#BUMBLEBEE IS A-GRADE A FREAK!!!!!!!!!

[numberonetribble]

Yeehaw!!! Ride 'em cowboy! ;)

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 3

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

word count: 6.7k

warnings: we get to know the besties a bit, jihyo and tae being our cutesie side characters <3 oc and jk both spill the beans to their friends,mentions of the infamous ex (booo, throwing tomatoes), oc buys and wears lingerie for jk, she sends him a photo in said lingerie, explicit sexual content; making out, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, missionary, squirting, soft dom jk, multiple orgasms, jk learns something new about oc, jk's in his feelings, my poor baby, jk's also a teeny tiny bit of a stalker...but in a sweet way if that makes any sense :)

author's note: part 3 took longer than i would've liked bc my procrastination was kicking my ass. anyway, pls enjoy !!! things will start being a bit more eventful from part 4 onwards so bear with me 🤪🫶🏼 as usual, make sure to like, reblog and pleeeaaase share all your thoughts and feelings about these kiddos <3

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @mimi1097 @livinluvl @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @puppybunnyjkay @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's been a week since Jungkook came over. You spoke here and there in passing but you haven't had a chance to actually hang out again after that night because you're both just too busy prepping for final exams before the long awaited summer break. This time of year is always a bit crazy for both the students and the educators, which leaves you with almost no time to mess around with cute economics professors.

You've been a bit stressed out all week, so you really weren't planning on spending your Saturday in a busy mall, looking through racks of lingerie, and yet that's exactly what you're doing. Why? Because Jihyo texted you saying she needed your help in buying something sexy to wear on an upcoming date she has with some guy she met at work. His name's Mark and from what she's told you about him, he sounds...promising.

Jihyo, unlike you, is looking for a boyfriend. Boy, is she looking. She's gone on about seven dates with five different men in the past couple of months and she is yet to find her Mr. Right. From what she's told you, she's looking for someone educated, tall, handsome, funny, and someone who can "match her freak". The closest she got to that was some guy she met at a club two months ago, who was lucky enough to get three whole dates before he eventually gave her the ick by referring to his mother as 'mommy'. For her own sanity, you hope Mark won't make that same mistake.

However, Jihyo's mind isn't on Mark right now. Oh no, she's much more focused on the man you're seeing.

"___, come on. We've been best friends since the fifth grade. Are you really going to look me in my eye and tell me you're not seeing anyone? And don't lie to me."

You roll your eyes, scanning the rack of pink satin and red lace, feeling the different fabrics between your fingers. One minute, you were asking her about Mark and how they met, and the next thing you know, you're being interrogated in the middle of a lingerie store.

"I'm not looking you in your eye. I'm looking at lingerie. Ooh, this is pretty."

Jihyo loves you, really, she does. You've known each other for most of your lives. That means she supports you in everything you do. That also means she can see right through your bullshit when no one else can. She's been suspicious of you and your apparent mystery man for a while now, and she won't stop asking you about him until she gets answers.

"I'm serious. I know you're seeing someone. You're not slick, babe. I know you inside and out, and I have really good intuition...and I might have seen a text I shouldn't have when your phone was on the table at the restaurant during lunch."

Dammit.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You feign ignorance, refusing to spill the beans even after practically getting caught. You and Jungkook both swore to keep it between the two of you. It's one of the rules. Who knows what will happen if you just start breaking rules all willy-nilly. Sure, it's not that big of a deal if you tell one friend, especially your best friend, but that's how it starts. You're breaking this rule, and then another and another until you're Robin Thicke and the lines are blurred.

"Cut the shit," Jihyo says dryly, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly unwilling to drop the subject. "Who is this mysterious 'prof jeon' and why was he asking you when you're free to see him?"

You let out a defeated sigh, looking over at her. You know that look on her face. She's just going to keep asking if you don't tell her and it's pointless lying about it. She can be a pain in your ass at times but she's definitely not stupid. And besides, she's your best friend. You'd be a bad best friend for not telling her that you're basically getting the best sex of your life, right?

Screw it.

"Okay, I'm not even supposed to tell anyone about it and it's really not a big deal but...I'm kinda sleeping with one of the other professors at work." You quickly press your lips together as soon as the words leave your mouth, looking back at the lingerie to avoid her eyes and all the questions you know you're about to be bombarded with in a second.

"What?!"

"Can you keep your voice down?" you whisper-yell, noticing a few people turning their heads to see what the sudden outburst was about.

"Sorry," she mutters with a snort, clearly not expecting that news. "Who is this professor? What's his name? Jeon who? Why didn't I know about this sooner? Since when have you-"

You cut her off before she can get the rest of her questions out.

"His name is Jungkook, he teaches economics, and before you ask, no, he's not my boyfriend or anything like that. I'm still not ready for that. We met a few months after I transferred to work at the university and we were just work-friends for the most part, but then we hooked up one night last year and it wasn't really supposed to happen again because we were a bit drunk but it was so good, and then it happened two more times and then...well, then we just agreed to keep having casual sex. That's it."

Jihyo is quiet for a moment, processing the information that was just thrown at her. How have you been sleeping with this man for a year and she had no idea? She's actually quite impressed that you could keep it a secret for that long.

"Wow."

"That's it? That's all you're gonna say?" you chuckle, turning around to look at her with a light blue lacey set in your hands.

"I just...I'm happy for you. I'm glad you're putting yourself out there again after Sunghoon. I really thought you were going to swear off men for the rest of your life after him."

And there it is. The reminder of the man you spent most of your teenage and early adulthood loving, the man who you thought you would grow old with, the bane of your existence. If it's not your friends or your mother reminding you of him, it's your own brain. You don't blame her for bringing him up, though. He is the main reason why you're so opposed to actually committing yourself to someone again.

"Yeah, well...it's not like Jungkook and I are dating or anything. It's just sex. No big deal," you mutter, not wanting to go down that road right now.

Jihyo knows your love life (or lack thereof) is a bit of a sensitive subject for you. She was there for you when Sunghoon broke your heart. She let you stay over at her apartment when you were too sad to be alone. She sat with you as you cried on her bathroom floor, so this is a big deal to her. This means that you don't spend your nights crying over that human shit stain anymore, and she doesn't blame you for keeping it private. All she really wants is for you to be happy.

"Still. It's progress, babe."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"So, uhh... how is he?" She grins, gesturing to her genital area, wanting all the long, girthy, veiny details. She can't help but be a little nosey. Besides, what's the point of having a best friend of almost two decades if you can't ask her about the juicy details of her sex life.

"I'm not telling you that, you pervert," you laugh, holding the lacey lingerie out for her to take. She takes it without even looking at it, her focus solely on you and your professor friend.

"You have to tell me. Okay fine, just give me a number from one to ten then... Looks?"

You sigh but decide to indulge her anyway. "Ten."

"You lucky bitch," she scoffs, looking very impressed. "Skills in the bedroom?"

"Nine point five."

"And you're exclusively hooking up, right?"

You nod.

"Okay, ___, please explain to me why we're in a lingerie store and you're not buying something to make this man drool over you," Jihyo deadpans, looking at you like you're insane.

"Don't be ridiculous, we're not here for me. We're here for you and your date."

"And we're not leaving until we both get something." She starts looking through the racks with more determination. "You said Professor Sexyboots is a ten. You have to wear something sexy for him. At least for my sake."

"Professor Sexyboots? I'm sure he'd love that," you scoff, rolling your eyes at her ridiculous nickname for him.

Jihyo is about to respond when she looks up at something and freezes, her eyes widening, causing you to turn your head to follow her line of sight, your eyebrows raising. On one of the mannequins sits a stunning deep-red bra and matching thong, looking like something straight off a Victoria's Secret runway. It's gorgeous, with intricate lace detailing, and it's completely out of your comfort zone.

"No way, I can't."

"What are you talking about?! You'd look so hot. C'mon, it would be so fun. You could send him a little sneak peek and invite him over and he can take it off with his teeth," she snickers, having way too much fun with this whole thing.

You're not sure how exactly you let Jihyo convince you to buy the skimpy lingerie, but you did, which is why you're sitting in a rather suggestive pose in front of your floor-length mirror in your bedroom. It's silly to feel nervous about sending him a naughty photo. He's seen you naked more times in this past year than you can count, and yet this makes you nervous.

You take the photo and press send before quickly tossing your phone on the bed, letting out a deep sigh.

Jungkook is in the middle of watching some random show on Natural Geographic when he gets your text. He unlocks his phone and all the air gets knocked out of his lungs when his eyes land on the photo of you wrapped in the delicate dark red lace, muttering a breathless, "Sweet baby Jesus".

His fingers shake as he types out a reply, his heart hammering in his chest.

prof jeon [9:46pm]: i've never really been a very religious man prof jeon [9:46pm]: but damn, god is good 😳

You [9:47pm]: LMAO You [9:47pm]: come over

prof jeon [9:48pm]: aye-aye captain 🫡

He rushes to his room to get a hoodie, quickly putting it on while getting a confused look from a half-asleep Bam. He walks over to give the sleepy dog a quick kiss on his forehead and some scratches before getting his car keys, his body working faster than his brain. “Bam, daddy’s gotta go take care of aunty ___, okay? I��ll be back later.” And with that, he’s out the door.

He makes his way downstairs to the parking lot and gets in his car, fumbling with the car keys in a rush to get to your apartment. He knows he probably looks like a teenage virgin right now, but he doesn't care. You always manage to make his midsection tingle and his brain feel all scattered. When he finally manages to get the car started, it takes everything in him to stay within the speed limit as he drives over to you.

You're about to text him to ask how far he is from your apartment, when there's a knock at the front door. You wrap a robe around your body and go to answer the door, seeing a breathless Jungkook leaning his arm up against the wall in the hallway.

"Good evening, Professor," he grins, straightening up to walk inside, eyeing you from head to toe as you close the door behind him. Before you can get a chance to respond, his lips are on yours, his hands cradling your jaw as he kisses you, completely taking you by surprise.

You pull away to look up at him with wide eyes, letting out a little chuckle. "So just straight to the point? No small talk, nothing?"

"Is that what you want?" he asks, looking down at your robe-clad body. "Small talk? Want me to ask you how your day was before I spread your legs?"

"Not really, no."

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he mutters before his lips are back on yours. He picks you up by the back of your thighs in one swift motion, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carries you to your bedroom, eager to get that damn robe off.

He gets to the bedroom and gently lays you down on your back before hurriedly removing his glasses, pulling his hoodie over his head, his t-shirt following quickly behind. He leans down to hover over you, his lips kissing from your neck up to your lips, sensually licking into your mouth to taste more of you while his fingers trail up your thigh under the robe.

He pulls back to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his fingers slowly opening your robe. "Can I take this off?"

You nod and your robe is off within seconds, leaving you in nothing but the skimpy lingerie. His throat goes completely dry. "Fuck. You're trying to give me an asthma attack."

"You don't have asthma," you laugh, rolling your eyes.

"The point is that you're fucking hot, ___."

You scoff and pull him back down to crash your lips onto his, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. Your hands lightly travel up his biceps and shoulders, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. You slide your fingers through his hair and give it a little tug, pulling a soft moan from his lips. He loves when you play with his hair, and he especially loves when you tug on it, whether it's while he's kissing you or eating you out.

You pull away slightly to press a few light pecks to his lips, his stomach erupting with butterflies. "You're so good at that," he mutters, gently tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

"At what, kissing?"

"Mm," he hums with a lazy little grin on his face. "Might need you to demonstrate again, just to make sure."

You laugh, placing another kiss to his lips, lingering there for a bit before pulling away.

"Mm, one more," he whispers before his mouth is back on yours, his tongue tangling with yours as the kiss grows more heated.

He reluctantly breaks away from your mouth, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses on your skin.

He nips at your pulse point, his teeth leaving a little red spot on your flesh.

"Jungkook, I'm going to kill you if there's a mark," you mutter, but the huff of laughter he lets out tells you he doesn't care.

"You'll be fine," he chuckles, his voice hoarse with desire, his tongue tracing the mark he left behind. He leans on one hand while the other slowly trails up the side of your ribs, making its way to the back of your bra.

"This is so pretty," he whispers, giving your earlobe a little tug with his teeth. "Can I take it off yet?"

"Mhm," you nod, slightly arching your back off the bed to let him unclasp the bra. He slowly slides the fabric off your body and tosses it aside, kissing his way down to your breasts. He licks and sucks on each of your nipples before trailing slow, soft kisses down your stomach.

"Lift your hips for me, baby." You do as he says, his fingers hooking into the sides of the tiny lace thong, slowly pulling the fabric down your legs.

You spread your legs for him, showing him your glistening folds. The sight alone makes his sweatpants feel tighter. He kneels down at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs further apart. He kisses his way up your leg from your calf to your inner thigh, holding your ankle over his broad shoulder.

His lips inch even closer to your pussy, just a few centimeters from where you need him most. "Jungkook," you whine, your arousal growing by the second.

He chuckles teasingly, stopping at your inner thigh. "You're so whiny."

"Don't tease, Kook."

He grins, hovering his mouth over your pussy, his breath fanning over your folds. "Love seeing you all worked up for me," he murmurs, slowly licking his lips before pressing a feather-like kiss to your mound.

"Just shut up and eat me out."

"Yes, ma'am."

He starts slow with wet little kisses and licks to your clit, slowly building up a steady pace. He loves eating you out. He could go for hours if you let him, like a starved man getting a taste of his favourite food. Jungkook's always been more of a giver than a taker, your pleasure bringing him pleasure.

