#AND math (which I had so so so many problems with for years but this was the worst of it)

[tanadrin]

so, first of all, I agree with most/all of your response to my anon about IQ and “cave” people, but I think I made my point very badly.

I was trying to dump on the “we’ll crispr ourselves to be 900 iq stem-gods” dorks that you meet in the rationalist world, by pointing out that past a certain level, IQ is correlated with mild, moderate, or even severe deficits in actual function.

basically, what I’m trying to say is that humans probably can’t be much smarter in a stereotypical “absentminded math professor” type mode than we currently are.

In the “state of nature” for lack of a better word, there are many intellectual qualities which contribute to group fitness and individual success, pattern recognition, social management, empathy, planning, leadership, impulse control, memory and recall of critical information, etc.

the Reddit Rick Sanchez “asshole genius loner” gets absolutely demolished in the state of nature, because he has no friends, he can’t make friends, and he is easily defeated by tribal bands of good-hearted sociable people who cooperate and solve problems as a group.

for context, like you, I’m a white person who crushes standardized tests, although I’m American. I’m probably not quite at your level, but I never had a passion for most STEM careers, so I never gave it a real shot. Based on my SAT, and general problem solving “shape rotator” skill, my IQ is pretty high.

I hate it. My social skills suck. I’m lonely, I hurt people’s feelings by accident, and the only fun thing about being book smart is really fast reading comprehension. I wish I could trade my obnoxious neurodivergent schoolwork brain for social skills and athletic talent. Almost every “dumb jock” I went to school with is a happy and successful adult, because being charismatic, likable, and attractive are all far more relevant to being a functioning social animal, as long as you’re smart enough to hire someone to help you prep your taxes.

so I guess I’m the reverse of the cope-rs you mention. I’m over here going “I’m really smart, but I can’t socialize or make friends, being smart is worthless”.

You make a really good point that those things (socializing, charisma, adept communication, etc) are all also “intelligence” in that they relate to having a high-functioning brain relative to our primate relatives. I was kinda blinded by resenting how little my “nerd intelligence” had correlated with growing up to be the kind of person I look up to, or living the life I wanted.

anyway, sorry this got so vent-y. I just really hope that they can’t crispr babies to be maxed out on this type of intelligence, because I’d feel so bad if they ended up like me. I hate being smart enough to understand why I’m lonely, but lacking in the talents to fix it.

the crazy thing is average IQs rose like 1 point every 5 years from the mid-20th century to the early 21st century, which is probably better than we could hope to CRISPR IQ improvements bc of how weak the effect of any individual gene on IQ must be. and we accomplished this solely through environmental factors like better nutrition and better education.

[thebluebygracieabrams]

can someone tell me how to keep going if your hardwork does pay off but you don't feel anything when you achieve your goal just relief and numb again

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 1

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language, awkward & nervous reader, hints at a mini panic attack

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 2.1k+

✿ A / N ✿ i haven't written this kind of stuff since like 8th grade (i recently graduated from university sooo yeah) but i kinda felt the urge to go back to writing now and idk. there are so many smut involved fics on here (which isn't bad, i just need more softer slow burn stuff). not saying there won't be any mildly suggestive stuff in future parts hihihihi. also i have no clue how the american school system works (i'm from europe) so pls just accept this lol. anyway, this is for all my introverted and overthinking girlies (who may or may not be kinda insane) <3

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W E E K O N E // M O N D A Y

Fuck my life.

That was the first thing on your mind as Mr. Smith announced the partners for the upcoming two-week project in art class. In pairs, you were supposed to create a reinterpretation of the Greek gods.

The assignment itself wasn’t the problem. In fact, it actually sounded kind of fun. But your partner? Yeah, that was the real issue.

Fucking Rafe Cameron.

Of all the people in this class, it had to be him.

You didn’t even know why he'd chosen Art in the first place. Rafe was probably the last guy you’d expect to take an art elective—well, right after Kelce Statter.

He'd probably thought it was an easy class to boost his GPA.

Rookie mistake.

Okay, whatever, it was just a small project. You could handle this.

NO, YOU COULDN’T, HOLY SHIT.

The thought of working with Rafe made your skin crawl. In all your years at Kildare Academy, you'd maybe exchanged two words with him—and that was only because he'd mistaken you for another girl.

"Y/n, right?" Rafe appeared at your desk at the end of class, a bored expression on his face.

Okay, okay, just act normal. Be nice.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Rafe stared at you for a moment, probably waiting for you to say more. His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he tilted his head. "Cool, okay. Let’s just meet up during lunch break and get this over with."

Did he seriously think you could finish a two-week project in one lunch break?

When he saw the look on your face, he raised his brows in amusement, his tone teasing. "What? You too busy?"

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. "No, lunch sounds good."

"Aight, then let’s meet after fifth period." Before you could ask for a place, he turned around and disappeared out of the classroom.

You frowned. This was off to a great start.

Just two weeks, you reminded yourself as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to math class.

On the way, you unlocked your phone to text your bestie Cara:

You shoved your phone away and tried to ignore the uneasiness creeping into your stomach. You didn’t usually have trouble talking to guys but Rafe Cameron was a whole different story. Not because he was "too cool" or some dumb shit like that.

No, Rafe was just... intimidating. Not in that bad-boy, cringe Wattpad kind of way. It was something else, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

He wasn’t arrogant, he was proud. He was loud, but not in the annoying way Kelce Statter was. He wasn’t rude—he just said whatever the hell was on his mind.

He was just ... himself. And yet, somehow he wasn't. It felt like there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.

Maybe that’s what made him so interesting to you. Sure, he had a nice face and a well-known name, no doubt about that. But more than anything, you wanted to understand who he was and get to know him.

Was he just a blunt person who didn’t give a fuck, or was there more to him than his looks and his last name?

So yeah, maybe a part of you was curious about him, but he had such an overwhelming presence, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

In the past, he'd had a few friends-with-benefits situations, but none of them had lasted long. And that was definitely a path you didn't want to go down. Under different circumstances, maybe you could but you've never even held hands with a guy, let alone kissed one or—yeah, no, not going there.

Okay, chill. Internally, you cursed Cara for fueling your delusions.

You had more important problems right now anyway. Like math class with Mrs. Richman. And no one could claim you were a star student in that subject.

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The lesson dragged on, your thoughts constantly drifting. After class, you were supposed to meet Rafe.

Rafe, who had PE right now.

Shit. You tried not to think about a sweaty, heavy-breathing, and—NOPE, NOT NOW.

"Okay, that’s it for today. Don’t forget about the math test next week. But for now, go enjoy the nice weather," Mrs. Richman announced, dismissing the class.

Your hands felt clammy as you got up to leave. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You headed to the restroom and washed your hands, trying to get rid of this horrible feeling in your gut. Why were you so nervous about spending one lunch break with Rafe?

Fuck you, social anxiety.

"Everything okay?" A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You look kinda pale."

You turned to see the pretty face of Molly Crane. Red hair, cute freckles, and a super charming smile. She was one of the few Kooks (if any existed at all) who was genuinely nice.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah, all good. I think I just ate something bad for breakfast."

Molly didn't look convinced. "You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Really, thanks, Molly. I’m fine now." With an awkward smile, you excused yourself and headed out, only to realize that, well… great, you and Rafe had never picked a meeting spot.

Brrrt.

Your phone had been buzzing since math class. Of course, it had been Cara.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and texted back.

Should you really wait in front of the gym? That felt weird af. But at the same time, you didn’t want to miss him and end up having an awkward conversation about it in the next art class.

The dining hall would've been the most obvious spot to meet up, but would Rafe actually look for you there?

You pressed your lips together. Fuck it.

Heart pounding, you headed toward the gym.

Good thing your body totally knew how to distinguish between social interaction and actual danger.

When you arrived, you heard muffled voices of the boys inside, along with Coach Brown’s instructions.

Just breathe, it’s just one lunch break, you told yourself. Then again, this was probably how the next two weeks were going to feel.

You held your breath as the gym doors swung open, and a crowd of sweaty—oops wrong—freshly showered boys streamed out.

You awkwardly stepped to the side, ignoring the curious glances thrown your way.

No sign of Rafe yet. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. Even worse than being here and having to explain HOW you knew that he would be here, would be explaining WHY you were standing here if he didn’t actually have PE right now.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.

But then relief washed over you when you spotted Kelce Statter and Topper Thornton. And right behind them—Rafe Cameron.

You tightened your grip on your bag. Okay, okay, I can do this. They’ll probably say bye to Rafe and leave for lunch now.

They didn’t.

Great.

When Rafe spotted you, something flickered in his gaze that you were too afraid to analyze. You expected him to just walk past you but instead, he headed straight toward you. With Kelce and Topper right behind him…

Just smile. No, not like that, you probably look like a creep. Oh god, okay.

"Yo," Rafe greeted you with a slightly puzzled smile as the three of them stopped in front of you. "Didn't expect you here."

In other words: Did you stalk me or how did you know I was here?

Kelce and Topper eyed you with amusement. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

With heated cheeks, you pointed at the gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Well, I saw you bringing a sports bag today, and PE is usually scheduled right before lunch ... so I just assumed you’d be here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kelce stifling a laugh. You wanted to disappear from Earth, no from this universe. No way anyone would believe--

"Riight," Rafe replied with a lopsided grin. "I would’ve just waited in the dining hall."

…

So you had been right. And you could've saved yourself this painfully awkward moment :)))

G-r-e-a-t.

"Good thinking though, I guess. The faster we get this shitty project over with, the better."

Shit, did Rafe just compliment you? Then again, why did the last sentence sound like he didn't want to work with you? HAHAHAH WHAT AM I EVEN DOING HERE?

You smiled awkwardly. "Exactly."

"You're Y/n Y/l/n, right? Your mom owns Y/l/n Yacht Sales." Topper’s voice cut in, and you were grateful for the topic change.

You nodded with a polite smile. "Yeah."

Was that admiration on Topper’s face?

"Ohh, a business Mommy, I like that", Kelce said, and both Topper and Rafe eyed him with shaking heads.

Topper blinked at him annoyed. "Bro, shut the fuck up for once."

Kelce just giggled.

"My dad bought a Grady-White from you guys recently," Rafe remarked, and your gaze flicked back to his blue eyes.

Jesus, he wasn’t just looking at you—he was staring into your soul. If he was always looking at girls like that you'd gladly be his friends-with-benefits-girl. GIRL WHAT.

You prayed to whatever gods were listening that you didn’t look like an awkward mess. "I remember. A 456 Canyon."

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched up. "Yeah, a beauty."

HELP.

Your cheeks heated up like crazy and with that nervous smile on your face you probably looked like a weird cartoon character. SOMEONE SHOOT ME.

"Oh shit, that sounds like a boat party," Kelce chimed in with a grin and looked at you. "If I were you, I’d have thrown a dooozen parties by now. So many possibilities…"

Rafe scoffed amused. "Shit, good thing she isn’t, or her family would be broke by now."

You chuckled awkwardly. I’m so bad at whatever this is, fucking shit.

„Hey, I’m just saying.“ Kelce raised his hands innocently.

Topper tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. „Okay, dude, and I’m saying we’re leaving now before you say more stupid shit.“ Then he looked at you apologetically and turned his gaze to Rafe. „See you later.“

Rafe just gave him a short nod, his expression hard to read, before turning back to you with a crooked smile as Kelce and Topper disappeared behind the gym. „So, you hungry?“

Why did this situation suddenly feel so… intimate?

It wasn’t. Definitely not. There was absolutely no reason to feel weird about this. And yet—standing here alone with Rafe Cameron was… a lot. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—calm, focused, as if he was actually paying attention.

Or maybe it was the damn wet strands of hair falling into his forehead after his shower.

Get a grip.

You nodded quickly, trying not to overthink it. „The dining hall has quinoa veggie bowls today. Or fries, if you’re not into influencer food.“

Oh God. Was that your attempt at being funny?

Tragic.

Rafe’s lips twitched with amusement. „So, you’re assuming I don’t like quinoa bowls?“

Oh. Oh no.

Heat immediately rushed to your face, and you could feel your cheeks straight up burning. Why the hell did you say that?

„No—I mean…“ You let out a nervous laugh, which sounded more like a weird cough. „Not that you wouldn’t like it, but you’re just more like—uh, not that I’m putting you in a box or anything, but you don’t seem like someone who…“

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. „Someone who eats quinoa?“

You sighed. „Forget it. I’m just talking nonsense.“

„Nah, now I’m curious.“ His voice was amused, almost teasing. „How exactly do I seem?“

You swallowed. Shit.

„Uh…“ Your eyes flickered over him for a second—his broad shoulders, the damp strands of hair falling into his forehead, the fresh polo shirt fitting way too well against his body—oh God, wrong direction.

„I just meant…“ Maybe you should just stop talking and dig your own grave, how about that? You sighed and smiled awkwardly. „Okay, look, I'm sorry if you’re actually a secret quinoa veggie bowl advocate or whatever. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.“

Rafe laughed. Not in a mocking way—no, it was real, boyish, which somehow made it worse because it only made you all the more nervous.

„Nah, shit, I get it,“ he said, shrugging with an amused smile. „Guess I gotta work out more if I’m giving off ‘McDonald’s stan’ vibes.“

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. „That’s not what—“

„Jesus Christ, relax, I know what you meant.“ He cut you off, tilting his head toward the dining hall. „Now, come on, you can keep judging me in there.“

I am the most embarrassing person alive, you thought, face still burning.

Still, you fell into step beside him, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Brain, could you please shut the hell up? Thanks.

It didn’t.

Because why the fuck did Rafe’s presence feel so overwhelming in the best and worst way possible? And why did his ridiculously good aftershave still linger in the air between you, like some kind of cruel distraction?

And most importantly—how the hell were you supposed to survive two whole weeks of this?

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | N E X T ->

[former-incel]

Being labeled as "smart" is likely one of the reasons why I became an incel.

If you take away my math skills, I easily would have been in special ed as a child. I easily would have been labeled as "too stupid to amount to anything".

