#‘not like this’ is different for each but also.

[leveragehunters]

CoPilot in MS Word

I opened Word yesterday to discover that it now contains CoPilot. It follows you as you type and if you have a personal Microsoft 365 account, you can't turn it off. You will be given 60 AI credits per month and you can't opt out of it.

The only way to banish it is to revert to an earlier version of Office. There is lot of conflicting information and overly complex guides out there, so I thought I'd share the simplest way I found.

How to revert back to an old version of Office that does not have CoPilot

This is fairly simple, thankfully, presuming everything is in the default locations. If not you'll need to adjust the below for where you have things saved.

Click the Windows Button and S to bring up the search box, then type cmd. It will bring up the command prompt as an option. Run it as an administrator.

Paste this into the box at the cursor: cd "\Program Files\Common Files\microsoft shared\ClickToRun"

Hit Enter

Then paste this into the box at the cursor: officec2rclient.exe /update user updatetoversion=16.0.17726.20160

Hit enter and wait while it downloads and installs.

VERY IMPORTANT. Once it's done, open Word, go to File, Account (bottom left), and you'll see a box on the right that says Microsoft 365 updates. Click the box and change the drop down to Disable Updates.

This will roll you back to build 17726.20160, from July 2024, which does not have CoPilot, and prevent it from being installed.

If you want a different build, you can see them all listed here. You will need to change the 17726.20160 at step 4 to whatever build number you want.

This is not a perfect fix, because while it removes CoPilot, it also stops you receiving security updates and bug fixes.

Switching from Office to LibreOffice

At this point, I'm giving up on Microsoft Office/Word. After trying a few different options, I've switched to LibreOffice.

You can download it here for free: https://www.libreoffice.org/

If you like the look of Word, these tutorials show you how to get that look:

www.howtogeek.com/788591/how-to-make-libreoffice-look-like-microsoft-office/

www.debugpoint.com/libreoffice-like-microsoft-office/

If you've been using Word for awhile, chances are you have a significant custom dictionary. You can add it to LibreOffice following these steps.

First, get your dictionary from Microsoft

Go to Manage your Microsoft 365 account: account.microsoft.com.

One you're logged in, scroll down to Privacy, click it and go to the Privacy dashboard.

Scroll down to Spelling and Text. Click into it and scroll past all the words to download your custom dictionary. It will save it as a CSV file.

Open the file you just downloaded and copy the words.

Open Notepad and paste in the words. Save it as a text file and give it a meaningful name (I went with FromWord).

Next, add it to LibreOffice

Open LibreOffice.

Go to Tools in the menu bar, then Options. It will open a new window.

Find Languages and Locales in the left menu, click it, then click on Writing aids.

You'll see User-defined dictionaries. Click New to the right of the box and give it a meaningful name (mine is FromWord).

Hit Apply, then Okay, then exit LibreOffice.

Open Windows Explorer and go to C:\Users\[YourUserName]\AppData\Roaming\LibreOffice\4\user\wordbook and you will see the new dictionary you created. (If you can't see the AppData folder, you will need to show hidden files by ticking the box in the View menu.)

Open it in Notepad by right clicking and choosing 'open with', then pick Notepad from the options.

Open the text file you created at step 5 in 'get your dictionary from Microsoft', copy the words and paste them into your new custom dictionary UNDER the dotted line.

Save and close.

Reopen LibreOffice. Go to Tools, Options, Languages and Locales, Writing aids and make sure the box next to the new dictionary is ticked.

If you use LIbreOffice on multiple machines, you'll need to do this for each machine.

Please note: this worked for me. If it doesn't work for you, check you've followed each step correctly, and try restarting your computer. If it still doesn't work, I can't provide tech support (sorry).

[itaipava]

— love at first sight with f1 boys.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

you were at the same event, but you hadn’t met each other yet. he was talking to his friends, until one of them did something funny in the middle of everyone and he couldn’t help but laugh at it, until his eyes met yours in the middle of laughter and he shook his head, as if he thought it was really stupid, and you agreed, which made you two laugh even more. after that, he couldn’t stop looking at you; always looking for you in the crowd and always giving a subtle smile when your eyes met. that same friend who did something stupid, realized this and his lack of courage to go up to you, so he did all the work so that you could finally meet and learn the name of those smiles that captivated you both so much.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he was walking through the grid until he saw you dropping something. he goes over to you and helps you pick it up. you smile at him in thanks and he smiles back, completely startled by your smile. you brush your hair out of your face and continue on your way. he looks back and sees some of the mechanics looking at him playfully. he is embarrassed, but goes over to them and asks if they know you or at least know your name, because he needs to meet you.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

he was off work and decided to go out with his friends. after greeting everyone, your mutual friend introduced you to him. he smiled at you and took your hand, and you smiled as you told him your name. at that moment, he felt his heart race and butterflies in his stomach, as if he had seen the most beautiful person ever - which it was true. he was startled by the intensity of that simple moment, but he was ready to take it with both hands.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he had gone to the beach to run in the morning, but before he actually started, he started watching the sunset. it was perfect, until he looked to the side and saw you also warming up to run; but you didn’t take your eyes off the sun that was rising on the horizon so you didn’t notice him there. you were simply beautiful, and at that moment carlos couldn’t think of anything else but you.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

even with so many people at that event, his gaze led him to you. when he saw you for the first time, it was as if everything around him became a blur, and the focus of everything was you. he couldn’t hide the fact that you caught his attention. the people who were talking to him tried to look where he was looking because he couldn’t pay attention to anything else or give complete answers to the questions they asked him. even though he moved away when someone called him, he still looked for you; it was as if he was hypnotized. at one point, while he was drinking, your gaze met his and he felt his heart race in his chest. you continued to look at him the same way he looked at you, so he took it as an invitation to go talk to you and make sure that that unspoken connection was genuine.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

you were both at a fashion show for a big brand. it was your first time being invited to a show like that, but for Lewis it was already something completely normal. you were nervous, even more so when you felt someone staring at you too much. the show started and even with so many models passing in front of you, you still felt those pairs of eyes on you the whole time. when you picked up your phone to take some pictures and videos, you could see through your camera that the person who had been staring at you the whole time was Lewis Hamilton, who was sitting in front of you. you pretended to be natural even though you felt your heart racing. even though you tried not to look, your gaze betrayed you and you ended up exchanging glances with him; he smiled gently and you smiled back, little knowing that you had just awakened something new and different inside the him.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he was in a hurry, apologizing to the people he was bumping into as he passed by, but when he bumped into you and turned around to apologize, you grabbed his arm when he lost his balance and apologized too, even though it was entirely his fault. he blushed for a second, but he was still late so he had to run. he smiles at you and you smile back and in that moment his heart skips a beat. he slowly lets go of your arm and runs to his car because the training is about to start. and as he runs, he looks back a few times to try to catch one last glimpse of you. he knows that throughout the race, you will be the one he will be thinking about. and he knows that he needs to find you again.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

you worked for RB but never had the opportunity to meet him properly until that moment when he saw you - and heard you - humming your favorite song. the way you were enjoying the moment were so carefree that it catch his heart of guard, leaving him smiling like he’s just seen magic. he didn’t want to disturb you, but he also didn’t want to stand there, so he greeted you and quickly apologized for scaring you. you smile and say it was fine, then you introduce yourself and it’s in that moment that everything feels right for him.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he first saw you on a sunny afternoon when he went to meet his friends who were also your friends. you weren’t really introduced because there were a lot of people; he was talking to some of his friends and you were talking to your girl friends. he tried to pay attention to the conversation, but his eyes kept going to you. the way your hair looked beautiful in the sun, how your smile was captivating and how you seemed to light up among so many other people. every detail of you was captivating, as if he was watching everything in slow motion. until at a certain point, one of his friends noticed that he wouldn’t stop looking at you and decided to introduce the two of you. as soon as he got close to you and you smiled at him, he knew he were in love.

[darkshrimpemotions]

The thing is, Guillermo being too kind and pure of heart to eat humans was always a fucking lie. Like??? Obviously, I think. And the Cannon Capital arc isn't really a departure for his character, it's us seeing all his worst traits highlighted in an environment that makes them MUCH less fun and sympathetic.

Guillermo has always been an intensely stubborn, self-serving character prone to tunnel vision who was willing to turn over pretty much every corner of his soul if it served his goals. Even if he did sometimes feel bad about it or force himself not to think about it so he wouldn't feel bad, he still did it.

He's still the guy who befriended people with the express purpose of luring them in to be killed. For years. He's still the guy who offered one of his oldest friends up to be murdered at an orgy, and only changed his mind at the very last second. He's still the guy whose version of trying to have a normal human life for once involved lying to pretty much every human in his life--his bio family and his boyfriend--about every aspect of his life but his name. He's still the guy who dismembered the corpses of his victims--yes they're still his victims even if he didn't strike the killing blows himself--in the front yard each morning with a dreamy smile on his face as he talked about the heart wanting what it wants.