He's incredibly skilled with his tongue, knowing exactly what to do to have your legs trembling. He swirls and flicks his tongue, sucking and lapping at your clit to make your eyes roll back in your head.

"Fuck, Jungkook...feels so good," you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut.

He smiles against your pussy, feeling proud of every little sigh and moan he pulls from your lips. "You taste so good," he mutters before diving back in, licking a long stripe from your leaking entrance to your clit, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them open.

"Just like that...oh my god, don't stop..."

He looks up at you with a dazed look in his eyes, his tongue lapping at you with skilled precision that makes your toes curl, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

"F-fuck, 'm gonna cum," you gasp, grabbing onto his hair to hold him in place, your eyes squeezing shut, your head spinning as the pleasure reaches a peak.

A few more sucks and flicks of his tongue and you're cumming, his hands holding you in place as he laps at your pussy, helping you ride out your high. He feels your thighs quivering, looking quite proud of himself. "You taste so fucking good," he murmurs, pressing a few soft kisses to your clit.

"Holy shit." You're breathless, your pussy pulsating, your heart racing.

He crawls up to hover over you, giving your lips a quick peck, his lips and chin glistening. "Still with me?"

"Mhmm," you grin, slowly opening your eyes to look up at him.

He smiles down at you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair, your pretty eyes. He gently brushes some of your hair out of your face, his thumb lightly stroking your cheek. "You're beautiful, ___," he whispers, his voice laced with tenderness.

"Don't say that."

He furrows his brows in confusion, puzzled by your reaction. "Why not? It's the truth."

"Tell me I'm sexy...not beautiful."

He chuckles, slowly shaking his head, his expression filled with amusement and affection. "You're gorgeous," he whispers, lightly kissing your cheek, his lips trailing over to your ear. "And incredibly sexy."

"You gonna fuck me now?" You tease, your lips curling into a soft smile.

He almost laughs at your bluntness, the way you just get straight to the point, never wasting any time if you want something. Your assertiveness has always been a turn-on for him, not just in the bedroom, but in general.

"That's the plan, yeah."

"Let's get this show on the road then."

He gets up off you and removes his sweatpants and boxers, letting it lay somewhere on your bedroom floor. He's already hard, his cock standing tall, the tip already leaking a bit. He stands at the end of your bed, his hand wrapped around the base, his eyes glued between your legs, slowly trailing up to your face.

He crawls back on top of you, sliding his fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and rubbing it over the head of his cock. "Ready, baby?"

You give him a nod and he slowly pushes into you, his hips gently moving forward. "Shit, you feel good," he groans, his voice coming out low and hoarse.

You sharply inhale through your nose, feeling that familiar stretch, your walls molding to the shape of him like it was made for him.

He thrusts slowly, bracing his forearms on either side of your head, his forehead resting against yours. His thrusts get deeper until he bottoms out, his breathing growing heavier, his moans going straight to your core. He buries his face in your neck, feeling your hands gripping the muscles in his back as he thrusts harder.

Your moans grow louder as he thrusts into you, your walls fluttering around him, your legs wrapping around his waist. "Fuck, that feels so good."

"Yeah? You like that, baby?" he grins, pressing wet kisses to your neck and chest.

You've never had a man make you feel the way Jungkook does. He knows exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to have you like putty in his hands. Your skin heats up, your heart pounding faster as he picks up the pace, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes your back arch off the bed.

"Mmm, f-fuck...harder...h-harder, baby," you moan, feeling him lift one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside you, the new angle allowing him to thrust even deeper.

"Like that?" He grunts, sitting back on his knees, his thrusts hitting harder, his pace getting faster.

"Oh my god, right there...feels s-so good, Kook."

"Wanna cum again?"

You can barely form a coherent sentence anymore. Your moans mixed with the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills your bedroom, his thrusts making your pussy squelch.

"Use your words, baby."

"Wanna...wanna cum," you whine, feeling him hold your leg next to his head and press wet kisses to your ankle and calf, the pressure and pace of his thrusts feeling just right.

"Hold it." His voice is rough and demanding, a stark contrast to the gentle tone he usually uses with you outside of the bedroom, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

He ignores your whines and pleas for him to let you cum, thrusting as deep as he can go, his free hand reaching down to push his thumb into your mouth. Your body works on autopilot, sucking on his thumb. You swirl your tongue around it like you would do to his cock, causing his hips to stutter before he regains his composure.

"Such a good girl for me. Gonna make you cum so hard, baby."

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth to rub firm circles over your clit, the pressure paired with his thrusts making your head spin. The pressure starts to build in your lower stomach, and it feels different, better than it usually does, your pussy clenching down harder around his cock.

"Feels...f-feels like I'm gonna...p-pee..."

He lets out a faint chuckle, his hips moving with determination. "You're not gonna pee, baby," he mutters, his tone sounding almost teasing.

"H-how do you know?"

"Trust me, baby, I know. You're not gonna pee." He can tell you're close, your body practically begging for release as he rubs your clit faster. He looks down to where your bodies connect, seeing how swollen and puffy your pussy looks, the sight making his cock twitch. "It's gonna feel so good, baby, I promise."

"Gonna...gonna cum-"

"I know, baby. Let go for me...let it all out."

You cum with a loud cry, your body convulsing beneath him, your vision going blank as the pleasure hits you. It feels relentless, like nothing you've ever felt before, and he's made you cum many times before.

"Fuck, that's my girl." His thrusts slow down but they don't stop, keeping his pace steady to help you through it. "That's it, baby...ride it out..."

Your body trembles as you come down from your high, barely able to register him pulling out. Your eyes are half open as you watch him stroke himself above you, his face contorting in pleasure, his abdomen tensing. He finishes with a guttural moan of your name, painting your stomach and breasts with warm strings of cum.

"Fuck. I think I just saw Jesus," he breathes out, his chest heaving as he gasps for air.

"Yeah? What did he tell you?" You chuckle breathlessly, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"He said you squirted."

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head, looking down to find his lower stomach and pelvis drenched.

"Oh my god," you groan, your words muffled by your hands as you cover your face.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed. It was probably the sexiest thing I've ever seen," he murmurs with a faint chuckle, gently pulling your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him, his face looking rather smug.

"You look very pleased with yourself."

"Can you blame me? I made you feel so good, you practically exploded all over me," he grins, looking down at the mess between your legs. "Ohh, she's so swollen now. She took a bit of a beating, huh?"

You let out bashful scoff, your cheeks heating up at his choice of words.

He quickly gets up to go and clean himself off in the bathroom, coming back to slip his boxers back on. He watches you slowly get up off the messy bed, your knees feeling weak as you clumsily walk off to the bathroom, needing a hot shower after that intense session. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands as he watches you stumble.

"Legs a little wobbly there?" he teases, unable to stop the amused smile from spreading across his face.

"Shut up," you mutter as you make your way to the bathroom, earning a little laugh from him.

While you're in the shower, he takes it upon himself to remove the dirty covers and sheets from your bed, looking for your lavender room-spray on your vanity. He knows you always spray it around the room after sex, and he knows you keep it on your vanity, but for some reason he can't find it there. What he does find, however, is a framed photo he's never seen before. You're in it, and it looks like it was taken on the day of your undergrad graduation ceremony. You're standing next to a younger-looking girl, whose face is quite similar to yours. She is just slightly taller with shorter hair. Jungkook doesn't know much, or rather anything, about your family, but he assumes the girl in the photo is your sister.

He picks up the frame and goes to sit down on the bed, inspecting it closely. He feels a bit guilty, like he's been caught red-handed for snooping when you come out the bathroom wrapped in your robe, your eyes landing on the frame in his hands.

"What're you doing?"

"Sorry," he murmurs, his eyes growing wide, feeling like a child that's been caught stealing. "I just...I was looking for your room spray...or mist, whatever it is, and... I, uhm, I don't know, I guess this just caught my eye. I've been here many times but I've never really looked around, y'know?"

You nod slowly, going to sit next to him at the edge of the bed.

"Is this...your sister?"

You look up at him, seeing the surprise on his face.

You and Jungkook have sex. You work at the same university. You're "work-friends" and that surprise on his face is a reminder of how little he truly knows about you, how little of yourself you actually share with him. He knows you have a cat, but he doesn't know you have a sister. He knows the way you take your coffee, but he doesn't know anything about your childhood. It's a stark contrast to how much you know about him. You know his favourite foods because he's very specific about where he gets his takeout from. You know his favourite brand of beer because he always has it stocked up in his fridge. You know all about his family dynamics because he speaks about them all the time, that his brother just had a baby, that her name is Mijoo. You know all of his hobbies and interests because you're quite observant and he's very open, never feeling the need to keep anything to himself. You're similar in some aspects of your personalities, and yet very different.

"Yeah, that's my sister, Yuna," you murmur softly, looking down at the photo with a tight-lipped smile.

He absorbs this new information, a mix of feelings swirling inside him. Part of him feels slightly hurt. Four years of knowing each other and a year of hooking up, and he's only just found out you have a sister. He's an open book, always sharing all these intimate details about himself with you, yet you keep so many parts of yourself hidden from him. He wonders if it's just in your nature or if you deliberately keep him at arm's length, preventing him from getting too close.

At the same time, a small spark of hope lights up within him. You're not completely shutting him down so that's good. Maybe this is a sign that you're actually opening up to him for once. It might seem minor, but he takes it as a huge step forward with you.

He has a million questions he wants to ask, but settles for, "What's she like?"

There's a beat of silence before you speak. "She's, uhm...she's three years younger than me, and she's probably the most extroverted person you'll ever meet, so we're...very different," you scoff, smiling fondly at the thought of your baby sister.

He listens intently as you talk about your sister. He wants nothing more than for you to let your guard down with him, and this is a start. It's small, but it's something.

"That must make for an interesting sibling dynamic, hm?"

"We actually get along great in spite of that. We grew up super close, so..." You speak softly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with showing even just a hint of vulnerability in front of him. "So, yeah. Now you know that about me."

"Yeah," he murmurs softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Now I know."

You gently take the frame from his hands and walk over to your vanity, putting it back in its place. You pick up the lavender room spray and turn to him with a faint smile. "This what you were looking for?"

"There's the damn thing," he scoffs, the familiar scent filling his nose as you give the room a spritz. "Is that to get rid of the smell of me?"

You chuckle, but you don't deny it.

The room falls silent again, and he takes it as his cue to get out of your hair, seeing as it's already midnight and he doesn't want to push his luck.

"I should, uh...I should go. It's late and I don't wanna keep you out of your beauty sleep," he jokes, slowly getting up to put his clothes back on.

"I'll walk you out." He wishes, just once, that you would ask him to stay, but he knows you won't. He walks behind you, stopping at the front door. He so badly wants to reach out and take your face in his hands, to kiss your lips and ask you to let him spend the night with you, but when you open the door for him, he simply puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and walks out into the hallway.

"Thanks for tonight," he mumbles, looking down at you with a soft look in his eyes. "It was fun."

"Yeah, it was," you smile, tilting your head to lean against the half-open door.

He just looks at you, not making a move to leave. He has so much he wants to say right now, but he swallows it down, just like he always does, not wanting to overstep.

"Well...goodnight."

"Night, Jungkook."

He takes a small step back, reluctantly turning to leave. "Goodnight, ___," he mumbles, looking back at you with a soft smile.

You chuckle, sensing his reluctance to leave. "Goodnight, Jungkook."

He turns and starts walking away, his feet feeling heavier with each step. Just as he's about to make a U-turn and walk back to you, he hears the soft click of your door shutting, the lock echoing in the empty hallway.

He sighs and walks over to the elevators, going down to his car. He mentally kicks himself for feeling so disappointed. He's always known that you keep yourself guarded, and he thought he could handle it, could play by your rules, could be content with a primarily physical relationship. He could before. But right now, sitting in his car in the silent parking lot, he's reminded of how weak he really is.

He leans his forehead forward against the steering wheel, the weight of his feelings sitting heavy in his chest, muttering a soft, "Fuck."

With a heavy sigh, he starts the car and drives home, his brain taunting him with the fact that romance isn't a possibility for you and him.

On Monday, Jungkook is back in work mode. He tries to squeeze in as many revision lectures as he can the closer it gets to final exams. It's around 3pm when he finally gets a breather, so he goes to his usual spot for lunch.

He sits in the empty lounge, like he does almost every day. Why this specific lounge? Because if he looks out the window, he has a perfect view of you sitting below, eating your lunch on your usual bench. Sometimes you're alone, sometimes you're with another lecturer, and on rare days you just have lunch in your office.

"There you are." He hears Taehyung's voice as he walks into the lounge, sitting down across from him with a huff. "You weren't answering your phone."

Jungkook doesn't respond, his eyes not wavering. He looks out the window with a dopey look on his face, watching you eat your gimbap. Taehyung follows his line of sight, catching on rather quickly.

"So... you taking an online course on how to be a stalker, or...?"

"What are you talking about?" He scoffs, looking over at Taehyung before his eyes inevitably drift back down to you.

"You're staring like a creep," Taehyung laughs, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Is she that professor I saw you talking to the other day?"

"Mm." Jungkook knows how nosey his best friend can be, and he knows exactly what's going on in that head of his.

Taehyung gives him a knowing smile. He doesn't even have to say much, already knowing it's only a matter of time before Jungkook spills.

"You have a thing for her, huh?"

