#kinda want to write a part 2

[spookygibberish]

Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.

The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.

A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.

[oceisastar]

consider this: power bottom reader who has blade bare, muzzled and collared. imagine him on top of you, grinding and rutting desperately against your thigh. it's maddening; the way you look up at him with those sultry eyes, all of you laid beneath him - but he's not allowed to seize you with his hands, or his mouth, or sheathe himself into you so he can drive into you like he so badly wants to. (even if he could, he'd be denied his release again and again. cock ring :> )

MDNI (gn!reader; begging, grinding, muzzle, masturbation, reader calls him “puppy” once, teasing)

and then cupping his face and nuzzling against his muzzle while his eyes go wild, but he can’t do anything about it. all he can do is keep rutting until he’s aching, throbbing with need.

oh my, masturbating beneath him while he’s not allowed to touch—just watching your fingers play with your sex the way he wants to, no, needs to. he’s drooling inside the muzzle, eyes fervent with heat. when you whimper, his eyes nearly roll back in his head at the sound. and your scent—thick and musky, he thinks he might go insane. the air is of full of it, his and yours mixing together despite you not letting him touch you with his hands or mouth. but god, he needs to take you in his mouth or he might explode.

you reach down, spreading your arousal on your fingertips and brush against his cock. the reprieve has him gasping, nearly grabbing at you for purchase before he catches himself.

“my star,” he says, and your eyebrows go up.

“so sweet, my darling boy? something to ask?”

“take it off. I’ve had enough—I need to touch you. I can’t take this any longer.”

“surely it hasn’t been that long?”

he grits his teeth. “it’s been hours.”

“are you sure? last I checked it had been about 30 minutes.”

he groans in misery. you can feel him dripping on your thigh.

“ask properly, blade.”

“...please, I humble myself before you. let me touch you, my star.”

you wrap your legs around him in one last attempt to tempt him, to test his willpower and he grits his teeth so hard he practically growls. but he doesn’t move, not even when your sweet hole brushes against the tip of him.

you smile and reach down, deftly removing the cock ring. he gasps, doubling over into you and you laugh, running your hand through his hair and nuzzling him into your neck. before pushing him down so his mouth is up against your crotch.

“now. show me what you can do, hm, puppy?”

[lovesickeros]

☆ words better left unsaid

{☆} characters zhongli {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere {☆} word count 0.4k

He sits as still as a marble statue, a moment in time – of power, of the singing of metal against metal that fills his ears, of the smell of blood so heavy he can still vividly remember it, even now – he had long since left behind, carved into stone.

You, on the contrary, are not so still. Your hands caress his body like you are a painter creating stroke after stroke with your brush – up the curve of his horns, mindful of the sharp point, down to the scales of his cheeks and the sharp, jagged edges of his teeth that barely fit in a jaw not made for them.

And he let's you – oh how he lets you. He does not think there is anything in the world he could deny you.

He dares not breathe, fearing it will shatter this moment in such a way that he will never get it back. He is not meant to be a living being, in this moment – he is no Archon, nor even the mortal Zhongli. He is the canvas of which you paint your masterpiece with wandering hands that leave goosebumps on his skin.

And what a feeling it is. Euphoria, he thinks, is an apt description – yet at the same time nothing can truly put a word to the feeling of the Creators gaze falling upon him and him alone, to know your touch and to hear your voice.

His body cramps and aches at holding the position for so long, but it is so easy to ignore, so easily drowned out by the waves of adoration that swells in his chest. It is so very easy to ignore the way his body protests when your hands cup his face, and he feels like he must be the luckiest man in the world.

It is so very easy to forget everything when you are so close he can feel your breath against his lips – so easy to forget that he should stay still when he coils his tail around your waist, his arms encircling your back – mindful of his claws.

There is no word to describe the feeling of your lips, the warmth and softness with which you look at him in the moments before your eyes close, the feeling of your body and his entwined like you were never meant to be apart. He does not even try to put it into words – his actions will do it instead.

And perhaps you will not recognize the possessiveness with which he holds you, but that's alright.

He has all the time in the world.

And so will you.

