#tricky math problems

[my-math-lab]

The internet is full of tricky math questions. While many of us quickly solve some, there are many we fail to solve. Here are 10 tricky math problems to check your IQ, making you question how you graduated!

[youhavereachedtheendofpie]

It took me approx two hours to read these two pages, so will I manage the remaining 14 within the three hours left of my work day? stay tuned to find out

[darlinluxx]

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐑 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

summary : Cheol starts seeing you as a mother figure

a/n : inspired by @karli6 comment on one of my posts bc it’s so cute i couldn’t not write about it

𝐓he scent of lavender fills your small apartment, a comforting aroma that’s become synonymous with Saebyeok. it’s a stark contrast to the grit of her life, the harsh edges that you know so well, and a gentle reminder of the soft woman beneath. you’re perched on the edge of the couch, a half-finished crossword puzzle abandoned in your lap. Saebyeok is at the small table, her brow furrowed in concentration as she counts the meager money spread out before her.

you watch her, a fondness blossoming in your chest. you love that even in her moments of vulnerability, there’s a strength that radiates from her. it’s the same strength that protects her younger brother, Cheol.

speaking of Cheol, a small, hesitant cough echoes from the doorway. you look up and see him, his backpack slung low on his shoulders, his eyes large and uncertain. he’s holding out a crumpled sheet of paper.

“i… i need some help.” he mumbles, his gaze darting between you and Saebyeok.

Saebyeok glances up, her expression softening as she notices Cheol. “homework again?” she sighs, a hint of exasperation in her voice. she picks up a pen, ready to tackle the task at hand. but Cheol shakes his head, his focus locked on you.

“not for you.” she shuffled closer, his gaze imploring. “can you help me, please?”

your heart melts. it’s not that Saebyeok isn’t good at academics, but her way of teaching sometimes involves a lot of direct answers, whereas you prefer a more patient, guiding approach. you know that Cheol can be easily intimated, and perhaps you offer a calmer space for him to learn.

you set aside your crossword and smile, beckoning him closer. “of course, Cheol. let me see.”

he practically barrels himself into the space next to you on the couch, his small body warm against your side. as you smooth out the paper, you see it’s a math problem involving fractions, a subject dreaded by many young students.

“okay,” you say, pointing to the equation with a pen. “this looks a little tricky, but we can break it down. what do you think about first finding the common denominator?”

you spend the next half hour patiently explaining the concepts, drawing diagrams on scrap paper, and gently nudging him towards the solution. you praise him for every small victory, and his eyes light up each time he grasps a new idea. you realize these moments are precious. you enjoy being able to support and teach him.

Saebyeok watches from the table, a subtle smile playing on her lips. when you finally help Cheol arrive at the correct answer, he bursts into a grin, his satisfaction radiating through the room.

“thanks! you’re the best!” he declares, his eyes shining with newfound confidence. he scrambles off the couch, heading to his room, leaving a trail of discarded papers in his wake.

you turn to Saebyeok, a warm feeling settling in your chest. “he’s a smart kid, just needs a little encouragement.”

she nods, her eyes holding a complex mix of affection and almost… relief? “yeah.” she says quietly, returning to the money.

over the next few weeks, you notice a pattern forming. Cheol starts seeking you out for help with his homework more often. it’s never forced, always a gentle request. and you never refuse. you find yourself looking forward to the quiet evenings spent poring over textbooks and diagrams with Cheol. it’s a nice change of pace from the anxiety and fear that usually permeates both his and Saebyeok’s lives.

sometimes. he even asks for help with things beyond schoolwork. it’s in these seemingly mundane moments, as you help him, that you feel a strange connection to Cheol, like you’re something more than just his sister’s girlfriend.

one evening, as you’re helping him with a particularly challenging history assignment, Cheol pauses, his small fingers tracing the outline of an illustration in his textbook. he looks up at you, his eyes wide and earnest.

“you’re like mom,” he says, the words spilling out before he can think them through. “she used to help me with my homework too.”

a wave of emotion washes over you. it’s not even a conscious decision, but you pull him into a gentle hug, holding him close. it’s a bittersweet revelation. his mother is a gaping hole in both their lives, a void you can’t ever hope to truly fill. but if you can offer him a semblance of stability, of care, it’s something you desperately want to do.

you feel Saebyeok’s eyes on you from across the room. you look up and lock her eyes. she’s watching you with a soft smile on her face, a silent understanding passing between you. she knows the weight you carry with Cheol’s words, and she knows the strength you hold within as well.

you squeeze Cheol gently, kissing the top of his head. “well, i’ll try my best, okay?” you say, before returning to the history book, a different kind of warmth filling the space within your small, lavender-scented apartment. it’s more than just homework, it’s the beginning of something that feels like family. and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hi there!

Do you have any recommendations for games with mechanical depth that aren't focused on combat?

From my experience I'm thinking of primarily Burning Wheel, as well as Chuubo's. There's something just so compelling about presenting players with strong mechanical incentives and systems to master - while also being able to create narratives that don't need to center on fighting.

THEME: Non-Combat Mechanical Depth

Hello there! Mechanical depth is a tricky thing for me sometimes, especially when I'm reading about a game based on blogs or store descriptions. I think that much of the games I list here will be games I've talked about before, and while I personally think these games are complex, you might disagree! One through-line that I found in many of these games is that when you're not focusing on combat, the next most popular way to play with complex relationships.

The World of Darkness, by White Wolf / Onyx Path.

World of Darkness games can be about a lot of things; redemption, survival, violence, a search for belonging… but one thing that's pretty consistent across each of the various settings is the complex politics that bind the supernatural societies together.

This isn't to say that there isn't combat in World of Darkness. However, since the games are rooted in horror, fighting isn't wise; much better to make a deal, craft a complex ritual, or convince someone else to stab your problem in the back. The complex factions and warring beliefs of the World of Darkness can foment nefarious plots, strained relationships, and power vacuums that have made this setting a fantastic resource for LARPS, forum roleplay, and so much more.

If you want a system mastery that also requires a strong knowledge of the core setting, you might have a real hoot with the World of Darkness.

Gumshoe Games, by Pelgrane Press.

Gumshoe games are focused on investigation more than anything else, with a very specific and unique mentality around mysteries. The core of a Gumshoe game is the belief that players do not need to roll in order to get access to the clues they will need to solve the mystery. However, the completeness of the clues, extra context, and the goals provided that your characters might want to achieve once they solve the mystery, are all still up for debate. This is where your abilities come in.

Abilities in Gumshoe act as two things: ratings and pools. Ratings represent your standard ability in various skills. Pools are points that can be spent to temporarily increase a rating, which is what you'll likely need to do in order to meet the difficulty number assigned to any specific activity.

As a result, the complexity in Gumshoe lies in resource management; determining which actions are worth spending resources, and which actions you are comfortable choosing to fail. There might also be a layer of strategy in the assembly of clues; an astute group might be able to assemble a more complete picture of whats going on, as well as perhaps the motivations of the parties involved, and potential avenues to solve the problem to avoid certain complications.

There's a lot of GUMSHOE games out there; some include Nights Black Agents (spies vs. vampires), Trail of Cthulhu (Eldritch Horror), Ashen Stars (investigations in space!) and Bubblegumshoe (teenage detectives).

Good Society, by Storybrewers Roleplaying.

Welcome to Good Society, the Jane Austen roleplaying game. Play out your very own regency drama of balls, estates, passions and desires.

Good Society has plenty of layers, with chapters, tokens, reputation, scandal, letter-writing, conflict and upkeep. I don't know if it's technically crunchy in terms of math, but the relationships and the way you interact with society looks a little complex, at least from the outside looking in. As a player, you'll be responsible for both a main character as well as side-characters, resulting in an expansive cast that encourages players to be involved in scenes even when their own main character isn't involved.

Playing a game of Good Society asks your character to be strategic in actions not to preserve hit points, but rather to preserve reputation - both their own, and that of their family or loved ones. Can you still get what you want while preserving your reputation? What sacrifices might you have to make for love? Play Good Society to find out.

Phoenix Wright TTRPG, by Rezzy.

FAN CREATION Based on the Phoenix Wright franchise. The players are divided into prosecution and defense parties, and then each performs its own DM led investigation of a crime scene. After both parties have finished their investigation, everyone is brought back together for a trial to determine the verdict.

If you love sorting out numbers, mods and stats to build a character, you'll probably like the Phoenix Wright TTRPG.

This is a bit of a rough game; the author of it hasn't really done an editing pass recently, but if you want complexity, it has it in spades. You have encounters, but since the entire goal of the game is to solve mysteries and defend your clients in court, combat is the very last thing you want to resort to. You'll be using your abilities to collect evidence, talk to witnesses, deduct motives, and search your personal knowledge in order to find the real culprit.

Hillfolk, by Pelgrane Press.

In the shadow of empires, an epic saga of ambition and desire!

In an arid badlands, the hill people hunger. Your neighbors have grain, cattle, gold. You have horses and spears, courage and ambition. Together with those you love and hate, you will remake history—or die.

With the Hillfolk roleplaying game, you and your group weave an epic, ongoing saga of high-stakes interpersonal conflict that grows richer with every session. Its DramaSystem rules engine takes the basic structure of interpersonal conflict underlying fiction, movies and television and brings it to the world of roleplaying. This simple framework brings your creativity to the fore and keep a surprising, emotionally compelling narrative constantly on the move.

As you build your story, you mold and shape the Hillfolk setting to fit its needs. Do you entangle yourself with the seductions of your wealthy cousins to the north? Do you do battle with the fearsome sea people to the west? Or do you conquer the scattered badlands tribes to forge a new empire of your own?

The DramaSystem of Hillfolk is all about relationships and emotional need; the need for approval, reassurance, respect, reassurance, as well the need to punish, to force subservience upon others, and the desire for power. Relationships are the avenues by which you fulfill these needs.

Character creation for this game feels rather simple, but the way you navigate the game feels like it might still be complex. Each scene in the game is carefully constructed, fleshed out with complications, set pieces, and goals. What you can do in these scenes is also fleshed out: you can rush a scene, call for a time jump, negotiate your inclusion in a scene, and compete for the right to describe what's going on. The themes of negotiation and competition force you to evaluate where exactly you'll want to invest the resources available to you, usually taking the form of a pile of tokens. If you love the interpersonal strategy behind social games, you might like Hillfolk.

The Shadows Beneath, by Rob Justice.

"The Shadows Beneath" is a tabletop role-playing game where players take on the roles of Anglers, fishing in eerie New England waters. The game emphasizes exploration, player-driven narratives, and confronting eldritch horrors. Players must balance the allure of knowledge with the ever-present threat of awakening ancient, terrifying forces. The game features mechanics for handling social, mental, and physical challenges and incorporates a unique Certainty system, where players must manage their character's grasp on reality as they encounter the game's terrifying elements.

The Shadows Beneath is not a long game, but I think it's interesting that it takes elements often considered hallmarks of combat games and re-tools them for fishing. You're always rolling to defeat a Target Number, which is typically a multiple of 5. Anglers will wrestle with the environment, NPCs, other Anglers, and, of course, fish. The game has a Catch Chart that the group will need to reference every time you try to catch a fish.

Some pieces that you'll have to wrestle with as you play include your relationship to other anglers, the traits that you have your strengths in, the reason you're out here fishing, and a track called Certainty; your ability to keep your grasp on reality. Certainty can have a big impact on your character's journey; lose all of it and you start taking Dark Traits, which give you sinister abilities that encourage you to do terrible things.

You also can learn to cast rituals, which require you to sacrifice a part of yourself in the process, deal with Marks, which is wounds and terrible consequences, and upgrade your boat, the most important resource you depend on out on these hostile waters.

Nibiru, by Araukana Media.

Remember Your Past. Secure Your Future

Welcome to Nibiru: A massive space station, home to millions, where stories of drama and struggle are written on a daily basis. Play as the Vagabonds; vagrant souls who wake up in the station without memories of their past. Piece back together their story as you travel through the strange vistas of a skyless world, where nature and artificiality merge into one and where memory and identity shape everything.

I think Nibiru, from a basic understanding of the game, looks less crunchy in comparison to other games, since the basic premise of the game is that you fill the character sheet as you play. However, the gradual way in which you flesh out your character (and their backstory) allows for layers of complexity, as you can learn various mechanics the longer you play.

Advancement in Nibiru happens when you fill out pieces of your character's backstory; with positive memories costing you experience, and negative memories giving you experience. Positive memories give you bonuses to various actions, while negative ones give you a negative modifier. There's also special rules associated with the habitat your character is connected to: Dreadlands characters can use negative memories to exert control over the world, while Brighttown folks can get large amounts of experience from special objects, but are also bound to those objects and must constantly seek them out. The restrictions placed upon you according to your character type constrict you in an interesting way, and I think they fuel really creative play.

Ryuutama, by Kotohi.

Ryuutama calls itself a “Natural Fantasy RPG”. It is a fantasy role-playing game set in a western medieval-style setting. The conceit of this setting is that at one point, in everyone’s lives, people get this intense feeling of wanderlust. They put their daily lives on hold and travel the world with new-found companions. They find out more about the world, and at the same time learn about themselves.

Ryuutama emphasizes travel, exploration, community, friendship, harmony and growth. There is also a “Console RPG-like” combat system: But while combat certainly happens, it’s not the central focus of the game. Adventures usually involve traveling from one town to another, packing gear, crafting items, cooking and sharing along the way; getting lost, meeting people and (sometimes cute) monsters along the way; braving the elements and trying to set camp properly.

If you're a fan of traditional JRPGs, you'll likely find something to love here. There are multiple sub-systems that you'll have to maintain to support your party as they explore a world full of dragons, especially regarding inventory. You need to think about weight, carrying capacity, expiry date, and perhaps even price. This might direct your choices in regards to how far you travel before turning around, whether or not you buy a pack animal, or boosting your ability to navigate properly.

Ryuutama isn't combat free, but I think the focus and complexity of the game is meant to make it so that if you do get into a fight, you can resolve it fairly easily; but the rules and mini-games regarding magic, inventory and travel make it fairly clear that the real story this game is meant to tell is about the journey, and the things you find along the way.

You Might Also Enjoy…

Insane Amounts of Crunch Recommendation Post (Without a specific focus on combat.)

Non-Combat, Heroic Fantasy Recommendation Post.

