#Want to study him like a dissected frog

[dandunn]

I need everyone to read black jack with me I'm so alone

[thegreatyin]

i checked the wiki to see what That veils scene is like without the robe of mr cards, and

i. i think mr veils just wants the scoundrel carnally?

[404creep]

Breaking The Ice (Judd Birch X Jessi Glaser Older! Sister Reader)

Summary: You and Judd have been in school together since elementary school.

This is kind of related to the drabble I put out a long time ago. Lots of people have been reading that and asking for new Judd content so I figured I’d pause of my Simon Riley series to write this. Hope ya’ll like it. May do a second part from Judd’s perspective and then a third chapter showing them actually getting together if this gets enough interaction. As always if you see any errors….no you didn’t.

If she was being honest with herself (and she really did try to be, more often than not) she hadn’t noticed Judd Birch at first.

Back in elementary school, he was background noise. Just another name on the attendance sheet, another kid kicking gravel at recess. Maybe she could’ve picked his face out of a lineup if she squinted, but probably not. He wasn’t loud, but he wasn’t exactly shy either. He didn’t blend in so much as linger around the edges, watching with that half-lidded stare that made him look way too tired for a third grader. Like he was already over it. Like he was clocking every detail and filing it away somewhere private.

And she hadn’t noticed him noticing her.

Not until middle school, anyway. That’s when he started showing up.

He’d gotten tall. Fast. In that awkward, almost unsettling way boys do, like his limbs were rebelling against the concept of symmetry. There was something off about him: sharp angles, quiet intensity, a kind of stillness that didn’t match the usual chaos of the Birch household. His eyes lingered too long. Not creepy. Just… focused. Like he was studying people. Measuring them.

She didn’t like how often she caught him looking.

When Jessi said she was hanging out with Judd’s little brother, Nick, she’d braced for weird. It had to run in the family, right?

But Nick was… different.

Nick was a completely different beast. Loud, messy, always in motion. He talked with his whole body. He wanted to be liked. Judd didn’t seem to care if anyone liked him at all. If Nick was the show, Judd was the curtain. The frame. There, but apart. Not unwelcome. Just… separate.

It was kind of wild how the Birch family didn’t try to fix him. They didn’t ignore him, either. He wasn’t the black sheep, he was just a part of the herd that did his own thing. Like maybe being weird wasn’t something to outgrow. Just something to be nurtured. Even if no one really understood it.

Then came freshman year. Biology class.

They got paired up. Not by choice. She still remembered how he looked at her when their names were called: like he already knew it was going to happen. Like the universe was playing along with something only he could see.

He loved dissections. Frogs, fetal pigs, anything with guts. His eyes lit up in this completely unhinged way, and it was honestly a little terrifying. So she took over the paperwork. It was better than having him hover while she tried not to stab herself with a scalpel.

And weirdly? It worked. They worked. Efficient. Surprisingly chill. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it caught her off guard. Sharp thoughts, quiet voice, that same too-long stare.

She never knew what to say back. But she wanted to.

By sophomore year, he was gone. Different classes. Different hallways. That thing they had (whatever it was) just kind of faded.

Until she started driving.

She’d just gotten her license, and that came with the responsibility of driving her sister around. Which meant dropping her off and picking her up from the Birch house. Most of the time she sat in the car, engine running, scrolling on her phone or staring out the windshield. But sometimes (too many times for it to be random) Judd came outside instead.

And he never said hi like a normal person.

One day it was, “I’m training raccoons to freak out Nick.” Another time he asked if she wanted drugs, deadpan, like it was a casual Tuesday hobby.

She always laughed. Because he was ridiculous. Because it felt like he wanted her to laugh. Because deep down, she kind of liked how absurd it all was. Like he was throwing her a test, just to see if she’d flinch.

It wasn’t flirting. Not really.

But it wasn’t nothing either.

It was… weirdly electric. Like every conversation was a sequel to one they’d never actually had. He’d stand there, blue dyed hair and deadpanned eyes, looking like the rules didn’t apply to him. And she’d cross her arms and pretend not to care. Pretend she wasn’t waiting for whatever he’d say next.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

But sometimes he looked at her like it did. Like she was supposed to understand something he hadn’t said out loud yet.

And she hated how much she wanted to.

Then there was that Friday. Late October. Cold air, crunchy leaves, the kind of day that made everything feel just a little closer, a little slower. Jessi was taking forever inside, probably still talking. Judd stepped out onto the porch.

No greeting. Just, “I’ve been designing suits for the raccoons. Little vests. One of them’s getting a bow tie.”

She blinked. Let it sit for a beat. Then said, “Are they unionized yet, or are you still exploiting their labor?”

He lit up.

Not just in his eyes. His whole face. Like something switched on inside him.

And then he smiled.

A real one.

Not a smirk. Not a twitch of the mouth. A full, open, stupidly soft smile. Or at least as soft as Judd Birch could smile.

“Working on a healthcare plan,” he said. “But they’re terrible at filling out paperwork.”

It was ridiculous. Absolutely unhinged. Probably the weirdest conversation she’d ever had.

And she grinned the whole drive home, Jessi was too busy on her phone to notice.

[yandere-wishes]

༻°₊ ｡I'm Sorry I'm Not Everything You Wanted｡ ₊°༺

⭒⌒★𝓑𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓷𝓮 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 ★⌒⭒

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི 𝓢𝔂𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓚𝓷𝓲𝓯𝓮 𝓑𝔂 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲 𝓧𝓒𝓧 ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

���♡ 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓸 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 ♡⊹

જ⁀➴Warnings: yandere behavior, older man younger woman (reader is over 18), identity crises but make it hot.

𐙚 Synopsis: You begged him to give you the mantel, to christen you as one of his knights, but the burden lays heavily across your shoulders, becoming heavier with each solemn glance.

・┆✦ʚ I couldn't even be them if I tried ɞ✦ ┆・

ʚ☆ɞ It has occurred to Bruce, that the last several nights, there has been a shadow observing him. Slithering through the darkness, perched, watching his every move. He feels studied, noted, like a frog with its skin pinned back divulging its organs for all to see. But when he allows himself a glimpse behind him. He is only ever met with the neon black landscape of Gotham's skyline.

ʚ☆ɞ Menace stalking menace, he is sure of it now. There is an existence haunting him, lurking just out of sight. Someone is stalking him, dissecting him. Their every breath synchronizing with his. He can not catch such a fickle thing, he can not step on this new shadow. It's only when he's half high off fear toxin and two-thirds through an adrenaline rush that he realizes what to do.

ʚ☆ɞ Batman claws at Scarecrow's arm. Nails sinking into straw and flesh. Pulling the sickly thin body above his head and flinging it into the darkness. He listens for the noise of the body hitting something solid. A pained holler piercing the white noise. Echolocation, there is a reason he's chosen the bat as his homage.

ʚ☆ɞ You are a tiny thing, lying beneath the unconscious man. Girlish and juvenile in every way. For a second he considers leaving you there, letting the danger of your ploy sink in. And yet before he can decide whether to offer a hand or turn away, you've already maneuvered out of your binding, pushing yourself up with a puerile skip. Balancing on tiptoes to examine the irritation in his dull eyes…

ʚ☆ɞ You've been trying to slip into the Batcave for the past week now. Batman's scoldings always fall on deaf ears. He's had to save you from his own creations, his own security, after every patrol. He's grown wary of delivering the same lecture. Now he merely awaits the day he'll find you sitting behind his computer with that sickly glib smile smeared across your pretty face.

ʚ☆ɞ It's a forced welcome invitation. You have a way of always being where you are not wanted, prying through steel and concrete until you've made it into the forbidden garden. He hates how much you remind him of Tim. How much you make his sons' presence vibrate through the empty cave. But it's not empty now, is it? He hears you the moment your sole graces the cave's floor, he lets you prowl behind him, awaiting knife and threat. Instead he's almost shaken when you wrap your arms gingerly around his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder with a content hum.

"I finally did it."

ʚ☆ɞ For a second he remembers Don Quioxte, obsessed soul driven to madness. He can't help but laugh.

ʚ☆ɞ He knights you, Robin, not because he wishes to, but because you've left him no alternative. You trail behind him so openly. Spinning and twirling and punching. It didn't take long for Gotham to take note of your presence. "THE NEW CHILD-WONDER" the headlines read. Now there is no other excuse but to deem you sidekick, lest the News and GCPD begin to cavil.

ʚ☆ɞ You cling to his waist, and rest your head on his shoulder during patrols that have gone until sunrise. It's getting harder and harder to ignore the skittish patter of his heart when your weight falls upon him when your arms pull taut his muscles. When he's feeling bold enough to admit somber truths to himself, Bruce confesses that when your eyes flutter open from light slumber is when he thinks you are the most beautiful. Little doll returning to hell. It's cruel and loving all in the same breath.

ʚ☆ɞ And yet he only sees suffering and an early grave with your name inscribed upon the marble. He is doomed to watch his love die. Just like all those who love him are doomed to bleed out in hopes that he will save them…

He never can.

ʚ☆ɞ He will never see you as his equal, you know this, felt it in every shove and push as he huddles you behind his bulking frame. He gives you neither batarangs nor batclaws at first, he doesn't think you're ready for the burden of such weapons. Instead, he teaches you to punch, to kick, to dislocate bones from sockets, and leave men withering in pain. In the end, you find you like the batarangs most. They do more damage than your tiny fists ever could. Or maybe it's cause he'd held you so close once, lacing his fingers with yours to teach you how to throw.

You feel the ghost of his hand weighing upon yours every time you pitch one at the oncoming threat.

ʚ☆ɞ He's only ever known love when it's under moonlight. He's only ever known love in the form of missed bullets. Not I'll protect but rather, I'll teach you how to protect yourself I'll allow you to vanquish the threat before it arises. Maybe cause it's easier this way than watching your body bleed out on the sidewalk. Maybe it's easier to turn your loved ones into abominations than let them be killed by monsters.

ʚ☆ɞ He pulls you onto his lap atop Wayne Tower's edge. Holds your hips with the same grip he uses to crush Poison Ivy's flytraps. Too bruising, too vehement. He could dip you back, pluck your wings without you knowing, and watch you freefall onto the sidewalk. He could kill you, Bruce is sure it'd be so much less painful than watching his rogues dig into you. Gnaw on your organs and swallow your heart. He could save you by snuffing the air from your lungs. You could belong to him eternally…

ʚ☆ɞ You almost feel like Gilgamesh awaiting a miracle that will never come. Chasing after a daemon who knows not how to spare sympathy. You hear the melancholy and pride that lace his voice when he talks about them. The others, your predeceases, his robins. Their legacy lays like nectar in the back of your throat too thick to swallow, too vital to spit.

ʚ☆ɞ It's ironic how, since that fateful night so many moons ago, he's come to learn that there are countless, countless ways people can die. From bullets and neglect, from broken bones and souls, from ideologies to lavish to reside inside a human vessel. He's watched everyone he's ever loved die and die again. But when you pull on his cape and look into his eyes, when the moon's light hits you just right, casting shimmers upon your face, painting you as an ethereal angel who has fallen from the heavens so high. Bruce can't help but pray that you remain by his side until the end of times. Until Gotham's love finally kills him too.

ʚ☆ɞ He can't help but let his stone heart flutter, can't help but long to pull you closer. You chirp his name with an elysian smile, cling to him as he swings you both from rooftop to rooftop. You fit between his bones so perfectly. Bruce dreams of splitting his ribcage open and pulling out his heart. Caging his precious bird inside himself.

ʚ☆ɞ Sometimes you wonder if he knows how sharp the knife is. He speaks in cacophonies but they ever only sound monochrone to you. You mustn't tell your young what they can and can't achieve you think. You mustn't clip their wings till it replicates their antecedent's wings. There is a lecturer before every war, only for you to be sidelined for the next two. You count the pattern like stab wounds. One to the neck, two to the heart.

Batman expects replicas and regalias. You feel so invisible.

ʚ☆ɞ "I would gladly break my heart for you Batman." Bruce winces at the words. You're skipping across the edge playing some form of invisible hopscotch. "Thanks, but I don't need another broken heart on my conscience. I got enough of that already." He wonders if you'd teach him your game if he promised to let you punch Killer Croc this time.

ʚ☆ɞ "I do not understand the insults" you confess one night, He's crutched on a skyscraper awaiting the stampede of Two-Face's getaway cars.

