#which i based on reading psyche textbooks

[maaaxx]

11 & 19 for the ask game ❤

ask game :)

11 has already been answered here

-

19. "Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?":

Short answer:

From the time I could vaguely write I was writing "books" (or as much of a book a child that young can make)

I entered my first writing contest when I was 9 or 10 and I got 5th place in my school

A year later I started my first major wip that got me invested into writing as a hobby

A year after that I started another wip that most of my current wips are branches off of and also started posting bits and pieces on wattpad

When I was 14 I had my writing skills tested for early college admission and scored in the top 5 percent in my state (still very proud of this)

Entered and won a couple writing competitions besides that stopped writnig

Then a couple years later I started writing fanfiction

Currently pondering working towards actually publishing some books one day.

Long answer under the cut :)

I remember making "books" since I could write. Like I would staple paper together and I remember one specifically that had something to do with sea horses but i dont remember the plot.

My mom has boxes filled of these "books" with all of the words and even my name misspelled and poorly illustrated characters and stuff.

When I was in like 4th grade (9-10 years old) my teacher had an assignment to where we made up a story and applied whatever type of literary technique we were learning about that week to it. So like if we were learning about similes the assignment would be come up with 5 sentences that include similes that pertain to your story and include one or something like that. At the end of the year we were supposed to have 4-5 pages of this story. I think I finished with like 10-12 or something like that. She made me summarize it 💀

If I remember right I think that my story was about this set of twins where one was born with some type of super power that only the other twin knew about and the superpowered twin got kidnapped by some scientists that wanted to expirement on her and my story followed the other twin and this like 12 year old girl dedicating her teenagehood to finding the lost twin. I think I made it so the dad actually ended up hiring the kidnapper and the dad and kidnapper both got arrested. I want to find this again because I dont remember a lot about it.

That same year my teacher ended up having me enter a poetry contest and I think it was a tri-county thing. I didn;t like poetry (I still hate writing it, love reading it though) so I half assed it and I think I got within the top 5 (??) of my school. (just elementary school) so that was neat.

(This specific teacher was one of those really strict teachers that no one else liked but my little undiagnosed autistic self LOVED her because i always knew what to expect yk?? but is also the one who really got me into reading and writing and stuff and I dont think I'll ever not me extremely grateful for her)

The next year I started forming this one wip. Its definetly my longest and most elaborate and sentimental one because it opened so many different doors for me.

There was no plot but it pretty much followed this group of like 20 teenagers that had very different lives and were all really traumatized and during the "story" they're all like 15-18 trying to figure out how to move on from their childhoods and maintain healthy relationships with eachother and their individual support systems.

Some of them are neurodivergent and some of their stories are centered around that.

One of the characters name is Jack. Jack is bipolar and so is his mom and so because of his moms mental illnesses and stuff he was in and out of fostercare from like 5-13. Hes probably the 'main' character in this.

Hes also went deaf from a tmi from when he was like 9.

Then theres Allison who is autistic and she is your stereotypical 'gifted kid burnout' 'graduated at like 15' type of autistic. but this leads to a lot of issues with her and her main thing is kind of working through that.

Travis comes from a VERY religious (almost cultish) family and is develops schizophrenia at like 16 I think and he's also pansexual and his parents go through his phone and find some texts from his partner and kick him out so hes homeless and has to deal with that.

But like I said theres like 17 more of these characters and its very elaborate. It goes into the parents childhoods and deals with generational trauma and how mental illness can affect parenting.

The 'story' mostly follows Jack and Allison (theyre love interests) and everything is kind of through their pov and their relationships with the other characters and stuff.

But like 11 year old me started writing this out in composition books and between then and when I turned 15 ish and got a computer, I filled I think close to 30 composition books with this story.

But I started researching mental disorders and stuff for this story so I could make their stuff as realistic as possible and that kickstarted my spin on psychology, which led to me wanting to be a social worker which is my major. It also meant that I was really ahead in also my psyche classes. Im *technically* going into my 5th year of college and I started taking psyche classes my second year and I didnt start getting into stuff that I didn't know until the year that just ended so 11 year old me really knew what she was doing.

I remember making my mom buy me textbooks and those articles that are behind a paywall for birthdays and Christmas's

I'm getting off track

A year or two after that I started developing this other wip with kids with superpowers and there was a whole lot of worldbuilding and stuff to this one and its what got me into fantasy which is the main genre I write outside of fanfic. (my hecles wip is loosely based on this one)

(part of this one is on wattpad somewhere)

When I was 14 I took a test that determined whether or not I would be able to start college early and part of this test was writing skills. There was a fiction and a nonfiction portion and then they combined those two scores and averaged them out and my score was in the 95th percentile (top 5 percent) of everyone who takes the test (so on average like 17-19 year olds usually and then some outliers) so I see that as one of my biggest writing achievments.

(i scored shit on the math and reading comprehension portions though)

I stopped writing and stuff for like two years besides entering writing contests.

I've entered like 5 and won 2. One was tri-county and I got first place and the other one was a little bigger but it wasnt a state contest, I think it might have been regional but I got third place. I consider those both big accomplishments too.

And then when I was 17 I started writing fanfiction.

I think fanfiction is what actually got it in my head that maybe I could write an actual book one day. Like before I just saw it as like a hobby because I was scared of the commitment of writing a whole book but ive written almost 200,000 words of one of my fanfics and it wasn't that overwhelming and I think that usually a decent sized novel so why not give it a try?

Idk if that answered the question or if I got TOO off track but oh well :)

[ckmstudies]

Day 23/100

Tl;dr: I have strep, I have exams Wednesday, Thursday, and next Monday and my birthday is coming up this week. Very busy week coming up!

Today started with me going to the doctor's office. The good news is that I tested negative for Covid twice and I tested negative for strep throat. However, I know that I have been exposed to strep and the doc said since my throat “looks like that” he went on ahead and started me on strep antibiotics which included two shots as well as meds to take every 12 hours. But if this is what gets me better by Thursday then I’ll take it!

After the doctor's office, I got lunch with friends (outside) and went to Latin. We have an exam on Wednesday and so we reviewed a good bit today. I got a 95 on my quiz from Friday which is great except that the only reason I did so well is that she’s not grading very hard. This is nice because this class is supposed to be an easy A but it does not inspire me to study at all. After Latin, I went straight to developmental psychology which is my favorite class. It's just so interesting and it’s a very joyful class since we’re currently talking about babies.

After classes, I took a quick nap, started washing clothes, ate spaghetti, watched an episode of Modern Family, and did the dishes I had in the sink. Once I was satisfied with all my chores, I started working on my assignments for social psychology. We have an exam in that class on Thursday and I missed turning in an assignment this weekend. Thankfully I emailed my professor and he let me turn it in for half credit. Then I did a multiple choice quiz which took me 4 out of 5 chances to make a 100 but I did finally get the 100. After that, I put all the terms from the book into an Anki deck and went through 1/3 of the terms. Based on my calculations I need to make an 87 or higher on this exam to get an A in this class which at this point sounds very difficult. My plan tomorrow is to sit in the library for hours reading my textbook. But sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do! I’ll also have Latin tutoring in the library tomorrow night at 7:30 in order to prepare for that exam on Wednesday. Not to mention I’ll have a developmental psych exam a week from today, I have strep, and I’m currently planning my 22nd birthday dinner and party for this Thursday and Friday. It never ends but I wouldn’t want it any other way!!

Also! I hope you enjoy this picture I took this afternoon of my and my roommates’ common room while I was getting chores done. I thought the lighting was gorgeous!

[thenightisland]

Grace Kelly, Veronica Lake, Frank Sinatra, James Cagney, Hedy Lamarr, and Edward G. Robinson (optional!) 🎬

Grace Kelly: What do you do when you’re bored? read obsessively and waste far too much time on tumblr and zone out plotting stories in my head

Veronica Lake: List some random facts about your physical appearance. my measurements give me a textbook hourglass figure and that pleases me way more than it should. my grandmother's rings skipped over my mom directly to me bc i was the only one with small enough fingers for them. i have to wear petite glasses frames (which i did not know were a thing) bc apparently my face, like my hands, is small despite me being a very average sized person otherwise.

Frank Sinatra: What countries would you like to visit? i want to go back to italy and greece so badly.

James Cagney: What would you call your autobiography? i always wanted to write an account of the years working at the lake and call it Sane in Insane Places, after the rosenhan experiment, which was a psych study that largely critiqued how we go about psychiatric diagnostics and pathologize different behaviors based on biases

Hedy Lamarr: As a child, did you have one article of clothing that you absolutely loved (like wouldn’t take it off type of thing)? What was it? i never had a wouldn't take it off type item of clothing but one of my Special Outfits was a very pretty blue dress with flowers on it made from a flowy material that i dubbed the Maria Dress bc it reminded me of this dress in the sound of music i still have it in a trunk somewhere

Edward G. Robinson: Draw a self portrait. (optional!) thank god bc it is 9pm and i def don't have time for that right now but may do so in the future! there actually does exist a self portrait of me that i did many many years ago which i'll post if i can find the damn thing again lol

[xxlovelynovaxx]

Hate when disorders are defined by unhealthy and toxic behaviors rather than a person struggling internally with thoughts and feelings (from urges to do toxic behaviors to just simply suffering from the thing the disorder is actually about).

Like... okay, here's an example. BPD. I have textbook BPD. I also very rarely ACT unhealthy or toxic. I won't say never, because I've gotten badly triggered and been an asshole, but even then I'm able to mitigate those behaviors to a significant degree form what my brain tries to tell me to do.

Then ofc there's the textbook example NPD. Which is more about... basing your entire self-esteem on other people's opinions of you. Get this. I was depressed for YEARS because I was so terrified of people thinking of me as "arrogant" that I never allowed myself to think anything good about myself. That's quite literally how my depression originally started. (And yes, I also have NPD).

Or another example. Reading the symptoms of OLD (which isn't in the DSM-V, but whatever), I relate to EVERY symptom that has to do with feelings and NONE of the ones that have to do with actions. Because I recognize what would be unhealthy in a relationship and have worked to make sure that my own feelings never harm my partner.

I wonder if the ableist pop psych "people with cluster B PDs can't get better" is just because people think those PDs are about other people's experiences of someone with a PD and not the pwPDs internal experience. As in, someone with a PD who DOESN'T have toxic behaviors* doesn't have/no longer has a PD in their eyes.

*As in, someone who never did or someone who did but grew as a person. For me my NPD never manifested as hurting anyone (except myself), so the first; while my BPD did cause some toxic behaviors to general people around me (but I was able to work on them, especially once I left my abuser).

Anyway, it's very autism warrior mom energy, speaking as someone with autism. Like, "your disorder/mental illness/neurotype is about ME and the way *I* experience your behavior and not how you literally live with it". I wonder if cluster B ableists recognize that they're doing that. That they're going "oh woe is me it's so HARD to be around people with these disorders because they're not in control of their behaviors" (something I've literally heard about cluster B PDs) "and act out so much and I'm such a SAINT for dealing with it at all".

This is putting aside the massive hypocrisy of these people (whose behavior towards pwclusBPDs is EXACTLY like their pop psych definition of "narcissism/sociopathy/psychopathy/borderline/etc" - they forget that others like HPD exist most of the time). Or that these people not only are abusive but in many of the same ways as the abusers that gave us the PDs in the first place (many people with PDs report they are traumagenic, though I don't want to make a sweeping statement that they always are tbc).

Anyway point being, my PD isn't really ABOUT you. And since quite literally no one, including the ableists I've corrected, have ever even SUGGESTED I might have any of the PDs I've been diagnosed with (to me OR anyone close to me)... it's very telling that it's not. I bet if I told them they'd behave the way radfem lesbians do when one of their own comes out as transmasc (suddenly labeling everything toxic masculinity/narcissism/borderline/etc), but if you literally can't tell who ACTUALLY has cluster B PDs and are just armchair diagnosing anyone who is toxic...

Yeah.

[goyangii]

going thru ur tags gives me a headache u reblog literally anything with buzzwords and a flashy headline but don't apply any critical thinking skills or consider that ur views might be flawed... ur literally in an echo chamber and it's sad as fuck to see. women are victims of misogyny but trans people are not the problem

thanks bb it means a lot you'd read my blog <3 fr though i usually browse tumblr during breaks on mobile so yeah i'm not running a resource or research-based blog by any means. most of social media is buzzwords and flashy headlines and memes anyways and this is a personal blog, not some debate blog.

i've been in the trans community for years and years from 2012 on and while i can agree radblr (and any online community tbqh) has its own echo chamber-y qualities trans spaces are even worse about it. at least on radblr you can have a dissenting opinion and ppl will disagree albeit loudly but i've gotten banned/blocked/cancelled for posting even vaguely dissenting opinions (such as "lesbians don't need to include bepenised people in their dating/sex lives") in trans spaces when i was ftm so. pot meet kettle ig?

it's not as if i woke up one days and was like "today i feel like hating tranners :3"?? it took almost a decade of experiencing misogyny, racism, and homophobia from a community of mostly white heterosexual people to realize something wasn't right and to start thinking critically about the idea that someone can be born in the wrong body. i know and have parroted all the popular trans activist ideas, it's not that i don't know them front to back by this point. i was on hrt, i met with psychs, i was diagnosed with GID and by all means was a ~textbook~ trans case. i was planning on getting top surgery and changing my name/markers legally when i started questioning stuff, and believe me more than fucking anyone i wanted transition to be the answer to my dysphoria. but larping as a man didn't make me one no matter how much i wished, how well i passed, how validated i felt by my friends/peers/partners. i still have a lot of empathy for ftms and if transition wasn't a flawed premise foundationally i would support it if only bc i know so little helps with dysphoria. but it literally doesn't and won't ever cure it and even "fully" transitioned people i know/knew had dysphoria, worried about passing, etc. and were behind their backs misgendered, treated as their birth sex, etc. it took me breaking out of trans spaces and talking to normies (i don't even mean radfems or ~transphobes~, i mean literally just normal people in class or at work) to realize this.

also individual trans people are imo not the main problem but are perpetuating what is, which is an ideology that hurts women and lgb people. any ideology that says that sexuality is determined by gender (a socially constructed identity based on stereotypes) and erodes sex-based rights (such as the right to a female doctor, shelter, exam by police officer, etc.) is imo harmful whether or not trans ppl individually are "problematic". idk if you think i go out every day kicking trans ppl and bemoaning their existence but ultimately i'm only ever rly gonna feel particularly negatively towards a specific trans person if they're actively shit, as in they're a racist/homophobe/pedo/sex pest/etc. and frankly a pretty disturbing amount meet at least one of that criteria if not multiple, even if i'm only considering trans people i know personally.

