#i have loved several shows in this specific genre

[iridescentis]

NO YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. THIS IS NOT HOW I FIND OUT ICARLY HAS BEEN FUCKING CANCELLED. HOW DID I NOT KNOW??

oh dude this is so sad i love the reboot so so much sure it isn't perfect but it's such a comfy show im going to miss it so much :'(

AND ON A CLIFFHANGER??? PROBABLY ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT CLIFFHANGERS ICARLY HAS EVER DONE??? WE WERE GOING TO SEE HER MUM. WHY.

shows being cancelled pisses me off so hard because they don't even care that the story isn't over, that everyone involved had more story to tell it's just a stupid money decision it makes me so mad, like is it that much of a financial loss to just let a show finish what they started???

the icarly reboot has like 10 episodes per season, 20 minutes each how much can it possibly cost to make one more. all i want is the cliffhanger to be resolved and the characters to be left with a stable and coherent future ahead of them is that too much to ask???

THIS CLIFFHANGER HAS BEEN BUILT UP TO SINCE THE BEGINNING. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR MONEY I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT CARLY'S MUM.

[philcon-programming]

Philcon 2024!

Do you love Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror? Are you a Writer, a Gamer, a Costumer, or a Filker? Are you looking for a weekend of distraction in your life? If you’re in the vicinity of Philadelphia- or more specifically, Cherry Hill, New Jersey- there’s an event coming up on November 22 – 24, 2024 that we’d love for you to come check out. If you aren’t already familiar with PHILCON, here’s what you should know: * We started out as a literary-centric SF convention in 1936, but have grown to embrace all mediums of storytelling (movies, television, comics, podcasts, etc) as well as expanding to cover the Fantasy and Horror genres. Most of our participants are authors, and there will be Readings by them and Autograph sessions all throughout the weekend, in addition to their participation on discussion panels. * While many of our Literary panels are about SF, Fantasy, or Horror topics in general, we also have an emphasis on panels discussing the craft side and business sides of writing, for those looking to develop as authors. * One of our content tracks for the weekend is dedicated to Science & Technology itself, not just how it is used in fiction. * We will be screening several movies over the weekend, and Anime will also be shown in our Anime & Animation room at certain times. * There will be Workshops and Demos for Costuming (including "Fabric Manipulation", "How to Make Foam Armor", "Make-up for The Stage", and "A Pox on Patterns!") and Art (including "Using Alcohol Inks", "Block Printing With Your Own Designs", "How to Make A Controlled Color Palette", and "Making Wire-Wrapped Jewelry"), and if you’ve got an outfit you made that you’d like to show off on stage, we’ve got a yearly Costume Contest. * If you are a Filker- or just enjoy listening to other people sing and play music- Philcon has a room dedicated Filk room, and this year’s Musical Guest of Honor is Cecilia Eng. As Cecilia is not often on the east coast, if you’d like to see her play in person, now is an excellent change to do so without flying to the other side of the country. Lynn Gold, another west-coast Filker, will also be joining us this year. There are also Concerts scheduled for Sirens & Liars, Half a Slime Devil, Brenda and Chuck Shaffer-Shiring, and Sara Henya. * Since the Gaming track moved from an upstairs suite to the “Gallery” room on the first floor, it’s had the literal room to expand the number of games it can run, and we’ve got a bevy of them on the schedule for 2024, as well as a bank of games for you to choose from during Open Gaming hours. There's also a LARP Workshop Series being run by Spectacle INK. * Our Artist Guests of Honor for 2024 are Gina Matarazzo and Matthew Stewart. Each will be giving a presentation on our Main Stage on Saturday afternoon, as well as having their art displayed in our Art Show. * Our Principal Speaker for 2024 is MAX GLADSTONE, and we also have Nghi Vo as our Special Guest. Both will be doing Readings, Autograph Sessions, panels, and a main stage Q&A session. An interactive version of our schedule can be found HERE. While a simplified, static overview, organized by track, can be found HERE. Our LinkTree can be found HERE. We would especially value your support this year, as Philcon’s Covid-19 policy in previous years (which required both mandatory masking and proof of vaccination in an attempt to avoid becoming a super-spreader event as several other conventions had) has led to a slow but noticeable decline in attendance. While masking in public spaces is still heavily encouraged, neither proof of vaccination nor masking are required to attend the convention in 2024. We’d love your help in making this year a success, so that we’re in a good position to bring you all something really fantastic for our upcoming 90th anniversary. We’d also love to give you a great weekend right now, for reasons I doubt we need to explain. Here’s to surviving the next few years! ~ Lynati Head of Programming, Philcon 2024

[spiderb00]

I'm live - Sophia Laforteza

Sophia Laforteza X reader 

Synopsis: Being a streamer is fun, even more fun if your girlfriend shows up by surprise on your live. 

Genre: Fluff 

a/n: I had this idea while I was watching Tinakitten's live on Twitch, I love her, she's my favorite streamer 

English is not my first language so maybe I messed up a little and blablabla. <3 

Streaming on Twitch has always been very relaxing for me, just playing and connecting with people felt very enjoyable. I never imagined how big this would all become, when I started it was just for fun and now I have just over two thousand people watching me every time I turn on the camera. All of this has given me amazing experiences, including meeting my beautiful girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza.   

I met Sophia at a concert, specifically backstage at Olivia Rodrigo's concert, we talked a little and discovered many things in common. After a lot of talking we ended up exchanging phone numbers, going on dates, and before I knew it I was acting like a teenager with they first crush. 

At first we were very afraid that it wouldn't work. Sophia has tight schedules and seems to be everywhere all the time, but we quickly managed to unite our schedules and make everything fit perfectly 

We hadn't made our relationship public yet, so no one knew we were dating, except of course, our families and the Katz's. What happens is that a few days ago my chat noticed that there was a female voice speaking a little loudly in the middle of the live, which earned me several spams and donations where people asked who was with me at home and why I didn't show them on the live, given that all my friends had already appeared on camera at some point. 

Even though I said it was just a friend and trying my best to shift the focus to something else, my chat didn't seem to be very convinced, they were always making jokes about the "mysterious girl" in my kitchen, like at this very moment.  

"Chat, can't you just forget about it?" I said as I leaned back in my chair, resting my arms above my head to be more comfortable as I waited for all my friends to join the strange game that Foolish forced us to play. 

"What are you talking about dummy?" Tina, my friend, said when she heard me grumble about the chat.  

"The chat just being mean to me!" I said while making a sad voice, only to break laughing at the comments.   

Superglue2000 - We're Not Being Mean, We're Snooping 😊  

Bealovesyn – I'm trying to know who my wife is cheating on me with!!!

Cowboybibi – why did we never consider that it could be the voice of Tina? Yn and her seem very close... :/   

"Chat, what? Why are they putting Tina in this?" I said while laughing nervously.   

"Uh? Putting myself in what?" Tina said, her voice confused, she also seemed nervous about the situation. Tina and I are friends, neither of us wants things to get weird because of some speculation.   

"Guys, stop spamming Tina. She's never been in my kitchen." I said laughing, trying to give off an air of confidence, but I honestly think I was failing miserably.   

"Oh, that's crazy." Tina said laughing, I think she had already understood what was going on, she knew she wasn't involved in anything, so she had no reason to be afraid. 

Before I could say anything else, the door to my studio was opened, and there she was, in all her glory, my beautiful girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza.   

"Hey baby, I just arrived, I bought pizza on the way, do you want me to bring it to you?"  

Completely paralyzed, that's how I was. Without arguments and without knowing how to elaborate a word if you want. My only reaction was to whisper; 

"Baby, I'm live!"   

"I know beautiful, that's why I came here to ask if you want to eat, you've been there for a long time." Now, listen to me, despite the friendly tone, I know my Sophia, okay, I know my girl, and something's not right.  

"So yes, that's fine, thanks for asking."  

For the first time I had the courage to look at the chat.   

Spidermanmasc – Bro, you literally got a girlfriend, you dumped the losing nerds 

Cutekate – OMG, YOU REALLY HAVE SOMEONE! SHOW HER ON CAMERA!!  

Superglue2000 - Don't be shy miss, come and say hello...   

Eyekonswinning – this sounds crazy, but it sounds a lot like Sophia's voice??? 

"Well, now they're asking you to say hello..."  

Before I could complete my sentence and tell her that she didn't have to do it if she didn't want to, Sophia was already on my lap, appearing gracefully in the camera frame.   

"Hi guys, my name is Sophia, I'm Yn's girlfriend." The smile on her face seemed immense, I was completely paralyzed.   

Macaronechease – OMG, SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL, I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!  

Eyekonswinning – WHAT??? I KNEW THE VOICE WAS SIMILAR, BUT WHAT'S IT???? (You guys are very cute btw.)  

Superglue2000 – Your girlfriend is simply the leader of Katseye???

Spidermanmasc – like, and I say HOW DID YOU PULL THIS GIRL??? 

"Hey, what are you saying? I know my girlfriend is amazing, but you don't have to humiliate me." I said smiling. As unusual as all of this was, I was very happy with the positive comments.  

"Well, how about I go get the pizza and come see you play?" Sophia said as she looked at me, giving a quick kiss on my cheek before getting up and heading towards the kitchen.   

"Well... That was epic." Tina spoke, for a minute I forgot I was on the call.   

"Dude, how did you pull her???" It's literally the first sentence Foolish said on live.   

"Dude, shut up and let's play." 

After the live is over, Sophia and I are on the couch, relaxing.   

"So I love that we're public now, but I have to ask. Why did you decide to do this so unexpectedly?"  

"Because I love you, and I want everyone to know it..." She said as she gave me a long kiss.  

"And you're mine, no one will ship you with anyone other than me." she says grabbing my face with those huge nails.   

This woman is the death of me. 

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ A Human's Sparkling — Starscream x Human!GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Yes I'm aware this is obviously indulgent but I think about this a lot so SHHH LEMME HAVE THIS. Also, please note that all my Transformers works will have a mishmash of continuity. I try my best to not write plotholes, but at the end of the day they're a mashup of various bits of lore not tied to one specific adaptation

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Having a relationship with Starscream definitely had its ups and downs. To call it a slow burn would be putting it nicely- it was more like a very very VERY slow burn. Especially because you were human. When he came across you by chance on a mission, he never knew how important you'd be to him. It was a looong time of denial and second-guessing before he finally mustered up the courage to be honest for once

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Things went better than he'd ever expected. Though working through years of trauma and built up unhealthy defense mechanisms, he worked with you and let himself be loved for once. Still, he felt like he had a long way to go. The idea of siring kids didn't come to him for a very long time

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You'd brought it up first, and of course Starscream went into a long complaining tangent about how sparklings were hard to care for, irritating, and quite frankly could eat you both out of house and home. You tried to talk to him about it a bit more once or twice, but eventually you pulled back. If he wasn't ready, that was that. You were content to leave it there

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Until.. one day, after several months of doubt and consideration, he brought the idea back up to you. Now that the war was over, there were quite a few problems of orphaned sparklings. He'd already written off the idea of trying to have a sparkling with you the natural way— he still shuddered thinking about how it would look from that. But this was different. It was a way for him to try and give back to Cybertron like he'd been wanting, and for you to be happy as well. Once he reassured you fully that he did also genuinely want a sparkling now, you two set out to the Space Bridge together

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As was expected, having a sparkling caused a whole new well of problems. Mainly, Starscream had no idea how to be a sire. He didn't exactly have fond memories of his carrier, either. He struggled with realizing that this new sparkling was going to now take up all of his time. You were worried then. You had no doubt that he was trying, but he definitely didn't hide his scowls very well

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eventually though, you notice his behavior shift. His scowling, as you come to learn, is merely for show. Just an attempt for him to keep up his 'superior commander' look. In reality, he knew more about sparkling care than you thought. He knew how to calm the little one when they got fussy, how to feed and clean them, and you swore you caught him intentionally trying to make them laugh. He hated admitting it, but his actions made it clear. He was learning

ᯓᡣ𐭩 And, obviously, having a sparkling gave you some problems as well. The sparkling loved when you held them, but they were extremely heavy. They loved to crawl around and explore, but could easily break anything. A human home wasn't the typical environment for a little bot. But with Starscream there to aid you, you both managed to keep your eyes (and optics) on them

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Starscream is VERY particular about who gets to hold your sparkling. His Trine are the only bots he let's hold them, and even then it's only for barely five minutes and under full supervision. Primus forbid an Autobot get anywhere near them. His wings will flare out and point up defensively, low growling leaving his voicebox as he presses the sparkling to his chassis, glaring heated daggers

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You're the exception to all his particularness. His protective nature and defensive sneers are aimed towards other bots, but with you, he merely watches as you engage with your little bot. Seeing you two bonding makes his spark finally feel at rest, if only for a moment

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He nitpicks everything pertaining to them. How to hold them, feed them, talk to them, what toys to give them, everything. He's very much a hovering type

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He'll take a while to admit it, but sometimes his spark lurches in a painful way when thinking about how he used to be. Back when he was at his height of power. He doesn't want your sparkling to ever see that side of him, but he almost backs himself into a state of fear mulling over it. Everything he's had to endure... it'll never happen to you, or your sparkling. Not even a tenth of it. He knew from the moment they reached a tiny servo towards his own— he'd rather do it all again than have them feel what he did

[atzfilm]

𝐚𝐭𝐳𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦'𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 .ᐟ

all works of writing/summaries are not owned by me, and all credits go to the respective writers! this list will be updated periodically with stories i have read ♡ i thought that as a writer myself who consumes talented stories on this site, it would be good for me to show you all a fraction of what i read myself tehe (i read majority poly!teez/mc so that category will be filled!!) ☆

— note: 90% of these fics will contain mature themes, since it's all i read! please read the specific author's notes before reading!

❤︎ - personal favorites

ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ

— ❤︎ mists of celeste (??/reader, several pairings) by @hongism

genre: scifi/space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut, fluff

summary: sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you.

notes: as an atiny on tumblr.com, i feel like it's a rite of passage to read moc. it's one of the best written works i have had the privilege of reading. it's gripping, it's heartbreaking, it's filled with yearning and love, and has you hoping that the characters survive this ordeal. san i love you most you can tell by the masterlist alone that she has crafted a whole space pirate universe intricately and with the utmost care. she deals with the trauma of the characters so so well and i cant lie ive cried a lot reading it jdhdksjddj, it's the fic that made me start reading ateez ff, i mean, i started reading before even knowing ateez and i had to have a separate tab open to remember who was who. that alone can tell you how much of a work of art this is. omg, im blabbering, but please read this.

— hotel california (ot8/reader) by @mint-yooxgi

genre: yandere, demon!au

summary: checking in to a hotel ran by yandere!Ateez, the boys decide she can no longer leave

my notes: im not too sure how i came across this work, i think it was an endless scroll of me trying to find something to read, but nevertheless, this story. i have not finished it yet (a great and utter pity) but from what ive read so far. im actually very concerned on how much ive read of this in one night 😨, i think the plot is so so unique, i love a strong mc who does not take any shit whatsoever, i love gaslighting demon!ateez 🙂‍↕️. i had to stare at the wall several times while reading,, felt like jim in the office truly. UGH it's just so good??? i can't recommend enough!! PLEASE READ.

— ❤︎ the answer (ot8?/reader, side pairings) by @berryunho

genre: cult au, thriller

summary: life is great until your best friend goes missing your senior year of university, leaving little more than an apology and goodbye. Months later, you’re determined to find out what happened to him and discover a situation much more complicated than you would have ever anticipated - as in - Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers 'sect.'

my notes: i first discovered this fic on ao3 and somehow found out lauren had a tumblr blog but i digress – i found this one night and was so excited that i found something so so unique and different and i am pretty sure i didn't sleep until 4am reading everything omg . it's truly so funny and i adore the main character more than anything, the snide remarks truly encompass and make you feel their emotions? cult leader hongjoong is something else... without spoiling hfjdjf. i beg lauren often for a spoiler because it's just that good. please read.

— OUTLAW (ot8/reader, side pairings) by @staytinyville

genre: wild west!au, smut(?), angst

summary: you thought you would be spending the rest of your life tending to the hotel your family ran. while you knew it was common to see bandits come and go in your town, you felt safe in your home. at least safe enough with a weapon at your disposal. however you were no match for eight men who were known to most as outlaws around the plains. hawt kind of adventures did they go on?

my notes: i started reading this a while back and have yet to finish, but so far the premise is so so so interesting and i love readying cowboy aus rjkfjkdrfkj ITS SO GOOD!!!! I CANT WAIT TO CATCH UP

— sway with me (ot8/reader, wooyoung/reader) by @luvt0kki

genre: sci-fi/space/futuristic!au

summary: former noble turned space pirate, wooyoung was now part of one of the most revered and hunted group of pirates of the galaxy. sure he’s only known them for six months but there’s only so much you could do in a ship when you travel from one planet to the next. the ship was their home, his home…and the members of this crew were friends that he felt he was fated to meet.

my notes: tokki already knows all of this but,,, i started this a month or so ago? and i read the first chapter and i legit lost my mind,,, in the calmest way possible... the first chapter is gripping and it sets a environment that i very much would love to live in??? it's just so so well written, and the reader is very much my type NDFAKKJ ANYWAY... it's told from the pov of wooyoung and i love it??? so MUCH?? please read ok bye

— one more rep (woosan x reader) by @cheollipop

genre: smut, f2l, trainers woosan

summary: san got a little too excited watching you exercise in purple – his favourite colour – and wooyoung was nothing if not a tease. turning their attention back to you, they didn't expect to see you equally worked-up.

my notes: ???? i actually read this a few times,,,, this fic yall.... i cannot... the mental image of woosan in the gym makes me delusional enoughdsjkaskfjksd PLEASE.

— like a dream (yungi x reader) by cheollipop

genre: bf!yungi, smut

summary: with only the orange hues of the lamp illuminating the room, they have you for the first time, and it feels just like a dream.

my notes: yunho and mingi are my weakness,, so the both of them together.....

sᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

to be added!

ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ

— horizon by @pxedpiper (ft. ateez/f.reader)

genre: pirate!au

summary: once a princess of a kingdom you loathed to call yours, you have somehow found yourself aboard a pirate ship, stuck on the ocean waves. now you try to figure out how to escape them, but as you continue to journey with them, you find yourself wondering if you even want to.

my notes: i just found this the other day but remembering reading it a while ago! it's so so well written and i enjoyed it sm 🥹

ʏᴜɴʜᴏ

to be added!

ʏᴇᴏsᴀɴɢ

to be added!

sᴀɴ

to be added!

ᴍɪɴɢɪ

— safe haven (mingi/reader) by @atxxzist

genre: bodyguard!au, fluff

summary: your father has had enough of your shit, and hires Song Mingi; his best friend's son, to be your personal bodyguard

my notes: is it possible to fall down the mingi hole deeper than i already have? maybe! this fic pretty much lives in my head,,, endlessly,,,, i love mingi. i love this au so much and i especially love bodyguard aus, i think it's one of my favorite genres and this deepens it.... PLEASE READ.

ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

— rough rider (wooyoung x afab!reader) by @choism

genre: smut

summary: In which you meet a hot twink at a club who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with the 2000's and y2k bimbocore.

my notes: i......... there's no way i can describe this fic... if u yearn for wooyoung the way i do. read this.

— what happened to slow down? (bf!wooyoung x reader) by @ja3hwa

genre: smut

summary: coming back from a house party, you and woo couldn't seem to keep your hands off one another. everything was happening so fast. you two didn't even make it to the bedroom.

my notes: insert a photo of someone throwing a phone and screaming crying, then picking it up to read the rest. thats me kjrfakfajkf

ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ

to be added!

[sailorrhansol]

TRICK OR TREAT!!!

fuck, i love this concept.

sour skittles + ghostface + the craft, pls 🤲🏻

(smut is always welcome, although i know that is highly dependent on whatever it is i just chose, lmao)

❀ Pairing: Vernon x afab reader

❀ Summary: Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, he’s always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea you’re in love with him, but that’s neither here nor there. After a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little… different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you. 

❀ Word Count: 21,558

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Thriller

❀ Type: Smut, Angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, recreational drinking and smoking, crude humor, some of the members of SVT are a bit of an asshole in this - it is not a reflection of how I think of them, mentions of occult practices, a NOT ACCURATE spirit summoning/ritual, mentions of a murder suicide case/event, mentions of murders, light mentions of blood, mentions of infidelity, catching someone in a sexual act (not the main couple), Vernon is a bit of an asshole at times, mentions of insecurities/confused feelings, I owe Chan and Mingyu an apology for how I wrote them, sexual tension, some angst, sexually explicit content including thigh riding, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, a lot of biting and scratching, choking/breath play, vaginal fingering, a lot of spit and cum mentioned, unprotected sex, references to sub space, Vernon takes a dom role but it is not explicitly established, Vernon gets a little bit possessive, calls reader a slut a total of one time, some light finger sucking, reader is at several points annoyed with the women in this fic which can come off a lil bitchy, general creepy scenes in woods and in some dark spooky places. 

❀ Additional Content Warning: It is implied by the end of this fic that Vernon is possessed to some degree by a spirit in this. I make zero distinction as to whether it’s Vernon or the spirit calling the shots or if there is even a difference/distinction between the two, which poses the fair question of consent in parts of this that I do not address or provide nuance to. The lack of clarification is due to the POV of this fic being entirely from reader’s perspective and she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on until the very end, and thus we are unable to unpack to what degree this character is or is not himself. If that lack of nuance bothers you, that is valid but this is not the fic for you. 

❀ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble. This was supposed to be a drabble. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Anyways, Jade my beloved you got Vernon + Friends to Lovers + Slasher and honestly it’s less slasher and more supernatural so I actually totally apologize but I leaned too far the other way I’m so sorry soifsdiofjdfiogj I love you love all the specific easer eggs for you and also show you to Jade because they specifically helped me write the Mingyu ‘graveyard smash’ line thanks bye

❀ A/N 2: Alternative summary for this fic is Hali repeatedly drags Chan because she loves him so much 

❀ Reader Notes: This reader is never explicitly gendered as girl/she/her etc. so I have listed them as an afab reader. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween

Cool wind lifts the pages of your book, threatening to flip them over. You press your fingers flat to the page, fighting to keep them from flitting over and losing your place in the story. There’s not much daylight left in the sky as the afternoon dies to make way for the evening, but you’re eager to finish the chapter, craving to unravel the mystery you’ve been working your way through the past week. 

Atmospheric sounds play in your headphones as you read. Your legs are crossed, book in your lap as you sit on the concrete wall separating the quad from one of the sidewalks on campus. Now that there’s a chill in the air, you crave being outside, finding the opportunity to sit wherever you can on campus to crack open a book before the sunlight finally fades. 

Flipping the page, you only get a split second warning of the shout you hear through your headphones before something hits you in the back of the head. You yelp, dropping the book to the ground as your headphones clatter from your head to the grass from the impact. 

Scowling, you swivel around to see Mingyu jogging over, his hand over his mouth as apologies start pouring out of him. A flush creeps up your neck as he approaches, his friends and fellow fraternity brothers watching from afar. Some of them are bent over cackling, the others have their hands on their head, visibly stressed from hitting you with their football.

Again. 

“I am so sorry,” he pleads, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Seungcheol threw wide.” 

“Maybe play on a rec field, then?” You snap, sliding from the wall, picking up your headphones and book. You kick the football toward him, irritated. “There’s literally so many other places you can play. Don’t you have a yard at your little frat house?” 

“It’s being used for float building for the Halloween parade.”

“Convenient.” 

For the most part, Mingyu isn’t so bad. He’s a little loud and obnoxious, but he’s always nice and he does seem to mean it when he picks up the football and apologizes again. It’s more than a lot of his fraternity brothers would do, though it’s not much now that they’ve managed to hit you twice with the same ball. 

Someone like Mingyu wouldn’t even pay attention to you if it weren’t for Vernon, though. As Mingyu retreats, the reason you’re even friends with Mingyu appears on the sidewalk, coming toward you with his hands in his pockets, hood pulled up on his head and headphones on. He lifts his chin in greeting to Mingyu, but Vernon’s brown eyes focus on you, his true destination. 

Vernon pulls his hood and headphones down when he’s within a few feet, jerking his thumb at Mingyu. “What did he want?” 

“He was apologizing for hitting me with the football. Again.”

“Again?” 

“Yeah. They hit me earlier.”

Vernon hums, displeased. He doesn’t say much, instead turning to lean against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets again.

The last embers of sunlight hit his side profile, stunning you to momentarily silence. In a halo of fiery light, Vernon looks like a god. His light brown eyes turn burnished gold, reflecting the dying sun. His hair is spun copper, strands dancing in the breeze as he watches the world around him. 

Not for the first time, you think that you understand why Helen of Troy inspired a thousand ships to come after her. Vernon’s face is the kind of thing you’ve read about in all of your mythologies and folktales for your Occult Studies major, so beautiful that it can’t be real.  