"Are people so obtuse that they see not all the good you've done? Would they rather live in a city that can kill them a hundred times over?" Bruce sighs, a heavy noise that rattles the air. "it's easy to blame things on the one trying to fix them. People need scapegoats, they need to believe in the flaws of their heroes." It doesn't answer your question, not exactly but before you can pry, he's already swinging onto the street. You close your eyes savoring the rare solitude before jumping after him.

ʚ☆ɞ "I think you're destined to do this forever"

You speak through decades, through centuries. Bruce doesn't allow himself the privilege of cringing at the quotation. It had been one of the better things the Joker had ever said, almost like a mother reassuring her child that she would be there to pick them up after school. No, instead he focuses on the ghostly lite of your voice. How it reverberates with his sons' tones. Miscellaneous candances that sound nothing less than eerie. Speaking through time, through space. He is destined to make the same mistakes, destined to watch the same deaths.

ʚ☆ɞ "I think I'll be Lilith after I'm done being Robin"

"Who says you'll ever be done being Robin."

ʚ☆ɞ There is a part of him that thinks, believes, that if he just kisses you, feels the softness of your lips and the rigid bones beneath, then he will have saved you. The logic never sinks in, maybe it's just an excuse. The longing has started to grow teeth. It sinks them into his heart every single night. Bruce pulls you closer and lets his lips still over yours. If he could change something, anything this time around, then maybe just maybe he won't have to watch you die.

ʚ☆ɞ Bruce's kisses are suffocating, patronizing. Your tiny fists do little to deter them. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, his hands massage your hips. He knows exactly how to make poison feel like pleasure.

ʚ☆ɞ There's a bird inside a golden cage. She's pretty singing songs of misery. There will be a diamond ring on her finger soon, stripping away her dreams of being a hero.

[classyelegantpotato]

Part 2: Secret tunnel, through the mountain.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Chapter 1

You try to move but you’re locked in.The more you squirm the tighter it gets ,you struggle in vain.When you finally look up you freeze. There are two burning, ruby-gold eyes glaring in the darkness. You only have a hint of outline of a face .Your hands instinctively graze across what’s against your waist now. It’s cool to the touch, you can feel a slight pulse under its “skin” almost seems like living porcelain. While the up torso appears to be human, but this much is clear.

He’s not human.

“Human,” he says, voice sleek and sharp. “You’ve got ten seconds to explain why you’re dripping blood and rain all over my floor before I decide whether to turn you into a statue… or feed you to my mushroom garden. They could use the nutrients.”

You blink……..

Then whisper, “You’re… real?”

One brow arches, clearly unimpressed. “Stunning deduction. Anything else? Or is that all your little human brain could comprehend ”

Despite your heart pounding you rebuttal “Well, EXCUSE ME ~ It not everyday one gets such warm welcome”

You can feel the figure rolls their eyes, and arms crossing. “Most people don’t walk straight into “abandoned” tower. Are blissfully naïve or simply decided to take up squatting as a hobby”

You open your mouth ,then close “ Sorry, I didn’t see no warning signs anywhere. ‘Beware: creepy hermit. May hog tie you upon entry.’ Honestly, would appreciate it, I could’ve even brought my own rope.

That in response earned you a quick smirk. Barely visible fangs peeking through now. “One would think a tower hidden and secluded in between the mountains would scream don’t want company. How about next time I’ll roll out the red carpet with a warm towel little welcome basket and a kiss on the cheek” he definitely said that last part dripped in distain

You squint at him. “Are you always like this?”

He tilts his head. “Like what?”

“Snarky. Overly dramatic. Rude.”

He just stares.

Then throws his head back and cackles. A full blown villain cackle, echoing through the stone tower.

“Oh, great a mouthy one. Fantastic.” He mutters, mostly to himself, “Absolutely no respect for my kind anymore …”

In a blur, he’s closer ,far to close. Only now do you grasp the entirety of him. Towering and calculated.

“What happened to the ones that would tremble the ones who held their tongues? The ones who screamed and we’re smart enough to run away?”He says it with such intensity , It’s enough to raise the hairs on your body.

He notices, grins,leans closer. Right next to your ear

“You should be more afraid,” he whispers. “You’re standing in the heart of my sanctum. I could erase you with a drop of liquid . Break your bones into meal for my garden. Maybe, I could use you as a nice study for human anatomy. Far too many options but which to choose?”

He moves his coils a bit to takes a look at your bleeding leg , inspecting you like your something to dissect. “It’s clear you bleed easily. So it won’t take much.”

His fingers tug back the edge of your soaked cloak, grazing a bruise with detachment .

“Let’s see…..bruised ribs, sprained ankle ,slightly malnourishe and I smell… herbs :Turmeric, Echinacea, and lavender ?” His grin sharpens,wicked. “Did someone find out you’re a practicing witch …. or a fool who thought to dare think outside your town’s tiny, ignorant bubble?”

You manage to get out. “I’m just a practicing apothecary.” Why does your head feel faint

He clicks his tongue, amused. “That much is obvious. You reek of desperation and homemade remedies.”

“Excuse me?”

He ignores you entirely, snatching the satchel from your side. “Might as well see what you came with.”

You open your mouth to protest, but too late….

He unclasps the bag.

Something leaps.

A gross splat follow as a frog launches out of the bag and smacks square into his face.

Time halts.

You stare.

He blinks, slowly, frog still clinging to his cheek. Here comes a eye twitch

“…Charming,are you sure you’re not a witch and this wasn’t your last victim ” he says, deadpan.

You try not to laugh.

You fail.

Senku wipes frog slime off his cheek with disgust, shooting you a look that says you’re in for it now

“Well, congratulations,” he says, voice dripping with mock admiration. “You’ve officially made the ‘Most Annoying Creature’ list.

The frog now hopping away to who knows where.

You glance at it, then back at Senku. “It’s not that annoying.”

Senku smirks “ Who said I was talking about the frog”

Senku’s grin fades, replaced by something colder. He wants you gone now he’s tired of this back-and-forth.

“You’re bleeding, limping, and reek of desperation,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not just a nuisance. You’re a liability ,and liabilities? I don’t keep them around. I could snap your neck and save myself the trouble. Though dragging a body is annoying”

You swallow hard, trying to stay unfazed.

“But,” he continues, with wicked amusement “where’s the fun in that?

He unravels and circles you slowly, like a predator waiting for its opening. “I’ll give you a chance to prove your worth ”

“Explain why you’re here and who sent you.”

His voice drops and hisses. “Fail, and the funguses will enjoy a new snack.”

The room seems to feel dense ,weight of his threat ,suffocating. Is it starting to get hot in here even more dizzy?

“So,” he says, folding his arms, “start talking.”

Senku watches you intently as you struggle to hold yourself upright and catch a breath . His fierce gaze softens just a fraction, just a flicker.

“You look worse than I thought,” he mutters, his tone losing some of its edge. “Now hurry, spill it, why are you really here?

You take a shaky breath, and head pounding . Just beginning to explain words barely out before your body betrays you. “ I discovered this place by accident no one sent me. I just want shelter—

Suddenly, your vision swims. Your upper body buckles.Before you can finish, darkness embraces you.

Senku catches you ,effortlessly, his false façade dissipates is instead replaced with eyes narrowing with concern as he holds you steady….. at distance, as if reluctant to get too close.

“Well, that complicates things,” he murmurs, to himself. “I forget how fragile human are,” he admits.

Then, as if shaking off the sympathy, he straightens, voice hardening again. “I’m not your savior.Nor, do I want you here. I’m only helping……. because someone long ago once helped me when they shouldn’t have. Consider this me… paying it forward. Simple cause and effect just don’t make me regret it.”

He glances down at you. “Rest. When you wake, then your out of here”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your eyes flutter open to a strange ceiling it’s looks like someone’s been charting, stars. Lit by the early morning light filtering through a high window that’s been opened. You dared to move, a dull ache in your leg stops you. Glancing down to see a bandage wrapped carefully around your now swollen ankle. You must’ve sprained and cut it pretty badly .

Blinking again, to get rid of the morning haze. You take in your surroundings: a bed, surprisingly almost like it’s been rarely used. Surrounding you are shelves crammed with books, no missing topics from what you seen at a glance . There’s glass vials, jars filled with samples , and lastly scattered notes and sketches covering the walls. This is a lab. Your pulse quickens wait where is—

then you notice him.

He is in the corner of the room, tinkering with something intricate. The morning light catches his scales. Emerald green, fading to pure white at the tip of his massive naga tail that coils behind him. Weirdly enough his hair matches.

You freeze, suddenly recalled the variety of threats. Heart pounding, you try to lie still, hoping he doesn’t notice you’re awake yet. Maybe you can shimmy yourself out the window. Humans can land on their feet too , right?

Without looking up, he speaks, amused: “I know you’re awake, human.”

Your heart leaps out your throat.

He finally turns, meeting your eyes with a knowing smile as if he’s been expecting you to be wake all along.

You swallow hard, your voice coming out a little shaky.

“Uh… good morning. Oh benevolent Mr naga sir”nice nailed it definitely didn’t sound terrified

Senku’s emerald eyes gleam as he straightens up, tail flicking lazily behind him.

“Morning, did you learn some manners in your sleep” he replies smoothly, one finger in his ear, rubbing it. “Surprised you made it through the night. Thought I might have to amputate” he says like a joke…

You shift slightly, wincing at the thought.

“Yeah, well… thanks for not killing me or taking my leg”

He smirks “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. Most would have ended up dead by now.”

You nervously glance around wanting to change the topic.

“So… this place is yours?”

“Partly,” he answers, eyes scanning the room. “My workshop. My refuge,free from any annoying pests ….. well till now and right now, your temporary prison.”

…… excuse me did he say prison?

He “ your not going anywhere on that leg for a while just feel grateful that I’m tolerating your existence. Besides you have to pay me back; my labor and supplies aren’t for free. So I’ve decided until you’re all healed up. You’re gonna stay here and help around.”

Your eyes widen, jaw dropping slightly. “Wait, what? You want me to… stay here? Even after you threaten to kill me and feed me to your fungi? “

Senku nods, unfazed by your reaction . “Yep. No escaping the ‘prison’ until you can walk without looking like a scarecrow. Besides it not like you have anywhere to go.

You blink, trying to process it. “I didn’t exactly sign up to be your… apprentice or whatever.”

Senku scoffed“Who said anything about being an apprentice? Not in a hundred years could you begin to start to catch up with my work. Think more like unpaid intern. Contracts are a hassle anyways. Might as well learn something before you hit the road.” He heads towards the door “Since your up i’ll go ahead and pick up some of the books”

As he slither out of the room, you yell for him. “Wait!” you call,annoyed.

He pauses, over his shoulder he says “Save your breath,you’ll get plenty opportunities to thank me later~ “

JERK! You huffed. “least tell me your name!���

This causes him to look over his shoulder and smirks “Senku” then he finally slithers away

Thus begins your reluctant apprenticeship— uh ‘internship’ with Senku.

The first week is spent mostly bedridden, recovering while also cramming. Senku doesn’t go easy on you either. The man quizzes you relentlessly. If you’re going to be any help, even just passing tools or sorting materials, there’s no room for mistakes. Even in your dreams he seems to quiz you. No escape

He addresses you it’s just simply “human” He definitely knows your name. He just chooses not to use it. “Hey, human” is all you get. You think it’s his version of don’t name it or you’ll get attached. So he opted to pretending like your his new house plant.

(Because names make things real, real is messy, and real equals harder to lose later.)

When you’re finally back on your feet, you start helping him more laboriously. A typical day with him is anything but relaxing. He keeps you busy with tasks he considers too tedious or simply beneath him. Which includes: hauling stacks of books, scrubbing down his lab equipment,reorganizing, cleaning the tower, and cooking. Since he flat-out refuses to eat unless necessary. He insists it’s because of his slow metabolism so meals are apparently optional.

Most days, you’re so drained from running around the entire tower that you pass out from sheer exhaustion. No matter where you zonk out;you will always find yourself in bed. Eventually, you find a routine to his madness. You keep waiting for the inevitable moment he kicks you out, but… six months have passed, and you’re still here. So far, the only response you get is that you haven’t finished repaying your so-called “debt.”

In the meantime, he even helps you study medical practices. Either during rare downtime or when he decides you’re unnecessary for his current experiment and banishes you to the library. Of course, there’s always a catch with Senku . You’re expected to write a full report on whatever you learn, or he has you studying the lay of the land, along with its indigenous flora and fauna. Surprisingly, outside this mountain is crawling with natural resources . But also according to senku map he’s marked there also lot of deadly creatures territorial hybrids that room that land. Maybe you should be grateful that you came during a monsoon.