But because I'm good at math, I was labeled as "smart". The idea that I could struggle with anything mentally was nonsense to most people. Because I crave validation, I wanted to believe it. And I did believe it for quite some time.

I was made fun of regularly, because being autistic made me the "weird" kid everywhere I went. And when I complained about being made fun of, people would often reassure me that anyone who doesn't like me is just jealous, and that when I'm an adult, I'll be rich and those who made fun of me will be bums.

And I believed them. I didn't even try to be liked. I didn't even try to care how my actions affected people. I just assumed that if anyone doesn’t like me, it's because I'm smart. Many TV shows I watched, in which children who are smart are disliked, upheld that belief. I pretty much became exactly what you'd expect if you took the biggest idiot you can imagine and convinced him that he's smart, which often happens with conspiracy theorists.

In 6th grade, I had a teacher who at the time I thought was my favorite, but now I realize that he was possibly the meanest teacher I've ever had. He regularly humiliated the children who got bad grades. He compared them to me, saying that I'm going to be making six figures while they're working some low paying job. It felt good having a teacher praise me like that. I didn't notice how much of an asshole he was being because I wasn't the target. I began to crave that specific type of praise, in which others are put down and compared to me.

Naturally, people hated me for being conceited. And I continued to believe that they were just jealous of how smart I am.

In 7th grade, my math teacher didn't give me the same praise that my 6th grade teacher did. She actually had a problem with my conceited attitude. And I couldn't figure out why that was happening.

When I got to high school, and I started to find girls attractive, I decided that I wanted a social life. And since I spent years believing that being smart is why people didn't like me, I decided that I didn't want to be smart anymore. So I started proudly getting bad grades, openly having a nonchalant attitude about school, and finding creative ways to get detention. Of course, this didn't cause people to like me. They just thought I was a complete moron on top of being an asshole. They thought I was weirder than ever.

I don't expect that most incels would have had this exact experience, but there are likely some parts that many incels can relate to. For example, being made to feel "special", and being made to treat the people who I have the most in common with as my opposition.

When I stopped acting like I'm special and allowed myself to not be "smart" (but without exaggerating how stupid I am for attention), I realized that while I'm clearly different from the average person, there are plenty of people who I have a lot in common with.

[andy-15-07]

Young, Tired, In Love

PAIRING: Danny Ramirez x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 1240 ✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way ,I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

Your baby was screaming.

Like full-on red-faced, lungs-blown, you-would-think-the-world-was-ending type of screaming.

You stood in the middle of your room with a bottle in one hand, a burp cloth on your shoulder, and your pajama shirt half unbuttoned. Danny burst through the door, eyes wide and hair sticking up like he got hit by a tornado. He looked exactly how you felt.

“She okay?” he gasped.

“No,” you muttered. “She’s decided sleep is for losers.”

He crossed the room and took the baby from your arms, gently rocking her. “Mami, come on,” he cooed. “You were literally snoring twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah, and then I sneezed. Which apparently woke her up. And ruined my whole life.”

Danny smirked. “I told you not to sneeze loud.”

“Danny, I sneeze like a person. That’s not a skill I can control.”

He kissed your daughter’s head, pacing slowly. “Okay, okay. We’ll figure it out.”

You collapsed onto the bed. “I haven’t brushed my teeth. Or eaten. Or peed.”

“That’s a you problem,” Danny said, grinning as the baby finally started calming in his arms. “You gotta time your bathroom runs with her naps.”

“I can’t even feel my bladder anymore.”

He laughed softly. “You’re so dramatic. But I still love you.”

You looked at him, this eighteen-year-old boy wearing a hoodie that smelled like baby powder, his arms cradling your newborn like he was born for this. “You love me even though I haven’t washed my hair in five days?”

“Especially because of that. Adds flavor.”

“Gross.”

He grinned. “Go brush your teeth, baby. I got this.”

The next day, you two were sitting on the porch of your mom’s house, sipping bad iced coffee and watching the stroller sway slightly with your daughter asleep inside.

“I think I bombed my math quiz,” Danny said quietly.

You glanced at him. “What happened?”

“I had two hours to study last night. And she cried through all of them. I couldn’t focus.”

You reached over and squeezed his knee. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s not her fault. She’s a baby. It’s just hard, you know?”

You nodded. “I know. Every time I sit down to write that college essay, she decides it’s the perfect time to poop. Loudly.”

Danny chuckled, then sobered. “Sometimes I feel like people are waiting for us to fail. Teachers, friends. Even your aunt keeps hinting that we’re too young to do this right.”

“Well,” you said, taking another sip of lukewarm coffee, “they’re not totally wrong. We are young.”

“Yeah, but we’re not failing.”

You looked over at him. “No?”

He shook his head. “She’s healthy. She’s happy. We’re figuring it out.”

You smiled, warm in your chest. “We’re doing the best we can.”

“And sometimes,” he added, “you even find time to shower.”

You smacked him on the arm. “Danny!”

“What? I’m being supportive!”

Later that week, you were both standing in the baby aisle at Target, staring at an entire wall of diapers.

“Why are there so many?” Danny asked, holding a pack of size 1s in one hand and newborns in the other. “What does ‘hypoallergenic’ even mean?”

“It means they probably won’t give her a rash.”

“Well, she’s already got one. So maybe we need extra hypoallergenic.”

You grabbed a different pack. “This one says ‘super soft.’”

He gave you a look. “They all say that. It’s a diaper. She’s gonna pee in it, not sleep on a cloud.”

You exhaled. “I don’t know, Danny. Just pick one. Please.”

A lady nearby turned and smiled. “First baby?”

Danny nodded proudly. “Yeah. She’s five weeks.”

“She’s got a pair of great parents, then,” the woman said kindly, before wheeling away with her cart.

You looked at him, surprised. “Did you hear that?”

He grinned. “Yeah. We got complimented in a Target. I feel validated.”

You laughed, but there was something in your chest,something fragile and big,that cracked open at the words great parents. You didn’t feel like one half the time. But maybe you were doing better than you thought.

That night, you lay in bed, your baby curled against your chest, fast asleep. Danny was lying beside you, scrolling on his phone, his pinky touching yours.

“Someone from school DM’d me today,” he said, voice low.

You raised a brow. “Who?”

“Madison Rivera.”

You groaned. “She always liked you.”

He laughed. “Yeah, but not like… dad Danny. She asked if I wanted to hang out this weekend.”

You turned to him. “Did you say yes?”

He looked at you like you were crazy. “No. I told her I’d be busy being a father.”

You smiled, but it was small. “You could go, you know. If you wanted. You don’t have to be glued to me 24/7.”

“I don’t have to. I want to.”

You looked down at your sleeping baby. “I just don’t want you to miss out.”

Danny slid closer. “I already did the party stuff. The football games. The late-night drives. I want this now. With you. With her.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Two weeks later, it was your birthday. You didn’t expect much. You hadn’t even thought about cake or candles or presents. But Danny did.

He showed up at your house with a single cupcake, a folded-up card, and a baby bottle warmer,something you’d been saying you needed for weeks but never got around to ordering.

“What’s this?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

“It’s a ‘you survived another year and kept a tiny human alive’ present.”

You laughed, already emotional. “Danny…”

He handed you the card. You opened it slowly. Inside, his handwriting was messy, but it said:

 Happy birthday, babe. I know we’re young and life’s chaotic, but you’re the strongest person I know. You gave me the best thing that’s ever happened to me,our daughter. And even when you’re tired and stressed, you love her in a way I didn’t know was possible. I love you. Always. Even if your farts wake up the baby.

You wiped a tear. “Did you have to include the fart part?”

He smirked. “Gotta stay humble.”

Summer came fast. And with it, long sweaty days, stroller walks, and college letters that made your chest ache. You sat on the front steps, holding one in your lap.

“You got in?” Danny asked, breathless.

You nodded. “Full scholarship. Local university.”

He let out a whoop and picked you up off the ground, spinning you. “That’s amazing!”

“But… what about you?” you asked as he set you down. “What about your dreams?”

Danny brushed your hair behind your ear. “My dream’s not going anywhere. But right now, she needs us. And you got in. That’s huge.”

“I want you to keep chasing your stuff too.”

“I will,” he said. “But I’m not gonna chase it at the cost of our family. We’re gonna figure it out. I’ll work, you study. Then we swap.”

You grinned. “Like shifts?”

“Like tag-team parenting.”

You leaned into him. “I love you.”

“Good,” he said. “’Cause I think I’m gonna love you forever.”

And when your daughter turned one, and everyone gathered around a tiny cake with pink frosting and the world still felt heavy and hard, you looked at Danny holding her while she smashed frosting in his hair and laughed.

And you realized

This wasn’t how you planned your life.

It was better.

Not perfect. Not easy.

But real. Full of love. Full of growth.

And you wouldn’t change it for anything.

[ninisdollie]

Melting - Asakura Jo ✩•̩̩͙*

♫ ͏⠻⢦͏ ✧ ✦

“In which reader is failing one of her most important classes, so she asks the cute nerdy boy for tutoring, no expecting to fall for him”

⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x jo, strangers to lovers, nerd! jo x popular! reader, sexual tension, soft vanilla sex, blowjob (m. rec), protected sex, overwhelmed! jo he’s a little mess, fluffy ending.

You looked down at the paper in your hands, your lower lip caught between your teeth. Failed, again. The C- in the corner making fun of you, laughing at you as telling you “Huh, you thought” and the tears threatened to come. Didn't matter how hard you tried, how many hours you spent trying to understand the numbers in your Finance book, you always failed. At this point, you thought about giving up in your degree.

“This is your last chance, Ms. Y/N, you better get a better score next exam, i’m sure you wouldn’t like to see all of your friends graduating except for you”. The professor raised his eyebrow, handing the results to the person behind you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, exhausted. You did really try with this one, you almost conviced yourself that finally you had it all figured out. Turns out you were wrong.

Maybe an economics degree wasn’t the option for you, maybe you were just a dumb pretty girl, shallow, nothing beneath your perfect facade, maybe everyone who doubted you were right, you just thought about how you would tell your parents that you failed them, failed yourself. This was bigger than you. These thoughts consumed you as you walked outside of the classroom, heading towards the cafeteria where your friends were waiting for you, your head down, your pace slow, all you’d been doing is literally study, your baggy eyes were the clear evidence of this.

They turned around to face you once they saw your watery eyes.

“Don’t be sad, we know you did really try”. Sana hugged your shoulders, placing a little kiss on your head, and you sighed again, drying your tears with a napkin.

“A C- isn’t really that bad, right?” Harua scratched his neck, trying to ease the tension, it didn’t work.

You buried your face on the table, letting out a sob, you just wanted to get home and cry yourself to sleep, you were already thinking about finding an informal job to return your parents the money they’d spent in your years of college.

“I’m just tired at this point, tell me the truth, am i really that dumb?”

“Of course you’re not” Sana caressed your hair, talking to you with sweet voice.

“My friend Kei was failing Math last year, he asked this guy for tutoring, a complete nerd, perfect grades, maybe he’ll accept if you offer him a few dollars” You raised your head at Harua’s words.

You thought about it a few seconds. You had tried everything, study groups from other colleges, studying by yourself until late hours at night, even listening to online classes until you feel asleep, none of it had worked, the numbers, formulas, complicated problems just wouldn’t get inside your head.

“I don’t know…”

“What can you loose? Just try it, i heard he’s really patient and good at explaining, maybe he could help you finally understand?”

You bit your lip, it was true, you had nothing to loose, one more try could be worth it.

“Give me his number.”

Later that day you were laying on your bed, a quiet night that was only consumed by your thoughts. Maybe you sounded like a privileged girl, but you really didn’t need anything growing up. Your parents worked hard their entire life to give you everything you wanted, always signing you up in the best schools, dressing you with the most expensive designers, making a perfect lifestyle for you to enjoy. You had promised them you’d get into Economics so you could follow their steps and become a succesful business woman.

This wasn’t going really well.

You took a deep breath, unwrapping the wrinkled paper and staring at the depressing, humiliating score. Then you took out your phone, typing the number Harua had texted you.

Y/N: Hi, is this Jo’s number?

You locked the screen, throwing the phone by your side, waiting for him to answer. You didn’t have to wait so long.

Jo: Hello. Yes, who’s this?

Taking your phone again, you stared at the message a few seconds, going into his contact and zooming in the picture. You grinned softly, he was cute. He had silky, black hair, his features were soft, he was holding a cat in the photo, glasses perfectly placed over his pointy nose.

Y/N: I’m y/n, from Economics? I heard that you offered tutoring sometimes, i was wondering if you could help me? I’ll pay anything please i’m desperate, don’t wanna graduate at 30 :(

You sounded so embarrassing, but it was true.

Jo: You won’t graduate at 30, that’s actually mathematically impossible.

Of course, you forgot you were talking to a nerd for a second.

Jo: But yes, i could help you. Just tell me when you’re free and we’ll meet at the library.

Y/N: Oh god, thank you so much!

Jo: Left you on read.

Guess you had a tutoring lesson to attend next day.

Asakura Jo was the perfect child. Born from a wealthy family, he was the dream son every parent could ask for. His grades were always the best, his manners impecable, the adoration of the grandmas and annoying aunts. But it was mostly just his family who adored him.

He didn’t have many friends, thanks to his very, very lacking social skills, he was just awkward, didn’t talk much, and when he did his voice was always so low, everyone had to ask for him to repeat what he just said, his father would get angry sometimes and tell him to raise his voice like a man. But he was fine with that, he didn’t need other people, he would just get through college and become a succesful accountant for his parents company.

It wasn’t in his plans to start tutoring, to be honest, but people just started asking for it, and when he had too many study sessions per week for him to handle, he started to charge. Not much, just a bit so he could save money to spend in his other hobbies, such as videogames and comics, his guilty pleasures.

He emersed in his book until he felt a shadow right in front of him, raising his eyesight, he saw you standing there.

Everyone on campus knew who you were, the rich girl that everybody loved, always looking so perfect, so… polished. You had numberous friends, like the complete opposite of him, and your reputation was impecable.

