#but high school or god forbid elementary school??

[ravelqueen]

Hey fic writers where are all these classrooms of precocious 8-15 yr olds that always want to learn and are nice and just need someone nice for them to be perfectly behaved bc i would love to meet them

Relatedly - who is it that decides that characters that are withdrawn, snappy and have no patience are somehow perfect teachers bc like.... how much you know is actually wayyyyy less important than having strong nerves like at least make them bad teachers then!

[imrllytootiredforthis]

yandere felix

summary: basically just sub yandere lixie x dom reader

a/n: i do not condone this sort of behaviour, this is purely for amusement purposes and should not be done in real life nor' should be normalized

There was never a time Felix could remember where he wasn’t in love with you

Ever since you were little with a childlike innocence, clinging to each other's sides and running around in the dirt and mud as little kids do

and your parents would joke about how one day you would get married

From the time where you’d stick out your tongue in disgust at the prospect, claiming that he had cooties and roll your eyes, groaning at your parents for being so weird,

all while he blushed shyly, hiding behind you and agreeing with every word you said

he was absolutely smitten with you in the adorable way children are

and as you grew older the dynamics simply stuck, 

he was shy and cute, hanging on for the ride while you surged into your elementary years.

clinging to your side all throughout grade school to the point where your teachers felt like they needed to separate the two of you

not that it made much of a difference if you weren’t in the same class though.

Constantly you were kicked out for sneaking into his class during school hours, sneaking in halfway through class, sitting beside him just outside of the teacher's view until you were inevitably caught with how loud the two of you were laughing

during break time you were off and out of the classroom in a matter of seconds, elated to see each other again after forever apart (in your little kid minds at least)

it never failed to surprise people the 180 Felix's personality did when he was around you.

always a soft-spoken gentle child, not speaking much out of turn but it was undeniable,

He laughed, he smiled, he joked. He seemed to be energized by your very presence

when you weren't together he’d be surrounded by kids who tried to be his friend but they never mattered. They were just a substitute for you until you were reunited 

He was your best friend in the entire word

And you were his

god forbid anyone who ever tried to bully or tease him 

the few who tried, cornering him in the courtyard, taunting him for hiding behind you all the time got what they deserved

A black eye and a broken bone or two. 

While you proudly sported your fair amount of bruising and a suspension from the school for ‘violence’ and 'bullying'

You argued, they didn't listen

"It was their fault though!"

And Felix nodded along,

getting himself suspended the very next day so that he could be with you

neither of your parents were quite happy but they’d long since stopped trying to separate you

It was an impossible task they’d found

you were inseparable

with enough nights finding that one of you would sneak out to meet the other they decided it was just best to allow it and let the two of you come through the front door

instead of Felix breaking his arm trying to scale the house into your open window

Then came high school

hormones got involved and bodily functions changed, feelings got weird and things were different

you began to see things differently. Began to see other people, discovered just how wide world was with so many experiences and people out there;

so many things to do and accomplish, so many things to see and touch and feel

but where you began to see others, when you began to see the world

all Felix ever saw was you

But his feelings weren’t as innocent as before.

They were different.

Looking at you made him feel all tingly and made his heart beat faster.

Your crooked smile made his cheeks burn red and when you grabbed his hand he swore he felt butterflies in his stomach

and to his shame he found that whenever you hugged him or wore his clothes it made certain things a little hard to deal with 

it was embarrassing and his little crush only grew and grew over the years

his jealously only burning brighter when he sees you hang out with anyone else

and then, to his horror you started dating.

He knew you never saw him the way he saw you.

Knew that while he looked at you like that, you were looking at someone else the same way

But he though that...

he didn't know what he thought

but to see you date someone else

He was your “best friend”, “Practically my brother!” You’d tell people and he’d smile along, acting as if it didn’t break something inside of him each time that you did

As if he didn’t love you so much it hurts

As if he didn’t think you were-are his soulmate, the most perfect thing on earth-no one else deserves you, no one could ever be enough for you

Not even him.

but he’s willing to die trying

Your ‘Best friend’

That cuts off any other friends he may have when you jokingly tell him that he's not spending enough time with you, isolating himself from the entire world,

your name the only thing in his head as he stares down at your contact waiting for you to message him. 

he's at your beck and call, whenever you want, him he's there no matter what.

just the sweetest thing ever, bringing you little gifts that reminded him of you, flowers and candy when you're sad, spending nights cuddled up in your arms because you didn't want to be alone, stars in his eyes as he hangs onto every word that you say.

but it's okay, because it's platonic right?

right?

Just platonic with how he has so many pictures of you, enough to fill an entire album

Just platonic the way he tries to rile you up and get you angry so that he can get videos of you yelling at him, calling him pathetic and dumb in your rage

Platonic with how he uses them to get off in the dark of night when it’s only him the sound of your voice filling his ears

the way he specifically watches porn with people that look like you and listens to those asmrs labelled ‘mommy takes care of baby boy’ or some shit with people that sound like you

Just platonic the way he watches so much of that shit and yet never loses his virginity

He wants to keep that for you

Only for you

Even if you have a 'boyfriend'

Even if that 'boyfriend' is an asshole and doesn't deserve you

It's just not fair that he gets to have you

All Felix wants to be under you, feeling you, hearing you moan and whisper dirty secrets to him

He wants you to corrupt him

Like you do to him.

He’s spent so many nights, ear against the wall as you fuck him right on the other side, touching himself to your words

The desire deep inside of him as his fingers fumbled to undo his pants, revealing an undeniable evidence of arousal—aching and throbbing with pent-up desire

For you

Only for you

Always for you

Trying to moan so quietly to hear every little word, every little pant fallen from your lips

Squeezing his eyes shut, imagining you were talking to him, you were stroking his cock, calling him a dirty slut

“Are you enjoying this you little perv?”

“C’mon, be a good boy and beg for it.”

“You’re such a slut.”

“Doing so good for me, such a good boy~”

Fuck

That’s the side of you he’s oh so in love with

When your tone shifts to a purr, something so irresistible leaking into every word. 

Or when it’s a mean growl, disgust dripping from every syllable, venom sounding like the sweetest melody in his ears

He can picture the way that you would lick over your lips like you were about to devour him whole

Picture you standing over him, making him feel so small

He’d reach down and lace his fingers with yours, face bright with a blush, looking up with angel eyes,

ready to do anything, beg for your attention, plead for your affection, get down on his knees for a single touch

the way your hands brush over his cheeks, lingering on his perfect features and his cute little heart shaped freckle

tracing over his pretty lips before pressing your fingers into his mouth, down onto his tongue, listening to the way he’d moan, warbled speech asking for more

because he’s greedy and he’s selfish and he wants it all

wants all of you and wants you to have all of him

and he knows that it would never be enough. That he loves you so much, wants so much of you it would never be enough until he was so close nothing could tell apart the two of you

Until he could crawl into your skin, be safe and warm with you

And it could still never be enough.

But this. It’s enough. For now.

Enough in this stolen moment of indulgence, a euphoric solace imagining himself intertwined with you, hearing your voice and for a fleeting second it’s not through a wall, it’s not to someone else. It’s to him

a brief transient escape from his yearning and desperation for you, a moment where his head goes hazy and he tastes colours and sees sounds and feels you touching him

A moment where he feels like his sanity is slowly cracking apart under everything before reality comes crashing back in waves of guilt and longing.

with his fingers coated in his own cum and your name whispered like a prayer on his pretty lips and his chest aching with the want to be in your arms

When you formally introduce your 'boyfriend' to Felix the first time

he swears he has never felt such hate for another person

A boiling, searing, horrific dislike

The want for this guy to get his hands off your hips and get out of your life.

You were honestly confused at his behaviour

never have you seen your best friend so...angry or mean

scoffing whenever that asshole spoke, rolling his eyes and making pointed but passive aggressive remarks that he tried to play off as jokes

(They were anything but jokes)

it was so out of character for his usual soft and cheery self you were baffled, having no idea what was wrong with him

until Felix makes an odd remark about he's sure that this guy will never be able to make you feel good, "too prideful and selfish with a small-"

you pull him to the side, grabbing onto his arm so hard it leaves angry red marks

that he'll probably end up jerking off to later

you practically hiss at him, glaring at him as you tell him off

saying that you have no idea what’s going on with him but he needs to stop it.