Jungkook looks at him with wide eyes, feeling exposed without even confessing anything. "What? I didn't even say anythi-"

"Don't bother," Taehyung chuckles, "You're not very subtle, man. Your eyes give you away."

Jungkook feels his cheeks burn, knowing he's been caught. He hates how transparent he is, that his feelings are written all over his face. "Fine. But it's not a big deal."

Taehyung gives him a look that says, 'You sure about that?'

Jungkook looks at his friend, then down at his lap, twiddling his thumbs. There's a long silence before the word-vomit eventually spills out of him.

"We've been having sex for a year and it was just casual at first, well...it still is casual, and we set a few rules so that there's still boundaries between us, but then I started developing feelings and she's just so guarded, like, she won't open up to me and I know that if she finds out I have feelings for her, she'll pull away and it'll ruin everything," he rambles, the words tumbling out like he's been dying to tell someone. He knows it was supposed to stay between the two of you, but he trusts Taehyung implicitly and he knows his friend would never judge him or the situation.

Taehyung looks at him with raised eyebrows, listening to him ramble on about the whole situation, trying to wrap his head around it. He knows how much of a softie Jungkook is and he never thought he would ever hear him say he has a friend with benefits.

"Damn, dude...you look like you needed to get that off your chest."

"I guess I did, yeah," Jungkook murmurs with a little scoff.

"Okay, so, she explicitly told you she's not interested in you romantically?"

"Well, no, she didn't say it directly, but she doesn't have to," Jungkook sighs. "She's made it clear more than once that she's not looking for anything serious from me."

"Damn," Taehyung murmurs, his face full of sympathy. "Has she said why?"

Jungkook looks back out the window, looking down at you with a melancholy expression on his face. "I know it's something to do with her ex, but she won't tell me the full story, so I don't really know what happened. I know she's been hurt before and she's wary of it happening again. I know she's not ready for anything serious, and I respect that. It's just..."

"You thought it would be enough for you?" Taehyung asks softly, carefully.

"Yeah."

"But it's not?"

"Would it make me an awful, selfish person if I said it's not?"

"No," Taehyung says firmly, a soft smile forming on his face. "It would make you a human being with a soft heart and strong feelings."

Jungkook scoffs, feeling guilty for simply thinking of being with you in a romantic sense. He knows you've been through some hard things in the past, and all he wants is a chance to prove himself to you.

"Do you want to tell her how you feel about her?"

"I don't know," Jungkook mutters, a slight pout forming on his lips. "I keep going back and forth about it in my head. Part of me wants to tell her and lay all my cards out on the table for her...another part of me is scared of pushing her away even further."

Taehyung goes silent for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. "Is the sex good?"

Jungkook narrows his eyes at his friend. "You have the worst timing."

Taehyung chuckles, shrugging like he just couldn't help but ask.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but gives in, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's...it's really good. Probably the best sex I've ever had, if I'm being real."

"Wow," Taehyung scoffs, his eyes wide. "I'd say you should wife her but...y'know..."

Jungkook gives him a dirty look, once again getting a slap from reality, Taehyung subtly wincing at his friend's misfortune.

"Look, I want to say screw her and it's her loss because you're a fuckin’ catch...but I mean, I get that she's just being cautious because of whatever happened with her ex."

Jungkook sighs, nodding slowly.

"Yeah. I just wish I could prove to her that I would never hurt her, that I would respect her and treat her right." Jungkook mentally curses your ex for screwing things up for him. He just wants a fair shot with you. "She's such a beautiful woman and she doesn't even see it."

Taehyung nods, looking out at you through the window. "Yeah, she's very attractive."

"No, I mean, she's stunning, but...the way she speaks, the way she acts, the person she is...she's just so beautiful. I want her for so much more than her physical being," Jungkook murmurs softly, his heart yearning to show you just how lovely he thinks you are.

"Honestly, I think the best thing you can do for her is be her friend if that's all she needs for the time being and slowly try to bring down her walls little by little. And if that doesn't work, then I think you should keep your options open. I know this sucks, dude, but you have to think of yourself too. You can't try to mend her while breaking yourself."

Taehyung is a wise man, and Jungkook trusts his judgement. He teaches literature, for crying out loud. He reads Shakespeare for a living. He should be well versed in these things.

"Yeah," Jungkook nods, taking in Taehyung's advice. "I guess you're right, Tae. Thanks for listening to all my crap."

"Hey, you're my best friend. No sweat." He goes quiet before casually asking, "So, do you think she has a friend for m-"

"Tae-"

"Wrong time, my bad."

< Part 2 || Part 4 >

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

I like the idea that Blitzwing is suffering from chronic pain all this time from being turned into a triple-changer, but no one really knew until he accidentally body-swapped with one of the Autobots.

The autobot he would swap with would suddenly collapse in pain in Blitzwing's body because who knew he had been in pain all along? Optimus realized it was one of his team in Blitzwing's body because of the way they looked at him, saying, "Bossbot, help..."

They managed to get—I don't know—Bumblebee in Blitzwing's body back to the base to examine him. Ratchet is conflicted. He doesn't want Bumblebee to suffer, but Blitzwing-in-chronic-pain is already a danger to them. What more of a pain-free Blitzwing?

Bumblebee is trying not to freak out. One would thought suddenly being a giant bot has its merits. But EVERYTHING HURTS. The wings are heavy, the tread tracks are heavy, and his insides burn. The other bots look like dolls. Being unused to a big body ends up with knocked walls and cracked ceilings. He doesn't even want Sari near him because he has to stay calm, or else his flight-or-fight reactions from the pain would trigger the weapons in Blitzwing's body.

In the end, Ratchet managed to treat Blitzwing's body's chronic circuit inflammations with his own concocted medical-grade Energon.

Prowl and Bulkhead tried to firgure out the alien artifact that made Bumblebee swap with Blitzwing. Optimus is faced with having to negotiate with the mutual ransom with Bumblee's body controlled by Blitzwing.

Fortunately, Megatron was willing to cooperate because he had invested a lot in the successful experimentation of triple-changer modification.

Meanwhile, Blitzwing had forgotten what it's like to be pain-free. Everything is so... calm, even his other personalities are not as reactive. Yes, he hates that he's puny now and less powerful, but it's been a long time since he had to calculate his energy against pain and things to be done or what the humans called spoons. Lugnut wanted to beat him around to give the Autobots the message, but Megatron forbade it if it meant the Autobots' cooperation in getting Blitzwing's body back and Blitzwing back in his body.

Having Blitzwing and Bumblebee returned to their respectful bodies with the alien artifact went well. Blitzwing was expecting familiar chronic pain when he returned to his body. But was surprised to feel it was barely there.

Of course, Megatron still tried to attack the Autobots after. Amid the fight, Bumblebee and Blitzwing stared at each other too long before chaos broke through their little world. Optimus destroyed the alien artifact so Megatron wouldn't get his hands on it. The episode ends.

Or did it?

Ratchet confides in Optimus that he couldn't help but worry about Blitzwing as a doctor because he would need medicine to be pain-free.

Unknown to them, Blitzwing found a location and time scrawled on his palm. Against all sensibilities, he went in there. The pain was coming back, and his gut told him he'd find his answer there.

By the time he arrived, Bumblebee was waiting there with the remaining medicine and instructions on creating it.

When Blitzwing asked why he was doing this, all Bumblebee could say was, "I know what it's like to be you."

Blitzwing hated it, seeing it as a debt. Bumblebee hated it, knowing he was going to make things worse for his team and family in the future.

But what really does the future hold?

Edit: I think... I found one of my inspirations for this post.

[beemochi-art]

How did the autobots and Decepticons in your au react to their first kill? Did it change them permanently or were they completely unbothered by it?

The cons are fine. It didn’t bother them too much.

With the exception of Soundwave who even still hasn’t kill a soul. And Slipstream who has avoided killing someone. She dreads the day Star presents her with an autobot to kill.

Megatron killed like five people when he was like 12. Most cons are military grade bots and are wired to do it.

As for the autobots they have struggled greatly.

Optimus will never completely get over his nerves. His first kill he threw up. A lot. Sometimes he still will.

For Elita, you can add that to a big pile of guilt she has. She was protecting her son at the time. She will try to avoid deadly force as much as possible, but if you mess with her kids that’s your own damn fault.

Scavenger didn’t like to do it. Partly why he joined the autobots.

Wheeljack was fine. Do with that what you will.

Bumblebee hasn’t killed a soul.

Chromia and Ironhide. I included them together because it was a group effort. Kinda. Ironhide had to smash someone face in. Many many sleepless nights. Ironhide didn’t know he was capable of that. He didn’t like it. It freaked out chromia too.

Jazz, he tries not to think about it.

Ratchet has and will. Over and over again if he has too. Has held off on deadly force for Optimus.

Most autobots try to avoid using deadly force. It’s apart of their moral code. Using violence is permitted until all other means have been exhausted. Most autobots were once civilians.

Drones are fair game.

[nomaishuttle]

under the cut bc its long but im just copy and pasting this persons abt bc its literally EXACTLY what i was talking abt.

If you've ever cried when listening to Transformers music...

If you've ever sworn to be an Autobot/Decepticon...

If you've ever compared a guy to a Transformer... 

If you still read fanfics and watch the films even when people call you a nerd...

If it broke your heart when your favorite one died...

... and you cheered like Hell itself had fallen when they returned to life...

... Post this, fellow Transfan, and know that we are more than meets the eye.

Optimus taught me how to be a leader Arcee taught me how to care for people Bumblebee taught me that no matter how young you are, you can be strong Bulkhead taught me that brains aren’t everything Wheeljack taught me that it’s ok to do your own thing Ratchet taught me that a medic is just as important as a solider Ultra Magnus taught me to have standards Smokescreen taught me to be confident Cliffjumper taught me to be brave Megatron taught me that anything is survivable Starscream taught me that it’s okay to get second chances Soundwave taught me that the quiets ones are sometimes the strongest Knockout taught me that it’s okay to want to look good Breakdown taught me to be strong no matter the situation Dreadwing taught me that family comes first Arachnid taught me not to betray the place where you are welcomed Skyquake taught me how to be loyal Steve taught me that even the minor roles matter Shockwave taught me how to be logical Predaking taught me how to be different

Normal girls (or boys) wanna marry boys (or girls), we wanna marry mechs (or femmes) [yknow for any bisexual or gays -like me-] Normal girls say good, we say Optimus Prime. Normal girls say evil, we say Lord Megatron. Normal girls say OMG, we say OMP. Normal girls Earth, we say Cybertron. Normal girls have hearts, we have sparks. Normal girls don't freak out when they see red and blue semis, we do. Normal girls say jets, we say seekers. Normal girls say aliens, we say Cybertronians. Normal girls say annoying, we say Starscream. Normal girls say sh*t, we say scrap. Normal girls drink alcohol, we drink energon. (*cough*High grade*cough-cough*) Normal girls say f***, we say frag. Normal girls say heart attack, we say spark attack. Normal girls say children, we say sparklings. Normal girls say Husbands (or wives), we say Sparkmates.

97% of teenagers would cry if they saw Justin Bieber standing on top of a tower about to jump. If you are the 3% sitting there with popcorn and 3D glasses, screaming "DO A BACKFLIP!" Copy and paste this on your "About Me" if you're that 3%. As a Transfan

-You call your computer Teletran 1. -Names enemies after Decepticons and/or Autobots. -Uses a Transformers reference whenever possible. -Whenever talking too fast, says you're talking like Blurr. -Whenever you hear the word Soundwave, you cringe. (I swear he's spying on us all! Trust no one unless you know for sure they're a Transfan or an Autobot!) -Will never look at a boombox the same ever again. (I keep thinking it's either Blaster or Soundwave) -You never try to look at a GMC Truck funny, since your afraid it's Ironhide. -You have dreams where you are in the Transformers world. (And when you wake up ur just like </3 it was just a dream) -You've watched Transformers at least 20 times, even more. -You pray to Primus. -You freak out whenever you see a cop car hiding in the shadows, thinking it's Barricade. -You don't call people creepers or stalkers, you call them Decepticreeps and/or Autoscums. -You have joined any Transformers fan clubs. -You've tried to do Jet Judo, and succeeded -You've tried Jet Judo, and failed hard core XD. -You sing the Transformers theme song everywhere and anywhere. -You were about to cry when Bumblebee was about to die in DOTM. (I actually did cry in that scene and the one where Sentinel Prick murdered Ironhide D': ) -You blame Blackout for most power outages. -You think that the world is going to end by a Decepticon invasion. (Yes I'm paranoid about this possibly happening) -You get annoyed when you say Unicron, and people think you just said Unicorn. -You think that every evil person in the world is either a Decepticon agent, or a Pretender -You think that when the Autobots win the war, it should be declared a national holiday. (OF COURSE! They deserve to be recognised for their achievements and saving all of us!) -You think the Government is hiding the Autobots somewhere. (They freaking have to be I just know it!) -You go to visit Hoover Dam to make sure Megatron's all comfy cozy in layers of ice. -You annoy your friends and family with your constant Transformers talk. (*sigh* I do...) -Whenever your friends say the worst thing happened, you ask if Decepticons attacked them. -You wish your phone was a Transformer. -You have seen all of the original G1 series and the animated movie (I own them on DVD)

[thousandyearphantombunker]

TFP au where Miko's host family are the Darby-Esquivels- I have a lot of issues with the logic in TFP surrounding miko- inorder to be an exchange student she'd need consistently high grades and while the show tries to make it sound like mikos host family is neglectful and they basically don't exist- that's nonsensical why would anyone volunteer to be a host family and then not hang out with the kid? You don't get paid anything so it can't be about money! it really is about developing a relationship with the exchange student during the duration of the program. In this au, jack and raf are half-brothers, jack's dad divorced his mom and Raf's dad is dead, we get some actual backstory on miko, also here miko cares about her grades- cause if she started failing she'd be forced to drop the exchange program- this also subverts some expectations cause in this au I want miko to actually be punk! And I want to give Jack a bit more oomph, Raf would be heavily rewritten (he stays a shy hacker boy who becomes friends with Bee and Ratchet but can we give him something to work with outside of that?)