Until the day he deems you clear to go or gets tired of you. Guess you’ll stuck till then.

Senku “What are you spacing out for ?! Quit slacking and get back to studying!”

…. Though at this rate, that you might die first.Before you can ever see the sun.

~~~~

Now, you might be wondering. What could ever made our dear cold-blooded friend have a sudden change of heart over the course of six months?

Was it the fact that your presence brought a much-needed change of pace to the silent tower he called home? That your sass and sharp tongue never hesitated to challenge him, even when you were out matched?

Or maybe… it happened the first night.

After you collapsed, he patched you up. Curiosity got the better of him as he rummaged through your soaked bag. This time a lot more cautious. Once clear from invaders; he could see most of the contents: ruined map, crushed herbs, and a sticky note attached to a pocket mirror stating “You’ve survived worse. Probably. Maybe stoped counting ages ago.” ……Honestly, nothing of interest, then he found your notebook.

After drying it out, he opened it to discover years of observations. Personal experiments with medicinal herbs, and hand-drawn diagrams. Occasionally, scattered between the lines, rants and laments about your life. However, this book here is proof of your perseverance.

Senku had chuckled to himself, a flicker of intrigue in his eyes.

“ How exhilarating,” he muttered. “A fledgling scientist in the making. Not bad for someone learning from scraps, trial and error. Not great, but… not bad. Well (name), let’s see how far you’ll go. Try not to disappoint me~”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Whew, oh boy ,that was nerve-wracking! I really hope it turned out well and didn’t end up a complete mess. I’m not sure how much more I’ll end up writing, but either way, I truly hope you enjoyed it. Thanks so much for all the kind comments and likes it means a lot. Wishing you all a wonderful, blessed day!

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Switch!Reader, Crassus Snow x Younger!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole, but he's a hot asshole... Stepcest, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, secrets, cussing, secret love child, Coryo is a bit selfish and too ambitious, Crassus decides to try and be a better husband/father

Part 4:

Dinner has just been served, so you're gathered around the dining room table with Grandma'am and Coriolanus. Crassus isn't home yet, but you're not worried about his absence. He'll be home any minute. He always walks in around the time dinner's served.

In fact, you're expecting to hear the door open and your husband's footsteps echo against the marble floor at any second. Like you've been hearing every single night around this time since you moved into the Snow penthouse; became a part of the Snow family.

You’re picking at your food with disinterest while listening to Coriolanus brag about the praise he received from Dr. Gaul during his internship earlier in the day.

“Dr. Gaul wants me to help her conduct an experiment on a new test subject.” Coriolanus smiled proudly, icy eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Oh, I hope it's nothing too ghastly. Some of those science experiments can be atrocious.” Grandma’am says while cutting her chicken with such grace. Truly, her manners were from a time once forgotten- a time of gentleman and cavaliers. “Why, I remember when I was a girl our science teacher made us dissect frogs. Can you believe that?”

And suddenly the sound of the phone ringing fills the air.

Ring, ring, ring…

“I'll get it.” You announce, removing your napkin from your lap before standing up.

Coriolanus just nods before telling Grandma'am, “Oh, Dr. Gaul won't be having me dissecting frogs. Her experiments are more complex than that.”

Yea, the mad scientist will probably be having him dissect the latest drugged and numbed body of a district test subject turned mutt.

Ring, ring, ring...

You quickly make your way into the sitting room, which was closer to the dining room and had a phone in it.

Ring, ring, ring…

“Hello, Snow residence. Mrs. Snow speaking.” You answer in the polite way you've been instructed to take phone calls for the family. Yes, the Snows are an old and highly regarded family so answering the phone has to be a polite and professional affair.

“Y/N, it's me. Crassus.” Your husband says over the phone. Of course, the phone in the sitting room isn't a video phone, but a simple standard phone, so you can't see his facial expressions.

The video phones are in the living room and in your husband's study. Why, who knows. You really don't care either. Not like you talk to a lot of people on the phone anyways.

Sadly, the few friends you had drifted away from you once you married Crassus shortly after graduating the Academy. Apparently, your ‘friends’ didn't want to associate with you anymore because your husband's a middle-aged man; a cold-hearted war hero. Yes, you suppose that your husband intimidated your ‘friends’ just by his presence and that's why they all drifted away.

Sometimes your brother calls you to check in, but, sadly, he's too busy with his life as an Officer in 12. And your mother rarely calls. You don't know why, but for some reason you being married and a mother doesn't quite sit well with her despite the fact that she signed off on your arranged marriage contract.

Your brow furrows at hearing your husband on the phone. Shouldn't he be on his way home right now?

And as if he could read your thoughts, Crassus tells you, “I’m calling because I'm going to be late for dinner.”

Why?

As if he heard your mental musing, he explains, “I let my secretary leave early. It's his anniversary and he's taking his wife out for dinner.”

Of course, your husband lets his secretary leave early to celebrate his anniversary while you've never celebrated an anniversary let alone a birthday with Crassus. Hell, the only reason you celebrate holidays with your husband's because they're federal and all of the government buildings are closed for them.

“So, I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what time-” Crassus began to say, only to cut himself off mid sentence when he heard you sniffling over the phone.

Crassus couldn't help, but feel as if he's the reason you're sniffling. He doesn't know why, but it sends a pang to his cold heart. He's sitting at his desk, clutching his phone; listening to your sniffles turn into soft sobs and he has no idea how to deal with it. Crassus isn't a man that's a natural comforter; in fact he's naturally stern and aloof.

“Petal?” Crassus asks, the new pet name slipping from his tongue before his mind could think better of it. Before he could utter your name.

Petal? Since when does your husband use pet names with you? Are you hallucinating? Is your baby blues making you hear things? Wiping your tears, due to your rollercoaster emotions brought on by the baby blues, you compose yourself and tell Crassus, “I'll have your plate placed in the oven for you. You can reheat it whenever you get home.”

You didn't even give Crassus a chance to respond, just told him, “I'll see you whenever you get home. Bye.”, before hanging up on him.

Instead of returning to the dining room, you opted to spend some time with your son in his nursery. Since Cassian's sleeping, you decide to just sit in the corner rocking chair while watching him.

Cassian was such a precious baby. Over the last few days he's started to settle easier; sleep a bit longer. He's a good baby; doesn't cry too much- just when he's hungry or his diaper’s soiled. Little Cassian Xandros is also a very happy baby. Even tho he's barely a week old, you swear he smiles at you every time his icy eyes (Snow eyes) lands on you- his mom.

You're not sure how long you've been in the nursery for, but you know it's been a while because Coriolanus enters the room with a frown maring his prominent and flawless face.

“You never came back to the dining room after answering the phone, mommy.” Coryo tells you, closing the door behind him and striding over to you.

“I wasn't hungry.” Is your excuse. Well, it wasn't an excuse per say. You truly did lose your appetite considering you were picking at your plate before Crassus even called. You're blaming that on the baby blues since you're feeling a bit melancholy.

“You can't skip meals, Y/N. You're a nursing mother; you need all the strength you can get to properly feed our son.” He chastises while towering over you.

Sighing, you remind your lover, “As far as legality’s concerned, Coryo, Cassian's my son with Crassus; he's his father while you're the older brother.”

Coriolanus' handsome face contorts as his baritone echoes out darkly, “Don't throw that minor inconvenience into my face. Despite what legal papers say I'm the baby's father and as his father I want what's best for him, which includes you eating properly in order to nurse him.”

The University student's berating sounds harsh to you. Perhaps it's because of your baby blues or perhaps it's because he's making you feel like he's attacking your abilities as a mother. But whatever the reason, his lecture has tears springing to your eyes. Tears that you just can't control.

Coriolanus' face skews up in bafflement. He can't understand why you're breaking down in tears over nothing. He's just having a conversation with you. And he's noticed that this isn’t the first time you've been weepy and dismal for no good reason.

Yes, over the last few days while coming and going from the penthouse, Coriolanus has noticed that you've been a sniffling, melancholic mess. But he can't figure out why. You have him and the baby he decided to give you, you should be happy- no, not just happy, but grateful for those things; not boo-hooing when you think you're all alone.

Frankly, the golden- haired devil with a halo of curls is tired of your tears. They have no merit. At least not in his mind.

Taking long, quick steps over to the baby's crib, your lover picks up the newborn, causing him to wake up with a loud wail of a cry, and storms over to you. Literally shoving the baby into your arms, Coryo callously orders, “Stop your mindless weeping.” As you soothe your baby, you're hiccuping while tears still continue to stain your cheeks. “You have me, who loves you, and the baby I gave you; there's no reason for you to be so out of sorts, mommy.” The platinum blonde tells you, trying to get you to see how unwarranted your cries are.

But before you can even explain that it's not your fault, that according to Grandma'am you have the baby blues, Coryo sees himself out of the room with the excuse that he was homework to do to ensure he's still the top of his graduating class.

When Crassus gets home, his mother's up and waiting for him. “Crassus, I'm appalled and ashamed that you never came home for dinner.” Grandma'am chastised her only living son as soon as he set foot in the main room of the penthouse, briefcase loosely clutched in his large hand.

“Mother-” The cold and stoic man begins, only for his mother to cut him off with a firm and motherly, “Don't mother me, Crassus Xanthos Snow. Not when you come home 2-hours later then you should; missing dinner and quality time with your family.”, while rising from her seat and marching over to her son with as much speed as her old arthritis filled bones will let her.

“I called Y/N and told her I'd be late. Didn't she relay my message?” Crassus asks- using the question as his defense against being late.

“She received the call while we were gathered in the dining room for dinner; she never returned after your call.”

Great…him coming home late made you so sad that you couldn't even rejoin the family for dinner. Were you crying so badly that you couldn't control it; that you felt the need to eat perhaps after everyone else was done as a way to hide your sadness from them? Oh, hell, did he screw up not coming home for dinner?

Fuck!

He's a horrible husband.

A horrible, shitty, cold-hearted husband that doesn't know how to treat his wife, who’s 2-decades younger than him. But, despite being a cold, indifferent husband towards you he doesn't want you crying at the drop of a hat and being sad.

His first wife seemed so happy to be Mrs. Snow; she even seemed to smile a bit brighter when she shoved him out the door for work- and that was back when he was stationed in District 12 as the Commander and only came home to his Corso penthouse in the Capitol on furloughs. How is it that his late wife, Demeter, was never saddened by his absence while you are? You both married him at similar ages, both knew what was expected of you- being a proper socialite housewife of the respected heir of an esteemed founding Capitolite family, so what was the difference between you and her? Why is it that you're a mess, crying your eyes out, because he's emotionally cold and unavailable while his first wife wasn't bothered by it; didn't seem to mind his cold-hearted and stern ways?

Were you more emotional because you took after your father, Javani, more than your mother, Helenium? Were you more of an introverted, kind-hearted, sunshine and roses type then he originally thought? He remembers that Javani Halvir, his late best friend and your father, was very introverted and only opened up around those he was truly comfortable with, that he truly didn't have a mean bone in his body- hence why he got along so easily with just about everyone he crossed paths with, and that he always looked on the sunny side of life.

Oh shit…

If you truly have a personality like your father's then your marriage to Crassus is probably slowly killing you since he's not doing anything to make you feel comfortable. Maybe he should've looked harder to find you a suitable match with somebody younger and less jaded? But, truthfully, Crassus jumped the gun and married you in fear of General Byzantine (the former Commander of 2 that was on the rebels' side of the war before siding with his friend Strabo Plinth and joining the Capitol against the rest of the rebellion and ending the siege around Capitol City) using Strabo Plinth’s money to seduce your mother's soul into allowing him to have your hand in marriage. He knew that Javani would roll over in his grave and haunt him from Elysian if Crassus let Byzantine get his grubby, lecherous hands on you.

Giving her son a motherly whack on the arm, the type all mothers use for scolding, Grandma'am gives Crassus a much needed lecture on his skills as a husband. “Crassus, I draw the line at you missing dinner tonight. You're not a very caring or attentive husband to Y/N and maybe before my new grandbaby came I could turn a blind eye to it, but I can't do it anymore. You need to be more understanding and considerate of your wife's feelings, Crassus. She's a new mother to Cassian; her entire life is now devoted to raising the child that you gifted her, she deserves a husband that at least pretends to care about her and his newborn then one that blatantly doesn't.”

