’m at Chenle and Jisung’s, but we’re just watching movies.” He referenced two of their other friends, a fairy and dragon, respectively. You really just knew them from when they'd come into the bakery to (lovingly) pester Jeno. “What’s going on? I thought you and Jeno were working.”

“That’s why I’m calling.” While you felt bad interrupting their hangout, you had something a little more pressing. “I think Jeno’s sick.”

“He’s grown ears and a tail, Renjun. Not wolf ones.”

“I’m coming over right now.” And he hung up.

Jeno was still letting out little groans and whimpers every few minutes when you heard a knock at the rear employee entrance.

“It’s open!” You yelled out. It felt like you wouldn’t be very successful if you tried to get up right now.

Renjun threw open the door, eyes scanning the kitchen for a moment before they finally found you. The two of you were in the same position as before: you propped up against the cabinets, Jeno curled up nearly fetal, head in your lap as he clutched at whatever hurt. His stomach, his chest, his head. Everything.

He rushed over, face turning pained when he saw the state that Jeno was in. Squatting down beside the two of you, the human looked over your friend, but was careful not to touch him.

“He says that everything hurts, and I swear he’s running a fever.” You reported to Renjun. “In addition to, well, the obvious.”

Jeno’s feet scrambled for purchase against the concrete floor as he tried to curl up into an even tighter ball, holding his stomach.

“I know, Jeno, I know,” you murmured, stroking his back. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to help you get better. Just hold on.”

Renjun leaned towards his head, squinting at where the ears were growing out of his hair.

“You know... I’m surprised the other two didn’t come with you.” You commented, just to say something, to fill the silence.

Fae were naturally mischievous folk, there was no way Chenle would miss an opportunity to see Jeno with literal dog ears and a tail. And usually, wherever Chenle was, Jisung wasn’t far behind. From your understanding, dragons tended to be solitary creatures; however, according to Jeno, Jisung had taken a liking to the fairy some time ago and vice versa, and the two were inseparable ever since.

“I told them Jeno was throwing up. Didn’t mention the ears and tail.” The human scooted to inspect the tail next. “Now, I’m guessing he didn’t show up to his shift like this.”

“No, he was fine. We were testing a new recipe and then it just happened out of nowhere.”

Renjun sighed. “I think he’s just pupsick.”

“What?”

“Pupsick. Usually only little werewolves get it, hence the name. It’d be kind of like if you or I got chickenpox. Like, we can get it, but usually only kids do. Pupsickness isn’t contagious to humans, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

“Then how’d he get it?”

“Pups usually get it from each other, outbreaks will sort of crop up in daycares and classrooms. But the fact that Jeno’s got it… I don’t know for sure. Werewolf immune systems are practically superhuman once they’re adults, even to their own diseases. This one’s past my expertise. I’d call Sungchan, see if he knows anything.”

“Alright, I will. Thanks, Renjun.”

Renjun stood back up, then looked around the bakery. The half-eaten brownies were still on the countertop, not to mention you had your close-up checklist to do. “You should get him home, Y/N. Here, give me your keys, I’ll clean up here and lock up. I’ll put them under your mat when I’m done.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d much rather be on bakery clean up duty than pupsick Jeno duty,” he nodded towards the werewolf. “Trust me, I don’t envy you.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile, then looked down at Jeno. He’d been quiet all throughout your conversation with Renjun, and you prodded him gently. “Jeno?”

“Yeah?” He mumbled.

“Can you stand up? I’m going to take you home.”

He let out a whine again, but this time higher pitched, sounding more like a petulant child than like he was actually in pain. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Come on, you’ll be so much more comfy at home in bed with all those fuzzy blankets, right?”

“Fine.” He dragged out the vowels, but scooted off of you to let you stand up.

“Alright, come on, Jeno,” you helped him get to his feet. “Now you’re going to have to walk there mostly of your own power. You’re a bit too solid for me to carry on my own.”

You patted his firm chest for emphasis. “If the stairs are going to be too much, let me know and I’ll make a couple calls. I think Sungchan and Jisung combined could probably get you up there. Maybe get Shotaro for good measure. I know sirens aren’t super strong like werewolves and dragons but—”

“No, I can do it,” he mumbled, looping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t need… don’t need them.”

After untying both yours and Jeno’s aprons and handing them to Renjun, you took your bakery keys off your keyring to give those over as well, then wrapped one arm around Jeno’s waist and started guiding him over to the back door.