So when you texted him the night before asking for tutoring, to be honest, he was quite surprised.

You swallowed, adjusting the coffee cup in your hand. You hesitated for a second, wondering if this was a terrible idea, but then decided—why not?

You placed the coffee in front of him with a soft clink.

Jo looked up, startled, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Uh, thanks, but I didn’t—"

“Decided to bring you a coffee,” you cut him off with a smile, trying to act casual. “I figured it’s the least I could do since you're about to help me survive this class.”

Jo blinked a couple of times, his face unreadable. He glanced at the coffee, then back at you, his expression softening just a little. “You didn’t have to. But… thanks.”

You shrugged, dropping into the chair across from him. “It’s no big deal. I figure if I’m going to survive this torture, I should at least try to make it enjoyable.” You paused, then added, “So, you’re the finance guru, huh?”

You always talked too much, and he seem the kind to stay quiet and just listen. You approached people with so much confidence, tossing your hair and smiling with sweetness. It made him nervous for some reason.

Jo gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “I wouldn’t say guru. I’m just a person who doesn’t mind spreadsheets.” He took a sip of the coffee, winced slightly as if he didn’t love it, but then pushed the mug closer to himself. “What exactly are we tackling today?”

You took a deep breath. “Compound interest.” Your tone was light, but there was a flicker of panic in your eyes. “You know, the thing that’s going to make my brain explode.”

Jo’s mouth twitched, as if trying to suppress a smile. “That’s a classic. But don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it seems. You just need to think of it like a snowball rolling down a hill.”

You stared at him blankly. “A snowball?”

He nodded, more confident now that he had a starting point. “Yeah. The snowball starts small, but the longer it rolls, the bigger it gets. Compound interest is kind of the same way—it’s interest on both your initial investment and the interest that’s already been added. The longer it compounds, the bigger it gets.”

You leaned back, tapping your acrilic nails on the table thoughtfully. “Okay, I get that. Kind of like… when you let something sit in your savings account and it just grows slowly, right?”

Jo gave you a quick, almost surprised look. “Exactly. I didn’t think you’d get it so quickly.”

You smirked. “What, you think I’m just here for the ride? No way. I’m not totally hopeless. Just a little directionless.” That was a lie. You paused, a little awkwardly. “But really, I’m just hoping this snowball doesn’t crush me in the end.”

He didn’t laugh, just went back to the notes. He wasn’t mean, but he surely was a little bit dry. You didn’t mind, you were there for tutoring anyways, not being friends.

The once-full coffee cups were now empty, sitting off to the side like forgotten relics. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long golden rays through the library windows. Your table, once neat, was now a battlefield of open notebooks, scattered pens, and wadded-up scratch paper—most of it covered your handwriting and crossed-out equations.

You et out a groan and dropped your head dramatically onto your notebook. “This is actually cruel and unusual punishment.”

Jo, still calmly scribbling in the margins of a textbook, raised an eyebrow. “It’s literally just division.”

“It’s division with anxiety,” you shot back, your voice muffled against the paper. “Big difference.”

Jo chuckled under his breath, just a breath, you still heard it, and weirdly, it made your heart do a thing. You peeked up at him through your hair.

“I don’t get how your brain just does this. Like, you actually enjoy this?”

“I enjoy solving problems,” he replied, without looking up. “There’s something satisfying about finding the right answer. It’s clean. Predictable.”

“Wow,” you said, sitting up and stretching your arms above your head. He tried not look at how your tank top tightened around your chest, enchancing your figure. “That must be nice. Nothing in my life is predictable. I mean, I accidentally bought three planners last semester and still didn’t show up to my 9AM.”

Jo looked at your eyes then, an amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Three?”

“They were color-coded, Jo. I had high hopes.”

He let out a real laugh this time—quiet and quick, but real. It caught you off guard. You blinked at him, startled by how much warmer he looked when he wasn’t buried in formulas like an hour ago.

“What?” he said, noticing you staring, a little awkward under your gaze.

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, trying to cover with a shrug. “You laugh. I didn’t think you could. I figured you were like one of those serious, silent types who only speak in finance metaphors.”

“I’m not that bad,” he said, a little defensive but still smiling. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You grinned. “Yeah, well. It’s kind of cute.”

Jo froze, eyes flicking to yours in something close to panic. He wasn’t used to compliments, much less coming from an outgoing, popular girl like you. It made him feel weird.

He cleared his throat, going back to the notes on the table.

“You should try to finish this one before we go.”

You exhaled slowly and refocused, pencil in hand. Your fingers hesitated over the numbers, then moved—slower this time, more carefully.

A minute passed.

Then another.

You put the pencil down.

“…Okay,” you said, tapping the paper with your fingertip. “I think… I think I got it.”

Jo leaned over and glanced at your work. His eyebrows lifted.

“That’s… actually right.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

“You did it.” He turned the notebook toward you, pointing at each line. “All the steps are there. You even got the decimal in the right place.”

“Oh my god.” You stared at the paper like it was a miracle. “Jo, I just—I did math. Like, real math. Finance math!”

Jo smiled—proud, and maybe just a little impressed. “Told you it wasn’t impossible.”

You looked at him, your smile lingering. “Thanks. For not giving up on me after the third meltdown.”

“You only had two,” he said dryly. “The third was more of a dramatic sigh.”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “Okay, I deserved that.”

You sat in a comfortable silence for a beat, the kind that only comes after a shared struggle—like you two were on the other side of something now. Different than when you started.

Your first session with Jo ended up and you felt good, you felt you could finally understand all of this He gave you some extra problems for you to practice, and you drove to your house that night feeling extra happy because of your advance.

What started as awkward, caffeine-fueled tutoring sessions in the back corner of the library quickly became a routine neither of you wanted to admit you looked forward to.

At first, it was once a week, strictly business. Notes, formulas, practice problems, rinse and repeat. But somehow, it turned into twice a week. Then three. Then random texts at midnight with memes about interest rates or dramatic “HELP” messages from you right before a quiz.

And Jo, who had once been borderline allergic to human interaction, started replying faster than expected. Sometimes with answers. Sometimes with sarcastic gifs. Sometimes just, “You got this.”

You fell into a rhythm.

Jo would bring snacks, quiet ones, like pretzels or gummy bears, because you claimed loud chewing was “the enemy of focus.” You, in turn, made it your mission to guess Jo’s coffee order correctly (after three weeks and seven wrong guesses, you nailed it: iced Americano, light ice, no sugar).

He learned you couldn’t sit still for more than twenty minutes without some kind of movement, so he’d suggest five-minute walks around the library just to reset. You learned he doodled in the margins of his notes when he thought no one was looking, little geometric shapes and abstract lines, always drawn in blue pen.

You teased him less now. Not because he didn’t deserve it, he was still a total finance nerd, but because somewhere along the line, you’d stopped seeing him as just “the tutor.”

He was Jo. Quiet. Steady. Smart in ways that had nothing to do with textbooks. Surprisingly funny when he let his guard down. And kind, like, really kind.

On a random Tuesday, before a final exam, you two were studying late night in your room, turns out the library closed early that day and you were super nervous because you really needed to nail this test, so you suggested your house. At first Jo was a little hesitant, but he ended up accepting, and now you two were laying on the floor, papers, notes and pencils all accross the place, it was a nerd-mess. The soft light of your night lamp being the only source of brightness, making the air a little cozy.

“I can’t i’m literally gonna fail this.” You groaned, closing your eyes into an stressed expression.

He was laying across from you, his hoodie sleeves rolled up, his hair messy, his glasses above his nose, and he chuckled, he did that now more often around you, teasing you back with confidence.

“You won’t, just keep trying, we both know you’ll get it”

“I think my brain just clocked out” You dropped your pencil, dramatically “Like, fully walked off the job. Filed for early retirement”.

He didn’t look up.

“It’s because you haven’t taken a break”.

“That’s literally what i just said.”

He looked up now, raising an eyebrow.

“You said your brain quit. I’m saying it’s unionizing”.

You rolled onto your back, laughing as you stared at the ceiling, you didn’t notice but your shorts lifted a bit, showing more of your soft skin than before.

“Ok, finance boy, that was funny.”

“I have my moments” Jo muttered. “We can take a break, five minutes. You need to finish this one, is essential for your test.”

“Make it 20 pleaaaaase.”

Jo leaned back against the side of your bed, stretching out his long legs. He looked tired, in that soft, late-night kind of way, his hair messier than usual, hoodie wrinkled, glasses pushed slightly down his nose.

So you started talking about different things, things that weren’t math. Like your interests, hobbies, and passions. He told you about his love for video games, and you teased him about it telling him he couldn’t be more of a nerd. And you told him about your frustrated dream of becoming a ballet dancer.

You turned your head to look at him. “You ever wonder why we do this to ourselves? Like, why are we even taking Finance if it makes us miserable?”

“I don’t know,” Jo said. “I guess I like the certainty of it. The numbers always make sense, eventually. People don’t.”

There was a pause. One of those quiet ones that felt heavy.

“Speaking of people…” You said, turning onto your side to face him, “can I ask you something kind of personal?”

He sighed, raising his shoulders. “It depends.”

“Have you ever dated anyone?”

Jo blinked. Of all the things you could’ve asked, that clearly wasn’t what he expected.

“Uh… no. Not really,” he said slowly. “I’ve… liked people, I guess. But I don’t think it ever got that far. Not for me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, intrigued. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who really saw me. Most people just see the grades. Or the quiet guy in class who they think will do all the group work.” He gave a small, bitter laugh. “Not exactly rom-com material. Plus, my social skills are nowhere to be found, i could never take the first step.”

You didn’t smile. Instead, you whispered, “I see you.”

Jo looked at you, eyes catching yours in a way that made the room feel warmer, closer.

“What about you?” he asked. “Ever been in love?”

You hesitated. “Once. In high school. I thought it was the real thing. He was charming, said all the right things. But he wasn’t good at showing up when it mattered.”

You looked down at your hands, fingers idly playing with the edge of the rug.

“Since then… I don’t know. I’ve dated, but I think people only see the version of me that’s easy to like. Not the messy parts. Not the parts that panic over exams and cry at car commercials.”

Jo’s voice was soft. “The messy parts aren’t a dealbreaker.”

You glanced up at him, your breath catching slightly at the way he was looking at you, open, gentle, unflinching.

“Yeah?” you said quietly.

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

Silence settled again, but it was different now. Heavier. Charged.

You sat up slowly, your legs crossed in front of you, knees brushing his. You hair falling lazily over your shoulders, your round, bright eyes still locked onto his. Neither of you moved away.

The air between you two buzzed with something unspoken, something that had been building over late nights and half-finished coffees and quiet smiles across textbooks.

And then, from one moment to another, he leaned over, and kissed you. It was small, just a little peck, and you flinched, not out of disgust, but because you were surprised. You widened your eyes, and he looked at you embarrassed, already trying to apologize.

“S-Sorry, i shouldn’t have…”

“If you’re going to steal a kiss from me, Asakura Jo, at least do it properly”. You cut him off, a little smirk on your lips.

He blinked, once, twice, lips parted like trying to catch his breath. And then he leaned over again, now really kissing you.

And you melted into the kiss, immediately placing your hands on his cheeks, which were warm, red with blush, and moved your lips above his in a slow dance. It was a soft, slow, tender kiss, his mouth was sweet, his breath warm as he sighed and tilted his head, as if he had been waiting for this moment. As if he had been wanting you.

And who were you trying to fool, you’d been wanting him too.

So you tangled your fingers in his beautiful, dark hair, and he sighed again, you taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, stickinv your tongue out and exploring his mouth, both tangling, a crash of hot breaths and saliva, and you could tell he felt overwhelmed a bit, probably never been kissed like this before. You liked that. So you kept going, breaking the kiss just for a second to take off his glasses, placing them on the floor next to you, and you crashed your mouths again, now moving onto his lap, and he grabbed your hips slightly, still a bit hesitant. His body tensed when you moved in top on him, whimpering in the kiss, and he broke it now, slightly shaking.

"Wait, wait..." He was breathing heavy, his voice low "I... I've never..."

You stared at him, resting your forehead over his.

"We don't have to if you don't want to" your voice was sweet, and he sighed deeply, his hands caressing your hips above the thin fabric of your tank top.

He stayed silent for a few seconds.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

"I want to."

Smiling softly, you kissed him again, a little deeper this time, needier. Your tongues were tangling, the sound of your lips crashing along with your shaken breaths, and his hands gripped your waist tighter, making you rock your hips slightly, rubbing yourself against him, making him whimper and tremble, a bulge in his sweatpants starting to built. A shiver went down your spine when you felt it, hard against your crotch covered only by your silky shorts, and you couldn't help but moan low. You grabbed his hands, like giving him permission to touch you and him, with clumsy movements, touched your body, your thighs, your ass, moving up to your torso, squeezing one of your boobs, and the touch made the amusement between your legs bigger, wetness through your panties.

"Let's get into bed." You asked, and he nodded slowly, you getting up from his lap.

His body moved hesitant to the bed, laying, and you locked the door with a little smile, that made him chuckle a bit. You crawled into bed, and placed yourself between his legs, kissing along his jaw and neck, sucking, licking, your warm tongue tracing his burning skin, this made him groan low, tilting his head so you could have more space. Then you placed your hands under his hoodie, and you bit your lip finding a set of perfectly built abs, you traced your fingers along his lines, delighting yourself with his body, and in one movement your slid it out above his head, his bare, milky skin in front of you. You wasted no time in kissin there, going down with your lips, and he was a whimpering mess, his face red, his hair messy. He looked like a whole meal, and you were starving. You lips met with the waistband of his sweats, the bulge inside of them thick, hard, and you looked up at him, like waiting for a confirmation.

He nodded at you, exhaling.

And then you slid down his pants along with his underwear, his thick member in front of you. You didn’t want to sound cheesy, but it was the prettiesr you’d ever seen. Thick, long, veins popping, hard, swollen red tip, your mouth watered at the sight, your eyes sparkly with desire. So you licked, long, slow, from the head to the base, tasting his skin and veins in your wet tongue, and he whimpered loud, shaking, overwhelmed.