“Mother-” Crassus tried to dig himself out of the hole that was his mother's scolding, but was cut off by her snapping, “Crassus, I'm ashamed at how you're treating your wife. Being a new mother's very taxing on her; she needs your support, even if it's just faux support.”

“My first wife wasn't like Y/N; she didn't need my attention and support so badly.” Crassus points out as a weak way of defending his shitty actions as a husband.

“Demeter, bless her heart and rest her soul, was nothing like Y/N.” Grandma'am told her son. Not waiting from him to make a reply, the elderly woman explained her remark with, “She was a youthful, vapid, vain girl that viewed joining our family by marrying you as a way to get out from under her parents thumb. According to Pluribus, she batted her eyes and powdered her nose at you while plopping herself down at your table while at his old nightclub. She wanted a marriage, but was too insipid to truly want anything past the successful husband and the perfect family that includes a male heir to coddle and spoil."

Grandma'am grew to care for her first daughter-in-law after living with her for so long, since Crassus didn't take her on base with him, but she never saw her as having what it took to be a true Snow. She always thought the young lady was lacking something since she always seemed a bit dull, despite being a gentle-soul.

“And Y/N’s like her father, Javani.” Crassus stated what he'd only just realized a few minutes earlier.

Grandma'am patted her son on the cheek, a small smile gracing her lips. “It took you long enough to see it, my boy.”

Now, in Grandma'am's opinion you have what it takes to be a Snow. You're a lovely girl, very well rounded. But she's afraid that if her son doesn't support you during your baby blues then you'll turn into a former shell of yourself.

Grandma'am, unlike you, had the support of her husband during her boughs of the baby blues. Hopefully she can get her son to be benevolent towards you.

After Crassus placed his briefcase in his study, he went to your shared bedroom only to discover that you weren't there. He knew that the only other place you could be was the nursery. He made a mental note to go to the nursery to see you once he was finished showering and dressing in a pair of fine silk pajamas.

So, that's why when you're in the middle of singing your son to sleep with a pre-Panem song that you remember your father tucking you into bed with before the war: Cat’s in the Cradle, Crassus walks into the room.

Your husband quickly realizes that you're smiling at the baby cradled in your arms as you softly sing to him. That you seem genuinely happy. Crassus can't help, but to wonder if the only time you're happy and not sad is when you're spending time with Cassian.

“And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon. Little boy blue and the man in the moon.”, You softly sing, only to be interrupted by your husband's deep voice saying, “I think he's asleep and it's time for you to join me in bed, petal.”

Nodding, you stand while holding the baby close to your chest. The sight reminds your husband of a fierce lioness with her cubs. “Did you get your dinner from the oven?” You ask while bringing your baby over to his crib.

“No.” Crassus shakes his head. “I thought-” He began, only to be cut off by you flatly telling him, “You should eat before going to bed, Crassus.” Placing Cassian into his crib, you add in the rhetorical question of, “It wouldn't be good for the breadwinner of the house to get sick from malnutrition, now would it?”

Crassus assumes that you ate once Grandma'am and Coriolanus were done eating in the dining room, so he doesn't ask you to join him in the kitchen for his meal of leftovers. No, instead he just nods and tells you that he'll join you in bed once he's done eating.

And when he does join you in your shared bed, well, you're already fast asleep. So, he quietly joins you in bed- making sure not to disturb you. Like his mother said, you're a new mother whose world revolves around your son; you need as much rest as you can get.

But as he lays his platinum curls on his pillow, he realizes that you look peaceful in your sleep. He can't honestly say that he's even seen you look so content before.

And for some reason, unknown to him, he wanted to see that look of tranquility on your face during waking hours as well.

Leo Davis stepped off the elevator and went over to his desk. He was 15 minutes late, but he did have a very passionate night celebrating his anniversary with his wife last night. A celebration that started at dinner and ended in the bedroom of their modest apartment that they're paying too much rent for. And as soon as he sat down at his desk, the door to his boss's office flew open.

Oh no, was he in trouble for being late? Crassus was always in the office way before the official start time of 9 o’clock, so did he know that Leo just arrived? The secretary was scared to death of being fired for being late as he watched his boss emerge from his office. The imposing man, who was well over 6 feet tall, walked over to his employee’s desk with his coffee mug in hand.

Coming to a stop at Leo's desk, Crassus took a sip of his coffee and asked, “So, Leo, how was your anniversary with your wife last night?”

Leo Davis nearly choked on his own spit. Since when does the General Crassus Snow want to know about his personal life? The man was always shutting down all attempts at conversation that even remotely seemed to steer towards personal things, such as family. If it wasn't about work, a coffee, or a good order then Crassus didn't talk about it.

“Well, did you have a nice time?” Crassus asked as Leo just looked at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, yes, yes, we had a nice time.” Leo nods, nearly tripping over his tongue as he answers his boss. Holy hell, he still doesn't believe what's happening. That his boss is asking him about the details of his anniversary.

Deciding to not look a gift horse in the mouth, the secretary smiles and tells his boss the details of his night. Well, the details that are safe for work that is.

“You should bring your wife to Palace Arms for your anniversary. You'll have to make a reservation and it's located in the Denver Palace Hotel, but it's worth it for a special occasion.” Leo advised his boss, just to be friendly. Perhaps being friendly will get him a lesser workload. Eh, wishful thinking never hurt anyone.

Nodding, Crassus simply says, “I'll keep that in mind.” He knows that since he didn't do anything with you to celebrate your last anniversary that the he'll have to make up for his lack of interest with the upcoming one. So, he truly means it when he says he'll keep the prospect of taking you to the Palace Arms for your next anniversary in mind.

Before seeing you crying in the corner of your shared bedroom, Crassus would never ask for marital advice- and from a lowly employee as well, but now all he wants is to make you happy. He wants you to stop crying so much; wants you to stop being sad. He also wants to know what to do to change things, so that's why Crassus straight up asks his secretary, “Leo, how do you make your wife happy?”

“What?” Leo asks, wide-eyed and taken aback. Did his boss really just ask him that?

“My wife's been sad lately and since you seem to be on good terms with your wife, I was wondering, how do you make your wife happy?” Crassus asks, explaining his previous question in length, before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Um, I suppose I make my wife happy just by doing the little things for her.” Leo answers while wishing he didn't accidentally leave his travel mug of coffee at home on the kitchen counter. He could really use some right now.

“What are the little things you do for her?” Crassus asks, clearly oblivious to what ‘the little things' means. The man was cold, stern, and indifferent by nature. He wasn't one to make gestures out of care of love. So, yes, he really has no idea what his secretary's talking about.

And that was the moment that Leo Davis knew he was doomed to be General Crassus Snow’s personal marriage counselor/advisor. Oh, how the stars seemed to play a cosmic joke on him, huh?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress @nayveetbhh

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: frogs (whoevers scared of them), swearing, boys being boys, angst

Also, yes, I do know harry potter, I was in both that and the marauders fandom (esp marauders)

===

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed

===

"Sophia Loren is so beautiful." We look up at a movie poster, stating that only eighteen above can watch.

"What about Brigitte Bardot?"

"My mother says she's vulgar."

"Apparently, we can sneak in through the back door." Simone points towards the cinema.

"How do you know that?" I ask her, curious.

"A boy told me." It's definitely Jean Pierre.

"Is it Eugène?" Oh, Michèle.

"No, it wasn't." Simone shakes her head, and she's basically telling the truth.

We turn a corner. "You think I'll meet him someday?" Michèle asks Simone. I glance at the dark haired girl, worry spreading in me.

"Who?"

"Eugène."

"I don't know."

I stay quiet, a one-eyed boy in the back of my mind.

××《☆》××

Students enter through Voltaire High's gates and head inside the building.

I sit in the very front of my class, tapping a pencil against the table, anxiously waiting for my score.

"Pardine, 10." I sigh in relief, scanning the paper.

Frogs croak loudly throughout the room, making me shiver in fear. Small, slimy, hopping creatures were not my thing.

"And finally, Miss Sabiani, 12." Laubrac claps his hands, followed by the class. Annick has been glowing, much more social and vibrant. Good for her, comparing her old self to now.

I look back at my score, sighing. I could've done better. Could've gotten a twelve like Annick. I clench my jaw, disappointed.

Then, for the first time of many times today, a paper plane lands on my table. I furrow my brows, turning around to see who could've done it. None of them look suspicious, but Joseph looks nice. Too nice. And he's wearing green.

I turn back around, not knowing if I was flushed because of anger or because of him. Probably both. Annoyingly, both.

"Tomorrow, we'll all be dissecting frogs." My stomach reacts badly, making me gag silently.

Sure, frogs weren't my cup of tea, but dissecting them? I wouldn't even wish death on Joseph. Though, a part of me knows hatred isn't the reason for this.

I have noticed today that Joseph's been gloomy. He's off, and obviously not in a good way. His eyes that were once lit by its own sun dims down like when a storm approaches. And he's not smiling. I miss his smile.

No, I don't. I don't and won't miss anything. He hates me, and I guess I hate him, too. He decides to talk shit about me? The audacity of that man. I wish I could just grab his neck and strangle him and look at him and see his fucking pretty lips turn into a smile-

That god-awful smile. It ruined me. And I hate his smile. I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

We're all gathered up in the courtyard, discussing our grades, when suddenly, boys started crowding near Annick. I overhear what they say.

"One hour with Annick!"

I furrow my eyebrows. One hour? That's what they're freaking out about? Well, it was Annick, and they were boys, so I guess I shouldn't be too confused.

"Hey, what's happening?" I walk up to Pichon, and he looks startled as he sees me.

"Annick is giving out an hour private lesson if someone steals the frogs and the film from English earlier for her." Pichon stutters out.

This morning, in English class, we watched a movie called "To Kill A Mockingbird", the film adaptation of the book. I guess Annick liked it so much that she wants someone to steal it for her.

In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde's wafting his arms in the air. I had a sudden question.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Applebaum stopped talking to me? I know it was from long ago, but I sometimes wonder what happened." Pichon pales, and my brows pinch together.

"You know how Applebaum's glasses went missing?"

I nod, remembering the day at the gym.

"Well, that was Descamps. After that, he came up to us and threatened Applebaum's eye if he went to talk to you again. Applebaum whined for hours to us after that. He said he lost his chance at the only girl who's ever given him one."

I chuckle absentmindedly, shocked at the new information. Then, I turn angry.

"Descamps, did that? Why? Why would he want Applebaum away from me?" Pichon scans my face, trying to see if I'm serious or not.

"You really don't know?" I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Pichon scoffs. "He's in love with you, that's why. Even when he looked like he hated you, from how I saw it, he was so in love it turned him into a mad man. I always caught him looking at you or being near you, even if it was a hundred feet away. Wherever you were, he was, too." It's my turn to scoff.

"He doesn't love me. He hates me. I caught him in the halls, talking about me to his friends and saying I was too clingy." My heart shatters in my chest as I recall that moment.

"Wait. How could he say you were clingy?"

"We've hung out the past few days. He's stayed the night the day before I heard him call me that."

"What? You let him stay the night?"

"Yes? What's wrong with that? We're friends. Or atleast we were."

"Oh my god, no offence, but how could you be so daft? You love him, too!" Pichon says a little too loudly, making the courtyard glance at us before returning to their own conversations.

"I don't! Now keep your voice down, or I'll rip them off." I whisper-shout at him.

"You even talk like him." I roll my eyes at his conclusion.

"Anyways, don't be delusional. He doesn't love me, actually, quite the opposite, and I don't love him. That's that." There's a lace of disappointment in my voice, but I cover it up with a stiff face.

Pichon raises both his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He walks away, a smile dancing on his lips. I scoff.

He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

××《☆》××

I lean against the wall facing Michèle as we wait for Simone in the toilet.

"So?" Michèle calls out to the door.

"Yes, it's my period." The door opens, and Simone walks out. She closes the door.

"Is there a stain on your skirt?" Simone checks.

"No. But my underwear's ruined. The rest is fine. I put toilet paper" I notice how messy she looked. I comb her hair out with my fingers. She grabs her things from Michèle.

"You should go to the nurse, Simone." I tell her, worried.

"Yeah, my aunt will have pads." Michèle interjects.

"No, I'll be fine." I puff out my cheeks at her stubbornness, but dismiss it.

We start to walk, but after only a few steps, Simone clutches on her stomach.

"You definitely need to go to the nurse." She shakes her head.

"You poor thing." Michèle says as we continue to walk.

Once we make it out the door to the courtyard, Pichon pops out of nowhere. I squint at him, still pressed about earliers conversation. He just smiles at me.

"Michèle." He says. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." Michèle responds, walking down the steps with us.

