#and we talked about me going back to school and what i find fascinating about the sciences | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gilbertscurls · 2 months ago

Note

hey could u do a story on how chris would skip classes to make out with girls for the whole period? thank uuu

hope you like it!! <3

Live a Little ➵ Chris Sturniolo

part 2!

The last bell of the day rang, and students poured out of classrooms, eager to escape into the late afternoon sunshine. Senior year felt different—there was a sense of finality to everything. Everyone was making plans, talking about college applications, and preparing for the next chapter of their lives. For you, though, high school had become a blur of routines and responsibilities, an endless stream of homework and stress about the future.

But for Chris Sturniolo, things seemed... easier. While you were juggling AP classes, extracurriculars, and planning for college, Chris was barely showing up to half of his classes. The rumor mill was always buzzing about what he was up to, and more often than not, the stories involved him skipping class to hang out with girls, spending entire periods in secluded spots around the school making out. He had a reputation, but somehow, he never seemed to care.

You had known Chris for a while, not well, but enough to know he wasn’t all that concerned about his grades or what people thought of him. He was always laid-back, joking around, and never seemed to take anything too seriously. It was both infuriating and fascinating at the same time.

Today, you found yourself lingering by the lockers, shoving your books into your backpack, when a voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey.”

You looked up to find Chris standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a locker, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark of trouble. It wasn’t unusual to see him around, but the way he was looking at you now—directly, with a hint of something more—made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual, though your pulse quickened.

“Heading to your next class?” he asked, though you knew it was just for show. You could tell by the glint in his eye that he had something else in mind.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah… unlike some people, I actually go to my classes.”

Chris chuckled, pushing himself off the locker and stepping closer, his presence commanding and easy. “Come on,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you don’t really need to go to every single class, do you? It’s senior year. Live a little.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small part of you was intrigued. “Are you seriously trying to convince me to skip?”

“I’m not just convincing you to skip,” Chris said, taking another step closer until he was right in front of you, his gaze locking onto yours, “I’m convincing you to spend that time with me.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. There it was—the infamous Chris Sturniolo charm that so many girls seemed to fall for. But you were different. You weren’t like them, right? You had a plan, goals. You weren’t about to throw that away for a guy.

Still… something about the way Chris was looking at you made it hard to say no.

“And what exactly would we do?” you asked, crossing your arms, trying to maintain some semblance of control in this situation.

Chris grinned, his eyes flicking down to your lips for just a second before meeting your gaze again. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he said, his voice low and suggestive.

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks, and you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to the closeness between you. Against your better judgment, the thought of skipping class—just this once—didn’t seem so bad. After all, it was senior year. What was the harm in having a little fun?

Before you could overthink it, Chris reached out and gently tugged on the strap of your backpack. “Come on,” he urged, his voice soft and coaxing, “let’s go.”

You hesitated for only a moment longer before nodding, allowing him to lead you down the nearly empty hallway. Your heart pounded in your chest as you followed him, half-excited, half-nervous. This wasn’t like you. You didn’t skip class, didn’t just ditch your responsibilities for a guy—but this was Chris Sturniolo. And there was something exhilarating about stepping out of your comfort zone with him.

Chris led you to a part of the school you didn’t frequent—the old wing, where barely any students hung out. The classrooms were mostly used for storage now, and the halls were eerily quiet. He opened the door to one of the abandoned rooms, glancing back at you with a playful smirk as he held it open for you.

You stepped inside, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. The room was dimly lit, with dusty desks scattered around and old textbooks piled in the corners. Chris closed the door behind you, the sound of it clicking shut echoing in the empty room.

Before you could say anything, Chris was in front of you again, his hands gently gripping your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes bore into yours, the intensity making your pulse quicken. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath soft against your skin as he leaned in.

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” Chris whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours.

Your breath hitched. You wanted to deny it, wanted to say that you hadn’t given Chris Sturniolo a second thought, but that would be a lie. There was something about him—something about his carefree, rebellious nature that intrigued you, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered back, though the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

Chris chuckled softly, his hands sliding up your sides, sending a shiver down your spine. “Liar,” he teased, his voice low and sultry.

And then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, testing, but it quickly deepened. His hands gripped your waist tighter as he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. It felt so wrong, but so good at the same time.

Chris backed you up against one of the desks, his lips never leaving yours as he lifted you onto the edge. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but he silenced you with another kiss, his hands now roaming your body, sending sparks of electricity through you.

It wasn’t like the stories you’d heard about Chris—about how he’d make out with girls and then move on, never caring about what happened afterward. This felt different. There was a hunger behind his touch, yes, but there was also a tenderness. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t treating you like just another girl. He was taking his time, savoring every second.

You broke away for a moment, your breathing heavy as you looked into his eyes. “Chris…” you started, but he cut you off with another kiss, his hands cupping your face.

“Just this once,” he whispered against your lips, his voice full of heat and desperation. “Let me have this moment with you.”

And against your better judgment, you did.

The minutes passed in a blur of kisses and soft touches, your heart racing with every moment. You couldn’t believe you were here, in this empty classroom, making out with Chris Sturniolo of all people. But it felt right, somehow. Like this was where you were meant to be, even if it didn’t make sense.

Eventually, you pulled away, both of you breathing heavily. Chris rested his forehead against yours, his hands still on your waist, holding you close. For a moment, everything was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of your breathing.

“We’re gonna get caught,” you whispered, though the thought didn’t seem to bother you as much as it should have.

Chris smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Probably,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But it was worth it.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Chris shot back, his smirk widening.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did love it—loved the way he made you feel, like you could break the rules just for a little while and the world wouldn’t fall apart.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Chris pulled you in for one last kiss, slow and sweet. “We should probably get out of here,” he said, his voice softer now.

You nodded, slipping off the desk and smoothing out your clothes, trying to compose yourself before heading back into the hallway. Chris grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you walked out together, not caring if anyone saw.

For the first time in a long time, you felt alive. And maybe, just maybe, skipping class for Chris Sturniolo wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274

179 notes · View notes

meyerlansky · 3 months ago

Text

i'm very 👀 about what bucky's family situation looks like, actually. historically, his dad died in nov '42, so he's only six months out from it at the start of the show, but it never really comes up—he doesn't flinch or offer anything back when gale talks about his dad, which... maybe he had a good relationship with his dad, so he doesn't have anything to offer. but he doesn't look at gale like he's surprised at cleven sr being a bad dad the way i'd expect a character with a fairly happy, uneventful home life to react to "my dad left me sleeping on benches"-level bad parenting. and if he DID have a shitty relationship with his dad, that's the perfect moment to empathize and bond over it. but he doesn't take it.

and then we get the revelation that he doesn't get any letters in the stalag. obviously he's not getting romantic letters, but one of the other guys mentions a letter he got is from his mom, with equivalent relief and comfort to gale's reaction to marge's letters. in so doing the show establishes that letters from family presumably count for the conversation the bucks have wrt having someone to get letters from. bucky's mom is still around. why doesn't he at least get letters from her? he's got two sisters, historically—one's three years older and the other's six years younger. both ages that wouldn't exactly hinder sending letters to your POW brother. but nothing.

initially i was gonna say i have trouble believing that bucky—who wears every emotion he has plain on his face, who's so stupidly easy to read that everyone thinks they know exactly what's going on with him in every scene, and who has a hugely visible downward spiral when his preferred options for coping with STUPENDOUS AND COMPOUNDING traumas are taken away from him—either:

has so solidly processed his dad's recent death inside six months that he doesn't need to externalize any reaction to it, or

is somehow better at keeping the details of how he feels about his family close to his chest than he is about basically every other feeling he's ever had

and it's still possible that his relationship with his family is simply unremarkable and there's nothing deeper to it. or that he had a bad relationship with his dad, but not any worse than your average "my dad and i didn't get along great" kind of deal, not cleven-level bad. but... i dunno, man, i have trouble buying THAT, more than i have trouble buying that the situation is deeper than bucky lets show.

his MOTHER doesn't even write to him. and we don't find this out until he's been stalag'd for over a year. so he... does actually keep it pretty close to his chest. more importantly, he keeps it close to his chest when it's something he could use to strengthen his relationship with gale. that doesn't really fit with the read of bucky as an open book looking for anything he can get from gale. like... it doesn't fit with that read of him at all.

it feels way more likely to me that there's Bad Shit there, and that that Bad Shit extends beyond bucky's relationship with his dad, into his relationship with his mom and even into coloring his relationship with his now-adult sisters. something like being kicked out, or disowned, or bucky deliberately going no-contact. and that's interesting on its own—what could he possibly have done to lose his entire family like that? my personal guess is he got caught with a boy and got kicked out over it, but it could be hetero slutting around too; it could be the drinking or the gambling or not going to school or his parents just fucking suck absolute ass, or any number of things that aren't Picturesque Rural Wisconsin Family appropriate

but also. i'm really fascinated by the sense of... isolation, i guess? that this confers on him as a character. he's such a loud, eye-catching presence In The Moment, and i wonder how long it takes the people around him to realize that he only seems to exist In The Moment, and doesn't have a past he's anchored in enough to discuss it even with the people he's closest to.

like how long does it take gale to realize he's spilled his guts about his dad to bucky, in a way that very clearly carries some level of "i'm letting you see something no one else has seen" feeling with it... and he got nothing back of equivalent weight wrt bucky's family, not just in that conversation but at any point that we see on screen? months? years? does gale EVER realize bucky's hidden/neglected to share his past even after gale's given bucky his?

#DOES GALE EVER HAVE A FLINT-ON-THE-CLIFFS MOMENT #not to black sails too hard but. yeah. the bucky-silver parallel is what i'm going for here.#does ANYONE ever realize? because *I* fucking didn't! for a WHILE!#mota meta #mota #masters of the air #john egan #bucky egan #clegan #...kind of #buck x bucky #i've been sitting on this for a little bit so i don't know if it coheres anymore but have it anyway

115 notes · View notes

molsno · 5 months ago

Text

god, what happens next is so good. the character writing is just spectacular. it fascinates me just how much depth there is to each character and how that contributes to the story.

milo's dni is the most revealing thing about him, and it's the very first thing we hear from him:

right off the bat, we can see what kind of person the protagonist is. he's a pastel softboi trans man who clings to a childish aesthetic to appear weak and non-threatening. despite being involved in a toxic relationship with another trans guy who attempted to rape and kill an 11 year old girl when he was a teenager and later murdered his girlfriend, which milo helped with by dismembering her corpse, he puts "pedophiles and unhealthy pairing shippers dni" on his carrd. which, ok, maybe he wants to distance himself from people like griffin now - except that's not really true, because he talks to, moves in with, and regularly hangs out with a serial killer fan who idolizes griffin and is even dating the guy while he's in prison. he puts "being against neopronouns" and "anti-otherkin" on the same level as those things. he explicitly denies any responsibility in the murders of haylie and savannah, despite having literally chopped haylie's arm off. all the while, he has "you deserve to heal" in big bold letters, while not applying that belief to anyone but himself.

right from the start, it's obvious that milo is not a good person. but he's also humanized throughout the story. sure, some of his softboi persona is a means of victimizing himself to avoid taking responsibility for what he did - and you could make the case that he was a victim in some ways. on the other hand, he also never got to grow up because he spent 5 years in a psychiatric institute. is it any surprise that he clings to the same aesthetic, interests, and hobbies he had when he was 15? he never got to stop being a kid, and how is he supposed to now? he didn't graduate high school, he can't get a job, and nobody wants to be friends with him because of what he did. it raises uncomfortable questions - namely, what happens next? milo served his time for the crime he committed as a minor. he was already punished, but now he has to live the entire rest of his life. what is he supposed to do?

that, I think is the most interesting part of this story. almost every character in this story makes it hard for you to like them, but they also have very human reasons for doing the terrible things that they do. I'll talk about some of my favorites under the read more, but be aware that there will be spoilers:

claire is one of the most interesting characters to me, just because of how unlikable she is.