Also Silas and MECH and dark energeon aren't dropped from the story- MECH and Silas as villains where genuinely more interesting than the omega keys and artifact crap we got, I'd go as far to say Silas is more interesting than Megatron and after all the stuff we see with starscream being an actually competent scary villain that was also comedic it angered me to see him become so flanderized- so here we take a cyberverse route but do it a bit differently and Unicron stays a major threat (I'm taking some inspiration from armada so in this au sideways replaces arachnid but instead of starscream getting redeemed- well let's say he still doesn't get a happy ending) I changed arachnid out for sideways cause she made little sense in universe.

Raf doesn't understand bumblebee in this and there's at least one story where they have to find alternative means of communication- let be actually be disabled by his lack of a voice box

I'm probably never going to write this but I'd like to see other people add to this au with there own ideas, let's get freaking insane and do the stuff tfp didn't have the balls to do! kill Bulkhead and let him get actual character development so it hurts, give Dreadwing a redemption arc, lets give arcee her time to shine, let's get some gay shit with Knockout and Breakdown let's fucking go!

edit: I was thinking about what problems I have with most human characters in transformers is that they 1 aren't as interesting as the bots are, I understand they want the characters to be relatable but sometimes they make them into flat characters borderline harem protagonist, another problem is a problem more commonly found in YA books- when a 16 year old middle class scrawny white girl with no combat training or superpowers or anything can successfully fight off a room full of vampire fbi agents with no injuries or losses, so my goal is to make the kids badass but in a more believable way, so they aren't just damsels in distress either

like I know jack was chosen because he's suppose to be like a young Orion pax and whatever but like it never felt right to me, they could have drawn the parallels clearer, we can also make Miko's badassery and cool moments more emotionally satisfying and make them feel more...deserved idk how to explain my problems with the humans in transformers too well.

Also can we make this the ultimate found family au? And bringing back some inspiration from transformers animated for Bulkhead- not exactly mind you but I love the idea of miko showing bulkhead something cool/creative for a hobby like how sari showed him art, and in RID15 apparently raf and bee liked watching cowboy movies together so now I'm just imagining pure fluff with these ideas I'm trying to come up with some fun ideas for jack and arcee- I usually don't like fluff but I like seeing friends being friends- it's adorable

More on miko, in this au she'd be the master of malicious compliance and finding loopholes, she's scared of failing and cares about her grades as stated above, but she also has early onset senioritis so she finds her ways, she rarely actually breaks rules or skips out, so she works smarter not harder, she's still got some major flaws, she's got a secret case of overconfidence, she's cynical (I think her parents would be loving but super controlling and never gave her privacy so she became sneaky to get away from them, she might have become a lone wolf in school maybe people thought she was scary or something maybe she tried having friends but her parents scared them away I like the idea that mikos super outgoing but in a way that scares people or she struggles with deeper connections outside of surface level, more on Jack, I'm taking some spiderman inspiration- like the rest of the fanbase I shall torture him for fun, give him some hidden rage, a guilt complex, constantly stress over June Raf and Miko, and here he's going to be a senior, he still lives with June and pays her rent but it's always a little bit extra even though she says he doesn't have to, he remembers the time when his parents first divorced and when Raf's dad got sick in this so he worries about cash a lot and maybe has some depression, he's working out what he wants to do with his life and all around is trying to act stupidly responsible and mature to cope, raf is still a dorky lil baby but he's got a surprisingly dark and unsurprisingly gross sense of humor and is more interested in biology than computers at the start, but starts picking up on stuff real fast, he and bumblebee work on alternative means of communication together(one day the bots can't translate what he's saying so after that they start practicing sign or Morse code or something!) Idk just tell me random stuff that bothered you tfp and RID15 or ideas you guys have that could make this au interesting

[avatardoggo]

hiii tea asks!! earl grey, chamomile, and sugar! hope your're having an awesome day! ♡

thanks for the ask :)) hope you're having an awesome day too <3!

earl grey: how do you take your tea?

black most of the time but if i feel i need something more then i'll add 2 spoons of sugar & maybe some cream

chamomile: comfort movie?

moana i cry every time during the i am moana scene im litrlly tearing up rn and the freaking soundtrack omgoodness

sugar: tell me about your first crush

asdfghjkls;flhgywe9fehownvwen LOOL omgoodness ok so i met him in preschool & he was a year older than me but we didn't really talk until i was in 2nd grade & he was in 3rd. we listened to the same radio station so in the morning when we were waiting for class together we'd sit and talk about the songs that were playing that morning and he liked reading so we'd also talk about the narnia series which i was obsessed w/ as a kid. i think i liked him when he let me play football w/ him and the guys during recess bc all the girlies liked the monkeybars which i hated bc of heights and the merry go round but i hated being dizzy and felt like puking. he wore glasses and i thought he was so cute but ik he only saw me as a friend and kinda a freak bc when i didn't want to play football or be in the park i'd pick up beetles and bumblebees bc they're fuzzy and i wanted to pet them and i remember once at the end of recess he was like "you're disturbing God's creatures" and i was so mad bc wtfreak?! a girlie just wants to pet some bees?? since when was that a crime??? but ya that was my first crush.

ask game here <3

[allhailthewicked]

Random JATP Headcannons: Reggie’s Allergies

Hi hello I wrote most of this a while ago and lost the motivation to finish it but I found it again and I finished it up. So there is a chance the writing styles in this could have changed a bit. Also, I know that Reggie is a ghost so he can’t have allergies, but this is my headcannon that I wrote for fun and not to be taken seriously so.... ALSO ALSO trigger warning for food mentions, allergic reaction, dread and panic attacks. Anyway onto the story

Reggie loves food, that’s a common fact about him. Everyone knows that. Honestly at this point his love language is giving and receiving food. So when Ray found out about the ghost band and how they’re now somewhat corporeal, he immediately accepted them into the Molina family and the boys were ECSTATIC, especially Reggie. And Reggie being Reggie (lovable and caring) decide to show his love for Molina family by cooking them a spectacular dinner (even though he couldn’t eat it). Reg decided to make the family a nice lobster and steak surf and turf with mashed potatoes. All was going well to well some might say (is this some foreshadowing??? nah, I would never). Reggie first had to kick the whole Molina family of the kitchen a frustrating task, but there were some many S-Tier moments like: 

“ Don’t worry Ray I promise your kitchen is in safe hands. I used to cook myself all the time in the 90′s, especially when Mom was visiting Gran in the hospice and my old man was at the bar. Don’t worry about me, Dad I’m fine, and I promise I won’t burn down your kitchen … Wait why are you- why are you looking at me like that? … WHAT NOOOO no I totally don’t see you as a father figure, Mr. Molina... oh... I can call you Dad.... noted... Dad!”

“... yes even you Ms. Julie. Why don’t you go find Luke? He was doing some serious pouting earlier because you were busy painting my nails he said something about me being your favorite. I mean he’s right but what if you go paint his nails too!!! I feel like navy is really his color.”

“Don’t be sad little dude tomorrow I’ll make some pancakes, and you can film for your channel and be all like ‘My Kitchen is Haunted By a Pancake Ghost (3 am challenge) *Almost Died* *EMOTIONAL*  See all your YouTube lessons taught me something. Well is that a smile I see now little dude? We love to see that now get out of the kitchen, so I cook you dinner.”

Anyway as I said before all is going well. Reggie hummed the newest song that they band was working on as he peeled, chopped, and boiled the potatoes before moving on to seasoning the rib-eye with salt, black & white pepper, and garlic powder moving his hip to the rhythm. He sliced the onions, mushrooms, and asparagus before sautéing them and going back to mashing the potatoes. Reggie did make the mistake of putting the steak in a scalding hot pan. It didn’t burn the steak or the kitchen that bad, but that wasn’t when things went wrong. It was when he grabbed one of the lobster when things got funky.

The second grabbed one of the swimmy bois he felt that something wasn’t right. He looked down at his hand, widening his eyes as red blotches and streaks started to spread across his hands. His hand rapidly start to swell and double in size, with a burning feeling started to arrive. 

Oh Shit.

How the hell after 25 years did I forget that I’m allergic to shellfish. Reggie thought to himself. I can even make a simple dinner right. It was the only way I could repay them. I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid. I’m so...

His vision started to blur from the unwiped tears, forgetting about his pain as he started to openly sob. He sunk down to the floor (after double-checking to make sure that the burners are off) and put his head in his hands as he ignores the itching and pain starting to appear on his face. 

Reggie sat in that position sobbing for who knows how long until he heard a voice, “Mijo? Are you okay”

Reggie's head shot up at the voice wiping away his tears. “Oh yeah I totally fine Ray onions just me cry. Don’t worry about me,” Reggie said, plastering on a fake smile he is used to putting on that was immediately undermined by his voice being watery and crackling with every word. Reggie followed Ray’s concerned gaze to his hand which swelled up to twice the size

“Reggie, you know you can tell me anything. I won’t be mad, I just want you to feel comfortable around here. I just want you to be safe,” Ray said, trying to comfort the ghost boy.

Immediately Reggie broke down again at Ray’s compassion, “I just ruined dinner because I forgot that I am allergic to fucking shellfish. How the hell does someone forget that.”

Ray pulled the crying boy into a hug rubbing his back as consoling him. “Hey hey hey mijo you didn’t ruin anything. The food looks and smells amazing you do not need to blame yourself for things that are out of your control. Okay, you did an amazing job.”

Reggie looked back up at him with big eye, “Really?”

“Of course! I am so proud of you. I couldn’t a meal like this even if I tried. You know I didn’t know that ghost had allergies,” Ray nodded examine Reggie’s hand. “Do you have your EpiPen on you or do ghost work differently?”

“Hey Reggie, Luke kicked me out of the garage and told me to hel- HOLY SHIT,” Alex shouted rushing over to Reggie. “Hold on I have a spare EpiPen in my bag”

After panicking from Alex and more hugs from Ray, Reggie was able to finish dinner. And it turned out to be a delicious after all.

Bonus:

When Reggie and Luke were in 5th grade, Luke thought it would be a good idea to catch bumblebees in their hands. Let me just say it definitely wasn’t. The caught and release about 3 bumblebees before the incident happened. One stung Reggie hand and immediately his hand swelled up, as hives started to appear on his skin. He tried to stand up before he doubled over in pain and had to sit back down. Luke started to FREAK OUT and ran to a teacher who was helping a baby Alex (by baby I mean like 10 year old) with his math homework. The teacher jumped up to to notice Reggie curled up in a ball breathing heavily, stabbing him with the EpiPen in her bag and sending another teacher inside to call the ambulance. And that was the first time Reggie rode in an ambulance.

When the boys were alive Reggie has mild reactions to a lot of food and he doesn’t realize it a lot of time. He just thought that everyone’s tongue goes numb and tingly when they eat kiwi. So one day Reggie passes Alex is eating a fruit salad and he asks him why he’s eating so much of it without stopping because of all the burning and weird tingles. Alex stops eating puts his for down and is  like Reginald, what do you mean by you feel burning when you eat fruit salad. Now Reggie knows that this is bad because Alex never busts out his full name unless he is trying to cheer him up or trying (and successfully) scolding him. Reggie goes on to explain that sometime when has fruit salad some fruits are spicy so he has to stop every once in a while to have a drink of water and goes a way brief, but the numbness is still there. The band decided to take time out of rehearsal and take him to the doctors and that is when they find out that’s Reggie is allergic to apples, pears, mangos, kiwi, and pineapple. Y’know, along with bees and shellfish.

A/N: Wow, it’s been a while since I wrote something for this fandom. It’s definitely not my best work but I enjoy the concept so much. Also, I’m sorry if some of the dialogue is cringe I’m tired and I really wanted to post before I lost motivation again.

[kazhavia]

Prompt List - Dance Studio - DamiRae!

Setting: Dance Studio

Damian Wayne was never one for patience, and right now, his sister Cassandra was really testing it.

He glared at the building she was in and growled. He had been waiting in the parking lot for her for ten minutes and was feeling agitated. What the hell was taking her so long? Why wasn’t she outside yet? Her class ended fifteen minutes ago. God, he hoped she wasn’t socializing again. He needed to go home and sleep. He has a big presentation tomorrow that was worth half his grade and he’d be furious if it doesn’t go well.

He hated that out of all his siblings, he was stuck giving Cassandra rides to all the places she needed to be. His free time fit into her busy schedule, much to his irritation. Who the hell told her to take part in illegal street racing and demolish her motorcycle? It was a miracle she escaped the accident with only a few bruises. She definitely had an angel looking out for her.

A tick formed on Damian’s forehead when he glanced over at the clock on his dashboard. 10:15 PM.

“That’s it,” he muttered and unclipped his seatbelt. If Cassandra wasn’t coming out, then he would go get her.

He stepped out of the car and slammed it shut with a force that roared throughout the parking lot. A few ballerinas standing by their vehicles yelped and sent him disapproving glares. He ignored them and walked up to the entrance of the building and entered inside.