If Vernon notices you staring, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes watch the other members of his fraternity play football, one of them crashing into someone on a lawn chair. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, wearing his second-hand embarrassment silently as he watches them apologize for the millionth time. 

Vernon is nothing like the rest of his fraternity. You’re still unsure why he even joined. It was something he had done his freshman year going into school, wanting to put himself out there and make friends. 

He certainly looks the part - he’s handsome and in shape from playing soccer in highschool, and he’s got good fashion sense for a college student. But he’s quiet and a little awkward, unsure how to navigate conversations with most people who aren’t in his immediate circle of friends and shy to an almost crippling point. 

It had taken Vernon seven weeks of being your lab partner before he finally spoke more than three sentences to you. For the longest time, you’d assumed it was because he thought you were beneath him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. Greek life on campus tended to stick with their own. 

Now, you know it was because he didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. You’d only managed to get him to talk to you when he noticed a song by Frank Ocean bleeding from your headphones, piquing his interest. 

Four years later, talking to Vernon is easy. Well, maybe not easy. You’ve got years of friendship between you now and you know what makes Vernon tick, but the butterflies you get when you’re around him and the way your heart swells when he does something so simple makes it a little harder. 

Like now, as day fades to evening and the world is awash in purple and gold, and he’s looking at the watercolor sky like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, completely unaware that while he’s in awe of the sky, you’re in awe of him. 

Vernon jerks forward, making you flinch. You have no idea what he’s doing until his hand is in front of you, smacking down the football that has been sent your direction again. You huff in frustration, watching as this time it’s Chan who jogs over to get it. 

“Are you all fucking serious?” You demand. He slows his approach, eyes darting to Vernon as though looking for help from his friend. Vernon says nothing, bending over to pick up the football and toss it to Chan. “I should shove that football up your ass.” 

“Maybe not the football,” Chan quips, catching it. He looks you up and down, head cocking to the side a little. His mouth lifts at the corner and there’s a glint in his dark eyes that makes you even angrier. “I’m open to other things, though?” 

“You’re so gross.”

“What? You’re hot when you’re mad.” 

“Go away, Chan!” You shriek, flustered and angry as you spin around to grab your things and storm off. You only get a few feet before realizing Vernon is still leaning on the wall. “Are you coming or not?”

He scrambles after you, nearly tripping over his own feet to catch up. Chan is snickering as he runs back toward where the others wait for him, yelling a trilling bye toward you and Vernon as you charge north toward the main campus parking lot. 

“He’s so annoying,” you gripe, shoving your book in your bag. Vernon hums, noncommittal. You glance at him. “Nothing more to add?” 

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s cause they think you’re hot, Lovecraft.”

You smile at the nickname, fondness sweeping through you. He’d started calling you Lovecraft your freshman year after learning about your major, deciding that it just fit. You like it - at least coming from Vernon, who understood Occult Studies was more than just spooky and magic and the metaphysical. 

“They think anything with a set of tits and a hole to stick their dick in is hot. I’m sure a blowup doll would blow their fucking mind.” 

Vernon’s mouth twitches at that. “You’d hate Chan’s room.”

“Don’t give me that visual!” 

His laugh is warm. He bumps shoulders with yours, grinning at you as the two of you walk. You feel the telltale sign of your traitorous heart beating extra hard at his closeness, your gaze shooting to the floor as you try to hide any evidence of your feelings that might lurk on the surface of your expression. 

Thankfully, Vernon never seems to notice. You’re glad that he doesn’t. You don’t think you’re very good at hiding how you feel, but he is equally bad at picking up on it, totally oblivious to the long stares and the way you fumble over your words when he gets too close. 

Vernon has that effect on a lot of people. His proximity to being attractive has always outweighed his inability to make small talk among the female population on campus. The amount of times you’ve watched girls openly flirt with him and whisper about what it would take to get him to crack was insurmountable. 

Autumn wind kicks up leaves at your feet. Neither one of you says anything as you walk, simply content to be together. It’s one of your favorite things about him, never feeling pressure to perform or to have conversation. Being with Vernon is just… easy. Natural, even. 

The parking lot is slowly emptying as the rest of the late afternoon classes end. A few unlucky evening class students pull in, slamming their car doors and rushing off to their auditoriums. Vernon’s car is easy to find and you let yourself in, sliding into the passenger seat like it’s yours - it kind of is. 

“Pizza?” he asks, engine humming to life. 

“Please.” His lips twitch in a soft smile as he nods, flipping on the radio. You hum, leaning forward and turning up the volume. “I love this song.” 

Vernon’s smile increases as you lean back, the sounds of Emotional Oranges filling the car. He rolls the windows down once he’s on the road proper, cool wind kissing your skin. You pull your feet up onto the seat, leaning toward the window as the fading twilight brushes past you. 

Outside the car, the world smells like pine. You take a deep breath in, loving the way the October air feels just right. Fall is always your favorite time of year, and with the music playing in the background, wind in your hair and Vernon drumming on the wheel, you don’t think there could be anything better in the world. 

Sal’s Pizzeria glows against the dark, a beacon of hunger and hope against the night. The giant pizza slice on the roof blinks rapidly, the neon a little bit broken. Gold light glows through the windows as you climb out the car, gravel crunching beneath your feet. 

A bell chimes as the door opens and a group of students pour out, laughing and carrying boxes. Vernon catches the lip of the door and holds it open for you, gesturing you to enter first. The smell of bread and warm air hits you in the face, your lips curving as you tell the girl at the host stand two.

College students and local residents fill the restaurant. The hostess leads you to a booth in the corner, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you hop-slide your way in. She hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Vernon as she does, lips twitching when she asks if there’s anything else you need. When he doesn’t answer, you shake your head, shooting her a thin-lipped smile. 

She’s hesitant to leave but she does, casting one last look over her shoulder as she heads back to the stand. You look at Vernon too, studying him. He’s none the wiser, brown eyes scanning the menu even though you know he’s going to order the same thing. 

When the server comes, Vernon does as expected: orders a diablo pizza with a side of fries. You shake your head a little, asking for the white feta pizza, handing over the sticky menus. When the server is gone, Vernon leans back in the seat, sipping his coke as he drinks you in, wordless. 

You kick your feet up on his side of the booth next to him and he lets you, patting your ankle fondly when he sets his drink down. He has no idea how torturous that alone is, the simple comfort of his familiar touch enough to send your eyes averting across the room, trying to control your breathing. 

“What are the favorites and least favorites this week?” he asks, balling up the paper his straw came in. 

Favorites and least favorites is a game you like to play with him. It’s not so much of a game as it is a routine where you tell him your favorite piece of material from your classes and your least favorite. Most people dismiss your major as too peculiar for interest. No one knows what you’re supposed to do with Occult Studies but it fascinates you.

And Vernon, who has always had a keen interest in the goings on in your classes and homework. 

“We’re in the psychology of the occult module.” He nods, eyes fixed on you. “Mostly covering the psychology of community as it relates to the occult. We have sections on covens, clans, actual cults, sects and more modern mass followings.” 

“Hmm. So like… Twitter stans.”

You smile a bit. “Something like that. We covered the maenads in class today. Ever heard of them?” He shakes his head and you lean forward, elbows on the table. “They were women in Ancient Greece devoted to the god Dionysus and they were believed to be possessed by the god. They were said to have wild parties in the woods with one another where they’d do all manner of sordid things, all while under the influence.” 

“A Friday night for Chan.”

“Exactly. A lot of historians call them crazy and speculate they were raving mad, but if I was a woman under the thumb of men in Ancient Greece…”

“Shit, I’d get fucking crazy in the woods with my friends too.”

“Exactly. It was more about reveling in female companionship and being unfettered from the male-dominated societal norms.” 

The arrival of your dinner interrupts the conversation. Both of you lean backward, making room for the hot plates and Vernon’s basket of fries. You slide your feet down from his side of the booth, leaning to grab the red pepper flakes from the corner of the table. He grabs salt, immediately dusting his fries.

“Ugh, you could have at least let me have some first.” He looks up at you through his lashes, brows raised. “They’re already salted, Vernon.”

“Not enough.”

“You know, if you were haunted or possessed you’d never want the salt.” He gives a questioning hum. “Salt is used in purification rituals. It’s believed spirits hate it because it’s used in banishing spells and rituals. It’s why a line of salt keeps them out.”

“Good thing I’m hungry, not haunted.” 

You snort, taking a piece of your pizza from the tray. “Speaking of haunted, are we going to your Halloween party this weekend?”

“My halloween party?”

“You are in the fraternity, Vernon. Yes, yours.” 

He makes a face and tears into his pizza. You shake your head as he lets out a sound, huffing and tilting his head backward as he tries to deal with the too-hot food in his mouth burning him. “Ya,” he says around the slice. “I guess so.” 

“What are you going to wear?” He raises a brow at you, swallowing down the hot bite. You pout, sagging in your seat. “Dude, you have to dress up. You can’t just go in a black shirt and a baseball hat.” 

“Why not?” You kick him under the table and he winces, ducking down to rub at his shin. “Shit, fine. Okay, what do I go as?”

You grin, picking up your appropriately cooled pizza. “Leave it to me.” 

-

“This makeup itches,” Vernon mutters, looking up at you through long lashes. You hush him, putting the finishing touches on the black line down his mouth. “Couldn’t I have gone as something easier?”

“What is easier than black jeans and a jacket you already own, huh? Stop talking, I’m gonna fuck up this line and this makeup is perfect so far.” 

It’s true. You’ve outdone yourself on turning Vernon’s face into a skull, taking inspiration from American Horror Story for the costume. Vernon is a low effort kind of person, so getting him into costume is a lot easier when all it requires are clothes he already owns and makeup that you have to do anyway. 

Stepping away from him, you admire your handy work. His eyes are painted black, hollowed out for the skull. His dark hair is slicked back, the perfect skeleton. He looks… good. Painfully good, which makes you nervous and turn away quickly, heart flipping. You’re not sure what it says about you that Vernon staring at you while painted as a deadly skeleton makes your heart race but… it does. 

“How do I look?”

“Terrifying,” you admit, turning back to him. “But good.” 

He grins and if it were anyone else but Vernon, you’d be terrified. Maybe you did a little too good of a job. 

“What are you again?”

“One of the witches from American Horror Story Coven. Close your eyes, I’m going to use setting spray.” 

Darkness blankets the sky by the time you’re both scrambling down the steps and into an Uber. The driver does a double take when they see Vernon, eyes watching nervously in the rearview as you give him the address. 

“That’s at a closed down gas station.”

“Yep,” you agree, leaning back into the seat.

The driver mutters something about fucking college kids and fucking holiday but otherwise says nothing about the questionable location. He doesn’t need to know that a mile from the abandoned gas station is also an abandoned farmhouse notorious for unsanctioned parties and being distinctly haunted. 

Haunted isn’t your favorite thing in the world. You didn’t like to mess with ghosts, despite your area of study. You were infinitely more interested in the intersectionality of occult studies and modern culture and society and less enthused about the idea of drinking stale beer from a foamy tap in the middle of a murder house. 

If the driver thinks there’s anything weird about other people being dropped off at the gas station - you’re sure he does - he says nothing, ignoring the two of you as you get out of the car and dive into the night air. Vernon is close behind as you take a few steps away from the car, eyeing the old gas station.

The windows have long since been broken and cracked, foggy with time. The stations are stripped of their labels and stickers, just white residue left behind and no pumps. A few people lounge around the building smoking, dressed in a variety of halloween costumes. 

Nervous, you look up at Vernon. His smile is small and he juts his chin toward the dirt road that leads through the woods. Nodding, you both fall into step, sand and gravel crunching beneath your feet as you go. Vernon recognizes a few people associated with his fraternity and others, throwing a casual wave or a nod as you pass by people.

Music echoes down the road. It’s a little less foreboding in the dark trees when you can hear Michael Jackson’s thriller coming down the way and the dull roar of voices. The bend in the road straightens out, the line of trees giving way to flat land. 

The farmhouse is pretty, even in old age. It’s two stories, glowing from within from all of the battery lanterns and lights being used to light the party. A generator roars somewhere behind the house, light flooding the yard where people mingle and crowd the kegs. 

A chill slithers down your spine as you enter the yard, the broken gate doing a poor job at keeping trespassers out. Even with the lighting, shadows dance as you navigate through people, the strange anxiety crawling up your throat worsening as you near the house. 

Vernon pulls the sleeve of your dress so that you’re closer to him, his fingers steady and calm as he leads you up the steps where you can clearly hear Mingyu’s howling laughter inside. 

Bright light fills the house. As do a crush of people and beer pong tables, the abandoned home turned into a raucous display of drinking and debauchery. If you weren’t so distracted by the wave of people pushing you into Vernon’s arm, you might be impressed at how much you could forget the farm home was abandoned because someone had been murdered here. 

“I need a drink,” Vernon announces, continuing to pull your arm after him as he plunges toward what used to be the kitchen.

It’s where you find Mingyu dressed as a lifeguard - and loudly yelling directions. He blows his whistle shrilly when he sees you and Vernon, pointing at the two of you and spitting the whistle out of his mouth to scream, “NOT WET ENOUGH!”

“What a weird way to offer drinks,” you mutter. Chan, who seems to be on lifeguard assistant duty - while dressed in a horrid felt dinosaur costume - scrambles to get you drinks, spilling rum as he tips it over into a cup. “No ice?” 

“There’s not a fridge,” he pouts, shoving the cup in your hand. His eyes drink you in. “Are you a hot goth or?” 

Instead of answering him, you roll your eyes and turn to Mingyu, who blows the whistle again. Both you and Vernon wince, the latter throwing back his drink to chug it all before thrusting the cup back at Chan. “That���s gonna get real tiring.” 

Mingyu comes around the corner of the old island countertop, pumping his fists in the air to the music rattling through the house. “Vernon you look fucking sick!” He and Vernon do the little hand-clap-to-half-hug men do. Mingyu turns to look at you, eyes dark. “Are you like, a hot goth?” 

Your smile is plastic as the whistle around Mingyu’s neck. “Sure.” 

Mingyu, dancing and moving toward the living room, reaches out to you. “Come dance with me! This song fucks.”

“Decidedly not!” 

“Go ahead, Lovecraft!” Vernon urges, pushing you toward the obnoxious lifeguard with a shit-eating grin as he imitates Mingyu’s voice. “This song fucks.” 

Before you can chastise him for egging his fraternity brother on, Mingyu has you sucked into the dancing crowd, throwing his hands in the air as he swivels his way through the crowd. You try to knock back as much of the lukewarm drink as you can, cringing at the burn of cheap rum and not-iced coke. 

Bodies pressed in. Mingyu is close to you, a hand going to your waist. You frown and look over your shoulder, eyes scanning for Vernon. You know he’s probably lingering on the edge of the crowd, watching you with a smirk over the rim of his cup as he watches Mingyu roll his hips toward you.

“Mingyu,” you snap, turning back to him when you don’t find Vernon. “It’s the Monster Mash, it doesn’t require grinding.” 

“I mean, if you wanna graveyard smash…”

“You’re all insufferable! All of you!”

Still, you sway back and forth, trying to stomach finishing the rest of your horrid drink. It takes an effort, but shaking your head at Mingyu and judging him silently gets you most of the way through it until Soonyoung - dressed in the same tiger costume from last year - crashes through the crowd into the pair of you, thrilled when he realizes who it is he has slammed into. 

“Hot goth!” he screams, pointing at your outfit. “Where is your other half?” 

You don’t have to ask what Soonyoung means and both the drink and the accusation have you flushing. You shrug a shoulder, eyes surveying the party. Before either of you can find Vernon, Joshua appears at Soonyoung’s side, leaning to his ear to murmur something. Soongyoung’s face lights up and he grins at you, grabbing you by the wrist to yank you through the crowd. 

“Hello?” you demand, pulling your wrist from his grip. “Have you heard of asking?”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“The last time I heard that was promptly followed by you showing me that stupid peach tattoo on your ass.”

“First of all, that tattoo is amazing.” He heads to the stairs, which you eye warily. “Second, Vernon is already upstairs, come on. You like weird ghost shit, you’ll like this.”

Without waiting for a reply, Soonyoung thunders up the stairs. You cringe, waiting for a foot to go through a dry plank and send him falling. It doesn’t happen, though. Tentatively, you creep up the stairs after him, eyes glued to each of the steps as you go. 

It’s colder upstairs, the windows in the rooms open to the elements. You shiver, looking down the hall to Soonyoung heading into a bedroom. You tentatively follow him, stopping at the threshold of the doorway to survey the people inside.

Vernon is one of them, back pressed to the wall near the window, his eyes focused on his boots in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets. A girl next to him dressed as Red Riding Hood is leaning close, speaking to him rapidly. Nothing on his face indicates he’s listening. Then again, his expression is hard to read while painted as a skull, mystifying and dark as you follow Soonyoung down the hall. 

Soonyoung goes straight toward a pile of things on the floor next to Seungcheol’s feet in the corner of the room. The president of Vernon’s fraternity pays Soonyoung no mind, eyes totally focused on the pretty fox in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

Suddenly, the room feels too intimate for you, like everyone is a couple tucked away. You have half a mind to go back downstairs when Vernon looks up at you, dark eyes zeroing in. His face is ten times more intense with the skull paint, pinning you to the spot. 

Everything dulls to the background for a second. You don’t dare breathe, too afraid to shatter the moment as he stares at you, unblinking. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the room, two amber pools reflecting the moonlight. 

Joshua enters the room behind you, shattering the spell as you step out of his way. You turn back to Vernon, clearing your throat. He pulls a hand from his pocket, beckoning you over. Mouth dry, you obey, skittering over toward him quickly as you observe the materials that Soonyoung is sifting through in the corner. Candles. Matches. Salt. A bell. 

“Soonyoung,” you say sharply, slowing your step. “Why do you have ritual materials?”

He looks up at you, his grin wide. “Told you that you’d like this.” 

“What is this?” You turn back to Vernon, who shrugs one shoulder. 

Hesitantly, you take the unoccupied space next to him, casting the girl at his side a cursory glance. She observes your costume. “Are you a hot goth?” 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, head thunking against the wall as you watch Soonyoung stand, materials in hand. Vernon coughs next to you, trying to cover his laugh. You glare at him sidelong and he says nothing, but his skeleton mouth is screwed up in a smirk. “What is he doing?”

“No clue.”

Soonyoung walks over to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway before shutting it. You fight a shiver, disliking how quiet the room becomes, cut off from the rest of the world. The window near you is the only source of light, and the only one shut on the second level of the abandoned home. 

“What time is it?” Soonyoung asks Joshua.

“11:45.” 

“Perfect.” Soonyoung spins, eyes falling on you. “Want to talk to a ghost?” 

All eyes turn to you in the room. You open and close your mouth, confused. “What?” 

“Do you want to talk to a ghost? Like someone who died?” 

Your eyes drift to the candle, bell and matches in Soonyoung’s hand. A tingle spreads over your skin and your spine stiffens. “Soonyoung that better not be to invite a spirit in.” 

His grin grows. “Come on, you are the ghost major or whatever. You should be thrilled to do this.”

“Occult Studies. And that doesn’t mean I fuck with the unknown or make a mockery of the dead. We’ve been over this.” 

“It’s basically the same thing, come on. You learn it all in class.” 

“No.” 

He pouts. “You’d be best at it, though. Rumor has it that when the veil is thinnest, you can talk to the spirit that haunts this house.” 

“The murderer? Or the murdered?” Soonyoung shrugs. “I doubt either would be very happy a bunch of drunk college kids are trying to bother them. My answer is no.” 

“Ugh. I was kind of counting on you doing it.” 

“Do it yourself.”

“I don’t study ghost shit!”

“Occult! Studies!”

“Ghost shit,” Soonyoung assures the room confidently.

“I’ll do it,” Vernon sighs, pushing off the wall. “Leave her alone.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes are alight as Vernon steps toward him. You reach out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. “Don’t.” 

“It’s fine.”

“Vernon.”

His eyes are soft when he looks at you. As soft as the terrifying makeup allows, anyway. “It’s fine, Lovecraft. Let me. He’ll stop asking.”

“I’m right here.”

“We know,” you and Vernon say in unison. You feel warm, chewing the inside of your cheek before nodding. You drop his wrist and turn to Soonyoung, eyes hard. “Give me that, you’ll do it wrong. Tell me what the mythos is.”

“What math? You need math?”

“The story, Soonyoung. What is the fucking story of this house?”

“Right. Apparently some dude murdered his girlfriend in here and then hung himself in that closet.” He points to a door you didn’t see when you walked in, dark and far away from the window. “Legend says at midnight, ring the bell three times and step into the closet with a candle. If the candle blows out, the spirit is with you. If it doesn’t, it didn’t work.” 

Grabbing the items from Soonyoung’s hand, you look at Vernon. “When you’re done, ring the bell three times again and say: Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.” 

“Thank you,” Vernon repeats gently, taking the bell from your hand. “I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Everyone else take candles,” you direct, voice rough with irritation. You glare at Soonyoung and Seungcheol in particular as you shove candles in their hands. “Stand in the four corners of the room. Did you bring sage, Soonyoung?”

“Bring what?”

“Of course not, why would you?” Everyone starts moving to the corner of the room, using matches to light their candles. The room feels unnaturally cold now, despite your long sleeves. Turning back to Vernon, you say, “It’s probably a stupid rumor.”

“Probably.”

“If your candle goes out, just ring the bell, say the words, and dismiss it.” 

“Right.” 

“You don’t have to do it, Vernon.”

His mouth kicks up at the corner. “I’m not worried, Lovecraft. You are.” 

Letting out a breath, you give a laugh that’s only half-there. You are nervous. You don’t like the idea of inviting a spirit into Vernon’s space, and though Soonyoung’s little ritual doesn’t really sound right, you’re not going to correct him. 

Still, you feel unsettled as you light your own candle and then Vernon’s. He cradles it in his hands as you escort him to the door. Tucked under your arm is the canister of salt. Crouching down, you pour the salt in a thick white light in front of the door, careful to ensure that there are no breaks and that it covers the entire entryway from corner to corner.

“Be careful when you step over it and when you open the door,” you instruct, standing up. The candle in your hand flickers unsteadily. “Don’t break the line. The idea is that if Soonyoung’s stupid summoning works, the spirit can’t get through the salt.”

“Banishing and all that,” Vernon recalls with a smile. Your heart flips. “I remember.” 

“Come on, you only have a minute!” Soonyoung calls eagerly. 

Shooting him a glare that silences him, you turn back to Vernon. “Ring the bell three times. Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Got it.” 

Unsettled you shuffle back from the door a little bit. You don’t go to a corner of the room like you’ve asked everyone else, unwilling to totally leave him by himself. Heart hammering, you hold your candle in front of you, cradling the warmth like a second heart. 

Vernon is unbothered. You can see it in the loose set of his shoulders and the way he sighs, already tired of Soonyoung’s antics. The party downstairs feels a million miles away as you watch Vernon stand in front of the closed closet door, looking up at it, unimpressed.

“It’s midnight,” Joshua whispers from the corner. 

Vernon doesn’t make any sound that he’s heard Joshua, but he lifts the little bell in his hand. It’s a hand bell, the wood grip worn and cracked. You wonder where Soonyoung got it from, having half a mind to ask him when the first clear ring of the bell disrupts your thoughts. 

The note sings through the air, your blood turning to ice in your veins. It feels like your pulse is throbbing in your neck as Vernon rings the bell hard a second time, the sound chasing the echo of the first. The third ring feels like a tremor in the air, warbling as Vernon quickly sets the bell on the floor, careful not to extinguish his candle flame. 

You hold your breath when he sets his hand on the doorknob. No one makes a sound as he twists it open. He pulls on the door and it comes away with a silent swing. The darkness on the other side is gaping, like there’s no back to the closet, just a wide hole of nothing. 

Vernon doesn’t seem to mind. He steps over the line of salt carefully until he’s in the middle of the closet, pivoting to face you. The orange flicker of his candle casts a haunting glow over his skull face. You swallow down a brief moment of fear before he winks and leans forward to pull the door shut.

For a long moment, there’s nothing. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the thudthudthud so loud you swear everyone else in the room can hear it. No one moves, everyone fixated on the door. The silence is so piercing that your ears start to ring, the sound of the party completely unreachable over your mounting anxiety. 

“Well?” Soonyoung whispers somewhere behind you. “I guess it didn’t work.” 

Vernon begins pounding on the door. Someone screams behind you followed by a bunch of curses. You leap forward, heart in your throat as Vernon screams something unintelligible on the other side. You drop your candle, completely throwing caution to the wind as you grab the doorknob and twist. 

It doesn’t move.

“Vernon?” you ask, voice spiking with fear. “Let go of the doorknob, let me turn it. Vernon!”

The pounding doesn’t stop. He is screaming in a way you’ve never heard before, his fists rattling the door against the frame. You shriek his name back, yanking at the door frantically, your panic mounting as he screams and- 

When the door opens, you nearly fall backward with the force of it, stumbling over your feet. Soonyoung steadies you, to your surprise. You hadn’t realized he had left his corner of the room to help, his hand warm and firm. 