“Y/N,” Renjun caught your attention before you could push it open. “Don’t worry too much. It’s like a bad cold. He’ll just be really pitiful for a few days.”

“Right,” you nodded, mustering up a small smile. You were sure you looked frazzled still. “Thanks again, Renjun. We owe you one.”

“Free muffin and we’ll call it even.” He waved goodbye to you two. “Feel better, Jeno!”

It was thankfully a very short walk to Jeno’s apartment, he lived just around the corner. Once you got him inside, normally you would’ve been able to pass him off to his dryad roommate. But Jaemin was studying abroad for a month, as evidenced by the very droopy-looking plants around the living room.

“Here, let’s get you to bed, Jeno,” you murmured. “Which one’s yours?”

He pointed. “Left.”

Jeno’s room was surprisingly tidy. Though you weren’t sure if you were expecting it to be messy because he was a college boy, a werewolf, or based off his distaste of cleaning up at work. But regardless, you pulled back his covers and ushered him into bed.

“I’ll get you some ice water, you still feel really warm.” You told him, pressing your hand back to his forehead. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No. Don’t want you to go…” He grabbed your hand with both of his as you went to take it off his forehead, nuzzling his cheek against it this time instead.

Okay, his brain was definitely melting in there.

“I’ll be right back here, Jeno. You definitely need some water.” You shook him off as gently as possible. “I’m just going to your kitchen.”

Now free, you rushed to his kitchen, throwing open cabinets until you found one with cups, grabbing the first one your eyes landed on. You scooped ice in, then filled it up from the tap. Initially, you had planned on calling Sungchan while you did this, but you didn’t think Jeno would be that patient.

You speed-walked back down the hallway to his bedroom, finding the werewolf exactly where you left him, curled up in bed, staring at the doorway. You offered him as bright of a smile as you could, “Hey, Jeno! I’m back! Here’s your water.”

He lit up, moving to get up in bed, and you surged forward in concern.

“Woah, hey, are you good to do that, dude?” You asked, hands flitting over him nervously.

“‘M fine, Y/N, I’m fine. Just…” He yawned, covering his mouth. One of his ears twitched. “Really tired.”

“Well, drink this water first, please.” You lifted the glass to his mouth. His refusal of food was still worrying you, though. Werewolves had much higher metabolisms than humans, and the appetites to match. “Are you sure you don’t want something else? You ate hardly anything on break. Other than those brownies, the only thing you’ve had today was whatever you had at breakfast. It’s almost two…”

After gulping down half the glass, Jeno wiped his mouth and shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

You sighed, patting his cheek and pressing the glass back to his lips. “Okay… Just let me know if you change your mind. I’ll make something or order something. Whatever you want.”

He took a couple more sips before pushing your hand away. “You’re- You’re not going to leave?”

His voice was hopeful, eyes round and pleading—literal puppy dog eyes—as he asked that. You shook your head.

“No, Jeno, I’m going to stay right here with you. I want to stay with you.” You set the cup on his nightstand, gently nudging him forward and further in to make room for you to scoot onto the bed behind him.

Jeno immediately flopped around onto his front, wrapping his arms around your middle and burying his nose into your stomach. You giggled, squirming around for a moment.

“Ah! Jeno, that tickled.”

He mumbled something that sounded like an apology into your lap, squeezing his eyes shut. Your hands dropped to his head, careful to avoid the two white ears there as you ran your fingers through his hair again.

Soon, his breathing evened out, and you stilled your hand. He was asleep.

It was dark when you woke up. You didn’t remember falling asleep in the first place, the last thing you remembered was scrolling on your phone and thinking to yourself how good a nap looked and sounded right now. Jeno was still wrapped around you, peacefully asleep, and you were slumped in the multitude of pillows at the head of the bed. There was a little crick in your lower back, and you had the urge to stand up and crack it. Your stomach growled, and good god you needed to pee.

You tried to sit back up all the way, but Jeno was remarkably heavy in his passed-out state, and you barely moved an inch. Flopping back down, you instead tried shaking him awake.

“Jeno. Jeno, hey,” you said softly. Your lips twitched in amusement when you saw one of his white dog ears perk up towards the sound of your voice. The rest of him didn’t move, though. You shook him with a little more gusto. “Jeno... come on.”