You smiled at him.

“You like that?” Your voice was sweet, tender.

“Y-Yeah… please don’t stop” His eyes were sparkly too, and you thought he looked so fucking cute.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Then you spat, wet saliva falling down his length, and he moaned again as you took him in your mouth, wrapping your plump lips around him, bobbing your head so you could take him deep in your throat until your eyes watered and you had to suppress a gag, then repeated the process, sucking him off with skill, but you put a little extra effort since it was his first time, you wanted him to love this. So you moved sloppy, messy, the dirty sounds of you swallowing his dick and his shaky moans being the only ones in the room, you looked up at him, locking your gazes, and he bit his lip, his cock twitching inside of your mouth.

Oh, so the cute nerdy boy liked eye contact.

You took advantage of that, fluttering your eyelashes and smiling as you took him out of your mouth and smiled, stroking him a little easier this time thanks to the saliva that was covering his length, and took him in again, until the head of his cock has deep in your throat.

And Jo, well, we has a mess. Face all red, his lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, chest moving up and down, eyes watering as the pleasure took over his whole body.

You loved how he looked.

You moved faster, and his whimpers became needier, desperate. You took him out of your mouth and kissed his tip, his legs twitched slightly. Then you kissed him again, placing your thighs in the sides of his hips, sitting straight on his aching length, an rocked your hips as you kissed, rubbing yourself against him, the wetness in your panties imposible to ignore, and he grabbed your hips and lifted just a bit so he would rub himself too.

His hand reached between your legs, and you let out a surprised gasp when his fingers found your clit above the lace of your underwear, tracing circles, making you squirm and moan.

He looked at you, like not wanting to miss any of your expressions.

“Is this ok?” He asked, voice broken, and you nodded, smiling softly.

That made him gain confidence, so he pulled your panties to the side, his warm fingers making contact with your bare, dripping pussy, and he moved them again, spreading your arrousal all across. You hid your face in his neck as he touched you, suprisingly good for being a begginer, but of course he knew things, he was a nerd after all. A moan left your mouth when he slid a finger inside, your walls clenching around it, needy.

“I-Is this ok?” He asked again, and you chuckled breathless, nodding.

“Yes, baby. It’s perfect.”

So he slid another one, thrusting them in and out of you, creating a wet sound, and you moaned louder, rocking your hips until his knuckles disappeared inside of you. He curled his fingers, and that made you tremble, teasing your g-spot, a jolt of pleasure showering you. So good.

“Fuck, that’s it…” You moaned in his ear and his skin jumped, his fingers moving faster “Need you so bad…”

He moaned at your words, cock twitching beneath you. Then he slid his fingers out, your aching, needy pussy clenching around nothing, then his hands took your tank top and slid it out of you, your bare breasts in front of him, and his eyes shined with lust.

“You are so pretty…” He cupped your breasts, and you whined as he squeezed them. “Is this—

You chuckled again.

“Jo, it is ok. You can touch me all you want, i want you to.”

He smiled softly, a little ashamed, and squeezed your breasts even more, rubbing his thumb in your nipples, and they hardened at the touch, your rocked your hips again, and he groaned low.

Now you took your bottoms off, and stood there, bare, naked in front of him, and the look in his eyes made your whole body shiver, he looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

You got on top of him again, kissing him, and he let you do it. You wrapped your hand around his cock, and he whimpered above your lips.

“Wait.” He licked his lips, his face red again. “Do you…? I mean, i’m not trying to offend you or anything i swear, it’s just, could we use… protection? I think it’s safer that way, i-if you don’t mind…”

His nervousness made you melt, and you laughed softly, nodding. Of course, protection, always important. You bent over the bed and stretched your arm, searching inside the cabinet of your nightstand, and put out a condom.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you lifted your shoulders. “What? I’m a cautious girl” He chuckled, rolling his eyes, and you pecked his lips.

You slid the condom around his length easily, and he hissed at the feeling, grabbing your hips tight. Then you grabbed him, and rubbed the tip between your wet, dripping, needy folds, teasing you both. You looked at him again, he was biting his lip, anticipation in his pretty face.

You let yourself fall around him, his cock stretching your walls so good that you had to grab his shoulder for balance, and he moaned too. Your pussy clenched around him, he was big, so it took you a few seconds to adjust to his size, but it felt so good, his thick, throbbing length inside of you.

“F-Fuck…” he whispered, trembling, and you sighed deeply before starting to move your hips, up and down, slowly, your breasts bouncing at the movement.

“Feels good?” You asked, weak voice as whimpers left your lips.

He nodded fast, and you smiled again, biting your lip.

“S-So good… you’re so warm and tight.” His eyes were sparkly, filled with desire and pleasure.

And you started moving faster, jumping up and down on his length, burying deep inside of you, fucking yourself, and he could only moan louder and grab you tighter, his fingers marking the skin of your hips, your skins crashing, sweaty.

He kept groping your body, hands shaky, overwhelmed by the pleasure as you bounced on him over and over, your legs trembling because you were feeling so much pleasure too, everytime he slammed your insides so good, cock so deep, your wetness dripping between your thighs. Jo then kissed your neck, licking while you kept moving, and you moaned and whimpered, loving his lips on your skin.

“You’re so thick, you feel so good inside of me…” He groaned louder at your words, and you jumped, harder, now really riding him.

You breasts bounced with every move, your forehead bathed in sweat, your hair sticked to it. He lifted his hand and removed it, kissing your lips.

“You want to switch?” You talked between gasps, and he bit his lips, nodding.

So you did, you got up from his lap and laid on the bed, legs spread, glistening pussy dripping and he sighed at the view, groaning before holding your legs to your chest, and he slid inside of you again, and you screamed, not caring if your parents would hear. His thrusts were messy, not a clear rythym, but you didn’t care, it felt so good, he stretched you so good. His body was heavy above you, his hips crashing with yours, his groans and moans in your ears.

“I-I can’t… it feels so good, so good” his voice was completely broken, and you moaned and grabbed his hair, feeling him bury his cock deep inside of you.

“I know, baby. Feels so good, you’re so deep and good inside of me.” you talked sweet, whining, staring at his watery eyes.

He looked completely destroyed, his cheeks red, his hair sweaty, his body trembling, his thrusts sloppy but hitting every spot, making you shake and whine and moan his name time and time again. Your hands caressed his body again, touching, burning skin beneath your fingertips, his heart was racing, bumping against his chest. You felt like you were dreaming, your body floating as he fucked you.

“I’ve never felt this… i-i” He was mumbling nonsense, his brain completely shut down, pussy drunk. You just felt so good around him, he never wanted to stop, he wanted to die inside of you.

Then your hand went between your legs, your own fingers finding your aching, swollen clit, and you rubbed them against it, fast, at the pace of his erratic thrusts.

“You’re doing so good baby, fucking me so good…” you praised and he moaned, his head thrown back, slamming in and out of you until his thighs crashed with the back of yours.

You didn’t know why, but you came so fast. The knot on your lower belly exploding in a strong, earth shaking orgasm that made you scream high-pitched and arch your back, walls of your pussy clenching so tight around him, face completely teared apart by the pleasure. And his movements became completely nonsense, sloppy, so you knew he was so close too.

So you pushed his chest, making him stop, and he looked at you a bit confused, but you wasted no time in pushing him onto his back, removing the condom from his member and he knew what you wanted, so he stroked himself fast, whining, hissing, low moans and lip between his teeth as he masturbated in front of your face.

“I’m gonna… fuck, i’m…”

And you felt it. Warm, sticky, wet strings falling on your face, you opened your mouth, tasting him, swallowing his cum as he arched his back and groaned loud, covering you with his orgasm.

Then he stayed still, immobile, chest moving up and down.

You took the leftovers from your cheeks and forehead, licking your fingers clean, and he blushed completely, hiding his face in the pillows.

You chuckled, laying by his side, kissing his face.

“You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.” He said against the silk of your pillowcase, and you laughed loud, clinging to him.

It didn’t take much for you two to fall asleep. Naked, bodies against each other, a silly smile on both of your faces.

You had a good feeling about tomorrow’s exam.

The professor started to hand out the results, and you bit your nail harder, your legs shaking, your heart racing.

This was the final test, this was the moment for you to prove yourself, to prove that weeks and weeks of studying until late night were worth it, that you didn’t waste your time.

That you didn’t waste Jo’s time.

Of course, you did this for yourself, for you career. But a small part of you, really wanted him to be proud of you.

So your heart stopped when the professor stood by your desk, an eyebrow raised. You swallowed, blinking at him.

Then he handed the result, a smirk on his face.

“Good job, Ms.Y/N, looks like you really did put effort”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you looked at the paper. A bright, happy, big, red pen A in the corner.

You almost jumped from your seat. A gasp leaving your mouth. There were no words to describe how you were feeling, finally, finally you did something for yourself, you proved that you weren’t just a dumb pretty girl, that you had infinate potential.

All of your friends were waiting for you as you ran into the cafeteria, waving the paper in your hand and the all cheered you up, wide smiles as they congratulated you.

Then you saw him, he was chewing on a rice ball, eyes sticked to a comic in his hand. You hesitated, but the excitement got you.

So you ran to him, Jo looked up as he saw you approaching, but you gave him no time to react, jumping in his arms and almost making you both fall from the chair, his eyes widened, grabbing you by your waist helping you gain balance.

“I fucking did it!” You screamed, and he laughed, cheeks full of food.

You stared at him, so happy.

And you kissed him. Right there.

His face turned all red, and he glanced at your friends, their faces full of surprise, jaws to the floor. You didn’t care.

Then he chuckled, finally swallowing.

“If you’re going to steal a kiss from me, Y/N, at least do it properly.”

So you did. At the end, he was the cute nerdy boy that not only helped you finally master finances, but the cute nerdy boy who melted your heart.

Jo drabble we cheered!!

i’ll fix the mistakes tomorrow i’m sleeeeepy <3

hope you liked it !!

[mysteryfawn]

Hihi!! So I was thinking about a highschooler c00lkidd and a nerdy y/n that are in the same classes as him, and here's my request: Scenario where C00lkidd and Y/N are doing homework together and then they decide to gossip about other stuff :3

HI HII!! I'M SO SO SO SORRY, I'VE BEEN CAUGHT UP WITH SCHOOL LATELY- will be writing all requests now!!

Chalk scraped through the blackboard, every movement making the irritating noise louder and sharper. Yet the whispers of students inside the class somehow overrode it. The teacher, writing math equations, constantly looked at the clock, as they only had two minutes of class time left.

A forced cough drew the teenagers’ attention to the adult, who waited and anticipated what she had to say. “Unfortunately, my time is running out, so… For tomorrow, please solve these two Imaginary number equations! It’ll be a part of your test, and Factorial equations.”

Groans and sighs came from across the room as the educator took their stuff from the desk and walked off. Some students left the classroom, finding other parts of the school more interesting, while others, who didn’t, either slept on their desks or simply blocked off reality with their phones.

The once so loud room was quiet again, as only you remain active and starting to do your homework early, so you’d have a free afternoon… Although that plan was quickly going to be scratched once your deskmate kept staring at you eagerly.

“C00lkidd?” You responded to his silence, catching the red-skinned boy by surprise. Looking over to him, the 15-year-old coughed awkwardly and chuckled slightly, recomposing himself and his posture.

“Sorry! I, uhm… Thought you were smart… I mean- ARE smart! So, I kinda needed help with erm… The work, if that’s alright?” He struggles to speak, making you smile slightly from the sudden entertainment.

C00lkidd was an old student at this school, he’s been here since the 7th grade (being homeschooled prior)… It was mainly due to his skin condition and the fact that he and his father went missing alongside many of Robloxia’s big shots years ago. He was unsafe at other schools, as he’d suffer bullying and his grades would worsen… Not that he isn’t bullied or doesn’t have bad grades, but it’d just be more drastic anywhere else.

Because of his past, skin, and his weird mannerisms and psychopathic tendencies, he’s left alone by most students… There are the “brave” bunch that pick on him, but they’re usually left with a black eye or a broken bone.

“Well… Sure, I guess? This subject isn’t that hard… Just lots of numbers.” You straighten up, moving your notebook near his part of the desk, as you start to demonstrate and explain the mathematical problems.

The ringing of a bell startled you two after 20 minutes, although you knew that you could stay in the room for longer. All of the students that wasn’t you and C00lkidd left the classroom, leaving you two to your own devices.

“Y’know… You’re not as scary as they say.” You mumbled, accidentally letting that thought out of your mind uncontrollably, causing the red teenager to stare at you creepily. “I-I mean… People talk badly about you, I only really hear them, but… Talking to you directly proves them wrong.” Straightening your back, you cautiously explain, not wanting to get hurt or hurt his feelings.

A small nod came from C00lkidd, whilst you looked up at him empathetically. “You’re cool to talk to, you don’t judge or comment on every error, small or big, and you learn quickly. Sure, you have your own creepy or scary moments and phrases, but I can look past that since you treat me with basic decency, unlike the others.” You relaxed into your seat, gazing at him.

“Thank you…” He smiled, giggling a bit afterwards. “You’re weird.” He said simply, making you jokingly punch his shoulder softly, as you both laughed. It didn’t take long for the conversation to direct itself into many topics- Dinosaurs, dragons, which teachers are cool and which one sucks, which classmates would you be friends with, family, and much much more.

Once school ended, C00lkidd ran happily towards his dad’s almost worn-out car, hugging 007n7 excitedly. “I MADE A FRIEND!”

[kumkaniudaku]

Had Me At Hello

Summary: Terry and Patrice meet for the first time.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Francis Edwards High School was a pristine, two-story jungle filled with Cumberland County's most gifted teenagers. From the first bell at 7 AM until the final ding at 2:30 PM, impenetrable cliques and established hierarchies ruled the hallways, classrooms, and bustling cafeteria, turning the already daunting task of making friends into a nearly impossible uphill battle.