Sacrificing Nandor to serve his goals at Cannon Capital is really not that different than sacrificing Jeremy to serve his goals as Nandor's familiar, except that in this case he had a lot more time to think about it and still did it, not via silence or omission but via a direct act of betrayal to Nandor's face. Perhaps it's because he never had to suffer any real consequences for his betrayal of Jeremy that no lessons were learned?

It's also really telling that when you reset Guillermo to his base state via sleep hypnosis, it's the sweetest, most wide-eyed and innocent version of him and STILL the first thing he does is offer himself up to be a vampire's familiar, all in a bid to have enough power that he can't ever be bullied again.

It's understandable. It's reprehensible. It's really ugly in a way that's harder to laugh off when you attach that to an extremely timely, familiar (heh) real-world scenario such as a venture capital firm that makes their money through shady real-estate deals that absolutely gut local livelihoods. But the Guillermo we're seeing right now is just as tunnel-visioned and stubborn and selfish as the Guillermo we've always known. We just very understandably like him less for it when it's real-world monsters we've all seen ruin real lives instead of fantasy monsters that are silly and fun to watch.

But this isn't out of character or off course or a step back. Guillermo is deep in denial and clinging to the Cannon Capital job because he can't face what he's lost as of the end of season 5. He's replaced Nandor with a master that's worse in every way, he's still clinging to the house while pretending he's separating himself, he's still sleeping on the remains of the makeshift coffin Nandor bought for him. He tells himself he is facing it and moving on, but I hope this time we all know that's a lie.

And I'm here for it when it all falls down around his ears, and he finally has to face himself. I'm really excited for it, actually!

[allthegoodbobdylanlyricsaretaken]

Freshmen year. 8am Biology class. Had an anatomy quiz, not a surprise one, but a surprise to me. I’d been sucking ass in biology because I was used to being a G&T kid and coasting my way through class, now I wasn’t able to pay attention and keep up. Our teacher had cut apart cow hearts and we were supposed to go around and identify the different parts, and I couldn’t do it. I could barely remember the names of the sections and I definitely couldn’t recognize them all cut up like that. I was the only one who couldn’t do it and I started to freak out; I’d never gotten less than an A before and now I was going to fail anatomy, my premed goals were vanishing before my eyes and I was so so embarrassed. My teacher saw the tears and my eyes and told me I could sit this one out, he sent me outside to calm down and promised me we’d work this out later. Once I was alone I started weeping in the hall.

An older student was walking by, I don’t remember his name, I just remember him stopping to ask what was wrong. And I was semi-incoherent and bawling about how I was going to fail. He sat and hugged me until I stopped crying and he promised me I’d be okay, I’d improve, and this wouldn’t stop any of my academic goals. He calmed me down and I was able to get through the rest of the day without tears, which was quite good as some of my other teachers and peers were actually huge assholes? My English teacher was legitimately picking on me for being good at math and she would have absolutely smelled blood in the water if she noticed me upset.

Thank God my biology teacher was nothing like her. He was also neurodivergent and suffered from anxiety, and he recognized I was genuinely passionate about science. That afternoon he walked me through each of the hearts and helped me catch up. He didn’t include this test in my grade and gave me interesting extra credit assignments to earn back credit for the other quizzes I’d failed. I’m forever grateful to him because he could have just told me to suck it up (and most teachers would have), but he went out of his way to accommodate me. It’s thanks to that class I learned good study habits and it’s thanks to this teacher and student that I’ve got so many opportunities to use them.

Tell me a soft memory

[hellenhighwater]

How did you get pet doves? And are they easy to take care of / what do you need to keep them happy and well?

They are, IMO, the easiest birds to care for. I got them as rescues--I used to regularly volunteer at an avian wildlife rehab that would sometimes wind up with pet birds that needed rescuing. (Arson's originally from an animal hoarding situation, so I have no idea how old she is.) They are, specifically, ringneck (also called barbary) doves, which are a domesticated species. They do look a lot like their wild counterparts, but they've been living alongside humans for thousands of years, which makes them far happier in captivity than most 'pet' birds, like parrots. If you're really looking for some, they often wind up needing adoption because a single mated pair produces offspring very, very quickly without human intervention.

Ringnecks are granivores, so their diet is just pigeon-mix birdseed, a bit of oyster shell grit (mine have been going through the same 15 lb bag of grit from the feed store for five years now) and water. Sometimes they'll take a bit of fresh greens or bugs when they come across them, but it's not a necessary part of their diet. Like pigeons, they have weak beaks and feet, so they're not destructive to furniture and supplies. Unlike pigeons, ringnecks are not super social--they mate monogamously and for life, and will get territorial with other ringnecks. As a consequence, Arson and Larceny, as a mated pair, are very happy with little effort on my part. They need enough room to fly and nest and they're quite content to keep each other occupied. A single ringneck may bond with their human caretaker as their human 'mate' and will be a lot more social as a result. I chose to have a mated pair because I'm super busy, and I like knowing that their social needs are fulfilled even when I'm short on free time. Like the cats, I can set them up with a deep bowl of food and a big container of fresh water and safely leave them alone for a weekend.

In terms of space, they need a relatively large cage--three feet in each direction is the minimum, and they enjoy more room when possible. They're very docile--I can just grab em off the branch like ripe pears--and their vocalizations are generally pleasant, in the same vocal range as a mourning dove, though their songs are different. They can be trained to do simple tricks and generally are enjoyable to be around.

Their lifespans range quite a bit! The oldest one I've ever met was 32. Arson and Larceny hold title as the oldest pets I have (they're eight, at least) and still going strong. Twelve years is pretty average for them.

I do think they're great pets, and if you want a bird, they're a fantastic choice.

[thatdisasterauthor]

@teagantheamazing Hope you don't mind, but I wanted to pull this reply out to talk about a little more in depth, because I think it is important that people understand this as we move forward.

Also, I am speaking as a private citizen here, not as an employee of the Forest Service.

In the United States, wildland fire response is handled at three basic levels: Federal, State, and Local.

Federally, it is further broken down into the Bureau of Land Management and the Forest Service. (Some parks have their own fire crews as well, but that varies from park to park, and they're usually still technically Forest Service.) There's really not a ton of difference between the two aside from whose name is on your paycheck. Pay is the same across each, structure is the same across each, training is the same across each. Federal crews and resources are, generally, the main and biggest responders to wildfires because wildfires tend to happen primarily on federal lands.

At the state and local level things vary a lot from state to state. You can have things like the Colorado Division of Fire Prevention and Control in Colorado and Cal Fire in California, and you can have local structure departments that also have wildland divisions and/or training. Some of the local departments will be volunteer. State and local responders also work closely with federal responders, but how much and for how long varies from fire to fire.

Then, on top of all of that, you have private/contract crews. They are what it says on the tin: private crews of firefighters. Some of these crews are great! Very professional, very skilled. Others are...ah...not.

Now, what I am concerned about specifically as we head into this new administration is what is going to happen at the federal level. As I mentioned in the original post, the Forest Service is already struggling. It has ALWAYS been struggling. Without giving you a whole huge history lesson, the Forest Service was founded in the early 1900s by Teddy Roosevelt to protect public lands and preserve them for future use. People threw a FIT about it, specifically people who wanted to basically strip mine the forests for every single available resource. Taft was elected after Roosevelt and basically started undoing everything his predecessor had done. The budget for the Forest Service was destroyed, protections were rolled back. The only reason the Forest Service survived was because in 1910 there was a MASSIVE fire. It was, at the time, unprecedented and the Forest Service was able to use it to lobby for better funding going forward. But the same cycle has repeated ever since. An administration that doesn't value conservation will come in, shred the budget, there will be deadly consequences that make the next administration pad the budget some, and then it will start again.

It's a lot like people who stop taking their medicine because they think they're cured since they feel better, but they only feel better because they were taking their medicine.

So what happens now? Well, it's already happening and it happened under Biden, and will only get worse under Trump. To keep it simple, there are two kinds of federal employment: seasonal, and year-round. Most of the federal Forest Service jobs are seasonal, because the work is seasonal. This includes firefighters, but it also includes things like park rangers and trail maintenance crews. From late spring to early fall there are tooooons of people working. Then, the rest of the year, its a skeleton crew of year-rounders doing mostly maintenance work, controlled burns, paperwork, stuff like that.

Now, with all of that said, here is where we stand at this specific moment: the decision has already been made that the Forest Service will not be hiring seasonal workers outside of firefighting next year. This means no seasonal park rangers, no seasonal maintenance people, none of that. This means next year parks are going to be a MESS. Bathrooms will not be cleaned regularly, campgrounds will not be maintained, trails will not be maintained, and a ton of other stuff. The year-rounder skeleton crew will be all we've got. And, crucially, there will be less professionals monitoring the woods looking for new fires. Rangers, even ones not working directly on fire stuff, are a crucial level of protection for spotting and reporting fires.