The other ear was at attention now, and you could feel a grumble start in his chest. You switched to lightly squeezing his human ears, sides, and whatever parts of his arms you could reach.

“Jeno! Up! Wake up!” You pleaded with each gentle pinch, finally feeling victorious when he recoiled after you got his nose.

He jerked an arm back to cover his face in his elbow as he sneezed three times in a row.

“Bless you!” You snickered, quickly pulling yourself into a cross-legged sitting position now that you had an opportunity.

“Ack! Y/N, what was that for?” Jeno complained, voice thick with sleep, sitting up as well.

“I needed you to move so I can go use the bathroom,” you snorted, scooting towards the edge of the bed.

Before your feet could touch the floor, a pair of arms had wrapped around your shoulders, and a nose was nuzzling into your neck. “Y/N...”

“Jeno...” You mimicked his tone in an attempt to cover up how the sudden contact had made your back stiffen. You almost tilted your head to the side on instinct to give him more space, but kept your spine pin-straight.

You half-heartedly tried to push at him. “Dude, seriously, I need to pee. And aren’t you hungry?”

“Not hungry.”

“For real?” You frowned, contorting awkwardly to look at his face as you tested for his temperature again. “You’re still burning up. Do you have a thermometer around here? What’s a werewolf’s temperature even supposed to be?”

“We don’t have a thermometer. ‘M fine.”

“I’ll believe that when you’re back to eating six meals a day, Lee Jeno.” You scoffed. “Now I am going to the bathroom, then I’m coming right back. Okay?”

“No!” He clung onto you tighter, and you swore you saw his eyes getting moist as his lower lip trembled.

“Jeno, I’ll be right back, okay? I pinky promise.” You held one of your pinky fingers out to him. He begrudgingly linked one of his with it before letting go of you.

“Thank you.”

You slipped down the hall quickly. After relieving your screaming bladder and washing your hands, you pulled out your phone, seeing that you had a couple texts. They were both from Renjun from several hours ago.

[renjun: locked up the bakery, keys under your mat. how’s jeno doing?]

Then, a couple hours later.

[renjun: hey, just double checking that you found your keys and that jeno got home okay.]

[you: sorry for not replying, he’s been a bit of a handful. i haven’t made it home yet to grab my keys, still at jeno’s. thanks for locking up and dropping my keys off tho!]

You briefly thought of calling Sungchan, but you were worried about Jeno. Poking your head out of the bathroom and back down the hall, you listened for any signs of life. You could hear him tossing and turning restlessly in bed. So he at least hadn’t fallen back asleep.

Your stomach growled again, taking center stage now that the more pressing need had been dealt with.

“Hey, Jeno,” you said loudly as you entered the room, already pulling up a food delivery app on your phone.

Jeno sat up at attention, and with the sheets falling away from him, you could see the fluffy white tail behind him wagging vigorously as he gave you possibly the brightest smile he’d had since this whole thing started. “Y/N!”

“Jeno!” You repeated his name with a bewildered chuckle. “Am I covered in peanut butter or something? What’s got you in such a good mood all of a sudden?”

“Can I not just be happy to see you?” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His tail kept wagging, though.

“No, you can. I was just curious.” You leaned against the doorway, scrolling through the restaurant options. “I think I’m going to order delivery. Which means you’ll have to let me go get it when it gets here. Do you think you can do that?”

He yawned and stretched. “No promises.”

“Alright.” You turned your phone off. “Let me go raid your pantry really quick. You do have food, right?”

“Yeah...” Jeno laid back down, his sudden burst of excitement seeming to be wearing off expeditiously.

Giving him a thumbs up, you took off down the hall again. Jaemin and Jeno’s pantry was fairly human-friendly. Jaemin left three weeks ago, so there weren’t many of his organic trail mixes and granola bars left. And of course, plenty of Jeno’s werewolf protein bars—to supplement when he just couldn’t get enough protein for what his diet naturally called for. But mostly there were snacks that you’d find in your own human apartment, which you were grateful for; you’ve had some unfortunate moments with friends of yours whose appetites didn’t line up as closely with humans. You still shuddered at the thought of the plate stacked with slimy kelp that you’d been offered by Sungchan’s siren roommate, Shotaro. Sungchan and you ordered pizza that night.

Grabbing a few things for yourself, a couple water bottles, you then headed back towards his room. You’d also snagged one of Jeno’s protein bars, maybe you could convince him to get something close to a meal in him.