Vernon stands on the other side of the door, mouth pressed in a firm line. 

“You fucking asshole,” Soonyoung swears, throwing his unlit candle at Vernon. Vernon laughs, dodging it. “You fucking suck.”

“Yeah, well don’t ask me to do stupid shit.” Vernon steps out of the closet, eyes dropping to you. His mirth is edged with something sharp, a glint in his eyes that is wholly unfamiliar. “I was kidding.”

“You fucking asshole!” You screech at him, slamming your hands into his chest and knocking him back a little. He smirks and says nothing, letting you hit him a few times. “Why would you do that to me? What is wrong with you?” 

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, you sound really fucking sorry.” Anger sours your mouth. Turns your words to poison. Your throat tightens up and you feel the telltale sign of tears, equal parts livid, embarrassed and offended that Vernon would do such a thing. “Fuck you, Vernon.”

Someone laughs awkwardly as you storm off. Vernon calls your name but you ignore him, bolting down the hall and down the stairs. The wood creaks uncertainty under your feet but you don’t care. You want to be anywhere but here, the hot lick of embarrassment burning your heels as you go. 

You blow past Chan on your way out, his bleary eyes following you. “Nooo,” he whines. “Hot goth, come back to me!”

“Shut up, Chan!” You scream, slamming down the steps as you go.

People nearly dive out of your way, swiveling to watch the wake of your wrath as you leave the party. You ignore them, not wanting anyone to see the hot tears that spill over as you hit the dirt road, boots crunching. 

It’s hard to tell what’s worse. The fact that Vernon had played a joke on you he knew you wouldn’t like, or the way you had panicked and lost all resolve to be the one in charge. Both feel awful, but the sting of Vernon’s joke is the sharper of the two, cutting you to the quick.

Vernon has never dared to do something like that in your entire friendship. You have no idea why he did it now. Was it because he had an audience? Was he drunk? Was he actually like the members of his fraternity he associated with? 

You had no idea, which only made things worse. Above anyone else, you thought you knew Vernon best. But perhaps, you didn’t know Vernon at all, which was far worse than any sort of haunted spirit you could imagine. 

-

The next morning, you don’t hear from Vernon. It makes your blood boil, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You put on a big set of headphones, blaring music to keep you sane as you set about cleaning your apartment furiously. 

It’s an okay distraction. The lull of clinical cleaning is nice and the music soothes the sting that nips at your heels like an incessant hound. When you run out of things to clean, though, you’re forced to face the fact that it’s nearly evening and Vernon still hasn’t said anything to you.

You don’t want to text him first. Your pride is wounded from the night before and you’re shocked he hasn’t apologized - he should apologize. The silence only makes you angrier, and with nothing left to clean in your apartment, you decide to think of all the things you’re going to say to him when he does finally reach out to you. Because you’re not saying anything first. 

Vernon’s radio silence makes it nearly impossible to sleep. You toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable, checking your phone and social media. It’s difficult to remember the last time you went over twenty four hours without hearing from Vernon, and the realization forms a pit in your stomach.

Maybe the silence was good. Maybe you were too reliant on his friendship, the one constant that you had grown far too fond of. Maybe he was into that girl last night, making a show of you because he wanted to make her laugh or maybe he was just putting you in your place.

The insecurity wars with your logic that Vernon wouldn’t do that. He’s never had a history of that kind of behavior before, and though he might tease you on occasion, you have never been the butt of his jokes or the target of his humor. 

Jokes like that aren’t even Vernon’s style. He doesn’t like cruelty, and that’s what pretending to be screaming for help was. It was cruel, and strange and it hurt. 

What hurts more is the silence continuing into a second day. By the late afternoon, though, the hurt has morphed into something else. You sit on your couch, staring at the phone on your coffee table. Your pride was begging you not to text him, but your worry was starting to chip away at you. 

Heaving a sigh, you pick up the phone. The tap of your nails against the glass screen is loud in your quiet apartment, the final rays of sun melting through the blinds while a candle burns on the counter. 

[You 5:14 PM]: So are we not talking? 

Setting the phone down, you immediately start making dinner. It doesn’t matter that you’re too early. You’re nervous waiting for his text back, which makes you feel ridiculous. Then you feel ridiculous for feeling ridiculous, validating yourself that it is totally okay to have feelings and be nervous.

“God,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m exhausting.” 

By the time you’ve had dinner and watched a full episode of Alice in Borderland, Vernon has said nothing. Worry eats away at the lining of your stomach. You pause the show and pick up the phone again, dialing his number.

On the other side of the line, the phone rings. And rings. And rings. 

You hang up when you get the automated voicemail, frowning. It’s all strange, and a nagging feeling tugs at your nervous system but you can’t put your finger on it.

Just as you set the dishes in the sink, your phone starts to ping. You’re grateful no one can see you in your apartment as you lurch to the phone, picking it up and unlocking it to see if it’s Vernon. It isn’t, but your heart starts to thud when your group chats with other friends and classmates in projects flood with the same rumor over and over.

A dead body had been found on campus. 

Vernon doesn’t live on campus, but it doesn’t stop you from calling him again. And again. And again. When the voicemail turns on a fourth time, you seethe into the phone, fingers gripping it so hard it feels like it’ll break. “Call me back you fucking asshole! Someone died on campus and you’re not answering and I just need to know it’s not you. Fuck!” 

Time passes and you get so desperate you do the one thing you didn’t want to do unless it was dire circumstances. You hit dial and bring your phone up to your ear, pinching the bridge of your nose to prepare yourself for when Mingyu answers the phone. 

“Am I dreaming?” he says by way of greeting. “It was the life guard costume, right?” 

“Mingyu, it wasn’t a costume. You were shirtless with board shorts.” 

“But it worked, right?”

“Have you heard from Vernon?” 

“Nah, why?” 

“Like you haven’t seen him at all since the party?” 

“Mmm. I don’t think so.” There’s a muffled sound on the phone like he’s trying to cover it when he yells, “Chan, have you seen that fuck head Vernon?” You wait impatiently, holding the phone further from your ear as Minguy yells. “Chan hasn’t seen him either.” 

“Isn’t that weird? I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.”

“Nah, I mean we never really see him. Usually he’s with you.”

“Right. And he isn’t with me, I haven’t seen him since the party.” 

“Well have you checked his apartment?” You hesitate. “Helloooo?”

“No.”

“Well. Do that. He’s probably sleeping or some shit, who knows.” 

“Great. You were so helpful,” you deadpan.

Mingyu sounds genuinely happy when he says, “I’m so glad!”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything else. 

Chewing your nail, you stare at the wall, mind racing.  Mingyu has a point that it’s normal for them to never see Vernon. He is usually with you, or he’s solitary. There is little in between. He also has a point that most of the time if you were looking for Vernon, you’d just swing by his apartment. 

The thought of seeing him again makes you want to curl in on yourself, but your concern weighs out. You get dressed and grab your keys, trying not to let your fear of what you might find there keep you from leaving. 

Opening the door to your apartment, you get one foot out the door and then slam directly into Vernon. You reel backward, eyebrows shooting up as he steadies you by the elbow, equally surprised to see you as though he wasn’t at your doorstep. 

“Easy there,” he greets, a half smile on his face.

Vernon looks totally normal. He definitely doesn’t look like he was murdered, and he’s dressed in his usual jeans, plain black shirt, and a backwards hat. For a second, you just stare at him, totally shocked and utterly relieved he isn’t dead.

Then, the anger comes. 

You slam a hand into his chest, cursing at him. “Where?” Slap. “Have?” Slap. “You?” Slap. “Been?” 

He takes the blows in stride. His chest is firm beneath your palm, heart beating steadily. Alive. And now that you’ve established he’s not dead, you feel so much anger ripple through you that you don’t let him answer before you’re pivoting on your foot and storming back into your apartment.

The sound of the door closing behind you followed by his shuffling as he takes his shoes off tells you he hasn’t left. A small part of you curls in satisfaction with the domesticity of his arrival, but it is blotted out by the hurt and rage at the surface of your emotions.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You demand. It isn’t as eloquent as your practiced rant, but it’s something. “You better explain yourself. And quickly.”

Vernon’s dark eyes connect with yours, simmering. You feel your heart lurch as he slinks over to the kitchen, never taking his gaze off you. The back of your neck tingles. Vernon never keeps this much eye contact and it’s both thrilling and unnerving. 

“I want to apologize,” he murmurs, pitching his voice low. You watch with trepidation as he reaches out to gather your hand in his. He folds your fingers under his, pulling your hand to his chest. Your breath quickens, pulse throbbing as he cradles your fist to his chest, his heartbeat steady. “I fucked up. I wanted to fuck with Soonyoung but I did it at the expense of you, and for that I’m deeply sorry.”

Warmth spreads from his hand to yours. You don’t know what to make of the apology - it’s so unlike him. Vernon has no problem apologizing when he’s wrong, but he’s usually not so confident, so well spoken. You stare and stare, that pitless gaze of his pinned on you. 

“I just…” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You really hurt my feelings, Vernon.” His hands tighten around yours and he tugs a little, pulling you closer. It’s harder to think when you’re this close, fingers wrapped in his. “You really scared me and then you vanished for nearly three days. Why did you do that?” 

“I wasn’t feeling well and I slept most of the days away. Honestly.”

“You weren’t feeling well?”

He gives you a look. “I see the skepticism. I’m serious, I just… wasn’t myself. I tried to rest and I didn’t hear my phone and I’m sorry. Really.”

Vernon’s apology settles around you like a weight. You watch him, contemplating what to do next. He doesn’t look ill, his gold skin as flawless as ever, his rosy lips tucked under his teeth as he watches you, waiting. His heart thuds under your palm, his thumb absently brushing back and forth over the top of your hand.

Breathing becomes difficult. Vernon isn’t overly affectionate, but the way he presses your hand to his chest now sends you down a dangerous path. The desire for him bubbles just below your surface and you’re terrified it’ll boil over, exposing everything you’ve ever thought about him.

“Alright,” you say softly, pulling your hand from his. He lets you. “Don’t ever do something like that to me again. It was scary and I felt stupid. And I thought you were dead.”

“Why?” 

Gesturing to the couch, the two of you plop down, seemingly back to normal. You’re still a little off kilter, but you report back to Vernon what your classmates had been saying. He grabs your remote and turns on the news, settling close enough to you that your thighs brush against one another. You shoot him a questioning look but he’s fixated on the TV, leaning forward to press his elbows into his knees.

The reporter on the news confirms the body of one of your fellow students had indeed been found on campus. Names and details were not yet available, but they were interviewing students about whether or not they felt safe on campus. By the second interview, Vernon was turning off the TV and leaning back.

“Freaky,” you murmur, tapping the arm of the couch. “Weird timing, right?”

“How so?”

“We just had a Halloween party in a weird murder house.”

Vernon goes silent. You turn to look at him, eyes searching. He stares at you, again the eye contact unsettling. Even though it feels like your Vernon sitting next to you, there is an edge to him that’s new. You don’t know what to do with it, shifting in your seat a little.

“Forget the murder house,” he says eventually, flicking his fingers in dismissal. “That party sucked and I’d rather forget it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyeing him as he looks out the window. You swear he’s agitated, but you can’t pinpoint why. “Me too.”

-

Someone sitting down roughly next to you draws your attention away from your essay, barely audibly over the sound of Current Blue playing through your headphones. You raise a brow as Vernon slings his belongings on the table unceremoniously, uncaring how loud he is in the library.

You glance around, seeing that he’s attracted the attention of a few people at nearby tables, some scowling, others blushing. When you turn your gaze back to him, you see his mouth moving as he divests his bag of its contents, but you can’t hear him. 

Pulling your headphones from your head, you ask, “What?” 

“Can you help me with my organic chem assignment?” 

“I hate chemistry.” 

His mouth twitches as he opens his laptop. “Right, but you’re good at it. You’re the smartest person in school.”

Again, something nags at your instincts. You can’t pinpoint it, examining Vernon more closely. He looks totally normal, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, and a jean jacket pulled over it. He’s without a hat today, his hair falling in messy strands over his brow as he sets up his area to study.

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “What?” 

“You seem different.”

“Different how?” He types on his computer to start bringing up his chemistry homework. “Different as in going to fail organic chem without your help?” 

“Oh shut up. I’m obviously going to help you.” 

His mouth is wicked when he grins. “Good.” 

When Vernon looks up at you, the world stops a little. His gaze today is fathomless, dark eyes smooth like the surface of a lake with no end. You tip into that gaze, letting yourself drown in it for a moment. Normally, Vernon would break eye contact by now, easily distracted or unrealizing that he’s got you stuck on him. 

Now, he doesn’t do that. He looks right back at you. Heat crawls up your neck and your breaths quicken. For the first time since you’ve known him, Vernon looks at you like he knows everything inside your locked-tight heart. 

You lick your lips and his gaze dips to your mouth. Inside your chest, your hummingbird heart hammers, threatening to break free. The corner of Vernon’s mouth tilts upward as his eyes meet yours again, and you watch, completely frozen, as he leans toward you. 

Vernon is so close you can smell the spicy cologne on his skin. It’s heady and makes you dizzy, and you watch, totally lost as he wraps his hand around the leg of your chair and tugs hard. You yelp, startling a few people around you as he yanks your chair next to his, your thighs pressed together. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper harshly at him, throwing an apologetic look at the people you’ve disturbed for a second time. 

“How are you going to help me from over there?”

“You could have asked me to move my chair.” 

The problem isn’t that he moved your chair. Not really. The problem is how close he is, leg pressed against yours and elbows touching as he shrugs and turns his computer screen toward you. The problem is how at ease he is with you nearly on top of him, his lazy smile making your thoughts tangle and your breath quicken. 

This Vernon is still the one you’re used to but there’s something about him that keeps you on edge. Keeps you looking at him when his hand brushes against yours to grab a pen, or when he leans back and puts his arm across the back of your chair, idly playing with the hood of your jacket.

It’s almost like he’s flirting, and you spend half the time stumbling through his homework, barely able to assist him in a meaningful way because you’re busy decoding the subtle touches and the light teasing. You feel yourself blush more and look the other way to collect yourself more in the hour you help him than you have your entire friendship, unsure what’s happening or how to handle it. 

Homework completed, Vernon stares off into the distance, his finger twisting in the string of your hoodie absently as you try to write the rest of your paper. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate like this, the intimacy more than you’re used to. 

“You’re very distracting today,” you comment as you reference a text to the right of your screen. “Are you aware of that?” 

He hums. “This is hardly a distraction. I could try harder, though.”

You cut a glance at him. He seems utterly serious, any sort of mirth nonexistent in his expression. There’s just that shadowed gaze, that spark of something right where you can’t reach it. You abruptly stand, surprising him as you knock his arm away from you and clear your throat. 

“I need a different text. It’s downstairs, though.” 

“I’ll come with you.” You raise your brows and he shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else to do.” 

“Sure.” 

Without another word, you pivot on your heel and nearly run for the far set of stairs that lead to the subterranean level of the library where all the old texts and books exist. Vernon follows you at a casual pace, still totally at ease despite the fact that you’re obviously unraveling.

You have no idea what his sudden interest in you is and it’s making you unspool, thoughts wild and racing as you reach the stairwell that leads down. 

Damp air greets you as you start down the steps and it smells like wet carpet. You cringe, hating every time you have to come here. It’s always poorly lit and damp, not at all what one would expect from a library trying to keep books from molding. But no one really comes down here anyway, only the history majors and people like you, who require weird books long retired from the main shelves.

It’s eerie in the old stacks. There are lamps above head casting a burnt orange glow over the green, shag carpet but otherwise it’s nearly impossible to see in the shadowy parts of the room. You certainly could never read a book down here. 

Vernon is silent behind you but you can feel him, his gaze burning into your back as you navigate toward the last set of rows. As you approach, you hear a sound, stopping you dead in your tracks. Vernon crashes into you, nearly knocking you over but his hands grab you, steadying you and holding you close to his chest. 

For the first time today, you’re able to ignore his nearness in favor of straining your ears for the sound you heard, a small whimper, perhaps. You hear it again, distinctly human. Your heart starts to pound as you remember that just the day before there was a body found on campus, mind racing with thoughts as you stand rooted to the spot, Vernon pressed against you.

Craning your head, you look up at him. His expression is unreadable as he looks at you through long lashes, face shadowed. There’s a soft bang, like someone knocking something over. He looks over your head and back at you, shrugging his shoulder as if to say your choice. 

Slowly, you move forward. Vernon keeps close, his heat radiating behind you like a furnace as you creep through the last few rows of shelving. As you near the third one, you stop and peer around the corner, eyes trying to adjust in the shitty lighting. 

What you see has you snapping back around the stack, mouth dropping open. Vernon, curious, leans around you to peer around the stack. He raises his brows and steps backward, mouth pressed in a firm line to conceal his laugh. 

In the next row over is a girl you vaguely recognize, naked from the waist down while someone who is very much not her boyfriend, pumps their fingers between her legs. Slapping Vernon’s chest you point toward the door, silently screaming at him to turn around and hightail it out of there. 

Vernon, for a second, bites his lower lip and wags his eyebrows at you, suggestive. You glare and shove his chest. He goes easily, grinning at you playfully as he turns on his heel and heads back up to the main floor. 

When you reach your table, you drop down in the chair, totally shocked. Vernon drops down next to you, laughing. “Listen, when the urge hits, I guess.”

“I guess,” you agree sharply, shaking your head. “That was not her boyfriend, though.”

“No shit?” 

“Yeah. She’s dating some dude in Sigma whatever.” 

Vernon’s gaze turns sharp and his eyes trail back toward the far side of the library, resting on the stairs. “Interesting.” 

“Not really. That seems to happen a lot among you Greek lifers.” 

“I would never do that.” The severity of his declaration has you looking up from your notebook. Vernon’s expression is cutting, his jaw flexing. “I would never participate in infidelity. Ever.” 

“I didn’t mean you, Vernon.” 

“I’m not like that.” 

You soften a little, guilt tugging at you. So often you remember that Vernon isn’t like a lot of the people around him and grouping him in is unfair and insensitive. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He nods once, turning from you to pack up his stuff. Somehow, you can’t help but feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. 

-

“Oh shit,” Vernon mutters. You look up from where you’re flipping a grilled cheese in the pan. He holds his phone out to you from where he leans against his kitchen counter. “They found another body. Same MO or whatever as the first.” 

“No way?” 

Putting down the spatula, you grab his phone from him where he has the article pulled up. Sure enough, there’s been another murder on campus. Your eyes drink in the details, similar as before: student victim, stab wounds, message written on the wall. 

“What is the Hello Darling Murder?” you ask, more to yourself than Vernon. “It’s linked here as a reference to these being copycat murders.” He says nothing. You read out loud, “The Hello Darling Murder is a case of a murder suicide that happened in the same town in 1979. It was the town’s first violent domestic crime in years, and drew national media attention for the gruesome crime scene in which a message had been written on the wall in blood.” 

Vernon makes an amused sound. You look up at him sharply, staring. He has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor with a mildly bemused expression. You kick him and he looks up at you. “What?”

“Why are you laughing? That’s not funny.”

“The way people sensationalize murder is weird.” 

“I mean, I agree. But what is funny?”

“It’s not funny as in funny ha ha,” he clarifies. “It’s funny stupid. The media is going to sensationalize this and turn it into an entire thing.” 

“Yeah, well. That’s their job.” 

Off put by his dark mirth, you turn back to the article, reading further. You skip over the old murder, more interested in the details of the two new ones. Your heart seizes in your chest when you see the name and picture of the second victim, stomach roiling. 

He sees your expression, pushing off the counter toward you, hands shooting your arms. “What? What’s wrong?” 

In any other scenario, you’d be overwhelmed by the sudden care and affection. Now, you just turn the phone toward him, showing him the photo. “It’s that girl from the library. Her name was Sidney. She’s the one I told you was cheating on her boyfriend.” 

Nothing registers in his face when he looks at the phone, his hands still resting on your arms lightly. He looks away from the screen and at you instead, a sharpness to his gaze that’s there so often you’re starting to grow used to it.

“You’re burning the grilled cheese, Lovecraft.” 

-

Mosquitos nip at your skin as you walk down the narrow path between trees. You slap your hand against your neck again, muttering under your breath. Vernon chuckles next to you, keeping his pace even as you struggle to step over a fallen tree branch. 

You hate the woods at night. It’s not your first time going to a bonfire deep in the woods off campus, but you don’t know why you keep coming back. Tripping over another branch, Vernon catches you by the arm and steadies you, stopping to make sure you’re okay before he lets go.

Scratch that. You do know why you keep coming back. For as long as you’ve been friends, you’ve been Vernon’s permanent plus one to all of his parties, formals and events, even if both of you hate going. It’s become a weird obligation to show up at things like this as a pair. 

They aren’t always terrible, you have to admit. When Mingyu isn’t absolutely hammered, he’s mostly tolerable to be around. Soonyoung isn’t bad either, though you’re still pissed off at him for the Halloween party incident, unwilling to talk to him. 

But nights like this where you have to trek out into the middle of the woods using your phone’s flashlight to navigate, you sort of loathe your unspoken oath to attend with Vernon. 

Instead of focusing on the distaste and the inherent anxiety the shadows of the trees give you, you let Vernon help you slide down a ditch and climb up the other side. His fingers are firm on your wrist, not quite holding your hand but keeping you connected. 

Your skin is warm and tingles when he lets go, deeming it safe enough to let you walk yourself. It’s easier to see now, too, the orange light of the massive bonfire casting a circle of orange glow that only grows as you near the party. 

Party is perhaps too strong of a word for it. There can’t be more than twenty people in the small clearing surrounding the roaring fire the Soonyoung tends to, foldable chairs and coolers arranged in a circle. Chan is trying to roast a marshmallow and failing, the white snack immediately catching fire and singing in the heat of the fire. 

Mingyu whistles when he sees you, catching your attention to wave you over to a pair of seats by him and Chan. You make your way there, navigating through groups of people clutching plastic cups and stepping over various sizes of coolers. 

The heat from Soonyoung’s inferno is nearly unbearable, making you cringe back as he adds something that cracks and pops, sending bits of orange ash floating toward the sky. 

“Jesus Christ, Soonyoung!” Seungcheol complains from his seat where a girl sits on his knee. “Enough, it’s fucking hot!” 

“Sorry,” Soonyoung answers, sheepish. 

Backing your chair away from the fire a little, you sit down and curl into the folding chair, accepting the drink Vernon hands you before moving his chair closer to yours and sitting down. A shiver ripples through you at the cool can in your hands. You crack the top and take a sip, trying to cool down from the blast of heat you’d taken while passing the fire.

Mingyu turns to you and Vernon as Chan pops a burned marshmallow in his mouth, the two of them immediately launching into discussions of the murders. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, listening as they recount the details in the news mixed with the rumors on campus. 

So far, two bodies have been discovered and linked together. The authorities don’t want to call it a serial killer, attempting to avoid a media craze and inspiring the killer to go on a spree, but denying the murders are connected is impossible.

You’re unsure what the victims have in common. The first had been a male senior who was in the business track, discovered by the dorms near the lake on campus. The second had been the girl you’d seen in the library in her apartment off campus, and Sidney had been in the education track and a junior. 

Neither of them were friends. You don’t go to a large university, but there are enough students that it’s normal to have a ton of people that you don’t know. From what anyone can tell, there was nothing the two victims had in common.

Except that they’d been murdered by someone who had left a bloody Hello Darling written at the crime scene.

A chill sweeps over you as Mingyu mentions the Hello Darling Murderer. It was the same story as before - a man had murdered his girlfriend in the 70s, a shocking and violent domestic crime that had unsettled the citizens and local university. He’d promptly killed himself after that, leaving only a bloody Hello Darling on the walls.

Authorities didn’t even know who the blood had belonged to - it took them so long to realize the couple was missing before they did a wellness check that by the time they investigated, they’d been dead a week. 

Vernon snorts at that and mutters something about the ineptitude of law enforcement. You cut your eyes at him. Though you agree, Vernon is usually the last person to make degrading comments - or comment at all really. 

Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you can’t help but sense that honed edge to him he has now. You’ve attributed it to him moving with more confidence, talking to people directly and making actual eye contact. You don’t know where the sudden swell in self-conviction has come from, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t look good on him.

Still, it’s got you a little uneasy, trying to adjust to this version of him. 

The topic shifts to football and you find yourself tuning everyone out, sipping your cider and staring at the fire as it warms your feet. More people arrive and drag chairs up. Someone hauls a few kegs into the firelight, cheers going around the fire.

Vernon stands and holds his hand up for your empty can. You give it to him wordlessly and he heads to get you a refresh, tossing the trash into one of the trash bins.

Turning to Mingyu as he goes, you ask quietly, “Has he seemed different to you lately?” 

“Who?”