[emmagoldman42]

A Bigger Picture Gives Our Ancestors Their Full Humanity - YES! Magazine

Via Suppressed History Archives

"In 1611, Father Pierre Biard, a French missionary assigned to colonial Canada, wrote home to complain about the locals. Apparently, the Indigenous Mi’kmaq didn’t think much of what they’d seen of European civilization:

“They consider themselves better than the French … they say, ‘you are always fighting and quarrelling among yourselves; we live peaceably. You are envious and are all the time slandering each other … you are covetous, and are neither generous nor kind; as for us, if we have a morsel of bread we share it with our neighbour.’ They are saying these and like things continually.”

"Readers brought up on a certain kind of history may find this account somewhat surprising. To say the least, it is uncommon to read of Native Americans as social theorists probing into European settlers’ psyches. The Dawn of Everything, the new book from which this passage comes, offers many such charged moments. In it, archeologist David Wengrow and the late David Graeber, an anthropologist, public thinker, and activist, confront deep assumptions about how human society developed from its humble origins.

...

"Upon contact with Europeans, Native American groups like the Iroquois and Wendat had well-established democratic institutions, and individuals’ material needs were generally guaranteed among their communities. In the face of such radically different social arrangements, apologists for European systems rationalized their own structures by belittling Native Americans’ accomplishments as “savagery.” Whether based on production modes (such as hunting-gathering, farming, or complex urban specialization) or governmental arrangement (tribes, chiefdoms, and states), the resulting narrow models of social development remain more or less baked into history textbooks, right down to the present day.

"The Western Enlightenment view of social progress is not only chauvinistic but, as these two social scientists contend, is increasingly untenable in the face of mounting scholarly evidence. By ditching the “myth of progress,” Graeber and Wengrow are free to examine prehistorical and precolonial societies with fresh eyes. From the earliest bands of hunter-gatherers, to the rise of cities, up to major moments of first contact, the book brings together previously siloed academic evidence and little-publicized interpretations. Marijuana, we learn, was widely cultivated in prehistoric Japan. Centuries before Montezuma, Mesoamerican city-dwellers developed a precursor to urban social housing. Each mini-revelation is fascinating in its own right; together, they pose a serious challenge to both the Hobbesian and Rousseau-ite interpretations of the human past.

"Developing a renewed conception of fundamental social freedoms also brings the Indigenous critique full circle, with the Eastern Woodlands confederacies of North America as their exemplars. Crucially for Graeber and Wengrow, there was among these groups no obvious way to convert wealth into the kind of power over others that coerces or forces labor. Leaders were elected, but office holders “couldn’t compel anyone to do anything they didn’t wish to do.” We learn how, through generous social welfare provisions and consensus-seeking deliberations, groups like the Iroquois and Wendat self-consciously cultivated communal practices and institutions that vouchsafed human dignity without undue sacrifice of agency. Native American societies are once more cast as noble, but not as the pure, Edenic “savages” of Enlightenment imaginary.

"Mi’kmaq critics ... jibed that they were richer than their French counterparts—not in material possessions or extractive technologies, but in “other, greater assets: ease, comfort and time.” I don't know that they "jibed," but they certainly declared the fact.

https://www.yesmagazine.org/issue/a-new-social-justice/2021/11/15/book-human-history-ancestors?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=YESDaily_%2020220114&utm_content=YESDaily_%2020220114%20CID_6e0753ec4a8562dba3683ca0af5e2f1d&utm_source=CM&utm_term=Read%20the%20full%20story&fbclid=IwAR2HB9MpfZTfs_8l-7YuVCbf04ypK8rkrpSFuojs3Kz1JGs7XebD1QisQys

[secret-keeper18]

What i think the X-Men characters would major in if they were in college.

Charles Xavier

Canonically a bio/genetics major

He’s the guy taking like 20 something credits, all the while writing a thesis, working in a lab, TAing for an intro to genetics class. and maintaining a 4.0 GPA

i would hate him

Erik Lehnsherr

Political science

He’s definitely the kid who will not only argue w the “devil’s advocate” in class but will also track him down in the quad later that day and whoop his ass

Unless the devil’s advocate in question is Charles who’s just taking this as a GenEd, in which case it’s less a fight and more weird foreplay

Mystique

Had no idea what she wanted to do so switched like five times before finally settling on psychology

Probably thinks this qualifies her as a therapist and tries to get her friends to let her try out her “psych skills” on them

Attends every rally and protest on campus

Started smoking pot at parties socially but now smokes basically every day and mostly during class

Scott Summers

I can’t explain why but I get major industrial engineering vibes

Probably wanted to do Air Force ROTC but his eyesight disqualified him

Takes intramural lacrosse wayyyyy too seriously

Jean Grey

Economics, specifically the college of liberal arts, not the business college

She wanted humanities but her parents wanted her to do business so she ended up with a major she cant do anything with

Studied abroad for a semester and she says the cultural experience really changed her. But all she did was go to Australia.

Ororo Munroe

Meteorlogy is the laziest answer, but I’m gonna go with history

Probably specifically civics or something

She TAs for an Ancient Greek language class, is probably also an RA, but not cuz she wanted go, but so that she didn’t have to pay for room and board and she gets a free meal plan

Logan

Education

I have no reasonable explanation for this other than the absolute joy of seeing the fuckin Wolverine scare the living shit out of people but also he takes a Children’s Literature course so he carries around books like “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” and “Chicka Chicka Boom Boom”

He’s the guy in the friend group who’s like. An actual adult but didnt go to college until a little later in life, so he has no choice but to hang out w a bunch of 18-22 yr olds.

Peter Maximoff

Physics

The guy’s probably really smart but he can’t sit down for long periods of time. He’ll speed read the textbook and then take the test based purely on short-tern memory

He’s def ADHD and SHOULD be on aderall but he’s the guy you go to when you’re not ADHD and you want aderall

Kurt

English major with a theology minor

He’ll never use it he probably goes into theater or something in entertainment

Think John Mulaney but German and more Catholic

The perpetual designated driver. Will hold back your hair when you puke, tuck you politely into bed (on your side, of course), leave an advil and water on your nightstand, and drag an empty garbage can next to your head

[lebrookestore]

four years, one night

Pairing: Ten Lee x  female reader

Themes:  SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music 

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15

WC: 10.8k

Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)

Taglist:  @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu​  @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung

Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.

day break  [ extra piece based in this universe ]

A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung​ for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket

~

A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.

A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.

You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

You hated his eyes.

He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.

“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”

“I’m being real, not supportive”

He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”

You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you. 

“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him. 

I understand you, you thought, I’m here

Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.

And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.

“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days. 

“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.

“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”

You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”

He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.

You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.

You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you. 

You hated Ten Lee.

Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?

Nope, you were close friends.

Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.

Nothing ever goes your way. 

The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.

He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.

The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.

He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.

“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.

Needless to say, you were stressed.

The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.

Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.

Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.

You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.

“Okay, um actually-”

“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”

“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”

“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”

Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nah, I have a date”

You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”

“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”

He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”

You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.

“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.

“No”, you whispered, “You don't”

You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it. 

He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.

Anyone could tell he loved both of them.

You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.

Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.

You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well. 

But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions. 

Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.

Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.

 To: y/n@gmail.com

From: admin@royalschoolofmusic.com

Good morning/evening,

            We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.

      TRSOM

 You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.

You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-

The school was in another country altogether.

While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.

You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.

Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality. 

Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.

There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.

Ten was not having it.

He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.

 [8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm]10:  my precious friend

[8:39 pm] n/n : what now

[8:40 pm]10: I need help

[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse 

[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED

[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit

[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem

[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react

[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish

[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream

[8:41 pm] n/n: deal

[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery

[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you

[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU 

 He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.

“So, should we order-”

Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.

You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”

“I-”

“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.

You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”

“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”

At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.

“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed. 

“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.

“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”

“I’m an actress”

“Fuck off”

“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”

The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.

“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.

“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.

“So can I get another scoop?”

“You have assignments to finish”

THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION

~

The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.

Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.

You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.

Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.

It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.

You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.

“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”

“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”

“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”

Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.

“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”

You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-

SLAM

Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.

“What did I do now?”

“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”

He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.

“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”

You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.

You hated his smile.

It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.

You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.

His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.

“Move”

“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”

“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.

“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.

Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes

“I’m flattered”

“What?”

“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.

You smacked him.

It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.

You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.

“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”

“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.

Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.

That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.

Pretend.

He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.

You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.

You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”

“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.

“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.

Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-

RING

The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.

“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.

“You missed an entire scene”

“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”

The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.

His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine. 

The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.

There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell. 

Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.

Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.

Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.

It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.

And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.

It was all an illusion.

A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.

It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.

Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.

You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.

But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.

So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.

There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way. 

“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.

Friendship.

You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”

You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.

But he looked nothing like what you were used to.

Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.

Ten looked hot.

“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”

He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.

Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.

The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.

“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.

“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”

“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.

“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.

He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself. 

“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”

“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Would he have kissed you?

You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”

You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.

After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you. 

You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.

Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.

You were hurt.

It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.

You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.

That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.

You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.

You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.

‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’

~

You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.

This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.

You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.

“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”

You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.

It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.

“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.

“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.

You were angry.

You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.

“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.

“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”

“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.

“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you. 

You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”

“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”

Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips. 

The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden. 

“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you. 

Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance. 

He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.

You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.

You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.

Alone.

Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.

It was a vicious cycle.

You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.

Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.

So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree. 

Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.

The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.

You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.

Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.

You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.

Ten.

You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.

“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”

“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.

“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.

“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.

“No Y/n, you-”

“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.

The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.

“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.

“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”

You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”

“What-”

“How long have we known each other Ten?”

“Four years, but I don’t see-”

“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.

“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.

“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?

“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”

“No”, you said, “We can’t”

“Y/n give us a chance, please”

“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”

“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”

He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.

“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”

The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.

Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.

You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.

Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.

You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.

And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked. 

Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.

It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.

Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.

You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”

You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.

“Okay”

You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”

It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.

“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”

You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.

That was not acceptable.

Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”

He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”

“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.

The same Ten you were in love with.

His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.

His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.

He kissed you. 

His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.

You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”

There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.

The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down. 

“I know”

“This isn’t going to end well is it?”

“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.

“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him. 

The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.

He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.

You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.

Ten.

Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.

It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.

You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.

‘10’.

“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”

fin.

[ghost-party]

Masterlist | Previous • Next

Pairing: AU!Sukuna x Reader Word Count: 954 Warnings: swearing, alcohol, references to a bad relationship and breakup A/N: Sukuna’s very opinionated about drinks, but don’t take it personally. He’s been mildly traumatized by drunk college students. 😂

You don’t see Sukuna again until class on Tuesday. He’s sitting in his usual spot, near the back of the lecture hall. The seats around him remain empty, which is no surprise. But that makes it easy for you to walk over and sit down beside him.

As you retrieve your laptop and textbook from your bag, you quickly glance up at him. He’s leaning back in his chair, pencil tucked behind one ear. You realize for the first time that he has piercings, two tiny holes in his lobe and another in his helix. But all of them are empty.

“What a surprise.” He doesn’t sound all that surprised, but there’s a curious look in his eyes, despite his uninterested expression.

“Good morning to you, too.” When he remains silent, you say, “I brought your jacket, if you want it back.”

He shakes his head. “Nah… Keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.” Seeming to have realized what he said, his frown deepens, and you try not to smile.

After the lecture concludes, the hall quickly empties out, students running to their next class or making plans to enjoy the unseasonably-warm afternoon.

Sukuna stretches and groans, cracking his neck before standing.

“Late night?”

He shrugs. “I guess. Nothing I’m not used to.” He slides his notebook into his bag and swings it over his shoulder. He’s wearing another t-shirt today, and yet again, your gaze snags on his muscled arms and the tattoos that wrap around them.

For a brief moment, he looks almost pained, like he’s having some sort of internal debate. And then he asks, “Want to get some coffee?”

You’re quickly learning that the best way to get a read on him is to pay attention to his eyes. Although his scowl suggests anger or displeasure, his gaze, in contrast, is much softer.

The two of you end up sitting on the steps of the honors college, watching the lacrosse team practice on the field just across the wide stretch of grass. Sunlight filters through the autumn leaves, casting everything in a warm glow.

Sukuna takes a sip of his cold brew and asks what other classes you’re taking this semester. You learn that he’s an English major. (“Probably a shit decision, but whatever.”) The two of you changed majors last year, which explains why you’re juniors enrolled in a gen ed psych course.

But he’s a few years older than you, having taken a gap year after high school that quickly turned into five, as he worked two jobs to support both himself and his younger brother, Yuuji. They’ve been on their own since Sukuna was seventeen.

“He’s a good kid,” he says, leaning back on his elbows. Lying across the stone steps, he resembles a cat lounging in the sun. “He’s a freshman. Decent grades so far, working part time… I think he even has a girlfriend.”

You find yourself wondering if Sukuna has a girlfriend. If he does, he hasn’t mentioned her. But why would he? It’s the first time you’ve really talked to one another, apart from you telling him all about your ex. Ugh… Even that passing thought of him makes you inwardly cringe.

In an effort to distract yourself, you ask, “How long have you been bartending?”

“Four years.”

“I bet you can tell a lot about a person based on what they drink.”

“Oh, definitely. Why?” He grins. “You curious?”

You shrug, but you’re smiling right back at him. “Maybe.”

“I’ll warn you, I’m blunt.”

“Trust me — I’ve noticed.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, in my experience, anytime college girls order tequila shots, someone either vomits or loses their top.”

You’re on the verge of protesting when you remember seeing the group text the next morning. Things had gotten pretty wild after you left. “Okay... That’s fair.”

He sits up and hunches forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But I’m guessing that’s not your usual.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know if I really have one.”