"Do you know where your uncle keeps his keys? There must be spares. Y/N needs them, too." I raise my eyebrows in surprise at the bold question. Then I remember the Annick situation. I nod along.

A voice butts in. "Hey, are you nuts?" It's Dupin. "Don't involve the dean's niece." He's leaning against the wall with his hand on it, legs crossed. "She's gonna snitch."

"What's he talking about?" Simone asks.

"Oh no, not again." Pichon looks between us and Dupin then walks away. I look at him confused.

Michèle walks down to Dupin. "You think I'm a suck up because I'm the dean's niece?"

"Yes." I know that voice all too well. I look at Joseph, and we lock eyes. I scan his face. Nothing's changed much, but it feels like something did. He glares at me then stares baack at Michèle.

"Let's go, guys." Simone says, walking down the steps. Michèle follows, but I stay.

"I heard about what you told Pichon and Applebaum." I walk the down the steps, looking up at his towering figure. He glances at Dupin and his friend, nodding them to go somewhere else. They follow.

"What about it?" He tilts his head at me, hand in his pockets.

"Why are you threatening Applebaum's eye if he looks at me?" His jaw clenches.

He pauses. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I chuckle half heartedly. "Why not?"

"Did I stutter?" Wow, since when did he have sass?

"You're an asshole, okay? First, you talk shit about me to your friends, talk shit about my friends, then I'm now just finding out you threatened Applebaum?" I raise my eyebrows at this, disappointment seething through my teeth.

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" What the fuck is wrong with him?

"What the fuck do you even mean? We were so close, Jo- Descamps. We were friends, didn't you think?" I stutter at saying his name, embarrassment coating my cheeks.

"Back to last name basis?" There's disappointment in his tone, but I somehow catch his eye glancing down at my lips. I flush more.

"Yeah. Why not?" I mock his words, jutting my head forward.

"Alright, Pardine. If that's what you want." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He's starting to piss me off.

"I didn't fucking want us to stop being friends. We had to because, for some reason, it's only now that I remembered you're an asshole."

"Whatever." He scoffs out.

"Fine." I stepped closer. I already feel his warmth.

"Fine." He steps closer. He smells the same. I wish things were still the same.

"Fuck you." That's the last thing I say before walking away, feeling his stare on my back.

××《☆》××

"Stealing Herman's frogs and Couret's movie? Did Annick cast a spell on them?" I exclaim, raising my arms. Michèle and Simone follow behind me.

"And Dupin calling me a snitch. I may be the dean's niece, but I'm no rat." Michèle says over my shoulder. I nod in agreement.

I glance at Simone, seeing her clutching her stomach. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers simply, face grimacing.

"You should I ask my aunt to write you a note and go home." Michèle says as she rubs Simone's arm.

"You think?" Me and Michèle nod.

"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom. It's soaked already." I nod again and lead Simone to the bathroom door.

"Michèle." I stop in my heels as Simone turns to Michèle. "You should steal the frogs. That'll shut them up." We continue to walk.

I lead Simone down the staircase, her one hand gripping mine and the other on the rails.

"Are you okay, Ms. Palladino?" Ms. Couret says, looking up at the both of us.

Simone talks to Ms. Couret and I excuse myself. Before I leave, Simone looks at me, glancing at Ms. Couret. I remember the film then nod at Simone. She nods back. I go all the way down the stairs, going out to the courtyard and on my way to the gate.

This morning, Callum called. He told me he had some news. When I asked why he chose lunch time to tell me, all he said was it was so important that he wanted to tell me face to face, and as soon as he was on his lunch break. So, naturally, I agreed.

I see the Thunderbird from a distance, its colour eye catching. A tall frame with messy brown curls exits the car, making his way to me, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I roll my eyes at the name, smiling. He simply chuckles. I walk out the gate. He hands me the bouquet.

"What is it?" I ask, implying the news he wanted to tell me.

"Not even a hello? I'm hurt." I stick my tongue out to him. "Anyways, how do you feel about Paris?" My ears perk up at the mention of the city.

"Paris? I miss the place. Why do you ask?" My heart beats in excitement, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, the people loved you so much. The company that released the magazine contacted me to get to you." I raise my eyebrows as he pauses. He furrows his.

"You don't get it? They want you in Paris by summer because they want you to model! Like, professionally." My eyes blow wide open and I gape in surprise. My mouth open and closes, not knowing what to say.

"Callum." I stutter out. "Please don't lie."

"I'm not." Tears rim my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I swear Callum if you're lying-"

"I'm not! I swear on my life." He laughs, his breath blowing on my face.

"Fuck, Callum." I give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, gripping him to stay upright, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or not.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "You deserve this. I'm so proud of you."

I pull away from his chest, dried streams of quiet tears on my face. Callum still wipes them away.

"Let me take you out tonight." My heart sort of drops. I can't, I tell myself. Why can't I? Then, a one-eyed boy is in my mind again. Oh. I grip my bouquet.

"Sure." Joseph wouldn't care. I then realised that he probably never did. Whatever, it's fine. But really, it isn't. I shouldn't be thinking about him, I should be thinking about the fact people want me to model for real.

But I can't help it. There's a boy in front of me, a modelling opportunity, and a dinner to look out for tonight, but all I can think about is him.

Him and his ash coloured hair, eyes that change colour in the light, smile that makes my heart clentch in my chest, and his lips. His beautiful, plump, pink lips.

Then I look up at Callum, and he looks at me the way Joseph once did. And I crumble internally, realising how much this beautiful boy will break when he finds out how I feel about someone else.

Joseph never loved me. I don't think he did. I felt used, hurt, and betrayed after what I witnessed. And what's funny is the fact that after that incident, that's when I realised I loved him. I love him.

I love Callum, too. But the way I feel for Joseph, it's different. And it's too bad I realised I loved him and that he hated me too late. I can't help but love him anyway.

That's the thing with love, though. When you realise you feel it, you can't let go. The way it feels is so different, you're too scared to let it go because you don't know when or if you'll ever feel it again.

"I'll pick you up at 6?"

A pause.

"Sure."

××《☆》××

My footsteps echo through the halls, too loud, in my opinion. I follow Michèle, her eyes glancing at me from time to time. I guard the door as she walks in and grabs both of the needed keys.

She gives me my set, whispers good luck, and walks to her room. I part to mine.

I quickly unlock the room and close it behind me, a quiet click sounding around the empty class. The film was situated at the table, leaning against some books. It looked like it was meant to be stolen.

Then I hear footsteps shuffling outside. I get under the table, trying to figure out the noise. It was too flat to be heels, and it was too heavy to be a woman. It sounded like thudding than clicking. Then the door opens, and I see brown oxfords. I know those oxfords. They've been in my flat before.

I get up from my spot, accidentally hitting my head on the edge of the table. Hard.

"Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?" Descamps sprints over to me, hands cupping my head and inspecting the hit area.

"It's Pardine to you, Descamps. And no, do I look okay?" I push his hands away, fixing my hair and dress. I look up at him, and he's already looking at me.

"What now?" I groan, crossing my arms. Descamps raises his brows, crossing his arms, too.

"You think you're the only one who wants to get the film?" He bends down to reach my height. I flush at the proximity.

"I certainly was here first."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I have it now." He snatches the film of the table. I grunt, trying to grab it. He lifts it over his head, stretching his arm. He's smiling. How much I hate that smile.

"Fuck you, Descamps." I push him off, making my way to the door. There's footsteps outside again. I stumble backwards.

"Go, go, go!" I nudge Descamps to the table, planning to get under it again. Our knees push against each other as we try to fit in the small area. A couple of swears and names were silently thrown around but were silenced when the door opened slowly.

I held my breath as Descamps did. I absentmindedly grip his calf, and his hand was gripping mine. In other circumstances, he'd be whispering reassurances in my ear, holding me close with his arms, and kissing my head 'till I calmed down.

This wasn't one of those circumstances.

After a while, there was a snore. I furrow my eyebrows. Snoring? I slowly come out of the nook, not before Descamps pulls me back down and asks me what I'm doing. I shush him, going back up slowly. His hand is still gripping mine. It feels the same as it did all those other times.

I make it to the edge of the table, and across the room, one of the janitors was sitting on a class chair, snoring the afternoon away.

I sigh in relief, coming back down to Descamps. He raises his brows at me.

"So?"

"He's dead asleep."

"Do we stay here 'till he leaves?" I think about it for a moment.

"I guess. It'd be too risky to leave. The door's too loud."

"Fuck. I guess I'm stuck here with you." He rolls his eye. The audacity.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking shit about my friend." He scowls at me.

"Well, I'm not the one who's fucking assuming."

We argue whisper shouting.

"I saw you! And I heard you!"

"You don't know why I was saying that!"

"I know exactly why! You hate me!" That makes him shut up.

"What?"

"You hate me, Descamps."

"Why would you even think that?" There's a tone I can't tell. Like he's hurt, or in disbelief, or in denial.

"Because you're-" He cuts me off.

"Why would I ever hate you?" He squints at me a bit, voice wavering.

"You-" He cuts me off again.

"I could never hate you." Tears brim my eyes at his words. I look at him quietly.

"Stop lying, Descamps." My voice breaks.

"I-" He sighs, looking down at his lap.

I sniffle, wiping my nose. I turn around, back against his clamped legs. And he stays still. We've done this before. Except my back was against his chest, and he was combing my hair with his fingers.

"And Annick." I feel him tense.

"What about her?" I scoff in disbelief.

"You're doing this for her, right?" I turn my head, not really looking at him.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was here because Pichon told me, or really I made him tell me that you-" His voice gets cut off and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"That I what?" I urge him to continue. Incoherent noises come from the back of his throat, stuttering against his teeth. He sighs, wiping his palms on the cloth of his knees.

"That you were coming here." It comes out as a mumble, and I almost didn't hear it from the way my heart was thumping and blocking my hearing.

"Why would you care?" There's a pause again, and it's suffocating.

"So that I'll know how easy it'll be to get it before you do." I snap my head forward, looking at the blank wood of the table.

A few seconds pass by. I hear his voice again.

"What about you? Why do you want an hour with Annick?" I keep my head straight this time while talking.

"I need to keep up with her." I shrug simply.

"Why? You're already doing so well in class." I flush at the compliment, but shake my head.

"Well, I could do better." I sigh deeply, seemingly annoyed at the question. I still want him talking to me, though.

"I mean, sure, but isn't it draining?" My hearing blurs for a second at the question.

"Of course it is." I keep my answer plain, but my voice breaks. I hear his heavy breathing.

"You know that I know how much you study. Even if we're... not so close as we were before, I still think you should take a break."

A memory comes to mind. I lean over my books on my bed, writing notes on the pages. Feet thumping against wood floors doesn't break my focus, but a hand caressing my back does. I still remembered the way he whispered against my ear, telling me to take a break. The way he cupped my hand to stop it from writing. The way that the bed dipped as he sat down and wrapped his arms around my waist. How much I missed those nights.

"You know, I used to fake studying so you could come close." I blurt out, not caring what I say anymore.

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah?" I hum in response.

"I used to make every excuse to come close." I shiver at the confession, wishing I could turn back time to every moment he came close and held me.

"It's too bad you're an asshole." He chuckles.

"Really is too bad."

I guess that was where the conversation ended, though I'm not sure, but after a while, we hear the janitor get up and leave. I slowly come out of the hiding spot, dusting my dress again.

Before I leave the room, a hand grabs my wrist. I don't turn around, but suddenly, my hands clasp a rectangular object. Descamps drops my hand and leaves.

When the door closes, I just stare at it. Then, I raise my hand. The film was in it.

××《☆》××

I walk with Pichon to the alley, watching familiar faces look at us. I avoid Descamps' gaze, focusing on Michèle and smiling at her.

"There they are!" One of them calls out.

"So?"

"We've got them." Pichon answers, dropping the bag. I hand the film to Annick, leaning into her ear.

"Descamps did it. Give him the hour." I purse my lips, then walk away from her. She turns her head to Descamps, and I'm too scared to see if she looks at him the way I used to. Well, really, I still do.

I walk to Michèle, smiling at her. Then I look at Applebaum.

He hasn't changed much, and when he catches me staring, he turns as red as his name and looks away. I laugh a little, then start to feel bad about the fact that Descamps had threatened him. I'll talk to him about it later.

We all lean and look at Pichon as he opens the pouch, frogs hopping out of it. I yelp, trying to get away from them.

"It only took five minutes?" Dupin asks.

"He's smarter than all of you." Laubrac answers.

"Can't wait to see Herman's face."

They start to grab the frogs and chase each other with it. Dupin lifts it up to my face, and I yelp, running away.

Strong arms lift me off the ground, the familiar scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne fill my senses.

