#I did just write this instead of all the essays I’ve got

[anythingforourmoonysstuff]

I just saw a Tiktok complaining about the fact that Sirius is ableist in atyd and I usually just *shakes fist around aggressively* but I’m having a moment and this one made me so mad because it was accompanied by so many other incredibly bad takes about the fic.

Atyd, at its heart, is a story about ableism. The story is about remus and his struggle with his identities in the context of the time and society he is living in. Remus is a werewolf in a context where werewolves (which is is an allegory for disability) are an oppressed minority. If you are not reading atyd through a disability lens you are reading it wrong. Or I mean see it however you want but if you are going to have takes on it regarding real thinks such as ableism and share those takes you cannot do that without reading it from that very clearly intended lens. His whole life is about him living with the ableism he faces from literally everyone in his life. That includes his parents, his professors and yes, that also includes his friends. That also included Sirius.

And like, I’m just trying to understand what the criticism is here. Because by saying that it is a flaw of the fic that Sirius is depicted as being ableist do you mean to say that ableism just isn’t a thing between friends/partners? So what, it’s not realistic for Sirius to be ableist towards Remus whilst also loving him? If it’s that then that is just so obviously wrong and honestly in what world are you living in that you would think this?

Also, let’s not forget that Sirius is a purebloood wizard who was raised in the equivalent of a white supremacist (and obviously incredibly ableist)household. Like, the death eaters are an allegory for nazis (I swear if someone comments on this trying to deny that I will fight you) and nazis also persecuted disabled people. And as much as people seem to want him to be flawless (I mean he is still flawless in my eyes and could do no wrong. Ok now that I got that out of my system-) let’s be real here, he would have definitely internalised a lot of the views that were drilled into him throughout his life. The same goes for people that say they are not racist. While it may be true that they don’t actively go out committing hate crimes, it is still the case that because of the system we live in that has white supremacy deeply imbedded in it, there is no escaping racism. All you can do about it is try your best to analyse your opinions and think before you speak or act to ensure you are doing all you can to work against these ideals. Going back to Sirius, this is exactly the position he is in. Not only has he grown up in a society where werewolves are to be seen as other and to be feared and hated, but he has grown up in a house where these opinions are held to the extreme. To say that he can rid himself of these opinions just because he wants to is ignorant. Is just isn’t that simple. There is no button you can press and immediately be rid of any harmful ideology you have been exposed to.

In atyd, Sirius thinks that he understands Remus and accepts him fully. He thinks this because to him, the fact that he loves Remus and tries his best to help him (for example becoming an animagus) is enough. This of course isn’t true because someone who is not disabled cannot fully understand the experience of someone who is. The same goes for any experience that is specific to a group of people. You can be accepting and listen to their experience but if you haven’t lived it you cannot fully understand what it is like. This is a common mistake people make and so it is not surprising that Sirius makes it. Especially considering the context he is in (70s, system in which these ideals are shoved at him from every direction). This of course does not excuse his behaviour but it does provide the background we need that eventually explains the choices he makes with regards to Remus.

Now that I have (hopefully) explained why it is crucial that Sirius is ableist in a story that intends to capture the complexities that arise in a context such as that of the wizarding world, let’s take a look at Sirius’s actions in this fic. There are many instances where Sirius’s ableism is apparent in atyd. One of these and one that imo brilliantly captures his views is his attitude when it comes to werewolves that aren’t Remus. Literally any time that Remus brings them up or interacts with them, Sirius becomes very uncomfortable and hostile. This is such a perfect example of how ableism can manifest in loved ones. Sirius does love Remus but Remus is the exception. He does not feel the same about other werewolves. Those are still evil. Which like, with all that he insists that he accepts Remus and the “you were beautiful” moment, he doesn’t inherently accept werewolves. He accepts Remus. And what is remus supposed to think about this? this just demonstrates what he already thinks, that at the end of the day, he is a monster. Also, one of the main problems is exactly the fact that Sirius (and the other marauders) dismiss the fact that Remus is disabled because that makes it easier for them to accept him. They just chose to ignore the fact that he is a werewolf other than on full moons. in their minds they are protecting him but this attitude actually makes it worse.

Let’s also not forget that Sirius literally suspects Remus as the spy! “Was it the werewolf thing?” YES! It was the werewolf thing. Because at the end of the day, Sirius does see werewolves as monsters and no matter how much he cares for Remus, he is a werewolf. Sirius suspecting Remus is canon (not that we give a fuck about canon but alas), and other that Remus being a werewolf we are given no reason as to why this would happen. So how exactly are you going to argue that Sirius being ableist is anything other than a realistic portrayal of his character?

To summarise- if you cannot see why Sirius would be ableist or think that him being ableist is problematic, I urge you to go back and read the story through a disability lens or even just start to engage with it in that way . If after doing that you still think atyd is problematic because Sirius is ableist I am very concerned about your perception of the world. If you cannot accept that he would hold these views due to the context he was living in then you probably think you are 100% not racist and not ableist, and if you can’t accept that it is built into us by the system, how are you going to work on deconstructing it within yourself, let alone in the system itself?

I’m also gonna link this Tiktok here because it addresses this issue really eloquently:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYDLan3q/

[atlabeth]

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it. 

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.  

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments. 

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.” 

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.” 

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.” 

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh. 

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.” 

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him. 

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?” 

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.” 

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.” 

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says. 

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?” 

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.” 

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something. 

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.” 

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep. 

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks. 

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.” 

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity. 

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses. 

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.” 

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him. 

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly. 

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.” 

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?” 

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus. 

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel. 

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent. 

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses. 

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.  

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?” 

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?” 

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.” 

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.” 

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.” 

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.” 

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks. 

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?” 

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.” 

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.” 

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.” 

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.” 

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.” 

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.” 

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.” 

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?” 

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.” 

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today. 

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?” 

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.” 

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.” 

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?” 

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.” 

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here. 

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.” 

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here. 

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head. 

“You don’t need to pay me back.” 

“Really?” 

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.” 

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning. 

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says. 

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!” 

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.” 

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.” 

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.” 

[drdemonprince]

At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic. 

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things. 

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.” 

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written. 

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.” 

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.” 

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all. 

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work. 

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.” 

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true. 

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up! 

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world. 

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives. 

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment. 

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own. 

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

okay . while i was writing the essay , i was going on a big spiel about how fandoms often reduce characters to familiar archetypes . then when i finished writing i realized i actually don't know what the Fuck i was yapping about because it all doesn't really apply to the tadc fandom post-ep 2 ? like Cool !! ragatha's an absolute loser of a woman , i think everyone has known that at this point .

basically ragatha's not the Best model for when i want to talk about nice characters being mischaracterized in fandom because i stopped seeing people making her put-together anyway . i can think of other characters that'll fit the thesis better .

i'm only deciding to post what i had down because i think i did say some stuff of note and because people were interested for . some reason ! . just keep in mind that it kind of became a nothingburger .

i'm in the middle of rewriting it to be less about the fandom though and my god it's already around 1118 words what am i doing with my life

also apologies in advance for the walls of text

——— this is not an essay to get you to like ragatha if you’re feeling meh towards her , or even dislike her . opinions are opinions , you have characters that appeal to you and i have mine ! this is just a ramblefest on why i love her , how people characterized her , and commentary on fandom culture as a whole

this is also not meant to bash any headcanons ! like good for you if you see her as the mother figure in the circus found family . the term ‘ mom friend ‘ here is used to describe how people often reduced her and similar characters down to a caretaker role for other characters while ignoring the Depth they have

as i think is clear in this blog by now , my favorite character in a piece of fiction has always been a mentally ill woman . the more complicated the brain , the better . i don’t have a type , but i know more often than not i would gravitate towards characters that are either misunderstood or disliked by most of the fandom

can you guess which category ragatha falls under —

don’t get me wrong , i am NOT generalizing tadc fans here ! the idea of her being a well-put together person lessened around episode 2 which is GREAT because i got to read very cool fics — and i’m not saying you have to know every part of ragatha’s thought processes to talk about her ( though at this point i think i’ve heard enough takes that makes me want to say that — )

‘ nice characters ‘ ( especially female ones ! ) in fandom never have the most pleasant development in my experience . either they will be pushed aside because they’re seen as boring compared to the more brasher characters or they’ll be disliked for the few times they did something seen as ‘ not so nice ‘ . and in the few times where they Are being paid attention , they’ll be put in an arbitrary box that waters down their traits .

in other words , fandoms put characters in boxes . terms like ‘ mom friend ‘ and ‘ cinnamon roll ‘ are those boxes . they're common tropes in media that fandoms typically like . it’s why people were so disappointed to find out that jax is actually an unlikable asshole instead of a ' jerk with a heart of gold ' — these boxes make the characters easy to consume and understand .

as you can tell , i don’t agree with putting characters in boxes ! first of all , how are they supposed to breathe in there ?

secondly , it’s just restricting yourself from genuinely engaging with a piece of media , especially for a character-driven story like tadc . i would be More forgiving of this problem if tadc was a plot-heavy show where the lore’s the main focus , but The Characters Are The Focus , Johnathan . trying to understand the characters personally to extract any potential moral lessons from them Is The Point of those types of stories

thirdly , i call those boxes arbitrary for a reason ; they often don't describe the characters at all , and in some cases , even goes against their characterization . my biggest problem with mom friend ragatha is that it Takes away the things that makes her interesting as a character .

do you know what's so compelling about ragatha ? it's that , believe it or not , she is Not the most reliable . one of the most fascinating things with ragatha in episode two is how it shows her approaching emotions Vs. Pomni approaching emotions .

even though it's unintentional , ragatha can be seen as Dismissive and Overbearing . the way she tried to reassure pomni of not feeling hurt by being left behind can seem Passive-Aggressive . her conversation with kinger shows that she Assumes what the other person thinks without hearing them out . this contrasts against pomni who lets gummigoo speak out his feelings and actually had viable things to say than ' don't worry about it haha '

this contrast is interesting to note because it shows the world of difference between ragatha and pomni's emotional maturity .

you can tell that ragatha can be simple-minded . not in a ' she's a dumbass ' way , but in that she's Reluctant to approach uncomfortable emotions without beaming it with a ray of positivity . like you can tell she thinks that Repressing her emotions to the point she can't feel them is the same as ' processing ' them . all of these are stuff that don't fit the Mature Mom Friend archetype .

and that's Fine !! because she was never meant to be in the role anyway !! there's a common theme of Community and Support in tadc , and that Everyone Has Each Other . ragatha was never meant to be the Glue holding everyone together , she's meant to be a part of the Unit that is the circus .

there's also a conversation to be had about how older female characters — or at least characters that are seen as having stereotypically ' feminine ' traits of being kind and caring — are often being pushed to a reductive , supportive familial role that reinforces gender roles , but you didn't hear it from me !

anyways uh in conclusion ragatha's awesomesauce ok i'm going back to drawing

[eliluvschan]

Shadow Selfies

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 971

warnings: few curse words & cutie Channie

genre: fluff

a/n: am i writing instead of finishing an essay for my deadline on thursday? no im not👀

i was walking my to my best friend Chan’s house. he’s got i don’t know what hair colour cause the man dyes his hair every two weeks now? i kinda lost count.

we’ve known each other for the past five years, but the thing is i’ve always liked him more than a friend.

i like him. a lot.

i rang the bell and Jessica, Chan’s mother, appeared in the doorway.

“hey dear, Chan’s in his room upstairs.”

“thanks, Mama Bahng.” i always call Jessica Mama Bahng, it’s a habit i picked up from hanging out a lot at Chan’s house.

she smiled as we both walk trough the hallway. “are you hungry?” she asked me.

“a little.”

“come on. i just bought these.” she said, putting a batch of brownies in front of me.

“alright then, but just one.” i smile.

“sure.” she turned away.

i took a piece and ate it.

“oh, this is amazing.”

“i know right? it’s a new bakery called Felix’s Goodies, maybe you and Chan can pick some up for the others?” she suggested.

“sure thing!”

“eomma, is Y/n here already?” i heard Chan calling from upstairs.

“maybe later.” i smiled and got up from where i was sitting, and made my way down the hall and upstairs. i knocked on the second door on the left.

“if it’s Hannah, go away. if it’s Y/n, come in please!” he called from inside.

“ugh, rude!” Hannah called as she got out of her room to go downstairs.

i laughed at her comment as i opened the door to the usual shirt strewn floor and messy bed.

