#i have math/science muses so i need these for me

[ariesqueencobra]

what we used to be |  l

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet a new kid and your feelings for your best friend are said aloud.

Warnings: mentions of bullying, mentions of slut shaming, implications of violence, implications of strict parents

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Starting my first ever series for Eli! I always wanted to do a series following his story line in the show along with a female character so I did! I'm aware of other series being done like this by other writers on here, but this will be my own unique twist. There are similarities because it does follow the show's storyline but different because of my own interpretations!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“If the limit never approaches anything, then the limit does not exist,” you listened to Eli as he helped you with your math homework. “But in this case, it does, so what is it?” he pointed at the problem on the sheet.

“Two?” you furrowed your brows, trying your best not to sound like you were guessing. 

“C’mon, Y/N, you’re in Calculus for a reason,” he encouraged.

“Only because I passed Trig with an 89, they only let me in because of pity,” you frowned. 

Calculus has been your enemy since the beginning of the semester. You really didn’t want to take the class in the first place but your parents had been adamant about you taking higher-level classes. You would’ve been fine filling up your schedule with more creative art classes like ceramics and photography, but that wasn’t the agreement. 

Math and science classes were part of the agreement. 

Thankfully, you had two smart best friends who helped you whenever you had trouble.

“My advice?” Demetri spoke up.

You and Eli glanced at him, a knowing look on both your faces.

To be honest, while you had two best friends, only one was good at helping you out. 

Demetri on the other hand? He had a habit of giving unsolicited advice. But because you loved him, you tolerated and actually encouraged him to hear what he had to say. 

“Rewatch Mean Girls,” he deadpanned. 

You let out a chuckle. “What I’m hearing is, that you guys are agreeing to watch it for our next movie night,” you grinned.

Both boys groaned.

“I’m fine watching your sci-fi, superhero films, but a girl needs her rom coms and chick flicks,” you mused. 

Being the only girl and having vastly different interests compared to the guys, there were moments where you felt outnumbered. Sometimes you have to plead for one movie night to be your pick. 

“I’d be down for Mean Girls this Friday,” Eli shrugged.

You silently clapped your hands, face creeping up with heat when you and Eli made eye contact.

“Demitiri?” you turned your attention to your other best friend.

After a minute, he rolled his eyes, agreeing.

“This Friday, my place,” you grinned. “Both my parents will be having a date night, so we’ll have the place to ourselves,”.

“Are you sure your dad will allow that?” Demetri cocked a brow. “That man is scary and I don’t want to know what will happen when he sees his daughter home alone with two boys,” he shuddered. 

“He won’t mind, he likes you guys,” you attempted to reassure. “Besides, we’re just watching a movie,”.

“We know that, but will he?” Demetri asked in a mix of sarcasm and sincerity. 

“C’mon, my dad isn’t that scary,” you trailed. 

“I-I don’t think he likes me very much,” Eli said quietly. 

“He does,” you straightened up. “Don’t worry about my dad guys, you’ve known him for ten years,” you stated.

You watched as the boys avoided your gaze, the sound of the cafeteria surrounded you when they both fell silent. Leaning back in your seat, you wondered why they were bringing this up now. 

Like he read your mind, Demetri spoke up, “I’m just pointing out an observation I’ve noticed for the last few years. The older we get, the more of a threat your dad thinks we are,” he explained. “Guess it’s the raging teenage hormones!” he gestured with his hands, joking at the end.

Eli’s lips spread out into a smirk.

Relaxing, you shook your head at the way your best friend acted, even though you found the joke to be funny.

For the next few minutes, Eli went on to explain limits to you. You were about to ask a question when a new presence stopped you.

“Hey, can I sit here?” 

You all turned your attention to a kid with dark hair and brown eyes, a tray in his hand as he gestured at the empty seat next to Eli. 

You were about to welcome him until Demitri beat you to it. 

“Check back next semester as you can see we’re entirely booked,” he said sarcastically but the new kid didn’t catch it.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he was about to walk away. 

“He’s kidding, you can sit,” you gestured to the empty seat. “I’m Y/N, that’s Demitri and Eli,” you introduced. 

“Miguel,” he nodded.

Just then, Yasmine and her entourage walked passed, causing Miguel to go into a trance. 

You frowned at his reaction. You hated that just cause they were pretty, it forgave all the terrible things they’ve done to your friends and you.

“You’re just torturing yourself,” Demetri warned. “They’re the rich girls”.

“Do you talk to them or…?” Miguel asked.

“Yeah, all the time,” Demetri feigned a smirk. “We hang out after school, make out,” he shrugged. “Eli is homecoming king, and gets laid more than anyone”.

You rolled your lips together, glancing at your lap.

“You pretty much signed away all hopes of losing your virginity before college the moment you sat at this table,” he frowned. 

Comments like that reminded you that boys will be boys. In the sense that virginity is still frowned upon. The societal pressure to lose it before a certain age disgusted you. 

What happened to not conforming to society's rules?

“Oh, great, Yasmine is looking at us,” Eli narrowed in on himself, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “Probably making fun of me”.

“I wouldn’t assume that,” you reassured. “She’s always going to have that nasty look on her face,” you grimaced.

Then you made eye contact with her. 

She whispered something to Moon, causing both of them to burst out laughing. 

You figured she was making fun of you again, calling you a slut or whatever. Dropping your gaze to your food, you checked your phone for the time.

“I gotta go, it was nice meeting you,” you smiled towards Miguel as you got up. 

“What about your homework?” Eli asked.

“I got limits now,” you attempted to reassure but your composure fell when you accidentally looked Yasmine’s way. “Besides I have to get my sketch done before class,” you hoisted your bag over your shoulder. 

Art was your passion. Since you could talk, you could draw. Your best friends might’ve been computer nerds, but you? You were an artistic geek. 

Still, as talented as you were, Yasmine and Moon used that area of your life to make fun of you. Whether it was a silly doodle you drew during class or an actual piece you worked your ass off for class. 

They tried to diminish your spirit with your art, but thankfully you haven’t lost it yet.

Shaking your head to brush the thoughts away, you gulped down the lump in your throat and managed to make your way down the hall to your art class twenty minutes early.

While you were gone from the lunchroom, the conversation at the table shifted, focusing on you.

“Do you like her or something?” Miguel asked Eli.

The awkward boy stilled at the newcomer’s question, opting to fidget with his fingers while staring at his tray. He didn’t think he was being obvious, the only other person who knew of his infatuation with you was Demetri. 

“He’s been in love with her since they met in kindergarten, her too but they’re too scared to admit it,” Demetri answered for him. “I think they’ll get married before either of them admit they do like each other,”.

It was true. 

You liked Eli and Eli liked you.

The moment you laid eyes on him on the playground, that was it for the two of you. But both of you are socially awkward, insecure people…neither of you had the guts to tell each other how you truly feel.

Leaving Demetri to stand and watch at the mutual pining unwind for the last ten years.

“I’m not in love with her,” Eli defended. “Besides, she wouldn’t ever like someone like me,” he folded in on himself. 

“You won’t know if you never strike first,” Miguel tried to reason. 

“Good luck with getting Eli to do that,” Demerit said.

Eli sighed, keeping his gaze down. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew deep down that his friend was right.

~

“Keep this door open,” your dad barked quickly followed by your mother scolding him.

The door had been half-way opened, or half-way closed, when he walked past. He decided it wasn’t to his standards so he made sure the door was wide, banging it against the adjacent wall.

“Sorry,” you said, not looking up from your notebook.

You were sitting in your room, Eli helping you study for your Clac quiz tomorrow. It was a routine for the two of you, hanging out after school and doing homework. Quality time well spent and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sometimes Demetri would join but he decided to play Dungeon Lord after school today. Part of you was happy to hear he wouldn’t be joining.

Especially when that meant you spent more time with Eli. Meaning there would be more brief moments where your shoulders or knees would brush. Which would send butterflies straight to your tummy.

“Miguel seems nice,” Eli shrugged, placing his pen down. “He mentioned something about karate, he wants all of us to join,” he smiled lightly.

“Really?” you smirked. “What did Demetri say to that?” you laughed, knowing he had some highlighted opinions about it.

“Wasn’t on board, but I don’t know,” he glanced down. “Maybe it could be fun,” he said.

“If you want to,” you passed him a smile. “It’d be nice to see you kick Kyler’s ass for once,” you sighed, glancing at the problem in your book.

You missed the way he frowned but he continued, “You should join too,”. 

“Me?” your eyes widened and you glanced up to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah,” he cracked a grin. One that was big and genuine, something that only happened in front of you or Demetri. “You’d be great at kicking ass too,” he reasoned. 

“In my dreams,” you huffed out a laugh. “I can barely do a push-up,” you shook your head. 

“Maybe just think about it,” he suggested.

“Okay, I will,” you nodded. “So, how am I doing?” you licked your lips. 

You pushed your notebook between the two of you. 

Both of you leaned in, your shoulders brushing against each other. Anytime you inhaled, you smelled him. 

He smelled nice. 

“You’re doing good, you just need to remember that an open circle means the limit exists but not in the function,” he pointed at the problem you got wrong. 

“Stupid circles,” you huffed out a breath, running a hand over your hair. “Thanks again, Eli,” you pressed your lips into a soft smile. 

“You’re going to do great, okay?” he nudged his elbow with yours. 

“Okay,” you nodded, allowing yourself to believe. 

You went over the material for a few minutes, your mind getting lost in all things limits and functions. 

Unbestowent to you though, Eli was watching you. 

He watched the way your nose would scrunch when you didn’t understand what you read the first time around. The way your lashes fluttered as you scanned the page. The way you would lick your lips in concentration. The way you would crack your knuckles when they got too stiff. 

He was utterly in love with you. 

Being friends for ten years, you’d reach that point without even dating. Even if it was just puppy love, he knew one thing for sure—he likes you, a lot. 

He doubted himself when he thought about what Demetri said. And when he thought about the comment Kyler made earlier of him being a loser. He had come home crying, knowing he was never going to get a girlfriend because of the way he looked. But then his mind thought to Miguel. 

Maybe he could be wrong, maybe he could get a girlfriend. Maybe it could be you.

Without second-guessing any further, he opened his mouth.

“Hey, Y/N?” he cleared his throat. 

“Yeah?” you reached your gaze to his, your head resting in your palm. 

“I like you,” he confessed, face going pale at the fact that he actually said that to you. 

Your eyes went wide, face blank as you took in his words. You didn’t say anything for a few moments, just staring at your best friend. 

“I-you know, never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he felt embarrassed, shaking his head as he went back to his homework. 

“Wait!” you reached out and touched his arm. “I like you too,” you gulped, a smile creeping up on your face. 

“Really?” he seemed taken aback.

You nodded enthusiastically. 

The two of you gazed at each other for what felt like a few minutes until you bent over in giggles, still in disbelief. 