when we first see claire in victim impact statement, she tries to ignore haylie, griffin, and milo as much as possible. she doesn't even seem to like her sister. she treats haylie as a nuisance for coming into the room that they share as sisters. she doesn't want to go to the open mic night to listen to haylie play her ukulele. when she finds haylie bawling her eyes out in the bathroom at anime central, she just looks away, as if to say "you chose to date your shitty boyfriend". when she hears haylie and griffin fighting upstairs, she just pretends not to hear it. when haylie is curled up in terror later, claire puts on headphones and turns her back to her. her headphones become a way of drowning out haylie's screams when griffin is around, and because of that, she doesn't hear haylie screaming for her life, and ends up finding her corpse in the kitchen.

that's why I don't find it surprising at all that she becomes an outspoken transphobe who wants to take her anger out on the trans people who murdered her sister. she goes to media events and publicly degenders milo and griffin. she calls aaron's friends trannies. I think it's easy to misconstrue her as a terf, but she literally doesn't even pay lip service to feminism. how could she? she knew that her sister was being abused by her boyfriend, and she did nothing. let me remind you that she lives in a house where "smash the patriarchy" is embroidered on the wall. she doesn't care about any of that. she just wants a scapegoat. she wants to make the law impose harsher punishments on minors who commit violent crimes because she doesn't know what else to do with her life. she very clearly hates herself, becoming an alcoholic to cope with her guilt. she pretends to care about haylie and fight for this law because it's the only way she can convince herself she's a good person, even though she can see that doing what she's doing is turning everyone against her.

and then that brings us to audrey. it's difficult to like her, too, because she's dating claire despite all of the horrible things she's doing. but at the same time, I can see where she's coming from. her mother died of cancer and she and all of her other black siblings were adopted by conservative christian white parents. she's still christian to this day, and makes a point of separating herself from "criminals" by insisting that she has nothing to do with them because she goes to church and takes care of her family. she doesn't want to disavow the law that claire worked so hard to pass because at the end of the day, it won't affect her personally, even though she is aware that the justice system disproportionately punishes black people. she very clearly has a lot of internalized racism, and I think that's best exemplified in the way she draws herself. despite having pretty dark skin in real life, she draws herself as light skinned as claire, her white girlfriend:

like, it's hard to like audrey, but you can clearly see why she's made all of the decisions she has! she idolizes claire because it's her first lesbian relationship. the way she sees it, claire can do no wrong. audrey does actually seem to be aware that her girlfriend is doing terrible things, but she essentially just plugs her ears and tries to ignore it. that's why she doesn't go to claire's campaign events. she ignores all of her girlfriend's flaws because claire is essentially her savior. because she has claire, she doesn't have to go back to her family, to her abusive alcoholic white father. she doesn't have to actually take care of her younger siblings, which is a responsibility she's foisted off unto mark. that's why she ignores that claire is just as much of an emotional drain as her father. she's highly depressed, she's an alcoholic, she trashes their bedroom (leaving audrey to clean up after her mess), she puts up an emotional wall and dismisses audrey's attempts to comfort her, and dismisses audrey's own problems as being less traumatizing and less important. by all accounts, claire is a terrible girlfriend and a terrible person, but because audrey idolizes her as her savior, she stays by her side. I'm really looking forward to seeing how she reacts to claire's disappearance in future chapters.

and then of course, there's vikki. she's been doing something incredibly disrespectful for years by making true crime videos where she talks about the victims and killers like it's all a joke. she makes a video about whether ethical necrophilia is possible, and makes a callous, bitter joke that the concept of "respect for the dead" is antiquated, because nobody respects her as a trans woman of color even though she's still alive. for this comment, people have harassed her online endlessly, enough that she had to make a video called "STOP TELLING PEOPLE I FUCK CORPSES". that doesn't stop her from making a video about the murder of haylie, complete with an interview from milo. she'll throw him under the bus if it means getting the attention off herself for a bit.

and yet, I think out of everyone, I feel the most compassion for vikki. yes, she used milo for content and called him a "sad little blonde girl", but I can understand where she's coming from! like, again, she's a trans woman of color in the true crime community. she knows the archetype milo is trying so hard to be in order to avoid taking responsibility for what he did. like, I've personally seen trans women of color who are victimized by white trans men who pull the same exact shtick as milo over and over, so I completely understand her frustration. that said, she also realized she went too far and tried to apologize, only to find out she was blocked and that milo basically wrote a callout post against her. I think it says a lot that vikki was one of the only people to actually try to talk to milo, even if the way she went about it was wrong.

vikki does things that are disrespectful, but to be honest, it's not that surprising! she grew up in a 90% white town in the middle of nowhere, got assaulted by multiple white boys for being a faggot, got sent to alternative school, worked for a funeral home as a teenager, and transitioned. not only is she desensitized to death, she's angry that people revere the dead more than her.

it's astounding, really! what happens next is so well written because it makes you feel conflicted about each of its characters. what are we supposed to do with these people who do awful things? a lot of the intrigue in this comic comes from seeing how each of the characters handles this question as they deal with the other characters who have done terrible things, while they themselves are deeply flawed as well. I think the writing really forces you to contend with the idea that these are all still people, and that their humanity needs to be recognized even if they do terrible things. it makes you ask, what happens next?

#txt #what happens next

168 notes · View notes

try-set-me-on-fire · 7 months ago

Text

Tagged by @doeeyeseddie and @eddiebabygirldiaz for seven sentence Sunday! Since I haven’t been posting much for tag games lately, here’s significantly more sentences than that from bucktommy acquire a child au. Warning for mentions of past child abuse in Tommy’s family.

Tommy stares down at the dotted line, pen hovering, running the name through his head over and over again and feeling kind of stupid for it. There’s no meaningful difference, at this point, between this last signature and any other of the seemingly dozens of pieces of paper they’ve signed tonight. Nothing really counts until Buck hands it over to the lawyer on his way to work tomorrow. He could sign and then tear the thing up, toss it in the trash. Find someone better to take this on. Take his name out of it, at the very least, hand the kid over to Evan entirely.

Evan, sitting next to him close enough that their knees are pressed tougher, bony, under the table. “What are you thinking?”

Tommy sighs and sets the pen down, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Can’t we just use… I don’t know, Diaz? I don’t want to give the poor kid my name.”

Buck laughs, just a little, still mostly serious. “I mean, I’m sure Eddie’d say yes if we asked, but- You gave me your name, why’s it a problem now?”

Tommy slides his fingers between Buck’s, surprised as he always is at how well they fit together. “You’re an adult, you can- handle it, carry it. Kinard children have historically been miserable things.”

Evan tilts his head, probably thinking about what Tommy is thinking about: Tommy, beat by his dad who was beat by his dad who was beat by- etc, etc, going back the entire horrible line of them. He’s imagined it before, some medieval peasant kid somewhere, crying into a hay bale or whatever the fuck it is poor folk slept on back then. Evan’d probably know. Maybe farther back than that. A caveman all the other cavemen side-eyed ‘cause he threw his kid in the path of a sabertooth or something.

“Okay,” is what Evan says. “I could get all pop psychology about, like, breaking cycles or whatever, but actually-” he points down the hall. “When I put him to bed tonight he talked literally right up until he was unconscious about all the stuff we saw at the zoo today, that I was in fact there for. Passed out mid word about how we got ice cream and saw a bird. Just a regular bird, that pigeon that landed on the table next to us. I think he was as excited about that as he was about, like, actual lions.”

Tommy laughs, despite his mood. “He was excited about the pigeon.” Milo had been so fascinated by it his ice cream had mostly melted by the time they could successfully prompt him to eat it.

Buck grins. “That kid- our kid- is happy, Tommy. Another talking point? How you carried him everywhere. He got to be so tall, he said you showed him everything.”

“I always hated being too short to see past crowds of people,” Tommy says quietly. “All those legs, everybody strangers.”

“I think most kids hate that,” Buck nods. He leans in to kiss Tommy’s cheek. “You’re not having second thoughts about this?”

“No,” Tommy says, immediate, breathy like it got punched out of him. “No. More than sure.”

Evan nods again. “He’s happy, and safe, and loved because of you. Sign the paper. It’s just a name, and one that I like very much actually.”

“Just a name,” Tommy raises an eyebrow. “So you would’ve been fine with him becoming a Buckley if we had done this the other way?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Buck says, face twisting up lemon-sour as Tommy laughs.

“You hypocrite.”

“Hey, you should have come up with a new name when you married me,” Buck sticks his tongue out, leaning back in his chair like a pleased cat. “Combined them maybe? We could have been… the Binards?”

Tommy squints at him. “No.”

“The Kuckleys?”

“Evan,” Tommy snorts. “No- that’s terrible.”

Buck grins. “Yeah. We really should have just asked Eddie. All be Diazes, it’d fix everything.”

“Imagine the kid’s family tree project at school,” Tommy says, picking up the pen, signing his name as fast as he can before doubt creeps back in. “We’re gonna have to teach him the words ‘non-conventional family structure’.”

Buck laughs and laughs, leaning into Tommy’s side until he kisses up the sound.

Tagging @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @iinryer @chronicowboy @butchdiaz @homerforsure if ya got anything to share!

#seven sentence sunday #tag games #a harder kind of fear

154 notes · View notes

ginevrapng · 1 year ago

Note

Thank you for writing for plus size readers! I'd love to see something with an older Sirius(Harry's still a teen) and a chubby muggle reader! Could be she's a teacher leading a group of kids on a field trip he happens to see or is a mama to a little who is fascinated with Sirius asking him question after question. Please and thank you for any response! <3

i'm glad you like my writing! let's see what i can come up with<3

taking care of thirty kids for the day on a school trip is quite a a challenge. thirty kids in a classroom? your everyday job. thirty kids on a school trip? well you wish that that schools had better funding so you could have more than two teachers on the trip. all the children are holding hands in pairs and being each others 'buddy' for the trip, making sure everyone is paired up. one second you're addressing all the children to get back on the bus to go home and the next you're turning around as one of the children pulls on your sleeve and tells you that their friend has run off, sending you in complete worry. "do you know they went off to?" they point and you spot your missing student talking to some random man.

"you go," you colleague says before taking over your previous role and continues getting everyone back on the bus.

you rush over as quickly as you can and pull back your student, the man who is in front of you just cocks his eyebrow and continues answering the question that he was just asked, which absolutely infuriated you. "do you live near here then?" your curious student asks this unknown man.

he chuckles, "no, but i think it's cool. stonehenge is very mysterious."

you can tell your student is about to ask another question and you hope to god that he hasn't said something private about his life or the school to this stranger. the stranger looks back up at you after having been making eye contact with your pupil and says in an almost flirtatious tone, "i'm sirius, and this mischievous little guy has been rather curious about random trivia about stonehenge. i don't think the guidebook he has is very useful."

sirius holds up a guidebook and almost sways it in the air. you go to grab it from him, this man, albeit an attractive man, has just taken the guidebooks you brought for everybody. sirius smirks at your reaction. "why did you take his book?" you student asked you and then you notice that he's still holding his one and you've just taken sirius' from his hand. sirius holds his hand out with a smirk waiting for you to pass it back to him. you don't quell your frustration but give sirius back his guidebook.

"do you have a girlfriend mr?"

your eyes widen at the question. sirius laughs and says to you, "oh yeah, he's also been pretty curious about me too."

you ignore sirius, "you can't ask question like that, it's very rude. you know not to talk to strangers as well. we need to get back to the others."

sirius wants you to stay, he hasn't even heard your name. he purposely stayed with your student so he was safe and was answering all his questions until someone came to find him and when the person comes to collect him he didn't expect someone as beautiful as you. all the professors who taught him at hogwarts were older so when informed by the kid that he was on a school trip he assumed to be greeted by an elderly teacher, not someone his own age, not someone as beautiful as you, just his type. he can't help but be drawn to you, your anger and frustration not concealed well at the situation, kind and a gentle tone when talking to your student, soft and plush body, pretty face, he hasn't been so drawn to someone for years.

"i don't have a girlfriend."

"what?" you furrow your eyebrows.

"i never even got your name." you scoff. your student decided to jump into the conversation at this time and answer him with your name. sirius contains his cackle and grins, "thank you young man. do you know if your pretty teacher is single too?" your student confirms and returns his grin.

completely perplexed with this entire situation you go to leave. it's been a tiring day and a weird interaction, although sirius seems okay and it seems that the only things they spoke about was sirius and the trip. "if you're single does that mean i can have your number?"

"what?"