“I’m back, I’m back,” you announced as you hurried in, dropping the snacks on the nightstand.

Jeno rolled over just enough for you to sit back in your same place against the headboard. As soon as you were settled in, he scooched to put his head in your lap.

“How are you feeling? Still hurting?” You asked, cracking open the first bottle, then the other.

“Yeah…” He rubbed at his eyes.

“Tired?” You stroked his bangs away from his face.

“Mhm.”

“What about your temperature? Still got that fever?” You leaned down to press your lips to his forehead before you realized what you were doing.

You froze halfway back up, eyes locked on Jeno’s. Letting his bangs fall through your fingers and back down onto his face, you forced out a chuckle.

“Sorry, uh, my mom always did that to check my temperature when I was sick as a little kid. Just, kind of happened,” you stammered out as you kept fixing his hair to cover his forehead back up. “Do- Do you feel hot, Jeno? Or cold? Like any sort of chills or hot flashes or anything?”

His whole face was pink, and you couldn’t remember if it was already like that from the fever or not. The werewolf blinked up at you a couple more times before answering your question.

“I’m cold.” He pulled one of the fuzzy blankets up to his chin then as if for emphasis.

“Okay. Alright, well if you’re tired, hurting, and cold, I think you should get back to sleep.” You smiled down at him, patting his chest over the blanket. “Can you just drink a little more water for me?”

After getting a couple sips in him, Jeno rolled over and was out like a light. Oh that looked nice. You would probably take care of your hungry stomach and then join him in dreamland, honestly. Today had been… a lot.

The thought of spending the night in Jeno’s bed made your stomach twist and turn, and you briefly considered creeping out to the couch. But if something happened to Jeno with this pupsickness and you weren’t there, you’d hate yourself forever. No, you needed to stay right by his side, as much for yourself as for him. And so, you grabbed some trail mix and prepared to settle in for a long night.

You were still munching on some of Jaemin’s trail mix when suddenly, your phone rang. You panicked, scrambling to grab it so that it didn’t wake Jeno up. The werewolf in your lap didn’t even stir as the loud ringer kept going, though.

Keeping an eye on him, you answered the call in a whisper, “Hello?”

“Y/N? Sorry, is this a bad time? I had a question about the lecture from yesterday.” It was Sungchan on the other end, your only other werewolf friend, and project partner in your Magical Botany I class.

“Hey, Sungchan. Uh, it’s sort of a bad time but also the perfect time.” You kept your voice low and quiet, holding the phone close to your mouth.

“Oh. And what does that mean?”

“You go first.”

“Can you send me the notes?”

“That’s all you needed to ask me?” You snorted. “The notes from yesterday?”

“Can you send me all of the notes? From the whole semester?” His voice was pleading, sounding like he was braced for ridicule.

“Are you kidding me?”

“The last full moon was rough, okay?”

“Used your Bot I notebook as a chew toy, huh?”

“Will you send me them?” He groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, it might be a little while though.”

“That’s fine! You said this was a bad time, right? Sort of?”

“Right.” You gently dabbed at Jeno’s sweaty forehead. “So I have a werewolf question…”

Sungchan paused, sighed, then said, “Because you’re you, and I know are therefore not about to ask me anything weird, I will entertain this. Go ahead.”

“Do you know why an adult werewolf might get pupsick?”

“Is Jeno okay?”

Sungchan didn’t know Jeno as well as you did— the two werewolves had met a couple times in passing, when your classmate would buy something from the bakery, or the two of you would bump into Jeno while studying at the library. But Sungchan mostly knew of him from you. You happily talked about your job, your sphinx boss, and werewolf coworker to your friends, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that he was able to guess what this was about.

“Immediately blew my cover, huh?”

“It seemed like an awfully specific question.”

“Yes, Jeno’s pupsick. At least, according to Renjun.” You tested his temperature again, with your hand this time, on his cheek. He was still burning up, feeling very much like a heated, weighted blanket. “He’s exhausted, he’s moody, he doesn’t want to eat, he’s got a fever I think—”

“Wait, are you with him now?”

“Yeah, his roommate’s studying abroad for a month and I felt bad leaving him alone.”

“Those are his only symptoms? Sounds like he’s just got a cold.” Sungchan scoffed. “Why would Renjun say it’s pupsickness? Just because he’s a werewolf? Honestly—”

“Oh and he’s got ears and a tail.”