“Steve Jobs,” you deadpan. “Vernon, obviously.”

“I don’t think so? He’s around a lot more lately and actually talks to us.” Mingyu pauses, thinking as he cocks his head to the side. “I mean, I guess that is kind of weird for him. He also actually goes to places with us now.” 

“Exactly what I mean.”

“Hey! We are friends, you know?” 

You hum uncertainty, your attention trailing back to Vernon. You observe him, noticing all the little details that are different. He stands a little bit straighter, inserts himself in conversations where he didn’t before.

Now, he stands near the keg, nodding along to something the girl next to him is saying. They’re standing close - you realize it’s the same girl from the Halloween party that had been talking to him, except this time, he’s talking back. 

Vernon leans in close to her and says something, making her laugh. He bites his lower lip a little, watching her with half-lidded eyes. Your stomach turns a little, eyes glued as he brushes her arm when he reaches for the cup that Joshua hands him. 

Turning away from them, you tune yourself into Chan’s conversation, needing a distraction. You try not to count the minutes until Vernon returns. When he does, the girl is with him. He drags a chair over so she can sit on the other side of him. 

It’s close, their knees touching when he sits and hands her the drink he was holding for her. He turns and holds out your drink to you, which sloshes a little when you snatch the cup from his hand. He arches his brows but you say nothing, taking a large gulp and turning your back on him to ask Chan about football instead. 

“You watch football?” Chan asks cryptically. 

“Sure. Go Green Bay Ravens.” 

He stares. “Packers. Green Bay Packers.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing with you. In fact, if you want to tell me what’s what more often-”

You scoff. “Shut up, Chan!”

Stuck between Vernon flirting with the girl next to him and Chan and Mingyu being - Chan and Mingyu - sours your mood. You try to lose yourself in your cup, going mute as you stare at the fire. Vernon hardly notices the shift in your mood, leaning in to the girl as they chat. 

You can’t help but notice everything about them. It’s impossible not to see the way she leans into him, bumping shoulders when she laughs. He lets her, watching her with a gaze you can only describe as hungry. The grip on your cup tightens as he knocks their knees together when he shifts in his chair, leaving it pressed against hers. 

It reminds you of the way he’d behaved in the library with you, brushing against you on purpose, making his words come out in a playful pur instead of what you’re used to, and seeing him do it with her now makes you snap. 

You stand abruptly, drawing the attention of Chan and Mingyu but not who you want. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Need company?” Chan offers. It seems genuine, but you give him a sharp no before you’re walking away, sticks snapping underneath your boots as you go. 

Chill air licks your face as you get further from the fire. There are plenty of people dispersed throughout the general area, some people pulled far away for intimate conversations, others pulled away to pass a joint in a circle, the pungent smell chasing you as you pass them. 

Away from the smoke and the noise, you feel like you can breathe a little more. You find a fallen tree, thick enough to sit on. You test your weight on it first before deciding it’s safe, swinging your leg to straddle it and look off into the dark trees.

There’s just enough light from the silver moon above your head and from the distant fire to feel safe. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you hug yourself and close your eyes, breathing in deep. The fire smoke isn’t strong here, the air clean and crisp.

Opening your eyes, you look at the sky. This far out in the country, you can see the stars. Out of habit, you start mapping out all the constellations you know, eyes tracing Orion the Hunter. You skip over to Andromeda, counting each star before moving to the east to spot Cassiopeia. 

It reminds you of the time you taught Vernon all the different constellations. He’d been a silent and attentive listener, watching as you’d pointed them all out while sitting on a bench at the park. You’ve caught him drawing them more than once in his chemistry notebooks, little dots of perfect constellations memorized. 

An ache you’re familiar with fills your chest. It’s the same ache you had when you realized you had feelings for him but didn’t want to tell him. The same ache you had when he’d hurt your feelings on Halloween. The same ache as when you’d seen him actually look back at someone who's interested in him, for once. 

Crying seems silly, but suddenly you have the urge to, throat twisting as you stare at the sky and try to puzzle out the direction your friendship has gone since that night. As you sit on the tree, a prickling sense of awareness creeps up your spine, tugging at you. 

Looking around, you see nothing. You can generally see in a good circumference, but the sudden instinct that something or someone is watching you drives you to get off the branch, hitting the ground with both feet to stride back toward the fire. 

As you go, your foot gets stuck in a tangle of tree roots again, making you stumble. You curse, bending down through squinted eyes to untangle your foot. Your fingers are a little cold and shaking, anxiety creeping up slowly as you pull the weeds and roots away from your shoe. 

Something snaps behind you. Your fingers freeze, head whipping around to look for the source of the noise. Again, you see nothing but your heart is hammering. You don’t dare to breathe, holding your breath as you strain your ears to hear anything else. There’s only crickets and an owl in the distance, no more snapping branches.

In that moment, it occurs to you that you’ve decided to wander out in the woods at night and alone after two recent murders. The stupidity of your actions land like a blow.

Turning back around, you wrench your shoe free and stand up, nearly colliding with Vernon who leans backward to avoid smacking into you as you shriek in surprise, stepping backward. Vernon’s hand darts out to grab you, catching you and tugging you forward into him before you can lose your balance fully.

Heart hammering, your fingers dig into his biceps, keeping yourself standing as you hiss, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing? You’re wandering out in the middle of the woods while there is an active serial killer in town.” 

“Oh please, like you noticed.”

He frowns. You drop your hands and try to step away from him, eager to put some distance between you. Vernon’s grip on you tightens though, keeping you where you’re standing. “I’m here, I obviously noticed.” You snort derisively and his grip tightens a little. “Is there something you want to say?”

You open and close your mouth, scowling at him. He’s never so direct you’re unsure how to approach the question. So you try for a little bit of honesty. “I wasn’t having fun.” 

“Okay, so let’s leave.”

“You look like you were having fun.” 

Silence hangs in the air. Vernon’s face is indecipherable. Then, “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your response is so fast that it even sounds practiced and hollow to you. It’s hard not to wince, hoping that as always, he doesn’t see through your cellophane defense. Vernon’s touch drops from your biceps to your wrist, delicate. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead staring at the buttons on his jean jacket. 

“I noticed you were gone.” His voice is gentle, a low purr. You dart a quick glance at him to see the intensity of his gaze. It makes you squirm, unsure how to respond. “I always notice when you’re gone.”

“Alright. Well.” 

“I notice everything about you.” 

The way he says it is a soft whisper. A promise, a suggestion. Again, it feels like Vernon has discovered your loose thread, tugging lightly on it. If he tugs again, you think you might unspool all the way, showing him everything you don’t want him to see. 

It feels like he wants to, and that’s what scares you more. That suddenly he’s looking at you like he wants to see past the veneer of your words, like he’s ready to look inside. You hear the double meaning. It’s so terrifying that you look away from him, ready to hide. 

“Don’t tease me,” you whisper. 

“I’m not. If you’re not having fun, let’s go home. I came here with you.” He tugs your wrist. “Come on. You can’t be walking around out here alone with a killer on the loose, Lovecraft. I’ll be forced to fight them off.” 

The tension fades. You let out a breath and laugh, looking at him skeptically. “Yeah? You’re going to fight for me?” 

His grip on your wrist tightens. You wonder if he can feel the speed of your pulse under his thumb, the way it hammers when he smirks. “Yeah, I am.” 

-

Sal’s Pizzeria isn’t your favorite place to do school work. It’s too loud and bright, the promise of food is way too distracting for you to focus for much longer than a few minutes at a time, and usually your fingers are too slippery with pizza grease to type properly. 

You only have a narrow window to finish writing your paper before going to the bar for Jihoon’s birthday. You barely know him, but he’s someone Vernon is decently close enough too that you feel obligated to attend. More importantly, you’re finally almost done with your paper you’ve been working on for two weeks, eager to celebrate hitting submit. 

“You know that dude who was killed first was a rotten cheater?” 

The girls sitting behind you catch your attention. Your brows knit together and you turn your head a fraction to eavesdrop, eyes unfocusing on the words on your screen. There are four of them behind you that you don’t recognize but assume go to the same school as you, based on the attire and the backpacks. 

“Yeah! Sam told me about that. Apparently he was sleeping around with a bunch of freshmen. Maybe his girlfriend found out and went all psycho killer on him?” 

“Ew, how scummy. But what’s with the hello darling message shit? Can you say weird?” 

“I know, right?” 

Their words give you pause. The first victim had been someone known for his infidelity too? Turning back to your screen, you pull up your web browser and type in Hello Darling Murderer to the search. The original murder from the 70s hadn’t given you much thought beyond assuming someone was being a copycat, but now you feel something nagging at you. Something you’re missing. 

All of the top stories are of the recent murders. You amend your search to the 70s and get older articles and links to podcasts covering the initial incident. Clicking on a story from a reputable journal, you start reading in detail about the first murder and his victim, skin prickling as you go.

As an Occult Studies major, a lot of people think you’re into murder mysteries. In truth, you’re not. They have little to do with what you study, and you’ve spent countless times telling people that occult and people obsessed with true crime are two totally different things. You have no idea why they’re lumped together so often, but on more than one occasion you’ve had to explain you’re not interested in serial killers or their stories.

Except now. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you unwind the story of Thomas Ellswater, who had apparently murdered his girlfriend at the time before promptly killing himself. The initial investigation hadn’t dug up much, assuming that it was a case of domestic violence gone as bad as it could. 

But the journalist who had written the story had other details. Accounts from family friends that detailed Elsswater’s girlfriend, Maya, unhappy with their relationship. One even insinuated that she had been cheating on him for a long time, though with who, they were unsure. 

Further down in the article, you stop. Read the paragraph again. Look at the picture of the house. A sickly chill coats your skin as you lean forward, taking in the details of the house. You’ve seen it before, though your memory of it at night surrounded by floodlights and full of drunk college students makes it almost unrecognizable when you see it on the screen. 

Thomas Ellswater lived in the same house that you’d partied in on Halloween night, where Vernon had played that horrible prank in the closet. Thomas or Maya had been the haunting spirit Soonyoung had been attempting to summon.

And now someone was killing in the same exact style.. 

The server bringing you two trays of pizzas and a basket of fries breaks you from your trance. You close the article, a sick feeling in your stomach as you try to piece together the puzzle. Was it just a spurned lover who was paying homage to someone who related? Or was it a serial killer poking fun at the MO?

Vernon crashing into the seat across from you startles you. He gives you a grin, eyeing the pizza in front of him and rubbing his hands together. Rolling your eyes, you grab the red pepper flakes and salt, passing the latter over to him. 

“So I learned something weird today,” you venture, pulling a slice of pizza from the tray. 

“Tell me,” he answers over a mouthful of pizza, once again burning himself. You roll your eyes, shaking your red pepper onto your slice. “What is going on in the world of occult today?”

“Actually, not occult.” He gives you an appraising look, popping some fries into his mouth. “What, no salt today?”

He pauses, looking at the basket of fries. “Nah, I need to cut back on the sodium.”

“Good idea. Anyway, it’s about the murders.” 

“Do tell.”

“The girls behind me said the first victim was known for cheating.” 

“It’s college. Apparently there is a lot of that.” 

“But remember that day we saw Sidney in the library? She was cheating too.” 

“Right.” He rips into his pizza, gaze sharp as he looks at you. “So this town is full of a bunch of lowlife fucking cheaters.”

You flinch at his vehemence, leaning back in your seat. Vernon drops his gaze, tearing into his slice in silence. “Sorry,” he says after swallowing. “I’m hungry.”

“Right. As I was saying, I looked up that Hello Darling Murder.” 

He pauses, gaze flicking to you. “And?”

“And it was ruled as a case of domestic violence gone wrong, but there were some people who think the Maya Caravalo was cheating on Thomas Ellswater, who killed her.” 

“I’m sure cheating is the leading cause of crimes of passion.”

“In the house that we were in on Halloween.” 

Vernon frowns. “Ah. Weird.” 

He doesn’t elaborate. You watch him as he chews on more pizza, shoving fries into his mouth on occasion too. He seems totally at ease - and more normal than he’s been in weeks. You watch, mildly disgusted at the way college men eat. 

“That’s all you have to say?” You ask. “Weird.”

“It is weird.” 

“Kind of an insane coincidence.” 

He becomes still, only his eyes moving as he settles his inky gaze on you. For a second, you can’t help but think he looks a bit like the cat who ate the canary, eyes glittering. “So tell me what theory is in that pretty head of yours, Lovecraft.” 

Ignoring the way your heart leaps at him calling you pretty, you sigh, picking at the wooden table with a thumb nail. “I don’t really have one. I just think someone came across the original murder and thought I could write that at my crime scenes. I don’t study criminology, I can’t figure out motivation.”

“You’re the smartest person in school, Lovecraft. Try.” 

“I guess… I don’t know. The new killer was probably cheated on recently, came across what happened in the 70s, and has been taking out their rage on other adulterers because they feel some sort of kinship with Thomas. Maybe like finishing his work or ridding the world of a common enemy.” 

Vernon hums. “Maybe so. Do you think they deserve it?” You look at him sharply, mouth downturning. “The victims. Do you think they deserve to be killed for their infidelity?” 

“I don’t know that anyone is deserving of murder.” You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Vernon’s face for any sign of what he’s thinking. He’s totally closed off, a blank canvas. “This is why I’m in Occult Studies and not law, Vernon.” 

He gives a wolfish grin. “Touche. Come on, eat your pizza. We have a bar to go get drunk at.” 

-

The bar in question is teeming with people. You’re immediately overwhelmed, squeezing your way between chairs, tables and people as you navigate to your group of friends. Vernon keeps you close, his arm encircling your waist as pulling you to him as you go. 

He either ignores or doesn’t notice the sharp look you give him. Instead, he’s focused on keeping the two of you attached, shouldering his way through the crowd, the press of his fingers on your hip dizzying and steadying at the same time. 

At the far back of the bar, an entire section of people associated with Vernon’s fraternity crowd from wall to wall. Vernon manages to get you onto a stool at the bar top, shouldering one of the pledges off the seat with a narrow-eyed look. You raise your brows at him and he winks, leaning his elbow on the bar top to order you both drinks.

Spinning to face him in the stool, you give him a quick once over. You’d been so engrossed in your murdery mystery findings at the pizzeria that you haven't really looked at him until now. He looks good, dressed simply in dark jeans and a dark, long sleeve shirt that shows how broad he is. Has he always been that broad? 

Vernon catches you staring. “What are you looking at?” 

“Nothing.” 

He grins, accepting drinks from the bartender and sliding one over to you. You burn under the full weight of his attention as he pops his straw into his mouth. “Tell me.” 

“You look nice tonight.”

“You look nice every night.”

“Oh shut up.” 

“What?” he laughs. “I mean it.” 

“Whatever.”

Spinning in the chair again, you place your back to the bar, facing the crowd to watch people. Vernon is content to stand next to you in silence, both of you sipping your drinks as you observe the people around you. Someone jostles him a little closer, his arm shifting to lay across the bartop along your back. 

Heat creeps into your cheeks and you try to remain breathing normally. Vernon leaves his arm there, pressed against you but not exactly wrapped around you. There is a distinct difference, but this is still new. Still confusing. 

People who recognize you both come up and say hi. You keep the conversation polite and short, especially when you see the girl who has lingered at the last two parties slink toward you, her eyes only for Vernon. 

“Hi,” she yells over the crowd, totally ignoring you. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m friends with Jihoon.”

The girl opens and closes her mouth, lips pursed at that. You sense the serrated edged to Vernon’s words, casting a glance his direction. He’s not looking at her, eyes instead scanning the crowd. Uninterested. Even you know she didn’t literally mean she wasn’t expecting to see him - it was just a conversation starter. 

Using the opportunity to sip from your straw to hide your laughter, you have to admit you’re a little relieved to see Vernon missing social cues again. It’s more him, a Vernon that you're used to. Maybe a little meaner than usual, but this is closer. 

“Right,” the girl says. Her eyes flicker to you for the first time. “It’s his birthday, right?” 

“According to the giant sign in the corner and all the balloons, yes.” 

Okay, maybe it’s not entirely normal Vernon. Usually he isn’t so callous. In this case, you don’t mind, watching as she tries to puzzle out how to keep the conversation going. Vernon decides for you, turning from her to press his mouth close to your ear. 

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, breath hot against you. “I’m gonna greet Jihoon really quickly.” 

All you can manage is a breathy, “Alright.” 

Vernon finishes his drink and pushes off the bar, fingers dragging against you as he goes. He ignores the girl standing and watching, her eyes darting from you to him until he vanishes in the sea of bodies. Without Vernon there, she has nothing to do. She tilts her chin up, sucking up her pride and turns on her heel to walk a direction distinctly not the same way as Vernon.

Alone at the bar, you swivel in your seat to order you both another drink. You assume Vernon is drinking a whiskey coke, hoping that’s right as you flag down the bartender. While you wait, someone slips into the spot next to you. You turn, thinking Vernon’s already back only to find someone you definitely don’t know. 

“Sorry,” he shouts over the loud voices and music. “Did not mean to get in your personal space, this spot was way smaller than I thought it was.” 

“That’s okay! Getting a spot kind of sucks.”

“No kidding.” He grins at you, turning his attention back to trying to get anyone to take his drink order. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to notice me?” 

“About seven years.”

“Yikes. I’m Seokmin, by the way.” You give him your name and he grins. “What brings you to this shit hole ass bar?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday. You?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday indeed.”

A bartender finally comes over to take Seokmin’s order. He leans forward to shout over the crowd, his shoulder knocking into yours. You don’t mind - he’s nice. He looks over at you, a question on his face. “You like tequila?”

“No!”

“Let me rephrase - want a shot of tequila?” 

“She doesn’t.”

Vernon slides behind you, his palm pressed flat to your back. You startle, looking up at him in surprise. He isn’t looking at you, his eyes zeroed in on Seokmin. You slide Vernon’s drink toward him, eager to dispel the sudden tension thrumming through him.

“Whiskey and coke?”

He looks down, eyes rounding out a little as he softens. “Mhmm. Thank you.”

Drink in hand, Seokmin turns to you both and waves. “Y’all have a good night!”

When he’s gone, Vernon leans against the counter again, his tone flat as he says, “He was nice.”

“He was, but what do you sound bothered by it?”

“Maybe I am.” 

“Why?” 

He lifts a shoulder. Instead of answering you, he picks up the lime in his drink and squeezes it, stirring it with his straw before taking a long pull straight from the rim of the glass. 

You nudge him. “I’m going to say this again: you’ve been different, lately.” 

“Different how.” 

“I don’t know. You talk more. You’re a lot more engaging. You’re a little…” 

“A little what?”

“Cockier?” He hums, eyes dropping down to your mouth. “Like that,” you point out, voice a little weaker. “You do that now, and you didn’t used to.”

“I always did. I’m just a little more obvious about it now.”

Tension crackles between the two of you. Your mouth feels dry as you watch him, reading the minute expressions of his face. Finally, when you can’t unpuzzle him, you say, “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell if you’re coming onto me or if it’s some sort of game to you.” That makes him frown as he sips his drink again. Your fear and frustration clash, wrestling for dominance. “It makes things confusing.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m happy to clear things up.” 

You grip your glass, trying to keep your fingers from quaking. This moment feels like it’s all or nothing. Vernon puts it out on the table so easily, leaving the option to you. Either you can ask for clarity, or keep playing this new game of cat and mouse. But you have to decide. 

“I would appreciate it if you did,” you say eventually. 

Vernon nods and finishes the rest of the drink. He sets the glass down before he leans forward, hand going to the underside of your chin to lightly tip your face upward with his knuckle so he can press the world’s most gentle kiss to your mouth. 

You freeze. When he doesn’t pull away, lips soft and warm, you sigh into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. He feels you relax, mouth curling in a smile against yours. He steps into your space without breaking the kiss, finding the space between your legs as his lips press firmer to yours. 

Vernon smells like his cologne and something distinctly him. It makes you dizzy, and the way he tastes like whiskey and lime makes the room spin. When he pulls away from him, you feel like you’re going to fall from the stool, leaning toward him. 

His hands grip your thighs, squeezing generously as he leans in and drags his mouth to your ear. “Does that clear things up?” 

“Actually, no?” 

His groan is throaty, turning into laughter as he buries his face in your neck. Your hands tentatively settle on his waist, a little hesitant. “I always said you were the smartest person at school, but maybe not.”

“Hey!” 

“Come home with me.” He feels your delay, laughing. “Come home with me because I like you. Is that clearer? Because I want you to come home with me, and I don’t want anyone else here.” 

Your heart goes bolting like a rabbit, running in circles. Vernon pulls away from you to study your face. You watch him for any sign that he’s kidding, that he doesn’t mean it. You find none. In its place, you only see honesty. Hunger. Fiery desire burning at the surface. 

“Really?” Your question is small. Vulnerable. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” He tugs on your thighs. “I’m not playing games with you. Come home with me - I’ll prove I’m serious about you. You are what I want. I just had to be sure.” 

Lightheaded and heart slamming, you let Vernon pull you from the seat and lead you out of the bar. 

-

Vernon’s apartment on the north side of town is a place you’ve been a million times. You recognize all the cars in the parking lot, and you know exactly what building and floor belongs to him. You even recognize his neighbors come in mat that you’ve always hated. 

He catches you staring at it with distaste now, laughing as he shakes his head and inserts his keys. “You and that mat.”

One hand works the keys into the door while the other is stretched behind him, fingers linked with yours. Your hand is warm and your heart is still racing as he gets the door open, pulling you inside the dark of his home. 

“They could be inviting anything in,” you assert, a little breathless as he pulls you to his chest. He kicks the door shut, the frame rattling as it slams. “You should never have a doormat that just welcomes whatever shows up at your door inside. You could end up with a vampire in your home.”

“A vampire, huh?” Vernon ducks his head towards your neck, lips skimming your throat. Your fingers twist in the hem of his shirt, eyes fluttering closed as his teeth scrape against your pulse point. “Sounds scary.” 

“It is. There’s nothing to disprove that vampires exist.” 

Vernon bites down and you whine, melting into him. His laugh vibrates through his chest as his tongue presses to the bite mark, soothing the pain. His mouth closes over the spot and he sucks gently, sending a shiver through your body. 

“I promise the only thing biting you will be me.”

The full weight of his words hit you between the legs. You feel like putty in his hand as he navigates you to the island counter in his kitchen. He presses your back into it, careful not to jam you too harshly against the marble. 

Heat licks through your stomach as Vernon steals your lips in a kiss. It’s different from the gentle one he gave you at the bar. This one drinks you in, pries you open and lets you spill out into him, all the feelings and bottled thoughts you have free for the taking.

You get lost in him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him close, fingers sliding through his hair. He moans and you respond, curling your fingers to scrape your nails against his scalp. His hips twitch forward, pinning you between him in the counter as he sucks your bottom lip harshly. 

“Be careful,” he warns, a hand drifting from your chin to your neck. He doesn’t wrap his fingers around your throat, but his hand rests there, heavy and wanting. “I’m trying to be gentle.” 

You steal a kiss, nipping his bottom lip sharply. “Don’t be.”

His resounding groan makes you dizzy. His kisses become rough and heated, using his tongue as much as his teeth. He presses you hard into the countertop now, the marble digging into your back as he nearly folds you in half with the weight of his body. 

It feels like the air has left the room. Vernon is the only thing you need to breathe in, fueled by the way his tongue licks into you, the gentle squeeze of his hand at the base of your throat. His fingers press against your pulse, not enough to cut off any airflow but enough to send a bolt of pleasure and thrill through you. 

“You have no idea,” Vernon pants, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your jawline. “How long I’ve waited to do this. I could have had you this entire fucking time, but I held myself back.” 

His thumb presses under your jaw, angling your head to the side. With more access to your throat, he peppers you in bites and kisses, tongue soothing each sting. “I have wasted so much time,” he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Being a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that,” you gasp as his other hand presses between your legs. The ache in your cunt is already throbbing, and he does nothing but make it worse by adding pressure but doing nothing more. “Please don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” He pulls away from you. Before you can complain, he gives you a quick kiss, tugging you toward his room. “I shouldn’t have waited until I had a little… encouragement to do this. I’m going to give you everything you want, love.”

A quiver slithers down your spine at the shortened version of your nickname. The new endearment hits home when you see the way he looks at you, the want and desire more unrestrained than anything else you’ve ever seen on his expression. 

Hand in yours, he pulls you into the bedroom, spinning you to sit you down on the edge of his bed. You look up at him through your lashes, admiring the shape of his face and the way you can just barely see his freckles in the soft glow from the nightlight in his bathroom as he slots himself between your knees. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Vernon whispers, voice like velvet. He slides a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze even higher as he watches you, eyes blown. “I’m entirely devoted to you and you only. You know that, right?” 

Vernon’s thumb pulls at your bottom lip. You open your mouth on instinct and he growls low in his throat. He pushes his thumb past your swollen lips, pressing down on your tongue. You taste the lime from earlier and the hint of salt on his skin, closing your mouth as you suck gently. 