"number?" sirius asks and hopes that every muggle has phones. he knows a lot of his friends do, even he does and he's a pureblood, but he doesn't know how popular they are with muggles and if everyone has them.

sirius is attractive and he is your type, but you're not going to give him your number. it would be inappropriate.

"just your number."

i'm not actually breaking any rules by giving him my number. you give in as you hurriedly writes your number down on his hand with your pen from your pocket. "just my number." you mumble. "no promises."

sirius winks at you, "i'll call you."

"yeah, alright," you say quietly. "come on, lets head back to the bus," you say louder, holding onto your students hand. sirius and your student says their goodbyes.

as you walk away you hear sirius call out, "one to two people are proposed to every month at stonehenge."

you give a small smile and you hope he calls you tonight.

i hope you liked this <3

265 notes · View notes

12-seconds-to-live · 1 year ago

Text

(Un)Lost: The art of war

Pairing: F12022/3!Grid! x Fem!Driver!Oc

Warnings: DNF’s, angst, a little bit of love, episodes of anxiety, Seb’s retirement, harsh words.

DRIVE TO SURVIVE SEASON 5 - EP. 1 THE NEW ERA

“It’s freezing in here” I said while I was puting my cap in my head, my Williams cap, ready to sit in the famous black chair of Netflix. “Thank you Netflix for make this possible, Bahrain is being cooking itself now” The producer chuckle.

“So, we’re going to let you introduce you and then make you a few questions. Everything clear?”

“Sure” I look for a better position in the chair and look to the camera “My name is Charlotte Robyn-Jones and I’m engineer strategist for Williams Racing Formula One Team” I said with a smile on my face. I saw the people in the back laugh and I copy the action

“You can’t lie to Netflix, kid”

“I think I just did ... Anyway, 1, 2, 3, Monday to Friday, My name is Charlotte Robyn-Jones, I’m 23 and I’m a race driver for Williams Racing Formula One Team” I tilt my head to one side and laugh “Cool”

“So cool. What’s for you to be at the top of the game right now?, obviously avoiding the question that you must be bored about”

“Being a woman is fantastic, except for that thing every month but I can’t complain. I have to say that it’s not easy. You can dream of some things happening but all the same time, If you really wanted, the answer is get up and look for your better options to make things happen.” I gassped and look down and to the camera. “I remenber when I told my dad that I wanted to give it a try in karting and I wasn’t even 6, he looked at me like I was some sort of silly muppet but then he make me promise that I will do great in school and then he will help me with the racing carreer I wanted. The rest is history”

A series of videos of her carreer show up, from her beginning in karts, F4, F3 and her successfull 2021 in F2 finishing as champion, smiling faces all around and obviously a very proud Charlotte.

“You just mention your dad. What about other members in your family? Friends or even a boyfriend?” I look at the producer with a side smile

“You guys are really something else, right?” they laugh “I’m single ready to mingle. I don’t talk to much about my family, I like to be private about that. I almost dropped all this. My family is my priority and two years ago I lost my mom due cancer so...”

“I’m sorry we don’t...”

“No, it’s okay” I smiled to the camera “She’s not here but I still talk about her like she’s just in the back of the house screaming to the dog for being so silly, she’s still here and I know she’s proud”

“Sure she is. Just to finish ... Any expectations for your team. Everybody wanted to see you in a bigger team like Mercedes or Ferrari, did you hear any rumors about that?”

“Well, certanly I did hear, but the thing is, mmm, I always believe that If you wanna prove yourself is better to start from the very bottom, understand the little things and then you’ll find success, almost glory. Being in this sport is so tricky, like, one day you won in Monaco and the next day you’re out of the points or feeling that all your pasion is going out to your body” I see everybody’s faces like I was saying something fascinating “This is sport is like war, you better watch out your back ‘cause even your own team could kill you.”

“So, this is your year to discover yourself?”

“Yes, my bingo card this year will imply me being playing the art of war that is F1″

“Okay Charlotte, this is all for today. We’ll see you along the year”

“Thanks and don’t spill my secrets. Snitches end up in ditches, they say”

I go out of the room straight to the Williams garage. Sure thing is that this year is going to be wild, after what happened last year between Red Bull and Mercedes, man, I really don’t want to be any member of those teams.

“Hello Ms. Jones, everything all right with Netflix?” My PR, Ava asked. She was in Alex side of the garage talking to other people

“Yeah, they’re like school girls” She laugh

“Yeah, sometimes. Today is media day so since you’re ready with your Williams merch, we can start signing some caps and cards and then continue with your schedule. Or do you want to start with press?”

“Up to you really, better doing the easiest first then I’ll face the sharks” We walk to a conference room when I found Alex with his girlfriend and his PR. Last year I met the girl in a tournament in the UK and we have been really close since then.

“Oh hello you, my girl and my boy rocking together this year” Lily said and hug me, while Alex put a false angry face

“Nice to see you Lily and yes, we’re going to rock or better than that” I said she smack Alex shoulder

“See, I tould you she has spirit!”

“I know, I think that everybody saw that video of her running along the track after her win in last year championship”

That video.

Well, you don’t win F2 championship many times in your life, right?

“I don’t know what are you talking about”

“Everybody know you do”

“Shh” I sit next to the pile of merch with my face on it. It’s 9:45 so I have time ‘till lunch and more interviews.

INTERVIEW ROOM @14:20

W/ Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton and Sebastian Vettel

“Don’t be nervous, ok? I’m not gonna tell what to answer, you’re smart so answer like a pro”

“Like a pro? So I can say <<inchident>> or even ask about the interviewers plans for the summer?” I showed Ava a side smiled

“Please don’t and you’re going to be in between, your name is on the sofa” I enter the room and saw the amount of people organized in the back of the room with notepads, cameras and tricky looks.

“So, welcome everybody to the second session here in Bahrain, we are here with Lando Norris from McLaren, Carlos Sainz from Ferrari, Charlotte Jones from Williams, Lewis Hamilton from Mercedes and Sebastian Vettel from Aston Martin. Welcome to the drivers, we’re going to have a round of questions for this sesion, if that’s ok” I look at the others who nod.

“Hello, this question is for Charlotte” Great. “We want to hear your first impresions of your new team, if you have the chance to meet the other drivers and expectations for your rookie season”

I tried to smiled but I suddenly felt like I wanna dissapear and the lights we’re too bright so I put on my glasses and I hear Lewis laugh and how he copy my action and take the microphone “It’s sunny outside so there’s no need to put the light to bright, thanks guys” And squeezed my hand.

“Yeah, lights, mmm, almost everybody saw me in the car last year when I met the team and my teammate. Everything has been great so far, mmm I spent half of the holidays with the Sainz family, there been close to my mom’s family so, yeah, Carlos and his trainer just help me to get in better shape for this rodeo, something that I’m grateful for” I fist bump with Carlos and laugh “And expectations, well, I prefer to see how it goes after the race, I sent my ideas and questions the past month so I know now that the car is fast and let’s see If we can put Williams on the top again”

Sebastian took the microphone and look at me “Do you know about engineering?”

“Yeah, I finished my degree in mechanical engineering last month, obviously online, so...”

“That’s impresive, kid” answer Sebastian

“Am I the only one scared now?” Ask Lando to everybody. Everybody laugh at that. The interview session went smoothly and not many questions were to me, since Lewis was in the room, the events of november where reminded. Questions about strategies and upgrades for Ferrari and Aston Martin and the chances of McLaren of getting a podium this year. After that, the session ended, Carlos stopped me.

“Welcome officially, girasol” He hug me in the process and we heard a cough

“Are you good, man?”

“Since my friend here it’s so disrespectfull, nice to meet you, yo soy Lago”

“Nunca le enseñaste bien español” I said laughing to the spaniard

“Ciertamente él fue un terrible alumno”

“Please don’t. Back to a common language” I smiled to him and oh boy! such beautiful eyes

“Charlotte, rookie, friend of this guy, fan of dogs, chocolate cake and be on my xbox the whole day” I shake his hand and he gasp

“Marry me”

“In a few years, maybe” I look to Carlos who look at me with wide eyes

“I don’t want him on family holidays, ten moths are too much now” As we were walking through the paddock, a few photographers and fans aproach us. Since Carlando were more famous that I am, so I go straight to my motorhome to lay down for a bit.

What a day.

A few headers on instagram and twitter about the conference

2022 ROOKIE READY TO DRIVE AND BEING A THREAT

CHARLOTTE ROBYN-JONES, NEW SENSATION IN THE PADDOCK

IS THIS THE YEAR OF WILLIAMS?

Mind clear and then start proving myself.

I’m a girl, yes, but right now I feel that I have a chance to be like them, it’s ny time.

A champion, one ready to fight.

I finished my day with more media duties, to 6 pm I was going to wait for Carlos who offer a ride to the hotel. While I was waiting in the parking lot, the papaya pair waved at me.

“Hiya, you must me Charlotte. I’m Daniel, the one with good looks in the team” He said with a smile.

“Nice to meet you Daniel, how you guys doin’?”

“All good, we’re heading to the hotel, ready to kick asses tomorrow?” I saw how Lando seems certanly interested in the question

“I’m feeling normal, but yeah, let’s see tomorrow. My driver arrived so... see ya” I waved at them when Carlos opened his car. Daniel and Lando saw the couple leaving the parking lot when the australian looks at the youngest

“Say it”

“What?”

“Why do you look so shock around her? I mean, even Max who lives in a rock knew about her”

“I’ve been friends of Carlos and I never see her around, it’s weird”

“Ooow, the kid is jealous of the newie” Daniel started laughing and going to his car

“Man stop... I’m not jealous and also I’m a man!”

BAHREIN CIRCUIT @13:45 - FP1 & FP2

“Radio check, please” my race engineer said. Williams had the chance to start fourth in the two practices after Alfa Romeo, Ferrari, Red Bull and Alpine.

“ And I thought my heart was detached, from all the sunlight of our past, but she's so sweet, she's so pretty, does she mean you forgot about me? Yeah, yes, I’m going to send you my playlist for the race, what dou you think?”

“We’ll evaluate that after practice”

“It’s not a no, I wil take it”

“Ok Charlotte, 30 seconds to start heating the tyres and whenever you ready, your flying lap”

“Copy”

“Now, we’ll have Williams coming out the pits to start practice, first our rookie Charlotte, fresh out the oven as F2 champion. She’s heating the tyres and has 15 minutes to do a few laps and see how that car goes”

On the broadcast, the faces of the team principals were on screen, with their expectations on the girl and see how she start.

“Ok Charlotte, you can start in the next lap with Leclerc and Ocon in front of you” I pressed the copy bottom. Here I go.

One thing about me it’s that I brake late but my left foot likes to keep itself on the throttle. A girl have to give it all, right?

“I feel like I’m watching the Mercedes W11 all over again. Wow! I can see a future world champion, multiple times If she wanted too”

“That car is fast” said Christian Horner looking to Max’s engineer “What the hell?”

“Definitely it is”

“Toto, even when she brake the car doesn’t go below 170 km/h. what?” Lewis and Bono stand beside the team principal of Mercedes.

“I think that your eight championship have to wait a bit, I can’t believe my eyes”

“That girl is the real Toretto, don´t you think?” asked Yuki to the french man

“I wanna throw myself down a hill to be honest”

“What the f***?, which car is that?, I almost get dizzy” asked Charles over the radio

“That was a Williams, the rookie, she’s 3 seconds faster than you”

“This is going to be a long season. F***”

“Well done Charlotte. With his pace you can certanly win every race this season”

“Haha, good job to everybody from those in the factory to the ones in the garage. What about Alex?”

“As good as you, the difference is 0.337″

“That’s good”

“Yes, we’ll wait for you in the garage”

As I parked, I could heard the applauses from my team and the people around the garage.

And yes.

A very long season ahead.

intro

That was fun.

For those who doesn’t speak spanish, here the translation:

Girasol: sunflower.

Nunca le enseñaste bien español: you never taught him Spanish well.

Ciertamente él fue un terrible alumno: He certainly was a terrible student.