"Come on, go chase Felbec or something. Not her." Dupin nods and runs elsewhere.

He gently places me on the ground again, cupping my face.

"You okay?" He whispers. I nod.

"Don't talk to Applebaum. I saw you looking at him. I know you know that I threatened him, it's only because he's a fucking weirdo and you know it. Please." He reads me too well. I nod again.

"Thanks. Now go home." He pulls his hands away, grabbing another cigarette.

I stumble backwards, walking away fully.

Almost halfway home, I remember leaving something. It was a tie I accidentally dropped when Descamps lifted me off the ground. It was pretty special, so I went back for it.

Turning to the now golden lit alley, my feet stutter to a stop when I see Descamps against the wall, some girl from school splayed over him, her hand on his chest and lips close to his.

The garbage rattles and their heads turn to me. I make a run for it, leaving the tie to be forgotten.

I should've known. He never loved me. He always hated me. Since when were they even hanging out? What if they were together the whole time? I gag at the thought.

I hate him. I hate him so much. But I don't.

Fuck, this hurts.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

Next- Chapter seven: Salvatore

××《☆》××

So that took SUCH A LONG TIME. Um very angsty good or very angsty bad? Idk if I spell checked or grammar checked this well, so if u see smth, dm me PLS

Also for the F1 fans, ik im late w news, but 1-2 ferrari, carlos pole after appendix got removed, ferrari and mclaren top 4 domination, hamilton and verstappen dnf, george flipping over on the middle of the track, and fernando alonso getting p1 for a few minutes. Austrailia GP will always be wild.

HAPPY READING!!! 6/10 CHAPTERS DONE

[fakeusernamelol]

I'm thinking about the "Ford performing an incredibly botched top surgery on Stan" again because I'm a sucker for self surgery even though I know nothing about actual surgeries. It got me wondering how plausible it is, with Ford swiping a scalpel from school's biology lab that they used to dissect frogs or something. The anesthesia being just getting Stan black out drunk. All done on a water bed (cuz it's easier to clean up) with a extremely rudimentary liposuction machine that Ford built himself. Ford trying so fucking hard to steel himself as if he's not about to perform surgery on Stan when all the knowledge he had was from an anatomy textbook that he borrowed from the library, all while doing it in a hardly sterile room. It's a miracle that Stan didn't die from septic shock

M HELLO MOOTIE SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU HERE ONCE AGAIN and even happier that you liked that idea i had a while ago 😈😈😈💓💖💓💖

I really love this headcanon of ford thinking he can do even more than he is able too, he was a teen with an unbridled ego product of growing up with clear favoritism due to his achievements by his teachers and his father, stanford was told to be a genius but in a teenager mind having a thought so deep into his brain could lead to an dangerous ambition by wanting to prove he was that genius people said he was or even beyond that..

So, when he heard his brother complain from time to time about how uncomfortable the bandages he used to bind his chest were, he immediately thought that he could be able to help his dear brother problem. He has read various medical magazines and human biology books, Performing a surgery to Stanley at home didn't sound like something really difficult so he promised him he would do it! And even if stan wasn't really sure if it was a good idea in his deep down, Ford seemed so confident about that and well, it was his brother, he knew better than him and wouldn't make anything bad to him so he finally accepted to continued with the procedure.

He borrow some things from his dissection practices, towels from the kitchen, the first aid kit from the pawn shop, the gloves mom used to clean the dishes along with the disinfectant products to clean the scalpel and finally a bottle of fine wine from the collection his father kept in his office as an homemade anesthesia (only thing i would change is that i dont think they would own a water bed more when at the time they were such a new and expensive thing for a middle class family lol so i do think their surgery room would be the bathtub one day while his parents where out of home lol)

Ford prepared the bathtub along the utensils trying to get them as sterilized as possible while also reviewing once again the anatomy book he brought as a guide while Stan drank the bottle of wine to the bottom till get black out. When Stan was finally unconscious ford was ready to start with the surgery...

In order to perform a medical procedure you must have studies and a degree in it. Ford learned it while he was calling 911 almost crying of fear while trying to stop the hemorrhage from Stan's chest that along with the mix of alcohol in his body was getting worsened with every minute it passed. Luckily for both of them stan didn't die but he did end up in the hospital for a few weeks with their parents very angry with stan because they thought he had done it to himself while Ford was incredibly regretful for almost killing his brother to prove a point to himself. Good thing? The top surgery was a success! Well, i mean Stan now had a ugly big scar all over his chest and was being medicated for the not-so-unexpected infection he ended up with, but at least he could go out without a shirt now!! and that's got Ford being forgiven by stan lol

[mahimahi713]

I was discussing this with @djbunnie recently. But I was thinking about what I’d do if I were to do a redo of DP. But really this is mostly how I’d make Sam better.

Before I get further, I want to make a disclaimer: this idea would include Danny and Sam being endgame. They would be together in the end. However before that would happen, Danny and Valerie would actually have a relationship. They would be an established couple but they’d ultimately have an amicable break up. But they would have been together for 2 years I’m thinking?

This redo would also include bits and pieces of some of my earlier DP posts.

That said, let’s get into it.

So we would just ignore the entire third season and Phantom Planet. Let’s just get that out of the way.

The series would have go through several years of their lives.

Sam and Tucker would be a lot more fleshed out and go through character development. We would see more about the significant characters personalities and likes and dislikes.

First, Sam. Given how political Punk is, I’d make Sam more Punk than goth, tbh. Sam being political just makes sense. She still would be filthy rich, beyond anyone’s imaginations rich. But she uses that wealth and reputation to help marginalized groups and speak in injustices. She would also acknowledge her own wealth and privilege. I’d explore more about how she is athletic and her writing and her love of anime and manga, and her art.

Yes she would start out as looking down or just really disliking girly things. And this does stem from her mother putting her down for not being her picture perfect daughter. However she’d also have Grandma Ida to humble her. Sam wouldn’t hate girly girls themselves. Just that society will promote that image as being the way girls should be. But she’d look down things so much that it’s actually problematic. But she’d outgrow it .

And like my earlier posts about cringe Sam liking mediocre guys and saying dumb edgy things like “you laugh because I’m different, I laugh because you’re all the same”

But she also would be the one to put her foot down and say “no, Danny, you’re not going to risk and you’re going to be an astronaut” and along with Tucker and Jazz’s help, she’d help him study, make study guide and flash cards.

Another thing I’d explore is her feeling guilty over Danny being Phantom. This is guilt that eats at her but she refuses to discuss it because she knows Danny would tell her not to worry about it.

And in a way, Sam is doing this because she feels she deserves to wallow in that guilt. Almost like she’s punishing herself.

Sam was just done such a great injustice.

Tucker. Tucker would also go through significant development and we would also see more of his personality and likes and dislikes. I’d describe his character development to be much like Sokkas from A:TLA.

Tucker is a whiz when it comes to tech and computer related subjects.

Sorry I don’t have much more to say about him.

Sam and Tucker both take on bigger roles in helping to fight the ghosts. Much bigger.

For episodes like the Lunch meat episode, Sam would have just advocated for better vegetarian options and a salad bar. And when the school asks where they can get the funds to do so, she’d just be “I’m glad you asked”

She’d still think meat is murder and that they should use robotic or virtual frogs for dissections but again, she’s a work in progress.

When Danny and Val are dating, she’s obviously heartbroken. She asks Ida for advice. Ida tells her while she gets her pain, that she shouldn’t be one of those girl best friends who is mean to their best friend’s girlfriend or violates boundaries. Especially since she has feelings for him. That if she cares for Danny, then she would want him to be happy even if that means standing aside. And so, she does. She’s kind and friendly and respectful to Valerie. In fact she even gives Valerie some gift ideas that would be so meaningful for Danny. In the beginning, Sam even tells Valerie that she knows that Val knows about her crush. But she swears that she will never make a move or disrespect her or her relationship with Danny. And that if ever Val needs her to back off, she will. As long as it’s respectful.

This actually winds up being a bonding moment for Sam and Tucker because he helps her cope with her heartbreak. This relationship between them is platonic. They come to see each other as siblings. And that includes acting like siblings and being shits to each other and pissing each other off.

Oh and of course, the series would be more mature. They would act like teens and they would also engage in more mature behavior as their grow older.

There would also be more hilarity with trying to hide Danny’s secret (I’ve made a post about this).

And there would be darker moments as well.

We would also explore more of the Ghostzone itself. The lore, the science. What are ghosts. Where did non human ghosts come from. Who and what is clockwork and were did he come from. More on the ghosts’ backstories. Their lives when they were still alive. Just all that

Sam is the one who is the nurse of the group. Even for Valerie, once her and Danny begin to date. Sam can get all the medical supplies they need. She is also gentle and can do great stitches and has a steady hand and isn’t squeamish. She’s patching up everyone .

Oh and Sam and Valerie would become best friends. Even though at a point, Val would be Danny’s Ex and Sam his gf he winds up marrying. They would be best friends.

Look. DxS is my OTP and they’ll be endgame. But I think I’d want them to have more of a Ron and Kim vibe. With subtle hinting of the feelings they have.

Let’s explore DxV. Well, I think it would come to a point that Danny just realizes he needs to confess to her. He tells her the truth and while she needs to take a step back for a moment, she is able to think it through and she comes to Danny. They talk things out and decide to hang out to just clear things and get rid of those tensions. And they decide to date. They date I’m thinking atleast sophomore and junior years. They go through significant firsts together. Like serious relationship, that first time and so on. But ultimately they end things amicably because they outgrew each other and differing goals and all that. They remain friendly and respectful of each other

Sam herself goes on a few dates here and there but I really picture Sam as someone who is demisexual. She only becomes attracted to a person after she gets to know them. She actually winds up having a significant relationship with a guy who is actually on the football team but he kinda always just was there, when it came to the popular kids. He was just there because he too played football but he didn’t really interact with them and never was a bully. He and Sam start to date after they work on a project together. They date from junior year and into Senior year but break up amicably. They don’t want to do the long distance thing and have different goals and desires for the long term

Danny and Sam after high school begin to hang out more than before. Or more like they used to. Now Danny is living that college life and doing the typical hook ups. Sam isn’t because she’s not into it. And she is at a point where she knew Danny is gonna be hooking up and she’s indifferent. But they’re having out more and more and it’s nice and oh. Hey. Hello feelings for each other my old friend.

If you ever watched scrubs, the way Jake and Elliott get (back) together in later seasons, that’s basically what happens with them.

[calvin-pascal]

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills of Auvergne. The Pascal farm, with its fields of wheat swaying in the breeze, the soft clucking of chickens, and the occasional lowing of cattle, was a place of serene beauty. The stone cottage, nestled by a pond where frogs croaked lazily, stood as a testament to the family's hard work. Calvin Pascal leaned against the weathered stone wall, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the sky met the earth in a seamless blend of colors.

At sixteen, Calvin was tall and strong, with the kind of hands that bore the calluses of years spent tending to the land. His father, Edward, had always said the farm was in his blood, and Calvin believed it. The rhythm of life here, the cycle of seasons, the connection to the earth—it all felt right. Yet, as he watched the sun dip lower, there was something new stirring within him, a restlessness he couldn’t quite name.

It started the day Lucy arrived. She was hired to help with the farmwork, someone to lighten the load for his mother, Anne, and give Elodie more time for her studies. Lucy was in her early twenties, with long, chestnut hair that caught the light just so, and green eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief. Freckles dotted her nose, and when she smiled, Calvin felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the sun.

He had been in the barn, pitching hay, when she first arrived. The door creaked open, and there she was, standing in a shaft of sunlight like something out of a dream. Calvin froze, the pitchfork slipping from his hand, and Lucy laughed—a sound like the tinkling of bells.

“You must be Calvin,” she said, her voice smooth and light. “Or should I call you CJ?”

No one had ever called him CJ before. He wasn’t sure where she had picked it up, but the nickname made his heart race. It felt personal, like a secret just between them.