“hey, where are you?” i called.

“oh, hey there cutie.” he said emerging from the side and pulling on a black hoodie. he stopped in front of me. “what’s up?”

“nothing much. you ready?”

“ready for what?”

“science!”

“oh yeah. come on.”

so we sat down on the bed and flicked through our books and opened chapter seven of biology. disease’s & microbes.

“i don’t understand this shit.” he said after five minutes of poring over the same page. he scanned the green page and then looked at me.

“what is that hard about learning the freaking definition of a compost?” i asked after explaining the compost again.

“it bounces off of my head. how did you do it?”

“don’t ask.”

he laughed. omg his laugh.

“okay. one more time?” i asked.

“okay. and then we do something else.”

i rolled my eyes. “sure.”

he smiled and sat a little straighter.

“when rotten plants, are piled onto a heap, the bacteria of microbes act on it, and produce an enzyme that turns into any sort of liquid and then they feed on it. this stupid and disgusting process is called a compost. got it?” i asked.

“the crappy heap of plant shit is called compost?” he joked.

i laughed. “yeah. now Bio degradable’s?”

“we’re doing something else.” he told me.

“you’re going to fail the test!”

“no, i’m not.” he said.

“yeah, you are. you’re not paying attention!”

“look, i’ve done as much as i can. and just one def. of bio- whatever’s left. it won’t hurt to leave one thing. and besides, you need a break too.

i thought for a moment. true, i do need a break.

“why are you trying so hard to make me study?” he asked.

“cause friends watch out for each other, and remember Mr. Lee said he’s gonna change out seats so we can’t pass notes or talk at all.” i reminded him.

“aw, you’re doing this so we can talk? sweet!” he smiled.

“shut up.” i said, returning to the book.

“hey, look at the shadows!” he said.

i looked and saw our shadows on the wall, very clear and sharp.

click!

Chan took out his phone and took a picture. soon, we were posing madly and taking pictures in the mirror. then Chan held up his index finger. i put mine across it and made an x. i took the picture.

he held his palm in the air. i calmed mine against it, forming a weird, but beautiful shadow of two hands joined in mid-air.

both of us took the picture. then he curved his hand into a half-heart shape. i curved mine, completing the heart. we took the picture.

i looked up at him, he looked down, not smiling. his eyes full of passion. he stared at my lips, then he leaned in and the next thing i knew his lips were moving against mine and his arms were no longer suspended in the air but gripping my waist.

a soft sigh and a click!

a camera snapping a picture, and we jumped and broke apart. Chan looked around. his mother was standing in the doorway. she quickly turned around and walked away.

“i, uh, i should get going.” i blushed and turned away.

“no, don’t go.” he whispered, holding me back.

“goodbye, Chris.” i moved away. but i felt a tug at my fingers. i looked back. our fingers were still locked. Chan smiled at them, but i hastened to pull them away.

i made my way home, still thinking about the kiss.

i got a text from Chan as soon as i was inside.

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: i made mom delete the picture.

me: ok, thanks.

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: but i still have it ;)

me: what? why?

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: our first kiss.

me: can u send it to me too?

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: [1 attachment]

me: well…

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: it’s uhh, nice.

me: yeah.

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: will you be my girlfriend Y/n? i mean i’ve liked you forever and i know you kissed me back and we are friends- i’ll take you out this weekend if that suits you?

me: uhh…

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: what?

me: nothing

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: then?

me: yes! :D

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: i had fun.

me: excuse me?

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: excused, girlfriend ;) i was talking about the shadow selfies and science of course.

me: oh yeah. me too >_<

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: so tomorrow night?

me: sure. goodnight boyfriend 🤍

Channie😩❤️‍🩹: goodnight girlfriend :)

~

[marywisdom]

Okay so I’m a physical conspiracy board away from turning into Riz, but there’s one thing I cannot get out of my mind and that’s

The Rogue teacher found Kipperlilly. Not the other way around. The Rogue teacher found Kipperlilly.

Which means that the Ratgrinders have at least one teacher in their corner (likely two if Ruben and Henry Hopclap don’t share a name by pure fucking coincidence). What does the Rogue teacher have against the Bad Kids?? Have we met them already?? Are there more teachers with taking issue with them? I actually don’t think Porter, he’s just a dick. But like, somebody wants the Ratgrinders to get revenge for something.

What I think is likely:

- Lucy Frostblade died at the end of Junior Year due to something related to the Bad Kids shenanigans.

- This turned Ruben emo -> is there a clue hidden in his song? “In space no one can feel you dying” - is this what happened to Lucy?? Did Lucy go to Astral Space, either to look for YES! or for another god and did she die there? Did she die because of Cassandra? Did she die because of YES!? Did she die because of the Night Yorb?

- side note, I am throwing it out there, I think the Rogue teacher is that little aviator goblin - I don’t trust him, also Brennan pointedly said that kid was like Riz in Freshman year, only into aviation instead of detective stuff, and with how the Ratgrinders are so clearly mirrored after the Bad Kids I am suspicious. Bonus points if Ecaf is somehow involved, being an actual mirror. (Oh god I’m this close to writing an essay about how Brennan is holding up a mirror to all of his PCs this season and what this symbolizes in terms of growing up and such)

- Anyway, Lucy’s death must have something to do with the Bad Kids. Why else would they specifically request a Cleric of Helio for their party, if not to mess with Kristen?

This list has gotten away from me - anyway I cannot wait to find out what the Ratgrinders High Five Heroes did for their Sophomore Year project. I’ve got a feeling it’s really important

[somegrumpynerd]

HEY. POINTS FINGER… any thoughts on how everyone reacted when the other joined the team? as in how did killer react when dust came, how did he and dust react when horror came, how did they all react when cross came, etc. i love love LOVE your bad sanses thoughts way too much they make me so happy. if i write hurt you write comfort and it’s awesome. also how do you think they slowly started to get closer? just.. bah give me your thoughts on them!!!! any thoughts!!!!!!!!!

You fool!! You’ve given me a chance to ramble about my special little guys and now this post will stretch on forever!! Mwahahahahah >:3c

No but seriously this is probably gonna be wicked long cause I have 1 million thoughts about these guys joining and meeting each other so uh, readmore for everybody’s safety and sanity

(^ I wrote that in the document before I started typing out my actual thoughts and uh

yeah no kidding, this is like a fucking essay so proceed with caution)

OKAY SO

I’ve said before that Nightmare got Dust for two reasons; one being that Dream had just recently started working with Ink (and soon Blue) so he and Killer were no longer able to gang up on Dream. He wanted somebody else to bulk up their numbers and give Killer a little back up. He also was starting to realise that Killer didn’t handle being alone very well, since this was when he most often got worked up and broke things around the castle (and sometimes tipped over into stage 3). Dust would be a perfect fit since he had the same amount of lvl and fighting experience as Killer, and since they were so close in circumstance they would be practically like brothers right?

The irony that he thought this about a guy he was recruiting to help kill his brother was apparently lost on him.

They absolutely hated each other. Like, it was instant. Killer saw him as a replacement, why would boss go out and get another sans - one with almost the same backstory as me - when I’m right here? Does he think I’m not good enough? Am I disposable and this is the backup for when I die in combat? He didn’t take it well. He took it all out on Dust too, not cooperating in battle, trying to start fights in the castle, etc. He couldn’t outright kill him because Nightmare had given him strict orders not to, but Killer loves a loophole. If he roughed Dust up down to 1hp and something else happened to finish him off, technically he’d followed orders.

Dust just straight up didn’t want to be there. Nightmare just showing up and yoinking him had worked fine with Killer, but Dust had wanted to sit in his empty au and die, he had no intention of joining a team or doing work of any kind - good or bad. The only reason he didn’t just lie down and refuse the entire time was that he had to fight back against Killer, as much as he wanted to die he refused to give this ass the satisfaction or lvl. He didn’t intend to be any help out in the field either, but again, Killer was making sure he got fired at so he had to retaliate to stay alive.

Eventually it got bad enough that Nightmare had to pull Killer aside and demand answers. In the year or so of knowing him Killer had never willfully disobeyed orders before, so Nightmare needed to know what had gotten into him. He dispelled the replacement rumour right away, he still wasn’t quite softened up enough to be sappy about it but he made sure Killer understood what a good worker he was and that Nightmare had no intention of losing him. It didn’t help a lot, they still hated each other for other reasons, but it eased a little.

Killer still had pretty frequent dips into stage 3, except now he would go straight for Dust usually. Nightmare had tried to explain what he’d learned about it to Dust, but he didn’t really believe that it wasn’t just Killer deciding to try and kill him for funsies. He only accepted it after a particular episode where he attacked Nightmare instead, which Dust knew Killer wouldn’t try in his right mind.

After he came back to his senses he sought Dust out. The air around Killer was very different after a stage 3, sort of sombre and almost calm, so Dust let them sit together and Killer apologised for giving him such a hard time. They actually talked for the first time in months while Killer was still calm (or tolerable, as Dust describes it), and it didn’t magically fix everything but, things were a little better. They still fought and argued and bothered each other but it wasn’t as sharp, there was a lack of real murderous intent in it all, and sometimes after an episode they would talk a little bit. It was the best Nightmare was going to get for now, so he took it.

They were still completely incompetent about taking care of themselves though. Neither of them would eat unless prompted and Nightmare didn’t have good enough knowledge of mortals to know when that should be to stop them passing out from hunger on the job. Not to mention the stars were now a full team, and with the way Killer and Dust would sometimes rather target each other on the field he could do with more backup.

Horror was the first of the group to get a choice in joining. Nightmare had taken note of how much Dust didn’t want to be part of things, and while it was in his best interests in the long run given his situation, Horror’s au was still mostly intact - though a little in disrepair. Horror was also the first in the group to have a good (and ongoing) relationship with his brother, so Nightmare knew he couldn’t just pop in and steal him, he had to be a bit more diplomatic with this one and offer a deal.

He gave Horror some time to think on his proposal - he would set up regular deliveries of food to Horror’s au in exchange for him joining their team - and was quite surprised when Horror agreed, with some stipulations. Horror was equally surprised when Nightmare agreed so easily to his terms (that he didn’t want his brother to know what he’d be doing, and that he wouldn’t kill). A little down the line the terms were altered to add that he would also be left to visit his au every week or so.

Horror was not impressed meeting the other two. He didn’t need his power as judge anymore to sense the lvl coming off them both, and given who they were working for he was instantly distrustful of them both (the uh, brother situation did not help). He was also in a place that had an abundance of food for the first time in probably years, so he was doing a lot of going hog wild in the kitchen and then getting very sick as a result.

Dust didn’t particularly feel anything for him. This guy hated him, sure, but it wasn’t forward and slashy like with Killer, it was just quiet loathing which was fine. That’s how Dust felt about himself so, y’know, mood. He did kind of feel sorry for him though, not just because of the whole famine and everything, but also because he was watching this guy eat like his life depended on it and then get sick and undo it day after day. He was the one who suggested Horror getting his food in moderation to Nightmare, which did help but was an absolute ordeal to enforce. Y’know how some people get hangry? Imagine that but you haven’t had a proper meal in years and now these people give you tiny amounts of food and don’t let you eat more for hours. The hunger mood swings were a sight to behold, you would never have guessed in those days that Horror specified not wanting to kill.

When his ability to eat had evened out and he was in better shape, Horror made a point of apologising to Dust for being aggressive with him. Over time he’d kind of softened up on him from his initial impression, since he could see plainly how wracked with guilt Dust was over his situation. It was a little easier to imagine that whatever he’d done was truly out of desperation and not just for fun, as Horror had assumed at first sight. 

They also both retained that classic sans laziness, so it was easy for them to share a space while saying and doing nothing. It made Horror the first person that Dust willingly spent time around in the castle (and vice versa since Horror was still largely suspicious of Nightmare and Killer - the deal seemed too good to be true and the stage 3 episodes didn’t help). As time went on, Horror kind of became Dust’s emotional support skeleton in a way. Dust had become quite averse to touch in his solitude and Horror very slowly brought him back out with casual gentle touches, until not only did he no longer freeze or stiffen at being grabbed but Dust would seek him out to flop next to on the couch. Horror claimed it was just returning the favour for helping with his eating situation, but really it was nice to have something resembling a friend here.