A new school year was nothing more than a formality for returning students. Friend groups were locked in. Moving up and down the sacred social ladder was a tall task many dared not undertake. Seniors looking to make a name for themselves before walking across the stage concocted grand plans to achieve legendary status. Incoming freshmen were given the golden opportunity to shed their image from middle school and step into brand new skin if they were lucky. 

By mid-October of his freshman year, Terrence Richmond felt like he'd cracked high school's code. A massive growth spurt throughout eighth grade shot him up from a slight 5'7" to a respectable 5'11", aiding his first-string wide receiver campaign. Sure, he was brand new to the team and coming behind an all-state senior plus two juniors making waves in their own right, but stranger things had happened. One twisted ankle or subpar progress report, and he'd be well on the way to becoming the big man on campus.

While student-athletes gathered to work through math problems and critical thinking questions in factions during study hall, Terrence used his binder to deflect jagged paper balls aimed at his forehead from his teammate and lifting buddy, Robert.

"Bro, chill," Terrence laughed before chucking the piece of trash back in Robert's direction. "I'm trying to do my homework. You should be, too, by the way!"

Robert turned his nose up and scoffed. "Why? Get somebody to do it for you." He gestured toward a library full of students, then looked back at Terrence. "Pick somebody. Shit, ask one of your teachers. You on the football team. Your job is to play football." 

"Yeah, okay," Terrence scoffed. "Try tellin' my mama that. If she found out I had people doin' my work, she'd kick my ass. Then tell my daddy, and they would kick my ass together." 

"At least you got a dad. I'm still waiting on mine to get back from the store. It must take a long time to get cigarettes." 

Their goofy, loud laughter eclipsed a spirited conversation between the senior defensive core, earning attention neither of them cared to have. 

While being on the team shielded Terrence from the dog-eat-dog world of high school civilian life, it wasn't enough to escape the internal politics governing a rowdy bunch of teenage boys. 

The pecking order was clear and meant to go unchallenged. Seniors commanded starting roles, leaving everyone else to fight for crumbs until their time came to rise up the ranks. Most underclassmen accepted the natural order of things. Eventually, an opportunity would arise, and they'd run with it. But Terrence didn't have time to wait. Four years wasn't long enough to play safe. He had his sights set on NFL glory. And, while his coaches found his ambition honorable, young men three years his senior considered Terrence a threat to stability. 

Scowling, the starting defensive back directed his ire toward Terrence and Robert. "Fuck is so funny?" 

“Nothin’!” Robert's quick response made Terrence roll his eyes. Robert's deer-caught-in-headlights gaze darted back to his friend, softening his brown eyes into apologetic saucers. He mumbled a timid, "Sorry." as an apology.

For Terrence, backing down wasn't an option. Even if it was, he couldn't imagine a universe in which his father's stern lesson about standing up for yourself wouldn't haunt him for all eternity. 

He shrugged as cooly as he could as he leaned back in his chair. "Homework, Drew. You wanna talk about your's too, since you still in ninth- grade algebra with us? Let us help you, bro. We a team." 

Raucous laughter at his expense made Drew shrink back in embarrassment. His intelligence, or lack thereof, wasn't a secret, but it also wasn't a line anyone dared cross. Unfortunately for him, Terrence had no reverence for tired rules.  

Anger turned Drew's ears and nose red as he considered turning a light spat into a physical altercation. Terrence sat up straight to answer his adversary's unspoken challenge, narrowing his lids into slits and tightening his jaw repeatedly. His fists sat balled in his lap, clenching and unclenching in preparation. If things took a turn for the worst, his readiness was paramount. What he lacked in size, he could make up in speed. Either that or he'd have to deal with his father when all was said and done. He chose to take his chances. 

Sensing a fight on the other side of harmless jokes, one of the senior linemen with a soft spot for Terrence's fearlessness stepped in. 

"Alright, D, he busted yo ass. Let it go, man." Demarcus laughed before gripping his friend's shoulder to push him back into his seat. "Aye, Terry, you gotta chill. You a freshman. Be cool sometimes." 

"It's Terrence. Not Terry." 

Demarcus waved off Terrence's correction. "It's Terry, nigga. We already got a Terrence," he mentioned, pointing to a junior safety at the far end of the table. "Now, if y'all wanna fight about it, we can set something up after practice." Terrence eyed his older namesake, sizing him up before making a business decision. His father also taught him to pick his battles wisely. Demarcus took Terry's silence as an answer and continued. "Exactly. Now, move yo skinny ass out the way so we can see ol' girl behind you."

Catcalls and lewd whistling rippled around three tables pushed together to make one as young men coursing with raging hormones leaned over to get a glimpse of the new girl. 

Long-legged and umber-skinned, she stood out in a room full of semi-familiar faces. Everyone at Francis attended school together at some point. Schoolyard bonds followed most students from pre-k to graduation, turning each schoolyear into a reunion of sorts. She, however, was different, fresh, and mysterious. 

Dark brown pressed hair pulled into a low ponytail showed off high cheekbones and piercing eyes. Plump lips drooping into a slight frown told anyone wondering she wasn't interested in too many long conversations. A thin frame sporting naturally lean muscle might trick a less perceptive person into believing she was an athlete. The handwritten 'Francis Edwards Book Club' sign hanging crooked behind her head told a different story. She was a serious scholar with little time for public school games. 

"Damn! She gotta be from outta town." One player commented after blowing the girl a kiss and receiving an annoyed eye roll in return.

Another boy added his two cents to the mix. "I heard she transferred from some private school. Catholic girl or something like that." 

"You know how the Catholic school girls get down. Straight nasty."

Crass comments, growing increasingly inappropriate, turned into nothing more than background chatter while Terry stared at the only person worth existing as far as he was concerned. 

Patrice Ellis. He'd seen the back of her head in one of his classes, not knowing the beauty hidden on the other side. She always smelled like the cocoa butter his mom used to keep his baby sisters moisturized. In class, she was quiet and observant. He liked hearing her answer questions and sometimes jotted her responses as notes in case they were hit with a pop quiz or he needed a reminder during his study time. 

Seeing Patrice quietly adjust stacks of paper while waiting for anyone to interact with her table nearly stole all of the air from Terry's lungs. He couldn't look away. He didn't want to look away. She had his undivided attention.

Until a grating voice spouting crude nonsense forced him to rejoin the conversation. 

"Bet $15 I can't take her down before Christmas break." 

Demarcus extended his arm toward Drew for a handshake agreement, a disbelieving look settling on his face. "I'll bet you $20 you won't go over there and talk to her right now." 

"Who won't? Man, stop playing with me!" 

"Do it then!" 

Terry's eyes darted between the two seniors, syncing to his rising heartbeat. Everything in him wanted to stay out of their antics. He begged his legs to stop bouncing, trying to negotiate with his brain to let go of the stupid idea it'd concocted. Mind your business. Make a good impression. Don't step on any toes. Sit down, Terry.

A hush fell over the group while they watched everyone's favorite mouthy frosh jam books and papers into his backpack before taking long strides toward the neatly decorated folding table by the library's entrance. 

Patrice noticed his lanky body standing out in the crowd like a car wash inflatable with adorable curls forming a dense afro. His eyes, beautiful round orbs of sea green and honey, bore into hers like he owed her a tongue-lashing for something she couldn't remember. They sat near each other in third-period algebra. Maybe her constant pencil tapping was more of a distraction than she thought. 

Then he smiled. Full lips beneath a wispy mustache smoothly slid into a bright, teeth-baring grin to show off all his pearly whites. His nose scrunched, and his eyes crinkled on the side, betraying the intensity he'd displayed only seconds prior. 

Breathtaking. Patrice rushed to busy her mind and hands, hoping his attention-stealing grin was meant for someone she couldn't see and that he'd stroll right past her into the hallway. 

A shadow the size of a beanstalk appeared over her navy blue tablecloth and spoke to her in a soft, small voice. "Are y'all still accepting sign-ups?" 

Most of what he said was lost in the chaos of students transitioning out of the room for their respective sports obligations, forcing Patrice to finally look up. Terry stood before her, still smiling, his eyes expectant and curious as he looked down at her. 

"I'm sorry, you have to speak up. I didn't…I didn't hear what you said."

"Oh. I-" Terry stopped short to clear his throat. "I just asked if y'all were still accepting sign-ups. Because I'd like to, um, join…if I can. Are you in the club?"

"Wouldn't be sitting here if I wasn't." 

Terry nervously adjusted his heavy bookbag on his arm. "Right. My bad." He pointed at the sign-up sheet. "Can I?"

Patrice cocked her head to one side. "You sure? I figure you'd wanna join math club since you're so good at it. Or literally anything else. Didn't think you were the reading type." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Terry watched Patrice pluck a pen from her advisor's mug and slide it across the table to him. When she didn't answer, he pressed again. "Why'd you say that?" 

"Say what?" 

He bent over to scribble his last name into the appropriate box. "That you didn't think I'd be the reading type. Why?" 

"Because you hang around a bunch of idiots," Patrice sassed as she nodded behind him to a table of boys jeering in the background. 

Terry tried to contain his smile at how adult she was despite not looking much older than his fourteen years, instead fighting to keep his brow furrowed in feigned confusion. "What does that have to do with me, though? You think I'm an idiot?" 

"Birds of a feather flock together. I've heard some things." 

Stories of hazel eyes and broad shoulders kept young girls from 9th to 12th-grade giggling amongst themselves whenever news got around that Terry was in the vicinity. He took the ogling in stride with the guys, sending diplomatic waves to googly-eyed young women like the second coming of President Obama. But, privately, the new attention overwhelmed him. He wasn't sure how to exist in his body or navigate the sudden drop in his voice. 

Patrice only knew unconfirmed rumor mill pieces of information. Terry was dating multiple girls in the ninth grade. Terry had a girlfriend at a school across town. Terry was an asshole. Terry this, Terry that. She couldn't keep up and preferred to steer clear of this Terry character. Still, there he was, standing in front of her and expecting an explanation for an offhanded comment she desperately wanted to move past. 

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Nobody ever told you that?" Terry's eyes flickered up to Patrice's to find her making a face as she rolled her eyes. 

She kissed her teeth. "Yeah, they did, and it's stupid. How else will I decide to pick a book if I don't judge its cover first?"

"Okay, well, what if I judged you?" He paused to make space for Patrice's rebuttal, but one never came. He continued. "In class, you don't talk and scrunch your face up at everybody. You bring your lunch to school instead of goin' through the line like the rest of us and rush down the hallway like you're late for something every day. What if I said you thought you were better than us because you came from private school?" 

"You'd be wrong. I just… haven't been able to fit in yet," Patrice countered. "And who told you I came from a private school?"

Terry chuckled. "I'm judging you by your cover. And the St. Pius pin you keep on your backpack." He pointed toward the white and gold crest pinned to the left strap of her orange Jansport, then gave her a sympathetic smile. "You miss your friends. I get it. I would, too. But, if you wanna make some new ones that aren't teachers, you can't be so mean all the time." 

"You don't know me," she countered in defiance. 

"I want to." 

Terry didn't know what made him make such a bold declaration. He wasn't usually so forward or willing to converse with strangers. This stranger, in all her beauty and endearing sass, was different. She'd drawn him in with little more than a slight scowl, which he knew was only a defense mechanism to ward off unserious would-be suitors. He wasn't them, though. He never said anything he didn't mean. 

Capping the pen, Terry smiled, handed Patrice her utensil, and slid the paper back to her. "I'm Terrence, by the way. Or Terry. Either works." 

"Which one do you prefer?" 

"Um, Terrence…I think." 

She smiled, finally showing her teeth, before giggling. "You think? Which name do you like more?" 

"Terrence," he answered as he returned her smile. "Call me Terrence." 

"Okay, Terrence." Terrence. Patrice wanted to repeat his name again and again to feel the easy cadence roll of her tongue. Instead, she extended her hand for him to grab and shake. Terry gently took hold of her fingers, forgetting to finish the process until Patrice initiated it for him. "Welcome to the club. I'm –" 

He cut her off, still holding on long after they'd completed the simple formality. "Patrice. I know. Nice to meet you." Slowly, he released her hand, immediately creating a void she wished he'd fill again. A short laugh escaped past Terry's lips before he adjusted his backpack again and prepared to walk away. "Guess I'll see you during free block next Wednesday? Maybe you can get to know me for yourself instead of making all those assumptions." 

"Yeah. Maybe." 

A final once-over helped Terry and Patrice commit each other's faces to memory before Terry backed his way out of the library and temporarily out of her life. 

As easily as her new connection's effortless cool calmed heightened anxiety, his associated band of buffoons infiltrated her serene bubble with their unique brand of foolish behavior. They filed out of the library one by one, some making faces and a few more spouting garbage in passing. Idiots, just as she thought.

When they were out of dodge, and the library was back to the quiet, safe haven she loved, Patrice looked back down at the sheet of paper with one name neatly written in slender, slanted print. Her index finger traced each letter as she tried to relive the smile and soft voice attached to the name she'd never forget. 

Terrence Richmond. A beautiful cover to a book she hoped to read from front to back one day.

--------

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[blueberrypancakesworld]

Could you do one where reader has been friends with Erik since they were in 1st grade she always liked him but thought he only seen her has a friend she the opposite of him with red hair and bright blue eyes and more of a anime/ movie nerd ( no glasses) during the movie she is always with Erik and trying to help him she tells him she loves him and he says he loves her and if they survive were leaving and he going to marry me she ends up saving him but his brother still dies so they leave far away and do start a life together they have 2 kids there son Bobby ( named after his brother and a girl Julia after his sister

Finally together after years

Erik Campbell x fem!reader

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, kiss, mention of dead and blood, reader has red hair and blue eyes otherwise no description, no use of Y/n

Summary : They always seemed to be together, as kids in school, as teenagers in high school. Even now as adults, they still had a bond with each other that could not be broken, not by the deaths of his family and not even when Erik's own life seemed to be in danger. Because they firmly believe that in the face of love they can defy anything.

info : Hi dear, thanks for the request, i like the idea with the children. Sorry for the longer wait, I hope you enjoy reading and thanks to everyone for the support ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The first thing she remembered when she thought back to Erik and their story together was the school days and how he was somehow always different.