Secondary to that is the pay issue. Even if you're a year-rounder, the pay is abysmal. Your average out the gate, newbie wildland firefighter is going to make around $17/hr base pay if they work for a federal agency. Now, there's a ton of random stuff that can bump that pay up even without the retention bonus we're currently getting. You get a night differential and a Sunday differential for starters, and hazard pay when you are actively working a fire, plus there's ALWAYS overtime, sometimes an insane amount of it. Then there's per diem if you are traveling for a fire, and that can be a nice little bump too. But the point/problem is that the pay is VERY unpredictable. You can have a massively busy season and be swimming in money, or you can have a slow as fuck season and end up scrapping by because the base pay isn't enough. The Wildland Firefighter Paycheck Protection Act is supposed to fix this by bumping up the base pay, but that can has been kicked back and forth in the government for yeeeears now.

Now, as you mentioned, people CAN transfer their federal qualifications for fire to state and private crews. It generally pays better if you do. But we do not want to privatize fire response. Given the size of this country, given the spread of the population within it, we have to have a federal firefighting force. Leaving it to the states and private companies will not be enough.

That is where we are starting the new administration: abysmal pay, failing departments, and slimmed back hiring. Given Trump's repeated insistence on slimming down the government, on withholding aid in blue states, on getting rid of things like the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (which is also crucial for firefighting), and other things in that vein, I think we are staring down the barrel of a very, very dangerous time.

So, some action items if you want to help:

Call your local representatives and insist they pass the Wildland Firefighter Protection Act NOW, before the new administration comes in. The new administration could still screw it up, but we've gotta at least try.

Be patient and understanding with Park Rangers in the coming years. They are doing their best with what they've got.

Take responsibility for your use of public lands. Clean up after yourself, pick up litter when you see it, and donate if there is a way for you to do so.

Educate yourself and your community on wildland fire even if you don't think you are in a wildland fire prone area. Learn about and implement defensible space around your homes and communities. I'll be doing a lot of education around this going forward, so if you have questions or want help please ask me!

[paxtito]

fire and the thud.

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 7683

warnings: smut, 18+. knives, grave digging, swearing, wednesday almost kills someone, fingering, kissing, lesbian sex (all characters are 18+)

summary: your mother, larissa, was good friends with morticia back in their days at nevermore. when you and wednesday were born, you were practically attached to the hip. but, your father wanted you to live with him for a while, leaving you and wednesday without contact until now. you’d come back from visiting your father in england to find that wednesday had been enrolled at nevermore.

a/n: this fanfic has really been through some shit, changed the title and outcome so many times but i’ve finally settled on this. apologies in advance for any errors and also the length

MASTERLIST

The heavy oak doors of Nevermore creak as you push them open, the familiar scent of old wood and faint lavender filling your senses. The school looks almost exactly the same as when you left it—high arches, dark stone corridors, the peculiar, warm-yet-foreboding atmosphere that clings to every corner. You never expected to be back so soon, certainly not so suddenly, but here you are. And it feels strange, like returning to some half-forgotten dream.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, peering around the entrance hall. Somewhere above, the great clock ticks in its steady, methodical rhythm, echoing faintly down the halls. You’re looking for your mom, the Headmistress herself, but she’s nowhere in sight just yet. You smirk a little, wondering if she’s busy welcoming another batch of outcasts to her beloved school, as she likes to call them.

Then you hear footsteps, a soft, deliberate sound against the stone floor, and look up—freezing for just a second as your gaze lands on her.

Wednesday stands there, her face as pale and expressionless as ever, eyes watching you with an intensity you remember all too well. She hasn’t changed one bit, from the dark braids draped over her shoulders to the sharp, calculating gaze that seems to see right through you. She’s grown older, of course, taller maybe, but she’s exactly as you remember.

And you’d know her anywhere. After all, you practically grew up together—your mother, Larissa, and Morticia Addams were ‘best friends’ back in their Nevermore days. Some might say the two were as different as night and day, yet there was always a bond there, something that brought them back to each other despite the odds. And that bond, somehow, extended to you and Wednesday, two kids who had little choice but to spend time together while their mothers reconnected over tea and half-whispered memories of the past.

You take a hesitant step forward, feeling a strange swirl of nostalgia and nerves rise in your chest. “Wednesday?”

She tilts her head, her dark eyes assessing you coolly. “Back from England already?” Her voice is calm, as if no time has passed at all, like she’s still the same stoic, blunt child you remember.

“Surprise,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart is pounding.

There’s a moment of silence, charged with the weight of all the years you’ve been apart, and yet, something about it feels natural, like slipping back into an old habit.

“You look… different,” she says finally, her gaze sharp as ever as she sizes you up. “Taller.”

“So do you,” you reply, then add with a faint grin, “Except the taller part.”

She narrows her eyes at you in a way that only Wednesday could, but it’s almost… fond. “If I remember correctly, I was always the smarter one. Height is irrelevant.”

“Glad to see your sense of humor hasn’t improved,” you shoot back, grinning. It’s strange how quickly the old rhythm returns between you both, the teasing, the barbs exchanged without any real bite. It’s as if no time has passed at all.

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Your sense of humor has certainly deteriorated during your time abroad."

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe I just needed to be back among the living dead to rediscover it."

She snorts softly, the sound oddly endearing coming from her usually stoic demeanor. "I suppose being back at Nevermore will do that to a person."

As you stand there trading barbs, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her. She's still as pale as ever, her dark hair braided tightly against her skull. But there's a new edge to her, a sharpness that wasn't there before. It's in the set of her jaw, the way she holds herself with a quiet confidence that demands attention without saying a word.

"So," you say, breaking the silence that has fallen between you. "What have you been up to since I left? Still perfecting your taxidermy skills?"

A ghost of a smile flits across her lips. "Among other things. But some secrets are best kept buried."

You can't help but laugh at that. "Fair enough. I suppose I've got a few of my own to keep under wraps."

She tilts her head, studying you with those dark, penetrating eyes. "I'm sure you do. Though I must admit, I'm curious to hear about your adventures in the land of the living."

You shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Not much to tell, really. Just your standard boring English school life.”

She arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Somehow, I doubt that."

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, you got me. It wasn't all bad. Made some friends, learned a few things. But nothing compared to the excitement of Nevermore."

A genuine smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I'm glad to hear it. It would be a shame if you'd gone soft during your time away."

—

A few days have passed since your sudden return to Nevermore, and you're still adjusting to the odd juxtaposition of the familiar and the foreign. The school itself hasn't changed much, but you're older now, seeing it through different eyes. And then there's Wednesday, who seems to be everywhere you turn, her dark eyes following you like a specter.

It's late afternoon, and you're wandering through the grounds, trying to clear your head after a particularly dull history lecture. The air is crisp, the leaves crunching under your feet as you make your way towards an old oak tree.

As you approach, you see a figure already seated against the trunk, long legs stretched out, head bent over a book. Even from a distance, you recognize the shock of dark hair, the pale skin. Wednesday looks up as you draw near, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your approach.

"I thought I might find you here," you say, settling yourself onto the ground beside her.

She doesn't move, just continues to stare at you, her gaze unreadable. "Did you?"

You shrug, plucking a leaf from the ground and twirling it between your fingers. "Call it intuition."

She watches the leaf spin for a moment before speaking. "I've been thinking about that day. The day you left."

You freeze, the leaf falling forgotten to the ground. You've tried not to think about that day too much, the way it felt to leave Wednesday behind, to step into a world that didn't understand you the way she did.

"Yeah?" you say, keeping your voice carefully neutral.

She nods, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I remember standing at the window of my room, watching your car disappear into the distance. I remember thinking that I wouldn't see you again."

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down. "And now here I am."

She turns to look at you then, her gaze intense. "Yes, here you are. But you're different. Older. Changed."

She falls silent then, her eyes drifting back to the distant horizon. You can see the tension in her jaw, the way her hands clench around the book in her lap. It's clear that whatever she's thinking, it's weighing on her.

Finally, she speaks, her voice low and steady. "I know we haven't spoken much since you returned. But I want you to know that... I'm glad you're back, Y/N."

The words catch you off guard, and you blink, trying to process them. Wednesday isn't exactly known for her emotional outpourings, and hearing her say those words feels... significant. Important.

Wednesday's words hang in the air between you, weighty and profound. You can feel the sincerity behind them, the depth of emotion that she usually keeps tightly locked away. It's a side of her that few people get to see, and you feel a rush of warmth in your chest at the thought that she trusts you enough to share it with you.