Instantly, he knew where Cassandra was. The single door at the end of the hallway was the only one lit up and had music blasting through. 

He huffed as he made his way to the studio, rolling his eyes at the clear, raunchy lyrics his ears were picking up. Out of the all the dance types Cassandra could have chosen from, she picked pole. Why she did was a choice he would never understand.

As he got closer, he heard the music abruptly stop and a bunch of voices cheered enthusiastically. He raised a brow when the light peeking through under the door turned off and wondered if some kind of performance was about to happen.

Whatever. If there was, Cassandra should have known and asked someone else to take her back home. Damian refused to wait another minute.

He grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit studio. He barely had taken three steps in when his eyes landed on a sight that froze him in place.

Rachel Roth—his partner for tomorrow’s presentation—was standing in the middle of the room; wearing nothing but a black bandeau, dark purple shorts, and clear stilettos. What the hell?

Something definitely stirred in Damian’s nether region.

Rachel stood behind the pole with her left hip cocked out; hands on the metal rod at chest level and a smolder gaze in her seductive expression. When the first set of Lo-Fi beats came through the speakers, all she tilted her head upward at the ceiling. After the second set, she shifted her weight to her other leg, closing her eyes and parting her mouth slightly. A drawled out bass creeped in the track and she slowly rolled her head all around. She released her grip on the pole, caressing her body and threading her fingers through her hair in tune with the overlapped sounds, drawing figure eights with her hips.

Damian gulped. Who would have thought such simple movements could look this sexy.

The singer’s voice entered the track, prompting Rachel to motion.

She was crazy in sync with the music; completely fluid and effortless. One hundred percent graceful and precise. Undeniably strong and expressive.

She became lost in her dance, even as she lifted off the floor and climbed up the pole. She never stopped, and she kept moving around and around, displaying her amazing stamina. Any normal person would have been struck with vertigo from doing that many turns, but not Rachel. She clearly relished the speed.

And being upside down.

Everyone is clapping and throwing praises at Rachel, encouraging her. She doesn’t break character and continued the routine. Her body looked like a pretzel, but she’s so ridiculously coordinated with her hand and foot placements that it doesn’t faze her. It was amazing how her perception never wavered being that high in the air.

But one glimpse at Damian’s direction and all her concentration suddenly crumbled.

Gravity made its presence and pulled Rachel down. Her hand grip slips and her thighs frantically wrap around the pole to gain security. Her palm slammed down onto the floor to prevent her face from eating it. The force shot pain up her arm and before she knew it, she rolled forward and landed onto her back.

“Raven!” Cassandra and a bunch of other girls cried out and ran over.

Damian gasped and sprinted to Rachel’s side, passing right through them. He dropped onto his knees and gently placed a hand behind her head, lifting it off the floor. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, checking for any visible injuries. “Are you hurt?”

Rachel had her eyes squeezed shut and was gritting her teeth. “My arm…”

Damian looked over at the arm she used to land on and saw that her palm was bright red. “Can you move it?”

“Y-Yeah…” she answered, turning her head to glance down. “It’s just throbbing.”

“I’ll go get ice,” one girl volunteered and jogged towards the corner of the room.

“I’ll get the first aid,” Cassandra offered, throwing Damian a questionable glance. He ignored her and helped Rachel sit up straight.

“Dammit,” Rachel hissed and cradled her injured hand. 

“Stop moving it around or you’ll make it worse.” Damian scowled. “What the hell happened? You look like you had it, and then you didn’t.”

“Yeah, Raven,” a girl with long, blonde longs agreed. “You’ve done that combo a bunch of times! You could have done it with your eyes closed.”

“Why do you all keep calling her Raven?” Damian snapped. “It’s Rachel.”

“We don’t use our real names here,” Rachel explained right as someone brought her an ice pack. “Thanks, Bumblebee.”

Damian frowned. Bumblebee?

“Who is Mr. Attitude?” Bumblebee crossed her arms and pointed her thumb at Damian. “Your boyfriend?”

Rachel sighed. “No, he’s—”

“He’s my cranky brother,” Cassandra answered, returning with the first aid kit. “What are you doing in here?”

“You took too long to come outside so I came in to get you,” Damian clipped and snatched the bag from Cassandra’s hands.

Bumblebee choked out a disbelief noise. “You rude son of a—”

“Give me your arm,” Damian demanded and held out his hand for Rachel to rest her elbow on. “I’ll ice it and tape it up for you.”

Rachel wordlessly did what she was told and stared up at all the worried faces surrounding her. “I’m fine girls, really. Let’s lock up and call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” a girl with pink hair asked.

Rachel nodded and flinched when Damian pressed the ice pack on her forearm. 

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine,” she whispered, quietly taking this new side of Damian. She had never seen him be this… gentle before. From the moment she met him, he had been a straight up asshole for no reason, scowling at everything and everyone. No matter what anyone did, he would scrutinize them like they were a threat, or an idiot. His guard was always up and she had never seen him smile.

It was nice to see he wasn’t as two-dimensional like she thought he was.

While the girls walked away to help close the studio, Damian continued to tend to Rachel’s arm. He scooped up a dab of bio-freeze from the first aid kit and softly rubbed it over her skin. It was silent between them for a couple minutes until Damian asked the dreaded question. 

“Why d'you freak out when you saw me?”

Rachel pressed her lips together and averted his gaze. “I don’t know.”

The answer didn’t satisfy Damian, but he knew that was all he would get. At least for tonight.

By the time everyone wiped down all the poles and gathered their belongings, Damian finished bandaging up Rachel. She held her arm up to her face and inspected it.

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate your help.”

“Don’t slip next time,” he warned and assisted her to her feet. He forgot she was still wearing her platforms and briefly wondered why they were nearly eye-leveled. That’s when he remembered her state of attire, or lack thereof. An intense wave of blush threatened to blossom on his cheeks and he quickly scanned the room to search for Cassandra.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Rachel said and leaned against a nearby pole to take off her shoes.

Damian responded with an indignant noise and left without another word. As he exited the studio, Cassandra appeared beside Rachel and sighed.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s up with him,” Cassandra apologized and bent down to help undo the laces on Rachel’s shoe. “He is… special.”

“It’s fine,” Rachel assured and glanced at the door Damian exited out of with peaked curiosity. “It’s fine…”

[soranihimawari]

The Taste of Rain

When I say the second years at Karasuno are squad goals, I wasn’t expecting to like them this much.

Ennoshita has a crush on a fellow classmate, Kawa-san [y/n-chan], but due to the VBC gaining popularity, he has Kazuhito act as his second. 

friends to lovers at Karasuno High. 2nd Year Crows are a blessing.

When the final bell rang to signal the end of classes for the day, I swiftly gathered my belongings into my bag which I slung over my shoulder. A few more months were left until graduation. In the past three years alone, I have managed to somehow keep my grades within the top percentage of my school. High school wasn’t supposed to be easy, supposedly some would say it might be the best time of my life. 

Unfortunately, whomever said that clearly wasn’t talking about me. All these thoughts circulated my head as I stood up to leave the classroom for the day. My classmates, Rina and Akari, were already in the hallway making plans for the weekend checking on their social calendars that were littered with daily reminders for varying sport club matches. 

“Let’s go to the cat cafe on Saturday Rina!” Akari suggested. She was always willing to take a break at the beginning of the school week claiming that if she didn’t, we’d regret studying for so long. According to her, we needed to take breaks to give our brains time to unwind and relax for a day or two. 

“Can’t do Saturday. The volleyball club has a match. Why don’t we go to the game instead?” Rina asks. Rina had grown to be close to Akari since elementary school. Childhood friends like them were deemed inseperable since the age of seven. However, Rina had always been supportive of a majority of the sports clubs (via taking inventory of club equipment) while Akari was mainly focused on cheering for its members with the other family members of the players. 

“Terrific! Sounds like a plan. Besides, we can always go to the cat cafe some other day after class.”

“So, we get to hear you cheer for us, right?” one of the club members approached the pair with a smile across his face.

“Of course Tanaka,” Rina claps her hands together returning his grin. “I had to remind Akari, but y’know we’ll both be there.”

I was a few feet away from the three of them in the emptying hallway. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder before ducking in between them and ushering out a hurried, “Excuse me.” I rounded the corridor to begin my decent downward to the school courtyard.

“Oh, sorry Kawa-san!” I heard Akari’s voice traverse toward me. I smile weakly at the trio. It wasn’t often that Tanaka was caught not chasing any other female student than Shizumi-san, but the majority of the other girls in our year value his (and by association, Nishinoya’s) commitment to complimentating how well nature graces her presence. It might seem as though I am bitter by never even coming close to this sensation, but truth be told, I had my eyes set on a different classmate altogether. 

I was already on the first floor of the school switching out my school shoes for the black combat boots I typically wear those since they matched the majority of my non-uniform wardrobe. 

“Kawa-san?” 

I perked my head up to where I heard my name being called. I saw Kazuhito approach me with a shy smile. 

“Yo,” I greeted. I finished tying my boots before I stood back up. “You alright?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine,” Kazuhito began. “Here.” 

He hands me a small note folded into a diamond. I noticed firstly the handwriting wasn’t his--it was Ennoshita’s, I chewed the inside of my cheek in feign surprise.

“Ah.”

“Ennoshita wanted to give it to you himself, but he was meeting the others in the gym for practice.”

“Then can you do me a favor Kazuhito?” 

I return the unopened envelope to him. He blinked momentarily before taking the note back.

“What do you want me to tell Ennoshita? You know how he feels about you,Kawa.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose taking a deep breath trying to come up with a viable reason until I blurted out the following, running a hand through my hair.

“He is enough.”

“Mmm,” Kazuhito hummed. “I’ll tell him. Oh and Kawa-san, I finally see why my friend likes you so much.”

I gave him a curt nod right after I shut the door of my locker remnants of the blush made at his comment.  

===

[15:42]

from Kazuhito

to Ennoshita

Chikara, Kawa-san wanted me to remind you of something.

[16:09]

from Ennoshita 

to Kazuhito

why do you have the note i wrote?

[16:11]

-incoming call from Kazuhito Narita-

“He is enough.” 

The call ended as soon as Kazuhito realized his phone dialed his teammate purposefully by accident. A knowing grin forming on the wing spiker’s face as she walked away from him toward the route leading toward the cafe close to her neighborhood.

===

“For the final time, the answer to the last part of the equation was to use a log!” Ennoshita grumbled looking over his algebra-2 quiz sheet. The score was still high enough to qualify as passing, but considering he was the head of the study group among his fellow second years,it irked him to get such a simple question wrong. The boys were hanging out at the Tanaka-siblings house once again (an invitation was extended toward me after the results of the last game allowed the team to successfully advance to the next stage of the qualifiers).

“And it’s a shame that the one with perfect marks on that quiz is the same one noticing you did your order of operations wrong,” I barked. I held up my quiz sheet with the 100% tally to his embarrassed face. 

“I-what?! No way,” Ennoshita replied. He was about to retaliate before he compares his work with mine. “No freaking way.”

I shook my head to let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you so, Chikara.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Kawa.”

“And here I thought Kazuhito did.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Kazuhito says putting up his hands to claim his innocence.

“Kawa-san is scary,” Tanaka whispers loud enough for the others to hear.

“They both are,” Noya replied hearing the two of us squabble.

“It’s not that hard to believe Ennoshita confessed first though,” Kinoshita states. “Is it?”

“EH!?”

“Fine,” I said breaking out into a short-lived giggle. Upon hearing my laughter, the room fell quiet. “Just don’t come crying to me if you forget how to solve maths problem. C’mon, we have more pressing subjects to get to.”

“Alright. What’s next quiz master?” Ennoshita slip of the tongue caused him to blush a deep shade of scarlet; he was strict in tutoring his fellow teammates, but it takes no less than twenty seconds for me to process what the nickname meant.

“International modern lit,” I reply switching notebooks. 

Saeko came in with a tray of snacks as we each began our work. That is until Ennoshita baits me into reciting “TheTaste of Rain” by Kerosau to which I clear my throat with a teasing smile.

“The Taste of Rain, by Jack Kerosau,” I begin, eyes closed as I imagine the words of the poem lifting off the pages scattered around.

American Haiku by Jack Kerouac

The taste of rain – Why kneel?

The bottom of my shoes are clean from walking in the rain.

Snap your finger stop the world – rain falls harder.

After the shower among the drenched roses the bird thrashing in the bath.

Early morning gentle rain, two big bumblebees Humming at their work

Birds singing in the dark —Rainy dawn.

The rain has filled the birdbath Again, almost

Useless, useless, the heavy rain Driving into the sea.

The little worm lowers itself from the roof By a self shat thread

Nightfall, boy smashing dandelions with a stick.

frozen in the birdbath A leaf

In my medicine cabinet the winter fly has died of old age

Missing a kick at the icebox door It closed anyway.

I conclude reading this poem aloud and was about to ask my study group a question, but instead I feel a pair of lips press against my cheek. I blink in my confusion, but when I clear my throat, I noticed I choose to stay quiet, bringing my hand up to my face which now is flushed in embarrassment.

“You don’t taste of rain,” his voice says briefly avoiding my gaze. It’s such a simple thing, a kiss on the cheek? Child’s play, but game on ennoshita.

“He’s not wrong,” Kazuhito says, picking up one of the snacks on the table.