Killer, for his part, was going through This is My Replacement 2: Electric Boogaloo. Not to the same degree as with Dust, since Horror was quite a bit different, but Killer was still wary of this new addition. He didn’t really instigate anything though since, to be honest, Horror had the intimidation factor. He was like a foot taller than both of them, he had a cracked skull and completely different magic and it seemed like every time Killer saw him he was eating bread like a wolf eats a deer. So while he was going through his food moderating, Killer mostly just stayed quiet and kept his distance.

Horror had not softened on him like he had with Dust, since Killer didn’t openly show remorse. He still watched him with distrust, especially after seeing the way he scrapped with Dust for seemingly no reason other than for violence’s sake. Killer was still mostly targeting Dust in his stage 3s, but Horror had to be careful to stay out of his way since he was still working with much lower hp than the other two. What did start to convince him was seeing how similar Killer and Dust were after a stage 3 episode. Once Killer was slightly more composed (ie stopped crying), he became so tired and quiet and blunt about things he normally joked his way around. It was a little startling, but also started to bring Horror around to the idea that Killer might regret his actions too, just buried under several layers of whatever the hell is also wrong with him at any given time.

Killer and Horror only really started interacting after talking about Dust. Killer was asking how he got Dust to like him since he seems to hate everyone and everything else, Horror told him very pointedly it was because he wasn’t trying to kill Dust. Killer admitted he wasn’t trying to kill Dust, at least not anymore, he just wanted to fight for fun. It opened up a better channel of understanding, knowing that Killer did not actually have murderous intent behind his swings (stage 3 notwithstanding). It made it easier for Horror to occasionally get involved in the roughhousing which Killer delighted in, knowing that the other two knew how to hold back enough to keep him from dusting.

Speaking of stage 3, it was around this time that Killer and Dust made a very important deal. After a particularly rough episode with a little too close of a call, Killer showed up in Dust’s room and begged him shakily to make a promise - that if he ever got too out of control during one of his stages, Dust would kill him. He’d been told over and over by Nightmare that it was impossible for Killer to hurt him since he was immortal, but now there were more people around him where that wasn’t the case, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he came out of a stage and found himself alone. Dust promised.

It’s also worth mentioning that, once they were all close enough to be on speaking terms, Horror started bullying the shit out of these two about eating. Now that Horror knew neither of them were going to kill him, he felt safe enough to pick them up by the scruff and set them at the table to say they weren’t leaving until they had at least a snack. He let them pick what they would eat - he wasn’t that cruel about it - but he had to see them eat at least 3 times a day or they would hear about it.

It was by no means perfect or regular, but after about half a year Nightmare finally had henchmen who ate food and worked together (mostly).

Now here’s the problem… I still haven’t really figured out how or why Cross joined the team. Like, obviously there’s some kind of point in the events of underverse where it splits off into an alternate timeline, but I haven’t really figured out where yet so. Leave that one with me just a little longer. Cross joins.

Nightmare really truly didn’t intend to take anyone else in. They were (mostly) getting along, they were pretty well matched to fight the stars, he had no need of more mortals.

…but he was also pretty soft at this point. Every one of them had taken a blow to his I’m immortal I’m an island I don’t get attached to others persona and he’d gotten pretty damn fond of them all. This was why when he felt the sheer weight of loneliness radiating off of Cross, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave him.

So Cross entered the castle. 

He did not particularly intend to stay or make friends, he was trying to get his world back and nothing more. He even revealed a little down the line that he outright refused to kill, and was quite surprised to find that Nightmare was fine with that. At the start he was polite but not friendly with the others and mostly kept to himself.

Dust, as is often the case, did not really have an opinion. Another new guy, this one was self sufficient and didn’t bother him so he had no reason to get involved. He was content to be in the same room as Cross but didn’t start up any conversations.

Horror felt the need to speak to Cross, since Dust would happily stay silent for years and Killer was, well, Killer. Horror was somehow the closest thing to normal they had, so he was the one that made small talk. Mostly asking what Cross would like for meals and encouraging him to pick something he liked when he got the answer of “anything is fine”. As Cross settled in a bit more and actually opened up, they bonded over being the only two to enjoy food. Horror made a point of adding chocolate to the stock they kept in the kitchen and making tacos here and there for Cross.

Horror was also the first Cross kind of warmed to, mostly because he was the one devoid of lvl and Nightmare had mentioned he’d also said he wouldn’t kill. Learning a little about his au’s situation only softened Cross to him more, especially seeing that he still cared a lot for his brother and was trying to protect his home (even if Cross found it unthinkable that he lived away from it). It was through Horror that he also got accustomed to Dust, how being quiet and distant was kind of his default and that he also felt deeply haunted by the loss of his world. They weren’t exactly friends, but it was comfortable enough.

So now boss had taken in another new person, someone who takes orders like a soldier and fights with knives and ruthless precision and aims to be his righthand man, and Killer was ecstatic. By now he’d mostly put his fears of being disposable behind him, Nightmare had gotten a bit less subtle in showing how important they all were to him and Killer felt confident he wouldn’t be replaced. Which was a little bit funny, because the only guy he didn’t feel threatened by was the one who absolutely competed for his spot.

Cross needed to prove he was useful, he had to feel like he earned his keep and that all the training and suffering he’d done was for a reason. When Nightmare sent them on missions, Cross aimed to be the fastest and the most efficient and to report to Nightmare without question. Horror and Dust looking on would have expected Killer to see this 100% as a threat to his position as (self proclaimed) Nightmare’s second in command, and to go for this guy’s throat when nobody else was around.

But Killer was fascinated. Cross was completely different from any of them, bar Nightmare whose au is a whole different kettle of fish, so he had a certain element of unpredictability to him. Horror and Dust were both based on classic sans just like him, so to a certain degree he knew how they would feel about most things and what they might say, the only differences being in what they had experienced through their own timelines. Cross was based on a swap sans and his au had taken wild twists and turns away from usual events, so Killer had to learn everything about him by poking and prodding for answers or observing from a distance, much like back when it was just him and Nightmare. Cross was something new to be studied and Killer loved taking notes.

Cross did not see this as friendly. He was competing with Killer for approval, not realising Killer was playing their contest like a game. When he saw Cross training he would jump in to spar for fun, but Cross saw his rival trying to get a jump on him and take him out of the running. When Killer would hang around and pester Cross in their off time with questions, it didn’t seem like someone taking interest, it seemed like someone being nosy and looking for weaknesses to exploit. When Horror mentioned that Killer was being surprisingly contained and friendly, Cross really thought he was fucking with him.

The first time Cross was willing to even consider this was the case was when his locket came loose on the field and Killer ran back to find it, since one of the notes he’d taken was how the locket wasn’t something Cross would play about (the same as Horror with food). It didn’t make sense for someone who was seriously competing to have him kicked out to just hand his necklace back, no ransoms or attempts to crush it to upset him, just some vague remark about “owing him one” and then right back to Nightmare for orders.

Cross had to give him something of a chance after that, Horror helped a lot by telling him “he doesn’t want to hurt you, he just doesn’t know how to be normal”. It was mostly a playful jab at Killer, but reframing their interactions changed it significantly for Cross. Now they were sparring playfully and having friendly competition on jobs. He wasn’t as put off when Killer went into stage 3 because he knew he could match him in combat and the others were always on hand to help restrain or distract him. Cross also took note of how Killer calmed down a lot for physical touch, not unlike how Dust had warmed up to Horror. It went a long way into not only making him a little less combative for attention every day, but it seemed to put longer stretches between his episodes (which Cross had also started tracking so they wouldn’t be caught out by them as much).

For his part, Killer has disobeyed instructions in the past to benefit Cross, usually ignoring the task to help him if he’s hurt. He’s also given Nightmare nudges towards praising him because he’s noted that that’s what Cross needs in the same way he needs touch (not that Nightmare doesn’t praise them normally, but when Cross is going through it and needs something). He also doesn’t particularly like chocolate but has made a point of not admitting this to Horror so he can give his chocolate to Cross.

(It’s also worth noting that Cross is the only one, besides Nightmare, that has been to Horror’s au. He offered to help out during the food delivery and got to meet Horror’s Papyrus (who he is a little intimidated by but ultimately friendly with, even though it’s a little weird since he’s a good bit different from his own Papyrus). Dust and Killer can’t really visit for a few reasons, mostly because everyone will notice their lvl immediately and know what they’ve done. Dust especially doesn’t know how he would react to having a Papyrus in front of him again and doesn’t want to put Horror's family at risk to find out. Whenever he visits, his Papyrus asks about Cross now and sometimes tries to make tacos for him (key word tries, he’s still a Papyrus after all). He may have joked that seeing Cross sometimes is “like having another brother but younger and less lazy” and when Horror told him this Cross may or may not have cried.)

And that’s where we are now!

They’re a very strange group who’ve been through some inexplicable events and have all changed each other in one way or another. And whether or not it can be admitted, they are a family c:

Now onto how Nightmare was made emotionally open by each of them!! In this essay I will no just kidding could you imagine this is already like 7 pages long

If you got to the end of this post please drink some water and get yourself a snack

[lxvebun]

whisper of the heart pt II

bun's notes: I'm really glad you guys enjoyed the first one so much :3 hopefully you will like this one as well.

synopsis: Genshin boys voicelines about you!

content:Alhaitham/Kazuha/Thoma/Cyno x gender neutral reader (so they/them prns used) in this series, their vision is in tune with their emotions, part one explains it the best. Cyno was incredibly difficult i'm sorry if it sucks shsjsjs. Eng is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

Part one

Alhaitham

About y/n:

"y/n and I go a long way back. They are a very intelligent, kind, and creative person. We studied under the same masters. Academic rivals? I wouldn't go as far as to say we were rivals per se, but the occasional competition between who got the highest score on an essay wasn’t out of the ordinary. Who won? Well, our scores wouldn't differ much at all actually. Even to the decimal, we usually got the same. When they asked our masters how such different essays could receive the same score. According to our masters, it seemed I lacked creativity in my writing, as they overdid the creative aspect. The masters words, not mine. Although I’ve read hundreds of books and essays in my life already, none could compare to the way y/n wrote theirs"

About vision:

"Unlike other people, I’d say I have decent control over my emotional elemental power, it at least doesn’t manifest in an obnoxious physical sense. That said, as much as I try to control it, the light of my vision starts to flicker and flutter to the rhythm of my heartbeat. So you can imagine the light show that starts once y/n enters my view *sigh* They think it’s, and I quote, "Adorable"...I suppose that makes it alright"

About relationship:

"Hah, You’re surprised I'm in a relationship? While It’s true that I don’t appear as the most approachable person out there, not that I mind, even I am not immune to love… While there’s no scientific proof out there that soulmates exist, against all logical sense, I’d like to believe y/n and I are."

Thoma

About y/n:

You haven't met y/n? Oh, they’re such a sweetheart! such a kind and inspirational soul. I’m sure you’ve seen them run around Inazuma City or Ritou before. They have the prettiest eyes and the most lovely smile. they run a lot of errands and help with general activities and festivals. In their free time, they usually help me out with housekeeping or acompany me to the market. You’re surprised I'm talking so lovingly of them? Well, of course, I would, they are my partner after all"

About vision:

"sigh I’ve had to switch to steel handle brooms instead of the normal wooden ones. It happened one too many times that I would be sweeping the floors and y/n would come up to me, resulting in small waves of fire to flutter around... Let’s just say, I’m glad my Lord has a hydro vision.

About meet cute!:

y/n and I both share a love for animals, I actually met them while they were nursing a bird back to its strength, the poor thing was still young and completely soaked because of the heavy thunderstorms. Word went around they were caring for it and I decided to take a look and see if they needed help, little did I know that I would be meeting the love of my life. We routinely feed the stray dogs and cats together when we’re both free:)"

Kazuha

About y/n:

" I was able to sense their presence in the wind long before I met them. A fragment of my soulmate in the form of a warm summer breeze, bearing the scent of roses and those familiar mapel leaves. As much as I wanted to follow it, I was still a wanted man after all. I couldn’t just return to Inazuma, no matter how much my heart cried for it.