From that day on, she called him CJ every chance she got, always with a playful smile that sent his thoughts spiraling. They spent hours together in the fields, side by side as they planted and harvested, their hands brushing now and then, sending jolts of electricity through him. Sometimes, he would catch her looking at him, her green eyes bright with something he couldn’t quite place, and he wondered if she felt it too—that unspoken connection, that pull.

At night, lying in his small room under the eaves, Calvin would replay their conversations, dissecting every word, every glance. He knew it was foolish, this crush of his. Lucy was older, more experienced, and undoubtedly had men far more interesting than a farm boy like him vying for her attention. But he couldn’t help it. She was everything he had never known he wanted, and she seemed to see him—really see him—in a way that made him feel more alive than ever before.

One evening, as they walked back to the cottage together, the sky ablaze with the colors of sunset, Lucy bumped her shoulder against his.

“You’re a good man, CJ,” she said softly, her voice laced with something that sounded almost tender. “You know that, right?”

Calvin felt his heart stutter in his chest. “I don’t know about that,” he mumbled, suddenly shy under her gaze. He liked that. A man, not a boy. 

She stopped walking and turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “I do.”

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them standing there in the fading light. Calvin opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, caught in the intensity of her gaze, feeling like the earth might shift beneath him at any second.

Lucy smiled, a slow, knowing smile that made his breath catch. “Good night, CJ,” she whispered, and with that, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, the warmth of her presence lingering long after she was gone.

As Calvin watched her disappear into the cottage, a new thought took root in his mind, tentative but insistent: Maybe, just maybe, she felt it too.

[illusionarylibrary]

𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓫𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹

CW: Spoilers

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✶⊶⊷⊶°.•☆•.° ✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶ °.•☆•.° ⊶⊶⊷✶

- This time, it had only been a couple of days since until you found the child.

- He was sitting next to a tree. The tree you always perched on when you circled the island.

- His head was tilted down, his funny looking hat covering his head. You could swear his hat had the spots of a snow feline. Gah. What was he doing by your tree?

- The moment you perched, his little form twitched to life and he gaze up. Golden eyes met electric blue ones.

- “You’re back.”

- Your nubby ears couldn’t help but perk up. It was the first time you had heard him speak! His voice was still a bit high, but so raspy. Now he sounded like a Boneknapper trying to roar when it was missing a piece of his skeleton.

- “I…have a fish for you.”

- He held out a fresh looking fish, his hands shaking probably from the cold.

- Was that tuna?! Oooh, you loved tuna! Tuna and salmon were your favorite fish, but the moment he dumped his bag out, you hissed at the sight of…an eel.

- An eel. An eEL! EEL! EW EW EW! AGH!

- “W-woah! Ah, wait! Wait, uh. You d-don’t like eel? Huh?”

- He threw it away…he had a surprisingly good throw for such a, well, maybe not so frail human child.

- “Sorry about that. Ya, I don’t like eel either. Reminds me of Sea King.”

- Sea King? Oh yes. Those ribbon-looking beasts who ruled the seas now that dragons like the Bewilderbeast were gone. Those slimy freaks. You didn’t like eel. You didn’t like Sea King.

- Once you refocused on the child, you saw him wiping his small spotted hands on his cloak. Hmm, his finger tips looked extremely red. What did the humans call it? Frostbite?

- You dropped from your perch, sniffing around the fish pile before gobbling up the ones you liked the least before finishing with the best fish.

- You turned to the boy, sniffing at his body to make sure he wasn’t holding out on you.

- “Wha, h-hey. No- no more. I don’t have anymore!”

- He was backed into a tree, falling on his rear when the Light Fury’s rounded muzzle was right in front of his face. He didn’t have anymore. But the docks were so heavily guarded, and his hands were too cold to properly fish. He didn’t even know how to really truly fish like Cora did…Cora…oh- eu-EUGH!!

- You had thrown up the upper half of a fish, sitting back on your hind legs while tilting your head like a confused puppy. Now it was your turn to look confused.

- It was a gift. He didn’t have anymore fish, so you should give at least a bit of what he had given you!

- Ooooh…it was all warm and coated with saliva. Ugh, if he wasn’t trying to become a doctor, he probably would’ve been sick. But he’s- he’s seen worse.

- “I- um, what? What am I supposed to do with…uuuh-“

- Both of you stared at each other. You just swallowed your saliva while making straight eye contact with the youngling.

- “Oh.”

- He didn’t look too pleased with the gift. He picked up the fish, sniffing it, making a weird face, before weakly glancing up at you. He gave a weirded out expression.

- You swallowed again.

- “Ah…n-no thank you.”

- Oh. Well, at least he didn’t throw it away like the eel. So…the youngling wasn’t hungry then? Eh, whatever. He could eat it later if that’s what he wanted.

- You watched him place it by his bag, sitting up before looking dead bro your eyes. What a weird feeling. Was this youngling challenging you? Ah, why was he stretching his hand out??

- He wanted to get a closer look. His child like nature took hold and the boy just wanted to know more about the Light Fury.

- However, when it zoomed off into the snow, blending perfectly into the white wonderland, he looked a bit…blank. He felt curiosity dig into his brain. He had studied so much about all sorts of creatures. He’s dissected frogs. He was a strange child.

- But he was a child nonetheless.

- …and that was a dragon who gave him a, uh, fish head.

[stabknives]

Christian loves frogs the way he loves most things.

TW: Implied Animal Death.

Back in highschool Chris had a group of. Idk. Associates. He didn't really have friends at all, until highschool, since he was homeschooled by his mother until she left her husband and couldn't convince Chris to leave with her. (And break the law? Goodness. He's not crook. Not even for his mother.)

He's fifteen when he starts going to a pretty nice private school. Everyone there is... Fine. Chris really would've preferred a Catholic school, but he didn't have a say in the matter. He was the son. Children listen to their parents. Children should always listen. And sit still. And be good.

Christian is popular. He gets great grades, he's polite, and he knows how to smile when people want to see a smile. It helps that he's handsome. There's asinine classroom chatter, and Christian can usually avoid it with a chuckle and a claim that he really needs to focus on studying. Which, like most things Christian says, is not entirely a lie. They believe it. Most importantly, he believes it.

The problem isn't attention. Christian loves attention. He thrives on it, even. It's the topic. They're talking about favorite animals, and he doesn't have one. He doesn't have a favorite color, either, or a favorite season. He doesn't know why he doesn't have these things, but he wants these things, because that's what most people have and they're normal and HE'S normal.

They pester him about it. Tell us! Tell us! Close the book for just a second, Christian, and tell us your favorite animal. Christian tries to wave off the question again. Says it's kind of childish, yeah? I mean. They're fifteen and sixteen year olds. Not preschoolers.

A kid in the back named Hugh says Christian is dodging the question. Christian blinks a few times, probably way too fast and a little twitchy. Then he smiles. He directs the question at Hugh, instead. Because Hugh wasn't really a part of the conversation at all. Hugh was a back of the class nobody. Not that Christian thought that, that would be rude, and he's not rude. It's just what Christian's peers say.

Hugh says his favorite animals are frogs. Christian says 'mine too', because that seems like the best way to respond. It's simple, it's affable, and it's a tally mark beside the objective of a success conversation.

Matters are complicated when Hugh asks what kind. Christian says all kinds. He's not picky. That makes Hugh laugh, which makes Christian's throat feel tight and his left pinky finger start tapping against the desk. Christian likes laugh tracks when they're on TV. This is different.

So, once again, Christian bounces the question back. Does Hugh have a specific, special kind of frog he likes? Hugh proudly claims to have a pet frog. A White Lipped Tree Frog. Very friendly, and smart too. The frog is apparently named Berry.

Christian suggests Hugh bring it to school sometime. He'd love to meet Berry. Class is dismissed, but Christian stays behind to talk with the teacher. Not unusual. He's a teacher's pet, or so some people say, although never to his face.

Christian asks his science teacher if they're ever going to do anything hands on. Get practical experience. Christian still isn't sure what he wants to do when he graduates, after all. He's thought about studying forensics, or maybe something with autopsies... But for that, well. It would really help if he could do a dissection, first.

Just to see if he could stomach it.

The teacher decides dissecting frogs is done in plenty of classrooms, and it's plenty informative. Christian smiles, and nods, and agrees. He's really, very good at that. A week later, Berry the pet White Lipped Tree Frog ends up with the other live frogs shipped in from a facility just out of state. Christian isn't sure if the teacher is the one to kill them beforehand, or if the students do it while the amphibians are stapled to a silver tray.

Christian is sick that day. Maybe he doesn't have a stomach for medical sciences after all...

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s1 episode 11 "eve" thoughts

this episode had me stressed. out. in the last 6 minutes i was speedrunning every emotion.

at first i thought we were finally getting some vampire action and i was excited to see how they handled that. but no. it went in a very different direction.

i also love that mulder thinks aliens come to earth to play with humans like how "we dissect frogs", sure i'll subscribe to that worldview.

i would love to know how frequently our main duo here finds themselves interviewing children because i feel like this happens a lot. do they train you for that at the academy?

was also receiving mixed messages here on if these two even LIKE interacting with children because scully seems pretty alright at it and seemed quite protective, especially after they got kidnapped. mulder was all "that's a nice bunny :)" so i was like oh, he knows what he's doing.

but then when the girl got kidnapped he was cracking jokes about the cops not looking in the right direction (which was up, because clearly aliens took her!) so i was like, okay so he does not know what he is doing if joking is his first instinct after a sort of amber alert situation (or he's of the "my sense of humor is twisted and dark you wouldn't understand" genre).

and THEN he tells the next girl's mom that she has a beautiful daughter. in conclusion: ???

scully stopped into mulder's motel room and then he makes her leave to attend to Secret Business and she said "mulder you're rushing me out of the room... is a girl coming over?" (cutscene to him on the water with his weird boss popping his sunflower seeds) <- i laughed at the juxtaposition

(and also laughed at how desperately scully wants this man to do something that isn't alien related, even if that means hooking up with random people during their investigation. i deeply respect the need to get under his skin as well it's very endearing to me. banter is key to a healthy dynamic.)

so the bossman comes and says back in the 50's they tried to make captain america but it didn't work out. happens sometimes. they then make a detour to a place that seems a VERY healthy environment to keep people experiencing severe distress. (/s)

at this point we learn the girls did the murders! and our agents are so busy wanting to LARP being a family they forgot about stranger danger- which now also goes in the adult's direction! they bought the kids soda and let one of the twins even give the cashier the money (which i think is a sign of deep respect in the culture of children, did mulder study for this or something?)

i was sweating at this point! i kept yelling girl they're gonna kill you!

luckily they figured this out but only AFTER drinking the children's poison. it was harrowing.

overall a good episode. i was sat at the edge of my seat. remember to NOT trust strange children because they might poison you and extract your blood.

(i will say that the treatment of IFV in this episode as a way to make little demon spawn spoke to the Scariness of Modern 90's Science and probably didn't make its proponents very happy- in modern vernacular we may use the term "Problematic"- but that's just my best guess because i have only ever lived in a world in which that is a fairly normal thing to happen and i cannot speak to the socio-cultural fears of a period i was not alive during without conducting intense research)

[littleguypumpkinsheep]

there’s a baby spy round here…

Cw for the implication of abuse. Nothing is described in detail but I do mention that there’s a lot of yelling.

There was an ugly house a few blocks down from Felix’s home that he rode past on his bike every day to and from school. He remembered it in particular because of the annoying way it looked. The grass had been cut and trimmed down, there was no garden space, and it had been painted a boring, sterile white. It was like someone from an upper-class suburban had dropped their home without changing anything into the foggy and sleepy forest town, and kept it that way. It didn’t fit in at all, and it made Felix endlessly curious. He never saw anyone come or go from it, and it was always eerily quiet. Sometimes he wondered if anyone lived there at all. There had to be, though, because someone kept cutting that grass. Perhaps one day he’d tell them about the ecosystems they were destroying. 

Today, though, there was a lot of work he wanted to do. His class had a biology lesson (which he was usually banned from participating in) and he managed to steal a few scalpels, various chemicals, and the entire dissection frog. It was one of the best things he’d taken yet, and he needed to get them home before, in his mind, someone found out and went after him. So he took a straight shot to his home on the bike, talking animatedly to himself about his plans and whatever scientific questions he thought of on the way. He’d been interested in the concept of resurrection ever since he read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, although he planned to do it better. The formaldehyde would prove to be an exciting challenge. 