Sukuna watches as two guys in polo shirts throw a frisbee around the quad. “I’ll give you a quick and dirty run-down. Rum is for frat boys. Vodka tends to bring out the worst in people. Long Islands tell me you’re broke but still want to get fucked up. And sweet drinks — lemon drops, daiquiris, any apple-flavored shit — make me think your ID is probably fake.”

“Wow...” You laugh and shake your head. “Do you think it’s any different if you work at a bar whose clientele isn’t ninety percent college kids?”

“Probably,” he admits. He has a strange look on his face — something caught between hesitation and annoyance. “You should come by sometime. I’ll make you a drink.”

As the two of you stand and walk back towards the center of campus, you ask, “What’s your usual?”

Sukuna thinks for a moment. “Whiskey, neat. Nothing too fancy.”

“And what does that say about you?” There’s a teasing tone in your voice, but you can’t help it, especially when he looks down at you and raises an eyebrow.

“That you’re a classy gentleman with refined taste? A 1960s business executive with a box of imported cigars on your desk? The cool guy who puts all the other cool guys to shame?”

He snorts. “Nice try.” He takes a step closer, and you feel an uncomfortable lurch in your chest as your heart suddenly begins to beat faster.

“That I’m a simple man who knows what he wants and can handle the consequences.”

Before you can read into it, wonder if his words have any deeper meaning, he steps back and turns around, heading towards the library.

“See you in class.”

[ivorydragoness44]

Sirius Black x fem!Reader: Lost in Hogwarts

Word Count: 2,272

Notes: I have no idea when I even started writing this fanfic, 2019? 2020? Anyways, this is based off of the song Lost in Japan by Shawn Mendes. Sirius just wants to spend time alone with the Reader.

~~~~ ~~~~

Walking to class, as per usual, you had psyched yourself up and were ready for whatever the professor had in-store. That, and you had remembered to finish your assignments on-time. You absolutely loved magic, and had no complaint in reading through your textbooks. Essays though, you could live without those. But as long as you thought about it from a learning to knowledge yourself way as opposed to a chore perspective, it went relatively well.

In midst of your thoughts as you moved along with the light crowd, Sirius strolled up next to you, and you were positive that the rest of the boys were behind you. He tossed his arm over your shoulders, giving you a charming smile that went quite well with his handsome face.

“I have an idea,” he said.

You gave an exaggerated sigh. “Here we go.”

“Do you got plans tonight?” There was a sparkle about those eyes of his that could not have been missed.

“Well, seeing as it is Friday, and I will most likely be working on homework in attempts to free-up my weekend, I’m going to have to say, yes. Unfortunately.”

“I was thinking that we could venture around the grounds for awhile ‘cause I can’t get you off my mind.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Sirius, but I can’t.”

“Promise that you’ll think about it at least.” He asked, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“Fine,” you agreed, “but not because of that kiss.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he said sarcastically, nodding.

All of you walked into Charms class with Professor Flitwick. Sirius sat at the table in front of you, Remus to your right, James about two seats to your left, and Peter somewhere behind you.

During class, when the professor was not looking, Sirius looked over his shoulder at you. Of course you gestured for him to turn around in response, not wanting him in the slightest bit of trouble if it could be avoided. He loved your attention. Oddly doing as you instructed, he turned back around with a wink.

The second time however, for which Remus rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics, Sirius slid a note over to you. You immediately clawed it into your grasp to hide the piece of parchment. This made Sirius smirk before he turned in time to answer a question as the professor called on him.

You waited a good minute for Flitwick to direct his attention further away before you quietly unfolded the note. It read: ‘Let’s get lost tonight. ~ SB’

You shook your head and eyed Remus who automatically looked over with a questioning look. Peeking up to check on the professor for a moment, you slid the note to him without taking your hand off of it. His eyes scanned over the small parchment and shook his head with a look of no surprise, then responded with a shrug. You gave him a quick smile in thanks. Stuffing the note into your robe pocket, you returned your focus back to the lesson.

When class was dismissed, you shoved your classwork into your bag and stood up, giving Sirius a humorously disbelieving look.

“What?” Sirius asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“You,” you said pointing at him as the group of boys and you headed out of the room. “Sending cryptic messages in the middle of class. Honestly…”

“What did it say?” Asked James prancing closer to you.

“Unfortunately Prongs, that note is not addressed to you,” said Sirius, grabbing your hand.

“I’m surprised he finally decided on what to write you,” said Remus. “He was scribbling through parchments throughout the night.”

“Oi!” Sirius gasped, nearly spinning around in astonishment. “That is delicate information, that was to remain undisclosed.”

Smiling you said. “That’s cute, you thought they wouldn’t tell. Are you sure you weren’t hit with a Confusion Charm?” You could overhear Peter sniggering behind you.

“No one would dare,” said Sirius. “But come on, how else could I persuade you? It’ll be an adventure and it’ll just be you and me. It’ll be fun, I promise you.”

“As much fun as that sounds, this is where I’m going to have to leave you.” You said, feeling as his hand gripped yours tighter. “I’m going to try and catch up with Lily. There’s something I want to talk about with her.”

“Going to gossip with Evans, are you?” Asked James, his pupils practically dilating at the mention of the ginger.

“It could be about class,” you shrugged, giving him a faux quizzical look.

“Ah! Don’t make that face. She’s making that face!” James exclaimed in reference to a known look that essentially meant you were not going to tell or hint at what you were talking about whilst simultaneously making them think something else entirely.

Peter practically gasped. He was the most confused when it came to that look. Not that it took much effort on your end.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, attempting to pull away from the group. “I’ll see you all at dinner. Sirius, can I have my hand back?”

“No, it’s a part of me now. You can’t let go.”

“Sirius.”

“Fine, but don’t expect me to save you a seat at dinner.”

“Hah, that’ll be the day,” you said hopping up and kissing him sweetly on the lips. “Bye boys,” you waved, calling behind you. “Remus’s in-charge while I’m gone!”

“What?”

Nearly sprinting toward the library, you made it in-time to find the red-head in question. You remembered Lily telling you earlier about a book that she wanted to pick up, so what better time to catch her without either of those marauding boys within earshot.

“Hello, Lily,” you said, skipping up to her side by a bookcase.

She smiled, taking a book. “Hey, how was class?”

“Pretty good, but I erm, have a question. If that’s all right?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Sirius kind’ve asked me out for tonight. And then in class he handed me a note.”

“Sounds like he’s being persistent.”

“Well, when he first asked, I said that I was going to be busy with schoolwork so I could free up my weekend.”

“Oh, so a ‘no’ with a glimmer of hope.”

“Yes…”

“May I have a look at the note please?”

Once you peered around, you handed the note to Lily. She took it and examined it carefully. You saw as she reread it before looking back up to you.

“He’s something else, I give him that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, hoping for a bit more clarity. “So what do you think he means by that?”

“I hope he doesn’t mean the Forbidden Forest, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, forbidden. I’ve been guessing that he’s trying to be mysterious. In all honesty, if I keep thinking too much into it, I’m going to drive myself mad.”

“Maybe you should go.”

“What? I’ve never even…I mean… the curfew.”

“At least this once. I have some faith he’ll make an effort to keep you out of trouble even if it means he gets detention.”

You thought it over for a moment, staring off at a random book. “You make a fair point Lily, and I trust you. More than myself at times.” You mumbled out the end of your sentence. “I mean, I trust Sirius. If I didn’t, I would’nt’ve said yes to dating him. So me questioning him like this makes me feel rather silly.”

“You’re being careful. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sure if school and rules were not involved, you would’ve jumped at the thought of spending time with him.”

“Jumped, leapt, springed—”

“I think I got your point. C’mon, let’s get ready for dinner. You’ve got a boyfriend to talk to.”

“You know, I think James—”

“C’mon, or I’m leaving without you,” Lily called behind her.

Somehow you had managed to not run into Sirius on your way to the Great Hall for dinner. It was only when you and Lily had walked through the doorway that you noticed his head do a double-take when he spotted you, a broad smile gracing his features.

As you wound your way toward the Gryffindor table, you sat promptly in the empty seat beside the dark-haired beauty.

“What took you girls so long?” Questioned James, his eyes on Lily.

“The library of course,” you answered, purposely bumping into Sirius.

“There was a book that I wanted to take a look at,” Lily reasoned, moving a strand of hair out of her face.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Asked Remus.

“I did thank you,” Lily smiled appreciatively. “It’s fascinating how the—”

You turned your attention from Lily as she kept the attention of the other boys. “Sirius,” you whispered, leaning in toward him.

Automatically, he turned his focus on you. “Hmm?”

“I would like to respond to your note, if you’re still available tonight.”

His eyes widened, utter joy on his face yet again. “Of course.”

“It’s a yes, on the grounds that we stay out of trouble.”

“You have my word,” he agreed with a nod.

Afterward, it was the usual pleasant meal with your friends.

Later on into the night, a little after midnight, you found the Gryffindor common room deserted. You let out a sigh of relief. It was a trickling fear of yours that at least one other student would still be up studying or chatting with a companion. The only occupant was sitting on one of the armchairs fussing with his always elegantly perfect hair.

“You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me,” you said, making Sirius jump in place, his hands flying to his sides.

“Right on time, as usual,” he smiled, standing up and adjusting his black jacket, a muggle band t-shirt underneath.

“So where are we going?” You asked as you walked up to each other. “I mean,” you looked down momentarily, “I’m wearing my comfy shoes in case we have to make a run for it.”

“No, we should be fine,” he chuckled.

“That was not entirely reassuring, even with the smile.”

“Don’t get cold feet now,” he said, grasping your hands.

“I’m not, I’m not,” you assured, practically bouncing. “You know what, let’s go.”

“Fantastic!” Sirius beamed, pulling you toward the portrait-hole and out down the stairs.

As you both came upon a corner, Sirius paused and motioned for you to stay behind him. Your heart was pounding and you were not sure if it was from excitement or nerves.

No sooner he was peeking his head around the corner, he whipped back behind the wall. This was not a good sign.

“What is it?” You whispered, your hand to his back as you leant forward.

“Filch.” He said, looking over his shoulder.

When he turned back around, you heard him mutter something about a map. You had no idea what that was about, but you waited.

“All right, he’s heading down the other corridor. If we make a run for it now, we can make it.”

“All right.”

“Three…two…one…”

You both took off at a sprint. A few corridors later and you found yourself outside into the cool night of the Hogwarts grounds. Hand-in-hand, the two of you strolled across the lawn, the delicate shimmers of moonlight casting off of the lake’s surface. You slowed down as you neared the beech tree by the water, winding around clumps of bushes. You supposed that the sight would be more beautiful with the array of colors lit up by the moon light had it been full but it was only half illuminated.

Pulling you by the hand, Sirius lead you over to the sturdy tree. Bringing you in close to him, he initiated a leisurely swaying side to side. Together, you both danced beneath the limbs of the tree.

Somehow it was both elegant and silly. To be fully comfortable with someone was a treasure in and of itself. It was moments like this that made you forget about the troubles of the world beyond the school.

Time seemed nonexistent as you both seamlessly stopped dancing and found yourselves sitting against the trunk of the tree.

“Are you excited to begin studying for our OWLS soon?” You asked, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“You really know how to set the mood,” Sirius said with utter sarcasm, “get back into our previously romantic mindset will you?”

“I was teasing.”

“Sure you were.”

Looking into those eyes of his, you felt nothing but love and admiration from him. It was in that moment you took his head into your hands and finally kissed those chatty lips of his.

He wavered for a fraction of a second until he kissed you, his hands finding your waist and bringing you closer.

You could feel the sudden warmth of his body against yours, comforting and breathing in-sync with you. It was everything that you had wanted in that moment, with the exception of one thing. In one smooth motion, you combed your fingers over his temples and into his silky dark hair.

If Sirius were made of ice, he would have melted. He sputtered out a breath, his body sinking about an inch or so from your touch.

“How do you do this to me?” He chuckled.

You shrugged simply with a smile. Even you did not have the answer to that.

“I just have one question. How in the entire wizarding world are we going to sneak all the way back into the common room?”

Sirius simply smiled. “Easily.”

~~~~ ~~~~

Thank you for reading!

[fromthehellmouth]

Red, Hot Skin

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: mentions of a hot-water burn, fluff, a bit of minor tension

Drawing by me inspired by scenes from the story. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Overview: 

Tension ensues after you and Tom Riddle both attempt to retain your dignity following foolish mistakes. Tom risks breaking curfew to make up for a painful mistake of his.

Tom Riddle stood next to me at the workspace counter in the dim light of the potions classroom. His large pale hands planted firmly on the black counter, his sleeves rolled up below the elbow to reveal his toned forearms twisting slightly as I added the next ingredient to my simmering brew. It was part one of a group test where professor Slughorn would choose one student of a pair to perform the completion of a potion in front of the class. It was a way to test one’s ability to trust their partner, and would assure that both students equally understood the directions of the potion if they happened to be the one called to demonstrate. Professor Slughorn watched intently with a clipboard as I sprinkled the fine dust from my cupped palm into the cauldron. Reaching for the last of the peppermint sprigs, I extended my arm over the bubbling mixture when suddenly, Riddle aggressively grabbed my wrist.

“No!” he exclaimed, but it was too late, the thin leaf had fallen from my grasp into the boiling pot below. Slughorn jotted something on his parchment and looked at me, worry sinking into the lines of his face.

“Now you’ve done it.” Riddle all but growled next to me, taking a step back from the table in dismay. The mixture erupted and thick, red, oozing sludge sprayed from the cauldron, spilling over the pewter rims and onto the work table below. In my embarrassment I stood completely frozen, unable to scoop up the mixture with my hands because of the burns I would face as a result of touching the corrosive slime. So, I just stood helplessly, my eyes fixed on the mess before me.

“Oh dear,” Slughorn muttered, waving his wand and collecting the crimson sludge in a suspended bubble, eventually letting it plop back into the confines of the abused bowl. Slughorn scratched something else on the parchment in his hands and turned sympathetically to me with a soft expression. To my right I felt Riddle’s gaze boring into my face. I could sense the vast disappointment emanating from his glare and I had to force my attention on Slughorn to keep myself from glancing at his clenched fists.