"I'm glad too," you say softly, meeting her gaze. "Gladder than I ever thought I'd be."

She looks away then, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. It's a rare sight, and you can't help but smile at the sight of it.

“Cute.”

Wednesday's blush deepens at your comment, and she shoots you a sharp glare. "I am not cute," she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't ever call me that again."

You hold up your hands in mock surrender, trying to keep the grin off your face. "Sorry, sorry. I meant 'formidable' or 'intimidating'. Those are much better descriptions of you, I'm sure."

She narrows her eyes at you, but there's a hint of something else in her gaze - a glimmer of amusement, perhaps, or maybe just a touch of affection. "You'd better believe it," she mutters, but there's no real bite to her words.

You settle back against the trunk of the tree, stretching your legs out in front of you. "So, what's new with you? Any exciting murder mysteries or occult rituals I should know about?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Wouldn't you like to know? I'm afraid my secrets are safe with me."

"Damn," you sigh, feigning disappointment. "And here I thought we were friends."

She snorts softly, nudging you with her elbow. "We are friends, Y/N. But even friends have limits."

You grin at her, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the casual familiarity of the gesture. "Fair enough. I suppose I can respect that."

For a while, you sit in comfortable silence, watching the play of light through the leaves overhead. It's peaceful, in a way - just the two of you, lost in your own thoughts, content in each other's presence.

Wednesday's eyes drift shut for a moment, her face tilted towards the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above. There's a softness to her features that you rarely see, a vulnerability that she only shows when she thinks no one is looking.

She's always been like that - guarded, cautious, quick to put up walls to keep people out. But with you, she lets her guard down just a little. It's a privilege, really, to be trusted with this side of her.

You watch her, committing every detail to memory. The way her dark lashes cast shadows on her pale cheeks, the slight parting of her lips as she breathes in the crisp autumn air.

A breeze rustles the leaves above, and Wednesday's eyes flutter open, fixing you with a questioning gaze. "What are you looking at?" she asks, her voice low and suspicious.

You shake your head, grinning. "Nothing. Just enjoying the scenery."

She narrows her eyes, but there's no real anger behind it. "You're strange, Y/N. You always have been."

"And you love it," you tease, nudging her back with your shoulder.

She doesn't deny it, just shrugs and turns her attention back to the book in her lap. But you can see the hint of a smile on her lips, the way her shoulders relax just a fraction.

It's in moments like these that you realize just how much you've missed her, how much a part of your life she's always been. And as you sit there, side by side beneath the old oak tree, you can't help but feel a sense of rightness, of belonging.

Whatever the future holds, whatever challenges lie ahead, you know that you'll face them together. You and Wednesday, the odd couple, the misfits, the outcasts. Together, you can weather any storm.

“Remember our little grave digging rendezvous? There’s an abandoned graveyard in the woods… Could pay it a visit tonight.”

Wednesday's head snaps up at your suggestion, her dark eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, she just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask," she purrs, her voice low and conspiratorial.

You can't help but grin at her enthusiastic response. "Thought you might be too busy with your taxidermy collection to spare a night for some good old-fashioned grave robbing."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a glint of amusement in her gaze. "Please. Taxidermy is a hobby, grave robbing is a lifestyle."

You laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "Of course it is. I don't know why I even asked."

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Meet me at midnight by the old stone wall. Don't be late."

—

The sun has long since set by the time you make your way to the rendezvous point, the old stone wall looming ominously in the darkness. You can feel the chill in the air, the way it seeps into your bones and makes your breath mist in the night. It's the perfect weather for a little grave robbing, you muse to yourself, a wicked grin tugging at your lips.

As you approach the wall, you see a familiar figure waiting for you in the shadows. Wednesday is leaning against the stone, her dark hair a stark contrast against the gray of the wall. She's wearing all black, as usual, her pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Right on time," she says as you draw near, her voice low and teasing. "I was beginning to think you'd chickened out."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Please. Like that would ever happen."

She pushes off the wall, falling into step beside you as you make your way towards the woods.

The forest looms ahead, an impenetrable wall of darkness that seems to swallow the moonlight whole. Wednesday leads the way, her steps sure and confident even in the pitch black. You follow close behind, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

As you venture deeper into the woods, the air grows colder, damper. The trees seem to press in around you, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers. You can feel the weight of the forest, the way it seems to pulse with a life of its own.

After what feels like an eternity, you break through the treeline and into a small clearing. Before you lies the graveyard, a jumble of crumbling headstones and weathered crypts. The place has an eerie stillness to it, as if the very air is holding its breath.

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes glinting with a manic light. "Welcome to our little slice of paradise," she says, gesturing grandly at the graveyard.

You stare at the graveyard, your heart racing. The crumbling headstones and weathered crypts seem to loom menacingly in the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the overgrown grass. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your unease, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she surveys the graveyard. "Isn't it beautiful?" she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "All this history, all these stories, just waiting to be uncovered."

You swallow hard, trying to muster up some of her enthusiasm. "Sure," you manage, your voice coming out a little higher pitched than you intended. "Beautiful."

Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, Y/N. Where's your sense of adventure? This is what we've always dreamed of, isn't it? A chance to get our hands dirty, to delve into the unknown?"

You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as her. "You speak like a poet."

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Poetry is for the weak. I prefer the prose of the macabre."

She strides forward, her boots crunching on the dead leaves littering the ground. You hurry to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest as you weave between the headstones. Some are little more than crumbled ruins, the names and dates long since eroded away. Others stand tall and proud, their epitaphs still legible in the moonlight.

As you make your way deeper into the graveyard, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you whirl around, half expecting to see some ghostly figure lurking in the shadows. But there's nothing there, just the endless rows of graves stretching out before you.

Wednesday, meanwhile, seems completely at ease. She moves through the graveyard like a cat, her steps silent and sure. Every so often, she pauses to examine a particularly interesting headstone, running her fingers over the engraved letters as if trying to read the secrets of the dead.

"Look at this one," she says, gesturing to a large, ornate tomb. "Elias Crane, died 1847. Apparently, he was a wealthy businessman. But rumor has it, he made his fortune through less than savory means."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Such as?"

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Grave robbing. Body snatching. All the things respectable society frowns upon."

You can't help but grin at that. "Sounds like our kind of guy."

Wednesday nods, a wicked glint in her eye. "Exactly. I bet he's got some fascinating stories buried with him."

You put your backpack down, pulling out a plastic spade, one that is obviously meant for kids at the beach.

Wednesday's eyes widen as you pull out the child's spade, a mix of amusement and disappointment crossing her face. "Really, Y/N? A plastic shovel? I was expecting something a bit more... professional."

She reaches into her own bag, pulling out a sleek, black shovel that looks like it could double as a weapon. "This is how you do grave robbing.”

She strides over to the nearest grave, kneeling down beside the headstone. You hurry to follow, your plastic spade feeling woefully inadequate in comparison.

"Alright, let's see what secrets Mr. Crane is hiding," Wednesday murmurs, plunging her shovel into the soft earth.

You do the same, your spade making a hollow 'thunk' as it hits the ground. Wednesday shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“My shovel is cuter.”

Wednesday snorts, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Cuter? Really? We're going for aesthetics over functionality here?"

She shakes her head, but there's no real annoyance in her voice. If anything, she seems even more excited by the challenge.

"Alright then, Y/N. Let's see what you can do with that adorable little spade of yours."

With that, she plunges her own shovel into the ground, the blade slicing through the earth with a satisfying thud. You follow suit, your plastic spade making a far less impressive noise as it scrapes against the dirt.

For a while, the only sound is the steady rhythm of shoveling, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort. Wednesday moves with a practiced ease, her movements efficient and precise. You, on the other hand, quickly find yourself winded, your arms burning with the unfamiliar exertion.

"Come on, Y/N," Wednesday calls over her shoulder, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Put some muscle into it. We're not here to dig a hole for a potted plant."

You grit your teeth, redoubling your efforts. Slowly, painfully, the hole begins to take shape, the walls of the grave yawning open like a hungry mouth.

As you work, you can't help but steal glances at Wednesday, marveling at the way she seems so completely in her element. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight, and there's a fierce determination in her eyes that takes your breath away.

"Watch it!" Wednesday yells suddenly, and you jerk back just in time to avoid smacking your shovel against hers. You stare down into the hole, which is now deep enough for you to stand in. The wooden coffin lies below, its surface covered in a layer of dirt and debris.

Wednesday tosses her shovel aside, dropping to her knees beside the grave. She runs her hands over the coffin, tracing the intricate carvings that adorn its surface.

Wednesday's eyes shine with excitement as she runs her hands over the ancient wood, tracing the intricate carvings etched into its surface. The coffin is clearly old, the once-polished finish now dulled by centuries of exposure to the elements.