“Fuck,” he swears, thumb pressing harder. “You really have been a little slut for me this entire time, huh?” 

Hearing Vernon say it in that deep, whispered voice of his does something to you. There’s a note in his voice you’re unfamiliar with, a dangerous edge that you want to lean into and cut yourself on. So you nod, lashes fluttering as you bat them up at him. 

“Yeah, thought so.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging it spit-slicked down your chin. “Lay back on the bed for me, love.” 

You do so immediately, shuffling backward so that you can lean back. The sheets smell like him and you tilt your head to the side, nuzzling his comforter a little. You try to ground yourself, feeling a little staticky as he kneels on the bed, mattress dipping. 

Vernon plants a knee between your legs, leaning forward to cage you in with a hand on either side of your head. His kiss is all consuming, any sense of delicacy gone. You let him devour you, your hands pulling at his belt loops to bring him closer.

He’s not close enough, never close enough. 

Having him like this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He’s familiar, the scent of him and the warmth of his skin and the little sounds he makes but he’s also entirely new. He is rougher than you imagined, sharper than you thought. He drags his blunt nails over your collarbone as he pulls your shirt away from your neck, giving his mouth access to litter your skin with kisses. 

Your hands slip under his shirt, curious as you press the pads of your fingers into his stomach. You feel the muscles flex and he hums low in his throat, enjoying your exploration as you slide your hands around the perfect taper of his waist to the small of his back. 

Vernon slides his knee higher, pressing it directly to your clothed cunt. You twitch against him, a questioning sound leaving your lips as you breathe in sharply. 

“Go ahead,” he mumbles against your chest, one pulling sharply at your shirt. You hear the seams rip and you don’t even care. “Take what you need, love.” 

The rawness of his words fucks you up. You do as he says, rolling your hips against his thigh for any sort of pressure and friction. It helps relieve the tension a little, but not nearly enough. Your breathing turns ragged as he harshly bites and kisses his way to your bra. 

Yanking hard, he rips the rest of your shirt. You let out a throaty laugh and he looks up at you, eyes like burning coals. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

“I did not expect you to be able to rip my shirt.” 

“Oh?”

The dangerous note in his voice makes your hips stutter and stop. He runs the tip of his tongue around the soft curve of your chest, watching you all the while and fuck. If you’d realized that this was the type of Vernon you’d get, maybe you’d have been braver sooner. Because this Vernon is something else, confident and cocky and ravenous. 

“Want me to rip this too?” He teases, teeth pulling at the cup of your bra. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, a little overwhelmed. “Say the word.”

“Maybe salvage some of my clothing, Vernon.”

“Fine. I will not salvage you, though.”

You believe him. Nothing about the way Vernon peels your bra off of you is gentle. Nothing about the way his hand cups your breast, squeezing before he lowers his mouth to give a generous suck to your nipple feels like he has your survival in mind. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let Vernon have his way. It feels like he’s peeling you open layer by layer, plucking every string connected to your pleasure that he can find.

His mouth is a weapon, tongue lazily circling your pert nipple until you’re whining and squirming under him. He laughs and drags his tongue to the other side of your chest, licking his way to your peak to tease you further. 

“Shit,” you whisper, one hand leaving his back to tangle in his hair. You don’t know if you’re pulling him away or pushing him closer - maybe both. “Vernon.”

His teeth scrape your nipple and you whine. He shuts you up by closing his mouth around you, sucking sharply. When he pulls away with a loud pop, you let out a shaky breath. 

“You can barely keep it together,” he observes. He placed closed mouth kisses on your stomach as he descends, pulling his knee from between your thighs. “What are you gonna do when I eat you out, huh?”

Flushed and embarrassed, you cover your face as his tongue licks the skin above your jeans. “Cat got your tongue, love?” 

“You - you’re - ugh!”

He chuckles, popping the button of your jeans. “I’m ugh?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Vernon tugs on your jeans. You try to lift your hips to help him, but your thighs are like jelly already, turning you useless. He coos at you, pressing a kiss to your hip gently. “I got you.” 

Unsure if he means about your inability to get out your fucking pants or he understand what you mean, you let him peel them down the rest of the way. His hands skate up your calves, squeezing and firm as he sinks to his knees on the floor. 

Bracing yourself, you brave a look between your legs where he presses your thighs open gently with his palms. Veronon’s eyes are on the apex of your thighs, entirely focused on where your underwear stick to your folds. He licks his lips, hand brushing up and down your thighs. 

His gaze flickers to you. For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. You feel overly exposed, naked from the waist up, cool air pebbling your spit-slicked chest. The weight of his gaze presses you down like a physical thing, but it’s comforting. Warm. Reassuring. 

The air is charged between you as he keeps watching you while he drags a hand up and between your legs. He presses a thumb between your folds and you whimper, feeling the way he prods at your aching entrance, only the thin fabric keeping him out.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asks, thumb slowly dragging up the damp patch to your clit. He digs in sharply, pressing firm enough that your pleasure spikes and your hips pop off the bed. He hisses at you and smacks your thigh, making you lower your ass to the bed again. “Everytime we were together, did you get like this?” 

It takes effort to rasp, “Sometimes.”

Vernon hooks his thumb in the side of your pants, pulling. The fabric peels back achingly slow, cool air hitting your cunt and making you whine. He hums thoughtfully, placing the fabric to the side.

“Like what times?” he questions, blowing cool air against you. You thrash and he laughs, pinning you down by the hips. “I’m curious. Elaborate for me.” 

“Umm.” 

It’s the only word you can get out before he renders you speechless, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly up your pussy. You go boneless, breath stuck in your chest as his tongue lazily circles around your clit and drags back down. He repeats the motion, the slow-soft brush of his tongue driving you insane instantly. 

“You’re not elaborating,” Vernon notes. He presses a kiss that is far too sweet for the moment to your bundle of nerves. “I wanna know all the times you were with me where you felt like this. Go on.” 

“I don’t,” you breath catches when his tongue curls through your folds. He’s soft and slow as he licks you, a lazy smoothless to it that makes you see stars. “Know how to speak when you’re doing that.” 

“Should I stop?” 

“No.”

“Try,” he murmurs, dipping his tongue in your dripping entrance. “I want to know.” 

Fuck. Trying to pull together any coherent thoughts is like wading through thick water. You’re distracted by the way Vernon’s mouth closes on you, sucking gently. He takes his time, fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he keeps you open, enjoying you fully. 

“I - shit - I guess sometimes when we go out,” you manage. “I like when you wear your hat backwards.” 

He flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit, making you clench, toes curling. His mouth is wet and warm, closing around your throbbing bundle and sucking gently. Your hips lift but his grip is firm, keeping his mouth to you. 

When he pulls away, the suction is audible, a string of spit and arousal connecting his lips to your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” he whispers. You think it’s more to himself than you, his tongue carving through you again. “Tell me more.” 

“Halloween night. When you were in skull makeup.”

His tongue starts circling your clit again, the indirect stimulation driving you wild. Your hands tangle in the sheets, sweat slicking your skin as Vernon works to firmer motions. You realize he knows exactly how you like it, gentle to start, working you to firmer motions, a little hungrier. 

It makes him all the more lethal, the way he can just figure you out like that. “Yeah?” he asks, sucking harshly against you. “Wanted me to fuck you like that?” 

“God, yeah.”

“You should have asked. I’ll fuck you however you want.” 

“Didn’t think you liked me.” 

Vernon is too busy to answer, increasing the attention of his mouth. Your hands slide down to his, nails digging into the tops of his hands where he holds you. He lets go of your hips in favor of linking your fingers, pressing your clasped hands to the mattress. 

His name drips from your mouth, eyes falling shut as you sink into the pleasure deep in your stomach. He makes little sounds of pleasure, grunting and groaning as his mouth becomes more fervent. You feel yourself toeing the edge of an orgasm, so so so close.

He can tell too. He finds a harsh rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to your high with each sharp suck of his lips. You twist in his grip, fingers squeezing his so hard you think you might break his hands. You don’t, feeling your breath catch and hold as you come hard, thighs squeezing as you writhe on the bed.

You draw in a ragged breath, desperate for air as he kisses your cunt once. Twice. His slick mouth presses against your thighs, teeth dragging against soft flesh as he mouths his way to your knee. He gives you a moment, letting you pant against the sheets. 

Fabric sticks to your skin as you wiggle against the bed. He stands up, crawling up you again to find your mouth. You lean forward, catching him in an open-mouth kiss that is more tongue than anything, your taste heady in the heat of his mouth. 

“Turn over on your stomach for me,” he groans. His hands squeeze your side as he gives you room to follow his direction. You do, but not without his help, your orgasm making you a little clumsy. “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Maybe?”

“I’ll help you in a second.”

Instead of moving, you lay slumped on the bed, fully intending to let him do the work. You turn your head to watch him pull his shirt off, revealing firm, tan skin. Vernon is beautiful, the sleek lines of his body reminding you of a painting. He kicks off his jeans before shuffling back on the bed behind you, looking down and snorting.

“Didn’t want to move like I asked?” You shake your head. He pats your ass lightly. “Come on, darling. Help me get these panties off or I will rip them off.” 

Huffing, you do as he says. He does lend you his strength hauling you up by the arm as you lean up on your knees. The room is cold, making you shiver but he presses your back to his chest, mouth dusting kisses over your shoulders. 

Vernon’s fingers dance along your sides until he’s pulling your underwear the rest of the way down your thighs, helping you kick out of them. When he’s got you full naked, he presses your back to him, crowding your space as he angles your head to kiss you slowly. Fully. 

Behind you, his cock presses firmly into your ass. You push back against him, putting pressure against his shaft. He hisses, biting your shoulder harshly. 

“Careful,” he growls, teeth at your neck. “Or I won’t be very nice.” 

“Want you, though.”

“You’ll have me when I say you can.” 

One of his hands slides up to your neck, gripping your throat lightly. He pauses, leaning to catch your gaze. His eyes are round and soft. Honest. Open. “This okay?” He questions gently. He gives a little squeeze to indicate what he means. You nod eagerly, reaching a hand to close around his, making him press harder. “Fuck you’re perfect.” 

You lean your head back against his chest as he holds you by the throat, one of your hands dropping to his elbow, the other reaching behind you to sink your fingers in his hair and tug. The sound he makes is feral, the hand he has placed on your waist dropping between your legs, fingers pressing between them. 

“Oh,” you squeak, feeling his deft tough on your clit. His movements are aided by your earlier release, fingers circling smoothly as he squeezes your throat, thumb pressed perfectly, to make it just a little harder to breathe. “Shit.” 

“Can you tell me a safe word? Not gonna go hard, just wanna know if it becomes too much.” 

“Maenad.” He snorts and you huff. “I just wrote an essay on them, don’t start.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Alright. Just please use it if it’s too much - any of it. If you can’t talk, pat my arm, alright? Just wanna do this right.” 

You nod, so in love with him it takes all of you to stop yourself from blurting it. 

Vernon shuffles behind you, letting you tilt forward a little. The hand between your legs leaves and he instead brings it behind you, prodding at your pussy with his fingers from behind. You let out a loud sound and you can almost feel his grin as he presses a finger into your heat. 

He’s slow at first, the same way he was with his mouth. He explores what you like, testing the way his fingers drag against your walls combined with different grip strengths on your throat. You feel light headed. The room spins as he finds a rhythm that draws the most noises from you, that makes you clench down on his finger the most. 

All of your weight is against the hand around your neck, barely able to hold yourself up as he presses another finger in. This time, his fingers prod right against that soft spot inside of you, making you see stars. He must realize he’s found it, because he starts finger fucking you in earnest. 

The grip on your throat loosens a little, careful not to keep you short of breath for too long as he works your cunt with his hand. His lips find your shoulder, peppering you with light kisses that are delicate and butterfly soft in comparison to the way his fingers fuck into you. 

“Vernon,” you whisper, only able to think of his name. “Vernon vernon vernon.”

“Doing so good, darling,” he whispers against your skin. He kisses his way to your ear, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. “So fucking good for me.” 

His words hit below the belt. You shudder in his hold, letting him drive you toward another release. You never imagined Vernon to be talkative in bed, but he is, his voice like velvet. Just like that. Perfect for me. There you go, come on. 

Everything about him is perfect, driving you to mania. His grip on your throat tightens suddenly, sensing how close you are to your second peak. Your breath quickens until you can’t breathe, going mute against him as his fingers press hardly into that spot over and over and over.

A high-pitched ring winds in your ears. You hold and hold and hold and when Vernon lets go of your throat, a gust of air flooding your lungs, you shatter around his hand. You collapse backward against him, head knocking into his. You don’t even care, twitching and gasping against him as his hand stills. 

For a few moments, you just lean against him like that, sweaty and lost and in a dream. Slowly, you become aware of his pounding heart against your back and the slick between your thighs. Vernon’s mouth is pressed to your shoulder, waiting patiently as you blink a few times, the room swimming into view.

“Hi,” he murmurs, watching you with shadowy eyes.

“Hi,” you croak, voice rough.

“Good?”

“Very.” 

“Want to stop?”

“No. Unless you want to.”

His gaze darkens. “I don’t.” 

“I want more. I can take more.” 

He lifts his head and presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect for me. Do you know that?” 

Reverent hands help you lay back against the pillows. Vernon touches you like you’re something delicate - not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because you’re something important to him. Valuable. You see it in the way he looks down at you, taking a moment to drink you in. 

There’s something else there too. Something edged with a knife, a little wild. Covetous. There is something in the way Vernon grips your leg briefly, a language he’s trying to communicate to you with touch. 

Mine, it says. Mine and no one else's.

With hooded eyes, you watch him peel his briefs off. Your eyes shoot to where his cock hangs heavy, beads of precum dripping at his tip. You reach a hand up toward him but he shakes his head, careful as he shuffles toward you.

“Later,” he promises. “I like touching you.” 

“I want you to feel good.”

“You make me feel good. Seeing you unravel makes me feel good. I like seeing how much you enjoy me touching you.”

You can tell he means it. His lips are swollen and soft when he kisses you. You open your legs open for him, letting him settle between the softness of your thighs. Vernon runs the head of his cock through your messy fluids, earning a whine for you.

“Sensitive?” he asks against your lips, nose nudging yours. You nod and you feel him smile. “Sorry.”

“Feels good,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Want more.” 

“Greedy thing.” 

“I’m Your greedy thing.”

Your words have the desired effect. You feel a shiver ripple through him, Vernon’s grip on your leg turning to iron as he opens you up wider. He presses his cock into your entrance slowly, pausing just as the tip pops in. You throb around him, whispering his name - begging him to keep going. 

Vernon’s grin is sharp as he sinks in further, the slide tortuous and wonderful and so much as he finally finds home, hips pressed as far as he can go. He stays like that, tangling your tongue in a messy kiss as he sits there, fully seated in your heat. Your pussy spasms around him, pressed open to the max. 

“Feels so good,” he whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “I’m going to come embarrassingly fast.”

“So do it.” You wrap a leg around his waist, your hips tilting upward. Both of you moan at the angle change, so close to breaking. “I wanna see it.” 

Instead of answering, he nods. He drags his hips backward slowly before slamming back in. He punches the breath out of your lungs with each slide home, the stroke slow but deep. Your head falls to the side, breaths rasping as he sets a steady, slow pace. 

It feels good, your legs curling around him to keep you close, hands tangle in his hair to keep him tethered to you. His hair is damp with sweat, your fingers curled in the strands, tugging a little. He seems to like it, making a needy sound in his throat that has you grinning. 

“Mine,” Vernon whispers to you, words muffled by your neck. “You are only mine, darling. You will only ever be mine. You were made for me. No one else.”

“No one else,” you agree. 

His hips move faster, a little messier. You egg him on, legs squeeze, cunt spasming around him. He lets out a feral sound, driving himself further to his orgasm. He drags you with him, another swell reaching you. Vernon can tell, chasing it like a predator, pinning you down and slamming his cock into you until you’re melting around him again, vision blotted out. 

Vernon comes to the sound of his name on your lips. His movements become sloppy until he can’t go anymore, holding himself above you, trembling. Carefully, he drops next to you, pulling his cock free. You feel your joint fluids run down your leg, but you’re too tired to care. 

Reaching for him, your hand finds his chest. He wraps his fingers around yours, holding your palm to him, his heart thudding wildly under your touch.

“For you,” he mutters. “Only for you, darling.” 

You fall asleep like that, hand pressed to his chest.

-

Waking up in Vernon’s bed is not new to you. You’ve fallen asleep numerous times at his apartment or stayed the night after going out, but you’ve always had the bed to yourself, Vernon opting to take the couch. 

The bed is empty now, but still warm. You stretch as you roll over in his sheets, groaning as you feel the soreness between your legs and mostly everywhere else. Pressing your hand to your chest and shoulders, you feel all the tender places Vernon mapped his affection with tongue and teeth. It makes you smile fondly as you lay in bed alone for a minute, breathing in the scent of his room.

Slowly, you peel yourself from his bed. With an awkward waddle, you make it to the bathroom, flicking on the light. You shield your eyes at first, going about your morning routine and washing your face to try and feel human again. 

On your way out, something catches your eye. You frown, walking back toward his laundry hamper where you see brass glinting in the light. You reach for it, pulling the bell from the tangle of his clothes. It has an old wooden handle with cracks, a little hand bell used for-

Well. Used the night of halloween. You have no idea why Vernon still has it, the memory of that night like poison in your mouth. You toss it back into the hamper on top of another shirt that catches your eye. It’s one of his dark green t-shirts, but the collar is stained dark brown.

Curious, you pull it out, shaking the shirt out in front of you. It’s mostly unmarked, save for the spatter of something dark brown and dried. You run your finger around the edge of it, puzzled. It looks like dried blood, but you can’t recall any injuries he’s suffered recently. 

You take the shirt with you into his room, tossing it on his bed as you get dressed, stealing sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing the shirt again, you trail out toward the kitchen where Vernon is making breakfast, the smell of bacon crackling in the pan.

You grin, leaning against the doorframe for a second to watch him. He looks so at ease, flipping pieces of bacon while he sings to some seventies song you don’t know the name of. 

Pushing off the wall, you head toward him. He catches you in his peripheral, turning his head and smiling at you. “Hello, Darling.” 

The nickname gives you pause. You slow as you come around the corner of the counter, stopping completely as the endearment pricks you sharply on the back of your neck. Vernon goes back to flipping bacon, singing along a song you vaguely know, but don’t know why Vernon does. He’s never liked music from the 1970s, and-

Your ears start to ring. Several things occur to you at once. 

The memory of Vernon screaming and banging his fists against the door, begging for help. You’d been so afraid that you ripped the door open, crashing through the line of salt. 

Vernon, sharp and confident, the new edge to him as he interacts with people, a little harsher. A little darker.

Nah need to cut back on the sodium had said when you asked about the lack of salt on his fries.

The way he’d called you darling the night before, whispering it against your skin. 

70s music that Vernon has never listened to since you’ve known him.  

The bell sitting in the hamper used to call a spirit on Halloween. 

In the house that belonged to the Hello Darling Murderer.

Brown stains - like blood - on his shirt. 

Carefully, you learn toward the middle of the counter, watching Vernon like a prey skirts a predator. With trembling hands, you gently grab the salt from where it sits next to the pepper. You hold your breath, trying not to draw his attention as you unscrew the top of it, placing the metal lid on the shirt to keep it quiet. 

With as silent steps as you can manage, you cross to the other side of the kitchen where you’re out of his line of sight. Tipping the salt over, you pour it across the tile from counter to fridge, eyes darting between the barrier of white and the man standing in the kitchen humming. 

Your heart hammers. 

Your hands shake. 

Salt shaker empty, you set it on the counter and take a few steps back. It’s an unbroken line of salt, and though it doesn’t trap him in the kitchen, at least it’s there. 

Vernon turns around with the pan of bacon. He sees you and his humming stops, cocking his head to the side. He notices the empty salt shaker. Frowns. Looks at you. Looks at the ground where you’ve drawn a line of salt. 

For a second, he just stares at it. His eyes flick back up to you, warm and brown but narrowed. 

“Why is there salt all over my floor?” 

“Cross it.” 

“Huh?”

“Step over the line of salt.” 

Silence stretches between you. He remains standing in the kitchen, pan in hand, music playing in the background.

When Vernon doesn’t move, you can see everything so clearly. 

Vernon hadn’t been joking when he slammed his hands on the door begging for help on Halloween. A sick feeling roils in your stomach as you remember the panicked screams, the way his fists hammered the door. 

Your next words come out as a hiss. “Cross the line of salt, Vernon.”

He looks at the salt and purses his lips before sighing and setting the pan down on the stove. He tosses the rag from his shoulder and shakes his head, striding over to the white line you made against his tile. He stops in front of it, looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say really?

“Well, do it.”

Vernon looks down at the salt. Looks back up to you. Down at the salt. 

And then he laughs. 

“Fuck, you really are the smartest person in school.” He sighs heavily, a gaze darker than anything you’ve ever seen on his face as he stares at you. “You know I can’t cross that line of salt, darling.” 

-

TAG LIST:

Tag list has not been used for this fic - there weren't enough character blocks left over for it because Tumblr sucks.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

I Love You When You Don't Love Yourself

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Self deprication??? People talking shit I dunno

Genre: fluff and maybe angst

Summary: Bucky let's the opinions of random people get in his head a little too much on a night out

***

You take one last look at your makeup in the mirror before deciding you're satisfied with the look.

"You almost ready to go doll?" Bucky asks, leaning against the doorframe.

"Perfect timing. Yeah, I just need to put my heels on." You say standing up and walking over to your shoes which you'd left by your closet. Bucky meets you by them and leans down to slip your heels onto your foot. Oh, how he treats you like a princess.

"You look amazing." He tells you as he stands back up, kissing your temple softly.

"Thank you, so do you." You say. Bucky's hand settles against your back as it always does when you're walking.

"Alright let's get on with this." Bucky says as you leave the tower.

"Do you think everyone's already there?"

"Steve definitely is, Nat probably isn't yet, Tony definitely isn't, Wanda and Vis I'd guess yes. Everyone else is up in the air but everyone's left here."

"Last to go-"

"We won't be the last to leave. Telling you now." He tells you.

"I know." You laugh. "Trust me I have no desire to stay the latest."

The Avengers team has been invited to a charity gala which normally nobody would even think about going to, but after the last several months, you definitely think the team could use the positive press so a number of you are going, to represent the team. It takes you and Bucky 20 minutes to get to the venue and Bucky groans when he sees the red carpet lined with photographers.

"No way there's a red carpet here." He rolls his eyes.

"Of course there is. These galas are a gold mine for PR brownie points." You say. "Just smile baby, if they ask us anything worth answering I can do the talking."

"Works for me." Bucky says leaning over the center console to kiss you quickly before getting out of the car. Bucky hands the keys to the valet as he walks around the front before opening your door. He holds out a hand to help you out and then shifts that hand to your lower back, leading you down the red carpet. You can hear a cluster of voices shouting both of your names behind the disorienting flashes but it's hard to make anything out specifically. That is until you catch one voice above the rest.

"Y/n! What's it like dating the Winter Soldier!?"

You can feel Bucky tense a bit beside you though he tries not to let it show on his face. You flash a bright smile at the sea of photographers and slip your hand behind you to quickly squeeze Bucky's.

"Oh well I wouldn't know, the Winter Soldier doesn't exist anymore." You say easily.

"Are you saying you don't think your boyfriend is dangerous!?" Another voice.

"Not any more than any other avenger. I honestly think that the most volatile of us is Tony! But- for some reason, nobody's worried about the guy who can fit rocket blasters into a briefcase- just the... guy who can punch really hard." You let out a half laugh to lighten the severity of your words but you know you've done what you were trying to do when Bucky pulls you closer subtly and the questions stop. "Ciao!" You add with a light wave. You and Bucky walk the remainder of the carpet, posing every so often until you make it inside.

"The guy who can punch really hard?" He quirks an eyebrow at you once you're inside.

"Well yeah. Don't get me wrong you're plenty dangerous- but we have a god that can summon lightening, a witch that can completely warp reality, a kid who has the strength to throw an entire airplane- and I mean Tony's just some guy comparatively however- that suit of his has military grade weapons and he could at one point carry in a briefcase, I feel like you are not the biggest threat to humanity even in this room."

"You make us all sound dangerous."

"You are. We are. Honestly, the world is just lucky Tony thinks that being a hero comes with more glory than being a villain, and the rest of us have decent moral compasses. The line between hero and villain is pretty thin and when you have abilities people don't understand you are always walking that line. They could turn us into fugitives tomorrow. That's why we do things like charity galas so that's less likely to happen."

"You know we are so lucky you're around because I don't think anyone else would care to protect us in this way." Bucky slings his arm across your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"True but I suppose that's the good thing about a team, everyone offers a different skill set." You shrug with a chuckle.

"You're so amazing." He says kissing your temple.