As the students began to trickle from the classroom, I took my time in order to leave a comment with professor Slughorn about my performance for the day. I felt Riddle’s eyes on the back of my neck as he left the room and I was soon alone with Slughorn.

“I’m so sorry professor, I don’t know how the process could have slipped my mind.”

“The potion could have been botched by any student, but for next time I suggest you focus more on the ‘claims and cautions’ portion of the lessons, alright?”

I knew the words held little weight. It was a brew I should have mastered, and demonstrating my incompetence to the class was quite the blow to my psyche.

“Alright, thank you for the advice professor.” He nodded, and we exited the room together. Slughorn turned around, “I will see you next lesson--Oh, and Mr. Riddle, you as well.” Slughorn walked away and I turned around to see Riddle waiting outside the classroom, his eyes in shadow under his defined brows. “Why are you still--” but I was cut off, Riddle cornered me into the wall, glaring at me with piercing eyes. Startled, I felt hot under his gaze, my cheeks blushing bright pink, and my breathing faltered as I felt the pressure radiating from his eyes.  “No one spoils my reputation like that, do you hear me?” I nodded, looking at the floor. “Now, go study for the next demonstration.”

***

The next morning I was determined to memorize the next brew by heart, and I decided to get up early and visit the library before breakfast. The hazy purple dawn glowed through the beautiful gothic windows of the library, and streams of sparkling rays danced on the crimson-carpeted floor. There were rarely students in the library so early in the morning, and I was able to swiftly collect the edition of “Deadly Draughts and Elixirs” Slughorn no longer provided in his classroom. Swiping to the chapter on “Uses for Peppermint,” I pulled out my crisp parchment paper and began taking notes on Slughorn’s suggested reading.  

***

As students began to slowly appear at nearby study tables I quickly checked the clock, realizing I had completely skipped breakfast and charms was to start in 5 minutes. My heart racing, I quickly gathered my notes and my textbook, all but shoving them into my suddenly-very-small bookbag, and practically running out of the library. Professor Flitwick’s classroom being located on the third floor meant it took at least 7-8 minutes to reach--considering the staircases cooperated and no dreadfully slow first-years were infuriatingly placed in front of me at every turn. Practically sprinting, I exited the library’s massive entrance only to feel a sudden whoosh of air and a loud thud as I slammed into a tall firm body, and steaming hot tea splashed all over my chest. I let out a shriek of pain as the boiling liquid seared into my skin. I felt my eyes automatically welling with panicking tears--my breath coming out in shallow pants, and every nerve in my body tightened. The tears overcoming my stiff face and trickled down my hot cheeks, I pathetically glanced up to see who had collided with me. 

Tom Riddle stood before me, mouth gaping, aquamarine eyes timidly glowing with fear and confusion. Immediately thrusting his hand into my shirt, he pulled the stained fabric sticking to my skin toward himself, allowing for a brief moment of alleviated pain as the cool air filtered through my blouse. 

“I--” A single syllable escaped his lips before Madam Pince rushed from her desk to tend to my abrupt scream just moments before.

“What in Merlin’s name!” Pince cried out, gaping at my shell shocked expression, and noticing my frozen exterior she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, tightly gripping to my arm, and swinging me from the view of the boy who had spilled his morning tea into my tender skin. 

“We’re getting you to Poppy right this minute, Salazar!” The last part she whispered under her breath as she firmly guided me to the hospital wing where Pince exchanged my paralyzed body to Madam Pomfrey’s care. Submitting to the matron’s grasp, I realized I would be missing my charms lecture entirely. 

***

After the incident Madam Pomfrey guided me to a private bed where she told me to unbutton my top and drink a glass which she handed to me filled with a sloshing green liquid. She then applied a deep vermilion healing paste to my tender skin, her soft aged hands gently spread the cooling cream across my chest. Handing me a little black jar with the same red paste, she smiled gently.

“Apply this thickly every night, and whenever you feel the skin is unusually hot. Come back and see me in two days, alright dearie? If it starts to hurt badly you may most definitely see me sooner.”

I nodded, gently clutching the black jar in my hands as the paste slowly absorped into my skin revealing the red and irritated burn underneath.

“Now off to your next class.”

My bookbag hung heavy on my shoulder as I walked toward the exit of the hospital wing. I swung my bag in front of me to place the small black jar inside, and as I stepped outside I was met with the tall statuesque figure of Tom. His pristine uniform tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, his shoes sleek black leather, his tie lay cleanly against his fitted white top. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked down at me with his eyes, not his face, so I could see the underside of his chin and the base of his defined jaw.

“I’m sorry, what business do you have by the hospital wing?” I muttered, looking away from his penetrating gaze.

“I have been waiting for you.” Emotionless. Smooth. Thick like the paste Pomfrey spread across my chest.

“And what is it that I can help you with, Riddle?” My voice was stern, my eye darting to meet his, my tongue running along the inside of my lips to keep my voice from exposing my irritation.

“I would like to offer my assistance for Slughorn’s partnered test.”

“We’re not allowed to help one another during the test, you know this.”

“Not during, before.” He finally lowered his face finally, so there could be a line connecting the angles of our jaws.

“You want to study with me?” My eyes narrowed. Yesterday the boy harshly told me to study by myself in the hopes of preserving is already pristine reputation. 

“You need my help, and...” 

“And what.”

“And I may owe you a new blouse.” He said smoothly, gazing at my brown-stained top where his cup had collided below my collarbone and above my breasts. I realized the top button was unhinged, partially exposing my sensitive pink skin. Quickly buttoning the little ivory disk and returning the eye contact, we were silent for a moment, and he took a step closer to me. 

“You will accept my offer.” 

“No I will not.” My lips pursed, and I crossed my arms, his sea-green eyes flickered with defiance, his eyebrows slightly furrowing to my nonchalant response. 

“I don’t think you understand the situation.”

“I understand the situation perfectly, Riddle. I don’t need your assistance for the test. I... I have someone else.”

“You have someone else.” He repeated coldly.

“That’s correct, I have someone else helping me study, but thank you for such a kind offer.” A small patronizing smile fluttered across my features before I could stop myself, and in an instant, I felt my heart sink. I saw his expression flash with aggression in a blink of unrestraint before quickly resuming to his normal critical glare. It felt almost powerful to have effected such a narcissistic little--

“Very well then,” he turned his head to the side, revealing the muscular tendons in his pale neck, where almost translucent skin lay atop cool blue veins. “I look forward to your... performance.” He cocked a brow and swiftly turned around, briskly leaving me at the entrance of the hospital wing. 

***

I had been planning on seeking out the help of professor Slughorn since the disastrous malfunction of my brew on the first day of the test, but after confessing to Riddle of my non-existent study partner, I decided to make my way to the dungeons to ask for his help. Down the stone staircases, the air seemed to dramatically drop in temperature, and the damp chilled corridor made my still-wet shirt stick to my skin with icy closeness. Knocking on the stone doorway to the potions classroom I cleared my throat. 

“Excuse me professor?” 

“Ah yes? What can I do for you?” Slughorn removed his glasses after placing a small golden stem of some kind into a minuscule vial with a pair of tiny tweezers. He smiled and I approached his desk. 

“I was wondering if I could ask for help before the test tomorrow.” I let my eyes stray to the numerous bottles, jars, bowls, and flasks filled with colorful liquids of differing viscosity that scattered the table. 

He hummed briefly. “I’m afraid I cannot help with that, it would be unfair to the other students if I offered help before a test to only one group, don’t you think?” 

“That’s ok professor, I just thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.” 

“Of course. Well, if there’s nothing else you need, at the moment I’m in the middle of quite a time-sensitive brew--”

“I understand, I’ll see you Friday professor.”

 I stepped out of the classroom, greeted with that all-too-familiar figure I had come to expect outside of doorways.

“Do you follow me, Riddle?” I made no effort to catch his eye as I began to walk back to the Slytherin common room. The heels of my shoes clicked with the sway of my hips as the sound echoed through the stone walls of the dungeons.

 “I wanted to see who your previously mentioned partner would be.” A small smile creeped onto his crystalline features slowly and unnaturally as if the sculptor forming his marble face was forcing emotions onto his art-like exterior. 

“And you got what you wanted, did you?” 

“My offer still stands.” Stopping a moment, I turned to face him. The light from a yellowing lantern glowed out from behind his tall shoulders, creating a blurry halo contrasting with his all-black clothing. The light conformed to the grooves in his face, appearing to drip down his hollowed cheeks and peek from behind his muscular neck. His eyebrows raised in anticipation. I said nothing and stood still when his hand stretched out to grasp the handle of my bookbag, relieving my shoulders of the stress they carried. He silently guided me to the common room, whispering the password and stepping in together, my eyes were met with the familiar glow of the Black Lake glittering in from the skylights above. Still holding my bag, we crossed the near-empty common room to the diverging staircases leading to his dorms and mine. He began up the stairs, looking down at me from an even higher advantage point than his normal towering height. He beckoned me with his eyes to follow. 

I am not going with Tom Riddle to his room, now, am I?

My legs obeyed and he led me to his four-poster bed, curtains draped. With a wave of his wand the thick velvety fabric cinched, revealing his bed, perfectly made, textbooks and parchment sat carefully in the center. The room was considerably darker than the common room, which was illuminated by softly glowing emerald lamps and light refractions glinting from the water above us in the Black Lake. The only light from the room came from the slanted skylights leading to the depths of the Lake above, the room coated in a thick pale green haze. It was as if he had been smoking an intoxicating musk, smelling of fresh sea foam and teakwood. He beckoned me to sit on his bed, and unpacking the books inside, he placed them next to his own materials on the cushiony mattress. He pulled up a chair from his desk and told me to pull out my parchment as we would be taking notes. There was something about being so close to him, silently obeying his requests that seemed strange. I felt as if my mind had been blurred, masked, like perhaps the intoxicating aroma wasn’t really a smell but an aura of attachment, and in that moment there was nothing more I wanted to do than to follow his every word. 

“What aspect of the test frightens you the most?” His words seemed to spill from his lips like warm sap dripping from the rough bark of a tree, I felt myself sticking to it, caught in its sweet trap, inescapable and cruel. Deadly. 

“Perhaps the timing of when to stir after the specific steps--and also how much of each ingredient... and maybe the order of when to stir versus when to add?” I felt my face growing hot.

“You need help with the entire potion, then.” His voice was icy, hinting at superiority and criticism. 

“No, just those few parts.”

“You just described the art of potion making in its entirety.” A small half-smile slithered across his cold features. I said nothing, looking down at the spread of studying materials, feeling overwhelmed and perhaps a bit ashamed that I had gone completely against my conscience and followed the boy to his room and sat atop his bed and--

“Firstly, I’d like to give you this,” he pulled from his pocket a small red square of paper, placing it in my hand. “It’s enchanted to find me once you write on it. If ever you have a question or need anything, I’ll know.”

I stared at the unassuming gift in my hands, wordless.

“It can’t be used during the test, or that would be cheating.” He added slyly, and I let out a small puff of air in response.

“Thank you.”

“Well then, back to the business at hand. Is there somewhere you would prefer to start?” He resumed his unnaturally rigid gaze, and gripped the sides of his chair firmly, he lifted and pulled the chair closer to my position on his bed, which caused the muscles in his toned arms to twist and pull and expose the sapphire veins which coiled across them like serpents. Transfixed still on the tiny red paper, I didn’t answer. In my silence he reached out, and touched my chin, cupping my jaw slightly in his hand. He slowly pulled my face up to his view. 

“No getting distracted, do I make myself clear?” His lips barely moved, but I felt weak to my stomach. My eyes fluttered shut, and I pulled my face from his touch. 

“Don’t do that.” I focused my gaze on his nightstand, forcing my attention on his little reading lamp which had rusted embellishments of snakes resembling vines curling along the base of the lamp. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s distracting.” 

Silence. 

“Lets start with the ingredients.” 

I wordlessly nodded, fumbling with the books until I found the one I had begun to take notes on before I left the library this morning. I handed him my notes, which he gracefully pulled from my hand, and eyed quickly. 

1. Shrivelfig

2. Porcupine quills, (as many as needed)

3. Peppermint sprig

“Your first mistake was when you added the peppermint sprig too early. This step comes after you stir four times counter-clockwise,” he looked down at my notes again. “I see you corrected this by noting that the mixture usually must be prepped before the leaves are added, very good.” I forced back a smile. “The peppermint is quite important to this particular brew, can you tell me why?” Lowering the notes, he stared at my nervous expression. 

“They balance out the intense feelings of...” I stopped dead in my tracks. 

“Euphoria.” 

“...which are induced as the wizard drinks the potion.” I finished, my breathing was shaky, and I felt uncontrollably nervous as he slowly shifted in his seat, leaning closer to me, I felt his hot breath on my neck as he silently exhaled. 

Pulling away from his intimate stance, I stepped off the bed. 

“Tom, I don’t think...” He mimicked my movements, also standing from the chair, his bed now lying between us, he put his knee and hands on the bed, and looked up at me from his lowered position. 

“What is the matter?” 

“I shouldn’t be here...” I walked backwards, finding the door with my hands, and hurriedly making my way down the stairs, completely ignoring all my books still on his bed as I rushed through the common room and out into the cool dungeons outside. My heart beat a thousand times a minute, and my breathing was coarse and shaky, I stood with my back to the icy dungeon wall, my hands traveled to my chest in an attempt to force my erratic breathing to slow. Feeling the hot flesh below my touch, the slight pain flowing back into my consciousness, I remembered I needed to apply my burn cream. Realizing I had utterly missed supper, I decided it would be best to have Madam Pomfrey take a look at my skin.

***

There was no chance I would be back in the common room tonight after what had just happened. I thought, as I swiftly walked up the dungeon staircase to the main floor where I would find the hospital wing of the castle. Following supper, the castle was quiet. Most students had gone up to their house’s tower or down to the dungeons if you belonged to Slytherin or Hufflepuff. The corridors were nearly silent except for a few students quietly walking up the grand staircase or whispering respectfully due to the general understanding that students shouldn’t loiter in the corridors approaching curfew. Still, I silently walked to the hospital wing, hoping Pomfrey would allow me to rest there for the night if there was room for me. Nearing the door, I caught her eye, and she motioned for me to come into the room. To my relief, the lines of beds flanking the central walkway were nearly empty, and Pomfrey led me to a private bed toward the back where a privacy guard had been placed to shelter the injured student.