At that time I started to keep a journal on what I was doing, what I was thinking of, and where in Teyvat I was whenever the wind carried them to me, So I could show it to them when we did finally meet. I never had the chance to finish that journal because our paths crossed sooner than I expected. Apparently, just as the wind carried them to me, it did the same for them. Fate has an interesting way of bringing people together. From the moment I stood face to face with them, I knew who they were and by the sparkle in their eye and the way they immediately rushed into my arms, I can guess it was the same for them. We’ve been wandering together ever since"

About vision:

"I’m well aware of how visions respond to your emotions. I don’t actively try to fight it, In a way, i think it’s quite romantic how my vision responds to seeing y/n by sending a breeze through their hair or twirling flower petals around them. They don’t seem to mind either"

About love language:

"From the moment y/n and I met, we decided to travel together. With every step we took, we got to know each other better, and with every rest under the starry night sky, our relationship grew stronger. They love nature as much as I do, and while I show my adoration for it in poems and music, they show their appreciation in colorful paintings and sketches. If we ever run out of paper on the road, I’m not against them using my arms as a canvas, the same way they allow me to ink love poems onto their skin. That way it doesn’t matter how far apart we are, we wear our love for each other on our skin

Cyno

About y/n:

"y/n? The fact that they are my partner is not something I tell many people, but since we are so close, yes, they are. They joined the forest rangers a while ago, I met them when I dropped of some books from the Akademiya Tighnari needed. And while I gave them to Tighnari, I decided it was a good time to tell my new joke…..Tighnari did not find it amusing, but y/n did. To this day, their laughs are still the sweetest melody I've heard, and I'm fortunate to hear them every day through my excellent jokes.

About vision:

"Please, don’t bring that up, I still feel bad about it. I didn’t know my vision would respond so strongly……fine, the first time y/n and I held hands, I got so...flustered I accidentally send a small shock wave where our hands intertwined. They weren’t hurt, but I still feel bad about it. It hasn’t stopped them from holding me though, I’m glad about that

About TCG:

"y/n and I are both quite the genius invokation tcg players, and the more rounds we play the more....energetic we get. Let's just say that Puspa cafe does have a noise limit....

For my birthday they got me a beautiful commissioned card with artwork of us on it. Having it around has become a good luck charm for me. I always keep it on the very top of my deck.

Thank you for reading angels!

[doloneia]

odydio and boar parallels

good morning evening and night folks i have been pondering THIS for 12 hours straight and after writing what. appears to be a beautiful essay in my words doc i’ve just decided to throw all my thoughts at the wall instead. love that essay but it is becoming so very well-written academic work and i am so deeply unserious online.

anyways. on the subject of odysseus and diomedes and their shared boar vibes. the thing i kept coming back to was how boars were fucking TERRIFYING in ancient greece. to the point where the calydonian boar hunt (essentially just 30 dudes rocking up to kill a divine pig*) is a whole Event its a whole Heroic Tale. because you think 30 dudes can get that boar without a scratch WRONG two guys die and peleus stabs some other dude in the confusion. boars are ruthless and frankly overpowered as fuck little bastards in ancient greece and of the four i can think of with names at least TWO of them had divine origins somehow (calydonian and crommyonian).

and honestly? ruthless, terrifying as fuck, difficult for a horde of men to stop let alone some guy? got some nebulous relationship to the gods that give you strength? holy shit thats tydeus right there babey. he kills like 49 guys and sends the other one home as a warning. he literally gets married off of Boar Vibes dude. its his whole personality.

and so obviously diomedes, whose entire job for ten years is Bring Honor To Dead Father, is like well shit! time to adopt the whole boar vibe! i mean he’s literally compared to a boar in book V with unending strength truly he is the boar guy junior. he fights hordes of thebans/calydonians/trojans without resting, he cuts down hundreds of men without mercy, he gets athenas favor and despite how well he plays the part he is so tired. he’s ruthless, but does he want to be? he’s skilled in battle, but has he known anything else? he’s favored by the gods, but did he ever have a choice in that?

meanwhile odysseus. odysseus who is scarred by the boar he hunted as a child on his thigh. escaped what is otherwise certain death. marked so deeply by an animal so connected to divine rage that it transcends even athena’s disguise. it is this scar, that proved him equal in combat to that boar, that identifies him to his friends and family. that helps him retake his house and throne. just. the scar itself cements odysseus’ mortality but it also transcends any attempt at concealing who he is.

anyways putting all these thoughts together. i think that for diomedes the boar symbolism is something that doesn’t quite fit. its something that stretches and aches, like an old shirt thats too tight, because its not indicative of him its indicative of tydeus. but tydeus died at thebes, and diomedes has to live up to his legacy, so he tries regardless and it never quite feels right. meanwhile odysseus fights tooth and nail to survive, even when he’s surrounded like a boar by hunters and their dogs. sacks cities and kills hundreds of men and for all the help he gets from the immortal gods, odysseus remains wholly mortal. maybe the real disguise is how diomedes is the one scarred and odysseus is the boar, but neither of them look it.

[heliads]

sorry to send in two requests but if you've got the time Luke Patterson x reader where she is his tutor for English or something and he develops a crush, so even when he understands the stuff she's teaching him he pretends to be confused so that the tutoring sessions last longer. And then one day he gets a good grade and she's proud of him but that means the sessions are over so he builds up the courage to ask her out? You can put this at the bottom of the list or not even write it because I know how swamped your requests get, but ily.

do not apologize for two requests!! my blog exists for you!! and jatp s2 may be dead but my feelings for that show are not. xoxo

masterlist

Luke Patterson is currently fighting a one-man war against his English class, and he is losing. Badly. This was not supposed to be his problem class, he was thinking the biggest struggle would be math or science, but surprise surprise, there’s no such thing as a class you can just skate through. He tried to skate through English. He tried really, really hard, but instead of Spark Notes-ing his way through whatever classic book they threw his way, Luke’s staring at a bright red D on his latest essay.

This would happen to be the most recent essay they were assigned, the one Luke pushed off until the last minute because he was too invested in getting some good songs down on paper. He hadn’t meant to procrastinate, he never does, it’s just that whenever Luke had a spare hour or two, it’s always far more tempting to head out to the studio and mess around with some chord progressions than to do homework.

This essay had gone just like all the other ones so far this year. The book had been assigned, the essay followed not soon after, and Luke told himself that he was going to start it on time for a change. The only problem was that he came home late that day after a shift at his job, so he couldn’t start it that day, and then he was studying for a test the next day, and after that he was working on songs. Before he knew it, it was the night before and he was speed writing to get everything down in time. Luke doesn’t even think he had time to proofread before turning in that mess.

So yeah, he shouldn’t really be surprised about this grade in particular. Still, he isn’t pleased about it. He doesn’t want to see the look on his parents’ face when he dodges another question about his grades, nor listen to all the other kids in his class talk about how easy that essay prompt was. Everything just makes him feel worse.

And, if Luke’s day couldn’t get any better, his English teacher pulls him aside after class to talk about it.

“I noticed your last few assignments haven’t been going as expected,” she says sympathetically, “is there anything you want to tell me about that?”

There’s a lot Luke wants to tell her, such as the fact that this class is dry as a saltine and twice as bland. They’ve spent the last few classes just going over social hierarchies around the time when the book was written, talk about boring. If Luke wanted to study history, he’d read a textbook.

He can’t say all that without damaging his final grade even more, though, so Luke plasters on a grin and does his best impression of an earnest student who’s just had a bad string of luck. “Not really, I’ve just been so busy recently that I didn’t have enough time to really ponder the prompt, you know?”

Usually, this is Luke’s best strategy for getting out of these kinds of nonsense conferences. He’ll whip out a few key words like ‘time commitments’ and whatnot and his teachers will fall for it every time.

He might have done this too often, though, because his teacher just nods and refuses to let him go. “That makes sense to me. Do you think it would help to spend a little more time exploring the prompt or connecting the book to the essay topics?”

“Sure,” Luke says vaguely. He’s only half paying attention; he just saw Reggie outside the door mouthing the words what did you do?? as dramatically as he could.

The teacher looks pleased by this. “That’s what I thought. I’ve gone ahead and signed you up for some tutoring sessions, you’ll start this afternoon after school.”

Luke blinks. “Wait, what?” Clearly, he hasn’t been paying attention nearly enough. Since when was tutoring on the table?

The teacher spreads her hands. “You need a little more help and organization to stay on track. Tutoring is the perfect answer to this.”

“Is it?” Luke asks feebly.

“Absolutely,” the teacher decides, and that’s that. Luke tries to wheedle his way out of it through repetition of how busy he is, like, all the time, but it doesn’t matter. She’s caught him in a half-lie and there’s nothing he can do to avoid it.

Reggie’s waiting for Luke outside the door when he finally leaves. “What happened in there?”

“Pure misery,” Luke groans, and contemplates giving himself a concussion by ‘accidentally’ falling down the stairs so he can go home without having to go to tutoring.

Unfortunately, Reggie enlists Alex in keeping Luke free of head trauma, and so he finds himself in an empty classroom later that afternoon, mournfully watching all of the other students leave the school with no doubt wonderful plans awaiting them.

Luke’s just starting to wonder if his tutor isn’t going to show up after all (after fifteen minutes, he’s legally allowed to leave, right) when someone slides into the seat in front of him.

“Sorry about being late,” they gasp, “I just found out I was doing this like ten minutes ago.”

Luke breaks his desolate stare out the window to glance at his tutor and instantly, he feels the crushing weight of shame bear down on him tenfold. It would have been one thing to have a total stranger be his tutor, someone Luke could avoid looking at in the hallways and never speak to again, but he knows this girl. More importantly, he’s thought she was cute for at least the last four years.

This is the worst case scenario, then. Y/N L/N is smart, she’s pretty, and judging by the fact that Luke always sees her in a group of friends laughing at her jokes, she’s funny, too. Definitely someone Luke would want to impress through gigs or shows instead of, say, his crumbling English grades.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, and Luke realizes that she’s probably been waiting for him to say something. Great, he can’t even introduce himself properly.

“Luke,” he answers, “but you probably knew that already.”

Y/N laughs, and judging by the slightly manic tone behind it, she’s just about as composed about the whole thing as he is. That makes him settle slightly in his chair, lowering his guard. “I was told that I would be tutoring you when I was trying to leave class. Ms. Brown pulled me aside when the bell rang and told me about it.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke grumbles.

The corners of Y/N’s lips quirk up before she manages to tamp them down again, and if Luke weren’t totally out of his mind, he might even say that Y/N has the same attitude towards their English teacher as he does. That would certainly make this whole tutoring experience a lot more interesting.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound official, “you wanted to talk about essay pointers, right?”

Luke starts to say something about how he didn’t want any of this, actually, but Y/N arches a brow and he relents. “Yeah, essay stuff. The last one didn’t go over too hot.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, contemplating this. “Did you agree with her grading?”

“Yeah,” Luke admits, “she wasn’t wrong to mark me down, I kind of did it the night before in one sitting.”

Y/N frowns. “Really? Why’d you put it off so long? I thought you liked writing. Whenever I see you, you’re always jotting something down in that notebook of yours.”

Luke grins. “You’ve been watching me? That’s creepy, you know.” He’s obviously holding back a laugh, though, so the comment has no trace of a barb.

Y/N rolls her eyes, although her face looks a little hot at the moment. “Just answer the question.”

“Alright,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender, “you’re right, I do like writing.”

“Then why wait until the last minute to do the essay? I mean, I get not having a ton of time to work on assignments, but if you really do enjoy writing, it shouldn’t be all that bad, right?”

Luke groans. “ This is different. It’s not fun writing,” he tries to excuse himself.

It sounds bad even to him. Already, Luke can see how this is going to play out– she’ll laugh at him, maybe, say that someone who just got a grade like him can’t possibly be thinking about writing and fun in any way at all. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she nods and smiles at him. A real smile. Not mocking in any way.

“What is fun writing, then?” She asks.

Luke blinks in surprise. “Well, writing songs is fun, I guess,” he stammers, “stuff that actually matters, you know? All these essays are the exact same, but songs are all different. That’s why I care about them and not some pointless paper.”

Y/N nods. “That makes sense to me. So you release music, right?”

Luke isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but he’s perfectly happy to talk about music instead of that offensive red scribble all over his paper, so he plays along. “Yeah, me and my band. We try to, at least.”

“Have you ever gotten a review that bothered you? Not because they didn’t like it, but because they disliked your songs for the wrong reason? Like you had a whole story in mind for your album but the critics just ignored it?” She prompts him.

“Yeah,” Luke says, eyes widening with irritation, “Man, it’s so annoying. You go to all the trouble of writing out these ideas, and you make them have a really good meaning, too, and then it’s like they never read it at all. It makes me so mad sometimes, I want to write a column or something in response about how they totally missed my point.”

“Like, say, an argumentative essay about the real strengths of your chosen piece of writing?” Y/N says as casually as she can.