In-Depth Magic Systems Recommendation Post - especially Ars Magica.

If you like what I do and want to leave a tip, you can check out my Ko-Fi!

[vitaminseetarot]

Pick-a-Carp: REM - Random Emerging Messages (From Your Dreams) 🐠🌑🔮

*･ﾟ✧Masterlist | *･ﾟ✧Ko-Fi

Sup y'all, it's time for another pick a card reading! I have always enjoyed dream interpretation, long before I discovered tarot. Amazing insights and revelations have come through by understanding dreams, at times being more predictive than waking signs. Although it can be hard to be really into dream interpretation when I can't remember most of mine upon waking. 😅

So for this Pisces New Moon, this reading will look into what kind of dreams you may be having and the messages they're trying to tell you. We have many dreams at night we don't remember, so this reading will take a deep dive into those hazier ones into account as well as the more significant dreams. Pick any one of the three beautiful koi fish varieties:

1 - Asagi - Blue/Silver 💙 2 - Showa - Black/White 🖤 3 - Utsuri - Orange/Black 🧡

Pile 1 - Asagi 💙

4 of Cups, Queen of Swords, XVII Star, 10 of Pentacles; Full Moon Sagittarius, 3 of Prisms, 3. In the Light of the Moon, Spider, Self-Care

Hi pile 1,

Your dreams focus mainly on the past. You may be having rather realistic dreams of situations that have already happened. There is a skeleton key present in these dreams in order to unlock a passage. This dream must be processed to clear old stuck energy that's keeping the conscious mind tied back. It may require seeing things from a different angle or point of view, or looking at the dream in a new light. This dream may be annoyingly repetitive but it's not without purpose. The message is relentless for you to receive it, so it uses the same dream or similar set-up to stay direct. Like solving a long tricky math problem on a practice test.

This dream may likely involve family members or close friend groups. You may relive confrontations you've had with them previously, or dream that you're getting into conflict with those you are otherwise on good terms with. You may get emotionally meshed with others' energies which appear in your dreams as a bigger tide in your imagery (they may even appear taller in dreams). It's important to apply clear judgement when it comes to these scenarios. Having a bad dream where a good friend cheats or fights with you is trying to help you understand how your emotions contribute to relationships; it's not a reflection of the actual state of the relationship. So this friend may be testing boundaries from within the safe confines of your dreams so you can figure out how to respond to such situations. In waking life, pile 1, you may need to review how you see your individual self as distinct from your community. Your dreams want you to center and reclaim your mind and boundaries so these scenarios can't phase you or your future decisions, because no, it doesn't have to happen like last time.

Your dreams show you are a caring person with great regard for your community's well being. With Spider, I think of the web, so this could be an online community or just one that feels tied together as a unit. This could also represent a large work environment where you collaborate with many people. Despite this, the Spider is largely an solitary being. These dreams could have people trying to call you, or talk to you, even if you're not able to hear what they're saying. Your reverie is swimming with their collective energy, but in doing so is also asking you to instead look towards yourself for insight. Let's say you have a reoccurring dream where a love interest keeps blasting your phone but for some reason you can't answer it, or the phone dies as you answer it. Consider what you would want the person on the other line to say ("I think you're really cute"), then ask if these are affirmations you can give to yourself now ("I think I'm really cute"). The Star card says you can provide yourself with the positive feeling you may be seeking in your dreams. They're wanting you to come back to yourself and stand on your own two fins--er, feet.

Dream Symbols: Outer Space, Light, Family Gatherings, Foreign Lands or Languages, Clothing, Groups of 3 or the Number 3

Pile 2 - Showa 🖤

6 of Wands, X Wheel of Fortune, 8 of Wands, Ace of Pentacles; Void-of-Course Moon, 5 of Relics, 42. Gentle Moderation, Butterfly, Take Charge

Hey pile 2!

Regular, practical matters seem to be the main concern here. This could be your physical body, housing, work, or your finances. The symbols in your dreams represent everyday worries like running errands. However, the dreams that start out as casual can quickly become unstable or chaotic. Grand plans like an expensive flight could be made only to suddenly cancel, or you may have dreams of getting lost and struggling to find directions only for the scenery to constantly morph itself around. Each scene may wildly change the circumstances and elevate activity in sleep. Emphasis is placed here on releasing your worries. Occasionally, they may be pointing out certain stressors or physical issues in the body. Overall, there is a need to take control of your circumstances as the captain of your ship, and you may find that with more time and awareness, you can tap into lucid dreams.

Out of all piles, your dreams likely make the least amount of sense. It could involve a lot of sudden frenzy or inexplicable changes, like seeing strangers turn into floating pumpkins or going to a doctor's clinic only to find that you are the doctor. I feel this is because you normally have your head on your shoulders in your waking life, and you may come across to others as steady and dependable. So when things go awry in sleep, these elements force you out of your comfort zone to showcase how you would react to a variety of scenarios. Many of these dreams come as a direct result of an every day worry and can be interpreted in a straight forward way, despite the seeming randomness. Going to the library to drop off a book that turns to glittery bats when you pull it out of your bag, for example, may simply be reminding you of a library book that's actually due.

You have the 6 of Wands, here, so it looks as though the events your dreams are based from largely resolve themselves even if it can stir you up in your sleep. Many of these things are fated to happen anyway, so there's no need to fret about them, and in fact worrying and overthinking may make the situation worse. So if you have an embarrassing dream about a job interview, it could be a reminder to practice answering questions beforehand. There's a good chance you will still do well at the interview as your dreams are helping you to see that you can handle any sudden disruption in plans and see your goals through. The caterpillar is destined to change into a butterfly no matter what, so it's okay if it has dreams that the cocoon string doesn't come out right or the wings look strange. It's all part of adjusting to big changes in life. The important thing is to not rush into doing something out of worry and to work at a steady pace. Remember that no matter how weird or utterly out there your dreams get, you're at the helm and with practice, you can decide how the dream ends.

Dream Symbols: Theater, Driving, Shapeshifting, Magic Wands, Flight, Maps or Compasses

Pile 3 - Utsuri 🧡 (cw blood imagery & brief mention of trauma)

V Hierophant, 10 of Swords, 9 of Wands, 9 of Swords; Full Moon in Cancer, 2 of Prisms, 41. Convey Your Meaning, Crystal, Eternity

Hello, pile 3.

I see the main theme in your sleep could involve reconciliation with a loved one. You may have a lot of one-on-one dreams involving confrontations and heated discussions. There could be a lot of miscommunication, a struggle to speak, or an inability to get one's point across in the dream. Words which ache inside your throat in waking life can finally burst within your dreams, words which you may have held onto for perhaps years. Your dreams are a place to bring out and vent what is difficult or even impossible to manage while awake. Your mind is seeking to let go of a major issue to achieve peace. If these really are words you wish to let out, I recommend both a dream journal to document what's being said along with a regular journal to help you air out things that will otherwise filter into your sleep.

For a few of you, the dreams may recall a painful encounter or event in the past, which can feel mocking when it comes back around, as though it can disappear for a long while only to suddenly reappear at the most unusual time. Let's say the trauma involved a bicycle accident: the accident may appear in different forms, like the bike turning into a helicopter, but with the same emotional response. You may think, "that was almost a decade ago, why am I still dreaming about this?" This is due to having a more emotionally detached state while in the dream world, allowing a more introspective consciousness to come through. Ultimately, with the 10 of Swords, it's helping you process it through so it doesn't overwhelm you while you're living your life. Your mind is slowly healing itself by "analyzing" these dreams like an audience member watching a movie to help you feel safe in your skin upon waking.

You may feel interested in checking out pile 1 too because I also see repetitive dreams in here. Only in this case it may not always be a dream based exactly on reliving a memory, but rather different scenes that involve the same core lesson or emotion in every one. You may even have a sequential dream that ends and restarts itself like a chapter in a book, or experience nested dreams in which you wake up to the alarm only to still be dreaming, which could create déjà vu. This is to help you gradually learn from past turmoils and errors while freely letting go of past hangups. Your dreams do not show you these visions to scare or frustrate you, but to build the pieces together to create a more unified psyche. They're breaking up old crystallized patterns of thought so the shadow isn't lurking over you like the volcano in the 9 of Wands. It's building the new staircase to your personal freedom by allowing you the opportunity to rewrite the scenario as you see fit. How different would the same dream feel with just one little detail rearranged? Try to imagine how it would feel if the bicycle turned into a Pegasus and allowed you to soar high.

Dream Symbols: Warm Tones, School, House, Library, Spirals, Gates

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2025, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[sirfrogsworth]

When I got to this photo in Katrina's collection of vintage family imagery, I was pretty stumped as to how to approach it.

There is a major problem when you zoom in to 100%.

The paper it was developed on has little micro bumps. When it was scanned, the light from the scanner caused a highlight on one side of the bump and a shadow on the other. This causes a pattern which is nearly impossible to eliminate using traditional techniques.

The easiest way to fix this is actually quite clever. You scan it once, then turn it upside down and scan it again. The second pass reverses the side the highlight and shadow appear on, so you can combine the images in Photoshop and blend them together, essentially canceling out the bumps. It's weirdly analogous to noise canceling headphones.

But I don't have access to the physical copy of this image.

So... now what?

Enter Fast Fourier Transform or FFT.

This is a filter that uses extra fancy math to recognize patterns in the image and eliminate them. There is a pretty good filter for Photoshop, but it does not work easily with newer Macs with Apple Silicon. I really did not want to figure that out, and I also was too tired to go downstairs to my PC. However, I learned that a Photoshop competitor, Affinity Photo, has this filter built in. So, I downloaded a trial copy and started the process of trying to figure out how to fix this image.

It was amazingly simple. It brings up these star patterns and you just paint black circles over every one but the center. It literally felt like magic. (Full screen with sound recommended)

So once I did this process I ended up with this...

The paper still had a rough texture but it was much easier to work with using traditional techniques. I started with a black and white conversion and meticulously went through the photo zapping scratches and flaws and balancing tones and sharpening facial features. All of my photo restoration tricks were needed.

I eventually landed here...

I then thought maybe I should match the sepia tone of the original print, so I got to here...

I think the black and white looks nicer in this instance, but I always like having options and this is the most faithful representation of how the photo originally looked.

But there is something else I have been playing around with lately. Photoshop has these experimental neural filters that use cloud processing to do various tricky enhancements. Most of them are in beta and they can be very quirky. But they have a colorizer that tries to detect people and things and adds color to them. Not every black and white photo is a good candidate. I have found these professional portrait photos work decently, but the filter is very hit-and-miss. And there are tools within the filter to help you make a miss more of a hit, but often I have to accept the photo isn't going to work.

But I decided to give it a shot with this one and surprisingly, the colorizer got me most of the way there.

I can work with that.

The one thing it does well is skin. Manually painting color onto skin is tricky and requires more skill and knowledge of traditional painting techniques than I have. But if a filter can do that part for me, I can do the rest.

So after my touchups, I got the image to here.

All I have left to do is my standard color enhancements to make them a little less ghostly and a little more human.

And I present to you where I started and the finished product. I encourage you to flip back and forth.

I'm not sure how, but I was able to go from an image I thought was impossible to edit to a beautiful colorized memory for my best friend's mom. I cannot wait to show her.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Omg Exorcists hunting like Ospreys

They dive and go sploosh in the water then fly back out no problem

Vaggie shows this once and Charlie, a no wing haver, is amazed by her gfs ability to fly out of water very much “but??? Wings in water meant to be no bueno??”

the one thing vaggie misses from heaven: Dive Bomb Fishing

XD no but, imagine Vaggie spending ages hunting around the city for a swimming pool big enough to show off to her girlfriend in. Up in heaven there was beaches and bright sparkling bodies of water, but hell is overcrowded and....

Vaggie: "How hard is it to find a body of water in hell that DOESN''T already have a dead body floating in it!?"

Angel Dust: "I dunno toots. Probs as hard as a long throbbing-"

Vaggie: "Shut up and keep looking or die."

she finally finds one and gets SO giddy about it, same as when she was excited to show the hotel commercial to Charlie, dragging her gf over to the edge of the one sanitary pool in hell like

Vaggie: (hopping up and down) "Are you ready for the surprise?"

Charlie: "I, think so??"

Vaggie: "Good!"

Vaggie: (hugs gf) (hops back again) (Grins)

Charlie: "Vaggie wh- pffthaha! You're really excited about this 'super cool angel trick thing' aren't you?"

Vaggie: "You have no idea."

Vaggie: "Now hold this taxidermized fish for me."

Charlie: "Hold the what."

it's a fair question. clean swimming pools aren't the only thing it's tricky to find in hell

Vaggie: "Fish!"

Charlie: "HOLYSHIT WHAT IS THAT THING?!"

Vaggie: "There's not a lot of fish options down here but we're gonna pretend it's a salmon. Or was one, in a past life."

Charlie: "Do I have to- I mean, is me holding it CRUCIAL to the surprise..?"

Vaggie: "You can throw it in the pool soon don't worry."

Charlie: "If it's in the pool Vaggie I don't think I'm going in that water."

Vaggie: "That's perfect! Just get ready to throw."

Vaggie starts stretching her wings

meanwhile poor Charlie wants to SO MUCH to be supportive about the angel thing after how not great that revelation started out so she's nodding and smiling and not instantly yeeting the horror fish and internally doing math equations trying to figure this out so she can be extra super happy about it

Vaggie: (twirling spear) "Ok babe, I'm gonna fly up real high, and when you see me wave you toss the abomination fish into the pool. Right?"

Charlie: "OK!!! Fly wave throw fish, got it!"

Charlie was ready for anything she was PREPARED

she was NOT prepared to see her girlfriend plummet through the air and dive smack dead into a pool at what looks like literal break-neck speed

Charlie: "VAGGIE!?!?!?"

Angel Dust: "Mmm not bad. 10 outta 10 for looking like she's gotta death wish. Slaaaaay!"

Charlie: "IS SHE OKAY?!"

Husk: "0 out of fucking 10. That shit looks wet as fuck."

Angel Dust: "Wuh luh wuh LOVE when thing get-"

Husk: "20 out of 10 if she drowns you."

Charlie: "THAT LOOKED LIKE IT HURT!"

Niffty: "Wheee! Me next!!!!!!""

Cherri Bomb: "Booo! 2 out of 10! It wasn't even a canon ball."

