#just joking no i love it too i like how it’s piece of architecture with history

[9w1ft]

the Wave House gives me lot of Holiday House vibes… like the intention behind its purchase

previous owners include musical producers and musical artists though.

rod stewart rode off on the pacific coast highway, it was sunny..

[kayewrite]

Like I Do

(i just wanna love you)

genre:; fluff, best friends to lovers. word count: 1864

jeongin x reader. college jeongin!. architect student Jeongin! (writing for him cause university jeongin is what i always dream of *sobs*0

wherein: you tried to stop you feelings for your best friend especially he has a girl.

College is something—

Something you don’t want to do but have to do.

Something hard to do, but you need to do it anyway because your future is in there.

You sigh for the third time as you look at the problem you need to solve for your hydraulics subject. You feel overwhelmed, so you decide to close your book and stand up. "This won’t do. I need caffeine."

You walk to the cafeteria, buy what you need, and sit at the nearest table when someone places a piece of bread in front of you.

"Hello. Miss me?" You sigh, then look at the man who sits across from you.

"I’d rather swim than see you," you joke because you hate swimming.

"Aww, I missed you too." He smiles, then takes your coffee and sips, leaving the cup half empty.

Jeongin has been your best friend since high school. Now in college, where you take different courses, you rarely see each other. He’s studying architecture, and you’re in civil engineering. Neither of you is in your dream course, but you took it anyway.

"How’s life?" he asks after you both rant about that one instructor you share—the one who doesn’t teach well but gives hard quizzes anyway.

"Better until I saw you."

He squints his eyes and rolls them. "I think you’ll see me more often. My girlfriend is in your department."

You stop sipping your drink at his words but then pretend it doesn’t affect you.

You’ve had a long-time crush on this best friend of yours. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s handsome and cute at the same time. He knows you better than anyone else in this world and is always there for you in hard times. Tell me, who wouldn’t?

But you tried to suppress it when you realized he’s a gentleman to everyone, not just you. He’s like that to anybody, and you’re not that special. Well, you are his best friend, but that doesn’t differ from how he treats his other female friends. He’s just that kind of potato to everybody.

"Who? Why didn’t you tell me?" You put on an upset face.

"Well, you’re busy. Every time I go there, I see you spacing out, so I can’t tell you."

"Well, that explains it." You try to act calm, but honestly, you’re just as hurt as if you were pricked by a tiny splinter that goes deeper into your skin until it swells. It hurts like hell, but you’re afraid to tell anyone—they might say you’re overreacting. It’s just a small wound.

"Are you angry?" Jeongin suddenly feels uneasy. He knows you well.

"Nothing. I’m just tired, but you drank my coffee, you prick."

He laughs in relief. "Don’t worry, I’ll buy you another." Then he stands up. You’re about to say it’s okay, but you feel too weak to do so and let him do what he wants.

He comes back with the same coffee and two cupcakes—your favorites: strawberry and chocolate.

"Here, our future engineer. Keep fighting!" He places them in front of you, cheering you up. You can’t help but smile. You seek comfort from him. You stay there until who knows when, talking and catching up until you run out of things to say.

You return to your study area, feeling like the burden you were carrying is now gone. You pick up your pen and answer your problems quietly.

-

You step out of your classroom, feeling happy. Your long quiz is finally finished. You’re not sure about your answers, but at least it’s done, and now you can rest!

"Ohoy there!"

You look toward the end of the hallway you’re walking down and see Jeongin with a tube slung over his back (probably his plates).

You smiled. "What are you doing here? Aren't you busy?"

"I was busy, but I need to look for my inspiration. Have you seen her?" Jeongin's eyes twinkled as he teased, but you knew he meant his girlfriend. The words made your heart sink, but you played along.

"She's inside taking the exam. You should be quiet and let her take it in peace," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

Jeongin chuckled, leaning against the wall next to you. "How's the quiz? Did you ace it?"

"Finished, at least. Whether I aced it is a different story," you said with a small laugh. "But I'm just glad it's over."

"That's the spirit!" Jeongin gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow. "How about we celebrate? Let's go to that ramen shop we used to visit in high school. My treat."

The suggestion brought a rush of memories—late-night study sessions, bowls of steaming ramen, and laughter that echoed through the small, cozy shop. It was your place, your little refuge from the world. But now, the idea of going there with him, with her, made you hesitate.

You forced a smile and nodded. "Sure, sounds good."

Later that evening, the three of you sat around a familiar table at the ramen shop. The comforting aroma of broth filled the air, but the atmosphere was different, heavier.

Jeongin's girlfriend sat close to him, her arm looped through his as she leaned in, talking softly. You tried to focus on your ramen, stirring the noodles absentmindedly. Jeongin noticed and, without a word, pushed a small bowl toward you.

"I asked them to leave out the vegetables and tone down the spice," he said, his voice warm with familiarity. "Just how you like it."

"Thanks," you murmured, trying to ignore the way his girlfriend's eyes narrowed at the gesture.

Throughout the meal, she grew increasingly clingy, touching his arm, laughing louder at his jokes, as if marking her territory. You felt smaller with each passing second, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you.

"I need to go to the restroom," you suddenly announced, standing up before either of them could react. You needed air, needed space away from the suffocating tension.

In the restroom, you stared at your reflection, trying to compose yourself. But the tears came anyway, hot and uncontrollable. It was too much—pretending you were okay, pretending you could just be his friend when every moment with him reminded you of what you couldn't have.

You cried until you couldn't anymore, until the mirror showed a person you barely recognized, someone worn out from hiding too much. Wiping your eyes, you took a deep breath and made a decision. You needed to set boundaries, for your own sake. Jeongin had a girlfriend, and you had to let go of the feelings that were tearing you apart.

The next few days were hard. You avoided Jeongin, making excuses whenever he tried to hang out. You buried yourself in your studies, in anything that could distract you from the ache in your chest. But Jeongin noticed. Of course, he did.

One day, he cornered you outside your classroom, his expression serious. "You've been avoiding me."

You sighed, unable to meet his eyes. "I’ve just been busy, Jeongin. You know how it is."

"Bullshit," he said, his voice unusually sharp. "You’re not just busy. Something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me."

"Why does it matter?" you snapped, finally looking at him. "You have a girlfriend now. Go focus on her."

Jeongin blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. "Is that what this is about? You think I don’t care about you just because I’m dating someone?"

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill again. "No, it’s not that. It’s just… I need space, okay? I need to figure things out."

"Figure what out?" His voice softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to you.

You stepped back, shaking your head again. "I can’t do this, Jeongin. I can’t keep pretending that I’m fine when I’m not."

The silence between you was deafening. He looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion, and maybe something else. You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, alone and confused.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance between you and Jeongin grew. You tried to move on, focusing on your studies and pushing your feelings aside. But every time you saw him, your heart ached, a constant reminder of what you’d lost—not just the chance to be with him, but the friendship you had cherished.

Jeongin, on the other hand, became more and more withdrawn. His girlfriend noticed, of course, and their relationship began to strain under the weight of his unresolved feelings. He missed you, more than he thought possible, and the longer he went without seeing you, the more he realized something that terrified him.

He liked you. He always had, but he had been too blind to see it, too caught up in the idea of finding the perfect girl that he overlooked the one who had been there all along. The one who knew him better than anyone, who made him laugh, who made him feel at home.

And now, he was losing you.

It was a rainy afternoon when Jeongin finally found you in the library, your nose buried in a textbook. You didn’t notice him at first, too engrossed in your reading. But when he sat down across from you, you looked up, surprised.

"Jeongin, what are you—"

"I broke up with her," he blurted out, cutting you off. His eyes were intense, filled with a determination that you hadn’t seen before.

You blinked, taken aback. "What? Why?"

"Because she’s not you," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Because I’ve been looking for something, someone, who was right in front of me the whole time. And I was too stupid to see it."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of hope and fear swirling inside you. "Jeongin, you don’t know what you’re saying…"

"I do," he insisted, leaning forward. "I know exactly what I’m saying. I like you. I like you so much that it hurts, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you because I was too scared to admit it."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of joy. You had been holding onto this hope for so long, and now, it was finally happening.

"I like you too," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Jeongin smiled, that familiar, boyish smile that you had fallen for all those years ago. "So, what do you say? Should we give this a shot?"

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. He reached out, taking your hand in his, and just like that, the distance that had grown between you disappeared. It wasn’t going to be easy, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

[basichextechml]

Details

Wednesday Addams/Fem!Reader

Rating: Teen // 4.7K words // Reader uses she/her pronouns, no looks are described, rated teen bc the jokes are morbid and somewhat graphic, reader is a shapeshifter, reader is a touch insecure but don’t worry guys it’s good I swear, I’m sick w covid rn so if you spot a mistake no you don’t (but actually tell me pls), there’s a playlist at the end of this fic pls check it out love you guys <3

A chain reaction is set off when Wednesday realizes she’s not actually talking to her roommate

Pt. 2

---

     Wednesday wasn’t talking to Enid right now.

     Sure Enid was in front of her, sitting on her bed, in their room, wearing her clothes, and her face- but it had, embarrassingly, taken Wednesday five whole minutes to realize it wasn’t Enid. Her hairline was off, her smile was a bit too big, and her eyeliner wasn’t done with its normal flicked technique. What cracked the bell, however, was the fact that her nails were a different color. Wednesday normally couldn’t care less, but her roommate had been trying to find the perfect shade of green for her nails for the past month and had only repainted them this morning, blabbering on and on about it. A fact that made Wednesday want to open the large decorative window, and fling herself out of it.

     But her nails weren’t green. They were blue with pink polka dots. The same pattern she had last week.

     “You’re a pretty convincing fake,” Wednesday bit, and faux-Enid paused mid-sentence.

     You’d been caught.

     Wednesday continues, tilting her head down to glare at you through her lashes. Other than those minute details- you really could be Enid. Or, at least, someone lesser than her would believe so. “Who are you, and why have you chosen to impersonate my roommate?”

     Faux-Enid sighed, before sticking on her house slippers and stepping towards Wednesday, holding out a hand. After a moment of consideration, Wednesday took it firmly in hers and shook it twice. You clicked your tongue in satisfaction- a decidedly un-Enid thing for you to do. Wednesday never thought she’d see the uncanny implications of someone wearing another’s face so nonchalantly in person.

     “(Y/n),” You said, brows pitching up as you finally looked around freely, “I just wanted to see the great Wednesday Addams that everyone’s been whispering about.”

     “Whispering is for wakes, I prefer it that way, everyone’s been too loud since I’ve arrived.”

     You understood now why everyone was talking- well, maybe for different reasons. They were concerned about the attempted murder charges. You were wondering how someone could be so pretty. She was entirely ignoring you as well, a bold move considering you were a stranger, and you had impersonated her roommate and snuck into her dorm.

     Hm. That made you sound like a creep.

     Oh well.

     The newly occupied side of the room was sparsely decorated- a far cry from Enid’s colorful and cluttered abode. You couldn’t say it was bad, though, everything was organized, in its rightful place- and delightfully macabre, accentuating the architecture that encased it. Her bedsheets had hospital corners. Taking care not to touch anything, you glanced over the few trinkets she had, lingering on the heavy typewriter with a fresh piece of paper stuck inside its hold.

     As you take a step closer to her, she takes one back.

     You rescind your previous step, putting twice the space between you- and you catch a downward twitch in her brow.

     “A murder mystery?” You ask, looking her in the eye. Wednesday isn’t entirely sure you’re asking about her book, even though it is the topic of discussion.

     Wednesday found herself asking a question without thinking. “How could you tell?”

     You turn your back on her, this time. A dangerous decision, she decides, because she can see your neck from here. “Instinct, maybe?” You tease, turning back momentarily to wink. Wednesday’s lips purse tight, perturbed at those words coming from what seems to be Enid’s mouth.

     “If you’re going to act in such a way, I’d be much obliged if you stopped mimicking my roommate.” Her skin prickled as you sighed, rocking back on your feet as if contemplating her words.

     And then you begin to change, right in front of Wednesday’s eyes.

     Wednesday’s ever-present morbid curiosity waits for the cracking of bone or stretching of skin- reminiscent of other transformations she’d bore witness to. This was nothing of the sort- it was smooth. Too smooth. Like a hot knife through the doughy fat of a thigh. It’s disturbing as you take on a new shape, and she can’t blink, because she’ll miss it.

     Or maybe she won’t? How can she miss it when the familiar face staring back at her is her?