Luke’s about to argue and say that’s not like this at all, but on second thought, it is. It totally is. “Wait, you’re right. I never thought about it like that, but you’re right. Y/N L/N,” he decides on the spot, “I really like you.”

She grins back at him. “Luke Patterson, I like you too.”

That settles it for him. Luke had been annoyed at the thought of having to suffer through tutoring beforehand, but maybe he’ll be alright with it now. Y/N isn’t a part of the oppressive legion of teachers all conniving to make his life a living hell because he wants to be a musician instead of a doctor or a banker, she’s on his side. That makes it all better somehow.

And, unsurprisingly, it is better. Luke actually ends up having a really good time in his tutoring sessions with Y/N. They don’t feel like tutoring at all, more like a chance to hang out with a friend. They talk about Jane Austen and tell awesome jokes, read Shakespeare and spend more and more time together. Luke knows this is only a temporary thing until his grades get back up, but it’s too easy to forget that.

Until, one day, it isn’t. His English teacher hands back an essay with a bright red ‘A’ marked on the front, and tells him that she’s proud of all the progress he’s made so quickly. Instead of a sigh of relief, the only thing escaping Luke’s lips is a desolate sigh. After all, if Luke’s improved to this point, that kind of means his tutoring sessions will be over, right?

Y/N doesn’t know that, though. Y/N doesn’t have access to his grades. All she knows is what Luke tells her, and if informing her of his latest essay win means she’ll stop seeing him after school, why should Luke let slip a single syllable?

So, later that day, when Y/N asks him how the latest essay went, Luke shrugs and pretends to be disappointed. “I’d hoped for more,” he says, “she, uh, didn’t like my commentary.”

“Really?” Y/N questions, frowning slightly, “I thought you were really good at that.”

Luke’s eyes widen, caught in a lie. “Who knows with teachers, right?” He laughs weakly.

Y/N pretends to shudder. “I know, right? I feel like half of your grade is literally just how much she likes you. English classes are always so subjective.”

“Subjective?” Luke asks, grinning and propping his chin up on his hand, “Tell me about that.”

Y/N laughs. “Only if you promise we’ll talk Jane Eyre immediately afterwards. Immediately.”

“I so swear,” Luke intones, holding up his right hand with all the solemnity of a president being sworn into office.

Y/N swats him on the shoulder with her notebook, but she obliges, and maybe they don’t talk about Jane immediately. Maybe they laugh a little longer than usual. And maybe, just maybe, Luke thinks that he’s perfectly fine with obscuring the truth if it means he can have more of this when he needs it the most.

The truth, unfortunately, has a habit of making itself heard regardless of who is inclined to hide it. Luke comes into their usual study spot in the library one day to see Y/N waiting for him, not already in her seat like normal but standing tentatively at the side.

He frowns, slinging his backpack down on the ground and pulling up a chair. “Everything alright? You look like you’re about to run. If you’ve got something planned, we can do this another day.”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “No, I’m free all day.”

Luke gestures towards the table. “Then sit down, my legs are getting tired just looking at you. We’ve got stuff to study, don’t we?”

“Well, that’s what I was going to ask about,” Y/N says, “Ms. Brown stopped me after class today, said she had someone else she wanted me to tutor. I said I was already booked with you and she was confused. Apparently you’ve been doing just fine for quite some time.”

Luke feels his breath catch in his throat. This is not how he’d wanted Y/N to find out. For what must be the hundredth time this year, Luke sends out a silent curse to all meddlesome English teachers.

“Yeah,” he says as carefully as he can, “I have, but only because of your expert tutoring. It’s like antibiotics, you know? You don’t stop taking ‘em when you start feeling better, only when the prescription is over.”

Y/N blinks at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to feel like everything is slipping out of control in an instant. “It was a simile, sorry. A bad one. All I mean is that we don’t have to stop this just because I got a good grade or two.”

Y/N almost looks like she’s smiling, but that could just be Luke being delusional. “I thought you didn’t want to do tutoring.”

“I didn’t at the start, but you’re different. We’re cool. We are cool, right?” Luke starts rambling more and more with each passing second, but he can’t help it. He’s overthinking everything. What if he’s literally just been a tutee this whole time, and she doesn’t think they’re friends at all?

Y/N stares at him a second longer, then takes a seat at last. “Luke Patterson, are you telling me that you like my company so much that you’re willing to keep going to extra English practice just to see me?”

Luke can feel his face heating up, but he does his best to ignore it. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds–” He still has a little bit of self control left, so he cuts himself off before he can make a truly terrible mistake.

Y/N catches him, though. “It sounds like what?”

“It sounds like I like you,” he admits, and Y/N’s smiling at him, so he decides to take the leap of faith and just do what he’s been wanting to do for quite some time. Since the start of this, actually. “And I do like you. I like you a lot. I might not need the tutoring anymore, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you. So what if we met up sometime soon? Not for English, for us.”

Luke decides that he likes Y/N’s smile more than anything. “Are you asking me out?” She says.

“I am,” he affirms. “Are you saying yes?”

“I am,” she repeats.

Suddenly, Luke feels like the luckiest kid of all. Maybe he does have to throw in a good word or two for meddlesome English teachers after all. Sometimes they have a way of connecting you with the best people in the world.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

jatp tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @callsign-scully, @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Fall: I’ve been wondering, how did you get into writing? You seem like you’ve got such a strong grasp on it. It’s kind of intimidating, honestly. You are way too good with your words, especially compared to us, mere mortals.

Shen Yuan smirked as he typed out his reply, leaning back against his hospital bed.

Shizun: You flatterer! But honestly, I’ve spent way too much time hate-reading terrible webnovels and thought, ‘Well, I can’t do worse than this’. Writing fanfiction was kind of a last-ditch effort to keep my sanity after reading PIDW for so long. And…

He started to hit backspace but hit enter instead. Shit.

It took a minute for Fall to answer. Against his hopes, not without asking about that ‘and’.

Fall: “And…”?

Fall: But LOL. I should have known that nothing can beat spite. Not sure if you know - probably you do, since you love PIDW’s world so much -, but there's a commenter, Peerless_Cucumber, who is like that. The angrier he gets, the more eloquent he writes. Barring all the swearing, LOL.

Fall: Shit! Wait. No. Now that I think about it, please, don't check him out! If you two would collaborate, you could take over the world.

Shen Yuan couldn't decide whether to cry or laugh. It seemed, it was a good decision not using his Peerless_Cucumber acc, but it was quite strange to read about himself. Maybe he should tell Fall it was him.

Hahaha. No. Fuck, no.

Shizun: Hahaha, I know about him! Would it be strange if I'd say that I kinda use his long-ass comments/essays as bases for improvement? He is always so detailed with all the problems and issues, it is much better to use those instead of the fan Wiki.

Shizun: So… about the “and”.

Shizun: I used to be quite sickly when I was young. I spent a lot of time in the hospital, and I found out that reading and writing was a wonderful way to forget about the real world. Funnily enough, I'm actually at the hospital rn, turning towards writing once more.

It took a little longer for Fall to answer. Biting into his mouth, Shen Yuan hoped that it wasn't too personal too soon. Shen Yuan glanced at the IV drip beside him, the sterile smell of the hospital room filling his senses. It wasn't that bad.

It wasn't good either.

He wanted to go home. Home had his own bed. Home had his PIDW merch and his favorite pillow his er-ge forbid to bring him to the hospital.

Fall: Oh, shit. That sucks.

Fall: I get that. Reading (and maybe writing, but you may never know) is a safe space for me too. It helps to forget about all the problems in the world, to imagine you are somewhere else, in a better place. Also, I hope you are doing okay! I'm also in a similar situation, so high five bro! (Kinda managed to do something very, very stupid. Did you know that ramen is liquid and liquid does not go well with electricity?)

Fall: On a lighter note, I really think that you are good at writing. You should try to do original work if you want to - you are, like, natural at balancing world-building and character development. I'm kinda jealous, but I've learned a lot just from reading your fic.

Shen Yuan blinked at the screen. It was one thing for random commenters to leave praise, but for some reason, hearing it from Fall felt... different. He found himself smiling stupidly, warmth blooming in his chest. Fall was just so…

He was lovely.

A great “bro”, it seemed. Way to be bro zoned.

Shizun: First of all, don't you dare to

sell yourself short! Not on my watch! You’ve got some pretty good ideas yourself. I can tell from your comments you’ve got a solid grasp on storytelling. Second, what the fuck, Fall?? You okay???

There was a longer pause before Fall replied. Shen Yuan knew that logically, Fall had to be safe, since he could write - they had been communicating constantly for the last two weeks -, but that didn't make it less scary. To know that Fall could have…

To think that Shen Yuan could have died… if either of them died…

They could have never met. It was a strangely disturbing and upsetting thought.

Fall: I'm good, I'm good! Dw!

Fall: Okay, but consider this: I don't think anybody would be interested in what I'd write. What I would like to write about.

Shen Yuan only had one answer to that:

Shizun: I'd read that.

Fall didn't reply for a long time after that, but that was okay. Shen Yuan assumed he needed some time to think about it, and that was okay. He just hoped his friend would realize how much Shen Yuan thought the world of him. He believed in Fall, even if Fall didn't believe in himself.

Shen Yuan, after all, had experience in believing in authors with great potential, who lacked the spine to be themselves and write what they wanted, instead of what the majority of the people demanded.

-*-*-*-

Fall: I've been thinking a lot about SJ and the way you portrayed him handling the Immortal Alliance Conference. It was fascinating to see the parallels. Him killing WY, who murdered those kids to save YQY versus him throwing LBH into the Abyss, believing that he, as a demonic cultivator, also killed all those kids. It was such a great moment! Shocking, because I think we all thought he would not do it since your SQQ wasn't as brutal as Airplane's, but you executed it so well! Oh, I wish Airplanes would have done the same. So heartbreaking! While PIDW created a monster out of SQQ, you created a human.

Fall: I'm also wondering if you plan to make him struggle with that choice later. Like, will he regret it in hindsight?

Shen Yuan considered this, tapping his fingers against his laptop. Fall always asked questions that made him rethink his plans. Actually, he didn't really think that he did such a great job at drawing parallels between the two Conferences, so he planned to switch POVs and continue it from Luo Binghe's, but…

It was actually a great question. The readers already knew about Luo Binghe's experiences in the Abyss more-or-less. Shen Yuan planned to show how staying at a more stable peak affected his physique, but it could be fascinating to explore what happens to Shen Qingqiu meanwhile.

Maybe he could do both…

Maybe-

Shizun: You raised a good question. I think I'll have him grapple with the consequences, it could be interesting to see how things turn out in the mortal world.

Fall: I think you should do it. It would fit your world-building theme… You could make the story feel more real. Like, the world, the characters and their choices have weight, y’know?

Shen Yuan knew exactly what Fall meant.

Shizun: Yeah, you are absolutely right. It was definitely something PIDW was missing - characters suffering real consequences. Even if they did something, be it either bad or good, it didn't really matter, because they either died in the end, or…

Fall: or had sex?

Shen Yuan snorted, typing back quickly.

Shizun: I wanted to say kinky, yet utterly boring papapa, but yes.

Fall: Oh, don't mention it! If I never read the words ‘thrust’ and ‘dangling’ again, it’d be too soon!

Shizun: I hate you.

Shizun: I want to bleach my eyes. I hate those words! And all the euphemisms Airplane use. ‘Flowers’, I get. Even ‘heavenly pillar’ makes sense! But comparing breasts to cow's udders?!?! Sometimes I wonder about Airplane's sex ed background…

There was a longer pause after that. Only his nervous ticks revealed his anxiety over that pause. Was he too offensive? It was not his Peerless_Cuvumber acc, so maybe he shouldn't have been so critical over the papapa scenes? But that was the best part in his friendship with Fall! He felt free to be open, to be himself!

Before he could work up himself, a reply came.

Fall: Maybe he doesn't really like writing sex? Or specifically, hetero sex? Maybe he is…

Shen Yuan stared at the words.

Airplane, his favorite and most hated author might be similar to him?

Maybe.

But…

Shizun: Don't care. I'm gay, and I could write better hetero sex scenes if I wanted to! Sexual orientation is not a good reason to be so bad at something!

Only after he sent the message did he realize that he fucked up. Sure, he might have flirted sometimes as they were talking with each other, but only within the boundaries of a no-homo friendship. But now that he came out in the heat of the moment…

He didn't want to lose a friend.