The other end of the call was silent for far too long. “Channie?”

“Ah. Yeah. He’s pupsick.” He confirmed.

“So… do you know why he’s got it? Renjun said that adult werewolves usually don’t get pupsick.”

“They don’t. Although I’m not surprised Jeno is.”

“What? Why? Is he okay? Does he have like… a werewolf autoimmune disease or something? Do you guys have those?”

“Jeno’s immune system is fine, Y/N,” your friend reassured you.

You relaxed again. “Oh, good.”

“It’s a combination of things that determines whether a werewolf gets pupsick or not. Yes, it’s our immune system, but one of the biggest symptoms of pupsickness is what you’re looking at: the partial shift.”

“The ears and tail.”

“Yeah. Pups can’t control their shifting yet because they’re more volatile emotionally and magically.” Sungchan walked you through it. “And like any other kids, they’re germ factories. So they get pupsick a lot more than adults do.”

“Then why’d Jeno get it? It’s not like he’s an education major or anything, he hasn’t been around any pups.”

“Adults usually get it when there’s something in their life that’s made them emotionally and magically volatile again.”

“Volatile?” You echoed, looking down at the peacefully napping wolf. He really just looked like an oversized puppy.

“You said he’s moody?”

“Mhm. Kind of… down? I don’t know, he’s not as bubbly as he normally is, you know? I could barely get him to let me get up to use the bathroom earlier, he looked like he was about to cry. And then when I came back, you’d think I brought him a jar of peanut butter or something he was so happy.”

“That’s what I mean, not like he’s going to snap and break a vase or something. And his shifting is obviously not in control either.”

“Well he’s going to get better, right?” You asked hopefully. “Renjun said it should just be a few days.”

“It is for pups.”

Your stomach dropped. “That sounds like there’s going to be a but coming…”

“But for adults, they got sick because something in their life was out of balance.” Sungchan reiterated.

“So he’s going to be like this unless we get his life back in balance? I’ve got to what, sign him up for werewolf yoga or something?”

“Or wait until the next full moon. A full shift should do the trick to reset him.”

“Oh. When’s that?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” You couldn’t help the loud panic in your voice. One of Jeno’s ears flicked, and you held your breath as he shifted slightly, but ultimately stayed asleep.

Sungchan was still talking, “And there’s no promise that he won’t just catch it again if he’s still at unrest.”

“God, who knew you werewolves were so sensitive? You’re like orchids, you need a very specific soil pH or you’re going to die!” You hissed into the phone.

“We’re a very hardy species, actually. You know, if the Black Plague were to come back, humans would—”

“Yeah, I’m sure humans would all die out, and werewolves would inherit the Earth or whatever Revelations says.” You cut him off, all too used to his lectures on the differences between humans and werewolves. With a sigh, you determined that you’d gotten all the useful information you could from him. “Well, thanks, Sungchan.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

“Wait…”

“What?”

“Why did you say that you’re not surprised that Jeno’s pupsick then? Do you know what’s making him sick?”

“Y/N…” Your friend sighed. “You are so smart, and yet…”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve only met Jeno a couple times, but the guy so clearly has a huge crush on you. A better name for what’s wrong with him would be that he’s lovesick, honestly.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes were glued to Jeno’s peacefully sleeping features. “S-Seriously?”

While you’d had a creeping suspicion—you weren’t that stupid, no matter what Sungchan was implying—you were also a little worried that it was all in your head.

“Every time I see you two together, he’s all heart eyes for you, Y/N. I don’t know how you’re missing it.” Sungchan chuckled.

“Must be your superior werewolf eyesight,” you replied sarcastically.

“Must be.” He repeated humorously.

“So like… what should I do?”

“He’s your wolf, Y/N. Do what you will.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You sputtered out, jolting up in your seat.

Sungchan’s cackling laughter came through your speakers as you felt Jeno shift and stir in your lap. He lifted his head up slightly as he mumbled out a very sleepy, “Y/N?”

“Oh my god, you woke Jeno up!” You snapped at the other werewolf at the phone. “I’ve got to go!”

“I woke him up? Oh really—”

You cut Sungchan’s incredulous words off by hanging up, then tossing your phone aside on the bed. Jeno had settled back down a little bit, and you scratched between his ears.

“Go back to sleep, Jeno,” you murmured quietly. “Back to sleep… Sweet dreams, baby.”