     You trot along to Enid’s mirror, fixing your newfound fringe and admiring how Wednesday’s face looks on you. She had dark brown- nearly black eyes, and a smattering of freckles over her soft skin. Her eyelashes are long, too, wisping against her brows and the apples of her cheeks, almost like a doll. “You really are pretty, Wednesday. Great cheekbones,” She sees the way your eyes look down at her lips in the mirror. “Nice-”

     “If you finish that train of thought they’ll find you at the bottom of the lake hog-tied with lead in your pockets.”

     You smile at her- and that’s how others would be able to tell you both apart because the muscles responsible for completing such an expression had died in her face long ago. It was like an out-of-body experience, or a successful trial after her many failed attempts at lucid dreaming. It made her feel something- something she couldn’t put a finger on- something she might not like.

     She wants to end this.

     But then you’d leave.

     She wants you to leave.

     Right?

     It may be too difficult to say no to her own face.

     You can see the twitch next to her lip, and know that maybe you’ve pushed the new girl too far- and thus, you borrow Enid again. “Don’t worry, Wednesday,” the way you say her name sends chills up her spine, like hypothermia setting in. It’s different from the way Enid would say it, like you’re pitching her voice differently, making it your own. “I won’t borrow your face if you don’t want me to.”

     And just as you make peace with plunging Wednesday into the ice-cold uncharted waters of discomposure, the door jiggles and swings open. Enid- the real one- stands in the doorway with shopping bags on her arm, ones that she nearly drops as she squeals over your presence.

     Wednesday takes a step back as the blonde entirely overtakes you, and she’s sure she’ll go blind from the embarrassingly emotional spectacle you both make. Clamoring and chattering as you discuss something undoubtedly trivial. Enid doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve borrowed her complexion. Wednesday doesn’t understand it. Maybe she doesn’t want you to leave. She feels her fingers twitch in the urge to lay you down and cut you open. Shapeshifters must have malleable cells, right? To aid in the transformation process? She wants to see what it would look like under a microscope.

     As if sensing her murderous intent, maybe you can see it in her eyes, you turn to her, a sly little smile. “It was lovely meeting you Wednesday. I’d love to hear more about your novel next time we chat.”

     The next time.

     How bold.

---

     When Enid posted on her blog about Nevermore gaining a new student and the scandal that would undoubtedly follow, you were hooked. The Addams were infamous at Nevermore, and now their oldest would be showing up midway through the quarter, tugging along attempted murder charges?

     You were itching to meet her.

     Heart practically beating out of your chest, you retreated from Enid and Wednesday’s dorm. Riveting. Absolutely riveting. Your fingers and toes were numb in excitement at the prospect of the rest of the quarter. Who knew a flash of braids and a homicidal edge was what this school so desperately needed?

---

     “I’m assuming you know her?” Wednesday asked, not bothering to look at her roommate as she pulled out her desk chair and began setting up her typewriter.

     “Oh, (Y/n)? Yeah of course! We’re like, besties!” Wednesday fought the urge to roll her eyes at Enid’s terminology. “I was wondering when she was gonna come around- when I told her you were coming to Nevermore she totally freaked.” Enid clipped her bangs back, getting ready for her nightly skin routine. “I can’t believe it took her, like, what, a week? to come say hi.”

     Wednesday hummed, barely hearing the words over the clacking of her typewriter keys, her brows furrowed in thought. Enid grabbed her caddy of soaps and prepared to head off into the bathroom. “I feel like you’ll be great friends. Ooooh, we should totally do, like, a group sleepover! I’ll be right back, think about it, okay?”

     The front door slammed shut behind Enid, and Wednesday grumbled, pulling out the used sheet of paper from her typewriter and crumpling it up. Thing looked up from his place on Wednesday’s bed, shutting the magazine he’d been leafing through to see what was troubling her. Wordlessly, she fed another piece of paper into the paper table.

     Perhaps Viper De La Muerte’s mystery would gain another character.

---

     You come to her next as Xavier in their shared botanical sciences class, and she can tell right away based on the doodle you’re scratching into his desk. It’s quite awful. Horrendous, actually- technically speaking.

     “Good morning Wednesday” You chirp, and that warbled tone is there again. Perhaps a side effect? Curiosity is creeping up on her in these spare meetings you both share, getting ready to strangle her in the best way

      Wednesday sets down her bag, and sits precariously on her chair, eyeing the etched drawing on the desk. It’s a raven, and when it doesn’t pop out of the table at her, she’s sure of her conviction.

     “(Y/n)” She states.

     You let out an affronted gasp, eyes crinkling at the recognition, before propping your chin up on your hand. “How could you tell? Was it my magnetic personality?” Wednesday focuses on the way your, Xaviers, fingers tap and fidget against the desk like you think she won’t notice. “Perhaps our first encounter has captured your heart- and you’ve fallen for me?”

     “I’d rather you watch me fall off a cliff.”

     “Sounds like the perfect date idea, how about seven tomorrow night?”

     You watch in excitement as her brows tick up a hairline of an inch and the way her cheeks look a little less dead. She most likely wasn’t used to someone receiving her sardonic personality with open arms.

     In place of answering, she chooses to counter it with another question. “Why are you impersonating Xavier?”

     Dramatically, you pull out a notebook. Not a sketchbook. A real notebook. And begin to take dutiful notes. Another way she would’ve been able to tell the difference between you and Xavier. “If someone doesn’t want to go to class, for whatever reason, they normally pay me to come and make sure they don’t miss an attendance credit, take a test, get homework-”

     “Cheat?”

     “If that’s what you’d like to call it, then yeah, cheat,” You shrug, “It makes me good money, and I get to keep the grade curve up. I’m sure you could appreciate that.” Your pencil nudges against hers, tapping against her meticulous notes.

     She’s not sure where to take this conversation, and that weird feeling is back. Normally, she’s itching to leave a conversation. Any conversation. Maybe it’s the fact that while she’s talking to Xavier, she’s also talking to you. There’s nothing to put to your voice yet, even when it’s masked and warbled by another.

     Wednesday is talking to someone, and she doesn’t really know who. The concept is eldritchtian in nature, that she could look over and not understand something that was right in front of her face. There’s no control. A masterful side eye keeps watch on you throughout the period. If she can’t put a face to a name, she could at least tack onto mannerism. Maybe then she could control that feeling in her gut.

     You liked keeping your hands above the desk and busy. You’d fidget with them often, picking at your nails. Your nose would involuntarily twitch whenever Thornhill pulled out a particularly foul-smelling plant. But was that you or Xavier? Wednesday’s pen taps the edge of her paper, leaving ink blots in the margins. She could argue that it’s you- at the end of the day it’s your brain, but another part says you could be subconsciously mimicking the mannerisms of whoever you’re impersonating. You’re a puzzle with one too many edge pieces that she’s trying to make fit.

      She’s adorable- thinking that you don’t notice she’s watching you. The thing about being different, for good or bad reasons, is that you can feel when someone’s trying to understand you. How their eyes linger. Maybe it’s masochism that runs your brain because you feel good gaining her attention- no matter how depraved it was.

     The game of ignoring and noticing each other continued throughout the period, like a dance you had practiced, making sure not to step on each other’s toes. You wondered if she was curious enough to ask now. You wanted her to ask. To be curious enough to suggest meeting up. To know you better. From what Enid had spilled about her, Wednesday was confident- and unpredictable. The ball was never in your court because she was never even playing her game with you, just hitting it against the wall by your head and waiting for you to flinch.

     You’d flinch if she wanted.

     Miss Thornhill wrapped up the end of class, the volume of the room slowly rising as kids began to talk about their upcoming plans for the weekend. You watched slyly as Wednesday packed up, flipping your notebook closed to give back to Xavier.

      “My room, tonight after dinner,” Wednesday murmured firmly, and your smile pulled taught, an ache in your cheeks. But your victory was short-lived, the lips you’d admired in the mirror spelling your crash.

     “Don’t come as anyone.”

---

     You were stupid to have not thought this far.

     Stupid, stupid, stupid.

     Getting so caught up in just trying to capture her attention, you didn’t even know what you were going to do if you got it. You thought it would take a couple more tries to get her fully into the idea of being around you- but you had underestimated Enid’s words.

     Wednesday knew what she wanted quickly, and she expected to get it.

     It would be hot if you weren’t mentally freaking out.

     She said to meet her after dinner, but that didn’t specify a certain time, right? Hypothetically, you could show up whenever. You could say you had a late dinner- but you know that wasn’t what she met. She’d already be upset at you for disregarding her last request, you couldn’t be late on top of that.

     As you walked through the hallowed halls of Nevermore Academy, you people-watched. There were so many interesting students here. No matter their disposition, they had rich lives that would no doubt continue on and only grow more complex. Intriguing powers that had so many quirks and kickbacks that you could only imagine what it felt like to have them come naturally to you. There were so many compelling people here- so why would you want to be you when you could pretend to be them?

     Shifting from foot to foot, you knocked on the door. Well, Bianca technically knocked on the door, but it was still just you. Enid answers, looking somewhat taken aback before realization dawns on her. “(Y/n)- come on in! I was just about to go meet Ajax, so it’ll just be you and Wednesday.” The way she says it sounds like she’s hinting something, looking at you with wide eyes and a mischievous little smile.

     ‘Subtle’ You mouth to her, nodding your head. Enid does a bashful curtsey, before grabbing her keys. She makes sure it’s loud as she locks the door behind her.

     And then it’s two.

     Wednesday looks positively deadly cut against the low light of the iconic Ophelia Hall window. The way she glares through you emphasizes her distaste for your actions.

     “I see you’ve decided on Bianca today. Odd, considering I asked for you.” You’re nearly prepared to say something, mustering up enough thought to figure out what she’d even want to hear, but it’s her who steps closer. And closer. And closer.

     She’s in your space now, looking up ever so slightly at you. “Take it off.”

     “You could at least buy me dinner first,” You stumble out, voice not nearly as confident as it had to be for that line.

     Wednesday only tilts her head, coy as can be, with a brow slightly raised. “I thought you liked my unconventional… date ideas.”

     You muffled a laugh, “I didn’t even get the first one. I was looking forward to seeing the rocks together-”

     Wednesday wondered if you do it- if you’d teeter into the violence of her earlier statements.

     “-If you’d jump, and if you did, how you’d hit them. Maybe, what it would look like when I followed after you.”

     You’d been lured into her trap. And by the way, Wednesday could feel the corners of her mouth twitching up, she’d been ensnared in yours. But she couldn’t let you win so easily. She couldn’t find herself letting you do it. Turning away, she marched to her desk, pulling out a thin, monogrammed book, and a pen. “I believe I made that commitment to (Y/n), not Bianca.”

     Frozen to the floorboards, you stare wide-eyed, having been put right back into the one spot you didn’t want to be. Wednesday could hear the hitch in your breath, matching it with her own to see how long it would take you to breathe again. The satisfying ache in her lungs proved that she had caught you off guard. “To make it up to me, you’ll be answering a few questions.” She points to her bed, telling you to sit.

     Relief wasn’t the right word to describe your state. Abject happiness? Pure and unbridled repose? Perhaps disappointment- because you wouldn’t be meeting your demise to the cold, small hands of Wednesday Addams. Though, a thorough interrogation will take a close second.

     There was a weird disconnect with the situation. You’d tell Wednesday anything she wanted to know. What you were, how you felt, your deepest fears, your middle name. But the idea of shedding whomever you had borrowed and bearing your face to the world terrified you. The idea that she could know everything about you and know nothing at the same time felt comfortable, but when Wednesday Addams was looking at you with a curious spark in her eyes, you felt it wasn’t the right choice at all.

     Scurrying over to the bed, you hurriedly sat down- only to sit on something soft. Not in the springy way, a bed was soft, but in the way people were soft.

     Wednesday watched in amusement as you yelped, jumping up quickly off of her bed. Thing angrily crawled his way out of the covers, obviously having been woken up from his after-dinner nap. Desperately, you apologized to Thing, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he was only a hand. She doubts he’s the weirdest thing you’ll see while you choose to associate with her. “Thing, this is (Y/n). (Y/n), Thing. Now stop apologizing.” Wednesday demands, grabbing Thing and carrying him over to Enid’s side of the room. Precariously, she tucks him in, before turning her back on him, leaving no room for argument. She pointed to the bed again. “You. Sit.” What were you meant to do? Say no? Perched on the side of the bed, you waited for her to begin her investigation a la (Y/n).

     “You can become anything?” Wednesday started, writing along the printed lines of her notebook.

     “Anything you want.” You tease.

     “I want a real answer.”

     “Anything I want, within reason,” You sigh, leaning back on your hands.