Fall: Okay, but you are different. You dare to write what you love.

Shen Yuan only realized that he had been withholding his breath, when he could feel himself breathe normally. It was not an explicit acceptance-

But it wasn't a rejection either.

He would take it.

Deciding, he would not bring attention to his accidental came-out, he wrote:

Shizun: If you ever decide to write something, you can also write whatever you wish to. It will be great, I'm sure of it!

There was a break in the conversation, again. He hoped he didn't push hard, since he knew Fall had been pretty hesitant to talk about his own writing in the past, but he hoped his encouragement helped.

Fall: Maybe one day. If I get brave enough to write something worth reading, you’ll be the first to know!

Shen Yuan smiled at his phone, feeling the familiar warmth settle in his chest. He wasn't sure why, but the idea of Fall sharing his work with him first, felt like something worth waiting for. The guy had a way with words, it was obvious from his comments. He was insightful and had an eye for details. Shen Yuan knew that if he ever wrote something he really liked, it would be an instant hit.

-*-*-*-

As the time passed, the day of Shen Yuan’s discharge loomed closer and closer. Which, don't misunderstand him, he desperately waited for!

However…

He had to admit. He didn't really want to leave the Hospital Guy. Sure, he still didn't know much about the guy - not even his name, for fuck's sake! -, but he had grown attached.

Hospital Guy was funny and smart and weird and hilarious. Shen Yuan enjoyed spending time with him, their quiet moments in the garden. He liked talking with/to him about everything and nothing. Hospital Guy was attentive when he ranted about the series he binge-watched between two chapters of PIDW, and they also had the same taste in music! He liked seeing the guy relax, and he loved it even more that he, Shen Yuan, was the reason for his more relaxed state!

He just liked Hospital Guy, okay?! He was just adorable, both inside and out!

So, on the day of his discharge, Shen Yuan mustered the courage to do the one thing he had yet to do: visit the guy's room.

Hospital Guy was clicking wildly on his phone, but the moment he noticed Shen Yuan, he stopped, and focused all his attention on him.

“Hi,” Shen Yuan said, surprisingly shy.

“Hello, Stranger,” Hospital Guy grinned.

“I'm leaving today,” he blurted out. The grin was instantly gone from Hospital Guy's face, turning into an unreadable mask.

It was concerning.

“Oh,” was all he said.

Shen Yuan waited, hoping for something more. A request to stay in touch, disappointment for not continuing their daily walks, or at least a goodbye that felt more meaningful. He waited for something, anything-

But the guy just nodded, his gaze drifting away from Shen Yuan, as if with that, he had already forgotten about the friend he made in the hospital.

Maybe they weren't really friends. Maybe everything was only in Shen Yuan's head.

Maybe he had bothered Hospital Guy all along.

Disappointment surged through Shen Yuan. He’d thought, maybe, there was something there; a connection, a friendship, maybe even more! But the guy didn’t seem to care.

It was as if Shen Yuan didn't even exist anymore.

“Alright,” Shen Yuan said, his voice tight. He would not cry. He would not scream. He would not fight. He would not bother Hospital Guy ever again. “Take care of yourself.”

And with that, he left.

[idontplaytrack]

Hello, I've been reading your fics since I found them recently and I love your writing sm!! I've been wanting to request some smut for AJ Campos, maybe with a strap, possibly during that track race where instead of Paige, AJ is rooming with reader instead at the hotel

✧ Watch You Sleep

AJ Campos x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut. Oral, fingering, toy use, pet names. Coarse language, drinking

In which reader’s had a lack of sleep lately and when finally alone with her in a room at an away meet, AJ gets creative

“Are you nervous?” AJ asks you quietly, a hand on your thigh.

“Coach says I’d better perform better today otherwise we can say goodbye to placing. How’d Paige get better than me?” You were looking out the window while the bus was driving to the destination.

“Excuse me?” She turned around, startling you.

“I was just saying how you’ve become better than I am at track. Maybe I should quit.”

“What? Ay, no, no, no.” Dylan chimed in, “You love track.”

“Things change, Dylan.” You exhaled harshly.

“Oh.” Paige’s face fell.

“Yeah, oh.” You snapped, “I haven’t been able to sleep in over a week. I cannot wait for this to be over. I’ve got other things to worry about.”

“Like what?”

“Are we not in the same classes, Evans? We have two essays due in two weeks.”

You wished Paige wasn’t sitting so close by…just a couple days ago, she asked AJ out right in front of you.

AJ looked at you, concerned. “Okay, you guys.” AJ shooed them away, “Return to your own conversation.”

For the rest of the drive, you laid your head on AJ’s shoulder while eating the bag of gummy bears that you brought along. And all throughout the ride, you kept feeling eyes on you. And not from AJ- Paige. You looked away, staring out the window now.

“Girl, what the fuck are you doing? Stop being creepy.” Dylan huffed.

Once at the hotel, all the students started pairing up with their roommates according to Coach Murray’s list and went to their rooms. And you? You were supposed to be with Gabi but AJ asked to swap. “Thanks, Gabs.”

“No worries.” Gabi smiled.

AJ quickly takes you into the room, shutting and locking the door behind yourselves, “Are we going to the party?”

“Yes.” AJ decided, “They would definitely play a drinking game and it would be a great way to make it clear to Paige that I’m not interested,”

“Isn’t it random? Like, don’t they just draw phones out of a pile or something?”

“I was thinking more like we…get tipsy and just kiss in front of her.” AJ chuckles. You snorted, “Please. Knowing how fucking gutsy she is, she might actually shove me to the ground. Then, she’d kiss you.”

“There’ll be witnesses.” AJ points out.

“Yeah, a bunch of drunk teens staying up past lights out is real reliable.” You laughed.

“Then we should just…post something? Announce we’re together?” AJ stifles a laugh.

You shrug, “I dunno.”

“We don’t have to go to that party, you know?” She says, “I would honestly much rather just spend some time alone with you.”

“Oh, yeah? And do what?” You ask. “Never mind, we’ll go to their ‘party’ first. You’re right- it’s the perfect place to let her know. There are other students around- so if she pulls any crazy shit? Witnesses.”

After unpacking, you and AJ decided to head out for dinner at the diner down the block. “God, I’m so tired. Why is she everywhere?”

“Tired, tired or because-” AJ says, but you cut her off.

“Both.” You deadpan. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Okay.” She shrugged, the two of you went further down the block to a pizza place. But not before Paige saw you and AJ leaving- the girl did not look happy.

————

Later that night, you and AJ were in Stacey’s room to party with the rest of the team. “Oh, good. You guys are here!” Stacey gasped, “Come in, come in.”

The kicked the night right off with ‘seven minutes in the hotel bathroom’. The rounds went by rapidly and you weren’t even just a little bit hopeful that you and AJ’s phones would get drawn out of the pillow case for a round together. “y/n, you’re up.” Dylan showed your phone to the group. You looked at him then at Paige who was beside him. “Aaaand, AJ, this is your phone, right? Oh, yup. That’s y/n’s face right there. You’re up- chop chop.” The group started chattering about how surprised they were that AJ had been seeing someone all this time. Contented, you grabbed AJ’s hand, stood up and got shoved into the bathroom by Dylan and Stacey. “Timer starts once the door closes!” Dylan exclaimed.

“Did you see that look on her face?” AJ laughs, grabbing your face to kiss you.

You nod, “Oh, we’re doing that here?” You broke away from the kiss briefly.

“Of course- we’re gonna really give them a show.” AJ grins.

“Oh, hell no.” You gasped, “I am not going to purposely-” And just like that, your train of thought was gone as she kisses you even deeper, her lips trailing down your jaw and to your neck which easily draws out a moan. AJ chuckles, her breath tickles your neck making you squirm.

“To be fair she’s been purposely being a little bitch to you.” AJ raised a brow, “I doubt she couldn’t tell we have something going on at least.”

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me.” You exhaled, your hands began roaming her back, but she lifts you up to sit on the countertop. Without even taking your shorts off, she pushes the fabric of it, and your underwear aside, “Do you feel ready?”

“What?” You asked, confused for a second, “Yeah. Sure.”

AJ dips a finger into your folds, gliding it up and down, proving your point, “Of course you are.” Pushing it easily into your entrance, she quickly gains a momentum, not wanting to waste a single second of this quote-unquote ‘mandated’ make-out time. She grins, licking her lips as she watches your face contort, “Baby, you’re acting like I don’t eat you out every other night.” That smirk on AJ’s face made you feel you didn’t know what to do with yourself, then you were feeling a strangled yelp in your throat.

“Now you get shy?” She caresses your cheek with her free hand, her fingers ram into you to force a moan out of your mouth. Successfully.

“Fuck!” You whispered-shouted into her ear, “Fuck you. Oh, God.”

“Feisty.” She bit down on your neck, and you whimpered. AJ removes her fingers from you and started to kiss your face again.

“Time’s up! Get outta there.” Stacey knocks.

“You wanna go back?” AJ asks, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Definitely.” You gave her one last kiss before straightening yourself up quickly then swung the door open.

“We’re gonna- go.” AJ stood behind you, a hand on your shoulder. “Message received. Good night- maybe you can finally get some sleep, y/n.” Dylan commented, earning a smack from his girlfriend. “Well, it’s true- she’s barely been sleeping lately.” Dylan reasoned.

“Good night, guys.” Stacey waved.

————

“Give me a minute- I just gotta get some from my bag.” She tells you while you plopped down on the bed. “Okay.” You responded while lying down. “They’re right- you haven’t been getting any good sleep recently.” AJ spoke up. “Yeah, well? I’ve been too stressed about performing well at the meet tomorrow.”

“It’s at 2pm- so we have plenty of time to get you some sleep.” She says, “Also- this might help.”

“What- oh, jesus fucking christ. How did you get that damn thing- okay, you know what? I’m not even gonna ask.” You eyes widened in shock when you turned onto your side and saw AJ putting on that harness.

“Thought you might need more to actually tire you out. And you’d probably wake up refreshed if you get some uninterrupted sleep- so you could actually perform better than Paige does.” She shrugs nonchalantly- as if she wasn’t going to impale you in the matter of minutes. “Think you can help yourself onto it?”

Her question snaps you out of your trance, “Okay.”

She chuckles, “If you say so.” AJ then laid down, waiting for you to straddle her. “Face me, okay?” You didn’t say anything else but just followed her order, legs bracketing either side of her as you knelt and positioned yourself to ease that shaft inside. AJ reflexively grabs your hips, giving you the support. “You okay, baby?” She watches you closely to make sure you weren’t in pain. You’d gotten yourself about halfway in, but you decided to get a rhythm going in order to make the rest of it easier.

“Baby?” She asks again.

“I’m okay, AJ.” You confirmed, biting your lower lip as you got used to the stretch. Watching her bare body, as she does yours, you felt yourself slipping further in by the minute. And with her words of encouragement, and a little push, you took the whole length. It was now poking you in the g-spot every time you came back down, making the moans fly out from your mouth every time.

“So pretty.” Her hands trailed upwards, kneading your breasts after unclipping your bra and tossing it aside, “You’re so pretty, my girl. Come on, give me a kiss, baby.” You leaned down, crashing her lips onto yours, content to be like this for awhile. She instinctively cups your cheeks with both hands, stroking them with her thumb. The kisses progress got heated, aiding in your little task of riding the strap. She was loving watching you and seeing your tits move along with your actions. That grin on her face? She was more than satisfied with your ability to take it. She pushes you off of her, you whine not liking the sudden emptiness. “Lay down, baby.” She pushes you down gently, her hands massaging your thighs. You complied, soon feeling her teasing you with the tip of the shaft. You squirmed, unable to keep your mouth shut. So she does- AJ crawled up to attack you with kisses, trailing down from your face all the way to your core. But of course, the lower she went, the louder you became. “You know I love hearing you, baby. Don’t hold back.” She says, her breath fanning against the juncture between your legs. “The walls are so thin.” You grumbled, “Do you not hear that?”

“So what? This whole level’s our team.” AJ shrugs, “Oh, my God- is that coach-”

“Don’t put that image in my head.” You interjected, laughing, “AJ, please.” Your hands grabbed her hair, pushing her closer to you.

“M’kay.” She grins, her tongue begins to circle your clit slowly. It made you seethe, trying to swallow the whine that was threatening to fall from your lips. “I want to hear you, babe. It’s alright.” She coos, barely breaking away long enough to speak.