"Look at this craftsmanship," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "They just don't make them like this anymore."

You peer into the grave, your heart hammering in your chest. The idea of what lies inside the coffin is both thrilling and terrifying, a reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your apprehension, her attention focused solely on the task at hand. She pulls a small crowbar from her bag, wedging it between the lid of the coffin and its frame. With a grunt of effort, she pries the lid open, the ancient wood groaning in protest.

The smell that wafts up from the coffin is overwhelming - the cloying scent of decay, of earth and rot. You gag, stepping back from the edge of the grave. But Wednesday seems unaffected, leaning forward to peer inside.

"Well, well," she breathes, a note of excitement in her voice. "Looks like our friend Elias is still with us."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look into the coffin. The body inside is little more than a skeleton, clad in the tattered remains of a funeral suit. The flesh has long since rotted away, leaving only bones and a few scraps of leathery skin.

Wednesday reaches into the coffin, her slender fingers brushing against the yellowed bones. She lifts out a human femur, examining it with a critical eye.

"Fascinating," she murmurs, turning the bone over in her hands. "Look at the way the marrow cavity has collapsed. That suggests a prolonged period of exposure to the elements."

She carefully places the bone back inside the coffin, her expression thoughtful.

You just blink, unsure of what to do now. “Well, that was exhilarating.” You mutter, sarcasm etched in your tone.

The moonlight filters through the trees, casting an eerie glow over the graveyard. Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "What's the matter, Y/N? Not quite the thrill you were hoping for?"

You can't help but smirk back at her, despite the unsettling nature of your surroundings. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not cut out for the macabre after all."

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who suggested this little adventure in the first place."

You shrug, trying to project a nonchalance you don't quite feel. "I may have gotten carried away. But hey, at least we found something interesting, right?"

Wednesday's gaze lingers on you, her expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I guess so. Though I'm not sure what we're going to do with Elias now."

You glance back at the open coffin, a shiver running down your spine. "Maybe we should put him back? Seems only right, considering we disturbed his rest."

Wednesday nods, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Probably for the best. Wouldn't want to deal with the wrath of a vengeful spirit."

Together, you carefully lower the coffin lid, sealing Elias back in his eternal slumber. As you brush the dirt back over the grave, you can't help but feel a sense of relief, a sudden desire to leave this place behind.

But as you turn to go, you find yourself face to face with Wednesday, her eyes wide and searching in the moonlight. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the air between you crackling with tension.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I've been wanting to say..."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You know what's coming, have known for a long time, but hearing her say it out loud is still a shock.

Before you can utter a response, Wednesday closes the distance between you, her cool fingers curling around the back of your neck. She pulls you closer, her eyes locked on yours, a swirling vortex of emotions - longing, desire, and a hint of vulnerability.

Her lips brush against yours, soft and tentative at first, then with growing confidence and passion. You melt into the kiss, your arms encircling her waist, pulling her flush against you. The world falls away, the graveyard and the dead forgotten as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her.

Wednesday's lips are cool and sweet against yours, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of your mouth. You part your lips, granting her access, and she takes full advantage, deepening the kiss with a low moan. Your tongues dance and twine, a sensual battle for dominance that leaves you both breathless.

When she finally pulls back, you're both panting, your hearts racing in sync. Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She rests her forehead against yours, her voice husky and low.

"I've wanted to do that for so long, Y/N. I hope I didn't misread the signs."

You chuckle softly, your fingers tangling in her silky hair. "Not at all. I've been waiting for this too."

You and Wednesday are still caught up in the afterglow of your first kiss, your bodies pressed close, when a sudden noise shatters the silence of the graveyard. It's a rustling sound, the crunch of dead leaves underfoot, and it's coming from the direction of the woods.

Wednesday's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the treeline. "Did you hear that?" she whispers, her voice tense with suspicion.

You nod, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. "It sounded like it came from over there."

Wednesday reaches into her bag, pulling out a small, wicked-looking knife. She hands it to you, her grip tight and urgent. "Just in case."

You take the knife, your fingers closing around the smooth handle. The blade gleams in the moonlight, its edge honed to a razor's sharpness.

Together, you creep towards the source of the noise, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of dead leaves. As you draw closer to the woods, you can hear the sound more clearly now - a low, guttural moan, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.

Wednesday holds up a hand, signaling for you to stop. She points to a shadowy figure, hunched over just beyond the edge of the trees. The figure is swaying slightly, as if drunk or disoriented, and you can see the glint of a bottle in its hand.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a drunk," Wednesday murmurs, a hint of disgust in her voice. "Probably some vagrant who thought he'd find shelter in the woods."

You're about to suggest leaving the man be when he suddenly staggers forward, his eyes wide and wild as they lock onto yours. He lets out a low, animalistic growl, raising the bottle like a weapon.

"Hey, man, some of us are trying to sleep here!" he slurs, taking a stumbling step towards you. "Why don't you and your little girlfriend fuck off?"

Before you can react, Wednesday lurches forward, her hand outstretched. She aims the knife at the man's throat, her eyes narrowed.

The drunk man's eyes widen in fear as he sees the knife, his bravado evaporating like mist in the moonlight. He stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

You move forward, your hand gripping over Wednesday’s, stopping her from going too far. “No.”

Wednesday hesitates, her grip on the knife faltering. She looks at you, confusion and frustration warring in her eyes. "What are you doing?" she hisses, her voice low and urgent. "We can't just let him get away. Who knows what he might do?"

The drunk man stumbles further back, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday. "Hey, look, I don't want any trouble, alright?" he says, his voice shaking. "I'm just trying to find a place to sleep, that's all. I didn't mean no harm."

Wednesday scoffs, her grip tightening on the knife once more. "Oh, and I suppose disturbing our private moment is no harm done? I don't think so."

The man's eyes widen in panic as he realizes the precariousness of his situation. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, the bottle still clutched in one trembling fist.

"Please, I'm sorry, I'll go, I won't bother you again, just please don't hurt me," he babbles, his words slurring together in his haste.

Wednesday's jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing to slits. She takes a step forward, the knife glinting in the moonlight.

"You should have thought of that before you interrupted us," she snarls, her voice dripping with venom.

The man's eyes dart to you, pleading for help, for mercy. You can see the terror in his gaze, the knowledge that he is completely at the mercy of these two strange girls.

“Goddamn it, Wednesday. Stop it.”

Wednesday's grip on the knife loosens slightly at your command, but she doesn't lower it. Her eyes are still fixed on the drunk man, her expression a mix of anger and contempt.

"Why should we stop?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "He's just some pathetic vagrant. No one will miss him."

The man's eyes widen in fear, his body trembling as he backs away from you both. "Please," he whimpers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want any trouble. I'll leave, I swear."

You step forward, gently placing a hand on Wednesday's arm. The touch is light, but the gesture is clear - a plea for her to stand down, to show mercy.

Wednesday's eyes flick to you, surprise and confusion written across her face. She's so focused on the drunk man that she hadn't expected your intervention.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" she asks, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "This man needs to be taught a lesson."

The drunk man takes another stumbling step backwards, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday in terror. He's clearly aware of the precariousness of his situation, the thin line between life and death that he's currently balancing on.

For a moment, Wednesday seems torn, her gaze flickering between you and the drunk man. You can see the conflict in her eyes, the war between her darker impulses and the bond she shares with you.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Wednesday lowers the knife. She lets out a long, shuddering breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," she says, her voice tight. "But if he steps out of line again, he's fair game."

The drunk man lets out a shaky sigh of relief, his body sagging with the realization that he's been spared. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'll go, I promise. Just please, no more trouble."

He turns and staggers off into the woods, his footsteps crunching on the dead leaves. You watch him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

You can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, a nervous energy buzzing through your veins. "Where did you even get that knife, Wednesday? I didn't realize you were packing heat on our little graveyard rendezvous."

Wednesday's lips quirk into a wry smile, her eyes glinting with mischief in the moonlight. "Always be prepared, Y/N. You never know when you might need a little... protection." She tucks the knife back into her bag with practiced ease, her movements fluid and graceful.

You shake your head, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring your voice. "I swear, sometimes I think you're just looking for an excuse to use that thing. What would your parents say if they knew?"

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Please. They'd probably be proud. 'Our little girl, all grown up and ready to defend herself.' Besides, it's not like we actually used it."

You can't argue with that logic, even as a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of what might have happened if you hadn't intervened. "True enough. But maybe next time, let's stick to less... lethal forms of self-defense, hmm?"

Wednesday shrugs, her expression unrepentant. "Can't make any promises. But I'll try to keep my bloodlust in check, for your sake."

Despite the morbid humor of the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of affection for Wednesday. Her dark sense of humor, her fierce protectiveness, her willingness to embrace the macabre - it's all part of what draws you to her.