     She stopped writing for a moment, looking over the edge of her book, “And what does that entail?”

     “I can’t get too small,” You emphasize, making a small box with your hands and then gesturing to the rest of yourself, “Or else I feel cramped. And I can’t get too big, because then I’ll be stretched too thin, and everything’ll become unstable.” Wednesday narrows her eyes for a moment, hitting the nib of the pen against the paper before deciding what to write.

     “What about width?”

     “Oooh, that’s a good question- haven’t tried it? I guess? Not many things are wider than they are tall.”

     Wednesday hums in thought, before grabbing her desk chair and propping it up in front of you, sitting down herself. Your knees were knocking together, the only thing separating your skin from hers being her uniform skirts. Bianca always liked to roll her skirt up a bit, so you did too. “Does it hurt?”

     “Did what hurt? When I fell for you- Ow!”

     You rubbed at the skin of your knee where she had stabbed you with her pen, the broken skin healing itself within the blink of an eye. You could feel her gaze watching it.

     “We’re not doing that bit again. Your abilities seem to have a healing aspect.” She mumbles, furiously scribbling something down. You wondered what she was even writing. ‘Initial observation, healing aspect, eternal torture? Must review’. Yeah, no, okay.

     “Not exactly, It’s sort of like healing- but also a bit more complex. When you heal, you make new cells, right?”

     “Of course.”

     “But what I just did wasn’t making new cells- it’s just the same cells remembering what was there, transforming into that, and then moving accordingly.” Tentatively, you grab her hand. It’s cold and rigid against yours, like a corpse, and you move it to the skin of your knee. You’d never be able to tell that there was a hole there in the first place. “Of course, I still produce new cells like everyone else, it’s just if I were to sustain a large injury- a lethal one, being a shapeshifter wouldn’t save me. My cells would transform and move, but that would only be tearing me open in a different way.”

     There’s a smile on Wednesday’s face.

     It’s small, barely even there, like an apparition, but you can see it.

     Wednesday is enamored with you. Your skin was so warm. You were holding her hand so tightly. She had this disgusting, revolting feeling in her chest. One she wanted to keep there forever.

     “So I couldn’t crack your ribs open and crawl inside of you?”

     “If you had to keep warm, of course.”

     You were so close.

     Suddenly, she clapped her notebook shut, the chair screeching as she lurched out of it. Jolting, you leaned back a little, watching with wide eyes as she slammed the notebook into her desk drawer and shut it.

     “We’re going to see the rocks tomorrow.” She demanded, reminiscent of when she asked you to come here. “And I do want you this time.”

     Son of a bitch.

     “I…” Your mouth felt dry. It was amazing how she managed to make you feel so comfortable while trapped. “I’ll think about it.” And within the next moment, you were a mouse scurrying across the floor boards, and ducking right beneath the door frame.

     You didn’t stop running until you were down the stairs and in the main entrance hall- quickly changing back and collapsing against a wall.

     A mouse? Did you become a fucking mouse?

     Silently screaming into the hall, you hit your head against the ground, embarrassment flooding through your every nerve. Because what the fuck. You became a fucking mouse and you ran under the door.

     You knew what you had to do.

     You had to die.

     Life was over at this point- there was no use continuing. Wednesday Addams had (sort of) asked you out, and like a complete and utter loser, you ran away. As a mouse.

---

     You had been avoiding her.

     It had been a week since Wednesday Addams had last seen you. And a single question loomed above them all.

     Who did you think you were?

     You barge into her room, responding to her threats and homicidal tendencies in kind, making her interested, sticking her neck out onto the guillotine. Making her want to hold and touch you. Hold your warm hands. Run her fingers over your skin. And you’re hiding from her?

     To say she was positively murderous at this point was an understatement. Her rage was unconcealable. People avoided her in the halls, well, more so than before. Enid was neglecting to start conversations when they shared their dorm, fearing the wrath she may incur if Wednesday was even a bit more annoyed. She had already stabbed Xavier with her pen twice. He didn’t even have the nerve to treat her to a spectacle such as you did.

     Her cello was bearing the brunt of her bad mood this evening, pulling along the strings and bow to string together a much blunter rendition of Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 8. The callouses on the tips of her fingers burned as she flew through the piece, a much-needed pain to distract her from her inner turmoil. It felt so right.

     As the last few notes on the page crept up on her, the quartet drawing to a close, there was a glint in the night. Brows furrowed and lips pouted, she closed her music book, setting down her bow and cello to approach the edge of the stoned terrace. A raven- big and beautiful, flapped its wings closer, a chain dangling from its beak with a pendant hanging from the end. Like it recognized her, it stalled in the air, almost waiting for Wednesday to hold out her hand.

     Tentatively, she did so, and the raven dropped the cold, sterling silver amulet into her hand. Ignoring its retreat, she turned the amulet around, peering into the glass class on the other side. Its contents puzzled her.

     “Don’t turn around.”

     Head snapping up, Wednesday felt a tingle run down her spine as she looked onto the horizon. She knew that voice.

     One that was normally distorted with another’s, warbled and lost in a tonal fray, was crystal clear.

     “I… I wanted to apologize.”

     “For ignoring my existence?”

     “Yes, I just…” She could hear your exasperated sigh behind her, and instead of turning around, she channeled her want into running her fingers along the grooves of the amulet. “I want to show you who I am. I do. I just don’t think that I… That I’m prepared for what that means. So I got you that.”

     It was a Victorian mourning locket. Inside its glass prison lay a small, cut stock card. Oil paints had been used to portray a single, lively and bright eye, laid deep into plush skin. Framing it, were strands of hair, glued and staged to look as though it would when hanging naturally. A single braid of the same hair wormed around and enclosed the portrait, snug against the silver. The hair, skin, and eye colors were unfamiliar to her- but Wednesday Addams was a smart girl, she could piece it together.

     She felt as if you had grabbed her heart and pulled it out of her chest, content to watch it slow to a stop in your hand, and all she could muster was- “Who painted this?”

     You muffled a laugh. “My dad, don’t worry.”

     Wednesday could hear your steps, and by the fourth, she could feel how warm you were against her back.

     “This is just my way of saying… that when I’m ready, you’ll be the first person I show. You’ve already seen more of me than anyone else here has.”

     Just like when you first met the infamous Wednesday Addams, your fingers were numb. Though, this time, instead of excitement, you were dreadfully, painfully, nervous. Nervous that the girl standing only a few feet in front of you would reject your declaration. All was silent, and the only sound you could comprehend was the thudding of your pulse in your ears as she held the locket out behind her.

     “Put it on for me.”

     Fingers shaking, you struggled to unclasp the chain, before pulling the chain around her thin neck. Securing the clasp again, you lingered, warm hands smoothing out the baby hairs on the nape of her neck.

     Wednesday watched unfamiliar hands flash in front of her eyes, and she knew that she had you at that very moment. “Sit,” she demands again, settling down on the floor of the terrace. One more moment and your back was entirely pressed against hers, the ridges of your spines kissing through your muscle, skin, and clothes. “Thank you,” Wednesday said quietly into the night air, “I’m… I’m pleased, that I’ll be the first.”

     She took your hand in hers, and the numbness faded.

---

Thank you guys for reading!! If you enjoyed it pls let me know, my inbox and mentions are always open and reblogs are always appreciated <3

This is a playlist I made for Wednesday, it’s got Latin American goth and orchestral pieces (including the one mentioned above), so if that’s your vibe pls check it out!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1CbNa8jneefleLKCK98HHC?si=0fc47154f345442d

[calicough]

maybe if – hazel callahan

— maybe if she did things differently.

angst. architecture student!hazel.

hazel's hands never left the paper laid on top of her drafting table while she took a sip of her coffee. the tip of her pencil gliding and making strokes across the surface, erasing and redrawing the lines that she wasn't satisfied with, keeping in mind her professor's criticisms on her concept design. her project was "too ambitious" according to her professor, but a "refreshing idea" nonetheless. hazel understood where her professor was coming from. designing a cafe that drew inspiration from japanese, baroque, and modern architecture was bound to look... messy. she settled with a modern japanese cafe, afraid to risk her grade with her modern baroque idea.

hazel callahan was not scared to take risks. that word was never a part of her vocabulary. i mean her high school life consisted of broken noses, sore ribs, dead football players, and tiny explosives that she loved creating. but that was until you left her tear-streaked face standing by the sidewalk. the streetlights illuminated your shaking figure, head down and arms wrapped around your body. you grew smaller and smaller until hazel can no longer see you.

feeling her neck starting to cramp, she placed her pencil down and cracked her fingers before stretching her neck and her entire body to release the tension that accumulated in her muscles. she picked up her notebook that was on her bed and flipped through its pages to look back at her drafts, gathering inspiration on how the cafe's interior should look like. after stopping on a certain page, she noticed a doodle drawn at the lower left-hand corner. it was a doodle of one of your favorite characters. they were the only thing that you could draw. hazel chuckled as she gently caressed the drawing, afraid that it will disappear.

she remembers a portion of that night, a month before graduation. "hazel..." your voice wavered as you sucked in a breath. "i think it's time that we end this."

"what?" was all that she could muster out after a long silence. hearing those words felt like her heart jumped off a tall building, shattering into million pieces as it hit the ground. the tears forming in her eyes was blurring her vision of you. what did you mean by that? this has to be some kind of a joke, right? "are you serious?" she looked straight into your eyes, searching that mischievous glint that would appear whenever you're pranking her. but it wasn't there. you were actually serious.

"i don't want to pull you down with me," you told her. hazel didn't understand it back then. she thought it would be a nice surprise to let you know that she'd be enrolling in the same university as you. she thought that you'd be delighted if you learned that she rejected the offer of one of the top architectural universities in the world just because she wanted to spend her time with you and be near you. but you weren't happy. and she understands that now. she would also be angry if you didn't grab the opportunities laid out in front of you, if you didn't follow your dreams. "i don't want you to risk everything that you ever hoped for and dreamed of just for me."

hazel closed her eyes as you walked away from her and prayed that it wasn't real. that in any second, you would wake her up from this nightmare. that when she opens her eyes, you are right in front of her with that golden smile that adorns your features. as she opened her eyes, she was greeted by the walls of her dorm room. of course you weren't there.

hazel did accept the offer two days after you broke up, hoping that it'll somehow magically fix your relationship. but the damage was done and she is now staring at your doodle in her notebook. smiling to herself, she placed her notebook down on the table and returned to drawing, hoping that you're doing well wherever you are. that you're happy.

if only she had done things differently back then. maybe if she didn't outright reject the offer from the university. maybe if she took her dreams a little more seriously. maybe one day, if by some chance fate decided to bring you back together, she'll show you how much she had changed. hopefully, she'd be able to hold you in her arms and never let you go again.

aahhh!! this was inspired by the kdrama our beloved summer and the song maybe if by bibi. i rlly like the idea of architect hazel hihi she'd look so cute carrying that big blueprint tube. anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed this one! and thank you for all the love on my first work, it rlly means a lot to me :] <3

[greenerteacups]

Hello GT! I almost never comment on anything online, but (after binge-reading Lionheart in about three days) I'm overcome with a desperate need to confess that I've developed an enormous intellectual crush on you as an author. I've never been particularly drawn to Dramione as a pairing before now - or even the HP universe in general as more than a very casual fan - but after reading nearly 600 thousand of your words, I'd be craving more even if that number was 600 million. Thank you very much for sharing Lionheart with the world.

It's a rare pleasure to read something where an immense thoughtfulness shines through so brightly not simply in bits and pieces here and there, but consistently throughout every line and every subplot you stitch together. There are other works of fiction out there that I love, but very, very few of them have been carefully crafted enough to allow me as a reader to sit back and have unshakeable confidence in the depth of the author's vision. Everything you write, from the smallest descriptive details to the grander puzzle pieces tying together each book, is delivered with such intentionality. Sometimes when reading other fiction I'll find myself impatiently wondering "okay, fantastic build-up, but when are we getting to the *really good* part"; with you, every part is the good part. The oft-cited slow-burn mantra of "it's not the destination, it's the journey" doesn't even ring true for me with Lionheart - because in your capable hands, you hurl us straight at that destination with every chapter. All of this to say that my starstruck inner writer is currently pinning a hypothetical pin-up poster of you to my hypothetical writer-ly bedroom wall as someone to look up to.

One of my favourite aspects of your work is how utterly hilarious you are both in your character dialogue and your prose. You've made me laugh more than you've made me cry - and you're guilty of making me cry a lot, especially in Book Four. You balance us between hysterical (funny) and hysterical (dirty, raw feelings) without a trace of whiplash, quite often imparting both simultaneously. Is interweaving humour with Everything Else something that comes naturally to you while writing or is it a process you're consciously juggling?