He wondered aloud about that for a while until a noise up ahead caught his attention, loud enough to be heard over himself. His conversation with himself slowly trailed off, as when he came closer to the block that house was on, it suddenly became clear that the noise he was hearing was very, very bad. He stopped in front of the house, listening. 

Someone was screaming at another person inside. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but he couldn’t move. He wanted to leave, to never come back to this block again, but he seemed stuck there on the side of the road. Whatever was happening inside got so loud Felix flinched and covered his ears, and then it just as quickly stopped. For the first time, he saw the front door open, and another boy his age came out and slammed it shut behind him. Felix stared, alarmed, and the two made brief eye contact with each other. The other boy ignored him completely after that, though, and began to walk down the sidewalk in the same direction Felix was going. 

He stepped off his bike and pulled it alongside him, trying to keep up with the fast and angry pace the other child was walking at. He didn’t know what to do. 

“… Hi,” He tried. 

There was no response. 

“Um. Are you okay?” 

“No. Leave me alone.” 

He had an accent, one he recognized. He was French. 

“Sure, but I’m sort of going in the same direction as you. I live further ahead,” 

“Go faster then. You have a bike.” 

Felix paused for a moment, drumming his fingers on his bike seat until he thought of something else to say. 

“I’ve never seen you before. You probably moved in recently then, right?” 

No response again. He just kept staring straight ahead. 

This wasn’t working. He had no idea why he was trying to make conversation when that was the thing he was worst at. Felix leaned slightly to get a better look at the French boy's face, noticing a few scrapes along his cheekbone. That was something he could fix. Something he could think about logically. 

“..I’m studying to be a doctor, I could help with the cuts on your face.” 

“No. Stop talking to me.” 

“Out here there’s a serious risk of infection if you don’t get them treated right away. I always carry a first aid kit, you know, for situations like these.” 

“Are you stupid or something? I told you to leave me alone, you freak!” 

He snapped suddenly, stopping in his tracks to yell at him. Felix simply stood there, quite unbothered by this, which seemed to aggravate the other boy further. 

“No, I just heard what happened in your house and I’m trying to help.” He said simply. The other blinked, a mix of fear and anger briefly flashing over his expression before he went quiet. The two stood there a moment, saying and doing nothing. 

“..If I let you help me, will you go away.” 

Felix grinned, eager at the chance to treat a real patient for the first time. Misha never let him. 

“Sure! Just sit down, it shouldn’t take long. A simple procedure, really!” Felix said, kicking the stand on his bike so it propped itself up, and began digging through his bag. The French boy watched him do this for a few seconds before finally sitting on the curb. When Felix sat next to him he didn’t look away from the street, which was fine to him as long as he could see the wounds. It would be the perfect angle if it weren’t for the boy's hair, which covered the side of his face. Felix reached out to move it, which caused the other to jerk away from him. 

“Don’t worry, I’m just moving your hair out of the way. I need to see what I’m doing.” 

“Don’t touch it. I’ll do it.” He said, pushing wavy curls away from his face and holding them there. His hair was about shoulder length, and curiously there were a few white strands near his forehead. 

“Das geht. Danke!” 

“What did you just say?” 

“I just said thank you,” Felix replied, slightly snappier than he intended to. “That’s all.” 

His tone came out softer this time, the way he wanted it to, and from his collection of medical equipment he took out an alcohol wipe packet and ripped it open, carefully approaching him with it like he was working with a nervous animal. 

“It might sting, don’t worry about that.” 

He just grumbled in response, and didn’t move when Felix began wiping away stray streaks of blood and sanitizing the wound itself. It was deeper than it looked, which made him a little nervous. 

“Can I ask your name?” Felix asked, reaching for an antibiotic ointment next. His patient hesitated before answering. 

“It’s Simon.” 

“Nice to meet you! I’m Felix, by the way,” he said, and when Simon noticed the tube he was holding he moved away again. 

“What’s that?” 

“An antibiotic. You don’t have to be so suspicious of me, you can see everything I’m using.” 

“Well, excuse me for not blindly trusting a stranger and the things they’re for some reason carrying around all the time.” 

“I didn’t say that.” Felix retorted, a little annoyed. 

Nonetheless, he applied the ointment and covered the cut with a square of gauze, keeping that in place with a bandaid. He put his things back and stood up, offering a hand to Simon. He took it, cautiously, standing up as well. 

“I’ll leave you alone now if you want, but make sure you keep it clean and change the bandages if it bleeds again. You can get the cream from the drugstore, it’s not that expensive-“ 

“Merci.” 

Felix smiled, suddenly not feeling quite so annoyed. 

“That means thanks, right? You’re welcome.” 

Simon was still holding onto his hand. Out of curiosity, he tried to pull away, and what he suspected was his new friend seemed to panic and held on tighter. 

“Er-Felix, you said you lived further up, right? Close to here,” 

“I did.” He said observantly. 

“..Do you think I could stay there with you for a while? Until I can go back to my house.”

“Absolutely you may but on one condition: you can’t be mean to me anymore.” 

Simon laughed, it was small, more like a scoff, but it was a good sign. 

“Okay. I’ll be nice-er to you.” 

“Good. How did you get that cut anyway?” 

“Oh, a butterfly knife. There’s tricks you can do with them.” 

[desertfangs]

Vamptember - Day 2 - Dissection

Armand/Daniel - Devil's Minion Era - Mature - 1161 words Mild mention of sexual activity, lots of talk of death

Daniel swallowed uneasily as the smell of formaldehyde wafted up from the dead frog on the tray in front of them. He glanced at Armand, who poked it and quickly withdrew his finger, as if worried the frog might suddenly leap up and do a dance. 

The teacher at the front of the room gave instructions. Daniel tried to pay attention but Armand had gotten hold of the scalpel and Daniel watched him out of the corner of his eye. The teacher gave them a particularly long, scrutinizing look and then told everyone to get to work.

Daniel studied the dead little thing on the tray. He’d done this once before in high school and had found it unpleasant. The smell, mostly, but also the odd limpness of the dead amphibian’s body, the strange lifelessness of its eyes. 

Are people like this when they’re dead? Daniel asked. 

Armand was dragging the scalpel over the frog’s belly, looking at the sheet they were given for reference. He didn’t bother to look up.

Yes. Haven’t you ever seen a body?

Daniel had seen his grandfather in a casket when he was young but that felt different somehow. 

Armand made an incision based on the instructions, right down its middle. It sliced open easily, reminding Daniel of cutting into a pie to see the filling. Armand set down the scalpel and folded back the skin. Daniel stared at the tiny little organs inside. 

When did you first see a dead body?

Armand gave him a curious look. He lifted the scalpel again and worked it gently beneath the tiny liver. 

It was not uncommon to see bodies in the era of my youth. 

“How bleak,” Daniel said aloud. 

Armand cut the liver free and gestured for Daniel to hold up the second, smaller tray. He did, and Armand set the liver on it. 

Death is part of life and it was seen as such. Now death is removed, kept separate, bodies whisked out of sight. What does modern man know of death, Daniel? 

Daniel considered, watching as Armand worked his knife around the dead frog’s stomach. They had funerals, of course, and cemeteries.  It wasn’t like death was hidden or ignored. But it was sanitized, he was right. He thought again of his grandfather, caked with makeup and dressed in a fine suit, made to look like he was sleeping. 

Armand removed the remaining small organs and laid them out on the tray. Daniel referred to the diagram they’d been given and wrote little labels for each piece. He stuck the labels to pins, and pushed the pins into the squishy pieces of flesh that had kept this creature alive until it met its end. And how had that happened, he wondered? Surely these frogs had not simply died naturally.

By the time class was over, Daniel felt morose. He wanted a drink and several of the other students were meeting up at a bar a few blocks down, so Armand and Daniel agreed to join them. 

“Is that how you see mortals?” Daniel asked, as they walked out of the school. “Helpless little creatures you can pin to a board?”

Armand gave him a look, still impassive. “Everything dies.”

“You don’t.” He fumbled for his cigarettes and lit one as they hit the sidewalk, letting the ashy smoke fill his lungs and ease the tension in his muscles. 

“Not even immortals always live forever,” Armand said, looking down at the pavement. Terrible thought, really, that something like Armand could still die. He swallowed uneasily. 

“You never answered my question,” Armand pressed. “What is death to the modern man?” 

Daniel considered. “A specter,” he said finally, exhaling smoke. “You’re right that we try to push death to the shadows, to keep it from day to day life. No one likes to be reminded, but it still haunts everyone. Every man wakes up at 2 am sometimes and remembers he’ll die someday.”

Armand looked thoughtful and titled his head. 

“But hasn’t that always been true?” Daniel asked. “Kingdoms conquered and lost, whole societies built on the desire to cheat death somehow. Surely men of your time feared death.”

“Feared it, yes. But this modern world would avoids it and pretends it won’t happen. Don’t you see the absurdity?” 

Daniel took a drag on his cigarette. “Is it so absurd to want to live without that Sword of Damocles over one’s head? Or perhaps you’ve forgotten what it feels like after so many centuries when the odds are you’ll persist forever.” 

“Yes,” Armand said. “Because I take life from others to sustain my own.” 

Daniel shivered. The thought of Armand killing, of him drinking the life out of someone, made Daniel’s skin hot. “What’s it like?”

Armand gave him a wry look. Daniel asked about killing often and Armand never said much. “Didn’t your friend Louis tell you? It’s ecstasy, of course.” 

Daniel sucked on his cigarette, remembering the way Armand touched him last night, stroking him to completion as his fangs sank into his throat, drinking his blood while Daniel came. Ecstasy, yes. He had no doubt.

“But afterward, when they go from being alive to a corpse in your arms? How does that feel?” 

Armand blinked and Daniel laughed at his surprise. He’d asked a thousand questions about this but he still found it amusing when he could catch Armand off guard. “You ask the strangest questions, beloved.” 

They arrived at the bar. Daniel crushed the butt of his cigarette beneath his shoe and they lingered at the door. 

“Let me watch you kill sometime,” Daniel said. 

Armand shook his head, a silent but firm no, and led Daniel into the bar, ordering him a drink and thrusting it into his hand. They found their classmates in the back and joined the discussion about how the dissection went. 

But Daniel couldn’t stop thinking about human bodies. How it must feel for medical students to stand over corpses and cut them apart like they had done with the frog. He thought of how he, himself, was merely a sack of squishy organs held together by skin and bone, and someday when he died, all of those bits and pieces would become like that of the frog’s, stiff and useless blobs of flesh. 

He wondered what a human liver felt like, a human heart. Did Armand know? 

He glanced over and Armand was no longer paying attention to the conversation either. He was giving Daniel an odd look that he couldn’t decipher.

If you really want to see a body, perhaps we can arrange it, Armand thought. 

Daniel swallowed. He doubted that Armand meant he’d get to watch him kill but the thought was still strangely tantalizing and horrifying all at once. Be careful what you wish for when you have a demonic genie at your side, he thought to himself as he downed the rest of his drink and went to the bar for another.

[littlebetesofeverything]

Welcome to Night Vale Ep 12

Okay, I have studied and now it is the weekend. Let it commence before I decide a certain VP of a certain club needs her kneecaps stolen. (I kid, I kid. Just, next time you hand over President duties, you hand over them WITH the president groupchat)

Again, I need these books, yesterday. but I have to study TTnTT

Isn't it always the news first, Cecil? Solar shrieking is news, but I didn't think Buzzards could get sad.

Always blame Desert Bluffs, I can get behind that. They are incompetent, burn.

2 dozen third eyes sound cool. Wait, doesn't the fanart have Cecil with one of those? Hmmm

anything can be pets, we are humans. Cans are just the new rocks is all.

Now it's Breaking News. Since when was this guy mentioned? Wait, HE'S A DRAGON!!! Why is he the bad guy?

Intern #5 Stacy. I do not know if we lost intern #4 in between episodes.

Wait Cecil, what about Carlos? Don't pass him up just for a cool dragon with 5 heads.

A party outside of town is never a good idea I believe. especially if it only lasts 5 minutes.

"grope blindly to happiness" sounds so cool, ngl.

Please let the dragon have a tumblr too. That would be perfect.

I think the whole point of breathing is that we shouldn't be having to choose to breathe, at least according to science.

I do not want to live forever because my family would die. I want to know what happens after death, Cecil. I like to imagine I would also have more than enough time to actually get through my TBR list, including the fanfic.

I would vote dragons into federal positions more often if they had positions like Hiram.

Going home has certainly changed.

How dare Santa not come to the mall, the outrage. He is an idol to gluttony not capitalism though. See, I never dissected a frog, but a squid but the imagery still works.

Okay, where do they source the weather? This one is amazing!

How is a dragon NOT a resident in Night Vale? seems more likely than it should be.

Cecil, I don't know if brief anything is in your vocabulary. Please legalize time travel, I want Doctor Who to be a documentary series.

I better have an episode where Hiram runs for mayor in the future.

The past is gone and cannot harm you anymore. - another deep quote.

Okay, I would leave it here, but number 13 seems more fitting to end it for Friday night. Also, I loved the closing quote for this episode.