Hope you liked it :)

531 notes · View notes

raymantogether · 3 months ago

Text

Rayman Together Community Spotlight #4 - MarkedAsUnreal

Introduction:

Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc was published by Ubisoft Paris and released on February 21st, 2003, in Europe and in March 2003 worldwide. That was almost 22 years ago. Feeling old yet? Well, Ubisoft did release Rayman 3: HD in 2012, but we won't talk about that. Rayman 3 is undoubtedly a fan favorite in the series thanks to its whimsical but very risque adult humor. The game is also critically acclaimed thanks to its very fun and diverse 3D platforming and its exceptional cast of characters and enemies. Nothing has ever come close in the series to the success of Rayman 3, in my opinion. And while I wait in hope for Ubisoft to bring back Rayman to his core 3D roots, I can't help thinking, Why doesn't Ubisoft just remake Rayman 3.

Fortunately, this is no longer an issue. For this latest Rayman Together Community Spotlight, I have the pleasure of interviewing Marked As Unreal, a Rayman fan from Poland who is working on the Rayman 3 Fan Remake on YouTube. This ground-breaking development blog focuses upon reimaging Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc using Unreal Engine 5. The development process has been fascinating to watch, and this has become undoubtedly a favorite fan project of mine. The results have been spectacular, and the game looks simply incredible. You can see the results for yourself below from these comparison shots.

(Rayman 3: Unreal Engine Fan Remake)

(Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc)

(Rayman 3: Unreal Engine Fan Remake)

(Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc)

So sit back and relax as this latest community spotlight takes you into more detail about the genius behind the Rayman 3: Fan Remake and a more personal insight into this amazing community project.

Spotlight:

1. Please introduce yourself.

"Hi! I’m Mark. I’m a gaming enthusiast from Poland who dreams of making his own small indie title one day. To help me achieve that goal, I’m currently trying to learn game development and Unreal Engine by remaking one of my favorite games of all time, Rayman 3. I didn’t have much coding or Unreal Engine experience prior to this project, but I did work as a 3D artist for almost 4 years. The most notable project I’ve worked on as a 3D artist was “The Medium” by the Bloober team. What was really awesome about this project is that its art style is based on Zdzislaw Beksinski’s paintings, who is a painter that I am a big fan of."

2. What do you do for a living?

"For most of the year I work at a campground doing maintenance, but in the summer I work at an ice cream/waffle shop."

3. What do you enjoy doing in your spare time

"I often play games and watch various shows when I’m looking to have a chill time. There are many games which I would consider my favorites, but to name a few (besides Rayman of course), there are the old Halo games, the Dead Space series, Old School RuneScape, Subnautica, the Bioshock series, Portal 2, Undertale, from software games, or the Respawn Entertainments Jedi series. As shows are considered, I lately find myself really enjoying anime. My favorites are Vinland Saga, Attack on Titan, and Jojo’s bizarre adventure. Jujustsu Kaisen is also really sick. Regarding more active ways to spend my free time, I really love bouldering (it’s a type of rock climbing) and snowboarding."

4. What got you into the Unreal Engine project on Rayman 3?

"Learning game development by trying to recreate one of my favorite games just seemed like it could be a ton of fun (and I wasn’t wrong, because it is a blast!). And I decided to go for Unreal Engine because I really wanted to try out the new features everyone was talking about (Nanite and Lumen). The fact that many AAA companies use Unreal Engine to make their games also made it feel like a better choice than Unity."

5. Tell us about your experience on the project with Rayman 3.

"The hardest part was the start, of course. I didn’t really know Unreal Engine, so doing the simplest things was a challenge. Every step required me to go through a tutorial first. Also, I started this project with the most complex part, while still having very little programming knowledge, which was coding in the characters movement and collision. On one hand, this was maybe not the wisest thing to start with, but on the other, I wanted to start with the hardest and most important part, to know if there is even a point in trying to make this game in the first place. Otherwise, I was at risk of doing something easy for half a year just to hit an unpassable wall. But you know, the greater the challenge, the greater the satisfaction once you overcome it. So, satisfying and fun are two main words that I would use to describe my experience working on this.

What’s also an amazing feeling is to have this complete freedom and agency over the project. I can make it look however I like, I can work on whatever I feel like working at the moment, and I can work at a pace that I feel like working at. It’s an amazing luxury that’s only possible because this is a passion project.

I’d also like to mention how cool of an experience it was working on the Teensie highway part of the level. Because of how surreal and random that part is, working on it felt very fresh and different. Not to mention that it was a nice way to see how much I’ve grown since I started this project, because while coding in all the logic for the surfboard Rayman, I could see how much easier this was for me to make in comparison to the regular Rayman that I was making when starting the project. Granted, the surfboard Rayman is much simpler in terms of complexity, but still, I felt like I could see a noticeable difference in my skill level.

Finally, I can’t leave this question without mentioning what a great laugh I had when putting in all the drunken Teensies around the Heart of the World area. I love those guys, and creating all those little stories (like the two teens fighting on a ledge) was such a fun experience."

6. How has it been for you personally revisiting Rayman 3?

"To be honest, this doesn’t really feel like I’m revisiting the game, because I replay Rayman 3 fairly often, so it kind of feels like this game is never far off."

7. Are you planning to recreate the whole game in Unreal Engine?

"I’m sorry to say that no, I am not. It’s like I said in one of my first videos: this was always meant to be a learning opportunity for me, as well as a way to get a grasp on what project scope seems realistic for one person or a small team. If I had unlimited time, then I would love to recreate the whole game, because I love working on this. But the sad reality is that I'd probably be well in my 40s before the whole game would be remade. I’d like to be younger before I start working on my own games.

I’m not yet sure where exactly I will stop, but I am going to finish the fairy council level and share it, so everyone will have a chance to play it.

I haven’t really ever mentioned, though, what my plans are for the project; once I decide, it’s time for me to move on, so let me reveal them right now. My plan is to share the whole project for anyone to download and create a Discord server that will act as a hub for the project. I will be there to assist and help anyone who would like to make something using my remake (like continue from where I left off, make their own custom levels, or even just use some parts of it to create something else entirely).

8. Has anyone at Ubisoft or within the gaming industry approached you during your time sharing your development blogs on YouTube?

"No, no one has."

9. Are you planning to do any other Rayman games or any other videogames in Unreal Engine in the future after you have finished with Rayman 3?

"After the Rayman 3 remake, I will start making my own title. I already have a pretty clear idea of what that game is going to be; however, I’m not going to share that information yet. There is a lot of work left in this project, even just for the first level, so I’m still keeping my focus on the remake."

10. You are also a fan of the Unity Engine; can you tell us why?

"I just really enjoy working in it. It’s really cool that anyone can just download this software and start creating a game. I really like how the software is structured. I feel like it's really daunting at first, but once you get the hang of it, using it just makes sense. Nowadays, I don’t really need to revisit many tutorials on how to do some things because I find the whole user experience pretty neatly organized and logical. What’s also really cool is that a lot of features are pretty cutting edge and yet still free to use (this is a bit of a double-edged sword, however, as new features are often pretty risky to use as they are not yet properly tested for production)."

11. How did you get into the Rayman series?

"My first Rayman game was Rayman 1 on the PS1. I was probably around 4 years old or something like that, so I think that it goes without saying that I didn’t beat it back then (and still haven’t, but I never really went back to try). Then, if I’m remembering correctly, I found Rayman 2 lying in a supermarket on a heap with other games and managed to convince my mom to buy it. I was probably around 6. This one I did manage to beat, but it took a long time. Some parts were really challenging back then. Also, it was really hard for me to figure out that I needed to backtrack in order to help Clark. Then I think I got Rayman 3 around the time it came out, so I was probably like around 8. So old enough to beat this one without too many issues. This is also the one that I liked the most at the time. I vividly remember how the first time I booted Rayman 3, I had this weird bug where the left key didn’t work, and I thought that maybe this was intended. I figured that since Rayman doesn’t have his hands (because Globox runs off with them), he has problems with keeping his balance, and that explains why I can't run left. Let me tell you, trying to catch that barrel without the ability to run left was pretty impossible, haha. Luckily, rebooting the game fixed the issue."

12. What is your favorite Rayman game and character?

"My favorite game is either Rayman 2 or Rayman 3, depending on my mood. Both to me have their respective strengths and weaknesses, but both are absolutely amazing. Rayman 2 is unmatched in its atmosphere and level design. Rayman 3 has really fun combat encounters, and I like the characters (design and writing) much more. And the whole Knaaren desert level is just so awesome! When I was a kid, my favorite character was straight up Rayman, but now it’s definitely the teensies. Though Globox from Rayman 3 is a close second place. Whenever I play Rayman Legends, I usually play as a teensie (but if I don’t feel like playing as a teensie, I always go for Rayomz)"

Thank you so much for being a part of my community spotlight, Marked As Unreal. It was a pleasure to read and see some of the creative processes behind the Rayman 3: Fan Remake. I look forward to seeing everything once it's complete. I wish you all the best with the development and in your future projects.

Please don't forget to support Marked As Unreal. If you are eager to see more, I have included links to their social accounts below. Have a good weekend, Rayman fans. See you next time.

MarkedAsUnreal Links:

https://www.linkedin.com/in/marek-holubowski/

Rayman The Boardgame:

Rayman fans, don't forget Rayman: The Boardgame Kickstarter campaign ends on October 8th. There isn't much time until the end of the campaign. If you haven't already, don't forget to pledge and don't miss out on this amazing board game and some amazing bonuses.

#rayman #ubisoft #nintendo #playstation #xbox

46 notes · View notes

hunnysnoops · 5 months ago

Text

˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗

Chapter Thirteen: Circles

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

You took my hand and then we both started running. There's no place to go.

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: While you’re enjoying your new relationship with your boyfriend, it doesn’t come without its troubles

Warnings: smoking / suggestive

MASTERLIST

Walking through the crowded school hallway, you and Bebe laugh about the latest gossip circulating through the breath of students. The morning sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow on the bustling students. Bebe tugs at your sleeve, pulling you closer as she recounts in detail each beat of how Dakota cheated on David.

You spent the whole summer anticipating the fall when you would be back in classes and bending over backwards to keep your grades up but now that it had finally rolled around, you missed summer and swore that you would be forever happy if it had been endless.

As you pass the lockers, you spot Kyle leaning against his, scrolling through his phone. Your heart skips a beat. It's been a couple months since you and Kyle started dating in secret, keeping your relationship hidden from friends and family. You liked to think you had kept the secret well, you had always been sneaky. It was your family you were worried about finding out, however, your friends have extremely large mouths a not a single thought they keep to themselves.

Bebe continues chatting away, unaware of your sudden distraction. You slow your pace, letting her words fade into the background as you focus on Kyle. When he looks up and catches your eye, a smile spreads across his face and that is enough to melt you like butter.

You glance at Bebe, who's now frowning and looking between you and Kyle with a puzzled expression.

"Hey, pretty princess," You say casually to Kyle, watching his smile drop immediately.

"What did you just say?" His eyebrows furrow and he's sure that he misheard you. He closes out of Hay Day momentarily to give his full attention to you.

"I said 'Hey, pretty princess',"

"Don't call me that," Kyle tells you with a straight face. You were well aware of how much pet names made him want to crawl out from under his skin and chug back drain cleaner. The most you had ever gotten out of him was the lone time he called you babe and immediately went back on it.

Your boyfriend telling you that pet names were annoying was a sure-fire way to make sure you call him every possible one you can think of "Okay, baby girl,"

As you walk past him with Bebe and towards that cafeteria you can feel his horrified gaze resting on your back. Moments later you can feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

New Message- ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️)

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): You're not funny

You: damn

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): I thought you didn't want your friends to know??

You: Yeah?

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): so why are you flirting at school?

You: u think that's flirting????????????????

You: Who the hell raised u??????

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): bro

You: lose this number

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): lmao

You: mf I see you down the hall

You: u r not laughing ur ass off

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): bro

read at 12:47

You glance back at Kyle and quickly stick up your middle finger even though he is now focused on his conversation with Stan. The two of you weave through the throngs of students, sidestepping backpacks carelessly left in the middle of the hallway and dodging the occasional elbow. The walls are plastered with colourful posters announcing upcoming events: a pep rally, a bake sale, and field hockey tryouts.

Bebe's voice rises above the din, drawing your attention back to her. She's talking about a new show she started watching, her excitement palpable. You smile, appreciating the way she can make even the most mundane topics seem fascinating. Her laughter rings out, a clear, bright sound that makes a few heads turn, but she doesn't seem to notice and if she had, she definitely didn't care.