I've brooded and preened over this message for entirely far too long, and it's not fair to you. Suffice it to say you're kinder than I deserve and this made me want to cry. Any and all pin-up posters of me should render me looking like a deer in headlights, as is the appropriate reaction to this kind of honor.

I'm especially delighted by the hysteria (plural)! In general, it's easier for me to write humor than it is for me to write drama. Not that either one is easy as such, but I think drama requires more architecture. You don't have to explain if a joke is funny; it just is funny, and the audience knows why the characters are laughing/amused/happy. In drama, you have to achieve a certain level of technical character work to set up the punch of a moment; there's stakes, plotting, resonance, etc., and then you have to actually deliver it in a way that isn't either flippant, ironic, or Narm. Basically, there are more axes of failure. And the stakes of a joke failing are pretty low, too: worst case, your audience is like "eh, not that funny" and they move on. If a dramatic moment fails, it can take the legs out from under a whole arc.

One of my tests for whether a moment is ripe for comedy is the question of what the comedy is doing. Is it a realistic reflection of the character's voice in that situation? And, perhaps more importantly: why am I feeling the need to put comedy in this scene? Do I want it because it's natural and tone-appropriate, or am I trying to disguise my own insecurity about the dramatic content of the scene? If the latter, I tend to cut. You can't write from fear, you know?

[maythearo]

JAMIL NEWS!!!

Jamil Viper was found at the streets of Pernambuco, enjoying the Carnaval and dancing frevo! In a exclusive interview, he said his favorite food is acarajé and coxinha

Jokes aside, I really like the idea of Scarabia duo, Octatrio and Savannaclaw enjoying Brazil! And I really like that Malleus would use something similar to that Hawaiian shirt he bought in the Yasmina silk event (I really don't know what that shirts name, I just know its the same as the Genie in the end of Aladdin). And I also love thinking about Jamil using traditional São João outfit (mano, ele com uma camisa xadrez vermelha e preta... Oh homem lindo).

I want to claim Jamil as Brazilian, but I can't-

Do you have any HCs like that?

And omg you opened comissions!!!! I'm so happy, even if I don't have money for it, IM STILL VERY HAPPY FOR U FOR A REASON I CAN'T EXPLAIN, I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY!

Beijitos!

- The BR Jamil Simp Anon

First of all, you're so sweet, thank you 😫 and second ANON LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING YOU'RE MAKING MY BRAIN GO NUTS CAUSE I WANNA DRAW ALL OF THAT, AS A GOOD BRAZILIAN ARTIST WOULD! Also hello Jamil bbygirl what are you doing here in Brazil haha twirls hair twirls hair

Omg I'm thinking on the spot rn of some good br headcanons, and I completely agree with you, out of all the dorms, Scarabia, Octavinelle and Savanaclaw would definitely vibe the most in Brazil. Hold on lemme breath in before I shove all my hcs into this post hold on. Eng speaking mutuals and followers I will hold yall hostage to listen to my insane rambles ok here we go

First and foremost, I just know Ruggie is brazilian 100%, and I think we can all agree to that, he's our boy 🙌 he would absolutely drag Leona and Jack around, getting them to try a little bit of everything whenever they get the chance. The hyena boy would pile a bunch of stuff on Jack's arms saying "You HAVE to try this snack- wait have some caldo de cana too... OH you can't forget this piece of candy-" and last thing you know Jack is just buried under pounds of little treats and trinkets.

I personally visited very little States here, but at least around São Paulo and Rio, one of my favorite things to do is to browse those classic, super pretty handmade jewelry they sell on the beach, decorated with crystals and stones, and I just want to get them all even though I might not even use half of the stuff I buy. But anyways, Leona doing that. Leona getting tererê de cabelo to go with the braids. He's gonna spend so much money with clothes and accessories and he's gonna look stunning doing it.

Btw btw I'm obsessed with a store called Atame (@/voudeatame on ig) they have the most brazilian jewelry and clothes ever and the designs are gorge, I should draw Leona wearing something inspired by that someday 😭

Bro if there's anything we all learn in major tourist spots is that you gotta be smart with prices and everything, keep an eye out to not get scammed, unfortunately... But you know what, Octavinelle is just chill with that. You think anyone can scam AZUL? That's impossible. Anyone tries anything with the octatrio, the person is just gonna get scammed back. Jokes aside, I picture Floyd wearing the good ol havaianas, shorts, and maybe #those glasses wherever he goes, Jade might even go along with it every now and then, why not.

This randomly reminds me of Ace cause his casual outfits definitely exclusively consist of that + a random football team shirt. I couldn't care less about football but listen. Corinthians. Simply cause he's annoying and that would be very in character of him (É MEMES, NAO ME MATEM CORINTHIANOS)

Have you ever noticed how Trey looks like the twst version of Zé Carioca. Let that sink in.

Thinking about Malleus, don't you think he would love to visit historical towns and monuments? There's so much history in our architecture, he'd find most fascinating I'm sure.

I just know Jamil and Kalim would absolutely own the dance floor in carnaval, like. No dobts about that. Kalim specially, would love to participate in any bloquinhos de carnaval if he could. Sounds exhausting for me to even be amongst a single one, but okay Kalim, get it I guess 💃 Scarabia and Brazil we share vibes!!!!!

You mentioned the São João fit, and I also thought of Epel, that boy invented Festa Junina, fr. He throws biribinha/estalinhos everywhere to piss off Vil. Also Jamil oh homem perfeito c é doido, n é possível uma coisa dessas.

São João stalls under the management of Octavinelle and it's hell on earth

Sam would open a famous lojinha de 1,99 for sure, I will not elaborate. Oh also whenever I stumble upon frog shaped reco-reco I think of him, I think he would sell them idk idk

Ruggie will show Kalim those brown colored glass plate sets every grandma got in their houses, and tell him they are indestructible.

"Jamil, Jamil! Check this out! Ruggie says these plates NEVER break! Oh we need to have them in Scarabia, pleeaseee!"

"What do you mean they never break? No, Kalim don't-"

Kalim throws it to the floor, it immediately shatters in a million pieces. "I think it hit a weird angle, that must be it."

Idia = alanzoka

Me @ Jamil:

[elfboyeros]

Blackout

@karaboutmyart @lerenee @jj-pines

Find More Bridgehid Stuff Here

"Goddess, how many art projects have you started, Georgia?!"

"Just a few!"

"Why do we have taken them to your dorm?" Rowan asked, as they and their group of friends carried many of the Georgian seer's art pieces through the back paths on campus to the dormitories.

"Mx. Sylven said they are going to clean the media room during spring break, and I don't want any of my paintings to be ruined," Georgia answered.

Rowan nodded to themself, following their friends.

The scenery on campus is much like the island, beautiful during any season. All of the campus structures are covered in gothic fixtures and architecture, all dark hues of brown and black, except for the white castle-like tower seemingly in the middle of campus, standing tall and proud.

"What's up with the tower?" Rowan asked Elias as they walked through the dormitory common area on the first floor, heading to the exit.

"That's the Central Tower," he explained, "People say that it's to cover the catacombs under the college."

"Catacombs? Like the ones in France?" Rowan questioned.

"Kinda, there are probably dead bodies down there," Elias replied, "There are some rumors that say there are dangerous corrupted Fae and cursed alchemists in the catacombs that's why the tower is locked up."

Rowan hummed, continuing to stare at the tower as they stood out on the small patio connected to the front of the dorms.

"How are you doing?" Elias asked softly, looking over at them.

"I'm alright," they answered.

In the time after the Bridgehidien Ball and now (the Thursday evening before spring break), Rowan and Elias had done a great deal of talking.

Sometimes about important stuff, Elias told them that he and Nemo had been getting into fights a lot.

It got bad enough that Nemo went to stay in Maverick's dorm room.

It was a look into their relationship as brothers, as well as roommates.

Rowan on the other hand told Elias about Oceanside and little about their parents.

All Elias had to say about it was: "I'm here for you, and I'm not telling a soul."

"How are you?" Rowan asked.

"...Nemo still isn't talking to me," Elias responded, "To make matters worse, Mom and Dad want my older sister and the two of us to come over for dinner next week."

"You're not going home for break?"

"I'm gonna go home to get some stuff, but I'm not staying," he sighed, "Too much stress, too much fighting."

"Are you going to the dinner?" Rowan asked.

Elias shrugged, "Would much rather spend my spring break doing literally anything else."

Rowan thought for a moment, "...If you don't go maybe we can all get together and have dinner somewhere."

Elias's face flushed a crimson color, even though Rowan said we as in every one of their friends, the idea of sharing something as simple as a dinner with just Rowan was blush inducing, "I like that idea."

"What idea?" Georgia inquired, stepping out of the dorms, her arms stretched to the sky with Maverick and Nemo following her.

"Us all getting dinner together," Elias answered.

"I love that idea!" Georgia mused, descending the small patio, "Maybe we could do that tonight!"

Rowan and Elias nodded, Maverick smiled, while Nemo just shrugged.

"Oh, let's go, let's go," Georgia exclaimed.

"Where are we going? We are broke teenagers," Maverick joked.

"We'll figure it out!" Georgia shouted, pointing onward.

Inside the college's walls, Indigo's heeled shoes clicked down the hallway, heading toward the entrance of the college to make a swift exit.

"Hello, love," Sloan greeted her as he met her in the foyer after he came out the alchemist wing of the college.

"Bonsoir, how are you?"

"Good," he nodded, "We need to talk."

"In what capacity?" she asked.

"Just talk," Sloan shrugged, with a smile, "Not about Rowan, or Esma. Not about Duke or the college, talk like when we were kids."

Indigo scowled at him, "You just want to raid my liquor cabinet," she remarked.

"A drink or two would be nice," he chuckled.

"Drinks sound more than nice," Calvin chimed in, entering the foyer from the open archway in between the stairs with Casper not too far behind.

"Dinner would be nice too," Casper signed.

"Alright dinner and drinks," Indigo mused, "the weather is getting nicer, how about we do it on my back terrace?"

"Wonderful idea, I'll bring the food and you can supply booze," Sloan added.

Rowan and company had made it back to the college during Indigo and Sloan's conversation.

Georgia playfully argued with Maverick and Elias about what places in the town square they could go for dinner.

"Why not come to my house?" Indigo offered butting into the teens' conversation, "We are having sushi from a local restaurant."

"So, you can save what little money you have," Calvin joked.

Georgia clapped all happy like, "That sounds amazing!"

"Are you sure, Mrs. Bookstone?" Maverick asked anxiously, "We don't want to impose."

"Why not?" Indigo shrugged, "My house is large enough, Sloan and I can have our adult conversations while you all get along with one another."

Quite an exciting event, everyone getting together for dinner.

"Percival would you like to join us?" Indigo offered, while Percy descended the stairs as everyone was communicating.

"It's shocking that you would invite me into your home," they commented.

Indigo rolled her eyes, "You coming or not?"

Percy shrugged, "...Just for one drink, I have papers to grade."

The small group had made the once empty foyer very lively, with their conversations of activities for the upcoming break.

Whilst heading for the exit, an overhead light flickered which made the adults glances at each other. It was pretty rare to see the lights flicker.

"Maintenance?"

"Would make sense."

Then the lights went out completely, and an ungodly sound came from outside.

Sloan and Indigo didn't just share a glance, they shared wide eyed stares as if they knew what was about to happen.

The sounds were followed by rumbling, like a stampede, rushing from the area under the stairs.

Calvin pulled an épée from a nearby statue, whilst Sloan pulled out his revolver.

"Are you three crazies?" Percy exclaimed, in shock and bewilderment.

"Casper, try and find some help," Sloan demanded softly.

Casper nodded and raced down the alchemist hall, while the rumbling and horrible noise continued. The sounds got louder and louder, suggesting that whatever was making that racket was getting closer.

"Get them out of here, Percy!" Indigo ordered.

"Excuse me! Where the hell am I supposed to take them?!"

"Anywhere but here, obviously," Calvin retorted, quite harshly, a complete 180 from his normal tone.

Percy went to open her mouth but quickly shut it as what could only be described as a horde of monstrous abominations jammed themselves through the large archway under the middle of the stairs. "PERCY GO!" Sloan screamed.

Rowan and the others were already scrambling towards the exit, whilst Percy stayed frozen.

I can help! Instead of listening to her internal voice, she followed her pupils outside as Indigo, Sloan, and Calvin fought for their lives.