“I’m glad you told me,” you reached for his hand on your desk, squeezing it. 

“Me too,” he squeezed it back. 

You felt your cheeks heat up before you turned back to your work. 

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you doing work, holding hands.

~

The next day at school, Eli was sitting with Demetri and Miguel. 

Having just told the news about you and him, he was feeling a little proud of himself that he actually did it. 

And more relieved that you actually reciprocate his feelings.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Demetri raised a brow.

Eli smiled, his cheeks turning pink while Miguel laughed. 

“I’m glad someone took my advice, now you see my Sensei is legit,” Miguel pointed out. 

Eli nodded, a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna need more evidence to back it up,” Demerit crossed his arms over his chest. “This,” he gestured to Eli, “has been a work in progress for ten years, your words of encouragement just gave him enough push,” he scoffed. 

About to respond, Eli was stopped by the smell of your perfume. He turned his head to the left just in time to greet you as you approached the table.

“Hi, guys,” you greeted, taking your seat next to Eli. “Hi, Eli,” your cheeks warmed up.

“Hi, Y/N,” his eyes beamed with admiration. “You look nice,” he blushed, glancing over the pretty green sundress you wore today, but his gaze circled back to your face.

“Thanks,” you glanced down, running a hand over the skirt. “It’s been in my closet for a while, I figured it’d be happy to see the light of day,” you shrugged, unaware he wasn’t talking about the dress.

“You should wear it more often,” Eli commented.

Demetri and Miguel sent each other a knowing look before Miguel decided to cut the awkward lovey-dovey talk.

“So, Y/N, did Eli tell you about joining my karate dojo?”

You focused your gaze on him, the warmth of your cheeks dissolving when your mind was pushed away from Eli. “Uh, yeah,” you smiled. “I thought about it, but I don’t know if I want to do something like that. I need my hands for my art, I don’t want them beaten and bruised,” you stifled a laugh. 

Miguel nodded in understanding. “Thanks for thinking about it, Y/N,” he pressed his lips in a smile. 

“No problem. Anyway, do you want to join us for movie night this Friday?” you extended your invitation to him. “You can pick the movie,” you offered. 

“Sure, I’d like that,” he grinned.

“Awesome”. 

~

Friday came around and you were all seated on your couch in the living room watching Spider-Man. 

You actually enjoyed the pick, especially watching the nerdy boy become the hero. One who reminded you a lot of the boy sitting right next to you. 

Miguel was on the recliner, Demetri on the other end of the couch, and Eli in the middle with you on the other side. Except, Eli was scooted closer to you, only a bowl of popcorn separating the two of you. 

Your hands happened to brush a lot when you’d reach for the popcorn. Though, you didn’t mind. 

You had gotten to the part where Peter Parker discovered his powers, a glass in your hand as you had come back from refilling your drink.

“That’s a cool painting,” Miguel noticed the piece of art framed by the TV. 

It was an oceanscape of the beach.

“Y/N painted it,” Eli stated.

“No kidding,” Miguel said in amazement, standing up to study it. “You’re really talented, Y/N,” he smiled over to you. 

“Thanks, that was my first one so my parents framed it,” you shyly said. 

“You should see her sketchbook, it’s filled with the most awesome things,” Eli smiled.

You glanced at him, sending him a thankful look. 

“Can I see?” Miguel’s eyes beamed. “My yaya loves paintings, I’d love to show her your work,” he said.

“Yeah, I’ll grab some that you could take pictures of,” you stood up, cheeks on fire. 

It wasn’t often that you got praised for your art, mainly from your parents or your friends. So this was new. But you took the pleasure from it nonetheless. 

Heading to your room, you grabbed a few of your favorite paintings before you went to your bag in search of your sketchbook, only you couldn’t find it. 

As panic erupted, you thought back to the last time you saw it. You had it in art class and then you went to P.E. You could’ve sworn you had it then, but you guessed you were wrong. 

“I can’t find my sketchbook,” you gulped, walking back to the living room. 

“Maybe you left it in your locker or someone found it and took it to the lost and found,” Miguel offered, gesturing with his hands. 

“Yeah, it’ll turn up,” Demetri reassured. “I don’t think anyone would have wanted to steal it,” he shrugged.

“We’ll help you find it on Monday,” Eli said, reaching for your hand.

“Thanks, guys,” you blew out your breath.

You were glad you had them and you really hoped your sketchbook turned up. 

Part of you didn’t want to think about it, but you were worried about who had it if they did. And it only traced back to two girls.

~

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[idv-sunsxin3]

Diggers // Dating Headcanons

Note// I gotta write this since i successfully managed to bring him home;;; 🥺

____

Diggers is canonly a hippie. He is based on them, his voice lines often tell how peace is better than war- I don't have the mind to interpret him with many kinds of hippies stereotypes because I'm still skeptical about some things that I don't even know better- 🤔🫠

There may even be misunderstandings because it actually really happened to the hippies from the 60s sometimes -

Diggers cherishes the times he gets to talk with you, always looking forward to seeing every day and getting to know you...

He is even eager to share his passions while he learns to understand yours as well. He has always been accepting and non-judgmental, ever since you first met. No matter the flaws.

It's probably how he treats everyone because of his moral standards- but it's also more than that... because it's you.

He definitely senses something different about you the moment your fingers touched..

You're his muse, "the sunlight from the mornings, the starlight of the night.... his whole universe." Yes, he said that to you once once--- 😭🫠🥺

But well, he loves showing some of his works of art - well, only the ones he managed to keep. He most likely does graffiti and flower power aesthetics.

Imagine there is a time you two painted a mark of your initials inside a heart with a paint spray on the same bench you both sat in where you first met each other--- it would be fate for sure smh;;;;

Hangouts usually would be staying with him at the back of his van with the doors open, so the windy day can go through. You sometimes lay down on the carpet he places down. You would hear him play his guitar as he sits across from you, serenading you with his slow, soothing tunes.

The sight of the grassfield's landscape can be seen from the van's back seat, along with the small silhouette of London from afar. Once Diggers stops playing, he tends to place his hand on your head and give it headpats... slowly massaging your scalp after as you try to stay awake.

He loves pampering you in his own way, letting you rest with him during lazy days.

He is a sweet, laid-back lover... He trusts you enough that his jealousy levels are low to none just by simply thinking of the many things that can make you feel safe and happy with him- having himself being part of your life is already an honor to him.

But of course, I can imagine he would be like a kicked puppy whenever you ignore him for too long... like not seeing for 3 days can already make him feel droopy;;;

You'll do a lot of outdoor activities with Diggers when dating him-- he would always say things like like "be one with the forest" or "connect with mother nature" while making you these pretty flower crowns to adorn them on your head,,,

Camping in a forest is one of the common things you two do, Diggers knowing lots of things about how to survive in the wild while only having his van as a refuge.

Don't underestimate for his slender figure!!! He can even name you many kinds of herbs, flowers, and berries. Even point out the ones that are venomous or poisonous. He can't do math or this deep insight science, but at least he is knowledgeable in certain fields.

This is just me, but I love a Diggers giving his s/o the passenger princess treatment. No more questions/ih

He talks to you in a very honeyed and flowery voice, you don't even know if he's ever angry at you even while being this upset---(to be true, he never brings himself to be angry at you-- it wouldn't be cool) With how he calls you "Honey", "Baby ", "Love", and so much more, you'll probably need a sleeping bag because man, his voice;;;

He is very affectionate - maybe a bit touchy even. Lots of hugs, kisses, hands on the small of your back, waist, or hip - he always has this tendency of keeping a hand on you when you're around.

If you give him the consent(because consent is beautiful✨️), he doesn't feel embarrassed when pulling you to his lap or holding you so close from behind around anyone.

His holds are meant to be pure and innocent. Having your bodies touch helps him charge his batteries from any stress he ever has to experience in a fast-faced world you both are living in.;;😔

He always likes to carefully plant soft kisses on your forehead, eyelids, cheeks, hands, and shoulder,,, (neck if he really wants to make out with you;;; 👉👈 *gets bonked for not being normal *) Lots of smooching when he finds the lovely opportunity.

He is 100% honest with you, never lies at all. Even would tell you his honest opinions in a sincere, half-hearted manner. Otherwise, it would be against his principles of a peace and love relationship. He wants to love you unconditionally no matter the future struggles that may happen between you two. Always avoiding toxicity and any form of hate towards you.

He loves taking care of his body, eating natural and non-processed food as possible, and going on vegetarian diets. He wants to share his little routines with you, if you want to, of course,,, it is pretty much a way he shows that he enjoys living life with you and taking care of you if you allow him to once in a while. It's like a sign of building trust for him. 🥺

It's so cute when he wants to try and persuade you to try these vivid color clothes with lots of patterns on it, even having these flower matching Keychains.;;

No matter the path you want to go to, he'll always support you and your choices,,, he'll encourage you to do anything your heart desires to achieve, as long as you're true to yourself. 🥺✨️

Overall! He is such a walking green flag. What else can I say to support that? You probably might have more ideas, and the floor is always open for them, my friends 😌✨️💅

[arpmemething2]

Quotes from Firefly/Serenity Sentence Starters

Send one for my muse’s reaction.   Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

“Let’s go be bad guys!”

“Ten percent of nothin’ is … let me do the math here … nothin’ into nothin’ … carry the nothin’ … ”

"We’re crooks. If everything were right, we’d be in jail.”

"Nothing buys bygones quicker than cash."

“Like woman, I am a mystery.”

“Oh, I think you might wanna reconsider that last part. See, I married me a powerful ugly creature.”

“Every man there go back inside or we will blow a new crater in this little moon.”

“Well, maybe I’m not a fancy gentleman like you, with your … very fine hat. But I do business. We’re here for business.”

"How can you say that? How can you shame me in front of new people?"

"Um, I’m trying to put this as delicately as I can…how do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?"

"Go to blackout! We're being buzzed!"

"Well, I guess death will solve the issue to everyone's satisfaction."

"Everybody plays each other. That's all anybody ever does. We play parts."

“Did something just fly off my gorram ship?”

"You guys had a riot... on account of me? My very own riot?"

“We’ve done the impossible, and that makes us mighty.”

"It's been a big day, what with the abduction, and all."

"I'm not sure you'd be safe."

"Live with a man forty years. Share his house, his meals… speak on every subject… then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man."

“Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”

"Seems like a lovely little community of kidnappers."

"Maybe. Or maybe you're exactly where you ought to be."

“Can we maybe vote on the whole murdering people issue?”

"If you take sexual advantage of her, you will burn in a very special level of hell. The kind they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater."

"Go play with your rainstick."

"Don't make yourself sick."

“Mercy is the mark of a great man.”

"I don't suppose you'd find it up to the standards of your outings. More conversation, and somewhat less... petty theft and getting hit with pool cues."

"You gonna give us what's due us and every damn thing else on that boat. And I think maybe you gonna give me a little one-on-one time with the misses."