Charlie: "IS SHE HURT THAT REALLY LOOKED LIKE IT HURT!"

Niffty: "Did her spine snap? Is she-" (giggles) "Dead~?"

Alastor: "I'm SORRY to say it dearest but I SINCERELY doubt it! In fact it seems she is just about to surface, and NOT as a far more flatteringly corpse, ha ha!"

Charlie: "VAGGIE ARE YOU OKAY???"

Vaggie's head pop back beaming and shaking water from her face

Vaggie: "Charlie! I got it!"

Charlie: "Not the question I'm asking! Wait, got what?"

Vaggie: (laughing) "Look!"

cue big wing flaps, Vaggie spraying everyone who isn't Charlie with water as she wings back up out of the pool and lifts her spear to show off...

Vaggie: "I got the fish!"

....the stuffed abomination skewered triumphantly on her heavenly spear

Charlie: "You- you caught it!?"

Vaggie: "On the first try! First try in years and-"

Charlie: "YOU CAUGHT THE FISH???"

Vaggie: "I did!"

Charlie: "NO WAY!"

Vaggie: "Yeah!"

Charlie: "HOLY FUCK-"

Charlie, who has NEVER seen a diving bird irl before and whose is mind actually honestly BLOWN, cheering and jumping around and grabbing each of their sopping wet friends in turn to shake them and point at her gf, who

Charlie: "-just did that whatever that was she did that IT WAS AMAZING she went ZOOM like NYOOM and SPLOOSH and wOW-!"

Vaggie: (puffing up) "If there was real fish in that pool, we'd be having some for dinner tonight."

Charlie: "WOW!!"

Alastor: (dripping) (grinning tightly) "How. Delightful."

Charlie: "OH OH OH I GOTTA CALL DAD! I-"

Charlie: "-dad? Dad!! YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT VAGGIE JUST DID!!!"

Alastor: "Oho~"

Vaggie: "What're you laughing at?"

Charlie: "-went WAY HIGH UP THERE and then she DOVE-"

Alastor: "Why at your cruel fate of course! Prepare to be MORTALLY embarrassed in front your partner's parent, my dear~"

Vaggie: "Are you kidding? Fishing is best skill I have."

Charlie: "YES SHE DID SHE DID DO THE DIVING FISHING THING AND SHE GOT THE FISH ON THE FIRST TRY!!"

Husk: (soaked) "That's not. Fucking. Fishing."

Vaggie: "Don't be bitter just because you can't do it, Husk."

Angel Dust: (also dripping) "Both of ya are nuts."

Cherri Bomb: (sadly holding up soggy bomb) "You could get a whole school of fish with one stick of dynamite. I'm just saying."

Niffty: "I wanna be the fish! SKEWER ME!"

Vaggie: "No offence Nif but, pass."

Niffty: "RRG!" (kicks her in the shins) "Stupid sport fishing lesbian!"

Vaggie: "Stupid good at sport fishing lesbian, you mean."

Charlie: "-okay!? Yeah! Yeah I'll tell her!!" (end call) "VAGGIE MY DAD'S COMING OVER HE'S GETTING OUT HIS OLD FISHING POLE HE'S GONNA PUT THE FISH ON IT AND MAKE IT WIGGLE FOR YOU WHILE YOU CATCH IT!!"

Vaggie: "No way!"

Charlie: "YES!! And IM gonna film it!!!"

Angel Dust: "An' we're all goin' home. Have fun with your gay nature docu-thingy."

Vaggie: "Have fun missing out on the fishing losers!"

Charlie: (hugging her) "This is so COOL! How do your wings even work after getting wet!? That's amazing!"

Vaggie: "It's what the daily preening is for, babe."

Charlie: "WE'rE GONNA DO SO MUCH MORE WING PREENING!!!"

Angel Dust: (distantly) "Gaaaaaay...!"

[whatever-fanfics]

POV: you need help with your 21st century homework in a mansion full of vampires

~~~

Imagine MC needing sitting on the table, head in their hands, about to cry because NOTHING MAKES SENSE. And in come multiple people who look over MC's shoulder to what's making them so upset, they recognize some of it but not all of it. After pondering with each other they try asking some of the others. 10 minutes later 12 vampires surround the human trying to make sense of numerous subjects. Shakespeare was visiting.

~~~

Arthur & Theo *coming in from a night of drinking*: MC? Hondje? what's wrong

MC *on the verge of tears*: Nothing makes sense🥺😭

Arthur and Theo *walk over and see numerous papers from different subjects*: What is this?

MC: homework from the 21st century 🥺

Arthur *sits down and recognizes some of the works*: Interesting...

Theo *looks over and sees art history papers and papers about painting techniques*: ?!?

Isaac *enters and sees them*: ???

Isaac *walks over and sees calculus and math*: ?!?

Isaac *sits down and recognizes some equations*: I recognize some but not all of them, hold on

Isaac *leaves and comes back with Leonardo*: I brought help

Leonardo *looks over and recognizes problems*: You study this cara?

MC: not by choice 🥲

Napoleon *sleepily wanders over*: ???

Napoleon *sees typed words in French*: Nunuche how did you get your writing so neat?

MC: that's typed, it's my homework

Napoleon *confused, recognizes some but not all*: it's French homework?

MC: Yea... 🥲

Napoleon: hold on

Napoleon *leaves and comes back with le comte*: here

Le Comte *happy to be included*: 😁 homework?

MC: unfortunately 😓

Le comte *sits down*: I see the language has evolved again, this makes things a bit tricky, no matter *starts a whole lecture*

MC *look at the camera like they’re in The Office*: ...

*Mozart and Jean enter*

Mozart: why are you all so noisy

Mozart *comes over and notices music sheets*: what is this?

MC: homework

Mozart and Jean: Home..work???

Sebastian *appearing out of the void*: school work that you take home and return the next day completed

Literally everyone: where did you come from?

Jean *comes over and sees typed paper*: what is..this?

MC: typed up homework

Jean:...Witchcraft *takes out his sword*

MC: PLEASE NO, I DON'T HAVE ANYMORE COPIES 😭😭😭

*Dazai enters*

Dazai *sees everyone by MC and walks over*:

Dazai *sees his book*: what's this? Everyone: Homework

*Shakespeare enters*

Shakespeare: Good morrow, all 😊

Shakespeare *walks over and sees multiple works of his*: ???

Shakespeare: Good MC, I had no notion of your interest in me ☺️

MC and Theo: It's homework

Theo *puts down art history papers*: be right back

*Theo leaves and comes back with Vincent*

Vincent: MC I didn't know you were so interested in art ☺️😊

MC *didn't want to tell him it was for homework*: yeah...