"I swear to god, he looked like such an idiot," Bebe speaks animatedly "I think he's trying to go viral or something but he would only go viral for being so corny."

"Yeah?" You feed into the rant.

"Yeah," She confirms "He stood on his desk today and made Emmet film him while he yelled something in some language I don't know. Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen Mrs. Miller so mad." Her face lights up with recollection "Oh! Except for that time, Eric brought a flask into class. That was so weird."

As you near the cafeteria doors, the noise level increases. The cacophony of clattering trays raised voices, and the occasional shout creates a symphony of chaos that somehow feels comforting in its familiarity. You push through the double doors, the cool air from the cafeteria's industrial-strength air conditioning hitting you like a refreshing breeze.

Inside, the room is a sea of faces, some familiar, some not. You scan the room briefly, looking for a free table. Bebe tugs at your sleeve, pointing towards a spot where a little handful of your friends are sitting. You follow her lead, navigating through the maze of tables and chairs, finally reaching your destination.

The moment you sit down, Annie perks up "Did you hear about Dakota and David?"

"Yes!" Bebe almost jolts up, she leans toward Annie while you reach next to you and take a tater tot from Nichole's tray, if she was bothered by this act, she gave no indication. You weren't sure you were hungry enough to wait in the lunch line for subpar food that would be cold by the time to got back to the table.

Across the table, Red had a slice of pizza in one hand, her phone in the other, she didn't even look up when you sat down. She tended to have one foot in the real world and the other in her own realm.

"So, what's everyone doing this weekend?" Nichole asks, a small smile playing on her lips.

Before you can answer, Red casually says "Well, I'm sure she'll be hanging out with Kyle."

"Jeez, I feel like he's replacing me," Bebe mockingly pouts.

"Yeah, why are you guys so buddy-buddy lately?" Annie turns not just her attention to you but the rest of the group in addition.

"Because they're dating," Red still doesn't look up from her phone. While the group falls silent, she huffs a quiet chuckle at something in her feed.

You feel the air go still, the background noise fading into a dull hum as all eyes turn to you. Your heart pounds, and your mind races, desperately seeking an escape.

Bebe's eyebrows shoot up. "Kyle? You and Kyle are a thing?"

You force a laugh, shaking your head vigorously. "No, no, Red's just joking around."

Nichole leans in, her eyebrows drawn in skepticism. "I dunno, that didn't sound like a joke."

"Red, who told you that?" You look up at her with wide eyes, teeth grinding together in a wild smile that was supposed to mask the agitation that sparked in you.

"Tolkien, he said that Kyle told him after you guys kissed."

"What?" Nichole's eyes flicker between everyone at the table, trying to get a grasp on each girl's reaction.

"You didn't tell me," Bebe says, irritation clear in her voice. You knew this would be a topic she would dangle over your head.

"You didn't tell me either," Annie chimes in.

"Uh, because I'm not dating him," You can feel the panic rising, your cheeks burning with the effort to maintain your composure. "Seriously, guys, it's nothing. Kyle and I are just friends."

Bebe crosses her arms. "Friends, huh? I'm pretty sure friends don't usually kiss."

"I have kissed half of the people at this table," You counter "On gospel, we are not dating."

"You don't give a shit about the gospel. Let me see your phone," Annie snatches it from your hands, expecting to see Kyle on the lock screen but her face quickly contorts in confusion "Is that Jeff Bezos?"

With haste, you grab it from her "No, it's Murr from impractical jokers."

"Why is he your lock screen?"

"Mind your damn business," You answer with discomposure.

"So, you aren't dating but you did kiss him?" Nichole draws the conversation back to the original topic.

"Erm, no, gross," You say as convincingly as you could which wasn't very convincing at all. "I think he's super fucking ugly, he probably has at least two STDs."

“Bull shit," Bebe says "You didn't deny kissing him like three seconds ago and you've liked him since July."

"JULY?" Annie asks, mouth slightly agape. "You didn't tell me any of this."

"So when did you kiss him?" Nichole presses.

"I didn't-

"She kissed him at Morgan's party," Red answers, putting her phone down and swallowing back the last of her crust.

You have a look of murder on your face "What the fuck."

"It's not a big deal," She shrugs "Someone once told me- eat a snack and drink some juice, you'll be alright."

"Who?" You ask.

"You did when I greened out."

"Right."

"So you did kiss him at Morgan's and you are dating?" Nichole interjects once again to cut to the facts rather than the banter surrounding it.

For a moment you hang in the air like you had paused time to think of an answer but truthfully your friends finding out about your relationship wasn't so detrimental and lying would only spiral into something far worse. "Yeah," You mutter "We're dating."

"Oh my god," Nichole splits into a grin "After all of those years of trying to kill him and complaining non-stop that he was ruining your life?"

"Yup," you say, awkwardly.

"That's really funny actually," Bebe's anger over the fact you kept this hidden was temporarily alleviated by your confirmation.

"Funny?" You ask. You didn't think your relationship was very funny.

"You have to admit it's funny," She shrugs, brushing a blonde curl away from her face "I was like 78% sure you were serious when you said you rather hang yourself than date him."

Nichole giggles, nudging you. "Was the rope too expensive?"

"No, I tried my best but it snapped," You say nonchalantly, trying to gain back some sort of composure.

It didn't take long for the little group to start shouting little quips to counter the last and ultimately leave you feeling annoyed and somewhat embarrassed as it seemed they would never let up with the teasing.

You catch a glimpse of Tolkien walking past your table, his usual confident stride carrying him through the crowded cafeteria. He was carrying an assortment of goodies from the vending machine and heading back to his table. It must've been irritation that propelled you out of your seat before you even realized what you were doing.

You weave through the tables, your steps quick and purposeful, until you're close enough to grab his arm. He turns, surprised, his eyes wide as he takes in your furious expression.

"Why did you tell Red I kissed Kyle?" you hiss, your voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. You pull him aside, away from prying eyes and ears, and the hum of the cafeteria fades into the background.

His eyebrows furrow "Are you guys not dating? I'm confused."

"Yeah, but I wasn't going to tell people."

"What? Why?"

"Because the haters will pray on my downfall." you snap, your voice rising despite your efforts to keep it down.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He glances around nervously, clearly uncomfortable with your intensity.

"The haters," You reiterate like it made your point any clearer.

"What haters? You're not a celebrity." One of the mini chip bags in his arms shifts and he fumbles around to be sure it doesn't hit the ground.

"Be alert..."

"What does that mean?"

"Of the haters," You add.

"Oh my god," He mutters fighting the urge to roll his eyes "I don't know why you're chewing me out when Kyle's the one who told me. Take it up with him.”

That's exactly what you would do. Take it up with him.

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

While you had every intention of chewing Kyle out for letting the secret slip, things played out slightly differently. You're sprawled out on your bed, your textbooks and notes abandoned in a haphazard pile. Kyle's fingers trail up your arm, leaving a tingling path in their wake. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and you lose yourself in the softness of his kiss.

Kyle's hand cradles the back of your neck, his touch both tender and firm, guiding you closer. Your hands are tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers as you pull him even nearer. The faint scent of his cologne mixes with the aroma of the burning passionfruit candle, creating a heady blend that makes your heart race. Every brush of his lips sends sparks through you, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

All that matters is the feel of Kyle's lips on yours, the way his hands hold you as if you're something precious, something to be cherished. His thumb brushes lightly against your jaw, a small, almost absent-minded gesture that sends another shiver through you. Every touch, every kiss, is filled with reverence that makes you feel all the more cherished.

You tilt your head slightly, deepening the kiss, your tongue tentatively meeting his. Kyle responds with a soft groan, a sound that reverberates through your body, heightening your senses. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you even closer as if he can't get enough of you.

Your kisses grow more urgent and demanding. His lips trail from your mouth to your jawline, planting soft, lingering kisses along your skin. You can't help but tilt your head back, giving him better access, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

His kisses move to your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending another wave of shivers through you. He finds a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear, and when his lips brush against it, you let out a soft gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Kyle," you whisper, your voice breathless, filled with a mixture of need and adoration.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and the intensity in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. His hair is a mess, neck is littered with hickies that he would surely regret the next day when he would have to steal his mom's concealer to cover them up. He leans in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that is both tender and passionate, a perfect blend that leaves you almost dizzy.

His large hands eventually snake their way up your shirt and trail up your midriff to your back. He finds the clasp on your back, pinching the hooks until the bra comes undone completely.

Kyle leans closer, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, and the touch sends a shiver down your spine. You want to freeze this moment, but reality crashes back in when you hear your dad's voice calling for you from the hallway. "Jellybean! Are you still home?" Panic seizes you, and your eyes widen as you scramble to sit up, pushing Kyle away from you.

Your dad was supposed to be at one of your neighbour's barbecues, but here he was- making his way upstairs and towards your bedroom.

"Kyle, hide!" you whisper urgently, your mind racing for a solution.

You glance around, jumping to your feet and awkwardly trying to rehook your bra. Your eyes settle on the closet and you push him towards it. It's a tight squeeze for someone as tall as Kyle, but there's no time to think. He ducks inside, and just as you're about to close the door, he accidentally bonks his head against the top of the frame. The sound is a dull thud, and he stifles a groan of pain.

"Yeah, I'm home!" You call back to your dad, grabbing Kyle's scattered things from the bed and shoving them beneath it.

Your dad's footsteps draw closer, and you throw yourself back onto the bed, grabbing your phone to feign nonchalance. The door creaks open, and your dad peeks in, his eyes scanning the room.

"Hey, Jellybean," He smiles, leaning against the doorway.

"Hey," You try for a casual smile "Why are you home already?"

"I forgot to grab the t-shirts I made for Earl and the boys," He answers and you nod slowly, waiting for him to explain why he was in your bedroom. “Oh," He fumbles around in his pocket for his phone and briefly taps around before turning the screen to face you "Is this you and Kyle?"

It's a photo of both yours and Kyle's faces that had been strung up on the wall of disallowed entry at the movie theatre. You had almost forgotten entirely of the day that you and he had gone to the theatre with the intention of watching a corny movie and ended up near a simple assault charge that you narrowly escaped.

You shake your head, trying to soothe the adrenaline that began pumping through you "Nope."

"Really?" Your dad furrows his eyebrows, looking at the picture again "It looks just like you two."

"Yeah, it does," You keep your voice as nonchalant as possible.

He holds the phone up in the air, looking back and forth from your face to the screen. After a moment of awkward silence, there's a thump from the closet and your dad looks up "What was that?"

"Eugene, he lives in the crawlspace," You answer, face dead serious.

Your dad shrugs and tucks his phone back into his pocket. "Dang. I outta get back before that brisket is done," He lets out a low whistle at the thought of a juicy slab of smoked meat.

"Okay, see ya," Relief finally washes over you as you try not to glance back toward the closet.

Just as he turns to leave he quickly swivels his head back to look at you "Oh, I meant to ask- why is Kyle's car in the driveway?"

"It's not."

"Oh," His eyebrows furrow for a moment as he thinks and then slowly, he nods "Okay." It was moments like these where it was definite he was Weston's father.

He leaves, and you let out a sigh of relief, your heart still pounding. You wait a few moments to make sure he's really gone and when you hear the front door click shut, you hurry over to the closet and open the door. Kyle steps out, rubbing his head where he must have bonked it on the closet ceiling. He's tall enough that the cramped space was clearly a tight fit.

You look at the little red spot on his hairline where he must've cracked his head against the frame and suck a breath through your teeth "Sorry."

"Ow," he mutters, frowning at you slightly. But then his eyes catch on something behind him, and his expression shifts from annoyed to confused. "Why do you have a Rubbermaid that says 'devious licks' in your closet?"

"Oh," You look past him at the bin and then a wide smile breaks over your face and you begin to laugh. You pull the bin out and kneel beside it as you take the lid off. Inside are little trinkets you've 'borrowed' from friends and family over the past few years. You can't help but giggle, finding the whole situation absurdly funny.

"Did you steal all of that?"

"It's just for fun," you say with a shrug, still chuckling. "When I get really mad at someone, I take something from them to inconvenience them." You begin to rifle through the bin, almost reminiscing about all of the things you had taken and the memories attached.

But Kyle doesn't laugh. In fact, his frown deepens, and he steps back, shaking his head. "That's not funny. It's stealing. That's a crime. What if someone realizes something important is missing?"