—19:07—

You thank your hosts for allowing you to come study at their place. Saeko mentioned you’re welcome anytime. Tanaka and Noya had agreed that if they needed help with their school work, they were going to find you first and ask you because you are alot more patient than Ennoshita (he still home the ruler though if you’re not available).

“Of course boys, you know where to find me,” I said before thanking them again.

Narita and Kazuhiro had left a little earlier than I did, yet I think it was because ennoshita and the others asked them to. I don’t know why I have this feeling, but the anxiety soon leaves when I hear yelling behind me. I stop and turn around to see Enno run down the block toward me, arms flailing, making me laugh a little.

“Kawa-San! Wait up!” He catches up to me quite quicker than I had imagined. Did he get faster? Athletic clubs are scary sometimes. He brushes past me when I step to the side so he can stop properly.

“Woah there Enno. Slow down!”

“I did,” he tells me, walking back toward me.

“Calm yourself first, mmk? Then you can walk me home.”

I slipped my hand in his giving it a reaffirming squeeze right before I stood up on my toes to kiss his cheek. This year is gonna be great...

[writings-from-the-hart]

Writebr Intro

Writeblr Intro Time!

Hiya! This is so overdue and I apologize for that lol. I’ve been meaning to write this but school seems to always be getting in the way of just that. Writing. But here I am finally writing this! And yes my username is a pun of my own last name but I just couldn’t resist.

So basically, I really want to surround myself with other writers and have stumbled across tons of writeblr’s (I think that’s what they’re called lol). Instantly I was in love and wanted more of what the community had to offer. I’ve been a self-proclaimed “author” or writer since my early years of grade school. I was that child in the back of the class with ADHD that couldn’t sit still (the cliche bouncing leg and always chewed down nails) and had what my mother called an “overactive imagination”. My notebooks in high school were often filled with wild stories about “galaxies far far away” or dystopias with cruel governments ruled by dictators. Now I’m in my second year of college swamped with classes about the Psychology of criminals (or I like to call the science of murder), and trying to find time to write a novel. So the struggle is real my dudes.

A little about Me:

Hana

20

She/Her

Pisces

Asexual

Forensic Psychology Major and English with a concentration in Writing Minor

Book hoarder

Dog Mom

Vintage AF

Low Key Emo Punk because I’m no average white girl!

History nerd (Love learning about the old wars and cultures)

Movie nerd (There’s an endless stack of DVDs in my house)

Fandoms:

The Mandolorian (or the ManDADolorian)

Star Trek

Star Wars

Hannibal

X-Files

King Falls Am

Welcome to Nightvale

Transformers (Obviously not the bad movies lol. Bumblebee is baby and must be protected always.)

Good Omens

Sherlock

Lord of the Rings

Marvel (There are so many shows and movies in this category we would be here all day if I tried to list them.)

Timeless (Not sure if the fandom is still alive after what the writers did to one of our ships lol)

DC (I’m a huge Batman geek and adore Wonderwoman, but I take the good with the bad when it comes to this fandom. Especially movie-wise anymore.)

And there’s probably more but my memory isn’t working currently.

Goals?. . . maybe:

Get my novel finished (This has literally been on my To-Do List for who knows how long.)

Meet more writers/new writers.

Improve my poetry (I suck at poetry so I bad I never let it see the light of day, so I need to work on it.)

Start my bullet journal.

Wips:

Okay by now you all know I have at least 1 Wip because I mentioned getting a freaking novel done, but just as a precaution as to what I mean by Wip or Wips. I get distracted quite easily, for some odd reason my brain absolutely loves to jump from one idea to another for no absolute reason. Like WTF dude we already have an idea we’re working on why do you keep bringing all these new ones to me like stray dogs. And like any good dog Mom or distracted writer, I want to keep all the ideas/stray dogs. So, when I say Wip I mean “Look at this cool idea I came up with” and I’ll make sure to specify which one is hogging most of my time.

Renegade: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

This is my baby. Most of my free time is dedicated to adjusting plotlines, character arc’s, fixing freaking plot holes, and other important stuff other than just plain writing. I’m hoping to finish this also monster of a story by 2020 and get it published. So big stuff!  

“So tell me little wolf do you want to punish those who have wronged you?” An assassin known as the Crimson Ghost makes their way through the corrupt city-state of Ashton completing a job given to them by the Black Rose. What is a seemingly normal job though turns into something far more complicated when they stumble upon the fractions of an abandoned notebook from the past. A past the Republic is trying to desperately hide and bury no matter what. On the other side of the world in the Republic’s capital Eshar, plainly referred to as “The Prodigy” or “machine” by his superiors,  Eric Coalwood has built a life upon the ashes of his family, striving to meet the high expectations set before him by his mentor General Wolfheart. However, his life falls out of its normal day to day routine when the unexpected is asked of him. Command a task force made up of the Republic’s most wanted or his life is over. Eric doesn’t need reasons for why he must do what he has to, all he needs are orders and the Republic is more than happy to give them. Either way the clock is ticking for both the Crimson Ghost and the Republic’s prodigy and with time running out they both have two options. Either get over their different beliefs concerning the Republic or allow the world to once again succumb to war but this time nobody is going to survive it. “Legends are slippery things. For the glory that coats them hides the pain, suffering and death that created them.”

The Trouville Files: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

Not my biggest priority but definitely one of them considering the plot of this story. I mainly use this wip as a reference for Renegade because it’s actually the prequel to it. Also, it’s great to use as writing practice when I’m plagued with writer’s block for Renegade or frustrated with a plot hole. So this is my double-edged sword that does a lot of good.

“Death in these black days is neither kind nor quick.” The year is 2153, the world we know is nothing more than a wasteland strewn with the dead and a sky being choked by their ashes, not glorious and thriving but desolate and starving. The Red Death, a pandemic with a steady progression and a gruesome countdown to the demise of those infected. No one outruns it or survives it. “United we stand, divided we fall.” The Allied Nations, a totalitarian superpower, promised a united people but all they gave this world was more death and destruction. The Red Death isn’t the only thing slowly killing humanity anymore, we are in the form of the War of Broken Pacts. The spark of revolution is lit, but if it will remain so is a question asked by everyone. Does it stand a chance against the iron-fisted government holding the people in shackles? “Rebel with a cause.” Genius Medical Officer for The People’s Republic, Cyprus Ramiro works day and night in search of a cure for the Red Death exterminating hundreds, at least before this war kills him first. But he is also a man on the run and the rebellion can only shelter him for so long. “Duty over pain.” Cunning Spy and Soldier, Orion Ultor is ordered by the Allied Nations to infiltrate and gather information on the ever-growing People’s Republic. In bold letters is Search and Destroy; make a ruin of the rebellion and ensure the Allied Nations remains as it should -- unquestionably in power. No matter the cost unless he wants to suffer the consequences again. “If we fall we shall rise from the ashes like a phoenix.” They should have never met, battlefields don't make good friends. It wasn't fate, it wasn't destiny, only war throwing people together.  The Allied Nations is trying to stamp out something they fear, but can they before the Red Plague? Or will humanity find itself extinct.

Beyond his point is where I house my stray dogs/ideas

Hiraeth: Paranormal, Horror, Mystery, and Thriller.

Scooby-doo who?

Hiraeth means a homesickness for a home which you cannot return. That is how Arcane feels like she’ll never be home no matter how hard she tries to connect with her family. The closest she feels to being home is with her friends and in the worn leather seats of the van they all pitched in to buy. It all started out as a way to pass time and for all of them to escape their families because to be honest parents never understand, but it all turned sideways when a simple “ghost hunting trip” stirred something that was meant to remain buried. The truth never remains buried though, not really, somehow it will always creep back in ugly and twisted. Arcane has never felt “at home” but she’ll do whatever it takes to keep what she considers her family safe.

Sweet Dreams: Historical Fiction, Thriller, and Romance.

A literal dream turned into story plot and no I’m not kidding.

The Red String of Fate, The Lovers, and War. These are the three elements intertwined within the plot of Sweet Dreams but before anyone makes any assumptions this isn’t some chummy rom-com. There will be tears and heart strings may get yanked clean out because the angst is real. War and love never mix well, it leaves a sour taste in ones mouth and makes the mind question things it shouldn’t. Like is the woman in his dreams the same woman he sees in all his dreams? Constantly he somehow ends up spotting that same ruby red lipstick, honey golden eyes, and brunette hair laying in perfect curls. She’s everywhere except in his actual life. They say you and your soulmate share dreams, living proof of how intertwined souls are. She doesn’t believe in love or the idea of souls, not with the monsters roaming around the countryside and battlefield carrying assault rifles. Society tells her where her place is, but she disagrees and rather create her own destiny.

The Prophet: Paranormal, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.  

A short story I can’t seem to let go or it doesn’t want to let me go, but either way, this story has the makings for something great. It also at times seems strikingly similar to Good Omens, so don’t be surprised.

There’s no anti-christ in this story, he already has a book about himself so let’s not make another one besides there are other stories that need to be told. Such as, have you ever heard of modern day prophets and I’m not talking about those people with cardboard signs saying “the end is near!” or giant churches with people preaching about the end times. No, I’m talking about a kid with messy hair and dark circles under their eyes because sleep is no longer a choice due to migraines that plague them every night. Migraines that bring weird cryptic messages that make one question their own sanity. And what happens when strange people start asking about said migraines and messages?

Virago: Fantasy, Thriller, Historical Fiction, and Romance.

I’m not a huge fantasy reader, for some reason I can’t stay invested in them, but here I am with a fantasy story in my wips. It has mages, knights, assasination plots, and one super badass general who takes zero shit from her king. That’s right women empowerment, my dudes! I don’t really have much of a synopsis inline or a plot because this is only of those wips I let rattle around in my brain from time to time. But I will say it does give me that LOTR vibe but also Game of Thrones.  

Don’t be surprised if you see my stray doggos from time to time because I will admit I love to play around with storyboards. Even if I don’t have a fully planned out plot put together for it.

And that concludes this what was supposed to be short Writeblr Intro. I hope I have peaked some of your guys’ interests because the community definitely got a hold of minee. Feel free to send me a message about anything I mentioned (even if it’s just fandom shit I don’t care) and don’t be shy. I’m a huge introvert but somehow love talking, so don’t worry it won’t be awkward and odds are I’m equally nervous about conversation lol. Also, feel free to add me to any taglist and reblog/like if you’re active and would like more Writeblr mutuals!

Happy Writing,

Writings-from-the-Hart

[tonystarktogo]

Hey so I can't reblog your drabble about Morgan and Tony because I'm keeping my blog spoiler free for a while longer, but can I just say it's AMAZING!!! I really love your writing voice as Morgan! I hope you extend that story because I'd love to read more of it :)

No problem, I totally get that (and I’m sure your followers appreciate it! I just didn’t have the patience, I needed to get me feelings on this movie out there lol) Anyways, I’m glad you like it cause I really enjoy writing Morgan. So here are a few more snippets from that ‘verse: 

[still contains spoilers for Avengers: Endgame, character death and suicide in a fashion]

Morgan Stark is nine years old the first time she visits her dad on purpose.

(It’s not actually that hard because humans are soft, squishy things, just like Mr Hulk told her once before Mom hastily ushered her away to have a chat with him. She takes care not to make a mess – Mom always panics when Morgan wakes up covered in blood, even if it isn’t her fault. And she really doesn’t want to worry Mom. So she swallows lots of sleeping pills instead. Morgan doesn’t like that at all. Makes her brain go all fuzzy and real slow and her body feel heavy until she’s almost sinking, even though there isn’t any water anywhere near her and Morgan hates it.

She wakes up with cotton in her mouth and a pounding behind her temples and covered in throw-up. So not doing that again, even if Dad hadn’t made her promise to never come visit him again on purpose.

Can dead people suffer a heart attack?)

*

Morgan Stark is nine and three-quarters years old the first time she spends Christmas with her dad again.

(She doesn’t do it on purpose, not really. Because Dad made her promise and Morgan takes her promises very seriously – and she’s never seen her Dad, who isn’t afraid of anything, not even Thanos, so panicked.

But it’s a bad day and Christmas isn’t supposed to be bad. Christmas is supposed to be a family holiday. Morgan wakes up in a terrible mood because it’s Christmas and her dad isn’t gonna be there and it’s not his fault but that doesn’t make it fair. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t seen him in forever because of that stupid promise.

She gets into an argument with Mom who’s trying, trying, trying, but Morgan can’t talk about this with her and it’s so much easier to start yelling about which dress to wear for the big party Morgan doesn’t want to attend. Then she’s running out of the door, doesn’t look back, world blurry and unfocused, and Morgan doesn’t hear the blaring car horn until it’s too late.)

[Dad is that weird mixture of happy and sad when he sees her. Morgan swears that it was an accident, that she’s keeping her promise, but he just hugs her until she stops trembling, then asks her which car she’d like to take apart.

The workshop is bigger than Morgan remembers it being, bathed in a humming, pulsing blue light that soothes her and makes Dad tip his head back and forth rhythmically. They spend Christmas Eve like that, taking an old engine apart, her Dad walking her through the different steps and adding little stories of what he did with the various cars around them while they’re working. They’re covered in oil and dirt by the end of it, and Morgan feels light enough to float away.]

Morgan races back home as quickly as she can and pulls her Mom into a big hug, mumbling “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” until Mom presses a kiss to her forehead and tells her all is forgiven. It’s a good thing there wasn’t much blood this time or Morgan would’ve completely ruined her dress. And if Mom notices the engine oil under her finger nails, she doesn’t say a word.