"I cannot abide useless people."

"Mmm. You missed a spot."

“Man walks down the street in a hat like that, you know he’s not afraid of anything … ”

"This is the place. We'll buy you the time."

“Also? I can kill you with my brain.”

“Psychic, though? That sounds like something out of science fiction.”

"It’s not embarrassing to be a virgin. It’s simply one’s state of being."

"That's why I never kiss 'em on the mouth."

"I been waiting for you to kiss me since I showed you my guns."

"I'll be in my bunk."

"They don't like it when you shoot at 'em. I worked that out myself."

"Drunks are so cute."

“Going on a year now, nothins twixed my neathers not run on batteries.”

"He's not wildly interested in ingratiating himself with anyone, yet he's very protective of his crew. It's odd."

"How we treat our dead is part of what makes us different…than those did the slaughtering."

“The important thing is the spices. A man can live on packaged food from here ’til Judgment Day if he’s got enough rosemary.”

"I think you have a problem with your brain being missing."

"Okay! Everybody not talking about sex, in here. Everybody else, elsewhere."

“First rule of battle, little one … don’t ever let them know where you are.”

“Terse? I can be terse. Once, in flight school, I was laconic.”

"Don't you just love this party? Everything's so fancy and they have some kind of hot cheese over there!"

"I hate to bring up our imminent arrest during your crazy time, but we gotta go."

“I don’t think of myself as a lion. You might as well, though, I have a mighty roar.”

"You can't open the book of my life and jump in the middle."

"I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar."

“I aim to misbehave.”

"Live with a man forty years. Share his house, his meals… speak on every subject… then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man."

"Every man there go back inside, or we will blow a new crater in this little moon."

“You know what the chain of command is? It’s the chain I go get and beat you with until you understand who’s in ruttin charge here.”

“I cannot abide useless people.”

"I I ever kill you, you’ll be awake, you’ll be facing me, and you’ll be armed."

"You are very much lacking in imagination.”

"Call me if anyone interesting shows up."

"Very well-bred petty crook knows that the small concealable weapons always go to the far left of the place setting."

"This must be what going mad feels like."

"You don't seem to be lookin' at the destinations. What you care about is the ships, and mine's the nicest."

"Remember that sex we were planning to have, ever again?"

"Someone's carryin' a bullet for you right now, doesn't even know it. The trick is, die of old age before it finds you."

“If anyone gets nosy, just …you know … shoot ’em. “

“WHOO-HOO! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE! YOU WANT SOME O’ ME?! YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH! Whoo-hoo!”

"I'll do anything you want me to. You know how I can make you feel."

"I need this man to tear all my clothes off."

“Someone ever tries to kill you, you try to kill ’em right back!”

"Sorry to interrupt, folks, but y'all got something that belongs to us, and we'd like it back."

“Next time you want to stab me in the back, have the guts to do it to my face.”

“I’ve been under fire before. Well … I’ve been in a fire. Actually, I was fired. I can handle myself.”

“I’ve been out of the abbey two days, I’ve beaten a lawman senseless, I’ve fallen in with criminals. I watched the captain shoot the man I swore to protect. And I’m not even sure if I think he was wrong.”

“In the maiden’s home, I heard talk of men who weren’t pleased with their brides…”

"Got your next heist planned?"

"It's good to be home."

"She still has the advantage over us."

"Do you know what the definition of a hero is? Someone who gets other people killed."

"Yeah, but she's our witch."

“We’re not gonna die. We can’t die. You know why? Because we are so very pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die.”

"Can you stop her from bein’ so cheerful?"

“How did your brain even learn human speech?”

“Yes sir, Captain Tightpants!”

"You are such a boob."

"You don't need strength as much as speed. We're fragile creatures. It takes less than a pound of pressure to cut skin."

"Your mouth is talking. You might wanna look to that.”

"You guys always bring me the very best violence. "

"Every problem is an opportunity in disguise."

“We got some local color happening. A grand entrance would not go amiss.”

"I'm assumin' y'all were listenin'? Did you hear us fight?"

"I... I threw up on your bed."

"I swallowed a bug."

"I'm... trying to think of a way for you to be cruder. I just... it's not coming."

"It sounds like the finest party I can imagine getting paid to go to."

“Now I did a job. I got nothing but trouble since I did it, not to mention more than a few unkind words as regard to my character so let me make this abundantly clear. I do the job. And then I get paid.”

"I said you're a coward and a piss-pot. Now what are you gonna do about it?"

"You paid money for this, sir? On purpose?"

“I swear by my pretty floral bonnet, I will end you.”

“Well, we may not have parted on the best of terms. I realize certain words were exchanged. Also, certain… bullets.”

"You were truthful back in town. These are tough times. A man can get a job, he might not look too close at what that job is. But a man learns all the details of a situation like ours... well... then he has a choice."

"So you had to be naked?"

"So… are you enjoying your own nubile little slave girl?"

"Just keep walkin', preacher-man."

"We crashing again?"

“No power in the verse can stop me.”

"I know something ain't right."

“‘Course, there’re other schools of thought.”

"Can't miss a place you've never been."

"Tell me I'm pretty."

"Physical appearance doesn't matter so terribly. You look for compatibility of spirit. There's an energy about a person that's difficult to hide.You try to feel that."

"Can we fly somewhere with a beach?"

"What gives you the right to put her in a dangerous situation like this?"

"I think I've been kidnapped."

"Money wasn't good enough."

“Well, my time of not taking you seriously is coming to a middle.”

"Is it bad that what she said made perfect sense to me?"

"See, morbid and creepifying, I got no problem with, long as she does it quiet-like."

"What was that?"

"Well, you were right about this being a bad idea."

"Haven't you killed me enough for one day?"

"You save his gorram life, he still takes the cargo."

[rodolfoparras]

Wolverine pussyfucker here to fill in gravity falls lore info!

Stan got kicked out and sold sham products (Stan-vac: it sucks more than anything!) until he got a letter from ford telling him "hey pls pull up to my reclusive shack"

WELLLLLL FORD HAS BEEN BUSY!!

He accidentally summoned a dream demon from the second dimension named bill ciphwr and entered a toxic yaoi relationship where bill would use ford to try and get a physical manifestation while manipulating (and lowky falling in love) and ford was in love with him and referred ti him as a muse

Untillll they broke up and bill went a little wacky

So bill was using ford to build a portal to let him into the third dimension, byt ford was like "shit i need to destroy this" after they broke up so he was like "stan can you take my journals where i detail expressly how to build this portal and go a thousand miles away and never talk to me again"

Stan was pissed because "we havent talked since we were teens and now u want me to leave!? Frick you!!" And accidentally pushed ford INTO said portal, ending up with ford going through universes in an attempt to destroy bill and/or get home

Stan was like "shitballs i need to bring my brother home" and spent thirty years pouring over 2/3 journals and figuring out complex math and science while making as much money as possible to pour it into fixing up the portal because he loved his brother so much

WELLL he had 2 great nieces/nephews named mason/dipper and mabel, who pulled up to gravity falls when their parents were fighting one summer and dipper found the missing journal so stanley was like "hey =) fork it over =) i have GYAT to finish the portal"

MEANWHILE ford was becoming hot and doing interdimensional mercenary stuff and finally he was about to kill bill cipher when the portal opened back up and he was sucked back into gravity falls

But yeah stanley stole fords identity to fix the portal to bring ford home

If you held me at gun point and asked me what the show was about I’d never be able to come to this conclusion Jesus Christ I thought it was about two kids and a weird old man never ever would I guess this is the plot behind it

ALSO THE ROMANCE IS REAL?? I THOIGHT IT WAS A JOKE!! AND HE TRIED TO KILL HIM AG THE END??

And dear god poor Stan his whole life he’s just trying to make up for mistakes he’s made and they aren’t even small like hey get better at communicating with your brother no it’s hey fix this portal to bring ur brother home😭

[abitohoney]

Salutations!

So what— wh-what do your muses… smell like? (*ﾉ∀`*) FOR SCIENCE

Greetings Anon! I love science (actually I love math, but science and engineering are also good)...

Uhhh... Well, considering the nature of most of my content, I'd have to say sex. All of my muses smell like sex. 😆 Jokes aside, here's a list of my main arcane muses and what I think they smell like. Below the cut cause it's kinda lengthy (probably more than you were looking for).

Also, thanks to @master-sass-blast for some of these ideas (in red text to give credit where credit is due)! ❤️

Sevika:

Cigars; something lightly smoky, with hints of spice

Whiskey; woodsy, with hints of honey or caramel

Leather, cause I'm pretty sure her top and/or arm guards are made from leather

Shimmer, but only for a brief period after using it. I imagine this smells somewhat acidic and chemical.

Similarly, I bet her mech arm smells like burning electronics/oil/chemicals for some time after fueling it with shimmer, esp when she uses the plasma blade.

Any other time I bet her prosthetic smells like the oil/grease she has to use on the joints of all those moving parts.

Probably can't even smell the soap she uses, as it's overpowered by everything else. Buuuut... maybe just after she washes, you can catch a hint of her shampoo in her hair. Something like honey and vanilla. Or, I could also see her using that 3 in 1 crap, which I don't even know how to describe that smell... cheap? (she's just efficient!)

Blood and/or sweat; after a fight, sparring, or working out

Grayson:

Fresh and clean. I imagine she uses very simple soaps, both on her hair/body as well as her clothing.

Woodsy, specifically pine. Reminiscent of the time she spends in the forest during tournaments and target practice.

Gunpowder smoke if she's recently been out shooting

Champagne, her drink of choice; citrus, fruity, with hints of spice

Coffee; the good stuff though. I imagine she started drinking coffee to get through long days as an Enforcer, and it eventually just became a habit even at home

Starch; on the days she works, I bet that uniform smells super crisp and clean

Ran:

Smoke. Even though I don't think they smoke, they spend enough time at The Last Drop to inherit a smoky scent similar to Sevika's.

Shimmer. Between all the time spent at The Last Drop, and partaking in their own fair share of vaping shimmer, they probably carry that acidic/chemical smell with them as well.

Gin and tonic; their drink of choice, with hints of juniper and citrus

Something sort of... gothic? Like cloves and patchouli, from the soaps and/or perfume/cologne they wear.

Starch and bleach; that white shirt of theirs looks pretty crisp and clean (although how the hell anybody in the Undercity can have anything white is beyond me)

Blood and/or sweat; as mentioned with Sevika, after a fight, sparring, or working out

Silco:

Cigars; similar to Sevika with that light smoky and spicy scent, though probably a bit stronger and more refined, since he smokes the big fancy ones.