As he relaxed again, you started humming a familiar tune, a lullaby that your mom used to sing to you when you would wake her up in the middle of the night because you weren’t feeling well. You didn’t let up even after Jeno’s breathing had evened out again, keeping it going as you slowly shifted around until you were no longer sitting up, laying down now. Jeno’s head still laying on your midsection, a comforting pressure. The rest of him was under all his fuzzy blankets, and you made sure he was securely under them all, gave him one last head pat, then let your eyes flutter shut, drifting off still humming that lullaby to yourself.

It was bright out when you woke up. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to roll over to bury your face into your pillow. Except there was a weight attached to your back, and a low whine right next to your ear. Your eyes flew open, and you quickly remembered that you were not in your own bed.

Which meant that— Yep, that was Jeno koala-hugging you from behind. He had a pout on his face even his sleep, which turned into a peaceful smile as soon as you’d given up on moving, relaxing back into him.

His two white dog ears were splayed out to the sides, and while they were very cute, they also worried you. Your conversation with Sungchan yesterday came back to mind. God, what the hell were you supposed to do about that?

“Hey, Jeno? You awake?” You asked softly, quiet enough that if he weren’t, he hopefully wouldn’t wake up.

“Mm… mhm,” he nodded his head against your back. “Yeah… ‘m up.”

You turned over onto your back in Jeno’s arms, then feeling for his temperature on what part of his forehead that you could get to. “How are you feeling?”

“Still sleepy…” He muttered, the words muffled against your collarbone from where he had readjusted to nestle his face into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” you hummed, stroking his head. “You can go back to sleep.”

“Who were… who were you talking to?”

“When— Oh, last night. Sungchan. I was trying to figure out how to make you better.”

He made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement, and for a brief moment you thought he might’ve fallen asleep again, until he looked up at you with the most heart-stopping, big, round eyes.

“Uhm, he said that when you shift on the full moon, that’ll probably kind of reset everything.”

“But the next full moon’s in…” he let out a yawn, punctuated by a sniffle. “Three weeks. I don’t know if I can take feeling like this for another three weeks.”

You rubbed a hand up and down his back soothingly, “I know, Jeno, I’m sorry. He did say something else.”

The werewolf’s animal ears perked up. “Something else?”

“Well, he was telling me about why adult werewolves get pupsick when its usually only pups who get it.”

“But I haven’t done anything to throw off my spiritual balance,” he whined. “I think… I mean, I haven’t pissed off any witches that I can think of, my shift on the last full moon went great, and everyone in my pack back home is okay.”

“Well, Sungchan said that it could be something personal, too. Not exactly related to werewolf stuff. Any kind of serious rift in your life, you know.” You tried to paraphrase your friend’s explanation as best you could without the heavy implications that he had. “Can you think of anything like that?”

“No...” he dragged out the vowel. “Just—”

Jeno suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence, going still in your arms.

“Just? Just what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Clearly it’s not nothing,” you said pointedly, giving one of his dog ears a gentle tap. He fidgeted a little, but didn’t move away from your touch.

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s going to ruin everything.” Jeno just sounded utterly defeated now, refusing to look up at you. “I’m going to ruin everything again.”

You were ashamed to say that you were gobsmacked in that moment. You took a deep breath, desperately trying to throw together any kind of acceptable response.

“What are you talking about, Jeno?” You needed more information.

“I always break stuff, and I get too excited, and I don’t stop, and I’m too much and that’s not even on the full moon!” Jeno rambled. “I always have to replace my stuff because I tear it or break it or chew it or crush it and I don’t even realize and—”

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, woah, woah,” you shushed him firmly but kindly, hearing in his voice that he was getting himself too worked up. “It’s not like you’re Godzilla out here leveling cities or anything, okay? You’re not ruining anything, and you’re not too much or whatever stupid stuff you’ve been told before. Don’t be offended, but I honestly can’t imagine you as some big bad wolf blowing houses down and eating little piggies.”

The dog ears on his head perked up, and he sniffled again. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, scratching behind one of the animal ears. Under the sheets, you could see that the dog tail had started wagging back and forth. “I mean, you’ve been curled up in my arms like an overgrown puppy for over twelve hours now.”

You had expected him to have some kind of objection to you calling him an overgrown puppy, but instead he just seemed to melt even more into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut as a lopsided, content smile took over his features. Seeing him so relaxed almost made you rethink your want to press the issue.