*Sebastian taking notes furiously in his journal*

~~~

[kyyupidz]

CUPID IS SO DUMB!! >:( (g/n reader x ace trappola) ★ ace trappola is familiar with romantic relationships, but actually factoring love into it is a whole different equation. love is boring. it ruins friendships, makes everything awkward, and is just plain annoying to deal with! it's better if he just ignore it all entirely. right? ★ slight angst/comfort. ENDLESS PINING. too much denial. ★ SIX THOUSAND WORDS. IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR MONTHS. also as you can tell by the first sentence, there is a Lot of Cursing!!! y/n is the prefect in this fic However grim does not appear in this fic at all. Sorry grim lovers :(

ace trappola is in deep shit. 

and that’s saying a lot, considering that he’s been in tricky situations before. possibly trickier than the one he’s in right now. sevens, he’s survived an overblot more than once, so compared to that, this shouldn’t even be that big of a deal. 

and yet here he is. lying in his bed at 5 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what went wrong. sevens know how many times he’s mentally traced over the small crack in the ceiling that’s somehow gone unnoticed by riddle, caused by deuce miscasting a spell which went just a bit too high.  

...this is pathetic, he thinks to himself glumly. rolling over onto his side to get more comfortable, he tries distracting himself by any means necessary. reminding himself of that math test that’s coming up that he still hasn’t studied for, how to improve his basketball shots, new card tricks... and yet his mind keeps replaying that dumb moment in history class. 

that stupid, absolutely aggravating moment in history class. 

it really shouldn’t be that big of a deal. in fact, he recalls just how unimportant that class was up until the moment you so rudely interrupted and somehow made it important. 

the memory plays in his head again, him mindlessly twirling his pen around, blankly staring out the window. the essay he was supposed to be writing laid unfinished in front of him, with only a few words lazily scribbled down. in stark contrast, deuce was very furiously writing down words at record pace, his brows furrowed in concentration.  

in short, history class had been boring, as always. boring and normal and totally irrelevant to ace, until you had reached over with your red pen and crossed out the “your” on his paper and jotted under it “you’re.” 

ace had let his jaw drop in betrayal, watched as your hand quickly shrunk away from view. but the damage was done. offended, ace turned towards you, ready to give you the worst stink-eye of your life. 

“what’s the big deal?” he hissed out, before immediately trailing off and feeling the irritation dissipate into thin air. 

oh, sevens, the way you were covering your mouth with your hand, trying (and failing) to muffle your laughter. your eyes were upturned, crinkling at the edges with mirth. and great seven, the sun was hitting you just right, highlighting all your features and ace just had to admit, you were really pretty. 

ace groans with frustration as he recalls how effortlessly flawless you looked in that moment, so flawless you just had to make it his problem because you’re incapable of not being a pain. 

thankfully, professor trein did one good thing in his life and told the both of you to get back to work, saving ace the embarrassment of having to deal with you and your stupid attractiveness. and while he’s slightly frustrated that he got into trouble, he’s even more frustrated that he has to deal with the fact that he may or may not be in love with his best friend. 

he remembers kicking you under the desk after that, partly for correcting his spelling error, partly for making him feel butterflies in his stomach. he also had to write his 8-paragraph essay in the last 10 minutes of class, and perhaps he’s upset about that too. how dare you distract him from his studies in this way?! 

but alas, ace isn’t as stupid as he makes himself out to be. he can make all the excuses he wants, but he can’t deny the truth. he definitely has feelings for you. he’s not someone to deny the obvious. 

...the only problem is now what? 

the last time ace was in a relationship was when he was in middle school. and he abhorred the whole thing. their date at the amusement park was more of a chore than anything, and she vetoed anything remotely fun. hell, ace wasn’t even sure if she knew what fun was. if that was how all relationships were going to be like, then ace would rather not be in one at all. 

and in any case, he rationalizes, he doesn’t want to go through the hassle of being “serious” with you. he would rather die than play the role of a devoted, sappy, disgustingly cheesy lover who tells you how beautiful you are every day or something. he just doesn’t fit into the prince charming category! if anything, deuce would be a better contender for that role than he is.  

and he couldn’t stand having your expectations for him rise higher than they already are. you expect him to do enough already, for sevens sake! 

all in all, he’s just not the type of guy to commit to such a thing. he’s already told you once that he doesn’t have one romantic bone in his body, and that’s final. being all romantical and sweet just isn’t his thing. 

...and suddenly he recalls your stupid face again, and maybe, just maybe, you’re worth all the trouble of being in love again. 

ace slams his face into his pillow to try and block out his thoughts. 

forget it, he thinks, face still buried in the pillow, you probably don’t even like him back anyway. no point in ruining a good thing, right?  

ace trappola likes hanging out with you, and while he wouldn’t admit it to your face, he would very much like to continue hanging out with you. if he told you that he likes you, like, really likes you, then you’d probably stop talking to him. and, unfortunately, that would kind of hurt his feelings. 

so obviously he should just suck it up and forget that he ever considered you beautiful. he should give up the idea of ever confessing to you. 

...but what if he did and you said yes? 

another groan of frustration slips through his mouth. great sevens, what is wrong with him? 

he doesn’t know why it’s just now that he’s feeling like this. occasionally, he slept beside you when he crashed at your dorm, and he didn’t feel anything then. he’s held your hand once or twice, and his heart hadn’t raced then.  

he mumbles incoherently into his pillow, why is he feeling like this? 

and he had this all happen to him in history class? of all times to fall in love, why history class?! if he had to have some mind-boggling revelation that he was in love with you, he’d rather it be in some magical fantasy place where it feels special and not... underwhelmingly normal. 

no, he thinks firmly, it doesn’t matter where it happened. he’s not going to let it change anything. you guys are friends, and nothing more. 

the image of your face resurfaces again, and he fights the urge to punch himself.  

when the sun rises and he’s forced to continue with the endless charade that is college life, ace trappola realizes he’s had approximately one and a half hours of sleep. it's not the worst thing ever, but to add insult to injury, his alarm didn’t wake him, and he woke up to riddle threatening to collar him if he didn’t wake up this instant.  

so on top of having to think about what he’s going to do when he sees you again, he got yelled at by the housewarden. because of you. 

just another reason why love is more trouble than it’s worth! 

“did you stay up again?” deuce asks, interrupting ace’s thoughts, “you know it’s bad to stay up. us students need sleep to function throughout the day.” 

“what? pssh. this student is functioning just fine, thank you,” ace scoffs out a little too quickly, “come on. you know i’ve got my full 8 hours.” 

a beat of silence. ace grins nervously as deuce’s gaze falls on the painted heart located on ace’s left eye. it’s quite obviously the product of someone who was in a rush.  

“are you... sure?” deuce says slowly, looking at ace skeptically. 

“totally sure, man! when have i ever lied to you?” 

“yesterday,” deuce sighs, shaking his head in exasperation, “whatever. just don’t come to me if your lack of rest comes back to bite you.” 

ace breathes out in relief. while he knows he just spit out the flimsiest excuses known to twisted wonderland, he’s just glad deuce didn’t push it further. sevens knows how he was going to get himself out of that situation if he did. now, just to somehow avoid you for the rest of the day and... 

“good morning!” you yell out brightly, slowing to a stop behind them and flinging your arms across both of their shoulders. 

great.  

“prefect!” deuce greets back, turning to face your sunny grin with a small smile, “good morning. you seem awfully chipper today.” 

ace watches as your grin grows, and he thinks, oh he is so doomed.  

what’s with you and your dumb smiles? he fumes to himself quietly, why do you have to smile so damn much? and why do you always have to be smiling around him? can’t you go smile somewhere else, where he can’t see you- wait no, he still wants you to be around, he means- 

“oh, deuce spade, let me tell you!” you sigh wistfully, letting your arms drop from the two heartslabyul students’ shoulders, “i heard through the grapevine we’re finally doing another hands-on alchemy assignment, and you know what that means, right? i finally get to do something actually magical!” 

wow. you’re practically glowing, ace thinks, and he kind of wishes you weren’t. not that he’s wishing on your downfall or anything, but you’re distracting him, dammit! he likes to be able to use his critical thinking skills, thank you! 

“really? that’s great,” deuce says, “i just hope i don’t have to do any remedial classes this time... that always seems to happen to me. alchemy's just not my strong suit, i suppose.” 

“nothing’s your strong suit, man,” ace sighs, hoping to the great seven his ears aren’t red, “except maybe throwing around cauldrons. not to worry deucey, i’m an expert at alchemy! i’ll help you out, no problem.” 

deuce glares at him, entirely unamused. in contrast, you seem very amused, still warm smiles and cheery laughter. it takes all of ace’s willpower to keep his cool and triumphantly smirk at deuce’s expression, pretending like he’s not about to combust if you so much as say one word toward him. 

we’re just friends, he reminds himself, don’t let this affect you any more than it should. continue pretending you’re unaffected and totally, 100 percent normal. you may be in love with your best friend, but who cares? it’s not that big of a deal. you can do this. you’re not going to let love ruin a perfectly good friendship. 

“in any case,” you hum, snapping him back to reality (the reality where he has to admit that you are extremely attractive), “i’m just excited to do anything remotely magic related that isn’t just writing essays about how the magic pen changed the course of history or whatever. let’s hope we don’t have to do any remedial classes!” 

“like i’d be caught dead in one of those,” ace retorts, “not sure about deuce, though.” 

“you just watch!” deuce huffs, “it’ll be different this time around, you’ll see!” 

ace grins, watching you out of his peripheral.  

see, he thinks, he’s perfectly fine, see how he can still joke around with his best buds? absolutely zero need for anything romantic. we can stay friends. we’re better off friends, even. he’s not letting any romantic attraction ruin the friendship he has with you. 

it’s better this way, he thinks resolutely, isn’t it? 

ace is even more sure that love ruins everything after the disaster that was alchemy class. 

to his absolutely horrible luck (or great, depending on who you ask. ace still thinks it’s horrible luck, though), he just had to be paired with you. professor crewel must have something against him for being too great of a student or something to wrong him in this way! 

this is fine, he tells himself as he watches you gather materials for the potion with that same stupid smile still plastered all over your face. it hasn’t disappeared since this morning, and it’s really getting on ace’s nerves. how is he supposed to focus if you’re smiling like that, huh?! 

again, he’d never pray on your downfall, but great sevens, show him some mercy. he’s already in deep, and you just seem hellbent on pushing him down even further. 

“okay,” you say, excitement evident in your tone as you snap on your gloves, “first, the grounded-up wings of an aurora moth, then the entire bottle of mermaid tears, and finally the cap of an amanita verna. mix until it turns white, and then we tell professor crewel we’re done. easy stuff, right?” 

you turn towards ace, who’s thoughts seem to cloud his ability to listen to anything anyone is telling him. you snap your fingers in front of his face, and he jolts. 

“hello? twisted wonderland to ace?” you huff, “are you even listening? come on, half the class is already getting to work. don’t drag down my alchemy grade, please.” 

ace grins clumsily at you as he readjusts his position. 

“if anything, you’d be the one dragging my grade down,” he quips back, praying to the seven that sounded natural, “just sit back and relax, i’ve totally got this. what’s first, mermaid tears, right?” 

he picks up the bottle of mermaid tears, popping off the cap and getting ready to tip the contents into the cauldron. 

...until you suddenly reach out and grab his wrist. 

ace feels his mind blank. 

you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine, everything’s fine, everything’s fine... 

“you really weren’t listening, were you?” you scold him, totally oblivious to the raging thunderstorm that is occupying ace’s head, “the wings first, dumbass.” 

it wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact, and yet you’ve still got him absolute putty in your hands, ace thinks, what the hell is wrong with him? no, what the hell is wrong with you? why are you doing this to him?! 

“of... of course i knew that!” ace sputters, placing the mermaid tears back onto the table. his hands aren’t shaking, right? they definitely aren’t?  

“i was just messing with you, you hear me?” he continues rambling on, sevens, he’s a wreck, “i was totally listening. mhm. that’s right. i would never make such an amateur mistake.” 

“right. whatever you say,” you tease, rolling your eyes in amusement, “the aurora moth wings, please.” 

“you think so little of me sometimes,” ace grumbles, face feeling a little too hot for his liking. he reaches for the small vial of powder next to the mermaid tears, before dumping it into the cauldron. 

“see?” he huffs, “everything’s fine. nothing’s going wrong. i mean, how could it when you have the great ace trappola on your side, huh?” 

you make a ‘pfft’ sound, your smile widening as your eyes crinkle at the edges, and great sevens ace has never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. immediately, his eyes flick down towards the cauldron so that he can save whatever bit of dignity he has left.  

everything’s fine, everything’s fine, everything’s fine, he repeats to himself mentally, just make it to the end of this period, and everything’s gonna be okay. you will not let love win. you are better than this, ace trappola! you can do this! 

“okay!” ace says hastily, in a desperate attempt to minimize the amount of time he has to spend with you, to hurry this class up so you don’t see how red his face is, “what’s next? the mushroom cap? in it goes!” 

“wait- no, ace!-” 

the cauldron explodes. 

to say professor crewel was mad is an understatement. no, professor crewel was pissed.  

“you pups should know better than to just throw things in willy-nilly!” he shouts, “it seems you mutts just never get tired of being disciplined, huh? remake the potion by the end of the day, understand?” 

and so now ace has to be stuck with you and your aggravating, totally annoying and frustratingly pretty face. he’s starting to think he angered a deity in a past life and this is his retribution. 

“you’re an idiot,” you tell him as you reach up on a shelf to grab a new bottle of mermaid tears, “i told you not to drag down my alchemy grade!” 

“hey, i already know riddle’s gonna be all on my case after this,” he quips back sharply, glaring at the back of your head, “i don’t need you mad at me too! listen, we’ll just do this potion over and then everything’s gonna be a-okay. let’s not get upset, yeah?” 

“you’re just trying to deflect your guilt,” you sigh, placing the vial onto the table, “don’t mess it up this time, okay? i don’t want to find out what professor crewel will do if he finds out we exploded another cauldron.” 

“listen, it was a one time thing! a one time thing, you hear me?” he insists, watching you as you pop open the bottle of ground aurora moth wings, “i won’t do it again, promise.” 

“uh-huh,” you say, entirely unconvinced. you mix the powder into the water-filled cauldron, watching as it dissolves. eventually, you both fall into a comfortable silence, with ace simply examining your features as you focus on making the potion. occasionally, you ask him to pass you something, but otherwise he’s left to just stare at you. 

your brows are furrowed, knit together in concentration, and normally ace would think you look silly so focused. eventually, he’d probably find a way to ditch, and then laugh at your exasperated expression when you somehow manage to find him. and yet here he is, willingly staying in a remedial class because you are the most ethereal thing he’s ever seen in his entire 16 years of living. 

at the same time, he also thinks you’re the most troublesome lump of flesh he’s ever encountered. 

people make love out to be this great, totally stupendous thing, and yet all it has done for ace is ruin his life. it’s gotten him with barely any sleep, in trouble with his housewarden, in trouble with his teacher, and most importantly, it’s gotten him a hurt ego.  

and yet, ace almost wants to think that all of it is worth it if he manages to get a laugh out of you in the end. maybe all this trouble would be worth it if he manages to stay with you. 

he’s being stupid, he thinks to himself, he’s being delusional, even. love is doing nothing but ruining his life. he can’t fall into its whims like this! he isn’t going to fall for that trap again, no sir. 

“ace, look!” you say excitedly, snapping him out of his trance. the liquid inside the cauldron has turned a milky white, and while ace wants to tell you good job, he can’t. 

you’re grinning at him, waiting for him to say something. the sight is comical, you look like a puppy waiting for approval from its owner. it’s almost endearing. it may be too endearing. 

ace trappola realizes for the one-hundredth time that he is wholly and entirely enamored with you.  

okay, just tell them good job. tell them something witty, something funny. tell them you’re surprised they managed to do that all on their own. don’t say anything you’re gonna regret, don’t say anything you’re gonna regret- 

“i’m in love with you,” ace blurts out. 

fuck. 