"Well I have to be, my boyfriend's pretty cool you know." You smile.

"Oh, is he?"

"Yeah, the coolest." You nod.

"He's a lucky man." Bucky chuckles. 

"Sure is. But I think I'm luckier."

I think he'd disagree."

"I'm sure. Let's go find our seats."

"I'll get us drinks first and find you at our table after." Bucky says removing his arm from your shoulder but kissing your hand before he lets you go.

"You sure?"

"I could track you down in a sea of thousands doll, go. I'll see you in a few." He says.

"Something fruity please." You tell him.

"I know what to do." He winks and walks off. You pivot towards the tables to search the name cards for your and Bucky's seats.

"Y/n, hi I'm Noah, I just wanted to say that I'm a huge fan of yours." The man, Noah, appeared pretty much out of nowhere.

"Hi Noah, thank you. Just- trying to do what's right." You smile. You'll admit you've not had many adults come up to you and say they're fans?? It's usually kids so you're not sure what's the best approach here.

"Oh you don't have to be so modest! You're a hero! You've earned every right to brag."

"I'm not really the bragging type is all." You chuckle.

"That's so honorable." He nods. You hum in response.

"I'm gonna go find my seat, but it was nice to meet you!"

"Oh did you come alone? Is someone waiting for you?" He asks.

"What?" You blink at him.

"Well just that you're usually always with the one with the arm- the soldier."

"Bucky." You say.

"Right him. I'm just surprised to see you without him." Noah shrugs.

"Oh, he's here. He went to get us drinks."

"Interesting. I'm surprised."

"By what? Like you said we're always together." You shrug.

"Yeah, right, I know I guess I just thought by now you'd wake up."

"Excuse you?" You scoff.

"Oh come on darling, you and I both know you can do way better than that killer you're with now." He smirks placing a hand on your arm.

"If you want to keep that hand I suggest you keep it to yourself because if you touch me again you won't have to worry about 'that killer I'm with' I'll end you myself." You smile back at him.

"Fiesty."

"Yes, I tend to be when you insult my loved ones. Go figure. I'm going to go find my seat now before you dig yourself a hole too deep to climb out of, enjoy your evening." You say before walking away. Perhaps you should've mitigated that without threatening him, if it reflects badly on the team you could be undoing the very thing you came here for and that's usually Tony's area of expertise, oh there's your name but I mean that guy totally had it coming he was being an absolute jerk. How dare he say-

"Found ya." Bucky kisses your cheek as he sits beside you, cutting your train of thought.

"Hey." You smile giving him a peck on the lips. "What'd you get me?"

"I forget the name but it's a vodka cran with peach and lime basically, something from their specialty menu. I thought you'd like it." He shrugs.

"I'm sure it's lovely, thank you." You tell him taking a sip. It is pretty good. "What'd you get yourself?"

"Just a whiskey." He says. "Anything fun happen while I was away?"

"Nope, I ran into some guy before I found our seats but, that's an interaction barely worth mentioning." You roll your eyes.

"Uh oh, what'd he do?"

"Doesn't matter." You say with a kiss. "Have you seen anyone else yet? It looks like none of us are at the same tables." You point out.

"I saw Tony and Pepper's place cards but they're not sitting if they're already here."

"Oh, what table are they at?" You ask.

"It's over there, and don't worry I already told the bartender that Tony is only allowed one drink." Bucky says making you giggle.

"Well, that's a relief. Let's hope he didn't prepare for that restriction." You hum.

"I think Pepper keeps him on a pretty tight leash so it shouldn't be a problem. I just figured you'd rather be safe than sorry."

"When it comes to Tony's alcohol consumption absolutely." You nod.

"Oh my god is that the winter soldier?" You hear a voice whisper next to you.

"I can't believe they let him in here." Another hushed voice responds, making your jaw clench.

"Well I'm not about to sit next to him." Voice one scoffs.

"I'm sure we can get someone to switch with us it's fine. Come on." Voice two says and the two scuttle off.

"Fucking idiots." You roll your eyes. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Oh look there's Vis." Bucky points out the red synthezoid at a table a few rows away from you.

"Okay so we're here, Pepper and Tony should be, Vision and Wanda are there, isn't Steve coming? I wonder where he'll be sitting." You hum.

"I bet he's already in his seat. Look for a bunch of giggling women hovering at a table and we'll probably find him at the center."

"I wonder why they sat us all apart."

"I imagine to promote mingling. All the Avengers at one table would be rather intimidating for the rest of the gala I think. No one would approach us." He shrugs.

"Oh maybe." You hum. You pick up the program sitting on the table to get an idea of how the evening is meant to play out. They'll start with an opening address, then serve dinner, then do the auction items, and the rest of the night will be dancing and mingling. You and Bucky entertain each other at the table until someone begins the night's todos with the opening address. The speech is about five minutes long, thanking guests and talking about the importance of the cause. Dinner orders from the preselected menu are taken quickly and food is brought out within 15 minutes.

"See I told you it was him." You hear a hushed conversation, not at your table but close. Bucky's hand hovers over the fork that he had been reaching for.

"My goodness you were right. That's scary."

"And to think he has a girlfriend walking around like that." That's the line. Bucky stands from your table abruptly and storms off. You hurriedly gather your purse to follow after him but you stop at the table you'd heard the voices coming from.

"If you guys are so bored with your lives that you have nothing better to do than gossip the least you could do is keep your pathetic opinions to yourself." You scoff before walking off to track down your boyfriend.

"Bucky wait." You call when you catch up to him just outside the venue.

"I want to leave." He says.

"It's barely been an hour-"

"And in that time there have been four separate instances of people talking about me like some zoo animal who can't fucking hear them."

"Four?"

"I heard that guy telling you that you can do so much better than the 'killer you're with now', so yeah. Four."

"We'll leave." You nod. Bucky hands his ticket to the valet and it takes almost no time at all for them to bring your car around to the front.

Your drive home is silent, though you rest a comforting hand on Bucky's thigh as he drives. Back in your room at the tower is where the quiet is finally broken.

"I'm sorry." Bucky frowns.

"What on earth for?" You shake your head at him

"I totally ruined the evening. I know this was- important to you that we go." He sighs.

"Don't be ridiculous. There are enough Avengers there to represent the whole team Bucky we didn't have to go, we didn't have to stay. Plus I never want you to be somewhere you don't feel comfortable. The gala is not nearly as important to me as your feelings." You tell him.

"Everything would be so much easier if it wasn't so-"

"Bucky don't. That's a dangerous path to start down. There is nothing wrong with you."

"Stop, y/n. Stop pretending that you don't hate it. If I could still have my normal arm I-"

"Well you don't." You snap, cutting him off.

"What?" He blinks at you.

"You don't have your 'normal arm' Buck, and I didn't even know you when you did. I fell in love with you with the metal one attached to your body, and it's the only you I've ever known. How could you possibly think I hate it?"

"You heard what people were saying tonight-"

"I'm not dating any of them or their opinions. And neither are you. Who gives a fuck what they have to say about it? Don't let them decide what parts of you are worth loving." You say grabbing his face.

"Don't you get tired?"

"No. I'd happily spend the rest of my life clapping back at people's ignorant comments if it meant always coming home to you. I've fought evils those peabrains couldn't even comprehend if they tried, their narrowminded drivel means nothing to me. They're like walking talking gossip rags. Who pays those any attention?" You roll your eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you too. All of you. Even with your metal arm and your chaotic history. Don't you dare let random noise make you forget that." You poke his chest.

"Alright alright." He laughs pulling you against his chest into a hug.

***

[yeosbbm]

20 Minutes

Smut | MDNI

starring: idol ! mingi x staff ! reader

genre: idol au, established (secret) relationship, light possessiveness

summary: you and mingi have kept your relationship under wraps for a while to avoid the opinions of other’s getting into the mix, however sneaking around does lead to some sexual frustration…but once mingi does get the chance to have his hands on you during a time crunch…well….

warnings: mingi + reader are switches/non specific roles, competing for dominance, indirect exhibitionism, marking, cunnilingus, choking, manhandling, edging, unprotected piv, praise (mainly mingi receiving)

A/n: posting this scrapped experimental draft cuz I’m having severe writers block. Hope you guys had a good, safe Halloween !!

All you were trying to do was bring Mingi a different pair of shoes as well as some rings he requested for his outfit.

But now… Mingi has you pressed against a dressing room wall. Kissing you fervently, pressing his tongue further and further into your mouth, his knee in between your legs adding friction to your heat.

One hand under your shirt ..caressing one breast. While the other has a grip on your hip, helping you grind against his knee.

As risky as this is, you can’t help but lightly smile against his mouth whenever his neediness and desperation seeps out through his quiet whines and groans as well as him rocking his hips into you. Even though you were letting out whines yourself.

Then a voice and some knocks on the door bombards the sensual moment.

“AY. MINGI, I think I left my powder can I check if it’s there.” After hearing that Mingi kisses down your neck before backing away, sighing before sitting down on the makeup chair.

You have to regain your breath and fix your hair before you look up at Mingi in his chair. “Is his setting powder in your drawer.”

“Hhh I really hope not.” Mingi mumbles but to his dismay it was, meaning he has to open the door,, meaning you and him time was over.

You grab it from him and open the door to San tapping his foot and looking into his phone. “Finally..thought you two would never open the door, my stylist will scold me.” All you could do is grin. “Are you still doing his makeup.” San asks.

“Yep unfortunately Mingi messed it up somehow.”

In your peripheral, you see Mingi smile at your words while tapping away on his phone on bubble. “But I want you to do my makeup, the other artist is good but I feel more handsome when you do it. Just come to my dressing room real quick pleaseee.”

This comment makes Mingi pause and furrow his brows. “But Sannie don’t you see my face isn’t done…and it’s rude to talk about your assigned stylist you know…” San sighs and rolls his eyes before making his way back to his styling room.

You walk to Mingi and realize you really do have to fix his makeup. While grabbing supplies he pulls you into his lap facing him, holding you close. You straighten your back and lean forward to do his makeup.

After some time you begin to finish up. Mingi holding your waist and looking up at you.

“(Y/n)” he mumbles hands still holding on to your waist.

“Yes love.” You quickly say having laser focus while doing his eyeshadow.

“Am I good looking to you ?”

“Yes Min you always are, with makeup and barefaced.”

“Is San good looking to you ?” You already know the deal. Mingi has his short phases of jealousy or overthinking. Nothing too harsh or scary.

“,,,all of you are but guess what ?” You question while doing the final touches to his lip tint. He peers up at you while you grab and tilt his face up.

“ You’re the most handsome of them all, my one and only always….you’re always so good to me Mingi..” You say before giving him a small kiss. Bad Idea.

Why is it a bad idea ? Because Mingi loves whenever you praise and gloat on him. He’s staring up at you biting his lip and you can feel his grip on you tighten. He just wants to eat you up and show you how good he really can be.

“Song Mingi it’s time to set up and do positioning, we need you and the guys on stage .” His manager says through the door.

“Time to gooo Mingiii.” He fake whines and throws his head back while holding you closer to him. “Can I at least taste you before I go.” He whispers attempting to put his hand down your pants.

You move his hand and while doing a “tsk tsk tsk” motion. “On stage Min.” He sighs and kisses your forehead..pouting while heading to the stage.

——————-

Once the performance was over it was time to head to the to the next performance venue. The manager lets you ride the same van as the guys if they’re not recording. Reasons being 1) You help them look their absolute best and 2) Per Mingi’s request, they haven’t questioned it.

You sit in the back with your clipboard and makeup bag. While getting your stuff sorted Yunho comes up to you. “(Y/n) do my eyebrows look even..the new stylist did them and she did them so different.”

You have him take a seat by you quickly and observe his makeup. “Not really one is just a little darker I’ll fix it.”

Mingi comes and watches you do Yunho’s makeup. He loves watching you work. He can’t take his eyes from you and you notice, leading you to giggle a bit.

“What’s so funny.” Yunho asks seeming both amused + confused. “Nothing..Mingi is just being cute and silly.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow and laughs, “Ooh so you think Mingi’s cute huh.” Yunho is the only one who has a gists of what’s going on with you and Mingi, but you know he won’t say anything.

Soon you finish and Yunho sits with Seonghwa to play animal crossing on each others switches and Mingi sits by you.

You and Mingi couldn’t keep your hands off each other. He sneaked squeezes of your tits, pretended to whisper in your ear when really he was saying dirty talk and nipping at your lobe + neck.

And you’d retaliate..putting your hand on his thigh until you found the outline of his dick, slowly touching and palming it. Sometimes tugging his hair with your free hand which was his absolute weakness. Praying the members don’t see.

Then you guys arrive.

————————-

After the second performance was over the boys had one more media video to film on their schedule as well as photos to be taken.

You were advised to touch up everyone’s makeup since on most of them it was sweated or smudged away from how hard they danced earlier.

Whilst finishing Wooyoung’s makeup you realize that Mingi wasn’t anywhere to be found and after informing the main managers you went to go find him. After some time you were stuck in basically an empty hall, no other groups or staff could be found.

You went around to a door that seemed a third open. The light was dim and it seemed like a spare waiting room. Once you got to the door however, someone pulls you inside.

Before you could panic you automatically realize it’s Mingi. He has you pressed against the wall, palming everywhere before messily kissing you.

“You’re that needy for me huh.” you say, knowing your demeanor is cracking while under his hold. He nods before rolling his hips for friction to save his throbbing erection. “Want to finish what we started.” He says while exposing your breast, putting his mouth around and nipping your buds.

“Need to make you feel good…” He says lowly, looking at you starstruck. You can’t help but give him what he wants. “You’ve been so good and patient…go ahead.”

Mingi gets on his knees, using his teeth to slide your zipper down. He pulls your pants down far enough to where you can easily pull them up.

Right when his mouth was to be right where both of you wanted. Another interruption occurs, Hongjoong. “Mingi,, (y/n) are you two around here ?!? We have to get to the vans and head over to the next media set…”

Mingi groans defeated while gripping the waist band to your pants. His head flops onto the front of your thighs. You can’t lie, you’re just as frustrated because you knew you were going to let Mingi do whatever he pleased.

But once you started to zip your pants back up he stopped you while standing up. “Guys this isn’t funny, it’s 2:10 and we need to leave at 2:30………Hellllooo.” Mingi hushes you while sliding his hand down your pants, gliding his digits over your panties.

He moves them to the side and gives you his index and middle finger to indulge in.

“Hongjoong, she’s probably at the second floor still looking for him just come wait with the rest of us before you stress yourself out.” Seonghwa shouts out.

“Good God.” Hongjoong sighs before heading back with the members. Once his footsteps were far enough Mingi went into motion.

His fingers speed up and instead of a plain in and out motion he began to curl them into the spot you needed most and curving them for an extra stretch.

You fight through your sighs and moans. “Mingi…we need to head back or we’ll get in trouble.”

“ 20 minutes…just give me 20 minutes.” You can feel his warm breath on your neck while he whispers this to you, practically grinding himself into your leg.

“Please, (y/n) just a taste….fucckk baby I’m begging you...." he whines.

You can’t restrain or play hard to get any longer. “Fuck,, do whatever just..don’t take too long.”

Mingi smiles before he presses a few wet kisses onto your neck and sinking back into his knees like earlier.

He roughly pushes your pants and panties down and off before spreading your legs so he can bury his face into your heat. His fingers are pressed so deeply into your thighs that marks are inevitable.

Soon he’s stroking himself while eating you,, your taste, your face of ecstasy, your sounds..his head is spinning. He’s lapping and digging his tongue into your cunt while mindlessly fisting his dick. Your mind was swirling..you were about to finally burst and cum.

He slows down, only allowing you to indulge in small soft kitten licks and barely moving his thumb across your clit. “Babe…what’s…going on.” You breathe out, trying not to show the need in your tone from the lack of contact. “What do you mean baby..” he smirks only using his thumb, barely swiping your clit and not even giving you access to his mouth. He was playing dumb to annoy you and it was working.

“Why aren’t you touching me.” You whine -needing- some friction. "But I'm already touching you." He fastens the pace of his thumb on your clit making your knees buckle while you moan and whimper.

“About to cum..” you whisper. But Mingi completely stops. Denying your orgasm again. You can feel tears prickle in your eyes. “Admit it…admit that you’re just as needy as me.” He lowly says into your inner thigh, ghosting his mouth over your pussy.

“You’re so pretty like this, so cute with those teary eyes so beautiful.” He sucks and nips marks across your thighs making sure to lick at the reddish purple blotches afterwards. You just can’t let yourself shatter so easily however.

You grab as much of his hair and tug at it moving his head back so his eyes are on yours. Mingi’s dick jumps from the action alone, he loves seeing you above him and being assertive. “What happened to my sweet Mingi..you’re usually so good what happened.”

Mingi’s mind has practically short circuited. Any sense of revenge for the teasing has melted away. “I’m still good, just ask..I’ll give you any and everything you want.”

You lick your lips and take your hand from his hair. “Just be good and fuck me Mingi.” He obliges. Within seconds he’s holding you up..aligning his cock and easily pushing it in since you’re so slick with arousal.

No hesitation he’s pounding and your cunt clenches around him. You’re panting at this point, the air in whatever random room you’re in is now thick and warm from the sex filling it. He’s filling you to the hilt. “It’s like you were made for me.” One of your hands finds it’s way to his neck where you squeeze.

His cock twitches. “Please please please squeeze harder.” You tighten your grip around his neck knowing it’ll leave a light mark. He’s officially ramming you, the sound of skin on skin and your voices leaking out the room.

“So good, so perfect for me Min.” Mingi can’t take it, he pulls your hair and fucks into you faster than before, neither of you even care about dominance anymore..you’re both fucked dumb from each other.

“Gonna fill you, gonna fill you up and you’re gonna like it aren’t you.” He practically growls in your ear, the most you can do is whimper a broken “Yes”.

Soon you both cum, both of your bodies feeling lifeless and weak from all the energy placed into your pleasures. Mouths agape holding each other closer than ever.

———————

You both take the tiny bits of energy you both have left to put your clothes on. You help Mingi fix up his and look into your small purse to tidy his makeup. You do your best to not look destroyed but no matter how matter how clean and composed your face is your disheveled clothes give it away.

“How much time do we have to spare.” He asks while trying to help fix up your clothes. You check your phone, “Shit it’s about 2:27 we have to hurry.” You both rush down to where everyone was, the vans were pulling up.

As soon as everyone saw you two they hashed out their complaints. “You both had us worried, like cmon Mingi did you really have to run off, so much time was wasted.” Hongjoong scolds.

While making your ways to the buses you were advised to sit in the staff bus to keep the time. Yunho and Mingi sat together on the other bus.

“So, how was it.” Yunho nonchalantly asks. “How was what.” Mingi says back nervous. “The closet sex.” Mingi’s eyes widen and he looks around to make sure nobody heard Yunho. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Mingi looks around a final time before leaning to Yunho’s ear.

“It was fucking Amazing.”

——————

LMFOAOOOOOOOOOOO

[darlingofdots]

What is a romance novel, really?

So far, the response to this post has mostly shown me that a lot of people don't actually know what a romance novel is, and that's okay! I don't expect everyone to know! However, for my own peace of mind, I am going to do my best to explain what we mean when we talk about romance novels, where the genre comes from, and why you should not dismiss the pastel cartoon covers that are taking over the display tables at your nearest chain bookshop. Two disclaimers up front: I've been reading romance novels since I was a teenager, and have dedicated the majority of my academic career to them. I'm currently working on my PhD and have presented/published several papers about the genre; I know what I'm talking about! Secondly, all genres are fake. They're made up. But we use these terms and definitions in order to describe what we see and that's a very important part of science, including literary studies!

The most widely used definition of "romance novel" to this day is from Pamela Regis' 2003 A Natural History of the Romance Novel, in which she states that "A romance novel is a work of prose fiction that tells the story of the courtship and betrothal of one or more [protagonists]."* People also refer to the Romance Writers of America's "a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending" and another term you will see a lot is "Happily Ever After/Happy For Now," which posits that the protagonists must be in a committed and happy relationship at the end of the novel in order to count as a romance novel. That's it. That's what a romance novel is.

Of course it's a bit more complex than that; Regis also posited the Eight Essential Elements which describe the progression of the love plot over the course of the book, and there's a similar breakdown from Gwen Hayes in Romancing the Beat that is intended more as writing advice, but both of these are really useful for breaking down how this narrative structure works. My personal favourite part of the Eight Elements is that the romance opens with a definition of the society in which the protagonists exist, which is flawed in a way that oppresses them, and then the protagonists either overcome or fix it in a way that enables them to achieve their HEA. A lot of social commentary can happen this way!

It can also be a bit difficult to pin down what exactly counts as a "central love story" because who decides? A lot of stories have romance arcs in them, including dudebro action movies and noir mystery novels, but you would never argue that the romance is the central plot. A lot of romance novels have external plots like solving a mystery or saving the bakery. A useful question to ask in this case is whether the external plot exists for its own sake or to facilitate the romance: when Lydia runs off with Wickham in Pride & Prejudice, it's so that Lizzie can find out how much Darcy contributed to saving her family from scandal and realise her own feelings for him. The alien abduction in Ice Planet Barbarians happens specifically so the abducted human women can meet and fall in love with the hunky aliens. There are definitely grey areas here! Romance scholars argue about this all the time!

I have a suspicion that a lot of people who responded to the post I linked above are not actually romance readers, which is fine, but it really shows the lack of understanding of what a romance novel is. I have a secondary suspicion that the way we have been talking about books has contributed to this miscategorisation in a lot of people's minds, because especially with queer books we will often specifically point out that this fantasy book is f/f! This dystopian novel has a gay love story! This puts an emphasis on the romance elements that are present in a book when a lot of the time, the romance arc is just flavouring for the adventure/uprising/heist and we are pointing it out only because its queerness makes it stand out against other non-queer titles. It makes sense why we do this, but there is SUCH a difference between "a sci-fi book with an f/f romance arc" and "an f/f sci-fi romance." I could talk for hours about how the romance genre has evolved alongside and often in the same way as fanfiction and how there are codes and tropes that come up again and again that are immediately recognisable to romance readers, even down to phrases and cover design, and how romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre that functions in a very specific way because of that evolutionary process. The same way that dedicated fantasy readers can trace the genealogy of a given text's influences ("this writer definitely plays a lot of DnD which has its roots in the popularity of Tolkien, but they're deliberately subverting these tropes to critique the gender essentialism"), romance readers are often very aware of the building blocks and components of their books. These building blocks (that's what tropes are, lego pieces you put together to create a story!) often show up in other genres as well, especially as part of romantic arcs, but that doesn't make every book that features Only One Bed a romance novel, you know?

Romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre and I really highly recommend exploring it for yourself if you haven't. I personally read mostly Regency/Victorian historicals and I've been branching out into specifically f/f contemporaries, and there are so many authors who are using the romance framework to tell beautiful, hard-hitting stories about love and family while grappling with issues of discrimination, disability, mental health, capitalism, you name it. The genre has a very specific image in a lot of people's minds which makes them resistant to it and it's not entirely unjustified, but there is so much more to it than Bridgerton and repackaged Star Wars fanfiction!**

*the original text said "heroines" but Regis later revised this. There is a very good reason for the focus on the heroine in the first couple waves of romance scholarship, but that's a different post!

**neither of these are a bad thing and part of that genealogy that I mentioned earlier.

[lurkingshan]

Thank you for leaving these tags @pharawee! Without getting into any speculation about how Dead Friend Forever will actually end, I do want to address your question and talk about why most of us want to see severe consequences for these boys. The short answer: it's about genre expectations and the psychological catharsis of a good revenge narrative.

To get down to the really basic point: people who love revenge thrillers love them because they are a fantasy construct in which good people survive and bad people get what they deserve. In a world where bad things happen and we rarely have any control, a good revenge story can be exhilarating, giving you the feeling that justice prevailed, villains received appropriate comeuppance for their wrongs, and the protagonist seized control back and experienced much needed catharsis for their suffering. Real life is very much not like this, which is why it's such an appealing genre of fiction.

So how do we calibrate what "appropriate comeuppance" means? This is where genre expectations become really important, because the genre the revenge narrative plays out in sets the terms for where that bar sits. In The Glory, a recent world class revenge drama, we were in the psychological thriller genre, so revenge came in the form of Dong Eun playing mind games with her bullies until they destroyed their own lives. No murder necessary. Dead Friend Forever, however, is in the horror genre, and specifically began its story by planting itself in the slasher subgenre, giving us a masked killer and setting up expectations that these boys are being hunted. When you watch a slasher, you come in with the mindset that most of the characters are going to die and begin rooting for it and looking for reasons why they "deserve" it. And typically, in a slasher, it takes very little for a character to "deserve" a death--you often see people die for the tiniest infractions, like making a rude comment, telling a bad joke, or having sex. But DFF went much farther than that and gave us a multi episode flashback in which we got a detailed accounting of every wrong this group of boys committed against Non, increasing the audience's bloodlust and conviction that these boys needed to pay.