“Was that it? Do you think that’s what was wrong to make you pupsick?”

Jeno let out a heaving sigh, and his eyes opened again as the smile fell from his face. “No. But fixing my pupsickness is just going to ruin something else. Something really important.”

“You can’t stay like this forever, Jeno.”

“What? You don’t like the ears?” He joked with a dry chuckle.

“They’re cute, but not so much if they’re a symptom of you being so sick.” You habitually checked for his temperature on his forehead again (hot, as expected), then wrapped both your arms around his shoulders tightly. “Now, humans don’t exactly have pupsickness, but when we get really stressed out in work or school, it puts too much stress on our bodies and our immune systems, and we get sick more easily too. It makes us take a break and take care of ourselves. Whatever’s wrong, it’s not sustainable for you and clearly your body knows that too.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“So? What is it? Can I help?”

The werewolf shifted in your hold, and you loosened your arms to let him sit up from you completely. You followed his lead curiously, the two of you now sitting cross-legged on his bed facing each other, knee to knee. He brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, other pieces sticking up in random directions around the two fluffy white dog ears. Now that the covers had fallen off both your bodies, the tail rested beside him, no longer wagging happily as he gave you a forlorn look.

“Y/N… please remember that in order to cure the pupsickness, I just need to get this off my chest, okay? My health is not dependent on your response at all, it’s all about my internal state being stagnant for too long. So… don’t feel obligated to respond any one way for my sake.”

Your heart picked up speed in your chest, and there was no doubt that he could hear it. But still, you put on an encouraging smile for him. “Okay. Go ahead, Jeno.”

He kept his gaze down on his hands, seemingly messing with a seam on one of his blankets. And after one more deep inhale, he finally admitted, “I really like you, Y/N. Not coworkers, not friends. And I’m really sorry that I just—”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“What?”

“Do you think I really would’ve done all this for like… just anybody?” You confessed weakly. “I like you too.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, Jeno, I do.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his constant disbelief in what you were saying. “Why do you just think I’m constantly lying to you? Like— Oof!”

Your sentence was cut short because in that moment, you were caught in a tackle-hug and nearly smothered under the weight of a very excited werewolf. Laughter poured out of you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you just let the happiness in your chest get bigger and bigger with each passing second.

“You really are just a big puppy, huh?” You teased, reaching up to scratch behind the dog ears on his head. Except, they weren’t where you were expecting them. You couldn’t find them by feeling around in his hair, and opened your eyes to look for them. The only thing on his head was his mop of dark hair, fluffed up by your fingers, but otherwise, entirely typical. Peering around his shoulders, you couldn’t spot a tail either.

“Jeno!” You gently pushed on his chest to encourage him to get off of you for a moment.

“Mm?”

“The ears and tail are gone! You’re not partially shifted anymore!” You pushed a little harder, and he seemed to finally get the idea, rolling over and flopping onto his back instead. You shot up to a kneeling position beside him, looking down at him excitedly. “How are you feeling?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment, and you couldn’t help but put the back of your hand to his forehead once more, relief washing over you when it was just a little warm compared to your skin, but pretty much the usual difference between humans and werewolves this time.

“Feels like your fever’s broken,” you announced giddily.

“I still feel a little yucky, like I’m getting over a cold,” he informed you, grabbing your hand that had been feeling for his temperature and resting your linked hands over his middle.

“Aw, poor pup,” you cooed, squeezing his hand, and not missing the way his cheeks flushed, but he didn’t reject the nickname entirely. “Well, we do have today off anyway. I can stay, if you want?”

“Please?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything!”

You leaned over to grab something off the nightstand, the werewolf protein bar you had snagged for him yesterday. It hadn’t been touched at all the night before, and you now held it out to him.

“You eat.”

He nodded. “I think I can make that work.”

Jeno was still feeling off by the end of the day, so you called Minseok and explained most of the situation to him—that Jeno was getting over pupsickness and you were helping take care of him. Your boss was understanding, and easily gave you two the next day off as well, sending the werewolf well wishes to get better soon.

Slowly but surely, Jeno’s appetite was coming back, but your mind wouldn’t truly be at ease until he was back to eating six meals a day, no matter how many times he reassured you that he felt fine.