You back arched more and more by the minute, and naturally, the faster she flicked her tongue, the more of a mess you were. And finally, the coil in your core started tightening, taking the place of the fluttering sensation. AJ asks if you were close, and you hadn’t even said a thing since many minutes ago- but instead your endless, whines, whimpers and moans have filled the room making AJ more eager to push you over the edge.

You could definitely feel yourself getting closer to the high, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you. “My God. I’m so close.” You told her in a strained voice. She licks your clit one time before pulling away, much to your annoyance. “I got you, honey.” AJ grins, licking her lips to taste you, “Keep your legs open, we’re nowhere near done.”

You whined needily, feeling the ache and pulsing of your apex becoming increasingly unbearable by the second as she deprived you of the contact and stimulation- to the point where you were about to burst into tears because it was becoming too much to bear. As AJ pushes into you, she held her forearm under both your knees to keep your legs in place. And every single time she pounded into you, a sharp moan attacked her eardrums, sending shocks down her spine. “Keep going, keep going…fuck!” Your breath hitches as she retracts and pushes into you the hardest she’s had that night. Her pace became merciless as you felt the wetness dripping down you, the obscene sound from between your legs made you dizzy as did the pleasure from her fucking you with the strap. Her forearm moves away, she tells you to keep your legs in place. And, she looks right into your eyes as she continues to impale you repeatedly while profanities and high-pitched moans spewed from your mouth in an unending string. “Ah- ah! Fuck.” You cursed. AJ grins, watching you with pride as you looked back at her with hooded eyes that soon rolled to the back of your head. AJ kept going and going, watching your face at first. Then your body started trembling so she reflexively slowed down. “Oh, my God.” You cried, “Holy shit, oh my God. AJ, fuck. That feels so good, babe. Oh-”She was now holding onto one leg as she went at a languish pace to help you ride through your high. The pleasure slowly turned into a slight ache as overstimulation took over. You told her to stop and she pulls out, admiring the aftermath in the process.

She removes the harness and abandoned it. You hear it fall to the floor with a thud before she crawls into bed with you. “Hi, baby.” She cups your cheek, kissing you on the nose, “Do you feel okay?” You nodded silently, laying your head on her chest as her embrace tightens. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” AJ asks.

“I’m a little sore, but it’ll be okay.” You admit.

AJ nods, “Think you can sleep?” She runs a hand through your hair, pressing yet another kiss onto your face.

“Mhm.” You snuggled closer, allowing her heartbeat and her warmth to lull you to sleep.

“Good night, my love.” AJ exhales softly, watching your sleepy figure in her arms, “Sweet dreams.”

[winonaparadise]

short story 💯

wrote a very quick story about a class i took in college. if you like my writing in my videos you may like this

Five years ago today I was clawing through state university. I had switched majors in an effort to come away with something more material from my college experience – but I was also trying to earn as many credits with as few courses to keep my schooling short and cheap.

I took a heavy weighted class in “media law.” A subject notoriously as intricate as it is absolutely fucking stupid. Anything you could learn, Disney will change tommorrow. The professor was an adjunct, splitting his time between the humble basement where boys with Pulp Fiction posters in their dorms fiddled with cameras and the actual law school where he was employed some miles down the road. I have never seen Pulp Fiction, but I’ve fiddled with enough cameras and enough of the boys who own them to have reviewed it twice. This is not a problem to me now.

Then I was stupid. Twenty. And basically friendless. I spent all my time trying to make something the same way the universe spent billions of years pouring hot soup into holes and hoping life would bubble out. I studied Japanese during quiet matches of PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds. I never got a win, and I never got an “A” in Japanese.

Weeks of school went by as I skimmed textbooks, got high, and thought about talking to literally anyone. Academic words danced around the edges of my brain like sand. I wrote essays on the same autopilot I write today. Feverish. Flowing. Fantasizing about what it would be like to go out with someone instead of texting a girl who now lived in Japan and making ramen noodles while listening for footsteps in a digital warzone.

I did all my work. I submitted it on something called “canvas” that the muscle memory in my fingers still types in search bars to this day. I never checked my grades. I knew they were bad.

Classes dragged me through the week on a bungee cord. I lived a block away from the bulk of them and found myself drifting in halls of buildings I’d never attended just to keep myself from meandering back home to draw a bad comic about a girl who lived in hell. 

I knew nobody. I went nowhere. I struggled to do classwork alone on outdoor benches dreaming of someone speaking to me. I needed to live in hell instead.

My media law professor was late the weekend after our first term essays were due. I don’t know what mode of transportation he took to get from one school to the other but today the Carolina sun had drenched him sweaty. We were chilly waiting for him to begin.

“Just about every single one of you failed.” He spat and chugged coffee through the entire period. “While I first was grading I thought I was the one who failed.”

He didn’t let the moment of respite last. “But I also did something I’ve never done before.” He paced like my father did when a restaurant was closed early. “I gave out my first perfect score. Which prevents me from grading on a curve.”

He huffed, he assigned a new reading, and he rushed out like he had lit dynamite. “Do better!” “What an asshole.” The girl who sat next to me in every class spoke as if she had been holding her breath. “Fuck him and fuck whoever got that hundred.”

“I know right!” I launched in on her anger, feeling it too. Back and forth we complained. We walked off campus together. She had long blonde hair and towered over me. I had felt ugly and mousey next to her, but today I felt like her equal. It felt good to bitch.

“I got a fucking 50. What about you?”

“It wasn’t pretty.” I recalled how I stayed up the night before the assignment was due. I milked bullshit into a puree. I got a rush of adrenaline from killing someone with a shotgun through a door in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Pochinki. I was probably close to being expelled. “This class is too fucking hard,” she smoked and shook her head by a bus stop on Tate Street. “I’m not about to lose my freetime over it.”

“Right.” I imagined her at parties. Black silhouettes against colored lights and deafening music. Like The Social Network. “We should be partners for the next assignment,” she got out her phone and passed it to me for my number. I typed it in. I waved her off on the bus. We did the assignment together. We texted each other about our studies. We joked about finding the guy who got the perfect score and beating him senseless. I thought about talking to her about my art or what we were making in other classes, but never did.

Towards the end of the semester I had to plan the next. A whirlpool churned in my stomach as I clicked on “grades” on my campus’ online portal. I had an A+ in a single course. 

Media Law.

My friend from class texted me that she was dreading the final. I texted her that if we failed I would kill Mr. Perfect Score. She texted “lol.”

She passed the course. I got my degree so I assume I did too. We stopped texting.

That professor emailed me asking me to take a course at the law school down the road. He said he would let me sit in and see if I wanted to change majors a third time. I never replied.

A law degree would just make Mr. Perfect Score a hundred times more punchable.

[gaybananabread]

♡~A Mother Always Knows⁠~⁠♡

~I’ve been reading a ton of sad books recently, so I needed something fluffy to get myself back together. So, here’s a completely self-indulgent fic I felt needed to exist. Fair warning, I haven’t seriously written in a few weeks, so this might suck. If you’re still here, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Miles

Ler: Rio

Summary: Miles’s job as Spider-Man has been weighing heavier on him, and school and the Spider-Verse isn't helping. Rio notices almost instantly, and while she may not know what's causing her baby to feel so stuck, she knows exactly how to give him a little boost.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

THIS IS NOT A SHIP! IT'S A MOTHER LOVING HER SON! DON'T BE WEIRD!

Groaning, Miles keysmashed on his laptop, trying and failing to generate ideas. He’d done everything: rewarding writing websites, the Comic Sans trick, drinking electrolyte-heavy beverages. Nothing was working.

His English teacher had assigned another essay, and he was completely stuck. Miles was an artist, not a writer; the creative essay assignments loved to kick his ass. That, coupled with the actual routine kicking of his ass from villains, left him all sorts of stressed out.

Deciding he needed a break from staring at the white screen, Miles got up and went to the kitchen. He had all weekend to complete the creative essay; unfortunately for him, that was prime villain attack time. He had barely gotten to sit down and work for a cumulative of two hours.

Rio had been noticing her son’s off behavior for almost the entire year he’d been Spider-Man. It was negligible at first: forgotten assignments, baggy eyes, messy appearances. Those were typical for teenagers going into High School.

So, when she saw him stumble into the kitchen while favoring his left side, her mama bear instincts kicked in.

Over time, however, it had progressed to very noticeable, very worrisome changes. While she hadn’t confronted Miles yet, Rio was definitely not oblivious.

After all, a mother always knows.

“Miles, siéntate ahora.” Her voice was loving, but undoubtedly stern; he’d be smart to listen, and listen he did. Miles sat down at the kitchen table, doing his best not to limp. It wasn’t enough.

Rio set a bowl of Cheez-Itz in front of him before sitting across from him. Miles could feel the heat grow beneath his collar; she was using her Mom Face. For a solid four minutes, she just sat there, watching him as he snacked. Just act natural, just be cool, just eat the damn crackers…

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, or are we just gonna sit here?” Yeesh, there was that tone. Miles knew there was zero way of getting out of there without some sort of conversation.

“Just…loaded up, Mami. I’ve got a lot on my plate with Visions, ya know?” He tried to pin it all on school, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t technically a lie; he did have a lot of stress due to assignments, especially his English teacher.

Rio sighed a bit; that was true, sure, but not the entire story. It worried her to see her baby like that, even more so when he wouldn’t let her help. Still, she had to find a way to get him to de-stress, even if she didn’t know the full cause.

“Hmm. Couch,” she ordered, standing and heading to their living room. Sure, it was a short walk, but she could still be mysterious.

Miles knew better than to argue, setting the empty bowl in the sink before joining her. He was stiff, his mind spinning with all sorts of theories and questions. Was she gonna press the issue? Did she know, and was just trying to see how much he would lie to her? Was she gonna ground him indefinitely for not coming clean?

Instead of confirming her son’s fears, Rio just pulled him into a hug by the shoulders. Miles’s eyes widened, but he quickly relaxed, resting his head on his mom’s chest. Man, he was tired…

“I love you, Miles. I know something’s wrong, and I know it’s hard for you to tell me. Just…remember that I’m always here for you, okay?”

Miles felt his heart lift at her words. She…she really loved him. She knew he was lying, but she still loved him. He swallowed a small lump forming in his throat before nodding; he didn’t trust his voice.

Now that she’d gotten him nice and emotional, Rio decided he needed to cheer up a bit. Miles was so stressed and reserved most of the time. She missed the days where his bright, unapologetic smile would light up their home - especially his giggles. How Rio longed to see him happy like that again…

Oh. Lightbulb.

“Thank you, baby. You just seem so sad anymore. Me encantaría verte sonreír de nuevo.” Shifting her hand down Miles’s side, she tried to hide her growing smile. If she wanted to surprise her son, she had to be crafty.

Miles's brain lagged a bit as he translated her words. Smile again? What...why was his spider-sense going off?

"Lucky for you, I think I remember how to fix that," she crooned. Then, in a gentle and teasy way, she started wiggling her fingers into her son's side.

The teen's eyes shot wide open, a giggle slipping out. His mom was...tickling him? It wasn't something they'd done in a while, thanks to his constantly loaded schedule and isolating tendencies. It immediately made him giddy and lit his nerves on fire.

"M-Mahahahahahami! W-Whahahat?!" Miles was shocked, kicking his feet against the couch. How could just a few fingers tickle so much?

"What? It's kinda obvious, Miles. I'm tickling you!" Her other hand joins the fray, pulling her son against her. While Miles was a helluva lot stronger than her, he couldn't risk overdoing it. So, like a true man, he giggled his heart out.

"Dohohon't sahay thahahat! Mohom!" Right as Miles tried to pry her hand off, Rio started to scribble on his belly. His giggles shot up for a moment, turning to adorable belly laughter.

"HEHEHEhehey! C'mohohon!" Two hands was just being mean. Rio was loving all the giggles, and she could feel the tenseness in his shoulders melting away against her. There was no way she could stop at that point.

"Don't say what, papa? Tickle? How about this? Cosquillas cosquillas cosquillas~" Rio quickly whispered the words in his ear, loving the squeak she got in return. Her son was just the cutest, even when he was trying to be all macho.

The teasing fried his brain, leaving him a squirming mess of nonsensical babbling and giggles. The t-word in one language was bad enough, but two? And in his ear? His mom was killing him!

Deciding to be cruel, Rio suddenly jammed both her hands into his underarms. Miles was tired, so she had to hit the sweet spots quickly.