So why do so many of us want the bullies to die? Because the genre demands it, and the story set the audience up to expect it from the outset. I have seen some discussion of the way the show is blending different horror subgenres and not sticking strictly to typical slasher conventions, and that's true, and expected. Slashers are usually two hours max, and this show needed to fill 10+ hours of content, so it's doing a really interesting blend of slasher, mystery, psychological thriller, and other horror subgenres. But the bones of the story still hold, and despite the storytelling choice to give the villains some nuance and fleshed out motivations for their behavior, they are still villains who destroyed Non's life. If you're feeling overly sympathetic to any of these boys at present, I encourage you to go back and remind yourself how they behaved in the early episodes of this story, which took place after the events of the flashbacks. These are not genuinely remorseful kids who made minor mistakes and then got their acts together and became upstanding citizens; they just want to move on and avoid blame and accountability for what they did, while Non's entire family was irrevocably destroyed by their actions.

If this story ends without Por, Tee, Top, Fluke, Jin, and Phee suffering genre appropriate consequences for their choices that harmed and betrayed Non, it will be a letdown and many will feel unsatisfied. In real life, we may believe that forgiveness is the right path, and we know that Buddhism teaches unconditional forgiveness. But this is not real life. This is a fantasy genre that is specifically meant to provide an escape from the constraints of real life morality and obligations. No one wants to show up to a fantasy party only to receive a moral scolding. The most disappointing thing a revenge narrative can do is wimp out on delivering the actual revenge.

[devilfic]

Idk if you have seen daredevil but in the case you have can I request a head cannon of you making a playlist for him and him talking about songs that remind you of him?

Like I was listening to The Marias and I felt that their songs give this feeling of how it would be to date him.

❝making a playlist for matt murdock❞

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader. cw: established relationship, brief mention of sex. words: 1k.

a/n: I actually have seen daredevil and I love him a lot, this will be fun. shoutout to this post that confirmed the "matt murdock loves jazz" vibe he gives off

I wanna start off by saying that as soon as I saw "daredevil" and "songs" in the same sentence, I got a VIVID image of matt in a jazz bar

I can't recall off the top of my head if matt mentions any specific artists or genres he listens to in the show, but I personally think matt likes jazz, funk, maybe some soul/neo-soul, or anything you'd hear in a nice understated bar downtown

the thing is I think that matt really likes instrumental-heavy music because he appreciates being able to pick apart the melodies

I also imagine he's a stickler for his favorite genres and won't really relent unless you introduce something new to him by force

so, a playlist

you push an mp3 player into his hand as you walk past him and he thumbs over the buttons, twists a finger through the cords of the earbuds, and smiles, "what's this?"

he hears you land on the couch and makes his way over to sit beside you as you take one of the earbuds to put in your ear, stretching your legs over his lap, "I made a playlist for you!"

"yeah?"

"yeah. I know you like your vinyls but this is smaller, more compact. easy to put in your pocket and hopefully not break when you're running around the city at night. I'm serious. don't break that."

"I'm honored," matt tilts his head in your direction, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, listening for the parting of your lips as they break into a smile, "nothing too shocking, I hope?"

"I tried to stick to things I thought you'd like, and I did include some of the songs you've recommended to me over the years since you can't lug your vinyls everywhere. it won't sound as nice but... it's something. it's pretty romantic, right?"

it is romantic

matt imagines you hunched over his computer, tediously searching up mp3s of his favorite songs and putting together a playlist for him, trying your best to ease him into unfamiliar territory

he can also hear the nervous thumping of your heart as you wait for his reply, so he splays a hand over your ankle and squeezes, "yeah, you're pretty damn romantic. any particular order I should play it in?

"just hit play, handsome."

when the first song starts playing, he's transported back to hearing it for the first time in the bar where he met you, sharing drinks at a table as you humored him on your theories of who the devil of hell's kitchen really was

you were a few drinks past tipsy and had come to chat him up at the behest of your friends who—and you learned this several days later—he'd heard call him sexy at least four times

but it was you whose voice had caught his attention, who had sworn that a "man like him" had to be waiting for a date, that there was no way he'd be here all alone

and had promptly eaten your words when he chimed in to let you know that he did not, in fact, have a date

he was fuzzy on the details as to how you'd gotten on the topic of his alter ego, but it tickled him nonetheless how you presented your theories more confidently than you flirted

he countered each one but in good faith, playing devil's advocate if only so that he could hear how your mind whirred with ideas

after a few pretty well-articulated counterarguments, you'd snorted and asked, "what are you, a lawyer?"

and when you learned that he was a lawyer? the matt murdock of nelson, murdock, & page? oh, he was sure you lit up like a christmas tree

even after walking you to your place, matt was humming the tune of the song he'd discovered you to, a feeling in his bones that more than just it would be sticking around

matt takes you to a jazz bar for your first date, feeding you details about the musicians over drinks as you ask him about his favorites

he likes a lot of the classics: things his dad enjoyed, stuff he's heard at the jazz bars he's roped foggy into visiting with him during law school

he tells you he likes some of the new stuff but nothing beats the classics, all of which he has vinyls of at home

and you ask him about the newer artists he likes and he tells you he'll put some on for you at his place if the night is still young

that night, he brings you back to his and plays this while you make love

most of the songs matt thinks of when he thinks of you are wordless, often more abstract representations of how you make him feel

the few songs with words are quite literal. whatever the lyrics say is how he feels about you

you've learned—if you're not already a fan of the same genres—to appreciate his taste

and you've also learned to love the way he lights up as you describe what the music sounds like to him, the way he slips in a word here and there when you come up short and it always just fits

it's kind of like his love language

you've got some of these songs on the playlist too

you see him get a little stiff when a song comes on that he doesn't know, and so you watch all the minute expressions in his face as it plays, wondering anxiously if he likes it or not

you know he does when he replays it

he'll tap out the rhythm on your ankle like he's picking apart every detail of the song piece by piece, placing them layer over layer in his mind until it becomes whole and he turns to tell you he really likes it

while he usually likes to keep his ears open for anything in the city while he's out and about, he'll pop in an earbud and start your playlist and think about you

now, if only you'd add a recording of you singing to yourself every morning, it'd be complete. that's gotta be his favorite

taglists: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (Teaser)

Posting Date: Tuesday, December 19th, 7:00 PM CT

Creative Collaborator: @kithtaehyung FOR THIS AMAZING BANNER!

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Length: One Shot 

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration!

Estimated WC: 45K (... whoops; this will probably be multiple parts)

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,141

Y/N POV

You should have known better than to trust Namjoon with your dating life.

Yoongi never would have put you in this situation. The more level-headed of your two best friends, Yoongi approaches matters of the heart with the same rationality he does everything else. Namjoon, on the other hand, is a great guy – who is notoriously bad at reading other people.

The number of times you’ve been forced to step in and save him from phone scams is astounding. It’s not his fault, really – Namjoon trusts too easily, which doesn’t serve him well in this world. He’s always willing to give others the benefits of the doubt, which gets him into trouble. 

And now you, by extension, having accepted the blind date he proposed.

Mike Davis moved into Namjoon’s building two months ago, and Namjoon has been adamant since the start that you two would hit it off.

“He goes to all the same conventions you do,” he assured you last week on the phone.

“Which conventions?” you asked, squinting hard at the wall. “I know you’re not big into nerd culture, Namjoon, so as an FYI – not all cons are considered equal.”

Namjoon rattled off a few you’d attended, impressing you enough to agree despite the initial disinterest. This agreement may have been spurred by tonight being the three-month anniversary of the worst break-up of your life.

Almost as soon as you sat, you realized your mistake. While you may have reached a point where you don’t cry every time your ex’s name is mentioned, the prospect of dating someone else is an entirely different matter. Getting dressed up felt strange, as did traveling to the restaurant and waiting for Mike at the bar.

The fact that Mike called this place a ‘restaurant’ should have been your first clue, as Hat Trick is most definitely a sports bar – specifically, a hockey bar. Had you known (really, you should have known), you wouldn’t have gone, but you were nervous and trying to make a good impression. Upon arriving, you arranged yourself awkwardly on a sticky bar stool and waited seven minutes for Mike to walk in.

Nearly an hour later, you find yourself regretting coming at all. Mike excused himself two minutes ago for the bathroom and as soon as he left, you sagged with relief.

He’s a nice guy, you suppose. Good looking, with light brown curls and dark eyes. You can see why Namjoon thought he might be good for you – Mike is the exact opposite of your ex in many ways. Constantly frazzled, he arrived late to the bar, only to immediately duck outside because he forgot to pay the parking meter. Jimin was the type to unpack his suitcase immediately after reaching the hotel and brought several chargers in case one of them died.

Once the meter was paid, Mike sat down and immediately launched into his entire life story. You suppose you should have been happy about this, since lack of communication ended your last relationship but instead, found yourself overwhelmed. 

Mike finally paused for breath once your drinks arrived, allowing you a moment to answer his questions. The moment you said you ran a pretty popular cosplay TikTok, Mike instantly shifted from arrogant to insecure. 

“I can’t believe you came,” he exhaled with a shake of his head. “When Namjoon showed me your picture, I said no way would you go out with me. You’re way too beautiful.”

Somewhat awkward, you laughed. “Don’t try and get me to leave, now, Mike.”

His eyes widened, not catching your sarcasm and it took several moments to get back on track. Everything since has been downhill, so when he excused himself for the bathroom, all you felt was relief.

Digging through your purse, you pull out your phone and swipe to the group chat.

Y/N: Namjoon, WHAT possessed you to set me up with this man [7:46 PM]

Yoongi’s reply comes immediately.

Yoongi: told you it was too soon [7:46 PM]

Namjoon’s ellipses join in.

Namjoon: what! Why? What happened?? Mike didn’t try something on you, did he? [7:47 PM]

Y/N: no, no – nothing like that [7:47 PM]

Y/N: he just keeps saying how *amazing* I am and how he doesn’t know why I’m on this date at all [7:47 PM]

Yoongi: dude [7:48 PM]

Y/N: EXACTLY [7:48 PM]

Before Namjoon can respond, the bartender changes the channel and an all-too-familiar name blares over the speakers. Slowly, you look up, and all thoughts of Mike fade, faced with NHL coverage.

Nope, no – absolutely not.

Leaning over the counter, you lightly tap the bartender. “Hi.” Brightly, you smile. “First off, could I have another glass of white wine? And then, maybe… could you change the channel?”

Glancing around, the guy shakes his head. “Yes, to the wine, but no, the channel,” he says with a shrug. “Half the people in here came to watch the game. Pre-show coverage is part of that.”

With an apologetic nod, he grabs a rag and disappears. Sinking back in your seat, you stare at your hands, clasped tightly together. Your spot at the bar puts you in the unfortunate position of hearing each word the announcers say crystal-clear.

“Well, Josh, what chance do you think the Blackhawks have tonight?”

The silver-haired man beside him bobs his head. “Steve, I’d say their chances are pretty darn good. You’ve seen this team’s early games. Their first line is strong, especially now that Park’s back.”

“Oh, absolutely – Jimin Park has been crucial in the last couple of games. He was sorely missed last season.”

“Ha! You can say that again.”

Trying to hide your wince, you clasp your hands tighter as a fresh glass of wine is set down. “Thanks,” you mutter, downing half in one gulp.

Immediately, your plans for later tonight shift to accommodate another bottle of wine. Movement catches the corner of your eye, and, despite yourself, you watch the montage of star right winger, Jimin Park, tearing his way down the ice. Shamefully, you recognize every shot since, although you broke up in September, you continued to watch every game.

“One of the most talked about moments last year in hockey was the late check on Park by Blues player, Brent Howard,” continues the announcer, Josh. “His helmet came loose when he hit the boards, and he went down hard on the ice. Park suffered a sprained knee and herniated a disc in his neck. A complicated surgery took him for most of the season, only starting to skate with the team again over the summer.”

Hearing the trauma recounted with such callousness, you find yourself gripping your wine glass tighter than before.

“I don’t think anyone ever expected Park to play again,” agrees the other announcer, Steve. “It’s a damned miracle he’s back on the ice – but to return and be this good? Park has always been one of the best right wingers in the league, but I’d say he’s the best offensive player on the ice right now.”

“A bold claim!” laughs Josh. “But I might just agree. Even Jungkook Jeon on the Rangers hasn’t been matching Park in assists.”

“Exactly! I mean, look at the numbers. Last year, the Blackhawks barely made the playoffs and now, they’re first in the Western Conference.”

“Truly amazing, given the nature of his injury last November. I don’t know how familiar you are with herniated discs, Steve, but –”

Mike slides back onto his stool. Grateful for the distraction, you turn fully to face him. Having already lived through the injury once, you have no need to reminisce. Replacing your phone in your purse, you smile gamely at Mike.

“So,” you say, attempting to save the conversation. “Namjoon mentioned you like conventions? What fandoms are you a part of?”

“Oh.” Mike loosely shrugs. “I doubt you’ve heard of any of them.”

At his dismissive tone, you stiffen. Your experience with the male side of fandom is always a toss-up. “Well, there are a lot of them. Any that are more mainstream?”

He considers. “Marvel?”

Stunned, you blink once or twice. Marvel has to be one of the biggest fandoms on the planet, let alone in the country. Even if you weren’t deep in the convention circuit, you’d have heard of Marvel.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I think I’ve heard of that.”

“Cool, cool.” Mike nods. “Namjoon said you do cosplay – and showed me your TikTok! You know, you’d make a great Wonder Woman.”

You can practically feel your jaw tighten. “That’s DC, not Marvel. But thanks.”

Silent, you add for nothing. While you love Wonder Woman and have, in fact, cosplayed her many times, men usually only request her for one reason and that’s the skimpy outfit. Whenever you cosplay as circa 2010 Wonder Woman in pants, they’re decidedly less interested. By now, you’ve learned only to pick your characters based on personal interest.

“Have you ever cosplayed?” you ask.

Unbidden, your gaze slides to the TV. Commercial break. Stifling your twinge of disappointment, you refocus on Mike.

“Nah.” His nose wrinkles, and your stomach sinks further. “I don’t do that stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Hearing your tone, his eyes widen. “I mean, it’s cool for you. I saw your TikToks and you look amazing. I’d just look dumb,” Mike says, attempting a laugh.

Sweetly, you smile. “I don’t know. My ex used to cosplay with me, and no one ever laughed at him.”

Admittedly, this is something of a low blow since your ex-boyfriend is Jimin Park, but either Namjoon didn’t tell him, or Mike doesn’t care. Which – if that’s so, maybe Mike deserves more credit than you gave him. 

“Ah.” He nods, taking a sip of his beer. “Have you ever thought about cosplaying as Wonder Woman, though?”

Your smile vanishes. Then again, maybe you’ve given him exactly the right amount of credit.

“I have,” you say. “But more recently, I’ve been cosplaying Dimension 20 characters. It’s kind of niche, but my last character was Sundry Sidney from A Starstruck Odyssey. You know – giant machine gun arm, roller skates and a mechanical eye. Oh, and a ‘fuck erotica ann’ button, of course.”

Mike’s smile freezes. “Why… would you dress like that?”

“Because it’s fun.” Finishing your glass of wine, you toss a few bills on the counter and stand. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Mike, but I think we’d be better off as friends. Don’t you agree?”

Even with the answer right there in the question, still he looks flummoxed.

“I…” 

“Or acquaintances,” you add, pulling on your pea coat. “Or nothing at all. Whatever you prefer.”

Slinging your purse on your shoulder, you wave at the bartender and start to leave. You only make it several steps before Mike mutters something beneath his breath – loud enough that you hear.

“Stupid,” he mutters. “This is why you don’t date women like her, Mike.”

You come to a stop. Really, you should keep going. Common sense – and Namjoon’s HOA – depend on you being the bigger person and walking out. But your therapist has said you need to work on communicating, even when the message is something the other person won’t like.

Turning around, you tap Mike on the shoulder.

He glances upward, surprised – and then reddens, realizing you heard.

“Yep, I heard,” you say shortly, retracting your hand. “Was your muttering supposed to be secret?”

Mike opens, then closes his mouth, like a fish.

“What did you mean, ‘women like me?’” you demand, folding your arms. “Ones with self-respect? Or hobbies? Women who know more about a subject than you do?”

Behind the counter, the bartender snort-laughs, rising in your esteem despite the whole TV channel thing. 

Mike stares at you, stunned. He seems to grow a pair in that moment though, straightening to face you on his stool. “Women with sticks up their asses,” he blurt.

Stifling an eye roll, you lean closer. “Listen, Mike,” you say, placing one hand on the counter. “If you think you can hurt my feelings – think again. Someone broke my heart three months ago, so nothing you say now will remotely compare. Do you really want to know why women like me won’t date you?”

The furrow between his brows deepens, and you take this as a sign to continue. Leaning even closer, you lower your voice.

“It’s because you’re insecure,” you say softly. “Giving someone a compliment and putting yourself down in the same sentence isn’t nice, it’s awkward. Not to mention, you’re sexist,” you add, watching him stiffen. “Telling me – a two-time Comic Con trivia champion – that I wouldn’t know Marvel is wild. Oh, and you’re a snob. Tabletop games are awesome, and cosplay is fun. Have a good night – I paid for your drink.”

With that, you turn around and march out the door to a smattering of applause from your new favorite bartender. 

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[yukipri]

So, I binged The Acolyte last night.

I had a mental block and couldn't get myself to start while it was coming out, and I also haven't touched any High Republic era media before which made me hesitant. But the spoilers/gifs/fanart etc I saw convinced me I should give it a try.

I'm not a huge fan of binging, I like sitting and thinking with each episode, so I expected to just watch an episode or two, give it a day or so, then continue if I liked it.

But, to my great surprise, once I started, I couldn't really stop (aaand stayed up till 7 AM, oops).

I think it had several things going for it:

-The acting was genuinely phenomenal. I feel like I would have felt completely differently about the show if different actors had been involved, and i mean that more strongly than I usually do. Their delivery in certain moments really sold me.

-It's not your usual Star Wars genre. I'd consider it mystery/suspense with a touch of horror, and it really does come together. Some of the characters are experience a more stereotypical Star Wars action/adventure story, but are jerked out of their genre at certain moments. It's pretty neat, and makes the twists fun and interesting (even if you were completely spoiled beforehand, like me lol)

-The costumes were gorgeous and unique.

-Some truly gorgeous cinematography, shots that have beautiful composition and lighting.

-It was rich in lore and references, some from Legends that I caught, many from the High Republic that I didn't catch but appreciated nonetheless. It felt deeply connected to the SW Universe.

-While cynical, the writing says things that I've thought about but never really thought Star Wars would have the guts to say. The writing is also Tight, meaning that little moments of character interactions bring up things that will be necessary/helpful to the plot later, and I appreciated that. There felt like very little waste.

-There are genuinely no "good" or "bad" guys. Every character makes mistakes or has horrible qualities, yet also positive ones. We see and understand motives, even if we don't agree with them, and see the fallout of those actions. This made almost everyone compelling. The narrative and writing gives the audience space to think.

Things that I wasn't as much a fan of:

-I felt like most of the sets felt kind of generic and Earth-like, especially in comparison to the rich costumes and alien characters.

-There are some fantastic fight scenes and emotional scenes, where the acting and cinematography was fantastic, but I wish the music had been a bit more memorable. I can't really recall any of it, and I feel like there were scenes that could have been truly iconic had the music resounded more with me.

Now, some more specific thoughts, SPOILERS below:

On Sol:

Sol is a character who, I believe in most cases, I would have absolutely despised. But holy shit, Lee Jung-jae. I am not exaggerating when I say that his performance is perhaps one of the best, if not THE best performances I've ever seen in live action Star Wars. He played this character so tenderly, so genuinely.

Despite being misguided, having made terrible decisions, and making mistakes that even he acknowledges, Sol himself always truly thought he was doing what was right, and loved Osha with his whole being even at the end, and it Shows. The way he looks at Osha was so sincere.

This is why I can't get myself to hate Sol as a character. It makes me feel so conflicted, like how can a guy with so much love and genuine desire to help and do good go so wrong? And that, I think, is one of the major points of the show, and Lee Jung-jae absolutely sells it. What a phenomenal actor. You could genuinely watch this show for him alone.

On Osha/Mae:

When the first info/promos for Acolyte came out and Amandla Stenberg was announced as the main character, I admit I was a bit confused. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I thought she couldn't act, but it's just that her face is so kind. She looks so warm (and gosh, she's so beautiful), but it made me go hmm, she looks like a Good Guy Protag, a Hero, so I was a bit confused as to how she was going to lead "the Acolyte," which from the title, I assumed she'd be Dark Side. Even with the early promo scenes of Mae fighting Indara, I wasn't really sold on her being "Dark."

And it turns out, that was exactly the point of the casting.

Amandla was perfect, and was brilliant at portraying two characters who not only have different and distinct personalities, but also both shift and change throughout the show. Mae never came off as "Dark" to me, because she isn't. Osha's not necessarily Light OR Dark, but she's independent. They are balanced, yet cycling, reminiscent of that little palm-to-palm circling ritual that the girls do. Amandla's portrayal of them was poetry, and made me so very invested in them.

I think if there's one thing I really wish the show had included more of, it's both Osha and Mae's pasts between their tragic separation and their reunion in the present. What was Osha's Padawan-ship actually like? I feel like the exact reason for the timing of her leaving the Order was ambiguous, and I wanted to know more. And was Mae with "the Master" the entire time?

I truly wish Osha could have heard the full story from Sol, because of his many crimes, ironically, killing her mother really was a genuine accident. There are things I wish he could have apologized to her for, or that she could have understood about him, such as how that night at the coven was largely driven by how Sol felt connected to her. This is one part where, while I get how the writers went this way, I do wish I could have felt more closure to their relationship.

I found it so tragic that Qimir erased Mae's memories and they had to be separated so soon after finally understanding each other. I really hope that if there's a season 2, they can be reunited.

On Qimir:

Preface by saying I was spoiled regarding his identity long before I started, by all those thirsty posts/tweets. And man, I GET IT.

But thirst magnet aside, I found him a genuinely fascinating character. For one thing, he's kind of an ironic character to *be* a Darksider. He seems so chill and laid-back, is honorable (or at least keeps his word), and despite his words about using emotions to harness energy, we don't really see him passionately mad/anything really. In contrast, the Jedi we see around him are furious, scared, sad. It's interesting that he almost seems more calm, but not necessarily because he's trying: he just doesn't care.

Manny Jacinto's portrayal of the character made him so damn Likable. Which, is pretty hard to reconcile with the fact that I genuinely liked Jecki and Yord, but a lot of his lines make me just go, y'know he's got a point. Like the whole, "She was a child," "You brought her here." Like yeah. Honestly, fair. His little quips, the delivery, the I'm-just-a-chill-dude attitude, actually keeps his word, and on the flip side, undeniable ruthless skill and viciousness that took down a whole team of Jedi single-handedly. It's a very BRRRRRR combo.

In general, I don't really get too attached to "Dark Side" characters, and don't really have a favorite Sith. Or at least, I didn't, but I think Qimir (or whatever his actually name is) might claim that spot now. Truly peak character, I truly hope we get to see more with him.

And this is kind of an aside, but can I just say, it felt unreal to have entire fight sequences focussing on just two Asian actors, with the other protagonist we see a black girl, for huge chunks of the show? No white people except comparatively brief side characters? In a Star Wars show?!?? All of them unique and well fleshed out and phenomenally written and acted?? None of it felt like "forced diversity," it's all so natural, that when I step back and thought about it in these terms it just...again, feels unreal. I'm so grateful for these characters, and hope we get more like them.

On Jecki and Yord:

Honestly given what I saw about Yord before hand, I was expecting him to be far more annoying than he was. Sure, he was a little stiff, but he felt like a young Jedi Knight who was trying to prove himself and do his best, and I think he very clearly did care for Osha.

Jecki, gosh I loved her. She felt very similar to Ahsoka, if a bit more by the book. She was very wise for her youth. I loved the budding friendship between her and Osha, how they helped each other and weren't jealous.

The thing about both of these characters, which I think the writers did so well, is that they felt like protagonists. In another story, they would have been the main characters, the heroes. Both of them were so young, so early in their training/careers. They could have become Obi-Wans, Ahsokas. Jecki especially was bursting with so much potential.

But alas, this was not that story. It makes it that much shocking when their lives are cut so abruptly short. We were given time to get to know these characters, to care for them, and then without much fanfare, boom. Gone.

On one hand, I sorta Hate That. On the other, I deeply respect the writers for going there, because I think it did have an Impact on the story and show.

On the Witches/Mother Aniseya:

Admittedly I was a little ehhhhh on some of the world-building regarding the witches, just the use of the words "witch" and "coven" and some of the chanting with gasping cackling women etc felt a bit caricature. I do get that they wanted us to have a vibe for this group and to get one with limited screentime, and sometimes stereotypes are the way to do that. I didn't love it, but also didn't mind it too much.