Whiskey, also similar to Sevika (I mean these two are like the closest thing to friends a crime lord and a mech brute can be, so they share tastes in some of the finer things). But I think his preferred whiskey has slightly different smell; still woodsy, but with a hint of something nutty

Dapper Dan pomade (lol. Dude's got to use something to slick that wild hair back like that); so a sort of waxy scent, like an unscented candle. Maybe if he uses a scented version he'd go for one that smells a bit like vintage cologne

Foundation, since he's apparently a bit vain and feels the need to cover his scars (but he's beautiful the way he is!)

Paint (like the strong, toxic kind because that's likely all you can get in the Undercity) if he's recently been around Jinx

Shimmer if he's recently received his dose, so that acidic/chemical smell

[roadandruingame]

RaR Musings #21: The Crossroads of Simulation, Storytelling, and Fun

I'd had this one on a tab for a minute, because a lot of things happened and I've had a lot of time to think about things.

Exertion has done a lot to emblemize division between major game design philosophies.

On the one hand, a simulation-based game engine was necessary for a GM-less game, where creatures of theoretically infinite size difference could interact, in a way that everyone at the table can collectively intuit and agree on.

But, it did mean a lot more interaction with double-digit math, and 1m-wide tiles are far too granular to make the foundation of a "1 stamina = 1m movement, or swings 1 Size of weapon, for 1 damage" environment. Doing that math isn't fun, and held back use of storytelling as a driving force.

I transitioned to approximation-banding, and made only Tiring activities cost Exertion, shrinking the numbers so it was more about What Who was doing and Why, How, Where, and When it was supposed to happen if it wasn't Here. It meant you didn't actually even need a grid, or a map, instead keeping note of locations and settings by narrative impact, rather than how many spaces you had to move your little plastic man around the playmat.

But with the loss of specifics, questions about multiattack arise; how exhausting is it to attack more than once in a 3sec span? Anyone should be able to do it, and skill should have a positive impact, but how much does it change per weapon? It gets a little bit videogamey, in a completely different way than simulation is gamey, and in a way that has no mechanical consistency, leading to disagreements at the table.

More than that, are either of these systems even fun? While I have enjoy prompt-based creativity, and get a thrill when numbers come up in sub-1% statistical probabilities, that doesn't mean everybody will. And however it runs, it needs to be fun enough and easy enough to prevent players from suffering creative and emotional burnout, which leads them to becoming hesitant about sitting down for a session.

But I also, absolutely, abhor the recent trend of DND enthusiasts ignoring all the rules in favor of goofing off with friends. Having fun with your friends is good. Having fun with your friends while you play a game is great. Changing the rules of a game so that you have more fun playing it is fine. But dismissing the rules of a game wholesale to the point that they make zero impact on ANYTHING you can do? Why even pretend to play the game then?

Tabletop rpgs, unlike videogames, are work. Videogames don't progress unless you press buttons, but ttrpgs make you have to imagine the buttons and what they do, and require everyone present to agree on what the button actually does when you press it. Inventing these buttons has to be consistent, everyone should understand what happens when you press them, and everyone should enjoy the process of both making the buttons, and the fictional pressing of them.

You need to have fun, but simulation and storytelling are important for a game too.

___________________

I talked with two people of note lately.

The first was a prospective playtester, who (apparently, according to a third party) had no real interest in Road and Ruin, but still pursued me around multiple games of Warhammer 40k and ASOIAF to ask questions about it. And, as I so often do, I fell in love with my own game all over again. It's rapidly becoming my decade-long magnum opus, and everything it does is designed to excite me just as much as it is to entertain someone else. We ended up building him a Tatzl Plague Doctor, a plague-rat harpy unaffected by most diseases it carries, who travels the world transferring the diseases of others to himself, before bottling the diseases, and a Goblin Alchemist, part vampire, and pursuing science to one day rid themselves of the otherwise incurable disease. And, thanks to RAR's Story Roster, what is otherwise a nearly statistically-impossible task to discover at random, is given several boosts in probability, without guarantee, thanks to being a personal quest.

The second, was my dad. I owe my introduction to fantasy and sci-fi entertainment to him, and though he's never played a ttrpg, he's heard me complain about mechanics and players for years. His is the opinion that making a game that tries to do everything is senseless, and one should create a game to do one thing, specifically, and well. Many would agree with him. But his is also the opinion that if you force a player who enjoys Dungeons, to fight Dragons, that they'll absolutely hate it, and throw a tantrum over not getting to play the thing they joined the game for, and vice versa. A game that blends Dungeon players and Dragon fighters only stands to disappoint both parties, who will always end up playing something they don't want, eventually.

It's absurd, honestly.

Ttrpgs are a social fabric. Bringing the people who enjoy two different things together, to alternate their enjoyments, only strengthens the hobby, and ensures that it's easier to find people to play. By bringing this alchemist playtester into the fold, I get to see someone enjoying something they have an interest in, and work to make their quest come true. By joining with me, he gets to come along on my quest, and adding a little sprinkle of creativity that I'm not personally responsible for is just the kind of prompt I like in prompt-based creativity. The session becomes collaborative, between two or more people enjoying themselves, rather than confrontational, or one-sided legwork, which plagues the GM-dependent scene.

It's silly to disparage people on their preferences, but it's sillier to declare that other players couldn't possibly have something to improve your experience.

______________________

To that end, I think I have to lean heavier on variant rules.

Other games have them, but often, they're a little twist of math that alters the outcome slightly, or even devoid of mechanics at all.

No, I task myself with the rather silly task of creating a Simulation ruleset, and a Storytelling ruleset, based on the same variables and producing similar results. Players of simulation-like grid-based bookkeeping combat, as well as storytelling-focused, theater-of-the-mind, vague interactions, can come together and use the ruleset that they prefer, in order to get to play those Plague Doctor harpies and Vampire Alchemists.

As some say, the rules shouldn't get in the way of having a good time. But the rules should BE what someone USES to have a good time. And since my idea of a good time is different from someone else's, I should be just as welcoming of their preferences, as I ask that they are of mine.

The real risk is overcomplexity. Players already don't like having to learn one set of rules, much less variants of the same rules. There's every possibility that they balk when faced with the possibility of having to learn multiple types of rules for what amounts to the same game. But then, that's what the rules-lite version is for: the opportunity to completely ignore anything complex.

[melpcmene-arch]

🌻!!

new ask game, send me a 🌻 and ill just tell you whatever the hell i want ( always accepting! )

(*Most of these are spoilers. Not fully in detail, as I left a few major(?) details out for the sake of it. Minus Code Purple, which I just put a link in. But the rest is just assumptions of what I believe could've happened behind the scenes. Just to fill in the gaps. )

Since I did say that I was just going to say whatever I want about the Oaks— and Sparrow's muse is vibrating in my head. Code Purple was enacted by Sparrow. And I personally think he had so many reasons to do this. Though the main reason happened to be, if I remember correctly ( Though I think one day I'mma go back to Season Two and re-listen to a couple of episodes. ), was his child, Normal, who happened to be six around that time when it all went to hell. When that flesh monster was going to kill him. Sparrow had been planning to enact Code Purple for some time now. His education system was vast different than what Normal now experiences today. To live in a world that was very dangerous, and learning more than just simple maths and english. Sparrow is a druid, and most of his childhood was learning druid magic. ( I may end up going through certain spells up to level twenty to see what spells that Sparrow knows! ) But also learning how to handle a gun, though that is more of his twin's expertise than his. Aka Lark. ( Who I like to believe is more of a ranger than a druid, in my opinion. )

The Headquarters was both their place of operations, and maybe their own makeshift school. Because after ( though not intentionally ) unleashing the Doodler into their world. Their world is currently not safe. They had, as mentioned, flesh monsters, etc, inhabiting their world. Dangerous creatures. And aside from their own classes; maths, english, maybe a bit of science, anything that was mostly just essential in terms of what's more important when you have something terrible tainting your world, they also went on missions, learning from that kind of experience as well. It's simply just building up more of what I can imagine what happened because not a lot of is really that explained? More so when it comes to like, behind the scenes of what these kids who are now grown adults with their own families went through minus a few scenes.

But the main point is: Sparrow did not want Normal to go through that, nor wants Normal to get harmed by the monsters in this world. In a way, the Flesh Monster that was accidentally released from its containment was the incentive that Sparrow needed to do the swap. To have a substantial amount of safety in another world so that their lives could go back to normal? Not far from a long shot, but far enough that all the people ( minus a selective few ) have forgotten and simply believes that they live on Earth still. A somewhat normal Earth not knowing what has happened. Headquarters is still up and running, but not as great as before.

[rj-drive-in]

Drunk Science, Holiday Edition, Department:

Happy Holidays, brethren. I hope the Santas are good to you.

Also of note: The Arkham Bazaar Lovecraftian Micro-Fiction edition for 2023, featuring my story "Ambergris Morning," is now available right here!

THE SANTA SYMMETRY © 2023 by Rick Hutchins

The train was just pulling into the Harvard Square station when my phone issued a burst of music to alert me to a text message. I had it set to Rudolph in the spirit of the season. I rummaged it out of my pocketbook as I walked the crowded ramp to the turnstyles and saw a single-word message from Aleska.

“Vavoom,” said the text.

I groaned a little. She was drunk again.

Obviously the message didn’t make much sense, unless she was trying to tell me that she got lucky, but that only happened once in a blue moon. My first thought was that she was trying to say “barroom,” asking me to meet her at Grendel’s, but she never called it a barroom. Then I remembered that her safe word was “vaccine,” so maybe she needed help.

“?” I texted back to her, getting no response. Then I texted“??,” followed by “???” Nothing. “What do u mean?” I texted, but still got no reply.

It was irritating, but I knew I had to check in on her. She had been hitting the bottle pretty heavily lately, ever since her professor recruited her to work on some super secret grant-funded math project that she couldn’t talk about. It had her pretty stressed out and she had a history of self medicating. So I abandoned my shopping plans and called an Uber to pick me up at the info center where Out Of Town News used to be, and took it to her studio over on Tremont.

When I got there, she didn’t answer the buzzer, of course, so I let myself in. Her unit was at the back of the first floor. The first thing I saw upon entering was the mess on the kitchen counter. As I turned the corner, I saw the rumpled sheets and blankets and topsy-turvy laptop on the Murphy bed.

Then I saw Aleska.

There was an extra-large punch bowl sitting on the bar cabinet against the far wall, half full of red liquid. Aleska was standing in front of it, arms by her side, bent over, face planted in the juice, her head fully submerged.

“Oh, crap,” I said.

Rushing over, I grabbed her by the back of the neck and heaved her out of the punch, her strawberry blonde hair spraying red dots all over the walls. I eased her back down onto the couch. She didn’t appear to be breathing, but as I leaned in to give her mouth to mouth she coughed and sputtered back to life. Thank God. Her breath could have stopped a Fed Ex van in its tracks.

“I thought you were dead for a second there,” I said.

“Babe doll,” she replied groggily.

“Huh?”

“Paper towels,” she enunciated more carefully, sniffing.

“Oh, right!”