"Professor, what are those things?" Georgia gasped as she ran.

"They're the lost souls that hide in the catacombs," Percy explained, "What I don't understand is why they're free. They are supposed to be—Dammit all, the central tower has been breached!"

"But how?" Elias questioned, "No one is supposed to be able to open it!"

"One person can open it," Maverick answered, sorrowfully.

"Duke," Percy huffed, "I guess this way he can kill Indigo and Sloan without getting his hands dirty."

"That's really morbid, Professor," Nemo commented.

"Well," Percy scoffed, "He tried doing that when they were scholars, that's when all but a handful of students died in the central tower exam. But of course, you can't kill Sloan and Indigo that easily!"

Screeching sounds came from above, which made everyone stop and look up, one of the monsters had followed them out!

Fully black, almost as if it were dripping in writer's ink, with tattered wings.

It looked sort of like a bird, but also sort of like a human.

The monstrous flying predator then dove out of the sky and straight for Rowan.

It grabbed Rowan's throat and pushed them to the ground making their friends and professor gasp and freeze.

"THE CHOSEN ONE, FINALLY AT LAST YOU HAVE RETURNED! WILL YOU FINALLY FREE US, GET US OUT OF THAT HORRIBLE TOWER?! THE CHOSEN ONE! HOW WE ALL HAVE WAITED FOR YOUR RETURN! THE GREAT FATHER IS SO PLEASED MOTHER WILL BE DELIGHTED!"

"GET OFF OF THEM!" Georgia screamed, immediately running to her friend's defense with Elias not to fair behind.

Nemo pulled a few small bottles out of his jean pockets, before frantically mixing them on the spot, as he saw his friend and his brother being flung into the campus's grass, before throwing the mixtures in the bottles at the creature.

"GEORGIA, BLIND IT!" "I-I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN!"

"I BELIEVE IN YOU!"

Georgia took a breath, focusing on making a ball of light in her hand, hearing Indigo's voice in the back of her head walking her through the steps of manifesting light in the palm of her hand.

"Just breathe. Focus on what you wish to happen, how, and why. Once you feel secure enough: let go!"

"Let go!"

Georgia had made a large enough ball of light in her palms to flash the demonic creature and make it blind.

Making it finally let go of Rowan and allowing Elias to bash its head in with a large and thick tree limb, getting its black "blood" all over him and his clothes.

"Wh-what the fuck?!" Rowan coughed out as Maverick, who had been frozen in shock, ran over to them placing his healing hands lightly on their neck.

"Hey hey, breathe," he said softly, "I'm gonna try to help." Rowan nodded as Georgia settled at their side grasping their hand as a sign of support.

"It won't make the markings and redness go away, but it will help with your breathing," Maverick added.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT PROFESSOR?!" Nemo screamed.

"I...I—"

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE AN ALCHEMIST—"

"NEMO STOP!

"I'm not an alchemist anymore," Percy lamented.

Elias put himself between his brother and his professor, putting his hands on his brother's chest, trying to push him back to keep him from doing anything dangerous.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!" Nemo yelled.

"Yelling and screaming at Professor Kowalski isn't going to help this situation," Elias replied.

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HELPING IN SITUATIONS!?"

Then there were gunshots from the inside of the college.

"Fuck!" Percy muttered.

"That's Sloan," Nemo commented, "We gotta get back in there!"

"No, you all have to stay here," Percy said, before staggering toward the college.

"What the actual fuck are you doing!?"

"Making things right!"

Percy left the teenagers outside, entering the chaos inside.

There she saw Indigo wrapped in the coils of one of the monsters as Calvin and Sloan were preoccupied with their own demons.

The curse professor muttered incantations before shooting a bolt of lightning at the creatures, rendering it motionless.

"Percy! Why are you here?" Indigo asked after coughing a few times, "Where are—"

"They're safe," Percy lied, "I'm here to help."

Indigo sighed, before turning back to the chaos in the entrance.

To paint the scene: magic left an intoxicating aroma in the air, the shell casings of Sloan's alchemy infused bullets littered the floor, there was enough electricity airborne from Percy's alchemy that it was making the lights flicker.

"I would say we have this pretty under control, now," Calvin huffed, back-to-back with his wife.

"How did the central tower get opened?" Indigo questioned, as she kept the cursed creatures from touching her husband.

"You thinking Duke did it again?" he asked, stabbing the creature in front of him with the épée in his hand.

"I mean it wouldn't surprise me."

There was this moment of peace just for a few seconds, they were home free, everything around them was dead or dying.

Indigo and Calvin shared a glance and smiled at one another.

It was ending, the darkened blanket of chaos and the feeling of possible death looming over them was lifting.

"SLOAN!"

The screaming voice sounded so familiar yet so new at the same time for everyone in the entrance, it was the loud, thin, croaky, and almost screeching scream, from the alchemist wing of the college, the archmage and healer-blacksmith, whipped around from their position turning to find the source of the scream.

"Oh Goddess," Calvin gasped.

Indigo covered her mouth in shock, at what she had just witnessed. Sloan stood in shock as one of the last corrupted creatures' enormous and elongated talons plunged into Casper's stomach. It held Sloan in a state of fear.

His history was repeating itself, as he only saw a young Indigo taking a hit to the face for him during their school years when they took the central tower exam, alongside what he was witnessing now.

He caught Casper before he fell to the floor, even though the brownie is in pain, bleeding out and possibly dying in his arms, Casper is smiling.

Sloan picked up his revolver from the floor, aiming at the looming creature before firing, while letting out the most guttural scream.

Sloan's revolver was not like a normal revolver, the chamber was larger than the standard one. This increased the amount of bullets to fire from the normal 6 to 12.

Twelve shots of alchemy enhanced bullets were fired, and if Sloan had a chamber that tripled his amount of bullets, he would have fired eighteen.

He continued to pull the trigger of his gun in his haze, he only stopped as he saw Indigo's hand rest on the top of the gun, pushing it down.

"It's dead, Sloan, it's over," she muttered, as his vision focused on the man in his arms, instead of ahead of him.

All he can do is cry, clutching Casper's limp body to his chest before Calvin lent down solemnly.

"Can I take him?" he asked, in a soft tone, seeing Sloan grip on his husband, "...Will you allow me to do that, or do you want to carry him?"

Sloan handed Casper over, leaving Casper to go to the infirmary, before collapsing backwards into Indigo's arms and crying even harder, "He can't die!"

"He won't!"

"He can't die!"

"He won't!"

Rowan and company had raced inside after hearing gunshots right after one another in quick succession, only to witness their professors seemingly at their lowest.

Their presence proved to Indigo that Percy had lied earlier, and she was upset with the science professor, but now is not the time to yell at the person she already had a rocky relationship with.

Everyone just went to the infirmary waiting for news, after explaining what happened outside the college walls.

Indigo paced, muttering in French to herself, in the little waiting room linked to one of the hospital rooms in the infirmary.

It made her students and even her colleague a bit anxious seeing her so worried, which to them seemed out of character.

Then the door slammed, and Sloan stomped toward the exit.

"Sloan stop!" Calvin called.

"NO! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!"

Percy huffed, trying to grab at him, "You can't murder Duke, you have no evidence for his crimes!"

"I don't give a shit! HE TRIED TO KILL MY HUSBAND!"

He stopped in his tracks at the door meeting almost chest to chest with Indigo who stood in front of the door, "MOVE!"

"You are running on adrenaline. Killing Duke right now is only going to make you feel guilty."

"No, I want—"

"Revenge? Justice? You have had the past seven years to kill him, and what stopped you?! Casper? So, if you went through with it now, what would happen when Casper finds out?" Indigo expounded, pausing for a moment to watch Sloan's face shift when Casper was mentioned, "You need to stay here!"

"Indigo, be rational!"

"Yes, because you are being quite rational right now," Percy retorted sarcastically.

"Percival, shut the fuck up for once!" Sloan spat out, "...Indigo, if it were Calvin in Casper's place you would be doing the same thing I want to do!"

Indigo's face hardened, "Sloan, if it were Calvin, he would already be dead," she alleged.

Sloan softened; he realized what he was implying.

"You already know how I would react, we've been here before," she added, "On the opposite side, but you cried for me. I've cried for you in the same way. I know the pain you are feeling at this very moment. The place you need to be in is there with him, not acting upon the need for revenge or justice. Because when Casper wakes up the one person, he will want to see is you."

Sloan just turned around, with his head low, walking back to Casper, as Calvin exited.

"Hey Maverick, you mind staying here for the night?" Calvin asked quietly to his apprentice.

Maverick nodded, "Can I get a couple of things?"

Calvin nodded, before turning to Indigo, "I'm staying here."

"I assumed that," she sighed, before turning to her apprentice, "Georgia, you said you don't have a roommate this semester, correct?"

"Yes, but—"

"Rowan, you'll be staying with Georgia tonight," Indigo interrupted, leaving the little group of friends shocked.

"Indigo!" Percy said sternly.

"You really need to stop talking," Indigo scoffed, looking at Percy narrowly before looking back at the group of students, "I'm not arguing with any of you, despite what just happened. I would rather you all stay in groups to insure your safety, all of your safety, and my house isn't going to be the safest place if I'm not there."

No one chose to argue with her.

Rowan still felt terrified from being choked over an hour ago that they didn't want to talk about it at all.

"We'll go home in a few minutes, jellyfish," Indigo sighed, as Maverick, Nemo, Elias, and Georgia stood, "Percy, you should probably walk them to the dorms. And then walk Maverick back here. If you can even, make it there and back."

"I—"

Indigo looked at her with a harsh gaze, "We'll talk later."

With everyone shuffling out of the infirmary, Indigo retreated to Calvin's office for a moment while he looked at Rowan's neck, "I take it Maverick, got to you right after it happened?" he asked, examining the red markings on their neck.

They nodded.

"Does your throat hurt?"

"I feel like I shouldn't talk," they mumbled.

Calvin bobbed, "Your neck will probably be red for the weekend, but you'll be alright," he finished, "I'm glad Maverick was there."

Rowan nodded again, as Indigo came out of Calvin's office, "I will be back in a few," she said to Calvin.

"Text me when you make it home, then when you are leaving for the dorms, and then when you're coming back to the infirmary."

Indigo nodded, while Rowan followed her out.

Their walk was somber and quiet, Indigo mentioned packing enough for the next week just in case the campus was put on lockdown, so that is what Rowan did.

Once their clothing and essentials were gathered, they sat on their bed, staring at the brown beetle plushie in their hands.

"Are you ready, Rowan?" Indigo asked in the doorway.

"Indigo," they yearned, "What happened?"

The mage sighed, dropping the large travel bag in her hands to the floor, "Are you asking me as your guardian or as your professor?"

"Whatever will get me the most answers."

"I'm going to be honest," Indigo huffed, sitting next to them, "I don't have a rightful clue, although I wouldn't be surprised if Duke opened up the catacombs, as some sort of test for whoever was in the building."

"I got called the chosen one tonight by one of those things, what does that even mean, what am I the chosen one of?!"

"I wish I knew, then I could help you," Indigo lamented.

Rowan huffed.

"Jellyfish, I will do my best to figure out what is going on, I promise," the archmage replied, as they slumped over.

They nodded before the two of them left for the college, Rowan staying in Georgia's dorm for the night, Elias and Nemo forced to stay in the same form for "safety," Percy sulking in her office, while Calvin, Indigo, Sloan, and Maverick watched over Casper in the infirmary.

My Sweet Great-Grandson, why don't you visit your dearold bedstefar a visit.

[balletwatchespokemon]

Indigo League Episode 22

This episode is delightfully spooky, with our main characters being in some real danger! Ash challenges his fourth gym in this one, and the next couple of episodes will be about his journey to actually beat it.

The gang are lost yet again, though lucky for them they don’t spend multiple episodes being lost this time.

Ah yes, a random little girl playing in the woods. Very normal and not creepy.

Ash falls off a cliff and I was impressed by his quick thinking to pull out Bulbasaur to save him. He goes to pull out the pokeball pretty much as soon as he starts falling.

I really like the composition of this shot, it’s very striking.

This shot is fun too, though not quite as much as the previous one.

Hmm, is Ash an adrenaline junkie? 🤔

But hey, at least Ash almost dying led them to the city they were looking for!

Yeah Ash! Stand up for yourself! (I love a good Pokémon joke that makes me laugh out loud for real.)

They’re bored of the theme song already. It’s only episode 22 guys, you’re gonna hear it a whole lot more!