That he's your boyfriend and you'd really love it if your best friend could support you

He swears he could’ve almost cried from that. From you defending that asshole, taking his side instead of Felix’s

The only reasonable explanation is that the guy is toxic, he’s manipulating you, he’s bad for you and no one else can see it except for Felix

It seems like he’s in a haze for the rest of the night.

Civil but not really there. Nodding along animatedly, not looking in his direction for the rest of the night

He would swear he was still in that haze when he pulled your 'boyfriend' to the side as he was about to leave, after you had just left out the door, Felix calling behind you that he just wanted to have a quick word with him

in a haze as he threatens him, telling him he needs to stay away from you or else

-or else what?

He’s still in his ‘haze’ still, two nights later when Felix finds out that he never did

You’re so confused when he doesn’t show up for your date. Never texts or calls you back. When you get told from another friend that he ended up moving away for some unnamed reason.

Felix calls you and when you don't pick up he gets nervous and decides to show up at your place

To find you crying and heartbroken over that fucker.

He never deserved you.

Felix knew that

But he comforts you still, he lets you cry on his shoulder

He buys you ice cream and take-out and puts on a movie for you to watch

He lets you lay against him until it's the middle of the night

the room is dark except for the glow of the tv screen, the light illuminating your face to him as you lace your fingers with his

"Felix?"

It feels so odd for you to call him that, and not Lixie or Fefe like you normally do

"Yeah?"

Even odder to hear you say it in such a serious tone.

"Can I do something?"

he looks at you and you look at him

his eyes are wide, cheeks dusted pink

before you lean in and press your lips against his stupidly pretty ones

and in the dark of midnight, with a horrendously stupid comedy movie you insisted watching playing in the back,

He lets you use him

He lets you take his virginity-it was always yours after all, along with his heart and his body and his soul

No matter how rough you are, he takes it all with a moan and a cry for more

Fefe lets you take everything out on him. Every dark desire, all your stress and all your pain poured into making him cry beneath you

And with you on top of him, calling him a good boy, telling him he’s so fucking good for you he melts

He breaks

He cries

He holds back his tongue and doesn’t let spill every little feeling he has for you, how long he’s waited for you, how much he wants you and needs you and adores you

How you’re everything to him.

And you kiss away his tears and he kisses away yours

For tonight he’s yours.

Yours, yours, yours,

No one else’s.

You make him feel things he didn’t know his body was capable of feeling

Playing with his nipples and his dick, licking over his skin with a moan like he's the best thing that you've ever tasted

And when he feels on the cusp of insanity he laces your fingers with his and bring you in for a soft kiss,

so unlike anything else that’s happened tonight

so unlike the rough, borderline cruel way that you fuck him

But in the eye of the storm there’s a kind of quiet

gentle and soft, your lips against his. He swears he can feel your heart beating through your hand.

It’s everything he wants to say, everything he can’t say poured into it

And then you pull away and he whines and you smirk.

He sees heaven and hell and stars behind his eyelids and decides that you’re more important than all of them. 

He sees the marks he leaves on your skin and the marks you leave on his in turn

He feels euphoria and bliss beyond what he thought was possible. Beyond any porn he’d watch and any times he’d touched himself to thoughts of you-he never thought feeling this good was possible

You tug his head back by his hair, slotting your face beside his to whisper in his ear.

“You’re fucking mine, do you hear me Lix? Mine.”

As if he's ever been anything else.

He always has been. He always will be.

“Yours, only yours.”

As if anyone else could have him now. As if you hadn’t ruined him for anyone else. No one could make him feel the way you did and he was not interested in even looking.

Yours.

He never wants to stop

Never wants to stop feeling like this

Feeling like he’s yours and only yours and you’re his and only his

If he could die in this moment, with you he would die a happy man.

He falls asleep in your arms, curled up into your chest

your bodies sweat-soaked and your tired pants filling the room 

you hold him and he swears he’s never been happier in his entire life.

With you.

The next morning you’ve left a note.

You went back home to stay with your parents for a bit and didn’t want to disturb him when you left, but he’s free to stay however long he wants, the keys are on the counter for him to lock up when he leaves

He wishes he could say that he only stayed for breakfast and a shower but that would be a lie

He doesn’t leave for a long time

Because he’s in your bed, surrounded by your scent, covered in your marks from the night before, only able to remember the things that happened between you two

And all of that makes him so hard

He buries his head into your pillow and tries to imagine-remember

He buries his head into your pillow and remembers everything you did to him. Every word he worships in his head, every touch he tries to replicate

Shame fills him as he humps your pillow, unable to stop himself.

As he digs through your dirty laundry, stealing dirty underwear that he uses to get off too

It’s not you, but it’s close enough

He spends way too long in your apartment, doing things that fill him with shame and guilt and desire

How could he not though? With his body still tingling from your touch. 

With his fingers still tracing over the marks you left on his body.

The marks that slowly fade throughout the day.

Marks that he wished he could ask you to replace.

And when you come back you act as if nothing happened. 

You act as if you haven’t touched every part of his body. 

As if you haven’t left marks all over him.

As if you know he isn’t completely and utterly obsessed with you.

As if you hadn’t made him promise to be yours.

But you never promised to be his.

It’s okay.

He’s okay with just being your best friend

With being the shoulder to cry on and the one you come home to after another guy that you liked suddenly doesn’t want to be around you

They’re all temporary. He’s here to stay.

He’s your Lixie, your Fefe

That’s all that matters.

He’ll be your best friend that’s around just a little too often,

That does just a little too much,

That warms your bed a little too many times to be just friends.

But you don’t wanna cross that line.

So it's okay.

As long as you're okay with the people you go out with disappearing after a short while

he may be complacent with the fact that you date someone else but he's not about to let them stay for long

And deep down you know what's going on

you aren't stupid, you don't miss the way he looks at the people you date, you didn't miss the mysterious red stain on his shirt after you got ghosted for the hundredth time

but when he lays in your lap, stretched out like a cat, looking so adorably harmless...

Does it really need to be addressed?

It's okay.

For you.

It's...okay.

For him.

He has something.

You have something.

Even if he really wants love. When he wants to be held and taken care of.

Wants to be told that you love him

Wants to be kissed on the forehead and told that he's the only one for you, that there's no one else.

No one else but him.

No matter that it's a lie and that you've told him all of that before.

a/n: is this kinda shit? yeah but i have such bad writer's block rn and probably won't post for awhile after this so i just wanted to post this now, it's my birthday so i'm going home to spend time w family

i might end up doing a fluffier (if you could even call it that?) version if you guys want it

my taglist is here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @lemonhongjoong, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteerr, @arlojulien-nightchild-of-hades, @hahagay, @lino-jagiyaa, @missrobyn81, @maru-matt, @goblinracha (i think this is everyone that wanted to be tagged?)

[somewhere-south-of-neutral]

This is a post that I’ve been planning on making for well over a year, but have been putting off repeatedly. Tomorrow, I start my final semester of undergraduate education, however, and I want to go into it as the most myself me I can be. So, to quote the great Rav Hillel, “If I am not for myself, who is for me? [...] If not now, when?”. But first, some backstory.

When I was like two or three, I saw my sister and mother painting their nails and, naturally, I wanted to join them. Apparently, I asked for my polish to be purple, still my favorite color, and my mom is genuinely still proud of the fact that I painted my own toes, apparently very well, at the tender age of not-quite-three. The next day, I went into preschool, and when my preschool teacher saw my toes, she asked me who painted them. I, of course, proudly exclaimed that I had done it myself. 

She then proceeded to gruffly explain to me that I was not allowed to have painted toes, because little boys aren't allowed to paint their nails, and I was a little boy. When I got home, I asked my mom why she let me paint my nails even though I was a little boy and therefore not allowed. 

My mom, who I imagine was as close to genuinely desiring that preschool teacher’s death as she ever has been of anyone’s, before calling the school to ask “what the hell?”, did her best to explain to me that the teacher was wrong. She tried to explain that nail polish, and other nice things in that category, are for EVERYONE, boy or girl. But it was too late, the damage was done.