The first day at school was a new experience for all children, you suddenly met so many more people, teachers you had to listen to, you had to remember names to address the adults correctly.

Children who either looked at you in a friendly way or just as uncertainly as you did, and then sitting still for hours on the wooden chairs, which after a while became uncomfortable while you had to solve math problems and your fingers ran out.

School had also become a new event in her young life, but when she met a boy called Erik, she seemed to know what she wanted: to sit next to him.

It was a plan that worked, from the moment they had first spoken to each other the joy seemed to stay with her, she had taken Ash Ketchum's cap from Pokemon with her to school and a little Pikachu plushie in her hand.

The complete opposite to Erik, who was wearing a little cylindrical hat and a bat stuffed animal, “That is so soft,” she had said, pointing to the bat, which was surrounded by fluffy dark fur.

That sentence seemed to have set everything in motion between them, the children talking about the softness of bats, her explaining each of Pikachu's attacks and telling Erik what a Pkeball could do.

The imaginary fights in the breaks as they ran laughing and screeching after each other, shouting attacks and pretending to hit each other.

Within a few months they had become best friends, spent the night together and Erik had made her a little friendship bracelet out of black wool as a thank you for letting him play with her Pikachu.

A time of innocence, cuteness and joy... a feeling of joy that became a feeling of love over the next few decades.

Because the joy inside her, the tingling in her stomach and the fast beating heart were not due to Erik's unusual appearance, it was his whole self, as she realized in her late teens that she had fallen in love with him.

Yet whenever her bright eyes went to him, whenever she smiled at him, whenever she hugged him and talked, whenever they drove a car together and went out to eat, everything she hoped for in a romantic connection he didn't seem to see.

He always seemed to see her only as his girlfriend...but whether this was true or not they both seemed to find out many years later.

Because as with everything, time doesn't pass without a trace and when she saw the call on her cell phone, the name Erik with the emoji bat behind it and a friendly, “Hi Erik, what's up?” she heard the short silence behind it, a silence that was unusual because he was never quiet.

“Erik? Is everything all right?” her concern came directly between them and she thought she heard a sigh before the explanation followed, “My grandmother died, I wanted to ask if you would come to the funeral too, it would be really nice” a question, a request she hadn't seen coming.

Of course she agreed, but she had never seen Erik so confused for a moment, as if something even bigger had happened, as if there was something else behind it, as if he still had something that was bothering him.

She agreed, wearing a black dress and appearing as discreet as possible, she stood a little behind the family, the day was filled with gray clouds and even nature seemed to be saying goodbye to the old woman.

She had never gotten to know his grandmother Iris, he had only said something here and there in passing but never anything more specific, he always turned to her again.

The smile they both gave each other of understanding and gratitude when she came to him at the end of the funeral, “My condolences Erik” she said as he gave her a short hug, she saw that he seemed a little down, he knew his grandmother best of the children's generation of the family.

But just as quickly, he seemed to have regained his smile as he said, “Are you staying for the feast?” pointing to the rest of his family who were going back home to have a meal together, a suggestion she gratefully accepted and joined him as she accompanied him to the car.

But neither of them knew that Iris's death was just the beginning, the beginning of a future together, with a bloody path that would put them all in danger.

Just a few days after Iris's death, she found herself back at the Campbells' house, this time in the garden for a party, “I have cupcakes!” she shouted joyfully as she came in through the gate and put the home-baked food on the table.

As always, she immediately got a firm hug from Brenda and a pat on the back from Howard who eyed the cupcakes, “They're...colorful,” he said, holding one in front of him, before she could explain, Erik had come over from the grill and said.

“They're from Percy Jackson the mythology movie dad, you know she's a little movie nerd,” and winked knowingly as he took a bite of the cupcake.

Erik had always understood her and she had understood Erik, it didn't seem any different since they met, he knew and listened to her about the movies and she supported him on his creative side with the tattoos, giving tips and recommendations to motoven.

Until he tattooed her a little bat himself and he got himself a pokeball to remember their friendship and how they started out together, an andeknek that would be covered in blood only a few days later.

When death decides your time is up then it's over, a death that took Howard and only a few days later his daughter Julia, deaths in the family that left everyone bloodied, crying and screaming, that Stefani started telling the others things and explaining what was really going on.

A time when Erik had gone to see his friend, stood outside her door in the middle of the night and stammered "Dad...he-he's dead" and fell into her arms, she had never seen him so devastated, so broken and full of grief.

He had lost his father, someone he cherished and looked up to the most in his family, and now he was lying here leaning against her, drinking tea, just recounting whatever events he remembered with his father, and she was listening.

She listened silently, giving him the support he needed, running her fingers through his hair and wishing that she could kiss him, that she could take away the pain he was feeling.

Instead, she just pulled him tighter, “I'm here, Erik,” she murmured, and the two of them cuddled on the couch, holding each other, being there for each other until it seemed okay again, until they both calmed down enough to face his family together.

They had to when Stefani explained after Julia's death that they were all on a 'list' because of Iris and that death had targeted the Campbells and Reyes, a message that had shocked and unsettled everyone, a message where Erik had reached for her hand, “We'll get through this,” he said, giving her a small smile and they continued to listen.

Until the plan was finalized and the family set off towards the hospital, the van was big enough that they could spread out a little, the ride was quiet here and there but mostly it was Erik's calmness that unsettled her and she walked over to the dark-haired man sitting at the little fold-out seat.

“Hey, are you all right?” her question sounded banal in the face of what had happened.

It seemed to wake him from his stupor and he looked to her, a smile that somehow radiated a warmth to her, “Well, as well as you can when you know death is after you...but there's something else,” he admitted.

His gaze avoiding hers again, his fingers playing nervously with his piercing and again she couldn't quite tell if it was because of the dead or something else.

Her hand went to his, holding it gently, “Erik whatever it is we-” she wanted to reassure him but his shake of the head and his “It's not that” interrupted her, she was almost eager to see what he had. What could Erik Campbell have done to upset the bat boy she had known for two decades?

A question that was answered when his hands gently gripped hers and just as he was about to say something she uttered “I love you”, the words just came out, she finally confessed her feelings to him, finally the truth she had carried with her for so long came out.

Yet it wasn't rejection or disgust she received, it was a “I fucking love you too” and a kiss she felt as he pulled himself across the table towards her, seemingly finally giving her the kiss he had wanted to give her for so long.

A gesture that seemed all the more bittersweet in the face of death as he added, almost breathless from the stormy, intimate kiss, “Fuck, when this is all over I want to finally have a life together with you,” words that almost brought tears to her eyes as she agreed in the face of her all-consuming death, for the next few hours were full of death and danger.

A danger that only increased as the van came to the hospital, because even though the place had life and death, it was still a place that seemed just as dangerous as everything else.

A place that became the death of Bobby as he and Erik pursued a plan of their own.

A plan that had her tearing her love apart by a hair as she saw the machine start up, the chaos it unleashed and she rushed into the room.

Grabbing Erik's had and holding on to the edge of the wall as at the last moment the wheelchair followed them past that would otherwise have impaled Erik.

She had prevented death, saved Erik who would otherwise have died, and yet there was blood on the hands of the dead Campbell and his future wife.

They said goodbye to Brenda together a few months later, driving out of town with the few things they had, away from the nightmare that had initially brought them together as a dream.

They had survived death, made it together, a love that finally blossomed a few years later into two children, sisters, a boy and a girl one Bobby the other Julia in memory of the deceased aunt and uncle they would have had had they survived.

They made the beginning of a new generation, a new family, a family that had its beginnings in childhood and even if there was sadness in Erk's eyes, there was also love when he looked at his wife and children, which was the best of them both.

Love could always defy death no matter how long it took. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[chaaistained]

what’s your internship like? (in your better cr)

page turners

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you can’t blame me for wanting to live in a world where society doesn’t reserve value and recognition to only be rewarded if you follow the standard, left brained, logical mindset of stem and maths and science and technology — and this is coming from someone who loves those very subjects and excels in them — i’m very much a maths lover, i enjoy solving logical problems, it brings a satisfaction that cannot be described, and yet . i don’t feel as alive as when i’m writing, when i’m reading, when i’m analysing, pulling apart, breaking down the intricate threads of thought that make up a story, or an essay, or a poem

my mind may find satisfaction in solving page after page of algebra, but my soul will only find its spark when i give in to emotion and empathetic analysis, and for that very reason, i scripted a different degree for my dr-self, and with that came a different internship in a publishing company that does not exist in this reality — Page Turners

in my dr at the midpoint of my first year in uni, i had gotten into a year long internship at a government office, hired because of my degree in entertainment law majoring in copywriting

but i have a double degree, my second being a degree in arts majoring in literature and creative writing, and i always knew i wanted a more creative job, rather than the technical, legal side of the publishing industry (no matter how well it pays)

so at the end of my first internship, i started exploring different avenues, and Page Turners was brought to my attention (ironically, by my english tutor from high school)

they advertise mainly to young writers, they have an open submission for a monthly online magazine, curated by a theme (think dakota warren’s nowhere girl collective but only focused on writing — whereas dakota includes submissions for art and music too)

Page Turners wasn’t hiring anyone who hadn’t gotten a full degree but with the help of my ex-tutor (and ex-boss bcs i used to mark papers for her every now and then) i was able to make a case for an internship position

it took a while, a whole year in fact, but Page Turners thought that a way to reach the youth would be to start as early as possible and the best way to do so is by implementing internship programs into their business plan — essentially, my drive to work in the creative field (and mostly due to my connections bcs networking sucks but it is everything) i was able to convince an up and coming publishing house to start hiring students, who may be exactly like me, just waiting for the opportunity to do something creative

i haven’t scripted much on the actual internship program and what it entails but i get accepted and start working at the beginning of my third year (honestly year 3 of uni has a lot of firsts for me — first longterm internship, first boyfriend who i can actually see a future with, first new car, first youtube play button for my anonymous cover channel w two of my high school friends — theres probably more but i don’t wanna sound cocky T^T)

anyway, back to the point — my internship essentially allows me to explore the workings of a publishing house, and with my background in copy write law and creative writing, i’m able to dabble in many different divisions and subdivisions, getting a chance to see how the writers, lawyers, agents and editors work — it’s where i find my passion for developmental editing : the profession of assisting with the creative process of a book, primarily a novel, where you go through a synopsis, a story board, and the overall themes and acts of the story, it’s less about the in-debt typo-prevention of editing and more about the overall narrative — stuff like helping to pivot the story or guide the plot in a certain direction to achieve everything the writer hopes for, or, my personal favourite and my special skill if i do say so myself which is patching up plot holes to be seamless and make sense

finally, this internship, the people i worked with, they are the reason i felt confident enough to go back to uni and do a postgrad degree for a masters in creative writing and a specialisation in editing, so i could officially work full time as a developmental editor

meaning i could read and write and help create stories for a living

.

.

.

if i ever script more or after i’ve properly experienced this internship, i will definitely update this post, or just make another one!! but for now, this is all i’ve got <333

cuppa queries; order in — ask responses

2025 © chaaistained

[tanadrin]

also not sure how strongly intelligence is really selected for in a strict state of nature environment

Eg: high IQ is also correlated with things like allergies, nearsightedness, neurosis, depression, and lower fertility over lifetime. If intelligence is polygenic, it’s possible that some of those genes aren’t really beneficial to an organism outside of specifically trying to be a theoretical physicist in a developed nation.

if I remember right, turnover point is somewhere around 115-120 IQ and you start to see poorer overall life outcomes?

i have a bunch of thoughts on this, which i guess boil down to the fact i think whatever model you're using to discuss intelligence here doesn't make much sense.

humans are highly social animals whose large brains experienced strong selection pressure to get larger to navigate complex social situations and to improve social coordination; in that sense if intelligence is a unified concept it must be extraordinarily adaptive, because social groups that can coordinate effectively can heavily outcompete social groups that can't. we see this is true even just where new developments in social technology (or non-social technology!) improve the capacity for coordination.

i think the history of hominid evolution is an incredibly clear demonstration that intelligence is massively adaptive. the biggest qualitative difference between humans and chimpanzees is our intelligence, and we hunt chimps for food. the history of australopithecines being supplanted by hominins and then the genus homo winning out and then humans winning out in that genus bc each group had successively bigger brains that were better at coming up with effective tools and coordinating in large groups. the whole process of australopithecine to modern H. sapiens evolution is only 3-4 million years. and remember, the human ancestral environment (so far as such a concept is even coherent) isn't grunting cave men, it's complex social groups capable of strategy and planning and caring for members of the community.

when people say stuff like "intelligence probably wasn't adaptive in the ancestral environment" i think theyr'e also often thinking of intelligence in a stereotypically modern pop-culture way that's pretty shallow, as like just performance on math tests. while nobody was taking math tests in the early pleistocene, the math test is not the central use case for intelligence. memory, abstraction, planning, coordination, tool use, these are all things that benefit massively from intelligence in both social situations and non-social ones. conjuring up the discursive stereotype is of a very smart person is a nerd who's great at a STEM subject but socially inept is not actually invoking a very coherent model of intelligence--which gets in to the way that many of the people who take this perspective are, i think, using this stereotype of intelligence to paper over personal inadequacies. yes, they may think, i am socially inept, but i do well on IQ tests, so i have that going for me. they do not want to admit that they might actually be inept at certain things--that their intelligence might have certain glaring deficiencies. they want to write off the kinds of intelligence that don't flatter themselves as being somehow not "real" intelligence. but, for example, autism is a genuine cognitive deficit, albeit one not always incompatible with doing well academically. it profoundly disables some people, which is why it is a diagnosable syndrome in the first place. and plenty of neurotypical people are intelligent in some ways but have notable cognitive deficits in others.

so while many intellectual faculties correlate, they don't correlate perfectly, and because intellectual talents can be differently distributed between different faculties (or honed in uneven ways), we return to the problem of trying to recover a general factor of intelligence from factor analysis, an enterprise which i think is fundamentally flawed. if that's the case, this conversation is even muddier because there is no one general factor of intelligence we can treat as being acted on uniformly by selection effects, and what we really ought to be doing is trying to distinguish different but overlapping cognitive faculties. in that case it may be true that whatever ability to manipulate extremely sophisticated mathematical abstractions that terence tao has really isn't adaptive in the ancestral environment, but clearly a lot of much more mundane abilities that we associate with intelligence in informal discourse are.