Mystery girl: “Get teleported idiots!” (The gang get teleported three different times this episode and every time they end up about a foot or two too high at their destination so they fall down a bit. Just a random thing to notice.)

This is a weird looking gym, it doesn't even say gym anywhere on the outside. Though I guess it’s a little harder to depict psychic powers as architecture, as compared to elements like water or electricity.

Pikachu hanging off the door here is so cute.

The noises the Japanese voice actor makes here as he’s trying to bend the spoon with his mind are hilarious!

Classic strong Ash, I’m not sure I could just bend a spoon like that. (Though I guess it depends on how thick the metal is.)

Pikach being cute again, this time surprised at the Abra teleporting behind him.

In fact Ash will end having that happen to his Pokémon multiple times thoughout the series, so it’s a good thing it’s not illegal in a match.

Why is their first response to ending up some where that they can’t find anybody to wander into someone’s house and start eating their food? And Brock, how could you not tell that was plastic when you picked it up?? And whyyyyyy are you picking up a piece of cake with your bare hands???

Another fine Pikachu face, this one’s kinda scary in its deformity.

This is a great summery of Ash as a person.

Poor Meowth, he’s the hardest worker of the team. (Jesse and James got paralyzed earlier which is why he’s dragging them now.)

Next episode, Ash dies! (For real.)

[saintmurd0ck]

hey babe hope ur doing well. i've been scrolling through ur nyc posting and... ur making me miss nyc sm i'm actually tearing up. i love. that fuckin city so much idk how to describe it. i know it sounds so fckin stupid and cliche but legit since i was little i wanted to live there.

seeing it in shows and movies when i was little and becoming obsessed with various marvel characters who lived in different boroughs (my main one being matt ofc lol)

and then visiting for the first like a few years ago and staying in the city a long weekend and finding little local places to eat. getting into the residential areas and everything just feels so... right.

you can hear people moving down on the street, you can see the chrysler building from your window, you can hear the ambulances and the construction workers and the trash collectors, you can smell the food the neighbors are cooking when you step out in the tiniest hall and into the tiniest elevator

seeing people talking and yelling at each other from open windows cause these people have lived here years and sitting there eating the best damn food youve had in your life from a tiny hole in the wall place on the edge of china town.

going across the street and down steps into a second hand bookstore where the floorboards creak with EVERY step and the back is literally a shed shoved up to the door taking up most of an alleyway and you just feel so fucking at peace and alive because the city is alive and FUCK

the subway and the architecture and the PEOPLE

RHI the first time i ever visited i was doing all the dumb tourist things and was walking through hells kitchen (didn't even realize I was at the time) and some middle age guy stops me on the street

he has a thick ny accent and starts asking me about my day and if i'm a tourist and what attractions ive visited and hes cracking jokes and acting like he's known me for years and telling me about his wife and hows hes traveled the world and giving me tips on how to dodge random vendors

and he tells me he stopped me cause i reminded him of his kids and he says "oh, welcome to hell's kitchen by the way, best part of the whole city"

and i. i'm so fucking broke im so broke but i swear im going to live there i have to live there i have to

and i thought it would wear off, cause that's what everyone says. the more you visit the more trash you see and the more bad things you see. and you do. i saw more trash and rats and all of that but. it just made me fall in love with it more

everyone's just there, trying to survive and trying to live their lives and i love that. yeah it has it's problems but i don't care. every time i visit i see one bad thing and twenty good things, and twenty-one reasons to love that stupid city even more

anyways let me actually shut the fuck up, ily hun, hope your day continues to get better

i am absolutely over the fucking moon receiving this, ren. i hope you know how much it means to me that you took the time to write all of this out and share your thoughts with me. firstly let me say, i feel like new york city is kinda a city of clichés, but they're all true. it has this... magic to it, and it kinda sucks you in.

when you say everything feels right, i know exactly!!!! what you mean. here i was, in a country i'd never stepped foot in before, over 15 thousand km (9320 miles) away from familiarity, but yet i knew what i was doing. it felt like some kind of puzzle piece had just clicked into place, and it only took me 21 years to find out.

i feel that the thing with new york is, the residents all have the same thing to say. "oh yeah this city fucking sucks" or some sort of variation on the criticism. but at the end of the day -- at the end of the day, they step back and think, "oh yeah, i live here. in new york freakin city." and it's such a bonding thing.

i thought it would wear off too, and after a while you'd just get used to it and everything would be mundane, but it never felt like that. even being back home, back to reality, i'm pining for it. the thing i've stressed the most about going away is that it never was a holiday. it was never supposed to be that. it was actually the chance for me to go there and ask myself honestly: "can i actually live here? would i like it?" and i am so glad i proved myself right.

so yeah, let's get an apartment in hell's kitchen. let's wake up to the sound of traffic and sirens and someone yelling on the street below, then go for coffee where the baristas pretend to care about our coffee orders (until they do). everything's a subway ride away, one way or another. fuck it, let's go on the staten island ferry at three in the morning and laugh about all the people who've paid $200 to go see lady liberty (when they can be doing it for free).

the city is alive, and while it can take and take and take from you, it leaves a part of its magic in your soul. and you know what? i'm fine with it.

the city awaits with open arms...

and i can't wait to go back.

[borathae]

Hello dear! I hope you're having a wonderful day. Just popped in to say how much I love the love your characters feel towards art. Their adoration of colours and different art forms have been oh so masterfully weaved into your storylines that the writings themselves have been transformed into art.

There's one question that tickles my curiosity: is there an artwork that you're fond of? If so, which one it is?

Once again, thank you for your generous efforts and their breathtaking results — 🌼

Wow thank you 🥺😭 this literally means so much to me!! holy wow 🥺💜

Okay so to answer your question

Omfg I have many art pieces which I really love. I generally enjoy Impressionism as a whole. I love the way they artists used colour and I am also really fond of the themes they chose (you know nature, day to day life etc.). Monet especially used the most beautiful colour palettes.

Post-Impressionism at the time of Van Gogh is a fave of mine too or maybe I just generally enjoy Van Gogh's works. A few years ago, I visited the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam and that experience will always stay with me. No joke, I remember standing in front of the Sunflowers and shedding a few tears and then I looked to my right and there was like a random tourist also crying and we locked eyes and understood without speaking and istg that moment stayed with me hahaha

As far as my favourite way of light depiction is concerned. Baroque art. Just dark surroundings while the subjects are brought to life with strong colours and sharp lights. I draw lots of inspiration for my photography from Baroque lighting techniques.

I also really enjoy Japanese artists like Hiroshi Yoshida & Kawarazaki Shodo. Their art just hits right.

STUDIO GHIBLI especially Hayao Miyazaki. His landscape & interior architecture drawings make me want to scream because GOALS!!

Art Noveau Architecture omfg

I am also dropping those random links to cat paintings :) One, Two, Three, Four, Five (not a cat but cute)

I hope I didn’t forget anything gosh I love art so much! 💜

[ethernetmeep]

art exhibit & exhibition — a small recollection, in presumably crude order

i get there early. exhibit starts at 1– i arrive around 12:30 or so. the solitude before the event starts is immensely comforting. take a glance around at all the pieces in the exhibit i am primarily there for. i don’t do a detailed take of all of them, really— only a few. see a denim piece & self portrait & other things, all absolutely beautiful. the childlike wonder and joy of the pieces made by the younger children was something i hadn’t felt in a long time. smiled for a about 85% of the entire visit. went and saw other exhibitions, took photos of anything which left me awestruck or effected. accidentally forgot some photos of a couple of these, but nonetheless amazing. unable to describe them or how they affected me; all the emotions of the event are capsulated in the event, in that specific area of time. one in particular drew me in— portrait of a girl. looked almost like myself. something about it was beautiful, but soul-crushing. made me realize i wasn’t alone.

one piece in particular, a small architectural creation of a room. didn’t sit inside it, but wanted to. was afraid i was too big… still, found it fascinating. the younger children at the event loved it.

main event starts— crowds of people. generally older in age. meet a few artists— several. see some educator art on display. like the clay piece about burrels (?) in trees; talked about this last year with him, actually. saw him (mr b, shorthand) make it a bit last year. talk to a girl who has two paintings of herself on display. her outfit is absolutely beautiful, something soft and elegant— don’t explicitly state either of these things, just say she looks nice. talk with her about different materials and her sustained investigation. after our conversation, we don’t seem to meet again— still, i wish her well.

i get to make two connections— two artists. one two years younger, one same age. both have interesting outfits. one made her hoodies design herself, other wore an arachnid necklace around her neck. small group of individuals. meet another person later on, a person wearing a hatsune miku shirt. doe like eyes and very soft face. pretty in every sense of the word— of course, i don’t tell them this; just an observation. one of the people i made connections with talks of how they labeled her piece wrong with materials. huh. i get each of their contacts— they leave soon enough. i am the last of the three to leave. unsure when they go.

i get two papers, one pamphlet and other a telling of what pieces are in the gallery along with their creators. feel a sense of déjà vu. and, also like the first time, i neatly fold up the paper and put it in my pocket. on a second glance, long after i have left, i realize i should have probably grabbed extras. if only.

head tilted, i bring my teacher beside me and ask if a certain label is correct. he hums and says hes unsure. insert human mumbling & different sound pitches to one another & an awkward sentence of sorts. i don’t find it funny, regard it as… almost a joke at my expense. he doesn’t seem to realize this; if he does, maybe it is meant as something lighthearted. i find myself reeling, just slightly, feeling bad about the way events go and have gone about. silently, i wish for things to be different. for life to get better. i try to move on from the interaction. i do, eventually.

cake for the event; had the vanilla side. sweet, crushingly sweet. had cranberry and mango as a juice combination… surprisingly, not bad. not at all. made a two dollar donation & bought a small book & sticker at the gift shop. expensive items; makes full sense, i just don’t have money. book is about organisms one may find on marsh lands & whatnot in the area. excited to read it. more like a little pamphlet..

once i walked out, took a small detour to see some of the sculptures outside. light rain, comforting. i appreciate the solitude contrasting with the loud & crowded aspects of the event when it was in motion. sat on a small marble bench as i awaited my mothers arrival. reminded of comedic notes i made in my notes app, reminded of the days events and presences. the heaviness of my earrings weighs (hah) on me. one of the sun, one of the moon; outfit meticulously picked. wanted to look good, perfect if possible. unable to ever be perfect. i am.. not made for that. still, i managed to look okay. wore a black blazer & my other fish shirt. outfit went together well. felt flustered by the compliments on said earrings. i am not used to being noticed like this, noticed in general.. feel almost unworthy of it all.

on the ride home, passed by train tracks & an expanse area where a few transmission towers lay standing. have a childhood memory of the place, if not that one then a place similar, going with a man who was a friend of a brother of a girl of a child of a… you know, long list. essentially, friend of a family friend. name was chris, if i remember right. short brown hair, blue eyes & a beard. early 20s. walked with child me among the transmission towers and pebbled walkways which weren’t actual walkways. awestruck by their size and beauty, amazed i was allowed to go this far. logistically, probably trespassing. visited a small pond with him. swam in the water in all my clothes; no swimsuit brought, as that wasnt to be expected. interacted with another boy at this small pond. don’t remember anything about him, just remember it was a small hideaway of sorts. chris brought a towel; walked back to the house in damp clothes, yet smiling the entire time. the first time i felt free, possibly. i was never uncomfortable during the exchange; he was one of the few men in my early life that didn’t have any hints of lingering discomfort or creepiness to them. simply a nice fellow.

on the ride home, after recalling the memory, i look outside my window and at the roads i have long traveled on. same roads, same routes. how long have things been like this? i find myself violently distressed at the thought. i have always been aware other people live in my vicinity, but the realization at this point in time leaves me reeling and suddenly emotionally vulnerable. i don’t know what to do with this, nor what to say that would accurately describe what this entailed. in the end, i calm down; chalk everything up to coincidence.

i don’t believe in it, but it is the only thing i can do; lest i have my worldview turned upside down and absolutely shattered.

[theonesigngle1]

One piece: highschool modern au (3)

New people:(3)

----------------------

Upon arrival and seeing the exterior of the school. The difference in architecture is vast. There was an obvious split in materials that make up a highschool being the grand line and college being the new world. It was busy full of on campus peers.

Most people were going in one exit or the other. Luffy leading me to the left wing being the grand line highschool. Popular side considering so many students that showed up on orientation day and first day of class.