You step closer to her, your hand finding hers in the darkness. "Come on," you murmur, tugging her gently towards the edge of the graveyard. "Let's get out of here before anyone else decides to crash our party."

—

The heavy door of the dorm room creaks open, revealing the dimly lit space within. Wednesday stumbles inside, pulling you along with her. Her lips never leave yours as she kicks the door shut behind you, her hands roaming eagerly over your body.

You're lost in the moment, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of her mouth on yours, the press of her body against yours. It's only when you feel the edge of the bed hit the back of your knees that you break the kiss, gasping for air.

Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her hair mussed and her lips swollen from your passionate embrace. She tugs at your shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons in her haste to get it off.

"Wednesday, wait," you breathe, your voice husky with need. "Are you sure about this?"

She pauses, her eyes meeting yours in the dim light. There's a flicker of uncertainty in their depths, a moment of hesitation. But then she's pressing against you again, her mouth finding yours once more.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she murmurs against your lips. "I want you, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long."

You surrender to the moment, your hands tangling in her hair as you deepen the kiss. Clothes are shed in a flurry of fabric, landing haphazardly on the floor as you tumble onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated skin.

A soft groan, followed by the rustle of sheets, startles you both out of your passionate haze.

"W-Wednesday?" a sleepy voice mumbles. "Is that you?"

Wednesday's eyes widen in horror, her face flushing crimson as she realizes the mistake she's made, scrambling to cover herself with the nearest piece of clothing.

“Oh, hey, Enid.” You smile, trying to appear nonchalant.

Enid sits up in her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She blinks a few times, her gaze adjusting to the dim light. When she focuses on you and Wednesday, her eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh, um, hi," she stammers, her cheeks flushing pink. "I didn't realize you two were... I mean, I thought..."

There's an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of Wednesday's heavy breathing and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

Enid clears her throat, pulling the blanket up higher around her shoulders. "So, uh, are you two going to...?" She trails off, her eyes widening as she realizes the implications of her question.

Wednesday's face is beet red, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "No!" she blurts out, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. "We weren't going to... I mean, we weren't..."

Enid's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in shock. "Wednesday, are you... are you blushing?"

Wednesday scowls, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I am not blushing," she snaps, her voice tight with embarrassment. "I just... I didn't expect you to be awake at this hour."

Enid blinks, her expression softening. "It's okay, Wednesday. I'm not judging. I'm happy for you, really." She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I always knew you had a thing for Y/N."

—

Since that night in the dorm room, things had been undeniably awkward between you and Wednesday. The air was thick with unresolved tension, the memory of passionate kisses and wandering hands lingering like a ghost in the room. You couldn't look at her without feeling a flush creep up your neck, your heart racing at the slightest brush of her fingers against yours.

Even Enid seemed to notice the change in your dynamic, her knowing smiles and raised eyebrows a constant reminder of the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. You tried to focus on your classes, to push aside the distracting thoughts of Wednesday's lips on yours, but it was a losing battle.

As you walked down the hallway towards your next class, your mind was miles away, replaying the events of that fateful night. Wednesday's touch, her breathless moans, the way her body had felt pressed against yours...

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your wrist, yanking you roughly into a nearby janitor's closet. The door slammed shut behind you, plunging you into darkness. You stumbled, your heart leaping into your throat as you struggled to make out the silhouette of your attacker.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been for me to focus on anything since that night?" a familiar voice growled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing Wednesday's face, etched with a mixture of frustration and desire. She stepped closer, her body mere inches from yours, her breath hot against your cheek.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N," she whispered, her voice low and urgent. "Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is your face, feel your touch..."

Her hands slid up your arms, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulled you closer. "Tell me you feel it too," she breathed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you."

You feel Wednesday's breath on your ear, her words sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The suddenness of her actions catches you off guard, but the desire in her voice is undeniable.

"I... I do," you manage to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about you too, Wednesday. Nonstop."

Wednesday's hands slide down your sides, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She presses you back against the wall, her body molding to yours in a way that makes your head spin.

"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" she demands, her voice a low growl. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I wasn't... I mean, I didn't think..."

Wednesday cuts you off with a searing kiss, her lips claiming yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. You melt into her, your hands tangling in her hair as you lose yourself in the sensation of her mouth on yours.

When she finally pulls away, you're both breathing hard, your chests heaving against each other. "I can't wait anymore," Wednesday pants, her eyes wild with need. "I need you, Y/N. Right here, right now."

Your mind races, the implications of her words sinking in. You're not in your dorm room, where you can take your time, explore each other at a leisurely pace. You're in a janitor's closet, surrounded by cleaning supplies and the faint scent of bleach.

But the desire in Wednesday's eyes, the way her body is pressed against yours, makes it hard to think straight. Your hands slide down to her waist, your fingers digging into her hips as you pull her closer.

"We shouldn't..." you start, even as your body betrays you, arching into her touch.

Wednesday silences you with another kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth as her hands roam over your body with a desperate urgency. "Don't think," she breathes against your lips. "Just feel."

Wednesday's hands slide under your shirt, her fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You gasp, your back arching off the wall as she trails her touch higher, brushing against the soft swell of your breasts.

"Wednesday," you moan, your voice breathy with need. "We can't... not here..."

But even as the words leave your lips, you're arching into her touch, your body betraying your true desires. Wednesday's mouth finds your neck, her teeth grazing against your pulse point as she sucks and nips at the sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation. Wednesday's hands are everywhere, sliding under your clothes, mapping the curves of your body with a desperate hunger.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to do. With a sudden burst of strength, you reverse your positions, pinning Wednesday against the wall with your body. She lets out a surprised gasp, her eyes widening as she looks up at you with a mix of shock and desire.

"My turn," you murmur, your voice low and commanding. Your hands slide under her shirt, your fingers skimming over the smooth expanse of her stomach. Wednesday shivers, her skin breaking out in goosebumps under your touch.

You lean in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Wednesday moans into your mouth, her hands fisting in your hair as she pulls you closer. Your tongues tangle together, the kiss growing more heated with each passing second.

Your hands continue their exploration, sliding up to cup Wednesday's breasts through her bra. She arches into your touch, her nipples hardening under your palms. You break the kiss, trailing your lips down her neck, your teeth grazing against her pulse point.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her body trembling with need. "Please," she whimpers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Touch me, Y/N. I need you."

Your fingers find the clasp of her bra, undoing it with a deft flick. The garment falls away, exposing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You lower your head, your tongue swirling around one hardened peak.

Wednesday cries out, her back arching off the wall as you lavish attention on her breasts. Your hands slide down her body, tugging at the waistband of her skirt.

With a swift movement, you yank the garment down, leaving Wednesday in nothing but her panties. She steps out of the pool of fabric, her legs trembling with anticipation.

Your hands slide up her thighs, your fingers hooking into the waistband of her underwear. With a slow, deliberate movement, you tug them down, revealing her most intimate parts to your eager gaze.

Wednesday is bare before you, her body laid out like a feast for the taking. You take a moment to admire her, your eyes drinking in every feature.

Wednesday's breath hitches as you drink in the sight of her, her body quivering under your appraising gaze. The air between you is electric, charged with a heady mix of desire and anticipation.

You step closer, your body pressing against hers in a delicious friction that sends sparks racing through your veins. Wednesday's hands come up to rest on your shoulders, her fingers digging into your skin as she anchors herself to you.

"Please," she breathes, her voice a desperate whimper. "I need you, Y/N. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long."

Your hand slides between her legs, your fingers brushing against the slick heat of her core. Wednesday gasps, her hips bucking forward, seeking more of your touch. You tease her, your fingers dipping just barely inside before retreating, driving her wild with need.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as your fingers tease her most sensitive spots. Her hips grind against your hand, seeking more of your touch, more of the delicious friction that's building inside her.

You can feel the heat of her, the slickness coating your fingers as you work her higher and higher. Wednesday's head thrashes from side to side, her eyes squeezed shut as she loses herself in the pleasure.

"Don't stop," she whimpers, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, Y/N, don't stop."

Your fingers plunge deeper, curling inside her in a way that makes her see stars. Wednesday's back arches off the wall, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rides the wave of sensation.

You can feel her tightening around your fingers, her body tensing as she nears the edge. You double your efforts, your thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Wednesday's cry echoes off the walls of the small closet, her body shaking as the orgasm crashes over her. She clings to you, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin as she rides out the waves of pleasure.

You hold her through it, your hand gentle as you help her down from the high. When she finally stills, you pull your hand away, bringing your fingers to your lips. You lick them clean, savoring the taste of her on your tongue.

The taste of Wednesday on your fingers is exquisite, a heady mix of sweet and salty that makes your head spin. You savor it for a long moment, your eyes locked with hers as you lick them clean.

Wednesday's body is still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm when you pull your fingers from her slick heat. The taste of her essence lingers on your tongue, a tantalizing reminder of what you've just shared.