I actually really loved Mother Aniseya. For one thing, the actress is Gorgeous, her costume stunning, and she really sold the whole otherworldly ethereal immortal goddess vibe well, in a way that still felt Star Wars. For the other, I liked how she was the soft, empathetic one, it kinda contrasted with expectation of her position.

I also loved Mother Koril, and how again, she was designed as a character foil to Mother Aniseya. I love how we didn't see too much of them, but could still see that they were partners who loved and respected each other (I hesitate to say "wives," because I feel like their society may not exactly have the same concept of marriage, but partners was undeniable). I think it was a neat Oh moment when they stated that Mother Koril is the one who carried the twins. Love them.

I know I'll have more thoughts, but yeah, to sum it up, I enjoyed Acolyte a ton more than I thought i would, and am so glad I gave it a chance.

Other things:

-Mentioned earlier that I love "little moments of character interactions bring up things that will be necessary/helpful to the plot later." Some actual examples of this: When we see Sol noticing Osha's tattoo and Osha saying he must hate it, which in the moment, shows the kind of guardian-student relationship they have, and how little seems to have changed for them in the time they've been a part. Later, it's shown to clearly identify Osha after Mae steals her clothes. Another is the rolly polly moth things, which at first seem just like a way to show This Forest Dangerous, but then are a plot point to temporarily escape from Qimir, and later on, to show Vernestra's connection to the Force (and also her light whip). Stuff like that, I really like.

-I so appreciated Qimir's Cortosis helmet. For one thing, it's neat that it's not just cool-looking or a disguise, but actually is Force-blocking. I think an official SW account factoid said that this is also how beskar works, though beskar is stronger. The two effects this has: when the user is wearing it, they're forced to confront what's inside of them. The other, is that it hides the wearer's identity from Force users who would otherwise recognize them. The latter is my personal headcanon for beskar helmets, so it's very gratifying to see it in canon! The former has some interesting implications for Force-users who wear beskar.

-The cynical view of the Jedi Order as an Institution, and all the politics, corruption, and obscuring of dirt that that entails. Admittedly this may be because of my own increasingly cynical perspective on the Order, but it felt honest and I agreed with most of it. The fact that individuals are trying their best to do "good" does not negate the fact that they are pretty much acting as Space Cops. This line by Senator Rayencourt felt especially raw:

"I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to claim the uncontrollable. [] Your emotions."

Framed as a religion having unchecked power—that feels uncomfortably realistic! And also zeroing in on how for all their power, the Jedi are still people, and just as fallible (and therefore, must necessarily be held just as accountable).

Also:

I can see how this portrayal of the Jedi may make some folks uncomfortable, especially if you love the Jedi, but I long hold that the Jedi as an organization are deeply flawed. It's part of why I personally like the "fall of the Republic" era; both the Galactic Republic and Jedi Order have deep, fatal flaws, and this is an era where that all comes to a head—one where they must fall, or fix themselves.

So in conclusion, my favorite parts: the characters, and the moral grayness of almost everyone. Many stories may claim there's no good/evil dichotomy, but few ever truly show it, but this one did.

I'm not sure yet if I want to "fandom" over this or if I'm pretty satisfied with having just watched it, but it was definitely worth the watch and I'm glad I gave it a try!

~~

~~

I also kept a lil document of live reaction notes as I was watching, which I'll copy below:

Episode 1

UEDA?? The planet is just, UEDA?? A pretty common Japanese surname?? That's like. Naming a planet Johnson or somethin...

Loving the costumes 'n set

Oh wait I recognize this scene, it's the one they played as a preview at the AMC Star Wars marathon

Idk how to feel about the Space Generic T-Shirt

Ooh Neimoidians (thank you for no horrendously exaggerated Evil Japanese Accent TM), and interesting Jedi ship shape

Oh interesting interesting they intentionally paralleling TPM eh

Hrmn not a positive first impression of Master Vernestra, her lines are so mechanical

Very cool pilot chair droids and tentacle alien

Osha says practice vehicle safety and wear seatbelts and protect your head!

Oh Osha has Trauma I see. Girl ain't getting good sleep

Oh wow Sol Loves Osha, oh no is this going to lead to Padawan Jealousy Trauma between Osha and Jecki. How much are we heavily paralleling TPM here

Kill the dream eh?

Episode 2

Oh there are multiple Jedi temples, that's nice

Jedi Temple using same security system as Jabba is...uh

Mae tips, good for her

Master Torbin just sittin' there, lookin like some random youtuber. why tabi socks

Man I dig Mae's patchwork cloak with massive princess hood.

It's pronounced KAI-meer??? My Chinese ass thought it was Chee-mir

Barash Vow

Ohhh so Mae doesn't know that Qimir...? (was spoiled)

Episode 3

ooh i like the fairy clione things

Ohhh village all women??

Mother Aniseya is stunning

Oh she and Koril blatantly lesbian, fantastic

Oh gosh the Jedi are NOT looking good here. They don't have the right to train children?? WTF

You must let the children take the test?? And if they pass the Jedi will take them away??? That does NOT sound very consensual!!

Oh gosh, selling "you are special" to a child, after separating her from her community...

Really feel like "how does taking a child away affect their community" should be factored into jedi stuff

Mae that is...sudden and violent wtf

Kinda not trusting Sol here

Episode 4

Wow Kelnacca looks...mentally stable

Ohhh Qimir's ship? Looks suspiciously Kylo Ren-ish

Qimir really suspicious eh

Oh wow not using the Force or anything, just using a sniffy guy

They're really doing a Fellowship of the Ring walk huh

Look I absolutely adore Mae's long gorgeous cloak but that is going to drag half the forest floor with her

Not liking those tree bulbs. looks spider eggy

Osha don't Touch the Thing, that's such a Pippin move

oh no, not spider eggs...rolly polly moth vampire thing

Really enjoying Osha and Jecki's friendship, I'm so glad it's not former Padawan jealousy

Oh, Mae, oh no....knowing spoilers...oh...

The red lightsaber igniting next to Osha's head...dang what fantastic composition

The lil hand twitch and head snap. I Get It.

I remember when "Darth Teeth" was trending

And wow that's a Cliffhanger

Episode 5

Oh no Osha knocked out that doesn't bode well

How many against one is that damn

The double spear through then hidden head lop...wow

holy shit booma-saber

Oooooh the cut treeeeees damn

all that death before even the opening title

Honestly GO JECKI, that's very impressive, her win against Mae AND double saber against Darth Teeth, Anakin level spinning and drama

Holy shit Jecki's death was brutal...

She was a child - You brought her here - FAIR

Why risk discovery - I did wear a mask LMAO

Damn did he just casually break Mae's leg

I don't make the rules - the Jedi do

The Jedi say I can't exist...wow

Holy shit Yord's death

Damn full on brawl

I've accepted my darkness, what have you done with yours

Damn really yeeted Qimir from the fight by sticking a light on his back

Pip tho ;_; killin droids feels like killin pets...

They've turned you against me - really Anakin quotin

Wow Sol, not even going to see Jecki????

And wtf how can Sol not tell that Mae's switched them??? Has fandom been grossly misunderstanding how the Jedi use the Force....how the fuck can any Jedi tell apart any clones eh...

While not exactly subtle, I appreciate how lil details in character interactions have had pay offs. Like the tree bugs and Osha's tattoo being a way to identify her

Episode 6

He really just makin a hot pot

his lair kinda looks like sequels Luke's island

Not sure how I feel about the elephant rock bird things

Honestly glad we get to see Sol upset and affected by everyone's deaths. Might explain part of why he can't tell apart the twins?

Oh he's really wearing hakama hakama

Wow Qimir really just getting in buck naked eh. Is this the scene that Manny froze his balls off for

His line about it being fine in a fight but vengeance a few hours later

Oh he brought a change of clothes

Damn the Jedi are taught "it fades"???

Aww Osha, u aren't tempted by the soup??

Oh wow we revisiting bodies, that feels...u usual for SW. Oh there's a Kel Dor... (why are there no flies buzzing yet. or are there no flies yet)

Mae wakes up so peacefully compared to Osha

Oooh sensory deprivation mask, all dark, nothing but breathing, evocative of Darth Vader even if breathing is not similar

Episode 7

Vergence....iiiiinteresting

Sol, stalking lil kids is creepy af

Oh my god you're just gonna break in???

See - You cannot deny the Jedi have a right to test potential Padawans - Why the fuck not???? You don't have the right to stalk, spy on, break into random people's homes, and talk directly to their children without permission from guardians??

Guh Sol....

Interrogation after isolation from guardians....

Oh, the Jedi Council is right for once??

Do not alter this little girl's destiny because you have formed an emotional attachment to her

Gosh I thought Indara was the most innocent in this buuuuut

Episode 8

I'm surprised they never added Darth Teeth's mask to the front credits

"See you in hell" Oh I know Han mentioned Hell like once but I thought they were avoiding mentioning it in newer media

Holy shit Rayencourt: I think the Jedi are a massive system of unchecked power, posing as a religion, a delusional cult that claims to claim the uncontrollable. - Kinda uncomfortably real!!

-We don't control the Force - no, your emotions - OOF

I didn't realize till this ep how the cool Brendok eclipse got that line, it's the comet ring. super neat

oof Mae climbing out of the scene of Trauma...

Oh that is some Wu Xia shit

"I will destroy you if i must" really??

Nice dagger saber

Okay Sol that is Cool

oh gosh, the plot-relevant inversion of clothes resulting in it reflecting how they swapped light/dark is SO cool

very yin yang fighting

Damn it keeps coming down to the unarmed opponent thing

Damn, Mae going the justice route

Damn, just Damn

Gosh the thing about Sol is that he is SO well acted, so sincere in his love and devotion, it's hard to hate him

I'm glad the helmets block the Force identity like that tho, fits headcanon

Glad Basil continues to shine

Oh no. Vernestra...I thought you were doing the right thing revealing the truth, but instead you're continuing the cycle of covering up crimes

Oh...use Mae to find Vernestra's former Padawan...that's a cycle alright

And ends with Yoda okay

[onmyyan]

Okay so there's this specific genre of fics about the Yandere batfamily x neglected!Reader that I'm obsessing over and basically, reader joins the family unexpectedly, usually a long lost kid from an old fling of Bruce's, and it's wonderfully angsty as the batfamily is so caught up in their own shit they inadvertently ignore/neglect the reader, the isolation is bad because they don't show her their vigilante life, so she's just sees it as some secret family club she isn't good enough to be in, they're always together and talking in hushed whispers about their patrol's, it's hard not to feel like an outsider, the tension is high throughout the years as she sees them act so lovingly towards each other but so indifferent towards her, and then something happens, (reader gets hurt, tries to run away, is kidnapped ECT) and then the batfam's yandere tendencies kick into high gear and they try to fix their severely damaged relationship, lawd I love this concept so much if I write it I'll be tagging the works that inspired me bec everyone should read them omg, anyway I love how jarring it must be once that switch happens, how all of a sudden reader is getting the attention and love she wanted for years, only now she doesn't need it, she's a grown independent woman who's only ever had herself to rely on, after all when you grow up in the shade of such a tight knit family, always on the outside looking in, it tends to make you self sufficient.

I have a few ideas for this concept, one where reader is incredibly smart and after years of fighting for an ounce of affection, gives up on the Batfamily, gets an internship at Lexcorp because Lex recognized her brilliance, he becomes a Yandere for her shortly after reading over her file, because the thought of Yandere!batfam begging for readers attention and affection after years of indifference towards her only to have her seek comfort in a villainous man like Lex Luthor is tew tasty.

My other idea for this concept is the same set up only Reader notices what the family is up to, quickly putting together that her father is Batman and that everyone in the house is a vigilante, she's 17/18 at this point and still desperate to belong to this family so she starts training, going to local gyms and picking fights so she can get used to getting the shit kicked out of her, no one notices her absences, no one but Alfred, he catches her limping in at some ungodly hour, blood seeping through her shirt, a needle and thread in one hand as she clumsily tries to stitch herself up, he asks her what happened, not expecting the most demure and quiet member of the family in this state, she tells him in an empty voice, "Doesn't matter." And Alfred is taken aback by the coldness in her eyes. He of course reports this to Bruce after patching her up, and he shrugs it off, "If she was in some kind of trouble she'd say something." Bruce is certain, sure he hadn't yet truly bonded with his daughter but he was sure he had time to, after all he was a man with the world on his shoulders and a plethora of other people who he felt needed his attention more, (y/n) never gave him problems, she kept to herself and was so self sufficient he felt comfortable putting her on the back burner, years go by and now 23, reader has shaped herself into a proper vigilante, her fighting style is raw, pure anger in her punches, she takes care of Gotham, sure she's not fighting world ending threats, but she's saving people, helping, it's helped to fill the void in her chest where her family's love was supposed to go, the batfamily knows about this new vigilante but know nothing about them, the suit reader wears is tactical that hides everything about her identity, not sure how but she gets unmasked/ hurt and unmasked and they find out, cue Yandere Batfamily.

[danceofthephilos]

Hanakotoba and the Meanings of Flowers in SK8 the Infinity

Ranging from very overt allusions in the text to single pieces of official art, almost every main character in SK8 has been associated with a flower. Hanakotoba, the Japanese language of flowers, is something that the creators were attentive to, evidenced by its mention both in the show itself and by staff in discussion about the episodes, and considering how hanakotoba might have been taken into account in the other examples of flower imagery can add an interesting layer of symbolism to speculate on.

The hanakotoba columns on GreenSnap were my primary source for this post, but I've crosschecked the meanings on multiple websites as much as possible to ensure the factual information here is accurate to the best of my ability. This is quite a long post, so bear with me.

🌹 Roses 🌹

Naturally, the first flower to start with is the one that is directly mentioned in the show itself:

As Adam says, red roses do mean "passionate love", though his particular wording (jounetsu no ai) is slightly paraphrased from how that meaning is typically worded. (If you look up the meaning of roses in hanakotoba, you may see netsuretsu na koi (熱烈な恋) instead.) They can also simply mean "love" and "passion" (ai and jounetsu, as Adam uses in this line), as well as "beauty" and "I'm in love with you."

In Japanese as in English, red roses are a very classically romantic gift, so in the finale and the Blu-ray box art, it seems Adam's passionate love hasn't waned.

There are also specific meanings for certain numbers of flowers in a bouquet of roses, and while it's never stated how many roses are in the first bouquet Adam brings Langa, extrapolating from how many flowers are visible in the shots and how many are hidden, as well as the bouquet at Adam's birthday display at the 2022 NAMJATOWN collaboration containing 50 flowers (as I was able to confirm from some fans' photos from better angles, that I won't be reposting here as they were personal photos on Twitter) I believe that the bouquet in the show also contains 50, which means "eternity."

Adam's bouquets to Langa are also not the only times roses appear in relation to him, nor is red the only color they appear in. Several flashback shots of Ainosuke and Tadashi as children feature red roses, which has quite clear subtextual implications, especially alongside the comparison between Tadashi and Langa made in the show itself.

But one prominent flashback also includes pink roses, meaning "deep impression."

In Ainosuke and Tadashi's last scene together in the finale, there's a vase of purple roses behind them, meaning "pride" or "respect."

And his graffiti tag from the 2022 Infinity Week art features blue roses, which, along with being in Langa's image color, mean "dream come true", "impossible" or "miracle."

Roses also have a lengthy history of associations with gay men, both in real-life Japanese gay culture and in the boys' love genre, and how this relates to the use of rose imagery in SK8 could (and likely eventually will) be its own post, but it's an extra aspect to take into consideration with Adam especially.

As a bonus, the mangaka for the official manga adaptation also drew Langa and Reki with red and blue roses (respectively) to celebrate the season finale:

And while Reki is never associated with roses in any more official capacity, Langa does have red roses in his house that are visible in a few scenes:

~

🌷 Tulips 🌷

This is another one that's directly confirmed, this time regarding Shadow's bouquet in the ending montage.

For love bouquets, Adam uses roses, so Hiromi-chan's was tulips and white baby's breath. In hanakotoba, red tulips mean "confession of love." Pink means "sincere love." Orange means "shyness", so we went with these three. Plus, white tulips are "new love" or "unrequited love" so we stopped there… (lol) By the way, in hanakotoba, baby's breath means "innocent love" and "gratitude."

(Episode 12 Director Masatoyo Takada, Skater's Backstage)

Tulips in general mean "charity" and "thoughtfulness", and Shadow is frequently associated with them outside of just this scene, whether on his clothes or in official merchandise. "Tulip" is also the name of the flower shop where he works!

He's holding another bouquet of tulips on the Blu-ray box art, as well, with the same colors as in the finale - but with the addition of the mentioned white tulips for "unrequited love", and yellow tulips, which can mean "honesty", but can mean "unrequited love" (or "hopeless love") too... Sorry, Shadow.

~

🌺 Hibiscus 🌺

Moving away from directly stated connections into slightly more obscure ones, Reki is nevertheless visually associated with hibiscus in several places, both in shots in the show and in his 2021 birthday art.

Hibiscus flowers generally can mean "new love", "trust" and "I believe in you" (a meaning thought to originate from Hinduism), while red hibiscus specifically (as Reki is depicted with) mean "bravery."

Hibiscus flowers are also considered as symbol of Okinawa as a whole, making them an especially fitting flower for Reki, who's implied to be of indigenous Ryukyuan descent and is the character who could be considered the most representative of Okinawa (and Langa's new life there) in the show,

~

🌸 Cherry Blossoms 🌸

This one is fairly self-explanatory; Kaoru's surname is Sakurayashiki (sakura being the Japanese word for cherry blossoms), his S name is Cherry Blossom, cherry blossoms feature on his costume and heavily in the decor in his calligraphy studio, et cetera. As one of the most well-known and famously Japanese flowers, they're well suited to Cherry's traditional Japanese image, and the whole aesthetic of his character is themed around them. Even his birthday is on March 27th, Sakura Day in Japan.

In hanakotoba, cherry blossoms' most well-known meaning is "moral beauty", a phrase referring to the beauty of someone's personality or character. They can also mean "graceful woman" or "pure-blooded", and the specific species of cherry blossom that the ones in Cherry's design resemble (somei-yoshino cherry blossoms) can additionally mean "noble" or "innocent." The fact that the same flower with such elegant meanings is related to both his public and S personas adds to the characteristic duality between his outward appearance and private personality.

While not specifically hanakotoba, the French meaning of cherry blossoms also appears to be well-known in Japan - "ne m'oubliez pas", or "don't forget me", associated with ending relationships.

~

💮 Chrysanthemums 💮

Another flower associated with a character through their surname, chrysanthemums are the "kiku" (菊) in Kikuchi. A chrysanthemum also features prominently in the design on Adam's skateboard.

Chrysanthemums also appear on both Adam and Tadashi's clothes in a few pieces of official art.

Chrysanthemums' meanings in hanakotoba are all variations of "nobility" and "purity." They're a flower with great cultural significance in Japan, being the crest of the Imperial family, and often appear as a symbol of Japanese society itself - including on the badges worn by both Diet members such as Ainosuke and even certain ones worn by their secretaries, making this flower one that's representative of a very important aspect of both their lives.

While there's no particular history to this meaning, due to the romantic color, red chrysanthemums such as the one on Adam's board can also mean "I love you."

According to director Utsumi in the 2022 Infinity Week livestream, the chrysanthemum on Adam's board was a happy accident, as Thomas Romain, the artist who designed the board, didn't know Tadashi's name or anything about his history with Adam when creating it. The double layer of symbolism is an incredible coincidence!

~

🌻 Sunflowers 🌻

Joe doesn't have any particular connection with flowers in the show himself, but there is one piece of official art featuring him with sunflowers, which complement the strong association he does have with the sun.

In hanakotoba, sunflowers mean "admiration", "longing" or "I'm only looking at you" - originating from the way sunflowers will always turn to face the sun. As this particular piece of official art was for a magazine feature for White Day (a Japanese holiday where men receive gifts from women they gave gifts to on Valentine's Day), perhaps they're meant to be a gift to him. As Joe's stronger association is with the sun itself (his tattoo is of the sun, his board has the word "sole" - sun in Italian - written on it and a sun incorporated into the design, his restaurant's name (Sia la Luce) translates to "let there be light") he could be seen as the sun that the sunflowers (his admirers) would look towards.

Along with the hibiscus in the image, Reki's birthday event in 2021 also featured sunflowers as part of the display, fitting his yellow image color.

~

❄️ Snowdrops ❄️

And finally, one more case with only a single piece of official art - but one with a very interesting history behind its meanings. In Langa's 2022 birthday art, he's shown holding snowdrops - a natural association with his S name and the fact that he's a former snowboarder.

In hanakotoba, snowdrops mean "hope" and "comfort." These meanings are said, as you will find on any Japanese hanakotoba site, to originate from a story about Adam and Eve dating back to at least 1925, if not earlier (with 1925 being the earliest version of the story the Japanese Wikipedia page on snowdrops is able to cite.) As the story goes, after Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden, an angel took pity on them suffering in the winter cold and turned the falling snowflakes into snowdrops, to console them and give them courage. In that 1925 version of the story, the first snowdrop was specifically a gift to Eve:

The Snowdrop Legend When the first winter lay white upon the earth, Eve sorely missed the beautiful things of the field. An angel who pitied her seized a snowflake and, breathing upon it, bade it live, for her delight. It fell to the earth a flower, which Eve caught to her breast with gladness, for not only did it break the spell of winter, but it carried assurance of divine mercy. Hence the flower means consolation and promise.

With both the superficial connections of being winter flowers named after snow and their connection to SK8's intentional biblical themes (as producer Mari Suzuki described the show as a whole as "the story of Adam searching for Eve" in Animedia March 2021), these have some of the deepest meanings of any of the flowers depicted, despite only appearing in a single piece of art.

The flower imagery SK8 uses is fascinating and surprisingly layered, especially knowing the deliberate attention to hanakotoba that was paid in certain cases, and it'll be interesting to see how it might continue to feature in the future.

[erinwantstowrite]

hi!! first off i just want to say i love LOF and i think it really stands out in this niche genre of “spiderman in gotham”, its my absolute favourite fic rn and im loving the long chapters and dynamics between characters :)

for my question, i wanted to know if you ever considered writing any portions of peters past. specifically when he was “Parker”, an informant for the avengers. it sounds like a really interesting story and i’d love to know more about it, no pressure tho ^^

thank you so much!! I do plan on writing more about it. I honestly want to do a prequel,,,

I have some of it written actually. It was called It's called "Technically Not a Lie (Just Omitting Information)" and what is hilarious about that is it's only 27,000 words right now. I haven't touched that fic in forever because I just... had all of the information written down and the planning, and I got into Batfam and was like "Let's just write a little about this" and we can all blame @alighterwood for where we are now LMFAOOO

Thing is, I never expected LoF to get so popular, which is why it was posted first. I was like "I'll just make sure as much as I can that LoF is clear about his past so anyone who isn't me can read it and be fine." And now that we're here, I'm like "...that might be important."

I think it would be fun to have a prequel so more people can see the dynamics of Peter's world from before LoF in a much clearer light.

I kind of wanna shed a little light on how this prequel would go:

He ran from his last foster house at 12 years old, and he's year years old in this fic. In that time, he has been determined to make a life for himself all on his own, as well as help people as Spider-Man. He has no idea that his personality made people trust him so much. He's only on the street for about a year by the time the story starts, but "Parker" is very much intertwined with people. People just know him, he's the kid that the other kids go to for help. Even without Spider-Man (who, at this point, has only just gotten a proper suit and people actually realize he's not a cryptid), Parker manages to help people.

That's why the Avengers end up talking to him. Kids are going missing in Queens and show up dead- but most of them are the homeless population. They think it has something to do with people trying to make a knock-off super solider serum, and during their investigation, everything comes back to "That Parker Guy." Not in a bad way- everything has nice things to say. One kid even says they'll only talk to them if Parker vouches for them.

Turns out, Parker is a 13 year old and a fucking genius. I mentioned in LoF chapter 1 about it a little bit, and here and there it was mentioned. Peter gives the Avengers a real run for their money the way he does for the Batfam. Except it's ten times worse because he hasn't gone to therapy and is on his own, yknow?

So Bucky and Steve run across Peter (who is doing his own investigation into the missing kids as both Parker and Spider-Man) and that conversation ends with Peter going "Look behind you!" and sprinting in the opposite direction.

Sam and Banner are the ones that really track Parker down and have the first contact with him, and from there, he becomes their informant. Of course, he's also lying to their faces. Swears that he has a mother waiting for him and that he's just really good friends with these people. And people have lied several times to their faces for Peter, going with the lie, which muddies the waters about what is and isn't the truth.

From there, the rest is history. Tony thought he was just viewing Peter like he was a puzzle to figure out, and is truly shaken to his core when he realizes how much he cares about the little shit. When Peter gets kidnapped by the people making the knock off serum, they go looking for him. And Peter ends up having a home :)