[cryptocism]

yoohoo, I just need you to know you've ruined my life✌️ /j but like. finished reading frequency, what three days ago now? and since the moment I put it down, I have been. directionless. listless. I am consumed by, not DESPAIR, because despair is too passionate a word but. dissatisfaction? I miss the life I lived while I was still reading it. which is honestly rather appropriate considering some of the themes in the fic. I miss the person I was when half of my mind existed in the realm of the au. I fear I may never get over it and I may never recover the life I once had before this fic ruined me for all others, but I also cannot bring myself to regret reading it even if I never feel satisfaction again. I have tasted ambrosia, and the bread and wine of men shall forever be ash upon my tongue. pay my therapy bill.

i know these asks were sent in july but i love them and want to immortalize before they get buried in my inbox

first of all thank you so much!!! frequency has been one of my favourite projects to do over the past couple years i love that ppl are so into this absurdly niche fic. (i cannot pay ur therapy u simply must reread it forever rip (i mean writing it was like 50/50 self-indulgence and catharsis which means maybe reading it does the same thing lmaoo))

second yes! yeah it was Six who changed the timeline. a big old theme, possibly the main theme, of the whole fic is about change and who gets to create it. Six mirrors Thad in the ways that he believes himself unworthy of importance, and that the capacity to create change is inherently barred from him because of who and what he is.

so it was really important that Six was the one to make the choice to try change things - the guy whos entire powerset relies on being as inconsequential as possible. it shatters the original timeline, it results in his death, it causes a lot of very bad ripple effects, but he also saves Nathaniel. who saves Jude. who together both save Thad - who saves Bart and CRAYDL and defeats Three and discovers his own capacity for change in the process.

that was sort of the point of the whole "the spectrum of change is a horizon, not a tower" litany. there's no hierarchy. anybody can go towards it, they just gotta choose where they're going.

Six doesn't really save the day, but by wrenching the prewritten tragedy off its course, he creates the opportunity for Thad & co. to save it themselves.

[afterthelambs]

"Silco didn't create Jinx, you did" lives in my mind rent free because throughout season 1, Vi has been convincing herself that Silco is the obstacle preventing her from getting Powder back. She's traumatized and guilt-ridden. When Vi is traumatized, she simplifies things as a response. She has to believe that getting her sister back is that simple. But when Silco is finally dead, Powder doesn't come back to her. In fact Silco's death is what solidifies Jinx's decision to be Jinx (the complete Jinx aka Jinx + Powder, not the broken version of her that she tried to erase Powder from).

And that's likely why Vi switches on her so quickly. By the time season 2 starts she's fully on board with Piltover wanting to kill Jinx and when she confronts her in ep.3 she says Powder is dead and they're not sisters anymore. Which is wild considering just a few days ago she was reassuring her that they'll always be sisters.

I think Vi meant all of it. At the time she really did want Caitlyn and the enforcers to kill Jinx. But that's because she's still just as traumatized and guilt-ridden as she was before. She can't deal with the fact that Jinx herself is the real reason she can never get Powder back. And as I said, Vi simplifies things as a trauma response. However if they had actually succeeded in killing Jinx, I think Vi would live in regret and self-hatred forever. What someone wants when they're traumatized and hurt is not what they want forever, and Vi does love her sister.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Fic Preview (Feyd-rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader)

Summary: A continuation of "It's A Special Death You Saved". How many pieces of yourself can you give away, until there's nothing left of the life you've led before? Your new husband seems to be determined to answer that question, whether you're willing to participate or not.

a/n: heeeeeeey y'all... i bet you thought you've seen the last of me. here's a snippet from the first chapter from the last fail-marriage story im going to write. it will be slightly dark, slightly lore heavy, but i won't deprive y'all of smut either. oh, and also, the movies are cannon in my book lmao

-Welcome home, wife - he whispers into your ear, and you don't know how you manage to stop tears from springing in your eyes.

Not home. Never home. Your home had trees and oceans, and your Mother, your Father and your perfect Brother. Your home had Duncan, with his warm embrace and little scars littered all across his honey-colored skin. Your home had a sun that is warm and welcoming, that brings vibrancy to your life, and doesn't wash everything out, doesn't swallow all beauty.

The clothes you wear, the clothes he wants you to wear, are nothing like what you're used to. They make your body feel foreign, like an accessory more than your own flesh. You hate the feeling of the sheer fabric clinging to your skin, like some suffocating membrane. The heavy jewelry, which reminds you more and more of a slave's collar. He put it on you with his own hands. Delicately fitting it around your neck, caressing it with the calloused pads of his fingers, a proud expression decorating his sharp featured like a war medal.