In the over twenty years since, I never wore nail polish, even when asked if I wanted to join. My parents were successful in instilling in me a deep suspicion of the general idea that some things are “for girls” and others are “for boys”, but I could never apply that suspicion to myself. Sometimes, when you are queer and neurodivergent and learning to mask, you get your wires crossed. Over time, despite my disregard for gender conformity in others, I became deeply uncomfortable with the idea of myself not conforming to a certain degree of gender presentation. 

Boys don’t paint their nails, so mine remained bare.

Boys don’t wear bright colors and patterns, so I am most comfortable wearing grays and blacks and monotone clothing.

Boys don’t show strong emotion, so I maintain an air of stoicism.

Boys don’t cry, so, to this day, even alone, I have trouble letting myself just cry.

The fact that, despite living in a house where all of these stereotypes were actively discouraged, I internalized them all says something about how pervasive they are in our society. 

In second grade, I was very close friends with several of the girls in my class, until the whispers developed into a new internal Rule that (straight) Boys don’t hang out with girls unless they have a Crush. I didn’t have a Crush, so I stopped hanging out with them, because that was the Rule.

I didn’t have many friends in elementary and middle school.

By high school, I had somewhat gotten over that rule. Most of my small friend group was female. That said, I still made sure not to show undue affection, lest anyone think, God forbid, that I was experiencing and/or acting on physical attraction, like some sort of CREEP. 

Then, like two or three years ago (I honestly have zero sense of time at this point) I learned about, realized that I was, and came out as aromantic and asexual. It unlocked something in me. I started saying "I love you" to and hugging my friends (male and female). Realizing that I wasn’t straight let me let go of some of the internalized rules about things that I felt I had to conform to as a straight man, because it turns out I wasn’t. It also let me start thinking about gender. 

I increasingly realized that I didn’t feel super connected to my masculinity. It was just sort of… there. Finally, (reading The Murderbot Diaries helped) it finally cracked and I decided that I didn’t actually need a gender anyway… and then I didn’t do anything about it for an entire year. But now I’m ready to say it:

Hi! I’m agender. I use any pronouns. I am not a boy, and that means I’m allowed to do things that boys don’t do.

Do you like my nails?

[covesdadappreciation]

[Going through basically every step] Renee Murray x FTM Reader

Fluff

I always refer to Renee and [Name] as their current pronouns and will only refer to them as their former terms when referring to something they said when they were younger/at the age they used those terms. 

Heads up, Writing this is confusing for me because the OL’s school grade system is vague for my understanding, so the timeline might be confusing or it’s just me…

[Name] and Renee.

The two most fucking oblivious people in the whole world.

Even Tamarack noticed. 

Renee and [Name] have been the closest of friends since elementary school. 

Sure, not at the very beginning when they met considering that [Name] was born female and only realized he was trans in High school. Renee, back in the 5th grade when she’d met [Name], wasn’t a huge fan of girls. She thought that girls were a distraction, envy covered with disinterest in anyone who identified as a girl and some internalized misogyny perchance. 

It only took a couple weeks for Renee to finally get used to [Name]’s attempts in starting their friendship, and I mean it took effort. Renee’s stubborn, no doubts about it. So when they met [Name], all she could think was ‘what a dumb girl. I’m never going to be friends with her!’ and made it their mission. 

Unsurprisingly, [Name] can also be stubborn with a mission. 

He made origami animals, brought a handful of nature from Tamarack’s backyard, and post-it notes to put in an envelope. Then it would be safely secured in [Name]’s bag until Renee would visit her mom’s classroom or when the group would hang out to be delivered into Renee’s hands. 

And for 3 weeks, this went on and on until Qiu convinced Renee to at least try being friends, which somehow worked. 

[Name] took the illusory award of Renee’s friendship with pride, making sure to enjoy every aspect. [Name] had invited her to his house countless times, had figured out every single little thing that Renee enjoys or hates based on observation (because god forbid Renee ever talk about her feelings), made gifts for her, and visited her class whenever possible as the years passed on. In return, Renee gradually began to return those actions, and more. Inside jokes, getting each other food, leaning on each other both physically and emotionally, and always being protective of one another. 

So imagine Renee’s horror when [Name] was starting to “haunt” her mind. [Name] was suddenly the person that Renee imagined being roomies with, wanting to hang out with him constantly, occasionally getting jealous if anyone ever tried to get as close as she and [Name] are.

“I can’t like her!”  She had complained, “She’s… her.” Renee didn’t want to lose her best friend. The one person who she understood and cared for the most, more than she did for Qiu. Hell, anyone else should’ve been her crush, but [Name]? This was going to fucking hurt if this goes wrong. So Renee made a promise to herself that this growing realization was never leaving the mind palace. This is gonna be a pain.

Little did she know that [Name] was juggling those same thoughts as well… just… differently. 

“They’re never going to like me! I’m going to have to explain so much. What if they don’t like me? What if my transition changes things?” [Name] doubted, “and then what? We just, what, go on dates? Or would we stay only friends? No one’s prepared me for this!”

So baby steps.

[Name] came out to Renee, Tamarack, and Qiu on bowling night that [Name] forced them on.

“I’m trans.” He states simply as he came back from a roll.

“You missed.” “Congrats!” “What?” The trio all said in a jumbled mess. [Name]’s eyes were mainly stuck on Renee’s reaction, noticing how her look turned soft. No judgment, no bitter or distant look… more so a sense of pride and ease. [Name] sat back down next to Renee while it was Qiu’s turn, getting a firm comforting side hug from Renee. 

She’s the prettiest person [Name] had ever seen.

And [Name] was the most handsome person Renee had ever seen.

Two years later, on Renee’s birthday, [Name] was the last person to stay for the party. The both of them sitting on Renee’s front porch, a smoky feel to the autumn air, faint smell of cinnamon coming from the Murray household. Renee paused for a moment, opening and closing her mouth, trying to find the right words for something. 

“How’d you figure out your whole… trans thing?” Renee asks softly, the words barely wanting to escape her. 

“Oh- uhm” [Name] straightens his back, furrowing his brows to think.

Renee catches how sudden the question is, groaning into their hands before muttering out a quick “Sorry, sorry. You don’t have to answer- and maybe wrongly worded, I just… you’re the only one I could imagine asking this to, so…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Renee! Let me think” [Name] reassures, looking away before explaining every thought and personal feeling that they felt safe to share with Renee. A small gut feeling in [Name] knew there was a reason she had asked, but he knew it wasn’t his place to prod. Even if there was a cautious approach to her voice that probably said it all in hindsight. All [Name] knew was that he had to give her space and a chance to open up if necessary.

“--So yeah. That’s when I decided I had to tell you guys.” [Name] shrugged, looking back at Renee. 

A small moment of silence followed afterwards, uncertainty painting Renee’s face. It almost made [Name] wonder if he said something wrong until he felt Renee place her head on his shoulder. 

“...Thank you for telling me” she exhaled sharply, her upper body going slightly limp as to try and relax herself.

Renee was the kindest soul that [Name] had ever met.

And [Name] was the most patient boy Renee had ever met. 

Once in their 20s, high school over with and their futures now fully in their own hands, the dating rumors were finally over with. Sure, Qiu and Tamarack were the main instigators, but it was surely not because they saw something that Renee and [Name] refused to see!

So what if Renee finally came out and the first person they told was [Name] and they both went out to celebrate at the diner? So what if Renee and [Name] were making plans to room together in an apartment? So what if [Name] bakes sweets for Renee, and Renee cooks for [Name]? And what if Renee and [Name] are each other’s closest “oh-so-definitely platonic soulmates”?

It isn’t like Renee had told Qiu about her crush, nor did [Name] tell Tamarack…

Definitely not.

No.

Never. 

It’s not like Qiu and Tamarack connected the dots in middle school and have tried everything in their power to get the two of them to finally just get together. 

—

“You have to tell her” Tamarack huffed, messaging her forehead, “She totally likes you!”

“It’s going to eat me alive if she rejects me! What if we stop being friends?” [Name] whined.

“What if you guys end up getting together and having the most loving relationship for the rest of your lives?” Tamarack exclaimed.