I grabbed a roll of paper towels from the kitchen corner and handed them to her. She wiped off her face and blew her nose, tossing the balled-up towel on the coffee table, where it joined some Baby Ruth wrappers, a fuchsia Nike sports bra, a home COVID test, and an empty bottle of Zubrowka. This woman is going to live alone forever.

“So why did you text me?” I asked.

She sat back on the couch, her heavy-lidded eyes blinking slowly and suspiciously. “Did I text you?” she asked.

“Yes, you did.”

“What did I say?”

“Vavoom.”

She frowned boozily. “Maybe I was horny. You wanna get laid?”

“Not unless you take two showers and gargle about a gallon of Listerine.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Too much trouble.”

“Think, Aleska, think,” I said. “Why did you text me?”

“Hmm,” she mused. “Vavoom. Oh, I know! The vacuum. I have to tell you about the false vacuum.”

“Okay. What about it?”

She patted my knee clumsily. “This is top secretive stuff,” she said. “I signed a non-disclositive agreement to not tell anyone. So don’t tell anyone.”

“Maybe you just shouldn’t tell me.”

“But I have to!” she said. “It’s crazy! It all started with Dr Mirmeier. Have you heard of Mirmeier?”

“Of course. He’s the genius who discovered the second decimal point in Pi. I had him in my sophomore year.”

“You never took Advanced Quantum Chromodynamics.”

“When I say I had him….”

“Never mind!” she said. “My stomach is already queasy. Anyways, Mirmeier did a Rainmann analysis of the Nosferatu quatrains.”

“The what now?”

“No, wait,” said Aleska with a puzzled look. “Nostradamus! He did a Rainmann analysis of the Nostradamus quatrains.”

“Okay.”

“And he developed a formula that was able to generate brand new quatrains from the square roots of Fibonacci numbers.”

“Say what? That’s insane.”

“It gets more that than that,” she replied, waving her finger in the air. “When Mirmeier accidentally substituted imaginary numbers for the Fibonacci numbers, the formula started generating new verses to ‘Jingle Bells.’”

“What?! Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”

“I swear to gobs I’m not! And it’s going to get even crazier. When they got to the 137th verse, things started to get weird.”

“Weird how?”

Aleska sat forward on the couch, blinking hard, excited. “The verses started describing the fundamental nature of the universe!”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“The first verse described the Big Bang. Then there was a verse that described the Inflationary Period and another one that described anti-matter asymmetry. Then there were verses that described the phase transitions of the unified force into separate interactions. They don’t even know what all of the verses mean, but all the ones they do understand check out.”

At this point, I was just staring at her like a deer in the headlights. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you know how crazy this sounds?”

“Shirt… um… certainly I do,” she said, sitting up straight and trying to act sober, and failing miserably. “And it gets even crazier, because this is where I got involved.”

“And how did you get involved?”

“As soon as the governmental caught heard of this, they put a big lid on it. Then they called in Professor Drummer for his expertise. I presume you know Professor Drummer.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“He’s a smart old guy. You seem to like smart old guys. I should introjuice you.”

“Just go on!”

“Well, they recruited Drummer and so then he recruited me, because I’m so awesome at complex multi-axis equations.”

So smug. “When you’re sober,” I said wryly.

“Whatever way I am or was, I was able to crank those puppies out twice as fast as the professor. And when I got to verse 18,769, they started to make predictions.”

That sent a little bit of a chill down my spine. “Predictions of what?”

She leaned toward me, favoring her right eye. Maybe it was easier for her to focus one eye than both. “Future developments in the evolution of space-time.”

That left me speechless for a good thirty seconds.

“Such as…?” I ventured slowly.

She paused, possibly for effect. “Vacuum decay,” she said.

Oh. That. My throat went dry.

“When?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Imminently. Sort of like Betelgeuse. Any second or any century now.”

“And then the universe just vanishes.”

“But no!” she exclaimed, raising an index finger and teetering to the left. “Not neshish… nesser… ugh, necessarily.”

“What do you mean?”

“False vacuum decay doesn’t have to mean the vacuum collapses. It all depends on whether it decays to a true vacuum or a lower-level false vacuum on the scalar field. A million things could happen. Maybe the Planck Length will shrink. Maybe monopoles will split. Maybe a new force will decouple from the unified field.”

“A fifth force?”

“Or sixth, if Dark Energy counts.”

“But the fine tuning….”

“Yeah, there’s more bad possibilities than good ones.”

“And this verse you generated doesn’t give any details or hints?”

She looked away to the left. “No.”

“And none of the subsequent verses elaborated?”

“She looked away to the right. “No.”

“Well,” I said. “Thanks for telling me. Now I get to live in constant terror for the rest of my life, however short that may be.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I had to tell someone.”

“All right,” I sighed. Who knew if I wouldn’t have done the same thing?

End of the world or not, I had to finish my shopping and get everything in the mail in less than two days. I made Aleska a cup of coffee and left her on the couch wrapped in a blanket with her usual promises to ease up on the booze.

My family is all on the West Coast and I don’t make friends easily, so I had planned to spend Christmas Eve alone at home. I was on my way back to my apartment in the late afternoon of that day when things started to get weird.

On the Red Line, I overheard a bunch of girls talking about flocks of birds falling out of the sky or flying into skyscrapers en masse. Standing in line at Starbucks, a couple in ugly sweaters were talking about mass whale beachings in San Diego and Virginia. And McMurdo, of all places. The woman in the apartment next to me was going out as I was coming in and mentioned that her uncle’s bees had all flown straight up into the air and never come down. By this time, a strong feeling of dread was growing in me.

Inside, I quickly turned on CNN, but they weren’t reporting about strange animal behaviors. They were reporting on the Earth’s magnetic field. Something was happening to it. Something strange and terrifying.

The US Geological Survey was reporting that the North magnetic pole had split and the two new poles were drifting apart at about five miles an hour. This is what was messing with the animals. The CNN anchors had brought a large standing compass onto the set and it was swaying back and forth like a metronome. I didn’t have a compass of my own to check for myself, but there was no reason to doubt it.

Was this the beginning of the reversal of the planet’s poles that scientists had long been predicting? They didn’t know. But I knew. This was the fallout of the false vacuum decay. Aleska must have been right about the monopoles.

A sense of panic crept into the anchors’ voices as they reported on related stories from around the globe. A bright purple aurora borealis had appeared, visible as far South as Minneapolis. Internet blackouts were affecting large parts of Canada and most Scandinavian countries. UHF stations were off the air across the board. A ring of high-intensity lightning storms had formed around the equator. NASA had lost communication with several polar-orbiting weather satellites.

And NORAD was tracking two Santas!

[rifleseye]

Mun VS. Muse

Similarities:

Interests — We're both incredibly passionate about our interests! Perceptor's obviously got a special interest in science, and that's something I heavily relate to. And though I might not be a scientist myself I'm still very intrigued by science.

Low-Empathy — We've both got low empathy. That's to say that it's hard for us to relate to other people's feelings, and can actually feel uncomfortable in situations where that might be seen as the proper thing to do.

Eye Problems — I wear glasses. He wears that reticle. I don't really have to go into detail about this one.

Metallurgy — We both work with metal! Though my time working with metal was limited and more or less for the artistic side of it, it's still something I wanna get more into. (Also it's amazing how much you learn about the chemical compounds that make up metal when you work with it. Very hands-on.)

Absent-Minded — Percy and I are often described as absent-minded, when really we're just focusing and fixating on what we're doing to the point everything else becomes background noise.

Emotionally Stunted — Don't gotta go into detail in this. Says it on the tin.

Blunt — We're both really blunt, and it's not because we're mean (though it's often misinterpreted as such) but rather that tone is both difficult and that we try to be as concise and to the point as possible. No need to play mind games in communicating.

Strong Ethics — We both feel very strongly about our morals. Percy's more focused on scientific ethics while I'm really into ethical philosophy tho :P

Near Death Situation — Yeah.

Dissimilarities:

Intelligence — Perceptor's waaaaaaaay smarter than I am on an academic level. I wanted to pursue science as a kid but math was a huge barrier to it so I went into the arts instead.

Dyscalculia — I cannot for the life of me understand math. Percy's a mathematician.

Creativity — I'm an artist, not a scientist. I'd like to think I'm good at it too. Meanwhile I think the only art Percy ever does is drawing up graphs and blueprints.

Height — I mean. I'm 5'4. He's 36'.

Neurosis — Percy's OCD is a bit more towards the cleanliness side of things. Whereas he keeps his space organized to the point of having a spartan area, I'm much more messier. (I'd go more into why he acts that way but I'll save that for an hc post :P)

Metal vs. Organic — Pretty obvious.

War Vet — Percy's one, I'm not.

tagged. @aircommndr

[abronzeagegod]

Untitled YA Project Chapter 3: Step One Hypothesis, Step Two Experiment

First Chapter || More

11:48 AM local time

Chicago, Algonquin State, United States of America

“No way, you’re messing with me,” Mike said to Justin as they sat in their chemistry lab. “There’s no way sound just… doesn’t exist in your house.”

“I’m telling you that’s exactly what happened,” Justin tried to justify his story.

They were lab partners, which worked out for the both of them. Justin was very smart when it came to chemistry, so Mike lucked out because Mike was very bad at math and science. And Mike was the perfect lab partner for Justin, because he didn’t complain when Justin finished things early and then got bored and messed around with the extra stuff and usually made a mess.

“I don’t believe you even for a second. What did your dad say?” Or not say since he couldn’t say anything you would hear.”

Justin gave Mike a flat expression as he held an eye dropper over the beaker he was experimenting with. “He doesn’t really talk much in the mornings any more, not since mom left.”

“Right. Sorry,” Mike hastily said. “So you want me to come over and check it out after school?”

“Don’t you have football practice or something?”

Mike shrugged. “Only in the technical sense.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I do have practice, but only if I show up.”

Justin finished his own handmade mixture that was definitely not on the syllabus and eyed it suspiciously for a few moments. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going to happen but the most that could be said was that the glass was slightly warmer than it was before.

“You don’t want to go today?” Justin asked. “I thought you liked football.”

“I do, but sometimes you just need a break. And your thing sounds way more interesting.”

“I could definitely use the help,” he told Mike, as he stirred the mixture to see if that would change anything. When nothing did, he shrugged and made sure to dispose of it properly.

Thankfully the bell rang, ending the class, and signalling that Mike and Justin could both go to lunch.

“Thank god,” Mike said. “I’m starving!”

“You’re always starving.”

“I’m a growing boy!”

After they put their stuff away and made it to the lunch room, Justin picked up their previously abandoned conversation. “I don’t know what’s going on at my house. And once you realize that you can’t hear anything it’s really creepy.”

“Well you didn’t blow up anything in lab today, so we don’t have detention, that means we’ve got the whole afternoon open.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Justin pouted a little.