You wonder what he sees, when he looks at you. Are your sentiments shared? Does he see you, as you see yourself, a doll dressed for his entertainment, a wife, should the politics require it? You're sure he does, there is no other way to describe the pitiful reflection in the mirror. Perhaps, in time, you might be able to fight back some semblance of dignity, to find a way of embracing these strange fabrics. Make this cold metal feel more like a necklace for a Baroness, rather than a collar for cattle. Perhaps.

[cluescorner]

Arlecchino's whole deal is unbelievable

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder what's causing my weird powers? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta become King and then kill my "Mother".

*Kills Clervie and "Mother"*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I was able to defeat a Fatui Harbinger when I'm like 17 or so? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta be in jail and become a Harbinger.

*Is in jail for a while and becomes a Harbinger*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I am-

Pierro: Hey what's up hello, anyways you're descended from the Crimson Moon Dynasty of Khaenri'ah. I'm sure that this is a lot for you to take in so-

Arlecchino: Ok.

Pierro: ...You're just cool with that?

Arlecchino: IDK maybe? I can't really worry about that at the moment, I'm a father now. This orphanage full of children I love (who also are child soldiers and are not allowed to leave or else I'll execute them except maybe now I'm just gonna wipe their memories IDK I'm morally complex) isn't gonna run itself.

*Runs the orphanage/spy recruitment initiative*

Me, the fucking player: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE KHAENRI'AN? WHY WASN'T THIS BROUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING QUEST?? OR ANYTHING ELSE????

Arlecchino, talking to me through my phone: I honestly don't know why you care, I'm too busy to give a shit. Anyways, I'm gonna go fight fate itself I guess. I'm sure that I don't share any thematic parallels with any other Khaenri'an characters (particularly as it relates to acting and family angst) and that I haven't made the idea of 'curses' on Khaenri'ans and what they entail even more complicated than they already were. See ya.

[gemini-queen42]

Batb: Other Than Human - Themes stuff (& why I Called It That)

That's right folks, the self-indulgent "throwing any concept I like at the wall and haphazardly mixing together what sticks" au rewrite Thing has Actual Themes! That kind of happened accidentally but they are so real for that so let's get into it.

The Main Narratives Themes Trio of the story now all also embody expanded themes about being an "Other", when being a person is not enough to be properly considered human- more specifically of a neurodivergent/queer girlhood type flavor.

Summary is that it's called "Other Than Human" because the prominent theming is about being considered something other than human due to not fitting the mold of the 'norm'.

[This is a long one so details & specific character stuff are under the cut<3]

Amalure has the greatest departure from her original counterparts thematic placing, so we'll start with her. Amalure retains Gaston's social standing, reputation, etc. But it's of course not quite the same- because she is a woman, and she is not revered for being the picture of ideal womanhood/femininity. Instead, she excels in masculinity, but remains firm that she is and always will be a woman. So, to justify the desire & awe people have for her, they dehumanize her: She doesn't need to follow the Rules because she is outside of them. Amalure is not a person: she is a symbol, a figure, an object. A legend, a folksong, a modern myth. Her skills are not skills they are blessings, inherent, a mundane magic or supernatural. Despite having grown up in Villeneuve for her entire life, she is considered exotic, and is practically, if not actually, fetishized. And through all of this, the status quo and social order gets to be retained without question, and she gets to exist as the exception that proves the rule, rather than the Undesirable that she'd be marked as otherwise.

Amalure is fine with this, because this dehumanization is her status quo: She doesn't really view herself as a person either, she is defined by her relationship to other people, by who she is to them. Amalure has never been a person to anybody: Growing up she was never just a girl, never just Amalure: She was a girl with a mans brain, an embodiment of her fathers greatest achievements, an embodiment of her mothers worst mistakes, she is her fathers daughter or her mothers daughter, but not her own. (and she never both, it is either or, mother or father, never both, never parents.)