The party isn’t as bad as Morgan thought it would be either.

(That night, she falls asleep with her Dad’s old arc reactor on her pillow, bathing her room in blue light.)

*

Morgan Stark is ten years old the first time her dad isn’t alone when she stops by.

(Supervillains have become a thing again in the last two years, once the world recovered from the shock of having the lost ones returned, or so Mom tells her. Morgan hadn’t really cared beyond watching the occasional fight on TV. That gets a whole lot harder when some stupid guy in a bloated, black and yellow suit that makes him look like an oddly-deformed bumblebee almost blows up her school.

One moment, Morgan is racing through equations that are way too obvious, the next she’s sent flying. It’s not instant, this time. And not painless either. That’s what happens when you get a wall dropped onto you, crushing your arms and legs but somehow missing your head.

From afar, Morgan hears shouts and yells and sirens, but she’s too happy to finally trip to care.)

[There’s a woman sitting in a chair in Dad’s workshop. She’s sipping on some fancy drink with a lot of fruits on top of it that Morgan eyes curiously, her feet resting on the table. Her hair is an odd red-and-white-blonde color and Morgan gets the brief impression of a couple of strangers showing up at their home, of chatting with Dad until he’s angry, of Dad leaving and not coming back.

Abstractly, Morgan knows Natasha Romanoff. She knows everyone who didn’t survive that last fight against Thanos – mostly because the list is a whole lot shorter than the one after the first battle.

For some reason, even though she knows Miss Natasha used to be a friend of Mom and Dad, Morgan hadn’t expected to run into her here. Miss Natasha watches her through narrowed eyes, not unfriendly exactly, but thoughtful. Dad sweeps her into a hug, then introduces them and if it wasn’t for the meaningful way in which Miss Natasha says, “Tony,” it would have been like any other time Mom drags her along to meet her friends.

Dad shrugs and shakes his hand – there’s a lot exchanged there that Morgan doesn’t really understand – and then Morgan starts rambling about her grades and Mom’s date and the stupid attack on her school while Dad shows her how to fix her arc reactor nightlight and Miss Natasha sips on her drink and watches.

“Do you know Clint Barton?” Miss Natasha suddenly asks, interrupting Dad in a list of acceptable responses to stupid teachers who can’t admit when they’re wrong.

Morgan frowns. Runs through the many people she’s met at some point or another, some at Dad’s funeral, some in front of his grave, some outside of all that. Nods.

Miss Natasha smiles. It’s an evil expression Morgan can’t wait to learn.]

Spiderman is the one to frantically push the rubble aside until he finds Morgan coughing up a storm from all the dust. She can hear his heavy sigh of relief and squeezes his hand in wordless comfort.

“Thank god!” he says emphatically. “It’s a freaking miracle you didn’t get squashed, kiddo!”

Morgan’s too busy coughing to respond.

*

Morgan Stark is fifteen years old the first time she builds herself a suit.

It makes Mom cry and Dad make her promise to be safe and be smart and leave the hero-stuff to the old smartasses like Captain America – Dad calls him Cap 2.0 – before he sits her down and talks programming and welding with her. Really, it’s not like she wants to fight anyways. Morgan just wants to fly.

It falls apart before she even gets to the testing stage. Not that it stops her. She’ll just have to make the next one better.

[toast-bc]

Your artwork has been giving me life for the first hard few weeks of my senior year of college and I've finally overcome anxiety to tell you as much. Can I request some sort of Papa II and tiny Papa III fluff?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA thank you!!!!!! I’m honored by your kind words, and I hope to never disappoint you!!!! ;o; best of luck with your senior year of college (I just started mine too, and it’s just so freaking overwhelming) I’d bet my bumblebees that you’re gonna absolutely crush it. Study well, but take time for yourself and whatnot because grades aren’t the end of the world!!! (Even if it sure fuckin feels like it sometimes) WE’LL GET THROUGH THIS FINAL YEAR TOGETHER

[PANEL 1]KID COPIA: “YOu’re so lucky, Emeritus. I wish I had a fratellone like yours.”KID EMERITUS III: (Rolling eyes) “Pfffft…”[PANEL 2]KID EMERITUS III: “No way, he’s such a pain! All he does is get mad and yell, and—” (pauses)

[PANEL 3]KID EMERITUS III: (reflecting on what his brother has done for him) “–and..”[PANEL 4]KID EMERITUS III: (Tearing up regretfully) “Frate..”

[kalico-to-the-letter]

REVIEW // RWBY | 6.11 | “THE LADY IN THE SHOE”

AKA my Naruto: Shippūden experience revisited.

Welcome in to my review of Volume 6, Chapter 11, entitled, “The Lady in the Shoe”.

In this episode: Atlesian pride is at sea. A shared demon is faced.

The hands, though … the hands.

HOW SHŌNEN OF YOU.

We’re officially in a weird spot with this, the sixth and current season of RWBY.  

I have – as have most of us, I’m sure – known for a long time now that the 26th of January would be the airdate of the season finale. Despite that knowledge, it was never something that had never rung any alarm bells in my viewing experience of the season – until now.

With only two (!) episodes left for this season, we remain hanging on the cliff of an uneven storyline’s hastily-escalated climax. (Remembering of course that the finales have tended to be at least double-length episodes.)

The whole thing was very entertaining, and at times, edge-of-the-seat action material. As a singular package, this episode is very good. And if there were, say, five more episodes left, instead of just two, I wouldn’t have any issues at all.

But therein lies the issue. Naruto and Dragon Ball can pull off storytelling like this – RWBY has struggled with it forever, yet the show can’t seem to stay away from it or find the formula to make it work within its own limitations.

I’ve criticised this show in the past for its tendency to act like it has more time and more room to manoeuvre than it actually does. This is also not the first time I’ve identified shōnen storytelling characteristics in the show. But it seems to remain an ongoing issue directly affecting the pacing of seasons. As up-and-down as last season’s overall quality was, it was one of the better-paced runs in the show’s history. And when this season opened with a good episode, then an ok episode, then four great episodes in a row, and we were getting these great set ups with the antagonists and Team RWBY’s internal issues, I thought that the lock had been picked after all – that the show could stay consistent in quality and pace at the same time.

Call it a wandering focus, or a loosening of the grip – the unique, tight direction of this season was lost with the arrival in Argus. The early stories of the primary antagonists were pushed to the sideline, as was the Ozpin story. Any problems still within Team RWBY were instead transformed into Qrow’s issues with life itself, and even though Yang and Blake are fighting Adam now and will probably smack his ass around next week, they have had far less to do with each other than one might have expected, given their obvious issues.

Of the main storylines for this season, the only one that has been consistently featured and worked on is the story of Ruby’s personal growth, which is still fantastic as far as the positives go, and this episode continues to build on that by giving her some fun moments, with Weiss in particular.

I struggle with the grade for this episode, too. Perhaps more than any other episode I’ve assigned a grade value; this could well be the best episode I’ve not given at least an “A-“, and it’s solely down to the season’s recent pacing woes. Ultimately, it was all very well done. In fact, I would go as far as to say that the execution of Blake’s plot was flawless in this episode, and I must spotlight it.  

It was staged and crafted in all the right ways, from fighting and flying around in the trees to being forced into the open above a waterfall. The swordplay choreography hit its beats without making the fight look like a dance, which maintained the sense of danger. It created some telling images, such as Blake catching one of Adam��s swords in the sheath of her own weapon, or Blake losing that sheath to the water, or Blake’s own sword being shattered to pieces. She’s had this weapon forever, and now it’s gone – you can’t say that’s not a big deal. For a second, I thought she had been stabbed again, and the afterimage clone was used to counter that strong parallel of the first fight with Adam, years back. The scene held its drama throughout, and built even higher as the fight progressed onto the bridge and brought Yang into the situation.  

And even though it left on another cliffhanger, it was not the irritating sort like the fight against the mecha suit. It was more in keeping with better shōnen cliffhangers, an ending which still had deeply satisfying components despite choosing not to resolve the overall storyline. Yang’s arrival was momentous on its own, tossing her beloved bike into the water, and then squaring off with Adam. In another acknowledgement of the parallels, the fight was back-and-forth rather than Yang’s original headlong charge into defeat.

Consider the complexity at play here. Despite being the fresh fighter and going toe-to-toe with an old tormentor, Yang knows that she cannot defeat Adam on her own – only “hold him off”. When her hand shakes again. of course Adam is quick to call her out for her supposed lack of nerve. And of course, Blake is there to take it and reinforce their bond. “She’s not protecting me, Adam. And I’m not protecting her. We’re protecting each other.”

They both had turns fighting him solo in the Volume 3 finale. They both lost spectacularly, and Adam has haunted the both of them ever since. Blake wounded his pride at the end of Volume 5, but that wasn’t a real fight. Here, they will, at last, fight him together, and exorcise the demon they both share – the demon that tore them apart in the first place.

An ending like that to this story – and this whole scene, really – is almost enough to make up for potential storytelling malpractice. So, let’s bring it home, Volume 6: I can’t say I’m not intrigued about what happens next.

OBSERVATIONS:

What’s more impressive? Sniping a missile out of a sky from the ground, or catching a missile with a giant mecha suit and throwing it at a moving airship? Open the polls.

I see Weiss and Ruby riding on a giant bumblebee … Nothing.

I feel like Nora’s trying to get something from Ren … I’m stupid.

The fight against Cordovin was something straight out of an JRPG – plenty of making the sword-wielding heroes look tiny against a giant boss enemy. Not quite Final Fantasy or Nier, but in the ballpark.

The reveal of Adam’s scar is pretty gnarly. No one tell Weiss about the SDC brand right on his freaking eye.

Blake didn’t just lose her weapon – she lost her coat. Oh my goodness. Let’s just … whew.

I got chills when Yang blocked the charged strike and just frowned at Adam.

Of course, I would have preferred both stories to wrap up in this episode, but given how both it played out, I feel instinctively that one of these two storylines should have ended with this episode.

The Gang vs Cordovin isn’t the most compelling fight on paper, and it isn’t helped by some heavy-handed emotional manipulation, but hits all the points it needs to. That cliffhanger was genuinely annoying and unnecessary, though.

Cordovin isn’t a great antagonist, is she? Like, we were literally introduced to her four episodes ago, and here she is having a fight stretched over three episodes. Remember Neo and Cinder? And Salem’s crew? I’d care more about a fight with any of those jokers than I do about this fight with Cordovin. It’s still cool to see Ruby and Weiss killing it, and Qrow seems to have stopped his moping.

The main disappointment with the realisation that the finale is so close also comes from the promising set ups from the early parts of the season, such as Cinder’s involvement with Neo, or Emerald’s return to the villain crew – or even more recently, with Saphron and Terra’s issues with the Atlesian camp kind of fizzling into nothing. A lot of ideas which started strong but seem to have since been shelved for either the finale or Volume 7, which doesn’t really feel necessary. With Atlas almost promising to be a battleground, the next season pretty much writes itself, and skipping through these random Volume 6 subplots feels like a bit of a waste.

GRADE: B+

Against the time pressure of a rapidly winding-down season, “The Lady in the Shoe” puts RWBY in a strange place. On the one hand, it is another example of the show’s historically misguided tendency to dig itself into the "shōnen" hole and demand more of itself than it can deliver, and leaves the trajectory of the remaining two episodes in a murky state. On the other hand, it is an episode buoyed by strong execution and compelling character beats. Blake vs Adam, in particular, is a scene which goes down as one of the strongest and most complete of the entire series, in terms of fight psychology, staging, and dramatic involvement. At the very least, it all keeps one guessing. – KALLIE

[pendragonfics]

I

Lost Time: Part One | Part Two

Paring: Conner Kent/Reader

Tags: female reader, Poor Reader, high school, Conner Kent has feelings, angst, fluff.

Summary: You're just a poor kid, living out of her parent's caravan in Happy Harbour. Little do you know when a new kid, Conner, arrives at school, your life will never be the same again.

Word Count: 2,531

Current Date: 2018-04-15

Nobody really liked High School. It was, for everyone, an awkward phase in which you were trying to get through unscathed, and you weren’t very good at that. While everyone else was working on being a great cheerleader, a nerdy enough geek, a good jock, or a skilled student. But after school, you didn’t want to burn out in a caravan to be forever forgotten in Happy Harbour, no. You wanted to be an artist, and, while there were the cliques of all sorts, you didn’t fit into the categories.

Thus, you, ________, were a freak.

It was okay, back in freshmen year. But now as a junior, the end in reach, you felt like all the eyes in the school were always on you and your binder full of doodles. It wasn’t helpful, either, that you had a habit of being a little flustered around the popular crowd; it wasn’t your fault you were shy. It made for many pranks, and no matter what you did, they never lessened off.

You were staying in after school, waiting for the photography club to meet on the school athletic field. They usually started at four thirty, but for some reason, the cheer squad were on the track. Sitting in the bleachers, drawing pad in hand, you worked a little sketch of the people you saw. While you usually drew faces in profile, it was a little harder to the side, and so removed. You tried to get a good sketch of Wendy Harris, but it just wasn’t working for you. After a few tries, you took your eraser to the page.

But that’s when you hear a thwomp! and suddenly the boy who had been accompanying the recruit to the Bumblebees has fallen from the bottom step to the bleachers, and face first to the ground. He’s wearing a black tee, jeans, and army boots, and with a face full of dirt and messed-up hair, you pause, breath held.