You meet her gaze, your eyes dark with desire and satisfaction. "I should get going," you murmur, regret tinging your voice. "I don't want to be late for class."

Wednesday nods, her breath still coming in short, sharp gasps. She reaches out, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you in for one last, searing kiss.

"Until next time," she whispers against your lips, her voice a promise of things to come.

—

[randum-famdoms]

One of my college professor forces us to use chat gpt and art ai for some of our assignments.

No i am genuinely not kidding, she is actually doing that.

I was this fucking close to going my whole life without using chat gpt or fucking art ai but noooo.

For context, I’m an interior design major and she makes us use ai to create made up clients for projects, supposedly to avoid any bias, like if we prefer a certain design style then this way we can’t just make our clients also want that style.

The art AI was for a project where she made us use ai to create a piece of furniture using a description with a random amalgam of design styles pulled out of a random number generator, and then we had to identify the different features of the furniture that were from the various design styles.

Both of these things have glaring problems, because ai doesn’t fucking know the difference between French provincial, Edwardian, American Victorian, British Victorian, and Queen Anne. And yes, they are all different.

On top of that, when you tell chat gpt to create a family of four, the odds of it not being a family of a husband, wife, and two kids is like. So fucking slim. There is rarely any variation. Humans are far more creative than ai. Ai is still biased. If you’re that worried about creator bias, have one of the writing classes or even this very class all create their own families of four and then slap em all into a random choice machine and each student spins a wheel to get their client- with their own creation excluded obviously.

Yeah chat gpt is faster, but like…. Idk it feels so counter intuitive. Real families are diverse, and ai doesn’t get that.

Anyway, this teacher gives me hives and as an artist and writer I feel permanently dirty and like I have committed war crime worthy sins because of needing to pass this class :,)

[redcherrykook]

──── ⊱ ☆ ⊰ Evidence of a criminal bond- part one

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

enemies to lovers at the detectives office

Jeon Jungkook has been your annoying coworker at the detective´s office for what feels like ages. What happens when he gets assigned as your partner against crime for seouls´s ongoing case of the masked serial killer? Will a vulcano and a tornado manage to find peace in each others chaos, while trying to catch the person responsible for the horror unleashed upon the nation?

content warning: please keep in mind this au revolves around the job as a criminal detective, therefore dealing with darker topics, including sensitive topics such as SA, m^rder, assault, robbery, blackmail, sex work, trauma, therapy.

A large portion of this work is fiction, while some aspects also have valid foundations in actual crime cases as well as psychologically related crime studies and research

further content: slow burn, angst, misunderstandings, comfort, eventual smut, trying to work it out for each other, a lot of plot/work focus, side characters such as officer Kim Namjoon and criminal psychologist Park Jimin, good ending

no taglist! - sorry for misspellings and typos!!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

6:53 am

Static buzzing sounds around the entire office, a hasty jog through the chattered people and with a slam of your big leather bag to your slightly decorated desk, finally, you arrive at work.

the ordinary, bustling with people in cool blazers and coffes, couple cops and a large story board cluttered with red marker and pictures, at least that's what the countless shows make it out to be,

it wasn't like that in real life

While, surely, there are an array of different people having serious conversations, while there may the occasional cop visit, this whole, rushed overly analyzed office doesn't come close to your neat workspace.

Days mostly consist of reading through the piles upon piles of boring paperwork left by your superiors and attorneys, or investigating some string of robberies that are operated by biker gangs,

Some prostitution rings disguised as karaoke bars or massage parlors,

Nothing like a serial killer, no nothing even close has hit your very own, very organized desk in the span of your bloomed carreer

In fact, seoul hasn't seen an unpleasant visitor like that in 30 long years, three full decades

Wind rushes through the heated room as a window opens down the hall, most likely in an effort to flush out the stress that spans throughout the people- yesterdays events have left the investigation sleepless, having seen the on scene cops and crime scene investigators while passing through the door,

It was fairly easy to tell who it was,

a souless, empty glaze clouds their colorful irises- dark, deep circles making it clear that these people were there when it happened

"What the fuck did you do Hwang?"

your head shoots up, locking eyes with someone you did not wish to see right when starting your shift- with the entire department working on a serial killer case, irritated and occupied with following a majority baseless leads- the last thing you need is him.

"Thats quite the different tone from yesterday Jeon"

he scoffs, cocking his head while pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his darkwash jeans

"Yeah? Well i called you and-" he sighs, "Explicitly told you not to take the case didn't I?" you nod, irritated at his obvious anger that you knew you had absolutely no business in,

you didn't take the case, hell, you had just arrived at the office

"look, it's too early to blame your issues on me-"

"Blame?" the disbelief in his tone messes with your already risen cortisol, only deepening the wrinkles of your frown, probably prolonging the sprouting of grey hair on your scalp.

"Hwang? Jeon? You already received the order?"

The monotone voice of your superior, also known as chief, makes both of your heads turn to face him in all his pale, 6'2" middle aged glory, the suddeness creating a small Oasis of peace between the two of you, stopping your petty argument for a bit

You had now wished that this blatant, confusing misunderstanding will be easily dissolved,

"There must have been a mix up" he states, his face curling into the typical shit eating grin that is etched into his features, like clockwork, it always appeared whenever he thought he was in the right.

the bubble of hope bursts in a split second, stabbed in full force

"As partners?" you blurt out, eyes practically bulging from your skull, the absurd implication of being Jungkook's partner makes your chief sigh, nodding his head in something you can only label disappointment

"Yes. I deem both of you as highly qualified, young individuals. i'm sure i don't need to remind you how serious this is" the chief explains, the same monotone voice now sounding like a cruel joke, however the lack of sleep and evident annoyance plastered on his face doesn't allow room for further complications

As expected, it earns him a shake from Jungkook's head, looking down and taking a breath to prepare himself to complain,

You were faster,

"We will do it. Thank you chief"

your heartbeat hammers in your chest, almost making you feel sick,

It isn't solely that now, you're being responsible for this huge nation wide case,

As abstract and insignificant as it may sound, alongside that, you're facing the difficult task of working with detective Jeon

"I am relying on your ability to stay professional and not let your personal fuedes get in the way" chief gestures his fingers between the two of you, resting his droopy eyes half lidded on yours, haunted by the Terrors of the previous night as he strides off,

Looking over to you newly aquired partner, he looks back at you with a clenched jaw, meeting your tranquill gaze as he speaks,

"Unbelieveable"

11:23 pm

You find out that working with him is in fact, difficult.

15 long hours had passed since your mangled, conjoined mess of what can be roughly considered as partnership had started,

This would have been hundretfold less hair pulling without the countless complains and microagressions,

"Can you move? I can't read this"

you huff, pushing the rolling chair further to the side of your desk, creating even more of a chasm beetween your two bodies,

This reffering to the monster of a case file that had ben handed to you- consisting of every possible report, witness statement, newspaper, autopsy report, possible subject you name it,

it was there- written somwhere in the horribly unorganized pile of paperwork

It slumps down your heavy shoulders, weight down by the hope and responsibility over the country,

"I can't get a read on this bastard" he utters, shutting his eyes. The same frustration that courses through your veins also shows on him and the way he rubs his forhead with his large hands,

The issue is, surprisingly there is nothing in this everything,

"Me neither. The witness statements all contradict themselves and there isn't anything helpful in the other reports" he watches you erratically reorganize the papers for the hundreth time, humming in agreement,

While you had been sitting at this bitingly cold, empty office for the past 15 hours, analyzing every line- reading between them, speculating upon the relevancy of each syllable, on duty officers are being chased around the city like headless chicken, led by baseless tips that somehow- always end up in sheer nothingness.

Nonetheless, you had read every word, soaked up ever piece of Informationen like a greedy sponge without a filter,

Jungkook is on his third cup of coffee, stratically pacing his caffeine intake to maximise his ability to stay awake,

"The department that had this case before us were nutjobs" he says, making you let out a small laugh, a rare occasion which cuts through tension and inevitable irritation that corresponds with this unexpected partnership

A long sigh of desperation follows as you recall what you have managed to gather in the past 15 hours, recalling the possible profiling there is to make on your killer,

Witnesses all contradict each other apart from stating that the victims had been in contact with an ominous man previous to their deaths caused by the rivers ghost- that man presumably being him

"All we have is his patterns. Women, all dismembered and thrown in the river" you tell him, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest,

he nods, granting you a look,

"Very throughly dismembered it says in the autopsies, clean cuts at the right spots. That sick creep must be a surgeon or something" jungkook adds, swiping through his hair

"Yeah, or a butcher" you agree, retracting your mind to the details of the killings. There had been no traces of dna found any where on the crime scene, no hair, fingerprints even scraps of clothes- something rarely seen in murders no matter how premeditated- even if the perpetrator had worn gloves, leaving without a speck is practically impossible,

how does he do it?