you gape at him, the grin on your face replaced with a dropped jaw. a heavy silence falls between you, only interrupted by the quiet bubbling of the potion in the cauldron. you continue staring at him like he’s grown three heads. he stares back. 

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.  

“kidding, i’m- pfft- did you fall for it?” ace adds-on quickly, laughing to fill the overwhelming silence that threatens to swallow him alive, “prefect, i thought you were smarter than that.” 

you don’t respond. ace swallows, his smile starting to become strained. sevens, he’s really fucked up now. 

“i think i might love you too,” you say back softly.  

what the fuck. 

now it’s ace’s turn to stare at you, eyes wide open. he knows this should be all that he wants. or at least, according to the occasional, cringey romance movies he’s watched, he should be the happiest man in the world right now. 

but all he feels is conflicted.  

your face falls slightly at his silence, and his stomach twists. there’s a burning feeling in his chest, everything in him is screaming at him to say something. anything. does he keep the charade up? does he cheer and celebrate? does he sigh with relief? does he vomit? 

everything he’s told himself up until this moment, every denial that he used to push himself away from his feelings is crumbling at his feet, his walls that he so carefully built around his heart are falling away faster than he can repair them. he wants to be with you more than anything, and yet what if everything goes wrong? what if he messes it all up? 

the silence is deafening. what does he even say in this scenario? the scenario that he’s been trying to avoid the entire day? 

the solution comes to him suddenly, and he stands up abruptly. he decides to do what he does best, a magic trick. 

one where he hits the ground running and sprints as far away as he possibly can. 

you think you just got rejected. 

after ace unceremoniously left you at the cauldron with the potion still brewing away, yet to be poured into a glass bottle, you felt yourself at a loss of what to do. with every step you felt like the ground was threatening to swallow you whole.  

who the hell bolts for the door after they tell you they reciprocate your feelings? 

somehow, you had managed to turn in the potion to professor crewel. when asked where ace was and why he hadn’t turned it in with you, you had frozen up like a deer in headlights.  

“he’s... uh, picking up drinks for the both of us,” you sputter out hastily, “you know, for a job well done! we didn’t blow up the cauldron this time, so, you know, this is a cause for celebration, haha!...” 

crewel eyes you suspiciously, and you try to stop the obviously strained smile on your face from falling and opening the gates to an ocean’s worth of emotions you’re not sure you’re prepared for. 

eventually crewel sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he rubs his forehead in exasperation. 

“i hope you aren’t covering up for that pup,” he mutters, “in any case, the potion seems to be of good quality and seems to be actually properly crafted this time, so fine. i’ll accept it. next time though, if you dare blow up my cauldrons again, i won’t treat you both so leniently. understand?” 

“i understand,” you respond a little louder than necessary, nodding your head slightly in affirmation before high tailing it out of there.  

now what?  

do you run back to your dorm crying? do you weep helplessly at the foot of your bed as the ghosts of ramshackle try their best to comfort you? do you indulge in ice cream and eat your sorrows away? do you call a friend to vent all your frustrations? do you simply go on with your day and pretend like it never happened? 

or do you chase after him, demanding an explanation?  

screw it, you think, what do you have to lose? he’s already technically rejected you, might as well track him down and force him to give you verbal proof to break your heart even more. and besides, even if he does tell you he doesn’t feel the same, you can just say you were playing along with his joke. the joke that is currently the cause of all your problems right now. 

you take out your phone, pulling up the text messages between you and ace. the last few messages you sent to him was only a few hours ago, sending him the answers to the math test you had today. 

your fingers hover over the keys uncertainly, staring at the last message you sent. maybe texting him would seem desperate. maybe you should just let him come to you first. 

you sigh, shoulders slumping as you consider your options. what do you even say anyway? that you’re sorry? that it was a joke, and you didn’t mean it? or that you meant what you said with your entire heart, and you really want him to affirm that he likes you too instead of passing it off as a joke? 

well, what’s the worst he could say over text? you think to yourself, having someone run away when you tell them you like them stings a thousand times more than any insult. might as well just do it, right? 

you slowly type out your message, overthinking every letter and erasing the whole thing more times than you’d like to admit. 

“i’m sorry,” your message reads when you finish, “didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. can we at least talk it over? i turned in our potions btw.” 

you wait a few seconds before a small ‘read’ appears from under the message.  

you wait a little longer before realizing that is all the response you will get. 

as it turns out, there is something that can hurt more than having someone run away when you tell them you like them. 

your friendship with ace trappola is totally wrecked. you’re never going to be the same around him ever again. 

the phrase repeats itself over and over in your head, unrelenting and ruthless. it drives the knife further into your heart, twisting it until you feel like you can barely breathe. 

you don’t know how you managed to drag yourself throughout campus, scouring the academy for any sign that ace has been around. maybe the fact that he left you on read should be evidence that he doesn’t want to talk to you, but you want, no, need answers. your pride, dignity, and feelings be damned. you just need one verbal response that he doesn’t want you around, and then you’ll leave him alone. 

it’s only a shame that ace trappola is much better at hiding than you originally thought. 

you visited heartslabyul first, and unsurprisingly, he wasn’t there. you asked riddle if he had been around, only for him to say he hasn’t seen him since classes ended. deuce said the same thing, saying that he thought ace had been with you this entire time.  

“has something happened, prefect?” deuce asks you, and you’re not sure how to tell him that you’ve been trying not to scream for the last hour. so you tell him that he ran away from his remedial class, and that you’re now looking for him. 

“need any help?” deuce offers, helpful as ever, “i can put him in his place- ahem... teach him a lesson he won’t forget.” 

“no, thank you,” you respond quickly, “thanks for the offer though.” 

you checked the cafeteria next, to which all the ghosts residing there said that they saw him sprint past them towards an empty classroom. but when you had gone to the classroom, the place was all but deserted. a painting of a man in a very fashionable suit eyes you as you visibly slump in defeat. 

“looking for something?” he asks, and you flinch in shock. after all your years in night raven, you still haven’t gotten used to the paintings talking to you. 

“ah... yeah,” you say quietly, staring back at his oil-paint eyes, “a heartslabyul freshman about this tall, fluffy red hair that looks like it’s never seen a hairbrush, red heart on the left eye. have you seen him?” 

the painting hums in contemplation, a streaky hand coming up to rub his chin slowly.  

“i may have seen him, i may have not,” he says eventually, “what do i get in return for telling you?” 

damn these paintings and their conniving nature, you think, why can’t anybody in this academy do a good thing solely for doing good? 

what can you even offer a painting anyway? it’s not like they need money, material possessions are kind of useless when you’re affixed to a wall and can’t touch anything out of the frame you reside in. 

“...a new paintjob?” you offer, “i can hire an artist to paint you a new suit.” 

“the nerve!” the painting gasps loudly, “are you calling me aged and unpleasing to the eye? you disrespectful humans with no sense of-” 

“i’m sorry,” you say quickly, cutting him off. sevens, you don’t have the time for this, “that’s not what i meant. you’re a very... handsome painting, i promise.” 

“hmph,” the man huffs, “apology accepted, i suppose. i’ll tell you where the boy went if you put in a good word for me to the painting in the classroom over. she’s painted with watercolors, and she has the most beautiful raven-like hair i’ve ever seen-” 

“put in a nice word to the watercolor painting,” you interrupt again, exasperated, “got it. now where did he go?” 

the painting grumbles at your interjection, but points you towards the courtyard. you express your thanks and bolt out the door of the classroom. 

“and remember to tell her that i have the most magnificent color palette she’ll ever see!” the painting yells as you sprint away. you make a mental note to get somebody else to do it. 

you skid to a stop as you arrive at the courtyard, looking around for any sign of a 16-year-old, 172-centimeter, red-haired heartslabyul student.  

“ace trappola!” you call out, continuing your search, “come on, don’t avoid me!” 

unsurprisingly, but just as disappointingly, there’s no response. you groan and sit on a bench near the apple tree. only to hear a squeak from behind you. 

you turn, and there he is, ace trappola, trying to hide behind the large apple tree that shades you.  

how did you not notice him?  

“ace,” you whisper, “uhm. hi?” 

silence. and then, ace begins to scramble to get out of position and run as far away as he possibly can once more. 

“hey!” you yell, running into motion after him. sevens, you think, he’s fast. guess he’s not on the basketball team for nothing.  

thankfully, to your relief and his horror, you manage to catch up and grab onto his arm. he stumbles backwards before slowly turning to look at you. 

he’s breathing heavily, and the moment he makes eye contact with you, he looks away. he chews on his bottom lip nervously, fists clenching at his side. 

“why are you running away from me?” you ask, breathing heavily from all the running, “just- tell me what’s going on and i’ll leave you alone. do you not want to be friends anymore or something-” 

“i do!” he says suddenly, and he winces before adding on, “i still want to be friends. i’ve just... i just have to think.” 

there’s a beat of silence, and suddenly the questions you prepared for when you found him slip from your mind. ace still doesn’t look at you, and you feel your resolve start to crumble.  

“...do you not like me the same way?” you say slowly, letting go of his arm, “i get it. i can take rejection. i’m not afraid of honesty.” 

“no, that’s not...” ace groans, running his hand through his hair with frustration, “i do like you. i like you a lot.” 

there’s a thread of hope that you don’t dare to follow, but your heart still leaps at his words of sincerity. 

“so why did you run?” you ask. 

“i don’t know,” ace says, desperation starting to show on his face. “i just... i’m scared.” 

“scared of what?” you probe, exasperation mounting, “are you ashamed of me? do you not want to be with someone magicless, is that it, ace trappola?” 

“no, no!” he exclaims, “i’d never be ashamed of you, i mean, i’ve poked fun at you a few times for being magicless but- come on, you know i don’t actually mean it!” 

“then what is it?” you almost beg, “what are you so afraid of?” 

“everything!” he blurts out, the tips of his ears going red, “i’m scared that we won’t be enough, no- i'm scared i won’t be enough. i’m scared of not treating you right, i’m scared that we won’t work out, i’m scared that i don’t love you enough to make everything turn out okay. i’m scared that i can’t give you what you want, and you’ll realize just how much of a screw-up i am, and then i lose this. i lose us.” 

ace takes in a deep breath, voice shaky. he looks up at you, eyes frantic. desperate. 

“i don’t want to lose us,” he murmurs, “you’re... you know. who’s going to bail me out of detention if i lose you?” 

you blink at him, once, twice... before bursting out into a fit of laughter. and tears. you double over, hiding your expression away from ace’s view. 

“woah- woah! don’t cry, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it,” ace says hurriedly, “we’re cool, right? we can forget all of this ever happened, it was my bad, don’t cry-” 

“you fucking idiot,” you yell at him, hitting his shoulder with your fist. he winces, but you keep talking. “you absolute dumbass. you made me run across this stupid college and you’re worried you won’t be enough? goddammit, trappola, i love you. i am in love. with you.” 

you breathe out. you look up to meet ace’s shocked expression. 

“no, trappola, we are not cool,” you say, “not at all. my legs hurt from running, and i made up an excuse for why you weren’t there when i turned in the potion, and i owe a painting a debt for telling me your location. if you think we’re cool, then you’re dead wrong.” 

“...oh,” he responds back dumbly, “sorry?- wait, no, i didn’t ask for you to chase after me!” 

“but i did!” you quip back loudly, “you know why? because i have the biggest, fattest crush on you. and hell yeah, you’re a screw-up, but i’m still in love with you. maybe i even love you because you’re a screw-up. who the hell knows at this point? ace trappola, i’m rejecting your rejection! try again!” 

“what- you can’t reject a rejection!”  

“i so can!” 

ace blows out a frustrated breath, but there’s amusement twinkling in his eyes. 

“i’m rejecting you because you’re really annoying. also, you snore when you sleep.” 

“i do not!” 

“you so do!” 

you scoff, rolling your eyes. you miss the way ace smiles fondly at you. 

“...sorry for running,” he murmurs, “dumb decision in retrospect. can i try again?” 

“try what again?” you ask. now it’s ace’s turn to laugh at you. 

“my confession.” 

“oh,” you say. you nod. he takes your hand in his.  

“i really, really like you. more than a friend,” he whispers, trying and failing to look you in the eye, “and it sucks because you’re an idiot and annoying and you get on my nerves sometimes-” 

“hey!” 

“shh! but, you know, i guess i like how annoying you are. disgusting, i know. and just to let you know, i’m not going to buy you roses every other thursday with a handwritten card in cursive-” 

“you can’t even write in cursive.” 

“i can! just- shh! i’m not gonna get down on one knee and promise to be someone i’m not. but i really do mean it when i say i love you, and your stupid smiles, and the way you think about me even when you’re mad at me, and i think i’d probably jump in front of a bullet train for you- and sevens, i hate how you’ve made me so cheesy, but seven be damned if i didn’t mean everything i’m saying right now with my entire heart.” 

“so- uh,” ace trails off, embarrassment tinting his face red, “yeah. i like you. can we, uh, kiss and make up?” 

a silence passes between you. ace rubs his thumb against your knuckles subconsciously, and it’s only then do you break out into a grin.  

“not sure about the make up part,” you say, cupping his face with your hands, “but the kiss part? i can do.” 

yeah, you think as your lips collide with ace’s, you’re still in love with ace trappola even after he made you take a remedial class and almost made you cry in said remedial class. you’re still in love even after he made you run like your life depended on it. you’re still in love even after he made you have a mini heart-attack.  

you feel ace smile against your lips, his arms snaking around your waist, and you think, 

yeah. you’re still in love with him. 

note: sorry for disappearing i was on tumblr but i actively ignored by tumblr acc :3 whoopsies! apologies if this fic came off weird or has typos OR uses dashes/commas/ITALICS... I THINK I ABUSED MY ITALIC PRIVELEGES.../literally any grammar incorrectly i literally gave up by the end because it was getting too long and i wanted this off my hands IMMEDIATELY!!!! there are only so many times you can proofread a 6k word fic.... (two times) i love love love the idea of pathetic ace tho like that man is NOT!!! the cool guy i see him as!!! bro is a freshman!!!!!!!!! bro is a 16 year old!!!!!!!!!!!! so here he is. pathetic ace in all his glory. i hope i did him justice ^^;; ty for reading this far if u did! <3

[soraphic]

this is rlly self indulgent lol

Peter was a fixer,a perfectionist in some ways. he had to have solved one problem before moving onto the next,working methodically and productively through most obstacles. he was often restless after meeting you,just your being presented so many new problems he had no idea of how to fix. one being,you were a huge distraction.

"Peter!" you whined,rolling over to lay flat on your back against the bottom bunk of his rickety bed,the plaid covers jostling under your weight.

he looked up momentarily over the rim of his glasses,pencil poised as he was in the middle of writing out a particularly tricky formula for you to go off of. he was sprawled out similarly to you,horizontal to the wall with his legs dangling off the edge,propped up under his left arm,his other scribbling down numbers and letters that were bordering on painful to look at.

he flicked a curl from his eye,long over due a monthly-may-hair-cut. "yeah,baby?"

your heart tugged at his lack of frustration,albeit seeing it all upside down. he had been trying to explain this to you for hours,going over the same material until you felt like you wanted to scream. you could only imagine how he felt. yet,he never got angry or upset with you,instead wording it in an alternate way to try and help you grasp the concept. you felt like a burden.

you chewed on your lip before answering,"i'm not sure i can take any more math for today."

he snorted,dropping his pencil and letting it roll across the page,coming to a stop against your shoulder. "you wanna do something else?"

you were up in seconds,flipping yourself over and up onto your thighs,nodding - "god,yes! anything,please!"

Peter was laughing the whole time,the kind of high-pitched,boyish giggle he only ever let fly around you.

"what did you have in mind?"

he had since retrieved his pencil,swirling it between his finger tips. he gave you a once over,eyes darting to the door of his small room before licking his lips and focusing in on you once more.

"well,we are home alone.." he left it open-ended,leaving you room to shut him down.

your eyes flicked to the tightly shut door trying to envision the empty apartment outside before returning to him. "it would be a shame not to take advantage of it.."

you were slowly crawling toward him,closing the gap between the two of you until your palms were pressed to his broad chest.

"plus,we never get to spend time alone like this.." he agreed,slowly sliding the various textbooks and papers that were being crumpled under your knee to the floor.