Princess Eve/The Beast is the other end of this, of operating through her dehumanization. Upon being cursed, she adheres to what societies have oft wanted to happen to their Undesirables: Hide away and never be seen by the public again. It is entirely self-inflicted, as most of her suffering truly is. She operates not through others dehumanizing view of her, but her dehumanizing view of herself and its warping of how she believes others view her. Because, well, the servants still view her as a person. I mean, they're still human- under the new object forms. And the separation of humanity that is easy to slip into on matters of royalty is awfully minimal as well; they watched her grow up, and she grew up among them.

The girl's bratty, spoiled, temperamental, and is a ball of horrid consequences of the shallow views and ideals learned from surrounding nobility. But she's also the girl that fell asleep listening to Cogsworth explain the many technicalities to managing servants; because she was stubborn in asserting her authority as the mistress of the castle, and thus she Must have say over its goings ons. But the majordomo's voice can be awfully soothing when he's not high-strung on anxiety, and it's hard to pay attention when you don't understand what's being discussed, so its all going in one ear and out the other. And She's Lumiere's 'Evie', who was so amused when Lumiere would draw on a little mustache when dancing the male roles so the princess could learn some duo dances, or because she didn't look very "waiter-like" (because Eve wasn't entirely sure what a maître d' did, but it seemed to have something to do with waiters), and who got annoyed every time the dance teacher/maître d' would warn her not to hurt her body in her pursuits, because it seemed so silly, why would anyone do that? And she's the girl who dragged Mrs. Potts to have tea with her, because she made the best tea and as princess she would have only the best; and if you're going to have tea you may as well have a tea party, and you can't really have a party of one, but two isn't much of a party either so she's going to drag Babette away from her duties too, since the maid was so elegant and thus would be perfect.

Honestly, the girl probably would've turned out fine if she was raised by just the servants. But they weren't the only forces in her life: she's a princess, so she's got to host and interact with important people and learn how to Be noble which isn't something any of the servants can teach her. And it is under the pressures and eyes of nobility, is in mixing and learning their social rules, that learns the lessons that will lead to her curse: That to be considered human and treated as such, one must look human. And to be such as a woman meant to look beautiful, like the ideal. As a woman, to be worthy is to be beautiful and vice versa. And even if she does not, she must have some way to serve men. Otherwise, she is nothing. Eve met these requirements well, and where she did not yet her authority as princess covered. So when a beggar woman is at her doorstep, the princess turns her away: because she is old, ugly, so long past her 'prime'- there is no worth to her anymore. There is no point caring for her future.

Helene stands as both the middle ground and inverse to the other two. She is an Other by virtue of her mind, she is Objectifiable by virtue of her beauty. She sits on the precipice between Undesirable and Desired, seeming nearly apathetic to where she lands despite popular encouragement to embrace or smother aspects of herself. Helene is quite sure she's a person like anyone else, thank you, and is frankly frustrated and a bit weirded out that others seem to have a hard time getting the memo- she doesn't like or want to assume the worst, though, so maybe she just missed another confusing untold social rule or something. I mean, the local triplets really do seem to be advising in good faith- they really do think of her as one of them to an extent (for reasons Helene is yet to know); they just don't understand her.

When Amalure pursues her, there's an unspoken aspect to the deal of marriage she proposes: Helene will get a secured place on the in of the community, a secure standing the promises people no longer questioning or trying to encourage her to no longer be herself. But Helene just isn't interested in Amalure like that, and she also sees what the real trade-off of that security is; that uncomfortable dehumanization that is exactly what Helene doesn't want to deal with anymore. If Amalure is fine living with it than she is free to do as she pleases, but the huntress doesn't seem to understand what Helene could possibly have a problem with- and it's not like they can discuss it, because it's unspoken, and you're not supposed to speak the unspoken things, because they're unspoken for a reason- even if you don't know what that reason is. Helene knows that rule, at least.

When Helene meets the Beast, she regards her as she does any other. It's plain as day that the Beast has a humanity to her, whether she's really "human" or not- she thinks and she feels, and that's enough for Helene.

Because Helene grew up raised by a single dad who she got most of her brain workings from, and he is a man of compassion and science. Off he'd send his beloved daughter to go and question and figure out the world for herself, to experiment and learn and become whatever she desires. Off to bed he'd send her to tell her fairy tales and have their lessons of love and compassion and humanity understood as she drifted off to sleep. Helene was never Odd with her father, never Other, in fact they were so easily two of a kind. It was so jarring, hearing people imply Tyndare less than sane; his logic paths were so easy to follow- but apparently his voice gruffs enough that others have a hard time understanding what he's saying sometimes, so that's where things seem to get lost in translation she guesses. People became jarring in other ways as she grew up too, because suddenly there seemed to be lots of social things she was supposed to know or be but didn't and wasn't, and it became very apparent very quickly that she was an Other among her village.