[majkuindelululand]

Park Jimin vs Stereotypes, Part 1. Mulan Was Right.

Today I should be cleaning my apartment, packing for a week by the lake, and getting my kid ready for a week with the grandparents. So naturally, I’m writing a post about Jimin. Because I can. Who’s going to stop me?

It started innocently enough a few years ago, when I was trying to figure out why I had a problem with Jimin—but not with any other BTS member. That search led me to some phenomenal YouTube videos about Park Jimin. Yep, I fell down the rabbit hole, and honestly? I like it here. I’ve made myself comfortable. Now let me give you a tour.

To help me write this post, I used ChatGPT. For many reasons—mostly because I enjoy intelligent conversations, but also because it answers my questions fast enough that I can spend more time asking more questions. Before discovering this magical tool, I used to spend hours trying to track down the answers myself.

My question to Chat was: Please find the main stereotypes about Park Jimin.

And here’s what I got in the first batch of answers:

1. Jimin is the cute, sweet, innocent baby of BTS.

I love dismantling this one. First of all: WTH?!

Healthline lists the average global height for adult men as approximately 171 cm (5'7.5"). Even if you lean toward MedicineNet’s estimate of 173 cm (5'8.1"), Jimin is, at worst, average height. He is not short. He just isn’t.

And now that we’ve smashed the myth of him being "tiny," let’s move on to juicier stuff.

Let’s talk about his "innocence." And to that I say: just a few titles—"Lie," "Set Me Free pt.2," "Filter," and "Black Swan." Do I need to say more? Didn’t think so.

Yes, Jimin does enjoy being the aegyo specialist of the group. He pulls it off beautifully, because he has a soft boyish charm that suits it. But! There’s a reason people watching his performances often need to take a break and walk around the room afterward. That man leaves an impression.

"Innocent" is not the word I’d use to describe Park Jimin. Have you noticed how he’s often the first to catch on when something has a suggestive tone? We hear double meanings from him more than anyone else, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. On stage, he’s a wild beast—and he’s fully aware of it.

2. Jimin is the weak, delicate, crybaby type.

Um… yeah. We do have plenty of examples of Jimin crying. He cries in public, admits he cries in private, and doesn’t hide the fact that he has emotions. Emotions can be intense. Every BTS member has a crying story—onstage or backstage. They’re artists, which means they’re naturally more sensitive and emotionally open than most. Speaking as an artist myself: sometimes a full-on emotional breakdown followed by a crying session is more productive than anything else.

But that’s not the point here.

The point is—Park Jimin doesn’t cry more than the others. He’s just had some emotional moments that got a louder reaction. That doesn’t make the math any different.

And again—none of that really matters.

What matters is what Jimin does with his emotions. Where others might spiral into hyperfixation or get paralyzed by feelings, Jimin turns them into momentum.

Let’s look at his career. He started late, got less support, and BigHit didn’t quite know what to do with him at first—though they knew they wanted him (rightly so). Somehow, he not only found his rhythm, but became a crucial part of the group. After debut, he became a small phenomenon. People were raving about his dance skills from the beginning.

Later, when he faced waves of hate (a standard part of the K-pop industry, sadly), instead of crumbling, withdrawing, or conforming, Jimin doubled down. He proved his style and presence weren’t weaknesses. He made his persona into a BTS signature. In my humble opinion? He simply refused to be crushed and leveled up his entire being.

Do you remember Mulan II? Early in the film, Mulan sings about the duality of a good warrior. That’s exactly what I see in Jimin. Sometimes unmoving as a rock. Sometimes bending like bamboo.

Which brings us to:

3. Jimin is a flirt/seducer/always flirting.

No argument here. I honestly believe this man could seduce a pillow and succeed.

But here’s the key—it’s mostly on stage. In the spotlight, he’s a beast. That’s his performance persona. Off stage? Jimin doesn’t seem to be a big fan of fanservice.

His interactions are consistent. He has members he’s clearly closer to, and his boundaries in those relationships are distinct. Sure, they evolve over time, but they’re steady. We’ve got his... uh... whatever that is with JK. That sweet friendship with Hoseok. The spicy thing with Yoongi. A close bond with Namjoon. Oh god—there’s a lot. Which leads to another stereotype Chat gave me:

4. Jimin has no personality. He changes depending on who he’s with.

I could talk about neurodivergence here—because it’s familiar territory—but I won’t armchair-diagnose anyone. What I can say is: Jimin has exceptional social and emotional intelligence.

He can read people. He knows when to step back or stand firm. He’s good at sensing boundaries. Maybe that’s why he avoids over-the-top fanservice? Or maybe he just genuinely understands others well?

The other members often mention his kindness, thoughtfulness, selflessness, and ability to comfort others. Jimin is the designated hug master.

To earn that title, you have to be a bit of an emotional chameleon. But that’s not the same as being fake or lacking identity. Jimin adapts to people’s needs. He becomes who they need in the moment. He doesn’t shout—he listens.

But that doesn’t mean he submits. What he shows is professionalism and leadership. He’ll suppress his own impulses to maintain harmony—but at other times, he’ll firmly steer the mood himself. And when he does? He’s assertive, stubborn, and sassy as fuck. And he pulls it off. People around him go along with it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so frequently mentioned by his members.

5. Jimin is too feminine / not manly enough.

Oh boy. Let’s call this what it is—homophobia. Or, if you prefer, plain old misogyny.

Again, I’m reminded of that Mulan song.

Jimin’s duality in this area honestly gives me back problems from how often I’m floored by it.

We have this guy—delicate, small compared to other members, with softer features, who looks amazing in pastels, and seems to attract flowers like a Disney princess. Oh—and he has the voice of an angel. Definitely higher than what’s traditionally expected from a man.

But this same guy? Martial arts champion. Top of the class in military training. Endurance like a camel in the desert. And he can shut you down with one look.

Other BTS members have said that Jimin (and Hoseok) are downright terrifying when they’re mad.

Is he weak? Not really. Jimin plays weak—and that’s his signature. The raised arms with "JK, lift me!", the helpless chip bag struggle. But surprise! It’s all an act.

Jimin stepped into the "delicate boy" role in the stereotypical group dynamic—the one JK used to occupy as the youngest. JK didn’t want it. Jimin didn’t seem to mind. So he let the group cocoon him in care and admiration—but never showed it was anything other than a conscious choice for his stage identity.

There’s also this idea that Jimin is clumsy. But really? Nah. Namjoon is the destruction god. JK can trip over air. Jimin? He once kicked himself in the head. That’s not clumsiness. That’s an overachieving body. There’s a lot of power in that seemingly small frame—and sometimes it slips out.

So is it bad that Jimin built a persona around all this? No. It actually feels more natural than his early-debut attempts at being a macho man. Jimin thought long and hard about who he wants to be, how he wants to be perceived, and who he truly is. And that equation? It adds up to one thing:

Mulan was right.

[bvidzsoo]

Stern, but sweet

✎ Teacher!San ✎

TW: nothing, just San being soft and hansome

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Helleur, lovelies! As you can see, those pictures are from San's latest YouTube live, which means I was inspired by it (dies). Also, it's the first time San bias wrecked me and I sincerely hope it stays that way, I've already got 3 official wreckers (dies again). Idk what this is, but he gave me cute aggression and at the same time the need to crawl up a wall...how is that possible? Anyways, enjoy, feedback is always welcomed!

so, you had been working at this school for a year now and you absolutely loved your job

the kids are lovely and you happened to grow attached to them quite fast, wanting to ensure they got the adequate education

but when it comes to your colleagues, well, they are quite boring

most of them are well past the age of 40 and they prefer going straight home after work, most of times refusing your invitations for a dinner between co-workers

and it also doesn't help much that you're a lot younger than most, making you feel left out when you hear them conversing about topics that you're either not interested in or just simply don't understand, like: raising children and maintaining a family at home

but when one of the homeroom teacher moves away and the school is in a frenzy to find someone fit for the job, a man around your age seems to confidently accept the challenge

Choi San, is his name

and my lord, when I tell you he's absolutely ravishing with his sharp eyes and soft looking skin

he looks like someone who would discipline you at the slightest misbehavior, and you don't know how to feel about it at first

but then he smiles and those cute dimples in his cheeks make you absolutely swoon over him, his aura so warm and lovely

you've come to know that Choi San is a man with a colorful personality

in his own class, he's very authoritative and stern, he doesn't allow his students to slack, and he doesn't accept any excuses as to why they haven't done their math homework

but San is an amazing teacher, and despite his subject being math, which many students tend to hate, those who he teaches just simply can't wait for his class to come

despite being stern and quite serious, he always cracks harmless jokes while explaining the hardest equations and theories, lightening the mood, and also helping the students focus

they love San in and outside of the classroom

whenever they have a problem, they know they can go to him as he will listen, giving them smart advice instead of rolling his eyes at them and telling them to get lost (like their last homeroom teacher had done so many times)

when there's a conflict, he first listens to both sides and then comes up with a solution (or punishment) that is fair and doesn't favor a student (like their previous homeroom teacher had done quite often)

but San, with his positive and warm energy, seems to also light up your office, the grumpy older teachers laughing a bit more often, a lot more open-minded with San here now

and well, you're a simple woman and you can't really help yourself when you start swooning over him (of course, when he's not watching you or paying attention to you) about just how perfect, and dreamy, he actually is

San was the one to approach you, and you quite liked that as he talked to you freely as if you had known each other for ages

you feel your most authentic self around him, never having to worry that he'll judge you or make fun of you behind your back (like you have caught a few of your fellow co-workers doing so before)

and seriously, San is just so good with children, that you can't help yourself as you develop a crush on him rapidly

and you hope he doesn't notice the way you gaze at him longingly when he's explaining something thoroughly to his students, or pats them on the head as encouragement, or even brings them candy so he can give it as a reward when they excel on their tests

and you certainly hope he doesn't see the way you stare at him for minutes at a time when you're both in your office, your cubicles next to each other, him busy typing on his computer and you busy...well staring at San

and you definitely do not absolutely die when one Friday he asks if you're doing anything later that night, eager to go to the new Amusement Park, saying he was thinking of inviting a few other colleagues as well since he's on good terms with them

you hate Amusement Parks, but if San loves them, well...you might grow to dislike them a little less

and so you definitely do not dress up all cute and spend two hours on your makeup and hair just because San invited you (and your colleagues, but you tend to ignore that part) out

what the two of you absolutely do not expect is for your colleagues to bail on you last minute, all of them saying the same excuse, "something came up, but we should go next time"

and perhaps you die a little on the inside, because you suddenly realize just how of an awkward person the both of you are, blushing and quickly avoiding eye contact when you catch the other one already looking

you don't want to tell San that you're afraid of heights and anything that goes with high speed when he points excitedly at the large roller-coaster, telling you how he's been waiting all day to go on it

you say nothing, you suck it up, because you're an adult and this is your work crush, and perhaps because the way San has been paying attention to you all evening, keeping people away from your body in the crowd as you moved around, or how without touching you, would hold his arm out behind your back when someone walked too close, made you feel rather comfortable in his presence

so, you brace yourself for the ride and certainly don't tremble as San helps you inside the cabin, sitting down next to you

once you're tied up and secured inside of it, is when you start praying to all Gods to give you strength so that you don't lose your mind during the ride

what you don't expect is San noticing how nervous and pale you are, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his as the ride takes off, making you clutch onto his hand for dear life

and the ride is so much fun that you're surprised how much you're enjoying it, but perhaps it's also because San keeps making you laugh and keeps talking to you, holding onto you

what you don't expect, once again, is him not letting go of your hand once you get off the ride, and instead he pulls you towards a photobooth, saying he wants to commemorate tonight's 'date'

oh, and you certainly don't faint when San decides to press a kiss against your cheek as the camera goes off for the last photo

seems like your work crush was crushing back on you, huh?

(seems like all of your coworkers knew about it and cancelled last minute on purpose as they've been secretly shipping the two of you and making bets about when you'd finally start dating)

Masterlist

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[thebearer]

Omg Imagine meeting Lip at college and you are majoring in education, and you only know each other through math or something you need help with. You could just befriend him at first because he is a WHORE phase lol.

Idk your dribbles make me think that Lip and his wife have a strong friendship that blossomed to romance after Lip figures his shit out , and she got knocked up very early on lol.

📢ALSO LIP WILL BE SO MUCH WORSE THEN CARMY WHEN HE FINDS OUT YOU ARE PREGNANT BC KAREN TRAUMAAAAAAAAAAA 📢

"Hey," You stride next to Lip, looping the free strap of your backpack on. "What are you doin' tonight?"

"Uh, kinda busy." Lip hummed, brows creasing lightly when he looked over at you.

"With your professor?" You gave him a pointed look, a devious smile spreading across your lips when he scoffed.

"Yeah. You got plans with yours?" Lip countered.

You rolled your eyes. "Please. I'm not that desperate for a grade." You quipped. "Speaking of, I was going to ask if you were free tonight, because I am going to fail this math test on Wednesday."

"Yeah? And what do you need me for?" Lip grinned, pushing the door open for you. It was so casual, friendly- it made your heart flutter.

"Stop." You shook your head at him. "C'mon, I really need your help. I do your critical theory homework all the time to impress your sexy professor lady, so you owe me."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll, uh, I'll stop by after my last. I gotta check with Youens, make sure I got my shit done. Then I can come help you study." Lip nodded casually.