you nodded,sliding your legs under yourself until your knees touched his waist,bringing yourself that much closer. "especially not without your cheesy star wars jokes killing the mood."

he frowned,pulling back. "wait,they don't turn you on?

you groaned,grasping him tightly by the collar of his flannel and pulling him toward you,connecting your lips to his. he was quick to give in,moving his mouth against yours as he fought to sit up higher,extending his elbow in an attempt to level with you.

you were fumbling with the buttons of his shirt,revealing the pure white tee underneath before Peter was wrestling you onto his lap,pinning you to him with an arm wrapped tightly around your middle.

"god,you're good at that." you breathed,finally pushing his blue flannel down his arms.

"-just wait until you see what i can do with my lightsaber." he used the irritated noise you let out as an opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips,silencing you and having you soon forgetting his god awful one liner.

you were rocking against him,clawing at the tufts of curls at the nape of his neck as he groaned into your open mouth.

he made quick work of stripping you,beating you by miles and a cocky smirk pulling at his lips when you guffawed at his speed and your discarded clothing draped along his nightstand.

you ground your hips down further,circling him before sliding back up to meet his waistband. the smirk quickly dropped from his face,his eyes screwing shut and lips forming a small 'o' as he fought not to throw his head back. "sucks to lose,Parker."

he shot you a lazy grin,lips parted and small pants leaving him at the way you swivelled your hips against him.

his shirt was the next thing to go,routinely followed by his pants leaving the both of you in your underwear and Peter fumbling for a condom in his bedside drawer.

you rolled your hips again impatiently,bracing a hand against his tummy when he bucked upwards and left you breathless.

the moment you saw the light bounce off the blue packet you were smothering him once more,holding his face to yours so tightly if it wasn't Peter you'd be scared of breaking him.

you shuffled backwards,pulling him from his boxers and running the tips of your fingers loosely around him a few times. "you don't want me to eat you out or something first?" he leaned back to look at you,weight balanced on one palm behind him while his other kneaded the fat of your hip.

you quickly shook your head,insisting you were ready and that 'Peter kisses were enough foreplay as is.' he obliged with little to no convincing,just as desperate to be inside you as you were.

+

"fuckfuckfuck-!" you were practically wailing on top of him,one hand grasping at the metal bars of his top bunk to steady yourself while you rocked against him,pulling up and dropping down continuously with the bar as leverage.

he had kept his previous position of leaning back on his palm,his other hand rubbing at your ribs while he sucked and kissed at your perked nipple.

he suddenly jerked to a halt,one hand slapping over your mouth to muffle your noises with wide eyes.

you kept your chin tipped to the ceiling,eyes screwed tightly shut and letting your gasps and moans hit his fingers. you had assumed he was trying to assert some kind of kinky dominance by muffling your loud sounds,too far gone to realise how un-peter that was.

he was shushing you,rather aggressively,which pissed you off. you turned your head down,just about ready to turn it into a blow out before you heard a woman call from the hallway - "Peter!"

your eyes practically bulged out of your skull,as did Peter's,the two of you scrambling to get up.

you winced at how quickly you pulled off of him,a dull throb hitting between your thighs as you dived under the covers,blindly searching for any item of clothing you could shove back on.

Peter was hopping into one leg of his boxers,his voice squeaky as he yelled "uhh,coming!"

you heard the ruffle of grocery bags before May sighed,the familiar weight of her footsteps against the old floorboards getting closer until they were right outside the door.

Peter was pulling the door ajar before May even had a chance to put her hand around the knob,shoving his face into the small gap and using his broad figure to shield yours. "you need help putting the groceries away?"

she paused for a moment,eyeing him almost suspiciously and taking note of his disheveled hair. "peter,you're sweating. is everything okay?"

his cheeks burned and he coughed on his words,"yeah,(y/n)'s just sick so i was keeping the room super hot for her."

you gave a pathetic cough behind him to really seal the deal.

"oh sweetheart,are you okay?" May made an attempt to push past him but he was quick to shove her further into the hallway.

"no! you- you can't see her!"

her eyebrows furrowed.

"she's gross! like super,super gross! it's uhh.. period problems. she wouldn't want anyone other than me to see."

May scrunched her face before heartily laughing at her nephews awkwardness,though she relented. if you didn't want to see her,she wouldn't force it upon you.

you heard their floating conversation as Peter descended into the kitchen with her, 'Peter,you know even your aunt gets her period right?'

'eww gross!'

[itsbensart]

Unspoken Doubts

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Male Reader | Part 3

Summary: Y/N’s success in the semester, thanks to Fiyero’s support, leads to an invitation to the Ozdust Ball. As they share a dance, Y/N’s internal doubts cause him to pull away from Fiyero without explanation, leaving both of them heartbroken and uncertain of where they stand.

Warnings: Emotional distress, Unspoken love, Self-doubt and insecurity, Sudden emotional withdrawal, Vulnerability in moments of intimacy, Themes of rejection, Angst, and Heartbreak.

Word Count: 2,000 words (approximately)

Y/N couldn’t recall the last time someone had made studying feel less like a chore and more like an adventure. Fiyero had that uncanny ability, infusing even the driest topics with his playful charm and relentless optimism. Between the teasing remarks about Y/N’s obsessive highlighting and exaggerated groans during all-nighters, Fiyero had somehow turned their late-night grind into a source of laughter.

“You know,” Fiyero mused one evening, sprawled out on Y/N’s couch with a textbook resting precariously on his chest, “I don’t think this semester would’ve been half as fun without me.”

Y/N snorted, looking up from his notes. “You mean ‘half as distracting.’ You’ve got more commentary than this entire book.”

“Hey, I’m a multitasker,” Fiyero replied, smirking. “I can distract and inspire at the same time.”

Y/N rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. For all his antics, Fiyero had been a lifeline, keeping him afloat during moments of doubt and burnout.

But their dynamic wasn’t one-sided. When Fiyero’s own struggles surfaced, Y/N was there, unwavering.

Fiyero, for all his confidence and charm, had his academic Achilles’ heels—anything involving numbers, formulas, or rigid logic was enough to make his head spin. One night, as he sat hunched over a mock exam for his math class, his normally easygoing demeanor faltered.

“Y/N,” he groaned, dragging his hands through his hair, “I swear this stuff is designed to break my spirit.”

“Math isn’t out to get you,” Y/N teased, pulling up a chair beside him. “You just need to look at it differently.”

Fiyero sighed dramatically. “Unless you’ve got magic powers, I don’t think that’s happening tonight.”

“Not magic,” Y/N said, leaning over to point at his paper. “Just patience. See here? You’re overthinking it. The equation isn’t as complicated as it looks—try breaking it into smaller parts.”

Under Y/N’s guidance, Fiyero’s furrowed brow slowly relaxed. His frustration gave way to cautious understanding, and after solving a particularly tricky problem, he beamed.

“Holy Oz, I actually did it,” he said, turning to Y/N with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “You’re a miracle worker.”

“Hardly,” Y/N replied, smirking. “You just needed someone to explain it in a way that didn’t make your brain short-circuit.”

Fiyero leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning, though this time with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You know, if you keep being this amazing, I might have to...... reward you.”

Y/N froze, blinking. “R- Reward me?”

Fiyero leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his tone dropping into something dangerously teasing. “Mm-hmm. Something special. Something... unforgettable.”

The heat rushed to Y/N’s face, his voice faltering. “I-I don’t need a reward!”

Fiyero laughed, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Don’t be so modest, Y/N. You’ve earned it. I mean, it’s not every day someone teaches me math and keeps their sanity intact.”

“I’m fine with just... knowing you passed,” Y/N mumbled, his cheeks burning. He buried his head in his notes, wishing the couch would swallow him whole.

The truth was, for all of Fiyero’s teasing, Y/N didn’t mind the attention. It left his heart racing, even if his mind screamed at him to brush it off.

Their late-night study sessions became a two-way street. Fiyero would lift Y/N’s spirits during moments of exhaustion, and Y/N would ground Fiyero when the weight of his challenges threatened to pull him under. It was an unspoken exchange of support, a rhythm they fell into naturally.

And somewhere in the midst of equations, essays, endless plates, and scaled models, Y/N began to notice the moments in between. The way Fiyero’s face lit up when he finally grasped a difficult concept. The way he’d absentmindedly drum his fingers on the table whenever he was deep in thought. The way his laughter filled the room, warm and contagious.

It wasn’t just admiration. It was a spark—quiet at first but growing steadily, warming parts of Y/N he hadn’t realized were cold.

What is this? Y/N thought, his pulse quickening as the realization began to settle. It’s nothing. Just... he’s just a good friend. He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung stubbornly, refusing to be dismissed.

He tried to ignore it. He told himself it was nothing, just gratitude for Fiyero’s friendship. He’s just being nice. That’s what Fiyero does—he’s charming with everyone. This isn’t special. It doesn’t mean anything.

But every time their hands brushed, his breath hitched, and the warmth of Fiyero’s touch lingered far longer than it should. Stop it. You’re overthinking. It’s just an accident.

Every time Fiyero shot him a mischievous grin, Y/N’s heart betrayed him, skipping a beat before thudding painfully in his chest. Why does he have to smile like that? Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

And every time Fiyero leaned in a little too close to explain something, his voice low and his presence all-consuming, Y/N found himself unable to focus, his thoughts spiraling. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Just... focus. Please.

The spark flared, undeniable and terrifying, no matter how much he tried to extinguish it. This can’t happen. I can’t feel this way.

Not about him.

.....

By the end of the semester, they had both overcome their struggles—Y/N had passed his classes, and Fiyero had conquered his math demons. It should’ve been a moment of pure relief, but for Y/N, it was anything but simple.

Sitting together on the campus, in their usual resting place in an oak tree, the evening sun casting a golden glow over them, Fiyero turned to him with a smile that made Y/N’s heart race.

“You did it,” Fiyero said, nudging him lightly. “And you know what that means?”

Y/N raised a brow, pretending not to know. “Let me guess. You want a thank-you speech?”

Fiyero laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Nope. I want to celebrate. You’re coming to the Ozdust Ball with me tonight.”

Y/N froze, his pulse quickening. “The Ozdust Ball?”

“Yes, the Ozdust Ball,” Fiyero repeated, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “You’ve worked yourself off all semester. You deserve a night to let loose. And who better to drag you out of your comfort zone than me?”

Despite his reservations, Y/N found himself agreeing. He didn’t know if it was Fiyero’s infectious enthusiasm or the way his eyes seemed to light up at the prospect of them spending the evening together.

What he did know was that being around Fiyero felt…different. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to leap or retreat."

.....

The Ozdust Ball was an extravagant affair, yes, but it was no ordinary celebration. The grand ballroom, tucked away in the heart of Oz’s hidden district, pulsed with energy, its walls vibrating with a sound that was more jazz than waltz—more raw and rebellious than refined. Lanterns floated lazily through the ceiling of the underground landscape, casting soft glows over the guests, their faces lit by a dangerous mix of wonder and defiance. The instruments played, laced with dissonance, stirring something wild in the air. It was a place where nothing seemed quite real, yet everything felt more alive than ever—a place where the rules didn’t just bend; they broke.

Y/N stood at the edge of the ballroom, feeling more like an outsider than ever. The dancers twirled around him, their movements free, unrestrained. They were all part of something illicit—something forbidden, yet utterly intoxicating. His heart raced, not just from the unfamiliarity of the scene but because of Fiyero, whose presence beside him seemed to throw him off balance. There was admiration, yes, but also something deeper—something more overwhelming. Fiyero’s gaze lingered on him with an intensity that felt like a silent challenge, a daring invitation into a world Y/N wasn’t sure he was ready for.

Fiyero’s smile was mischievous, almost daring as he extended his hand. "Dance with me?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of a promise—dangerous and sweet.

Y/N hesitated, the words swirling in his mind like the chaotic energy around him. But something pulled at him—something magnetic. He placed his hand in Fiyero’s, feeling the spark of contact, and together, they stepped onto the dance floor. The music swirled around them, and the rhythm was infectious. Fiyero led him effortlessly, his hand on Y/N’s waist firm, yet his touch made everything feel electric.

“You’ve worked so hard for this moment,” Fiyero murmured, his voice warm, but there was an edge to it—an undercurrent of something more, something like rebellion. “I’m proud of you, Y/N, and tonight, you deserve to celebrate everything you’ve become.”

But Y/N couldn’t focus on Fiyero’s words. His thoughts were a tangled mess of uncertainty, the constant tug of conflicting emotions—his doubts, his fears, and the intense, overwhelming pull toward Fiyero.

What if this isn’t right? The question gnawed at him. What if I’m not enough for him?

The tension between them grew as the music slowed, the movement becoming less structured, more intimate. Fiyero pulled him closer, the space between them closing until all Y/N could feel was the heat of Fiyero’s body and the pulse of the music beneath his skin.

Fiyero’s voice dropped lower, a whisper now, but filled with urgency. “Y/N, I need to say this before I lose the chance.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching.

Fiyero pulled Y/N slightly closer, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with emotion. “You mean so much to me. More than I can even say. I don’t just want this dance. I want all of them. Every single one, for the rest of my life. I want to tease you, to make you blush, to see you smile like this forever. I want it all—with you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened as the weight of Fiyero’s words settled over him like a heavy fog. The moment felt surreal, his mind spinning. He wasn’t ready for this. How can I give him what he wants when I don’t even understand myself?

The doubts clung to him like a thick, suffocating cloud. What if I hurt him? What if I don’t know how to love him?

The music continued, but it sounded distant now, drowned out by the racing of his heart. He felt the pull of Fiyero’s gaze, but all he could do was shut himself off further.

What if I ruin this?

The air around him seemed to shift, the dreamlike atmosphere of the ball turning dark, suffocating, as his pulse quickened. Without warning, he pulled away, his voice breaking as he muttered, “I… I can’t.”

Fiyero’s brow furrowed, concern etched across his face. “Y/N?”

But Y/N couldn’t stay. He turned abruptly, the sound of his footsteps echoing across the polished floor as he fled the ballroom. The celebration, which had seemed so magical, now felt hollow and distant, fading into the background as Y/N’s heart pounded louder in his ears.

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The chaos inside him was louder than anything else—louder than the music, louder than Fiyero’s hurt.

Back in his room, Y/N sank to the floor, his chest tight. I don’t know what I’m doing, he thought, the weight of the moment heavy on him. I don’t know how to love him.

Meanwhile, Fiyero stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, the noise of the celebration surrounding him, but all he could hear was the silence left in Y/N’s wake. The moment had been stolen, leaving him alone and empty. The intensity of what had just transpired felt like an unanswered question hanging in the air.

Was it me? he wondered. Did I push him too far? But the answers were nowhere to be found.

The ball, with all its illicit allure and hidden promises, had lost its magic. Fiyero was left standing there, consumed by the ache of unanswered questions and the pain of rejection, unsure if Y/N would ever come back—or if he had just lost him forever.

To be Continued

[hotguycomiczine]

[ START OF TRANSCRIPT ]

INTERVIEWER: So, Mr. Goodtimes... what exactly would you say is your greatest strength, in this wonderful world of vigilantes?

HOTGUY: Why, thank you for the question, [REDACTED]! Y'know, I'm just soaring through it all, just flying high above the clouds, breezing through foes, out-foxing the TCG— not that that's hard; they've got pretty bad equipment for an organization that's supposed to be government funded. Well, I guess that goes to show what happens when you try to interrupt the incredible Hotguy while he saves the citizens of sweet, sweet Hermitopia, right?

INTERVIEWER: Hm... that's a pretty surprising answer, Hotguy. And here I thought flyin' around was more your sidekick's job, not yours.

HOTGUY: What? Oh, oh! Well, you know Cuteguy, he's got— well, sure, he's the one that actually flies us around... sort of, at least. But me, though— well, [REDACTED], I guess you could say I'm more of a looker.

INTERVIEWER: ... I see. So are your dazzling good looks stunning the villains then?

HOTGUY: Well of course, we all know I'm the handsomest man around! Just look at this face! Cutting edge cheeks, I tell you, cutting edge. But no, actually, what I mean is— well, I'm an archer, so you've gotta see well, right? And me? I see loads. Just about everything there is to see, I'd imagine. Nothing can escape these ol' sharp eyes for long!