Overall: Eve & Helene get to go through these themes through the main plot, and post curse-breaking is when Eve gets to properly deal with the internalized issues and whatnot. Like she's learned beauty doesn't matter when it comes to love, and shouldn't decide whether or not someone should be cared about, and Helene loves her despite her having been beastly and despite her being a failure of a woman- (because she no longer fits the feminine ideal after the curse is broken, and frankly she never will again.) But she's still a Failure Of A Woman and Helene deserves Better Than That! So there's still work to do.

Amalure remains static on this aspect of the narrative until after the battle at the castle, where she does survive! .. barely. and it's later, in an argument with her mother that same night, bleeding out on the kitchen floor, when she asserts that she's her daughter too, not just her fathers. she has always been her daughter, always will be, she is the daughter of both of them, because that's not something that just switches or turns on and off- and it's an entire rant that I will not recite here, but the important part is the assertion that she is, always has been, always will be, the daughter of both her parents at once- that's the first little step for her arc of recognizing her own individual personhood and whatnot.

[jerreeeeeee]

hm. struck all of a sudden with the urge to write a candlenights fic. i don’t think i really have the time for that but its. really strong.

[snarlesofthesewers]

a taste of poison

snarles x reader part 1 - if there's enough demand maybe ill make a part 2 lol idk i hate writing so it would probably take just as long as this one

a while after landing on this strange planet, finding yourself in the dark and haunting forest known as Subcon a spirit known as snatcher steals your soul and forces you to do his bidding unfortunately for you while working to complete one of snatcher's tasks you end up far deeper in the forest then you should have been and end up in someone else's hunting grounds

after searching for nearly two hours you find yourself running into a small clearing leaves rustling and twigs snapping underfoot as you ran towards the rare flower snatcher had asked you to gather for a certain potion he needed to make what kind of potion? you had no idea but what you did know is that snatcher would probably kill you if you came back empty handed you should have been paying better attention to your surroundings while running you weren't exactly paying attention to anything other then the flower leading to you tripping over a fallen tree and planting your face directly in the cold and wet soil of the forest which definitely woke you up but when you realized just how much noise you had made on the way here you could feel nothing but dread something probably heard you no.. something definitely heard you you quickly wipe the mud from your face and come to your knees scanning the tree line and tuning in your hearing as you slowly get up but you see and hear... nothing nothing but the sound of wind howling between the cracks of broken trees the coast is clear and you are alone so you begin to stand and reproach the flower pulling it from the ground with the roots intact and stashing it somewhere safe for the journey back to snatcher's house but just as you pick it up the smell of something absolutely awful fills your nose its hard to stop yourself from puking and you probably would have if you weren't already so used to the constant smell of death that lays thick in Subcon's air... but this wasn't the usual smell of old decaying bodies this smelled far more ripe where the hell was that smell even coming from? "right behind you that's where~" a small crack and snap can be heard in the treetops above with the faint sound of hissing that transitioned into a shrill and wet sounding cackle that followed soon after you run but you didn't get far before you are promptly pinned to the ground by something far larger then yourself with its claws digging into your shoulders causing fresh blood to trickle down the side of your back and onto the cold wet ground and it was at this very moment that you realized YOU BLEW IT YOU TOTALLY SCREWED YOURSELF!~ you feel the smooth and slimy skin of whatever creature had you pressed against the ground began to coil itself around you like a snake ready to suffocate its prey your mind and body had already started to go numb but before you could pass out you were quickly snapped out of it by a voice... and maybe also the claws still stuck in your shoulders like knives but mostly just the voice

"finally.. fresh meat its been days with not a single soul... I was starting to worry that people had finally gotten smart and started to avoid this wrenched forest~"

"...now then.. how about we get started my lost little mouse~ it would be a real shame if I let fresh meat like you go to waste"

you struggle and struggle and struggle some more attempting to worm your way out of its firm grasp but its no use but if you were going to die you at least wanted to get a good look at whatever was about to kill you so you continued to struggle until you could get a good look at its face even if that meant completely exhausting yourself you catch a glimpse of its soulless yellow eyes flickering