"That's kinda the point," You answer. The bin is filled with an assortment of items: a handful of pens, a couple of keychains, wallets, a pair of sunglasses, and various other small objects you've filched over time from more people than you could even recall.

Kyle bends down, his hair still messy from your fingers slipping through it "What is this?" He picks up a long silver necklace with a large pendant dangling from the bottom "Is this a coke necklace?"

You laugh slightly "Those are Mr. Tennorman's ashes."

"WHAT?" He drops it, instinctively wiping his hands on his pants. "You stole someone's ashes?"

"Yup," You say nonchalantly, still digging through the belongings "It's just Cartman's dad."

He looks back down, the glimmer of something bronze catching his eye. Immediately, he snatches it from the bin and inspects it, eyes growing wide with horror "Is this my grandpa's holocaust ring?"

You pause, slowly looking up at him "I didn't know it was a holocaust ring at the time."

"When did you take this?" His voice was beginning to rise and the agitation was unmissable.

You stop laughing, the light mood evaporating in an instant. You hadn't expected him to react like this. You thought he might find it as amusing as you did. Instead, he's staring at you with a mix of disappointment and anger that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. "Two years ago when you and Stan were making fun of me after I lost that goal at my soccer game."

Kyle sighs, running a hand through his hair. He is trying his best to keep his cool, but the pool of misdemeanours below him isn't helping in the slightest. Kyle takes a deep breath in an attempt to sort this through without yelling at you "What's the last thing you've stolen."

You look around for a moment before holding up a bottle of liquor "I took it last week."

"Oh god," He mutters.

"What? Is it bad?"

"That's a three thousand dollar bottle of tequila," His jaw is clenched and for a moment you think he might burst a vein in his head.

"Dang, that's expensive," You suck a sharp breath through your teeth

"You should've thought about that before you stole it."

You shrug "Well, I didn't."

"That's it?" He asks.

"What?"

"You don't care?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"This!" He gestures at the Rubbermaid before dropping to his knees, sifting through the contents "Wallets, wedding rings, perfume, the fucking ornament I made when I was eight," Looking down, he was struck with the realisation that a large sum of the trinkets in the bin had been his at one point or another. "You really don't care that you took all of this?"

"It already happened," You say.

Kyle holds up a familiar scarf, one you remember swiping from a girl in your study group. His eyes narrow as he turns to face you. "What the hell is this?" His voice is low, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

You roll your eyes, trying to laugh it off. "Oh, come on, it's fun. No one even notices."

Kyle's eyes flash with anger. "Fun? You think stealing is fun?" His voice rises, each word punctuated by his growing fury. He steps closer, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fists clench at his sides.

You start to feel the edges of your amusement crumble, replaced by a prickling unease. "Kyle, calm down. It's not that big of a deal," you say, your voice quieter now, trying to soothe the situation.

But he's not having it. "Not a big deal? This is serious! What's wrong with you?" His voice is loud now, filling the room, and echoing off the walls. He's yelling, and it hits you like a bullet to the skull.

You shrink back, your laughter dying on your lips. The air feels heavy, pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. You look away, staring at the pattern on the bedspread, tracing the lines with your eyes, anything to avoid his piercing gaze.

Silence falls, thick and oppressive. Kyle's breathing is heavy, ragged, as he stands there, waiting for you to say something, to explain. But you can't find the words. They're stuck in your throat, tangled up with your fear and shame. You bite your lip, the taste of copper filling your mouth.

Finally, Kyle lets out a frustrated sigh. "I just-" He pauses "I don't get you," he mutters, turning away, his shoulders slumping. He walks back to the bed and sits down heavily, the mattress sinking under his weight. The music is still playing, the songs flickering by, unnoticed.

You sit in silence, the stolen items now a glaring reminder of your actions, of the chasm that has suddenly opened up between you and Kyle. You want to reach out, to bridge the gap, but you don't know how. So you sit there, quiet and still like you're in a crime scene.

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

You spent hours getting ready, meticulously styling your hair, and carefully applying your makeup. You chose your favourite dress, a soft, flowing fabric that makes you feel beautiful and confident. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your heart thumping with excitement.

You're standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate chain of your necklace, the pendant resting just below your collarbone. Your reflection shows a girl who has taken extra care tonight to be sure her makeup is flawless, a hint of highlighter accentuating your cheekbones, and your lips painted with a soft gloss. Your dress, a soft shade of blue that brings out the colour in your eyes, fits perfectly, swaying gently as you move. You've been looking forward to this date with Kyle all week.

The sound of a car horn outside snaps you out of your reverie. You grab your clutch, giving yourself one last glance in the mirror before heading downstairs. The evening air is warm, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees lining your street. Kyle is waiting by his car, leaning casually against the door, a small smile playing on his lips as he sees you approach. He looks effortlessly handsome, his ginger hair tousled just right, and his eyes sparkling in the fading light.

"You look beautiful," he says, his voice warm and genuine as he opens the car door for you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "You did your hair all nice for me."

As you settle into the passenger seat, Kyle walks around to the driver's side, sliding in with an easy grace. The car starts with a soft purr, and soon you're driving through the familiar streets of your neighbourhood, the anticipation of the evening making your heart flutter. You chat about your day, the conversation flowing easily, but as the drive continues, you notice Kyle taking turns that lead away from the downtown restaurants and cafes.

The drive starts off light and cheerful. You talk animatedly about a new café you've heard about, suggesting it as a possible destination for a study session. Kyle nods and smiles, his responses a bit more subdued than usual, but you brush it off, attributing it to the lingering tension.

As you continue to chat, you start to notice the route Kyle is taking. It's not towards any of your usual spots. The streets become less familiar, and your excitement starts to wane, replaced by a creeping confusion. "Where are we going?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light and playful, though a hint of unease slips through.

Kyle doesn't answer right away, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "It's a surprise," he finally says, but there's something in his voice that makes your stomach twist.

There's a part of you that thinks he's preparing to drive the both of you off of a bridge or dump your body off the interstate from his rigid posture alone.

You try to guess, throwing out suggestions, but each one is met with a noncommittal hum. The unease grows, gnawing at your excitement. When he finally pulls into the parking lot of the community center, your confusion peaks. "Kyle, what are we doing here?" you ask, your voice a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

He turns off the engine and looks at you, his eyes soft but determined. He reaches out and takes your hand, his touch warm and firm. "I need you to trust me," he says, his voice gentle. He gets out of the car and comes around to open your door, helping you out.

Holding your hand, he leads you inside, the fluorescent lights of the community center casting a sterile glow. Your heart pounds in your chest as you walk down a hallway, past bulletin boards covered in flyers for various local events and activities.

He stops in front of a door with a whiteboard nailed into the wall next to it that reads 'Shoplifters Anonymous Meeting' in purple dry-erase. Your heart drops, and you look at him, your eyes wide with shock. "Kyle, what is this?" you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips.

Kyle squeezes your hand gently, his expression deadly serious. "I know you don't think it's a big deal, but it is. You need help and they can give you that." He nods his head to the room.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You open your mouth to argue, to tell him that you don't need this, but the words fail you, something you weren't used to. Truly, you were speechless.

He creaks the door open, one hand on the small of your back as he guides you inside. "I'll pick you up in an hour," he says softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. His lips are warm, a stark contrast to the cold shock that has settled in your chest. "Please, just give it a chance."

Before you can protest, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing in the hallway. The door to the meeting room looms in front of you, and you feel like you're rooted to the spot. The reality of the situation crashes over you in waves. Kyle has seen through your facade, past the laughter and the dismissive jokes, to the part of you that you've tried to ignore.

The meeting room is small and somewhat stuffy, the air thick with a mix of various perfumes and colognes. Folding chairs are arranged in a circle, and as you sit down, the cold metal presses into your back, making you shift uncomfortably. Your heart still pounds from the shock of Kyle's ambush, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

The leader of the group, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, starts speaking, welcoming everyone. Her voice is calm and soothing, but it grates on your nerves. You clench your fists in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. You don't belong here. This isn't you.

The others begin to share their stories, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. You listen, but the words barely register. Your mind is racing, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You're furious with Kyle for bringing you here, for thinking you needed this.

God, you felt like an idiot. You had spent so long getting ready, wearing a pretty dress for your boyfriend just to be shoved in a room with thieves.

The leader, Ellen, scans the room, and you feel a prick of anxiety as they land on you. "We have a new member today," she says, her voice warm but firm. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the eyes of the other attendees on you, their curiosity palpable. "I'm not a shoplifter," you say entirely too fast. You weren’t wrong, you were in fact- not a shoplifter though it wasn’t far off from a kleptomaniac which you definitely were.

"That's okay. Not everyone here is a shoplifter either,” Ellen speaks softly "Would you mind telling us why you're here if you're comfortable?"

"I'm just here to observe," you say quickly, hoping to deflect the attention. "I don't really have anything to share."

Ellen nods, but her gaze remains steady, unyielding. "That's okay. We're glad you're here. Can you tell us a little about why you're observing?"

You bristle at the question, feeling cornered. "My boyfriend thought it would be a good idea," you reply, trying to keep your tone light, and dismissive.

"Why would he think that?"

"He thinks that I have a problem."

The room is silent, the air thick with unspoken questions. Ellen doesn't let you off the hook. "What kind of problem does he think you have?"

You fidget with the hem of your dress, your fingers twisting the fabric. "He thinks I steal things," you say reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I do, but not from stores. It's just some little things from other people."

Ellen's eyes soften, but her expression remains serious. "Stealing, even in small amounts, can be a sign of deeper issues. It's good that you're here, whether you think it's a big deal or not. What kind of things have you taken?"

You feel a surge of anger, a burning frustration that makes you want to lash out. "I don't see why it matters," you snap, your voice louder than you intended.

Ellen nods, absorbing your words with a calm patience that only fuels your irritation. "Sometimes, we take things to fill a void or cope with stress. Have you thought about why you might be doing it?"

You cross your arms over your chest, your posture is defensive. "I don't know," you say, looking away. "It's not that deep."

"Okay, maybe you'll be more comfortable sharing next time." You didn't intend for there to be a next time.

The group seems to move on quickly and you wander away from all conversation, finding a nice spot to settle inside your thoughts. It had been years since you felt like this much of a fool. It was about halfway through the meeting when you couldn't take it anymore.

You push open the door and step into the hallway, the cool air a welcome relief from the stifling room. You make a beeline for the exit. The need for a cigarette is overwhelming, a desperate craving that you can't ignore. Outside, the late day sun is almost gone entirely as night begins to swallow up the sky, making you squint as you search through your bag for your lighter. Panic sets in when you realize it's not there; you must have left it in Kyle's car.

A string of curses escapes your lips as you look around frantically. Your eyes land on a purse left carelessly on a bench in the hallway. Without thinking, you reach in and pull out a lighter, the metal cool and smooth in your hand. The irony isn't lost on you, but you're too angry and desperate to care.

You step outside and light a cigarette, the first drag calming your nerves slightly. You start to walk, the rhythm of your steps a temporary distraction from the chaos in your mind. The smoke curls around you, a familiar comfort, but today it feels different, tainted by the bitter taste of your emotions.

Tears sting at your eyes, and you angrily wipe them away, but they keep coming, blurring your vision. You're furious with Kyle for putting you in this position, and for forcing you to face something you're not ready to confront. But as you walk, the anger shifts, turning inward.

You hate yourself for your bad habits, for the stealing, for the smoking. Each puff of the cigarette feels like a failure, a reminder of all the ways you've let yourself down. The tears flow more freely now, and you don't bother to stop them. You walk faster, trying to outrun the feelings, but they cling to you, weighing you down.

The familiar streets blur as you walk, and you're not sure where you're going. You just need to move, to keep going, to do something, anything to escape the overwhelming tide of emotions. But it's no use. The guilt and shame, the anger and bitterness, they all crash over you, a relentless wave that you can't fight.

You come to a stop, your legs shaking, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The cigarette burns down to the filter, and you drop it, grinding it into the pavement with the heel of your shoe. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold on, to keep from falling apart completely.

You've walked for what feels like an eternity, the community center far behind you. Each inhalation a struggle against the sobs threatening to escape. The cigarette you discarded lies crushed on the pavement and you think about lightning another.