“How are you healing dear?” She smiled softly and my hand went to feel the hot skin, causing me to squint with a twinge of pain.

“Still painful I see...” her eyes wandered, looking at the floor near me, and suddenly it occurred to me what she was looking for

“My bag! I completely forgot to bring it!” My hand flew to my face, a wave of worry overcame me as I wondered if I would need to go back to his room to get my jar.

Madam Pomfrey’s expression was calm, and as the soft clicking of footsteps drew nearer, the both of us averted our eyes to the figure who approached the guarded stall.

Tom stood at the foot of my bed, and smiled weakly as he pulled the familiar black jar from his pocket. His sea-green eyes glittered faintly in the dimness of the hospital wing. 

“I thought you might need this.” He handed me the jar, and underneath the glass bottom I felt something soft and crisp, looking down I saw the little red paper fall from the jar and into my lap, slipping it into the pocket of my uniform, our eyes connected and he opened his mouth as if to inquire something, but ultimately made no sound and exited the hospital wing. I was now alone with the matron, who noted at how lucky I was to have such an intuitive friend as she watched me apply the paste, critiquing my techniques, and explaining I should always go thicker if I’d like to be safe. 

“Do you plan on making your way back to the dormitories or were you planning on spending the night here since it’s already...” she checked the clock “Well it’s already 10:10, but if you’d like to hurry back to your dorm I can inform Mr. Filch you’ll be--”

“If you don’t mind Miss, I’d like to stay here if that’s okay.” 

“That’s certainly fine with me. I’ll be out, but if there’s anything you need, just ring and I’ll be back as quickly as possible. Sleep well, dear.” I watched her figure leave the hospital wing, and the dim lights overhead faded off, leaving only the faint glow of the moon filtering through the windows above the beds to shine geometrical patterns on the stone floor. I removed my shoes and socks, resting them at the foot of my bed, and undid my hair, feeling it coil around my shoulders. I placed the red parchment on the stand next to my bed, and slid my legs under the covers of the blankets. 

***

As I lied curled up, I watched the minutes pass, my body far from sleep. 10:40, 11:15, 11:50... My eyes were wide open, gazing at the ceiling far above me. No one stirred in the hospital wing, and hidden away at the back of the linear room behind the stiff curtain, I sat up, turning my eyes to that small paper Riddle gave me a few hours earlier. Playing with the soft red paper I felt the curiosity bubbling up inside me. I searched for a writing utensil and scratched a quick message neatly into the paper. As I finished the paper thrust itself from my hands and fluttered through the hospital wing like a butterfly, and out the door it went. Now my excitement was nearing the brim as I sat awaiting a response. 

15 minutes no answer. 

Could he be asleep? I thought as I pulled my legs up to an angle, causing my blankets to tent with the movement. 

15 more minutes. 

I began to assume he had gone to sleep for the night, and just as I lowered my legs and began to relax my position I heard the faintest sound of someone walking the corridors outside the open door to the hospital wing. My eyes flew open and I felt my heat pounding in my chest. 

Was he coming in person?! 

The steps became slightly louder, but still effortlessly soft and steady. Soon a shadowy figure met me at the foot of my bed. Stepping into the light, I felt my heart nearly throwing itself from my chest. The soft light of the moon that filtered through the windows above my bed seemed to veil him with its glow. His composure resembled that of a statue of an angel covered with ivy and carved from sparkling ivory that would sit untouched in an overgrown garden. It was delicate and somehow firm. 

“You’re lucky I am a prefect.” His whisper was barely audible, and as he again stepped closer to my bed he found his way to the chair next to me, and I could more clearly see his still pristine uniform was on, almost as if he had gotten ready to see me. I said nothing, and my eyes could not leave his face. 

“Is your skin feeling any better?” His words were soft and silky, and as he neared my seated position on my bed I realized we had unconsciously copied our exact position when I rushed from his room. “I realize I never apologized for spilling on you... that must have been very painful. I’m sorry.” 

“It still hurts...” I didn’t mean it as a way to force guilt into him, I just felt so strange by our hushed and intimate conversation I didn’t know what else to say to him. 

“May I help you with it?” Reaching for the black jar I did nothing to stop him, my mind swirled with anticipation and emotion. He delicately unscrewed the cap, his long fingers clutching the jar harshly, and the whites of his knuckles stood like snow-peaked mountaintops on his smooth pale hands. 

“Unbutton your blouse.” He softly commanded, and slowly my hands undid the highest three buttons of my top, fully exposing the reddened flesh below my collarbone. He was unexplainably addictive and enticing, and there was no natural reasoning behind the complete trust my body freely gave him. Dipping two fingers deep within the jar, and pulling them out, they were covered in the thick red paste. In a moment of searing eye contact he carefully placed his fingers onto my hot, waiting skin. I let out a soft wince as a spread the mixture across the affected area, a few times submerging back in for more of the wet cream. It was calming and yet exciting to feel him touch me so carefully and full of purpose. 

“Your heart is beating so quickly,” he whispered. “Are you nervous?” 

“Can I ask you something?” I attempted to dodge his question, but to no avail.

“Answer me first.” 

“Yes, very.” 

“Go ahead. What did you want to ask me?” I noticed the ghost of a smirk flash across his lips. 

“Why did you pull my blouse from my skin when the tea spilled onto me?” I watched his eyes stray and I felt like I could almost see him retracing his steps and accessing the memory. 

“I learned if someone has been exposed to a poison spill or a hot liquid the best thing to do is remove the item that the spill happened on. Fabric retains liquid by soaking it up, which would just allow the toxin to sit on your skin...” He caught my eyes. “But since I could not remove your blouse, it seemed the next best thing to get it away from your skin in any other way possible.” I nodded slowly, realizing that his quick thinking saved me from a potentially worse burn. “I learned it from personal experience,” he looked away.

“Someone burned you?” 

“No, I spilled a corrosive potion on myself a few years back.” I let out a muffled laugh. 

“Then what did you do? take your top off?” 

“Is that what you’re thinking about?” 

“No! just that you could have done something wrong in potions class...” I let slip a shy smile. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me.” A tiny but genuine smile danced on his face for a moment, before he returned his hands to my chest, carefully spreading the soft cream and blowing cool air to speed its absorption. The breath made a small chill run down my spine, and turning my eyes back on his face, I couldn’t help but fixing my gaze on his red lips. Red like my simmering potion, red like his crisp parchment square, and red like the paste he gently danced across my tender, red hot skin. 

tags: @tmr-simp-pride​

[shera-dnd]

Cupid’s Kiss

Took me way longer than expected curse the whims of my mental health but the winner of this month’s 3k fic poll is finally here!

In which Carmen and Julia have a lovely totally not date in Paris while in search for two thieves who are certainly also not having a date

if you’d like a chance to get your fic ideas written by me, or just want to support me, you can feel free to donate to my ko-fi (rules over here)

and here is the ao3 link if you’d rather read it over there

also this fic was brought to you thanks to the help of @cantdrawshaw

NOW ON WITH THE FIC

Carmen Sandiego was the best at her job. She had bested trained assassins and killer robots, evaded the world’s most advanced detective agency, and destroyed the largest criminal organization. All in her early twenties.

Yet there was one task she was not prepared to face. One that escaped her skills, both martial and technical. One that she had failed to plan around. One that existed entirely beyond the range of her skills. A foe that she could not beat.

“Come on, Carm,” Zack called, “it can’t be that hard. If even Ivy could score with the girls, you can do it too.”

“Even Ivy?!” His sister replied, furious, “I’ve been with more girls than you, jackass.”

“Guys, guys!” Carmen interrupted, “you’re not helping.”

Mentioning her interest in spending more time with Julia Argent had been the biggest mistake she had made in weeks. This was supposed to be a peaceful day at their old home base, but now here she was.

Her friends were trying so hard to help her and she couldn’t even be mad at how poorly they were doing, because she knew she wouldn’t fare much better were the roles reversed.

“Sorry,” the siblings replied in unison.

“I appreciate the support,” she assured them, “but I’m not trying to ‘score’ with anyone. I just wanna get to know Jules a little better.”

“So this is not a date?” Ivy asked.

“No!” She replied, a little too quickly, “me and Jules aren’t like that. She’s more of a… professional acquaintance. A coworker.”

“Carm,” Zack replied, “we’re coworkers and you’ve never had a bouquet of roses delivered to my door.”

“It was just a thank you for handling all those precious artifacts for me,” she explained, “she’s a hard worker, she deserved it.”

“Sure,” Ivy nodded, unconvinced, “is that why you take time to chat over coffee with her every other caper?”

“Not every moment of our lives has to be a chase, you know?” she countered.

“Or why you keep finding excuses to dance with her?”

“It’s the easiest way to speak privately at those parties without garnering unwanted attention,” she recited as if from a textbook.

“Or why-”

“Cease this!” Shadowsan’s stern voice commanded and the siblings fell silent, “VILE has trained her to never cave under interrogation. You’ll have a better chance extracting information from a rock.”

Carmen smirked at them, proud to have her skills of deflection recognized.

“Do not be so full of yourself,” he added, making Carmen flinch just a bit, “I have taught those lessons for years and I know how to see through them.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she deflected, looking away.

He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I have seen the happiness Miss Argent brings you,” he said, “and I wish you the best of luck should you wish to pursue it.”

That meant a lot to Carmen. More than she could really express in words. But after she had been so thoroughly embarrassed by her friends, all she could really say was,

“Not you too.”

She looked up at the smirking siblings and braced herself...

“Hey, Red,” Player’s voice called, just in the nick of time.

“Player!” She jumped to attention and grabbed the laptop from their desk.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, “everything okay, Red?”

Zack and Ivy snickered as they sat by each side of her, so they could see Player.

“I think Carm would rather you sent her on a crazy chase instead of sitting here talking about her crush on Jules,” Ivy teased.

“Well it looks like you might get to do both,” Player replied, to Carmen’s dismay, “look who our cameras just found walking around Paris.”

The screen cut to a video feed of one of ACME’s hidden cameras over the streets of Paris. None of the people on camera seemed particularly conspicuous… until a particular pair walked on screen. Even without their costumes Carmen could always recognize them.

“Tigress and Paper Star,” she noted, “those two can’t be up to any good.”

“Looks like we’ll be going to Paris, eh Carm?” Ivy commented as she playfully nudged her side.

“City of love,” Zack added as he joined the nudging.

Carmen groaned. This was gonna be a rough mission.

Chase had grown a lot over the past few months. His deductive reasoning had vastly improved, his mood was far more amenable, and he actually stopped to listen to Julia nowadays. What hadn’t really improved with time was his overall clumsiness. 

“Miss Argent, I’ll be fine,” his insistence was interrupted by a powerful sneeze, “This is nothing.”

“Agent Devineaux, please,” she pleaded, “you’re in no state to continue this investigation.”

Devineaux had landed himself into his fair share of rivers over the months he had worked for ACME, and it seemed that so many cold baths had finally caught up to his health. Not that he would ever admit to that.

“Nonsense,” he claimed, “I’ll be back in perfect shape by the time we land in Paris.”

The sneeze that followed said otherwise.

“Chase, please,” she asked again, “rest. I can handle this.”

“I refuse to send my partner on a mission by herself.”

“As sweet as your concern is,” she countered, “I doubt I’ll be by myself for long.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure La Femme Rouge will make for good company,” he agreed and she was glad he did, but it sounded like there was more to his words. “Were you anyone else I’d worry this was all a ploy to have some private time with Miss Sandiego.”

She shot him an unamused glare.

“Apologies,” he said almost immediately.

“Accepted,” she sighed, “but I do not appreciate any insinuations as to the nature of me and Miss Sandiego’s relationship. We’re good friends, nothing more.”

“Of course,” he nodded, but Julia could tell he had more to say.

Truly his detective skills have improved considerably as of late. It had become harder and harder for Julia to pass her excitement for those missions as simple passion for her work. Not when she had abandoned that work as soon as it conflicted with her passion for… something else.

Chase was her friend and she knew he’d understand her feelings for Carmen. She was also sure he’d do his best to keep it a secret until she was confident enough to bring these things to light. She trusted him and she didn’t fear anything of the sorts.

What she did fear was Chase trying to wingman for her. Just the thought was enough to fill her with dread. Enough dread to keep her mouth shut about her feelings in the vicinity of Agent Devineaux. Even if it felt bad to hide this from her friend.

Thankfully the Chief chose that exact moment to call her to give her updated information on their targets. 

Now she could just shut off all these awkward feelings and focus on her work.

The Louvre had been an obvious target. The world’s most famous museum, home to thousands of priceless works of art, including the Mona Lisa itself. It was so obvious in fact that VILE had never bothered to consider it.

But VILE was gone now and its escaped students no longer had any faculty to dissuade them from this target.

That’s why Carmen now walked its halls, diligently searching for any security flaws that could be exploited and any sign of the two master thieves on the loose.

She still took time to appreciate the art of course. This was the most famous museum in the world for a reason and she wasn’t gonna let this unique opportunity escape her, even with the evil duo to watch for.

Carmen had her attention split in every possible direction, her mind juggling its many tasks as she wandered hall after hall. Until, that is, she found something that pulled her focus into one singular point.

A shorter woman in a nice fitted suit, standing before one of the statues.

“Jules,” she greeted as she walked up behind her.

“Miss Sandiego,” Julia smiled as she greeted her, utterly unsurprised. She must have been expecting her, “it’s nice to see you here.”

“It’s nice seeing you too,” she replied, “and we went over this before, Carmen is just fine.”

“Carmen,” she said, in a way that warmed Carmen’s heart, “I take it you’ve been enjoying your time in Paris.”

“Hard to go sightseeing while I’ve got work to do, but I’m making do,” she shrugged, “how about you? What caught your attention today?”

Julia turned back to the statue she had been appreciating until then, “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.”

Carmen smirked, it was her time to shine.

“Sculpted by Antonio Canova, commissioned by welsh art-collector John Campbell in 1787,” she recited from memory, “its prime version was acquired by the Louvre in 1824 after the death of its previous owner, Joachim Murat.”

“Very impressive,” Julia praised, “I wish my students put half as much time as you do into their research.”