Jeno wasn’t sleeping as much, but now he’d finally taken one of his rare naps on the couch—he’d fallen asleep trying to show you one of his favorite movies, which you’d paused as soon as you’d realized he was asleep, so that you could finish it together later. You were snugly in his arms, head resting on his chest and now contemplating attempting a nap of your own.

Then the front door opened. You would have sat up to look at who it was, if your position allowed for that at all, and if you didn’t know well enough already who that definitely was.

“Jeno?” A voice carried through the apartment from the front door easily. “Thanks for picking me up from the airport, asshole! I had to get a ride from His Highness, so now I owe him one! Which, by the way, you’re so going to help me repay when he comes to collect—Oh!”

The dryad had finally made it to the living room and stopped in his tracks as soon as he spotted the two of you. He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, a duffel bag over his shoulder and towing a suitcase behind him. Clearly fresh off the plane back from his month of study abroad.

You and Jaemin just stared at each other for a moment. Jeno hadn’t stirred.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted him awkwardly, cringing internally at the crack in your voice. “I’m uh… I…”

“Y/N, right?” Jaemin grinned down at you. While you had seen each other in passing when he'd come into the bakery on occasion, and of course knew of each other through the still slumbering werewolf with you, you'd never really been properly introduced.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N,” you smiled back at him, not-so-subtly smacking at Jeno’s arms to try to wake him up. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaemin.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Y/N.” Jaemin gushed. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Uhm, how was your trip?”

“It was great! Saw lots of sights. Still seeing some more now that I’m home, too.”

The werewolf under you had finally come to at that point, and groggily looked between you and Jaemin, eyes snapping open with alarm when he realized what was going on. “Jaemin! What the hell?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Jeno.” The dryad threw a hand over his chest. “I was abandoned at the airport and had to call Chenle for help—a fairy! And then I finally make it home, thinking the whole time that surely you must be injured; in the hospital; dead! to have gone back on your promise. Only to come home and find you napping with the Y/N. I mean, I was only gone for a month, what the hell happened?”

Jeno single-handedly chucked a pillow at Jaemin’s head, which the dryad easily dodged.

“I was sick, you little shit,” the werewolf groaned, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and keeping his other arm firmly wrapped around you. “I got pupsick like two days ago, I’m still recovering. I’m sorry about forgetting about your flight.”

“And what did I tell you before I left?” Jaemin put his hands on his hips, staring his roommate down pointedly. “I hate to say I told you so but—”

“No you don’t.”

“—but I told you that you were going to get yourself pupsick if you didn’t do something about Y/N.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have another pillow to throw,” Jeno covered his face with his hand.

“And you just brushed me off like everyone else does.” Jaemin threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Dryads aren’t just a bunch of hippies, you know. Nature and your connection to it is very important, it’s nothing to mess around with. I hope you know better now, Lee Jeno.”

A low grumble started in his chest at the scolding he was getting from his friend, and you bit down on your lip to stifle your giggles at the scene that had been unfolding around you.

“Yeah, Jaemin, I know that you’re always right and I don’t know anything ever and should always listen to you. Happy?” Jeno retorted sarcastically.

“Quite.” Jaemin smiled back with the same amount of sass, but you could feel that the tension was dissolving in the air. He grabbed his bags again. “You're also helping me repay the favor I now owe His Highness, by the way."

Jeno groaned again, but didn't argue.

"Anyway, I’m jetlagged and exhausted. I’ll leave you two alone. Lovely seeing you as always, Y/N. So sorry you had to deal with a pupsick Jeno for this idiot to finally confess to you. Goodnight!”

“Hey!” Jeno cried out indignantly.

“Goodnight, Jaemin,” you replied humorously, taking a look at the clock. It was only 11:00 a.m.

And with that, it was just you and Jeno again.

“Ugh, sorry about him.” The werewolf readjusted his hold on you, pecking your forehead.

“Don’t worry,” you chuckled. “I had a pretty good idea of what he’s like.”

“I know, but he didn’t have to make a scene like that.”

“I think he was entitled. You left him for dead at the airport, after all.”

“Oh my god.”

“He had to get a ride from Chenle.”

Jeno scrunched his nose, presumably remembering that he and Jaemin now jointly owe the fairy a favor. “Yeah, I probably should’ve at least arranged for one of the other guys to pick him up.”

“Mhm…” You picked up the remote again. “So, ready to finish the movie, pup?”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ blog masterlist ⤷ anthology masterlist

289 notes · View notes