He didn’t actually want to cause damage, he just wanted something exciting to happen once in a while. Sometimes there was that impulse thought in his head that told him it would be fun to get into trouble, to break stuff, to yell and get loud, and just be noticed for a minute. But what was really the point? He would just get yelled at, told to stop doing what he was going, and then have to spend entirely too much time staring at the wall in detention.

Mike clapped Justin on the shoulder. “Next time we can blow something up real nice. Just when we don’t have a mystery to investigate at your house.”

Justin laughed, once. “You always know just what to say.”

“Oh! You know what we should do to prepare?”

“What?”

“Learn sign language! Like Ashley and Kit did back in sixth grade so they could talk during class. I wonder if they still remember it,” Mike mused. “I’ll be right back. Hey! Kit! You still know sign language?”

Justin just shook his head as Mike took off. He was always doing a million different things, rushing off to go do whatever struck his fancy next. But he was a loyal friend, even if Justin didn’t understand him all that much sometimes.

Mike was very outgoing and Justin was not. Mike did sports and made friends with everyone, Justin preferred to stay inside and play videogames or build little robots with the various LEGO kits he managed to get his hands on.

Lunch finished with Mike learning some quick sign language from Kit at another table, and Justin packed up his stuff. He waved a quick goodbye to Mike and headed off to the second half of his classes: history, english, and geometry.

He barely paid attention in history. They had just gotten to the start of the Louisiana Purchase and the wars it caused in 1808. He knew it was objectively important stuff, because he lived in one of the states that was made as part of the treaties and truces made after the slow defeat of the United States by the various Native American tribes and their various allies, most notably the bee people, the zlilfians down in the Caribbean. But he was still thinking about his house and the silence that surrounded it.

“Mister Oswada,” his history teacher said after the bell rang and the other students started to filter out of the class, “you seem particularly distracted today. Did you get yourself into trouble once again?”

Justin stopped a few feet away from Mister Collins’ desk.

He was one of the older teachers, probably in his early seventies, and it showed on his face. Amidst the wrinkles stood a few scars across his face that probably predated said wrinkles. His wispy grey hair gave Mister Collins an eccentric look, only enhanced by his bright green eyes. He’d look more at home in a science or math class, but instead he was a simple history teacher. He was also one of the smartest teachers, who knew almost everything asked of him, wawa never surprised by anything any students did or tried, and of every teacher, Mister Collins was one of the few who truly understood technology and whatever new things the kids were into.

Mister Collins patiently waited for an answer, looking at Justin over the rim of his round glasses.

“No, I didn’t. Not today,” Justin responded. “Something happened at home this morning and it’s been on my mind, that’s all.

Mister Collins took off his glasses. “Mister Oswada,” he said slowly. “I understand that things have been difficult and not the best at home for you. But there are people who are willing and able to help if you need it. You just need to ask.”

“Yeah. Cool. Thanks,” Justin said because he wasn’t sure what else to say to that. “I’m gonna go to my next class now.”

The history professor could only nod and let Justin go.

Next was English and he paid even less attention in that class. They were supposed to be analyzing a work by some New Englander about something or other in a time like a century ago, but Justin didn’t really like the first two pages so he didn’t read the rest. There were more pressing thoughts in his head today.

Then it was just a geometry test that he should have done much better on, but he was still extremely distracted. He didn’t really care all that much, he knew he did badly so what was the point of dwelling on it?

The second that the bell rang dismissing class, Justin ran to his locker, threw all of his books in it, and then put on his jacket.

But for all of his rushing to get out of school and back home to study this weird silence, he had to wait for Mike for almost fifteen minutes.

“You ready to go?” Mike asked from behind him, coming from a direction Justin did not expect.

“What did you do to your shoulder?” Justin asked, pointing at Mike’s right shoulder that had an ice pack on it.

“Oh I told my coach that I strained it in gym class this morning, and that I definitely failed that geometry test so I should try to make it up. Can’t play football if I’m injured and failing,” Mike said with a proud smile.

“You’re gonna get yourself into trouble doing that one of these days.”

“Probably. But you’re not one to tell me about getting into trouble. Besides, we’ve got much more interesting things to investigate. I’m really curious about this house and silence thing you’re talking about.

They elected to not take the bus and instead walk the little over a mile to Justin’s house. The entire walk, Mike was on his phone looking up explanations for the quiet that was only around Justin’s house.

“Localized low pressure system,” Mike said as he scrolled through the now fourth page of results on google.

“I don’t think that’s how pressure works.”

“Are you doubting the veracity of freakweatherforums dot blogspot dot com?” Mike asked, his voice filled with fake outrage and hurt. “And I thought we were best friends.”

“We are. And yes, I am doubting the truth of your website.”

“How dare you! Engelbert here has spent minutes making this blog, and you just come in here and tell him that he is wrong? Have you no shame sir?”

Justin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t entirely suppress the chuckle.

“Oh this is a good one! From an alien sighting website! This is claiming that your house has been invaded by a secret eldritch alien life form that has no form or substance but feeds on noise and will grow and expand until it consumes all life on earth rendering it a silent, empty, husk.”

“Jesus,” Justin breathed out. “Well, I apologize to Engelbert. His theories make way more sense.”

Mike laughed as he finally put away his phone. “Well, we’re here.” They stopped on the sidewalk just outside of Justin’s house. “You ready to go inside?”

“I think so. This is so weird,” Justin said as he stared at his house. “It looked so normal.”

Justin had this concerned, sinking feeling that the silence he experienced this morning was gone, that Mike would think him crazy, maybe even stop being his friend because of it.

“This was stupid, let’s go,” Just said, quickly turning away from his house.

“Oh come on, let’s at least go in,” Mike said as he walked the opposite direction, towards the house and away from Justin.

Justin turned around to watch him, and about halfway down the sidewalk to his front door, Mike suddenly stopped. He turned around to look at Justin. He could see Mike’s mouth moving, he could tell that his friend was speaking. And then yelling. Mike’s face was starting to go red from the effort of screaming and being loud, but just heard nothing.

After a few more moments of that, Mike returned to where Justin was standing. “That is freaky. Oh. I don’t like that at all. You were so right. This is weird.”

“Really weird.”

“Now what?”

“Well.” He had thought this far ahead, but now that he was here it seemed so much more real. And a little scary. “I want to go inside and get some stuff. I’ve got some equipment I want to use to try and measure how big this thing is.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve got a little portable radio and I finally rebuilt my RC car I got for Christmas two years ago. I figure we put the radio on the car, turn up the volume, and then move the car around, trying to mark down where the silence… field… thing extends to. Then maybe do some stuff to try and record sound inside of the field and outside to see if we can find any volumes or frequencies that pierce it.”

“That’s all just off the top of your head?” Mike asked with a little smile.

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“Let’s do it then,” Mike said as she threw his bookbag on the front lawn and followed Justin into the silence and the house.

Moving through his home felt eerie and surreal. It was his home, he knew that. But it lacked something essential. It was like a slightly warped copy of his house. There was something subtly wrong with this place, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He felt tired and alone and a little cold. The whole place made Justin just want to lay down.

He jumped when he felt something touch his shoulder.

Mike tapped him, and Justin practically jumped out of his skin.

The reaction was only physical, the yelp died before it could be formed. The silence had smothered it.

Then it all clicked back in his head. Justin remembered what they were doing.

Moving quickly now, they grabbed a bunch of equipment from Justin’s haphazard and messy room, and then from the garage.

Back outside they both took a few deep breaths and Mike even spent a minute trying to pop his ears as an attempt to undo the unsettling feeling that settled on them as part of the whole experience.

“That felt so weird and creepy and I don’t care for that at all,” Mike said.

“I know. It feels so… oppressive,” Justin said. “And depressing.”

“Yeah,” agreed Mike. “You still want to measure this thing?”

“I do, but I don’t want to step foot in there for very long.”

“Yeah, me either.”

For the next two hours, Justin and Mike measured the field of silence around the house. They marked the borders with chalk on the sidewalk or by planting sticks upright in the lawn. They even took several audio recordings inside the field and across the field.

They found out that there is no sound inside of the field nor anything that can be heard through the field. Nothing penetrates it one way or the other.

“I really don’t like this,” Justin muttered. “But it is fascinating.”

Mike was laying on the cold sidewalk, claiming he was trying to cool his fried brain. Suddenly he stood up. “You know, I give up. I’m posting this on the internet. Someone out there must know what’s happening. Let’s do the RC car and the radio thing again.”

Justin shrugged, he didn’t see how that was going to help, but he turned up the radio once more, stuck it to the back of the RC car and started driving it in circles in and out of the silence field.

“Hey, I’m at my man Justin’s house, and check out this freaky nonsense happening. There’s no sound around here. I’m losing my mind,” Mike narrated. “What’s happening?”

He filmed the little car running around, music blasting loudly, and then suddenly getting cut off as it passed the small stick fence. Even the whine of the little motor powering the RC car wheels gets cut off.

“Someone please tell me what is happening!” Mike pleaded on the video as he finally cut it off. He posted it online and waited for someone to give him an easily explainable answer.

A few seconds after the video got post Mike got the first comment.

“Fake lol”

“Helpful,” Mike said out loud to the comment.

But then suddenly he got a notification that the video was removed.

“What the hell?” Mike said. “They took down my video for some reason!”

Before Justin could ask what was happening his own phone started ringing. He was getting a call from an unlisted number.

my kofi where i post everything

[lowreyglobalconsultants]

Nominication for study?

For those unfamiliar with the expression 'nominication,' it is a Japanese portmanteau of the words 'nomu' meaning to drink and 'komyunike-shun' or communication in English. It refers to the phenomenon of enjoying communication over a drink and is a large part of Japanese culture.

Sometimes people I have met have mused over the idea of a lesson held while drinking to enjoy English communication. Overall my instinct has always been that this is an ineffective way to study, as the best way to take away results from an English lesson is through active involvement. This includes speaking and asking questions which we will achieve in a nominication- based lesson, but it also involves writing notes and clarity of mind to put together information and new language usage opportunities. I typically chuckle and say, 'good idea' because I know these spontaneous ideas rarely come to fruition.

That opinion is formed from the core of what I believe and how I plan my language lessons, but the problem is that there actually may be some benefit to such sessions. As a student of Japanese, early on I spent time making word lists, reviewing grammar points and writing out the same kanji (Japanese version of Chinese written characters) but I could barely communicate. Part of that problem was fear, but the other half was a lack of practice. It wasn't until I joined the local festival and a Bon Odori (traditional Japanese dance to honor the recently departed) called Enshu Dainenbutsu that I started to get some practice and grow my speaking skills. On top of this, my son started soccer and I took care of driving him and cheering for him, so I had many chances to interact with other parents. I discovered that after a couple of beers I was able to communicate more and it helped me make bigger steps in my speaking ability. A Time magazine article cites a research done by British and Dutch scientists where they concluded that there is a positive influence on foreign language skills after a few drinks (not too many!)