Everyone was led into a gym after putting away your bag if needed too. Many friend groups of past middle school groups stuck close while many glared at each other throwing paper and spit balls. There was a loud scoff and everyone looked at the headmaster. Being the said principal, He had white hair with various wrinkles while looking stern. The man next to him just laughed. Headmaster Sengoku and Garp. Seems Luffy knew him as Luffy immediately stopped Socializing and hid behind me, avoiding the gaze of the older male. The older male, Garp, was eating rice crackers while staring directly at Luffy.

The man was rather aggressive walking right up to Luffy giving him a fist of Love. Luffy whined and rubbed his head.

I giggle slightly and just smiled. I make eye contact with a boy, pink hair, he looked too young to be here..nervous too..she wondered if he got chosen like her. He looked kinda cute..Rather than rigid like all the other boys that smell like B.O or Axe body spray instead of some normal deodorant.  A boy next to him seems more out there and cocky. A chin that looked like balls and a haircut much uneven to the boys confident personality.

Though this was a boring first to entrance assembly talking about dress code, and hall passes. Though we were introduced to our home room teachers. And club coaches. Like a male who has a sword on his back and a fancy hat and a cape too, while another was rather.. Old per say. An old woman with wrinkles. I couldn't see her name badge though.

I got my schedule when it was finished. Yikes.. I made it to my classroom sitting next to Luffy at a table of 4. The small pink haired kid also sat next to us. He seemed shy or rather nervous close to pissing himself at the very least. Next was the green haired fellow that looked rather lost led in by a pink haired woman. She looked cutesy. Jeez, do any of these guys know how to take a shower? Both Luffy and the green haired guy smell like 10 cans of bounce dat ass if you get me… i side eye them as the green haired with swords i realized just glared back. The pink haired midget seemed even more nervous.

It was an awkward tension but Luffy seemed to break it quickly grinned while wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"Name's Monkey D Luffy wanna be king of the pirates! And this is Y/n!"

He grinned, hearing captain Morgan..a stand in waiting for our real teacher in the background. Must be waiting for Mr.Aokiji.. Was his name?

"What about you guys!"

"K-koby.. I um..i want to be a marine…"

Luffy then stared at the green haired swordsman

"And yours"

Zoro just glared and rolled his eyes

"Roronoa Zoro.. Plan on being the worlds greatest swordsman.."

He spoke quietly his piercing eyes glaring. A fat woman then approaches Koby.

"Koby. Why aren't you sitting at my table scrubbing my shoes."

"I…i'm sorry alvidia.. I'll quickly do that"

Koby got up and i felt a slight twinge seemes Luffy had the same idea..(if he even has any of those..)

"Hey Koby aren't you gonna be a marine? Why go over there with that mean pig".

I rose a brow and luffy backed me up

"Yeah, don't you want to be a marine or something like that. You don't take orders from pirates yah know"

"The fuck are pirates.."

I mutter and Zoro explained standing up

"Pirates are the gangs in this big city that got accepted into this school.. People usually make these with friend groups as jokes or try to climb the podium.."

"Cool.."

I smirked and Luffy cracked his knuckles grinning.

"Zoro! Be apart of my pirate crew! You too y/n!"

"No thanks.."

"No.."

We both say at the same time. As Luffy has a shocked expression his eyes popping out.

"Why not?!"

"I don't want to be a pirate

"I'm a pirate hunter"

We say yet again at the same time

"P-pirate hunter Zoro! I heard of you…attacking lower gangs to climb the totem pole. And to make a little extra cash behind the scenes"

Koby squeaked and i shook slight

'Damn.. I'm gonna piss myself.. I'm seat mates with crazy people..'

I thought while looking down. I sit in my seat already calling quits and a calm voice yet cool say Casually

"Roronoa and Monkey. Back to your seats. Alvidia and Koby sit in a seat and stay."

This was..Mr.Aokiji, our home room teacher

[thewarriorspecial]

Weekend In The Woods

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Mature | John Stewart/Kyle Rayner

Additional Tags: Huddling For Warmth, Camping, Tropetember, Tropetember 2022

John finally takes Kyle on a little getaway.

Kyle wouldn’t normally call himself the outdoorsy type, but for John, he’d happily make an exception. He was perched on a large stump watching aforementioned sexy man split logs for firewood. It’s not like Kyle didn’t want to help, it’s just that John kept giving him jobs like sit over there or just hold this for a sec. So, Kyle did as he was told and happily watched as the sweat stains on John’s drab, grey t-shirt grew. The graphic on the shirt looked like the AC/DC logo but it said HV/AC and John found it so funny. 

It was like, if John’s brain was an onion and you started to peel back the layers, you’d just keep finding dad jokes and obscure pop lyrics. And then suddenly, a forty minute monologue (or soliloquy, maybe he was actually talking to himself) about roof shapes or a bird would just fall out of his face. It was adorable and every time Kyle was delighted to hold John’s hand and listen as they walked and talked. 

John knew so much about industrial arts and contemporary architecture but also so much about long forgotten ska bands and the proper ways to brew different kinds of coffee. Kyle didn’t even know there were other types of coffee. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, sighing happily as he watched John work.

John paused his rhythmic chopping, resting the axe and then his palm against a still-standing tree. He leaned on the young tree’s trunk, crossing one foot over the other and putting a hand on his hip. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see if Kyle was still watching without being obvious. He couldn’t be sure, so he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Kyle bit his lip as his eyes followed the motion. Okay good, John thinks, still looking. 

John looks over at the small piles of similar items he made after he dumped out the tent bag. He can’t remember the last time he had to put a tent together. He looks back at the pile of wood carnage he created. He stacked everything nicely to hide how uneven it was. Hope I’m doing this right, he thinks. He’d love to ask for help but he doesn’t know what to ask for. He’s making this all up. Adapt, Improvise, Overcome and whatnot. He heads over to the Pile of Many Things and starts putting the tent pieces together in his mind. 

Kyle sighs as he watches John think. He so smart. He’s so organized. He’s got his whole life together. And he’s really hot. 

John unfurls the main tent piece and puzzles over the stakes. Why are there more anchor/strap/hole things than there are stakes? Why did I have to get the big stupid multi-room pain in the ass tent? Because it looks cool, he remembers thinking. bEcAuSe iT LoOkS cOoL, he mocks himself as he starts laying zippers end to end, trying to figure out which fitted sheet monstrosity was supposed to be the fancy little tent foyer. Why did I buy this? Why am I like this?

“Do you need any help?” Kyle calls out.

“Nah, I’m good. I got it,” John smiles. Kyle smiles too as he stands and brushes off his pants. John hates asking for help. The more tent John unfolds the more Kyle is sure this is at least a three person job.

“Here,” Kyle says gently as he helps John line up zippers and hold up walls. 

“That’s perfect, thank you.”

They work together in companionable silence for the better part of an hour until finally, finally their home away from home for the weekend proudly stood. Kyle raises his hands above his head with an excited cheer. John does the same and they double high-five each other with a loud smack. John keeps their hands pressed together, laces their fingers together, and brings Kyle’s arms to rest around his shoulders. 

“Now what?” John asks, rubbing his nose against Kyle’s. 

“Now we should go swimming!” Kyle gives him a quick peck and then races towards the nearby stream. 

They return as the sun begins to set. Kyle’s already buzzing with excitement about the mesh roof of the tent. He’s hugging John’s entire arm as they walk a well worn trail in perfect step. John listens in rapt fascination as Kyle tells him about the Leonids and summer constellations, and he watches the setting sun’s light turn Kyle’s eyes shining hazel. 

John lays Kyle down and makes love to him as the night sky rains stars. 

Kyle wakes up when he feels a gentle tickle on his cheek. He pushes his hair out of his face; leans back and stretches when he realizes he was drooling on John’s shoulder. As he opens his eyes he sees eight more staring back at him. 

Kyle leaps back with a hiss like a startled cat. 

JOHN, he mouths, but no sound comes out. JOHN, he tries again. He slowly stretches his leg to poke John’s calf with his toes. “…John…” he croaks. 

A massive, hairy, monstrous spider the size of a dinner plate had parked itself in the center of John’s chest. Probably trying to suck his soul out. Through his eyes. 

“John,” Kyle whispers, more urgently. The spider turned its eyes to look at him. It turned. It looked. It looked at him like it knew him and it spoke English. Killer Space Spider From Outer Fucking Space. Oh…Oh…Ohmigod I’m gonna die in this tent and when they find me I’m gonna be all spider sucked out and I’m gonna look like that bitch from the ring got me holy fuck I gotta get out of here. 

“S-sp-spider…John!” 

“Hm?” John hums.

“Spider…J…John…” Kyle has himself pressed against the corner, John and his stowaway blocking the only exit. Unless…Kyle imagines himself summoning his uniform and blasting out of the tent roof like Team Rocket.

John’s eyes open, the spider turns to look at him, and they contemplate each other for a moment. “They don’t eat much,” John decides and closes his eyes.

Kyle makes an assortment of wet cat noises like, “fsssfffsf” and “hhkkaakk”. 

“It’s more scared of it than we are of…wait. It’s more scared of us…you know what I mean.” John opens his eyes and takes in the sight of Kyle trying to crab walk up the wall of the tent. 

“Please do something about Shelob!” Kyle begs.

John sits up, stretches, and laughs. The spider clings to chest, slowly moving upward.

“Hhkkttssssuuughhhhh,” Kyle says, touching his own neck in an attempt to relieve the second-hand creepy-crawlies.

John scoots over to the door and unzips it. He gently removes the spider, letting it crawl over his knuckles as he looks for a spot to set it down. “It’s a wolf spider,” he declares as he sets it down on the stump Kyle had sat on the day before.

“Didn’t ask,” Kyle huffs. Now he’s awake, terrified, and cold. Ridiculous. Too early. 

“Nope, wait,” John remarks as he sees his little visitor in the morning light. The spider is almost black, with barely visible stripes on all of its legs. “Fishing spider.” 

“A what?”

“Fishing spider,” John repeats as he reenters the tent. His skin is already cold from the crisp morning air. Kyle hisses and grumbles as John settles back in for cuddles.

“Th-they can swim?” Kyle asks.

“Oh yeah,” John says with a grin. “You ever hear about the cranberry farmers?”

“I don’t think I want to, honestly,” Kyle clings a little tighter. 

“Not a bug guy, huh?” John pulls Kyle close, rubbing his back.

“Definitely not.”

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Does Guy count?” Kyle looked up at John with a big smile as he pictured Guy belching and brazenly scratching himself in public.

“Absolutely.”

A/N: This is my weakest work, honestly. It needs a solid rewrite and some good old TLC. My first event, first johnkyle. I took a swing and I'm happy I finished it. Thanks for reading! <3

[styledeficit]

17 October - 22 October weeknotes

Monday 17 October

Rain check. 

Tuesday 18 October

Proper dark when the alarm goes off. 

A low mist jokes around in the park. It’s somehow gathered in a corner at one end, like a pyramid. I check it from two angles as I walk past, but it’s definitely triangular, not just a trick of the light. 

Read Derek Jarman’s Modern Nature on the train. There’s a description of London in the sixties, of artists fucking and getting fucked. London Bridge feels abrasive as the doors open. People too loud, buildings too large.

Huge NatWest ad: a woman smiling an enormous smile, teeth studded with diamonds spelling out CEO. For a second I wonder why this was deemed ‘bank-appropriate’ but of course it is. The aim is to have so much money you need to embed it in your teeth. What’s the point in being rich if no one knows why you’re smiling?

It’s not that, obviously. They’re being ‘young, urban, relevant’. How do you do, fellow kids? It could be an ad for a cosmetic dentist of course, but it’s not.

I’m not in the mood for today and I need tea. Get to the office and finally do what I know someone else does with coffee and these too-small mugs. Make myself 2 at the same time and get to work. 

Late home.

Wednesday 19 October

Sunrise 7.30 sunset 17:58

Problem with being in a concert band is that you walk around whistling absolutely unrecognisable harmonies from well known pieces. Sorry, strangers.

‘Truss hit by minus strike’ - someone next to me is reading the Metro on the train. Truss’s popularity has fallen to a record low of -70%.

On the train on the way back again I sit next to a copy of the Evening Standard. I don’t think ‘print is dead’ but the Tories are clearly trying to send it on its way. The papers can’t keep up. Suella Braverman has resigned as Home Secretary but it hasn’t made the papers yet. I read the news on my phone.

Later the BBC reports allegations of MPs being ‘manhandled’ to support the government in the fracking vote. 

Check the Guardian: “One Tory backbencher said it was “the most bullying, screaming and shouting” they had seen in the voting lobbies, with Morton and Whittaker being engaged in a “full-blown shouting match”.

Another said Whittaker had been seen telling colleagues: “I am fucking furious and I don’t give a fuck any more.”