INTERVIEWER: I guess you could call it 20/20 vision then, ay?

HOTGUY: I'd call it more than that; 20/50, or— 50/20— oh, no, wait that's not— look, I don't do math, [REDACTED], numbers are just— ooh, they're tricky little things, aren't they? But ever since that water supply got contaminated, I've been seeing more and more, further and further, in way more detail. You ever seen a pigeon poop from three miles away?

INTERVIEWER: Can't say I have.

HOTGUY: I wouldn't recommend it.

INTERVIEWER: Ha! Okay, okay, I can see why that is— pun intended, of course. Well, I'll have to thank you for the interview good sir, it has been most enlightening.

HOTGUY: Not a problem at all! Always happy to answer some questions for the fans.

INTERVIEWER: Indeed, indeed.

[ END OF TRANSCRIPT ]

[nikanyon]

(NOT SO) PERFECT MATCH

Highschool/shipping app AU

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐧 (written)

The bell rang. You barely waited for the sound to fade before shoving your notebook into your bag and bolting out of the biology classroom—away from him.

You exhaled as you stepped into the hallway, the noise of slamming lockers and half-shouted conversations filling the air. Next period: math. At least Ajax would be there, which meant it wouldn’t be completely miserable. Plus, it was your best class, and you were the top scorer. No way anything could go wrong.

You spotted Ajax slouched in his usual seat, tapping a pencil against his desk. Sliding into the chair next to him, you barely took a breath before launching into your rant.

“…and I swear to God, if he gives me another of his fuck ass smirks, I might actually—”

Ajax wasn’t listening. His eyes flicked past you toward the door, and sat upright almost immediately, waving his hand in front of you to shut you up.

“IS THAT HIM?” He whisper-yelled

You froze. Eyes twitching. Knuckles whitening. Teeth grinding. No way.

Not daring to turn your head, you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself.

Maybe he got the wrong person? Right?

Wrong.

You turned your head, and to your surprise (not really) —there he was. Kinich.

He walked into the room like he had all the time in the world, eyes scanning the desks with zero urgency, zero interest. His face was unreadable, like he couldn’t be bothered to care about anything, let alone where he was about to sit.

Your stomach dropped. The only open seat was right next to you.

Of course it was. Could this day get any worse?

You barely had time to process before the teacher clapped her hands together. “Alright, class, we have a new student today. Kinich.” She turned to him, smiling. “Since this is a difficult subject, you can ask Y/N for help.” She pointed to your direction, “I’m sure she’d be happy to assist you.”

Before you could even think of responding, Kinich beat you to it.

“No, I’ll be fine,” he said, sliding into the seat beside you without sparing a glance in your direction. “I don’t need any help.”

The teacher blinked at him, clearly not expecting that response. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really now? And why’s that?”

Kinich barely hesitated. “I already covered this topic at my last school.” His voice was casual, almost bored, like he’d been through this conversation a hundred times before.

The teacher hummed, tapping a marker against her palm. “Alright, then. Show us what you’ve got.”

She turned to the board and quickly scribbled down an equation—something just tricky enough to prove whether he actually knew his stuff. The moment she stepped aside, your fingers twitched.

You weren’t about to sit there and watch.

Grabbing your pencil, you copied the problem down onto your notebook. If he was going to act like he was so above needing help, fine. Let’s see if he could actually back it up.

The second he picked up his pen, you started too.

Your brain kicked into overdrive, numbers and variables falling into place as you worked through the equation. Each step came naturally, your pencil flying across the paper.

Just a little more, and—

“Done.”

A millisecond ahead of you.

Your eye twitched. Oh, you were so ready to snap another one of your pencils in half.

He leaned back slightly, spinning his pen between his fingers like it had been easy. The teacher glanced between you both before checking his answer. A pause. Then, she nodded approvingly.

“Well, Kinich, I have to admit—I’m impressed.”

Ajax let out a low whistle beside you. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s crazy.”

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to relax. It was one problem. One second.

But still.

You snuck a glance at Kinich, expecting some smug look, some kind of told-you-so expression.

Nothing. Just the same unreadable, detached expression he always had.

Which somehow made it worse.

Fine.

If he wanted to play this game, you’d make sure he lost next time.

<- | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ->

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄.

Academic rivals to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, fluff, crack, modern au, social media au, Highschool au

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

@fandomfan-102 @crazydreamcat @allenmqww @keiiqq @vi0let-writes @dyavorange @ch3rry-lips @usagiarchive @serenity-xiao @lalalaloveallmydays @kyxi @linaaeatsfamilies @kunikuzushis-darling @000yukono @alive-maybe-maybenot

[maddoxunchained]

Yo can u write tom x reader, reader bad at study so her parents put him as her tutor he's older than her but at first day they both nervous second day they become little close each other third day they get handsy and touchy flithy especially tom fourth day they start to give hints each other by small physical things at last She's studying alone with him in her house her parents out for reason then SMUT! okai thank u

Private Lessons 📚

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Smut

Authors note: I tried to make this short (emphasis on tried) but i think i might rewrite this i fear. thanks anon!

***

You sit at the kitchen table, textbooks open, pen hovering over a blank page. Your parents said Tom would be a great tutor — smart, responsible, a few years older. You hadn’t expected him to look so young, with that cocky half-smile already playing on his lips.

He sets his bag down and gives you a nod. “Hey. Ready to tackle calculus?”

You swallow hard. “I’m not sure it’ll be me doing any tackling.”

Tom laughs, the sound easy and unexpectedly warm. “Don’t sell yourself short. We’ll start slow.”

He pulls out a notebook and a pen, and for a moment you both just stare at the mountain of formulas in front of you.

“So,” Tom says, tapping a page, “derivatives. You know the basics?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I get lost halfway through.”

Tom leans forward, voice gentle. “Okay, let’s break it down. Think of it as… the rate of change. Like how fast your heart beats when I smile at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He shrugs. “Okay, maybe that’s not in the textbook. But it sticks, right?”

You laugh — a real one — and the tension breaks.

The next hour is slow. Tom explains patiently, correcting you without judgment. When you get frustrated, he makes a few jokes, and the room feels less like a test and more like… a conversation.

When your parents peek in to say dinner’s ready, you and Tom exchange an awkward but promising smile.

***

You hear a knock before Tom arrives. You open the door and he’s holding two coffees — one black, one with just a splash of cream.

“I remembered you like it bitter,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes but take the cup. “You’re lucky I’m bad at math, or I’d make you quiz me just for this.”

Tom grins, setting down his bag. “Challenge accepted.”

The lesson starts with fewer pauses. Tom watches you struggle but also encourages every little win, leaning closer when he points at your notes. His cologne is subtle but addictive, a mix of something fresh and spicy.

At one point, he reaches over to correct your grip on the pencil, his fingers brushing your hand. You freeze for a second, heart thudding, but then you look up and catch him smirking like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re distracting,” you say, half-joking.

“Maybe that’s my secret weapon,” he replies.

The air between you is lighter now — teasing and full of quiet electricity.

***

Tom arrives with a casual confidence you hadn’t noticed before — jeans, a fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off a little forearm.

You’re sitting in the living room when he walks in, and the moment he smiles at you, your knees go weak.

“Ready for round three?” he asks, dropping his stuff and coming to sit beside you.

He leans closer, brushing your hair aside to show you a tricky problem on your paper. Your breath catches.

“Here, try this,” he murmurs, fingers tracing a line from your shoulder to your wrist. The touch is deliberate but soft — teasing, like he’s testing your reaction.

You shift, suddenly aware of how warm he feels.

“Tom,” you say, voice shaky, “focus.”

He laughs quietly, pulling back just enough to grin at you. “You’re the one who keeps making it hard.”

When you finally look at him, his eyes are locked on yours — dark and hungry. Your heart races.

Later, as you pack your books, he sits close, his hand resting lightly on your knee. His thumb brushes small circles, and every nerve in your body tingles.

You swallow hard. “We should probably keep this professional.”

Tom leans in, lips just brushing your ear. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You glance at him, lips twitching into a smile despite yourself.

***

It starts innocent. It always does.

You’re cross-legged on the living room floor, notebook in front of you, pen tapping nervously against the page. The numbers don’t make sense. They never do.

“Try again,” Tom says from beside you, voice calm. Too calm. Like he already knows you’re going to mess up again and he’s looking forward to it.

You sigh, scribble something, then freeze when his hand suddenly slides over your wrist.

“Wrong,” he murmurs, leaning in. “But closer this time.”

It’s your third session with him. The first day, he was all awkward politeness and tight smiles. The second, he teased you a little when you got things wrong, but gently. This time? You’re not sure he’s even pretending to be subtle anymore.

His fingers stay on your wrist longer than necessary. They trace up your arm, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing how far he can go without crossing a line.

Your breath catches.

You turn to look at him, ready to call him out — but he’s already staring at you. Not at your work. Not at the problem. At you.

“What?” you say, trying to keep your voice light.

Tom shrugs. “Nothing. Just thinking about how terrible you are at math.”

Your jaw drops. “Wow. Rude.”

He grins. “I’m your tutor. It’s literally my job to tell you that.”

You throw your pen at him.

He dodges, laughing, then suddenly reaches forward and grabs your hips — pulling you slightly closer with one strong tug. It’s playful. Mostly. But there’s a beat too long between the move and the smile that follows.

Your heart stutters.

He doesn’t let go right away.

“I can help you, you know,” he says, fingers still pressing into the dip of your waist. “You just need the right kind of… motivation.”

The way he says it makes your skin flush.

You lean back just slightly. “What kind of motivation?”

Tom tilts his head, pretending to think. “Positive reinforcement, maybe. Rewards. Every right answer earns you a compliment. Or something else.”

Your stomach flips.

“Or something else?” you echo.

He hums. “Mm-hmm. Like this—”

And before you can ask what he means, he leans in and presses his lips to your jaw. Barely a kiss. More a whisper of one. But it lingers.

You swallow hard. “That doesn’t seem very… professional.”

He shrugs. “Neither is how short your skirt is.”

Your face burns.

“Okay,” you say, heart racing. “Fourth session. If I get all the warm-ups right, you owe me something.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, do I?”

You nod. “A reward. Like you said.”

Tom leans back, arms crossed. “You’re on.”

***

You answer the door in a soft t-shirt and loose cotton shorts, trying to look casual. Like you didn’t plan this. Like you haven’t been thinking about this every night since he kissed your jaw.

Tom notices. His eyes flick over you as he walks in, jaw tightening for just a second before he plays it cool.

You settle in on the couch with your book, and he sits beside you — close enough to brush shoulders.

“You ready to learn something today?” he asks.

You hum, flipping the page. “Depends. You gonna behave?”

Tom smirks. “Absolutely not.”

The session barely lasts ten minutes before the teasing starts again — fingertips brushing your thigh under the pretense of fixing your posture, his voice low and close in your ear when he explains a problem. His hand stays on your back longer than it should. His thumb strokes the inside of your knee.

You try to focus. You really do.

But then his hand slides higher.

And then your pencil drops.

And then you’re suddenly straddling his lap, textbook forgotten, lips crashing against his as his hands roam with that same confident patience — slow, warm, intentional.

The kiss turns hungry fast. Tongues, teeth, muffled moans into each other’s mouths. His hands slide under your shirt, over your stomach, then higher.

“You were so good today,” he murmurs against your neck. “Think you’ve earned your reward yet?”

Your only answer is a desperate nod and a breathless, “Please.”

Tom slides one hand behind your neck, guiding your mouth back to his, lips parting with ease. The kiss is deeper this time, less teasing. Your bodies press together with more certainty now, like the weeks of tension finally cracked open, spilling heat between you.

You’re straddling his lap, knees pressed into the couch cushions, and all you can feel is him — his hands, his mouth, his chest rising hard against yours.

“You really waited until your parents left to pull this, huh?” he mutters against your lips, one hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace your lower back.

“You’re the one who kissed me first,” you shoot back, breathless, nipping his bottom lip.

“Yeah, but you’re the one grinding on me now.”

You gasp — partly at his words, mostly at the friction when he shifts his hips up against you. You can feel him now, thick and straining under his jeans, and it sends a sharp pulse between your legs.

Your hands slide up his chest, palms greedy, and you tug at his shirt. He helps you, arms lifting just long enough to peel it off — revealing toned muscle and flushed skin beneath.

You lean in, kissing down his neck, his collarbone, dragging your tongue along the dip between his pecs. He groans softly, head tilting back against the couch.

“God,” he mutters, his hands finding your thighs. “You’re making it really hard to focus on your homework.”

You laugh into his skin. “What, this doesn’t count as extra credit?”

“Baby,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark and wrecked, “if this is extra credit, you’re getting a damn A+.”

Then his hands are under your skirt.

No pretense now — just fingers dragging up the soft inside of your thighs, teasing the edge of your underwear, then sliding over the damp center like he knew you’d be soaked for him already.

You whimper against his mouth.

“So wet for me,” he says low, almost to himself. “What am I supposed to do with you like this?”

“Touch me,” you whisper. “Tom, please.”

He obliges — slowly, deliberately, sliding your panties aside to stroke two fingers along your folds. You shudder when he finds your clit, circling it in lazy, perfect motions that make your thighs twitch and your breath catch.

And when he finally slips one finger inside, then two — curling just right — you nearly sob.

“Shh,” he whispers against your mouth, lips brushing yours as he works you open. “Don’t want the neighbors knowing how bad you want your tutor, do you?”

You clench around his fingers at the sound of his voice.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans, kissing you again. “Bet you’d feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

You grind harder against his hand, desperate. “Then do it. Tom—please.”

He doesn’t make you beg long.

You don’t remember when your shorts came off, or how his jeans ended up on the floor. All you know is he’s there now — thick and hot against your entrance, one hand still stroking your hip while the other gently holds your jaw.

“You sure?” he asks, voice quieter now, though his eyes are wild.

You nod fast. “Yes. Want you.”

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch — and you both moan.

The stretch is dizzying, but perfect. He fills you up fully, like he was meant to. You bury your face in his neck, breath catching as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he whispers into your ear, holding still. “You feel unbelievable.”

Tom begins to move slowly inside you, hips rocking gently at first, giving you time to adjust to every delicious inch. The couch creaks under your weight and his, the quiet room filled with nothing but your shared breaths and the soft sounds of skin sliding against skin.

Your hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging in slightly as the sensation builds. His pace grows bolder, deeper, his thumb circling your hip in a rhythmic, steady stroke.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he groans, voice rough. “So warm. So tight.”

You tilt your head back, moaning as he hits just the right spots inside you. Your body melts into his, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure.

“I want you to take all of this,” Tom breathes into your neck, teeth grazing your skin lightly. “Show me how good you feel.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing more contact, more friction. He responds immediately, thrusting harder, faster, hips rolling with increased urgency.

Your breaths come out in ragged gasps, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. The heat pooling deep inside you intensifies, spiraling toward a shattering peak.

Tom’s hand moves to cup your breast, thumb teasing your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. You arch into the touch, biting your lip to hold back a scream.

“Cum for me,” he orders softly, voice full of command but laced with tenderness.

You’re trembling, every muscle taut and ready to snap as his fingers brush your clit in rapid circles. The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body clenching hard around him as you come undone.

Tom groans deeply, his own release close behind. His thrusts falter, then deepen once more as he spills inside you with a guttural moan.

They both shudder together, a shared wave of warmth and relief.

After a long moment, Tom gently lowers you onto the couch cushions, pulling you into his arms. His breath is slow now, steadying as he brushes hair from your damp forehead.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod, voice hoarse. “Better than okay.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “You were amazing. Seriously.”