"oh how cute the prey thinks it can escape~? you keep making this easier for me I almost feel bad... maybe the hunger is finally starting to get to me or maybe its just that scent.... wait hold on that scent" they lean in close to your face and just stare at you for what felt like an eternity before uncoiling you and towering above your sore body "is... this some kind of cruel joke?" they hissed in frustration before grabbing you by the leg and pulling you close to their face "no this cant be the case... did his previous contractor kick the bucket already? its only been a week there's no way he's dead already" they drool at the thought of eating the remains of snatchers previous victim even if there's no guarantee he was even dead...yet "well well well~ ...might you be snatcher's newest pet? oh ...don't worry about trying to speak.. I have other ways of finding out~" "my little mouse"

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[aeolianblues]

the real fiction in a lot of band AU fics is the amount of time bands seem to have on the evening of a show!

[autistic-katara]

bitches making scenes with their ocs/blorbos in their head: 😄

bitches when they need to actually draw/write those scenes for other ppl to see them: 😡

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

I was unfortunately made aware today that a large part of my ability to recreate Hannibal Lecter's vaguely flirty, entirely serious, absolutely pretentious and philosophical manner of speaking in my writing now in my 20s is due in large part to a 44k Ouran High School Host Club fanfic I wrote in my teens where Benio Amakusa was a recurring character with a lot of dialogue

[skyward-floored]

Well I’ve been reading all afternoon since I haven’t felt up to much else, but also now I’m tired of reading and have nothing to do XD

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

el tejano - habbey oneshot

(this is inspired by the song el tejano by lauv and sofia reyes. you don't really need to know the song/lyrics to read it, but it would probably give context for certain details)

The grating sound of a creaky window being opened filled the dorm room, replacing the sound of Deuce aggressively typing up an essay that was due later that week. He didn’t look up, as he knew it was his closest companion, sneaking through the window. Was there even a curfew on weekends? No, but what Heath didn’t know wouldn’t hurt. 

Heath climbed into the room and threw himself down on his roommate’s bed, sighing dramatically. Deuce kept his eyes on his laptop and paid him no mind. Heath sat up and sighed even louder, which sounded more like a strangled scream.

Deuce chuckled to himself and rolled his desk chair towards the bed. He reached out to stop the chair from hitting the footboard and smiled at his best friend.

“Well, someone sure wants my attention,” Deuce said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Ask me how my day was!” Heath kicked off his shoes and brought his legs up to sit cross-legged. 

“And you can’t just tell me, because…?”

“Because…suspense,” Deuce rolled his eyes, “and because no one else asked how my day was going the entire time I was out,” Heath said with a slight pout.

“Fine,” Deuce turned around to sit backward in his chair and crossed his arms over the back, “How was your day, Heath?”

Heath flailed his hands in excitement, “Great question!” Deuce held back a laugh, “I went to the park, made friends with some zombie dogs, and saw a flyer for this new nightclub place for teens. I went because, duh, and it was decorated to have this beachy vibe and I love the beach.”

Deuce nodded along, “Mhm…”

“And I stayed there for the rest of the night. but, there’s more!” Heath clapped his hands together. 

“How can there be more if you stayed there all night?” 

“I met a girl! I, Heath Burns, met a girl!” 

“Huh, good for you, man,” Deuce pushed himself off the bed and attempted to keep writing his paper.

“Wait, wait, I gotta tell you all about it,” Heath climbed off the bed and headed towards his side of the room, just barely saving himself from tripping over his sneakers. 

“Fine, but I gotta finish this,” Deuce gestured to his open document, “I promise I’m listening, go ahead.”

Heath plopped down into his own desk chair, “So you know Nirvana right? That human band?” Deuce hummed and nodded. “Apparently, there are Spanish covers of their songs, which is a sentence I never thought I’d say, but they were, like, the majority of the playlist.”

Deuce furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Heath, “Nirvana of all bands has multiple covers in Spanish?” 

“Yuh, and me and the girl just danced to them and talked all night. What did we talk about?” Heath didn’t wait for Deuce to answer, “Great question”.

Deuce chuckled to himself as he finished a paragraph. 