You sit there, frozen where you’ve sat upon the bleachers, watching as the cheerleaders laugh at him, calling him names. It’s then when something in your chest tightens, and your breath comes out slowly, lips ajar. Oh no, you think, he’s cute.

Later, when the cheer team have cleared the area, and the photography club gather around with their gear that you catch up with a fellow stranger to the common ground of friends and the game of popularity. Marvin White. But when you mention the guy to him, he shrugs, pulling the strap of his camera around his neck.

“Uh, I don’t know, ________,” he says, taking the lens cap off, “He and his friend Megan started today. They’re in our year.”

From your backpack, you took out your little flip phone, and opened the camera function. “Cool, White. Does he have a name, or just Megan…?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, Cameron? Conner? Why do you care, ________?”

“I don’t know, Marvin.” you shake your head, and before you go off to meet with the club leader, you turn to him, and whisper, “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Or I’ll do something drastic.”

“Who knew freak wallflowers could be so scary?” Marvin grins, going to ruffle your hair. At the last minute, you shift away, and instead, he laces an arm around your shoulder as if you’re old friends. “Okay, ________,” he promises, “your secret’s safe with me.”

---

While you don’t mind history class, Mr. Carr doesn’t like it when people draw in the margins of his pop quiz papers. Which makes it your least-liked class of all. Too many times have you argued with him about it, too many times have you gotten detention for it, and too many times have your fellow classmates snickered behind your back about it. So today, instead of doodling to your imagination’s content upon the page, you take a biro to your skin.

“Ahem, ________,” Mr. Carr intones, narrowing his eyes at you. “If you were paying attention, you’d know that you’re paired with Mr. Kent for the group assignment.” He looks between you, and Conner, who sits three rows behind you, and groans. “Now, as everyone else had done, Miss ________, move beside your partner.”

There are giggles from classmates, and quietly with a roaring heat across your face and neck, you pack up your things into your arms and lug in three rows behind to Conner. He gives you a small nod, and wordlessly, passes a sheet of paper with the word assignment brief written in a computerised font.

“I’m ________,” you tell him quietly.

The whispers increase, as does the shade of embarrassment upon your face. In daydreams, you had thought of any other scenario than this to introducing yourself. Where you’d appear to be a cool kid. Maybe slightly popular. Edgy? No, that wasn’t you. You were just…you. ________ ________, the kid whose parents on welfare couldn’t afford to buy you shoes in fourth grade, ________, who had outdated textbooks and reused everything.

He gives you a small smile. “I’m Conner.” He says, and looking past you, glares at a bully, “Are they bothering you?”

You shake your head, not wanting to cause a scene. “Please, let’s just – uh, focus on the assignment.” You read over the typeface, and say, “It says it’s for out of classroom time. Maybe we could meet at your place –,”

Conner shakes his head. “Can’t. My – uh, family don’t like friends over.”

You nod understandingly. “Yeah, same. Maybe we could meet at the library?” you suggest, and add quickly, “Are you free Saturday, after the football game?”

“Sure,” He says, making a note of it, just as the bell rings. “See you Saturday, ________.”

But, you did not see him Saturday. The other days of the week dragged on and on, your classes a hellish nightmare to get through, and yet, when Saturday arrived, and you waited for two hours after the football game out the front of the public library until the librarians came out and told you it was time to leave, you couldn’t help yourself. Deflated, in both expectation and pride, you made the walk home from the library to the caravan park, knowing what rumours would be made by Monday.

You kicked a rock as you walked, hands in your pockets, head low. You’d thought Conner Kent was different than the other kids. That he was an outcast, like you.

You were wrong.

---

Come Monday, you barely find the energy to pull yourself out of bed, but you do. It might be halfway through the first term, sure, but if there was one thing about you, it was that you weren’t a quitter. And so, you hitched a ride into town with your neighbour, Bob, and strode into the gates of the school like you had nothing to lose. You walked into homeroom, and then into first period history, and kept your eyes ahead when he entered the room.

“________,” he says, walking by your desk. Your eyes are to your page, where your pen, instead of drawing the doodle of the day, is taking notes from your textbook. “Hey, ________, I’m sorry about what happened. I had a family thing come up.”

“A family thing?” you glance to Conner, unsure. “So, you weren’t doing it to make fun of me?” you ask, having to get it out in the air.

He shakes his head. “We had a…reunion. In Metropolis. They’re big into last minute stuff, and I didn’t have your phone number to text –,”

You nod. “I get it.”

Conner frowns. “You’re not mad, are you? I get it, if you are.”

You hesitate, taking a breath, and then, instead of using the words you had intended with that breath, you breathe out. “I –,”

“Mr. Kent, Miss ________,” Mr. Carr enunciates your names as if you’re in trouble. You can just hear him tearing off a detention slip already, and you sit further in your chair. But instead, he says, “…talking about the group assignment?”

Conner nods, arms crossed. “Yes sir,” he declares.

Mr. Carr smiles, turning to the blackboard with a thin stick of chalk. “Don’t chat too long, class is about to start.” He glances over his shoulder to you, and adds, “It’s good to see you’re participating, ________,” he says, kindly. “If you keep this up, you’re on track for a B!”

Before he leaves to his desk, Conner passes you a folded note.

In block letters, you read, LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU. CAFETERIA, LUNCH. MY TABLE.

When lunch rolls around, you’re hesitant; last time there was an invitation to sit with people, it ended with your food through your hair, your sketchbook stolen, and humiliation. But tray in hand, you see Conner at the back of the room, sitting with a girl with red hair. She looks a bit like the reruns of your Mom’s favourite show, Hello, Megan! – in fact, come to think of it, she’s the new cheerleader. Before you can turn away and walk to your usual lunchtime haunt, they see you, and wave.

“Hey, ________,” Conner calls out.

Megan waves. “Oh, you’re ________? Conner’s told me so much about you!” She grins, waving you over to sit opposite her. “I’m Megan Morse.” She introduces. You frown, thinking back to when Marvin said they were friends. She’s literally the American dream girl, and here you are, wearing dorky second-hand clothes. “I better catch up with Wendy, we’ve got cheer practice this afternoon.” She gives you both a wide smile, and ruffles Conner’s hair. “Don’t wait up, I’ll get Uncle John to get me.”

Once Megan’s gone to the cheerleader’s table, you take the assignment brief from your bag. “I was thinking of splitting the work sort of fifty-fifty…” you begin, pointing out your notes. “…that way we get more covered. Is that okay?”

He nods. “Sure.”

---

Five years pass like agony. But the real pain is that in your entire body – you can’t quite remember what made you come back to your hometown but laying in the rubble of what used to be the third floor of the old steel factory, you’re trying not to cry. Your leg trapped, fire breaking out somewhere nearby you know this is the end. You came from a home of nothing, and just like any other background character, would always go back to nothing. In the morning, the papers would report you along with the others who had been in the building’s hourly tour as numbers dead, and not names.

“There’s still more people in there!”

Your breathing quickens, blinking. There’s people looking for survivors? Of course, there are. You live in a world with Batman, and Green Arrow, and the rest of the Justice League. You go to shout, to alert the person looking for you to your location, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a squawk. You almost expect it to be someone from the fire department, but, when you feel a pressure releasing from your leg, it’s not a firefighter.

“Conner?” you say, bleary.

You get a look at the person scooping you into his arms; he has the same dark hair, the same face. Except, you notice, before your eyes grow heavy, he’s wearing an S on his chest like the Blue Boy-Scout of Metropolis.

“Hold on, ________,” your hero says, moving to escape the crumbling building.

“Superboy,” you whisper, trying to stay awake. “Thank y-you.” But it’s no use, and, it’s all dark.

When you come to, you’re not in your dingy hotel room, or in afterlife. It looks like a government facility, or something underground hollowed out to be a place habitable by humans. It’s a bedroom, you come to realise; you’re on a bed, wearing a black t-shirt that isn’t yours.

You blink.

“Hello…?” you call out.

It’s then you remember the accident. You’ve been spending your days interning for the Daily Planet newspaper, trying to chase stories to keep the rent paid and your electricity on. It’s not easy living on it, but when you pieced together a mystery that lead back home to Happy Harbour’s own old steel works factory, you thought you had the gold. Not a death wish. There had been a flash of light, and a laugh, and diving out of the way, you had narrowly escaped a bomb – just not the rubble.

“Hello?” you call out again. You go to move off the bed, but it’s then you realise your leg that had been trapped is discoloured with an array of bruises. “Ah,” you groan.

The door opens.

You thought it had been a dream, but no, it’s real – it’s Conner Kent, the boy you had a crush on in junior year of high school, and senior year too. He’s wearing the same shirt he wore when you saw him in the steel works building, and a soft frown.

“What are you doing up? You need rest.” He says.

You harrumph. “Still blunt as always, Conner.” You note, obeying his instruction. Not that you could do anything else. “So…have you always been a superhero?” you ask.

“Yes,” He nods sharply, and, taking a seat beside the bed, adds, “Can I get you anything?”

“Answers? Glass of water?” You shrug. “You were the only friend I really had, you know. They called me a freak.”

“They called me a freak too,” Conner ruminates, and gesturing to the side table, you see a mug of water. “But I am, I’m an experiment made from Superman’s DNA.” He gives you a wan smile, and says, “I haven’t seen you since graduation, what are you up to?”

“Not superhero stuff,” you reply.

He raises a brow.

“I’m a junior reporter for the Daily Planet,” you explain. “…but mostly a gopher. I thought if I chased the story, I’d get the attention I deserved in my workplace.”

Conner frowns, “It’s never that easy.” He blinks, “what about your art? You used to have a doodle pad, didn’t you?”

“No, I don’t really draw much these days. I’m a people-watcher.” You say, sipping your water. Your eyes widen, realising your notebook is nowhere to be seen. You run a hand into your hairline, defeated. “Oh no, my notebook!”

He shifts where he sits, pulling out a familiar faux leather-bound A5 notebook. “I checked out your notes, ________.” He turns the pages and shows you what he’s been looking at. You feel a blush take over your face – it’s a sketch of Superboy, from the first time you saw him on the TV nightly news. Conner flips more pages, more pictures of himself. “You’re really good, ________,” he says, voice small.

“Thank you, Conner,” you whisper.

A beat passes between the two of you, and he asks, “uh, could I take you out for lunch sometime? To make up for you being hurt.”

You giggle at the absurdity, “But – but you saved me!” you protest. “You don’t have to make up anything to me!”

He shrugs, “How about for lost time?” He says, getting out of his seat, to sit beside you on the bed.

“Sounds great, Superboy.”

[badolmen]

Ra watches: Twin Peaks

Episode: 2

Dale Cooper is a fucking beAST

Audrey pls don’t distract cooper from his damn fine cup of coffee

Well at least I got my answer on Laura and her older brother

“Emotional problems....Runs in the family” heck yeah you emotionless manipulative bitch seriously what’s your deal acting all saucy with Cooper after your shitty attitude last episode

Jelly donuts for Cooper!

“Harry I really have to urinate” I love Cooper. So organized. So unfiltered.

Hmmm multiple wounds not enough to kill her on their own...maybe it was an accident? If so shitty corpse disposal 2/10.

At least three men within the last 12 hours. She was with Bobby earlier and I doubt they were studying. James was with her last and they might have got their freak on but idk. So minimum of 1 creep but maybe 3 if James and Bobby are good wholesome boys who wait until marriage. My guess is they’re not.

Yeah Leo’s totally involved. Bloody clothes? Asshole? Maybe he didn’t do it cause he’s bein a bit obvious with having Shelly do his bloody laundry but he might think she’s too scared of him to tell.

James. My baby. Such a good heart. Poor child.

Leo’s scary. As much as I dislike Bobby and Blondie I hope he doesn’t kill em over some drug (?) money.

Donna is a good soul and precious child the Log Lady protect her spirit.

Ed!!! You must be where James gets his trustworthy face from.

Why would someone drug Ed’s drink??? He would have just passed out at the table with Norma in a crowded bar like why????

Cooper loves his cherry pie.

Nadine is good. Nadine is a bit odd, but good.

Cooper, a bard, rolling a nat 20 on intimidation

Ms. Packard, on fleek, as per the usual

Cooper is actually an eldritch god that subsists on coffee

Calling out my boy Truman like that is smooth as hell Dale

No!!! Not the coffee!!! Poor Cooper.

Mrs. Packard’s sister in law is a bitch- wHOS SHE SEEING???

OOOO THAT BASTARD. Do small towns have this much drama? This many affairs??? I mean Twin Peaks is clearly a liminal space but everybody’s screwing everybody. Figuratively and literally.

Mrs. Palmer is loosing her marbles.

Spooky bed man! And she’s screaming again! My delicate ears!

Pretty blue aesthetic scenes and creepy guys!

I realize that Audrey’s dad is a hardass and she’s supposed to be a rebellious girl but does she have to be such a bitch to everybody else?

Wow Bobert’s dad is so calm and trying to have an open dialogue about the grief his son is going through- and nope he’s another shitty parent I hate him. I understand Bobby was being purposefully disrespectful with the cigarette but physical violence with a teenage child is unnecessary.

Cooper is back on his Cherry Pie

“You have the metabolism of a bumblebee.” That’s it. I’m changing my senior quote.

LEO YOU SON OF A BITCH IMMA BEAT YOUR ASS

Donna and James!!! Meeting the parents and it isn’t awkward and he doesn’t talk about Mrs. Hayward’s disability and it’s all normal!!! They’re so cute.

Dr. Jacoby. Grade A creep, weirdo, and the owner of the spoopy gloves hand from last episode.