—

“How would I even start? Just go up and say ‘I’ve had a crush on you since we were in middle school! Surprise!’” Renee ran a hand through her hair and tugged lightly, 

“Yes!” Qiu yelled out, “That’s almost perfect!” 

—

“I can’t fuck this up, Tammy” [Name] sighed

“Then don’t. Go up to her.”

—

Imagine me this. It’s a Sunday night in Golden Grove’s park after dinner at a restaurant. Two people with one single goal in mind. Confess their fucking hearts out. Both of them unusually dressed up more formal than normal, fidgeting hands, nervous glances and laughter, but the comfortableness between two people who have known each other for years makes it bearable. 

These love dorks were [Name] and Renee. 

The only ones sitting on a bench, sitting in odd positions but deeming it comfortable somehow, (though it may be the reason they have back problems) and on the verge of exploding over how terrifying and exciting this is. 

“Renee-” “[Name]” They start

“Shit, sorry. Go ahead” [Name] bowed his head slightly. Renee cleared her throat, “Right, so… I think that you should know that I think your presence is great.”

“That’s good to know” [Name] chuckles,

“...Would you say you feel about the same?”

“I would die for you” [Name] states seriously at first, blank face before smiling to make sure that it was a lighthearted comment (but he probably would,) “But yeah, of course I enjoy your presence. We’ve been partners in crime for… basically our entire lives”

“Right right-”

“And you know, we might as well be together for the rest of our lives because we’re gonna live together, and I like you, and if you like me too we could get better tax returns if we ever got married–” [Name] began to ramble.

“What?” Renee raised a brow.

“I mean- maybe you don’t like me! We could still get married to get those tax returns- or not get married at all!” [Name] panics throughout the confession, “And by me liking you isn’t because of the tax returns! I really do just like you, I have for years, like middle school or highschool, but I didn’t want to scare you away and have to make all those origami animals all over again! Fuck, this is not how I wanted this to go–”

[Name] hides his face into his hands for a moment, groaning in disbelief towards himself, “I like you. That’s what I was trying to get at. I made it a lot more difficult than needed”

“I saw that” Renee giggled, flicking [Name]’s shoulder, “That may have been the most dorkiest or worst confession I have ever heard in my entire life, I’m still debating.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” [Name] was interrupted.

“Now I’m not saying I don’t like you, [Last Name]. I’m just saying that your confession was out of this world. Not that I was going to do better than that either, but you know,” Renee shrugs, “I like you. I have for years now too…”

[Name] finally gains the courage to lift his eyes up to look at Renee, “Seriously?”

“Very seriously. You’re very important to me, [Name]. The most handsome man I’ve ever met, the boy I grew to love, someone I didn’t think I’d love or wait this long for, but you made every second worth it.” Renee gives a small smile, breathing in the foggy autumn feel. 

“I think we’re soulmates” [Name] says plainly, “Because no matter what would've happened, if in some alternate universe there was some kind of obstacle that tried to stop us from being together, we would’ve found a way back to each other no matter what. I know I would.” [Name] adds, placing his hand over Renee’s hand. 

They both exchange a gentle look, Renee’s fingers play with [Name]’s rings, intertwining their hands together. They lean in closer, and the giddy feeling of waiting after so many years practically swallows [Name] whole. 

It wasn’t a shock to find that Renee was a gentle kisser, cautious to make sure that they’re both enjoying it, occasionally splitting away and coming back, as if still starving for more affection. Eyes closed, feeling their hands still together… Each other’s first kiss. 

Two people that will always try to understand each other. Two people who don’t even need to try and find the beauty within one another because they see it constantly no matter what.

[venusiancarbondioxide]

some notes on fun

this is perhaps one of the more stupid things i've ever written in my life, but i feel like it might be important to make some notes on having fun because god forbid, another human being may run into these issues, and i'd like to give them a hand. in fact, i suspect most of them have, but i'm running into them later than most. i'm 25 years old and trying to figure out the concept of having fun in a way that i'm sure most people have figured out by age 10. but hey, better late than never, right?

some background: for most of my life, i've been an achievement-focused planner, all the way back to elementary school. i was the type of kid who would get a 93% on a test and then get mad at myself because i could've gotten a 100%. i really cared about doing well on standardized testing as a third grader. it was essential to me that i do well in those early school years so that i would get into the right classes in high school, and thus get into the right college and complete the right program to have a Good Career That Makes Me Happy, the kind of career where it's more of a thing that you are versus a job that you have. i was convinced that having the right career as a grown-up made you a happy person, and nobody in my life took any efforts to dissuade me of this notion. 

there were stumbles (thinking i wanted to be a professional novelist, that flopping because of the prospects of writers in the modern day, wanting be a lawyer, that flopping bc of my waning faith in the justice system, my brief forays into considering grad school, etc.), but even when i didn't have a plan, i was always Making A Plan. and having fun was allowed. i did things that were fun along the way! i was in girl scouts and irish tap and marching band and had a small group of friends and all of that. but the most important thing was always sticking to the plan. in my defense, there is a lot of societal messaging that says that this kind of career-and-education-focused life is the path to happiness and i was only a kid, so i don't blame myself for getting stuck in that trap. if you believe in astrology, blame it on the fact that my sun's in virgo, i guess. however, i owe it to myself to try and get out of it, especially now that i'm at a point in my life where all plans are gone.

like, really. i have no long-term plan for what the hell i’m doing. my last two "this is where i'm going with my life from now on" plans went up in smoke, most recently another attempt to go back to school. and i was in the process of trying to make another plan, my third "this is where my life is going for sure" plan in two years, when i realized i straight up don’t know what i want to do. i don’t know of anything that sounds enjoyable to me, honest-to-god. and i finally thought to myself, “what if i just have fun? what if my plan is to just have fun?” 

within reason, of course: i’m not going to quit my job with no backup plan just because my job isn’t fun. going to work is a bummer, but you know what’s worse? being evicted. i pick the least-evil of the two unfun evils. but really, what if my only plan was just to have fun? 

i threw that thought at my therapist thinking that she would say something like "having fun is important but it shouldn't be the main thing you focus on in your life" but she was like "yeah no, i think you should just try to have fun for a bit. i think you've been so focused on plans that you're not even sure what you think is fun anymore."

which, ouch, but she's not wrong. ii would not use the word "fun" to describe my current life, nor would i have used "fun" at any point in my life. fun was a thing you had on occasion when you had behaved well and earned it, not a thing your life could be.

but i want my life to be fun! so far, it hasn't, and i think that sucks. what’s the point of being alive if i’m not having fun? and the reasons i’m banned from trying to kill myself are too long to list, so i might as well try to enjoy my life. i am actively attempting fun and imparting the first lesson of fun i learned onto the uhhhhhh three people that have read all of this so far. 

if you have too much fun, it circles back around to not being fun anymore.

as a person who's had alcohol before in their life, you think i might have already known that one. to some extent, i did. too much drinking results in a hangover, too much fun running around the city makes your feet hurt, etc. a physical body has its limits. i have more than one chronic illness—i know that! but it also emotionally makes you feel like shit, which i didn't know. i was familiar with post-fun fatigue, but it was either a) physical exhaustion but mental satisfaction or b) a situation where something had gone wrong in the fun-having process. but now i have Learned. 

the way i learned this was exceedingly simple: i played stardew valley for 11 hours out of a 24-hour period. 

at the beginning of active fun-seeking (literally like, last week), i rediscovered the joy of stardew valley. i’ve always had fun playing stardew valley! so i played some after work when i would normally doomscroll and hey, much better. much more enjoyable. Having Fun, having a more fun day because i am actively taking time to do a thing i think is fun. but then i had a bad day at work on friday, came home, and played stardew valley for about five hours straight. i only realized how much time had passed once my ass physically started to hurt from sitting in the same spot for so long. and it was already close to midnight, so i had a late dinner and went to bed. 

the next day, i woke up at 7:30am and was annoyed that i had woken up so early, so i decided to play some more stardew valley about it. i stopped six hours later. i skipped breakfast and lunch in this process. my eyes were burning like a motherfucker. my ass hurt again, not to mention my wrist. i had a headache so bad that i had to take a four-hour nap (this was also partially due to the weather—my head always hurts when it rains). and emotionally? i felt somewhere between entirely empty and vaguely ashamed. nothing at all like my little post-work stardew sessions. i was so focused on the fun of the game that i had neglected food, consistent water intake, and basic cleanliness (i forwent a shower), and surprise, surprise, it turns out that makes you feel emotionally kind of shitty. getting that wrapped up in the fun circles back around to not being fun anymore. 

i assume all activities have a similar wall. the fun has to stop for basic things like food, water, showering, that pile of laundry i have to do, the dishes, all of that. doing a fun activity when you’re parched from not drinking any water for six hours and you have the dry mouth disease actually isn’t that fun. the same goes for if your hair feels slimy and your wrist kind of hurts and really any of that kind of discomfort. stop what you’re doing, do the minimum self-care stuff, and then you can go back to having fun if you want. 

so now i have a stardew valley limit: no more than three in-game days in a row, and i’m experimenting with no more than five in-game days per regular day total. that would be a little over an hour of stardew valley per day, which is around what my post-work stardew sessions were anyways. it turns out that a small part of me had it right from the start; good for her! hopefully i’ll get lucky and her accidental wisdom will strike again. 