Suddenly, the sound of a car pulling up beside you breaks through the haze. You glance over, your heart skipping a beat when you see Kyle's familiar car. The window rolls down, and there he is, his eyes wide with concern.

"Hey," he calls out, his voice a mix of worry and relief. "What are you doing?"

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to fight the sob you desperately want to let out. "Just stop."

His eyebrows furrow and then he gets a good look at your face and the realization strikes him like a wave of guilt "Are you crying?"

"Fuck off," You answer, turning away from him and continuing to walk.

"Shit," He mutters, quickly emerging from his car.

You stop walking, your body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and emotion. You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, choked by the tears. Instead, you just stand there, looking at him, your face a mess of smeared makeup and raw emotion.

Kyle gets out of the car and walks over to you, his movements hesitant, as if he's not sure how to approach. When he reaches you, he gently takes your hands in his, his touch warm and grounding. "What happened?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

You finally find your voice, though it's weak and shaky. "I couldn't stay," you manage to say, flat. "I couldn't do it. It was too much."

Quickly you retract your hands from Kyle's, looking at him with a fury he hadn't seen in ages.

"How could you do this to me, Kyle?" you yell, your voice cracking with a mix of rage and tears. "How could you ambush me like that?"

Kyle stops in his tracks, his eyes wide with shock. "I was trying to help—"

"Help?" you cut him off, your voice rising. "You think dragging me to some meeting with strangers was helping? You blindsided me! You embarrassed me!"

He steps towards you, his expression pleading. "I didn't know what else to do. I'm worried about you."

Your chest heaves with each breath, the tears flowing freely now, hot and relentless. "You think I don't know what I'm doing is bad?" you shout, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "It isn't easy for me, Kyle!"

He looks at you, his eyes filled with pain and helplessness. "I just want to help you," he says quietly. "I don't know what else to do."

Kyle reaches out, but you step back, shaking your head. "It's a fucking compulsion, I've been doing it for ages, you can't fix it in a single meeting."

Kyle's shoulders slump, and he takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just don't want to see you destroy yourself."

"Kyle," You draw out "You're smart so tell me why the hell you thought that would be a good idea? Because you're no prize either."

Kyle's expression shifts to one of deep sadness, his hands dropping to his sides. "I get that it's hard," he says softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "But running away from the no problem isn't going to solve it. You need help, and I thought that meeting could be a start."

You laugh, a harsh, bitter sound that cuts through the night air. "That was the furthest thing from help. It felt more like a fucking beartrap. You didn't even ask me how I felt about it, you didn't even bring it up again. You just dumped me there and expected me to be okay with it."

Kyle's jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath, struggling to keep his composure. "I'm sorry if it felt like that," he says, his voice strained. "But I didn't know what else to do. I'm terrified of losing you to this. What if you get caught?"

Your heart aches at his words, but the anger still burns bright. "You don't understand," you say, your voice cracking. "I'm scared too. Scared that I'll never be able to stop. But you tricked me, you lied to me."

Kyle's face flushes with frustration, his eyes darkening. "I was desperate! Do you think it's easy for me to watch you self-destruct? To see you steal and smoke and hurt yourself over and over again?"

"Don't you dare make this about you," you snap, your hands trembling with anger. "You don't get it, Kyle."

Kyle takes a step closer, his jaw set. "I'm trying to help you, but you keep pushing me away. You act like I'm the enemy when all I want is to see you get better. Why can't you see that?"

Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, the tears burning in your eyes. "Because it doesn't feel like help! It just doesn't, can you get that in your fucking head? Why are you trying to fix me?"

"I'm not trying to fix you. We can't fix each other but we can help and that's all I want to do," His gaze softens "Just tell me what to do," he says, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time. You don't know what to do. The intensity of it all crashes over you like a wave, and you find yourself struggling to breathe.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, a sob escapes, raw and broken. The anger that had fueled you moments ago dissipates, leaving behind a profound sense of helplessness. Your shoulders shake as the sobs come harder, your vision blurring with tears. You don't have the answers Kyle is looking for; you don't even have the answers for yourself.

Kyle's face softens, his expression shifting from frustration to concern and heartbreak. "Hey, hey," he murmurs, taking a step towards you. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Nothing feels okay. You're overwhelmed by the realization that you're spiralling, and if you don't find a way to get help, it's only going to get worse. You knew it was getting bad when you couldn't even run a mile without coughing up your lungs.

As the sobs wrack your body, you feel your knees weaken. You take an unsteady step toward Kyle, and he immediately closes the distance, pulling you into his arms. The moment you feel his embrace, the dam truly breaks. You collapse into him, your fingers clutching at his shirt as if he's the only thing keeping you from drowning.

"I don't know what to do," you whisper between sobs, your voice barely audible.

His arms tighten around you, one hand gently cradling the back of your head. "We'll figure it out," he says softly, his voice thick with emotion.

You bury your face in his chest, the sobs continuing to pour out of you, each one tearing at your heart. You feel a mix of shame and relief, the two emotions intertwining in a confusing dance. Shame because you're admitting, finally, that you need help. Relief because, at this moment, Kyle's arms around you make you feel less alone, less lost.

You made a decision in your mind, after months of back and forth with yourself "That was my last cigarette," You sniffle "Ever." It was far from your last in truth but still proved to be a pivotal moment in your life.

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kyle broflovski #kyle south park #kyle broflovski x reader #south park kyle #sp kyle #kyle broflovski angst #kyle broflovski headcanons #kyle x reader #kyle broflovski fluff #kyle brovlofski #south park hcs #tolkien south park #south park headcanons

76 notes · View notes

insteading · 7 months ago

Text

So, I'm newish to fandom, right? Though I'm not new to being obsessed about particular shows, my last rounds of obsession came when the blogosphere was still a thing, and that's where my blathering about it in the tags energy went.

I get that "Positive feedback only on art and fic" is a way of extending support to artists and writers who make things for free! (I also have ascertained that we don't have the same norms for meta / nonfiction, which I find fascinating AF. Is it that meta's commitments are more explicitly intellectual, and that we therefore expect and accept a level of critique we wouldn't where fic and art are concerned?)

The caveat I've been seeing "Except where racism is concerned-- we call out racism ..."

We don't. Not universally, not consistently. And I'm going to bet calling out racism when that calling out actually happens is a comparatively new fandom norm, and there are some people who dismiss it as a form of moralism. My point here is:

Fandom norms aren't eternal, and (this is my blogosphere training talking)

Re: "ship and let ship," you like what you like, but what you like is culturally influenced. Subtracting the wrinkles from someone you're drawing comes from somewhere (and it's not always "I'm drawing an AU in which these guys met in high school"). Drawing someone as skinnier than they are comes from somewhere. (I'm thin. The number of times IRL someone has attempted to force-team me into bonding over snarking on someone for their fatness is substantial and not cute.)

The norm of "If you don't like it, use the back button" means if I nope out of your fic in chapter 7 because I just read a sentence in which Stede's eyes are blue, and that has been a pretty reliable proxy for racism, you will never know why I stopped engaging. You won't know that I stopped reading because your Ed can't read-- a detail that you think is canonical but that has been disproven multiple times in the show. You might think life intervened. No. I have three hours of commuting and a ridiculous amount of reading time. If I didn't finish a fic there is a reason why. Maybe you're happier not knowing it. Meanwhile I'm thinking: if we were actually friends, I would be working up the courage to talk to you about it, because Blogosphere Years Ago I promised that I would not let pointing out racism, fatphobia, ableism be the sole responsibility of POC, fat people, and people with disabilities.

I get that it's stressful to be called out. Hell, it's stressful to say "I have a problem with this" too! But I've also seen people do absolute master classes in responding to a gentle callout without defensiveness, and with changed behavior, and it made me better at in-person conflict to witness. One of my blogosphere lessons is: Preferring harmony over growth isn't neutral. It's culturally white, and it has costs (mostly to the people who don't share the cultural positioning of the majority).

So yeah: part of what makes me sad about the back button norm is that I think it reinforces a producer / consumer relationship between writers and readers. If I can't tell you when I've got a problem with something, and you can't tell me when you've got a problem with something, that's a hard limit on the extent to which we can know each other. (Also: because I write meta rather than fic, it is absolutely within tumblr norms for you to tell me my take is bad, even if it's not within fandom norms for me to say "I love this fic except for X.") And as someone who made enduring IRL friendships from my blogosphere days, I find that a bit saddening.

#i'm ace enough not to have a huge gap between my politics and what i find tasty in fic #and i absolutely get that's not the case for everyone #but i have not experienced lasting damage from being asked to interrogate my preferences #the way friends of color have been harmed by other people's uninterrogated preferences coming out to play on dating sites #fandom #god i miss the blogosphere sometimes

118 notes · View notes

jewishvitya · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I stumbled upon your political posts (and then Yuri, you might get me to watch it now) and I find your perspective fascinating. Maybe it's because I grew up with rather a lot of exposure to Palestinians and various peace movements, but your experience is alien to me, and I am really thankful to be able to read it.

I would like to ask, what do you define as Zionism? As the last month taught me that no two people define this term the same. For me it is the ability for the Jewish people to control our own life in a land that we are bound to, and that has no contradiction with the Palestinian doing the same on this land, that they are bound to it as well. No pressure to answer, just pure curiosity.

And if I may offer some hope for our future? On the fourth day of the war, someone who helps in one of the donation centres for the displaced Israelis ask in the group chat if there is a way to pass the extra clothing and equipment to the people of Gaza. In the past two month I got invites for over a dozes or meeting between Israelis and Palestinians, meetings were both sides shared their sorrows and hopes. When an acquaintance was raising money to help a Bedouin family whose house was hit by a rocket, he has to tell people to stop donating. People in my surrounding have been talking about the day after, building plans so they could help build a better place for both people. A long-fought battle in the courts was won, and a group of settlers were ordered to evacuate Palestinian land. Activists have been going to assist in the olive harvests in the West Bank, despite it all.

There is hope for us here.

Hi! Thank you! If you do watch YOI I hope you enjoy it lol.

I know my experience is not very common. Even other Israelis get shocked by the depth of the hatred and the indoctrination sometimes. I try to emphasize that it comes from the most extremist community we have, because I have no idea what the schooling looks like in other areas.

And sure, I'll try to explain, and maybe also why I choose to label myself as anti-zionist.

I don't know that I can give you a dictionary definition, because I define zionism mainly by what it did in practice - the colonizing of Palestine. And when I say colonizing, I'm not making claims about indigeniety or lack of it. I'm defining it through our tactics and our actions. Especially because early in the movement they openly used colonialist frameworks.

Some of the softer definitions of zionism, things like our right to self determination, our right to seek safety - these aren't things I'm against. And I understand that within zionism there were other proposed ideas that weren't necessarily meant to end up with an ethnostate, resulting in ethnic cleansing. So I know zionism is more complicated than what we see in Israel. But what we see now is the reality people are living as the outcome.

If we came here and said "we've been longing to go back here for such a long time, we suffered so much abuse, we want to live alongside you in our shared homeland, can we find a way to ensure our safety and yours" - this would have been a different conversation. Still complicated, because mass immigration is complicated, but different.

In reality, we destroyed communities to manufacture an ethnic majority. Tore a whole society apart and shattered it, spread it all over the world. We killed and expelled and traumatized. I called it the cycle of abuse on the scale of nations - taking horrors we suffered and inflicting them on others. So given the practical results of the zionist movement, I can't treat those softer definitions as the "true" definitions that people should go by.

I keep thinking about Jewish refugees being given the homes of Palestinians with meals still on the table. Because of course we have a right to food and shelter, but not at their expense. And I know you agree with me on this.

When I say I oppose zionism, that's generally because I'm talking about the reality, the impact the movement had on human lives, not an idealized version we might imagine or a philosophy someone wrote about that never came to be.

For me, if I want to talk about our safety in our ancestral homeland and detach it from the horrors committed by Israel, zionism isn't the right framework. And after all the destruction we caused the land to conquer and colonize it, if I want to talk about our connection to it, I think zionism shouldn't be the word I'm using.

There's also an aspect of, by insisting on defining zionism through a nicer idea rather than harm done to real people, I see it as taking away a language that oppressed people are using to talk about their oppression.

I hope that makes sense.

I really want us to find a different way to work towards safety, without it being at the expense of another group of people.