“I’m just good at memorizing trivia,” Carmen shrugged, trying to hide her pride at earning that praise, “I’m sure you know so much more than me on the subject.”

Boy was Carmen right about that. That seemed to have been the cue to send Julia into a long lecture about the neoclassical and romantic periods, as well as an analysis of the sculpture’s mythological origins and the many interpretations of the myth.

Many people would probably find this amount of information unspeakably tedious. But for Carmen, who was always hungry to learn about the world around her (and could never get tired of Jules speaking so enthusiastically,) it was exciting and endearing.

Carmen had realized then that she wanted nothing more than to spend her every waking hour listening to Julia talk on and on about anything she wanted, as long as it was passionate like this. Maybe someday soon.

Right now they had the whole rest of the Louvre to scout.

“Alright, alright, victory is yours,” Carmen playfully interrupted, “I guess you really are the biggest history nerd here.”

“Oh I’m sorry, it seems I got a bit carried away,” Julia cringed in shame. Damn it Sandiego! “I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“You couldn’t bore me if you tried,” Carmen assured her as she placed a hand on her arm, “I mean it. It’s nice hearing you talk.”

“Unfortunately I no longer teach,” she replied, “otherwise I would have given you an open invitation to any of my classes.”

“Well, how about you show me around the place?” she suggested, “we can call this a private lesson.”

At that Julia smiled again, “then I hope your memory is as good as you say it is, Carmen Sandiego, because I’ll be quizzing you at the end of the tour.”

They both laughed as Julia led them along to the next art piece in what was clearly a meticulously planned tour of the museum. Jules kept her teacher face on for all of her little lectures, but as they walked from room to room it felt so simple and casual.

For once Carmen felt like there was no rush and that she could just enjoy her time with someone she cared about. Maybe that was the moment. Her chance to make something out of this and let Julia know how she felt.

“Hey, Jules,” she called, walking a little closer to her.

“Yes?” Julia turned to look at her, she seemed surprised by the sudden closeness, but did not move away from her.

Carmen decided to take that as a good sign.

“This has been really nice, you know?” she tried, her usual confidence failing her, “just spending time with you like this.”

“I guess it was,” she replied with- Wait, was that a blush? No, that had to be wishful thinking.

“Yeah,” she agreed, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, “and I just feel like-”

It was then that she was rudely reminded of what she was here to do.

“-you have got to be kidding me!”

“What?” Julia jumped a little in surprise.

“5 o’clock, behind you,” Carmen instructed.

She turned to look and there they were. Tall, blonde and scheming, and short, monochromatic and homicidal. The two thieves they were here to catch. Two thieves that had also noticed them.

They both smirked at them for a moment, before Paper Star whispered something into Tigress’s ear and they both bolted in separate directions.

“I go for Tigress, you go for Paper Star,” Carmen ordered as she bolted after her target.

Tigress was the fastest of the two, and the one most likely to pull dirty tricks on them. Unfortunately for her, Carmen was well-versed in all of those tricks, and of course had all her equipment on her. It’s amazing how much she could hide in just a red hoodie.

Soon Tigress had led the both of them out of the main building, ready to make a run for it and disappear into the city. Her mistake though, was going somewhere Carmen could use her grappling hook without worrying about damaging priceless works of art.

She swung after her, quickly closing the distance and knocking her down with a kick to the stomach. Tigress groaned as she forced herself back up, but instead of running again or getting ready to fight Carmen, she simply shouted.

“Come on!”

“Done running around?” Carmen taunted.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” she replied. Well that was unusual, “did you girlfriend catch Paper Star already?”

“What!?” She nearly jumped in surprise, “She’s not- we’re not- that doesn’t matter! You’re going to jail, for good this time.”

“For what?” she replied.

“Trying to steal from the Louvre!”

“Ah yes, because that’s the only reason we’d be enjoying some time together in the city of love,” she mocked and rolled her eyes.

Was she implying what she thought she was implying?

“Aww, babe,” a voice above them called. Paper Star leaned out of a nearby window and openly teased her partner in crime.

Babe?

“She caught you already?” she continued

Tigress groaned again, “not my fault you got easy mode.”

Paper Star jumped down and casually hooked her arms around Tigress’s neck.

“Well I’ve won,” she declared, “now where’s my prize?”

The last thing Carmen expected was for the two of them to kiss right there in front of her, and yet that was exactly what they did.

“I did not need to see that!” She complained.

“You were the one who interrupted our date!” Tigress complained back.

“Do you seriously want me to believe that you two were just spending the evening together in the Louvre as a date?”

“Was that not what you and your little agent were doing too?” Paper Star teased.

Carmen’s reflex was to say no, but… was that what they were doing? They had been walking around, sightseeing, talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company and- oh god Carmen almost confessed to her back there. 

This was her chance to have a proper date with Jules and it got ruined right at the finish line because of a mission that didn’t even exist in the first place!

She would have time to figure all of this out later, right now she had a job to do and two smug assholes to put in their place. Thankfully she already knew just how to do that.

“You’re right, it was very rude of me to interrupt your romantic evening,” Carmen raised her hands in surrender and backed away, “how about you two get back to what you were doing and I can arrest you both tomorrow?”

“What?” Tigress challenged, “no romantic chase over the rooftops of Paris?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend would love that,” Paper Star added.

“Actually I think Julia would rather just have you behind bars,” she shrugged.

Right on cue the ACME’s blue sleep gas finally reached the both of them, making them both drop on the spot. It was kinda cute how they were put to sleep still holding each other. Carmen almost felt bad for arresting them. Almost.

She pulled her grappling hook again and launched herself through the open window above, landing right next to a very proud Julia Argent.

“Two for one,” Carmen praised, “at this rate, pretty soon you won’t be needing my help anymore.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I had my partner down there to keep them in place,” Julia replied playfully. Carmen’s heart skipped a beat at the word ‘partner’, even though she knew she meant it as coworkers.

“Always happy to play distraction for you, Jules,” she played along.

Taking another step forward, Carmen felt her sense of balance completely leave her as she accidentally inhaled some sleep gas fumes. 

She tumbled forward, but before she hit the ground she felt Julia’s arms holding her up. It took her a second to shake away the effects of the gas, and another second to process the position they were in. How Julia was holding her like she had just dipped her in a dance.

For a moment they froze, staring into each other’s eyes as they held onto each other, until finally Julia helped her up again.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Julia apologized as she tried to fix up Carmen’s scuffed clothes.

“It’s fine,” Carmen assured her, “I should’ve been more careful around the sleep gas.”

Still Julia fussed over her, readjusting Carmen’s hoodie as she muttered a few more apologies. It took her a moment to notice just how close they were both standing now. The realization made her jump back a bit on reflex, but still she remained considerably close to Carmen.

She took a moment to collect herself before finally asking, “so uh- you had something you wanted to tell me?”

Carmen sighed in relief. Good to know those two hadn’t completely destroyed her chances.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed our time together today,” she admitted, “before we got interrupted that is.”

Julia gave her a genuine smile that made her heart stop, “I enjoyed our time too. It’s nice to be able to talk about these things outside of work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling her confidence return bit by bit, “wanna do that again sometime? Maybe over some coffee.”

Jules seemed surprised at first as she caught on to what Carmen meant, but that expression was quickly replaced by a playful smile.

“Carmen Sandiego,” she called, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Nothing escapes ACME’s best detective,” she joked, “I guess I am.”

“Then I’ll have to ask you to wait a little for my answer,” she asked.

Carmen opened her mouth to say that she was more than fine with waiting however long she needed, but she was frozen mid motion when Julia’s lips met her own. A quick, sweet little peck. 

“I want to finish our first before we plan the second.”

[indiavolowetrust]

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS YANDERES: GAKUEN EDITION

**thank u @sl33pymimikyu and @thelazystrawberryboi for the ideas! es para todos ustedes

You are accepted into a particularly exclusive, prestigious school. As you are of low class, it is an acceptance based purely on merit. A fact that some of your wealthier classmates use to bully you. Due to your lonely upbringing – your parents and close relatives died when you were young – you find yourself determined to make friends, pass with honors, and prove yourself.

Unfortunately, you just so happen to draw the wrong kind of attention.

Word Count: 3,369

TW: Blood, Violence, Mention of Sexual Harassment, Yandere

PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO / TRIGGERED BY THESE TOPICS. I HAVE TAGGED AND INCLUDED TRIGGER WARNINGS.

BELPHEGOR

You can’t remember the last time you’ve managed to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. Time passes by in a sleep-addled haze, given your penchant for afternoon naps and sleeping in, and each day is a struggle to focus on your classes. Belphie tells you that you should see a professional for your narcolepsy, that he can pay for the best medical treatment, but you won’t hear it. You’re not even sure if it is narcolepsy, considering its strange, sudden onset. You’ve tried time and time again to cure your condition. Pills, alarms, strict sleeping schedules – you’ve tried them all, to no avail.

Thankfully, you have Belphie at your side. At his behest, you’ve taken residence in one of his guest bedrooms for the time being. A precautionary measure to watch your condition. Without his generosity, you’re not sure if you’d have the ability to keep your scholarship.

You struggle to read the textbook in front of you. The words go in and out of focus, making you dizzy, and you grip the edge of the desk to stop yourself from falling over. It only works for so long. One wrong movement, and you feel your body tumble out of the chair and towards the ground.

Much to your surprise, Belphie catches you before you can crash into the floor. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“You shouldn’t be so careless,” Belphie chides, firmly placing you back in your seat. You mumble a quiet thank you, trying to hold him in your wavering vision, but he merely waves off your gesture of gratitude. “Coffee’s by your book. If you want more, just tell me.”

The coffee mug is warm in your hands. Freshly brewed, homemade, and steaming, with the coffee beans roasted to a deep flavor. Belphie insists on making cups of coffee for you day and night, which you greatly appreciate. Honestly, you’re not sure if you would even be able to stay awake without the extra caffeine.

LUCIFER

You’re sure that this is a direct violation of school policy. One involving sexual harassment, specifically. Lucifer, your biology professor, is close enough that you can feel his breath tickling the nape of your neck. His skin radiates warmth, even through the fabric of his dress shirt, and the darkness of the classroom shrouds his expression from you. The result of a random and unexpected blackout during your tutoring session. While the contact isn’t exactly unwelcome – Lucifer is very, very attractive, after all – you’re not certain that you’re comfortable with the current situation. Especially when he hasn’t made any indication of –

“There’s something dirty on your uniform,” your professor says, pulling the aforementioned object off your shoulder. You blink. “I see that blackouts are a bit too nerve-wracking for you.”

Oh.

He sighs. “I thought you heard me tell you that.”

You didn’t, but he could have just repeated himself. It’s not like you don’t have the ability to straighten your uniform. The blackout does have you a little on edge, besides – it would have been better if you had done it yourself.

The conversation for the rest of your tutoring session plays out nearly as you had expected. There is pride in having a perfectly clean, composed school uniform, he states, and it is imperative that all students learn the importance of appearance in the workplace. All impurities must be cleansed. Removed totally from one’s person and the surroundings. That is a major part of the school’s creed, after all. It would do no good not to follow it.

You wish you had listened that day. You wish that you had noticed the hunger in his gaze at the time.

Yet you would only realize the importance in his words months later. Your hands handcuffed to a pipe, the light flickering above in the sterile laboratory, and that hungry gaze branded on Lucifer’s features. The classmate that had dared to kiss and touch you without your permission had been strapped to the table.

You hadn’t bothered to listen to him the first time. If this lecture in biology isn’t enough, Lucifer says, then he’s not sure how else he can explain it to you.

MAMMON

He did give you a chance, he explains. Countless chances. If you had just agreed to be his the first time, you wouldn’t have forced his hand. If you had just allowed him to be greedy with your time, he wouldn’t have had to pay off his hitmen. If you had just given him everything of yourself – your time, your touch, your smile – then he wouldn’t have felt compelled to do what he did. So it is your fault that all your friends are dead, really. It is your fault that you have no one else but him now, if you can even consider it that.

Which you don’t, of course. You had glared at him from the golden bars of your cage as he had gone on and on in his spiel, adjusting your position in your shackles, and then you had spat on him when he dared to come close. While he had effectively monopolized your time, he would never have your heart. He would never truly have all of you, no matter how much he tried. No amount of money could buy it. You had called him a monster, a demon, a complete fucking bastard – anything and everything that you could think of. You had told him that nothing he could do would ever win you over. Your demands on being freed from your prison had fallen on deaf ears.

Even now, with a knife to your throat and his body pressed too close to yours, you don’t regret that decision.

“If I finally stop fucking around and take ya for myself, would ya hate me?” Mammon draws out, testing the blade against the delicate skin of your neck. You force yourself to stay still as blood begins to trail down the edge. “’Course ya would. But I’m nicer than that, so I think I’ll go ahead and explain again. Just for good measure.”

You gasp as you are driven higher up the golden bars of the cage, the cold metal digging uncomfortably into your back. Still, you fail to relent. Your glare is just as intense as ever, focused on Mammon, and Mammon responds in kind. The cocky smile that makes itself known on his features does nothing but irritate you, as is the sickening knowledge that you have little control over the situation. Your escape attempts have only angered Mammon further.

“I’d carve yer tongue out first, ya know,” he reassures you. “I’d carve yer heart out and take it for myself before ya gave it to anyone else. If ya think you can pull a fast one on me – well, ya got another thing comin’.”

LEVIATHAN

Each drop that falls from the shower head is a needle against your back. Piercing, biting, and numbing in the most unpleasant manner possible. Worst of all, it is a sensation that has forced you into a violent awakening, as if your mind had been clouded by some unknown entity. Denial, contradiction, some sort of psychological defense mechanism – regardless of whatever the name is, it is one that has been ripped away from your consciousness. And so you find yourself curling into fetal position on the floor of Levi’s shower, attempting to drive away the thoughts that threaten your already fragile psyche. Needle-like drops bury themselves into your skin, the tiled floor of the Levi’s exorbitant bathroom has rendered your fingers numb, and your wet hair plasters itself against the nape of your neck.

You should have known. Perhaps there was some part of you that was aware of Levi’s atrocities, quietly connecting the murders and disappearances to his obsessive adoration for you. Perhaps some part of you had known all along, and you had chosen to ignore it.