[jbuffyangel]

Hi this may be an odd question but reading your blog (and other Olicity blogs) it strikes me that while you provide insightful in depth analysis of the show at large you proudly admit that Oliver and Felicity’s relationship is paramount to your overall enjoyment and investment in the show. I personally possess a lot of internal shame stemming from my primary focus on the ship and will feel the need to justify my interest in the other aspects of the show (which I do love but I also love Olicity). I struggle with this with not just Arrow but any tv show where the romantic relationship isn’t intended to be the main premise of a show. I know I am allowing myself to be impacted by the views of comic book (and mostly male) fans and I can acknowledge that many of their views on Olicity fans and the show at large when it comes to the ship are at least somewhat if not primarily misogynistic. Despite knowing it comes from a sexist place which loves to shame women for enjoying romance and reduce our enjoyment to a surface level guilty pleasure unaware of the ways a romantic relationship can add major depth and development to a story as is the case with Arrow (although even if it didn’t add that it would still be valid to like the romance aspects), I still internalize those sexist sentiments and feel ashamed and like I cannot fully enjoy those things are I have to add caveats of my enjoyment. I was just wondering if you ever struggled with this or if you have always felt confident in proudly proclaiming your interest and investment in ships or if it was something that evolved over time. I’m sorry if this is a weird question I just witnessed your confidence in the validity of your passion and I wish I could have that conviction and not feel the shame that misogynistic society has given me in regards to shipping and enjoying romance. It’s definitely much harder in a fandom like Arrow where antis will openly voice their disdain for shippers and make extremely disparaging remarks and assumptions about Olicity shippers but I have felt this way in other fandoms too even when non shippers aren’t this aggressive or sexist.

Hello Nonnie!!!! I am so happy you reached out :) Apologies for the delay. I haven't checked my inbox for about a week. You write so beautifully!

To be honest, I've always marched to the beat of my own drum. I was a sick kid and had difficulty making friends because of it. I was teased in school a lot because of my health issues. Elementary school was not fun. I liked my mom and I liked being home. (These things really haven't changed). The Lord blessed me with a great imagination and a love for stories. I would just play by myself because the world I invented was so much cooler than reality.

It did give me a very strong independent streak, which my parents encouraged. The world had been very cruel to them as well. I was highly encouraged to stand up for myself, tell people where to stick it, and not care what other people think.

I was much healthier in high school and made a bunch of friends. But even my friends, who I know love me to this day, thought it was weird how obsessed I was with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My family thought I joined a cult lol. I just like what I like. It never mattered to me if anyone else liked it.

I find it absolutely insane that anyone looks down on love stories. Love stories have been around for as long as there's been human beings on this planet. Every culture has love stories. Why? Love is central to being human. Love is what MAKES us human. We are here on this planet to be loved and to love in return. It's the whole damn point. And I'm not speaking just about romance. We build our lives around all kinds of different relationships. It is not exclusive to romantic love.

But let's address romantic stories, since that seems to be the genre asshats have a problem with. The question is why? Probably because it's popular with women and God forbid we'd be supportive of women and things they like. The horror. I think you absolutely nailed it here:

Despite knowing it comes from a sexist place which loves to shame women for enjoying romance and reduce our enjoyment to a surface level guilty pleasure...

But sometimes I think there are more personal reasons people have such vile reactions to it. Maybe they don't have romantic love in their own life. Maybe they've been hurt by partners. Maybe they've been rejected and are lonely. Maybe romance stories are a painful reminder of what they don't have. I'm not sure. What I do know is that hurt people hurt people. So, more often than not, what I feel is not shame, but pity.

We're clearly on the right track since every television show, movie, book and comic book has some romantic element to it. Romance sells. So, feel confident because you are in the majority.

I don't give the comic book crowd too much thought. My attitude when it came to Arrow was there's plenty of room for everyone to love what they love, hate what they hate, and go about their merry way. Don't like my blog? Cool. There's the door. Plenty of fish in the sea friends. Seek out other bloggers. Start your own blog! The internet is a vast place. Go with God.

But there is an element of ownership within that community that makes them think they can dictate who can watch a show/movie, what we can like or dislike, who can portray the characters on screen, what stories should be told and how they should be told. It's not just romance. Comic book fans are LOUD about basically everything.

To a certain extent, I get it. You love a character and their stories for a long time. It's very exciting when those stories which only existed on paper are going to be brought to life onscreen. Comic books are a refuge for many people, no different than books or movies. So, it can be very upsetting when you don't feel the tv show or movie has met your expectations. I've been bummed out on more than one occasion with books being made into a movie or television show. We've all been there.

But that doesn't mean they get to be the bouncers at the door. They don't get to gatekeep. They don't get to be racists assholes when an actor or actress doesn't look exactly like the character on the page. They are entitled to their opinion, and their opinion only, but it does not give them a free pass to be hateful towards others who may disagree.

I don't want to single out comic book fans out - this is a general internet problem. People just become assholes behind a keyboard. They say things they would never have the guts to say in person. And clearly this is not ALL comic book fans. I have met many wonderful comic book fans who are welcoming and kind. They love Olicity just as much as I do. Even if they didn't, they respect differing opinions. They are just good human beings overall.

In the beginning of my blog, I debated with antis a lot because I thought we were all just having fun. But when the death threats started because I like Olicity and believed Arrow was going to kill off Laurel Lance, then I reached a point where maybe I was dealing with people who were a few paper plates short of a picnic, if ya know what I'm mean. It's a TELEVISION SHOW. These characters are NOT REAL. But there's no reasoning with crazy.

Do you know who are huge comic book fans? Greg Berlanti and Marc Guggenheim. We're talking HARD CORE. And who created Olicity? Greg and Marc. Don't even get me started on the hate they receive.

I know there were entire Reddit threads devoted to trashing me and my blog. Did I read it? No. Did I engage with those people? No. When Stephen Amell's Facebook became a cesspool of terrible antis going after Olicity fans - I left. Did I read the messages in my inbox that were nasty? Nope. DELETED. Did I read the Lauriver tag on tumblr? Nope. We were North and South. The Red Sox and the Yankees. We were never going to agree, so you stay on your side and I'll stay on mine. And when some in the Olicity fandom turned on me because I was still enjoying the show in later seasons, I unfollowed and blocked if necessary. It really boils down to this - can you disagree with someone and remain a polite and kind person? Many folks do not have this skill.

The key to mental health on the internet is control your environment. Do not engage with people who are mean. It's really that simple. Because no matter how "strong" you are mentally, over time, nasty and demeaning comments have a way of sinking in and taking root inside your mind. It's completely understandable that your feelings get hurt because that's the intention! They are trying to hurt you. They are trying to shame you. So don't give them the opportunity.

Does that mean there will be some websites, blogs, social media sites that you don't go to anymore? Yes. Does that mean there will be some fans you don't engage with? Yes. But you know what? The internet is a vast place and there are plenty of people out there who share your opinions. Who love what you love and want nothing more than to chat with you about it until 4 am in the morning. Those are your people. That's your community.