"Ugh, thank you." You sighed, bumping him playfully with your shoulder. "I swear, I'm not teaching math ever. I don't understand why I'm in the hardest math class for elementary ed."

"I mean, they probably want their teachers to be halfway smart." Lip shrugged. "Well, maybe not at the shit hole school I went to, but, uh, the good schools."

You snorted. "Yeah? Well, regardless, I'm not teaching math. I'll hold down the language arts, or the history, maybe the science if I have to. But math? Out of the question."

"Not even long division, huh?" Lip grinned.

"To be completely honest with you, I don't think I know how to do long division." You giggled. "I can barely do short division."

Many Years Later

"Lip!" You called, your voice carrying out to the garage, where your husband was "working on the car" (which really meant sneaking a cigarette).

"Yeah?" Lip hummed, walking into the house. Freddie sat at the kitchen table, a tiny frown on his features that mimicked yours perfectly. It made Lip's heart melt.

"Let Daddy see the problem, baby. He's better at math than me." You ran a hand over Freddie's curls sweetly, moving so Lip could take your spot.

Freddie had gotten Lip's freakish ability to do math. He was only six, but doing multiplication and long division already in his advanced groups.

"Lemme see, bud." Lip turned the paper towards him, scanning the problem. "Ah, ok, so you're not carrying the number here." Lip pointed to the problem, explaining it to your tiny son.

Your heart swelled, picking Jude up and hoisting him on your hip, trying to finish loading the dishwasher.

"Always thought your were jokin'." Lip hummed, gently squeezing your ass so you blushed, leaning to kiss the toddler on his head.

"About what?" You raised a brow.

"The long division thing." Lip laughed lightly. You gave him a confused look. "Y'know, when you said you wouldn't teach math and all that."

"Oh," You rolled your eyes playfully. "No, I wasn't. Why do you think I teach language arts now? Can't do all that numbers stuff like you."

Lip smirked, taking the dish from you and putting it in the rack. "How do you even remember that?" You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"That I said that." You giggle. "That was, like, a million years ago."

"Because," Lip shrugged. "I was in love with you."

"No, you weren't." You blushed, dodging Jude's grabbing hands towards your hair. "You had your Mrs. Robinson."

Lip rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but, you were like my best friend." He said boyishly. Your heart melted. "Still are, but then, I just... I didn't want to fuck it up, ya know?"

"Watch it." You glared at him lightly, though it wasn't very convincing. "That's sweet. I was, like, very much so in love with you too, for the record."

"Yeah?" Lip grinned. You nodded, laughing when he kissed you sweetly over Jude's head. "Kinda had an idea."

"Really? What gave it away? The wedding or the kids?" You said sarcastically.

"No, it was the night that I had to pick you up from that dive bar downtown, and, uh, you were so drunk-"

"-Alright, Gallagher-"

"-And you kept telling me how much you loved me-"

You glared at him. "Jude, Daddy is being mean to me. Can you believe that?" You cooed, frowning exaggeratedly at your son. Jude just babbled, trying to grab at your hair again.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Who is Yvette and may I please know more about their streaming career? 🙏

Comtesse Yvette Preux is, for lack of a better word, one of the ‘iconic’ investigators/PCs in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. She appears in a lot of art in the rulebook, as do many of the PCs of the A.N.I.M. team and our friends.

(both by team artist @chaospyromancy)

She’s also the first ever monster PC to ever be played in Eureka, back before Eureka even had official monster PC rules. The incredible success of that campaign is what set the precedent for what monster PC gameplay would come to be in Eureka.

You can read a bit of an origin story for her in this post

In the 2010s and 2020s, she has a fairly successful twitch streaming/influencer career, with her gimmick being that she claims to be a real 800+-year-old vampire, and allegedly never breaks character. Her twitch and YouTube channels cover competitive gaming, challenge runs, advanced math, firearms, and urban exploring.

In-person she is.. a little harder to get along with. She’s.. old-fashioned, and her values are very distinctly those of someone who grew up rich and Catholic in the 1200s, which ironically means she has little in common with a modern “tradcath.”

The contrast between the modern world, the modern world’s pop culture idea of the Middle Ages, and the actual Middle Ages is a major theme in the parts of her story where she’s actually integrating into the society of the 1990s and 21st century.

Many would expect her to be virulently and openly hateful, but that’s the pop culture Middle Ages. The actual Middle Ages were oppressive in different and more interesting ways.

I’ll give a few interesting examples

In the Middle Ages, women were considered the more “lustful” and “sexually aggressive” sex, a bit like men are thought of today. It’s women who were considered basically responsible for lust in the first place, to the point that it was considered a public health issue. Lust with no outlet was thought to be detrimental to one’s overall physical health. Sex or even masturbation was sometimes prescribed by doctors to combat this.

This is a comedic exaggeration/oversimplification but in the medieval world being around women would gradually fill up a Dark Souls-style Lust meter and if you didn’t do anything to reduce it it would take a chunk out of your health, making you sickly and prone to other health problems. Women were more resistant to this because they’re the source of lust in the first place. Medieval women covered their legs and their hair in particular for everyone’s protection.

This manifests in Yvette as her not caring at all about being naked in front of female friends, but being careful not to look too sexy around male friends. And then awkwardly telling them to masturbate later if they need to because it’s better to sin and live than to avoid sin to the detriment of one’s health. (In fact, knowingly damaging one’s health is a sin.)

In the art, you can see her not only wearing pants, but even wearing pants that show her ankles and legs, and wearing her hair down. It took her a long time to get comfortable wearing anything but full-length skirts around men, but these risqué (to her) outfits are symbolizing her character growth from someone who is accommodating to others to a fault, to prioritizing her own comfort, even at cost to others.

In the Middle Ages, they did not conceptualize homosexuality like we do now. No one was gay, and neither was anyone straight. Attraction wasn’t a trait of an individual, it was a fact. Homosexuality wasn’t really considered a thing that you were, it was a thing you do. It’s really hard to explain so I’m just going to hope y’all get it along with the example. Sodomy was sodomy, and that was considered to cover basically any irregular form of sex. Irregular sex between a man and woman was as much sodomy as sex between a man and another man. This also means that there was no presumption of homosexuality in the Middle Ages. You didn’t have to say “no homo” before you touched your same sex friend’s hand. Close friends would kiss each other on the mouth and stuff, and that was considered normal. (Though something you would want to avoid was spending more than a few minutes alone with an opposite-sex friend, because that could be used to call the woman’s virginity into question, which could hurt her eligibility for marriage.)

As Yvette understands it, in the 21st century, people have constructed entire communities around their enjoyment of sodomy, like how she’s a member of the gun club. She has complex feelings about that but it isn’t like she’s never engaged in sodomy before either. (She brought this to confession and did her penance so it’s fine.)

What really aggravates her is how she can’t touch or kiss any of her friends in the 21st century without it being considered sexual.

She argues it’s not “gay” for her to feel attracted to women either, it’s normal. Women are naturally attractive to everyone.

Where it really gets abrasive though is probably the classism. She’s from the noble class and still considers that to really matter, it makes her a little bit better than everyone else, and more qualified to be making decisions for people.

She does love commoners, though. All her friends are commoners, and she’s very protective of them. She’s too autistic to get that noblesse obligé wasn’t supposed to be a real principal she lives by and even back when she was for-real managing a fiefdom she was an advocate for the comfort of the peasantry.

I'm gonna have to stop listing all her quirks here because if I don’t stop then it’ll go on forever. If you want to read some short stories that feature her, subscribe to our Patreon.

I’ll segway by saying that two more major aspects of her are generosity and power. She revels in power in all forms, including the power to solve the problems of people who are helpless to solve them themselves. Like I said, she takes noblesse obligé very seriously. Jesus Christ had the power to multiply the fish and bread for the hungry, so he did. She can help, so she will(whether you like it or not). She hardly even considers it a “duty,” it’s more like why would she ever do anything else? Sometimes this means giving away staggering amounts of money, other (more exciting) times it means getting involved in a Eureka adventure/investigation, the more challenging and dangerous the better, because it makes her even cooler. This is what gets her into Eureka adventures. She’s going to help the helpless, what does it matter if it also fuels her ego?

I also just realized I’ve said very little about her actual twitch streaming career. Like I said, her gimmick is that she’s a real vampire. In the 2010s and 2020s, she is more or less “out” as a vampire, openly identifying herself as such and doing almost nothing to hide any aspect of her vampirism(except the part where she sneaks up on people in the night and drinks their blood, but she doesn’t hide that because it’s a vampire thing, she hides that because it’s an assault charge). Most people just think she’s weird, or really really dedicated to the persona. And if somebody does actually see her not reflecting in a mirror, or some other unexplainable proof of vampirism, what are they going to do? Go online and say “hey everyone I think that this popular e-celebrity whose gimmick is that she says she’s a vampire actually is a real vampire!”? Vampires aren’t real, idiot.

If you want to read short stories about her, you can get them with a $5 subscription to our Patreon,

and she and her exploits in Eureka campaigns are also talked about a lot in the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club.

The Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy rulebook will also have a section that will probably be called “the making of a vampire” that will detail some of her actual living life and shine a little more light on how a vampire actually comes to be in Eureka’s world.

[remember-the-fanfics]

An asked 'I feel like if Adam met the gen Z overlord before he came to the hotel they talk circles around him.'

But it came out as their first interaction, they still roasting Adam when they can.

Set in the first episode

-

"Ah yes, the first man. The reason I had to live my life and have responsibilities. So wonderful." Said (Y/n), after Adam revealed who he actually was..

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking too? I'm the dickmaster!" Adam said finally noticing (Y/n)'s presence in the room.

"Well being the first man, you really had nothing else to compare it to." They told him with a smile.

"This is (Y/n), they came with me because-."

"I don't trust any of you so I'm making sure Charlie stays safe." (Y/n) finished the sentence not wanting Charlie to soften any words with the Angels.

"No sinner should be here, I should end you for even setting a foot in here." Said Lute, glaring and getting close to (Y/n), who just glared back while getting up from their chair.

"Test me, bit-." Getting interrupted by Charlie pulling them back into their chair. (Y/n) looked at Charlie with a upset glare but settled back down while Lute returned back to Adam's side.

"I want to discuss biggest problem." Said Charlie, trying to get back on track on why she was here.

"Oh herpes. Yeah, that's a bitch." Adam replied.

"Seems to be a you problem." Said (Y/n), seeming already done with Adam.

"No! Our... other biggest problem."

"Ugly people? Math? Global Warming? No wait, that's earth problem." Said Adam, earning a deadpan look from Charlie, who (Y/n) patted on the back.

"You can't change stupid, Charlie. No matter how you try." They whispered to Charlie. "But hey maybe he isn't a complete moron."

Which (Y/n) completely took back after tuning in to Adam being on a different topic now. Being sexist and boasting his own masculinity.

"Do you cope by being a complete ass?" They said, Adam completely ignoring (Y/n) went on.

"-expects you to pay the check but you're like 'Hey, I thought you wanted equality."

"I'm gonna kill him." Said (Y/n), looking at Charlie.

"No! Our shared problem of overpopulation in Hell!" Charlie finally said before (Y/n) could try and kill him.

"Ohh, well that's not a problem! We got that covered." Adam said before turning to Lute. "Lute, how many demons did you kill this year?"

"A good 275 this year, sir."

"275? Woah, badass! Awesome job, danger tits! Pound it." Adam said putting his hand up for a fist bump which Lute did.

"That's not good! They aren't your people to kill!" Said (Y/n), upset with how casual the two seem to be about it. "They are Charlie's people, me including."

"Well that must suck for you." Said Adam before laughing, making (Y/n) pissed. But Charlie jumped in before they could get any more heated about it.

"But these are souls...Humans souls just the same as the ones you have up in heaven." Said Charlie, getting (Y/n) to sit back down.

"They're not the same. They had their chance and they earned damnation." Lute coldly said before looking at (Y/n). "Like you."

"Oooo, so scary." Said (Y/n), flipping Lute off.

"You're wrong. Sinners made mistakes, sure, but everyone makes mistakes." Said Charlie.

"Angels don't make mistakes."

"You really believe that?" Said Charlie and (Y/n).

"I know that."

"Yeah, I've never made a mistake in my fucking life." Said Adam.

"Didn't you get kicked out of the Garden?" (Y/n) asked him.

"That was one tim-."

"And apparently had your first wife leave you."

"Low blow, tiny." Adam said before Lute walk around the table to where Charlie and (Y/n) was seated.

"The only reason you're still here is because daddy gave you and your hellborn kind a pardon from an exorcist blade. How does that feel, to know how little you matter?" Lute said, taunting Charlie.

"Bitch, he probably did that because he cares about her." Said (Y/n), glaring at Lute. "So go fuck yourself with a chainsaw."

"Nothing is stopping me from killing you now, sinner." Lute said, getting close to (Y/n)'s face for to long before moving on.

"Opps, almost out of time. Guess we should get into it." Said Adam.

"Oh fuck!" Said Charlie, getting her presentation ready. "Okay I've got a lot to get through and not a lot of time and I feel like you weren't hearing me before so here it goes."

-I ain't typing a whole ass song-

"-Ugh, Shit!" Said Charlie, after (Y/n) and her got pushed out of the room.

"Mother- trucker!" Yelled (Y/n), not wanting motherfucker and Adam in the same sentence or thought. "Dude that hurt like a buttcheck on a stick." They said getting off the floor and helping Charlie up.

"Are you okay? You weren't treated kindly in there." Asked Charlie.

"It's fine, I knew what I was walking into when I came with you." Said (Y/n), shrugging.

"I'm sorry you got dragged here for nothing." Charlie said before getting a side hug from (Y/n).

"You got nothing to apologize for. I knew from the dipshit's face from the start it would be a long shot if he is in charge."

"Thank you, (Y/n)."

"Soo.. 6 months, huh? I have to go back to my territory to get ahead start with that but I'll meet you at the hotel afterwards, okay?"

"Alright, see you then!"

"Byyyyeee~" With that (Y/n) took off to their territory.

-

"(Y/n)... where have I heard that name before?"