The reason is simple enough to imagine. When we are under the influence, we worry less and we speak more freely. By eliminating the overthinking factor, I found I could have longer conversations and activate words that I had thought I had forgotten. There is also room to experiment and, if we manage to ensure that we don't drink too much, we can stay aware of people's reactions and grow. I feel a reason why this can help is that language is more than math, more than science, there is an artistic element to it as well. The brain needs to grow on many different plains to increase our aptitude and confidence, which is such an important factor in reaching the next steps in communication.

So does this sway my hardliner opinion? A little. I still think structured lessons and practice are essential, especially in a business context. However students could separately enjoy the occasional session with a private teacher or language group which may help give the students a judgement free environment in which to practice their speaking capabilities. Even some classes I have taught like to have a seasonal party to relax and enjoy English communication, but a class still needs to be centered in a classroom with a pen or pencil in your hand.

[just-a-bookish-reader]

Back to School Readathon 2023

Starting a few days after the fall semester starts for my university, Liv is helping to host another readathon, except that this one is not 24 hours, its almost a week long! With both reading prompts and photo prompts, each based on particularly school themed events and classes, there is about to be so much going on from August 25-August 31!

Unlike the graphic novels and manga readathon, I do not plan to try to read more than the books I'm selecting for each reading prompt this time, unless I read way faster than I'm expecting! As far as the photo prompts, based on the spirit week we all know and love, we don't actually have to dress up or even have our faces in any of the photos! As mentioned in Liv's announcement video, you can simply use props to do flat lays with books, and I'll be mentioning one that I'm already planning out (and will likely take the picture super ahead of time!).

Gwen has put out some awesome movie suggestions for the "study hall" prompt as well, specifying that the prompt is just that the movie needs to take place in a school, not necessarily a dark academia or anything like that (literally you can watch High School Musical even!) and if you are a patron of Gwen, she'll be hosting a live viewing of Heathers!

While there are enough prompts for a full school day, there is no particular order required or even recommended to my knowledge of how to follow each prompt. It certainly is not expected for you to knock out more than one prompt in one day unless your second prompt is the "study hall" aka movie prompt!

Here are some examples that I had to sift through of my own books to narrow down to my final selections!

English

Sirens & Muses by Antonia Angress

My Last Innocent Year by Daisy Alpert Florin

The Whispering Dark by Kelly Andrews

I Kissed Shara Wheeler by Casey McQuiston

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik

Only a Monster by Vanessa Len

Ink Blood Sister Scribe by Emma Torzs

Margo Zimmerman Gets the Girl by Brianna R. Shrum

Dear Medusa by Olivia A. Cole

The Cloisters by Katy Hays

Bunny by Mona Awad

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth

If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake

Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

Ordinary Monsters by J. M. Miro

Math

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

The Two Princesses of Bamarre by Gail Carson Levine

Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Two Dark Reigns by Kendare Blake

The Second Death of Edie and Violet Bond by Amanda Glaze

The First Bright Thing by J. R. Dawson

Seven Faceless Saints by M. K. Lobb

One Dark Window by Rachel Gillig

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater

The Six Deaths of the Saint by Alix E. Harrow

Master of One by Olivie Blake

One For My Enemy by Olivie Blake

The Square of Sevens by Laura Shepherd-Robinson

The Second Sight of Zachary Cloudesley by Sean Lusk

Once a Queen by Sarah Arthur

Physical Education

She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen

We Are the Song by Catherine Bakewell

Sing Me to Sleep by Gabi Burton

Fairest by Gail Carson Levine

Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Kingdom of Back by Marie Lu

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson

Lunch

The Lost Apothecary by Sarah Penner

The London Seance Society by Sarah Penner

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree

Heartless by Marissa Meyer

Science

Red Dust, White Snow by Pan Huiting

Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan

The Pomegranate Gate by Ariel Kaplan

Dragonfall by L. R. Lam

The Sun and The Void by Gabriela Romero-Lacruz

Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko

How High We go in The Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu

All the Dead Lie Down by Kyrie McCauley

Godkiller by Hannah Kaner

The Midnight Girls by Alicia Jasinska

Book of Night by Holly Black

Study Hall

Grease

Love, Simon

Easy A

Edge of Seventeen

Legally Blonde

The Breakfast Club

High School Musical

Superbad

Booksmart

Dead Poet Society

Heathers

Social Studies

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Weyward by Emilia Hart

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth

Furyborn by Claire Legrand

If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio

Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

First Bright Thing by J. R. Dawson

Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

God of Endings by Jacqueline Holland

How High We Go in The Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu

Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge

Final Results:

English:

A Lesson in Vengeance by Victoria Lee

Math:

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

PE:

A River Enchanted by Rebecca Ross (activity is music)

Lunch:

Poison by Bridget Zinn

Science:

How High We Go in The Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu

Social Studies:

Weyward by Emilia Hart

Art:

Nimona

Study Hall:

Easy A

[themuseandantarctica]

* 𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 21

change however necessary.

“Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not.”

“Mother’s love is peace.  It need not be acquired, it need not be deserved.”

“I loved my mother from the day she died.”

“You do not have to deserve your mother’s love.  You have to deserve your fathers.  He’s more particular.”

“I wish people would love everybody else the way they love me.  It would be a better world.”

“Love is the delightful interval between meeting a beautiful girl and discovering that she looks like a haddock.”

“Love affairs have always greatly interested me, but I do not greatly care for them in books or moving pictures.  In a love affair, I wish to be the hero, with no audience present.”

“At the beginning of a love affair, not even the neurotic is neurotic.”

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”

“Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking.  The one is the shadow of the other.”

“Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath.  At night, the ice weasels come.”

“Luck is an essential part of a career in physics.”

“Nothing is as obnoxious as other people’s luck.”

“Shallow men believe in luck.  Strong men believe in cause and effect.”

“What luck for rulers that men do not think.”

“I’ve done the calculation and your chances of winning the lottery are identical whether you play or not.”

“What we call luck is the inner man externalized.  We make thinks happen to us.”

“I find that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have.”

“Luck affects everything.  Let your hook always be cast.  In the stream where you least expect it, there will be fish.”

“I’m so unlucky that if I was to fall into a barrel of nipples I’d come out sucking my thumb.”

“The foundation of all morality is to have done, once and for all, with lying.”

“Lying is done with words and also with silence.”

“We tell lies when we are afraid… afraid of what we don’t know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us.  But every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger.”

“The most common lie is that which one lies to himself; lying to others is relatively an exception.”

“Man is only man at the surface.  Remove his skin, dissect, and immediately you come to machinery.”

“You cannot endow even the best machine with initiative; the jolliest steamroller will not plant flowers.”

“The most technologically efficient machine that man ever invented is the book.”

“It is so characteristic, that just when the mechanics of reproduction are so vastly improved, there are fewer and fewer people who know how the music should be played.”

“The amount of genuine leisure available in a society is generally in inverse proportion to the amount of labor-saving machinery it employs.”

“I sometimes wonder whether our planet is the asylum of the universe for disordered minds.”

“Every man is wise when attacked by a mad dog; fewer when pursued by a mad woman; only the wisest survive when attacked by a mad notion.”

“It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.”

“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

“The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness.  Think of your three best friends.  If they’re okay, then it’s you.”

“I don’t suffer from insanity but enjoy every minute of it.”

“There is a pleasure in being mad which none but madmen know.”

“The history of saints is mainly the history of insane people.”

“All of us are mad.  If it weren’t for the fact that every one of us is slightly abnormal, there wouldn’t be any point in giving each person a separate name.”

“Insanity in individuals is something rare—but in groups, parties, nations, and epochs, it is the rule.”

“Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you.”

“What garlic is to salad, insanity is to art.”

“Be mad.”

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

“Using words to describe magic is like using a screwdriver to cut roast beef.”

“The universe is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.”

“When magic becomes scientific fact we refer to it as medicine or astronomy.”

“In the last analysis magic, religion, and science are nothing but theories of thought.”

“I am a member of a magic circle—the Secret Six—which is so secret that I don’t know the other five.”

“The secret of magnetism, now explain that to me!  There is no greater secret, except love and hate.”

“Magnetism is one of the Six Fundamental Forces of the Universe, with the other five being Gravity, Duct Tape, Whining, Remote Control, and the Force That Pulls Dogs Toward the Groins of Strangers.”

“Good manners: The noise you don’t make when you’re eating soup.”

“Good manners can replace morals.  It may be years before anyone knows if what you are doing is right.  But if what you are doing is nice, it will be immediately evident.”

“Clothes and manners do not make the man; but, when he is made, they greatly improve his appearance.”

“Manners are especially the need of the plain.  The pretty can get away with anything.”

“The married state is the most complete image of heaven and hell we are capable of receiving in this life.”

“Marriage resembles a pair of shears, so joined that they cannot be separated; often moving in opposite directions, yet always punishing anyone who comes between them.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead marrying a woman old enough to be my wife.”

“Love is blind and marriage is the institution for the blind.”

“The conception of two people living together for twenty-five years without having a cross word suggests a lack of spirit only to be admired in sheep.”

“I’ve been married so long I’m on my third bottle of Tabasco.”

“No man should marry until he has studied anatomy and dissected at least one woman.”

“The majority of husbands remind me of an orangutan trying to play the violin.”

“By all means marry.  If you get a good wife, you’ll be happy; if you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher.”

“Marriage is like a bank account.  You put it in, you take it out, you lose interest.”

“It doesn’t much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find out next morning that it was someone else.”

“I don’t think I’ll get married again.  I’ll just find a woman I don’t like and give her a house.”

“The thing of this world cannot be made known without a knowledge of mathematics.”

“Mathematics may be defined as the subject in which we never know what we are talking about.”

“Life is good for only two things, discovering mathematics and teaching mathematics.”

“We used to think that if we knew one, we knew two, because one and one are two.  We are finding that we must learn a great deal more about ‘and.’”

“Mathematics is the art of giving the same name to different things.”

“Beauty is the first test; there is no permanent place in the world for ugly mathematics.”

“In the arithmetic of the world, one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing.”

“In real life, I assure you, there is no such thing as algebra.”

“An equation for me has no meaning unless it expresses a thought of God.”

“The pleasure we obtain from music comes from counting, but counting unconsciously.  Music is nothing but unconscious arithmetic.”

“There can be mathematicians of the first order who cannot count.”

“Anyone who cannot cope with mathematics is not fully human.  At best he is a tolerable subhuman, who has learned to wear shoes, bathe, and not make messes in the house.”

“Mathematics is like drafts in being suitable for the young, not too difficult, amusing, and without peril to the state.”

“‘Obvious’ is the most dangerous word in mathematics.”

“If people do not believe that mathematics is simple, it is only because they do not realize how complicated life is.”

“The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.”

“As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain; and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality.”