You smile tiredly, snuggling into his chest.

“Thanks for the lesson,” you murmur.

Tom chuckles quietly. “Anytime. But next time… maybe we actually study too.”

You laugh softly, your hands tracing lazy circles on his skin as you both drift toward a comfortable silence — content and close.

[theresattrpgforthat]

So, I went to a game store, and I asked if there were any good beginner games for someone who tried the DnD Essentials Kit and found it too complicated, and you'll never guess what one singular game they suggested!

THEME: Simpler Games than DND.

My friend, I’m not a very good guesser, but I hope that I am able to present you with some games that will give you what you’re looking for.

24XX: Chaos Unit, by polyhedralmice

Deep under the busy streets of Sapien City is the headquarters of the Vermin Squad, the espionage wing of a secret organization of urban animals known as the CHAOS Unit. They capitalize on the fact that vermin are virtually invisible human inhabitants of the city and use they use their street smarts to run vital missions for the unit. Raccoons, opossums, pigeons and squirrels each play specific roles and together form teams that take on the most vital of missions. From intercepting life-saving pizza orders to rescuing their colleagues from the dastardly Animal Control, there is no task too daunting for the brave animals of the Vermin Squad. Every night teams are sent out on their missions, and this is the story of one of those teams. Nothing will stop these brave agents from successfully completing their tasks (except maybe a humane trap baited with peanut butter). 

CHAOS Unit is a spy themed hack based on Jason Tocci’s 24XX.

24XX games are great for groups that love different-sided dice. In general, you only have a few skills for your character that are outside the normal parameters (upgraded to d8 - d12), and the success threshold is the same for pretty much every roll. The challenges and situations of any given scenario are typically presented as roll tables, allowing the GM to come up with an adventure just by rolling a few dice.

CHAOS Unit has just a few character options, some simple gear options, and a comparatively light-hearted premise. It’s a great introduction to the system, and learning how to play one 24XX game makes every other 24XX game a piece of cake to learn, even if they include new rules.

Loot, by Gila RPGs.

LOOT is a fantasy TTRPG by Gila RPGs that combines looter shooter mechanics with west marches vibes. When a rebellion toppled a lich overlord and torn down his city, the people were left with a lot of loot, and a lot of problems. That's where you come in.

Get some friends together, fight some monsters, deck your characters out in cool loot. Do it all over again.

Even though LUMEN uses grid-based combat, your character’s stats are simplified, reduced to a few things: health, armour, and three action types: force, flow & focus. Your stats themselves come from the items that your carry - your loot.

Your loot is organized through slots on your character sheet: you can only carry so much, so you’ll have to think carefully about what kind of stat bonuses and abilities you want. I find that a visual inventory can make it easier to keep track of everything you have, and can help some players learn how to think strategically. If you like the fantasy and strategy that exists in D&D but don’t want to do nearly as much math, you might be interested in LOOT - although the lack of dice is certainly a big change.

Slugblaster, by Wilkie’s Candy Lab.

In the small town of Hillview, teenage hoverboarders sneak into other dimensions to explore, film tricks, go viral, and get away from the problems at home. It’s dangerous. It’s stupid. It’s got parent groups in a panic. And it’s the coolest thing ever.

This is Slugblaster. A table-top rpg about teenagehood, giant bugs, circuit-bent rayguns, and trying to be cool.

Forged in the Dark games can be tricky to introduce to a new table, but Slugblaster is one of a few that I think can do the job. It’s a streamlined version of the system, that takes away a lot of the crunch that comes from Stats, Position, and Effect, and boils it all down to Kick and Boost. It also streamlines harm into 2 levels of slams, and keeps stress and downtime to a procedure that you can follow step-by-step when you finish a run. Finally character creation is very easy: you only make few choices in terms of abilities, and many of these choices are descriptive, rather than mechanical.

One thing I’ve noticed about games with “simpler” rules systems is that they typically do require a bunch of improv, which can be scary for new GMs. Slugblaster isn’t that different in this regard, but it does have a few things you as a GM can prepare beforehand if you want to make things easier for yourself. For example, you can set up your map of the different dimensions beforehand, including the doorways that the teens can get through. If you know that the teens get back to your home dimension without going through Operablum, then you can prepare a few location - specific threats to confound the teens as they try to get back in time for dinner.

Another strength of these games is that typically, if a player wants to do something, they just have to be able to describe how they’d do it - you can then work backwards using the gear & resources on your sheet to give you some dice to roll, as well as the logic of the game world, to figure out what happens next.

Lady Blackbird, by John Harper

Lady Blackbird is on the run from an arranged marriage to Count Carlowe. She hired a smuggler skyship, The Owl, to take her from her palace on the Imperial world of Ilysium to the far reaches of the Remnants, so she could be with her once secret lover: the pirate king Uriah Flint.

Lady Blackbird is the first game I ever played, and it’s a game I fell for - hard. It involves rolling pools of dice that you pull from descriptive collections of tags assigned to pre-generated characters. It simplifies game-play by taking away the step of character creation, and gives the group a pretty solid story to pick up and follow wherever your heart may lead.

While the rules of the game are fairly simple, I think that as a GM, you’re going to need to be comfortable with a fair bit of improv to make this work. The game has some excellent pieces of advice on how to come up with scenes for the characters, and even includes some example complications to throw at the party. I’m really glad this was my first game because from the beginning, it affirmed that roleplaying games are a communal experience, and even if the characters and the starting scenario are already written for the group, the players have a lot of freedom to decide who their characters are, and what they’re going to value.

Liminal Horror, by Goblin Archives.

There’s a strange comfort to ambiguity. To stand at the threshold between states of what was and what’s next, to inhabit the places of transition. But you’re never truly alone here. There are things that hunger within the dark places. Strange creatures and mysteries lie in wait and tumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time may put you on the path towards doom.

Grab your flashlights and blood splattered jackets as you try to make it through the night. Beware, snapping bone and rending flesh are often the simplest outcome. While there may be great power within these places… not all mysteries can be solved and not everyone can be saved. Above all, there are fates far worse than death.

LIMINAL HORROR is a rules-lite, adaptable Survival-Horror roleplaying game about normal characters and their struggles against the things that go bump in the night. The game focuses on surviving the weird and Investigating horrors while blending simple, old-school inspired rules with modern, narrative first principles. Survival is not guaranteed and those that do make it through the night are often forever changed.

In Liminal Horror, character creation is rather quick, often easily generated using a few dice rolls. For most tasks, your characters will roll a d20 and try to get a number lower than one of their three stats, so when you get started, teaching the game should be pretty simple. Of course, since it’s a horror game, there’s more than just trying to roll under a stat: characters will find themselves subject to the consequences of being exposed to horrors that are far beyond the limits of human experience. As a result, characters will find themselves dealing with two different kinds of harm: stress & fallout. These two harm systems will make the stakes feel real, and they’ll also inflict changes on your characters as you play.

Liminal Horror has a few things going for it. The basic rules are fairly straightforward, but they’re also free. The game is meant to be paired with pre-written adventures, which often include place descriptions, NPCs, and adventure-specific consequences to torture the characters with. A lot of the adventures available come with a price tag, but if you want to try out the system, there’s a couple of free ones out there - I recommend Messenger National Park, by capacityforwonder.

For the Ship And Its Crew, by Adeline Fowl Games.

We've crewed this Ship for years together. We've seen wondrous sights, gotten ourselves into seemingly insurmountable trouble, and have owed our fair share of creds to the wrong people. And yet, still, we fly. But after all these years, our past may be catching up with us. As the missiles tear across starlit space, we'll be forced to ask ourselves: What will we do, for the Ship and its Crew?

This is a hack of For the Queen, which mostly involves answering prompts, using something like a card deck, or in this case, a digital hosting service. Your group is telling a story by taking turns answering questions, which makes the game fairly easy to teach, even to people who don’t have a lot of roleplaying experience.

These kinds of games can also be played very quickly, which might also make it easier to introduce to folks who aren’t used to sitting around a grid and calculating resources for 2+ hours.

Other Recommendation Posts To Check Out…

Easy To Teach Recommendation Post

First Time GMs Recommendation Post

Little Reading or Writing Required Recommendation Post

[oddballwriter]

The New Teacher’s Aid

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Summary: Mike has Abby signed up to be part of the after school program at her school since he can’t pick her up due to him working, there’s nothing too special about it until a staff member catches his eye and he tries to explain it without thinking the obvious. 

Warnings: Reader is kept gender neutral and is a teacher’s aid and member of the staff that work in the after school program. This is in second person perspective at first but shifts at times. “Y/n” is used two times in here. Mike has a crush on you lol. I actually can’t think of many things that are actual warnings but if there are any just let me know

Author’s Snip: Surprise! I’m alive! I’ve been relaxing since I took the summer semester off to unwind from my first year of college. Anyways, I’m sure some, if not most, of us have seen the teaser and trailer for the FNAF movie. I’ve been seeing people going bonkers over Mike and William and so have I a little. This thought came to me last night and I wanted to write it so bad but it was 2am then and I had things I needed to do with family so I wrote it down in my notes so that I didn’t forget. 

Notes: This is sort of meant to be before Mike takes up the job at the abandoned plazeria. And I just saw that there are some implications that Abby walks/rides a bike home to and from school but I’m just going to ignore that because I can and because then this shot doesn’t really work. So yeah. 

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

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  You’ve been working at the school for a month and a half now as a teacher’s aid and an additional member of the staff that work in the after school program. The program wasn’t much if you had to be honest, it was pretty much just babysitting kids who didn’t get picked up once school was over. 

  You weren’t complaining though, but then again, you worked in the spare classroom with the older kids rather than the younger ones. This group wasn’t too much of a hassle. Usually these kids would talk, do their homework, or some quiet activity and rarely cause any trouble. That’s how you met a little girl named Abby. 

  Abby was like the other kids who minded their own till their parent or guardian came to pick them up. You noticed that she didn’t interact with any of the other kids and either drew or did her homework quietly at a desk. You decided to check on her. Now you two have formed a really nice bond. You usually help her with her homework or talk about whatever comes to mind which helped pass the time since she was one of the kids that stayed the whole time the program operated. 

  Speaking of which, it was rolling around that time. You knew that the person who usually gets her is always here when the clock hits  five pm but it always makes you a little worried that they won’t come since after five there wasn’t meant to be any students still on campus. 

  “Okay, last one. What do you think?” you say, you were helping Abby finish up a tricky math sheet. Abby stared at the problem for a moment and worked it out on a blank space next to it before writing down the answer she came up with. “There you go! Great job. Now you’re all done, you don’t need to do any at home.” you smile. Just then you hear a knock at the door to the room. When you turn, you see a man in his mid twenties or early thirties standing in the doorway. You stand up to go talk to him but you hear Abby chirp “Hi, Mike!” to the man. He gives her a nod as a hello back as you grab a clipboard and walk up to him. 

  “Hello. Can I get a name?” you ask. This was common check out protocol whenever someone came to pick up a child from the program. “Mike Schmidt.” he responds. You nod and check the name that’s correlated with Abby, it checks out. “And the password?”, that was another part of the protocol. He says the correct one and you smile with a nod before letting him sign his name as the last part of the process. 

  By then Abby had already packed up her things and skipped over to Mike and took a hold of his hand to leave. “Goodbye, Abby!” you wave. She waves back with some more energy to it, “Bye, (y/n)!”. You give a wave back to Mike as well out of courtesy, “Goodbye, Mr. Schmidt.”. He gives you a small wave goodbye too as he leaves with Abby by his side. 

  With Abby gone home, you were set to pack everything in the classroom so that you could leave. You usually did this earlier but the other staff member went out and hadn’t come back yet, so you needed to keep an eye on Abby. Usually they checked Abby out to Mike, who you were told was her older brother, so she could go home. But since they still weren’t back, you met him for the first time. You were a bit surprised to finally see him. He was actually older than you thought he would be. The age minimum for someone who could pick up a child was sixteen and that Mike met that requirement, but you thought that he would be younger. Turns out he’s around the same age as you.

  Abby actually told you a lot about Mike. As already mentioned, he was her older brother. She also told you that he works and that the two of them live together. She’s also told you about how cool he is but that’s a given since most younger siblings think that their older siblings are cool. 

  You didn’t think too much about Mike after that, but strangely enough, Mike spent a good part of the evening thinking about you.

  “Are they a new staff member? I don’t think I’ve seen them before.” Mike asked Abby while she picked at the reheated veggies on her plate. “No, not really. They’ve been here for a while.” Abby responded. “They seem nice.” he mentioned. “They are. They help me with my homework and we talk. They even said they like my drawings!” Abby explained with a smile. “ Well, that’s nice to hear.” Mike said as he got up from his seat at the table. “You finish those off before you try and watch TV, alright?” he said with a little bit of demand as he pointed to the uneaten food on her plate before heading off to get ready for the rest of the night. 

  Soon after that, Mike had formed a habit. Everyday, just before getting out of his car to go pick up Abby, he would check himself in his rearview mirror. He would subconsciously fix any loose hair, fix up his jacket to look neater, or check for food in his teeth. He didn’t know when it started but he noticed it when he was fighting with a piece of food from his lunch earlier that day that didn’t want to leave it’s spot between his teeth. “Why am I even doing this? It’s barely noticeable.” he thought to himself. But something irked him to get it out before he got out. 

  After he finally got the pesky piece out, he stepped out of his car and made his way to the classroom that the program was held in. Abby noticed him but the staff member who came to check her out to him wasn’t you. After he gave all the information, signed, and took Abby’s hand, he found that he felt slightly disappointed that it wasn’t you this time and thought that he fought that food between his teeth for nothing. 

  The drive home consisted of silence as Abby stared out the window and Mike stewed in his thoughts on why he wanted see you every time he came in. It shouldn’t matter if it’s you, or the new teacher Miss Hill, or the old teacher Mrs. Flores, or someone who was a part of that group. 

  “Did you have fun with (Y/n) today?” Mike asked as he peaked at Abby in the rearview. Why did he ask that? “Yeah. I didn’t have a lot of homework so we spent most of the time talking while I drew.” Abby responded. “What did you talk about?” he questioned. “Not much. They talked about being a teacher’s aid and how they want to be a school teacher.” Abby commented, Mike nodded his head. “I talked about us a little. I told them that you work and take care of me.” she explained, “And they said that’s really nice of you to be doing both.” Abby referenced. Mike thought about that for a second. “Did they?” he responded. 

  The rest of the evening and night went on as normal. But Mike found that he didn’t really pay attention to the late night TV like he usually does. He was caught up on what Abby said today about you. Mike tried to brush it off but just couldn’t, and he didn’t like it all that much. It made him feel dumb. Why was he so consumed with what you thought of him, with Abby saying that you think he’s nice for taking care of his little sister and being their breadwinner and him recently starting to care about how he looked under the possibility of you and him seeing each other while he got Abby. 

  There was no way he had some stupid crush on you. You were just some staff member who took care of Abby after school and he was just her older brother. That’s all you should be to each other. 

  He thinks that while also thinking about how maybe he should pack a mini toothbrush and toothpaste tube so his lunch doesn’t end up in his breath in case you catch it next time you talk.