And thank you for that last paragraph. I definitely have hope. It's hard, seeing videos of our soldiers being so gleeful about the destruction. I lost a friend of over ten years because of the callous and cruel things he said over the past couple of months, and I can't bring myself to repeat them. But I know that better things are possible, and I'm glad we're building towards them. I'm terrified that our government won't let us move in that direction, but we're going to push there anyway.

#riki babbles

177 notes · View notes

awinchestershell · 2 months ago

Text

I’m not sure how it still manages to surprise me after all this time, the depths of the selfishness and cruelty of human greed.

I remember the day One Direction was formed. I remember how nervous they all were, how young and excited and wide-eyed about the possibilities being tossed into their laps. They truly had no idea what was in front of them.

They were so small, and they had such big dreams that barely fit inside them, and it was so beautiful watching them achieve them.

I remember watching them become more and more jaded over time, that childish wonder being torn away as the reality around them became more apparent. I remember hundreds upon thousands of tweets and tumblr posts from worried fans about how exhausted they seemed, something in their eyes just not feeling right anymore.

The day Zayn left the band the world seemed to stop. I couldn’t tell you how many young girls on my social media pages I saw wailing in what at the time seemed like the worst pain this band could ever put us through.

God, how wrong we were.

It seemed so obvious, even at the time, that there was something more going on. It wasn’t like they were trying to hide it.

Then Zayn wrote his book and spoke about how much he’d struggled in the band, and for the first time one of the boys had publicly acknowledged how hard it was to be One Direction. And he was still barely scratching the surface.

The band breaks up, or ‘goes on hiatus’, and again it feels like the worst thing they could do. How much harder of a hit can we take? What more is there to lose?

And yet again, it’s so obvious that there’s more going on then they’re saying. They all seem so worn out, downright miserable at times, yet they never stop the grind. They never take a day off. They never sleep.

Slowly, they start to talk about the reality of being a child star. Of being sixteen years old and handed the world on a silver platter, money and fame and all the things that no one ever even touches in their wildest dreams, and they’re not even out of high school yet.

They talk of being locked up in hotel rooms for days at a time with nothing to entertain them but the mini bar. Feeling trapped, being a prisoner to their own success. They talk of schedules so busy they shouldn’t be possible, never seeing their own families, cameras in their faces at the most vulnerable moments of their lives.

They begin to write what they really feel. We finally get a peek into their real thoughts instead of what some bighead in a suit is telling them to think.

They write of real love, feeling lonely, feeling sad, feeling scared, feeling on top of the world, toxic romances that you know are toxic but you stay anyway because you don’t want to be alone, happiness so overwhelming you lose your mind, grief, exploring, running free, coming home, friendship, drugs, sex, all the best and worst parts of being alive.

They write what they feel, and what they know. They express themselves.

They find their own paths. We worry, of course we worry. But it’s an honor and a joy watching them find themselves in their music.

We convince ourselves that they’ll come together one day. Not even for a tour, because they’ve changed too much and so have we, but for a charity show, or someone’s birthday, or an anniversary.

And then TMZ takes a photo.

And now we know that Zayn leaving and the band breaking up meant nothing at all.

It’s a fascinating thing, really. How you can spend years of your life not really thinking of someone anymore and then they’re gone and suddenly they’re all you can think of.

I never left. I’ve known these boys as long as they’ve known each other. But I’ve seen so many people in the last week see this news and have years of memories come rushing back to them. A whole lifetime of love and joy and community just gone.

It’s a brutal, miserable blow to the most innocent part of you. The part that believes in the goodness of humanity, in the pure joy of creation, being a part of something bigger than yourself.

All of the jokes, the laughter, the music, the friendship. It’s all just gone.

And the worst part is it didn’t have to happen.

A completely, hilariously avoidable tragedy.

He’s gone because humanity hates itself. Because we are greedy and cruel. Because a management company exploited those five young boys for money and power until they couldn’t anymore, making sure to torment them along the way. Because men with cameras have to leech off of every vulnerable moment celebrities have, using and abusing their suffering for a quick buck.

Because the anonymous, mindless drones on social media think that their opinion is the only one that deserves to be heard. And that they decide who deserves to live or die. That it’s appropriate to send someone death threats and tell them to burn in hell, and then post jokes and celebratory tweets about them after they’ve killed themself.

Because TMZ thinks that taking a picture of a man’s dead body and leaking it to the press before his mother has even gotten the call that he’s dead is good journalism.

This is why he’s gone.

THis is why there will be another Liam Payne after him. This is why we will never, ever be okay. Because humanity sees a senseless, unnecessary tragedy, and they point and laugh. And they ask how they can make money off of it.

Because we are broken. Fractured down to our core. And there is no fixing us. Not anymore.

The media took a sweet, funny, bright-eyed 16 year old boy and they sucked all the life out of him. They turned him into a soulless cash cow, they took him for all he had, and when he had nothing left to give they abandoned him.

And now that he’s gone they’re turning his death into a circus. Instead of allowing him the dignity of dying in peace, surrounded by the love and privacy he deserves, they’ve robbed him of even that.

When a mother is left resorting to begging the internet to not post filth of her child’s dead father so he won’t have to grow up and see it one day, and a crowd of teenage girls are forced to raise their hands up to block cameras from filming a man as he collects the belongings of his dead son, we’re left wondering how we got here.

Ask yourself just how much of your soul you have left, and if the answer is any at all, how much are you willing to sacrifice to continue playing a part in this nightmare?

#ia83062496a #louis tomlinson #harry styles #liam payne #zayn malik #niall horan #one direction #tw death

37 notes · View notes

belles-non-wallpapering-content · 3 months ago

Text

Library E.S x FEM! reader

Overture- You got called in to pick up a shift at the library when you met the most unusual guy. But then he runs away.

CWs- Mentions of Ghosts, reader is described as wearing a skirt, one use of y/n

A/N- First Egon Spengler fic, and I'm super excited about it. Second of 32 fics for October

You’d gotten called in for a shift at the library on your day off for what felt like the thousandth time, but today was actually interesting. The elderly librarian who so often judged you for your choices in outfits, music, and anything else– had seen a ghost. Whether she did, or had simply gone crazy, you were curious.

You got there, set your stuff down, and were immediately glad you came in. You’d yet to see the mess waiting downstairs, one you’d have to reorganize, but it was someone in particular who caught your attention.

A bit older than you, but most definitely your type, sitting criss-cross on the floor of the New York public library. He had something on his head resembling a stethoscope, but more intricate. While you wouldn’t call him intimidating per se, getting up the nerve to talk to him would be difficult. That was, until your boss came up to complain about your new fascination.

“Hey, glad you could come.”

“No place I’d rather be.” You gave him a sarcastic, overly cheesy smile to drive the point of how unhappy you were to be here again.

“Well, the big boss called some people from the university to come check on the ghost situation, mostly just because Alice has been freaked out for the better part of two hours, and he wanted her to finally stop crying. But since the resident shusher is out of commission, I’m going to need you to go tell that man he can’t sit on the floor in the middle of the aisle, and do whatever that is. Thank you.” He walked off, leaving you to do it without any complaint. You hated him for it. Not only did you now have to talk to the cute guy, you had to scold him? Every second you were regretting answering the phone more.

You wandered over to him, nervously fixing your hair and clothing while you walked towards him.

“Excuse me sir?” He didn’t even look up when you called out to him and you decided now may just be your only chance to make an impression. You fixed your skirt before sitting down, legs pushed to the side, but otherwise matching his posture. That finally got his attention, and he finally pulled the stethoscope off his head so he could hear you.

“Hello.” You weren’t sure if he was nervous or disinterested, but you steeled yourself to maintain customer-service levels of peppiness.

“Hi. May I ask why you’re sitting on the floor?”

“I’m trying to get a PKE reading on everything in the building, to accurately predict supernatural activity in this area.”

“Ok, may I ask for a version of that answer suited for someone who hasn’t had a science class since high school.”

“I’m just taking measurements to determine a baseline before my colleagues get here. We were hired by the director to come inspect the grounds after an incident this morning?”

“Oh ok, you’re one of the guys from the university! My boss sent me over here, he thought that you were just hanging out in the aisle.” You gave a small point to your boss, who was already staring daggers at you.

“And here I thought you were just curious.”

“Oh believe me, I was. Still am.”

“Well I’d love to tell you about this, anytime.”

“I’d like that. Once you’re done with your job, come find me? I’m here all night.”

“Okay.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a blush on his cheeks. You got back up, brushed off your skirt, and went to send your boss over.

But the next time you saw him it was after a loud crash, and he and his colleagues were fleeing from the building as quickly as possible. Not exactly swoon worthy, but the way he nearly fell flat on his face while running did bring its own charm.

—

You were convinced you’d never see him again, until you went to unlock the library doors the following week. There he was, in a full suit, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. This time he was definitely blushing, but so were you, seeing him waiting there.

“You’re back.”

“I am. I brought some equipment I’d like to test on the apparition, if of course, that’s alright with your bosses. I apologize for leaving last week, we needed funding for some new facilities and hardware.”

“I appreciate it, it is Doctor Spengler right? We never really got introduced.”

“Yes, I’m sorry again for not coming back sooner…Y/N” you tilted your head at him, because you were certain you hadn’t mentioned your name yet, and you couldn’t figure out how he knew. Until you happened to look down and catch the plastic ID badge hanging from your neck.

“Oh right. Name tags.” You took a moment to just settle into the embarrassment before starting again.

“I can walk you downstairs?”

“Are you sure your superiors are ok with it?”

“They’re not here today, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.” You gave him a cheery smile, and just a hint of puppy dog eyes. You really wanted him to ask you out, and the more time you spent together, the more time you had to make it happen.

“Al-Alright.” You walked him down the hall to the elevator, and as soon as you arrived at the basement, he turned to you.

“I think you should go back upstairs. This is highly experimental equipment, and I’m testing it on an apparition with full skeletal structure.”

“Sorry, can’t. I am to not let you leave without filling out paperwork, after last time. I don’t know if you noticed, but it is kind of trashed down here, and they’re pissed about it. But I can start by just reorganizing the card catalog, so I’m out of your way?”

“Alright. But stay over here for your safety, ok?”

“You got it.” You held your hand up to say ‘scouts honor’, and you thought you were home free, until he came back. He’d only gotten about 5 steps away before he turned back around and fished in his coat for a plastic cup.

“There may be ectoplasm there, if you could please collect it in here for further testing.”

“If this is an attempt to get me to give in and leave, it’s working.”

“Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, go catch your ghost and try not to make too much of a mess?”

“Don’t you have janitorial staff?”

“Yeah but I have to organize all the books that end up on the ground.”

“Maybe don’t come back here for a while, then. There was an incident with a bookshelf earlier.” And then he just—walked off? No explanation, nothing.

You got through 3 drawers of the card catalog, and collected a Petri dish full of what you hoped was ectoplasm, trying to ignore the loud crashes and yelling, before you saw Dr. Spengler again. He looked terrified, and was holding a smoking box.

“Oh! Wow-uh, is that supposed to be happening?”

“Probably.”

“Reassuring, thank you Dr. Spengler.”

“I don’t think I can leave this in here indefinitely, I may need to postpone doing the paperwork for your superiors.”

“That’s—it’s fine, don't worry about it. Here’s your stuff, by the way, just come back later today?”

“Definitely. And would it be— would it be possible for me to ask you—on a date…with me?” He looked like he regretted saying anything, but you were all smiles.

“That would be great, how about you pick me up here in a few hours?” After nodding, blushing, and a quiet ‘alright’ he started to turn back towards the exit, making it about 2 steps before coming back.

“I do feel compelled to tell you that I’m not—fun. Or at least from what I hear.”

“Thank you for the warning but I think you’re very fun.” You put the same emphasis on the word to drive the point that you really did think so.

You both stood there just looking at each other for a moment, before your eye was drawn again to the box, which was now smoking even more.

“You might want to—um, before it sets off the fire alarm?” He looked back down, and the terrified look from before came back, and he started walking backwards towards the exit, keeping his eyes on the box the whole time.

“I’ll see you tonight” you called out for him before he turned around, and his face split into a shy smile, before he gave you a wave goodbye.

#egon spengler #ghostbusters egon #egon spengler x reader #Egon spengler fluff #ghostbusters fanfiction

53 notes · View notes