“Do you need help in there?” Levi’s voice calls beyond the door. You flinch. “You didn’t fall or anything, did you?”

Your mouth is dry when you open it to speak. The words are silent.

The cases were too clean to be anything but planned. You’re painfully aware of that now. The fact that they were all romantic rivals of some sort hadn’t been a coincidence. They hadn’t drowned on their own, either. Something had pulled them under, deep into the black waters and underwater caves, and they had little choice but to do so. Nitrogen narcosis and hypoxia could only occur so many times. Someone with a knowledge of the underwater cave systems near your school had known of its dangers and lured the victims there.

Who was more suited to do that than the captain of the swim team? It is an answer that is almost too obvious – as well as one that he had skillfully manipulated to hide himself in plain sight.

A knock at the door. It swings open. You can’t bring yourself to move.

Levi tuts as he gathers you up in a towel, doing his best to pat you dry. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he says, sighing. “Still, if you were too tired to shower without falling over, you should’ve told me. We’re friends, right? You can ask me to do anything.”

You hadn’t asked him to drown every one of his romantic rivals, but you keep that to yourself. Instead, you mumble something that you hope sounds like agreement.

Even as Levi works to dress you in your catatonic state, you think of the last expression you had seen on your date’s face. A mixture of surprise and bewilderment. You had noticed the familiar glove of the hand that had pulled him under, and the revelation had shocked you into complete and utter stillness for a few moments. Then you were desperately swimming upwards, your panic forcing you to use too much of your oxygen. You’re not sure if Levi dragged your date into a false chimney. You’re not even sure how Levi got you out of the water and to his family’s manor.

Regardless, you’ve been unconscious for nearly a day, your date’s body hasn’t resurfaced, and you’re now trapped in the same room as a murderer.

SATAN

While you haven’t sustained a concussion, you’ve awoken with more injuries than you would like. Which is just as well, considering what you’ve been through. One of your many harassers had saw it fit to throw you from a  story balcony – payment for your uppity nature, he had said – and you had been powerless to fend him and his friends off. Your books had gone off the railing first, your papers fluttering to the ground. Next was your bag itself, your pens and pencils, and the calculator you had saved up to buy. You had flinched at the sounds of your belongings cracking and scattering against the concrete below.

And then it was your turn.

You remember screaming. Begging for your life. Despite your pleas – you wouldn’t score as high next time, you hadn’t cheated, this could very well kill you – they had decided to toss you off the balcony.

The crack of your own bones was sickening. You had fractured your femur, broken one of your arms, and earned more than a few lacerations and bruises from the impact – but you had lived. Satan had managed to find you mere seconds after you had fallen, he had explained. A fortunate coincidence. As the heir of a healthcare corporation, it had been no trouble to call an ambulance and have you treated for your injuries. He and his family could waive the fees for your treatment, of course. It was the least he could do as a friend.

Yet you have a nagging feeling that something is wrong. Something off about his story. You were dragged out of your dorm at night and taken to a secluded part of campus that night, you remember. How had he known you would be there? How had he found you in such a short amount of time? And the perpetrators had mentioned something about being paid off, too. If you didn’t know any better, then you would think that –

The door to your hospital room slides open.

“How are you feeling?” Satan asks, a worried expression on his face. He crosses the room with quick, long strides and places a tray of food by your bed. Curried vegetables, white rice, and a hot cup of tea. “I know it’s not the best, but I hope it’s to your liking. I had you put in a more private wing, too – I figured you’d want some space.”

He shouldn’t feel obligated to apologize for hospital food of all things, you tell him. A pang of guilt strikes you. How could you think so badly of one of your only friends? You’re grateful that he was there.

Satan smiles. “Well, that’s good to hear,” he says. “My family owns this hospital, so feel free to stay here for as long as you like. I’ll inform the school later.”

You offer him a grateful smile, thanking him. He responds in kind.

Why would Satan pay someone to throw you off a balcony? The idea itself is completely ridiculous. Maybe you should get yourself checked for a concussion. Satan – your bookish, glasses-wearing, and studious friend – is about as dangerous as a newborn kitten.

ASMODEUS

It was, admittedly, a slow process. Anyone that had ever dared to harass and bully you had disappeared for a variety of reasons. Inexplicable ailments that sent them to the hospital. Drug overdoses that turned out to be fatal. Air embolisms for a variety of reasons, despite the youth and health of the victim. Calling cards that sent them to schools overseas. Freak accidents regarding pharmaceuticals. Mix-ups in medication.

Yet you ignored the strange occurrences. You sorely regret that decision.

Asmodeus twirls a ring of keys on one of his fingers, offering you that familiar, teasing wink. Given that you’ve been locked in this lavish room for days, however, it has an entirely new meaning now. He steps towards you with deliberation, his heeled boots clicking lightly against the marble floor, and you swallow audibly. He’s trying to intimidate you. He’s only trying to scare you. Asmodeus hasn’t raised a finger to you once since your capture, so you can at least have faith in that. Other than the drugged tea he had given you – a measure to render you unconscious and drag you in here – he hasn’t done anything else untoward.

“You’re really cute, you know,” he teases. “All that planning and scheming and plotting. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I thought you knew me better than that.”

You won’t say anything to anyone, you tell him. If he lets you out of here, you won’t tell anyone what he did. It would be disastrous if his family were to find out that he was using their pharmaceutical company for such purposes, wouldn’t it? While you don’t understand why he’s killed so many people, you promise you’ll –

Asmodeus stops for a moment, thinking. The keys are just an arm’s reach away. If you can just bolt off the bed fast enough and knock him out, you’ll have them. You’re fairly sure that you can overpower your waifish former friend.

“Really?” Asmodeus pouts. “You promise?”

You promise. You open your arms to give him a hug, urging him closer. You two are friends, right?

A moment passes. The tension between the both of you is thick and palpable, as is the silence.

And then Asmodeus is flying into your arms. You find yourself relaxing for a brief second as he sinks into your embrace, holding you close in that familiar way, and you let your guard down. This is the person who so valiantly defended you from harassment during the first few weeks in school. This is the person that helped you clean up your locker after class, emptied the tacks out of your shoes, and wiped off the derogatory scribbles on your desk. This is the person that had bothered to introduce himself on the first day of school, regardless of your status. If this hadn’t happened – if he hadn’t drugged and imprisoned you here – you would have considered him an infallible friend. Now, if you could just shove him to the –

Pain shoots from your shoulder. You turn to see a bright syringe sinking into the skin of your shoulder, the liquid forcing its way into your body. Asmodeus offers you a smile as you sink to the floor. Cradles you as your body goes slack. You mouth wordless questions at him.

“You idiot. You didn’t think I was that dumb, did you?” Asmodeus draws the now empty syringe from your shoulder. He sighs. “I thought you’d have figured it out by now, but I guess you’re still as dense as ever. Guess you’ll need some more reinforcement.”

Your vision blurs. A lock of hair is brushed away from your face and tucked behind your ear. Your limbs are unbearably heavy, your body refusing to listen to you, and your eyelids follow suit.

“It’s okay, though,” he reassures you, placing a quick kiss against your forehead. “Even if your mind breaks, I’ll still love you.”

BEELZEBUB

Despite being on the way to inherit a number of high-class restaurants, you often find Beel doing menial work in the kitchen. It was a sight that had caught you off-guard the first day of your part-time job – one that you haven’t gotten quite used to, actually. Beel explains that it’s best for him to know every aspect of the food and customer service industry, that it takes a load off the other employees, but you don’t quite believe that. You’re pretty sure he’s just there to snack on bread sticks and extra food. Most of the time, anyway.

Still, you can’t deny that he’s exceptionally good at cooking dishes made of ground meat. It becomes tradition to make you dinner after seeing you working in one of his father’s restaurants, which you gladly welcome.

And so you are treated to pub burgers topped with blue cheese and arugula. Spaghetti with wine-infused meatballs and freshly shredded parmesan. Baked mac and cheese filled with ground meat, five cheeses, and cream sourced from a local dairy farm. Shepherd’s pie with perfectly piped mashed potatoes on top. Wild mushroom soup with buttered, crusty bread. Stuffed zucchini drizzled with olive oil. After a long day of both school and part-time work, you gladly clear your plate each and every time.

You watch a news segment on your phone over dinner one evening. A newscaster prattles on about missing students in the area, some of their names seeming vaguely familiar, and you find yourself staring at their photos. While they are suspected to be murdered, it appears that the bodies are nowhere to be found. The killer must have some way of disposing most of the body parts, if not all of them. Anyone with information is welcome to –

Beel reaches over and turns off your phone for you, much to your surprise. There is a strangely serious expression on his face as he informs you that it’s rude to have your phone out at dinner – especially when he’s gone through the trouble of frying up croquettes. A hot plate of freshly fried, meat-stuffed croquettes is placed in front of you, and your thoughts about the strange news segment are immediately dismissed.

Halfway through dinner and with most of the croquettes devoured between the both of you, it occurs to you that you’ve never asked what kind of meat you’ve been eating.

[friendly-neighbourhood-librarian]

C. S. Lewis Masterpost

This year (2021) was my C. S. Lewis year! I read everything I own that he wrote. Some were re-reads, most were new to me but have been on my TBR for a while. I didn't make individual posts for each of them, so I decided to just give some brief thoughts here for anyone who's wondering what each book is about and whether they're worth reading.

Pictured above: the only part of my bookshelf organized by colour — I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Fiction

The Chronicles of Narnia: I don't think I need to say anything about these ones. Everyone has heard of it. Everyone should read it.

Fun Fact! There are two different ways you can read the series: in chronological order, or in the publication order. (So if you, like me, have ever looked at a mismatched set and wondered why the numbers on the spines don't make sense, that's why.) I personally prefer the publication order because I think it makes the most sense.

Publication order:

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Prince Caspian

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

The Silver Chair

The Horse and His Boy

The Magician's Nephew

The Last Battle

Chronological order:

The Magician's Nephew

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

The Horse and His Boy

Prince Caspian

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

The Silver Chair

The Last Battle

Quotes: (1)(2)

The Space Trilogy: A guy named Ransom gets kidnapped by two scientists and taken to Mars. In the second book he voluntarily goes to Venus, and the third one takes place on Earth with some Arthurian mythos woven in. I really enjoyed the first book and would recommend it, but the second one turns into a really long philosophical debate in the middle and the third one is pretty much long and boring all the way through. My recommendation would be to read the first, skim the second, and skip the third.

Out of the Silent Planet | Perelandra | That Hideous Strength

The Dark Tower and Other Stories: This is a collection of Lewis's short fiction, some of it unfinished. The Dark Tower is set in the same universe as the Space Trilogy but not related to the main plot of that series, and it's unfinished. My favourite story was Forms of Things Unknown about a mission to the moon, and I also enjoyed After Ten Years which reinterprets some Greek mythology. Unfortunately that one is also unfinished, but a couple of Lewis's friends discuss where he was planning to go with the story based on their conversations with him.

The Dark Tower | The Man Born Blind | The Shoddy Lands | Ministering Angels | Forms of Things Unknown | After Ten Years

The Pilgrim's Regress: An autobiographical allegory inspired by John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress that describes Lewis's journey from atheist to Christian. It centers around the idea of a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, which you might recognize from a well-known quote from Mere Christianity. There were a lot of characters and situations that represented different schools of philosophy which I didn't really understand, but the parts that talked about the Landlord (God) all made sense to me and I just read the rest as a journey story at surface level.

Quotes: (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)

Till We Have Faces: A retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche from the perspective of Psyche's sister, Orual. I loved it! As someone who reads a lot of retellings, this one is up there with the best. It's very slow-paced and reflective as per Lewis's style, and it adds a lot of depth to the characters. Easily my favourite after Narnia!

Nonfiction

The Abolition of Man: What starts as a critique of an English textbook turns into philosophizing about human values. I didn't really understand this one. It's a short book with only 3 chapters.

The Great Divorce: This is the story about an afterlife bus ride from hell to heaven that explores Lewis's concept that "the doors of hell are locked in the inside" which is actually a quote from The Problem of Pain but expanded upon in this book. I found it interesting, but my mom said it was confusing, so idk. It's a pretty short book so take a chance on it.

Quotes: (1)(2)

The Screwtape Letters: You've probably heard of this one: a senior devil gives advice to his nephew on how to tempt a human and make sure he goes to Hell when he dies. It's fascinating, and kind of twisted. Would definitely recommend.

Quotes: (1)(2)(3)

Miracles: On whether miracles are really possible. My dad read this before I did and he told me there was a lot of unnecessary rambling in the middle chapters, but it started getting back on track toward the end. To my amusement, I discovered that the chapter in the exact middle of the book is, in fact, titled "A Chapter Not Strictly Necessary." And I agree with my dad's assessment; Lewis spends a lot of time discussing nature, materialism vs. spiritualism, rational thought, and the laws of physics (from a philosophical angle, not a scientific one), all of which he uses as building blocks for his argument about miracles but which I found difficult to follow a lot of the time. Eventually he does get around to talking about miracles, and biblical miracles specifically.

Quotes: (1)(2)(3)(4)

The World's Last Night: A collection of essays on topics including prayer, immorality, 'good work,' science and religion, and the Second Coming. I found most of them pretty interesting.

The Efficacy of Prayer | On Obstinacy in Belief | Lilies That Fester | Screwtape Proposes a Toast | Good Work and Good Works | Religion and Rocketry | The World's Last Night

Quotes: (1)

The Problem of Pain: Lewis tackles the question: if God is all-good and all-powerful, why do we suffer? I've read other things on this topic from other writers, so I was familiar with the basic arguments already, but I think Lewis explains it all really well.

Quotes: (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)

The Four Loves: Lewis categorizes love into four types: Affection, Friendship, Eros, and Charity. The book is short but the chapters are loooooooong and there weren't any natural stopping places, so either you have to read 30-40 pages in one sitting or you have to stop in the middle of a thought.

Quotes: (1)(2)(3)(4)

Of Other Worlds: A collection of essays on the theme of writing, storytelling, fantasy, science fiction, and children's fiction. Most of them are pretty short and I really liked them! It also includes some fictional stories which were the same as in The Dark Tower.