"NAHAHAHA! *snort* MOHOHOHOHOM!" Miles shrieked and thrashed, absolutely losing his shit when his mom targeted his worst spot. Her nails were torturous, far worse than Hobie's lanky fingers or Pav's loving squishes. It shot ticklish lightning zipping across his skin, sending him into near hysterics.

Rio cooed at her son's near manic reaction, giggling as he snorted. Miles was always trying to act tough, but he just couldn't get any cuter.

Miles was sort of exploding inside. He was already tired from patrols, and now he was laughing his ass off; the boy was ready to crash. His mind was a goopy mess of flustered joy and giggles, rendering him unable to speak. Still, he could feel his stress melting away, leaving him in a stupidly happy, ticklish bliss.

Still, it tickled like crazy, and he couldn't last forever.

"MOHOHOHO- *snort* OHOM! IHIHI CAHAHAN'T!" Small tears of mirth pricked at the corners of his eyes as he tapped out. Rio stopped as soon as he said that, moving to pet his hair and rub his shoulder soothingly.

"Te tengo, Miles. Take a breath." She held him close, trying to help him regain his composure.

Miles was still reeling, giggling off the phantom tickles. After that lovely attack, he was completely drained. Thanks to his mother's gentle pets, he was on the verge of passing out right then and there.

"Ohoho crap... Whyhy?" Miles failed to stifle a yawn and rubbed his sides as he asked. His mother chuckled at his attempt before answering. "Because you needed to relax, Miles. You're too stressed anymore."

He rolled his eyes, but she wasn't wrong; he was practically limp against her. "Ihi...yeah, I guess. Still though, that was overkill."

She chuckled and booped his nose, making him grunt. "Maybe a bit. Now, do yourself a favor and take a nap."

Miles begrudgingly closed his eyes, mumbling something about not being a baby anymore. Still, thanks to her gentle head pats and his exhaustion, he was nodding off in seconds.

"Te quiero, Miles. Sleep tight."

Rio couldn't help but smile at the sight. Her son was finally relaxed; she couldn't find a trace of the earlier stress on his face. After he relaxed, she'd work on the essay with him. It might not get far, but they'd struggle together. That was what mattered, especially to her. She kissed the top of his head with a small, happy sigh.

[stitched-mouth]

Just For Research

Pairing: Professor! Rick Sanchez x College Student! GN! Reader.

Summary: When Rick discovers his top student is a virgin, he knows he must change that so she can write her paper on human pheromones.

Warnings: Smut, Intercourse (P in ?), Teacher x Student relationship, Age Gap, Virgin! Reader

Writing Time: 30 minutes.

Word Count: 650.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 7.

A/N:

Woke up in the middle of the night and decided to just write this. Sorry for any mistakes, this is not proofread. I’m just really trying to make sure everything is written before October arrives so the quality is some fics might be lacking a little, this might be one of them. This is probably my shortest fic so far. Oh well.

I also have completely forgotten what it was like in college. I did about 3 months of Combined Science in the UK before I dropped out for an apprenticeship instead and I don’t remember anything about those 3 months. So this could be all completely wrong but tbh I really don’t care.

I tried really hard to keep it GN, which is getting harder and harder for me due to the lack of gender neutral terms in the English language but I’ll keep managing.

Hope you enjoy, I’ve been eager to write something for Rick for ages now.

Thoughts were swarming your head, making it almost impossible to think about what was currently happening.

‘How did this happen?’ You thought, ‘This couldn’t of been an accident, but how then did it happen?’

You let out a torn scream, but Rick was fast to cover your mouth and silence it.

“Shut up little Whore, or the whole building will hear you.” He huffed.

Just a second ago you and Rick was discussing your college assignment. Your assignment was to write an essay about the human and animal pheromones that tell them to breed and compare the two. Something fairly basic for a Combined Science class and as the class’s top student, Rick expected this assignment to be a breeze for you.

But he had been wrong. For a top student with a bright future in Science, you had no idea about pheromones. Especially the sexual kind. It was the one thing you hadn’t studied yourself in your own time nor had you experienced it.

You had come to Rick after class to hopefully explain the subject better for you or give you good resources to look up but once Rick found out you was a virgin, what you got instead was a private lessons on pheromones that included an experimental or practical that would give you the experience.

So now you were bent over his desk taking all of him like the good little one you was.

“Please…” You whimpered, tired and stretched out to the max. It had only been a few minutes but this was completely new to a virgin.

“Please what, Whore?” Rick glared down at you, still thrusting in and out of you at an ungodly pace.

Rick didn’t think this was exactly the best way to show someone who had never experienced sexual feelings what they were like, but to be honest, he didn’t care. He was just looking for a reason to fuck you. His prettiest most innocent and intelligent little Princess/Prince who always sat in the front row, listening to him with wide ears.

But this had been a good lesson for you. Your sexual desire and need for Professor Sanchez now more than alive, it was insatiable.

“Please more Sir!” You cried.

Rick was a little shocked, but more than happy to oblige. And quickly increased his speed, you looked down and moaned into the once clean desk.

“Yeah? You like this cock? You want more of it, my little cocksleeve?” Rick groaned into your ears.

“Yes!” You nodded eagerly.

Obviously, you came first. You did so with a scream and giant smile. Rick came not too long after you onto your back, with just a few loud grunt.

You was pretty confident now you was gonna Ace this assignment.

[creativity-deficient]

So, in defense of Stanford Pines

As the gravity falls fan in me has awakened once again per the release of the Book of Bill, I wanted to write a quick character analysis/essay on one of my two favorite characters in the series, Stanford Pines.

Now it’s important to note that Ford is in fact, a very flawed character, and this essay is in NO means meant to downplay that. He’s absolutely an egotistical asshole who was way too in his own head and focused on the end goal to fully appreciate the people and things he has around him, which ultimately ended up playing a huge part in his downfall.

However I do want to talk a little bit more about his side of things, as this is something I feel like isn’t quite done enough justice in the series, making it easy to just see him as a jerk or take Stan’s side in the fight between them, and has always been something I’ve really appreciated about both Journal 3 and now, the book of bill, both providing a new perspective on his character and exactly WHY he turned out the way he did.

I want to start from the beginning, by delving a bit into Ford’s childhood.

It’s a common misconception in the fandom that Ford had a good relationship with his father. He was the loved child, while Stanley was the unloved child. Now there’s no denying that Stan’s relationship with his father was…considerably worse, but with how deep Ford’s own insecurities and his obsession to “be the best” lie, I find it very hard to believe that his own relationship with his father was a healthy one either.

Filbrick was considered a VERY strict man, who was not easily impressed, making it very likely that Ford was either groomed into thinking, or at least at some point convinced himself that his smarts were the only worthwhile thing about him, especially since he pretty much already felt like a freak because of his fingers.

It’s even mentioned in the book of bill that his father wouldn’t want him returning home without millions. I mean, does that SOUND like a loving father to you?

And that brings me to his falling out with Stan. Yeah, EXTREMELY dick move to let your father kick out your teenage twin brother over some dumb mistake, however, it’s always felt a bit weird to me, like there was much more going on then just “you destroyed my project I’m throwing out our entire brotherly bond we spent the last 17-18 years building fuck you” because let’s face it, huh??? Kicking your own TWIN BROTHER, who you have been best friends with all your life, to the curb for some dumb school you literally learned about DAYS ago was something that never made sense to me, and I always struggled to understand why and how it even had to come to that.

But, let’s look it at this way. To Ford, Stan was the only person he had. They were the only people each other had, the only people that truly got each other. Ford considered Stan the only person he could trust at that point in time, this only person who wouldn’t treat him differently than others. And what does that person do? Completely betray that trust and destroy his project. Yes, we know that it was an accident, but Ford didn’t. Was he wrong to automatically assume that Stan did it on purpose instead of just, you know, talking it out? Oh absolutely, but we already established that he clearly doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms, and all things considered, I don’t think Stan really helped his case when it came to proving his innocence, as both before and even after the confrontation, all he can seemingly think about is their boat. All things considered, I can’t completely blame Ford for thinking it was an act of betrayal. Does that completely justify his response? Oh absolutely not. But I DO think the situation goes a bit deeper than people assume.

Then we have his time in gravity falls. It’s hinted at a bunch throughout the series, journal 3, and the book of bill that Ford, despite his anger, truly missed his brother, and regretted his actions towards him (the swingset and stan o war in his dreamscape, holding on to that photo of him and Stan as kids all those years, not being able to think back on his childhood at glass shard beach without growing sad, etc).

“Well, why didn’t he just contact him then???”

Well, to be fair, he kind of had a lot going on, and by a lot, of course, I mean Bill.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the relationship between Ford and Bill was EXTREMELY toxic. Bill, doing what Bill does best, leeched onto Ford’s already deeply set insecurities to led him into a false sense of security, one where bill and ONLY bill truly understood him, and that everyone else was out to get him and couldn’t see his true potential, effectively isolating him from his friends, family, and even society.

Ford went through HELL in this period of time. He was left alone by bill for long periods of time until he was desperate and dependent enough to lash out. He was gaslit and manipulated into pushing the people he cared about away. When he decided he wasn’t going to do bill’s bidding, he was literally TORMENTED for it. In all fairness, I don’t really think he was in the right mindset for ANYTHING during that time, losing himself in BOTH his own stubbornness and this endless cycle of abuse.

Despite this though, despite ALL of this, all the manipulation, their falling out, etc, Stan was still the ONLY person (apart from Fiddleford) Ford thought of to take the Journals, the only person he considered to be trustworthy. Yes it was petty of him to bring up the project yet AGAIN (let it go my dude), but I do think it is important to acknowledge that he still thought of Stan pretty highly at the time, or else that wouldn’t have been the case.

“Oh but Alex he told Stan to get away from him yadayada!!!” Uh, no he didn’t. He just told him to hide the journals, not that he couldn’t come back afterwards, that was just Stan assuming the worst.

On that note, I do think it’s important to also acknowledge that while Stan is definitely, in the eyes of a lot of people as well as myself, the more sympathetic of the two, he’s definitely made his fair share of mistakes as well. I don’t think there’s really truly a right or a wrong in this argument, I think instead both of them are two very complex characters who had both been through a lot at that point, and both have made their mistakes (even if Stan’s were a bit more justified in most cases)

Then of course, he gets pushed through the portal, and spends the next 30 years between dimensions.

Now for anyone who hasn’t read journal 3 (spoilers ig? The book is pretty old atp but I figured I’d give one anyways) Ford is basically told by an oracle that he “has the face of someone who is destined to defeat bill” (a lot of people call him egotistical for assuming the oracle was talking about him and not his brother, but I digress. If an oracle looked YOU deep into your eyes and told you you had the face of someone destined to save the universe, be honest, would YOU think they were talking about your sibling??) Ford then proceeds to spend the next 30 years building a weapon to effectively defeat bill, and just as he’s about to finally use it, he’s sucked (not literally) back into gravity falls, not ONLY effectively erasing all of his hard work and progress, but risking weirdmaggedon in the first place. On TOP of it all, he also learns that Stan has been using his name all these years, and that he now has a pretty extensive criminal record.

Yes, Stan did it all in his best interest, and Ford could’ve absolutely shown more appreciation, but all things considered, I’d be pretty pissed off too.

But, all things considered, at the end of it all Ford still has those he hold close to his heart. He missed Stan all those years, considered Fiddleford a true friend and was super appreciative to have him there while they worked on the project together, he’s joyous to find out he has a niece and nephew, etc, and when he realizes he’s hurt these people, namely his brother and former lab partner, he feels immense guilt, and does everything he can to atone to it.

I truly think Stanford’s character development is one of the best in the series, as he finally learns to appreciate what he has instead of trying to chase down an unachievable end goal, and it’s definitely something that I feel goes unnoticed in the grand scheme of things when it comes to his character.

Now, what was the point of this 1 am ramble?? The point was the highlight the wonderful complexity of Stanford Pines’s character. Yes he was an extremely flawed man. Someone who pushed away those he loved him pursuit of greater things, and let his own pride be the fall of him. However, at the same time, he’s also a man who bears a lot of scars, both metaphorical and literal, and an extremely complex character who deserves a lot more than to be characterized as this “cold, uncaring asshole” something I’ve seen WAY too much of. I feel like it’s important to acknowledge that he’s made mistakes while also recognizing the complexity of a lot of it too, as well as acknowledging that he did indeed, learn from those mistakes.