Aditionally, by how meticulously dismembered the body parts were, it transmitts the notion that the killer must be experienced,

"Possibly cumpulsions? He's uncharactaristically clean" your question makes jungkook think for a second, contemplating, "i figured. But that usually implies a history of mental illness"

"Yeah, and that narrows it down if he's on file"

you pause, "We should look into that"

He hums before turning the bright screen of your pc torwards him, guiding the mouse along the pad,

"The only reliable witnisses we have are the on scene cops. Let me write a email for an interview" he whispers, prominently groaning as you pry the mouse away from his hands, rolling your eyes at him

"Let me write it, it's my pc" your voice falls into a lower grumble,

"Oh okay miss, didn't know i couldn't use your pc, partner" jungkooks lips turn into a mocking grin, you lamely tell him to shut up

he pushes himself away from the desk, sliding the rolling chair back as he releases himself from the suffocating shakles of a long shift,

"I'm leaving. Another hour of this and i'm going insane" as he puts on his thick black coat, the dim light above you flickers, without a further note, his presence leaving subsides, resulting to your solitude inside the four walls of the eceptionally empty, staticly buzzing office

Your fingers type away at the keyboard, the blue, bright light eliciting from the screen strains your exhausted eyes with all their might, in the email directed towards your loyal friends and helpers, you´re practically begging them for an interview the following day

As you finally press send, your face crashes down into your hands- fingers rubbing the crumbled remains of what once was your mascara into your skin, highlighting the lack of rest you so clearly suffer from

With the obnoxiously loud sound of heels clicking on the floor and the shutting of the floor hall doors, the department falls entirely empty,

gushes of frosting wind hit your skin upon your exit already inhaling the smoke from your freshly lit cigarette, you attempt to make the trainride home to pass in the blink of an eye by disassociating into thought, thoughts that expectedly, revolve around what you had spend the past hours of existance with,

It felt surreal, that he must be out here right when you are as well,

In the same city, inhaling the same polluted air

"This stupid woman"

Jungkook pulls into his usual spot down at the apartment block, the tall lights shining a oddly comforting, yellow glimmer on his street

His hands slam on the steering wheel, blowing out air from his puckered lips as his head falls back- final relief, while simultaneously, dreading to be back at work in a meer time of 7 hours

Reverting back to the thought of you, he curses underneath his slightly labored breath,

he doesn't hate you- at least that what he tells himself, in all rationality, his unfounded fascination with your patheticly annoying "i can do it all" attitude is precisely that, unfounded

The keys jingle between his rough fingers, revealing his dark apartment, before a very hungry- playful Doberman greets him with a jump and about a million licks to his hands,

"heeyy bam.. you hungry bro?" Bam barks and Jungkook giggles in return, throwing his coat onto the hanger while the dog strides happily torwards the empty food bowl

On the other side of town, a siren blares- red, blue lights reflect on your fogged up kitchen window as the vehicle speeds down the road,

both of you silently prayed that it wouldn't be his fault once again

[thelovehypothesis]

You ramble, but it's adorable

Ollie Bearman x fem!reader

From this request 

+1k words

a/n's: this was requested on my old account which I accidentally deleted but, hope this fic finds the person that requested it!

warnings: fluff!

summary: lost in your latest obsession, and he's completely captivated by your every word—because to Ollie, every ramble is just another reason to fall in love.

Ollie had always found it easy to get lost in the small moments—those quiet pauses between races, when the world slowed down just enough for him to savour the simplicity of life. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the way he felt right now, watching you animatedly explain your latest obsession.

You were sitting on the couch, knees tucked under you, eyes sparkling as you tried to unpack the complex universe that Taylor Swift had created with her "folklore" album. Your hands moved in quick gestures as you traced out what you called "the love triangle of all love triangles" between Betty, James, and August. Ollie leaned against the backrest, listening with a quiet smile, his eyes never leaving your face. 

"And then—" you continued, your voice slightly higher in pitch with excitement, "in 'Cardigan,' Betty is talking about how she loved James even after he messed everything up. But, and here's the crazy part, 'August' is from the perspective of the girl James cheated on her with!" You waved your hands in a dramatic arc. "It’s so genius because it’s like each song is a different piece of the same story. I mean, can you even imagine the emotional depth it takes to create something like that?"

Ollie chuckled softly, shaking his head just enough for you to notice but not enough to interrupt you. You barely paused, too deep in your passionate analysis of the music to stop. 

"But wait, I’m not done!" You looked at him, eyes wide. "You’ve got 'Betty' next, which is James' apology song. He’s basically trying to get Betty back after messing around with August, but you can tell he’s just a stupid kid who didn’t know what he had until he lost it!" You sighed dramatically, clutching a pillow to your chest. "It’s heartbreaking, but also like... I can't stop listening to it on repeat."

Ollie couldn't help it; his heart swelled at how much you cared about all these tiny details, how you put your whole soul into explaining it to him. He loved how your face lit up with excitement, how your voice carried the melody of your thoughts so effortlessly. And he especially loved how you didn’t care whether he knew every little detail or not—you just wanted to share it with him.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" Ollie said softly, his voice cutting through your rambling just enough to make you pause.

You blinked, thrown off for a second. "What?" 

"You ramble, but it's adorable," he repeated, this time with that signature Ollie grin that made your stomach flip. He reached out, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered near your cheek, warm and soft.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. "I’m not rambling… am I?"

"You absolutely are," Ollie teased, leaning forward so that his face was inches from yours. "But don’t stop. I like it when you talk about stuff like this. It’s like... I can see how much it means to you, and I love seeing you so happy."

You playfully swatted his arm, but your heart was beating faster, the tender warmth of his words melting away any embarrassment. "Fine," you said, narrowing your eyes in mock seriousness, "but don’t complain when I start talking about the metaphors behind the lyrics."

"I wouldn’t dream of it." He pulled you closer, his arm slipping around your waist. His eyes softened as they held yours, and for a moment, the world outside your little bubble disappeared.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of affection. But then Ollie deepened it, his hand cupping the side of your face as he pulled you impossibly closer, his lips warm and insistent, making your heart race even faster. 

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, you couldn’t help but grin at him. "I think that was just a tactic to stop me from talking."

Ollie smirked, the mischievous glint in his eyes impossible to ignore. "Maybe," he admitted, his thumb grazing your lower lip, "but it worked, didn’t it?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that you were already melting under his touch. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing you in as if you were the most precious thing in the world. 

"Seriously though," Ollie murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I love listening to you talk. About Taylor Swift, about racing, about whatever it is that’s on your mind. You’re just so… passionate about everything, and it makes me love you even more."

The way he said it, so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, made your heart skip a beat. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close again, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

"You’re too sweet, Ollie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He chuckled lightly, his arms tightening around you. "Only for you."

For a while, you both stayed like that—curled up in each other’s arms, the TV flickering in the background, the weight of the world outside fading away. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but you didn’t care. All you knew was that this moment, with him holding you so gently, was exactly where you wanted to be.

After a while, you shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him again. "Okay, but I’m serious about that love triangle. You have to admit it’s pretty genius, right?"

Ollie smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before nodding. "It’s genius," he agreed, even though he barely understood half of what you were saying. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way your eyes lit up, the way your voice danced with excitement. And if listening to Taylor Swift conspiracies made you this happy, then he would listen to every single one.

"Thanks for putting up with my rambling," you said, your voice softening.

Ollie smiled, brushing his lips against yours once more. "It’s not putting up with anything. I love it, and I love you."

And with that, he kissed you again—soft, sweet, and full of love. The kind of kiss that felt like home. The kind that made you feel like no matter what you rambled about, he would always be there to listen, to smile, and to love you through it all.

---The End---

-Lots of love, Em.

[frogayyyy]

first kiss + hesitation + ‘not like this’

good omens s2e6 ‘every day’ // star trek: the wrath of khan

[ronanlynchbf]

tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[doctorlombax]

Someone else has probably pointed this out before but here's the thing:

Homo=same. So the argument could be made that gay is analogous to positive or neutral in this example (like a positive number or an affirmative like 'yes').

Hetero=different. Thus hetero is analogous to negative or opposite (like a negative number or using negating words like 'don't', 'not', etc).

A positive times a positive is still a positive. They do not cancel out. Double negatives cancel out and become positive in both math and linguistics.

Conclusion: Two gay people together is gay. Two straight people together is also gay, because the straights are the ones that cancel each other out. Thank you for your time.

It's not gay if you're both gay. It cancels out

[lotus-pear]

i miss them......please come back........please come home :((

[oh-gh0st]

i heart these rivals so much. maybe they'll kill each other. maybe they'll kiss. maybe they'll make ou