“I learned a lot about her, like, she’s from the Himalayas, and she actually knows some of the same people we do. She knows Cleo and Lagoona and even Clawdeen, isn’t that so interesting?” Deuce nodded absentmindedly. “She even asked me if I watched that human show, um…” Heath searched his brain for the title, “Friends! That’s it!” 

“Oh, that show about the six friends in the coffee shop or whatever?” Deuce leaned back in his chair looking over his last couple of paragraphs. 

“Yeah! I told her that Phoebe was probably my favorite character so far.”

“The blonde one?” Deuce asked.

“Mhm, and she actually agreed with me and we laughed and laughed.”

“How did you of all people, no offense, get a girl to talk to you and dance with you? For such a long period of time?” Deuce started a new paragraph and slightly laughed at the idea of Heath fumbling over his words trying to ask a girl to dance.

“Well actually, you jerk, she came up to me. I had just ordered some salsa for my chips, I had chips, I didn’t think it was important to mention, and she walked up to me. She asked if she could sit with me and try some of my food.”

“And you let her, because only you would share your food with an absolute stranger,” Deuce said, saying the last part under his breath.

“I heard that, and yes, I did. She sat down and asked me if the salsa was mild. I stupidly said that it was hotter than mild because I thought it would impress her but turns out she has problems with hot food. Deuce, I almost scared her away!”

Deuce couldn’t keep his laughs quiet anymore and let a loud guffaw leave his mouth, “See, this is why I didn’t believe that you were able to keep her interested enough to dance with you.” 

“Rude, but I quickly took it back and said it was a joke. She stayed, thank gods, and then one of the Nirvana covers came on, she pulled me to the dance floor, I, of course, had to keep my fire under control, and the rest is the greatest love story to ever take place.”

“Sounds like an amazing night, Heath. What was her name?” Deuce finished up his final paragraph and hit save. Should he have proofread it? Sure, but he might as well give the end of Heath’s story his full attention.

“Yeah...about that, once the club got closer to closing time, she left pretty quickly, and I never…actually caught her name…” 

Deuce stopped moving. He did not hear that right, he couldn't have, “You don't,” Deuce closed his eyes in preparation for disappointment, “know her name?” 

“No, I do not,” Deuce could practically hear the sheepish look Heath had on his face as he spoke. 

Deuce did a sharp inhale and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I mean this in the nicest way possible, dude, you're hopeless.” 

“Yeah, I know. But what matters is that she seemed to be having fun and I know I had fun,” Heath got out of his chair and started to change into his pajamas. “That’s a win in my book.” 

“A win is a win,” Deuce reluctantly said. 

Heath finished getting dressed and sprawled out on his bed, “I wonder if she’s thinking about me right now.”

“Maybe, Heath, maybe.”

In a dorm room, on the other side of the school was a blue-skinned girl and her friends gathered in a circle. Giggles left the friends’ mouths as the girl spoke.

“He assured me that the salsa wasn’t actually that hot and so I tried it, it was really good, and we just hit it off right away,” it was hard for Abbey to keep her excitement in check as she recounted the story of the boy she had met that night. 

“And then what happened?” Lagoona chirped.

“Then the music changed and I dragged him to the dance floor,” Abbey took a second to chuckle to herself, “He was such a bad dancer,” another chuckle fell from her lips.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ghoulia reached a hand to Abbey’s knee in comfort.

“No, no, it was endearing. I loved how bad he was at dancing because he knew he was bad but he was so confident about it. It made me laugh.”

Ghoulia hummed and took her hand away. 

“Ya know, orange skin, red hair, I think I know the guy you’re talking about,” Cleo, who had been trying to act like she didn’t think Abbey’s story was absolutely adorable, finally chimed in to the conversation, “What was his name again?”

“Oh, I never actually asked for it. I didn’t tell him mine either. Guess that wasn’t my smartest move,” Abbey said, giggling to herself. 

“You utter fool,” Cleo reprimanded her but couldn’t stay mad at her very happy friend. 

“Yeah, I know. But I had so much fun, guys, and I think he did too. I swear I saw his hair become fire for a second when we were dancing.” 

Cleo definitely knew who the guy was by now but she held her words. Why ruin the moment by letting everyone know that Abbey was dancing with Cleo’s ex’s best friend? Besides, it was bound to be funny when the two would inevitably run into each other when classes started in a couple days.