And just for the record, romance loving shippers can be terrible too. I've seen awful behavior from our side of the fence so we're certainly not exempt from the behavior we receive from antis. And loving romance is no guarantee people will be nice either. My shipper flag was forged in the fiery pits of shipper hell - The Vampire Diaries fandom. Nasty doesn't even come close to what I experienced in the great Stelena vs. Delena wars. Arrow is child's play in comparison.

Here's the thing. Arrow is about one man's evolution to a superhero. He could not become that superhero without the love of one woman. LOVE is central to Oliver Queen's development and if you don't understand that part of the story then you really don't understand Arrow.

I think you'll find when it comes to Arrow that it's not romance antis have a problem with. It's who Oliver's romantic partner is. If it was Laurel Lance they would've been happier than clams. But Arrow deviated from "comic book canon" and developed an organic character with an actress Stephen Amell actually had chemistry with. And they CANNOT get over it. But thems the breaks.

I think my perspective on humanity has not really evolved past age six in kindergarten. If you make fun of me or are cruel then you're not a nice person and I will have nothing to do with you going forward. I've approached life like this and overall I have come out the other side a healthier person because of it. The beauty of the internet is there's always another playground to find friends.

I've always been a shipper since I was a little kid. I could never understand why Bobby & Pam couldn't work it out on Dallas. Loved every single husband Erica Kane had on All My Children. (My mother let me watch some wildly inappropriate tv as a kid). I was really torn between Prince Lotor and Keith for Princess Allura on Voltron. I really didn't understand why He-Man and She-Ra couldn't date. I was obsessed with Jerrica and Rio on Jem. And on and on it goes.

In the immortal words of our Queen, Taylor Swift, "The worst kind of person is someone who makes someone feel bad, dumb or stupid for being excited about something.” She's bang on. Always trust in TSwizzle. I'm a 42 year old woman with a full life who wears her shipper flag proudly. Love what you love my friend. Screw the haters.

And feel free to message me whenever you want to talk shipping. This is a shipper safe zone and always will be. You have absolutely NOTHING to be ashamed of.

[moonkitty]

i think elementary/middle/high schools should be banned from having required uniforms. like sure lets have a bunch of children wear the most boring and soul draining coloured gray clothing and not let them express themselves for 12 years of their life while their brains are still developing all so some prissy ass adults can complain when god forbid a girl doesnt want to wear a skirt all for a false sence or pride. great

[twothpaste]

Essential world building question; who in your intermission au smokes weed or would try it given the chance (besides Kuma of course)

Aw hell yeah, essential indeed! Answers below the cut:

Kumatora's whole family smokes, often as a communal activity when they get together. She grew up familiar with the stuff, it's no wonder where she gets it. She enjoys a fat doobie or perhaps a pot brownie pretty regularly.

Lucas likes weed. It especially helps ease his anxiety and stress. He will smoke with Kuma, Duster, and/or DCMC on occasion, but prefers baking his own edibles. I think his tolerance is actually kinda low - if he gets too high he Will start getting scared. Thankfully he's quite mindful of his limits.

Claus has tried weed multiple times, desperately hoping to enjoy it with his loved ones & reap some of the benefits his brother talks about, but truth be told? He can hardly stand it! He gets restless and uneasy, it messes with his dissociative symptoms. Being under the influence of any substance makes him feel like he isn't in control, which scares him :( Sometimes he'll try Lucas' edibles if they're dosed real low. Otherwise, he's given up and learned to avoid it.

Duster smokes and eats so much weed. He even dabbles in hemp products galore, for pain and stress management. If Wess had any idea, the old man would be popping blood vessels about it. I think Duster smoked his first blunt at like age 36 with OJ n' the boys, and never looked back.

Hinawa used to smoke mad pot, but stopped when she n' Flint decided to start a family. She got Flint in on it with her for a little bit, when they were just a couple young hooligans gallivanting about in Tennessee. He did enjoy it with her, but not alone or with anyone else - so he hasn't touched the stuff since she passed away. I think his family was a lot more straightedge than hers (wrt weed at least...). Needless to say, Grandpa Alec was and is an absolute pothead.

Jeff has tried weed at least once. Didn't really see the appeal. Straight-faced, unimpressed, "Eh, it's nothing special." If a friend offered it, he probably wouldn't be opposed. But he's not really itching to try it again.

Poo has considered it - might be a pleasant relief from his nonstop responsibilities - but he is genuinely terrified if he tries weed even once he'll become hopelessly hooked on it. He doesn't want to know what he's missing, lest he dampen his life's ambitions and disappoint his family and so on and so forth. (He will probably try it in his 30's or 40's and go "Ah. This rather nice." And it'll be utterly unremarkable.)

Ness and Paula are straight-laced rosy-cheeked good little suburban kids turned upstanding college students, god forbid they ever even dare to look at a marijuana leaf.

Porky boasts that he has done weed (and various other drugs he heard about on podcasts). In reality, he has never touched any illicit substances, and would be scared to do so.

Picky smoked pot once with some other kids behind the football field at his high school. He coughed a lot, and didn't like it very much. Lardna smelled it on him and yelled at him. His stepdad, Mr. Prettyman, sat down beside him later and lectured him gently on the dangers of drugs, in an "anti-drug campaign for elementary schoolers" kinda way, rather than a sensible adult to a teenager kinda way. Picky decided then and there he'd never do it again. Not worth the hassle. Jeez.

[this-is-where-i-hide-my-bullshit]

I'm realizing that the moment I really started to hate school was when learning stopped being about knowing cool facts, and instead became about getting the highest score possible, and being treated like you were stupid and bad if you were just average. Or god forbid, below average.

I didn't get the best grades, but I got passing grades most of the time in elementary school. But just passing wasn't good enough. English and math were DIFFICULT for me, because English spelling is a nightmare and a lot of the math tests were timed. It took me longer to do math, and that wasn't good enough no matter how often I got the answers right.

I've also NEVER been able to write fast enough to take notes, so my ENTIRE school experience was having to memorize as much as possible while the teacher was talking because I never managed to write fast enough.

I was "slow". I learned "slow", I wrote "slow", I thought "slow". And that MUST have meant I was lazy or stupid, according to everyone else.

Didn't matter thatI was trying my best, didn't matter that I wasn't getting proper treatment for my adhd, didn't matter that my home life was extremely stressful and I was often sleep deprived, I didn't get the "good" scores, so even when I did well enough to pass I was still not good enough.

And that's when I started to HATE school and it's why I eventually gave up and dropped out of high school, and it's why I haven't gotten my ged. Because I don't want to go back to that, I don't want to go back to trying so hard to be enough and being treated like I'm "lazy" or "stupid" when my best isn't "good enough".

[heatwavering]

when-harry-met-sally-ification of hangster is genius!!!! i would love to hear more about that if you don't mind sharing!

also - what's on your bradley bradshaw playlist? what's genre do you associate w/ him the most?

oh god. oh you don’t even know man. hangster being harry met sally (1989) is one of those things that only makes sense in my head or with a lot of background context, because if i were to just come out and say “rooster is like sally because he’s a chronic perfectionist and an emotional powder keg that lets everything pile up until the last moment (plus his mom is meg ryan), and hangman’s like harry because he’s an cynical asshole who’s actually gooey on the inside and doesn’t speak before he thinks and chooses to push peoples buttons and yearns more than he lets on” to someone who’s only seen both movies in passing, i’m going to get a lot of blank stares and nervous laughter. "isn't that every romcom couple ever?" yes. but i mean--

BAR. FOR BAR. I have wayyy more examples and comparisons but my computer explodes every time I try to add a picture or god forbid a gif. mostly, the "we've met before and it went terrible both times, but the third time we met it stuck and we managed to finally find equal footing and fall in love," is sooooo special to me. and since when harry met sally is an 80s movie (derogatory) and people bog down on the "men and women can't be friends" thing it gets a lot of flack, but by the end of the movie the whole dynamic shifts and becomes more like "why are we putting such big expectations on a relationship when I just love you. plain and simple. no wishy-washy philosophy applies because we've outgrown it and now know each other as equals." (plus that whole first "idea" is brought up by a cynical twenty-something who changes his entire worldview by the end of the movie bc he's fallen in love. why stick to your guns about an idea that's outdated when (a) people are too complicated to fall into your boxes and (b) uhhh who cares. you're in love. I always thought the change in harry's character is supposed to reverse his previous claim in the beginning of the movie and make fun of it for being kind of elementary. but maybe I'm thinking too hard about it.) I'm definitely glossing over some plot points and nuance and whatever but again, this dynamic is something that came directly out of my mind and basically only applies to how I've sandcastled hangster into what I want to see. plus I watched WHMS at like nine years old and it might've had some debilitating side effects. enjoy with an entire pile of salt.