On Stories | On Three Ways of Writing for Children | Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What's to Be Said | On Juvenile Tastes | It All Began With a Picture... | On Criticism | On Science Fiction | A Reply to Professor Haldane | Unreal Estates

Quotes: (1)(2)(3)(4)

Mere Christianity: This was originally a series of radio talks broadcast during World War II, then later compiled and edited into a book. It covers the basic and foundational beliefs of Christianity. I read it first as a preteen when I was starting to question the faith I was brought up in, and this book provided a lot of answers! It's a classic for a reason.

Quotes: (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)(10)(11)(12)(13)

Surprised by Joy: An autobiography of Lewis's early life and the influences and experiences that led him to become an atheist and then later return to Christianity. Gotta be honest — this one bored me most of the way through, right up until the last couple of chapters.

Quotes: (1)(2)

God in the Dock: Another collection of essays on theology. There are 13 essays in about 100 pages, so they're all pretty short and to the point which makes for easy reading.

Miracles | Dogma and the Universe | Myth Became Fact | Religion and Science | The Laws of Nature | The Grand Miracle | Man or Rabbit? | 'The Trouble with "X" ...' | What Are We to Make of Jesus Christ? | Must Our Image of God Go? | Priestesses in the Church? | God in the Dock | We Have No 'Right to Happiness'

Quotes: (1)(2)(3)

Poetry

Poems: Did you know C. S. Lewis also wrote poetry? I'm not a big poetry reader, but there were a few I liked. I mostly bought it because it has a unicorn on the cover. ;)

[bae-science]

oh? uprising pentagon funding moments? tell us more

okay let’s get into it hello everyone and welcome to unraveled with newt bae-science. i’ve replaced the twink.

BACKGROUND:

when creating the first pacific rim movie with gdt at the helm directing, the cgi being done was pretty expensive. it’s giant robots, giant monsters, huge military complexes, and making raleigh’s pupils into circles and not big pink hearts. complicated stuff! so the expectation from the big boys at legendary was that they would take the marvel route: get funding from the us military. 

the way that works goes like so: there is a team at the pentagon that reviews every script sent to them by film producers that would like funding. if the script is deemed to portray the us military in an acceptable way, the production gets free use of military bases, tons of cash, use of equipment, and a ton of other stuff. this is how marvel does all their movies. it’s propaganda, babey!

so they polish off the script and send it off to the boys in brown in washington to ask for cgi money. the us military reads the script, says “no we’re not portrayed well and also the ppdc is too international (and lbr, with the kaidonovskys and the triplets they probably weren’t too happy about that teamup)”, and sends it back for changes. no changes? no money.

well del toro says fuck that.

he says considering all the lovely things the us military had done to latin american counties while he was growing up (because remember, the guy is mexican), he wasn’t gonna take a penny of their propaganda money just to kiss up. no changes are made, a crap ton of more money goes into the cgi, and the first film barely broke even. it had a budget of $180 million usd  (10 million more than godzilla king of the monsters) and grossed $411 million worldwide. in big budget movie world? that’s fucking nothing. the first avengers movie had a budget of $220 million and made $2.048 billion worldwide. in 2012. so the bar was set and pacific rim did not meet it monetarily.

cut to five years later with uprising. legendary is sitting around, going “okay we know there’s still a strong fanbase for this franchise, there’s still blockbuster material in here, can we make a profit?”. they don’t want a repeat of last time, because if you bring in del toro, he’s gonna give us a script that won’t get military funding, and we cannot afford to make this movie without it. it’s pacific fucking rim. so they bring in a guy whose never solo directed before and has a background of working on the transformers movies, which are also about giant robots and also chock full of us nationalism. you can pay him less than a big name like gdt, he’s guaranteed to make something that the army will like, and he knows what he’s doing with the rock ‘em sock ‘em robots, which is all we really care about. 

enter steven s. deknight.

THE HUNCH:

gonna put a great big ALLEGEDLY here because none of this is confirmed, i’m only speculating, but i’m also a double entertainment major who’s been working in the industry for almost half a decade, so. i have a solid proposal.

here’s my pitch: i think they whip up a script that is us military catnip. tons of glorification of soldiers, turning the ppdc into a police state, child soliders going uncriticized, more emphasis on the jaegers and fight sequences than actual characters, and of course, the villains. you have shao, a chinese businesswoman who has an extremely unethical company culture (stream) and turns out to have been blind to the evil aliens destroying it right under her nose, and then you have the precursors. because putting aside the whole twist thing and newt being possessed and tortured, all the poorly done allegories, blah blah blah, before the big twist that it’s faceless aliens we can blamelessly kill, it looks like the fruity dude who defected from the government to the private sector and sold out, is the main villain. you have several excellent things the audience is already primed to hate (girlbosses, china, people being successful at things who aren’t the government and refusing to work with them, schrodinger’s evil dandy) thanks to propaganda. formulaic, basic plot with little scary nuance or criticism + easily vilifiable concepts the us doesn’t like = tons of cash from uncle sam. free money, right?

well we all know how that girl bossed now don’t we.

the budget for pacific rim: uprising was $150 million. it grossed $290.5 million worldwide for a monumentally worse box office flop than the first movie, mixed reviews from critics, an outraged fan response, and everybody got on their ass for fridging mako and being yet another sci-fi franchise to screw over john boyega. it premiered in march, Q1, where movies go to die. i was there. i sat in that theater in my little newt cosplay and was set on the path to also become a psych student (i have a lot of fields of study. nomative determinism, okay?), and felt my extremely normal and average height body fill with rage. it was a shitshow at the fuck factory. 

THE TAKEAWAY:

we all know why uprising sucked. it was a textbook example of fridging, the characters were underdeveloped and one-note, there were no real themes or points made, newt starred in a one-man one-hivemind trauma porno; i’ve said all this before. 

but i try to do this thing where i take away a lesson from a shitty experience, whatever it may be. what can we learn from uprising (allegedly)? well for one, don’t cram your movie full of enough propaganda to please the army and expect it to actually be a good movie. don’t let a first timer direct such a big project with so many politics behind it. let financial constraints push you to think outside the box with your art: just look at new who! blink is one of the highest rated episodes of the whole damn SHOW and it came out of penny pinching. and most important: support art that means something. throw your money at projects that have something important to say, and encourage the people you know to do so too. because if we don’t? nothing is immune to propaganda. not even giant robots.

(and stream pacific rim: the black so i can have a big budget for when i direct pr3 ❤️)

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

More therapy thoughts part 1/?

Behavior Theory Frameworks/Conditioning and What the fuck does Master Chief talk about in therapy?

Ramblings below - like a lot, like I spent too much time writing this and you should not read this

Behavioral Theory could work well as a framework with rehabilitating Spartan IIs if the case worker focused on Operant Conditioning Theory and Cognitive Social Learning Theory, which I talked about in this ask because I think I’m funny and this blog is an archive of me applying human behavior theories to video games.

Spartans have always been taught the mission comes first! Always! The 2s are indoctrinated from age 6-14 and then have that reinforced the rest of their lives. From the beginning they are taught to push themselves to the limits, earn their food by winning, form bonds with teammates but be ready to sacrifice them for the mission. The whole lives wasted vs spent conversation between John and Mendez after the augmentation surgery!

What the UNSC/ONI wants comes before their lives, the lives of other soldiers, civilians, AI etc. This constant conditioning of expectations and rewards has created the norms cemented in their minds. This becomes standard operating procedure.

Spartans are also an entirely separated social group, other people have made really great posts on how they are Othered and have their own way of communicating with body language. ODSTs hate Spartans, marines see them as cyborgs or saviors, and while they’re allies, Spartans are not seen or treated as human, by literally everyone. They are a means to an end, with the original goal being to maintain the UNSC’s position of power and crush the insurrectionists in the outer colonies, but uh oh Aliens!

Maybe the 2s aren’t as expendable as the 3s but the mindset and reinforcement of “mission first, people second” being repeated their entire lives is going to stick. So is the constant mistreatment and abuse from their fellow soldiers and handlers. 

Addressing the cognitive distortions that come from their upbringing while also balancing the fact that Spartans are so fundamentally different from the way they developed to survive would be so much work, especially considering how much information on them is given to their therapist.  The main distortion I would apply is minimization, making large problems small and not properly dealing with them, and specifically for John, personification, accepting blame for negative events without sufficient evidence. 

Like these are grown ass super soldiers who can kill you in less than a second and calculate the amount of gravity in a room on the fly but then also can flounder when trying to comfort civilians or make small talk because their experiences and values are so alien to adults who had more developmentally “normal” lives. 

Literally applying therapy to Spartans would be like, what was done to you was wrong, the ends do not justify the means, you were children and the adults in your life failed to protect you. You are a human person who is fallible and did the best you could with what you had. And the Spartan would say, “sounds fake but okay, can I pass my psych eval and go back to war now please?”

Jumping back to Behavior Theory

Different approaches to therapy under the Behavior Theory umbrella help modify negative behaviors with treatments like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Dialectical behavior therapy that teach individuals adaptive coping like emotional regulation, distress tolerance, cognitive distortions, and interpersonal communication. And that’s just one framework under the umbrella of human behavior theories.

Social work therapy is different from psych as it approaches individuals with heavily researched, evidence-based theories and frameworks in a holistic viewing of person-in-environment, instead of a strong focus on internal psychology. 

Social work looks at all the interacting systems, environment, history, and internal and external factors affecting an individual. One of the most useful frameworks is the Biopsychosocial-Spiritual Frameworks (BPSS) when helping a client. It helps with identifying all the intersecting factors, both risk and protective, that shapes a client’s lived experiences. The most important thing to remember is that the individual is an expert in their own life, they know their experiences best.

The hardest part is applying this to Spartans because they Are So Fucked, their lived experiences, their environments and systems and institutions interacting with them, and the amount of their personal information that is probably so classified.

BPSS is a tool to help social workers assess individuals and their situations by collecting info that is related to the presenting issues and current and past circumstances. Info like medical history, hospitalizations, substance abuse, mental illness, personal relationships, family history and background, culture and norms, education, legal history, spirituality and participation etc. is all under this framework. 

For Spartan 2s most of this info is lost or classified and helping someone who has repressed every negative emotion they've had for the sake of the mission would be so much to unpack but that’s also why you’re reading the mad ramblings over an over caffeinated nerd on the internet.

Life Course Theory which looks at developmental milestones and the individual’s experiences versus the socially expected markers, how do you apply that to children who were taken and have lived such different lives? 

While early adolescence is when “normal” development of thoughts of self and identity take place alongside the physical changes of puberty, Spartans were being turned into emotionless calculating weapons. Sorry John, no forming a sense of identity and peer bonds for you, go kill that Watts guy who betrayed us and joined the insurrectionists. 

And now that I’ve gone this insane and opened 2 whole textbooks up, let’s get to Master Chief thoughts. If you’ve read this far thank you, I swear I’m normal, 2020 has just been a weird year. 

Why the fuck did I think I could write a therapy fic on a guy with 20 minutes of actual dialogue across almost 2 decades of games?

I make fun of him and call him a himbo, but he’s smart, he knows he’s being used and there is resentment there that’s been building for years. 

There’s also decades of trauma and combat experience, physical, and emotional abuse, the lack of a support network,  lack of an identity, the biological factors and aftermath of the augmentations and injuries he’s received, a whole lot of grief and self-inflicted guilt. 

The loss of a third of his peer group with the augmentation surgery, Sam’s death, the loss of Reach (the only place he’s considered home), Keyes, the Pillar of Autumn crew, Miranda Keyes, Johnson, Cortana. He cares about the marines who fight with him!!!

He just stands there and takes it and rarely snaps, and even then it’s just small cracks on the surface with fissures running deep. The few details I will pull from Halo 5 are Blue Team’s reactions to John pushing himself so hard from the beginning of the game, and the literal crack in his armor from the fight with Locke. Like dude.  

John’s a leader and will get the mission done but he tugs on the leash. He’s earned enough of a reputation and uses it to get his way.

Halo 2’s “Permission to leave the station” with Mr. “I’m going to hand deliver a bomb to the fusion reactor of a covenant supercarrier and hope my friends catch me”. 

Halo 4 is when we see him say no to a superior officer and then 5 is him going AWOL. Palmer literally points out that no one is going to stop him.

Halo 5 kills me for many reasons but John bringing up Halsey and what she did to him and also pointing out that he knows Halo 5 Cortana is trying to manipulate him with psychological tactics hurts. 

He knows what’s been done to him!

I cannot remember which book it was but John isn’t used to working alone. He literally takes fire because he was expecting someone to have his back! 

He’s lost without Cortana! She was in his brain! Y’all! I played Halo Combat Evolved on the original xbox when I was like 8 and I knew these two were meant to be together. From the moment they met they had great chemistry and relied on each other! Cortana literally goes after people who have it out for John! John wants her approval and shows off for her in one of the books. 

I’ve already written too much here but like all of the games have John showing off for Cortana, making dry jokes, jumping out of things he shouldn’t. 

The whole point of this rambling is to try and get my thoughts about how to approach John’s character under control.

And that’s the thing. He’s lost control. He’s lost people, he’s losing his position and being phased out as an aging spartan, a relic. John’s used to following orders and making some decisions on the battlefield but it was always short term.

He has no identity beyond being a weapon. Complete the mission, clear the LZ, get put in cryo. Rinse, repeat. 

The timeline of the games are what I'm most familiar with but with the comics and books too it’s one long run from Halo 2 to Halo 4. Cairo station to the Dreadnought to the crash landing to Forward Unto Dawn to Requiem to “The Didact is Dead but not really but we’ll deal with him off-screen”.

I know Hood apparently gave John R&R orders before Halo 5 that he ignored and kept running himself into the ground. This is a man who has to keep moving and keep being useful. 

I imagine him giving in and seeking help as a last resort to fix any problems he has with performing his duties rather than helping himself be healthier. 

Any professional he sees is going to have to approach him like they’re approaching a self sacrificing feral cat, with lunch meat and quiet. This man needs to have his support network closer, set up long term goals, and do some serious, and most likely incredibly painful, self reflection on where he’s come from and where he wants to go. Get him out of that tin can and into therapy. I don’t have a nice neat ending because this was a ramble and also therapy is not neat and tidy. Thanks for reading my words about mr halo