Right.

Thursday 20 October

100% chance of rain

Jesus wept.

Truss resigns. I’m embarrassed when the BBC says hello to viewers from around the world. 

Friday 21 October

Best train journey in London is the one stop overground between London Bridge and Blackfriars. I wish you could walk on the tracks, without getting killed or arrested. Raised up, the track snakes between buildings so close you can peer through a mix of windows from bedrooms to offices and everything in between. Pretty good slice of history and architecture. Also great if you’re nosey. You could walk the streets below of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. There’s also something in the speed of it.

Arrive at Farringdon Station and it’s changed yet again. I love this station - it’s got a good history. Also I’ve had multiple jobs which were easier to get to from here, including Emap, MOO and Pres.Co (which then became Wheel, which was then bought by LBi, which was then bought by Digitas). Actually, Pres.co was in the old Old Holborn building. A previous boss who grew up around here told me the smell of tobacco used to hang in the air when he was a kid. He also remembers the chop house when it was a chop house. “You’d stand in a line, get a slice of meat and a slap of mash. It wasn’t fancy then.” 

Saturday 22 October

The ginkgo leaves on the little tree are slowly turning yellow. Another rose has flowered. The cosmos are still going strong, and so far, the squirrel hasn’t dug up the bulbs I’ve planted. Or not the ones in pots anyway. We’ll see about the rest. 

What a week, eh?

Update: I lied about the squirrel.

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

[partlystiles]

So, I noticed you write for Peter Pettigrew,,, I was wondering if you could write something for him and a female s/o? Where he has to introduce his incredibly shy, Hufflepuff s/o to the other Marauders. Bonus points if she’s short, like 4’11-5’0. You can ignore this if you’d prefer not to write it. Have a wonderful day.

i will always write for my baby. your wish is my command. also sorry if this isn’t what you were imagining!

Young!Peter Pettigrew x fem!reader

summary: For days Peter had been non-stop talking to his friends about his girlfriend and for the life of them, they could never catch him with her. Peter hated getting bothered by them as much as he did so to put them at ease, he arranges an introduction. 

word count: 2,307

warning: swearing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallways of Hogwarts were ones of great architecture and historic stories that the many portraits of old witches and wizards absolutely loved to talk and brag about. Students and ghosts alike walked along the corridors every day without really admiring it apart from when statues liked to jump out at them or portraits grabbed their attention with things varying from manic laughter to noisy singing. It truly was a work of art.

It looked like somewhere royals or people in high society back in the olden days would come to stay for their Honeymoon or just for a small change of scenery and no matter how strict the rules, how tidy the uniforms or how high the expectations, students definitely did not act as tidy or as civilised as a royal or a lady or lord would do.

A prime example would be groups of rowdy teenage boys thinking insulting innocent bystanders or making creepy comments about a girls body would be a proper thing to do in a hallway as grand as the ones in Hogwarts. Another example would be the much rowdier, much more irresponsible pranksters of Hogwarts that rivalled against the other boys in witty comments or just funny circumstances.

You often rolled your eyes at their work or mutter quietly about them under your breath when they passed, practically yelling for the whole corridor to hear unless they were about to pull a prank and whispering which is where you would normally make your leave from that particular corridor. But they seemed to be everywhere you went and you didn’t see why until a particular member of the group approached you in the Kitchens one night when you were getting your midnight snack from the house elves.

He said he liked you which made you look around for maybe a sign of the other boys in wonder if this was some sort of prank. But it wasn’t and he...actually liked you. It definitely didn’t escape your notice that the boy was one of the quiet ones and seemed to be holding his breath when he confessed. Sadly, the confession was right before the summer so all you could do was send letters over the holidays which were slightly awkward. 

More so when you returned to school and found yourself glancing at each other from across the hallways before you turned and scurried off in another direction after smiling. Then he began to join you on your midnight snack journeys which developed into a beautiful relationship full of blushes, grins and soft, gentle kisses stolen before you had to separate.

Pranks your way were avoided and you were practically living in bliss until he proposed that he wanted you to meet his friends. As in the rowdy ones, as in the ones that get all the good scores no matter how hard you try and the ones that always disrupt your reading time in the library.

It was safe to say that you were  nervous because you were nothing like them, loud noises weren’t your thing and you’d much prefer to curl up next to the Black Lake with a book in your hand then join the group of boys in the Great Hall where they probably threw food at each other and if someone else's food ever touched you, you felt like you might be sick. Not to mention the fact that all of them are giants compared to you.

“They are going to love you.” Peter promised, his grip on your hand tight as he tried to drag you down the hallway whilst you planted your feet firmly to the ground. For someone so small, he was amazed at how much you can resist his pull.

“They’re going to hate me.” You argued back attempting to pull him the other way but definitely not succeeding. “I’m awkward and lonely and weird and obsessed with bees which is definitely not normal.”

“It’s cute.” He chuckled, giving up on his pulling but being pulled towards you by your grip when he had given up. You stumbled but he grabbed you arms and stabilised you before you could fall forward and hit the floor. “You’re cute.”

“I am not like them.” You took yourself out of his arms with a mutter, frowning slightly whilst Peter frowned too. “They’re loud and you’ve been friends with them forever and I’m just new. If they don’t like me then we’re gonna...”

“I’m not gonna break up with you if they don’t like you.” Peter shook his head and stepped close, his hand reaching down to tilt your chin up so he was looking down into your eyes. “They’ll love you...I promise.”

“I’m just nervous, I’ve never even thought of being friends with them. They’re just so loud and I...I’m quiet and shy and I stick my face in a book every time they come near me. I just know that they’ll find me weird, Peter.” You covered your face with you hands, shaking your head.

“Oh, baby...” He wrapped his arms around you in a hug and you welcomed it gratefully, hopefully he would listen to you...but no, Peter lifted you up and put you easily over his shoulder as you yelped and kicked your legs. “Come on.”

“Peter, no, please.” You begged as he walked down the corridor with you over his shoulders and consequently receiving a lot of stares which you shyly leant your head on his back to try and get rid of the stares. You were just happy that it was the weekend and you were wearing jeans instead of a skirt. “Pete, please put me down.”

“Not until we’re at the hall and you see how excited they are to meet you.” He laughed as you groaned at him and nuzzled your head into his back as you turned a corner. Your palms were beginning to get sweaty and you felt your breathing pick up slightly at you nervousness.

“Peter, seriously.” Your voice had retreated to a small murmur, no longer were you joking around. You really didn’t think that his friends would like you, they were confident and charming and you were reserved, flustered easily and talked about bees all the time. Hell, in the summer you were in an environmental protest against pollution whilst they were probably having fun swimming somewhere.

“You’ll be fine, angel. We’re here.” He said and slowly lowered you from his shoulder, you nervously glanced around when you noticed you were outside the Great Hall and you looked into it to see the familiar three boys sat at the Gryffindor Table. “Hey.” You looked at Peter again. “I’ll be right there with you. They may be tall and slightly intimidating but they’re nice.”

“Sirius once spilt tea on my book and didn’t apologise.”

“He’s an energetic guy, he probably didn’t notice.” Peter tilted his head and you nodded in acceptance, pursing your lips. When he did it, you didn’t confront him and just moved away mumbling under your breath and shaking out your book. “Ready?”

You hesitated as he took your hand and started walking into the Great Hall, dragging you behind him with a small grin on his face.

“No.” You finally answered, gulping and stepping closer to Peter as you got closer to the three boys flinging pieces of bread at each other.

“Too slow.” Peter grinned back at you, tugging you along and you whined, deciding to catch up to him but walk behind him in an attempt to hide from the others. You were there in no time and tucked yourself behind Peter, hoping that your size would prevent you from being seen. “Hey boys, since you’ve been asking...here she is.”

You only heard silence as you stayed behind Peter, gulping nervously. 

“I fucking knew she was imaginary, I called it.” The voice of Sirius Black came from in front  of Peter before he exclaimed in pain after sounding like he was being hit with something. 

Out of curiosity, you tried to peak out from behind your boyfriends shoulder as little as possible but a pair of soft brown eyes met yours instead and you found yourself frozen in place as you stared straight at Remus Lupin and he raised his eyebrows at you. You slowly went back behind Peter, knowing it was stupid because he’d seen you but you did it anyway, raised eyebrows could mean a million different things.

“She’s not imaginary, Padfoot, she’s just behind him.” Remus said and you shut your eyes in regret as your forehead fell forward and hit Peter’s back whilst he moved out of the way and you were faced with three pairs of eyes staring up at you. “Hi, I’m Remus.”

“James.”

“Sirius, but you can call me anytime.”

Peter took a daily prophet off of the table and hit him on the head with it as Sirius laughed and raised his hands in defence, you smiled awkwardly at it and avoided all eye contact. Your hand squeezed Peter’s slightly and he looked between you and his friends, frowning again.

“This is Y/N L/N, my girlfriend.” He introduced and gestured you forward slightly, you glanced up and gave a small wave at them. James was smiling at you, Remus was smiling only a little bit but mainly just examining you and Sirius narrowed his eyes at you before standing.

He towered over you and you gulped as you tilted your head up and his grey eyes examined you with a small smirk tugging at his lips. You backed up slightly, Peter’s hand on the small of your back as he stroked soft circles with his thumb. You continued to avoid eye contact.

“You are tiny.” He stated and you nodded with a small clear of your throat, your eyes trained to the floor. “Well, to me you are. I’m sure Pete has an easier time since he’s tiny too.”

“5′9 is not tiny.” Peter defended and Sirius snorted, sitting back down at his chair as you breathed out in slight relief and stood awkwardly for a second.

“Take a seat if you like, we don’t bite.” James smiled and you about to tell him that it was okay and you didn’t actually want to be there anywhere but Peter nodded encouragingly at you and you sat opposite Lupin, Peter sitting next to you and putting an arm around your waist to let you know that he was there and close.

“So how did you two meet?” Remus asked, biting a bit of his sandwich as James nodded from next to him, both of their gazes were on you and you could feel Sirius staring at you too. 

You thought Peter was going to answer so you looked up at him but he was looking at you too, nodding his head and he gave your waist a quick squeeze. You gulped and turned your head back around, eyes trained to the table.

“Well, uh, I was getting...a snack at night and then he, uh, came in and yeah...yeah.” You mumbled, clearing your throat slightly and looking up at the boys before back at the table and then back up at the boys. Your hands were fidgeting together under the table and your knee was bouncing.

“You snuck all the way to the kitchens at night without getting caught?” James widened his eyes as he looked around at his friends and you glanced up, back down again and then up one more time. 

“Well, I’m a- I’m a Hufflepuff so my common room is uh...right next to the kitchens.” You nodded slowly.

“Useful.” Sirius said and you glanced at him quickly, furrowing your eyebrows at his narrowed eyes as he looked at you.

“I-I don’t understand...useful for what?” You looked around at them all nervously, Sirius was the one to answer so you looked at him again and found him smirking down at you.

“Pranks.” He shrugged his shoulders, grinning and you gulped again, nodding and smiling awkwardly as you turned your head to Peter who smiled again and rubbed his hand on your waist. “So, Y/N my tiny friends tiny girlfriend, what do you like to do?”

“I’m uh, I’m a passionate advocate for environmental change.” You said, nodding as your eyes found comfort on the table once more. Glancing up once, you caught Remus’ smile as he looked at you and you awkwardly smiled back. “I like to read, anything really no genres. I love exploring different cultures and uh...I like bees.”

“Bees?” James furrowed his eyebrows with a grin as he leaned forward and you nodded awkwardly. “That’s adorable.”

“Why do you like bees?” Sirius laughed. “Is it because they’re yellow and black like your tie?”

“Well, almost 90% of wild plants and 75% of leading global crops depend on animal pollination so they do a lot for us and they look nice on the flowers in my garden.” You said and glanced up to them all smiling at you.

“I’ll have to see your garden sometime.” James mentioned and your eyes snapped over to him as your fidgeting hands slowed down but your knee kept bouncing. “I love flowers. Especially Lilies.”

The boys all laughed and even you managed to crack a small smile at James’ infamous crush on Gryffindor Lily Evans. You felt Peter’s hand squeeze your hip slightly and you looked over at him, your eyes managing to lock in comparison to how you avoided the rest of their gazes. You were sure that your cheeks were flushed at the attention you got but Peter only smiled and kissed your cheek as you scrunched your face up with an adorable smile in his opinion.

“I told you they’d love you.” He whispered into your ear, kissing  your cheek again before you both directed your attention back to Sirius’ talking.