about music now. I'm one of those people that is the ugly kind of pretentious about character playlists (his ass would NOT listen to hayloft by mother mother, shit like that) but also spends net zero time actually building a playlist that follows a timeline or theme. so I just sort everything into two separate playlists/categories: songs that [insert character] would listen to "canonically" and songs [insert character] is aligned with in my own opinion. sometimes there's overlap!!! and sometimes I'm forcing myself to decide if Bradley listens to third eye blind or is the kind of guy who makes fun of people who listen to third eye blind. I still can't decide. I wasn't alive when he was in high school. and you know you're up a creek without a paddle when American Pie (1999) becomes reliable historical material. anyway here's the best way I can describe the difference in the two:

Bradley's own playlist: teenage boy from SoCal in the late 90s early 2000s. in my mind he was always kinda quiet in school and did partake in band so he could play the piano (yes, in jazz band. if I hear a Whiplash joke I'm airing the room out) and spent a lot of time listening to anything and everything that wasn't uhhh Britney Spears adjacent. but lots of blink-182, foo fighters, Pearl Jam, nirvana. probably some early Coldplay. maybe some of The Killers when he got to college, and Radiohead but in secret and when Maverick wouldn't bully him for listening to so much "sad ass (unspoken: gay) music." and of course he's Goose's son, soooo: Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Jim Croce, Billy Joel, Allman Brother's Band, Hall & Oates, CCR, Eagles, etc. From Maverick (and Ice): U2, Pearl Jam, The Cars, more dad yacht rock, maybe Metallica (??) depends on if you think Maverick would ever mess around with something hair metal adjacent. of course he prays at the alter of Bruce Springsteen like his fathers before him. and his mom filled in everything else: Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, Paul Simon, Wham! (George Michael being outed....hoo boy. #1 topic NOT discussed at the Bradshaw-Mitchell-Kazansky dinner table.), George Strait, Hootie & The Blowfish, miscellaneous female country music from the 90s like Faith Hill and Shania Twain. Alison Krauss & Union Station! Alanis Morissette! The Goo Goo Dolls? now I'm just listing things but you get the picture.

my playlist about Bradley: anything about hating your dad or your hometown with lyrics that apply. see photo below and you'll get the vibe.

[also, that ONE specific photo of miles teller in project x is the photo that sailed a thousand fics. i love that photo. i wrote this entire fucking fic around that photo. it’s so bradley nicolas bradshaw to me.]

but overall my biggest examples of songs that apply to him (for me) are Little Giant by Roo Panes, Release by Pearl Jam, and The Long Way Around by the Chicks. Seventeen by Sharon Van Etten bc of how it makes me feel about Maverick and him (sick in the head.) souvenir by boygenius. faith by bon iver. Hot & Heavy by Lucy Dacus and The Steps by HAIM for hangster vibes. too much Taylor Swift and Maggie Rogers that I don't know how to explain without having a published fic. I have a ton more and I want to pick like 10 songs from each section and go into heavier detail, but I should probably put something out before I dig myself a hole pffft.

[princesssarisa]

Character Ask: The Ashleys (Recess)

Favorite thing about them: They're funny characters who serve as the catalysts for some good plots, and sometimes (though rarely) they share moments of sincere friendship with T.J. and the gang.

Least favorite thing about them: Well, they're a catty clique of mean girls who sometimes do nasty things, like forcing Spinelli to join their club just because her first name is Ashley too, or entering her in a beauty contest as a prank.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I've grown up in relative wealth and privilege.

*I like pretty, bright-colored clothes.

*I liked to jump rope and play with dolls at their age.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I was never part of a snooty clique in school.

*I've never had plastic surgery.

*I don't have a little brother or sister, as they all do. (Each Ashley, lest we forget, has a 2nd grader brother named Tyler and a kindergartener sister named Brittany, and they're all best friends too.)

Favorite line:

From "First Name Ashley," when Ashley A. tells the others that they have to make Spinelli one of them:

"What choice to we have, Ashleys? I mean, if we let her go around being her crude, disgusting Spinelli self, the name Ashley will be ruined forever. No longer will it stand for beauty and specialness! Soon other girls will be considered cooler than us, and if we're not careful, by the time we're in junior high, our first dates will be with guys named Paul or Joe!"

From the same episode, also Ashley A., when the rest of the school hounds them into letting Spinelli go:

"I hate it when I don't get my way!"

From "The Pest," when everyone is teasing Gretchen about Jeffrey's crush on her:

Ashley T.: "Hey Gretchen, where's lover boy?"

Ashley B.: "Hey Gretchen, how's Mr. Grundler?"

Ashley A.: "Hey Gretchen... what's it like?"

And of course their catchphrase:

"Ooh, scandalous!"

brOTP: Each other.

OTP: Some "acceptable boys" in their future.

nOTP: Gus or Mikey (too nice for them), Randall (the opposite), or, God forbid, Principal Prickly.

Random headcanon:

(1) Their mothers are all named Susan, and were a clique of their own when they were in school.

(2) The show's inconsistency about which 4th grade classroom they're in (i.e. in "The Great Can Drive" it's a plot point that they're in Miss Furley's class, but in other episodes they're in Miss Grotke's class with the main gang) can be explained. They're mainly in Miss Furley's class, but they join Miss Grotke's class for certain subjects, like history. I took part in that type of class-swapping when I was in elementary school; I'm sure it's common.

Unpopular opinion: I don't think it's nonsensical or bad writing that in "Outcast Ashley," the other Ashleys kick Ashley A. out of the gang for not wearing purple on Purple Day, even though she's their leader. Ashlely A. probably isn't their appointed leader, but just the most forceful personality of the group, and if they can be petty and mean enough to kick her out just because she forgot to wear purple on the anniversary of the day they met, then they can be ridiculous enough to do it even though she leads most of their schemes.

Song I associate with them: The show's theme song, even though they don't even appear in it – I just can't think of a better choice.

Favorite picture of them:

[go-to-the-mirror]

We’re at [insert American political event] season, which means every American will not shut up about being American. God forbid you ever mention another country.

Who cares about corruption plaguing South Africa? All they deserve is misinformation and only being brought up as a talking point against [insert billionaire who made money of Apartheid] without any understanding of the lingering effects of it, only fucking caring about our issues when they’re a good reason to get angry at someone you don’t like.

Shut the hell up about Elon Musk getting his wealth from an emerald mine during Apartheid until you actually do you goddamn research on how mining affected people of colour living there.

Also, if we’re talking about countries with poor responses to COVID19, think about the homeless South Africans living in townships — did you know about townships? Don’t think you did — who were so crowded together, that of course they were going to get COVID and of course they were going to die from it.

Do you think about the crime rate, there? Every university barring Stellenbosch has been burned down at least once, it’s why I wanted to go to Stellenbosch, because hey, women have 1/3 chance of being raped in South Africa, but at least it’s the safest fucking university there. Why is the crime rate so high? The unemployment rate. It’s the highest in the goddamn world.

My dad, qualified as a paramedic, was a teacher at a university, white, able-bodied, couldn’t get a job. He had to go to Burkina Faso, Côte d'Ivoire, Ukraine for a bit. We didn’t see him for months. Think of the people who aren’t privileged. The people in townships who beg on the street for food, who have to commit crimes, who can’t get into good public schools because…

There’s this thing in South Africa where you can pay half the school fees and have the government pay the other half, in public school, half and half public schools. I went to a half and half elementary school, and I don’t remember seeing… anyone who wasn’t white. Everyone was white.

My sisters went to a half and half high school, and there were so few nonwhite kids, everyone who wasn’t white went to HH and they had better rhythm and always won spirit and HH wasn’t a half and half.