“The laws of nature are but the mathematical thoughts of God.”

“If there is a God, he’s a great mathematician.”

“In most sciences one generation tears down what another has built and what one has established another undoes.  In mathematics alone each generation adds a new story to the old structure.”

“Why do we believe that in all matters the odd numbers are more powerful?”

“Uneven numbers are the gods’ delight.”

“Pure mathematics is the world’s best game.  It is more absorbing than chess, more of the gamble than poker, and lasts longer than Monopoly. It’s free.  It can be played anywhere—Archimedes did it in a bathtub.”

[void-tiger]

My childhood love of daisies is a bit on the nose with my reclaimed love of SPAAAAACE!!! in adulthood.

Which is honestly frikkin hilarious.

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

wolf shifter!jeno x human!reader x vampire!jaemin

▷ 1.9k words this time,,, send help

▷ twilight au; read "i know what you are" which takes place chronologically after this one, but you don't need to read them in order!

a/n: OKAY I KNOW I SAID I PROB WOULDN'T, BUT I DID IT huhu this is dedicated to the anon who was asking abt a series for my other oneshot </3 i'm sorry i couldn't deliver, but here's another one 🤧

Lee Jeno was insistent that he walked you to your first class of the day. Well actually, he insisted that he walk you to every one of your classes, with his muscled arm slung around your shoulders, with eyes subtly glaring at anybody giving you a look. You didn't miss the glare. You never missed the glare. 

It wasn't like you condoned the glare; you just gave up on persuading him to stop. When Jeno had been convinced of something, he could be very determined. 

"—fastest route to the science classes is through this hallway, but I wouldn't recommend going through here without me because—"

"Because why not?" You mused, eyebrows arched. "You are not my bodyguard, Jeno Lee, and I don't need one either."

Jeno wrinkled his nose at you—or, you guessed it wasn't you specifically as his eyes narrowed into a glare at a group of students walking toward the two of you from the opposite end of the corridor. They had a certain… presence to them. There were maybe five of them in total, but they all wore some variation of black or leather, their expressions cold and unreadable. Students scrambled to get out of their way as they sauntered down the corridor as if they owned the damn place. 

"That," Jeno grunted, "is why."

Jeno directed you to the other side of the walkway and levelled a glare at the passing group. The one at the center, a boy with dark hair and a face sculpted like a Greek god (a complexion that rivalled Jeno's? Impossible…), passed you a curious glance. Another of the entourage grinned mirthlessly at Jeno in a taunt. 

Jeno's grip on your shoulder tightened just a little. 

You found his free hand and held it. "Hey, are you okay?"

He visibly relaxed. His hand entwined with yours and he shot you a small smile. "Sorry, yeah."

You began walking again.

"As I was saying, you don't really want to walk this way since those guys like to make this their personal runway." He rolled his eyes at the mention of that group. 

"Who are they, anyway?" They walked like gods.

Jeno huffed out of his nose. "No one important. Just… stay clear of them, Yn-ie. For your own safety, okay? And stay away from Na Jaemin, especially."

"Jen," you laughed, "I don't even know which one he is."

"He was the middle guy. Bastard in leather. Black and red jacket," he described for you. The image of Jaemin looking at you flashed through your mind. 

You hummed lightly in understanding and Jeno smiled, satisfied. 

As the two of you continued down the corridor, this time, walking a bit slower since you suspected your biology classroom was coming up soon, you tried to ease Jeno's tension. "So, what do you have first period?"

Jeno grumbled, "Calc."

You snorted. "Sucks to suck."

To your surprise, Jeno winced. "Oh, can we like… not use the word 'suck'?"

"Uh, sure?" You shot him a weird look, but tried again. "Good luck with calc then, Jen."

He hung his head. "I'm failing calc."

"That's a lie."

"No, but it's not." He peered over at you through his black bangs, a pout on his pillowy lips. "Yn-ie, you have to help me! The math teachers here are terrible at their jobs."

Your pride soared at the fact that Jeno was asking for help. You knew it was difficult for him to ask for help from anybody. "Of course, I'll help you!" You added teasingly, "But it'll cost you."

Jeno cocked his head to the side, the pouty, helpless puppy no longer present. He was replaced by a predator. His eyes darkened, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. "Hm, how can I possibly repay you then, love?"

A feeling stirred in your stomach and your eyes widened, a deer caught in headlights. It had been an innocent, teasing question. And somehow, Jeno had turned the tables—no, flipped the tables. 

Perhaps sensing how flustered you were, Jeno suddenly smiled, an innocent sort of puppy-like one, the predator nowhere to be found. Strange. "I'm kidding, Yn-ie. I'll buy you dinner sometime."

"Jeno," you protested, "you always buy me dinner."

He steered you around the corner. "Then I'll buy you that cute, little sundress."

You stopped short in the middle of the corridor. "How did you—"

"It's been sitting in your online shopping cart for three months," he answered cheekily. "And you had the site bookmarked."

You blinked. Then turned away, defeated. "Screw you."

Jeno's bright laughter filled the hallway and you found a smile crawling onto your face against your will. He nuzzled his nose into your hair affectionately. "You're so cute. I wish."

Oh, for God's sake—

The classroom (finally) came into view as the two of you rounded the corner. Students continued to stare and comment to their friends about you and Jeno as you passed, but you tried your best to ignore them. It seemed like Jeno was used to them or just plain unbothered. He thrived off of attention sometimes. 

As you entered the bio lab, Jeno hollered, "Mrs. Lim! I brought my lovely best friend, Ln Yn, here for you."

Mrs. Lim was a pretty woman dressed in a smart sweater vest and slacks. She looked like one of those aesthetic academia Pinterest posts, her dark hair twisted into a claw clip and a pair of black glasses seated on her nose. She glanced up from her demonstration table at the front where a pile of papers sat before her. 

She smiled warmly at the sight of you. "Ah, hello, Miss Ln. I'm Mrs. Lim, your biology teacher." She offered you her hand to shake, to which you shook firmly. "Welcome to Neo City High."

"Thank you," you chirped back. "Glad to be here."

Mrs. Lim shot Jeno a small smirk. "You can hurry on now, Jeno. I'll take good care of her."

Jeno ruffled your hair and you slapped his hand away. "I trust you, Mrs. Lim. See you, Yn-ie!"

"Bye, Jen!" You called back as he waved and disappeared out of the classroom. 

Now that it was just you, Mrs. Lim, and your first period biology class, Mrs. Lim walked you through some standard procedures and classroom rules. Overall, it was pretty basic stuff that you comprehended right away. The next step was finding you a lab partner. 

The classroom was steadily filling up now that the bell had rung to signal the beginning of first period. You scanned the classroom, feeling a pair of eyes pinned to you. 

As soon as you connected gazes with them, you tensed. Staring at you, head cocked to the side as it rested against a fist, was Na Jaemin. How the hell had he gotten here so fast—?

Mrs. Lim then said words that you dreaded to hear. "Oh, Yn! You can sit beside Jaemin. He hasn't had a partner for the past week. Jaemin, raise your hand."

Jaemin lifted a couple of fingers up lazily and Mrs. Lim nudged you in that direction. You hoped you didn't look too disappointed or nervous as you walked toward him. But then again, by the way Jaemin's eyes slowly dragged up and down your figure with a calculating gaze made a shiver shoot down your spine. There was something very… off about him. 

You dropped your backpack at your feet and slid onto the stool beside him. 

Jaemin's head turned to the front. 

You breathed a sigh of relief. 

Until he muttered, "You smell like the mutt."

Your head whipped around to him. "Excuse me?"

He arched a brow at you, then paused. His eyebrows furrowed and took in your offended facial expression. Then, it morphed to curiosity. "Interesting. You don't know who I'm talking about?"

"You're saying I smell like a dog."

"No," he drawled, leaning back slightly to cross his arms over his chest, "I'm saying you smell like Jeno."

You scoffed. "Don't call Jeno a dog."

Jaemin smirked, amused. "That's really funny. You're really funny, Yn."

"How do you know my name?"

He shrugged. "I have very good hearing, darling. I also pay very good attention to things. So... Jeno Lee likes you?"

You didn't know why your heart skipped a best at that. You stammered, "I don't know what you're talking about." Jeno liking you? Not possible. You were best friends since childhood, and Jeno was Jeno. He flirted a lot, sure, but he could do so much better than you, in your opinion. 

Jaemin smiled this time. "You're very cute when you're flustered, darling. Okay, I'll leave it at that." Then he turned back to whatever Mrs. Lim was projecting on the screen and said nothing else to you for the rest of the period. 

You tried your best to shake the conversation away, but it was a little difficult with Jaemin sitting beside you. Jeno's warning from earlier rang in your head—stay away from Na Jaemin. Well, not exactly possible at this moment, Jeno. 

It wasn't like Jeno would find out that you two were lab partners now, right?

At the end of the period, you began putting your materials back into your backpack. Jaemin had his bag already packed and brushed behind you to leave the classroom just as you gathered your hair up into a ponytail and exposed your neck. He halted, right behind you. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. "Sorry, am I blocking you?"

Jaemin cleared his throat. "No, you're not. Is that… what perfume is that?" His voice had gotten deeper and raspier.

"Oh, uh, I'm not wearing perfume?" Was this about the dog thing again? You were this close to beating his ass—

"Forget I said anything then." Before you could ask him what was happening, he rushed past you and out of the classroom. The most unsettling thing was that he had the back of his hand pressed against his nose, as if blocking out a smell. 

You frowned, looking down at yourself self consciously. That… was probably the weirdest biology class ever. You hoped tomorrow would not be the same, or would at least be somewhat normal. Maybe you'd wear perfume tomorrow if your scent bothered him that much. 

As you thanked Mrs. Lim on your way out of the classroom, Jeno appeared in the doorway, a big grin on his face. That smile melted away just as quickly as it appeared. 

"Hey, Jeno—"

His eyes narrowed, scanning the room. "Why the fuck was Jaemin here? And why do you smell like him?"

Funny. That was what Jaemin said about you and Jeno. "What is up with people telling me I smell today?" You laughed nervously, trying to play it off. This really wasn't cool. Not exactly the best thing to say to a girl. 

Jeno snapped out of whatever daze he was in. "Sorry, no; that sounded really stupid." He smacked his hand to his forehead. "I'm sorry, Yn-ie. It's just that, uh, his cologne is really strong right now."

You sniffed the air. It really wasn't…

"Let's go, yeah?" Jeno asked you, offering you his hand. 

You nodded, taking his hand. "Sure." Plastering a smile on your face, you met Jeno's grin, and then you let him guide you to your next class. Hopefully, this was the last weird thing that would happen to you today. 

Oh, how wrong you were…

"i know what you are." / "i will always tell you the truth."

nct m.list

[gukyi]

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly. 

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 

Another voice breaks you from your trance. 

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 

You wonder what he sees. 

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you. 

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him. 

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

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