I don’t know much about the political situation in South Africa, but I know how much people love to bring up that goddamn emerald mine, and I’m not saying it’s okay that he makes that much money, but I’m saying that you could try bringing my country up as more than a fucking talk point. We’re more than a talking point. We’re a country. Bring us up, or shut up about us.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

The only people who marry their high school sweethearts (or God forbid their elementary school sweethearts) are people who have never left their hometowns and have only ever known the same 20 or 30 peers their entire life.

Teen love stories are cute and all but there's always a part of me that's like "you two are going to have a terrible breakup in maximum of four years"

[mogamingcanthink]

I truly think that some gen z kids my age in particular were just built different (An essay on the way young people around the ages of 16-19 consumed digital media from an extremely tired person in that age-range who wanted to be asleep like 3 hours ago)

Cut added because I wrote more than I expected to

Note before my first couple paragraphs that I am not condoning the types of parents who take their 9 year old to see deadpool or even their 5 year old to see the barbie movie, parents should be responsible and look at commonsense media or something similar and not bring their kids to see things they don't understand/will fuck them up

But like also my brother is at the age that I was when I watched a full ddlc playthrough as it was releasing and I came away from that like "cool that was an interesting and scary game" but I think my brother would not be able to handle it, he would have nightmares

Idk maybe he's just a wimp but I genuinely believe that the majority of gen alpha would not handle the type of content my age-group was able to consume on the internet, which is probably a good thing.

Again, parents not monitoring what media their children consume is BAD. There are scientific studies on this topic. Not all pg-13s are created equal, same with any film rating. I feel fairly lucky that I didn't encounter anything too wild when I was younger, just some horror games and buzzfeed unsolved, I didn't even watch a rated R film until sophomore year of high-school when I took a film-studies course

But yeah, letting young children watch films and YouTube videos not meant for them is not great, most people born around the same time as me were just in the golden age of not being iPad kids but also learning and adapting to technology super fast at a young age and usually having personal internet access at (based on what conversations I've had with friends) the ages 7-10. Most of us weren't chronically online until the pandemic, but we did often have an insane amount of freedom on the internet either because of boomer parents or (in my case) extremely trusting ones, whether that was trust in the internet user or the quality of YouTube children's content or god forbid the YouTube kids app.

This utter freedom in our formative years led to a lot of kids finding things not originally intended for them. I refuse to believe that Five Nights at Freddy's was originally intended to be for children with the whole serial killer thing, but it got into our grubby elementary-schooler hands and we were obsessed. DDLC was DEFINITELY not meant for kids but I watched a full playthrough of that as a wee 10-year-old who had yet to watch a PG-13 film my mom hadn't watched before me. And that's all just games. True crime documentaries, controversies, "kids" content, and challenges that could and did lead to physical harm were all at our fingertips.

The other thing is that most of us did grow up on cable, dvds, cds, and even vcr in some cases. We grew up as technology was absolutely exploding (hell, I was born the same year the iPhone was released). We were forced to play outside and with toys despite also finding an online presence. Technology and educational online games wormed their way into the school curriculum. As a first grader we would learn our spelling skills through a browser game but I'd go home and my choices were PBS kids or the backyard. Obviously technology continued to improve at this extremely accelerated rate, but I, and every one of my peers I've discussed this with, had several years where the most we'd interact with new-fangled technology was Xfinity on Demand or the Wii (both staples of my childhood).

I do think that Covid was the major cause for most of my age group being extremely online?? Prior to that (in middle school) I'd watch vines with friends while doing try not to laugh challenges, listen to music, pull up a minecraft let's play after doing my homework, and maybe play a game on the Xbox on the weekend. During covid, though, I feel as though that's when most of us started to be more online. Hell, my discord account was made in 2019 but sat dead until 2020 and is now my main form of communication. We all started to use out devices more and engaged with online content to a much higher degree. I'm sure all of our logged steam hours increased tenfold, I know mine did. Such an insane life event, a genuinely traumatic period for most of us, and probably the reason why we're so chronically online. Keep in mind we were all tweens when this hit, middle-schoolers or freshmen, and now we're either adults or will be next year. It was a wild time to be alive and definitely had a MASSIVE effect on how this age group consumes media

Gen alpha, by the most common definition, begins high-school this year (or month for most people). This is absolutely insane all things considered, but let's compare their consumption of media to gen z. First, there are still the parents who do not give a shit and take their tiny child to see deadpool but since they are the minority I won't mention them

Next, gen alpha, for the most part, was put on devices at a young age to keep them quiet. One story I know with my stepbrother is that he one time thought his grandmother's TV was broken because it started playing a "grown-up show". It was an ad. It was cable TV. If course not every kid is like this, but we need to understand that for the younger of this group (which is Who I'm referring to) maybe don't even remember the start of covid. Their parents have been trying to distract them to get their own work done for some of their most formative years. That leads to tiny children who literally come up to my waist while standing at full height knowing more about celebrity drama than I do and also pointing at popular characters in the horror or adult animation genres and saying "I know that guy". Yes I do believe that they often have less access to this kind of thing than me or my friends did when we were younger, and often these "horror games" are directed at a younger audience than they used to be. Poppy Playtime and Security Breach hardly compare to seeing Yuri literally stab herself to death and watching her corpse slowly lose life over two days. Parents have simply wisend up to what kind of stuff is on the internet, and if it isn't marketed towards children in real-life stores or isn't approved by other parents, it can simply be filtered out. Honestly I see a lot of kids who only have access to the kids tabs of large streaming services, definitely an improvement from the world of YouTube. Honestly this stuff (ie. Internet trends, slang, quotable stuff, etc) just sort of spreads to a few kids through the actual source material and to every other kid in school my word of mouth

I don't know guys, I just think that the way technology has had an affect on my life versus the lives of some young children is interesting but I've been writing this on my phone for over an hour when I was planning on checking tumblr and go to sleep this was literally just supposed to be "I don't think my brother could handle ddlc" and nothing else but here I am. Maybe I'll write a real thing on this later and actually interview my friends. Anyways I hear something crawling in my walls and it's probably a mouse lmao I'm gonna go tf to sleep

[5-htagonist]

i dont think it would apply now but i was totally hyperlexic as a child

hyperlexia is precocial reading abilities irt word recognition/decoding aka before age 5 (i thought it was normal to be reading before starting kindergarten... so ive been reading since i was 3 or 4)

also an affinity for letters/numbers/visual patterns/logos/maps (my whole life i will just sit and stare at a fascinating pattern even today which i think is why i luv acid so much)

but also impaired abilities in reading comprehension as well as cognitive language abilities and difficulty with abstract/inferential material (i didnt know what the fuck an inference was until way after we stopped doing inference focused work in elementary school... also up into high school i had a lot of trouble picking apart character motives or oh god forbid main ideas i literally just guessed at all that shit and got lucky cause i didnt comprehend that at all 😭)

adding to language difficulties... i was semiverbal for the longest time, i would not talk in school unless to a friend or teacher and even then i never ever ever initiated until my bestie from 3rd to 7th grade bewitched me LMAO but in 5th grade i started writing my own stories both fanfic and original and along w making more friends than i ever had both irl and online... that gave me a feeling of comfort and when i started talking more in 5th grade people actually did not think i spoke LOLLLL i would only talk at home to my core family and a couple others, even then...

i just find it interesting that despite knowing this experience was related to autism i didnt know it was specifically called anything but now i do

[wincore]

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan. 

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly. 

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that. 

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you. 

You shake it off. 

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer. 

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks. 

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

-

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates. 

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue. 

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile. 

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes. 

“Sungchan?!” 

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!” 

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face. 

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity. 

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.” 

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns. 

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on. 

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention. 

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys. 

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling. 

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love. 

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile. 

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation. 

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.  

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on. 

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones. 

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts. 

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you. 

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm. 

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes. 

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls. 

"Do you have any bandaids?" 

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.” 

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you. 

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind. 

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers. 

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans. 

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him. 

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade. 

-

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan. 

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead. 

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly. 

“Hm?” 

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that. 

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field. 

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding. 

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave. 

“You should,” he responds, honest. 

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile. 

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties. 

Only one more match, you remind yourself. 

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this. 

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all. 

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile. 

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty. 

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

-

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you. 

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading. 

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care. 

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk. 

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild. 

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.